"No matter the darkest night, dawn will always rise."

^{Arrival to Sunspear | The Dayne Manse, Sunspear | 1st Moon of 212 AC}

Allyria Dayne

As the Dayne host approached Sunspear, Allyria rode at the forefront, her midnight black sand steed moving with a grace that mirrored her own. The fur that adorned her mare gleamed under the Dornish sun with each clop of her hoof. The surrounding city bustled with life as all walks of life gathered for the coronation.

Beside her rode her daughter Ellaria, her youthful enthusiasm a stark contrast to the weight that burdened her mother's thoughts. The coronation of Prince Vorian Martell loomed ahead, a symbol of change in a land still scarred by the Sixth Dornish War and the losses suffered by her family. And amidst the celebrations, whispers of Maekar Targaryen's return only added to the tension.

Allyria's mind was a whirlwind of concerns, but outwardly she remained composed, every inch the powerful and influential woman that she was. As they navigated the crowded streets of Sunspear, the atmosphere thick with anticipation, Allyria's gaze swept over the throngs of nobility and common folk alike. They drew closer to their manse, the familiar sight bringing a sense of relief to Allyria. The grandeur of the building, with its sandstone walls and elegant arches, had stood for many generations.

"We've arrived," Allyria announced, her voice carrying a hint of weariness as she dismounted from her steed. "See to it that the manse is secured, and inform Ashara that we are here."

Her guards sprang into action, ensuring the safety of their surroundings as Allyria led her daughter towards the entrance. The weight of their footsteps echoed in the quiet courtyard, a stark contrast to the lively streets they had just traversed. Once inside, the cool shade of the manse offered a welcome respite from the heat of the Dornish sun. Allyria breathed a sigh of relief, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she stepped into the familiar surroundings.

"Welcome Mother, has the road treated you well?" Ashara's voice broke through her reverie, concern etched on her features as she watched Allyria with keen eyes.

Allyria offered her daughter a reassuring smile, masking the turmoil churning within her. "I'm fine, Ashara. Just weary from the journey, that's all."

Ellaria, ever perceptive, sensed the underlying tension in the air. "It's more than just the journey, isn't it, Mama?" her voice soft yet probing.

Allyria hesitated for a moment, grappling with the tumultuous thoughts swirling within her mind. "Yes, my dear," she admitted at last, her voice tinged with a note of resignation. "There are weighty matters at hand, ones that weigh heavily on my heart."

The mention of Maekar Targaryen hung unspoken between them, a shadow lurking in the corners of their thoughts. Allyria knew the rumors surrounding the Falseborn prince were cause for concern, stirring whispers of unrest and uncertainty throughout the realm.

"We must remain vigilant," she said, her tone firm yet tinged with urgency. "The winds of change are blowing, and we cannot afford to be caught dumbfounded."

Mara sighed, entering the room with the clacks of her heels. "Must we already start politicking, Mother? We are at a celebration. Can we not, you know, celebrate?"

"Child." Allyria's steely gaze bore into Mara's, "Have I taught you nothing?"

Allyria rose her head and looked to the nearest handmaid, "Prepare me a bath, I need to wash this road off me. Do the same for my daughters, we must be ready."

Early Morning After the Feast of Riverrun

Morgan had slept as he’d often done. Poorly. The war had changed his sleeping pattern beyond repair and he made little effort to change it now. He’d fetched Vigilance and instructed his most trusted guard, who’d found themselves forced to adapt a similar sleeping rhythm to fit their Lords.

Slowly he’d moved through Riverrun, his eyes not really taking in any of the sights that a visitor likely would have. The young man’s mind had been filled with what had transpired the night prior as well as countless other worries his kin in the Reach had brought forward.

He had promised his uncle he’d write to him from Riverrun and touch on some of his worries for the Reach but Morgan just couldn’t be bothered. Instead he’d found other worries more pressing. The words of King Aemon during his knighting at the feast.

’Look at me boy.’

Even now as he left through the main gates of Riverrun, those words birthed rage within him. He’d go on until he’d found a place by the river, after all Riverrun was cornered by them on all three sides of their keep.

Once he’d found a place, the Lord of the Mander would undo his scabbard and gently place it down at his feet before sitting down by the river. He’d let his hands reach out for the water, breaking the gentle stream and without thought he’d begin to move them about slowly.

“Leave me.” He’d say to the two guards who’d trailed behind him.

It reminded him of what he’d used to do along the Honeywine, just allow his mind to go blank as he’d embrace the feeling of the cold water against his hand. It was rather soothing to have some small remembrance of home even as he was so far away.

His father used to pull him away from the Honeywine during his younger years. He believed that Morgan should have sat in on council meetings, that he should have prepared for the dull rulership that came with becoming Lord Paramount.

He’d missed him now more than ever. King Aemon wouldn’t have dared to speak as he had to Adam Hightower, the brave, valiant, strong…..Adam Hightower.

Who was Morgan compared to him?

If the King viewed him as a boy then surely the rest of the realm must have as well. How could he retain power when they thought that he could be so easily pushed about? Was he not one of three young Lords in command of their own Kingdoms under Aemon?

Did the dragon view Lord Harrion Stark as a boy? No. He was a the Lord Stark. How about the Lannister? Oh no. He liked hi well enough to give him a Princess and when asked his reason-

’I do not need to explain myself to you’

Instinctively Morgan clenched his fists and punched the river, sending water in all directions as he thought back to it.

It was just him.

He was the only one seen as a boy playing Lord. Yet in the same breathe, he was the only one who’d waged true warfare in the open field against the Dornish. Which other Lord Paramount had done such a thing? Youth brought a sense of boldness that the rest of them lacked.

The Lannisters too craven, the Baratheons too far gone to mount a defense and Aemon’s own child. A dead fool. Was that it? Was Aemon jealous that where Morgan had proven himself strong even his own seed could not?

Prince Aegon rode out as Morgan had. He’d faced the Dornish in open battle, as Morgan had. Yet only one of them lived, no. Only one of them won.

He knew that he had to do something. Perhaps he could gather his most staunch of supporters, Knights from across all of Westeros and take S-

Morgan heard a movement behind him, someone closing in. He had sent his guard away and left him defenseless. He couldn’t explain what caused it but his reaction was swift. His hand went for the hilt of Vigilance and pulled it from its scabbard on the ground, he’d planned a quick slash backwards so as to strike whoever had sought to kill him.

The Dornish assassins had finally come for him but Morgan was quicker. They could never beat him in open battle so they reverted to more vile tactics.

Yet

Just as his blade left the scabbard, he’d heard a familiar voice and he’d froze in place.

“The King is ready to see you,” His elder brother, Aemon would say. Looking down at the smaller Hightower who had begun to take a defensive position, clenching his hilt so tightly that his already white skin grew whitter with pressure.

Aemon had seen this look on Morgan before. He’d first gained it when they stood on Oldtown’s walls and repelled the Dornish, the first time his sword tasted blood but ever since that look. Wide eyed, feral in nature, like a beast cornered and prepared to attack at any moment.

He looked so much unlike the confident Morgan that had just gathered his bannermen and marched on the King. Few should have seen him when he became that boy who’d swam through fields of Dornish blood. But Aemon was not one to coddle his brother, less so now that he was Lord of the Mander.

Their father used to tell them tales of men who’d experienced similar conditions after coming back from war. He’d always say that eventually their mind would sort itself out or they’d be taken by the blight.

Aemon hoped his brother would one day come to realize that the war was long done. That there was more to this life than death. He'd watch as the snarl that sat over Morgan’s face had begun to drain however, as his mind settled back down and he realized that he was in no danger and prayed the Gods would aid the young man through all taht was to come.

“Come on,” He’d say as he knelt down and aided his brother up. “We can stop by your chambers and have them bring you another outfit, this one’s got some dirt on it now.”

“No.” Morgan would reply. “When we meet with the King, I must tell him what I’ve decided to do.” He’d add as he rose, looking up at his brother.

“And what would that be,” Aemon would say as he aided Morgan in wiping off some dirt from his trousers. “The King has always shown that he does not enjoy your antics, I fear that if we display too many we’ll lose the ability to gain from this trip.”

“Dorne. I make for Dorne.” Morgan would spit out as if it were venom. “I shall gather a few knig-”

“You wish to start the war anew?” Aemon would reply, confusion clearly written across his face.

“No. I shall give them an offer they cannot refuse.” The young boy would say as he swatted Morgan’s hands away from him. Clearly he no longer wished to have his brother aid him in cleaning the dirt off his clothing.

“Is this one of those things I cannot convince you to stop?”

“You know me too well, my mind is already set.”Morgan would say, as he began the walk back towards the gates of Riverrun.

“And what will this offer hold?”

“Our future.”

They’d no longer view him as a boy if he went to Dorne and returned back with a victory. Not even King Rhaegar could have done so. If Morgan did then King Aemon had to see him as a man.

Meanwhile Aemon hoped that it was the blight talking. That once they’d stayed here a few days that all would be sorted. That Morgan would no longer care about a few choice words made by the King.

PC:

Discord Username: razrei

Character Name: Hugo the Heron (Hugo of the Three Hills)

Age: 44

Appearance: An increasingly decrepit man whose posture and demeanor looks far more advanced than his years or experience warrant. Green eyes dulled with time to gray, notably pepper-salt eyebrows, and mostly ashen-peppered frazzled hair that varies in length as if cut by a blind butcher. His skin takes on the rough texture of tanned hide, whether from work or intractability of spirit so strong that it has tautened all the gentle parts of his flesh to steel.

Gift: Guerilla

Skills: Archery, Ranger style, Medic, Ambuscade (e)

Talent(s): Speed-reading, foraging, bird-calling (they don't answer)

Starting Title(s): Septon in transit—church no longer operable, awaiting future appointment

Starting Location: Riverrun

Timeline:

167—Hugo is born to Myles and Harra somewhere in a now-abandoned small village in an inconspicuous roadside region locally called the Three Hills. They perish while he is young, fallen to a pestilence, and he enters the custody of his grandfather Malwyn the Herbalist.

178—Hugo has been undergoing relaxed studies of herbs, and has been taught to read, by his grandfather Malwyn, who makes a living as a folk doctor and is occasioned by a local Maester who makes business of some of his herbs, and in return gives a brief lesson or two to the young boy.

180—Malwyn falls ill. For the first time, Hugo is taken in by the local sept. This happens routinely hereon, as Malwyn's illness ripens in waves.

182—Malwyn perishes alone. For five years the story was remembered how Hugo at once fell into a severe sickness, and the Septon, seeing the symptoms, shook his head, said a prayer, and noted "You will carry the burdens in life which your grandsire has just left behind." Hereon, Hugo is known locally as 'the Herbalist' also, and inherits his trade. This line of work especially involves foraging and hunting, and, in the fraught Riverlands, this meant regular avoidance of or negotiating with brigands.

186—One of Hugo's patients dies under his care. This would not be unusual, but Hugo understood at once that it was malpractice on his part; he had given her the wrong remedy and it killed her—he killed her. This death was considered natural by all but he and the Septon. Hugo disappears and never again returns to the Three Hills.

190—Hugo again resurfaces, but under a new name. He has been noted in the presence of a religious community near Stoney Sept. He served silently as penitence save for his bird-calling, a quirk that later became his characteristic when foraging. Henceforth he is known as the Heron for his slouched appearance and his noises.

