Fandom A Song of Ice and Fire RP (Game of Thrones)

[TheAncientCelt]

Westeros

Year: 298 AC


Season: Late Summer

 

[TheAncientCelt]

The Iron Wind, Shield Islands


POV: @HuorSpinks


@Robyn Banks


@Hypnos


@Fezzes


@Lancelot

​

 

[Hypnos]

Grimston, Greyshield, The Reach.


Bonifer laughed, the large and heavily muscled man, emitting a haughty and characteristically grim wheeze, shocking the Ironborn below as he made another rude gesture, ducking once more to avoid the volley of arrows that could possibly have taken his life, a large grin decorating his face as he began to address the men.


"You see that that!" He pointed down to where the Ironborn stood, watching as they tore apart the mast of a large vessel, its head carved into the shape of some Ironborn maiden, the Lord of Greyshield spitting at the sight, allowing his saliva to travel down the walls and land upon the eye of an unlucky raider "The strength and power of the Ironfleet! They think that they can fuck us, we'll you know what? Fuck them! They bring naught but sticks and flimsy bits of wood and they expect to bring down this castle, our castle!" Bonifer was no poet, but his words worked as intended, the men of Greyshield confident in their own safety and the strength of their defences, his plan bring to wait here until the Redwyne fleet came to his aid, something impossible to do if his men were in panic "These walls were constructed two millennia ago by King Garth of the Reach, made from the finest stone, refined in Ironborn blood, this castle has never fallen, not once, and this shall not be the first time, they'll need to throw more at us than the mast of a fucking longship to bring Grimston down"


Bonifer watched as the Ironmen readied their crudely constructed ram, waiting for them to finish before he gave the signal, wanting them to feel the full effect of Greyshield's wroth, allowing them a moment to bask in their own genius before he dashed their hopes.


"Men!" He said, the Ironmen drawing ever near, Bonifer waiting for them to go right up to the castle gate "Would you please show these I'm uncultured why we don't use fucking masts to knock down gates" The men nodded in affirmation, grabbing from behind them several buckets of boiling oil pouring it upon the heads of the Ironborn warriors, Bonifer smiling as he heard their screams, "Set them alight" He called, one of the men chucking a torch below, the screams growing in intensity, joined by the sounds of burning wood, the stench of charred flesh, reaching Bonifer upon the battlements as he looked upon his bonfire. The gate was protected be steel and iron, reinforced with ironwood from the north, the fire barely leaving a scratch, though the same could not be said for the Ironborn ram, not the men that had carried it, their remains serving as a warning to any Ironborn who would try something similar, Grimston's cellar stocked full of more oil.


@TheAncientCenturion

 

[Darth Gangsta]

Yakone Dulak
​

The Wolverines sat in their boats, Yakone sat with two other bandits, Beldroth a personal adviser to Yakone and Yakone's sergeant, Sharog. They were ready to raid the Fair Isles, Yakone was told that there were some good things there, women, gold, mead even the animals there were said to be amazing.


Sharog approached Yakone, "How many men have we?"


Yakone shrugged at Sharog's question, "At least one hundred fifty." Yakone knew that they were highly out numbered and realistically they'd probably die, but Yakone was a positive person, "But I'm sure it's nothing the Wolverines can't handle, eh?" Sharog simply nodded his head but was actually frightened. Yakone looked at Beldroth, "Oi! Beldroth, Sharog come over 'ere!" he yelled. Beldroth had a hand cupped over her eyes, staring into the leaden sky. Sharog on the other hand came running. Beldroth's vision remained fixed on the heavy clouds, "Frontal assault," the woman looked at Sharog and Yakone, "You have a better plan?" Sharog had an agitated look on his face, "No! We'll have causalities!"


Yakone agreed with Beldroth, it's not like they can do anything else. "Don't we always, sergeant?"


@Leusis

 

[Mion]

Siegfried Harlaw, The Shield Isles, The Reach.


Siegfried and his crew searched the island dissapointed and confused.


There was no one here, no one to kill, no one to fight, nothing to steal. All abandoned.


One of Siegfried's trusted men Ravos spoke up.


"Where in the bloody fuck is everyone?" In a perturbed tone.


Siegfried's first mate a man named Jon Pyke responded almost cheerfully "Well obviously not here are they?," he quickly paused before he inhaled heavily and humorously continued "Oh well, I like a good game of hide and seek." This got a few of the men laughing.


Siegfried stopped and looked around at them, at times like these it was hard to tell what he was thinking... "If the men aren't here then they must be somewhere else won't they?". His crew responded with some ayes and nods.


Siegfried was no genius but even he could see the problem here, this was supposed to be a blitz, a massacre and if they were robbed of that then they were screwed.


Siegfried shouted and ordered his men to follow him to the fort of this god forsaken island.

 

[Huor Spinks]

The Redwyne Fleet - Shield Islands


If anyone located on the Shield Islands, specifically Greyshield Island, chanced to look south, they would have seen a sight that would have rallied their spirits or rent terror through their hearts, depending on the side they were on. Warships loomed on the horizon, smaller than the Ironborn warships, but perhaps their numbers made up for their size. Each of them flying proudly the banners of House Redwyne, an image of a cluster of grapes in a flag of dark blue. The simple, almost harmless image of a cluster of grapes belied a simple fact; that the Redwyne Navy was considered one of the three Great Navies of Westeros, and a solidly powerful force behind the defense of the Reach.


Lord Luthor Redwyne, the Head of House Redwyne and Lord of the Arbor, stood at the stern of his Warship, A Thousand Suns. It was one of the biggest warships, a galley in fact, with at least 50 oars strong and half as many sailors and warriors on board. The Redwyne flag waved proudly from it's highest point. Luthor was a close friend of Lord Hollis Tyrell, and the moment he received news that the Iron Fleet had been located off the Shields Islands some distance away, his reaction had been immediate. In almost record time, the Redwyne fleet had been rallied, setting off from the Arbor towards the Shield Islands.


Luthor was a veteran commander of the Redwyne Fleet and was well respected in the Reach as one of it's most brilliant commanders. The Ironborn would have a difficult time with the Redwyne Fleet, and it was Luthor's honor to see to that. A frown set in his forehead as he saw his first longship; apparently a fleet had already landed, and he dreaded to think of the damage they were wrecking on Southshield. They were a bit too late it seemed, and his heart grieved for the loss of lives on those islands. But now was the time for revenge. The Ironborn had killed, and now they would be killed in turn. A fitting fate.


