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“Keep your shield up, sun at your back. Don’t get overzealous with the little ones, couple a quick bites is enough to knock them out. Your competition are the older lads, you want to win the Melee?”

“Yes Ser Lucas.”

“Then pick the biggest fight. Fat boy over there with the spider webs on his shield. Or the pomegranate boy without the shield. Finish ‘em quick, give the other lads a reason to avoid you and keep your reserves for the end. Know you and Pryor’s boy are friends, but remember, there’s only one winner in there, aye?”

“Aye Ser Lucas.”

Ser Lucas Longwaters smiles as he straightens up and firmly thumps his squire across the back, Grant Conklyn, the heir of House Conklyn punches his arm in return and they both laugh causing you to smile. The boy had been a part of your Household for nearly a year now, coming alongside his elder sister, Lady Racheal Conklyn, when she was wed to Lucas. Lord Argor Conklyn had confided in you that the boy was old enough to be made a Knight already, but felt he needed a few more miles under his feet and a healthy serving of humble pie before he was ready to become his father’s Heir. Grant certainly shared Lucas’ bravado and cockiness, and for good reason you had observe over the months, he was an excellent rider, his sword arm was fast and strong, and his win in King’s Landing’s equestrian competition only added to the youths swelled ego. When he had learned he would be squiring for Lucas and not the Lord of Steadhold, he had nearly thrown a fit his face so twisted up in anger and discontent only his sister could calm him down and convince him to stay.

The two young men embrace, Lucas again thumping Grant’s breastplate, “Don’t disappoint out there lad. Half of Westeros is watching, including the whole of the Reach, and you know what that means?”

Grant wears a beaming grin alongside his response, “Women.”

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“Ladies, Grant, mind your manners,” Racheal interrupts coming up behind your small group, causing the boy’s face to drop and his eyes to quickly avert to the ground. She walks up before him, folding her gloved hands over her visibly pregnant stomach now, and eyes him up and down before tipping his chin up to look her in the eyes, “Eyes on the prize little brother, a Knighthood with Lord Mace Tyrell’s blessing is truly a boon. Win it for our family, for father, yes?”

Grant’s chest swells with pride accompanying a firm nod, “Yes sister. I will do our father and House Conklyn proud. I swear. And you as well Lord Malroy, again, thank you for the sword and breastplate.”

Kate Yarson had been hard at work before your journey to Highgarden, mostly dealing with the Household Knight’s arms and armor, sharpening, repairing, reforging if necessary. That she had time for your smaller commissions had astounded you, that they had turned out so well, even more so. Two proper swords, two breastplates, one with a grey horse, another a yellow waning sun and onyx moon. Grant and Edmund had been the only squires intending to compete, they deserved to represent themselves, their families and to a lesser extent your House properly.

“You have been a welcomed guest of Steadhold for the past year Grant Conklyn. I have no doubts you will do your best to put them to good use. Best of luck.”

Grant bows his head deeply, “Thank you my Lord.”

You leave off from the group, Lucas promising to meet you in Ser Olymer Tyrell’s private box in a few minutes, and go off to find Ser Jon Pryor and his son Edmund Pryor in a quiet corner. They had their foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, as you approached, the elder man’s hand wrapped around the back of his son’s head as he prayed with him. You pause before them allowing them their moment, and reflecting upon Lucas’ second amongst the Household Knights, and the stark contrast between the two men.

“...and last to the Warrior. May he grant you strength of arms, courage of mind, and honor of being in the coming times. May your sword strike true, shield protect heart, and armor wrap you in his blessing. So blessed are those by his grace.”

“So blessed are those,” Edmund repeats after his father and they open their eyes, Jon taking the moment to give his son’s head a firm squeeze before breaking and nodding towards you.

“My Lord. My son has a few words for you if you will allow.”

“Of course Ser Jon,” you respond, “Edmund, you may speak.”

Edmund takes a knee, bowing his head deeply and placing the sword you had made for him before his and your feet before speaking, “I am forever grateful for your kindness my Lord, I am not worthy of such gifts. May the Seven bless you and your family.”

“Then become worthy of them Edmund,” you say, “Though always remember, in the eyes of myself, your father, and the Seven above, you are already worthy. The best of luck in the Melee.”

The boy looks up to you with a crooked smile before quickly averting his eyes again, “Thank you my Lord.”

Nodding you leave father and son to finish their preparations for the Squire’s Melee, Ser Jon again confirming he will be joining you to watch alongside Lucas, Olymer and Ser Arlen. A few days had gone past uneventful as you had made plans for Lord Randyll Tarly’s feast this night. An event that was suppose to occur two nights ago, that had swelled with guests and numbers and had been postponed as Lord Randyll’s men acquired more game from the surrounding forests. Ser Arlen Hunt and Ser Olymer Tyrell had become regular acquaintances of yours in this time, the former having dined with you the night prior in your pavilion alongside his sons Ser Artys and Armen. Both good lads by any account you reflect while climbing the stairs to Olymer’s private box. The younger, your possible second squire seemed bright and happy, not unlike your own, Victus.

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Olymer and Arlen are waiting for you already, both in good spirits and chattering about which of the lads looked the most likely winner, Ser Arlen had hedged his bets on the pomegranate boy, Podrick Pommingham, while Olymer seemed torn between Gormon Webber and Felix Footly, all names you did not know. Olymer already has a blush upon his checks from the wine in his hand and looks away sheepishly when you eye it and raise an eyebrow.

“Just the couple during the day Lord Brynden, I swear it upon my father’s grave,” he says with a flustered tone, “I’ll be sober as day come the feast.”

Olymer’s squire comes up to pour more for his master, but is waved off hurriedly by Ser Olymer who awkwardly smiles at your flat expression before offering you a seat and a drink of your own. Lucas and Jon Pryor arrive together, talking in hushed tones and taking their seats among your small, yet odd, group without saying what of though both are happy to partake in wine when offered.

A trumpet blares calling your attention to the field and a herald who introduces the Lord Paramount, Mace Tyrell to resounding applause, and the previous year’s champion, Willas Tyrell.

“The boy looks half a man,” Lucas comments squinting to see the heir to Highgarden, “What’d the do then? Lie down for ‘im?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Ser Arlen comments stiffly, “It is a poorly kept secret that Mace Tyrell had seen to it his son would win. Not through bribes nor threats, mind you. But the Lord wants a gallant Knight of a son, small wonder he will be competing in the Tourney.”

Olymer ruffles himself up, his face still red, “I still disagree with that. He’s too young, not even a Knight made yet, only promised.”

“Hardly your place to question though,” Arlen responds and Olymer nods sadly his hand instinctively going for his cup for another swallow before stopping mid way and coming to rest on his chair’s arm.

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The field begins to fill with squires of the Reach, Stormlands, Crownlands, some of Dorne and the Westerlands even. By your estimation there are about eight to ten score of the young lads, ranging from far too young to far too old. It was a small event really, in truth you doubted Mace Tyrell would not have even bothered to come had his sword upon a shoulder not been promised and a chance to laud his son’s achievements had not been so easily taken. Grant and Edmund come out together, Lucas and Jon Pryor both standing to applaud their respective squires. Arlen leans over to you during this and asks, “My Lord have you considered what we spoke of the night prior?”

“Of my approach to Lord Tarly? Not quite yet Ser Arlen,” you admit. Ser Arlen Hunt had been insistent that you did not break your purpose so quickly. Lord Tarly was an honorable family man, but that did not mean he was not prickly and could sour quickly to newcomers and those so fast to ask favors. You had little means besides horseflesh and the other gifts, but those did little for a man so firmly of Westeros you doubted he would see the wonder of a myrish crossbow as anything more than a murmer’s toy. The herald again calls attention calling you from idle thoughts, the trumpets blaring and a flag being raised. You can hear the creak of plate, the boys nervous for their first fight jittering back and forth, the firm resounding movements of the lads veteran to such ordeals stretching and posturing to scare those around them. The flag drops in a moment and the crowd roars into life as the boys turn the yard into a cloud of dust, clanging metal, and screams as they charge into one another.

As things in your box settle again you lean back watching the onslaught as the younger lads are quickly dispatched or come together to defend themselves against those more capable. You begin to consider your options.

>Ask your group for suggestions?
>Any suggestions of your own to bounce around?

>>48092070

Maybe go through Tarly through his squire? Your boys could use the connections and it would improve your relations if the squires got to know each other well and train with each other for a bit while you stayed here.

Basically organize a training playdate with Tarly and his knights/squires with your knights and squires and go through him that route.

Show him your military strength and knowledge, and grow it from there. Once common ground has been reached, go to more personal matters and then start complaining about your personal situation against your bastard of a bannerman.

Be honest and upfront with him, say that you hope he will provide fair and just counsel. And to sweeten the pot imply reachmen can get to a lannister by proxy.

>>48092070
>Ask your group for suggestions?

I am really blank right now

>>48092070
>>Ask your group for suggestions?
No real ideas. But a little surprised ya are running until I checked the date.

>>48092070
>Ask your group for suggestions

>Brynden Malroy is a cuckold. Lorelei isnt his!
>Obella Malroy is a whore
>Their daughter will be a whore too
>He is also shit at archery
>His uncle is swordswallower
>Father is a shit QM Mother is a best

Redward pride Westeros wide!

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>>48092333
Bizarro-/tg/fags are the worst.

>>48092379
How you liking them nieces Dorkyn!

>>48092070
>>48092162

Also, when are our boys going to go to a squires Melee? I want them to tear out assholes in a fight (Arron and Victus).

So. Do you guys think Obella is going through Bryndens old stuff while he is gone ?

>>48092485
In 4 years time.

>>48092070
Were we going to offer to squire his son or try to get a daughter as a hand maiden to spend time in kings landing?

“Training exercise perhaps?” you ask Arlen drawing his attention away from the Melee for a moment.

“Do you not think it a bit much to ask?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Lord Tarly had been interested in my battle of the Princewood as you have mentioned. My uncle, Ser Dontos Malroy, fought alongside him in the Battle of Ashford and then the Siege of Storm’s End before returning to King’s Landing. We have some common ground.”

Arlen scratches his chin and shrugs, “Lord Tarly is a proud man. Not vain, but proud. Compliments towards his prowess in battle will take you far so long as it does not appear as pandering. Suggesting a meeting of minds while your men warmed up and trained together in the morning before the day’s tilts would not be the worst of ideas, no. A shame he no longer has a squire, meeting your own and the squire’s of your Household after a, hopefully, fair showing would do as much to impress him as your Knights. A fair idea though my Lord, if not bold.”

“You’re going to have to watch your tongue Brynden,” Lucas says off handedly, “Way I hear it Lord Tarly ain’t much one for flowered verse. Man likes to hear it straight.” Olymer and Arlen both nod in agreement to the sentiment. Your silver tongue had been a greater asset this side of the Narrow Sea than you expected, amongst Lords and Ladies alike. Randyll Tarly’s distaste for your ‘type’ this was well known to you, the evening and subsequent meetings would be a job for the Lord rather than the sellsword.

The crowd roars into life again as two of the better squires finally get into it. Most of the rabble had been thrown out during the opening onslaught as was typical of these events, a good handful yet remained however. Lucas pumps his fist and howlers at the field and you realize the two squires you were watch were Grant Conklyn and Podrick Pommingham. Arlen leans forward in his chair to watch as the two boys begin to lay into each other.

