One of the two is among the three unknown. Two of the 3 have managed to hang around a swamp all game, and one...
...well, you know. I'll leave that as a surprise, or he can reveal himself.
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make them free
While God is marching on
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
While God is marching on
Shasta's player here. She's a character who takes the Seven's commandments against slavery seriously, and her ancestry as a Blackfyre meant that swinging the Golden Company into breaking Essosi slavery for at least a generation in return for their support for a later Westeros campaign was a no-brainer.
The "speak with X" actions were not representing talking to someone once. The scope was to built a rapport with the person in question. That just kinda fell by the wayside since the one person you tried that with was Littlefinger, who then promptly got send off unsupervised to do his own thing.
You also really underutilised letters. The whole Caern situation could have been dealt with by raising the Crownlands banners as a free action and asking Tywin to organise some cavalry and take control of the force. Most letters though were sent to people who were not inclined to actually do what you demanded from them.
I'd have thought the whole time that giving Orders took actions, and so the letters where only used on people not taking orders, external diplomacy so to say.
But then maybe I got that impression from the way players used the letters.
Well, it is rather fascinating to start seeing everything that was happening behind the scenes.
Now, let us see.
Malaedar, Aukar, and Caern are dead.
Gaemon survived and is rebuilding his powerbase in Essos.
Valarr, Aerys, and Matavarra are doing quite well for themselves in the Eyrie.
Rhaenys is politicking in Dorne, trying to break the deadlock.
Visenya is in Volantis and, well, has butchered her way to a bloody reign.
Shay is in King's Landing, right under everyone's noses.
Helaena has secured the Stepstones.
Symon is in Lys and represents Perianne. As a pirate lord alongside Helaena, they thoroughly ravaged the Redwyne fleet, restoring the ships that they can in order to be added to their own fleets.
Shasta leads the Golden Company and is doing... something.
Hm, it leaves 3 others, of whom nothing is known. One would presume that they are the ones that caused Cersei to experience those visions.
One would probably have done the same, keeping to oneself and delving into arcane research and exploration of the metaphysical and higher mysteries.
Jaherys' player here, calling whatever is it we're doing here "exploration of the higher mysteries" is quite generous, although that might change soon. The swamp did have some cool things in it though.
Bhaelys's Player here, you have met me tho not officially. Hopefully if I survive this turn yall should hear more of me, and if not then big oof for me lol
Well, between Bhaelys and Visenya, the two from the visions, one far prefers Bhaelys.
Is the swamp so dangerous, that Bhaelys might not survive this turn?
Once Cersei loses, one would very much like to follow what happens to Jaherys and Bhaelys in particular, the two in the swamp. They are already one's favorites.
As another of the Targaryen players, I'll say this: By the middle of this Turn / Season, a few of you might be smelling what Symon Wyne Drinker, Hand of Perianne Targaryen is cooking.
Also if it's any consolation bad rolls aren't only a thing for players in here. My last turn consisted of Symon having the door slammed in his face for not one but both Diplomatic Actions, the latter of which was a legit unmodified snakeyes roll. He was thankfully not in a position where those were existential roles, but it did hurt a lot of his legitimacy appeals.
"Are you certain about this course of action, my queen?" Qyburn asked carefully, though he did not pause his work. With precision born from long experience, he mixed one poison into another, glassware clinking as he did so. What he had brought to the queens chambers was just a fraction of the expensive equipment he had been hoarding in the Black Cells, but it was enough for the task.
Meanwhile, Cersei was already laying on her bed. The covers and pillows had been thrown off and piece of wood wrapped in cloth lay ready. She even had freshly trimmed her nails. Just in case. The book had been clear about the risks. Pycelles last good deed to her was sharing it. "I am certain," she reponded with no hesitation. Nothing she had been so certain of in a long time.
The old ex-maester nodded slowly in return as he poured the last ingredients into the vial. "Should this fail though, is there anything yo wish me to do?" Then his head went for the Milk of the Poppy and he added over a dozen drops. It was not necessary, strictly speaking, but it was supposed to make it more bearable.
