Season 4, Turn 18
Days 16 - 30 of the Ninth Moon, 420 AC
General Summary
Vengeance of House Pryor, Continued
House Corbray | Kingdom of the Vale | Prince NyunyuKing Jamie Corbray offers a meeting at Sheepshead Valley, where the royal army is besieging Hornwood. Lady Flint, Lady Mormont, Lady Karstark and Queen Stark are invited, there will be present King Corbray and a representative of House Redford and Baelish. The attacks will, however, not cease while the meeting is ongoing.
Election Time in Lorath, Continued
Free City of Lorath | SentryBanyani Jaqen has been recalled by the senate and will soon leave Lys.
Fleet of Pentos Dispute, Continued
Free City of Pentos | ~TSK~ SteenB11The taking of Tyrosh, several turns ago
These Mercenary types do Panic... Longwaters listen to their pleas. Slowly nodding his head to each caller. They all claimed the same thing. Assault Tyrosh. Their numbers would overwhelm the city guard for sure. How both Tyrosh and Myr had been virtually undefended... Laenor did not work. But, he had other plans. Cutting one of the captains short. "The Walls would not-" Ended with a low palm. Outstretched. The Valyrian controlled the room. Even if he didn't class himself as one of them. They had to respect him. First, from his association with Vaegon. Now? From his prowess. "Give me your ten best men" It was all he said. Grasping his longsword "Dragon's Word" and moving with haste. Pushing past his captains out onto the deck of his own ship "Summer’s Wind" the former Flagship of Vaegon’s small navy. Gifted to the Windblown in the hopes they would assault Kings Landing from the sea... Resting on the barrier. Longwaters allowed himself some time. Vaegon, his brother in all, but the true meaning of the world. Was he gone now? Died fighting, he bet. With King’s Landing just out of reach... Perhaps the Red Keep could even be seen in the background... What song would the signers sing? Of the classy summer King? Or a usurper mad on power? Longwaters hoped for the first but he knew the second would be the case. "Not if I can help it" He muttered out into the sea beyond. Tyrosh just off to the end. Aegar was Vaegons legacy now. He must take this city for him. It must be done. Duty, as Laenor had always done. First at Summerhall, now here. Would he have proffered to die alongside his King? Yes. He would. As loyal as ever. That was not his way. Not his path. No, now his path was the true King Aegar Targayren and the Myrish stood in his path. Not the Tyroshi and he aimed to use that to his advantage. Already the sun was setting. Just as it is in the Summer Kingdom. The darkness would prevail now. Overshadowing everything. Consuming everything. Light could be found in the dark however, Longwaters was that light. A Valyrian to bring forth a new age. When night came fully, the ten men had come. Gathering around Longwaters await his command. He had none. Though the captains were untrustworthy, they were capable. The men knew their task and they piled into the rowboat. Not a peep made. While other Windblown were rowdy and stupid. These were different. The elite of the company. The Blue Winds. Noticed by the Blue and White Stripes they ordinarily wore. Tonight was different. Black cloaks covered black leather armour. Light to wear, dark to see. They would strike tonight. But not as a Hammer, as the other captains would like. But as a scalpel. The small row boat was steered towards the beaches of Tyrosh and with jolt the vessel stopped. The men dropped low. Awaiting a storm in case they had been heard or seen. None came. Only the darkness. Only the night. A light was to come. Laenor was first to embark. His feet sinking into the wet sand of the famous island. An island that would be as free as sun rays when it rose. The group made a b line for the great walls of the Fortress. It surrounded the whole island and would take a great force to bring down from a sea assault. The walls towered over them as they continued on their way. Staying tight and compact they found their destination. A small guard quarters located within the inner wall. Longwaters gave the signal. A small knock. Followed by two slow ones. Then three quick in succession. It seemed as he aged years by the time a reply came. Two taps. Slow. The correct response. Longwaters took the lead. His hand placed firmly on the handle. Behind him, a Captain only known as "Shanks". Battleaxe at the ready. He gave a nod of affirmation and they entered together. They were met with darkness once more. Only a glimmer of hope remained to them. A small lantern. Sitting in the lap of an old man. Located in the corner, his face was obscured. Head held low. "Reveal yourself" Longwaters barked. Tense. On edge. The Old man did as asked. Standing. The lantern held up to show his face. Wrinkled and grizzled. With a bushy moustache on his lips. This was not who Longwaters was after. "Where is Kiera? She was supposed-" The Old man cut him off. A surprise. Longwaters normally commanded a room. Not here. Not now. This man was the key. You could see in his eyes. "Ah, Kiera. The youth... They always believe they know all. That they can predict the future based on their own beliefs" A small smile appeared on