Grant was much faster than the other boy, his face red with sweat and his chest clearly labored under his broiled leather garb. Grant had taken to dancing around him, keeping length between each other and shrugging off the larger boy’s strikes with a deflection off his shield. Grant’s sword had seen limited use in the fight, only striking out when it had the chance to bash against his opponent’s knees or legs. Pommingham takes a great stride attempting to cut off Grant’s attempt to strafe bringing his morningstar to bare in a giant overhead swing, but Lucas’ squire launches instead into a springing roll, fucking the attack entirely and drawing up a safe distance away from the larger boy before launching into a flurry of his own attacks against his opponents back. You can see Lucas smile growing as Grant drives the pommel his sword into Pommingham’s left knee causing him to fall and lose any semblance of balance he once had as Grant’s shoulder pushes into him further and causing the boy to let go over his morningstar and fall over flat on his face. Grant rolls off quickly scrambling to his feet and pointing his sword tip at the back of Pommingham’s neck and earning a surrender in response.

“He learned that from me he did. Always go for a bigger opponent’s knees, make ‘em fall like a redwood,” Lucas says in between wild hoots and hollers beside you, “Also, you owe me five dragons Ser Arlen.” Arlen scoffs and digs into his coin purse while the melee rages on.

“What about a hunt my Lord?” Jon Pryor suggests in a rare moment of speech, “Ser Hunt and Lord Tarly’s heraldry suggests they are both grand hunters.”

Arlen straightens up at the compliment, and you can tell the longbowmen clearly does take great pride in his hunting prowess, “More than Ser Pryor. Though I cannot hold a candle to the master of hunt that my liegelord rightfully claims to be.”

“House Tyrell has a Master of the Hunt employed in Highgarden,” Olymer offers, “I am certain for a price he would be able to arrange a hunt. Perhaps a stag, the red deer are plentiful here, or a boar even. Rutting season has come along, have some fierce big fellows coming out of the deeper woods. Wouldn’t even have to particularly beat him for it, the act alone is one of Lord Tarly’s favorite past times, just so long as you return home with a worthy prize and do not make a fool of yourself in the process.”

“Trophy would look nice in Steadhold,” Lucas adds, “Lady Qorgyle can’t be doing all the decorating now.”

You laugh when you’re reminded of your bare solar and in the end have to agree, it would not be a poor idea. Another plan of gaining common ground through martial prowess, whether it be the intelligent conversation of two leaders while their men trained, or through the bow and spearmanship of two men upon a hunt. Again you pause to consider, stroking at the beard that had regrown, at least your van dyke was quick to fill in again. The melee has begun to slow as you consider, giving way to perhaps two score boys left, both of your own still in the fight.

>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt
>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly to a joint training day and talk at length Warfare shop

>>48092536
Not that I recall.
Samwell was born just two years ago anyway, and Talla will probably be born this month or the next. The other two sisters and Dickon aren't even on the table yet, so not really a viable option regardless.

>>48092726
>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt

A good sport that is

>>48092726
>>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly to a joint training day and talk at length Warfare shop
And yes twenty good men were all that was used to filtrate that place.

>>48092726
>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt

>>48092726
>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt
I think it will be easier to impress him with physical feat than with words

>>48092726

>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt

Go for a Boar. Biggest one there is.

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>>48092726
>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt
There's just something about the idea of two Lords from Loyalist houses hunting a stag that gets my juices flowing.

>>48092726
>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt

As long as we get enough dosh to get that small town upgrade.

>>48092877
Well I'm glad someone caught that.

Next update will be slightly delayed. I woke up late and didn't make myself food, so cooking some pancakes real quick.

>>48092877
Are you happy you finally got to see Lay-Lay ?

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>>48093068
>watching the show after what they did to Stannis

>>48093108
Good thing is stopped way before that then

Girl is still gonna get burnt. Just without Stannis knowing it

...hello? Is 4chan still working?

>>48093637
Yes?

“Ser Olymer, can you arrange for a hunt?” you ask.

“A bit presumptive Lord Malroy, don’t you think Lord Malroy?” Arlen comments.

“Better to have it arrange now and to be ready, then to waste precious time on it, Ser Arlen,” you respond, “Besides, failing all else, I am certain your boys and my own men would enjoy the outing, no?”

“A fair justification my Lord.”

“I can see it is ready my Lord, when would be your preferred time?” Olymer asks.

“I suppose tomorrow morning is an unlikely chance. Try the morning after. Failing that an afternoon.”

“Leaving us with only six days left to work with…” Olymer says after a moment of thought before calling his squire over, scribbling down a note and sending him off with it, “It will cost some coin as well my Lord, as you are hosting him afterall. I can get you a discount of course.”

“We will be fine Olymer,” you respond, “A hunt plays to both our strengths. It is a noble pastime and keeps the less than finer points of my particular leadership style hidden away, as I am sure he would ask. And coin is less of my concern at the moment, I will do what is necessary to bring Linden Langward to justice.”

“Twenty good men is an entirely viable warfare tactic,” Lucas remarks to both Olymer and Arlen’s confusion that you wave off with a laugh.

You go to thank Jon Pryor for the idea only to find him totally engrossed in the melee. His son, Edmund, is fighting another in what looks like half plate, his face covered by a full helmet. Edmund is firmly on the defensive at the moment, the other lad baring down on him with heavy strikes from a bastard sword. The two jostle for position for a moment and you finally see Edmund’s opponent’s colors, the black portcullis of House Yronwood prominent upon his chest. A quick look about the stands and you see the Yronwoods and Drinkwaters sitting among the Lords and Ladies of the Realm. It had not been the head of the House that had attended Quentyn had told you, rather his young brother, Ser Orton Yronwood and his friend and bannerman Ser Clemmons Drinkwater. Ser Orton’s grudge against the Martells was far more obvious than the others, and he had calling for a tilt against Prince Oberyn since the opening day. Something that had fallen upon not deaf ears, but rather amused by the bleating goat of a man. The squire you guessed, was his son, and he was a frightening youth. Edmund again finds himself on the backfoot, stumbling back and into another boy who had been waiting for him. The other boy takes the chance to kick out Edmund’s knee, driving his pommel into his kidney as he fell while the Yronwood lad takes the chance to throw his mailed fist into Edmund’s relatively unprotected face. The crowd gasps when the crunching of the gauntlet on flesh echoes throughout the field, Edmund falling into a lump on the ground a clear pool of blood forming under his head as he lay motionless.

Jon is standing in an instant, hardly even taking the time to beg leave, though you do not blame him as you are on your own feet ready to go after him but Lucas’ voice disarms you and causes you to stay. Grant had just barreled into the other two boys, taking the taste of victory away from them when his shoulder charge flattens the boy that had been behind Edmund.

Still standing you wave Arron over and order him to fetch Benjin, Edmund would be hurting, your Knight’s son deserved the best you could offer. Edmund flickers halfway to life again as two men help him off the field, you can see him spitting out blood from between their arms, but you can only imagine his jaw is half a ruin from that hit. Grant is again taking it to the two boys, rallying a crowd behind him as he lays into the non-Yronwood’s side with repeated kick after kick while the actual Yronwood boy is being distracted by two others. You see the boy on the ground beginning to cower and soon hear him screaming for mercy from Grant’s onsalught that is granted, though only barely with Grant cracking the flat of his blade off the downed boys temple, an act you are almost certain knocks him out given the sudden silence.

“Seven Hells the boy is angrier than a wild boar,” Lucas says under his breath, “Never seen him like this before.”

“The two dornish boys ganged up on his friend,” Ser Arlen observes, “While it is not the way I would go about it, justice will be served by the young heir. We can only hope in time he calms and the passion of youth is washed away by the responsibility of being a Lord, lest House Conklyn suffer for it.”

The conversation reminds you of yourself, no doubt men use to comment such things of yourself when you would go all out as a young squire in King’s Landing. He would need to calm to be a proper leader. A good thing his brother is the heir to Steadhold. Countless such things you held no doubt were uttered. Grant was not unlikely your younger self, the brash cockiness, unwarranted ego that was validated by undoubtable skill. Though you felt less akin to the Arlen in this matter, he would be a good Lord, regardless, if you could be, no doubt a properly raised heir could be.

The Yronwood boy has managed to fend off his two attackers, knocking out Gormon Webber and causing Felix Footly to limp off to lick his wounds and nurse a battered shield arm. Part of the banding had lodged itself into his arm you think and no doubt he would be forcibly pulled from the Melee in short order. To your surprise this leaves Grant Conklyn and Orys Yronwood, whose name you caught in a small chant for him, squaring off as the final two of the Melee. You lean forward, shaking Lucas’ shoulder whose whole body is clenched in excitement. Grant is playing to his speed again, keeping his shield between Orys and himself as much as he can and moving out of the larger boys charges any moment he gets.

Your eyes are so firmly fixed to the field you do not hear the first time you name is called, but catch the small voice the second time, “Lord Brynden?”

Turning you see Arron Qorgyle standing, fidgeting slightly as he tries to look over you to watch the fight. The resounding clang of sword on sword almost draws you back before you wave for Arron to speak quickly.

“Oh um… My Lord, Maester Benjin said who you to return to the pavilion immediately. He has received a letter from your uncle, Ser Dontos Malroy.”

Another clang and a large grunt that causes the crowd to react, “Did he say of what?”

“No my Lord. Just that it was very important.”

You turn your head halfway back, watching Grant dance around Orys a few times before lashing into his shins and retreating in short order. Lucas is too entirely engrossed to be paying attention. And while you didn’t doubt the urgency of your uncle’s letter there was a part of you that felt it could wait a moment longer to watch Grant win.

>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter from Dontos
>Stay and watch Grant Conklyn and Orys Yronwood finish the Squire’s Melee

>>48093712
>>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter from Dontos
If Dontos sent a letter some shit just went down.

>>48093712
I don't suppose we could grab it and hurry back to see the end of the melee, could we?
If not
>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter from Dontos

>>48093712
>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter from Dontos

Sorry about that, urgent news

>>48093712
>Stay and watch Grant Conklyn and Orys Yronwood finish the Squire’s Melee

A letter takes a long time to travel. It can wait a few more moments.

>>48093712
>Stay and watch Grant Conklyn and Orys Yronwood finish the Squire’s Melee

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>>48093807
>It can wait a few more moments.
[[[BAD END]]]

>>48093712
>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter from Dontos

>>48093712
>>Stay and watch Grant Conklyn and Orys Yronwood finish the Squire’s Melee

>>48092491
Man she did that 2 days after moving in.
She then threw out half his underwear and bought him new ones that she liked.

>>48093891
And got rid of his socks that had holes in them. And redecorated Steadhold.

>>48093891
She threw out our "Favour" collection ?!

>>48093911
>got rid of his socks that had holes in them
That's just not on.

A fella's hole-y socks are like old friends.

>>48093712
>>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter from Dontos

Get Arron to stay and watch, then come report to us what the outcome was.

>>48093712
>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter

Patting Lucas on the shoulder you gain half of his attention and he turns his head to you though eyes remain on the field, “Hm?”

