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Victus
>https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1WyaCnLhViXZTHOlwZBGhrwHvIJHw7XSBRgG1e0C85Ck/edit?usp=sharing

Day 9, Month IX - 285AC ~ Midday

Ser Dontos grinds his teeth, at least you think that is what that sound is, you look between him and Ser Silas. The man was older, far older than anyone on your side. He only had rode out with another man, he had a build like your father, probably an archery, but the horse he rode looked untrained and unruly. Or maybe its rider wasn’t really skilled. You didn’t know.

“Ser Silas Langward,” Ser Dontos responds slowly, “What terms do you believe you have to offer?”

The Langward Knight waves his hand in the air, his face was dour and grumpy, “Ser Malroy you and I are both firmly aware that this war is pointless. My nephew was a fool of a man, and his grasping has doomed my family. There is no honour in this war, in further bloodshed. I refuse to hide my family’s arms just because Lestor wishes to avenge his brother.”

You look up and watch the crown of stars whip about lazily in the wind, occasionally picking up again. The standard of House Langly flies beside it, the lilies of the Knightly House standing out.

Ser Silas continues, “I am an old done man Ser. My wife has died. My only daughter a Septa of the Motherhouse of Maris. I have no more want or need to fight today as you. My nephew brings down the full might of House Langward, Langly, and Blount to your Steadhold and you find yourself here about the field. Men await to die upon our orders but I find little reason for it.”

You begin to fidget in your saddle, fiddling with the length of red lace Lady Elionwy had given you a year ago. She was a fine woman you think idly, good that her and Ser Mason had found each other. Redsong stamps impatiently at the ground, and you soothe his temper with a whisper and stroking the side of his face.

“Ser Silas get to your point,” Ser Dontos responds gruffly, he was annoyed. Like the way he’d get annoyed with the Chelsted men that thought better than to listen to him. Ser Thom had been the first to go over to his side after the rest of Ser Cyrus Chyttering’s men had been ejected from the House. He was a low-born Knight, but tough as nails and had given Ser Dontos a good fight in the yard one evening, though lost handily to your more skilled and practiced master. Since then though the Heavy Infantry had been one of Ser Dontos most loyal men, even if most of them were greener than you.

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“My point Ser Dontos,” Ser Silas says after a deep sigh, “The respect I hold for you is great, Lady Chelsted as well, I roared with laughter when I watched you beat Ser Boros Blount to a bloody pulp in front of the Queen. I know as well as any where your loyalties lie Ser Dontos, as they remain my own, what my nephew has done in the wake of my brother’s death is nothing short of treason. My terms of your surrender are simple. We take hostages, your arms and armour, and occupy Blacksaithe, peacefully. When this war has come to an end, at either end I will relinquish control to Lady Alexes Chelsted and either keep our hostages for ransom or give up myself and my men as prisoners. No further bloodshed. A peaceful resolution.”

“And to whom do you intend to take hostage Ser Silas?” Ser Dontos responds without a missed beat. His knuckles are turning white you notice when you look at his hands holding the reins of Penance. You wonder what Ser Silas meant by he knew where Ser Dontos’ loyalties lie.

Ser Silas looks across your gathered party, Ser Haldan Rambton had rode beside you, the Knight of House Longwaters. His face was tight, as if he held his tongue. Ser Thom and Ser Quentin Banefort were on the other side of Ser Dontos. He points lazily, “Ser Banefort. Ser Rambton. Yourself of course. And your squire. Your nephew’s bastard if I am not incorrect?” he scoffs slightly, “I do not doubt Lord Malroy would muster fully and burn me out of Blacksaithe rather than find the path of peace preferable. Perhaps he will find it easier to capitulate when his bastard son is on the line.”

You scrunch your face up, bastard. You hated that word. It’s what you were here, you guessed. In Steadhold, the Crownlands, Westeros. Never across the Narrow Sea though. There you were a son. No one called Mason a bastard. No one ever dared to bring the word to bare even when they hated your father the most. But here. It was what you were. And it bothered you to no end. The Princess had told you it wasn’t like that in Dorne. And when you were there last it seemed it. Your father had promised. Two years now you needed to wait.

Ser Banefort barks a laugh, “This man is half as mad as the rest of these bloody Langwards. Ser Dontos let us be done of this fool’s parley.”

Ser Dontos shakes his head, “Silence your tongue Ser Quentin,” he says simply, “Ser Silas our armies are of an equal hand. I do not find where you think you have such an advantage here to make such demands. I offer you in return a chance to lay down your own arms, surrender into my custody and disband your army. You will be allowed to take the Black, Seven be good. And this thing will be done. Your honor left intact”

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Ser Silas tsks, scratching his sunburnt head with a mailed hand before speaking again, “I am sorry Ser Dontos, I cannot do such a thing. My honor, my loyalty is still to my family first, as foolish as they are. I fear if I can not get you to see reason this was as Ser Banefort said, a fool’s parley. I will extend my offer a final time Ser Dontos, elsewise, this will be war.”

Quiet takes the parley, the only sound being the wind that has continued to pick up rushing in from the west along the Goldroad towards your father’s home in Steadhold and past it to King’s Landing. You wondered how Lady Obella was doing, how your baby sister, Lorelei, was. Maybe she was lucky she didn’t know how frightening it was to see your father go off to battle again. Not knowing if it would be the last time. Hopefully she would only know peace and summer. You’d make sure she was safe. You tighten your own grip upon Redsong’s reins. Your father had allowed Ser Dontos to finally bring you to the field. He trusted you, both of you. You needed to grow stronger, better so you could protect Lorelei and any other siblings you might have in the future. That was your promise.

Ser Dontos goes to speak, bringing you back from your idle thoughts.

How did Ser Dontos respond?
>Accepts Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (Peaceful Resolution)
>Refuses Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (War)

>>3623982
>>Accepts Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (Peaceful Resolution)
I like their sigil

Sorry for being a bit spotty the past two weeks. Moving and work have kept me really busy, but today I have the place to myself and I will be damned if I don't run the Victus thread. Today's thread isn't going to be super long but we're going to get through all of the Victus POV and then make some decisions at the end.

>>3623982
>Refuses Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (War)

>>3623982
>Refuses Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (War)

He must take us for a fool if we believe that we should believe schemers like the Langwards.

>>3623982
>>Refuses Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (War)
Surprisingly reasonable but I just dont think its an option for Dontos

>>3623982
>Refuses Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (War)

Haha. No.

We are technically winning this war right now

>>3623982
If we can insert a write-in
"That's the King's banner Langward, you expect that he would look kindly on his authority being question. If you wish to spare your family surrender and I will personally plead for leniency on you and your family's behalf."

Otherwise
>Refuses Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (War)

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>>3623982
>>Refuses Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (War)

Hi dad! Glad you're running today. You even started early!

>>3623982
>Refuses Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (War)
Of course.

>>3623982
>>Refuses Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (War)
lmao this has been the easiest choice in a while pops

>>3623982
>>Refuses Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (War)

>>3623982
>>Refuses Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (War)

The Black Knight rides today!!

>>3623982
>>3624015
This. He’s trying to do the right thing but his family are idiots and he can’t abandon them. Give him an out. Otherwise war.

>>3623982
>Refuses Ser Silas Langward’s terms of surrender (War)

>>3624088
There's also another way to give him an out. Personal combat with champions, a little morbid since it will likely be the two old men beating each other to dead.

Ser Dontos looks up, and you follow, his eyes glazing over the crowned stag of House Baratheon flying beside the hooded man of House Banefort, the crimson seahorse of House Longwaters, the dagger and mace of House Chlested, and the golden courser of your father’s House Malroy. His eyes linger upon it, his face was grim, “That is the standard of the Crown, Ser Silas,” he says slowly turning back to him, “Where our loyalties lie mean little when your family breaks the King’s Peace. I know you are an honourable man, but to put your family before the King’s own authority is a fool’s errand. Again I ask of you, throw down your arms and surrender into my custody. Do so now and I will personally plead for leniency on you and your family’s behalf.”

Ser Silas draws in a long breath, his ankles dig the spurs into his horse and he turns slightly, spitting on the ground before the Baratheon’s flag that Ser Quentin holds. He speaks, “He’s no King of mine Ser Dontos. And I know, Seven be damned I know, he isn’t yours as well. It was unfortunate that it must come to this. May the Seven bless those who cause is true.”

Ser Silas turns, the archer on the golden horse behind him following shortly after. You give the horse a good look and pass it between your own a couple of times. Your mind wanders slightly and you feel an anger. Almost hundreds of it for a glimmer of a second. Those were Malroy horses you quickly realize, they hadn’t done a good enough job of hiding the old Valyrian sigil of the Malroys that they would brand upon the right haunch of all of their family’s horses. Nearly two hundred of them, they were not trained for war, they must be of the common stock. How did the Langwards get so many of your father’s horses? You sit confused and perplexed.

“Then war it shall be Ser Silas,” Ser Dontos responds with a somber tone, before turning himself and riding back to the minor fortifications that the men had built, you wonder if the two had met before. Ser Silas seemed to think so. The way they spoke was confusing and you barely are able to parse the meanings behind their words but you can tell that Ser Dontos was wroth now.

“You know your orders!” he calls to the five of you and the men split off riding hard towards their lines.

Ser Thom blows into his horn and your master’s host awakens, weapons being drawn and the shield walls coming to force immediately. He rides even harder than the others, dismounting awkwardly in his full plate and rejoining his men’s ranks. You had attended the brief war council. Most of it had been Ser Dontos arguing with Ser Quentin before growing tired of it. Ser Thom and his heavy infantry were to be the spear tip of the battlelines.

The archers, as few as you had, would lay into the center column of the Langward’s infantry to soften them up, and then Ser Thom would smash into them with the other infantry pouring in after with Ser Dontos leading that charge upon Penance. You had been ordered to stay with the archers behind the palisades. You were allowed to fire your own bow with them but were forbidden from drawing your blade unless the absolute worst had happened and even then you were told to run before you fought. Ser Dontos had been teaching you, and you felt ready, eager to fight, and had deflated when he told you that you would be left behind. Ser Quentin’s squire, a boy of an age with you, would get to charge with him it was unfair that you had been left behind. But you did as you were told, your father had told you to listen to his uncle and not to question him, and you did. Even if it wasn’t what he would do. You ride ahead of Ser Dontos, swinging off of Redsong and running through the camp to gather his lance and helm. The onyx plate shines in the midday sun, reflecting your face back at you in a wavy and misshapen way, you smile at it and begin to run back, almost tripping over yourself when the lance falls and begins to scrape the ground.

The camp is fully alive now, men and squires running about to find their positions, people yelling, the war horns crying. You feel your heart begin to beat rapidly, your stomach turning over on itself. The eagerness you had felt previously began to wash away only to be replaced by a feeling you hadn’t known since Essos. You were six at the time, when the Second Sons had been attacked at camp in the night. Your father, half naked and with his sword drawn had ripped into your tent, fire framing him in the background. He had taken you up in his arms and ran to the horses, more than once stopping to kill another man who had blocked your way. The night was so vivid in your memory even now. The way he roared and cursed, his eyes ablaze with the emerald green you shared with him in the fire’s that had been ignited about the camp. He had nearly thrown you onto Goldsong, and was ready to break into a gallop until you cried out that Redsong, little more than a foaling at the time was trapped. He turned and leapt from his horse, pulling the young horse out and then riding into the night. It was later that the rest of the Sons of Gold would meet up with him Ser Mason and Solhas being safe, though several were dead. You couldn’t describe the feeling but it turned your stomach and the thought of blood, though not foreign, was frightening.

You find Ser Dontos, looking over the battlefield, his face still grim and call up to him, he turns slightly and you help him heft his lance into place before handing him his helm which he places on his head and straps with ease. He looked every bit the Black Knight of Malroy. The fearsome warrior that the Seven’s own had blessed with his hand and skill. At least that’s what Ser Jaromir Chelsted said, “Go now squire,” he says to your simply, “Stay with the archers as you were commanded. May the Seven guide and bless us.”

“May they guide and bless us,” you respond in kind, receiving a stiff nod in return. And you run off, finding your own stuffs and strapping it to your body. Your bow and arrows are slung over your back, your sword strapped to your side. You look at your shield but decide against it. The thing was too cumbersome for your liking even though Ser Dontos always insisted. You’d rather fight as your father did, using both hands upon your blade. Again you sprint, hardly out of breath yet and find the Captain of the Chelsted Archers, ‘Red’ Russell. He smiles at you, ruffling your hair, Gods you hated that, and you count the two good teeth the man has left from chewing sourleaf all the time, his mouth a ruin of rot and red otherwise.

“Ready up me boy,” he says to you, “Lord Dontos says we bout to be the first volley. Let’s see if you can shoot that thing half as hell as your father, hm?”

You give him a sidelong look, of course you could, you were your father’s son, you had learned how to shoot a bow before you could walk. But the man only roars with laughter, an ugly gurgling thing, at the annoyance in your eyes and shuffles you along to take your place on the outskirts of the Archers lines.

The Langward’s horns begin in unison almost the moment you take your place with the archers. Beside you was another boy, a few years older than you named Jack, and the otherside occupied by a boy known as Krem. The three of you stood behind a palisade together, only peaking out from a small hole in the wooden construct. They were ‘greener than gooseshit’ Russell said, but then again most of the boys under his command were. Krem was trembling, the arrow he had notched had fallen out of his hand a couple times before you place a hand on his shoulder and give him a reassuring smile, one he returns with a nod and a hard gulp.

Your own eyes return to the battlefield and you notice that the Langward’s lines have begun to advance. The knot in your gut continues to grow when you realize that Ser Dontos had raised his lance and dropped it with the order to advance.

“ARCHERS. READY!” ‘Red’ Russell calls and you step out alongside your fellow archers and drawing an arrow. It was a practiced motion, just as your father had shown you so many times before. You shoulder the weight with ease, your breath drawn. You were not firing at a target. Only one amongst a volley of arrows. Would you kill a man today and never know it? The thoughts ran about your mind quickly before again finding itself wandering and for half a second feeling fear, a rampant unknown fear as it coursed through the blood of every creature. Your eyes refocus and you look about the field. The coursers the Langward infantry had rode in on were at the back, near the forests edge. They were scared. This was no place for them. You swallow your own fear, and look about. The forest surrounded you, and Ser Dontos had placed the Plumm scouts in hiding about it. They could save those horses. But… But they didn’t know. You chew at the bottom of your lip.

“STEADY!”

Again that glimmer of fear hits you and you feel unbalanced. This wasn’t like Redsong, he was fearless, as strong as your father’s Goldsong. No they cried out. You wanted to help them. Your fingers fidget slightly and you begin to think. Your father would do it, but he regularly would have disobeyed Ser Dontos’ orders. It was the daring moves he was known for. The lines were soon to meet. Ser Thom and his men were roaring ahead, and you saw his massive two handed morningstar come to bare even in the distance. You calm your breath, your heart and mind going faster than a gallop. Ser Dontos would be wroth if you disobeyed him. Even if it was to save your father’s horses. But…

The moment drew closer, and you could feel the sweat run down your forehead in the hot summer sun. Your mind calms, going blank the moment you hear the call.

