BAND OF NINE: An ASOIAF GSRPG

The year is 258 AC.

Aegon V Targaryen, called by some Aegon the Unlikely, has been king on the Iron Throne for over twenty years. Aegon is a good king, perhaps the best in a lifetime, but his reign has been far from peaceful. Enemies at home and abroad have kept his days from being days of peace, while overmighty vassals and unruly children have spoiled his efforts at reform and stymied his hopes of unifying the realm.

Though among the noblest men to ever sit the Iron Throne of the Conqueror, Aegon Targaryen is and remains the blood of the dragon, as proud and as stubborn as any of his line. Once, House Targaryen kept seven kingdoms in line with more than steel or gold. Those days are long past, but Aegon knows that he has it in him to be the greatest king since the Conciliator, if only...

If only.

Rumors arrive daily from across the Narrow Sea. They speak of a company of outlaws, misfits, sellswords, and pirates, men and women of uncommon ambition and ill repute. They speak of their gathering at the ancient Tree of Crowns in the Disputed Lands of Essos -- a place where oaths are sworn, and not lightly. In the sight of their gods, and of all gods, these misfits have sworn to make each other kings, or to die trying.

They call themselves the Band of Nine.

Among these misfits is Maelys, a giant of hideous size and monstrous strength who professes to be the last and latest of House Blackfyre. The spies and the singers say he bears the sword Blackfyre, namesake of his race, and, what is more, that he has seized command of the Golden Company, the largest and most famed mercenary outfit in Essos. Once again, for the fifth time in a hundred years, an army marches under the sign of the Blackfyre Pretender: the Targaryen sigil reversed, a black dragon on a field of red.

When the news reaches the Red Keep, Aegon's eldest son Duncan is quick with a sharp jape. The whole court laughs, but the king does not. His thoughts are full of steel and smoke, of fire and blood.

More and more, he dreams of dragons.

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Welcome to Band of Nine, an ASOIAF GSRPG. We are at the opening of that conflict which Westerosi history will later call the War of the Ninepenny Kings, or the Fifth (and final) Blackfyre Rebellion. Knowledge of the setting is not required, but is appreciated.

This game will center on two groups of nine players -- two bands of nine, if you will. Each of them is unique, and plays differently.


The Ninepenny Kings
The first group, the Ninepenny Kings, consist of Maelys Blackfyre and his eight brethren-in-arms. This is not the Band of Nine we know. While Maelys is set in stone, and may be applied for like a regular character, the other eight are player originals, created upon application. I will offer a lot of latitude when creating a character -- they can be from anywhere in the wide world of G.R.R.M's A Song of Ice And Fire, but with one caveat: they must fall into one of a set of predetermined Archetypes. Only certain people might find themselves part of the Band of Nine -- 'men and women of uncommon ambition and ill repute'.

Archetypes will largely determine what resources and troops your character starts with, though this may be modified to some extent (not a lot!) by your character biography. I will only accept a maximum of two of every sort of Archetype, and will aim for one. The Ninepenny Kings should be diverse, fascinating, alluring, and outlandish, and I will favor unique and flavorful character concepts over anything else.

These are people who swore a blood oath to take over the world. Make them interesting.

The Archetypes are listed here:

And here is the character sheet:


The Young Lords
The second group of players in this game are much more 'traditional' GSRPG fare -- somewhat. This is the age of the flower of chivalry, the youth of the movers and shakers of Westeros. Jon Arryn, Steffon Baratheon, Rickard Stark, Brynden Tully, and Aerys Targaryen are all (relatively) young men who have yet to inherit the titles that will later define them. They will win their fortunes -- and their fames -- in the wars to come.

There's a small hitch. The Lords Paramount of Westeros are old men, lost in their tomes and wine-cups. Even the wise king Aegon finds himself distracted with eggs and dreams of fire, and his son Jaehaerys struggles merely to draw breath. Yet it is they who hold the titles and the influence. How is one supposed to rise to fight the greatest threat of their generation, under such conditions?

Through Glory, of course. By making big moves in the effort against the Ninepenny Kings, be they political, military, or otherwise, characters can earn a resource called Glory, which can be spent on all sorts of things, such as calling NPC banners to arms or convincing lords to call their own, pushing the king to action, or making diplomatic and marital alliances. Characters with more Glory have more influence in the game, more renown among the common folk and soldiers, and can even spend points to assume command over armies in the field. Conversely, characters with less Glory will find it difficult to exert their will, find themselves ill-respected and left out of war councils, and, ultimately, on poor footing in the days and years to come.

