A Play of Steel and Powder

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WHAT YOU ARE IN THE DARK: Sept of Rhaenrya 254


Sibela W...Targaryen waited patiently for the novice to finish sweeping and move on. And then she flashed some fang and waved a hand to get the little shit to move along because her tits hurt (but fuck if some bitch was going to nurse her girl, fangs or not) and her everything hurt, and she had things to say weren't for some kid septom to hear.

Kid took the hint and made themselves scarce, and she turned back to the shrine. Not a lot of folk dropping by the Sept at this time of night, not that many ever came RI this particular shrine.

Blessed Morgyn might be a saint, but she was a jumped up come lately and an Essosi to boot, not real popular in King's Landing...well, good. Maybe she'd pay attention to somebody round here talking to her.

She took the castle forged dagger out of her shawl and looked up at the hooded figure.

"Reckon..." she licked her lips, looked around to make sure nobody was there, just her and the saint. All right then.

"Reckon you...we both know I'm a dark piece of work. Fucked around, cut some purses, cut a throat or two...reckon the Seven ain't got much use for me. But that's...that's what you do, yeah? You talk to'em for me?"

Silence.

"Listen...fuck. You weren't born in no Sept, you came up a gutter rat, just like me. And I bet you...don't tell me you never got hungry and snaked something. Don't tell me you never let nobody have a go at you, cause it was easier than thieving and you wouldn't lose a hand...you know. You know what I...

So yeah. I fucked around, and I stole, and there's some dead cause of me, and that's afore His Nibs stuck me in with the Royals, and I had to do more and do worse. Weren't no High Septa to take me in, take me by the hand, give me a wyvern, I wanted something I had to take it.

So you...you don't act like you're better than me. You go tell those Seven motherfuckers...

You tell'em they want to shit on me, grit their teeth and grunt away. I stood, I can stand it, they can get fucked...

But my baby ain't done a fucking thing. Not a fucking thing but be born.

Not a fucking thing. And...not enough she has to be fuck ugly like her mam. They fucked up her leg and she won't ever walk, and they fucked up her ears...and she ain't done a thing you motherfucking cunts.

You tell'em that ain't right. You tell'em that's...they want to shit on me for what I did, fair's fair and fuck'em, but they better fix Visenya. You tell those fuckers that, and you tell'em just that way. All right?"

She slams the dagger down on the altar, and the hooded statue is blurring from her tears, and she wants to spit on it, she wants to get on Starchaser and burn the whole fucking thing to the ground, but instead she just looks defiantly up at the marble saint.

"You tell'em that. Savvy?"


Representation of Blessed Morgyn, Matron Saint of the Faith

Associated With:
The Mother

Sphere of Influence:
The Mother's Hand Militant Order, the Free City of Pentos, foundlings, daughters, wyvern riders, warriors

A Pentoshi foundling taken in and schooled by the High Septa (when that worthy was merely the Most Devout of the Mother). Morgyn was the Faith's first wyvern rider, who perished in the First War For The Hill against Norvos. The four members of the Mother's Hand and three Hounds of the Seven who stood vigil over her corpse testified that the Mother Herself appeared before them and bore the slain septa's body up to the Seven Heavens.

Morgyn is the first Essosi to be named a saint of the Seven since the Andal Invasion of Westeros, and is most often venerated in Pentos and by those who follow the Seven in the lands of Volantis (although representations of her made in those lands depict her with distinctly Valyrian features, despite all contemporary records stating the Saint was dark of hair). Those who wish Blessed Morgyn to intercede for them are advised to lay a knife or dagger at one of her shrines as an offering.
 
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Pushing the Frontier

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As the Dothraki reorganize after the death of Khal some men seek to push the Dothraki Sea. The Volantaenes are beginning to survey the lands north of Valyria and Mantarys for possible as farmland while the Laketown Ironborn are working with the men of Saath to set up outposts in Sarys and Sarnath. The last seems to have made tremors the weakened Dothraki and has accelerated their succession struggles. The would-be colonizers should prepare for trouble in a few years.
 
The Fate of Last Hearth


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The betrayal of the Umbers and their treasonous actions would have been enough justification for their harsh punishment in the South. In the North, that still holds true, but there was a crime even more horrible than treason. Giving war plans to the enemy and aiding the enemies of the North would have been enough to put a dynastic stain on House Umber to last a generation. But that is not the worst crime they committed. Breaking sacred guest right, was unforgivable. The Umbers overnight became anathema in the North, and any respect or honor they had would soon be found squandered and bereft of sympathy from all Northmen, of high and low standing.