“LOOSE!”

Please roll 3D for Victus’ Marksmanship(Bows)

Victus’ Decision
Please note, this will affect Victus’ personality and decisions in the future.
>A Malroy of the Calm Blood: Obey Ser Dontos and remain with the Archers, it was your duty and you had made promises
>A Malroy of the Wild Blood: Disobey Ser Dontos and sneak off to find the Scout Captain, convincing him to help you save the horses

Rolled 5, 6, 3 = 14 (3d6)

>>3624146
>A Malroy of the Calm Blood: Obey Ser Dontos and remain with the Archers, it was your duty and you had made promises

Rolled 4, 4, 3 = 11 (3d6)

>>3624148
>A Malroy of the Calm Blood: Obey Ser Dontos and remain with the Archers, it was your duty and you had made promises

Promised to be a good boy

Rolled 3, 2, 5 = 10 (3d6)

>A Malroy of the Calm Blood: Obey Ser Dontos and remain with the Archers, it was your duty and you had made promises

We promised both our father and Dontos. We stay put

>>3624153
How is that text not green

Rolled 4, 5, 5 = 14 (3d6)

>>3624146
>A Malroy of the Calm Blood: Obey Ser Dontos and remain with the Archers, it was your duty and you had made promises
I'm hugely torn here because goddamn do i wanna save those horses... but Victus is a good boy

>>3624146
>A Malroy of the Calm Blood: Obey Ser Dontos and remain with the Archers, it was your duty and you had made promises

>>3624146
>A Malroy of the Wild Blood: Disobey Ser Dontos and sneak off to find the Scout Captain, convincing him to help you save the horses

A good boy would save the horses

>>3624146
>A Malroy of the Calm Blood: Obey Ser Dontos and remain with the Archers, it was your duty and you had made promises
Yo I'm fucking loving all of these little details. Silas being a Targ loyalist. Victus having his little warg thoughts. The story with Brynden in Essos

>>3624146
>>A Malroy of the Calm Blood: Obey Ser Dontos and remain with the Archers, it was your duty and you had made promises

>>3624148
14
>>3624151
11
>>3624153
10

Victus with a solid slate of rolls.

Looks like Victus is going to be a Malroy of the calm blood. So very unlike his father. If Isis had to compare him to someone when he grows up it'll very likely be Pastorn, Brynden's youngest sibling. He'll still being charming and charismatic, it just won't be in the same silver tongued way that Brynden is. And he is a dutiful and good boy.

That was a good Victus decision, I'm happy with how this is going.

>>3624202
>good victus decision
I think that's very much due to how you've written him pops. We all know how the character would respond to the issue, so good on you

Victus Waters’ Attack I
DC: 5
Roll: 14,11,10
>Success, Two Degrees
>Damage: 4*2=8-2AR=6
>Enemy’s Health: 9-6=3
Results: Langward Infantryman I Damaged

Your arrow flies from your fingers with ease. And you watch it for a second, beside it the shakey arrow of Krem, and behind it the under shot arrow of Jack. You keep track it as it arches before losing it in the volley as they reach their apex and begin to rain down upon the Langward’s front lines. Several of them strike true and you watch as men begin to falter and weaken, their shields rising far too late to protect them.

“ARCHERS! READY!” Captain ‘Red’ Russel calls again, and you draw for the second volley. You had limited time to fire off the second volley, but Ser Dontos had been certain to give you enough time. Shouldering the weight your mind attempts to focus itself and push out the thoughts that intruded your mind. It was your duty to remain. Your promise. You were your father’s son but not everything about him was in you. Ser Dontos had said as much while you squired for him. Attending him in the Sept in the mornings. About the yard for training. At court patiently and attentively listening to Lady Chelsted holding it and delivering justice. You were still the son of a Malroy, your eyes spoke to it, but you were your own man. Or would be rather.

“STEADY!”

The lines have almost met. There is no cavalry. No grand charge that Jarold Chelsted liked to tell stories of to Rodner Chelsted. This wasn’t like stories. Men had fallen and died already. The knot in your stomach tightens at the thought. Had you been the cause of one of the death of another? A boy ten-and-one slaying another from afar with his bow. Your bow had never seen war, even though it was as your father’s was. But today it had drawn blood. Or would rather. You watch, straining slightly, the window to loose had drawn so very close and you can feel yourself ready to lose your strength at any moment. But just before you could, you hear his words come again your fingers let loose with practiced ease.

“LOOSE!”

Please roll 3D for Victus’ Marksmanship(Bows)

Rolled 5, 6, 6 = 17 (3d6)

>>3624234
Easy 18.

Rolled 5, 4, 4 = 13 (3d6)

>>3624234

>>3624234

Rolled 1, 3, 4 = 8 (3d6)

>>3624234

>>3624235
17 So fucking close.
>>3624238
13
>>3624241
8

Victus is his father's son alright. Damn my boy.

>>3624178
I'm glad someone picked up on Silas being a Targaryen loyalist. Dontos knows that. It might effect the way he decides to deal with Silas should he survive this conflict.

>>3624210
Victus is just such a good fucking lad. Too pure for Westeros.

>>3624246
>Victus is just such a good fucking lad. Too pure for Westeros.

He should go to Dorne where he will be appreciated. Get some work from the inlaws.

>>3624249
And some good Dornish head

>>3624254
Maybe even handholding and some maternal affection

>>3624234
>You were still the son of a Malroy, your eyes spoke to it, but you were your own man. Or would be rather.
This is precisely why I pick calm blood, Victus should and will be able to grown as his own man without trying to be Brynden.

>>3624258
Getting spicy here, anon

>>3624234
But father. Victus has his mothers eyes and hair

>>3624279
Victus' eyes are between his mothers and his fathers. They're sort of hazel and from day to day can look different depending upon the light. From Brynden's POV he sees Lysa's eyes, because that is who he reminds her off. From Victus' POV he sees his father's eyes and then looks in a mirror and sees the same.

It's a case of different narrators/characters seeing things that fit their own perspective and memories and/or being unreliable.

Victus Waters’ Attack II
DC: 5
Roll: 17,13,8
>Success, Three Degrees
>Damage: 4*3=12-2AR=10
>Enemy’s Health: 9-10=-1
Results: Langward Infantryman II Dead

Again your arrow flies true with practiced ease. The act of firing within a volley was easy for you. Perhaps someday you could lead your own company of archers. For your father. Or maybe Ser Dontos. You were as good a rider as he was, maybe more Horse Archers like Solhas and Ser Mason. There would be a place for you in your father’s home always you knew. Even if it never felt like home to you. Maybe you’d find something like it in Dorne. Your eyes passively watch as your arrow arches over the battlefield. Though this time you don’t lose it when it reaches its apex and begins to hurdle back towards the earth. The only reason being the fletching had caught upon your red lace and pulled the thing from around your wrist and now fluttered behind the arrow. Your face deflates, that had been a gift. Something special. And now it flew away from you, lost as was your innocence for true war. For death. Your eyes widen as you watch the arrow fall and strike true. It slams into the neck of a Langward man. And without a second longer his body slams into the ground. You stare mortified. The man’s death fully upon your own hands. You take a step back and breath, eyes wide and heart racing. It was the first kill of a bastard. Of a baseborn boy amongst the ranks of many more. The knot in your stomach comes undone finally and you slack slightly. You felt bile but kept it down. You had seen death before. So many times before.

Ser Thom’s roar across the battlefield brings you back to the world around you and you watch as the man’s two handed mace crushes the breastplate of another infantryman. The rest of the heavy infantry slams into the softened Langward frontline. Making quick work of them and breaking through with ease. His men spill into the center of the Langward men and an all out melee breaks out. You try frantically to watch Ser Thom as he batters down opponent after opponent. He lands a kick squarely into the chest of another man and brings his mace down upon his head with a roar. Enough to send other men fleeing from his battle-rage.

The Langward’s men return the initial attack with full resolve however. Their archers, at least five score more than Ser Dontos’ host, launching several volleys at the flanks of the Chelsted infantrymen. You watch as the arrows begin to slice through them, men faltering and falling to their knees, arrows stuck about their body. Captain Jon ‘Painter’, of your father’s House, calls for his men to raise their shields within the center of the column behind Ser Quentin and is spared the worst of it and for that you are thankful. The melee where Ser Thom’s men had broken through continues to devolve into a mess of death and misery. Part of the Langly reserves have joined the fray, managing to beat Ser Thom’s men back slightly with fresh arms and more men, though eventually they regain their footing and begin to rebulk them.

The archers have continued their volleys unimpeded, and you watch horror-stricken as Captain Claudio of House Chelsted falls to several arrows and the left flank of Ser Dontos’ line begins to crumble. They are met by fresh infantrymen and they make quick work of those that remain and soon they begin to make their way up towards your position. Ser Haldan Rambton and his men had been left in reserve to protect either flank should they falter and the archers from a flanking attack and he rallies his men to the ready. Your eyes skirt back and forth between where your master was where Ser Haldan’s men had begun to rally to. Its only the yells of the other archers that makes you aware of the volley of arrows flying towards your position now. You roll away from the arrows, hiding behind the palisade on crouched knees. And look to your side to see Jack riddled with them, one sticking from his eye, where blood now leaks and life escapes.

To your other side Krem is hollowing in pain, his leg being struck by one before he could move in time and now he laid out in the open. He looks to your with frantic eyes and without a second thought you scoot down the palisade to reach over to him, attempting to pull him behind to safety.

Please roll 3D for Athletics(Strength).

Rolled 6, 1, 1 = 8 (3d6)

>>3624352

Rolled 1, 5, 6 = 12 (3d6)

>>3624352
I wish I got that 18 last time. I will have bad luck from now on, I fear.

Rolled 4, 2, 6 = 12 (3d6)

>>3624352

>>3624357
8
>>3624362
12
>>3624365
12

>>3624352

Rolled 1, 6, 5 = 12 (3d6)

>>3624383
Fuck what went wrong?

>>3624391
I think I derped on entering it in, on phone in car repair shop

Victus Waters’ Athletics(Strength)
DC: 15
Roll: 8,12,12
>Failed

The boy was much larger than you, you soon realize and as you yank on his arm in an attempt to get him to move it quickly dawns upon you that between his hollowing and writhing in pain and your lack of leverage you were going to have to struggle for it.

“Krem! Krem calm down!” you yell at him, voice hardly heard over the melee beneath you, “Krem I’m trying to hel-”

Your voice is cut off when you feel the thump of several arrows slamming into the palisade at your back and Krem’s arm go loose. You look down at him reluctantly and see three arrows stuck in his back and his lifeless body staring up at you, pleading for you to save him. You breath grows shakey, and you drop his hand quickly realizing what it was and you shuffle back between the bodies of the two dead boys. Boys, of an age with you. Not blessed by their father’s being Lords and able to teach them to fight and be awares of a battlefield. No, boys, pressed into service. You knew what it was, even though you were called naive and foolish by Lady Obella when she thought you could not hear her, you knew. The bile again sticks in your throat and you swallow it. Not now, you could not lose your gut now. This was war and it smelled of war. Krem’s bowels had most definitely loosened when he died and the smell of shit reaches your nose. The taste of bloody iron is upon the air and you spit it away in a vain attempt.

“Bastard! Over here!” you hear a voice calling to your right, and several of the older boys are behind a palisade waving at you, “Come! We’re safer in numbers!”

You slowly stand, head kept low, you take a quick peak through the slot of the palisade to see what had occurred. Ser Haldan’s men were taking the infantrymen that had broken the leftmost flank to task. The Knight himself was battering down three men on his own, his longsword slashes across the chest of one many with enough feathers in his hat to be a Summer Isler and he falls to the ground in a lump. Maybe he was their Captain, but either way the flank remained strong.

Ser Dontos too had joined the fight, stop aride Penance he struck a mighty visage even all the way across the battlefield. He had lost his lance in the initial charge you think, but now his sword and shield struck out as he rode down any that would dare challenge him. The Black Knight of Malroy had rallied Ser Thom’s men and they pressed further into the Langward’s center. Ser Silas remains upon his horse in the distance. Unmoving. The banners of Langward and Langly flying behind him. You wondered why he didn’t move. All the same the archers had begun to break formation, focusing upon the battle lower down the field as Captain Jon ‘Painter’ and Ser Quentin’s men broke through the breach and began to go for them in full force. The infantry still attempted to ward off the Heavy Infantry but had been thrown back several times.

You take your chance and dart across from your palisade to the one across from you, careful to step over Krem’s body. The two boys there, Jordy and ‘Little’ Dick, give you a look of fear, their eyes and stomachs obviously disturbed by the deaths about them.

“You surely are son of a Lord, bastard,” Jordy says, “Ain’t no fear in ya.”

“My name is Victus,” you snap back, peaking across the ledge of the palisade again.

“Yeah, Victus Waters, you’re a bastard,” ‘Little’ Dick says, “Bastard of Steadhold.”

You scrunch your face up at the unwanted title. But barely have the time to respond to them. They didn’t know. You didn’t need to be angry with them. Ser Dontos wouldn’t approve.

The battle still rages and Ser Dontos is now afoot, smashing his shield into someone’s face and linking up with Captain Jon for a final push with Ser Thom. At least one of the enemy companies of archers had been defeated the other seemingly making a retreat to the horses. The horses! You almost curse, but hold your tongue, knowing Ser Dontos would not be happy if you cursed the Seven. The two boys with you began to whomp and cheer when they realize that the archers were retreating, thinking the battle won. It wasn’t until Jordy had stepped out and taken an axe to the shoulder, his screams ear curdling and pained that you realized some of the Langly Infantrymen had made it to the palisades.

“Run!” you yell at ‘Little’ Dick remembering Ser Dontos’ words that it would be better to flee than to fight. But the words come little too late when he too is cut down.

“Come ‘ere yeah little shite!” the man-at-arms yells at you as you began to scramble across the line of palisades. Luckily the right side had been untouched and you see Captain ‘Red’ Russell come into view with two dozen bows drawn.

“OUT OF THE WAY BOY!” he howlers and you dive off to the side, onto the more dangerous side of the palisades, landing roughly on your shoulder as you hear the sound of dozens of boys loosing at once and the screams of pain of the infantrymen riddled with arrows.

You pull yourself up in an attempt to get back to safety, but instead find a man hovering over you, his blade drawn and a smile upon his lips, well it would be if he had any lips to speak of, he places his boot into your side and you feel the wind knocked out of you as you roll away, his laugh following you as you try to regain yourself, “Well looky here. The bastard of Lord Malroy. Ain’t much to look at are ya now?”