Any character who is not a ruling lord in 258 AC is eligible -- that includes princes, princesses, heirs, knights, and the Kingsguard. But be forewarned: like the first group, the limit is nine, and I will heavily lean towards characters I think will be interesting or necessary for the game, or who would have interesting relationships with others I pick. Below is a non-exhaustive list of potential picks:

Jon Arryn
Steffon Baratheon
Tywin Lannister
Jason Lannister
Rickard Stark
Aerys Targaryen
Barristan Selmy
Hoster Tully
Brynden Tully

OC siblings and family are accepted, but you should note that they'll have to be very good to edge out a canon character who is similarly well-written. Don't let that discourage you, however -- I'm excited to see what you come up with!

A Young Lord character sheet should include the character's name, house, and a brief bio. Young Lords do not have Archetypes -- or rather, they're all Highborn.

There is a Discord.

The first round of acceptances will be the Band of Nine. Please only submit applications for the Ninepenny Kings.

don't have the juice

Name: Yara Codd
Age: 28
Archtype: Pirate

Bio:
Yara was everything an Ironborn aspired to be, a reaver, a pirate, someone who cold brave the worst storms and emerge unharmed, who's very sails could strike fear into the hearts of even a seasoned sailor. And yet she found herself despised by most.

Yara had the ill luck to be born a member of house Codd, though noble, almost all other Ironborn looked down upon them, thinking them little more than cowards and thieves. A reputation her father and brothers had well earned. Yara hated her house almost as much as the other Ironborn. She hated how her brothers fled from combat, hated how fate and lazy her father was, how cruel her mother was. She thought if she proved herself to the other Ironborn she could escape her family, marry a reaver worth a damn. She threw herself into raiding, almost always the first one off the ship, her axes always stained with blood upon her return. Her actions won her weapons, gold, even a ship to call her own. But it never got her the respect she demanded. To the other houses she would never be more than a cod.

One Day she had enough. She filled her ship with bastards and former thralls, people she knew would be loyal to her above all, and set sail. Since then she has roamed the narrow sea, operating as a Sellsail and pirate as she saw fit. Her bravery and quick wits saw her through thick and thin. After a few years she had acquired heaps of gold, more weapons than she knew what to do with, a lover in every port and several on her ship, and a small collection of ships that followed her own.

It wasn't enough though. Some hungry pit within Yara gnawed at her night and day. She had wealth, but little respect, and no land of her own. If she died tomorrow, nothing she had acquired would last, and she would still be seen as just another Codd back in the Iron Islands. She wanted land castles to call her own, islands that swore feality to her, men who knelt to her.

Her Crew argues she should claim the Stepstones for herself, but holdings in the Stepstones almost never lasted. Yara wanted something much more ambitious, she wanted to return home and prove once and for all she was far more than just another Codd.

Character Name: Jodha Qho, so-called "Princess of Cats". Leader of a sell-sword company "Nine Scourges".
Archetype: Exile
Biography: Once, she was a princess; a daughter of one of the petty kingdoms of the Summer Isles, and her life seemed to be set before her. She grew up on green hills and on swift sailing vessels. She learned to shoot, to use a spear, to love, to be something more. To be an example for those she might have ruled one day. It ended with betrayal, murder in the dark and blood and fire and mad, panicked flight while those who should have protected her and her family turned for the sake of glittering coin and the lure of power.

Those days are behind her now; long gone and in the past and no one knows if the words she occasionally speaks of those sunlit days are even true or simply the invention of a woman who wants to make her past seem as if it had more meaning that it actually does. What is certainly true is that she is deadly with a bow and spear and that she carries herself with pride; that she has been a fixture of the Disputed Lands for a decade or more now, starting out as simply another face.

But by now she has ships. She has men (and women); archers and spearmen and those who pay her tribute. She is far from her homeland and the blue waters and green hills, but her gaze turns from it - no matter how her heart burns for revenge, no matter how she still thinks of the stolen birthright. The time is not yet right and although she is surrounded by sellswords, loyal to her now for as long as she brings them their pay, it is not enough.