“Benjin got a letter from home, from my uncle,” you snap off quickly, eyes watching Grant taking a beating for a moment before escaping from it with another diving roll, “It’s urgent. I’ll be back at the camp. Congratulate Grant for me when he wins and return as soon as you are able.”

“Aye. He’ll be disappointed you know?”

“I know. I’ll owe him a round on me when he’s a Knight.”

Lucas nods and you turn inform Ser Alren and Olymer you will meet them later for Lord Tarly’s feast, as was planned before dashing off after Arron, the sound of a buzzing crowd and the clangs of metal falling from your ears and into the distance. Arron’s horse hadn’t even been properly secured, though you hardly have time to scold him, bounding up onto Goldsong easily and then leading the way back towards the tent city yourself. Something in your gut felt wrong, Dontos did not right of urgent things unless they truly were. Could it be a resurgence in the Princewood? Was Royce moving? Had something happened to Isis? Your mind raced, heart outpacing Goldsong’s strides making you feel entirely out of sync with your old friend, a rare thing.

Slowing before your pavilion you hardly give the stablehand a chance to take the reigns as you throw them at him, Arron far behind at this point. You enter the tent to find Jon Pryor, Edmund and Benjin in one corner, with a handful of your Knights, Solhas, and Barq Zos scattered about. All are quiet, barring Edmund who you can hearing softly weeping. You did not blame the boy by the looks of his face, he looked to be missing a few teeth, and his cheek had been torn to shreds by the gauntlet. Benjin had likely treated it the best he could before he had gotten in there and began to stitch things up again, but judging from the blood upon his hands, it was a difficult endeavour.

Jon is holding his son’s shoulder, quietly in vigil, his face serious but with a tinge of anger, another thing you hardly blamed them for, the Yronwood boy was cruel, not a Knight, the chivalrous Reachlords would never stand for someone like him winning and being Knighted by Mace Tyrell. Another reason for the Marchers to war again. Grant had better win.

Solhas is the first to approach you in his silent foreboding way, “Good you came. Ill words from the north,” he hands you the letter, the green seal with the mace and dagger stamp already broken.

“Brynden,

An army has appeared on Chelsted’s northernmost borders three days past. They fly no colors, and make no attack, they have simply built camp and are making an obvious show of force. Lady Alexes’ scouts report seven hundred men, forty are mounted, and trebuchets are being built. I sent word to Steadhold and received a response from Ser Mason confirming another army had been spotted on Steadhold’s southernmost border and northwest. Lady Obella’s spies have caught wind of Ser Lestor Langward having remained home and may possibly be leading these forces. Our best guess is the northern men are his and House Langly. While the southern host is House Blount. I sent this letter with Ser Raymun Chelsted, if has not arrived with it personally then we are compromised.

As these hosts have yet to break the King’s Peace my and Ser Mason’s hands are tied Brynden. I believe Lord Langward is at least aware we have his saboteur and is hedging his bets. If you fail in your trial, he will attack, such slander being an act of war itself. If you succeed I cannot say what they will do, it would be foolish to attack, but so is camping hosts upon other Lord’s borders so openly.

Through all this Royce remains quiet. No forces from Redgrove have joined as far as we know. No actions from his hand. He has gone dark. And that concerns me more than the armies upon our borders.

Regardless, we await your response and will take any actions as necessary in the meantime. I will send word to Steadhold once I receive your response.

Seven help us all.
--Lord Protector of Blacksaithe and House Chelsted, Ser Dontos Malroy”

You glance up and Solhas points to the back of the tent, you follow after and find Ser Raymund Chelsted sitting unarmed with two of your Knights over him, who you wave off quickly having met the man before and recognizing his face.

“Dark words Lord Malroy,” he says after they leave.

You nod, pacing a little back and forth, “Have they attacked anyone? Harassed any of the smallfolk?”

“Not a soul my Lord. They remain camped, simply building siege engines and maintaining a strong perimeter,” Raymund responds rearming himself with his sword and dagger, “Ser Dontos is rightfully concerned but we have no cause to react. He had little choice but to send word to you, and hope you had a solution.”

You pause, flicking the two silver rings upon your pinkie in thought, “What else do you know?”

“Little else that is in the letter my Lord, I will answer all that I can though.”

>Questions for Ser Raymun Chelsted

>Any thoughts/plans for a response?

>Please refer to the map in, >>48092031 for general locations and ideas for the enemy camps.

>>48094410
Get Sual and our barrister to do something. Armies building siege on a neighbors border doesn't seem very healthy for that neighbor. Especially when they have grievances with said neighbor, call upon any who could help? Fuck get the Spider to stir shit or seven forbid Arryn.

Ask when they showed up and how long they have camped there?

>>48094410
They exactly don't have enough men to just storm our holdings. Prepare for siege

>>48094534
That's just what has been shown for now. I'm a bit concerned about what they have waiting in the wings if they are showing this much force.

>>48094410
Maybe inform the king that they are literally building warmachines at our border ?

That gotta be some manner of breach

>>48094496
Said their flying no colours.
We need to get them to officially declare who they are, then we can launch legal proceedings.

If they dont declare, we announce a massive suspected bandit build up on our boarders and ask the hand for aid.


The most likely scenario: We have them by the balls (though they think it be the other way round) with a prospective trial. We need to push things forward.


>>48094410
Save the letter, we can show it to Lord tarly as proof of these perfidious vermin trying to dishonourably attack us and our holdings. We can be straght forward and explain what we want and why.

>>48094578
We have to get official notice of who they are
(report this build up to the crown either way).

If they declare then we have eyes on them and they get demanded for a reason for what looks like a war build up, which allows the hand to act to help us.

If they dont declare then they are rebels/traitors and the crown can move to quash it.

>>48094606
Suspected* rebels/traitors/break the kings peace.

Either way, this shit is only going to fly for a short time if we draw attention to it.

>>48094573
I don't believe they have much proper forces outside those. Redward not moving is bad, but this situation is salvageable.

In Steadhold get the wall fixed is super high priority.

>>48094630
Redward not moving means hes looking to pick up the peices in the end chaos. His alliance has fractured to my reckoning. Its just these idiots being rash.

>>48094579
You raise good points, either they're suspected bandits or sellswords looking for an easy payout.

Either option means we can deal with them freely, they may declare openly their ties once pressed but we'll have finished the trail by then. Then if we've won the crown will crush them.

>>48094496
>Ask when they showed up and how long they have camped there?
>Ask when they showed up and how long they have camped there?
"The armies began to appear a week and a half ago, perhaps a week after you had left my Lord. I rode from Chelsted to Lannisport and then took ship here. I doubt I've ever ridden so far so quickly before in my life.

They built camp after three days and the vague forms of siege engines began to appear and that is when I left to deliver the letter."

As a general note. They have not yet to break the King's Peace. Lords do build warmachines upon occasion, though that point depends upon whether or not they plan to declare who they are.

>>48094685
Well we can snooker them on that:
When we took the princewood they had men there.

All we need is someone to verify it was indeed that lords men who were aiding the princewood bandits.

This shows a breach of the kings peace, and is justifyable reason to declaire their intent to be hostile towards us. Its then on their heads to prove otherwise. I doubt they have a good reason.

>>48094774
Note: We only need to include the aiding the bandits part, not that they were slaving. We just make a presumption comment about them looting and pillaging.

>>48094774
>When we took the princewood they had men there.
They didn't though. There were Dargood men and Bright Banner men. No one but the Captains had any awareness that they were serving anyone other than House Dargood. And that person was Royce. Not the Langwards or Blounts.

There were zero Langward or Blount men actively in the Princewood during your invasion.

>>48094826
Damn. And we need the captains who we captured to vouch for the slave ring. Hmm. So we dont have an easy declare of intent.


We could get obella to manufacture one somehow. Fake letters or somesuch, unless the spider would be willing to help us prevent a small war.


What we do know is that we are on a timer, and need to step up our plans pronto or risk losing this opportunity.

>>48094826

Are any of these men in the princewood?

If they are in the princewood, and the crown has acknowledged our subjugation and rightful claim of the area, then they are trespassing and we are within rights to do whatever necessary.

Lets just hope they arnt using our guest as causus belli. They could claim we have the heir to their house under lock and key as a front for a war. Which ways we should write up a statement under outside witness opposite to this.

>>48094410
Inform steadhold to prepare our own men

>>48094875
The Princewood is split into five different domains, owned by different Lords. House Malroy has never had full dominion over the whole of the Princewood. So yes, some of them are but as stated before none of them are crossing your or House Chelsted's borders.

Anyway this got a lot less discussion and question than I thought it would so I guess I'll see what I can put together for a vote on what to do.

>Do nothing until you return home from Highgarden and the Trial victorious
>Instruct Dontos to attack as bannerless men building siege engines sounds like well organized sellswords or outlaws
>Contact Lord Jon Arryn & Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary
>Something else?

No matter what Steadhold will be prepared for siege, though not half as well as it could be with the Bridge still halfway useful and the outer most walls a year out from completion.

>>48095018
>>Contact Lord Jon Arryn & Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary

>>48095018
>Contact Lord Jon Arryn & Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary

>>48095018

This is a tricky situation.

They are obviously waiting for the end of the trial to attack or disperse.

If we attack, they can claim that the men were lawfully conducting exercises within their own lands, waving their banners, and that House Malroy clearly violated the peace by attacking them and then trying to destroy the evidence of the banners.

How many men do Chelsted and we have in the respective sieged territories? If we fight defensively, we may not need to ask for help. Basically walls add 2 men for every one you have, and we have very good men with us.

But still, inform the Crown of what is occurring immediately. We need to control the narrative from the Crown's perspective.

Tell your men to start creating counter-seige weaponry and pallisades, draw out the siege if need be.

They will be on a time limit, and we can use that to our advantage.

>>48095018

No matter what Steadhold will be prepared for siege, though not half as well as it could be with the Bridge still halfway useful and the outer most walls a year out from completion.

We *need* to make that bridge a priority over the fucking small town. Dontos can't help reinforce us with our current rickety ass bridge, we should start on it's repair

>>48095233
>How many men do Chelsted and we have in the respective sieged territories?

600 Chelsted
310 Malroy, can recall another 200 but the Princewood will suffer for it, as will your Law score.

Alright so in almost 20 minutes I've gotten 2 votes and one kind of vote. On something that is important.

What's wrong?

>>48095289
Thisx1000 I can't help but worry every time we procrastinate on it.

>>48095018
>Contact Lord Jon Arryn & Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary and this >>48095233

>>48095314
I just got here and am catching up, sorry for being late.

>>48095018
>Contact Lord Jon Arryn & Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary

>>48095314
Probably pissed hat whenever we a start gaining traction against our enemies enemies you always pull something else out of your ass?

>>48095314
>>48095334
I just got back from the gym myself, catching up

>>48095314

Nobody wants to make a big decision because they don't want to make the wrong one.

But as I wrote here...>>48095233

>Get arryn and Compton on that shit.

