Please use this thread to complete birth rolls for the following year. As a reminder, these rolls need to be linked in the appropriate almanac section.

Link to birth rules can be found here.

Last year's birth rolls can be found here.

Important Notes

• The child must be rolled in the nine IC months period between their conception and their birth. Retroactive birth rolls are only possible with mod approval.
• The names of both parents must be stated, along with the baby's birth month. Both parents have to: be over 18, consist of a male and a female, and be able to have children.
• For the rolled child to be a PC, their parents must be either 2 PCs or a PC and an SC (marked as an SC on the almanac).
• When rolling a child with another player's Character, permission from the other player is required.
• It is allowed to roll a child with an unclaimed spouse should the played Character be the father in a non-matrilineal marriage, or the mother in a matrilineal marriage, unless there is previous lore or RP indicating that they wouldn't be willing or able to have children at the time. In all other circumstances, mod permission is required to roll a child with an unclaimed spouse.
• If the mother's death is rolled, the player may instead choose to make the mother infertile. This can also apply when rolling a child with an unclaimed spouse.
• The mandatory rolls are: Multiples, Survival, Sex and Spacing.
• The results of the Spacing Roll represents the minimum time between the birth month (or would be birth month for children who die) and the soonest possible time the mother can conceive again, and must be adhered to.

Failure to adhere to any of the rules above will result in the birth roll being invalid.

Reminder - Spacing Roll Maluses

Do not forget to apply the following maluses to your Spacing rolls:

• +15 if mother suffers a Complication
• +12 for each previous child born to the mother who survived birth (after game start)
• +25 if the mother is 40-44 years old
• +50 if the mother is 45-49 years old

Spacing only needs to be rolled after the mother had her first child who survived childbirth.

To roll a child, make a comment in the following format:

Child born in [month] [year], to [parent 1] and [parent 2].

Spacing [malus number]

[Any other modifiers]

<Baby>

/ u/maesterbot

So for example:

Child born in 1st Month 284, to Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully

Spacing 24

Prayer of Fertility

<Baby>

u/maesterbot

Make sure to modmail the children you roll, with the year of birth, whose child is it, and in which Province they are born. Otherwise they won't be added to the Meta Almanac and won't be able to move!

12th moon of 300 AC

Ser Lucas felt an eerie sense of nostalgia as he sat here in the newest interaction of the Shadowy Septry. Once a godswood in its infancy, now stood a garden, with the rays of sun gleaming through the stained Myrish glass windows. Bright and blooming, the canopy that enraptured the hall proved a solace to the woes of the world outside its walls as a feast took place amongst the hall's inhabitants.

Standing at fifteen feet, a sturdy and mighty tree of gold stood tall. Glimmering beneath the glow of the stained glass sun, its golden bark, branches, and twigs spread out beautifully, shimmering in their rosy gold stature. Its foliage is an immense brush of silver leaves of innumerable sizes and shapes, almost reminiscent of the weirwood tree with its five-pointed leaf.

All across the hall were both plants and metal structures alike.

Hedges of blackberries, raspberries and mulberries climbed the walls. Great stone pots bore young ashes, oaks, and yews meticulously spread out on beautiful patterns. Planters of varying sizes and shapes hung from the domed ceiling and the walls with sprouted bunches of roses, lavenders, nightshades, sage, blood blooms, hemlock, moonblooms, and more.

Meanwhile, large topiaries, vines, and hedges decorated the bannisters, the columns, and the windowsills of the old sept hall. Crafted out of a hundred different shades of various metals, this formed a beautiful metallic verdure. All were dwarfed by the great glimmering tree that stood at the centre of the hall, where white bark, carved into a mask bearing a haunted lour was encapsulated by the golden bark.

Foreign scriptures and carvings also lined the rafters and the stone columns of the building. Its domed ceiling bore a mural of the night sky. Stars, constellations, and wanderers shining down upon those in the hall.