Maybe it will never be enough. She doesn't fear going back, she tells herself. She doesn't fear to find that no one remembers, that it is all gone, that she really is nothing more than a woman on a foreign shore, making excuses, losing herself in the power she has here and ignoring the duty she should have to return, to make things right.

Maybe she will never go home again; maybe this is all there is now. The years have gone by, after all.

All she can do is laugh and drink and play the part she is set. Defy death. Celebrate life. Live, live for as long as you can - make the most of what you have and try to live another day. And fury and blood to those who would stop you.

Name: Lyanna Lothson, Lady of Harrenhal, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. Leader of the sellsword company "the Witch's Warriors". The Bloody Bat of Harrenhal.
Age: eight and twenty (28)
Archetype: Exile
Bio: Who cries for Mad Danelle? Who grieves when the bat-sigil sorceress who bathes in blood loses her home and her life? Who grows up in exile, nursing a grudge against all those who fly the banner of Targaryen or Tully? Her daughter Lyanna, that's who.

Lyanna was born three years before the fall of house Lothson, to Danelle Lothson and an unknown husband, or so her tale goes. The child-heir was secreted away to Myr, being spared when King Maekar, Lord Tully, and Lothson's own knight Ser Whent toppled the sorcerer-lady of Harrenhal and put her to the sword. Lyanna was raised by a loyal man-at-arms, Danelle's supposed uncle, Crispian Waters. With the funds her mother had sent her, Lyanna was educated and trained as best Ser Crispian could manage. And Lyanna took to war and commanding like a fish to water... or a bat to caves.

Eventually Crispian passed away, and teenage Lyanna, full of energy and vigor and curiosity, sought out magicians and illusionists, furthering her education in the same sorcerous arts that had caused her mother's downfall. She spent several years traveling to Qohor, Norvos, Braavos, and more, gaining more and more knowledge and experience. Eventually, the exiled young lady took up with the wife of a Tyroshi magister, breaking the woman's heart but more importantly gaining her husband's treasury. The husband was not pleased, and now an exile twice over, Lyanna formed her own mercenary company, the "Witch's Warriors", composed of many sorcerers, charlatans, and various exiled Westerosi like her. For the next six years, Lady Lothson fought across Essos, slaying enemy captains (it is claimed she ate their hearts afterwards) and gaining renown, glory, and gold. Then her employer asked her to fight the Golden Company and its Captain-King, Maelys the Monstrous.

Lyanna didn't care for her chances at fighting an eight foot tall Valyrian mutant man with a magic sword, so she instead cut down her employer and laid her own sword at the foot of Maelys, signifying the submission of herself and her soldiers. Now, she serves as a loyal lieutenant of the Blackfyre king, asking only for Harrenhal and Lord Paramountcy of the Riverlands. Oh and for Houses Tully and Whent to be cut down to a man. She didn't ask for much.

Character Name: S'gaco Acoris
Archetype: Rebel
Biography: a man of Lorath, and indeed a magister in his own right. More importantly: one of the very last of the Boash'i cult, which has long survived its believed dissolution in the times before the Doom, if only among a few. Upon coming into his inheritance as the son of a merchant, S'gaco squandered much of his inheritance (and, indeed, legacy) in a desperate attempt to accrue power and men to bring down the other magisters, and to unite Lorath's triune princes into a single, glorious kingdom, under which the priests of Boash might thrive once more and the worship of the Blind God could be spread throughout the world, until all men were made equal in his sight.

In retrospect, the vision—though he stills thinks of it as a worthy cause—was doomed to failure. He had assumed that men would change, no, could change if given the opportunity. It was not so. There was a leak; the trap was sprung early; and S'gaco fled Lorath in the dead of night with what little wealth remained and what few men proved loyal.

In a way, it is freeing, knowing that he has abandoned his home. He is unbound by the need to change Lorath, because Lorath has rejected change, rejected him. And this opens up a whole world of opportunity.

He will return one day, when he has a kingdom of his own—a new paradise of the Boash'i to rival the old. On that day, Lorath will either see its glory and join the fold, or Lorath will burn. And then... he will simply be a man, one of many, and all will be set right.

Character Name: Aethan Scales, Prince of Sorrows, Shrouded Lord
Archetype: Sellsword
Biography:

For hundreds of years, House Scales served the Targaryens with unwavering loyalty, yet their devotion was met with little reward. Aethan Scales, the second son of the Castellan of Dragonstone, grew disillusioned with his family's stagnant fortunes. After a bitter argument with his father, he cast aside duty and legacy, leaving Westeros behind to seek his own path as a sellsword in the mercenary companies of Essos.