>>48095018
>contact Lord Jon Arryn and Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary

>Prepare smallfolk for a siege

>>48095370
Fuck off sleepy, speak for yourself. Langward was bound to suspect something and this response from them is a logical, albeit opportunistic strategy

>>48095289
>>48095319
This should be a given. We're a military house, we should prioritize reinforcing our weakened defensive structures for future military campaigns. The fact that we were more concerned about herb gardens and shit is ridiculous

>>48095490
Yeah, fuck the smallfolk with no houses and barely enough food to survive, we need more war stuff.

>>48095544
Now you're thinking like nobility

>>48095431
Its also desperate and very risky.

He cant ignore the crowns inquirys, we need to make sure its not cerci who gets ahold of our petition for aid, or she could delay it.

Should direct our correspondance to the crown through the hand.

>>48095544
Given that we're currently going through a cold war with Redward and his alliance, as well as the food shortages havings months before it was a serious concern giving the small folks jobs to reoair our holding for the time being seems like a better idea.

>>48095607
yeah the mill was a good idea. The greenhouses less so

>>48095649
Greenhouse was a concession to our wife. We wont need another like it again thankfully, we just need to navigate these rapid waters,

>>48095314
Was catching up. Contact the Hand and Saul to legalize our way out of this.

Hope Saul rolls godly and charm Jon into ordering the Blounts and Langly into "removing" these bannerless hosts as they are on their sides of the borders.

I just hope that Bobby B finds out that Blouts are on move. Wanting the mess with Cercei he comes to Steadhold personally to witness them.

>>48095781
Knowing how crazy Bobby is, and how utterly bored he is by now, yeah, he would probably do that. We would need a very solid platform of proof though. Pretty sure we would get burned with such an affair. Maybe add another bastard to our collection when he beds one of our serving maids.

>>48095839
We do though. We have Osten, his Saboteur, and the Lang-something son. Langward is fucked if we get to trial. Nothing really touches Royce except for him being stupid.

>>48095924
I mean to entice Bobby B to come over personally during the fighting.

The trial stuff will be handled in kings landing most likely, and he'll probably skip most of the tedious bits.

>Contact Lord Jon Arryn & Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary

>>48095924
Good thing we managed to influence the faith so a divorce might be coming

>>48095966
Help to grow our loyalty to the Crown? We are very strategically placed. Be fun.

>>48095993
The salt that will flow when that gets put to appeal in the crown court and everyone just shrugs at him.
Such sweet sweet salt we shall see.

>>48095924
Not Osten, your thinking of the the mercenary lieutenant Belidos. Osten is a piece for out case against Redward

>>48096150
Right sorry. With how many people hate us it's a bit hard to keep it straight yeah?

>>48096201
They usually start hating us once we prove that they cant just vulture our land from us.

Eventually the chucklefucks will get a clue once we get our shit back.

I'm starting to get lost with all the characters and houses we met, I feel I need a wiki just for this quest

>>48096291
Just means you are getting the authentic experience of the novels mate.

>>48096291
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1PPW1pNmkObhy14JsXvUf4XMgo62ONRDdhsS2gP59_RQ/edit

We kinda do

>>48096291
The books are so much worse

>>48096291
Just like GRRM!

File: 1461363771561s.jpg (3 KB, 125x119)

3 KB JPG

>>48096291
Would you like to see the Malroy Family Tree?

>>48096326
that is fine but with a few lines about when we met the chap and why he's friendly (or not), etc

>>48096358
I am sure they were all saints and there were no Roberts or Cerseis among them

“Can we get a response to Chelsted in equal time?”

“If you spend the coin, aye my Lord. Not me though, Ser Dontos was worried someone might track me. Said to tell you to send someone else and keep ‘em hidden. Last thing we need is another assassination attempt.”

“Right… I’ve a few men to spare. Ser Wat Waters is hardly doing anything, commonborn man for years, should know how to keep himself sparse.”

Raymun nods and sits back in his chair, his face in his hand, “It just keeps coming, never ending tidal wave of shit. Always some enemy up our back door. King’s Peace, fucking bollocks that.”

“They’re scared Ser Raymun. The Red Bastard’s alliance has clearly fallen apart, Lord Langward would be a fool to not be suspicious his spy has yet to check in for months, House Blount follows after through marriage and a coward of a Lord. As much as our hands feel tied, theirs are equally. Langward sent a saboteur, a spy into my Household, an act of war alone, if he feels I am aware and ready to take him to trial for it, perhaps at this point war is the preferable solution, if I burn you will too.”

“Suppose so Lord Malroy. Seven above help us if it comes to that.”

“Hopefully it will not. The interim Master-of-Law Saul Compton is a friend, as it stands these men appear like bannerless bandits rather than men of their Lord, cause enough for concern in the Crownlands. Even if Lestor Langward is leading them he will have to answer as to why he is building weapons of war upon multiple neighbours borders. Through him and the Hand of the King, a man I know would do anything to maintain the status quo of the King’s Peace, I do believe we can have this resolved peacefully or at the very least mitigated to do minimal damage.”

“Even if you win the trial my Lord?”

>>48096535
The thing that makes Cersei and Robert bad is that they wield a lot of power, which makes their flaws all the more apparent. I'm sure House Malroy had its share of malcontents and procrastinators, but they didn't rule the 7 Kingdoms.

“Especially if I win, attacking the House you just attempted to sabotage a fact your Lord died for after attempting to run away and seek asylum in another Kingdom? That’s grounds for Crown intervention, I wouldn’t even need to use my own forces.”

Raymun sighs heavily, “Ser Dontos was worried you might rely on the Hand of the King again. I don’t doubt he’d be obliged to help, but I still don’t trust ‘em much myself, not after what happened to my uncle. All the same, I’ll help the Maester get a response together. Drop one off at Chelsted, another at Steadhold having both prepare for siege. Dig ditches, build counter siege, do what we need to draw this out if we absolutely must. Last at King’s Landing, hopefully not too late.”

You join him in his sigh, taking a seat next to him and pouring yourself a cup of mead, heavier stuff for heavier decisions, “Are you married Ser Raymun?”

“Aye my Lord. Wylla Bywater, have three sons together. One of ‘em about to become a Knight, couldn’t be prouder. Another in the Citadel, never thought myself much a learned man, but the boy knows his letters and numbers better than I even knew my own signature. Last is a squire in Chelsted. Guessing he’s friends with your boy now. Good kids, do anything for ‘em. Same goes for my wife. Why do you ask my Lord?”

“Just curious,” you respond tapping your cup on the wooden table, “My daughter Lorelei is a couple months old, with her mother in Steadhold. Victus is in Chelsted with my Uncle. Isis in King’s Landing with Lady Lysa Tully. Lot of family back in the Crownlands.”

“Lot of reason to see this through peacefully,” Raymun finishes, nodding his head, “Aye my Lord. I see your meaning, I see it true.”

---

“Ser Grant Conklyn,” you repeat, “Has a nice ring to it.”

Grant smiles at you goofily by your side, his face full of scratches, cuts, and blemishes from his fight. One of his eyes was half swollen and black, his lower lip fat and cut though stitched back together when Benjin could finally get to him. You had to literally pry Grant away from Lucas for the evening, as he, alongside Lord Argor Conklyn had been invited to Lord Randyll Tarly’s feast tonight. Ser Olymer Tyrell in his livery of green and gold and Ser Arlen Hunt in his subdued brown, had joined your small party as you paraded through the tent city towards Lord Tarly’s considerable pavilion. You had learned through Lucas’ excited retelling that Grant had managed to fall the Yronwood boy after a hell of a half-sworded blade into the larger boy’s helmet knocking him out cold not five minutes after you had left. Grant had taken a hell of a beating and his shield was absolutely unrecognizable and Benjin was almost certain he had a broken wrist but all the same he had won. Five hundred golden dragons, a Knighthood from Lord Mace Tyrell himself immediately after and fame and glory at Tourney to be remembered for years to come. Grant had decided to split the winnings with Edmund, the two having a firm embrace of congratulations after the former returned to your tent. And both intended to drink the night away after the feast had concluded.

“My boy will have suitors from all over the Reach now and having kept such wonderful company in the Crownlands perhaps there as well,” Lord Argor comments thumping his son on the back and laughing through his thick moustache when he whinces in pain.

“Truly it has been a pleasure Lord Argor. Ser Grant has come mightily into his own in Steadhold. He and you are welcome at any time to return.”

“You honor us both, Lord Malroy,” Grant says, “House Conklyn will not forget the allies we have made this past year.”

“Sound like the Heir to be already,” you respond with a half smile, “I’ll hold you to that.”

The trip soon finishes and you dismount allowing the stablehand to take Goldsong, and enter into the pavilion even earning an announcement from the herald. Strangely enough you had actually collected a considerable entourage. Ser Arlen Hunt, the primary bannermen of Lord Randyll Tarly, Ser Olymer Tyrell, a man of the hosting family, Lord Argor Conklyn and his son a newly made Knight by Lord Mace Tyrell’s hand, Ser Grant Conklyn. In comparison, you were just a Lord with a lot of horses and some good friends. Funny how things worked sometimes. Your group is taken their seats, Ser Arlen Hunt being given a place of honor amongst Lord Tarly’s high table the rest of you only a table away. A respectable position to be certain and far different than the dials of castle proper.

Lord Randyll Tarly is a burly man, thick with muscle and wearing a stern look upon his face. His bald head gleams in the torchlight, his cheeks covered in dark brown mutton chops. His livery is subdued colors of his own House, and almost looked like light armor not entirely dissimilar from your light riding wearing you typically wore. To his left was an attractive young woman, who Ser Olymer Tyrell tells you, to your surprise, is Lady Melessa Florent, perhaps the only attractive woman from that House you had ever encountered, despite being heavy with child, and a fat squash faced boy on her lap. Arlen is seated alongside all three of his children, Ser Artys Hunt having the seat directly to the right of Lord Tarly, a very high honor for a former squire.

The first course is served and Arlen flashes you with a look and holds up a number three, which you assume means you will get your brief time with Lord Tarly to speak, make good, and then invite upon a hunt. Olymer had managed to get a time for tomorrow afternoon, not ideal hunting time but it was something, and avoided crossing over with the Tourney too much, something Lord Tarly had been enjoying. Either way, you were given a few moments to enjoy the meal for once and not feel the pressure of idly chatter of the year’s crops yields and whose son did what being forced upon you, a welcomed change.

However a slurred voice soon interrupts your welcomed peace from behind, “Lor-ld Malllroyyyy..!”

You turn your head and see a man in black and red livery, a stain of red running down his pale chin and onto his neck and a cup sloshing away in his hand as he points at you.

“YOU DIS- HIC- DISHONNNORED MY SLESTER.”

Seven fucking hells, another Vyrwel. You just raise an eyebrow at him, and shrug not entirely sure of what else to do in the situation that you were now acutely aware of everyone else in the tent being very aware of.

“I... “ he pauses and looks about the floor for a moment, his mouth hung open like a dogs, “I… CHARLLENGE YOU TOOOO A DUEEEEL. YOU… YOU… YOU.”

Olymer is ready to go for his cups, you can feel it, the nervous look upon his face telling you the situation was the absolute last thing you needed to be dealing with at the moment, his eyes keep motioning for you to ignore it. Lord Argor meanwhile looks like he’s ready to start laughing and is clearly holding it down, as are a few others in the crowd of assembled Lords and Knights.