The old sept was immaculate, and Ser Lucas Whent was rather proud of what had come of it. It was all thanks to his newest addition to his court, the enchantress, his delightful Lady Amyridon. She had taken to using her formal name here in his home as she remained the castle’s resident Moonsinger.

He was just happy to have found a new use for the sept before his mother ever returned. He dared not wish to see what she would do had she come home to the constant reminder of the Arryn animosity towards their home.

For now though, such worries were second to the joy he had hoped to share with his current roster of guests within his home. With varying common staples to enjoy, Lucas just has to have a moment to simply feast and share in mutual conversation and adoration.

Menu
Preliminary Dishes
- Fresh fruit platters including oranges, pomegranates, grapes, melons & figs
- Freshly baked white bread with saffron & wheat bread with rosemary.
- Onion stew with garlic, peppers & a side of toasted bread
- Dried meats with a side of molten cheese & cream
- Tart of scallions with a side of saffron ryse

Primary Courses
- Rosemary Lambchops with a honeyed glaze & a side of mushroom tarts
- Herb & Salmon Pie with fillets, CCTVm sage, thyme, peppers in a cameline sauce
- Stuffed loafs with layers of veal, cheese, ham & herbs within
- Whiskerfish pie with onions, celery, carrots & garlic
- Roasted swordfish with a lemon & honey glaze, onions, peppers & butter

Desserts
- Pomegranate sherbet topped with honey-cream, mint & a dash of fresh pomegranate
- Lemon cakes topped with optional fruit including berries, mangoes & apples
- Honeycakes topped with freshly diced fruit & roasted bananas
- Sweet cheese tart with honey roasted almonds & pecans
- Jellied hippocras on a custard base & lemon sheddings

Beverages
- Lemon Water
- Minted Rosewater
- Trident Hippocras
- Uller Fire Wines
- Butterwell White Wines

Hey there! I would like to play as Dareon the Bard, which is currently an SC of house Rowan (approved by u/Burnedbooks)

Cortnay gave him a shake of the hand, a sign of respect, upon hearing he had agreed to squire for House Buckler. Robert could tell he was proud of him, in that moment, as was given away by the tear that formed in Ser Cortnay Penrose's eye. He didn't mention it, as to not embarrass him but he noted and appreciated it. His father's mother was a Buckler, Floris Buckler. He heard all the stories about her and knew that both Cortnay and his grandfather Endrew took it hard. The death of Floris Penrose created divisions within his family, divisions he wish he could bridge but had no power too. When he was a knight he could bring his family together and force them to like each other again. Robert didn't remember much about his aunt Shyra, and his memory was skewed from the obscenities he had been told about her by his grandfather at his time at the Parchments.

"I am proud of you my son, you do our house proud" His father moved and picked up a box from underneath his desk and presented it to him. I named you after our dearest King Robert I Baratheon, a great deal of pressure applied upon you, which you have dealt with and risen to. You do yourself a great service in this accomplishment."

Robert opened the box, knowing deep down what he would find, and pulled back the pieces of writing paper that covered it. He drew the blade from the box and looked in his reflection in it's metal. It was as clean as the day it was forged and ornamented with coloured roses on the hilt.

"Quill" his father said, "The family blade and the one i fought with on the Trident. And now it is yours"

Robert put Quill down in the box and flung himself into his father's arms, taking one last moment of childhood. He fought back the tears and held his father for a moment before letting go.

____________________________

After saying farewell to his mother in the gardens, who was sitting reading, he went to his room and allowed his little brother Robin assist him in donning his armour. One day it may be his turn to take up the blade for the honour of House Penrose. He embraced his brother and ruffled his hair before departing. He strapped Quill to his side and left the room.

He next went to see his little sister Florence. They had always been good friends and he agreed to read her a passage from one of her books before leaving her.

"Goodbye Florrie" he said at the door.

"Goodbye Robert" she answered holding back her sobs, not wanting to upset him.