The sight of the longships had apparently galvanized the other ships within his fleet, and soon, they were near enough to be able to fire off their first volley of fire arrows onto the beach below. As per the plan, other warships sailed to the other islands, where they too fired off their first volley. And soon, the smell of smoke, flesh and blood, the screams of the wounded and the rallying cries of adrenaline-filled warriors rent the air. Smoke and flashes of bright orange soon covered the Shield Islands and ships from view.


@Lancelot @Hypnos @TheAncientCenturion

 

[Veyd Sahvoz]

Lord Tadhg Stark

Current location:

Winterfell

​

Tadhg was spending the afternoon inside, looking through letters and papers of sorts, the usual of his afternoons when he could be out. Oh how maddening it was to stay inside on such a nice day, the sky grey, mist throughout the kingdom, but no he was to rest for now. Tadhg was a strong and brave man but recently he had caught a bad cold, nothing a Stark couldn't handle but at this point he was beginnin to think otherwise. His beloved wife arrived at his door, not knocking because there was no need for they both shared rooms and didn't mind "I thought you would be sleeping, go to bed." She had said, a little joke she had brought up since his sickness. "I would but there is some work I needed to attend. I refuse to stay confined here, tomorrow I will go out-" He was cut short of his ramblings by his wife placing a letter on his table with a particular seal. "A raven came. It is from the Baratheon's, Tad. You should read it." At this he held her gaze for a moments time, slowly reaching for the letter to see what awaited inside of it. Usually it took time for letters to reach Winterfell by Raven and gods' know how long it took this to find it's way here.

To Lord Tadhg Stark,

I have dreaded this moment since the execution of my father, but the time has finally come. I have been made aware of the fact that Kuvira and Aerea Targaryen are merely bastards who hold no claim to the throne. To the extent of my knowledge, Daenna is trueborn, but we all know that a Targaryen is unfit for the Iron Throne. Unfortunately, the dragons will not give up their position easily. I ask of you, as a friend and ally, to join me in overthrowing the madmen that have plagued the Seven Kingdoms for too long. Furthermore, Viserys Waters plans on returning to Westeros in an attempt to claim the throne himself. If we are to strike, we must do it quickly - and soon. If we are successful, I assure that your support will not go unrewarded.

Braedon Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, and Stag of the People

​

This startled Tadhg, the extent of this news and request. To think that she was trueborn was interestingly absurd enough for him to think that he hadn't thought she would be an heir. "My dear I'm sorry but I need a moment to myself, then I will sleep." He said to her, she seemed taken aback by his change in attitude but payed little mind to it "I'll be in our room." She replied before leaving. The moment she left he grabbed a piece of paper and a quill quickly making up a reply to his request even though he tended not to leave Winterfell in case of anything that would need his immediate attention but this required his attention. Anything to do with the Throne was his buisness.

To Lord Braedon Baratheon

​

I don't like this. I don't like this one bit, you know I dislike the thought of war. The Starks tend to stay neutral in such matters. We faced enough of it once, I don't think more would like to face it again, however if what you tell me is true I am obliged to help in any way I can. Recently I haven't been in the greatest condition but I will help. Last I saw of my nephews, Hadar and Timos Stark, was here in Winterfell just setting out in that direction. Shall I send word to them to perhaps stop by? Please do send word back to me as soon as you can, this is no matter to ignore.





Sincerely,


Tadhg Stark, Lord Stark of Winterfell

After finishing the letter he took his seal and dipped it in wax before placing it on the letter to complete it. He got out of his seat to deliver the letter himself because really, what man sends a servant to do such simple of task? "Caw. Caw!" Was all he could here the moment he stepped outside into the light of the sky. A Raven sat perched on a fence, making such an annoying sound everyone grew accustomed to over the years as he tied it to the bird's legs and sent it off.


@JustWhipIt @Crimson smile

 

[Leusis]

Roland sat on his newly acquired throne as a messenger, short of breath arrived in his hall, running in front of a knight he was requesting a few men to help rebuild his small keep to the south. "Speak with Maester Marek and tell him I will give you four masons from the castle to aid you" he spoke with a smile. His expression showed his current mood poorly. He was new to lordship and he was spreading his resources thin trying to rebuild all that was damaged during the Ironborn raid only a week or so ago. However luckily for him 400 knights and 400 squires have already arrived on the isle yesterday afternoon and fifty men-at-arms had already been gathered from supportive knightly houses to help garrison Fair Castle. Luckily for him this was just the right amount of men to keep the isle together while he worked to rebuild it.


"What is it?" he said to the exhausted messenger. "Raiders, bandits, armed men sailing towards the northern beach!" he spoke in a panic. "Under what banner?" Roland shouted back to the man, send him scrambling back like a child looking for safety. "No banner m'lord" he said as he stared at Roland. Standing from his throne Roland spoke simply "Bring me armor and my sword, and gather every man in the garrison who can use a bow, as well as three hundred of my knights". Exiting his hall he entered a room in the western wing as the messenger ran to gather his forces. Three servants working as quickly as possible began strapping full platemail armor to Roland's body, it was of good quality and surely durable, but it was heavier than his ancestral armor, and Roland began to regret giving it to Tiber. Luckily Roland was as strong as any other knight and could handle the weight quite well and would still be able to fight at full capacity, though not for as long as usual.


Now fully armored Roland mounted his steed, his face expressionless as he motioned his small army forward out of the gates. It had taken less than a half hour to gather everybody and begin their extremely fast ride to the north. Luckily the area the bandits were spotted to be coming towards was about ten miles away and the garrison archers had left for the beach more than twenty minutes before the knights. It would take less than an hour for the knights to arrive at the beach, making sure to stay behind the hill only a hundred or so yards from the shore as Roland walked to the top of the hill. Quickly spotting the several ships that the bandits were sailing they were likely minutes away from landing. The garrison force coming to Roland's side would wait for his orders as they released heavy breaths from the jog to the beach from the castle.