>Ignore him, he’s a drunken fool, allowing the guards to deal with him
>Laugh in his face, shaming the man into leaving
>Accept his challenge, kick his ass right out the pavilion your self

>>48096660
Honestly so happy for Grant, he turned out better then we'd hoped.

>>48096688
>Accept his challenge, kick his ass right out the pavilion your self

>>48096688
>Accept his challenge, kick his ass right out the pavilion your self
Throw a bucket of water on him afterwards to cool his head, either way getting him out asap to avoid ruining the atmosphere for lord Tarlys feast.

>>48096688
>Accept his challenge, kick his ass right out the pavilion your self

>>48096688
>>Accept his challenge
If he still feels it is acceptable in the morning? Time for him to clear his head.

>>48096291
I have 100% have considered it before. But good god would it be a lot of work.

>>48096400
I might do this. Could possibly help? Not sure.

>>48096535
Brynden is pretty much Robert. And if I ever wrote story just for fun it would be about Rhea Malroy and her bastard son Daemon Waters and how much of a power grubbing cunt she was.

>>48096688
>Accept his challenge, kick his ass right out the pavilion your self

>>48096710
Doesn't hurt that his dad is a nice bloke with an awesome moustache

>>48096688
>>Ignore him, he’s a drunken fool, allowing the guards to deal with him

Guys Brynden's inner monologue even knows he needs to be a Lord tonight, kicking a drunk guy's ass is being a sellsword.

Time for some theme music: http://youtu.be/CxLJcaGAlpU

>>48096688
>Ignore him, he’s a drunken fool, allowing the guards to deal with him

>>48096688
>Vyrwel

What did we do to this guy?

>Ignore him, he’s a drunken fool, allowing the guards to deal with him

Lordly thing to do.

>>48096799
>And if I ever wrote story just for fun it would be about Rhea Malroy and her bastard son Daemon Waters and how much of a power grubbing cunt she was.

You got to tell us about all the Cunt and Bastard Malroys

>>48096891
Dumped his sister on her ass on the dance floor then left her there laughing after she tried to seduce us.

>>48096767
Changing my vote to ignore him, we have to be a Lord to get in good graces with this guy

>>48096891
>Ignore him, he’s a drunken fool, allowing the guards to deal with him

>>48096688
>>Ignore him, he’s a drunken fool, allowing the guards to deal with him
it wouldn't do us any good kicking a drunkard around
>>48096799
>I might do this. Could possibly help? Not sure.
It would help me immensely but I might be the only one. I wonder how do you keep track

You guys don't understand how Randyl works do you... A lord always accepts a challenge like this.

>>48096358
That shit is insane. I feel like it's a testament to sheer amount of work dad has put into the quest. That and the fucking 38 page History document, jesus christ dad calm down I ain't reading all of that.

>>48096688
>>Accept his challenge, kick his ass right out the pavilion your self

>>48096799
>Brynden is pretty much Robert.
They certainly have similar coping skills, though I think Brynden is a bit more competent in Lordy affairs

>>48096688
Why do my shadowrunning sense is going crazy at this situation

>>48096996
Becuase it's dad and he loves doing that to us?

>>48096688
>Accept his challenge, kick his ass right out the pavilion your self
The more Lordy thing to do would be to own up to disgracing his sister and accepting and trouncing him, imo

>>48097043
But we didnt disgrace her. She came on to a married man while drunk. Its her own fault she fell on her ass.

>>48096939
>>48096939
>It would help me immensely but I might be the only one. I wonder how do you keep track

I'll put it on my to-do list then. I did need a new project after updating the History document.

Also the answer to that question is very carefully. I've literally had to google "house Malroy" "name of character" to remember how I wrote them, what they did, and why I keep including so many god forsaken characters.

I've got my core set of guys I know perfectly. Which is the Malroy Household, and then a few outsiders like Arryn and Quentyn. But then I introduce someone like Lady Obara Santagar once and go, who the fuck is she whenever I look at the name.

Then I remember I haven't reached my setting mandating murder quota in awhile and make terrible, terrible plans. Soon, so soon.

>>48096991
Drink wine.
Fuck bitches
Oh hell yeah.
Robert could be a better Lord if he didn't hate his life.

>>48096896
One of the Malroys that is just sort of there, lives and dies without any issue is actually the most interesting one of the bunch, in my opinion.

>>48096996
>>48097020
Yes.

Alright in a close vote I think it's an Ignore, unless I miscounted. Going with that.

>>48097043
It was hardly disgracing, he's done enough of that himself. We embarrassed her and people will titter about it but had he let it lie it would've surely been forgotten soon enough. Now he's gone and brought attention to his house by interrupting much more important lords festivities by drunkenly challenging us.

The challenge could be blown off as being hot headed again a minor embarrassment but being falling down drunk while doing it? Yeah his houses standing just took a drubbing.

>>48097110
Brynden is Robert if he hadnt whispered "Lyanna" on his Wedding Night and actually trying to get his shit in order.

Speaking of which. How would Obella had reacted if Brynden had said "Lysa" ?

>>48097110
5 - 6 for accept? Or a Tie if my vote isn't correct but dunno?

>>48097110
They are tied

>>48097110
>I'll put it on my to-do list then.
cool
It's astounding to me how much attention and work you put in this, thanks for keeping it up
>that spoiler
shit

>>48097110
Tied.

>>48097167
>>48097200
>>48097222
They are indeed tied.

Welp, shit.
Alright we're going to go with ignore because some people pegged the right reason to go with ignore which is it is, in this particular situation, the more Lordly thing to do. Had the guy not been a drunken asshat about it, probably could have gotten away with a duel. But yeah, you guys got it.

>>48097163
>How would Obella had reacted if Brynden had said "Lysa" ?
I doubt she's as batshit insane as Cersei already was. Though the bed would be as cold as the North in the middle of winter

>>48097163
Or maybe Robert if both his brothers died at Stroms End (as well as his winter rose being dead)?

>>48097110

>Accept
>>48096743
>>48096754
>>48096787
>>48096818
>>48096967
>>48097043

>Ignore
>>48096842
>>48096868
>>48096891
>>48096919
>>48096931
>>48096939

>>48097163
>Speaking of which. How would Obella had reacted if Brynden had said "Lysa" ?
Okay have to respond to this real quick then get back to writing.

Remember the happy fun times experience Obella had with Lysa Tully at the wedding tourney? Fun fact, Brynden has never, ever mentioned the name of Victus' mother to Obella. So... Put 2 and 2 together. And then imagine a world in which Brynden Malroy died on his wedding night.

>>48097248
Okay, that works.

>>48097308
Hahahaha

Goddamnit. That would had been hilarious.

>>48097308
How could anyone not think only of Obella when they seem dem hips?

>>48097376
Hot Dornish Wife counts for one thing: You sure as hell dont get distracted by anything when with them.

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18 KB GIF

>>48097308
Oh god the fucking think would be golden.

>>48097308
Pfffft I am sure Brynden could handle a pregnanted and overemotional dornishwoman

>>48097608
Only because she would be too heavily pregnant at the time to catch him until we explained and begged forgiveness.

>>48097608
We have never seen a Brynden recoverng from his refractory period in a struggle. Could be he's a total bitch after sex

>>48097608
He could just go sit in the stable.

>>48097685
>Obella prancing back and forth infront of it yelling to Brynden that he cant stay there forever

>>48097685
Goldsong once again saves Brynden's life.

>>48097791
Truely he is best horse.

>>48097844

Carmelized apples for Best horse all day everyday.

>>48097885
And the Horse Whores

>>48096688
>laugh in his face, then kick his ass

>>48097885
Maybe not all day but definitely everyday.

>>48097922
has Goldsong gotten any Dothraki mares btw?

>>48097985
How could he say no to that sweet sweet dothraki pussy?

“Olyver hands on the table, do not touch that wine until I am done speaking with Lord Tarly,” you say under your breath, Ser Olymer obeying quietly and taking in a deep breath sits straight, his eyes pressed forward. You slowly turn away from the drunken Vyrwel as he looks at you through half lidded eyes and return to you meal in absolute silence ignoring the fool entirely. You bow your head towards Lord Tarly whose expression has hardly changed from the stern look from before. You incline your goblet towards him with a shrug, receiving a look of distaste though not directed at you in return, before he flicks his wrist and two Knights collect the drunken Vyrwel.

“‘EY. GIT YOUR ‘ANDS OFF’ER ME! I… I’M GUNNA FUCKIN’...” his voice draws off as he’s forcibly expelled from the pavilion, and music and chatter resumes.

Olyver has beads of sweat running down his face when you turn to him and watch his entirely body slowly deflate, “Too bloody close. Too bloody close Lord Malroy. I can’t… I need a drink. Servan-”

He stops mid sentence as you fix him with a flat look and he lowers his arm, “Olyver, you drink when this is done. You get as pissface wasted as you want. Two more courses. Then we’re home free.”

“Only if you get him to agree to the hunt.”

“I will Olyver. Have some faith, your brother certain does.”

“Seven knows how.”

The two courses are filled with chatter with Lord Argor Conklyn and talks of his new warhorse stock, the grey coursers having filled out his ranks nicely. He also asks of your intentions to ever make good on the other end of that deal and begin a sporting horse herd with his help, a question you have little answer for at the moment explaining your more dire straits regarding the people of Steadhold and the Outer Ring.

Talk turns to land not soon after, as you explain the Invasion of the Princewood, your family’s claim to it since the First Blackfyre Rebellion where it was reclaimed from the cadet branches former holdings. Argor in turn tells you of an old claim to a place called Leafy Lake in House Osgreys land his family still holds. Apparently House Conklyn is a fierce rival of House Webber and Osgrey, and Grant was disappointed he didn’t have a chance to beat up on Gormon Webber during the Melee. Grant returns to the table midway through the second course and whispers to you that two ladies-in-waiting from Highgarden wanted to meet him and Edmund later. A fact that brings you much amusement and leaves a goofy smiles plastered on the newly made Knight’s face for the rest of the night.

When the third course is served, a rack of boar in brown sauce, Armen Hunt is sent to gather you, his voice squeaky, but clear and confident as he requests your presence at the high table. Ser Arlen was right, he was a good lad, no doubt he would make a fine squire and give Arron some competition. Ser Artys graciously offers you his seat for the course, taking another beside his father.

“Lord Brynden Malroy.”

“Lord Randyll Tarly, a pleasure, truly I am honored to have been invited to such a grand affair.”

“Grand is what Mace puts on in his castle of green and gold, Lord Malroy. This is a modest affair for modest Lords. Something I had been told you were not.”

You eye Lord Tarly curiously, his face unflinching barring the way he chewed his meat, “Meaning my Lord?”

“That I am aware of your kin Lord Malroy, I do not forget a name easily, nor a family who served me loyally to the end. If you are half the warrior your uncle is, I am certain modesty is the last of your concerns.”

Did Randyll Tarly just make a jest at your expense, you ask yourself, nearly floored by the man’s words. He gives you a firm nod and digs into his meal again as you gap at him for a moment.