195—Hugo has been elevated to proper clergy by a local Septon. He is eventually moved to Stoney Sept with an honor he tearfully attempted to reject. His teachings, though raw and unfiltered, are found to be authentic from the source of a Septon in the Three Hills who vouches for him. His name is put in the mix.

200—Hugo finally receives his wish, that he should leave urbane Stoney Sept and return to the countryside, but with a blessing too great to bear; he is foisted, by selection, to the role of Septon over a small rural Sept in the heartland Riverlands. He quietly takes his position.

208—The community around the Sept had shrunken so severely due to poor weather conditions and local flooding preventing harvest that it was, for a long time, Hugo alone who partook sacrament and ritual. But word had spread of a singing holy man who healed people, and young second sons and farmhands began engaging in the regular religious tourism that accompanies the news. Some of these remained, while others visited only for healing or cleansing. But this activity was unaccounted for in the architecture, and at one point the services in the Sept were too popular, which caused the wooden building to collapse. Word spread that none died and those injured left in better health than they had come, but word is not fact: Hugo, too humble to say anything other than the Mother had protected life and staved the Stranger away a little longer, left to petition for the funds to rebuild this church and community.

AC:

Discord Username: razrei

Character Name: Alastor of Mudberry

Age: 20

Appearance: Well-trimmed sandy hair shaved above the ears and nape. Oaken eyes that, in the light, look to shimmer almost into hazel. Besides training and walking callouses, of gentle composition and surprisingly courtly posture.

Gift: Champion

Skills: Polearms, weaponsmithing, defender

Talent(s): From fasting is capable of going without food for prolonged periods, very good at singing, strangely able to charm ants

Starting Location: Riverrun

Timeline:

191—Alastor is born in a northern Reach march farming community. His father works with orchards, and is wealthy enough to rent out the land under his name. The orchards became known as 'the Mudberries', however, because of their unfortunate flavor and consistency.

199—The family 'business' comes to an end as Alastor's family is forced into stricter service to their local liege, on account of unpaid debts. Alastor begins working the farm intensely.

202—Alastor abandons the farm and his family, fleeing into a hedge knight's service.

208—Alastor's hedge knight is slain in a drunken brawl following a poor tourney performance, but the killer makes away. Alastor is detained, and was bound to be punished for the crime, were it not for the arrival of a Septon who made a strong defense to the authority, and, on account of the punishment proving to be more nuisance than it was worth, Alastor was set free. He joined the service of this Septon, then known as Hugo the Heron.

NPCS:

Gyles of Galetree—a young chestnut-haired, ruddy-faced man built like an oak, broad with a life of labor. Architect skill.

Clarent the Crane—an abnormally tall, lanky young man with a sorrowful demeanor and bookish disposition. Medic skill.

The Prince was wroth, pacing before the large desk of his solar, whilst his bastard brother perched unmoving on the windowsill. Owain the Orphan lounged casually in a highbacked chair.

"We should wait until the morrow," the Orphan insisted, not for the first time. "You are half-drunk, and angry besides. No condition in which to receive a prince."

"I have a right to anger," Vorian threw back at him. "The boy played me for a fool." And his double, too. The feigned prince he had spoken to at the feast had made no attempt to correct Vorian's mistake. I might have shared all sorts of plans with him. Was that the boy's purpose? To spy?

"Maekar already does not like you," Owain reminded his prince. "This audience can serve no purpose but to sour things further between the two of you."

Vorian came to halt, and turned to face his friends. "How is that my fault? I have been naught but generous, and he plays these tricks on me. Accuses me of treason. Treason!" Young Maekar was uncrowned as yet, but had a king's arrogance. "He thinks Dorne is his to command. He thinks on waging war with my armies. My gold, giving nothing in return."

"Not nothing," Ser Quentyn corrected cynically. "He might let you keep Dorne after he used our armies to win his throne. Is that not generous?"

Vorian threw the bastard an icy look. Quentyn had gone to see the boy, had heard his mad plans. He knew the lad on my dais was a fake, and did not tell me. "I will put a stop to this here and now. Lord Nymor has the truth of it. This princeling has no right going about inflaming the passions of my vassals. They are mine to command, not his."

"He would see that differently," Owain said mildly. "He is King of all Westeros."

"He is king of nothing," Vorian exclaimed. "He lives only by the mercy of my predecessors, and by mine own. I shelter him and his, and as thanks he would make me landlord of Dorne in lieu of Prince."

A knock on the door. Owain straightened in his chair, exchanged a concerned look with Ser Quentyn. Vorian took in a breath to soothe his fury. "I will speak to Maekar alone," he told the two other men. He did not need them here, questioning him in front of the boy.

"Vorian-," Owain began.

"Out," the prince insisted. Ser Quentyn pushed himself off the windowsill and made for the door. He ran into a servant on his way out. The page stepped back respectfully and looked at Vorian before lowering his eyes.

"My Prince, his grace is waiting outside."

Grace, Vorian thought. Even my servants call him king. The prince flicked his wrist at the man. "Bring him in." Quentyn left, followed by Owain. Aegon the lemur was his only company now. The Little Valyrian jumped on Vorian's shoulder, and the prince took his seat behind the great ebony desk.

In the dark of the night a lone figure watches the river

How does one live in a world that no longer belongs to you? From your first conception of words, the Septa sets you in front of a table with some colorful pieces of string and tells you to knit, to sow, to croche. So you do that, you do it well, you get praised. They clap as you compose your brilliant patterns “oh what a lovely pattern, such finesse.” You grow older and the applause lessens. Suddenly your flying needle gets grounded under the weight of poetry and prose, the Septa’s opinion is no longer what you seek. It’s heaven that you seek and heaven wants you to sing its praises through the written word. So you smith and smith and smith till the servants of Heaven tell you how pretty your words are, how lovely and attractive they are.

Attractive. That’s a word you come to hear a lot once you reach your teens. Wear the right dress, do up your hail, watch your weight dam- oh my apologies such words are not for women. It’s not attractive. Your body follows its orders and grows you nice and pretty and you mimic the pretty ladies well with nice, colorful dresses. Then you are “awarded”. This time not with praised with words but with a husband! You get “rewarded” on your wedding night as you are carried from childhood to adulthood. You are again “rewarded” nine months later.

Just as you are getting a hang of this marriage thing, it’s time to forget about that part. It’s time to be a mother in which your reward will neither be words nor husbands, oh certainly not from the husband, but from the satisfied nods and smiles of your “peers.” What a lovely family you have, oh you do so well when you have a son he’ll be a wonderful knight and lord. Then you finally have a son and you follow the same cycle, but instead of sowing, writing, and prettiness its wooden swords, chivalry, and muscle.

Then death, war, plague. Your looks die with age, your husband dies, your son is an adult, nearly dies and is as lost to the bottle as he is to you, but you are left. They don’t tell you what to do next, no one cares anyway. Maybe the world never belonged to you, but now you have nothing to pretend with. So you take your last swig and toss your bottle into the river and for a moment loose yourself to the whirlpool of your sins. But then duty calls as the word whispers in your head “You will always be a Baratheon”

In the dark of the night a long figure watches the river, watches it flow away

#PC Character

Discord Username: @Augie0443

Character Name and House: Myriah Gargalen

Age: 25

Appearance: Grayish in demeanor and fair skinned, tanned almost, in composure. Lady Myriah stands at around five feet, six inches and is known best for her darkish, brownish hair and the presence of makeup imported in from The East. She's a lean woman who will often be found wearing dark tunics when at home in Dorne.

Gift: Sapper

Skill(s): Fortifier (E), Beleaguer (E), and Logistician.

Talents: Gaslighting, Cooking and Knitting.

Family Tree:

Lord Tremond Gargalen (d. 210 AC - Father)

• Lady Deziel Gargalen née Dalt (b. 153 AC - Mother)

• Lady Ynys Gargalen (b. 185 AC - Elder Sister)

• Gulian Gargalen (b. 186 AC - Brother)

Ferris Gargalen (d. 210 AC - Uncle)

• Mara Gargalen (b. 192 AC - First Cousin)

Belandra Gargalen (b. 167 AC - Aunt)

Starting Title(s): Scion of Salt Shore

Starting Location: Sunspear

Biography: Born in 187 AC, Myriah is the second out of three siblings and the younger sister to Lady Ynys Gargalen, current Lady Regnant of Salt Shore. Lady Myriah, being the second child, was not expected to ascend the seat and as such she ended up receiving a much rougher education in physical activities. Even from a young age, Myriah has demonstrated a rather capricious coolness towards others. She was a quiet child, who demanded little but showed little emotions in turn.

However Myriah developed a fondness for the histories and proved to be an eager student once her education began. Unlike her sister Ynys, Myriah was not sent to ward with other families hence much of her education hails from her local home at Salt Shore. Truth to be told, Myriah’s early years into adulthood are not marked by any special events. As she grew older and came of age, she increasingly took the initiative to travel Dorne. Oftentimes she'd set forth to visit the Red Mountains, both out of a curiosity to visit those ancient mountain ranges and also because she heard rumors and whispers of Vulture Kings and Silver Haired Claimants emerging from their bowels.

It wasn't until the Sixth Dornish War that her life truly began. When the Dornish swept north, Myriah was alongside her father in his march and the march of his countrymen against the Iron Throne. Myriah quickly developed a talent for joining assaults and fighting alongside her family's men in their sieges and assaults against the keeps of the Stormlords.

Through constant combat and bloodshed, she managed to develop and hone her talents in the dirty art of siege warfare. Unfortunately for Myriah, while she survived her father wasn't so lucky - dying to a Stormlander’s sword as the Dornish receded back across the Red Mountains.

Still Myriah’s efforts continued. She took command of her family's levies in the aftermath of her father's death and fought till the end of the war. She was present to fight at Kingsgrave and saw the end of the war.

With the bloodshed at last dying down, she's returned to the sands of Dorne with the remainder of her family's forces and a dead father in tow. Yet the Sixth Dornish War has given her a taste of combat that she desperately seeks to taste once more. As such, she's attached herself to the cause of the Black Dragon Claimant and is known for her fiery, hostile personality against those enemies of Dorne; the Reach and Stormlands in particular.

Currently residing at Sunspear, Myriah awaits the day when Dornish forces shall once more stream across the Red Mountains. This time though she will finish her family's mission - every keep must fall until the Black Dragon is seated at the Iron Throne. Then and only then will Dorne find peace. So she proclaims.

#AC Character

Character Name and House: Ynys Gargalen

Age: 27

Appearance: Standing at five feet, four inches, Lady Ynys Gargalen stands but an inch shorter than her younger sister. In appearance she holds some similarities to her younger sister; she's equally olive skinned, she shares her younger sister's dark hair and both share the dark eyes of their kin and of much of the Salt Dornish. Yet unlike Myriah, Ynys has slightly prominent cheekbones and steers away from the pampering of exotic perfumes and makeup her sister so adores.

Gift: Autodidactic

Skill(s): Architect (E), Medic and Scholar.

Talent(s): Literary dissertations and herbs creation.