However, his early years across the Narrow Sea were marked by hardship. Defeated and lost in the vast expanse of Essos, Aethan wandered south of the Rhoyne, eventually stumbling into the Sorrows, a land shrouded in legend and despair, famously known as a land of exile for those afflicted with the damning disease of greyscale. There, he encountered the enigmatic Shrouded Lord and the Prince of Sorrows himself, a figure spoken of in fearful whispers. Rather than meeting his end, he was granted passage out of the cursed land. Yet, the experience changed him.

Rather than flee and forget, Aethan returned to the Sorrows, seeking out those inflicted with greyscale—men abandoned, feared, and left to die. With promises of purpose and hope, he gathered the outcasts under his banner, forging them into a feared and disciplined fighting force. Thus, the Greyscale Company was born. Known for their masked and helmeted warriors—hiding their affliction from the world—the company carved its name into history, fighting as mercenaries for the highest bidder, and as his fame grew, he began to be mistaken as the Shrouded Lord and the Prince of Sorrows of the legends.

Though many of his men are touched by the disease, Aethan proved that even those deemed cursed could wield steel and shape their own fate.



Son of the infamous Aerion Brightflame and bearing the name of a dreaded king, Maegor Brightflame grew up under the weight of a legacy he despised. He harbored a deep hatred for the Iron Throne and the ambition it inspired, fearing power and the ruin it brought. Yet beneath his resentment lay a quiet longing—for his kin to see him not as his father's son or as a namesake of tyrants, but simply for who he truly was.

(Feel free to pick any of these, I don't have a favorite between them.)

Character Name: Princess Lai Hwan of Tiqui, She Whose Radiance Banishes Shadow And Outshines Brilliant Diamonds
Archetype: Exile
Biography: Lai Hwan is unmistakably YiTish (to anyone who actually knows what the YiTish look like), but whether she's a bona-fide exiled princess whose exploits are meant to raise an army to reclaim her faraway throne or merely a con artist spinning tales to ignorant Westerners to whom Yi Ti might as well be on the moon, no one but the woman herself can say. Really, though—what are the trappings of royalty, in the end? Fabulous wealth? Martial glory? An unchallenged reign over land and lives? The "Radiant Princess" has all of these and has her sights set on more. Power resides where men believe it does, and Lai Hwan is an easy woman to believe in.

Character Name: Xhoru Dessali
Archetype: Sellsword
Biography: Everyone knows that the Naathi are pacifists. Which is why no one ever saw the Reaper's Butterflies coming until it was too late. For decades, that band of forsworn Naathi sellswords carved a bloody path through the petty wars of the Summer and Basilisk Isles and then through the brushfire conflicts of the Free Cities, building up their own martial tradition purely from scratch—a tradition in which they raised new recruits, like the half-Naathi half-Summer Islander scion named Xhoru Dessali, from the ground up. So famous (or infamous) were their exploits that other mercenary bands grew jealous and not a little fearful—and joined forces to finally bring them down, turning on their own allies in the midst of a battle. Though they extracted a bloody price for this betrayal, the Reaper's Butterflies were all but destroyed—save for Xhoru and a small force of survivors, who escaped to plot revenge and seek a return to glory…

Character Name: Fintan, the King-Beyond-the-Sea
Archetype: Exile
Biography: Fintan was only a boy when Raymun Redbeard breached the Wall, too young to fight alongside the great army of the free folk that descended on the southern kneelers; but the exploits of the King-Beyond-the-Wall left a lasting impression on his growing mind. Sadly, his dreams of repeating Raymun's feat were crushed when he and much of his village were captured by slave raiders from across the Narrow Sea, who hoped to make "good breeding stock" from the hardy folk north of the Wall. Fintan, however, had other plans; before they reached their destination he and his fellow free folk had slipped their chains, slaughtered the slaver crew, and taken the ship for themselves. He spent the next twenty years building himself up as a piratical force to be reckoned with in the Narrow and Summer Seas, recruiting without prejudice all those who would swear loyalty to him—and finally, resurrected the old free folk kingship-by-acclaim in a land far different from anything Raymun Redbeard could have imagined.