“How is the old boy doing anyway? Haven’t heard from him since he left my command at Storm’s End. Seven knows I needed him more there, Mace and Mathis were ready to sit that one out, only man there that knew we were wasting our time. Thought he died up on Dragonstone with the rest of them, only to hear later he comes back out of nowhere and drops a member of the Kingsguard in a single pass.”

“You heard about that Lord Tarly?”

“Half the bloody Seven Kingdom did. It wasn’t even for something worthwhile, or one of the ones that matter either.”

You catch yourself almost ready to laugh, not quite the experience you had expected, “Worthiness aside my uncle does well Lord Tarly. He is married now, Lord Protector of House Chelsted. He would be happy to know you asked after him, I will tell him to send a letter.”

“Best of luck with that. Man hates to write his own name even, let alone a letter. Married though..?” Randyll scoffs, “There’s a surprise. Only thing I never liked about the man.”

“Randyll,” Lady Florent says admonishing him, earning her a reproachful look from her husband.

“If we’re half as lucky the fat thing at your tit will be half the swordsman Ser Dontos was. Luckier still he don’t grow up to prefer the company of men.”

Melessa gives her husband a hard stare and you awkward take a bite of your meat to avoid the otherwise tense situation. You hadn’t had Dontos’ preference so blatantly thrown in your face in quite some time, Lady Alexes had been more subtle about it at the very least. Even amongst those that respected your Uncle, there was still that stigma that hung with him. Randyll turns back to you a moment later after bickering with his wife, jabbing his knife in your general direction.

“I understand you had gone to war of late Lord Malroy?”

“Ah, yes!” you say excitedly, disarming the knife in your face with your own, it what had to be the smallest occasion of locked blades of the week, “The Princewood, my family’s lands. Rife with banditry, pillaging, rape, the gamut. Brought down the righteous hammer of justice upon them not two months ago, my men are there still securing the area and assuring the people are able to return to their homes safely.”

“A good thing that. Too many Lords think the battle is done once the fighting is over. But not with bandits, deserters, sellswords. They hide in shadows, wait to stab you in the back when you aren’t paying attention. They deserve to be sussed out, and hung alongside the rest. Every last one until justice is done.”

“Agreed, Lord Tarly. Every last one,” you finish, a smile creeping upon your lips. Arlen had been right, justice and the dispensing of such had been a solid in. You go on to explain the finer points of the Battle of the Southern Camp. Explaining your horse mounted archers to the otherwise traditional Westerosi commander and their ability to harry forces both mounted and footed. He also enjoys the story of your chase through the woods, a clean affair of running down bandits until they were all dead and buried. But for the better you think, you avoid talking about the larger details of the Battle of the Forgotten Hall, omitting your rather dangerous twenty good men story, freeing slaves in the middle of the night, and the whole place going down in green flames. Sticking to the traditional you do tell him of Dontos’ cavalry and Knights leading the charge through the Hall’s camps, and running through any resistance in the chaos. What Westerosi Lord doesn’t enjoy a good battle charge? The living ones the riddle would finish in Essos, but here it remained true.

The third course begins to draw to a close, as you wrap up the end of your stories, you omit some of the particulars, including what lead to the lands being declared no man’s lands and their former owners. As well as your sister’s predicament at the time. And Royce just in general. Enough for Lord Tarly to sink his teeth into, enough for him to be aware of your prowess and that modesty indeed wasn’t a thing you were particularly known for. His face is still stern, but has softly to a more amiable sternness while talking shop, a story of his own from the Rebellion that include your Uncle leading one of his van’s of attack during the Battle of Ashford being the the most interesting to you.

“Lord Malroy it has been a pleasure to meet you finally, to hear of the man through women’s gossip and meet the man are two things entirely dissimilar, they do you a disservice. Your uncle spoke of you rarely when we first met, as to why I cannot see why. A man of honor, courage, and skill you are, a true and proper Lord,” he says drawing out the last bit and throwing it towards his wife who is nursing the almost two year old boy, a sad affair, receiving a look of disdain again from Lady Florent.

“You honor me Lord Tarly, and my Uncle, with such words. I would ask you allow me to repay such honors with one of my own.”

“Such as?”

“Perhaps a hunt upon the ‘morrow? When the tilts are down and more grand Lords go to sit upon their chairs. We will ride out and hunt, as modest Lords do.”

Randyll Tarly scoffs at your vain attempt to use your silvered tongue and taps his knife upon his plate a moment in thought.

>Roll 5d6 for Convince.

Rolled 5, 6, 3, 4, 3 = 21 (5d6)

>>48098346

Rolled 5, 4, 1, 4, 4 = 18 (5d6)

>>48098346

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>>48098318
>If we’re half as lucky the fat thing at your tit will be half the swordsman Ser Dontos was.

Rolled 6, 4, 5, 1, 2 = 18 (5d6)

>>48098346

Silver tongue, silver haired charm.

>>48098354
>>48098360
>>48098368
18,17,17

There's the Sleepy I know and hate. Though damn those rolls in general.

>>48098401

Barely passed?

>>48098401
Why do you hate me so Father? I cry myself to thirst over it!

Poor Sam

>>48098589
Fuck Sam , Dickon is true son.

>>48098624
Fuck off Tarlyfag

>>48098636
Tarlyfagpls fag pls.

>>48098661
Wat

RIP Dad.

>>48099270
Think his gf killed him?

>>48099457
Probably wearing his skin as a cloak as we type

>>48099457
Nah man the brain juice got him.

>>48099457
Yeh, bet she level drained him to death

Success, two degrees.

“If you can keep up with me Lord Tarly. I am an excellent rider, and there are none better at riding with a drawn bow. Perhaps you heard of my victory in King’s Landing’s archery contest.”

Randyll scoffs again, “A contest made easier by the lack of Reachmen. Tomorrow then Lord Malroy, you have your hunt. It would do my humor well to see a Malroy have to swallow his pride for once. Shame I could not have been there to see your uncle’s wedding in that case.”

“Husband, you promised to take Samwell to Highgarden tomorrow evening.”

“He is babe, yet bloody weaned at that. He’d hardly remember it.”

“But you promised me.”

“And I’ll promise you to remember to mind your tongue woman. I’m going on a hunt, you can take care of the boy, might as well put him in a dress as it is…” he says trailing off, his wife looking to the side and the lad being all the more oblivious to the fight. He turns to you again, while the servants clear the table, and knits his fingers together over his flat stomach with a small lean back, “Ser Artys and I encounter a harte two days past. Red deer with at least a twelve point rack. We were tracking it before encountering the boar. Perhaps we shall resume?”

“A stag? A fine idea, Lord Tarly.”

“Then to the victor the spoils Lord Malroy. You may be able to fire a boy from three hundred paces, but can you track like a Tarly?”

“I suppose we shall see Lord Tarly.”

“Yes, I do suppose we shall. Good meeting you Lord Malroy, tomorrow, upon the evening then.”

Armen comes over again after a small wave from Lord Tarly and he escorts you back your seat where an eager Olymer looks to you, his hands tapping the table along with the song and partially out of stress you assume.

“He agreed.”

“Thank the bloody Seven. Page! Wine!”

---

“It is good of you to finally join us Lord Malroy,” Prince Oberyn Martell says from a lazy position above your own seat. His paramour, Lady Ellaria Sand lounges with him, she is not as beautiful as Obella you think privately, though you cannot describe how she catches the eye so very well. He drinks from his cup and leans forward towards your ear, “I hear word you have some very interesting people with you.”

“Quentyn I assume?”

Oberyn waggles his finger, tsking softly as he leans back into Ellaria’s draping arms, “I could not tell Lord Malroy. What is a secret without those that wonder to its forbidden knowledge?”

You shrug, “A fair point Prince Oberyn. As it happens,” you pause and look about the rest of the dornish box. Quellon had invited you to attend Prince Oberyn Martell at the other Lords, Ladies and Knights of Dorne that had attended, though few as they were. Among this group were Ullers, Santagars, Gargalens and of course Qorgyles. The other, smaller group across the way were the Yronwoods, with the Drinkwaters and Wyls. Shaking your head you resume, “As it happens I do have some interesting people with me. Enough to make a bit of noise at least.”

The herald announces the next tilt drawing your attention to the field, it was already past midday and today was the first day some of the Lords and highborn Knights had begun to take part in the tourney. First, a man that had proven very effective in the past few days was announced, Ser Cardyn Lannett, you only knew he was a Lannett for the gold lion on black he wore, the opposite of Lyonel Hill’s colors and likely a relative. The crowd hums for, having gotten behind him and his impressive tilts in the past few days. Though they come to life more when his opponent Lord Quentyn Qorgyle is announced, joining in Prince Oberyn’s standing ovation for his old friend as he enters the field.

Quentyn was a good rider, you knew this to be true, he had been Obella’s only champion to have lasted through the wedding Tourney. Though you wondered how he would compete against such serious competition. Prince Oberyn sits again, wiping the bit of spittle left over from when he had spat at Ser Lannett’s entrance, he leans forward to talk to you further as the two men position themselves for the first pass. Gulian hands his father the first lance, Lannett’s squire doing the same and the jolt into action, charging down the field and smashing into each other’s shields though neither losing their seat. A lance a piece, they round and line up for the second pass.

“Tell me my Lord Malroy. Do you not think to come to a Prince of Dorne when in need of such an audience with the Lord of House Tyrell?”

You flick at the two silver rings upon your pinkie again, reminded of the favor Oberyn had promised you as a gift for your wedding, “I had not thought to call in such a favor, no, I will admit.”

Again he tsks, pausing to watch Quentyn and Lannett break another lance off one another, the latter nearly having to skin the cat, or lion rather, to stay upon his horse. They round and prepare for a third pass as Oberyn speaks again, “A favor saved for a more important day then. Perhaps sooner rather than later.”

You pass him a curious look as he leans back into Lady Ellaria’s embrace again and a kiss that he only breaks to watch Quentyn again stomach Lannett and almost knock him off his horse, this time going up three lances to two. He smiles at this westerman pulls himself up and throws his lance down in anger before allowing eyes to come back to you as you speak, “What do you mean Prince Oberyn?”

“Ah again with the want of secrets Lord Malroy. So sweet their allure, so tantalizing,” Oberyn’s speech draws out as he hand slips beneath Ellaria’s loose dress, her breath catching as she leans into his embrace, “You have enemies here in Highgarden Lord Malroy, I am sure you know.”

“More than aware,” you say turning back to the field to watch Quentyn line up for his fourth pass. He shakes his arm out as he takes the lance, and presses into his Sandsteed.

“Seven knows I have enough myself. Though my brother did tell me to warn you against seven of your own.”

The thought glosses over your mind, Oberyn’s voice trailing as you begin to see time slow, the Prince becoming extremely aware of the same thing you were as he spoke. Lannett’s lance was too low, it had fallen as they rode, notched into place aiming right for- It strikes, the crowd gasps, the horse cries out in pain as the lance penetrates its neck, splintering into a thousand pieces as it breaks off deep into the horse’s flesh. Lannett rides through the motion, passing by the disaster in a moment. The horse’s knees buckle, it’s voice crying out in such pain you wished to grant the animal the sweet release of death. Quentyn’s lance falls from his hand as he attempts to regain control, but is unable as the horse rolls head first into a death tumble, bringing its rider down with him. The roll, two, three times before coming to a stop in a lump of man and horseflesh. The sandsteed shrieks in pain causing others to look away but you are on your feet, Oberyn behind you much the same, watching the unmoving, broken body of Quentyn Qorgyle.