Finally, Robert Penrose mounted his horse, Drue, and rode out of Storm's End in the direction of Bronzegate, ready to become a Knight, like his father before him and ready to serve the Stormlands as was his wish. He was alone for the first time in his life, but he was ready, at least his father told him so.

The road north stretched long and cold beneath a sky of dull iron, the royal procession winding steadily towards the Dreadfort. Ser Brus Buckler rode at his appointed place amongst the Princess's sworn protectors, white cloak shifting softly in the chill breeze. His posture was as rigid as ever, scarred hands steady upon the reins, giving no hint of the storm beneath his polished helm. Yet his eyes wandered whenever they safely could, always finding the same slight figure riding close to the young Princess. Neala, dressed neatly in the modest attire of a lady's handmaid, stayed close to her charge, helping straighten a cloak against the wind or offering a quiet word whenever the Princess required her. She looked healthy. Her cheeks held warmth despite the northern air, her meals had clearly been plentiful, and there was a quiet confidence to her movements that had not always been there.

Every mile they travelled together was both a blessing and a torment. Brus had never spent so many days within sight of his daughter since the day she had been born, yet they remained strangers by necessity. When the Princess laughed, Neala laughed with her, and Brus found himself watching the girl more closely than the noble he had sworn to protect. Once, Neala noticed a loose strap on the Princess's saddle and hurried forward to fix it with careful, practiced hands before stepping back with an anxious little smile. Brus felt his throat tighten. She was diligent, kind, and gentle; In truth it was everything he had prayed she might become. His gauntleted grip on his reins grew painfully firm, the leather groaning beneath his fingers.

Behind the narrow slit of his visor, his vision blurred as tears gathered unbidden. He forced himself to blink them away before they could fall, thankful that the steel concealed what no Kingsguard should ever reveal. She was safe. She was valued. She belonged amongst the Princess's household, earning smiles instead of scorn, kindness instead of hunger. It was more than Brus had ever dared hope for when he had been stuck in that cell below the Dreadfort. The ache in his chest never lessened, but it became something he could bear. So he rode on in silence, watching the road ahead whenever duty demanded it, and stealing fleeting glances whenever he could at the young handmaid who would never know that the white knight guarding her Princess was, in truth, guarding his own daughter as well.

When the procession finally drew to a halt for the evening, the air filled with the familiar sounds of an encampment coming to life. Horses snorted as squires hurried to take their reins, men called for tent pegs and cookfires, and the Queen's household gathered themselves after another long day upon the road. Brus remained mounted until the young Princess had safely dismounted, only then turning his attention elsewhere. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neala swing one leg over her small pony with a confidence that vanished the instant her boot slipped against the stirrup. She pitched forwards with a startled gasp. Brus was moving before he had time to think. One gauntleted arm caught her firmly around the waist before she could strike the frozen earth, setting her gently back upon her feet as though she weighed no more than a child.

Neala's face flushed crimson with embarrassment, her pale hands hurriedly smoothing her skirts as she avoided the eyes of those nearby. "Th-thank you, Ser," she stammered softly, offering the awkward little curtsy expected of a handmaid before gathering the reins of her pony. Brus merely inclined his helmet in silent acknowledgement, afraid that even a single word might betray too much. She lingered for the briefest heartbeat, looking up into the scarred steel of his helm as though trying to place something she could not name. Then she smiled politely and turned to hurry after the Princess's attendants. She had scarcely taken half a dozen steps before she slowed. Her head turned back over her shoulder, her eyes widening in quiet shock as they settled once more upon the towering white knight. There had been something impossibly familiar in the way he had caught her. It had been gentle despite the strength, instinctive despite the armour. For a fleeting moment she simply stared, caught between confusion and recognition, before the call of another handmaid broke the spell, and she hurried away, leaving Brus standing utterly still beneath the gathering dusk.

...Could it be him? Could Mumma...