You cough and sputter, backing yourself up against a palisade, ripping your sword from its scabbard and halfway pointing it at him with your strength nearly gone.

He laughs in your face, his own sword pushing your arm down causing you to whince in pain, “Yeah yeah, you the son some fucking whoremongering sellsword playing at Lord. You even know your mother pup? Fucking doubt it. Whore probably dead off in a bloody ditch. Fuck, you probably ain’t even his, lying whores and all that,” he snorts and spits down at you, the spittle landing upon your face. You felt your anger rising. How dare he speak of your mother like that. How dare he speak of your father like that.

“Oh we mad now pup?” he says in response to your face, “Lucky for you father dearest would pay a hefty sum for your safe return. But that don’t mean I can’t have my own little fun first.”

You don’t like the way he licks his teeth, nor that he begins to go for his belt buckle after saying that but you feel your rage and its peak and then begin to level, to focus. You were angry. But you were not so undisciplined to lose yourself to it. You had enough room now to respond, his swordhand wasn’t as steady as he stumbled with his buckle and you could feel enough strength returning to attack back. At least enough to escape. You tighten your grip, eyes narrow, your other hand taking up with the first upon your blade. He would not speak of your parents like that, never again.

Please roll 4D for Fighting(Long Blades).

Rolled 1, 3, 5, 6 = 15 (4d6)

STAY AWAY FROM BEST BOY SCUM!!!!!

Rolled 2, 5, 6, 2 = 15 (4d6)

>>3624480
Oh god here we go

Rolled 4, 1, 4, 4 = 13 (4d6)

>>3624480
MOTHERFUCKER

>>3624486
15
>>3624488
15
>>3624490
13

Middle of the road.

>>3624499
Oh sweet little 6 pound 8 ounce baby Jesus, don't let Victus' first sexual experience be getting raped by some lipless sadist instead of Arianne Martell

>>3624511
That made me laugh and now I feel bad.

File: 332470.jpg (57 KB, 225x350)

57 KB JPG

>>3624480

Victus Waters’ Attack III
DC: 7
Roll: 15,15,13
>Success, Two Degrees
>Damage: 4*2=8-5AR=3
>Enemy’s Health: 9-3=6
Results: Langly Infantryman I Damaged

You withdraw your blade, his own falling to the ground and causing him to lose balance between whatever he had planned beneath his pants and attempting to menace you. And with a quick and deliberate strike your thrust forward with all of your weight and might, driving the sword deep into his thigh and causing the man to hollar in pain and anger. Immediately his hand goes from his undone belt to wound up and he strikes you across the face, causing you to fall again and lose your sword in the process, stuck as it was in his leg. Again, you pulls yourself up, drawing the dagger your father had gifted you in King’s Landing and stare at the man with deliberate purpose. Chest heaving and and your breath somewhat labored. Your jaw hurt, and you could feel a bruise already. He wouldn’t be able to chase you now. But that didn’t stop him from trying to remove the sword and doing so anyway when you decided to turn tail and begin to run along the line of palisades.

“COME HERE PUP!” he rages after you, still managing to keep pace despite the wound, “I AIN’T DONE WITH YO-”

His voice cuts off and you throw a look over your shoulder to Ser Haldan Rambton having barreled into the man and thrown him to the ground. You stop running, turning slightly and taking cover behind the palisade to catch your breath and watch the two men begin to fight. The Langly man is vicious, striking out at Ser Haldan with hammerblows from the pommel of his sword. Though Ser Haldan is far more practiced and able to defend himself against the wild and vicious attacks. He hardly places a step wrong, and manges to lash out at the injuried leg of the Langly man and cause him to howl once more and fall to his knees. Ser Haldan is quick to dispatch him, his sword reaching between the cracks of his coif and pressing downwards, the man’s ravings no more.

“Victus!” Ser Haldan calls out to you, his own breath labored now, “Victus!”

“I’m here Ser Haldan!” you yell back coming into view.

“Are you unharmed!” he says crossing the way to meet you, removing his helmet to breath and taking shelter behind the palisade for a moment, his red hair was matted to his forehead and at some point he had taken a gash across the ribs.

“I am fine Ser Haldan,” you say hurriedly as the Longwaters’ Knight slumps down the day seemingly having caught up to him finally. You kneel next to him, not knowing what else to do, only to realize the gash across his ribs was far worse than it had first appeared. He’s struggling to breath and the blood hasn’t stopped flowing yet. His face is pale and cold and his eyes begin to look out listlessly and his body slacks.

“Good… Good…” he says nodding at you a few times before rolling his head away, “We need… We need to stay here a moment. Ser Dontos is… He’s sure to have won the… Won the day.”

His breath is coming slower now and you realize what has happened. You were on your side of the battlefield and you spring up, trying to call for what few healers and support there was here. You call into the void, the battlefield a ruin of death and broken things. There was no one to call. No one to hear your voice having finally caught up to you, the tears in your eyes welling up, a child upon the field of battle having watched so many men die already. By the time someone finally reaches you, you turn, cheeks stained with tears to find Ser Haldan’s lifeless body staring out towards the Princewood. Not even towards home.

---

The battle is won. Over and done. The forces of House Malroy, Chelsted, and the Crown winning the day. Ser Dontos tells you how the rest of the battle had gone. The Plumm Scouts had made a good attempt at ambushing the retreating Langly Archers and their Captain, but a number of them had still managed to mounted the horses and ride to the east. The rest of them, some hundred had been secured by Captain Jon ‘Painter’ after realizing what they were. Ser Thom and his heavy infantry had won the day in truth, they put down several companies of men, and lost very few. A surprise for the otherwise green company. A company of infantry had surrendered once Ser Quentin’s men had forced them against the forest again and alongside them Ser Silas did as well. It had been a bloody and gruesome battle, Ser Dontos sparing you the worst of it, but judging by the bodies upon either side you had guessed there had been significant loses. The disadvantage of fighting upon the field, Ser Dontos had told you, as he spoke a prayer over the body of Ser Haldan. These battles were often the most costly, though it had been necessary, in order for the men to return to Steadhold and aid your father in breaking the siege. You did not know the truth of that statement, but as tired and weary as you were with the day you had nodded along and followed your master back to the tent where the other survivors remained to give counsel.

File: Survivors.png (29 KB, 707x263)

29 KB PNG

Battle Over!

Results:
>Victory for Ser Dontos Malroy & Allies.
>Ser Silas Langward taken prisoner.
>Trained Langly Infantry I, Trained Langly Infantry II, & Trained Langward Archers Destroyed.
>Trained Langward Infantry I Surrendered.
>Captain Jon Escaped.
>Veteran Langly Archers Escaped.
>Captured: 100 Common Coursers
>Ser Dontos Malroy gains 2 Glory and 7 EXP.
>Victus Waters gains 3 EXP.

Survivors:
House Malroy
>Trained Infantry (No Damage)
House Chelsted
>Green Heavy Infantry (No Damage)
>Green Archers (Damaged)
>Trained Chelsted Infantry I (Damaged)
>Trained Chelsted Infantry II (Damaged)
House Longwaters
>Veteran Longwaters Infantry (Damaged)
>Ser Haldan Rambton Dead

See attached picture.

Please roll for me 1d6+1 for Survivors, I will take the first 6 rolls respectively.

Rolled 6 + 1 (1d6 + 1)

>>3624612
RIP Haldan

Rolled 4 + 1 (1d6 + 1)

>>3624612
R.I.P. Haldon. You did good Ser.

Rolled 5 + 1 (1d6 + 1)

>>3624612

Rolled 1 + 1 (1d6 + 1)

>>3624612

Rolled 3 + 1 (1d6 + 1)

>>3624612
Rip Haldan

Rolled 1 + 1 (1d6 + 1)

>>3624612

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>3624612
THERE ARE NO FUCKING BRIDGES CAPTCHA

>>3624615
>Trained Malroy Infantry (No Damage)
>Roll: 7 - +2 Training (Elite Infantry)
>>3624620
>Green Chelsted Heavy Infantry (No Damage)
>Roll: 5 - +1 Training (Trained Heavy Infantry)
>>3624621
>Green Chelsted Archers (Damaged)
>Roll: 6 - +1 Training (Trained Archers)
>>3624622
>Trained Chelsted Infantry I (Damaged)
>Roll: 2 - -1 Training (Green Infantry)
>>3624624
>Trained Chelsted Infantry II (Damaged)
>Roll: 4 - Intact (Trained Infantry)
>>3624626
>Veteran Longwaters Infantry (Damaged)
>Roll: 2 - -1 Training (Trained Infantry)

Fucking House Malroy picking up another Elite unit. Chelsted making out alright, but the Longwaters men lost a lot. RIP Haldan, Jon and Lucas Longwaters will be very sad to have seen you go.

Alright writing.

Why does everyone who helps us seem to get shit on? The Hayfords, The Longwaters, even the Chelsteds really arn't benefiting from our wars.I'm honestly kind of worried that our allies might start dropping off soon...

>>3624641
Oh my god with this again. People fucking die, jesus fucking christ

>>3624636
We are sure to reclaim the martial reputation of our House after this and come out with an excellent core of troops.

>>3624645
We're making out like bandits here, gaining elite troops, defeating our enemies, and it seems like our allies are taking the brunt of the pain in terms of manpower, heirs etc. You're honestly telling me that you couldn't see some of our allies getting a bit bitter about that?

>>3624653
The Hayfords already did, that shit happened and it was our vote get over it.

Chelsteds have lost a single training over these wars, they gained two trained here amd an elite in the other battle.

This is the first time the Longwaters have lost anything with us in several battles. And with how much Brynden has done for them before. Nah i aint fucking worried.

>>3624661
And our quest for revenge isn't anywhere near over yet. Mark my words, Brynden's quest for blood and vengeance will bite him in the ass if he doesn't rein in his temper.

>>3624641
>>3624678
I think you have the makings of a point but it's really the luck of the draw on this sort of thing.
If it bugs you that much, we can make a point of rewarding Haldan's family for his sacrifice saving goodest boy, and I'm sure the rest would support that.

>>3624678
I do feel we are more fortunate than our allies at times but none of this has been cause by our temper.

>>3624645
Stop raging it's true we'll have to address deaths of people in the service of house malroy or resentment shall foster. Ask Barbrey Dustin, or Rohanne Webber.

Ser Silas Langward sits in the corner of the tent, his hands in fetters though otherwise untouched. You give him a passive look that he returns with little emotion of his own. Did he regret what had been done you wonder? The death of so many? He certainly did not seem to care with the look on his face, or the fact that he hadn’t even fought. What would Ser Dontos do with him?

“Have the lot beheaded and burned,” Ser Quentin Banefort says, obviously angry, “My squire, my brother’s boy, lies dead because of these treasonous fucks.”

“They surrendered,” Ser Thom says, “Ain’t no good man gonna look down on this day and say we were in the right for killing willful prisoners.”

“Shut your bloody yap you lowborn shit,” Ser Quentin snaps back, “Why the fuck does he even get a say in this Black Knight?”

Ser Dontos looks at the Heir of Banefort with a held tongue, the man had been nothing but disrespectful since this had begun. And it was no secret that Ser Dontos had little regard for the men of the Westerlands. He hardly touches upon the subject instead moving on to the map upon the table.

“Ser Quentin, you and Lord Plumms men will ride out ahea and attempt to find the archers that escape before they are able to join with the rest of the Langward army to the north,” he says bluntly, “Ser Thom, taking your heavy infantry and the archers and return to Blacksaithe, reenforce the garrison. Victus you will go with him.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he says, his voice hard, “You did your part here, and you did it well. But you are battered and worn, your father would not forgive me if you were to gain further harm in Steadhold. Return and see the Maester at once. Is this understood?”

You rubbed at the swelling upon your cheek, feeling where some of the skin had broken and blood had dried, you were otherwise fine but tired, so incredibly tired and your mind was still trying to catch up to what else had happened. Your mind returns to your red lace, would it still be there you wondered, fluttering upon the end of your arrow stuck fast into the body of a man you did not know?

“Squire. Answer.”

“I- Yes Ser, I understand.”

“Good,” Ser Dontos says and turns back to the rest, “I will lead the Malroy and Chelsted infantry back myself. We will be begin our march upon the evening.”

“And what of your captives?” Ser Quentin spits, “I ain’t leaving it alone ‘til their bloody well and dead Malroy.”

Dontos looks at him with hard eyes, steeled with anger but disciplined with restraint.

What to do with the Captives?

Ser Silas Langward
>Imprison him at Blacksaithe (Dontos decides what to do with him)
>Imprison him at Steadhold (Brynden decides what to do with him)
>Execute him now
>Other? (Please specify)

Trained Langward Infantry I
>Imprison them at Blacksaithe (Dontos decides what to do with them)
>Imprison them at Steadhold (Brynden decides what to do with them)
>Execute them now
>Other? (Please specify)

Proposed Military Split:
Returning to Steadhold
>Ser Dontos Malroy
>Ser Quentin Banefort
>Trained Infantry (Malroy), Trained Infantry(Longwaters), Veteran Personal Guard (Banefort), Trained Scouts (Plumm), Green Infantry & Trained Infantry (Chelsted)

Garrisoning Chelsted
>Ser Thom ‘of Thornton’
>Victus Waters
>Trained Heavy Infantry & Green Archers (Chelsted)

Split Agreement?
>Yay
>Neigh

>>3624704
I'm leaning towards Imprisoning Silas at Blacksaithe while having the men sent to the wall?

>>3624704
>Split Agreement?
>>Yay

Ser Silas Langward
>>Imprison him at Blacksaithe (Dontos decides what to do with him)
Trained Langward Infantry I
>>Imprison them at Steadhold (Brynden decides what to do with them)
Split Agreement?
>Neigh
Seems too little could be at risk

>>3624704
>Imprison him at Blacksaithe (Dontos decides what to do with him)
>Execute them now
We have to give Banefort something to appease him for now and we are unlikely to get any ransom for them.
>Yay

>>3624704

>Imprison him at Blacksaithe (Dontos decides what to do with him)

He's a targ loyalist, I think Dontos would prefer to deal with him himself, be it the wall or some other punishment. Depends on how much Silas knows about Dontos and the red door.

>Imprison them at Blacksaithe (Dontos decides what to do with them)

Again, it can be a teaching point for the more calm Victus as he learns how battle is done honorably in Westeros.

>Yay

>>3624704
>>Imprison him at Blacksaithe (Dontos decides what to do with him)
>>Imprison them at Steadhold (Brynden decides what to do with them)
>>Yay

>>3624704
>Execute him now
Fair compromise and he really does deserve it. He turned down his chance at the Black.
Trained Langward Infantry I
>Imprison them at Blacksaithe (Dontos decides what to do with them)
Split Agreement?
>Yay

Alright looks like we're going with:

Ser Silas Langward
>Imprison him at Blacksaithe (Dontos decides what to do with him)

Split Agreement?
>Yay

But we're very split on the Langward Infantry. How about this, we literally split them, half to Blacksaithe, half to Steahold, and Ser Quentin gets his appeasement by executing the Captain of the company? Sound good?

