Season 4, Turn 13
Days 1 - 15 of the Seventh Moon, 420 AC
General Summary
Outday Prayers
Septa Caelia | Shinigami KnightNoble Lords and Ladies of Westeros, I address you in the name of the Faith of the Seven, seeking your esteemed consideration for the establishment of a dedicated day of prayer and reflection known as Outday, specifically dedicated to the enigmatic Stranger. As custodians of our people's faith, it is paramount that we acknowledge the presence of the Stranger, who represents the mysteries of life and the inevitability of death. Outday, falling on the seventh day, is an opportunity for believers to contemplate the unknown and show gratitude for the cycle of life. I implore you, honorable Lords and Ladies, to embrace this proposal and make it mandatory for all followers of the Seven to observe a moment of dedication on Outday. By unifying our realm in this sacred observance, we strengthen our collective bond and demonstrate our commitment to the divine order. May the Stranger's presence on Outday inspire humility and acceptance in the hearts of all believers, fostering a deeper connection to the spiritual tapestry woven by the Seven. Faithfully,***EVENT OF THE FAITH***
Every House considering itself a faithful believer is called upon to manifest a token of devotion on this special day. Convey your beliefs through a short prayer, letter, or poem—either in public or via raven addressed to me. Do not actively pursue a reward, for it shall find you if your devotion proves worthy.
Two delegations emerge from Greenshield Castle, each setting forth on a distinct path. In the northern expanse, Septon Cyrus Engelkind leads a group, their journey shrouded in mystery. Their footsteps echo with purpose as they traverse the rugged terrain, leaving the verdant lands of Greenshield behind. The air is charged with anticipation, and the swirling winds carry whispers of a destiny yet undisclosed. Simultaneously, a maritime venture unfolds as the second delegation sets sail under the watchful eye of Septon Abelard. The sea, a vast canvas of possibilities, stretches endlessly before them. The creaking of the ships' timbers resonates with the promise of new horizons, an expedition into the unknown. Like sailors guided by the stars, they chart their course eastward, veiled in the enigma of their ultimate destination. The banners of faith flutter in the wind, bearing witness to a purpose known only to those who embark on these divergent paths. As the delegations venture forth, the realm awaits the revelation of their quest, and only time will unfurl the tale they inscribe upon the tapestry of Greenshield's destiny. ***END Event of the Faith***
Noble Faithful, While House Costayne adorned the special dedication to the Stranger on Outday (Sunday) with their devoted contribution, it is with a sense of lament that we observe the absence of others in this sacred event. Let this reminder echo: the strength of our faith lies in collective participation. May future occasions unite us all in the sacred embrace of the Seven.Achievement Goodwill: Lands will be gifted to sandman and a reward of 5.000 gold, for the shown devotion and only participation
Fleet of Pentos Dispute, Continued
Free City of Pentos | ~TSK~ SteenB11The grey fog covered the field in an ashy haze. The army stood on the Barricades. Named in honour of the man who financed its creature. Horro Mopatis. Among them was the Magistrate charged with the defence, Ordello Haratis. Personally, he disliked Horro. Thinking him of a man in the shadows. Someone not to be trusted or to follow. It was Aleyx he had bent the knee to. A true warrior. Akin to himself. Ordello towered over most of his men. Standing 6 foot 4 in height. Yet, even he could not see over the fog. Even he could not see the rising force amassing beneath him. Ready to assault the great defences the city had built. When night came, it was the torches that worried Ordello. So many fireflies below him. If only he could squish them as easily as he wished. Yet, they would have to stand and fight. They were outnumbered, he knew. His force was a measly three thousand, though it must be said they were professional soldiers. On their rotation to defend their own city. Men who have sworn their vows and received their pay every month. They were dependable. Morning came and the sheer size of the Myrish force caused many men to panic, not Ordello. Not the Colossus of Pentos. Ordello called his men, it was time now he knew. As drum beats gathered from the Myrish camp. Clamouring for his sword, a gigantic two handed longsword more akin to a Westerosi Knight than a Essos Magistrate. The Collosus came out leading. The first one through the gate to come onto the field. The standard bearers close behind. With drummers beating away as his men formed up. There would be no talk, he knew. The Myrish never wished to discuss. They only knew war. "Form" Is all Ordello needed to say. These were professionals now. They knew their job. Then the two armies stood. Ordello with his three thousand. Standing tough and firm in the face of overwhelming odds. He looks out at the enemy. A hand over his eyes. Covering the morning sun. "Must be thirty thousand." He whispered to himself. Hoping None had heard him. This would be a killer of a battle... they were all that stood between a free or conquered Pentos. The Colossus