In comes Royland Stark. Fresh from adventuring in Essos and Sothoryos, coming home with vast riches beyond count, as well as a Valyrian steel sword he named Frostbite, that he claimed to have found in his adventures. He donated the vast riches to a investment that will foresee the funding of the first Weapons Factory in the North. Giving the whole realm access to the weapons of destruction that have been seen in the South. Gathering a vast amount of support, he quickly found himself in the good graces of the Northern nobility.

In recognition of his services to the North. Royland Stark has been granted the High Lordship of Last Hearth by William Stark (With authorization of The Magnar of the North Brandon Stark) a week after his wedding with Camilla Tully, in which representatives of all the Northern High Lordships were present. It truly couldn't have gone to a more deserving noble.

Royland Stark was then henceform known as Royland Farstark. A White Direwolf in a field of Black. Wielder of Frostbite, and Lord of Last Hearth.


Royland Stark


House Farstark
"We Stand Eternal"
​
 
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A WEDDING 'TWEEN GREENLANDERS AND IRONBORN



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It is a joyous occasion as the Heir of Oldtown finally marries and settles down, Baelor Hightower, at last torn away from his precious arsenal and war toys. The union is toasted and celebrated by all and Baelor and Meredyth retreat to the Hightower's summer seat of Glasshome away from Oldtown, there they spent a couple of weeks before returning to the Hightower.​
 
Deathwing said:
To House Sandstorm (Sir Alan Sandstorm) @Mina @Wade Garrett (Don't know who to post for them)
From: Aegon Celtigar
My sister is unmarried and I seek a bride for her. Are you interested?
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I would be honored to wed a lady from a House so famed for its piety and loyalty to the Iron Throne.

From: King Maelys I
To: Aegon Celtigar

We understand that you are currently seeking a wife, and if we may offer some advice...it has come to our attention that the Prince of Pentos seeks to reaffirm his family's ties with our lands, and desires to wed members of his family to Houses of the Crownlands. The bloodline of Monaptis has long been a friend to House Targaryen, and the Pentoshi keep to the Seven as we do, you could do far worse than to wed to their family.

From: Maelys
To: Lady Lacrimosa "The Either" and Lady Lacrimosa "The Or" Deathrattle of Hull @Mina

I know I haven't written, or visited, or...things are different now. Everything is different now. I cannot...but I will never forget how kind you were to me. Both of you.

The Prince of Pentos is looking for brides and grooms for his nieces and nephews in the Crownlands, mayhap the two of you or others of your House would be interested?
 
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Wade Garrett said:
I would be honored to wed a lady from a House so famed for its piety and loyalty to the Iron Throne.

From: King Maelys I
To: Aegon Celtigar

We understand that you are currently seeking a wife, and if we may offer some advice...it has come to our attention that the Prince of Pentos seeks to reaffirm his family's ties with our lands, and desires to wed members of his family to Houses of the Crownlands. The bloodline of Monaptis has long been a friend to House Targaryen, and the Pentoshi keep to the Seven as we do, you could do far worse than to wed to their family.

From: Maelys
To: Lady Lacrimosa "The Either" and Lady Lacrimosa "The Or" Deathrattle of Hull @Mina

I know I haven't written, or visited, or...things are different now. Everything is different now. I cannot...but I will never forget how kind you were to me. Both of you.

The Prince of Pentos is looking for brides and grooms for his nieces and nephews in the Crownlands, mayhap the two of you or others of your House would be interested?
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I thank you, Sir Alan, My sister can't wait to meet you.

I will do as you suggest, my liege.

To Pentos @Texan
From: Aegon Celtigar
Secret
I have been told by my liege that you seek to wed family members to the crown-lands. me and my cousin are currently unwed, if any of your family are interested, that is.
 
From: House Bregia
To: House Stark, House Manderly @EliudFS1
Greetings. I would wish to secure our ongoing relationship with a marriage between our peoples. I believe there is an eligible young maiden of House Manderly who is of ages with my nephew, Azel? Might they be an appropriate match?
 
First Encounter with the Poese
  • Threadmarks
    • @EmperorCasey

    With light hearts and high spirits, ships and men departed from the First Daughter to search the ruins of Lost Zamettar and plumb the interior of Sothyros, seeking more wyverns for their forces and evidence of civilizations per dating the Doom.