>>3624739
Sounds good

>>3624739
Yay.

>>3624739
I can get behind this

>>3624739
works for me

>>3624739
Works.

“Ser Thom, take Ser Silas here with you to Blacksaithe, as well as half of the infantrymen under his command,” Ser Dontos says, ignoring Ser Quentin for now, “I will take the other for my nephew to do with as he sees fit.”

You watch as Ser Quentin looks ready to burst with anger before Ser Dontos speaks again.

“Ser Quentin if it will quell your anger take the Captain of their company and have him executed. The man has no worth at ransom and it will send the message you so desire.”

The Heir of Banefort looks over Ser Dontos before crossing his arms, his face still riddled with annoyance, he speaks but gruffly, “So be it,” and leaves the tent allowing Ser Dontos and Ser Thom a chance to relax.

“That man is nothing but anger,” Ser Silas says from his fetters within the corner.

“Enough,” Ser Dontos responds, “Ser Thom, take him and have him and the other men ready to travel with you to Blacksaithe. Victus, go tell the respective Captains to be ready for their march upon my order.”

“Yes Ser,” the two of you respond. Ser Thom leaves first, his hand firmly upon the shoulder of Ser Silas who barely resists the push. You linger a moment longer and watch as Ser Dontos slumps into his chair. He hadn’t even a scratch upon him. His plate still shined as it always did, no doubt you’d end up scouring and polishing it when he returned to Blacksaithe regardless though. Leaving off you wander through the battlefield, finding the Captains and informing of their orders. There yet still remains a number dead about the field, unclaimed and unchecked. You pause a moment to watch a few Langly men digging a ditch before being executed after dumping the bodies of their comrades in to the shallow grave.

Ser Quentin has decided to make it rather large show of the execution of the Captain of the company of infantrymen. He looks sallow and thin, his face was white and he did not resist but instead blubbered and cried as a craven would. When Ser Quentin’s greatsword falls and beheads the man a great roar of applause comes up from the gathered men from all sides. But you leave wordlessly. You find Captain Jon ‘Painter’ amongst the corpses of the Chelsted Archers, trying to find an old friend he claims before leaving off with Ser Dontos’ orders.

The others are randomly about and by the time you find them most have begun to gather and the field is little more than dirt and mud with bodies still about here and there. You look over it again before mounting Redsong and spurring him on to join Ser Thom and his host but from the corner of your eye you see the red lace, still fluttering in the wind. It remains tangled up within the fletching of the arrow you had fired, still stuck inside the man you had killed. You stare at it for awhile, mind unsure of where it wished to stop. It had been a gift, a beloved one even. Leaving it here would dishonour that gift, the woman who gave it to you. But also it was an item of comfort, from a time before innocence had been lost, before war, your father thought it was time for you to become a man perhaps it was time to move on.

Your eyes alight at the touch of the sun, and you feel the sting of tears in the corners of your eyes. Yet still you stared at it.

The Red Lace
Please note this vote will influence Victus’ personality in the future
>Retrieve it (More empathetic and sentimental)
>Leave it behind (More hardened and resolved)

>>3624806
>>Retrieve it (More empathetic and sentimental)

>>3624806
>>Leave it behind (More hardened and resolved)

>>3624806
>>Retrieve it (More empathetic and sentimental)

>>3624806
>Retrieve it (More empathetic and sentimental)

Best boy must stay Best boy

>>3624806
>>Retrieve it (More empathetic and sentimental)

This is me >>3624744

>>3624806
>Leave it behind (More hardened and resolved)

>>3624806
Retreive it.

I just about wanted to throw up at the thought of Victus killing some poor man with no knowlege of his name or face or if he even deserved it. A whole life snuffed out just like that. The rapist however I was cheering at seeing that fucktard get skewered. I don't think Victus is the kind of person that could just engage in that kind of meatgrinder and think nothing of it.

>>3624840
>>3624806

Say a prayer for that guy we killed as well.

You could not leave it. No, it was too important. A man you were to be but you would not lose yourself to war and anger in becoming one. You Redsong over and he stamps impatiently at the ground which you soothe with a gentle pat, “Just a moment boy. Need to get something,” you say dismounting with a slide and carefully picking your way over to the body.

Pausing you look at him, the arrow still stuck in his shoulder, it had ruptured out near his heart and you assume that is what killed him. Your stomach feels knotted again, and queasy. He was a man. A man with no name. Did he have a family? Children? Brothers? Sisters? He looked just a man, a man of the Crownlands pressed to service by his Lord. And yet here he was dead. By your own hand. You let out a breath and hold your nose as you untangle the red lace from the fletching of the arrow and palm it close to your heart after retrieving it. This man would be left out for the crows you think. He wouldn’t be buried. Nor returned home. His body eaten by birds and beasts. It made you sick to realize what had been done by your hand. He was a man. A man.

Your lips move in silent prayer as you stand over him. Alone in your own world for the moment before reaching out and closing his eyes with a gentle touch. You hoped the Stranger would see fit to guide him in the next life. That the Mother would look after his family. That the Father would see to it that justice would be done to those that forced this man to his death. And last of all you asked his forgiveness. This was the truth of life. Of war. Death. And though naive of the world you might be, death you knew.

You remount Redsong and press into him, holding back the sting of wildfire from your eyes as you meet with Ser Thom, hand still pressed firmly against your heart. He gives you a curt nod and your host begins its way towards Blacksaithe. You cast your eyes back a moment, watching Ser Dontos and his own return to your father’s home to Steadhold. You wished him the best, a prayer to the Warrior to guide his hand so that this may sooner be done and your father, Lady Obella, and Lorelei would be safe again. You wonder what will occur, if more will die that served your father.

Next Thread POV for the Siege of Steadhold
>Lord Brynden Malroy
Leading the charge with Ser Jaime Lannister to break the siege. The most likely to get to Ser Lestor Langward. The hammer.
>Ser Mason Flowers
Leading the defense of Steadhold with Ser Tygon Reynold’s help. Will oversee the opening of the siege, command the defense, and interact with Ser Tygon Reynold more.
>Ser Dontos Malroy
Leading the remaining Malroy and Chelsted forces in the Princewood to prevent any Langward, Langly or Blounts escaping the Siege once Brynden’s forces break them. The anvil.

>>3624894
>>Lord Brynden Malroy
>Leading the charge with Ser Jaime Lannister to break the siege. The most likely to get to Ser Lestor Langward. The hammer.


>You Redsong over and he stamps impatiently at the ground
Just redsong'ing on over.
Seriously though that was really moving.

>Ser Mason Flowers
Leading the defense of Steadhold with Ser Tygon Reynold’s help. Will oversee the opening of the siege, command the defense, and interact with Ser Tygon Reynold more.

Ser Mason is the only character whose eyes we haven't seen through, and I'm rather curious to see the world through a more experienced and wordly bastards eyes after seeing Victus' naivety.

>>3624894
>>Ser Mason Flowers

>>3624894
>Lord Brynden Malroy

>>3624894
>>Ser Mason Flowers

>>3624910 makes a good point, I'm curious about Mason.

>>3624894
>>Ser Mason Flowers
Gotta get that sweet sweet angry as shit Tygon screentime

>>3624894
>>Ser Mason Flowers

File: MasonFlowers.jpg (528 KB, 1000x795)

528 KB JPG

Oh I forgot. Victus gains a Destiny Point for that last scene. I should probably upgrade him to a PC rather than a Secondary Character.

Alright looks like we're going to go with Ser Mason's POV during the Siege of Steadhold.

Anyway, I did say today was going to be a shorter session. But I feel like it was a good thread all the same. So...

[End Chapter LVI.i]

However, tomorrow the plan is to run another smaller session with Victus' POV in Blacksaithe. We'll meet some of his friends, and he'll train in the yard against some of the other squires, and do other amazing things. I need some time to prepare for the Siege of Steadhold from, I have to do the Battle simulation and write up some stuff for Tygon and what have you. This is the biggest battle I've ever done so I won't be 100% ready tomorrow for it.

I hope everyone enjoy the first part of the Victus POV. I enjoyed his votes. I had forgotten how well characters get played and the sort of love that Victus got for just being such a great kid. So yeah. Thank you all for playing as always. I'll be in the thread for a bit as I update stuff, so any questions or what not feel free to ask.

Next thread is Thursday, 4th July at 3PM EST.

>>3624992
>running a thread on July 4th
You're a brave QM but okay I'm down for it.

>>3624992
Good thread Dad, playing as Victus is fun as hell. I'm curious to hear your own thoughts on my points of our allies potentially being bitter about our rising star at what may potentially be viewed as their own expense. Is there any merit to the thought or am I just worrying for nothing?

>>3624992
Thanks for running wardad. Would ya really have had victus be a mini guts?

>>3624998
I feel like most of my audience won't mind one way or another. I do have a lot non-USA people I've noticed.

>>3625104
I don't really see where the concern stems from honestly. The Hayford thing already happened and that decision had repercussions, as should have been expected. Ser Haldan died because he had to take on three different units and it just ended up catching up to him. He's the only reason more people didn't die when the left flank broke. Jon and Lucas were squires with him and have been friends for years so they'll be sad, but we're in a very war heavy period right now. And Haldan being the first major person they've left isn't horrible considering they've only ever contributed him and his unit. People are going to die, can't help that. The Chelsteds are coming out of this really well all things considered. A lot of their troops were Green or Trained and they're moving up pretty well now with being bloodied. And Ser Dontos gains a better loyal ally with Ser Thom performing so well and the Heavy Infantry gaining. The Qorgyles lost a lot during the Trial, but little during the wars they've helped with. So... Not really?

I'm not going to punish you guys for RNG when it comes to the survivor rolls, and almost everyone knows that the Malroys are a highly martial and militaristic House. When the Chelsteds allied with you it was because Alexes needed a strong military power to lean on. As did the Crackclaw Point Lords. They gain just as much from House Malroy becoming stronger and will expect them to help in future with their own conflicts. It just happens that not a lot of people have died from our camp yet. I'm sure some will die during the Siege. Hell I'm not mentioning every single person that died here either.

I feel like this comes up every time a named character dies. And we forget about the named characters that have died while part of the Malroy army.

>>3625116
It would have been a hoot to play at least.

>>3625208
Alright cool. I just look around and see alot of our allies getting some shit luck from what could be seen as one mans bid for vengeance, and after the Hayford thing I just worry about losing our other allies. But with that, I'll leave it lie going forward knowing I'm just being paranoid.

>>3625208

I wasn't one of the paranoid people, but we really do need to reward Haldan's family after Brynden hears about him saving our sons fragile maidenhood from a lipless rapist. The Tyrell deal requires us to expand our warhorse herds and will then tie up our Extrodinary production and our warhorse production when it goes into effect, but our current extraordinary steeds aren't being used for anything. Maybe send our next one to the Longwaters as a gift?

>>3625265
I mean it doesn't hurt to make sure you maintain good relations with your allies. The biggest is obviously economic might and trade after the war is done. Also rewarding those that have aided you with titles, lands, and gifts(i.e. horses). Also rebuilding both sides after with marriages is also a good plan. And most obviously is when your allies call upon you to lend them aid, ex. the Longwaters and their pirates, you come in force and without question, as they have for you. You can screw the pooch in the future by not having their backs, but so far Bryndne seems like he looks after his own.

>>3625266
Well he was a Rambton, not a Longwaters. If you want to make it up to anyone, you'd speak to the current Knight of Rambton as he was his son. A man you don't even know.

Also we're really assuming a lot of Victus' storytelling here. He wasn't even sure what the plans were with taking his pants off. And if anything the story would be about stabbing, running, and a good and true knight saving him.

I don't know where this kick of we need to reconcile with every single person's family whose family has died during the war has come from lately but it's very needless. Obella dealt with the Daynes. Jon and Lucas will likely deal with Haldan. Brynden dealt with Wesley.

>>3625285
I'm not coming from a position of panic or paranoia or anything, I just wanted to do something nice for the Longwaters and Rambtons. To me Brynden has always cared a lot about making sure his bros were well cared for.

>>3625285
Fair enough. In all honesty I wasn't that worried about Ser Rambton, but more worried about the Longwaters having their veteran men get knocked down to trained. Everything else was more down to speculation at our allies potentially getting jealous about our rather meteoric rise in military strength in a very short time span. But if we're going to be given some opportunities to help out our smaller friends and show them we are loyal in return, I can sleep easy!

>>3624894
>Lord Brynden Malroy
Leading the charge with Ser Jaime Lannister to break the siege. The most likely to get to Ser Lestor Langward. The hammer.

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>>3625406
Oh. I didn't refresh. This is fine. Just fine.

>>3624610
>There was no one to call. No one to hear your voice having finally caught up to you, the tears in your eyes welling up, a child upon the field of battle having watched so many men die already. By the time someone finally reaches you, you turn, cheeks stained with tears to find Ser Haldan’s lifeless body staring out towards the Princewood. Not even towards home.
Jesus, Dad. Made me tear up a little there.

>>3624894
>Lord Brynden Malroy
Generally not a big fan of other POV's so I'll vote to get back to Brynden.
Thanks for running, dad!

>>3624894
>>3624910
>Ser Mason Flowers
I would also like to read about the siege from Ser Mason's perspective.

>>3624894
>Lord Brynden Malroy

>>3624894
>>Ser Dontos Malroy

>>3624894
>Ser Mason Flowers
>Leading the defense of Steadhold with Ser Tygon Reynold’s help. Will oversee the opening of the siege, command the defense, and interact with Ser Tygon Reynold more.

"IS THIS ALL YOU CAN CONJURE SAR OH MAN?!"

Hey guys I'm having some internet trouble, on mobile right now. Technician wont be able to come until tomorrow so I don't think I'll be running today. Unless it suddenly starts working again, not sure what's up. I'll keep you guys updated. I'm sorry about that.

>>3626515
RIP. Guess we will just have to wait for Reynold.

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>>3626515
just go to a café with wifi

pls fren

>>3626515
That's annoying. Hope it gets fixed soon.
It was too good to be true anyway

And Reynold has also delayed. We truely are cursed

>>3624894
>Lord Brynden Malroy

>>3626900
Scratch that
>Ser Mason Flowers

Father. We need a Lorelei PoV!

>>3628311
It would be like playing a cunning 2 fighting character.
>Wake up
>Smell coming from pants
>Hungry and perhaps a little cranky
>Roll an easy memory test from page 61 to recall who rules the lands you're on and what their names are. DC 3.
>Snake eyes
>Time to brood
Incidentally, this explains the years or ??? in Bordain and Grallner.