"The book has not steered me wrong so far. If it says this concoction will aid me, then it will. Have some faith, Qyburn." The words were out immediately and Cersei chuckled as she realized what she had just said. Faith. Her. The Seven would likely take a dim view of what she was about to do and there were no other gods she had ever even paid lip service to. And yet she believed. Not in the almighty puppet masters of the world, though in something she could not quite name. Her visions had not come from nothing. She had seen the Ironborn sail on Lannisport in her visions, even if she had dismissed it at the time.
"It is all poison though. Wolfs Bane. Weirwood sap. Nightshade. Mercury. None of these things should be consumed in the dosages you ask of me." He said while holding out the vial to her. Even though he had spent months in her employ, Qyburn still had not even taken on the semblance of a courtier. He would do as asked and speak his mind plainly. It was ironic how much better of a maester he was in that regard than Pycelle had ever been.
As Cersei held the small flask, she thought about it. Was there anything she would truly care about if this failed? Tommen and Myrcella were safe in Maegors Holdfast. Joffrey was still in Wickenden, though with the Kingsguard to keep him safe. There was little else left in her life except for the turncoats, the traitors and the grasping nobles around her. Her memories of Jaime whispered something and, on a whim, she repeated it. "Burn it all," she laughed before downing the flask.
Qyburn offered her a goblet and the bottle of Shade of the Evening. Cersei just took the latter. After all these times, the taste was still as overpowering as the first time, but she had learned well to force it down without dwelling on it. As the last drop passed her lips, she forced the piece of wood into her mouth while her mind was already slipping away.
There was pain. There was screaming. From countless throats the misery came. An endless cry for salvation, shouted into the world. No salvation came. No god was listening. She could hear them all. She could hear them beg and pray. Hear them tear at each other in desperation. Fields of fire from horizon to horizon. Figures moving among the flames in maddened dances. She had seen this scene before. Seen the flames spread. But now it was too late. Now the fires roared and this time, should could feel its heat. Feel the light sear her eyes. Taste the ashes on the wind.
Her eyes drifted through the blinding flames, seeing the shapes within take color and form as she beheld them. Three dragons coiled tightly around a mountain, with a serpent slithering between them and baring its fangs. Not as a threat, but to offer the very poison of its bite to them. In another place, misshapen men were gathering on stone in the midst of the roaring sea. Hoarfrost covered every surface. One among them began to sing with a discordant note. As the others joined, a fire bloomed among them, even as the sea itself began to freeze.
She looked out into the stormy sea for what felt like eternity. Waves breaking into white foam as the storm drove them onward, ever onward. On rocky shores it broke and spilled into meadows. Ever more of the land it claimed, washing it away one wave at a time. Along the seas of grass her visions took her. In a field of lush colors, a stag crowned in roses walked. Where it passed, all the other flowers bowed their heads in reverence. Nothing dared to stand in its way as it passed. She could see the creatures of the land kneel as the stag approached them, though the sea refused to pay it reverence.
A great hall of stone and iron came into view, its far reaches drenched in shadow. An acrid smell tainted the air. A black shape sat on the charred marble floor. The face a smoothed ruin. Coal and ash clinging to bone. A woman. Probably. So little left that could tell. Her limbs were clutched tight as she cradled something to her chest. A faint green glow emanating between burned fingers. Cinders clutched tightly, even as they consumed what little was left.
"What a burning to witness," a voice called from above, the dull roar and crackling of flames in its tones. "So many I have seen. So, so, many, and yet none quite like this. Such a treasure." The voice began to laugh in glee. "Never would I have imagined what would come of it."
The floor was cold to Cerseis touch, even as she could feel the heat emanating from where the voice was coming from. But it was quiet. She could feel. See. Think. The torrents had quieted, though she did not know for how long. Deep breaths soothed the pain a bit, though she knew she had to look at what had spoken to her. Knew what she would see. All she could do was hope that the calm would remain.
Lairing on a throne made from blades sat a demonic figure. Green flames roaring and licking over the sharp iron around it. Fire clinging to blackened bones as if they were flesh. The thing was still laughing as it twisted in its seat. It slowly calmed as it noticed Cerseis face had turned to it. "I should be grateful to you, girl. No sweeter gift could have been made to me than to see my will come true."