Character Name: Tao Ruan, Pirate Queen of the Rhoyne.
Archetype: Street Rat
Biography: Tao Ruan was named for a princess of Yi Ti, a great Lady her mother had served before she was banished from the court for indiscretion. She got as far as Volantis by pawning her jewels and silks, but by then was heavily pregnant, and could not continue. Starving and desperate, she sold herself to a brothel outside the Black Walls.

Ruan cannot remember her mother's face, not exactly, but she knows it all the same - she sees the same tired, sad eyes in every brothel, the same tattoos forever marking the bearers. When she was nine her mother died, and Ruan slashed open the face of her pimp when he came for her in the night, fleeing into the city, homeless and alone. Her Yi Tish is broken, only a few half remembered words her mother taught her, but it gave her a mystique she used early on to stand alone amongst the orphans of the city. By the age of 13, she managed to cajole her way to serving aboard a merchantman out of Volantis. By eighteen she was the ship's master, and by twenty five she had grown bored of trading.

She is now twenty-nine or thereabouts. Her sails are feared wherever they are seen on the Mother Rhoyne, but more feared are her eyes in every port. No one sees the wretched, and no one listens to slaves, but they remember her, the girl from Volantis and Yi Ti, who clawed her way out with only what she could grasp in her own two hands.

Character Name:

Archetype: Adventurer
Biography:
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To be born on the ruins of the Sarnora kingdom means to live in constant fear of the Riders of the Steppe. People drag out a miserable existence huddled in the last of the cities on the Sarna River - Saat. Over many centuries they have learned to exist in conditions of constant submission, learned helplessness, sycophancy, pretense. Every Khan of the Great Cursed Steppe who decides to wander into this remote corner is honored with a reception similar to a small god. And what else to do, when for every attempt to raise his head comes the next Khan, and after him the next, and then another. The womb of the Steppe is fertile, unlike the women of Sarnor. Tall people, as they are sometimes called, can boast only of height, not the number of herds and not the number of warriors. In truth, they have nothing to boast about...

Only late at night in taverns, stories of past greatness, wealth, power, and honor are whispered from mouth to mouth. Bitter stories, to match the alcohol infused with steppe herbs.

As you can imagine, dreamers are not liked here, decisive people are condemned, and brave people are feared. All who want more, those who are ready to risk their lives for the sake of their own ambitions, go to the big world.

Huresh from the Mirza clan, the fifth son of his poor father, was different from other children from childhood. Curious, greedy for everything new, uncharacteristically for today's Sarnorians principled. By the age of ten, his entire back was one continuous scar from his father's whip. He was respected and feared not only by children, but even by adults. How can you not respect someone who climbed the spires of the Temple Towers? How can you not fear someone who rushes into a fight one against five, fighting as if it were the last time, like a demon of the Old Night seeing the first rays of the sun? How can you not consider someone who went to the Steppes for weeks to look for ancient ruins to be a madman?

Many adventures have passed since his youth. Exploring the ruins of ancient Sarnor, still littered with bones, working on an Ibbenese whaling ship in places where the water is as hard as steel, living with river pirates on the Rhoyne, fighting in the arena of Meereen as a gladiator - all this is just part of his stormy life. A life for which he is not ashamed of every moment.

The famous adventurer, a daredevil ready to accept the most dangerous task with a daring grin, was attracted not by the war itself... He does not need purple robes, thousands of servants exalting him, countless armies dying and killing with his name on their lips. This is just a new adventure, another profession that he will master - Conqueror of Kingdoms.

And after the victory, with the promised resources, Huresh will be able to organize the expeditions of his dreams, further than Asshai, further than the pirate slums of Sothorys, further than the islands of the iron men - he will see what others do not even dream of, breathe in the aroma of exotic plants, taste strange animals, if he is lucky, meet new peoples.

At the moment, all he needs to do is fulfill the goals of his companions-allies, then they will fulfill his desire, satisfy his Thirst.

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And here's number two...

Character Name: Ysac Darh
Archetype: Merchant
Biography: Ysac claims to be descended from one of the wealthier families out of Myr; it might even be true. Little is truly known about his youth, but he certainly looks Myrish - olive skin and dark, curly hair - and he acts with the refinement one might expect from someone raised in wealth. Beyond that, his claim to fame is a self-made man (or as self-made as anyone can be). He operates out of Myr in these days - or that is where he keeps his money, in any case. He started out small, with a bit of gold, some silver, some Myrish glass - and since those days has risen to become one of the wealthier men this side of the Narrow Sea. Quite a bit of his rise was based on raising a small, private army to fight for him - and then taking from those he defeated. Land, slaves, gold, whatever they had, he acquired and then turned it to his advantage, selling what he could, keeping the choicest cuts for himself.