>>3628360
Are you implying that Bordain and Grallner are both a few months old little girl from the Crownlands ?

>>3628372
In some ways, sure. I do miss Grallner though. So much is unresolved that could be tied up very neatly in another 10-20 threads. It was really nice to see him get (or commission, at least) some proper armor and start to find his place in the world. I was looking forward to dealing with the impending challenges with the waifu situation.
The only thing I think I would change would be adding the combat defense penalty from armor back in. That way Landon can actually be hit and we don't have to resort to dragonball-z power ups for opponents just to keep the tension in place. That tends to feel too artificial. I'd hate to stifle an eye roll because FINAL BOSS with Jamie stats has to get rolled out for the end of the next tourney just because people can't hit us with the normal plate penalty gone.

Alright so technician still hasnt arrived. A lot going on today. Sorry guys, I'll maybe pop back to the other half of the thread some other day. It was mostly just fluff and slice of life Victus stuff. So nothing too crazy to miss. But again, sorry. I know my running has been less than ideal.

Anyway, next thread, where we'll be doing the Mason POV, will be Thursday, 11 July at 2PM EST. Thank you for reading as always.

>>3628757
Meh just glad ya are letting us know Father. Sucks to hear but what can ya do?

>>3625465
Just caught up, yeah this thread was weirdly emotional. That's not what I wanted from a Victus POV dad! You son of a bitch!

Hey all, getting ready for the continuation as we speak. Opening post is a bit long so I might not start until 230 PM EST. But I'm here and we're doing it today. Be with you in a moment.

>>3647961
yay. I still get nervous when ever we get close to run time with whatever or not it is gonna happen

>>3647961
Based

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>>3647961

>>3647961
I'm really happy we get to run today!

>>3647961
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0Zmy5JZ0PI

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Ser Mason Flowers ‘of the Reach’
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/16Gd5UGyI-uo0-8TAKQJCrDJOLcVXPcuwfZqwPdrsWTY/edit?usp=sharing

Day 11, Month IX - 285AC ~ Midday

“Ser Mason?”

“Yes Acolyte Ashby?”

“A letter has arrived, Ser Dontos and his host has smashed the Langward army that had intended to take Blacksaithe,” Ashby says, inclining his head towards Lady Alexes Chelsted who sat at the table in Ser Dontos’ old war room alongside her son and the current Lord of Blacksaithe, Rodner and his friend and the youngest son of the now dead Ser Raymun, Jarold Chelsted. She smiles and seems to let out a small breath but still holds herself up at full, the tension upon the air here in Steadhold was near palpable. The two boys chatter idly, though Rodner flinches when Jarold begins to speak excitedly of his brother’s success upon the Violet Plains. The boy would need to find his nerve soon, it did you no good to have a weak Lord and ally to the west.

“Losses?”

“Minimal Ser. The Longwaters infantry suffered the most, Ser Haldan Rambton fell in combat,” Ashby responds after a moment, “He also captured a Ser Silas Langward. It would appear he willingly surrendered and is being sent to Blacksaithe as he turns his host back towards Steadhold. He captured a number of horses as well, and has sent the Malroy Second Regiment ahead, likely they will arrive soon enough to aid in the defense.”

You sigh slightly, and nod him off, taking the letter from his hands and adding it to the one that Brynden had sent two days prior. You turn and step towards the table, Lord Tygon Reynold stands over a map of Steadhold. Idly flicking at a quill as he considers the field once again.

“The additional infantry will be welcomed,” he says after a moment, clearing his throat and adding another golden horse marker to the map close to the Godsgate, he looks between yourself and Lady Alexes, before speaking again, “It would appear my nuncle spoke true, Ser Dontos is not a man to trifle with lightly. I am glad to hear of his success and that Lady Alexes’ home is safe.”

“No he is not,” you say pointedly, causing Lord Tygon’s face to tick slightly into a brief frown that he wears for a moment longer than he likely should. You had gained measure of the man over the last few days, he was not the monster that Brynden’s anger had cast him as, but he was prickly with pride and his honour had been more than wounded at Ser Jaime Lannister’s war council. Not to mention the death of his cousin, Ser Cardyn Lantell, and the dishonor that he had put upon his name and family in Highgarden had stuck at the man hard. The way he stared at the map with such intensity you thought it quick to catch a light had he been Brynden, spoke to his truer intentions. He meant to reclaim this title of ‘Saviour of Steadhold’, and save not one family’s honour but two.

Lord Tygon snaps his fingers and a boy in the livery of House Lantell comes up behind him, Caleb Lantell you had learned, the son of the current Knight of Lantell Manor in Lannisport. The man points at several of the markers on the map explaining himself to the boy and seemingly to the rest of the table as well, and though the boy looked bored beyond belief you took interest in the Westermen’s notes and thoughts.

“You see here Caleb,” he says pointing towards the northern most wall of Steadhold, the only that was read to see siege and war, “Here is our strongest point. We man the walls with crossbows, archers, and Lord Malroy’s arbalesters. As well as a number of Lord Plumm’s engineers and the spitfires.”

“But what if they reach the wall Ser Tygon?” the boy asks.

He casts his eyes up towards you and brings upon another marker, “Then Ser Mason and the infantry will throw them back, interspersed along the wall.”

“And where we will be?”

“Here,” Lord Tygon says with a soft laugh, pointing at the three markers upon the castle proper’s wall, “We will be the second line of defense should the curtain wall fall. The scorpion will be here as well. With again more archers and a bristling defense. They won’t know what hit them.”

“Though it remains moot,” you say, gaining his and Lady Alexes’ attention, your voice resounding in the war room, “Your plan does not account for them to actually attack Steadhold’s walls Lord Tygon.”

“Ser. Ser Tygon,” he says without much of a beat, “My father is still Lord. Sickly as he may be. I am no Lord yet.”

Lady Alexes bats at his arm playfully, the white gloves she wore hardly leaving a mark, “Do not be so modest Lord Tygon,” she says firmly, “You carry yourself as Lord. You are to be Lord. And you will be a fine Lord. Ser Mason only confers upon you the due respect you have earned. Is that not right Ser Lorcan?”

The Knight that had come with the Reynolds and now stood over Lady Alexes and her son as their sworn shield and protector nods thoughtfully, his plate armour seemingly roasting him alive in the sweltering heat of the summer. Lady Alexes inclines her head with a smile and a rise of her eyebrows towards Ser Tygon, and he softens slightly.

“Thank you Lady Alexes, Ser Lorcan. Apologies Ser Mason. I forget myself,” he says his eyes remaining upon you, “And yes you are correct. They should never even reach Steadhold’s walls. Acolyte Ashby would you pen a return letter to Ser Dontos? Inform him to spread his men out along the western bank of the God’s Eye River. Beyond sight within the Princewood, I very much doubt any man that flees the breaking of the Siege will attempt to ford it. But they will be left with little recourse once Lord Brynden and my brother are done with them.”

Sitting across from him you crack your knuckles and lift the black rose marker that denoted yourself, and finger it slightly before placing it along the curtain wall once again. Ser Tygon and yourself had agreed to split command, you had always been more for one along the front lines, commanding your men alongside them, you had command of the wall’s defense and the infantry that would march out to finish the Langward host after Brynden had smashed it to pieces. Whereas Ser Tygon appeared more the type to lead from behind, he could fight in a pinch but he preferred to orchestrate, to watch the ever changing and evolving battlefield and respond in real time. You chuckle at the thought, so different he was from Brynden yet the two remained equals in terms of skill at warfare, simply different outlooks and philosophies of war.

“The plan remains, as it had been, exceptional Lord Tygon,” you say, “That it has gone so well thus far is a true testament to your strategy.”

He gives you a half queer look, though his chest swells with pride, as poorly as he hides it, “I could not take credit for it, Lord Brynden, Ser Jaime, and Ser Dontos have all executed to the letter.”

“Take the compliment Lord Tygon,” Lady Alexes says with an admonishing look, “Ser Mason does not give them lightly. My Lord-Husband speaks very highly of the Knight of Blackbridge Tower, you would do his words a disservice?”

Lord Tygon pauses for a moment to search Lady Alexes’ face, and you can tell the to had become quite well acquainted over the past week or so, the Lady Chelsted had her way with words. And you had done your best to avoid her ire or gaze, Brynden seemed to revel in the playfulness of it, though you knew she never spoke without purpose.

“Thank you Ser Mason,” he says after a moment, “I only hope to see this finished. And Steadhold saved once more.”

A light lunch has begun to appear before you as the three of you spoke, chilled wine and fruits and nuts. Alongside a cheese that appeared to be half melted already but Lady Obella’s chef had insisted was its intended appearance. The boys are ravenous in their appetite though Rodner shuns the fruits and only goes for the cheese after his mother insists. She turns to Lord Tygon and speaks to him plainly.

“I do hope his pickiness will be no issue Lord Tygon. My sweet little Lord does not appreciate fruit or vegetables of yet. I will be sure to send along a list of his favorite suppers for your cooks.”

Lord Tygon laughs slightly and shakes his head, “If that is to be my greatest challenge in squiring the boy then I will make him twice the Knight my goodbrother, Ser Mervyn, is.”

You tilt your head with a look of confusion and Lady Alexes picks up on it rather quickly speaking to you with a hand over your hand and a hushed tone, “Lord Tygon and I have come to an agreement that Rodner and Jarold will be squired in Ember Peak. I think it best for the boys to have some peace during this time of strife and war and Lord Tygon is a military mind beyond reproach with several highly skilled and talented Knights at his service,” she casts an eye towards Rodner who seems unawares, “He needs to find himself as the Lord he can be. Not the scared boy who still hides behind his mother’s skirts he is now. Lord Tygon will see to it, I am certain of it.”

Lord Tygon’s pride seems to have won the day, the look upon his face brimming with it and his chest puffed out. You had little inclination towards opinion on the matter, nodding after a moment, allowing Lady Alexes to pat your hand with her own smile. But you wondered how Brynden would take it or Ser Dontos. Lady Alexes was a shrewd and intelligent woman you knew, and often she would account for the two’s opinions on such things, but this seemed entirely her own. Getting into bed with a Lannister bannerman was the play under the new Baratheon regime, but it stuck at you poorly. Your half-brother and the Tyrells at large seemed poised to make such a play as well, though if you knew half as well as you thought, it was Lady Olenna who pulled that string. You tap your fingers slightly, chewing over the thought with rye bread and washing it down with the cool wine that had come from the Riverlands.

The topic of the table changes to Lord Tygon’s prowess upon the field, of which he becomes less and less modest of as Lady Alexes speaks to it. Eventually you begin to speak of the Rebellion. Lord Tygon recounting his time as a member of the grand Lannsiter host that had swept in from the west and betrayed the King and Brynden’s family. Oddly he seems to forget the Reyne-Tarbeck Rebellion, or assumedly he does not speak to it given his family’s side during it. He speaks highly of Lord Tywin, the way he framed it seemingly that no man could even begin to touch his tactical acumen or stratagem.

“And yet Lord Randyll Tarly gave the current King his only loss,” you add, causing Lord Tygon to stop mid bite and fix you with a look, “With Ser Dontos’ help I might add. Nay Lord Tygon, I would wager upon it that Lord Tarly holds the distinction of the most talented battlefield commander of our time. Lord Tywin only saw fit to join the battle once it had been won. The sleeping lion of the west only rousing itself once it had been made clear the victor of the conflict and the Crown Prince lie dead. The Sack of King’s Landing should be a tarnish upon his legacy, given the atrocities that were committed. Not to mention the Seven Hells that had been unleashed within these very walls.”

The room has gone quiet, Lord Tygon’s face icy and cold again, his pride having been pricked and deflated. You cared little for the man’s stupid pride, whereas Brynden would be inciteful and hateful you only spoke truths. Pure fact laid upon the table for all to see. There was no honour here.

“The West marched out to do what was right, Ser Mason,” he begins, “I left Ember Peak to obey my liege lords orders, and when scouts reported that they had found this castle under siege, I approached Lord Tywin for the honour to lift it. I know Lord Brynden’s younger brother in passing, and my goodbrother was friends with him. Together, we smashed the Stormlords that sat outside of Steadhold and it was... glorious.”

“And yet now he lies dead.”

Lord Tygon’s knuckles had gone white as he gripped his knife, his irritation clear, “As I have said before Ser Mason. I left onwards to King’s Landing shortly afterwards, but only after ensuring the people of Steadhold were fed and clothed, and left some of my best men and my brother here, under the command of Lord Dresden Drox to ensure that this castle would be protected. And as Ser Jaime pointed out, the orders from Tywin were to secure the castle and heir, not slaughter and sack it. What happened within these walls was a tragedy Ser, and I mourn for the good people of Steadhold Lord Brynden’s brother as much as the next.”

“Is that why you find yourself here now Lord Tygon?” you ask pointedly, allowing the words to linger upon the air, it was rare you found yourself as this, roused and annoyed, “To refind what honor had been lost following the Sack? To mourn? Do you not think these halls have seen enough of that? Or do you, like Lord Drox, only come to relive the greatest of your moments?”

Lord Tygon’s eyes break with your own, anger upon his face clear, or perhaps shame, you could not say in truth, he speaks, his voice a monotone tenor, “"Lord Dresden has paid for his treachery with his life, even if it was long in the coming. It was him who...who ordered the Sack, not myself. Nor my liege lord. Do you understand Ser? I fought with honour, led my men to victory and did as I was commanded… Nothing more… Nothing less. And I intend to do the same here again,” he stands, placing his tablecloth down upon his plate softly and taking a deep measured breath, before looking at you once more, his face wrought with annoyance and anger, “I would beg forgiveness Ser Mason, Lady Alexes. I find myself having lost my appetite. Good day.”

The man leaves off, not in a huff, filled with anger as Brynden would have, but with poise and dignity, the type that a man whose honour had been wounded would hold himself to. Lady Alexes clears her throat, gently smoothing Rodner’s hair as he leans into her side.

“I do not find that necessary Ser Mason,” she says, “The man is a good sort. He had nothing to do with the atrocities that occurred here.”

You lean back slightly, picking at a grape, “Of that I am aware,” you state, “But the man’s pride and slighted honour still drives him. Steadhold doesn’t need another man to mourn.”

“You say that as if Lord Malroy’s pride and anger does not drive him,” she responds after a moment, “Do you truly think you friend would stop if the people he once saved saw him as a monster? I cannot find any difference between Lord Tygon’s desire to reclaim his family’s honor and Lord Brynden’s desire to appear a good Lord. They are both men that have been wronged, many times over, and yet the two cannot see how similar they truly are as the bicker and stare daggers at one another. I had hoped you would see such as well.”