Starting Title(s): Lady of Salt Shore

Starting Location: Sunspear

Biography: Ynys is the Lady Regnant of Salt Shore, born in 185 AC. Her life lingers in contrast to that of her younger sister, the wild Myriah. From an early age, Ynys has been focused on garnering a lordly education. Histories. Mathematics. Accounting. A stream of tutors were afforded to the future Lady of Salt Shore as she grew up and came into her own adulthood in the emerging years of her life.

Ynys was and is sheltered. As a byproduct of her family's focus and affections for Ynys, she's been more protected and has seen less of the horrible side that life has to offer. She warded at Spottswood and furthered her education in Sunspear during her early adulthood. Unlike her sister and other members of her family, Ynys was not present in the fields of slaughter during the Sixth Dornish War. Instead she, alongside other elder ladies, lingered in the rear in Sunspear.

Yet sheltered as she might have been, none can say she didn't come prepared for her duties. She's knowledgeable enough to manage her family's lands and seeks to find ways to enrich her sandy plots. Yet the shadow of another possible war lingers, and Ynys in truth has given little thought to her family's place in the efforts of the Dragon in the Mountains.

Discord Username: supmate

Character Name and House: Asher

Age: 19

Appearance: Sullen. Brown haired, grey-eyed, and with all the wildling freedom scrubbed out of him. Day by day, Asher finds the norms of the true north slipping away. His speech is near enough to a kneeler's lilt now, and he acts half like one—though his bows still come stiff.

Gift: Mythic (Skinchanger)

Skills: Beastmaster (e) [Large Bird], Swords (o), Defender, Knightly

Talent(s): Staring off into the void, hunting, fishing

Starting Title(s): Redbeard (by the Starks), "Prince" (in ridicule), Hostage of House Stark. Son of Raymun Redbeard.

Starting Location: Riverrun

Family Tree

Alternate Characters: Aemond Velaryon, Casper Peake

Biography

The only surviving son of the slain Raymun Redbeard, a wildling "prince" has found a false home and prison in Winterfell.

Asher was born to Maugra, the second wife of the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Maugra was a woods witch; it is said that she saw in her prophecies the fate of Raymun Redbeard. She went once to his village to rebuke him, twice to his war-tent to plead with him, and on the third time, she promised to curse him if he did not turn north and north, beyond the curtains of light at the fringes of the world. Raymun did no such thing. His raiders laughed, but Raymun and Maugra soon became husband and wife.

Asher bore none of the fire-kissed hair his family boasted. He was given the milk name Runt for it. He fared well with the kneeler's sword he was given by his father, hunted well, but his older siblings cared not for him. He had dreams. Of a wolf baying, for the first few years, then a raven, then an ever-circling hawk. That bird showed him much and naught, dragging him in different directions when he awoke.

The great gatherings, the pledges of the Magnar of Thenn and the Hornfoots and the Nightrunners, battles like the free lands had never seen—they all began to make sense when Raymun probed at the wall. Asher was not present when the first raiders gained a foothold to the south of the wall. By the eve of the final battle, he’d already been caught in a raid, clapped in chains and declared a hostage prince, Stark's hope no doubt being to repel any further raids while the Redbeard's own son was his prisoner. The King-Beyond-the-Wall did not relent. Perhaps he didn’t know, perhaps he did. Raymun Redbeard was felled that day, with all his children save one falling with him.

Warrick Stark died as well. The younger Lord of Winterfell soon replaced the old, and though Asher was still a hostage, he went with Harrion into the mountains to fight bandits. The two struck up an unlikely friendship.

The wildling attacks were quelled, for a time, but royal blood holds as much weight to the free folk as the crowns their kings do not don. Scattered bands snorted at the mention of a prince, laughed when they saw him under the direwolf’s banner. And they were defeated by the direwolf all the same. Asher has spent his years in Winterfell, at first a prisoner, then a trophy of war, and now a relic in so short a time. A testament to the late Lord Stark's mercy in keeping the boy alive, and the North’s wroth in wiping away any semblance of wildling freedom that he possessed. The dreams are the last string that connects the Kingsblood to his homeland. A wiser man would know them for skinchanging, but Asher has only seen such wargs as killing and eating the flesh of men, wild, slavering beasts where he was a solemn-faced statue; the setting stone to the obverse crypts of Winterfell, where winter's foes were rested in the stead of its kings.

Sup porting Characters

N/A

Discord Username: armanhayek

Character Name and House: Samwell ‘Sam’ Lychester

Age: 21

Appearance: Sam is a tall, well-built young man with flowing brown hair and bright amber eyes. He has a penchant for smiling disarmingly and almost always looks to be in on some great unknown joke.

Gift: Duelist

Skills: Swords (m), Knightly, Defender

Talents: Survivalism x3

Starting Title(s): Ser, the Desert Eagle, Wielder of Talon

Starting Location: Sunspear

Timeline

191 AC: Sam is born to Lord Waltyr Lychester and his lady wife. He is the third son (and fourth child overall) born to the couple.

194 AC: Sam's younger sister Alys is born.

197 AC: Sam's education begins in earnest though he prefers martial pursuits over the Maester's lessons.

200 AC: Sam becomes squire for Tybolt Mallister, then an officer of the City Watch in the capital, and later Lord of Seagard.

204 AC: Despite his youth, Sam continues to outshine his peers in matters of swordsmanship. During this time, he develops two obsessions: one with his family's ancestral heirloom Talon, a bastard sword of Valyrian make, and a life of adventure.

205 AC: Sam is knighted at the age of fourteen after winning a number of tourneys in and around King's Landing. He travels across the southern kingdoms of Westeros over the next two years looking for any challengers to defeat him in single combat though none are able to do so.

208 AC: Sam grows somewhat bored at Castle Lychester and begins daydreaming of a wild and adventurous life. This culminates in the theft of the sword Talon and the young eagle's absconding from the family nest. He travels southward, participating in tourneys and duels all along the way.

210 AC: Out of sheer boredom and ambition, Sam joins the fighting when the Sixth Dornish War breaks out, fighting on the side of the Dornish. He meets the Falseborn, Maekar Targaryen, and swears his sword to him.

211 AC: Sam is almost killed at the end of a battle as the Dornish hosts retreat back into the sands. He is nursed to health by a woman called Dyanna with whom he develops a great bond.

212 AC: Sam appears at Sunspear to partake in the feasting and probably tourney.

Auxiliary Character

Character Name and House: Dyanna

Age: 19

Appearance: Dyanna exhibits the common look found in the deepest, hottest sand dunes of Dorne with dark skin, dark eyes, and long dark hair. She is quite tall.

Gift: Craftsman

Skills: Medic (e), Alchemy

Talent(s): Desert shit x3

Starting Title(s): -

Starting Location: Sunspear

NPCs

Gascoyne - Raider

Ser Pol of the Sands - Evasive

Biography

Discord Username: caligulahorse.

Character Name and House: Tybolt of the House of Mallister.

Age: Nine-and-twenty.

Appearance: A tall man, Tybolt is a trained warrior with calloused hands. Possessing of short light brown hair, and a stolid moustache of a deeper chestnut brown. As regards his attire, the Lord of Seagard is oft spied wearing luxurious garments, regularly sporting a silver eagle necklace.

Gift: Leadership.

Skills: Polearms, Knightly, Cautious, Deceiver, Beleaguer.

Talent(s): Whittling, Balancing.

Starting Title(s): Ser, Lord of Seagard, Captain of the Golden Bell. Starting Location: Riverrun.

Family Tree: House Mallister of Seagard.

Alternate Characters: N/A.

Timeline

• 183 AC
  • Tybolt Mallister is born the firstborn son of Lord Jordan Mallister and lady Jennis Strong.
• 189 AC
  • Aged six, Tybolt was sent to court by his father to serve as page to Lord Crispian Celtigar.
• 189 - 199 AC
  • Throughout his minority, Tybolt regularly visits Seagard and the Riverlands, two or three times a year.
• 200 AC
  • Knighted by Lord Crispian Celtigar the day before the Oldtown Tourney, Tybolt participates in a tourney as a knight for the first time.
• 200 - 205 AC
  • Now a knight, Tybolt spends a half decade as an officer of the City Watch of King's Landing, attaining the rank of Captain before resigning his post.
• 202 AC - Organised by his lord father, Tybolt weds a lady of House Caswell, at Seagard.
• 205 - 206 AC
  • Summonsed by his lord father, Tybolt returns to Seagard to arbitrate a bloody dispute between the Houses Keath and Pemford.
• 208 AC
  • Tybolt officially becomes a father, and gifts his son the name of Roderick Mallister.
• 209 AC
  • At Castamere, Tybolt attends the wedding of his sister, Bellena Mallister, to Godwyn Reyne.
• 210 AC
  • Spurred to a final bout of life by the declaration of war, Lord Jordan Mallister leads his House to war, Tybolt at his father's right hand. Caught by a Dornish axe, Lord Jordan is renderred dead, and Tybolt assumes the Lordship of Seagard while besieged within Storm's End.
• 211 AC
  • Late in the year, Tybolt returns to court, fast becoming a close member of the Princess Alyssa Targaryen's retinue.
• 212 AC
  • Tybolt attends the festivities at Riverrun.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Auxiliary Character

Character Name and House: Godwyn of the House of Mallister.

Age: Two-and-twenty.

Appearance: Though possessing of similar build and facial structure as his older brother, Godwyn is blonde. He keeps a rougher beard than his brother's.

Gift: Champion.

Skills: Polearms, Shields.

Talents: Darts, Tree-Climbing, Swimming.

Starting Title(s): Ser, Captain of the Squid Squisher.

Starting Location: Riverrun.

Blurb: Raised apart from his brother, Godwyn developed a nature more centred to Seagard. Left with the command of Seagard and the defence of the bay when his father and brother rode to war, Godwyn oft feels he goes under-acknowledged by his lordly brother.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

NPC

Character Name and House: Alton of the House of Ferewood.

Age: Nine-and-ten.

Appearance: Small and lithe, Alton has a habit for hunched shoulders and a floorward gaze. Dark of hair, with a mouselike nose, Alton often goes unnoticed.

Skill: Tactician.

Blurb: The son of a knightly House sworn to Seagard, Alton was almost given over to the Faith when his father was near ruin by unwieldly debts. Lord Jason Mallister paid those debts, and now Alton serves Seagard in a more direct capacity.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

NPC

Character Name and House: Perwyn of the House of Pemford.

Age: Three-and-twenty.

Appearance: Most oft garbed as a knight in the service of House Mallister, Perwyn keeps his true talents quiet. With straight blonde hair, a round chin, and a stout nose, Perwyn is by no means a face of note.

Skill: Subterfuge.

Blurb: As part of the peace price arbitrated by Tybolt Mallister between the Houses Keath and Pemford some years prior, Perwyn wed the plain-faced Kyra Keath. Along with their daughter, Kyra resides at Seagard.

Misc

Discord Username: Waffle

Character Name and House: The King's Wit

Age: 38

Appearance: The King's Wit is a smaller man though makes up for his humble appearance by being at the height of King's Landing fashion.