Today his interests extend to slave-trading, mining, carpets, lace, the very ships that carry all these goods between ports.

In person, he is gregarious. Generous, even, with praise and kind words and hospitality, but he can also be like a dog when it has set it's jaws - he will worry you to death without thinking if one isn't careful or if someone has something he desires. It is a grim, determined sort of interest and beyond that smile and words there is a ruthless desire to see himself set up not just with wealth, but as a ruler in his own right, with his own petty kingdom to call his own - for although he has money, he does not rule in Myr. He is not a magister, after all, and despite his efforts he has not been able to buy or trade to acquire a place in one of those coveted seats.

For all that, he has agents in nearly every port on the Narrow Sea and for now he bides his time and considers how to lead his private army, his private navy, and where. The gold continues to flow into his coffers and he likewise continues to spend it - it does him no good in bound chests in vaults. No; the gold flows as an expression of power. It is not enough for him to rest at ease in his own palatial estate - he has led on the field of battle and there is opportunity beckoning if he sets out again. The chance to become a kingmaker and all the rewards that might flow from it - and if not that, perhaps a chance to finally carve out his own personal fiefdom. A chance to swell his coffers and perhaps, finally, to sit atop the world and be renowned for it.

Second App:

Character Name: Marquela Vhassar, Commander of the Tiger's Claws, a Sellsword Company.
Archetype: Highborn
Bio: Vhassars were ruling in Volantis when she stood alone as a daughter of Valyria, and their blood runs true in Marquela's veins. Her father was a Triarch, and with all likelihood, her brother will be too.

She lived behind the Black Walls of Volantis until she was two and twenty, and she never knew there was anything else worth considering, but she did know, knew truly, that she was bored. She was so bored she could just die. So when her father suggested he could marry her to the current Triarch of the Tigers, she decided enough was enough. She refused, and left with only the barest essentials - a mere six slaves to wait on her, and only two dozen Tiger Cloaks to guard her.

She has done well enough in the half decade since - amassed a Sellsword Company, lancers who shake the earth beneath their charge - but the boredom has begun to creep in again. She needs something new, something exciting! Perhaps this "Band of Nine" will spice it up again. And hells, if the opportunity arises, maybe she could go back to Volantis, show them what the Old Blood could have been if they didn't waste away behind those walls.

What makes a king?

Is it strength of arms, a sword with which a man defends his throne, his realm? If so, then Maelys has that in spades. There is no man alive stronger than him.

Is it blood? A lineage and a pedigree stretching back through the ages? A certain indelible right to rule? If so, then Maelys is the blood of the dragon. There is no greater lineage than that.

Is it symbols? The banners of a house, the sword drenched in ancient blood. The small things, of portraits and seals and all the little additions that grants one an air of majesty. If so, he has his banner, the black dragon, and he has the sword of kings, Blackfyre. In his mind, that is enough.

Is it wisdom? Knowing how to chart a course to not only see your realm prosper, but keep the throne? To manage egos and ancient lines to the benefit of all? If so, all the world may debate the wisdom of Maelys in the coming days. He is certain in his course, one could say that is a wisdom all its own.

He intends to seize his throne. He intends to give the Band of Nine their crowns. He swore as such, underneath the Tree of Crowns. He may well be doomed—against him stands the assembled might of Westeros. Every Blackfyre before him has failed. This does not matter.

The only outcome is victory or death.

(Definitely interested in some of the Young Lords as well, Areys and Barristan spring to mind, but as you've asked only for the Band of Nine apps atm I'll keep to Maelys atm and adjust on whether I get him or not.)

