Season 4, Turn 24
Days 16 - 30 of the Twelfth Moon, 420 AC
General Summary
A New Conquest for the Andals, Continued
House Bracken | Kingdom of the Andals | Jack HandyTHE TEMPEST (Naval Battle near New Tide, Bloodstone Stepstones Waterways ) The salt-laden winds of the Stepstones carried the prelude to impending doom as the fleets of House Bracken and House Uller sailed forth, their banners snapping defiantly in the turbulent air. The sun dipped low, casting a ruddy hue upon the waves, reflecting the ominous tinge that heralded the clash of steel upon the seas. On the crimson-sailed flagship, Alexander Bracken, a seasoned commander with a gaze as sharp as Valyrian steel, stood at the helm, watching as the horizon birthed the monstrous silhouette of the Qohorik armada. The waves whispered tales of ancient grudges, but the sea offered no mercy to those entangled in the dance of war. As the first volley of arrows darkened the sky, the clash of wood and iron echoed through the narrow sea. Bracken's vessels, carved from the trunks of ancient Weirwoods, met the sleek Qohorik war galleys, each blow resonating with the weight of generations of vengeance. The sea turned into a battlefield, where cries of men echoed over the roaring waves. Wooden splinters danced in the air, mingling with the spray of saltwater. The Stepstones, once a haven for pirates, now bore witness to a tempest of blades and blood.
Clash of Kingdoms, Continued
House Fossoway | Kingdom of the Andals | Ricky NorrisDavid thinks back to Oathkeeper sitting in the vaults of Cider Hall. A war lost should leave a house destitute. You would think Fossoway was the victor given the state of House Caswell. So many young men were injured, dead, or just despondent from the battle of Bluburn Conflux that their fields were having trouble keeping up. For Fossoway the harvest is one of the best in memory. Maybe that old wife's tale about blood appeasing Garth was true? To ice the cake, David may be the only man who could claim ownership of two Valyrian Steel swords. It was too much, like a sickeningly sweet wine. That the success was bought with Dun- with blood only made it worse. However, for the first time in a long time David’s mind was quiet, all the voices unified in their desires. David had told the Prince of the horrors and price of war, all true. What did it say about him then that this was the most at home and alive David had felt in a long time? The world was ruined anyway, what was one more bad thing? David hoped no one else would follow his path, and that he would finally get to piss on the far side of Visyena’s wall.
Dothraki Seas, Continued
Free City of Lorath | SentrySeresha had joined the Daughters of Lorath in their efforts to aid the arriving refugees in Lorath. She had been put in charge of a booth distributing warm clothing to the needy. Seresha couldn't remember this many people arriving in the city since her childhood. Their scared and downtrodden faces mirrored her memories of the Braavosi that fled the butchering. Lorath had already replaced Braavos as the safe haven for escaped slaves. Now with war spreading across Essos people from all rungs of society sought to take refuge in the city. The Harbor itself had become an ad hoc refugee camp. Speaking of which, a number of merchants began to approach her booth. “Lady Seresha, may we have a moment of your time?” The young merchant said as he removed his fur hat out of respect. Seresha was a bit surprised by the gesture; most senators disliked her role as her fathers primary advisor. “Of course what is it you like to discuss?” She stepped away from the booth into a quieter alleyway. The household guards joined her to ensure the men had no ill intentions. “My Lady, we must do something to help these refugees. Right now they are a minor inconvenience to dockyard workers but the problem could become so much worse. All these refugees without proper shelter and food are bound to become sick. If the senate continues to ignore this we could have an epidemic on our hands!” the cadre of senators nodded their heads in agreement with the young man. “You are right, the first snow will fall any day now. I will make sure my father is aware of the situation.” Seresha had admittedly given little thought to the approach of winter. She hoped she could convince her father to act quickly before things spiraled out of hand.