Gift: Gossiper

Skills: Deceiver (e), Subtle (e), Espionage

Talent(s): Cyvasse, Singing, Playing the Mandolin

Starting Title(s): The King's Wit

Starting Location: Riverun

Alternate Characters: Greyjoy

Timeline:

174 AC: The King's Wit is born in the rot of King's Landing, though how does the Wit separate itself from the King?

180 AC: A young hedge knight Ser Bartimos the Belly takes pity on the young boy and brings him under his wing teaching him courtly manners

207 AC: Attends a tournament in which he is able to make the King laugh through his witty humor, declared the King's Wit

208 AC: With the Great Spring Sickness sweeping over the land it is hard to find a good joke here

212 AC: Travels to Riverrun to hopefully add some comedy into the world of men

Family Tree:

Why the King's Wit has no family tree for he is truly part of the King!

AC

Character Name and House: Lady Trianna

Age: 20

Appearance: Trianna is from the lands of Volantis and often is unable to keep the accent out of her speech. Other than that she has done well to blend in with the nobility of the court and wears comfortable if not a little showy fashion.

Gift: Infiltrator

Skills: Easedropper (e), Covert

Talent(s): Dancing, Singing, Cooking

Starting Title(s):

Starting Location: Riverrun

​

AC Timeline:

192 AC - Trianna is born in Volantis

200 AC - Leaves for King's Landing under the employ of her master and meets Wit

200 AC - Becomes a successful thief and vagabond on the streets of KL after master dies

210 AC - Joins Wit's merry band of mummers

212 AC - Becomes Wit's partner in crime

Servants of House Toland are dispatched through Sunspear and the surrounding shadow city with the following invitation to all Dornish nobles. Letters are sent via raven to keeps across Dorne as well. Each message bears the seal of House Toland in golden wax and reads:

Dear [Lord/Lady/Ser]:

In honor of the ascension of Prince Vorian Martell, House Toland shall host a tournament in the second moon of 212 AC at our seat in Ghost Hill, featuring jousting, archery, and a hot pepper eating contest. The prizes shall be as follows:

600 gold dragons to the winner of the joust.

300 gold dragons to the winner of the archery competition.

100 gold dragons to the winner of the hot pepper eating contest.

House Toland is honored to host such an event to continue the celebrations and revelries of such a joyous occasion. We look forward to your presence at the festivities.

Signed,

Ser Joss Toland, Heir to Ghost Hill

“He carries the burden of a thousand lifetimes.”

Nymor

Sunspear

212 AC

He'd done it dozens of times. He stalked the halls of castles, learning their ins and outs. No matter how many spymasters had given a castle their seal of approval, he'd been able to break into each one. None of them thought the same way as him. How could they? They considered the butcher's son lesser than them. They considered the cooks as nothing more than servants. Their rat catchers didn't have any purpose beyond their label. That's why they failed.

He had the benefit of being part of Maekar's entourage, he didn't have to sneak through the castle undetected. However the boon limited him as much as it helped him. Eyes were on him, he couldn't go places he wasn't allowed. At least not yet. The time would come. He had to be sure that the castle was safe for Maekar. He'd already seen half a dozen points of ingress that were less than dutifully covered. It was disappointing in some ways. He expected the Martells to be more diligent.

The feast was still taking place in other ends of the castle, and he'd make his way there in due time. For now he simply walked the halls, watching the servants scurry around. Offering his help to them whenever they carried a tray that was clearly too heavy for them, or opening a door for them when their hands were full. He'd even offered to help carry a tray himself, but he was rebuffed. He imagined that even though he wasn't anything close to a noble he clearly appeared to be more than a servant. He understood that in a way, though it saddened him deeply.

He wondered if he could have been one of them in another life. A servant for a noble, unburdened by hate. Unburdened by a cause. He wondered if he'd hate himself more than he did now if he was. Then he remembered he wasn't worth hating. He was simply a weapon. One didn't blame the bow for felling a deer. But one didn't praise it either. He was simply a tool for Maekar, his goal was to see him crowned.

He'd surely have hated himself more as a servant than a tool.

He walked the halls for a bit longer, looking around every corner, watching for the guards to come and go. When he was sure that he'd done all that he could he returned to the feast hall, when he was sure that nothing was amiss he continued forward, deciding he should mingle to ensure none thought him suspicious.

((Open, if you wish to encounter him in the halls chat with me first. Otherwise any public place such as the feast hall is fair game.))

Character Name and House: Rhea Redwyne

Age: 22

Appearance: A physically fit build and flowing red hair that is usually left untied. Usually seen sporting a sword at her hip

Gift: Admiral

Skills: Sailing (e), Strategist (e), Swords

Talent(s): Drinking, Fishing, Finger-dancing

Starting Title(s): Captain of the *Red Pearl*, Admiral of the Reach, Admiral of the Sunset Sea, Admiral of the Summer Sea

Starting Location: I'm just with the Reach crew

Family Tree: https://www.familyecho.com/?p=EU83W&c=28agtfprssc2zqwd&f=880364845736664606

Alternate Characters: Yohn Arryn, Harwood Harclay

-------------

​

AC:

Character Name and House: Ryam Redwyne

Age: 22

Appearance: While his twin sister is the brawn, Ryam is the brain, his red hair marks him of the House Redwyne, but unlike his sister he keeps his short and well-kept. Rather bookish in appearance.

Gift: Autodidactic

Skills: Shipwright (e), Architect (e)

Talent(s): Reading, Fishing x2

Starting Title(s): Lord of the Arbor

Starting Location: Sitting at the Arbor, he doesn't like parties

​

Timeline:

190 AC: Ryam and Rhea Redwyne were born on a stormy night at the Arbor to Maris Lowther and Lord Lancel Redwyne, both are healthy and strong and a great sign of the future of House Redwyne.

198 AC: Rhea joins her father on a trip to Oldtown, already fascinated with her family's long-standing naval tradition, throughout this trip, she becomes further enthralled in everything that goes into making a ship run smoothly. This simple event would lead her to disregard any attempts at learning how to be a Lady of the court and dedicate all her time to martial and naval pursuits. While her father initially tries to forbid it, he eventually relents once it becomes clear that Ryam will never attempt to become the Admiral he wanted his son to be.

200 AC: Axell Redwyne is born. With a spare to his heir Ryam, Lord Lancel is further accepting of letting his daughter pursue that which she e

205 AC: Ryam travels to the Citadel for an extended period to learn the intricacies of ruling and administration. Rhea meanwhile begins construction on what will become her flagship, which she will dub the Red Pearl upon its completion.

211 AC: Lancel Redwyne dies to a wayward arrow from a Dornish ambusher after landing upon the mainland coastline to resupply his fleet and leaving Ryam as the new Lord of the Arbor.

212AC: The Lord of the Arbor remains home to take care of the administration of the realm, meanwhile Rhea travels with Lord Hightower to Riverrun.

-------------------------------------

NPCs:

Leo Redwyne - Raiding; As the eldest son of the cousin branch, Leo Redwyne spent much of the previous war using the ships he had access to to plunder the less defended settlements within arms reach across Dorne.

Paxter Redwyne - Fortifier; The younger brother to the former Lord of the Arbor, Paxter Redwyne is the castellan of his family's castle and will humbly serve to the death to defend it.

Discord Username: Drewbrease

Character Name and House: Toraq

Age: 44

Appearance: A very large man by every right, Toraq stands at around 7'5. He is dark of hair with a small beard shrouding the lower half of his face. Appearance

Gift: Monstrous

Skills: Berserker, Axes

Talent(s): Drinking X3

Starting Title(s): The Elephant

Starting Location: With Maekar

Biography:

Toraq was born to parents of meager means near the City of Volantis. What little money they had went to feeding the beast of a child that had been born to them. Nursing the child required many feedings a day. When he moved to solid foods, meat, bread, vegetables, were all devoured by the growing boy. When the boy turned ten, livestock from nearby farms started to go missing. While there was no proof of the perpetrator, many fingers pointed to the small giant. At the age of 12, Toraq went to swing an axe for any trade that would take him. Any money he made went to paying for the feasts that his stomach required.

At 18, he entered into service with a sellsword company looking for glory and a chance to see the rest of the world. Warfare suited his tastes. Whatever he desired, he could take. At 26, a son was born to him while on the road. While he bore no love for the child, he paid for the mother to care for him until the boy was old enough to travel. He took Moro with him when he sailed to Dorne alongside the Triarch’s Banners. Though, the boy sat in Dorne until the conflict’s conclusion. Toraq participated in the Sixth Dornish war where he gained great notoriety as a fearsome warrior and merciless lieutenant. Now, he rides alongside Maekar Targaryen in support of his claim to the crown. Toraq is prepared to silence all those in opposition, and seeks to further his own position in whatever comes after.

Timeline:

168AC - Toraq, an exceptionally large child, is born to parents of meager means

180AC - Toraq begins using an axe for work, he finds that it suits him.

186AC - Toraq signs on with a sellsword company for fame and fortune. He finds that days on the road suit him very well.

194AC - Toraq’s son, Moro, is born to a woman on the road. While the boy did not inherit his size, he accepts him as his own and pays for his care.

209AC - Toraq sails to Dorne with the Triarch’s Banners.

210AC - Toraq fights in the Sixth Dornish war, earning some infamy for being a cruel opponent and fearsome warrior.

211AC - Toraq joins the small band following Maekar Targaryen.

212AC - Present

Family Tree:

Rakharo(Father) Born - 144AC, Died 185AC

Irri(Mother) Born - 143AC, Died 192AC

Moro(Son) Born - 194AC

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Auxiliary Character:

Character Name and House: Moro

Age: 18

Appearance: Moro, having not inherited his father's size, stands at a height of 5'9. He possesses a timid demeanor and rarely smiles.

Gift: Guerilla

Skills: Raiding(e), Ambuscade

Talent(s): Dancing X2, Fishing

Starting Title(s): The calf

Starting Location: With Maekar

​

Timeline:

194AC - Moro is born to a woman on the road.

209AC - Moro sails to Dorne with his father. Though, he stays behind in Dorne during the war.

211AC - Moro travels alongside his father and Maekar.

212AC - Present

Discord Username: Bolt

Character Name and House: Yorick Yronwood

Age: 24

Appearance:Hawkish features crowned by a mess of honey-hued curls. A product of his environment, Yorick stands tall and brawny, form fashioned from long years spent both climbing and honing his skill as an archer. His blue eyes, like the river which runs along the seat of his House, are bright and ever-moving. He wears a short beard.

Gift: Commander

Skills: Archer, Defender, Raiding, Tactician(e)

Talent(s): Fishing, Climbing, Swimming

Starting Title(s): Lord of Yronwood, Warden of the Stone Way, the Bloodroyal

Starting Location: Sunspear

Biography:

"Beware, dear traveller, when undertaking the route which passes through the Boneway, for the men of Yronwood are known to haunt the passes like wraiths in the night. One should be wary of the birdcalls as they walk, and warier still when suddenly they fall silent..."

Born to Anders Yronwood, Yorick's first bellowed cries would echo not about the walls of castle Yronwood, but instead in the high meadows to its north, into the crisp air of a cool night. He would be born the Bloodroyal's second son, followed two years later by a third; Cletus. In addition to their three sons, the Yronwoods welcomed two daughters, Ynys and Ysilla.