Lady Alexes bids leave not long after and you shift backwards in your seat, your own annoyance at the situation lingering upon your mind. The words had been unnecessary. He had done as he was ordered, as you have a hundred times before. But you would be damned if the man only found purpose in being here to reclaim his honor. You let out a breath and run your hand through your hair, casting an eye back towards Clay, your squire as he stood idly, fidgeting with his fingernails.

“Come Clay, let us see to the horses,” you say, the boy’s face coming alive at the thought.

---

Horsemaster Gawen was perhaps the most brazenly stubborn common-born man you had ever met in your life. The way he spoke to Brynden was not without the due respect he was owed, but it was always with the hilarious undertone of, ‘I will do as I damn well please, milord’. The man now stood about with several of the Malroy’s rare bloodline. Watching as one of the lads rides them about and taking notes. You hail him after a moment, and he gives you a stiff nod before half walking and half limping his way over to you at the fence, cursing half the while.

“Milord,” he says simply, offering his hand that you take, Seven had had the grip of a man three times his junior.

“How fares the herd Gawen,” you ask simply.

“Well enough,” he says with a sniffle looking back at them, “I ain’t no master of war milord. But I ain’t liking the words I’m hearing about the castle. Last time Steadhold let their besiegers set up camp half my damn horses ended up on a dinner platter. Stock can’t take a hit like that again, prayin’ to the Seven Lord Reynold does as he did before.”

You give the man a half cocked look, having forgotten he had survived the Sack of Steadhold, and saved the Malroy bloodline as well. You ask, “What do you make of the man Gawen?”

Gawen spits some sourleaf upon the ground, taking more from a pouch on his side to chew on as he spoke with you, “Ain’t my place to judge a Lord. But far as I’m concerned, and my boys, and my horses, the man’s good. He saved us once, hells I called him the Saviour of Steadhold for a time meself. Not his fault shit went to hell once he left,” he spits, “Lord Drox got his. Don’t know for sure who else had anything to do with it, but I’m sure they got theirs. Plan to give him a horse, if I can get Lord Malroy to sign off on it. Ain’t likely but I know the score.”

You give him a slight noise going to speak again before being cut off by the sound of warhorns, the two of you freeze. One call, two calls, and then a final third, droning on for a minute. Three calls for the enemies are in sight. Gawen looks at you, spits, and then limps off, yelling and hollering for the boys to get the horses into the stables. You look down and see Clay’s face a mask of horror you kneel down, placing a hand upon his shoulder, “Clay. Run to the castle. You do as we practiced.”

The boy nods hurriedly and turns on his heel, almost tripping over himself as he runs. As for yourself you go to find your horse, Rosemond, and mount up. Pressing her hard to the Godsgate beneath the castle. As you ride down the slight hill you begin to see an army on the horizon, traveling down the God’s Eye River Road in a lumbering fashion but with a number of horses and outriders ahead of them. Again the warhorn blares, three calls and you press harder into your horse.

---

Mors the Marsher hands you his far-eyes, leaning on his bow and you peer through it to see the bulk of the Langward army coming ever closer to Steadhold’s northern wall. A line of horses had already stopped within a reasonable distance of the castle. Almost six score you guessed. The army would be arriving a day earlier than had been estimated, and you scratch at the scar upon your temple in thought.

“Curtis!” you call, and the bastard of the Reach comes down the line to you with a short nod, “Give ‘em a marker. Let them know we see them.”

“Aye milord,” he says, stringing his longbow and notching an arrow in quick order. He pulls to the greatest length he can manage and let’s an arrow loose at an impressive arc that lands some two hundred yards beyond the wall. Far enough it was. One of the horsemen rides up, likely fifty yards back it and dismounts to scope it up and break it, idly throwing the broken arrow on the ground, before riding back to his line.

“Well they know at least,” Curtis says with a shrug and you face the incoming army with a grim face. Brynden had been successful upon the Violet Plains but he was still a good day’s ride out. Luckily only the Loyal Bows had been patrolling the wall at the time and the spitfires and scorpion remained hidden and unmounted. So that element of surprise was still upon your side. The amount of cavalry however was far more than Lord Plumm’s scouts had reported. And the thought disconcerted you before you realized they had begun to dismount and string up their own bows. Were those the mounted men from the host that Ser Dontos had broken? Why were they here. Seven what did they know. You curse slightly under your breath, handing Mors’ far-eye back to him and turning on heel, “Have the patrols doubled by nightfall! I want reports of their progress on their siege machines every hour! See to it the Plumm engineers have the spitfires mounted under cover of night, do not light the braziers until the order is given! Steel yourself men, war has come!”

“Yes Ser!” the bowmen call back and begin to scramble about. Mors follows you down the stairs to your horse, the diminutive cragnonnman looking up to you with his old eyes before leaving off with a grunt and a nod to gather the rest of the men.

---

Day 11, Month IX - 285AC ~ Night

Lord Tygon and yourself had begun to suspect that several of the bowmen from the other host had escaped and informed Ser Lestor Langward of what had occurred. The trebuchet and their catapults had finished before dusk had settled and their army’s camp was built as siege ladders were built from the surrounding wood they could gather. They did not appear ready for a long siege, they appeared ready for war with the knowledge that the castle’s defenders were lighter than they would have been.

The Second Regiment had ridden in during the night, confirming your beliefs and now stood with you under the cover of night upon the wall, Captain Jon ‘Painter’ by your side. They had snuffled out their own fires and only the sliver of moon shone upon their camp now, leaving you almost blind. Lord Tygon had taken his place along the upper ramparts, Ser Donvor Drox and Lord Philip Plumm alongside him. Lady Alexes and Rodner were within the bowels of the castle, hidden away and protected by their own guard, or so you hoped.

Your men stood about the walls. The Loyal Bows and the Yewmen along with Vargar’s Arbalsters manned the walls, with the Second Regiment mixed between should they reach the walls. With the First Malroy and Blackflower Regiments manning the Godsgate of which you stood upon, to throw back anyone that might attack the gate directly. Their too stood the Lannister Heavy Infantry in reserve in their armour of golden lions and red hue, they were ready to take the fight to the Langwards the moment the order was given, but they were perhaps the most veteran of the footed men under your command

They had not sought out to parley, nor did they flew any banners still, but you knew they would come to war soon. The stillness of quiet night doing little to ease the tensions. Ser Dontos’ men were lagging behind, two days out almost. It gave them the chance to run before they were fully in position. Brynden was close, you had sent out your faster rider and was almost an hour ago by Ser Wat Waters having rode ahead, almost killing his horse in the process to inform you that they’d be making double time and riding through the night. Hopefully before the Langwards would attack. And you knew they would. They were desperate now. Two of their armies smashed and shattered, their commanders either captured or dead. Ser Lestor had little choi-

Their camp comes alive. Four enormous balls of fire launching from the camp at once. The men upon the walls immediately rousing in response. You have half a second to look at the field only to find hundreds of men running towards your walls with ladders in their hands and behind them a covered ram slowly moving across the field. Several of them are caught in pitfall traps, screams of pain beginning to echo throughout the night. But they didn’t reach you before the balls of fire did. But your voice reached your men first, “BRACE!”

Please roll 5D6 (4D+1B) for Warfare(Command)

I'll be taking the first four rolls on this. Then I'll be asking for a Fighting test for Mason and take the first three rolls on that.

Sorry for the late start. I was sort of struggling with giving any choices for Mason to make here, but still really wanted to include the story stuff. So I just did a massive story post and then went for the siege as I have far more for that already prepared. So yeah. Anyway! BIG SIEGE TIME.

Rolled 5, 2, 2, 3, 3 = 15 (5d6)

>>3648113

Rolled 6, 1, 1, 3, 6 = 17 (5d6)

>>3648113
That was long indeed, dad

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

>>3648113

Rolled 1, 1, 1, 1, 6 = 10 (5d6)

>>3648113
Jesus christ was a read.

>>3648127
What is wrong with you. You should be ashamed of yourself.

>>3648117
13
>>3648120
16
>>3648124
16
>>3648127
9

Big oof on that last one.

Please roll 6D6+1 [5D+1B+1(Superior)] for Fighting(Bludgeons).

>>3648136
Let's hope the 16s were enough to save us

Rolled 5, 4, 6, 1, 3, 6 + 1 = 26 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648136
>>3648139
Weird, a capitalized D in 6D6 doesn't work. You learn something new every day.

Rolled 3, 4, 3, 3, 5, 5 + 1 = 24 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648136

Rolled 6, 1, 3, 1, 3, 5 + 1 = 20 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648136

Rolled 3, 6, 6, 4, 4, 5 + 1 = 29 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648136
Oh god we're going to get Steadhold sacked again and Brynden is going to be very very upset.

>>3648144
25
>>3648147
21
>>3648150
19

Solid Mason fighting rolls. Alright writing.

Rolled 5, 3, 6, 4, 5, 5 + 1 = 29 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648136

Ser Mason Flowers’ Warfare(Command) Tests I-IV
The Loyal Bows
>Success, Two Degrees.
Vargar’s Arbalesters
>Success, Three Degrees.
The Yewmen
>Success, Two Degrees.
Malroy Second Regiment
>Success, Two Degrees.

The two of the first three rounds of catapult shot make impact into Steadhold’s curtain wall. The world shakes beneath you and as you cast an eye about you watch several of the men flung from the wall landing beneath rubble and fire. The wall stood strong and resolute, but it would not take much of this. Luckily this was the strongest of the wall, the weakest bordering the Blackwater Rush still. The third lands just short, smashing into their own men and you wonder just how much time their engineers had been given to measure their shots. The most massive of the fireballs sails over the wall and smashes into the hill beneath Steadhold proper, the impact shaking you to your core. Their men are screaming towards the walls now, the covered ram slowly picking its way across the battlefield as to avoid the pitfalls and other traps. At least that gave you enough time to deal with the current invaders. Casting an eye back you begin to search for the signal that Lord Tygon had settled upon, and when you catch the arrow arcing over Steadhold’s walls you smile, and turn again to the field closing your sallet and calling your men to arms.

Many had begun to pass Curtis’ marker now and were in the worst of the pitfalls and traps but you waited just a second longer for the rest to pass. In the background you could barely see as they had begun to reload the catapults and trebuchet for a second volley. You hoped to have ended their initial attack and retreated before they could. Your eyes watch, though strained in the night until you see the last of the laddermen pass the line. The field would soon be turned to death.

The call runs down the length of the wall and with it a fire, spreading from the Godsgate to every brazier and arrow along the length of it. Near three hundred men at once catching their arrows alive with flame, green as wildfire. Acolyte Ashby had come up with the deception, putting his two links of black iron to good use. The arrows were dipped in some concoption that when burnt turned a wild green that reminded you of Brynden’s own eyes as he fought. The spitfires are unveiled similarly, the pitch having been mixed with the chemical to give the illusion that you had spent the coin on the Pyromancers work. Casting your eyes about as the walls fill with green and illuminate the night you take the smallest of glances as the front lines of the Langward army begin to process the deception. Several drop their ladders at once, running the opposite direction, but still others persisted, the madness of Ser Lestor Langward propelling them forward to their deaths. You hold your first up, your Captains and their Lieutenants down the lines doing the same, all echoing your call of, “HOLD!”

You take a deep breath, arming yourself with your morningstar and shield. You would not let Steadhold fall. Not this night. Nor the next. You would hold. You would lead. Lead the Way. To victory. To glory.

“LOOSE!”

You call bellows through the night, echoed down the line and all at once a field of green looses into the night sky. They arc together, peaking, before hurtling towards the ground and devastating the Langward forces. The arrows skewer those unwise enough to not shield themselves, several hitting the pockets of pitch that had been hidden beneath the ground and catching ablaze with explosive results. The screams of burned men and agony reaches your ears not long after. The spitfires fire next, their range shorter but affects more devastating. Green fire begins to dance about the field and for a moment you swear as if it were true wildfire. The plains beneath the walls began to burn, pock marked by pitfalls and bodies. Yet still many pressed on. The archers fire a second volley, attempting to ward off the second wave but many have begun to reach the base of the wall, flinging anchors onto the ramparts in which to hoist themselves up with. What they had not intended was the ditch, leaving many just short and worst still the myrish crossbows. You watch Vargar stride forward as an anchor hooks on near his place upon the wall. He leans over, adjusting his kettle helm and spitting beneath them before bringing his crossbow to bare and firing off a volley of rounds in quick succession. The rest of the arbleasters begin to follow suit. Raining death upon the men beneath the walls with bolts from beyond the Narrow Sea. You watch men absolutely eviscerated by the attack, the myrish crossbow a frightful thing indeed. The other men have begun to fling rocks and whatever else they can find on the men beneath them but still the ladders begin to rise.

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack I
DC: 7
Roll: 25
>Success, Four Degrees
>Damage: 4*4=16-3AR=13
>Enemy’s Health: 13-6=-1
Results: Langward Infantryman I Dead

“TO ARMS!” you call, stepping down towards the wall from the protection of the Godsgate. You smash your morningstar into one of the anchors. Causing it to lose its grip and the ladder wobbling to the side before ultimately crashing to the ground to be peppered by bolts. The rest of the Second Regiment steps forward, their shields come to bear and an all out melee breaks out upon the walls when the first of the laddermen scramble onto the ramparts. Jon Painter smashes a man in the face with his fist as you come upon the nearest ladder and ready yourself. The next man comes up, screaming wildly before his face being torn to shreds by your morningstar finding purchase. He slums down and his body falls backward when you push it off with your shield.

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack II
DC: 7
Roll: 21
>Success, Four Degrees
>Damage: 4*4=16-3AR=13
>Enemy’s Health: 13-6=-1
Results: Langward Infantryman II Dead

A second man begins to scramble up behind him, managing to evade Jon’s sword and landing. His sword swing is wild and it rattles off your tower shield uselessly. You push back smashing the entirety of his body with your shield before opening up your guard and crushing his knee with an overhead swing of your mace. The man screams in agony, but is shut up in short order by one of your own’s blade and being flung to the ground behind the wall. You begin to hammer away at the anchor of the ladder, hoping to be able to fling it backwards before another can come up. But your eye is drawn further along the wall where a contingent of several heavily armed men have begun to come upon the wall and are slaughtering your men with ease. They looked like Knights, the first among them carrying a shield with the arms of House Massey upon them, a foolish thing. Passing a look towards Captain Jon he nods and calls his men to deal with the rest of this ladder while two of them join you at your back as you begin to move down the lines towards the Knights.

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack III
DC: 7
Roll: 19
>Success, Three Degrees
>Damage: 4*3=12-3AR=9
>Enemy’s Health: 9-6=3
Results: Langward Infantryman III Dead

Passing through several other melees you try you damnedest to not get bogged down. Another of the Langward infantry suffers for it when the edge of your shield catches him in the cut and your morningstar crashes into his face on an upward swing, his body sprindboarding backward and lying in a lump before it’s kicked off by Vargar. The Myrman aims several bolts down the line, holding his own in the melee, and manages to fire off several shots towards more ladderman before dismounting it and throwing it to the ground beneath. The braziers around you still burn with wildfire green and for the final act of the deception you smashing your morningstar into one, catching the weapon ablaze as you stare down the Massey Knight. For his part he does not budge, and you commended him upon his nerve but he was a fool to find himself across from you.