turned on his heels. A hand rested on his gigantic blade. A stoic face planted and muscles flexing. "Who defends Pentos!" He called out, expecting and answer "We do!" They called back in vigor. "Who defends PENTOS!" He repeated. Joining in with their enthusiasm. "WE DO!" They screamed back. Their voices filled the morning air. Outdoing all sounds around them. Even the beating drums. "Prove it to me then" Ordello called. Turning back. Sword drawn now. Stalwart in his stance. Defence was their only option. Their only choice. Outnumbered. By such a number they were taking as many bastarda as they could. The Myrish counted on the number of their forces. Knowing that victory was a certainty. If only they knew... Ordello fought side by side with his forces. Banner flowing alongside. He would not let it fall. Not let it be in the hands of its enemies. He loved his city. He would kill and die for it. He did the first and not the latter. While in the thickest of the fight, longsword wailing man after man. Ordello heard the greatest noise a man could hear. The mundane tone of the trumpet. It blew thrice. They had arrived. Little did the Myrish know that the Barricades had been built with tunnels underneath. Enabling speedy and quick movements between the posts. While Ordello held the Western Post with only three thousand, a reinforcing army of twenty two was in the tunnels. Waiting for the beating drums to come out and arse fuck all that came. Instead they came into the side of the Myrish army. It was a shame then, that the commander on the other side was smart. As soon as the army came smashing its way through trying to meet with Ordello, the Myrish began to fall back. No rushed surrender, but a tactical withdrawal. It was a clever decision. One that meant they would live to fight again. Rather than be decimated by Ordello and the Pentoshi. A shame then, that the reinforcements were early. Not able to box them in. The Pentoshi did not charge after them. Ordello may have relished a battle but he knew when the odds were against him. The time separating the two armies meant they did not know each other's plans. They must come together. Recuperate and prepare for the second assault the Myrish would soon commit. In the end, the battle was won, for sure. Only just. The Myrish had more forces remaining, though Ordello and his men still stood between them and Pentos. For now? That was all that was needed. Soon he hoped it would be enough. After the withdrawal, they took a count of their losses. It was astonishing. They once numbered twenty five thousand. Now? Less than Five. The numbers caused Ordello to have to sit down. He rubbed his buzz cut hair. Astonished by the worrying prospect they would be overdue any time soon. Most were injured rather than dead. Ordello sighed. "Time to ask men to die." They needed as many men as possible. Any man who could hold a sword or by the fires, hide behind a shield. The magistrate made the call. They were to present themselves or else. Luckily, the assault did not come for a few days. Surely the Myrish too were struggling to form an assaulting army, though the Colossus knew they had more men. They were coming. The luck did not stop there. Horro Mopatis, R'hollor bless the man, though Ordello wished he would not have to say that again, had arrived at a deal with some Qohori Crossbowmen. A mercenary company that had signed to fight alongside his Pentoshi forces. Ordello called them to mount the Posts to his east. Aiming to hide and then once battle hit they would strike. Unbeknownst to the Myrish due to the hidden tunnels. They camped out in the fields. Allowing the Myrish to see just how struggling his army was. Doing their utmost to emphasise this point. Trying to persuade the enemy to come. They did. It was nearing nightfall when they marched. Drums beating once more. Perhaps they hoped to take the Pentoshi unawares but as Ordello wrote in his journal. "These men beneath me are like nothing I have worked with before. They fight for Pentos. Sleep for Pentos. Eat, sleep and breathe the City. Always ready. Always prepared." And so, the armies clashed once more. The wounded and weary Pentoshi fighting to their hearts stopped beating. Either from death or from exhaustion. It was their sacrifice that allowed the time for the Crossbow men to take their position. Joined by several of the House Mopatis Household guard. It was they who gave the order. "Strike!" The call came from Ordellos East. The Magistrate was busy fighting a close battle with a Myrish higher up. He had just sliced the man's arm. The blade gets caught, forcing Ordello to put his weight in to clear it. The bone cracking though the sound was hidden by the sound if volts whistling through the air and finding their targets It was a massacre. As they kept striking. A repeating blow. Consistent and true. The Myrish could not hold. Running as all who come to Pentos with ire surely will. The battle was won. Ordello lifted his gigantic blade in their air. His soldiers joined him. Hearing other call out "Mopatis! Mopatis! Mopatis" The Colossus was not one to join. Though even he had to admit, Horro had secured their victory here with his coin. Though by the same theory so had they. With their blood. The Windblown | korelajacky
After months of hesitation, The Windblown company has decided to sign a contract with Pentos.