"Move to the bottom of the hill and begin firing when the bandits come in range, fire one more volley when they land and run back to the castle as quickly as possible, and scream in terror". The garrison men seemed confused but began walking to the bottom of the hill as they were told, sticking six arrows into the ground per man, which number in at a total of twenty men. As they did this Roland would proceed back down the hill and mounted his horse, leading his knights half way up the hill. "When our men come over the hill we charge, the bandits should be at the base of the hill by the time we get to the top. Ride them down and kill or capture all of them, if you spot who seems to be leading them, try to take him prisoner but if hes too rough just run him through". "Yes Ser" his captain spoke back to him as they all lowered their visors and readied their lances. Not only did the knights double the bandits in number, but they were hardened and skilled men wearing platemail, with horses and lances. This was expected to be an easy battle, as even a highly trained and well equipped infantry block twice the size of a unit of heavy cavalry would struggle under the pressure of their charge. But these bandits, even if skilled and well equipped were outnumbered heavily and at a huge disadvantage with terrain and manuverability.


@Darth Gangsta

 

[Veyd Sahvoz]

Hadar Stark


(The Black Wolf)

White Harbor

​

White Harbor wasn't his first choice of places to stay, in fact he had thought it best to continue on but only a fool would think of bringing a child out on such a journey and not let them rest. Though he couldn't say he wasn't tired as well as Braxis, they needed a place to sleep. "Timos, how does a tavern sound for a night's rest?" Asked Hadar, looking down at Braxis who was seemed tired as well. The Tavern seemed decent enough for a docking town but everyone seemed so down about something "We sleep here tonight." He declared and went to pay for their rooms.


@Crimson smile

 

[General_warNpeace]

Timos Stark



Zugusky snorted in irritation as Timos dismounted the dornish steed and followed his brother. She could still ride all night before needing to rest he knew and was likely irritated at stopping so soon. Shaking his head he patted her neck fondly as he followed Hadar. Zugusky was fiesty and would defend herself and Braxis if she needed. He could tell his brother was tired and feigned tiredness as well. Yawning and rubbing his eyes of sleep to keep up the facade. He didn't wish for his brother to know of his unusual amount of stamina for one as young as he. His accent was particularly thick from tiredness as he spoke "Good. I was beginning to fear I would have to learn how to sleep while riding."

 

[Veyd Sahvoz]

Hadar Stark


(The Black Wolf)



​

"Oh trust me, that's quite a good skill to have but too bad I don't tend to travel on horse. You however could learn it easily." Said Hadar but it was just a joke he mildly chuckled at. It was only midday so they had plenty a time to relax, if not nap even. This was a town where they'd most likely be able to shorten their long trek by crossing to the Three Sisters and from there to the other side but that would require payment to a sailor who would be willing to take them. To him it seemed like a waste of time and money even though he was slightly eager to sail once more. "What say you of this journey so far?" He asked as he sat on an old wooden chair with his mug of Cider. It would seem to him that Timos might find this venture enjoyable and less rule restricting. That was one of the reason he preferred the travelling life since some of his greatest memories were of his many ventures to Essos, even the Shadow Lands. Still with all the travelling and sleeping by tent it didn't hurt to sleep on an actual bed for once.


@Crimson smile


____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

[General_warNpeace]

"It's much better then being cooped up in Winterfell." Timos nodded as he sat beside his brother. He enjoyed travelling but in his line of work he was used to traveling often. Even if they were brief trips since he left Essos. I am really getting tired of being Timos. I wonder if I can go back to being just 'A boy' again with the coming war. It will make it easier for sure to do the jobs I am given. "I will enjoy sleeping in a bed tonight."

 

[Veyd Sahvoz]

Hadar Stark


(The Black Wolf)
​

"Tonight that is. We have plenty of time to rest so why not go out and restock supplies or maybe check out the docks. You know this is one of the only passages to the Three Sisters." Hadar stated as Braxis approached them and sat at the base of his chair looking up at Timos with his blue and red mismatched eyes. He patted his fur a bit then reached for his dagger and whetstone to sharpen it which made time apparently fly by faster for him.


@Crimson smile

 

[General_warNpeace]

I wonder if wolves can sense that I'm not the Stark boy. Timos mused looking down at the wolf. Experimentally Timos leaned down to petthe wolf and was slightly relieved when he wasn't attacked. He could have fended off the animal easily but that wouldn't do much good for his cover. Catching a glimpse of a man leaving out of the corner of his eye Timos stood slightly teasing his brother. "I'm going to go make sure Zugusky is alright. I'll be back in a moment. Get us some room's while I'm gone alright you lazy sod?"

 

[Veyd Sahvoz]

Hadar Stark


(The Black Wolf)
​

"Already did and is that any way to talk to your brother after I came all the way back to Winterfell?" Hadar retorted returning the joke. He continued sharpening his dagger but Braxis was nearly restless and perked right up when Timos stood out of his seat. "Why don't you take Braxis for a walk while you're at it?" He suggested, not wanting to get off his lazy ass now that he was sitting down.


@Crimson smile

 

[General_warNpeace]

"It is if it's true." Timos smiled though was uneasy as he considered his brother's request. Will the wolf get in the way? Deciding to take the chance Timos nodded. "Sure. Though you do realize you just confirmed your laziness."

 

[Spacing Out]

Kuvira


Location: Red Keep

Kuvira sat on her throne as her fingers tapped the edge of the iron chair. A smile didn't form on her face. She didn't feel she had time for that. "Don't delude me," she said before rising approaching his way. "If you want us to have a good standing.I require honesty. I will think more about an alternative plan. There is no time for comforting" If dealing with her sister,she didn't feel the need to be the sweet girl she desired to be. "As for my sister. At least she could be some use to me now instead of giving me conflicts... Don't ever do anything like that without my consent do you understand?" She scolded him as her last words lingered on for a while longer before letting out a sigh. She placed her hand on the man's arm gently."For now rest. You must've dealt with a lot tonight." She said. her voice softened yet her face seemed to remain the same. She walked the door,not waiting for his reply.


She was later joined by her ladies yet 4 didn't look as familiar as the rest. She gestured them forward with a stern look. "There are emissionaries in the banquet hall probably drinking away until I give them my final decision. They are your next targets. I will be there soon but just pull as much information as you can. Don't make me doubt you ability to do this task." As the flight squadron bowed before departing.group of young and beautiful women that are trained and polished by Kuvira herself.These women are seen as Ladies in Waiting but They are sent to sleep with important noblemen and report back to their mistress about information but she doesn't limit them to those things. Though Kuvira made it clear to the others that technically her Flight squadron are friends of hers and she doesn't trust any of them. "For the rest of you need me, I'll be in the garden. I need some time alone." She spun on her heel before making her way out.
​

@TheAncientCenturion


@Elendithas

 

[Elendithas]

Emissaries - Red Keep

​

As predicted, the three emissaries were sampling the local ales and wines. Many of the wines they seemed to be ignoring, though when tried they would often swallow quickly or spit back out into the cup. Ibbenese weren't exactly known for their complex palate, and wine tasted to them like rotting fruit and little more. It couldn't be said that they disliked the cheaper ales however. Soon enough they were essentially treating the great hall like an inn. Drinking, chatting and singing an odd-sounding song before the four ladies approached them. "'n' who micht ye be? git any word fae th' queen?" One asked as they continued to drink, the other two chatting about nonsense in the city.