his lips. To which Ser Laenor was confused. Where was the humour? This was their moment. "I have seen conquerors come and go. I listened to the stories before as a boy. They always sounded braver. Then you see them on your walls and you realise, they're just men. Same as you. You are just a man." The Old man took the candle out as he spoke. Lighting up the room. It was larger than the Knight had expected. Long and thin. With armed man upon armed man adjourning the walls to his left. Laenor allowed himself to gulp. "Keira is busy. I came to speak to the would-be conqueror. I have not spoken to one before a battle before" Laenor signaled Shanks to lower his axe. There was no fighting here. They were clearly done. "Conqueror is a complex word, Old man. It brings forth images of glory. Of death and destruction. For the latter two, that need not happen. Not on such a scale. As for the first, I wish for none myself. Else I would have taken this City by force." The Knight shook his head. A hand placed on his sword belt. It was unbuckled. He allowed it to fall onto the fall with a clang. "There is no glory for me. Not anymore. I am alive, while the man I swore for is like to perish. I only live to serve his son. To prevent him falling all the same." They both looked at each other then. It could have been seconds. It could have been hours. Neither truly knew. Though the deadly silence was broken by the old man. "So, you care little of our freedom? No speech on how it is only right we rule ourselves?" His question was met with a shake. Though the old man was clearly not happy. Laenor met that feeling with his own words. "I serve to make amends. The Boy is like a son to me. He asked me to take this city. What you do of it, I care little. That is a talk for the Leopardess. Not me. Though I swear to you, the lady... she is ferocious and loyal to those who follow her." Longwaters left out the parts of their countless arguments and debates that lasted into the night. Every day he woke, the Knight asked himself if he had convinced her to help... would Vaegon still live. It haunted him. With cold sweats every time he woke. It mattered not if he liked Alysse. Or blamed her for his King's death. What he said was true. If this city was in her hands, she would do her utmost to help them. A better deal than a Myrish occupier. In his mind. "The Leopardess, huh? I knew her father. Once upon a time. A story for her. Not you..." The Old man clicked twice and swords rose high by those men on the left. The Blue Winds took to their handles. They would rather die fighting. It would be forgotten in the morning. "What is your name?" "Ser Laenor Longwaters. "Then let us retake my city, Valyrian." Together, the Blue Winds and the resistance fanned out through the castle walls. Longwaters was joined personally by the old man. He was slow. Irkingly so to the Knight but all that kept being said "We have all night, our enemies are going nowhere." It wasn't true. Time was of the essence for Laenor’s plans. They needed to take the Temple of Trios and soon. It stood in the middle of the city and in people's minds it would be a gesture. A spark to ignite the whole city into rebellion. Soon, Shanks appeared on the Valyrian’s left. His dirk was bloodied. A slash on his cheek. "The Southern Wall has been taken, the rest of the guards either submitted or..." His eyes gestured to his weapons. Longwaters grimaced, each death was a necessary loss. Though it did mean one less who could fight for them. "Myr soldiers. Probably here to keep the people oppressed. Onwards then, to the temple?" His eyes met the old man's. A cane slammed against the floor. "Aye" They headed together. Skirting around the backstreets. Slowly, just as before but this time Longwaters was glad for his guide. The streets were narrow and unending. With corners and turns to no end. Yet, the old man never took a moment to think. Darkness was once more their ally, their friend lending their aid before the sun would reveal itself. Ushering in an age of light. A left, two rights and then another left... the courtyard revealed itself. Opening up entirely to a large square and there it stood. The fabled Temple of Trios in all its glory. The old man placed a hand on Laenors shoulder. "Stay here. Stay hidden. I shall light the beacon" He gave a knowing look. It troubled the Knight. Did he know? The true plan? There was no way... With that he was off. Slowly waddling. A call came out and torched lit by the guarding forces. It was thrust into his face. Longwaters could not hear the exchange though it lasted far too long before a hand was thrust in the air. "Come" The signal said. Shanks and the Lieutenant made their way to the old man's side. "There is a bell in the temple. Old. So old as there are cracks. Ring that for me. Try not to break it." He smiled then. Warm. Filling the sole of the old soldier. Shanks looked worried. Did he fear a trap? If he did then it was not the same as Laenor. This seemed divine. As though the old man knew exactly how the night was going to occur. They made their way up. Soon, flanked by others of the Blue Winds. Now numbered seven in all. A holy number. The steps were agonising, but a staircase would not stop the Windblown from taking the city. They had planned too much for it to fail now, they were here. Bang. It came. The bell rang from the blow. Shanks stood next to the gigantic frame. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. They followed in quick succession. "That should do it?" One of the other lads asked. His voice quizzical. "One more" Replied the Knight. Though he was unsure as to why himself. Bang. It rang once more, for which now he saw large touches sprout into the world. Each one located around the temple. They all rushed to the balcony. For which the old man stood there. Darkness starting to lift from the sky. Hope coming into existence to end the night. People were already present. There before them like ants. The Old man was mid speech. "-we have toiled. We have suffered. Through the darkness we have emerged!" Cheers came. As longwaters looked around him... something felt odd. Off. A feeling he had not had since... Vaegon’s crowining. Then he realised. By the gods. The torches... There were Seven. The Windblown | korelajacky
Attention, leaders of the Free City of Myr in exile: Enough of this prolonged conflict. The time for futile negotiations has expired. The protracted conflict between your city and Pentos has stretched the limits of tolerance. The toll on lives has reached an unacceptable level. But seeing there is no end in sight and despite losing two major cities, you still insist on the bloodshed, let this be a stern warning: Should the forces of the Free City of Myr or any of its affiliates dare to advance upon Tyrosh, the Windblown company shall obliterate Myr from existence. Not a single stone shall be left unturned; we will consign the city to the annals of history, rendering it uninhabitable for years to come. The obliteration of Myr will not be an idle threat. Heed this warning: if Tyrosh is invaded, Myr will be reduced to ashes. Cease your aggression, engage in meaningful dialogue with Pentos, and bring an end to this war before the irrevocable destruction of Myr becomes an undeniable reality. Free City of Myr | Scotland's BEST
To the Windblown: The difference between your peace and mine is that I wanted to end this war before it began and you only want to end it after you'd gotten what you'd come to steal. I didn't ask to be invaded or occupied, I begged you not to become involved in this war. You have learned that your lust for fortune and profit has come at a far greater cost than you have anticipated and it took a war to teach you that. A city is its people and as you well know the cities you entered were empty. Myr's people are very much alive and well. Walls and bridges can be rebuilt, glass and pottery recrafted. You threaten death and destruction on a peaceful people who never wanted war while you occupy their homes and eat their bread. You steal when it is convenient and cry mercy when you are caught. I want to trust you, but how can I when you so easily take what isn't your own? I want peace but not at the cost of freedom. One can live peacefully enough in a dungeon, but such peace will hardly, of itself, ensure one's happiness. Khal Hazdahn Eddy
Well said. High Septa Caelia | Shinigami Knight
To the Honorable Lords and Ladies of the Realm, In the grace of the Seven, I extend my fervent blessings upon you. In these times of transition, the path of devotion reveals itself in unexpected ways. It is with a heart filled with hope and guided by the Mother's compassion that I address you today. The conversion of Horro Mopatis to the Faith of the Seven is a testament to the transformative power of our divine beliefs. In the light of this profound change, I, High Septa Caelia, welcome Horro into the embrace of the Seven with open arms. His dedication to our sacred cause speaks volumes, and it is my sincere prayer that the Seven watch over him on this newfound journey. However, the leaders of Myr, stubbornly clinging to the flames of R'hllor, pose a challenge to the unity we strive for in the realm of the Seven. Their refusal to embrace the truth of the Faith places them in opposition to the sacred order we seek to establish. In the spirit of righteous duty, I echo the sentiments of Horro Mopatis—a devout follower of the Seven—that until the leaders of Myr abandon their misguided path and embrace the true light, a stance of resilience is called for. It is not a war of vengeance but a sacred mission to protect the sanctity of our faith and to spread its influence in lands where foreign flames persist. May the Seven guide our hearts, illuminate our minds, and strengthen our resolve in this sacred endeavor. Let unity prevail, and may the realm stand steadfast in the face of challenges to the sanctity of our beliefs. In unwavering faith,The Windblown | korelajacky
The Free City of Myr, we do not make empty threats. Please consider the warning. We will of course not slaughter innocent people, that we promise to you. After all, it is a much bigger threat for you, because suddenly you will have thousands of people without homes. You are right, we want to reap our rewards in a quick war. Either way, just to repeat ourselves, you invade Tyrosh, we will burn Myr to the ground. Simple as that.