Braavosi Restoration, Continued
Free City of Lorath | SentryQarlon Jaqen walked through the long misty road that made up the city of Braavos. The colony's population grew steadily but was still small compared to the tall buildings shrouded in the fog. Qarlon felt a twinge of sadness all of his long hours in political meetings and his heartfelt speeches would be a small part of Braavos revival. A fully revived city would be generations away from his lifetime. Qarlon returned his mind to the task at hand, Braavos must begin its path towards self sufficiency.
Vengeance of House Pryor, Continued
House Stone | Kingdom of the Vale | Jack Handy~Ser Taran was a bastard knight from parts unknown. He had befriended Godric Stone years ago during the War of Northern Aggression. He was violent, ill tempered but he was loyal to Godric and a damn fine warrior when it was needed. He had worked his way to being Stone's right hand man and would usually tell him what the ravens said, after a Maester would read them to him. After a long ride through the Vale, Godric and his company sailed from Coldwater Burn to Solitude . When they reached the North, a raven was already waiting for them, sent from The Eyrie...As he crumpled the small letter in his hand and tossed it aside from atop his horse, Ser Taran muttered to himself about this pompous, c*nt Queen Baelish and her attempts to civilize the savage Brittlefang. Godric Stones hears this and laughs. "What do you expect, a Baelish woman to understand the savagery of the Wildlings. She's lived a life of tea and chivalry. If Corbray wants to win this war, he needs men like us to win it." Taran just grunted. "And believe me old friend," Godric said with a smile, "After meeting the glorious Ser Ækron Baelish, I'm surprised he and his sister survived this long, both are about as smart as cow shit... Luckily they're both wealthy and beautiful as the day is long." Both men chuckled to themselves and then set out to claim Wolf's Den.
Clash of Kingdoms, Continued
House Allyrion | Kingdom of Summerhall | {N.W.} TheLegendLord Nymor Allyrion and his son, Trebor, lay in separate beds in their tent but looked eerily similar. For them, the break in hostilities had come at a great time as illness grabbed hold of them. Their ashen faces and labored breathing were a great concern for those gathered in the tent. Nymor awoke for a brief moment and glanced around. He smiled at his daughter, Cassella, who smiled back down at him. Concern was in her eyes. She asked for more Milk of the Poppy and a servant came with a bottle of white liquid. Both men received a small dose and Nymor closed his eyes again. Cassella sent all the others away, wanting some time alone with her family. She looked down at the two men. Blood trickled from their noses. A faint smile showed just for a second. It was gone as quickly as it came. She grabbed a piece of parchment and began writing a short letter. She knew what she must do for herself ..... and her people. She finished and called for a raven. House Swann | Kingdom of the Andals | PatMagroyn
“Mother. Is it true?” Lady Ellyria Mopatis Swann looked toward the doorway and found her first-born son standing listless, currently seeking an answer he already knew. She dreaded every morning when the news would eventually reach her children. But nonetheless, she knew it would. And apparently, had. “…it is.” She rifles through a stack of parchment before retrieving one with the broken seal of House Swann. “Maester Harwood sent this not long ago. The Lords of the Stormlands have elected to destroy the title of Storm King. And in turn, have sworn new oaths to Bracken, and the little dragon newt, their new Paramount. It is over.” “And what of the war? King Vaegon? Lady Arwyn and Princess-“ She cut the boy off. “None knows their fate but Otho Bracken. The Stormlords have joined their cause. The traitors will aid them in defeating Vaegon’s few remaining vassals. It is no longer our concern.” The blood drained from the boy’s face. “…what?” His eyes combed the floor as if they held the answers he sought. “….why, mother? Why did we abandon them?” “…I believe you are to be practicing horsemanship with Master Otherys at this moment. Go.” The voyage had been one of the most difficult of her life. Like thieves in the night, they stole away from House Swann's ancestral keep as quickly as they had arrived, taking with them much of its wealth, along with the many treasures transferred from Storm's End. Only several of her closest handmaids, nannies, house-guard, and servants were taken with them. The two-decked dromond, Swanflight, a wedding gift from the late Juspar Baratheon, was loaded with these goods and people, and set sail after Jack’s funeral. Though her words seemed to placate the children at first, they would now realize this was not a temporary trip to Pentos. But when they had left Westeros, this outcome was all but assured. Though the Maester had said Stonehelm remained Robert’s…she did not believe it. That keep was surely lost to them. And never again would she willingly set foot in that accursed land to the west.