@Robyn Banks

 

[Veyd Sahvoz]

Katsa Borrell

Three Sisters -> White Harbor

​

Katsa had been excited for days after hearing of the Queen's coronation, eager to go see this herself. The passage to White Harbor was long and tiring for her and she itched with impatience. The only reason she planned on going to White Harbor was so she could stock up on a bit of food and make the joirney a bit longer for herself, seeking adventure like always. "I dread this gods' forsaken fog. Why today?" She rambled on the rest of the way, though determined to make it herself.

 

[TheAncientCelt]

Highgarden, The Reach


POV: Morath son of Myraen
​

"Remain here, hedge knight." The knight, Jon Osgrey, said not too kindly. The man was suspicious of Morath, and rightfully so.


"As you say, Ser." Morath gave another soft smile at the guards that escorted the odd trio. Filicity Tyrell had taken the lead among the group, never one to be outdone. Morath was stuck with Adair Fossoway for most of the way before they reached the castle of Highgarden, either. The drunken fool let his lunch escape him another two times on the journey forward, adding to the copious amounts of filth on the unpaved roads. It was a blessing that two maids took the Fossoway once the group made it to the gates of Highgarden.


"These men will handle your weapons once Lord Arren arrives. Do not resist." Osgrey left little room between Morath's nose and his own. The Blackfyre-in-hiding smirked, his purple eyes revealing hidden away amusement at Osgrey's worry.


"As you command." Blackfyre was still on his hip, the blade would be instantly reocognized as Valyrian steel if drawn. It worried the bastard, but he came too far now to stop. "Take my arms now, a show I mean your lord no ill will." Several of the men around him closed the distance, they were just as cautious as their leader. 'These are smart men indeed. I've met house hold guards who'd blindly walk into a blade before realizing their actions.' Tentatively, Viserys unhooked his steel blade, and then the Valyrian relic. He held them both out as one would to a new born babe. The Tyrell guards didn't hesitate to remove his weaponry, holding it in their hands for mere seconds before dropping it on a nearby low standing table. They stood back at attention, eyes fixated on Viserys. 'Very careful.' It gave him a twisted sense of pride.


Viserys was left waiting for minutes on end, his confidence only building during the wait. 'One look at me and he'll know what I am. The true heir to the Iron Throne. Kuvira be damned. Braedon be cursed.' Viserys was left unsure of whether he should confess immediately to what he was, the Tyrell's were a neutral party in his head. They weren't close allies to the Targaryen's, though neither were they enemies. 'Everything comes down to the war to come.' He reminded himself. Would they bow to some Baratheon? If they resisted Braedon, who would lead their armies? Some old man who hadn't fought a real enemy in decades? 'I am a tried and tested battle commander. This Tyrell Lord would be half a fool to ignore my promise of support in these uncertain times.' His naked flesh was torn apart dozens of times. He'd lost brothers and blood all over Essos, and always prevailed. 'This is war is mine to win.'


The door on the far end of the courtyard opened and the guards around him stood stiffer still, weapons half revealed. "Lord Arren Tyrell approaches." One of the men spoke.


"Lord Tyrell." Viserys smiled, his lips parting kindly, and he took to one knee. "Your beautiful sister informed me that House Tyrell has need of strong blades. I would offer you my own, especially in this unsettling age when King's and Queen's are no safer than the rabble of Gin Alley." His violet eyes seemed to glow in the light of the moon as he looked up at the man he presumed to be Arren Tyrell. This man would be his, Viserys was sure of it. 'Mine or dead, and may his sisters prove themselves wiser.'

Greyshield, Grimston


POV: Wulfgar Sparr
​

"Enjoy the fruits of our victory, you sullen coonts!" The Sparr warrior clapped his hands together in excitement as the mast from his very own ship was readied and put into position. The lords and knights of Greyshield thought themselves clever, hiding away as the Ironborn passed over them like a menacing fog. "No one hides from us!" Wulfgar gave the signal and some fifty men pulled the ram back, ready to hit the gate with the decorative woman at the top of it. 'It's a real shame.' He thought, 'She had the most perfect tits I've ever seen.'


The woman never so much as touched the gate before boiling hot oil descended on the men closest to the gate. Despite their protective wear, the oil fell in the cracks, burning at their exposed skin. The mast fell, but it wasn't dropped yet. The men in the back still had a firm grip on the makeshift battering ram. That was until a torch dropped down on the ram and the men nearest to it. A crimson wave engulfed the ram, tits and all. The men retreated, many burning and leaping through the mud around them. Arrows, rocks, even some coont spitting from atop the walls dosed them. Wulfgar was silent with rage, his fist splitting the skin from how tightly it balled up. The castle wasn't going to be theirs, Wulfgar was coming to that realization. They had enough soldiers with projectiles to keep what Wulfgar had brought at bay, and oil to keep their rams from testing the mettle of their gate.


There were more Ironborn on the island still not assembling at the gate, from what Wulfgar could tell. A captain and his crew, or crews, had just arrived. The Sparr warrior was tempted to call the man over to him, to formulate some strategy, but he was lost for words. Scaling the wall might get one man in ten on the other side, and with only the Drowned God's blessing would he kill a man on his side. Ramming the gate would be thwarted. . "Fuck these cravens and their walls!" He shouted loudly, his displeasure more than obvious.


It was the cries of a maniac that drew the captain of The Iron Wind from his fuming. "The Reach is here! The Reach is here!"


"The fuck is he saying?! The Tyrell's can't be here just yet. . " Had the Lannister's sent raven of their attack on Fair Isle? Were they not cautious enough in their sailing?


"No Captain, the Redwyne's."