He calls two more Knights to his aid and begins to rush towards you, his longsword aloft, his voice a screaming warcry. You bring your shield to bare, and brace.

Please roll 6D6+1 [5D+1B+1(Superior)] for Fighting(Bludgeons).

>>3648286
Holy shit fake wildfire?! That's fucking punk rock, Ashby.

Rolled 4, 6, 4, 1, 4, 1 + 1 = 21 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648292

Rolled 6, 1, 2, 3, 2, 6 + 1 = 21 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648292
Best. Vacation. Ever!!

Show him what bastards are capable of Mason!!!

Rolled 5, 6, 2, 2, 4, 2 + 1 = 22 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648292
>fake wildfire
Our new Maester is fucking awesome

Rolled 2, 4, 4, 2, 2 + 1 = 15 (5d6 + 1)

>>3648292

>>3648300
20
>>3648302
20
>>3648303
20

Mason consistent af. Writing. Glad you guys liked that little surprise.

File: 451-neary_wide-8e97cfe517(...).gif (363 KB, 800x450)

363 KB GIF

>>3648303

He's truly a student of the Brynden school of sneaky dickery.

>>3648309
Straight 20's down the line seems so in-character for Mason

Oh man I just realized that the only reason that the Malroy Second Regiment managed to do so well and keep at the defense was because they got +2 training to become Elite during the battle against at the violet plains. Otherwise that 9 would have screwed us.

>>3648302
I can't imagine what Tygon is thinking right now. Look at these mad cunts.

>>3648335
by violet plains I meant blacksaithe, sorry for tripleposting

>>3648335
That roll was fantastic. Elite regiments are really something.

>>3648339
I like to think he got told about the Tom foolery beforehand to which hed absolutely have loved the idea, but if he was uninformed, probably something more like "Seven fucking hells Brynden Malroy is bat shit insane, what the fuck is he doing keep wildfire in his castle. Fucking sellswords."

>>3648388
I really hope he wasn't told. Tygon needs to be taken down a peg. Smug cunt.

>>3648086
You forgot to tweet it.

>>3648394
I tried to but twitter was down when I started. If its back up I'll tweet it now. Sorry about that.

>>3648394
To be fair, he did just run at the time he announced in advance.

Ser Rolland Massey’ Attack I
DC: 10
Roll: 19
>Success, Two Degrees
>Damage: 4*2=8-12AR=-4=0
>Enemy’s Health: 16-0=16
Results: Ser Mason Flowers’ Unharmed

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack I
DC: 7
Roll: 20
>Success, Three Degrees
>Damage: 4*3=12-10AR=2
>Enemy’s Health: 12-2=10
Results: Ser Rolland Massey Damaged, Shattering 1 activated -1 AR

His blade meets your shield, sliding across it as he pushes through the arc of his swing. A metallic ring reverberates when it comes off the edge, uselessly, harmlessly and you take your advantage. You immediately step into his guard, battering his shield with your own massive tower shield several times to push him back. The two infantrymen that flank you manage to hold their own against the Knights, not faltering when pressed as more common men would. Truly it was a sight to beyond, the men within Brynden’s army had become veterans of war, elites among their kind. His standing army was more of a threat now than it was in the dying dies of the Rebellion, and the Langwards were woefully unprepared for it. Again your shield lashes out and he stutters, his step tripped by rubble, opening his guard just enough for you to batter him down. Your morningstar arcs in an overheard strike, smashing into his shoulder and gaining purchase on the flesh beneath if the blood upon the tips of the mace and the bloody screams of the man were any indication as you ripped away, causing his pauldron to slump to the ground in a heap of useless metal. The fire bounces around him, catching onto his cloak which he frantically begins to rip from his shoulder with his good hand. He growls at you, realizing the flame is fake as it does not stick and spread and presses forward with another attack.

Ser Rolland Massey’ Attack II
DC: 10
Roll: 21
>Success, Three Degrees
>Damage: 4*3=12-12AR=0
>Enemy’s Health: 16-0=16
Results: Ser Mason Flowers’ Unharmed

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack II
DC: 7
Roll: 20
>Success, Three Degrees
>Damage: 4*3=12-9AR=3
>Enemy’s Health: 10-3=7
Results: Ser Rolland Massey Damaged, Shattering 1 activated -1 AR

You take a step back to ground yourself as he presses you with a volley of swings, most you are able to parry, slapping some away with your shield and catching others on the haft of your morningstar. Several times you manage to throw him back. Taking a step forward to maintain the gap and keep his guard open as he smash into his shield and pummel his broken armour with vicious attacks. His blade manages to find its way entirely into your guard once, but only finds itself on your breastplate, and sliding uselessly off towards your armpit.

He deigns to take a slice at the soft under area but you do not allow him the chance. Immediately your arm clamps down on the blade, shield turning slightly to dig into his overextended arm. Taking a step forward you slam your helmet into his own, causing your head to ring mercilessly but nearly knocking him to the ground, having to take a knee. You let off, his hand retracting quickly, but leaving him fully open. He hardly has a chance to see your underhand strike, the mace smashing into his gorget and chin, ripping the helmet from his face and digging deeply into his face. By now the fire has gone out, but the scratches left are black with soot and seem burned into his face. He shambles backwards, the two knights flanking him stepping in to attempt to ward you off, but the two infantrymen beside you launch their own attacks as they leave themselves open. The one two your right eats a half-handed blade to the throat, the other immediately falling on the backfoot when pressed. These men were commoners, volunteers for a former sellswords army. To see them now so easily handling Knights of quality was a wonder.

Ser Rolland Massey’ Attack III
DC: 10
Roll: 23
>Success, Three Degrees
>Damage: 4*3=12-12AR=0
>Enemy’s Health: 16-0=16
Results: Ser Mason Flowers’ Unharmed

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack III
DC: 7
Roll: 20
>Success, Three Degrees
>Damage: 4*3=12-8AR=4
>Enemy’s Health: 7-4=3
Results: Ser Rolland Massey Damaged, Shattering 1 activated -1 AR

Ser Massey has managed to bring himself back up to bare, but looked half a mess. His eyesight was surely gone in his left eye, so bloody and black it was from the spikes of your morningstar raking it. His shield is in tatters and he now holds his longsword in both hands warding off your attacks and advances as you move forward alone now. He swings at you with the fullest of his strength, screaming as he does so, the blade bouncing uselessly off of your shield several times and full out being smashed away by a swing of your mace upon the last. He stumbles backwards, his sword dragging along the ground as he attempts to brings himself to bare but instead he finds the edge of your shield in his neck, and your morningstar smashing into his side. The metal buckles and the straps break, as he rolls to the side the rest of his breastplate coming undone when he smashes into the ramparts. The Knight is sucking down air, mouth fully agape, trying to pull himself up again. Seven he was resilient. But you had hardly started, no more than a scratch upon your breastplate that surely Kate Yarson would be able to buff out. He swings aimlessly at you, his one good arm outstretched, while the other tries to push his body up, though fails several times over. You dig your boot into his hand and he screams in pain cursing at you and attempting to cut you with his sword before it’s wrenched away from his hand and thrown to the ground beneath.

War still raged around you, but the Second Regiment had the laddermen on the backfoot. The field still burned, but the wildfire green trickery had begun to fade and you assume the men that had flown the field had been made fools of, or at the very least cut down by their own leader. Ser Lestor Langward was still upon the field. You could see the catapults and trebuchet ready to fire again in the distance. The covered ram was closing on the gates. Without knowing where Brynden was you could not in good faith hold the line on the curtain wall. The men would die from the catapults smashing it to bits. But surely he would be here soon, nothing north of Dorne was faster than a Malroy courser. He’d be here, you knew it. You cursed slightly when Ser Massey fists punches into your shin and you grind your boot further into his hand causing him to stop. You’d need to decide what to do and soon as a line of men began to emerge from the dark, more heavily armed and armoured than the first.

Orders?
>Order a fighting retreat to the Castle. Giving up the Curtain Wall.
>Order a half retreat, the men upon the wall would retreat, whereas the men at the gate would hold against the ram.
>Hold the line. Your men might suffer for it, but your couldn’t give up the wall now.

Please roll 6D6+1 [5D+1B+1(Superior)] for Fighting(Bludgeons).

I haven't done Mason in active combat since the Melee way, way back in the Wedding Tourney arc in King's Landing. I forgot what a fucking monster he was. It takes 4 degrees to just scratch him with Rolland's statline. And I'm not doing it like I did with Landon, he is getting the full penalty from his armour. Jesus christ Mason chill.

Rolled 1, 2, 5, 6, 6, 5 + 1 = 26 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648479

Rolled 2, 4, 2, 3, 4, 2 + 1 = 18 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648479

Rolled 2, 1, 5, 6, 3, 1 + 1 = 19 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648479

>>3648479
Oh uh also a vote I guess even though I really don't know
>Order a fighting retreat to the Castle. Giving up the Curtain Wall.
Be conservative, the opposite of Brynden.

>>3648479
>>Order a half retreat, the men upon the wall would retreat, whereas the men at the gate would hold against the ram.

>>3648479
We absolutely cannot allow the people of Steadhold to be subjected to another sacking.

>>Hold the line. Your men might suffer for it, but your couldn’t give up the wall now.

>>3648484
25
>>3648489
16
>>3648494
18

Just waiting on votes now.

>>3648479
>Hold the line. Your men might suffer for it, but your couldn’t give up the wall now.

No civilian will die again on our watch

>>3648479
>>Hold the line. Your men might suffer for it, but your couldn’t give up the wall now.

Seven save him, but Mason will lead the way and hold the line.

Pls dont kill him dad

>>3648479
>Hold the line. Your men might suffer for it, but your couldn’t give up the wall now.

Ser Rolland Massey’ Attack IV
DC: 10
Roll: 18
>Success, Two Degrees
>Damage: 4*2=8-12AR=-4=0
>Enemy’s Health: 16-0=16
Results: Ser Mason Flowers’ Unharmed

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack IV
DC: 7
Rolls: 25,16,18
>Success, Four Degrees
>Damage: 4*4=16-7AR=9
>Enemy’s Health: 3-9=-6
Results: Ser Rolland Massey Dead

Your eyes continue to scan the battlefield, the first wave has been entirely thrown back. Though your men had taken losses. The wall is in danger, as are the men that man it but the peoples beyond are already shaken and fearful. You could not give up the line that easily, this early. Your men might suffer for it, you may as well, and some will die. But it was the only line you had between the Langwards and the smallfolk. And you would not let them suffer again. Ser Massey has taken a dagger from his belt you notice looking down at him, he wields it with bloody hand and attempts to bring it into the back of your knee but is thwarted by your shield lazily knocking it away. With little and less enthusiasm you bring your morningstar down upon his naked head, feeling his nose and skull give way with a wet squelch of a sound. He begins to gurgle on his own blood, the last sounds of life leaving his body as you turn away from him to gain the attentions of your Captains again. You blow into your warhorn a single time, a long droning noise that denotes they will hold the line. Several warhorns echo back and you knew you still have your men under command.

Hell begins to break loose across the field again, again four blazing rocks launching, followed by the screams of men racing down the field towards the few ladders still mounted and with new ones. The pitfalls were less effective this time. Your eyes begin to widen as your realize that one of the boulders is hurdling your way and the men about you begin to scramble and run as best they could. Several begin to jump, landing roughly beneath, breaking bones and crawling away. The throngs of men to either side leave you little choice and you push yourself against the ramparts, feeling the heat of the boulder behind you kiss the nape of your neck just before you took a running start and jumped.

Please roll 4D6 for Athletics(Jump).

Rolled 4, 1, 5, 1 = 11 (4d6)

>>3648587

Rolled 4, 4, 1, 4 = 13 (4d6)

>>3648587

Rolled 5, 6, 2, 1 = 14 (4d6)

>>3648587

Rolled 6, 4, 1, 6 = 17 (4d6)

>>3648587
JUMP NIGGA

>>3648592
>>3648594
>>3648597
11,13,14

Just under. Writing.

>>3648600
>>3648605
DAMN IT

>>3648607
Maybe if SOMEONE just rolled instead of writing

Ser Mason Flowers’ Athletics(Jump)
DC: 15
Rolls: 11, 13, 14
>Failed
>Damage: 16-3=13
Results: Ser Mason Flowers Damaged

You can feel the boulder crashing into the wall as you jump, nearly ten yards from the top of the wall to the ground beneath. The impact pushing you forward and you find yourself in an uncontrolled roll, losing your morningstar in the process. You attempt to right yourself quickly and land upon your shield but when you land upon the ground your head bounces and rattles and your shoulder crashes into the edge of the shield and leaves you with a sharp pain, likely dislocated, but not broken. You feel the wind knocked out of you and cover yourself with your free arm as rubble lands around you and stone and splintered wood showers over your body. The ground shakes with a fierce rubble and you hear screaming from beyond the wall as the shot from the trebuchet obliterates the old Redward townhouse that used to sit at the foot of Steadhold’s castle. You think it likely abandoned, as Brynden hadn’t done anything with it, but it had gotten too close to the hamlet for comfort and her people were scared. Wood and fire rain down from where the townhouse once stood and you attempt to draw yourself up, finding your morningstar stuck fast into the ground, but undamaged.

An explosion to your left catches your attention and you watch several men ablaze with green false wildfire flung into the air and jumping for their lives where one of the spitfires had once stood, the catapult’s shot having crushed it and causing the remaining pitch to explode in a firey display of destruction. Your shield arm hangs loose and your breath is barely caught but you still have your vision at least. Casting an eye upwards tells you the wall yet still stood, but you could not be certain for how many more volleys. The archers, arbalesters, and Second still stood strong and were commanding the wall for now, despite their losses. They are firing at will now, and the remaining spitfire has held off an invasion of the northwestern wall relatively well. You hear the sharp whirl of a giant bolt fly overhead and watch the scorpion’s bolt sail past the wall and out of vision, but likely finding purchase and ending several men.

You brace yourself against the wall and begin to move down it, towards the Godsgate where the rest of the infantry still stood, though many of them were now braced against the door as the ram seemingly had made it to them. Rubble and stone break upon your helmet as you move. Three your infantrymen find you and begin to help you move towards the rear of the footed army. You’re sat down gently and one of them looks at your arm.

“Is it broke milord?”

You grunt in pain and shake your head, “No, just dislocated, who here knows how to relocated a shoulder?”

The men look about themselves sheepishly before a younger lad raises his hand and approaches.