“Seven be good,” you whisper under your breath, remembering in a moment that Arron, his son was behind you. You turn and see the boy horror struck, his face a ruin of emotion until his mother runs up the stands and takes him into her breast, crying herself and hiding his eyes from the terror upon the field.

“Fetch my maester,” Oberyn says, to no one specifically, his face filled with raged. When no one goes to move he looks around, fists clenched and teeth bared in a snarl of hatred, “FETCH MY MAESTER,” three men make to leave and you follow after intent upon reaching the field and finding Benjin. You hear that Lannett is awarded the victory in what is deemed an ‘unfortunate accident’. The crowd hardly reacting, by the time you make it to the field you see Lucas leading Benjin to Quentyn, likely having been watching from below with the other Knights and as quick to respond as you were. You run after them to catch up, and surpass them to the group of Knights and squires attempting to get the thrashing horse to stop moving long enough for them to collect Quentyn’s body and move it somewhere safely.

“Get out of my bloody way,” you say pushing through them and drawing your bastard sword. Not the first time a horse was in its death throes and needed to be put down, green men didn’t know how to deal with it, not the way a man whose sigil of a golden courser did. You sidestep its thrashing legs and draw in close, planting the edge of your blade across its neck and your boot upon its face in one swift movement, “I am sorry my friend,” you say eyes meeting with the black of the sandsteeds as you draw across and allow the flow of blood to come forth, a moment later the horse’s thrashing subsiding.

Benjin is the first to Quentyn, his hand upon his neck and pulse, “Faint my Lord. He needs medical attention immediately or we will lose him.”

“T...he… The seven…” you hear a faint voice say, and then watch as Quentyn sputters out blood looking in your direction, “He… He… Is among the seven.”

Quentyn’s eyes close as you stare at him, the word going numb as the people around you pull the Lord of Sandstone out from under his horse and onto a gurney. Your mind attempting to put together the words that seemed an echo.

The Seven. He was among the Seven.

But who, or what were the Seven?

[End Chapter XLVII]

>>48099606
>You may be able to fire a boy from three hundred paces
Brynden "Trump" Malroy

That's that for today. Got through the bits I wanted to and finally started that trail.

Be around for questions as always. Archived and what have you.

Next thread is Sunday, 10 July at 2PM EST.

Thank you all for playing as always. Happy MURRICA Day to those celebrating tomorrow, don't blow a firework up in your hand, that's how you lose things.

Yay yet more people who hate us.

>>48099701
>The Seven

Oh shit were gonna have a trial by seven, GET HYPE

>>48099701
RIP Quentyn. Ouch. Not looking forward to tell this to Obella

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>>48099768

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>>48099760
What the fuck Dad.... He didn't just die at the end did he?

>“Faint my Lord. He needs medical attention immediately or we will lose him.”

That leads me to believe he's alive

>>48099760
Thanks for running Dad.
Is Quentyn dead? I hope not.
What would've happened if we had dueled Ser Vyrwel?
Is Obella the most beautiful women in all of Westeros?

>>48099824
The answer to that last question is yes.

>>48099760
Is Quentyn ded?

>>48099824
Yes. But Brynden may be a bit biased

>>48099824
not dead, I think he'll be either crippled or paralyzed.
Knife in the back/guts or an bolt in the neck.

>>48099855
Sexy facial scars, breeding hips and S+ tier asses don't lie.

>>48099760
>Be around for questions
Liarrrrrr

Sooo are we ever going to get a calm time to do nothing but relax?

>>48099993
Wouldnt mind going on vacation with Obella to Lys then we can also get that Dragonbow

Dragonbone bow when?
Never because there will always be some other lord trying to steal our land and Brynden will never get the time to go to Essos.

>>48100023
Still wondering how the hell one even makes a Dragonbone bow because I'd think Dragonbone arrow heads would be better.

>>48100023
It will when dad chills with all this shit. I mean god damned man everyone wants to fucking kill us!

>>48100012
We could even meet our old mistress and daughter again!

>>48100074
The one who wanted to keep Brynden as part of her man-harem?

>>48099763
The Head of House Blount is married to a Lannett. Its not that its more people, just more people you didn't know about until now.

>>48099787
>>48099802
>>48099850
>>48099893
>>48099824
Not dead, not yet. He did take a real thrashing though, couple broken bones, serious bruising. You know, all the fun stuff that comes from taking a serious tumble with a horse. He'll walk, he'll live. But it's going to take a bit.

>>48099824
>What would've happened if we had dueled Ser Vyrwel?
A lot of disapproval from Lord Tarly and the Convince roll would have been harder. Plus he would have asked you about it and in general not approved of the shenanigans and that would have been awkward. Oh and you probably would have accidentally almost killed a very dumb man.

>Is Obella the most beautiful women in all of Westeros?
Depends upon who you're asking I guess. She does have the Attractive quality.

>>48099993
>>48100012
>>48100023

After this actually. I was going to offer the option to go again after the Tourney and a few things back home because good handful of things will end up resolved and Brynden will finally have some down time. Assuming he's cool with leaving Mason to run Steadhold during the more difficult time it's in right now.

I promised a big payload at the Tourney in Highgarden awhile ago. We're getting into that homestretch now.

>>48100035
Beats me, but it's an item in ASOIAF, popular dothraki thing IIRC.

>>48100105
Yeah

>>48100035
>Dragonbone arrow heads would be better.

Bone weapons for almost anything other than clubs are shit compared to metal.

Learn how materials work bud.

>>48100119
>Beats me, but it's an item in ASOIAF, popular dothraki thing IIRC.

You probably just use a leg, or more likely, a wing bone. The bone would be pliable enough to bend like a bow and still provide more draw strength then wood.

Probably

>>48100119
Now the most important question is, do we have enough stout souls for a trail of seven? Also how much shit is the Lannet going to be in for pulling that?

>>48100161
Brynden
Oberyn
Lucas

Who else ?

>>48100158
Also magic creature, so who the fuck knows the material composition of a magic dragon's bones

>>48100119
Are the Lannett's OC or what?

>>48100119
Did Obella ever find that wanted poster of Brynden ?

Then one from Braavos

>>48100191
The knight who's son got #rekt in the melee.

Mason's bro maybe, and maybe some of the sons

>>48100158
>>48100219

Well that possibly answers a few questions. I'd guess the Dothraki try to take some of the bones from the Ruins of Valyria, especially the big ones, and work on resizing them to suit their needs.

>>48100219
>inb4 dragonbone arrows with dragonbone bow are able to one-shot things due to MAGIC

>>48100161
I mean if that's happening you do have twenty Knights loyal to you, like Lucas Longwaters and Jon Pryor. Lucerys Celtigar. Wesley Hayford. Quellon Qorgyle. Raymun Chelsted. Olymer Tyrell. Oberyn Martell.

You know friends here and there.

>Also how much shit is the Lannet going to be in for pulling that?
None. It was deemed an unfortunate accident. Such terrible things happen in a Tourney upon occasion. Not that everyone isn't able to read between the lines and Cardyn Lannett isn't going to get looks from time to time now.

>>48100158
I think when I had Brynden find the bone so, so long ago it was mentioned to be a wing bone. Old family heirloom nonsense. Also it's magic I ain't got to explain shit, etc.

>>48100259
Nope, cadet branch of House Lannister in Lannisport. Not fleshed out at all, but I'm using them for your lion themed bad guy of the week.

>>48100261
Nah, she hasn't found Brynden's secret trunk yet. Not that she hasn't tried.

>>48100315
>Nah, she hasn't found Brynden's secret trunk yet. Not that she hasn't tried.
It's hidden in the stables isn't it?

>>48100315
>Nah, she hasn't found Brynden's secret trunk yet. Not that she hasn't tried.

I cannot wait for that. Many chuckles will be had.

>>48100276
>dragonbone arrows with dragonbone bow

If we're going to make a clusterfuck of 'MAGIC' weapon that would probably bankrupt most people, might as well throw in a few bits of Valyrian steel.

>>48100315
Awesome. We just can't ever get a nice year of no one wanting us dead can we dad? We fuck them up the Lannister's are gonna come calling. Great. If we deal with one enemy we get three more. Hope Tychano Osten is at least a bit isolated. Oh who am I kidding he will have the support of all the free cities when we go after him.

I'm just grousing about how things are looking right now.

>>48100315
>Nah, she hasn't found Brynden's secret trunk yet. Not that she hasn't tried.

Did Illiad tell her about it or Mason ?

>>48100369
Literally the perfect arrow...

Throw some Dayne starmetal on there as well.

>>48100370
Sleepy, it'll be okay mate. Dad just said we'll have some downtime after this. We can relax and go to essos, get our cool bow and then comeback to fuck shit up.

>>48100440
No it won't! Don't you see!? DAD CAN NEVER LET US HAVE GOOD THINGS! IT's All Ending!

>>48100370
Everything's going to be fine.

>>48100422
Toss in some dragonglass and we'll be able to call it some cheesy name like, The Seven's Finger, or the Three Headed Dragon and a Star.

>>48100315

Can we get an update at the first post of the thread of the current xp and when a house fortunes roll is going to happen?

>>48100315
Just realised if there really is a trial of seven and Lannett steps forwards we'll have given Oberyn Martell carte-a-blanche to beat the shit out of a Lannister without legal repercussions. (cadet branch schmet branch it counts!)

>>48100369
>>48100422
>>48100474
Fuck me I'm getting hyped for something that may not even be feasible.

>>48100369
>>48100422
>>48100474
>>48100527

You know what else we can do to make the 'Perfect Arrow' even better?

Make the arrow's shaft out of a Weirwood tree.

File: 1421819356740.jpg (45 KB, 225x225)

45 KB JPG

>>48100549

>>48100549
stopIcanonlygetsoerect.jpeg

>>48100549
Fletch it with the feathers of a three eyed raven

>>48100570
Then we give Goldsong a barding made from Dragonscale ?

>>48100336
WHO TOLD YOU.

>>48100369
You're going to need some fletching there champ. What kind of batshit animals can Essos throw at us with feathers?

>>48100413
NEITHER. Both,

>>48100370
I wouldn't say all of the Free Cities but if you haven't picked up that Tychano and Ambrose have connections to the Golden Company by now that's on you.

Haha But no seriously, I like conflict, I like that Brynden doesn't get a break. It fits his nature to just always be on the offensive, he's a resilient son of a bitch, takes a lot to break his back. He went into Highgarden knowing he was going to shove his foot up someone's ass. It's not absurd to think the other guy might be prepared and have some friends to help him and then pull some shit back home to keep his enemies distracted. This isn't even entirely a Royce thing at this point, it's a Linden thing. Man got greedy, thinks he has all the winning cards right now. Makes it all the better when it all comes crumbling down.

On a less serious note, yeah Brynden does deserve some downtime. He just needs to go home and threaten the clergy real quick then he can take a vacation/honeymoon. I could use for a thread where I'm not throwing hell and a handbasket at you too.