Wulfgar felt his blood run cold. One of the few houses that could rival them in both sailors and fleet size was upon the Shields faster than Conn had imagined. . And the Ironborn left most ships with skeleton crews, and were fighting on the islands against resistance. "TO THE SHIPS YOU SALTED COCKS!" Wulfgar shouted twice before leading the charge back to the shore. The Iron Wind was mastless, and thus far useless. 'Let these coonts keep it.' He growled. He'd take another ship, if he had to.

Oakenshield, The Reach


POV: Loron Pyke
​

The Battle on Oakenshield belonged to the men of the sea one moment, but the Storm God had ushered in an enemy worthy of their steel. The Redwyne Fleet came in dangerously quick, splitting off its strength to attack the Ironborn on different islands. Most would panic at the sight, all would think the battle was lost, even after sustaining causalities against Oakenshield's defenders. Loron grinned, murder in his eyes. "To the ships!" Those who opposed the Ironborn on land were too few to stop Loron and his host, any man who tried to stop them was routinely killed.


It was only thanks to Loron's quick order that the Ironborn boarded their vessels in time to meet the Redwyne detachment that threatened them, both fleets were close to the shallows of the shore. "To the oars!" Cried from different officers on deck, but Loron was silent, glaring with glee at the rival ships heading his way. "Take us to them men! Ram us into their side!" He spoke softly, yet loud enough for a man at his right to roar the commands at his crew.


The other ships were doing worse than Loron's, some still having issues getting off of the shore side, the remaining soldiers would likely keep them their. Loron looked back to the Redwyne's. They had more ships, larger ships, with fresh soldiers no doubt. He wasn't the only man to notice it, either. Some officers, warriors, and deck hands stared at the on coming ships with despair in their hearts. The bastard captain would have not of that.


"See how many they need to match us lads?!" He yelled with a wild ferver. Some joined him instantly, but the majority of the crew looked on at their encroaching doom. "They fear us. They hate us. Rightfully so! We'll take their women as our salt wives, we'll plant our axes in the heads of their greenlander lords! We spit on their gold and silver, be it stag or dragon!"


The first of the Redwyne ships were upon them. Loron uttered a guttural war cry. "What is dead!" The Black Wolf was showered with arrows, the oarsmen filled with holes as blood and piss soaked the floor of the longship. Loron stood at the far end of the vessel, glaring out at the enemy boat. "Press on!" To the credit of the Ironborn, the ship moved, crashing into the first of the Redwyne ships, digging a deep hole in its side and allowing salt water to fill it up. The Black Wolf violently tore free from the Greenlander ship, carving out a deeper cut in the side of the ship before it was over. Loron grinned victoriously, the first of their foes were now dining in the watery halls of the Drowned God.


"On to the next ship, full speed ahead!" The other ships were coming in faster, staying closer to each other than the first one had. Loron Pyke took a moment to search for his own allies. The other twenty ships that had attacked Oakenshield with him were reduced to fourteen, all of whom were at various stages of battle. Some were still stuck on the coast, whilst others were spread so thinly that the Redwyne Fleet would smash them in under ten minutes. The scowl Loron wore deepened, the shape of his own crew was downright pitiful. The sailors were withering in pain from arrows stuck in their skin, at least many of them were. The able bodied didn't number enough to keep the fast pace The Black Wolf once enjoyed. Loron's rage built and washed over him as two more Redwyne ships neared them, entering archer range.


"What is dead!" He cried as the two ships let loose a barrage of arrows on the lone Wolf. The crew scattered to below the deck, leaving The Black Wolf stuck in the middle of the ocean and in the way of the enemy ships. Loron felt an arrow slid past his cheek, and another dig into his foot. "Ahhg!" He bit his own tongue from the pain, watching as more of the archers aimed specifically at him now, the last man to be seen.


"Cravens and cowards! Face me!" He waved his morning star proudly as a last arrow found its mark in his shoulder. The Ironborn Captain felt himself loose balance, crashing into the sea. The dark and salty waters flooded his nose and mouth, the heavy armor he wore dragging him down quickly in the abyss. A silent, horrified cry left him as he finally fell below the surface. In seconds there was no sign of the captain, not even the blood trail drifted on the surface.

The Red Keep, King's Landing


POV: Vladan
​

Vladan nodded throughout Kuvira's speech to him. He felt half a fool for trying to work with the plot against Braedon, it was absurd, an assassination attempt wouldn't stop the war. "Forgive me, your grace. I meant no insult, but merely to assist you in any action you take." His cold, pale eyes looked down at her with little emotion behind them. He felt tired, Gods knew he was, but his duties and obligations to the realm seemed to never end. Unlike his older days as a lordly maester. 'What easy days they were.' He mused. Ever since Maeryn passed, things in King's Landing changed dramatically. War was on the horizon, whereas the old king kept the Seven Kingdoms together, through force, but that was the only method of keeping so many men united. Plots and schemes propped up left and right, Kuvira and Aerea were almost killed! 'Gods be good.' He refocused on Kuvira. She was lecturing him on what to do and what not to do without her okay. He shut his eyes briefly. There was no disrespect meant towards the girl queen, but Vladan was above petty orders, he had been the true hand when Tytos Lannister helped drive the court into a circus.


"I apologize, your grace." He repeated. His thin lips split into a wicked grin, pathetically small. "Yes, your grace. . The day has been long, and the night longer still. Who knows what might come of tomorrow still. . These are uncertain times." Once Kuvira let him go, Vladan lingered in the great throne room of the Targaryen's, marveling at the dragon skulls, the great tapestries depicting the history of the Conquest, and the throne forged from sword and dragon fire. Vladan was not alone, even as Kuvira left, Goldcloaks lingered at the doors.


"Soldier," It was a compliment, one the guard did not deserve. "Find me Ser Aiden Stark at this moment. Tell him the safe keeper of the city demands his presence."


The Goldcloak's looked at one another before the man singled out replied. "As you say, m'lord." He puffed his chest out in pride and left, quickly.


"Apologies my queen." He muttered. She was no longer near him, far out of the room. But he felt the words needed to be vocalized. "But Braedon is dangerous. His siblings aren't." Her assassination attempt was crude, but with his hand guiding it, he might be able to smash any coherent force in Stormlands. It would cost the Throne dignity, that he did not doubt, but if it gave them enough time to assemble a true army, Vladan would take any slight. His eyes were colder than Winter as the Stark came striding through the great gate to the throne room, a baffled look on his face. Clearly he was not expecting Vladan. "Dear ser, we have much to discuss."