"Why do you haunt my nightmares? Have I not suffered enough?" Cersei asked weakly at the monster. Another hope was dashed. The dreams held no answers, only more questions. Pycelles book had warned her that the Shade bestowed no wishes or miracles. But she had needed one and the world disappointed here once more.
"Because you invited me, silly girl. Me and the nightmares both." The demon chuckled again. "Even though you probably did not even know you were doing so. You are still so blind. Stumbling through the darkness believing to see the path even as you are led astray so easily."
She tried to get up, though her legs were too weak. Even with her arms to aid she could barely remain sitting upright. "You," she wheezed as her chest grew tighter. Anger welled in it. "You have led me here. Sabotaged me with..." She shook her head, grasping for a what to say. It just had to be that things fault, even if she could not say how, but she knew it. Every sense, every thought, her very being seemed so certain of it.
"When have I ever given you bad advice?" It asked in a mockery of a wounded tone while Cersei watched the burning claws of its hands caress the throne. "There have been so many traitors whispering into your ears. Have I not taught you how to deal with that? You are not here because of me, but because you forgot the lessons I gave you, even as I tried to make you remember."
Cersei turned her eyes away from the burning creature and once more to the charred effigy next to her on the ground. What did even matter now? Was it even worth struggling onward? She had lost her love. Her home. Her father. Only her children were left and soon they too would be taken from her. Would they even miss her? A mirthless laugh wormed itself out of her throat. "What does it matter now?" She called back to the throne while watching the embers dim with every breath. Soon they would be gone entirely. "Even my own castle is no longer mine."
"That does not mean it is theirs," the dead thing replied at once. "My deepest regret was seeing those vermin scuttle through my halls. Could have cleansed them all. Once and for all. My fires would see it done. But maybe there is another path." The laughter returned, but this time it was so much viler and the flames roar no longer muted as it echoed through the hall. "Maybe true victory is within our grasp."
The voice was becoming painful to hear. Or maybe the brief respite was over and she would soon be thrown into the swirl of flames and colors once more. Another deep breath. The vile smell of charred flesh kept her grounded in the hall, even though she no longer knew if she wished to remain there. "What victory could there be?" She answered the thing while still looking at the burned thing before her.
"None for the Queen Regent," the green flames boomed from their perch.
"I am the Queen Regent," Cersei replied and turned around once more. The flames were spreading. Now most of the blades were covered in the baleful green. "And I care not to fight for an others victory."
"You are truly a dense one," the fire spat. "If you have come to these halls, then you should finally learn to listen. The Queen Regent is her fathers cow. Made to breed a prince for him and then discarded. As long as you cling to her, you will fall with her. But you? You can make them all pay for what they did to you. It was never my fate or that of my fires to see the world turned on its head. You are not born to the same curse as we are though. Do what your blood compels you to. Take from the world what it has denied for so long."
She listened, but she did not understand. Her head felt as if it was splitting apart as the words seared themselves into her mind. "You make no sense," she said weakly to the demon as she tried to force herself to breath.
It did not care though. The flames spread ever on. Crawling ever further down the iron and up the stone. There was no ceiling above them though. The hall was open. In the brief moment she could bear to look, she could see only nothingness above. No sky. No stars. Only the certainty that something lurked in the void. "Tell me, girl. What is it that you really want?"
[] Peace. Rest. You are too tired to fight on.
[] Family. Legacy. Your children still need you.
[] Power. Revenge. Whatever the price may be.
AN: A great many things are finally coming together in this moment.
First one is definitely loss
Second, Cersei may get something from it but I'd rather invite the mad king in with open arms, and burn everything we once held dear doing so. Sacrifices bring power, in a way.
[X] Power. Revenge. Whatever the price may be.
Three dragons coiled tightly around a mountain, with a serpent slithering between them and baring its fangs. Not as a threat, but to offer the very poison of its bite to them
Tempting as it is to go full Mad Queen, I'm kinda interested in seeing a Cersei that cares more about her kids than anything else to try making up for being such a shit mother.