    Captain Daeron Mallyrio was already envisioning himself feted by the Old Blood (perhaps even raised to Triarch) as his forces sailed into the river mouth. And why not? He was following in the footsteps of the brave men who had first brought wyverns to Volantis. He and his troops were well equipped with the latest in Essosi firearms. What could possibly threaten them?

    A single ship returned to the river mouth, to be discovered by sailors from Gosgossos.

    Aboard was one passenger, Daeron himself. The once proud captain had been crucified to his vessels helm, a message cut into the flesh of his back in what was determined to be a variant of the Summer Islands trade tongue.

    From:
    Shamir-I-Schaerzade, Favored Son of the Goddess Nekari, The Star Which Shall Never Fall, Herdbreaker, Master of Ten Thousand, The Unrivaled, Satrap Above All Satraps of Po

    Outlanders. You shall pledge fealty to me, surrender your thunderbeasts to my herd, and give your wives and daughters up for my pleasure. Only then I shall forgive your insolence in trespassing on my lands.


    The Satrap Above All


    A warrior of Po


    A Satrap's thunderbeast, trained and equipped for battle
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • @Atomicwalrus



    Accounts had been brought to Qohor, stories of the ill fated expedition their Laketown allies had mounted to the Mussovy. They spoke of the gruesome fate that had befallen the explorers...and of the defeat the Drowned God had suffered at hands of whatever deities held sway in the gray forest.

    It was a challenge the Black Temple could not ignore.

    Unlike the crude stockade the Laketowners had assembled, the Qohorik enclave was as much a temple as a settlement, it's boundaries laid out according to sacred formula pleasing to the Black Goat and marked with icons to draw His favor.

    Fourteen holy altars and sacred forges were assembled, fed by the grey wood cleared away from the fort's walls; and as decreed by the Black Temple's dogma, the fortified village of Zhardukk was consecrated to the Lord of Dark Forests by the sacrifice of fourteen willing virgins.


    Qohorik "Bride of the Black One", raised from birth as a sacrifice for the Forge Altars

    And from the day its foundations were laid, it was under attack.

    The Qohoriks were besieged, yet it was a siege of a most insidious sort. Justicar, priest, and slave alike were tormented by weird dreams and unnatural urges, some force attempting to turn the Black Goat's chosen against one another, wear away the steel in their hearts and souls.

    It was a battle the children of the Unconquered City were well prepared to fight, purifying themselves with rite and ritual as they purified their slaves with lash and flame.

    Forge-Deacon Uzkulak IV stood at the forefront of these efforts, his fiery sermons filling the very air with sulphur and brimstone as he castigated the sniveling enemy too cowardly to face the Black Goat's chosen in combat.

    Uzkulak's roaring rhetoric and unflagging performance of the Rites Against Corrupters seemed to turn the tide, as Justicars and slaves no longer reported being afflicted by their unseen tormentors...but it was observed that Uzkulak himself seemed to be failing under the strain, as his sermons became faltering, halting performances, incorporating notions that struck the true believers in his congregation as bordering on heresy.

    After a particularly egregious service, the Sworn Commander of Zhardukk's Justicars led a squad of his most loyal men to the Forge Deacon's chambers for a...frank discussion of theology and doctrine.

    Breaking the Deacon's door open with their sacred warhammers, the Justicars were confronted by a sight that gave even the holy warriors pause.

    Initially, they suspected some assassin had gained access to the Deacon's chambers (possibly an overzealous congregant) but a closer examination revealed Uzkulak had inflicted his mortal wounds upon himself.

    A message was left for the Qohorik, spelled out in the Deacon's glistening entrails.

    DHEAMONS

    THISE BE GODDYES LAND.

    NAE STONE DHEAMONS.

    NAE SEA DHEAMONS.

    THAE GRAYE KHANGS SHALLE KEEP WHATE THAE ROOLE


    The late Forge Deacon Uzkulak IV, damned to have his eyes devoured by the holy Dark Young for all eternity. His faith was tried and found wanting.
     
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    Deathwing said:
    To Pentos @Texan
    From: Aegon Celtigar
    Secret
    I have been told by my liege that you seek to wed family members to the crown-lands. me and my cousin are currently unwed, if any of your family are interested, that is.
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    From: Prince Jasper of Pentos

    Secret

    Greetings to the heir of Claw Isle. The only potential match we see, is between Maeglin and one of my nieces, Jessa or Brienne. They are both 4 years older than your cousin, but would make him a wealthy man, for being a second son. If you agree, then when he is of age, he could meet the sisters, and from there see who matches him.
     