The Skinned Tail, The Shields


POV: Wulfgar Sparr
​

"The coonts." Wulfgarr cursed. The Redwyne fleet had come in quickly, ravaging the islands simultaneously. The Ironborn had attempted to fight back, to get on their warships and fight off the Redwyne Fleet, but it was a lost battle. The ironborn hadn't brought their full strength, the Redwyne's had. The Ironborn were split, fighting on the islands, unable to unify, the Redwyne fleet was able to pick apart the different captains and their fleets easily before they even had a chance. Greyshield had seen the worst of it. Wulfgar managed to assemble eight ships of the fifteen still float worthy, readying to sail out against the Greenlanders, but the lord of Grimston caught the Ironborn in a devastating attack. Once many of them were on ships, with half their forces split around the islands, did they strike. "Craven bastards!" Wulfgar had looked over his shoulder before they left the battle. Most of them were fleeing now, them and many other captains who realized the battle was lost. Wulfgar counted fewer than the force that hit Greyshield sail North, but it was hundreds of lives saved to fight another day.


The defeat was humiliating, but the true insult was the disappearance of Conn. He had left, fled early on in the battle. No one knew where to, his own crew would of stayed behind to wait for him, to die for their 'king' if Wulfgar didn't take command of the situation. Conn had been kind enough to leave one treasure behind, the green dragon egg he wished to hatch. "We were fools." Wulfgar sank into the kings chair. He enjoyed the luxury of Conn's old cabin, the taste of his wine and ale, but the harsh defeat would hurt him for years to come. "We can sell it, buy us good lumber from the North." By the Storm God's cock, Wulfgar was appreciative that they didn't attack the North. They would be more than happy to help the Ironborn when it came to resources, at least if they had the price to pay for it. 'We should pay the iron price though.' He felt ashamed, his thoughts betrayed him so soon.


"We'll build ten fleets for what you'll sell. The Greenlanders will know no such thing as safety!" He downed more wine. They'd need a Kingsmoot to be called once they returned, the honor of war was now sullied with defeat and politics. "May the next king be strong." He prayed.

Ship Breaker Bay, The Stormlands


POV: Aiden Stark
​

"Ser, we're to make port soon." One of the Goldcloak's said to the gallant Ser Stark.


"Good." Aiden smiled at the soldier. "Make sure to wave a white flag, we're not going to start a battle." Aiden was blessed with the opportunity to speak sense into Braedon Baratheon, the queen herself sent him, or so Vladan told him. Aiden was no simple man, the Grand Maester was a roach that couldn't stay down, even if he wanted to. But the new queen had to see the situation for what it was, defeat was imminent. Aiden was tasked with brokering a truce, even offering to return Astris unharmed in Braedon was reasonable enough to consider the offering.


The boats that sailed for Storm's End would convey this message well. They were trading ships with hired hands to take Aiden and a select few to meet with Braedon. No man held any loyalties to the queen, no more than the common peasant at least. Aiden pushed the door open, sniffing the fresh air, finally free from the musty room the Kingsguard had been given. His white armor and cloak rippled heroically in the wind, the greatsword on his back doing little to keep it pinned down.


What seemed like half the royal navy was stationed outside of Storm's End. Aiden hadn't expected to see a fleet gather at Storm's End, but it seemed Rory Baratheon had some Tully in him too. The knight had a vibrant smile on his face, it had been a long time since he was able to properly meet with the Baratheon's. They were close friends to the Stark's for a time, even with his split from the Stark's of Winterfell Aiden held a warm place in his heart for the friends he once had. "Blow the horn! Loud and proud, crewmen, I want Braedon to shit himself as he hears us coming!" He laughed as three different men grabbed hold of massive horns, large enough to crush a child. They inhaled and blew once, twice, a third and fourth time.


"I think I can see the walls shake! Storm's End falls to the Musicians guild." He had them continue until they were blue faced, then Aiden asked others to take their place. Up until they were stopped by Rory Baratheon's fleet, did Aiden Stark have the hired thugs announce his arrival to an old friend.

 

[Mion]

Siegfried Harlaw, The Reach, The Shield Islands, Greyshield.


As soon as Siegfried reached the damned castle everything had gone to shit, a fire had been made out of the ironborn attempting to breach the gates and the Redwyne fleet had been reported to closing in on their rear.


Siegfried crew was visibly angry and many spat on the grown and shouted curses to the craven Greenmen hiding in their house of stone... The situation was dire but Siegfried had to make a choice, the conclusion being that him and his men would not die today and they would retreat to the Iron Isles with the other men BUT, not before they tasted the blood of the Reachmen.


Siegfried spotted Wulfgar Sparr and his men leading the retreat and Siegfried commanded his men to follow behind despite the frantic state they listened to Siegfried.


Upon reaching the shore they were met with some Redwyne troops, Siegfrieds only goal was to get his men back to the ship.


The first man to engage the enemy was Ravos, by the look on his face you would think he was with his salt wife with a massive grin and drool oozing out of his mouth, he struck the first Redwyne soldier in the so hard in the arm that it looked like it was going to be severed before bringing the second blow down into his skull spattering blood on the ground and himself alike. Siegfried brandished his large battleaxe and swung it at a number of the Redwyne soldiers forcing them into defence, on the second swing he caught one of their shields sending it flying off of his hand and breaking his arm in the process... the man was quickly finished off when Jon Pyke shoved his sword through his throat while Siegfried swung his axe at the other men. The rest of Siegfrieds rampaging crew soon caught up attacking the Reachmen like a pack of wild dogs hacking and slashing at them with savagery, there was casualties on both sides but by the time Siegfried and his crew reached their ship the majority of them had been able to hold onto their lives, although due to the reckless fighting style there were plenty wounded.


As Siegfried and his crew sailed away from the shore they managed to reunite with the other Ironborn that managed to slip out however Siegfried most likely had a different destination than the others.


Siegfried raised his voice for his men to hear. "Once we are in the clear we will start making our way towards the Ten Towers of House Harlaw, before we return to Pyke I have some family business to attend to." Siegfried practically spat out the words like he had eaten something sour, no doubt he had something planned.

 

[Archon]

Storm's End


Rory Bartheon
​

Rory sighed deeply, his eyes remaining on Wendel for a moment longer, it was awfully suspicious to dart off now of all times. What was he hiding? Or perhaps the elder brother was simply paranoid. A trait he'd held rather highly recently, he'd never known Wendel to be one for intrigue... Then again, he'd never known Wendel. With some doubt in his mind, fueled by curiosity and suspicion; Rory forced the thoughts to the back of his mind, and turned attention to the doorway which revealed Walder, and brother dearest.