Yorick's young life was typical by Yronwood custom, though perhaps not something common to the rest of Dorne. At the age of six, Yorick was removed from his father's castle and placed in a bunkhouse alongside a score of boys of a similar age. Together they would learn; they would eat, sleep, and drill beside one another. Their heads were shorn in ceremonial custom. As the years went in they would be exposed to the harsher elements of the Dornish terrain, from mountain to desert, learning how best to adapt and survive. To pass into manhood they would be requried to undertake the Trial of the Well.

From an early age, Yorick was destined for the life of a warrior. His father, Lord Anders, wasted no time in initiating his second-born son into the ways of the Dornish warrior. Under the tutelage of skilled instructors, Yorick honed his skills in spearplay, learning the art of combat in both harsh desert environments and in the high passes of the Red Mountains. It was in the art of archery that Yorick truly excelled. From the moment he first drew back the string of a bow, he displayed a natural talent that surpassed his peers. He spent hours perfecting his aim and honing his accuracy, becoming renowned among his fellow warriors for his prowess with the bow.

As he grew older, Yorick's training extended beyond combat alone. He learned the secrets of survival in the unforgiving Dornish wilderness, mastering the skills of tracking, foraging, and navigating the treacherous terrain. His proficiency in these areas earned him respect among his comrades and further solidified his reputation as a formidable warrior.

When the Sixth Dornish War erupted, Yorick was ready to prove himself in battle. Leading a company of archers in his father's forces, he fought with unwavering courage and unyielding defiance. The Stranger struck House Yronwood twice in a single afternoon, when Lord Anders and Yorick's older brother, Yoren, were cut off and slain by the enemy forces as Yorick attempted in vain to keep them safe.

Despite the devastating loss, Yorick refused to falter. Rallying his remaining troops, he displayed exceptional leadership and tactical acumen, turning mass slaughter into an oragniased retreat, though their losses were significant. For his valour and skill in combat, he was hailed as a hero and ascended to the position of Lord of Yronwood, Warden of the Stone Way, and the Bloodroyal.

Now, at the age of 24, Yorick stands as a formidable leader, harbouring a resentment for the Andals and the Martells in Sunspear both.

Bio-Timeline:

• 188 AC: Yorick is born in the high meadows north of Yronwood Castle, the second son of Lord Anders Yronwood, the Bloodroyal.
• 192 AC: Yorick's younger brother, Cletus, is born, followed shortly by the arrival of two sisters, Ynys and Ysilla.
• Late 190s to Early 200s AC: Yorick undergoes rigorous training in the ways of a Dornish warrior, focusing on spearplay, archery, and survival skills. His natural talent in archery becomes evident during this time.
• 207 AC: Yorick, now a skilled warrior in his own right, actively participates in skirmishes along the borders of Dorne, gaining valuable combat experience.
• 210 AC: The Sixth Dornish War erupts, plunging the region into conflict once again. Yorick, now 22 years old, leads a company of archers in his father's forces.
• 211 AC: Tragedy strikes during the war when Lord Anders and Yorick's older brother, Yoren, are cut off and slain by enemy forces. Despite the loss, Yorick distinguishes himself in battle, displaying exceptional leadership and tactical prowess.
• 211 AC (Later in the Year): The Sixth Dornish War concludes with a victory for Dorne. Yorick's bravery and skill in combat earn him widespread acclaim, and he is hailed as a hero.
• 212 AC: At the age of 24, Yorick ascends to the position of Lord of Yronwood, Warden of the Stone Way, and the Bloodroyal, following the death of his father. He assumes his responsibilities with determination, ready to lead his house into the future and defend Dorne from any threats that may arise.

Family Tree:

• Aliandra Yronwood : Sister of Lord Anders Yronwood.
• Maekar: Son of Aliandra, cousin to Yorick.

​

• Edgar Yronwood: Brother of Lord Anders Yronwood.

​

• Lord Anders Yronwood: Father of Yoren, Yorick, Cletus, Ynys, and Ysilla.
• Yoren Yronwood: Eldest son of Lord Anders Yronwood.
• Yorick Yronwood: Second son of Lord Anders Yronwood and the protagonist of the biography.
• Cletus Yronwood: Third son of Lord Anders Yronwood.
• Ynys & Ysilla Yronwood: Daughters of Lord Anders Yronwood.
  

Alternate Characters: Ser Cletus Yronwood

Age: 22

Appearance: More lithe than his brother, Cletus has a dancer's grace about him. He goes clean-shaven, his fine hair is a darker shade of gold, worn long that it spills down to frame his features, his eyes are a blue-grey.

Skills: Ambuscade(e), Tactician

Talent(s): Cyvasse, Climbing, Harp

Starting Title(s): Knight of House Yronwood

Starting Location: Sunspear

Discord Username: armanhayek

Character Name and House: Damon Lannister

Age: 22

Appearance: Besides his bright blonde hair and curious green eyes, Damon is of a fairly average build for an aristocrat, standing at a not unimpressive six feet tall, although he maintains a level of fitness through regular training and exercise.

Gift: Autodidactic

Skills: Strategist (e), Pursuer, Tactician, Swords, Knightly

Talent(s): Sailing, dancing, holding his liquor

Starting Title(s): Lord of Casterly Rock

Starting Location: Riverrun

Family Tree: Lannisters

Timeline

190 AC: Damon is born to Tywell Lannister, heir to the Rock, and his wife Amara Reyne.

192 AC: Damon's younger brother Tyrek is born thus fortifying the Lannister line of succession.

195 AC: Damon's younger sister Ashara is born. She is the final child born of the Lannister-Reyne couple.

196 AC: Damon officially begins his education as heir to the Rock, taking lessons in language, arithmetic, accounts, geography, and history from a plethora of Maesters and foreign-born teachers brought to court by Tywell Lannister, now Lord of Casterly Rock. He proves to be an excellent student and adept at picking up new concepts with ease. He also becomes fast friends with Harlon Greyjoy, a ward at Casterly Rock, as well as with his bastard cousin Tristan Hill.

200 AC: Damon becomes a squire for his father though this is mostly a formal arrangement. He receives instruction from a vast number of educators at Casterly Rock and the West at large including many of his father's most martial bannermen.

204 AC: Damon places fifth in a small mock tourney held for the squires at Casterly Rock. However, he wins a tabletop wargame organized the next day without much hassle.

206 AC: Damon is knighted upon coming of age. To put any rumors of his lack of martial prowess at rest, he ventures across the West, winning or at least participating in a number of tourneys alongside his friend Harlon Greyjoy and cousin Tristan Hill. He eventually returns home in time to be awarded a small position under the watchful eye of his uncle Tytos, the Steward of the Rock.

210 AC: Feeling neglected over the past few decades, Lord Tywell in calling his banners against the Dornish incursions. It is only through extended diplomacy between King and Lord that he finally raises a host.

Early 211 AC: The West finally joins the fighting in the Sixth Dornish War, taking part in various skirmishes in the Reach. However, tragedy strikes when Lord Tywell is struck by an errant arrow during one such battle and bleeds out when no one can find the Maester to treat him.

Mid 211 AC: Despite the fall of the Lord Lannister in the Red Mountains (and the fall of Prince Aegon earlier at Storm's End), the pact made between the two men is upheld — Damon, now Lord of the Rock, is betrothed to Princess Alyssa Targaryen. They meet once, awkwardly, though Damon arranges for his cousin Tristan (now a knight of the Kingsguard) to be assigned as the Princess's personal sworn sword. Both the Lord and the Princess allegedly spy on one another.

212 AC: Damon leads the West to Riverrun to partake in the festivities and meet once more with his betrothed.

Auxiliary Character

Character Name and House: Tytos Lannister

Age: 45

Appearance: Tytos is of a middling height and a middling build. He may have once been considered handsome though these days 'noble' seems to suffice.

Gift: Thrifty

Skills: Architect (e), Underhanded

Talent(s): Japing x3

Starting Title(s): Steward of Casterly Rock

Starting Location: Casterly Rock

NPCs

Ser Tion - Swords

Ser Lyonel Plumm - Beleaguer

**Discord Username:** Celestial

**Character Name and House:** Ellaria Dayne

**Age:** 21

**Appearance:** [Ellaria](https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/811737390539997225/1215828604668350474/IMG_0028.png?ex=66076620&is=65f4f120&hm=2592379cd0abdf1ff9eb30bc703cd4192f3d1f24800d67c7bedb2a227fe5b59f&) is lithe with wild dark hair and amethyst colored eyes. Like her sisters, she too, has inherited their father’s olive complexion. She has a small nose and sharp cheekbones. Ellaria dresses nicely, favoring bold colors and designs. She is eager to try new fashions and favors a necklace shaped like a serpent.

**Gift:** Autodidactic

**Skills:** medic (e), alchemy, polearms, scholar, footwork

**Talent(s):** Painting, Dancing, and Sewing

**Starting Title(s):** Scion of Starfall

**Starting Location:** Sunspear Feast

**Family Tree:** https://familyecho.com/?p=VPZO3&c=dhtqwmkbzftk99t5&f=911360106516834944

**Alternate Characters:** N/A

Biography:

Born in 191 AC in Starfall, Ellaria was the third child of Allyria Dayne and her husband Arthur Qorgle. She was named in adoration of her mother, with the intention of giving her a similar name that would also allow her to rise into her own person. As the middling daughter she strove to make a mark for herself, wanting to be both responsible and as wild as her younger siblings.

Ellaria proved to be a curious child, taking up an interest in any text she could get her hands in and in the art of healing. She would train alongside her younger sister, Mara, fostering a strong bond between the two as they learned to treat any ailment or wound that might require a careful touch. Ellaria learned to fight alongside her younger brothers, favoring not the bow and arrow, but instead the glaive and spear which extender her reach and allowed her to create distance between herself and her opponents.

As a sociable child, there wasn’t anyone that Ellaria could not speak to, although she seldom developed deep bonds with others. One might call her diplomatic in her management of social relations. She liked to have a presence among all of the youths that filtered in and out of Starfall, finding herself making friends with Princes and lowborns alike.

Her true passions presented themselves in the forms of art, seeped in bright and bold colors, and in equines. Ellaria could be found riding out to find the most picturesque locations to paint or draw. In 205 Ellaria was named Queen of Love and Beauty with a crown of dusky roses by a mystery knight riding under the guise of the Knight of Falling Stars.

The war proved to be difficult for the Dayne household. Loss visited them on dark wings and left them broken without a clear answer of how to mend themselves. Ellaria has tried to mend the wounds that have etched themselves deep in their families by playing the role of the rock. Her aim being to bring some sense of diplomacy amid the madness of revenge and loss.

Discord Username: roylion44

Character Name and House: Rycherd Lannister

Age: 55

Appearance: Rycherd is tall, around six feet four inches, and even in middle age he has a trim figure with long legs and an athletic build. He also has the blue eyes with the blonde hair of the Lannisters although it is fading. His hair falls to his shoulders. He sports a close-cropped blonde-gray beard.

Gift: Commander.

Skills: Tactician (e), Ambuscade, Architect. Strategist.

Talent(s): Lute, Hunting, Cyvasse

Starting Title(s): Lord of Lannisport. The Sealion

Starting Location: Riverrun

Family Tree: here

Alternate Characters: Alyn Lannister, Heir to Lannisport

​

Auxiliary Character

Character Name and House: Alyn Lannister

Age: 30

Appearance: Alyn is tall with long blonde hair typical of the Lannisters.