    From: Volantis
    To: Myrwater @Ceslas
    Private

    We wish to procure it for certain colonial issues we are having and believe a true test of your brand of the wildfyre is up for a test. If you wish you may come along as advisors to see it in action.
     
    Ironanvil1 said:
    From: Braavos
    To: Sanctuary @Mina
    Braavos has no intentions of war with any member of the Freehold, and indeed, is party to solemn agreements that would preclude such with a majority of them.
    Lorath, Pentos, Tyrosh, Myr, Laketown and Volantis all have signed treaties of mutual defence, non-aggression, or agreement not to participate in war with Braavos.
    If the matter remains of concern to you, despite this, we would be willing to discuss varying the terms to a binding non-aggression pact such as we have with Volantis.
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    This would be more than acceptable. Consider us signatories.
     
    The Iron Isles
    ---



    Pate Qhorinsson

    ---
    ​
    Smoke. If there was one scent, one smell that Pate associated with home, it was the smell of smoke. Coming from a small village on the outskirts of Hoare, it was a common enough smell for the Iron Isles were a cold and harsh place and so it was common enough for a fire to always be roaring inside a home, an open hearth if you were lucky otherwise just in a small pit in the centre of a room, to chase away the chill and fell spirits. That it was the smell of smoke then that assaulted his senses as he crossed the threshold into his home was a comforting thing, a reminder that he had left the drudgery of the Greenlands behind him and returned to more familiar climes.

    There was a thud, a crash as he dropped his belongings on the dirt floor and looked about the empty room. "And where art my children?" Pate called out with a bellow. "Hath I returned to an empty home, bereft of laughter and joy? Ah, if I should find that mine own children have deserted me in the wake of my return, why I shall curse their very breath for such cruelty."

    "Nooo!" Came a cry from behind a barrel as a face popped up into view, one belonging to a red faced child wearing a helmet several sizes to large to fit him. "Don't curse us!"

    "Don't?" Pate scratched his nose thoughtfully. "Thou bid me not to curse mine own children but I see no reason why I should heed the request of some strange warrior hiding within my house." He remarked, the slightest of smiles on his face. "Now come out from behind there, warrior, and make your name known for thou art a stranger to me and the men of Hoare take ill to armed soldiers stowing away in a humble man's house."

    "I'm not a stranger." The boy protested as he stepped out from behind the barrel and took off the helmet to reveal a shock of blonde hair. "I am thy son, Othgar. Doth thou not recognise me?"

    Pate stepped forward and hefted Othgar up with both arms, holding him level with his face as he looked him over, pouring over every detail, every crease in his face, every stray hand of hair before grinning widely. "Why, I hardly recognised ye. I left thee a boy and yet I come to find thee practically a man grown, a warrior to be sure." He laughed. "Hath all my children grown so or is it just thee who has become a veritable man in my absence?"

    "We've all grown." Othgar answered happily as Pate tucked him under his arm and started to walk over into the next room looking for the rest of his family. "Qalen lost a tooth while you were gone last season and Zia is walking now and Mama got grey hairs and, and-"

    "There is no grey in my hair, boy." Snapped the woman in question from just outside the house, around the back where the sound of chickens could be hard. "And who is that I hear with thee? Some stranger no doubt."

    "Thou would call me a stranger?" Pate replied as he walked into the room, his bedroom, and over to a window which he leaned out of, Othgar still under his arm, and looked at the weathered woman tending to the chickens while two other children, younger than Othgar, helped their mother by chasing after said chickens. "Thy words wound me, that thou would not recognise the voice of thy husband freshly returned from conquests abroad."

    "My husband?" The woman let the words hang in the air before walking over to the window and looking at the head sticking out of it. "Certainly thou looks like my husband though the man I sent to war was of a far more noble bearing than thee and far more handsome to boot."

    Pate frowned, not out of offence but from mere playfulness. "Perhaps I have lost my way then, fair lady. Pray tell, is this the house of Pate Qhorinsson whose wife is Shierle Waldonsdottir? For if thou tells me that it is so, I fear that I must disappoint thee and say that my name is Pate and that thy husband was not nearly so handsome and noble as thou remembers."

    "Pate Qhorinsson..." Shierle mulled the words over. "That might have been my husband's name but it has been so long that I can't remember for certain. To be sure, Shierle is my name and Waldon was my father but I cannot say for certain if my husband's name was Pate."

    With a laugh, he pulled her forward and into a kiss. "How about now? Doth thou remember the name of thy husband?"

    "Yes...I remember it now." Shierle murmured through a smile. "It was Pate whose father was Qhorin." She confirmed. "Thou took thy time in returning to me."