His hands were bound, he had been forced into this by Astris' capture, and Braedon's bravado. How he wished he had been Lord Paramount, and not the incompetent summer boy before him. "We have much to discuss if we are to assault King's Landing." The man stated bleakly, pacing forward with a powerful stride, before taking to his previous seat. For several long moments he studies both Walder, and Braedon. No doubt their conversation had involved him in some way.


With a slight shift in movement, Rory clasped his hands together and his look changed to an even more serious tone - if that were possible. "Time is off the essence, we needn't waste it. As of now, the winds of war flow with us, King's Landing is scarcely protected, manned by ten thousand gold-cloaks at the very best." Rory started, allowing a moment for the duo to process the first bout of good news. "Additionally, the Crownlands have a meager number to offer as reinforcements. We could be within the walls before the majority of their sworn houses realize what's happening..."


His fingers twitched in consideraion of the possibilities, and the gravity of Braedon's intentions. "We have the numbers, we have the morale, we have the Commander and the Admiral, we have the Fleet, and we have the speed..." Rory's voice was but a wisp, his eyes staring gravely at Braedon. Trying to convey how risky his course of action was.


"But this is a timed battle, if we don't take King's Landing fast enough, our cause is lost. The moment we set sail, The Vale will ride for the Riverlands in defense of Her Grace. The Stormlands will be exposed to the Reach and Dorne, they will declare on us if we lose." Rory gave a knowing look to Walder, before letting the sentence sit for a moment. Walder knew that should they lose, it meant the extinction of House Baratheon, he needed Braedon to understand this too. "We can't afford to wait any longer. If you have Stark support, then the North can aid the Riverlands, but we need to act with haste." The elder brother spoke with authority, his eyes once more focusing Braedon. "If we do not, King's Landing will be manned by the sworn houses of the Crownlands by the time we arrive, and we won't be able to take the city without the decimation of our armies."


A brief silence possessed the room, and the atmospere nearly choked Rory; yet it was shattered by the most peculiar of things, an incredibly vocal horn; not unlike those used in acts of assault, though that was impossible... Surely. Taking to his feet, Rory rushed towards the window that gave a beautiful view over shipbreaker bay, what he saw, was not impressive. A meager collection of trading ships, the white flag of parley hoisted high. Kuvira was smarter than Rory had given her credit for, she understood her position well, and looked to diplomacy as an answer, a rare trait of a targaryen... If this was her idea, that is. With little else to do given this new turn of events, Rory turned to Braedon - his eyebrow raised - Rory's stance on the diplomacy was neutral; this was in Braedon's hands, for now.


@JustWhipIt @Hypnos @TheAncientCenturion

 

[Obi-Wan Kenobi]

The Tower of the Hand, Kings Landing

POV: Gelgin Arryn

Gelgin Arryn sat wearily in a finely carved chair inside his personal chambers. Arrayed in front of him was a table with an ornate Cyvasse set on it. Carnelian, jade and lapis lazuli squares made up the board, and arrayed atop it were pieces of ivory and onyx. His opponent was none other than himself. Testing himself against himself was mentally stimulating, a unique mental exercise like no other. Every move he made, he knew the reasoning behind, so he could always perfectly counter it. And so his own mind devolved into layers upon layers of 'I know that you know' gambits. It was not a game against another living human, but it was still a challenge, in its own way, to try and defeat himself.


As it was, the game had barely begun. The Onyx side was more conservative in its movements, maintaining an even formation where as many pieces as possible were 'protected' so to speak. The Ivory side was moving far quicker, securing as many advantageous positions as quickly as possible. They had already secured ground far in advance of that of the Onyx's equivalent.


It was Onyx to move, and he shifted the Trebuchet to a new position, more able to cover its allies. The Ivory responded with a strategic threat with the Dragon, placing an Onyx Elephant in danger. The Onyx countered by threatening with a Catapult, triggering a prompt withdrawal into a new position by the Dragon.


And so the game continued, every move matched by a counter, and the two sides remained roughly even. The turning point came when the Ivory repeated the Onyx's trick, forcing the Onyx Dragon to back off with a Catapult. This opened the way for a Light Horse to take the Onyx Trebuchet, something the Onyx could not effectively match. From that point on, it was a simple matter to wrap up the rest of the game with an Ivory victory.


As he reset the pieces, his thoughts wandered to Westeros at large. Tiber Lannister's marriage would surely be a grand event, and who knew what would happen at such an occasion, especially if this conflict escalated as he knew it inevitably would. Whoever was playing the realm, they were very good at it. Tensions were already high, and a woman in the colours of a Stormlander house putting a knife to the Queen was exactly the right push to tip the realm into civil war. He contemplated the options.


Gelgin doubted it was Vladan. The man was cunning, perhaps an equal to Gelgin himself, but his loyalty to the Queen was obvious, and he could see no way this would benefit Kuvira. Perhaps one of the sisters? Daenna was too young and innocent, along with having little to no stake in the assassinations, but the Red Dragon was certainly capable of deception, and she was next in line. However, something niggled at him that Aerea was not the perpetrator. He wasn't sure what, but some instinct called to him that Aerea was not nearly as responsible as others might think.


If Kuvira truly was a bastard, he had little doubt that Aerea was, too. Which would leave Daenna likely being the only legitimate, who was conveniently outside of Westeros. Why she was so, he knew not. It seemed a reckless decision, and he'd had half a mind to try and persuade a Kingsguard or Trevir to join her for her own safety. Somehow, though, he got the feeling that she'd do well. Something about the girl inspired confidence in him, and she would be too easily underestimated for being a child. His instinct told him that she had a part to play yet in the fate of Westeros.


The pieces were all arranged once more, and the great game began anew. An endless cycle of conflict and victors and scheming, only to ever be broken by some outside influence. Rather like Westeros itself, Gelgin mused.

 

[JustWhipIt]

Storm's End, The Stormlands


POV: Braedon Baratheon
​

Common ground. Walder spoke of Rory as if he was a war hero, as opposed to the crusty person he really was. How was Braedon supposed to sympathize with the disgrace of a man, much less find any common ground between them? Although they had been born into the same house, the two didn't even share the same mother. Braedon's mouth was practically open in hopes of objecting to Lord Walder's statement, though their conversation was halted the instant Rory busted through the doors. The absence of his other brother, though, was strange. Even as improper Wendel was, he surely wasn't the type to avoid a meeting of this importance. Regardless, Braedon shot Walder a glance, signalling that they would resume their talk sometime else.