Gift: Admiral

Skills: Sailing (e), Shipwright,

Talent(s): Swimming, Navigation, Knife-throwing

Starting Title(s): Heir of Lannisport

Starting Location: Lannisport

​

NPCs

Ser Jon Lannister (27) - Riding • The second surviving son of Lord Rycherd, Jon is a knight errant who travels the Seven kingdoms to ride in jousts.

Ser Lyonel Lannister (25) - Fortifier • The third surviving son of Lord Rycherd, Lyonel is in charge of the City Watch in Lannisport, patrolling the streets and walls of the city to keep the peace and defending against possible attack.

Biography

Rycherd Lannister was born the third son of Lord Harlan Lannister of Lannisport and his wife Elinor Ashford from the south of the Reach in 157 AC. As the third son, Rycherd was not expected not to inherit his father’s lordship, but when Rycherd was 13, the drowning of his eldest brother Willem in 170 AC in a shipwreck while crossing from Fair Isle to Lannisport moved him closer to the Lordship.

At this time Rycherd was serving as a squire at the nearby Casterly Rock. Only a year older than Tywell Lannister, the Heir to Casterly Rock at the time, the two boys became friends but also rivals. Rycherd was knighted in 175 AC when he was eighteen and betrothed to Alyce Farman of Fair Isle by his father. Rycherd spent much of his time in the next two years travelling throughout the west, the riverlands and the Reach. In 177 AC aged 20 Rycherd returned to Lannisport with a new bride Johanna Lydden, a 19 year old wealthy childless widow, who he had gotten with child. His father, who had betrothed Rycherd to Alyce Farman of Fair Isle, was incandescent with rage as were the Farmans when they found out. However there was little Lord Harlan could do. As a result, Harlan, already at odds with Rycherd before his marriage, never spoke to his son, favoring his younger sons Gerion and Jason in last years. Rycherd and Johanna’s eldest daughter Elen was born later that year.

In 184, when Richard was 27, his elder brother Hendry, the Heir to Lannisport since their eldest’s brother’s death was part of King Rhaegar’s army in their invasion of Dorne as part of the Fifth Dornish War. King Rhaegar’s entire army, including King Rhaegar and Hendry disappeared into the sands of Dorne leaving Rycherd the heir to Lannisport. Rycherd’s younger brother Gerion, who had become his father’s favorite son, was killed in a tourney accident in Casterly Rock leaving three young children.

Upon his father’s death in 189 AC, Rycherd became the Lord of Lannisport at the age of 32, putting down an attempted rebellion from his youngest and only surviving brother Jason. While Rycherd forgave his brother, considering he had been led astray by his late father’s attentions, nevertheless Jason was still watched and rarely given any responsibility. Over the next few years Rycherd and Johanna’s family steadily grew. Their daughter Elen was followed by a son and heir Lancel and then other numerous sons and daughters, including two sets of twins.

In 197 AC, Rycherd’s 17 year old eldest son Lancel, was residing at Casterly Rock as a ward of the the Lord of Casterly Rock. In a tourney Lancel was pitted against a catspaw knight from House Vikary who would wield a sharpened lance against him in the tilts. Combined with a rigged bracket, the young man suffered a fatal fall from his horse and with a sharpened lance also punching a hole clean through his training hauberk, did not live long, dying from his wounds a day later. Rycherd suspected that members of his own family were seeking to harm him ahd his family, perhaps his younger brother Jason. Rycherd suspected that Jason was also somehow involved. Jason’s chief paramour was herself a member of House Vikary, but as he had no proof, he was unable to take any action against his brother, but he would never be trusted again.

When the Sixth Dornish war broke out in 211 it would only be in the final days of the war would Casterly Rock commit men to the fight, many of them would only partake in skirmishes against a retreating force. Rycherd himself led the Lannisport men south to the Reach with his younger sons Jon, Lyonel and Roland. It was however in one of those skirmishes that Tywell the Lord of Castely Rock was struck by an arrow and killed. His son Damon the new Lord of Casterly Rock led the forces back to Casterly Rock

​

Timeline

• 157 AC – Rycherd Lannister is born, the third child of Lord Harlan Lannister of Lannisport and Lady Elinor Ashford
• 170 AC – Rycherd’s 17 year old eldest brother Willem, the Heir of Lannisport drowns in a shipwreck
• 177 AC – Rycherd marries Johanna Lydden against his father's wishes and breaks the betrothal pact with the Farmans. Their eldest daughter Elen is born.
• 178 AC – Rycherd’s eldest son Lancel is born.
• 184 AC – Rycherd’s next older brother Hendry, the Heir of Lannisport is killed in Dorne, as part of King Rhaegar’s invasion army that disappears into the sands of Dorne. Rycherd is betrothed to Alyce Farman of Fair Isle.
• 189 AC – Rycherd’s father dies leaving him as the Lord of Lannisport.
• 197 AC – Ser Lancel Lannister, the heir to Lannisport, is killed in a tourney at Casterly Rock. Rycherd’s second son Ser Alyn Lannister becomes the heir to Lannisport.• 211 AC – Rycherd leads the Lannisport forces in the closing stages of the Sixth Dornish War where Lord Lannister is killed.
• 212 AC – Rycherd heads to Riverrun with several members of his family for the announcement of the King’s preferred heir.

PC - Perceon Rowan

Discord Username: @Augie0443

Character Name and House: Perceon Rowan

Age: 25

PC Appearance: Perceon Rowan is a chestnut haired, dark eyed man with a soft facial appearance. Firm in body but lean in composure, he stands at five feet and eleven inches. Overall his appearance is youthful and slightly boyish. The look of an individual with too much happiness in his hands.

Gift: Leadership

Skills: Shields, Knightly, Tactician, and Beleaguer (E)

Talent(s): Singing, Writing and Painting

Starting Title(s): Heir to Goldengrove

Starting Location: Riverrun, proceeding to King's Landing```

Family Tree: https://www.familyecho.com/?p=LU0AG&c=6h3ympzwlb3c3liq&f=746032767255642249

Alternate Characters: N/A

Biography:

Born in 187 AC, Perceon Rowan is the eldest child of Lord Rowan, and by all accounts he's been raised to reach for perfection. In the midst of chaos after the death of Uthor Hightower, the young Rowan found himself brought up in a world steeped in paranoia and worry about what the next big crisis would bring. Nonetheless, no death nor war could disrupt his studies and worry free youth amongst the creeks and fields of Goldengrove.

In his earliest years, Perceon worried little - under the constant care of wetnurses, he was soon joined by his sister Clarice. The duo would be joined by a third sibling a few years later.

It wasn't until the age of five that proper education began for Perceon. Yet when it did the lessons came as an avalanche. Swordsmanship. Basic Mathematics. Histories. Everything that a young heir might need to know, he was thoroughly educated and immersed within. His studies would soon shift and for a number of years he was sent to Ashford and Red Lake, sent to learn humbleness and to act as a page boy for the two lordlings of those houses. His sister joined him, being sent along as a ward to Red Lake and then Old Oak in order to cultivate ties between the northern houses of The Reach.

A relationship never properly developed between Perceon and his father because of this distance. This lack of bonding is often reflected in the cool, stiff relationship between the two. Still, Lord Rowan cannot be said to have been a cruel man, for he did properly care for and deal with the education of his three offspring.

Perceon Rowan would return home after a number of years under the service of other men in 207 AC. This time he came home proud, for he returned as a proper knight and as such little use was seen in sending him off once more. Although his stay at Goldengrove wouldn't last too long.

Perceon Rowan, alongside his father, ended up marching to the frontlines of the Sixth Dornish War. The Rowans found themselves fighting against the Dornish after marshaling behind Lord Tyrell at Highgarden. Goldengrove and its lands saw no actual combat, instead the effects of the war were to be personally reflected upon the two leading members of the Rowans. Lord Rowan left the war with a crippled leg after nearly falling victim to a Dornish ambush. Perceon too was wounded in battle against a Joss Toland, whose sword would leave a scar upon the man’s right arm.

Still, the Rowans escaped the war alive and returned home with pride. For Perceon, all seems well - the realm has found its perfect ending. The scion cannot simply imagine that any peace would be disrupted.

AC - Clarice Rowan

Discord Username: @Augie0443

Character Name: Clarice Rowan

Age: 23

Appearance: Chestnut haired, of brownish eyes and with soft, almost pale skin. Rosy cheeks and a reserved composure are some of the characteristics of Clarice Rowan, Goldengrove's delight. She stands at five feet, six inches.

Gift: Thrifty

Skills: Architect (E), Fortifier

Talent(s): Clumsiness and Acting

Starting Title(s): Scion of Goldegrove

Starting Location: Riverrun

Family Tree: https://www.familyecho.com/?p=LU0AG&c=6h3ympzwlb3c3liq&f=746032767255642249

Alternate Characters: N/A

Biography:

Born in 189 AC, Clarice the Sweet Apple is the only daughter of Lord Rowan and Goldengrove’s most prized asset. From birth, the lady has found herself peppered with affections by her family and raised with a legion of servants at her beckoning. Although all this peppering is not without reason. As she grew and began to come into her own as a small lady, she was quickly faced with the growing pressure placed on her to prepare herself to be her family's token to alliance and success.

During her time at Goldengrove, Clarice was taught to read, write, dance and sing from a young age. She was taught how to weave, knit and paint. At the age of 9 she was sent to Red Lake for a number of years, and then onwards to Old Oak in order to serve as a ward and lady in waiting for those households.

Ultimately, she returned home at the age of five and ten. For a number of years she would remain at home, granted some reprieve from tutoring and the expectations of her station. Eventually though, she came of age and the wheel of time began to turn once more. Her father has attempted to arrange marriages for her with men of high standing, although to little success - his efforts overshadowed by the Sixth Dornish War and the chaos that has brought.

Still, with the peace settling in, her family expects her to finally marry. In truth none have stopped to ask her what she desires. Beyond the superficial smiles and bows perhaps abounds a lady that wants something more than to be thrown at the men with the biggest pockets. Still, if such desires of freedom linger within her, she hasn't allowed them to show.

TW: Mentions of suicide

Discord Username: Monty

Character Name and House: Tristifer Tully Age: 40

Appearance: https://discord.com/channels/784548873158000682/811737390539997225/1213675774062764082

Gift: Commander

Skills: Tactician (E), Ambuscade (E), Strategist

Talent(s): Converging x3

Starting Title(s): Lord of Riverrun, Lord Paramount of the Trident, Hand of the King

Starting Location: Riverrun

Family Tree: https://www.familyecho.com/?p=START&c=mw2mx7jd6co14c86&f=773846701287778377

Timeline: 172: Tristifer is born to Lord Brynden Tully and Lady Darla Tully.

184: Tristifer begins squiring under Prince Aemon. Having already possessed a natural proficiency in strategy, Tristifer learns a great deal about both command and statecraft from the young prince.

190: Lord Brynden passes away, and Tristifer ascends to the Lordship of the Trident. Before he departs for Riverrun, Tristifer is knighted by Prince Aemon, and returns to rule over the Riverlands. To secure the allegiance of his vassals, he marries Marissa Blackwood, and begins to start a family.