The Holy Hundred's Hollow Sanctuary, Continued
High Septa Caelia | Shinigami Knight***Event of the Faith: The building of the Greatest Sept*** Story 3/3: The build has begun..Long Tom’s Last Quest: Long Tom had had enough. The Faith was challenging him, of that he was sure. He had prayed for answers, and now those answers were hunting him. "The Faith doesn't give nor take. It rewards the pure and damns the sinners. But nothing is gifted. What we seek is always a challenge we have to overcome. That's the nature of the blessings. Now I know what to do." He forged a plan, instructing his guards to stay put as he studied his next move. Within a few days, he started recognizing a pattern, routines on how the Manifestation struck. Taking one last prayer, he set up a trap that would allow him to face the challenge he had summoned. After midnight, at the exact moment the moon was at its peak and the ravens' eggs hatched to form new life, the Manifestation, disguised as the bandit leader, emerged from the shadows next to the construction site. "Knew it," Long Tom whispered with a smirk. The shadow crept slowly to a nearby tent, entering with intent, but before any deed could be committed, Long Tom, seated on a chair, lit a candle with a swift motion of his hand. The tent emptied of any other human being, leaving only two chairs and a candle dangling from the ceiling. "Welcome," Tom said sharply. The ominous figure smiled, the thief's body moving as if puppeteered from an unknown force. It rushed forth and dangled back, as if gravity was pulling him to sit. With a mixture of chewing sound and speech, the thief said, "Nice work, you've got me where you wanted. Now it's my turn," he replied roguishly. In an instant, the surroundings darkened, the outside world stripped of its sound, leaving only whispers echoing through the air. With an ominous voice, the Manifestation continued its play:
In every heart, my presence stays,Well, NOW all of you can intervene with your comments and be part of the gameplay ahah. You are the shady ghosts whispering in the background. Long Tom has to come up with the right answer, failing to do so, well let’s not talk about that. Anyways, for anyone guessing the right answer (only revealed at the end) you’ll get 1.000 pesos, so 1 dragon go- just kidding you get 1k ahaha. Depending on the difficulty and answers I might up it to 5k for the winners 8 Side note: You can guess multiple times. You can also mislead Tom with your answers fyi ;) Steffi the Redhead
I bring the dawn, I bring the night's embrace.
From cradle to grave, I weave my thread,
In every thought, I'm quietly spread. In every laugh, I hide a tear,
In every joy, I instill fear.
I am the darkness, I am the light,
What am I?
Ha, I know it! It's the fear of the future that is in every heart. Whenever you laugh and have fun you think about the future and how it will ruin this moment! Jack Handy
It's gotta be about either death or maybe dreaming!!! I should say it's death but my guess is it's dreaming/nightmare
A New Beginning
House Stark | Kingdom of the North | ~TSK~ SteenB11Ravens fly out in every direction. Their reason? To announce the official coronation of one Lyanna Stark, true born daughter of John and the last known Stark. With peace now holding true for the most part the time or unification begins. Not only within the North itself but with its fellow neighbors and of the South. Individual invites shall be sent in the near future though it is said that even now every Northern Lord and Lady is already travelling to Winterfell to swear their oaths...