>>48100509
Hm... Probably not? I only plan out maybe three threads ahead and then go from my notes from there. I'm not always sure when the next one will be. I can say I'm keeping better track of your EXP gain now, 5 per thread, and you can find that in the Brynden Malroy sheet.

This is about the Bridge isn't it though? I figured at some point people were going to get antsy about that. Steadhold has a lot of problems right now, so priorities are a bit jumbled.

>>48100549
Guys pls. Staph. Pls.

>>48100588
Naw mate, Goldsong has earned his retirement I think it was mentioned after this current fiasco is dealt with we'd look into a new warhorse?

>>48100549

So perfect arrow would be made from

feathers of a three-eyed raven
wood from a weirwood tree
head made from Valyrian steel/Dayne starmetal

Why not dip the whole fucking thing in Dragonfire so the friction from the air causes it to turn into a flaming arrow?

Or string the bow from the ligament of a leviathan that Iron Islanders worship?

>>48100647
If you mean wildfire that shit ignites on contact with air, also isn't weirwood itself poisonous?

>>48100621
Then make that thread happen dad! Please just stahp with the constant fuckeing of Bryn-Bryn.
Also not serious. But getting hit with this shit constantly gets a bit demoralizing yeah?

>>48100621
>What kind of batshit animals can Essos throw at us with feathers?

Well, as >>48100570 suggested, that or we could try more exotic animals from Essos. Not sure if Cockatrices or 'Phoenixes' exist.

>>48100647
Either way, we still need the Dragonbone bow for the perfect one-hit kill combo, and all we really have is a bit of dragonbone that can be used for arrow heads or something.

>>48100681
What world do you think this quest takes place in? This isn't a slice of life anime were based off, its a universe where shit hits the fan constantly and thoroughly

>>48100692
I think feathered raptors exist.

>>48100710
I know but there are some moments of shut not going down. Quite a bit in fact.

>>48100726
And the only reason that happens is because shit is either building up or its happening to another character your not involved with

>>48100692

I want Bryndens marksmanship so strong that people explode into a pink mist whenever they get hit with one of his arrows.

>>48100621
>Brynden and Obella goes on honeymoon and getting his Dragonbow. Run into his old mistress and daughter he never knew about

Just how well would Obella take that ?

>>48100758
I swear to god that the arrow by itself would penetrate plate armor, and kill Others/Whitewalkers in a single blow. Hell, maybe even one-shot some dragons if they were still around.

>>48100803
Probably talk mad shit about how she won

>>48100637
Yep. Goldsong is getting up there in horse terms. He's about ready to hang it up and let one of his kids take over.

God Brynden is going to cry his eyes out the day the old man passes.

>>48100681
I don't think it's too bad really. I don't see it as any worse than usual even. Brynden is getting into that last stretch of course things are going to look worse here. I could very well do a 'slice of life' happy go lucky thread where Brynden is just chilling. But that sounds boring and like a waste of a thread when I only run once a week now.

>>48100803
Spoiler, not well.
Though I don't plan to have her around for that. It would just be needless conflict in their relationship and I don't feel like writing that mess. Even though Brynden meeting his actual first daughter would be amusing.

>>48100809
Does a dragonbone bow kill whitewalkers or would we need obsidian arrows as well?

>>48100710
Would be nice for another thread where we solve some of our current problems before getting new ones yeah?

This thread was more one step forwards two steps back style of thing where we've got a chance to convince Tarly but haven't managed to even secure our duel which gives us a chance to win our war. Then we've found out that we have seven more enemies that we aren't even aware of. Just to want to take too much more side quest damage. Don't get me wrong I enjoy that things aren't easy to fix but when you add on how our main worries are always complex and each thread seems to add another problem to the pile (the need for those trade routes, starving small folk, seven enemies etc.) which just prolonge them it gets demoralising.

Again loving the quest and I do still count this thread as a major win for our house what with the hunt and Grants win it just seems we end on low notes and added problems. Could just be me being a pessimistic ass though.

>>48100848
>Even though Brynden meeting his actual first daughter would be amusing

She would be around the same age as Victus, only around 9-11 months younger ?

>>48100869
That Seven enemies is just a Trial of the Seven

Its a 7v7 melee,

>>48100849
I wouldn't really think the bow itself would kill Whitewalkers when it's really down to the ammunition used (i.e. Valyrian Steel, Obsidian, etc.)

But maybe Dragonbone bows have magical properties applied to the arrows it shoots?

>>48100908
Its just stronger and more durable and a massive prestige boost.

>>48100895
>Its a 7v7 melee

It also makes good entertainment for whomever's watching....well, not for the parties involved, but still.

>>48100621
Just how/why did they tell her about the secret trunk ?

>>48100934
Also the last one was ages ago so this'll get everyone involved ALOT of reknown and quite possibly songs sung

Okay quick question but why is everyone assuming a trial by 7?

>>48100869
I really don't want to have to go into how all of these things connect to one another and how long term plans don't resolve in one step and how all of these are viable Lordly issues to have. So I'll just say in short, I feel completely justified in doing them.

I have never, ever pretended this was easy mode. House Malroy was a well rolled House, and got some serious boons (Archery Contest).

Here's some quick justifications for smaller things that don't require spoilers:

>Take in massive amounts of refugees after a war into a city that has not been rebuilt at all for a year now and with no major industry. A choice was given to deny them, it was not taken. You get food shortages, disgruntled smallfolk living in a tent city, and poor living conditions. That's how these things work.

>Make a deal with the Crackclaw Point Alliance to build their infrastructure in exchange for their aid and being added to the Alliance alongside House Hayford. An idea that wasn't even mine to begin with. You put it off, and put it off. They get annoyed and call you on it.

>Randyll Tarly is an important man, with a prickly nature. Buying him with gifts and bribes is not an option. Appealing to his nature is. It has been discussed the better ways to approach him. We did so, mentioning the battles and acting more Lordly. Expecting him to bend over backwards for you after the first date however? Ridiculous. You put into the man what he is worth and receive an equal payment. With Arlen Hunt it was fostering. With Randyll Tarly it's spending some Wealth on a hunt.

I'm sorry you feel that way, that things look like their just a list rather than a web of things that are connected by Brynden's overall actions. But really, I don't see this as adding more problems, just addressing what the fallout of one problem would be and continuing the resolution towards another.

Also did people really not expect Linden to notice his saboteur had disappeared for months?

>>48101149
We were warned by the dornish in the last few posts of the thread that we faced seven enemies and since we're going for a trail by combat it's assumed it'll end up being a trial of seven instead of on v one.

>>48101177
Could be be seven different houses aligned against us that we currently had no knowledge of. It makes sense but focusing on that may blind us to what happened.

>>48101156
Any chance you will return to running twice per week any time soon ?

>>48100336
>>48100621
>It's hiding in the stables

Phew, and I was worried. Just for good measure we should bury it under a horse's stall. It'll never see the light of day

>>48101156
True but had we not chosen to let the smallfolk in there still would've been another chain of things we'd need to do about it. The thing is it just sometimes feels instead of it being you must complete steps 1->5 it feels that there is also an added 1 a) - e) before even step 2 a) added on as well. Again I like that these aren't simple problems but I just find the number of steps daunting.

>>48101285

honestly once this trial and redfuck thing gets resolved we should take like a year off from court politics and just fucking handle our problems one by one.

>>48101273
Nah, just place it in one of the stalls. She'll only be able to see it IF she works up the courage to enter the stalls, and then she will have it taunting her, making her want to get but be deterred by the horses until she has to confront her fear.

>>48101341
It's actually in the corner of Goldsong's stall, disguised as only containing his old blankets and other misc. horse stuff.

>>48101177
Warned by a dornishman whose brother runs a very active spy network that your wife is a part of, no less.

>>48101246
God I wish. I just don't have the time right now, even on my week off for recovery I was doing work stuff at home. Just too damn busy right now. Hopefully things will change in the future.

>>48101285
And 1>5 feels too linear for me, I don't even see these things like that really. There are always multiple solutions to the same problem, some are easier than others, like say telling the smallfolk to fuck off and then putting down any riot with force, and some conflict with Brynden's nature, like doing the latter. Not that I would tell you guys full stop no on it, but Brynden would then deal with guys like Mason being very put off by it.

Hell I've dropped half a dozen other threads so you guys could focus on the important few. Steadhold and Redward are the two major sources. From there everything branches.

In truth this stems from what I see as a failing of other GoT quests in that the central conflict is the only conflict. Or in the case of Bordain and Harrock to a lesser extent, there is no conflict. You just a Lord doing Lordly things. Can anyone seriously name for me an enemy of Bordain's that wasn't made out to be a geek already? Not trash talking Page and his quest, love the guy to death. But it just doesn't feel right to me.

Daunting it very well may be, but what a Lord of a House that was on the brink does should not be anything less.

At the very least you guys have ridiculous output now though. The hard mode about dealing with House Fortunes is gone because of the banking deal, bringing your Status back up to 5, trade deals that give you a +4d6 bonus, rebuilding infrastructure like a mad man and in general just doing some good stuff at home. One could argue that is now the easiest part of the quest. Roll dice, make money, fix problems. And I could make that a lot more difficult if I wanted to, believe me.

>>48101511
Fair enough, it wasn't about the difficulty merely the scope. Now that I now you've been meaning for it to be that way is k because I'll always expect that. So yeah not used to that style of dming but I'll keep in mind this is yours. Thanks for the thread Father and sorry if this came of as mindless bitching.

>>48101642
Yeah I suppose that is just a personal thing. I have had to cut back on it significantly as well to make this more manageable for you guys and for me. Hell you should see my personal document with all my notes, you guys thought the 38 page history document was big. All in all I'm fine with the critique, I'm willing to defend myself over it, but I always take that stuff to heart and attempt to work with it for the betterment of everyone involved. Really I do need to tie off a lot of stuff and that is what I'm working towards right now. I just hope you guys are ready for the climax.

How devastating would it be for brynden if Lorelei ended up disliking horses like her mother?

Not sure why everyone gets so antsy about Dad being hard on us. I believe we are roughly 1 1/2-2 years into our setting, and at the start we were at the literal bottom of the political barrel. Prey for every single one of our rivals and through some brass balls, lucky rolls and sell sword intuition we've managed to claw and scrape our way up a few rungs on the ladder. However, just because we've found a way out of the woods doesn't mean that we're actually out of them. Let us not forget that House Malroy was down to a single member (who won't/can't produce an heir) in westoros with a rundown and sacked castle and enemies surrounding us like a pack of ravenous wolves. Keep up the great work Father!!

>>48100848
>But that sounds boring

I'd rather have that for a thread every so often rather than constant shit being thrown at Brynden.

I hate that type of thing.

(Problems are fine, but constantly? It's fucking annoying.)

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>Trial of seven.
>Oberyn is one of the seven fighting for us.
>Whoever's against us is too scared to get Dorne angry at them.
>Sleepy rolls godly for the Viper.
>"Fuck yeah I'm so badass I could take on the Mountain in just leather armor and no helmet".
>We're the reason why Oberyn got cockier than he already his.

>>48103266

Will Willas Tyrell be part of the seven against us? Crippling incoming?

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>>48103266
>"Fuck yeah I'm so badass I could take on the Mountain in just leather armor and no helmet".
I mean, he wasn't wrong.