    "Carrying out all the gold of Castamere takes time, I will have thee know, especially when thou fills thy own sacks with a generous helping of treasure." He added proudly. "Enough gold to buy more livestock and thralls, enough to carry us through the next winter at the least."

    "And did you bloody thyself? Acquit thyself with honour upon the battlefield?" Shierle pressed. "Did thou take trophies to be offered up to God and the Aspects?"

    "You see how godly thy mother is, Othgar?" Pate asked his son. "I return home, laden with treasure and her first concern is God and his due." He turned to Shierle and nodded. "Eight men I slew with mine own two hands, eight trophies I claimed accordingly. Three members, two tongues, two ears, and a scalp, half I shall offer up at the temple in Hoare come Veronsday so that God might know of my valour and the rest I shall bury beneath the threshold to sate your superstition."

    "I would have thou do so to ward off elves, not to sate my superstition. I shall not wake one day to find our daughter carried off beneath the earth because thou did not think to warn such creatures that a warrior proven dwells within our home and if I ever should, know that I shall rectify thy mistake by placing a trophy of mine own beneath the threshold and I think that thou shall not prove too fond of the trophy that I shall take from thee for that purpose." Shierle warned before slapping his cheek lightly. "I am glad that thou art safe and that thou hath returned unharmed, truly."

    "I know, now come inside with my children so that I might regale thee with tales of my heroism..."​
     
    From: Volantis
    To: Summer Empire @Ceslas
    Private

    Our navigators have encountered an individual by the name of Shamir-I-Schaerzade in the forests of Sothoryos. Our team indicate that the people spoke in a tongue of the Summer Empire and we desired to know if you have any information on him.
     
    From: Volantis
    To: Laketown, Lys @CommandoHowizter @Deathwing
    Private

    We have uncovered a unique set of people living in the forests of Sothoryos. They have committed an act of aggression against the Freehold and must be brought to justice. Are either of you willing to lend men or some ships? A great quantity is not advised given they will be traveling via river and in terrain not suited to large numbers of men.
     
    EmperorCasey said:
    From: Volantis
    To: Laketown, Lys @CommandoHowizter @Deathwing
    Private

    We have uncovered a unique set of people living in the forests of Sothoryos. They have committed an act of aggression against the Freehold and must be brought to justice. Are either of you willing to lend men or some ships? A great quantity is not advised given they will be traveling via river and in terrain not suited to large numbers of men.
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    Hmm, its not a campaign in Westeros so we agree. We will lend ships, men and 3 wyverns to your cause.
     
    EmperorCasey said:
    From: Volantis
    To: Laketown, Lys @CommandoHowizter @Deathwing
    Private

    We have uncovered a unique set of people living in the forests of Sothoryos. They have committed an act of aggression against the Freehold and must be brought to justice. Are either of you willing to lend men or some ships? A great quantity is not advised given they will be traveling via river and in terrain not suited to large numbers of men.
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    From Laketown to Volantis
    Private

    We of Laketown are always keen in exploring the world. We can lend 5 longships suited for the rivers you mention, and 200 reavers, fresh from combat in Westeros.

    All we ask is that we can keep what we reave, steal, or take.
     
    Deathwing said:
    Hmm, its not a campaign in Westeros so we agree. We will lend ships, men and 3 wyverns to your cause.
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    CommandoHowizter said:
    From Laketown to Volantis
    Private

    We of Laketown are always keen in exploring the world. We can lend 5 longships suited for the rivers you mention, and 200 reavers, fresh from combat in Westeros.

    All we ask is that we can keep what we reave, steal, or take.
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    Private

    We look forward to extending the Freehold's reach and showing these primitives that it is us who rule Sothoryos.
     
    Ceslas said:
    We do not see the benefit of an alliance with a power so far away. Trade is acceptable.
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    From: Sealord of Braavos
    To: Ibbenese Shadow Council
    Braavos may be a distance away from your homelands, but not an insurmountable one. Even as your own merchant vessels are not unknown at Braavos' harbour, our traders, allies and rivals operate close by you. We have seen signs that the powers of the Freehold have ventured to your territories, and far beyond them, in our explorations East, for example.
    The Treaty of the Titan was written with the powers of the Narrow Sea in mind, but we would be entirely open to creating a new document more relevant to establishing a formal relationship of friendship between us.
    Mayhap a Treaty of the Northern Shores, incorporating Braavoss, Omber, Ibben, and perhaps your cousins in Ifequevron?
     
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