Clash of Kingdoms, Continued
House Bracken | Kingdom of the Andals | JamhaloThe war is over. With the blood of the dragon dripping off their own blade, the Summer Kingdom has been shattered. This was not without cost. Tens of thousands of brave warriors now rest in the mud, and my very body is nearly shattered. Do not let my appearance or lack of decree fool anybody... I, Otho Bracken, remain in clear mind and with continued resolve to play the part that was forced upon me. I would be lying, though, if I said this is an easy role to play. Westeros is closer to peace than ever before. From Pyke to Sunspear the banners of a united Kingdom now fly. When I set upon this quest, almost all said that I spoke of delusions. My desire to maintain peace was built in the requirement of bloodshed to follow. This was a clear contradiction, but one that had to be made in order to avoid the total destruction of Westeros. Fools and cravens were intent on dismantling the Iron Throne, saying that "independent realms would bring about an eternal peace". How long did peace between these independent realms, even unaffected by my own actions, last? Two years. The Vale and the North, two of my counterparts in this game of politics, now tear one another to pieces in the name of conquest and glory. It is a pitiful sight. Some even within their own realms have come to question how long until I will march against them both, and finally unify Westeros under House Bracken. To them I say only this, both those in the Vale and in the North wanted "independence", and now you shall both suffer its consequences against one another. I shall play no part in your mutual self-destruction. I will govern over a prosperous realm that is without war and bloodshed, a realm that is governed by just laws and good customs. From the Iron Islands, the Westerlands, the Riverlands, the Crownlands, the Reach, the Stormlands, and Dorne the old realm is restored. By the time your war is over in the North, you will both be begging to join the era of peace. I merely await your fealty. To old enemies now vassals, I say this: You may harbor old feelings related to Vaegon, some of you may even hate me for my part in his destruction, but know that I hold no resentment towards any of you. I will rule you all as equals, as a King should.House Bracken | Kingdom of the Andals | Jack Handy
Fear Our Thunder!!! House Piper | Kingdom of the Andals | {N.W.} Blader
Hail King Otho Bracken, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Long may he reign! Free City of Lorath | Sentry
The Senate matched the somber skies of Lorath as they filed in for the week's session. The stormy cold weather had even the Lorathi Senators bundled in fine fur coats. Qarlon allowed them to finish greeting one another before beginning today's agenda. “Well judging by your attitudes I assume all of you have heard King Otho's decree?” Qarlon's question was met with a murmured yes from the benches. “Well then that saves us some time, let us begin drafting a congratulations letter to King Otho.” Qarlon was met by an expected wave of complaints from senators. "Magister, you remember the last time Westeros united. The Barbarians invaded Essos, they plundered and killed thousands of innocents! They burned Braavos to the ground! Gods be merciful you can't even give him the benefit of the doubt, the man's wife is a Targaryen!” Sallos Dynar's speech was met by enthusiastic applause from most in attendance. Qarlon waited a moment for the room to quiet down. "Gentlemen, this assembly was formed because we trust the value of words and reason. King Otho has done no harm to us and Westeros isn't represented by those who invaded our soil. Mistrust will only lead to more war and more death. If the day comes that Otho Bracken crosses the Narrow Sea then we treat him as an enemy. Until then he and his people are to be treated fairly by this senate.” Qarlon felt almost like a school teacher scolding his students as he finished his speech. Such saber rattling was common in the Leviathan party. It concerned him deeply that such thoughts were spreading to the Unity and Whale parties. “I… I want to apologize to the Senate. I have had trouble controlling my emotions since our trip to Braavos. Seeing what has been lost… It is very difficult for me.” Sallos Dynar said remorsefully, wiping a few tears from his face. Qarlon descended from the speaker's platform and put his hand on the shoulder of Senator Dynar. “We can't change the past my friend, but we can build a better future. A better future that starts with forgiveness.” As Qarlon finished speaking the two men shook hands. The motion was easily passed to send a delegation to King Otho. Free City of Pentos | ~TSK~ SteenB11
He placed the letter down, a palm held down before it. Sandwiching it against the desk he sat at. A small huff came from the Prince of Pentos. The eyes of the old man closed. When they reopened, a small tear came falling. It trickled slowly. As renowned as Horro Mopatis was for his ruthlessness... he was still a man. Despite his own thoughts on King Vaegon Targayren, he was indeed a good man. Foolish? Perhaps. Hasty? Undoubtedly. Stubborn and obstinate? By his nature. All of these negatives were overshadowed by his nature. Kind hearted. A type of man who would defend those he cared for. A kind of man it seemed, who was destined not to be king. Yet, it was still a shame. Even more so, that Horro would not be able to see him once more. Nor would Ellyria his daughter... or her children... It came again. The doubt. Ever more present in these later days. What had he done? How could they cope with his failures... No! He must endure. The Prince of Pentos must not submit to his own failings. Only after this is done can he think fo such things. He must act. He must... write. To the man who was now King of Westeros.