Death of a King, Continued
House Ryswell | EddyA cataclysmic battle at sea! The forces of Lady Mormont and Queen Ræva Ryswell clash at Southern Fisher Waters Queen Ræva calls to her crew “This coward can’t even stand with her fleet! I lead from the front, she from behind. At them!” Her vessels surge forward, on the verge of breaking the enemy fleet House Glover | Kingdom of the North | Knight
Tall Lake East Bank
Rodrik was a fearsome warrior on the battlefield, and the enemy knew it. The campaign against House Ryswell had only begun a few weeks ago and yet they had made victory after victory and it was largely attributed to The Ironfist. Some even began to call him unkillable as he would mow through the enemy like they were not even fighting back. He would come back from each battle bloody and bruised, but alive, and it wouldn't be long before the next fight where he rushed straight back into the fray. In truth this perception had been one fostered over many years among the troops under his command, and it greatly increased their moral when going into battle. "Knowing" that nothing could stop Rodrik, they felt as if their battle was just "clean up work" and it made them less fearful and less prone to hasty mistakes. Some time shortly before the Battle of the Blazewater, the Glover army turned it's attention towards Glenmore Keep. The last supporters of House Ryswell had abandoned their liege, the castellan of Torrhen's Square reportedly surrendering to the approaching army at the first sight of The Ironfist on the horizon, and so now all that was left was to break through the Rillgate. It was heavily fortified, almost as if the entirety of the Rills were the true fortress of House Ryswell, the fortifications stretching from the Tall Lake East Bank to the source of the Heart River to the east being the wall of their great castle. Rodrik was no fool. He was not a master strategist but nor was he completely lacking, his many years on the battlefield had given him much insight and through that he had developed a knack for clever and unorthodox tricks. He knew that his army could not simply overrun this fortification by blatantly charging in from the front, but he had an idea for a way that they could take down the enemy quickly nonetheless. Or at least, quicker than sieging them. They set up camp along the Bloodlake East Bank and for three days the camp was bustling with activity. In the end it was an illusion, with only about 50% of the Glover army remaining in the camp after the first morning. The rest had departed camp on the first night just before that, crawling through the tall grass when necessary and running across the fields where possible. The lunar cycle was approaching a new moon, and so the cover of darkness provided by the night was perfect, but this alone would not have been enough. They had covered themselves in mud, leaves, and grass to blend in with their surroundings, an insanely stupid idea that most would have stubbornly refused to go forward with if anyone else had asked them to do it, and together with the darkness they were all but impossible to spot. It would take them three days and nights of sneaking across the terrain at night and sleeping in the grass and dirt during the day before they'd finally get close enough to enact the next phase of the plan, and many died from exposure, or were caught and killed by patrolling guards, but by some miracle most of them remained unspotted and alive. The Ryswell forces seemingly assumed those caught were spies, not part of a greater force, but they would quickly find out the truth. The fortifications would be set aflame from behind by several of the soldiers who managed to get past the guards on the final night, and the moment the chaos broke out the rest of the Glover army stood up from the bushes and other greenery all at once. It was like watching mother nature manifest an army of her own from the very grass and earth itself, and with a roar they charged the now burning and crumbling fortifications. It wasn't much of a battle once it actually happened, almost all of the casualties on the side of Glover's army coming from the approach. It was honestly more of a slaughter. By the time most of the enemy knew what was happening they had already lost, being seconds away from death or quickly realizing that surrender is the only option. The rest of the army back at camp knew to march forward the next morning and it wasn't long before the army stood beyond the Rillgate. Now all that was left was to storm the actual keep itself.
Report Date
29 Nov 2023
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