The Queen looked out onto the Glass Gardens located to the west of her room. It was a beautiful sight, with the Summer Snows gently falling against a backdrop of grey. She always liked the Summer Snows, the memories of playing with her father. Typically a stern man they would occasionally enter the Wolfswood. Throwing balls of snow and seeing the side of the King only his daughter would see... It was these playful thoughts that stayed in her mind. Eyes fixated on the grey sky. "He is dead." She had to say it aloud. For her ears to hear it. To pierce it in her head. "And I would be too. If it were not for them" Her thoughts changed then. To when she were a mere child among men. Not the Queen. Not the ruler. Just the small child often overlooked. Left behind as her Father had gone to see the Ryswells. If only the letter had arrived sooner... It is weird, when you look at the past. Remembering the oddest of parts. Lyanna remembered her breakfast. The burnt sausage that she could scarely touch. The smell coming from the kitchens. A small severing girl slipping on the ice, grazing her knee... The stern man's scar. Coming from the left of his brow all the way down to to his jawline. It was a horrid sight, his face. Yet, the Queen allowed herself to remember it true. He had accepted her in the great hall. With all of Winterfell in attendance. The first had argued. Fought with her that this was for her eyes only. If it were not for her Wolf's blood perhaps he would have convinced her... yet she was her father's daughter. His words spilling out to all of Winterfell. How he knew of the Ryswells betrayal she had not asked at the time. Only later finding out he was an Essosi mercenary. Hired to bolster the rebel forces. His reason of coming to her? To warn King John. On the orders of one, Horro Mopatis. Lyanna knew the man's name well. The Prince of Pentos. A far distance from Winterfell. Known for his betrayals and his cunning. Not a man to be crossed. The father of the man she was supposed to marry. One she had not even met. The last name still haunts her even to this day. Yet, for all the horror stories... the man had warned the Starks. Even without the Pact of marriage. For what reason? Lyanna did not know then. Nor now. Though the man was renowned for his information. For his knowledge. Perhaps he knew who Lyanna was. Her personality. Her loyalty. The thing Starks stood for. The man had warned her. Urging her to head east to Pentos. Safe within the Free City. Though Lyanna was grateful for the information she was not too naive to trust a man she had not met. Instead, she headed west. To Bear Isle. To her Aunt, loyal allies, and to call the banners ready to save her father... if only she was sooner. Instead he was killed under guest rights. A cutthroat being caught sneaking into Lyanna's rook at Winterfell the following week. If not for that man... She looked into her own chambers now. Away from the window and the grand sights. This room. The one where she was meant to die in. Having not taking up the grand Chambers her Father slept in. This room was a reminder. Of the war. Beating the Ryswells back. Of the Vale striking at the worst time. Of the questions of who shall lead them. Or if they should just submit. Who was this man? Who had saved her life for no reason but a Pact made. Broken by his own sons death. Why did he care? It became too much for the young woman. Who took a seat on her own bed. Palms firmly on her forehead. Brushing her hair back and ruffling it around. Sweeping it around. "Maester!" She called. Her lungs reaching out for him. Somehow he heard. Shuffling into her room. A slim shadow entering though the small crack he made in the door. Lyanna, letter present in her hand. Tightly held. She looked down upon it. A grimace appearing on her face. She took a deep breath before delivering her line she had been practicing all morning. "Write to Lysara Karstark. Command her to raise her banners and sail to Pentos. We have a debt of loyalty to pay." She said it with fake confidence. Her eyes never leaving the old wrinkly ones of the Maester. His face was unreadable to Lyanna but a master of the craft would have seen it true. It was a decision he was not agreeable to. Yet he knew not to argue with the Queen when she made that tone. "As you wish."