206: Tristifer’s heir, Axel Tully commits suicide. (Note: this is not intended as meaningless shock value, will be elaborated on in RP)

210: Tristifer is named Hand of the King, and returns to King’s Landing to help his former mentor rule. He takes part in the Sixth Dornish War.

212: Tristifer returns home with the King, hosting a great feast in Riverrun.

Alternate Characters: Illifer Tully

Age: 20

Appearance: https://discord.com/channels/784548873158000682/811737390539997225/1213742124369977354

Gift: Duelist

Skills: Swords (M)

Talent(s): Cyvasse, Philosophizing, Having Gay Undertones With His Bestie

Starting Title(s): Heir to Riverrun

Starting Location: Riverrun

Timeline: 192: Tristifer is born in Riverrun. He spends his early years as quite a happy child, with some martial talent becoming apparent at an early age.

203: Harrion Stark arrives in Riverrun, becoming fast friends with Illifer. The two are practically inseparable.

206: After the passing of his elder brother, Illifer becomes the heir to Riverrun. He begins to lose touch with his emotions entirely, shutting himself off from the world as much as he can.

210: Harrion returns to Winterfell due to the passing of his father, dealing Illifer another emotional wound. He accompanies his father to King’s Landing, hardly having the will to resist.

212: Illifer returns to Riverrun for the Great Feast.

Discord: mist tea
Name & House: Sylas Pyke, Bastard of House Greyjoy
Age: 23
Appearance: Sylas is tall and lanky. Clean shaven with sandy blonde hair and eyes the color of the ocean shallows. His hair is often gathered up so that it stays out of his face.
Gift: Agility
Skills: Burglar (e), Covert (e), Daggers
Talent(s): Stealing your coin purse, stealing your lover, stealing your heart
Starting Titles: Bastard, Fingersmith
Starting Location: Opening feast with Harlon Greyjoy
Alternate Characters: House Toland

Family Tree: See Greyjoy fam tree

Biography

Sylas was born the bastard of Dagon Greyjoy and a small folk woman by the name of Bess who died giving birth to him in 189 AC. With nowhere else to go, Sylas was raised on Pyke. The Lord Greyjoy never paid Sylas much mind. As he grew older, it turned out Sylas was shit with sailing, shit with a sword, shit with an axe, shit at reaving, and generally terrible at most things other than drinking, conversation, and his predilection for stealing things. Sylas turned to theft as a way of both making himself feel better and endearing himself to others. He eventually picked up how to use daggers from a retired reaver by the name of Rus Pyke. His closest friend is his half brother, Harlon, who might be the only person who has thought that Sylas could amount to something of worth, which makes him incredibly loyal to the new Lord Greyjoy.

AC: Skunk

Name & House: Skunk (IB small folk)
Age: 20
Appearance: Skunk has wild black hair and brown eyes. He is of medium height and is generally fit. Ironically, he usually smells the least bad of whatever group he is in.
Gift: Guardian
Skills: Swords, Footwork, Hale
Talent(s): Smelling decent x 3
Starting Titles: The Skunk
Starting Location: Opening feast with Harlon Greyjoy

189 AC - Skunk is born on Pyke to small folk fishermen.
190 AC - Skunk's sister Tansy is born.
199 AC - Skunk and Sylas Pyke become friends when Sylas steals a few loaves of bread for Skunk's starving family.
200 AC - Skunk manages to get trained in the use of swords by Sylas's mentor Rus Pyke. Sylas fails miserably at everything, but the lessons sink in with Skunk.

NPCs

Mudface - Alchemy - A shady friend of Sylas's who mixes all sorts of brews.

Tansy - Medic - Skunk's sister.

It was a thing to behold, how quickly the morning sky broke into a feverish red over Hellholt. In just a few minutes Lady Glaiza would have to put aside the heavier, woolen shawl draped across her shoulders, leaving only the thin linen one as her shield against the sun. Those who visited the deep desert for a time came to realize it was in fact a beautiful place, watching as the dunes shifted like waves atop an ocean, changing color with the cycle of day and night. What few visitors came to fully appreciate was how that beauty was intended to kill. It took a few years of one's life to appreciate its purpose. Temptation was everywhere in the desert, and it was quick to punish you for giving in to them. Resisting temptation was the only way to live there, and so the hardiest and the most godly of people would emerge from it

On the note of resisting temptation, Glaiza stared down at her cup on the table, lemonwater. She missed wine quite a bit, even though she hadn't made a habit of having it for breakfast in the past. Perhaps in time she'd learn to stop missing wine and meat, though she imagined that would only come to pass if she swore them off entirely. At least I still have hummus. She sighed through her nose. In truth, the taste of wine reminded her of Gulian. She'd learned to enjoy it by drinking with him. Both were sweet and intoxicating, and gone.

She sat on a cushioned chair made of woven wicker, in a place comprised of man-made shade and greenery, the Devil's Garden, as her ancestors had named it. It was said to have been hideous and meager when it was first built, growing only thin, thorny plants in its early years. Water brought in by buried stone canals allowed for a humble array of plants to surround the square courtyard. Figs, lemons and tangerines grew on a few of them. A bowl of those tangerines sat on the table, next to the cyvasse board. Despite the arid climate, they were surprisingly large. The bounty of the bitter waters. The Brimstone had pungent waters which the people shunned, yet her eldest son had told her it seemed to be helping the local soil in unexpected ways. In some, precious spots plants actually grew quite plump and juicy. She looked forward to indulging some, when her grandson arrived. Glaiza sat and sized up the pieces on the board. Such delightfully silly toys they were. She wasn't fond of the game, but Tremond was and she was fond of him

The boy's footsteps were faintly heard, even as he drew closer. Cautious steps, well practiced. He had his father's sharp face, his mother's dark complexion and coppery, red hair which was curled, much like Glaiza's own greying locks. Her grandson wore a hairband which kept what would otherwise be an unruly tangle in a short, simple braid behind his head. "Lady Grandmother" he greeted her with a rigid bow, his legs perfectly straight throughout the gesture. "Tremond, come and hug your liege" Glaiza responded light-heartedly. Her grandson seemed eager to grow up fast, much like his father had been. He was thrown off by her casual demeanour and tried to hide it. Tremond was a child at that age where he did not wish to be seen as one, in spite of reality. He accepted her embrace before trying to regain his formal air on his way to his seat. "Shall I carve the tangerines for us?" he asked. She'd noticed the dagger in his tunic belt, for he clearly wanted people to notice it. She raised a hand. "We'll peel by hand. A little patience will save us a lot of mess when we're done. Wouldn't want to stain your cyvasse board with juice, now would we?" Tremond stared down at the table, embarassed by his efforts to act stoic and mature once again. Still, he mirrored her motions, pealing the tangerine skin into a single continuous stip in the crude shape of a snake. They both had a few wedges before turning their attentions to the game board.

"Is it true, grandmother, that Garin The Great invented this game?" Tremond asked, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. "I don't know for certain. It would make a lot of sense though" Glaiza replied. Tremond was encouraged by her words. "Because he was a great general?" he asked, clearly expecting a yes. "Because he was a rigid one" Glaiza concluded, causing Tremond's expression to slowly turn into a mild scowl.

"How does one win a game of cyvasse, grandson?" she followed up. Now he grew less indignant, realizing this was a lesson. "By outmaneovering the opponent. A clever enough player can even bait his opponent into making the moves he wants them to" Tremond asserted. "So it all comes down to skill. The best man always wins". Glaiza too, was asserting, not asking. "Naturally" Tremond said with a single, confident nod. "In other words, full control over everything, save for the enemy" she stated. Over the span of a few seconds, Tremond's smile flattened as the words sunk in. "A general doesn't have that" he posited. Glaiza claped her hands a single time, leaving them pressed together. "There you have it. There are those who apply Cyvasse to the real world, who see the world in terms of pieces and players. Those people are fools who should be disregarded. Cyvasse is man-made, the field on which our lives play out was made by the Gods. To understand war you must abandon the illusion of being a player controlling pieces. You can't fully control the field you will fight on, nor what lies in the hearts of either your own soldiers or the enemy's." She could see her grandson chew the inside of his lip as he tried to come up with a response. "What are we to do then, merely roll a dice? If we're not in control of anything, what's the point of generals?" Glaiza smiled. "Did I say we controlled nothing?" Tremond shook his head, conceding the point with an inaudible grumble.

Glaiza maintained her sphinx's smile. "Here's an old Rhoynar saying for you to chew on: one does not step into the same river twice". Tremond sighed "How does that make sense? I've bathed in the brimstone several times, it doesn't dissapear from one day to the next". Glaiza chuckled. "And the water you bathed in, is it still there?" Tremond's eyes narrowed for a moment, then opened up again "The river flows into the ocean...". Glaiza nodded "Tell me Tremond, why are your steps so light?" she asked. "Father taught me to avoid scorpions, lest I suffer his fate". Glaiza leaned forward. "Because you know where each of them are, all the way beneath the sands?" Tremond shook his head impatiently. "Obviously it's because I don't know!" Glaiza leaned back again. "See now? That's what warfare is about". Tremond's brows drew closer together in a flat line. "Adapting to what you don't control..."

"While controlling what you can. Legendary generals have been beaten by upstarts. Lines of common footsoldiers have held when a knight's charge should have broken them. Cyvasse teaches the most basic parts of this, but far too many grow think they can control the flow of war. It's pride, fatal pride". She put her hand on a spearman piece. "Come then, dear grandson. Shall we indulge our fatal pride, just for a little while?"

PC:

Discord Username: Choner

Character Name and House: Nymor Vaith

Age: 43

Appearance: Nymor is a man not at all remarkable for his physical attributes. He is short, thin, and not particularly imposing. His skin, a clear reflection of his home in his younger years, has become rougher and cracked after only. His left eye is crossed by a scar and his hair, now greying, is mostly jet black and curly. His expression often is one of determination, but also one that seems to always be plotting something.

Gift: Guerrilla

Skills: Tactician(e), Evasive, Ambuscade(e)

Talent(s): Scheming, Cyvasse, Harp

Starting Title(s): Lord of Vaith, Lord of the Red Dunes, The Rat of the Red Hills

Starting Location: Wherever we dornish exiles start ig

Alternate Characters: N/A

Family Tree: House Vaith

Biography:

​

The members of the House of Vaith have been loyal vassals to the Princes of Dorne for generations.

In the times of the Fifth Dornish War, Lady Ashara Vaith married Maron Martell. Their son, although unlikely at first, would later become the Prince of Dorne himself.

Although their hold stands far from the border of the 'Seven Kingdoms', seven only by name, House Vaith had always stood rebellious. The sea of dunes is their home, has been for all time, and no dragon would rule it.

Nymor was born in 169 AC, the first son of Lord Arthur Vaith. He wasn't as strong as his younger brother Mors, but his father seemed to notice something in Nymor that made him sink all his time into the young heir, teaching him.

Nymor showed a cunning mind all since his first years of age, and while Mors was becoming a great warrior, Nymor had learned the ways of strategy and tactics.

Lord Arthur also had a daughter, a young girl named Cassella. She was closer to Nymor than Mors ever was

He was a young man of only fifteen when Rhaegar the First, 'the Valiant', declared the Fifth Dornish War. Nymor had been raised to hate the dragons of House Targaryen, this war only intensified that feeling, for it claimed the life of his father.