“I do milord, I… I haven’t done it much but-”

“It’ll do,” you say sharply and open your sallet, taking a bit of leather from your belt and placing it in your mouth and nodding at him with a grunt.

The boy comes up and raises your arm, causing the pain to splinter through your body and with one solid twist and pull you clench down in agony as the joint pops back into place. Tears well in your eyes and you curse into the leather before shaking out your arm and finding it working again. Seven be fucking good that hurt. You stand again and spit out the leather.

“What’s your name lad?”

“Owens, milord?” he stammers out.

“Thank you Owens,” you respond simply before looking about and calling “WE STILL NEED TO HOLD THE LINE MEN! THE GOOD FOLK OF STEADHOLD, YOUR FAMILIES, ARE IN DANGER IF WE LOSE THE WALL! HOLD FAST! HOLD STRONG! AND WE WIN THE DAY!”

The men rally to your cry and you push forward to the gate where several men are bounced off again before coming back to hold against it. Others hold the failing slants, and you watch as one breaks from the ram’s battering, splintering and loading a man filled with splinters of wood. He screams in agony before being pulled away and several others take his place. You look back and see the Lannister men still in reserve. Hardly moved a muscle beneath their Captain’s orders, a Ser Tygane Lanny. Your brow furrows in disgust and annoyance but you push forward, shield raised to help your men hold the gate.

Langward Crossbowmen Attack I
DC: 10
Roll: 17
>Success, Two Degrees
>Damage: 6*2=12-12AR=0
>Enemy’s Health: 13-0=13
Results: Ser Mason Flowers’ Unharmed

The heavy oaken doors still stand but the black wrought iron gates beyond had begun to bend, pushing into the doors and causing them to fall away in places. You barely notice them but several crossbowmen appear in the holes and let loose a volley that runs through your men.Your shield catches a bolt and you yell for your men to take cover before losing several more to the attack. With raised shields you rally them and press against the gate, covering what holes you could alongside a dozen other infantrymen, men of both the Blackflower and Malroy First. Your Captain Maxwell stands beside you, a former refugee of the Princewood taken into your service from the tent city beneath Steadhold. He nods at you and cries out to his men to hold.

Please roll 5D6 (4D+1B) for Athletics(Strength).

>>3648739

Rolled 5, 2, 5, 6, 6 = 24 (5d6)

>>3648739
Come on Brynden, it's time for you to come in and crush these fools

Rolled 5, 6, 1, 3, 1 = 16 (5d6)

>>3648739

Rolled 3, 4, 2, 3, 4 = 16 (5d6)

>>3648739

>>3648750
22
>>3648751
15
>>3648753
14

Please roll 6D6+1 [5D+1B+1(Superior)] for Fighting(Bludgeons).

Rolled 1, 5, 6, 1, 4, 1 + 1 = 19 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648758

Rolled 5, 6, 1, 3, 3, 1 + 1 = 20 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648758

Rolled 2, 5, 3, 5, 6, 5 + 1 = 27 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648758
ELIONWY!!!

>>3648761
18
>>3648764
19
>>3648766
25

Mason is just fucking tanking this warfare.

this is rad, still miss Landon tho

>>3648771
Mason is a video game character. A monster on the battlefield but cant handle a small fall

Ser Mason Flowers’ Athletics(Strength)
DCs: 15, 18, 21
Rolls: 22, 15, 14
>Success, Two Degrees.
>Success, One Degree.
>Success, One Degree.

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack V
DC: 6
Roll: 18
>Success, Three Degrees
>Damage: 4*3=12-4AR=8
>Enemy’s Health: 6-8=-2
Results: Langward Crossbowmen I Dead

You feel the full weight of the ram slam in your body and you lose a step with many of the other men but just as quickly come back. Again the crossbowmen attempt to snipe through the holes that the splintered oaken doors are being made into but you raise your shield in time and press it against the hole and feel the thump of the bolt slam into it before lowering your shield just enough to jam your morningstar through. You hear a scream of pain and pull back just as quickly, getting stuck briefly when the man’s face and helmet refuses to come undone from the tips of the mace. Eventually shaking him loose you again close the hole and hold fast. You can feel your heartbeat in your temples, the old wounds bringing on headaches as you body ached and grew more tired as the night wore on.

You cast your eyes back, memory upon the silent woman that had kissed you before you left for the wall. Your wife to be, the mother of your unborn child. It was funny, in all of your days in Essos you had never taken to their women. Occasionally a whore, but it was a rare thing, unlike Brynden. But it was not until you returned home to Westeros that you found a woman to love, a Myrwoman with no words, but only looks of affection and hands that danced about your body in soft touches. You spoke to her often, of your thoughts, your troubles, the past the future, and every time she would sit silently, eyes alight as she listened and nodded. Her face betraying her emotions with subtle hints. The hints you had fallen in love with.

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack VI
DC: 6
Roll: 19
>Success, Three Degrees
>Damage: 4*3=12-4AR=8
>Enemy’s Health: 6-8=-2
Results: Langward Crossbowmen II Dead

The ram slams into the door again and though you’ve lost a step you push against it hard again. A couple bolts knock into your shield again and you give it just enough space lowered to draw another three, they thought you a fool apparently. Again you lash out with your morningstar and draw blood or death from another you couldn’t tell but he screams as a child would for his mother. Pressing your body against the gate once more you find yourself looking to the Blackbridge Tower. Thankful it was being spared this. It was the absolute last line of defense should Steadhold and the Curtain Wall both fall, the bridge, half sturdy as it was, a sacrificial lamb to give you time to retreat. But it would not come to that, Brynden would come. And you would hold.

She had tears in her eyes as she drew away. Your last kiss before you went to war. But she held herself with poise and dignity still, a hand upon her belly and a smile upon her lips when you drop to bended knee to kiss your unborn child as well. It was a funny thing this love. Your children would be true-born. They would have a home to inherit. A name to honour. They wouldn’t be bastards, they’d be true and good bannerman of your dearest friend. Children of the woman you had never thought to love.

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack VII
DC: 6
Roll: 25
>Success, Four Degrees
>Damage: 4*4=16-4AR=12
>Enemy’s Health: 6-12=-6
Results: Langward Crossbowmen III Dead

The ram’s battering gives way this time and you almost lose your footing entirely when it cracks through, the iron bands about the Godsgate bending in ungodly ways, but it still held. Your men held. You held. Leading the Way. Your men rally to your cry again and presses against the door. Several more slants coming in to fortify the now crushed segment. A man tries his best to push through and you see the wrought iron gate has been all but crushed. Just as his head was the moment your morningstar meets it.

The door would not hold for much longer. Again the ground rumbles and you feel the wall around you beginning to shatter. The catapults unleashing firey hell upon them again. Several of your men go fly over your head and debris rains down upon you dust and dirt causing you to cough and lose vision for a moment. The ringing in your ears hardly stops. And your eyes remain unfocused as a shot from the trebuchet slams into the Outer Ring, several houses and businesses going down with it in flames and the screams of the innocent.

You call out, scrambling for your warhorn. But by the time you find it the ram has again slammed into the gate, cracking a further hole in it and forcing you to you to a knee. The men upon the walls are disorganized, screaming and in pain and agony. The infantry at your back are holding but only for so long. Had you been a fool to hold? The wall would fall with another round of catapults and a melee still held out above you from the second wave of Langward men. But yet you stand, pushing against the gate, voice hoarse from yelling but still you yelled, and screaming, the name of the one you loved, the name of whom you fought to protect.

“ELIONWY!”

Then came a sound.

Distant at first.

But it grew under such cacophony so immense it could be heard about the Crownlands.

A warhorn from Steadhold’s rear. Joined by several more. Joined by hundreds. Amongst the sounds of thousands of voices and the stampede of cavalry that came with them.

“HOLD! HOLD DAMN YOU!” you yell into the dust and darkness your men rallying to your cry.

You begin to hear their screams, the sound of nearly two hundred cavalrymen splitting the Langward host in two. Three arrows from the ramparts of Steadhold proper to signal that they had come. That Lord Brynden Malroy was here to lift the siege. You found your strength again, drawing up and placing your warhorn upon your lips, rallying what men you had left. In the distance you could see a host of fresh archers and crossbowmen and Lord Tygon descending from the castle proper to relieve the wall’s defenders.

Looking around you find Captain Maxwell and give him a nod, the two of you yell, “RELEASE!” and all of your men back away from the gate as the ram smashes into it again. The slants begin to fall away and where they think they had won they did not anticipate what was to meet them. Several crossbowmen poke their crossbows through, firing into a wall of shields that your men had formed around you, yourself in the middle tower shield high and mighty.

“FORWARD!”

Please roll 5D6 (4D+1B) for Warfare(Command).

Going to take the first three rolls on this.

Rolled 3, 6, 1, 1, 3 = 14 (5d6)

>>3648905

Rolled 2, 6, 3, 2, 5 = 18 (5d6)

>>3648905
I've got chills over here man

Rolled 4, 6, 4, 1, 2 = 17 (5d6)

>>3648905
B A S E D

>>3648905

>>3648910
13
>>3648916
16
>>3648922
16

Please roll 6D6+1 [5D+1B+1(Superior)] for Fighting(Bludgeons).

Rolled 5, 4, 6, 2, 5, 1 + 1 = 24 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648933

File: source.gif (4.97 MB, 480x362)

4.97 MB GIF

HYPE!!! HYYYYYYPE!!!

Come on men. Do you want to live forever? WE LEAD THE WAY TO THE VERY GATES OF HELL!!!!

Rolled 1, 3, 2, 4, 1, 2 + 1 = 14 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648933
>>3648940
Whoops. Fucked up somewhere there

Rolled 1, 3, 4, 5, 1, 4 + 1 = 19 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648933

Rolled 5, 6, 4, 5, 4, 3 + 1 = 28 (6d6 + 1)

>>3648933
AAAAAAAHHHHH

>>3648939
23
>>3648944
13
>>3648947
18

Writing.

Ser Mason Flowers’ Warfare(Command) Tests V-VII
Blackflower First Regiment
>Success, Two Degrees.
Malroy First Regiment
>Success, Two Degrees.
Lannister Heavy Infantry
>Success, One Degree.

Their bolts slam into your shield wall but to little effect, the men having been prepared to march the moment the cavalry had arrived. All the better their men were here for you to slaughter. You began to push forward, the ram being withdrawn to allow more men through, but they soon learned their folly when three contingents of heavily armed infantry began to bear down on them. The doors fling open fully and you see a number of crossbowmen and infantry waiting. The gate is in an unusable state so very carefully your men begin to filter towards it, being peppered with bolts all the while.

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack VIII
DC: 6
Roll: 23
>Success, Four Degrees
>Damage: 4*4=16-4AR=12
>Enemy’s Health: 6-12=-6
Results: Langward Crossbowmen IV Dead

You open up your guard for a moment when a Langward crossbowman draws near, bringing your morningstar down upon his crossbow, turning his hands to ruin, before winding back and slamming it into his side. The man crumples like paper, the wind and life knocked out of him in an instant. Maxwell to your side takes another but before you can withdraw to the safety of the shield wall again several more crossbowmen appear and take their shots.

Langward Crossbowman II Attack
DC: 10
Roll: 23
>Success, Three Degrees
>Damage: 6*3=18-12AR=6-5(Injury Taken)=1
>Enemy’s Health: 13-1=12
Results: Ser Mason Flowers Injured | Injuries ⅕, Wounds 0/5
Two thump your shield but one catches your leg, digging itself deep into your thigh and you grit through the pain. Withdrawing back and favoring it. But to your side Maxwell hadn’t been so lucky, three bolts had struck him, two in the chest, and one in the eye. His limp body slumps to the side and you call out for the men to take him back and reform about you. You could not help but to think he was dead, or would be soon.

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack IX
DC: 6
Roll: 13
>Success, Two Degrees
>Damage: 4*2=8-4AR=4
>Enemy’s Health: 6-4=2
Results: Langward Crossbowmen III Damaged

Again you step forward, pushing around the ram now and attempt to lash out but the pain in your leg causes you to flinch and the strike is only half true. The man escaping with his life was a ghastly injury. He is soon done for by another of your men, but in turn two more are taken down by bolts. All you needed to do was break through to push into the field so you could join Brynden in the Langward camp, as had been intended. You grit and rally your men the best you can, but you know they are faltering from the onslaught of crossbowmen and now the infantry that bore down upon you.

Ser Mason Flowers’ Attack X
DC: 7
Roll: 18
>Success, Two Degrees
>Damage: 4*2=8-4AR=4
>Enemy’s Health: 9-4=5
Results: Langward Infantryman I Damaged

Langward Infantryman I Attack
DC: 10
Roll: 17
>Success, Two Degrees
>Damage: 4*2=8-12AR=-4=0
>Enemy’s Health: 12-0=12
Results: Ser Mason Flowers Unharmed | Injuries ⅕, Wounds 0/5

One slams into you, his blade, a thing of ugly iron sticking fast into your shield and quickly being glanced beside. You batter him with your shield, knocking him to a knee by taking the edge to his side before glancing his shoulder with your morningstar. He crumples, but remains alive for a moment until his body is riddled with arrows from behind you. You cast a look back and see Lord Tygon Reynold, in all of his splendor the phoenix made of rubies upon his chest shining brightly in the early morning light and the one upon his helm cawing in defiance, his sword drawn, directing his men upon the wall as they retook it from the invaders. Arrows and bolts begin to force the ram’s men back and you take the chance to push the advantage. Two more fall to your strikes and you begin to push onward with less men than you had hoped at your back, but enough.

Your eyes reignite, and the pain disappears as you gaze upon the Langward camp. Two of the three catapults now lie in ruin, a flame and smashed when the combined cavalry host smashed through them the second time, in the distance you see a melee having broken out. Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Tyrus Reynold back to back and fighting off several men with vicious. You snap the bolt off in your leg and put pressure on it. Good enough for a run, good enough for a charge. You begin to move, the shield wall breaking apart as your men begin to follow your unsaid orders of a charge.

The Langward host was disorganized, routed even now. But still they would need be destroyed. Brynden is rounding again, his bow drawn along with the Sons of Gold and they cut through a line of infantry with ruthless ease, the Malroy Heavy Cavalry following behind them and lancing anyone left standing. Ser Lucas Longwaters too has dismounted and appears to be engaged with a Knight by the trebuchet, taking him to task with hammer blows from the pommel of his sword as the rest of the Malroy Knights take to slaughtering the engineers and archers that had been left to protect it.

You are moving at a full sprint now, your men behind you, racing along with you. The calls of House words spur you forward as you Lead the Way, as the Malroys Ride Unto the Sunset. The halfway formed line of men left to stop you breaks when you reach them. Your mace crushing into a skull and quickly moving forward. A melee had broken out behind you but your eyes looked for another.