The End of Horro Mopatis
House Swann | Kingdom of the Andals | PatMagroynA light fog engulfed the Bay of Pentos. The city. The ships. And all those around. All were equally caught inside its bleak depths. It reflected the current outlook of the city. Stygian. Save for one respite. The signal fire from the coast’s lighthouse. The Light of Pentos. Whose flame reminded those of what House Mopatis accomplished. A glimpse of hope in this turbid haze. The light cast off reminding those coming in what was built by the house of purple and gold. His head laid on a lounger. Cushions adorned his body. His waist wrapped in several blankets to weather the sea breeze provided by the balcony. He asked for his servants to keep its doors open. Though only gray clouds could be seen. Horro Mopatis still preferred the bleak sky to the stuffy bedroom he lay trapped in. It was as much a coffin as the one being prepared for him. He felt that the wind’s soft embrace helped him cling to whatever little life was left to him. The blowing wind was all he had. The glorious sight of the bay. The amusement of passing ships. The cheery songbirds. The gods had taken all of it from him. Yet, there was still one light. She sat steadfast next to him. Just as she did yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. As long as her father remained conscious, that chair remained occupied. Now that her children were gone. She still received notes, messages, and the comings and goings of the great city inside the bedroom. For it was all in her hands now. And it was her current concentration on Lorathi correspondence that occupied Horro. A caring gaze fell on his daughter, who finally caught his stare. Her smile illuminated his dreary day. Her twinkling eyes replacing the seas’. "What is it father?" Laying idly, he was unable to offer more than a single tear that dripped down his wrinkled face. Weak and thinning, as it had been for weeks. Pain crossed Ellyria’s face when she saw it. She placed her delicate hand upon his own, gently wiping the tear away. “Father…” "What will the annals of history think of me?" His daughter’s face turned from worry to bewilderment at the whisper. Horro was a prideful and confident man. She had never seen him once question his legacy. Those left in the wake of his actions. Not when she was a child. Not when he aided the Valyrians. Nor when he betrayed them. Not when he named himself Prince for life. Nor when he aided Vaegon. Not even when he alone faced the might of the Three. "Will they…say I did well?” he hoarsely continued. “That I thrust my house…my family…into the clouds. Among the heavens? Will they say I-“ The coughing wracked him for a moment. She could only look on in pain when he continued. “…I was a tyrant? Whom took whatever I could. A thief. Or…perhaps they will tell the tale…of a man who rose too high…too quickly. Just to be lit aflame by the suns.” His wandering gaze returned. “What will they say, Ellyria?" She stared at him. Unable to find the words. She stroked his face before feeling his brow. Burning hot. His tears now mixed with sweat. Her father's voice returned before she could answer. It once engulfed entire rooms. Not by volume, but by the weight its words carried. Now? It still, even at the end, overshadowed everything else. "The truth is that…I care little. Not about the historians…or their tomes. Not the nobles. Or the magisters. With their grand designs. The masons, the farmers, or the merchants. I care not. Only that I did it all fo-“ His violent coughing wracked him again. And Ellyria made him drink his panacea this time despite his reluctance. His gaze turned away from his daughter then. Unable to come to terms with his failures. His inability to do what was right for those he loves. "…here I lay. One son returned to the winds. Another in it. Only you remain. The flower of my garden. Jewel of my vault. Light of my life. Yet, I leave you with this.” He weakly gestures to the air. “All around us. Enemies. Pentos besieged. Facing men without reason. All because I…I saved Essos. But sacrificing my own family to do so….what kind of man am I? I ask you Ellyria. For the rest have made their minds.” His eyes grew cloudy. “I am a failure. Whom led one son to death. And the other to betray me. I do not deserve the Mother’s embrace. Nor the R’hllor’s flame. No. A man such as myself…deserves suffering. To watch my city fall. And Essos destroyed. For my daughter-" His voice failed once again, and the tears now came without restriction. They surged forth in a flood. She could only hug him. Shushing him in hopes that the tears would stop. They did not. They stayed in that embrace for some time. Trapped in the moment. But just like any other…it passed. She kissed him lightly on the brow, whispering, “You are everything to me, father. You deserve…everything.” He was already asleep when she spoke. And despite it all, she decided to lay next to him while he slept. As she had done as a child. It passed quickly. The morn came, bringing in a new day. The sun shone brightly. It’s beams of light waking Ellyria first. She got up, retaking her seat at the bed. Watching her father. Despite her worries, he did wake. His eyes milky, his smile weak. He gave her a few words before sleep found him once again. They were but a whisper. "Little spider. The time is yours." They were also his last. The bells finally rung that day. Every flag flying the purple and gold at half mast. The people did not work. They did not go out. Instead, they prayed. To any and all gods whom would listen. For the soul of Horro Mopatis had passed. Hopefully, to a better place. Though no one knew if the city he had departed, the people he had left, or the world he had cast away… would grow without him. Perhaps. Yet…there certainly still stood a beacon of hope. The light of his life. The Light of Pentos.
Report Date
05 Feb 2024
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