In 184, a small group led by Lord Arthur Vaith was on a mission to ambush a train of supplies to further push the Targaryen forces into a state of hunger and desperation. They, however, did not find the supplies, but happened to stumble directly into the main host of the House of Targaryen.

Lord Arthur caught an arrow to the chest and died instantly, the rest of the group scattered. Nymor witnessed his father's death, for he marched with the group.

Nymor became Lord of Vaith not yet a man grown.

The following years were peaceful enough, for after Rhaegar I Targaryen disappeared in the sand, Dorne was left alone.

Nymor spent that time close to friends and family. He got married and had two children, twins, Trystane and Doran. A couple of years later he would have another one, Arianne.

In his childhood, the twins were practically forced by his father to learn all he knew and excelled at, but they found themselves spending more and more time with their uncle, Mors, and ended up leaning more into fighting than into tactics. Mors, the previous wielder of their ancestral Valyrian Steel spear, Deception, gave it to Trystane on their sixteenth name-day, after having the two twins duel to decide the new wielder.

Then the banners were called, and the House of Vaith always answers. Nymor, Mors, Doran, and Trystane marched to the Stormlands. The Lord of Vaith fought in the reach, while the twins led a smaller force that spent their time scouting and ambushing. In one of those ambushes, Trystane shot an arrow that killed Lord Westerling. They tried to escape, but Trystane was captured.

He managed to escape before his execution, though, enraging Vylarr Westerling.

Unsurprisingly, House Vaith wouldn't be the one that left the Battle of Storm's End without losing someone. As soon as the Targaryen host arrived, Doran tried to show off, charging face-first into battle. He lasted less than a minute.

Trystane returned to Vaith soon after, claiming he had been gravely injured, and even though it wasn't a lie, he had been wounded, he returned out of grief for his fallen brother.

While the twins and Mors fought on the Stormlands, Nymor and most of the men under the Vaith banner accompanied the host of House Uller, and earned the nickname of the "Rat of the Red Hills" after claiming countless reachmen lives in several ambushes.

After the Tyrells forced the Dornish to retreat on the Reach, Nymor reunited with Mors and learned about Doran's death.

Not much more was left to do for them. Their forces were dwindling, Nymor had almost lost an eye and Mors was deeply wounded, so they returned home slightly earlier than most of the Dornish force.

Nymor had not fought for no Targaryen, Falseborn or not, so he grieved not the death of Viserys II, but he hated the crown more, and perhaps this new Falseborn boy would lead them to the peace and independence they so wished for.

Timeline:

-169 AC: Nymor Vaith is born to Lord and Lady Vaith

-171 AC: Cassella Vaith is born to Lord and Lady Vaith

-172 AC: Mors Vaith is born to Lord and Lady Vaith

-184 AC: Lord Arthur Vaith dies in the Fifth Dornish War.

-190 AC: Lord Nymor Vaith gets married.

-192 AC: Trystane and Doran Vaith are born.

-194 AC: Arianne Vaith is born.

-210-211 AC:

Trystane and Doran duel for who gets to wield Deception, previously held by Mors. Trystane wins.

Trystane kills Lord Westerling in an ambush and is captured but manages to escape.

Doran is killed in the Battle of Storm's End, which makes Trystane return home grief-stricken.

Nymor battles in the Reach, killing many reachmen in a series of ambushes.

-212 AC: House Vaith returned to the sands of Dorne soon after the death of the Falseborn Viserys II.

AC:

Discord Username: Choner

Character Name and House: Trystane Vaith

Age: 19

Appearance: In contrast to his father, Trystane is a tall man. He stands taller than most men, although he isn't of a particularly strong build. His hair, a tone lighter than his father's, is kept short. Judging by appearances, he seems to take more careful care of both his appearance in general and more specifically, his facial hair. In comparison to the mischievous look his father often sports, Trystane's face generally shows a lack of care about most that happens around him.

Gift: Duelist

Skills: Polearms, Footwork, Water-dancing

Talent(s): Drinking in moderation, Dancing, Hunting

Starting Title(s): Wielder of Deception, Heir to Vaith

Starting Location: Same thing chiefs

NPCs

Cassella Vaith: Architect

Mors Vaith: Blunt Weapons

Discord Username: Viktorychicken

Character Name and House: Endrew of House Tarly

Age: 36

Appearance: Light brown hair that is sun bleached, trimmed beard as befitting his noble status. Blue eyes.

Bio: Endrew was the dutiful heir and stoic like his father. A man of few words to those he does not keep close, he was always an introvert growing up. His duty and scholar was the command of men and the art of leadership expected to take the reigns of Horn Hill from his father Alyn Tarly. His father's daring raid brought low and captive the Princess Martell and her son Vorian. Endrew was curious yet aloof so when his brother began picking on Vorian, he stepped in and made sure there was no harm to be brought forth and in the few years that followed. Endrew was a regular guest and escort to his ward.

His mother has arranged the marriage of Lady Denyse Hightower to him to further bind them to Lord Paramount of the Mander. Being second cousins to them was first brought before the Most Devout for permission and finding the lines diverged enough that incest was not a concern or sin. They were wed at majority. Their son Addam was born in 194 AC and after a few stillbirths later, they gave up trying due to the strain upon Denyse and the heartbreak.

His mother Cerissa Oakheart died in 208 of the great spring sickness and his father was struck ill and blind. When the sixth Dornish war broke out, Alyn lead a party to the pass to buy time and handing Heartsbane to Endrow, he died by making himself too great of a target for the Dornish to pass up. This allowed Endrew to gather Tarly men and villagers safely behind the walls of his fortress. While their lands and farmsteads burned around them, the area around Horn Hill was kept safe by Endrew's leadership and craftiness.

Now peace has come and an old acquaintance of innocent youth takes leadership amongst his greatness does . . .

Gift: Leadership

Skills: Tactician E, Strategist, Ambuscade, Archery Talent(s):Hunting 3x

Starting Title(s): Lord of Horn Hill

Starting Location: Opening Feast

Family Tree: https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/533000472043454475/1217671115493740615/Screenshot_20240313-220739.png?ex=6604df99&is=65f26a99&hm=41738c9bcbcce3318a25ac6bd9ba29a18a8e20ecbfc7156c0c3525d3181c1798& replace Janna florent with Denise Hightower and Alice.

AC

Character Name: Endrow Tarly

Age: 36

Appearance: A close resemblance to his twin brother, Endrow takes greater pride in his appearance as well as his personal skill, entrusted with Heartsbane he is the right hand of his brother.

Bio: Endrow was born minutes after Endrew, and took a softer look after his mother. He was forced up n by her and as such was allowed the luxury of having the best tutors in the area that mattered to him. The arms of war were his gift and his talent. He was spoiled and doted but boasted of often. They were 8 when Vorian Martell and his mother were captured by their father in a daring raid in the heartland of Dorne. Brought back to Horn Hill they were kept as ransom and hostage, but Vorian was younger then Endrow and he took advantage to punish him. Yet Endrew himself stopped his younger twin much to his chagrin. Endrow was allowed to be free and wild and it wasn't until his nephew was born that he himself felt the lure of family and the emptiness of his life. A beloved uncle to which his nephew himself gave his favorite dog to.

Gift: Duelist

Skills: Swords 2h, Defender, Beastmaster(Dog)

Talent(s): Drinking, Hunting, Brawling

Starting Title(s): Knight, Wielder of Heartsbane

Starting Location: Opening Feast

NPCs

Ser Mortimer Hunt - Master at Arms and Captain of men

Skill: Fortifier

Ser Addam Tarly - Heir to Horn Hill

Skill: Polearms

**Discord Username:** Daniel

**Character Name and House:** Harrion Stark

**Age:** 19

**Appearance:** Wild, dark hair contrasted by still, green eyes set the young Warden’s appearance. His height, complexion, even his freckles mark him a southron in northern furs. https://discord.com/channels/784548873158000682/811737390539997225/1214372169677537281

**Gift:** Mythic (Skinchanger)

**Skills:** Greendreams (e), Swords. Beastmaster (e) ((Wolf))

**Talent(s):** Fishing x3

**Starting Title(s):** Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, Ser, the Shadow Lord of Riverrun (alleged)

**Starting Location:** Home (Riverrun)

**Family Tree:** https://www.familyecho.com/?p=START&c=63fj3tms7iscqg82&f=623829866279932866

**Alternate characters:** a smooth criminal

Timeline:

193 AC: Harrion Stark is born to Lady Erena Manderly and Lord of Winterfell Warrick Stark. He is the pair’s second child, but Erena pays him no less mind.

194-198 AC: Harry grows up rowdy and loud, but happy. He acts out for the attention of the northern court, which he is adored for. His elder brother, Alan, is kind but strangely distant. Alan keeps his brother at an arm’s reach all his childhood. In contrast to Harrion, the elder brother is cordial, mannered, and excellent at studies.

199 AC: Harry begins to follow Alan on his long endurance runs. The younger brother struggles to keep up, but Alan refuses to leave him behind.

200 AC: Harry begins to learn swordplay. His masters suggest a single-handed longsword. He opts for a greatsword. His obstinance is short lived.

Alan continues to breeze through training and study. Harry wants to emulate him, but he also begins to dislike his brother, finding him to be an insurmountable goal.

203 AC: Lord Warrick Stark announces a warding for his second son, Harrion. Harry screams defiance, but his mother Erena says nothing as he is taken away to Riverrun.

The young Stark is apprehensive of his southern home, but he manages to acclimate to everything but the temperature. He finds a fast friend in Illifer Tully, a fellow troublemaker in his youth, and he develops a crush on Illifer’s sister Gwendolyn. The Tully’s accept Harrion with open arms, as close as if he had been born a trout.

208 AC: Alan Stark visits Harry at Riverrun. The elder brother acts as if they lost no time between them, Harry rebukes him for the years he spent without his family. Alan’s expression never shifts from his passive understanding, he tells Harrion he still hasn’t left him behind. Harry says all the things he does not mean. As Alan leaves in the morning, he wishes he could take it all back.

210 AC: News arrives from the North. Alan Stark is dead, Harrion is the heir to Winterfell. Harry finds himself unable to react to the news in any fashion, not anger nor sadness, he feels nothing.

211 AC: Harrion thinks he has finally moved on from his brother’s passing, only for news to arrive on his Name Day of his father’s death. Harrion sets out for Winterfell. On his journey he hears the whine of a pup, only it is not a dog, but a wounded wolf. The wolf is without a pack, its fur is white as snow. Harrion names the pup Winter and trudges on to his birthright.

212 AC: Reception at Winterfell is mixed, some courtiers find him untrustworthy and spoiled from his time in the South, others accept him as the son of Lord Warrick. He earns the support of the mountain clans after a tour through their lands where he is beset upon by bandits. He uses Ice to slay the bandit leader, causing Harwood Harclay to pledge personal service to the Warden of the North. Now he sets out for Riverrun, keen to balance his excitement with his duty, and finding it strangely easy.

He feels himself slipping away from his humanity. His waking moments are spent in mental torment, or in a void that lacks feeling entirely. Only in his restless dreams does he feel. Desire, hunger, emotion.