To King Otho Bracken, Conqueror of the Sun. We were once adversaries. Facing across one another with bated breath. Unsure who would act. Two knights circling. Longsword in hand. The calm did not last, with the warrior's aid, you bested me. Slaying King Vaegon. I was pushed to the dirt. Defeated, just as those knights in your tourneys. King Otho, I write to you not out of anger. Nor to simply congratulate you like others will. Only to ask for the same chivalry the Knights in your tourney will receive. You beat us. It is a fact. But now, with my own faith in question. The Seven a shining light reaching out from the fires... I find that our ambitions align. So, I ask heartfelt, that you pick me up from the dirt. We embrace. Joke over a mead... ready to fight together. As the knights of your tourneys will... Once the competition is over. I pray the Seven aid you,House Costayne | Kingdom of the Andals | sandman With peace in the south finally at hand, Long Tom heads to Oldtown to rest. Rumor is he has not been well of late and will remain in Oldtown for the foreseeable future. Reports are he left the parlay with Dorne early, allowing the Prince to hammer out finer details. He summons many of his house to come see him in Oldtown over the next few moons. Armstead is the only member of House Costanye who does not make an appearance. Thomas does not seem to worry about Armstead nor does he offer answers about it. Some say Armstead is on a pilgrimage like his father recently went on. Some think him upset with agreements his father, Long Tom, made in the Dornish negotiations. Others say he has sailed to Old Valyria to find what treasures there are and become a legend as Euron Greyjoy once did.
Help of the Seven, Continued
High Septa Caelia | Shinigami KnightSepton Alastair, his heart devoted to the Seven and his hands guided by the Mother's mercy, arrived at House Allyrion to fulfill Lady Cassella's desperate plea. Lord Nymor Allyrion lay in a mysterious ailment that seemed to defy the conventional remedies. His son, Lord Trebor Allyrion, shared the same affliction, their lives hanging in the balance. The septa of House Allyrion led Septon Alastair to Lord Trebor's bedside, where the young lord's weakened form lay shrouded in an ethereal stillness. The room echoed with a hushed despair as Alastair began his sacred work. Drawing upon his knowledge of both medicinal arts and the subtle mystic arts whispered of only in the deepest recesses of the Faith, Alastair sought to unravel the mystery that gripped the Allyrion family. In the quiet solitude of the chamber, Alastair invoked ancient prayers and incantations, his words a soft symphony resonating with the divine energy of the Seven. The flickering candlelight cast shadows that seemed to dance to the rhythm of his sacred verses. As he moved around the room, sprinkling blessed water and herbs, there was an otherworldly ambiance, a gentle hum of mystical energies responding to the sept's entreaties. In the presence of the dying lord, Alastair sensed a profound choice awaiting him, an unspoken decision that could shape the destiny of the Allyrion family. The Crone's foresight, a beacon of insight, whispered to him in the quietude of that chamber. With a heavy heart, Alastair made the fateful choice to dedicate the depth of his blessings to the son, Lord Trebor Allyrion. Alastair's hands, guided by an unseen force, hovered over Lord Trebor, channeling the healing energies granted by the Mother. A subtle warmth permeated the room, and the air seemed charged with an ineffable presence. The septa watched in awe as a soft, golden glow enveloped the ailing lord. As Alastair continued his sacred ministrations, he felt a surge of spiritual energy, a connection to something beyond the mortal realm. It was as if the divine essence of the Seven itself had descended to touch the realm of men. The room filled with a tranquil energy, reminiscent of a winter's night when the air is crisp, and a sense of wonder blankets the world. In that sacred space, Alastair felt the presence of the Seven embracing Lord Trebor's weakened form. He whispered prayers of gratitude, his heart brimming with faith. As the night unfolded, the room underwent a transformation, mirroring the mystical aura of a winter's eve, where miracles were said to unfold. In the aftermath of that profound night, Alastair emerged to face the daylight, a weary but fulfilled servant of the Seven. The news he carried was bittersweet — the son had been spared, but the father, Lord Nymor Allyrion, had succumbed to the inevitable passage into the Stranger's embrace. Septon Alastair's choice, guided by the Crone's insight, had tilted the scales of fate toward the son's survival. The chamber, once a battlefield between life and death, now bore witness to a poignant transition. The winter wonder that lingered in the air held both the joy of renewal and the sorrow of parting, a reminder that within the realm of miracles, the hand of destiny wove a tapestry of complex emotions.
Report Date
22 Dec 2023
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