Eyes trained on Rory, Braedon rose from his seat, prepared for some sort of confrontation. Instead, his brother began his planning without haste. Just exactly what had happened on the other side of the doors? Braedon, though wanting to ask about Wendel's disappearance, refrained from doing so after recognizing the severity of Rory's tone.


As much as he hated the man, his words rang and Braedon was in no position to disagree. Lord Tadhg had still not responded to his call, and the attentions of the Westermen and Reachmen were at least somewhat diverted to the Ironborn threatening them. Most of his bannermen were already prepared to march on King's Landing—gathering them would take minimal time and effort. Furthermore, it was hard to imagine that the Crown's forces had been completely assembled at the moment. The circumstances were all too good to be true.


What the young lord didn't appreciate as much, however, was the look Rory gave him. Even if the man didn't show much emotion, his pupils told more than enough about his own feelings about the situation. "I understand the position we're in," Braedon returning Rory's look, his own eyes narrowing. It was too late. Even if he wanted to, calling back his men didn't seem much of an option at the present. At this point, he was ready to wage war against Kuvira even if she did step down. Getting her off the throne wasn't good enough anymore. He wanted her dead.


Nevertheless, Braedon found himself nodding as Rory spoke. As much as he didn't want to admit it, his brother was right in having to attack soon. Though it was probably in his best interest to say so, he let the silence overflow the room. The atmosphere in the space was tense, which made Braedon almost grateful for the blaring horns, which couldn't have been too distant.


Following Rory to the window, Braedon gazed over Shipbreaker Bay and the ships sailing on its waters. Biting his lip, he took a few steps back from the wall. What did she want? The fact that they had a fleet sent as opposed to a simple letter of any kind didn't sit well with Braedon. He doubted that the Queen would be capable of showing an act of goodwill, and he questioned the decision of having multiple boats dispatched—wouldn't one have sufficed?


Between Rory's return, Wendel's departure, and the ships approaching Storm's End, Braedon was more than displeased. However, that didn't stop him from pacing across the room. As he reached the other side, he turned back to face his guests. "You two will be accompanying me, won't you?"


@Hypnos @Archon @TheAncientCenturion

 

[Huor Spinks]

Redwyne Fleet: Shield Islands


The first of the ships of the Redwyne fleet clashed with the Ironborn Fleet as the Ironborn rallied upon notice of the Redwyne Fleet sailing upon them. Ironborn men rushed to their ships, commanded by their superiors and as the Redwyne Fleet approached, there were enough ships among the shallows of the Shield Islands to form a naval battle. The stench of battle; the smell of smoke, blood, piss and shit filled the air, cries of pain and shrieks of agony rent the air, accompanied by the blood-curling cries of victory, of mocking, as both sides experienced losses. The air tasted of thick smoke as dust from specks of wood churned in the air, filling the lungs of the combatants, while all one could see was thick smoke, fires, whirling swords, arrows, axes. Thick within the action, one could barely see anything except the steel of their opponents, amid the smoke and dust.


Yet it was soon determined that victory would be on the Redwynes' side, even though both sides experienced losses. The bulk of the losses seemed to be from the Iron Fleet, as a great many of their ships and men sank down to the bottom of the sea, weighted down by armor, to be met by the Downed God. The Iron Fleet had been distracted by the stalwart defenses on Greyshield island, and many of the ships had been spread out over the Shields, engaged in battle. It was easy enough for the Redwyne fleet to surround and overwhelm them, as they were spread far too thin. In addition, the Redwyne Fleet were late entrants to the combat, and had their full strength and numbers while the Ironborn had already been engaged in battle.


Cries of victory intertwined with mocking phrases soon rent the air as the Iron Fleet was forced to flee, to recoup their losses. A few ships attempted to sail after the retreating Iron Fleet ships, only to turn back as Luthor Redwyne commanded the man beside him to blow the horn ordering the ships to regroup around the Shield Islands. He himself had been in the thick of the battle; the mast of his great ship had been instrumental in tearing many Iron Fleet ships apart, and his arrows had been instrumental downing many a ship's Captain. Let them run for now, for the Redwyne intent had not been to provoke a war; rather to sail to defend their brothers.


The Redwyne Fleet too, had taken losses, though not half as many as the Ironborn fleets. More than three quarters of their fleet still remained sailing, though a great many were wounded and quite a few ships needed repairs. Their sacrifice had been noble, in the defense of their brothers, and Lord Redwyne would see to it personally that they were honoured and that their families would receive compensation. And now it was time to inspect the damage that the Iron Fleet had wrought upon the Shield Islands.


It was... not a pretty sight. Buildings had been burnt down, and the dead bodies of the inhabitants of the Shield Islands lay on the ground, as far as the eye could see. A more positive sight greeted Lord Redwyne as he embarked upon Greyshield. The castle was still standing, and likely it's inhabitants were still alive. Lord Redwyne ordered his men to began gathering the bodies for a mass funeral as well as to take note of the areas that needed repairs as well as for any living survivors, as he along with his guard approached Greyshield Castle. No doubt he would have to see Lord Tyrell about compensation towards the Shield Islands as well as the rebuilding of their original structures.


"My Lord!" A cry from behind stopped the man in his tracks, as he turned to see what the commotion was. Adrenaline from the prior battle still flowed through his veins as his hand immediately went to his sword. Fortunately, it was only one of his men, and he was waving a letter that seemed to be bearing the sign of House Florent. He frowned. That was unexpected. He immediately tore open the letter and perused the contents. His heart sank. His armour suddenly felt heavy, and he could no longer move, as he could only stare, rooted, at the letter. His men gathered around him, worry on their faces.


Lord Redwyne could only shake his head. "Lord Hollis Tyrell is dead. Collapsed en route to Highgarden from Kings Landing. His body is being taken to Highgarden as we speak. And I feel as if I have seen far too many summers." He roused himself, slightly. Hollis Tyrell had been a dear friend of his, and he would be present at the funeral his family would plan for him, even if he had to walk from the Shield Islands to Highgarden. "Notify the other troops, and have one of the Captains negotiate with the Lord of Greyshield. I wish to ride immediately for Highgarden."


@TheAncientCenturion @Lancelot