Thiccroy said:

"When I rule, Tywin- there will be a reckoning for all traitors such as these..."​

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Or...​

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JILLO, the Serpent of the Red Waste
| WARLORD |​

• Born from the coupling of a Khal's bloodrider and a Yi Ti slave, Jillo was meant for a life of a slave. However early in his life, he proved himself to his father's khalasar, which rested north of the Red Wastes. This came by through subterfuge and a young and early cunning, taught to him by his slave mother, who's death by illness caused the events to transpire.​
• About to be taken into slavery, the boy of only thirteen years escaped the clutches of his father and his closest companions, number ten in total, before taking one of the men's horses for himself and riding into the Red Wastes. Taunted by this, his father and the eight others, bereft of one man due to the humiliation, chased after him.​
• Having learned of various techniques of subterfuge and the human psyche through his mother, Jillo then proceeded to, one by one, drive his hunters into madness, traps, accidents or killing them from the shadows, like a serpent. It ended when his feeling father, wishing to return to the khalassar, was set upon by Jillo and they fought in a duel. Unbeknownst to both the spectators, including that of the Khal, and his father, was that Jillo's sword was doused in a special snake venom, slowing his father down as he was worn further and further before the final blow.​
• The Khal, impressed, adopted Jillo as one of his sons. The young man then rode with him in both raids and conquest, becoming more known due to his underhanded and cunning exploits by both dothraki and Essosi as the Serpent of the Red Wastes. However, despite becoming a bloodrider, Jillo did not sacrifice his life in a suicidal charge when his Khal was killed in a battle against the Golden Company.​
• Instead, Jillo, twenty four at the time, took a small band of like-minded dothraki and rode to join the Golden Company under contract. Most of his companions, who would, alongside their leader, become known as the Snakes on Horses, became the leading vanguard of Golden Company cavalry, despite its knightly-backbone traditions. Jillo brought a certain understanding and successful copying of dothraki tactics to the soldiers of Bittersteel, and would built a rapport with the men of the Golden Company, both attracting like minded and cunning followers and companions, as well as gaining the trust and respect of the wayward, exiled westerosi. As such, Jillo would owe them a favor for their help, but just like before, he vanished into the east after five years of service- and rode to his home of the Red Wastes.​
• For ten years, alongside other cavalrymen that decided to join Jillo, he would disappear; before reappearing again. This time, wreaking havoc across smaller khalasars around the Red Wastes, supposedly using a hidden away oasis that he had found as a child o lead his Snakes on Horses. As the Snakes on Horses, Jillo would command a force of a thousand cavalry at its peak over the last twenty years- leading daring raids between Free Cities and Slavers and earning a sizable fortune both aiding, betraying and playing against both sides in conflicts between the Essosi and dothraki. He had a way with words and a certain tactical mind that made cities, magistrates, princes and khals believe him, despite his background and ruthless, underhanded tactics.​
• What brought him to Maekar, however, was a favor owed. Without the Golden Company, Jillo would not have had the footing he'd need to become the leader of such a large host and warband, and as such, would repay the favor to both the Golden Company and the House of Blackfyre for their aid in his youth. As such, Jillo came west, to the sea- and conquest.​

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updated.

Archetype: Highborn
Biography:

Donysios Vaelaros grew up within the Black Walls of Volantis, in the manse of his fathers. In his blood flowed true the blood of Old Valyria, and he appeared to all men as a Dragonlord of old. His father was of the Tiger party and bowed in all things to the dictates of Malaquo Maegyr, being content to rule over his great house of slaves and sample the pleasures afforded to the Old Blood of the greatest city and First Daughter of Valyria.

But Donysios was not content. By the age of 16 he had his fill of strong charioteers and wine and looked about him. Volantis was mightiest, but it was but one among many cities. The might of Slaver's Bay alone could cow the vile Elephants who grasped for coin like beggars. And he looked across the Narrow Sea and saw the Iron Throne of the Targaryens. Why should they rise so high? Targaryen and Vaelaros were as much the blood of Dragonlords, for the Targaryens had mixed with Andal race, and their dragons were all bones in the Red Keep.

Why should this stagnant politics last? Why should three rule when one with vision could rise to greater heights?

And so Donysios Vaelaros, from boredom and ambition, left Volantis and built a company of mercenaries, of slaves, of Volantene freemen, of Westerosi exiles, and named themselves Bloodsworn. Their purple banners with the device of a chalice of blood, shown for the esoteric rituals of initiation, struck fear across the Disputed Lands. Vaelaros would fight upon horse with his companions, lance in hand and mail upon his body.

A pack of murderers, pillagers, and they were his to own and play with. And he had all the strong captains for the dark nights he could desire.

Until he spoke with Maelys the Monstrous and the giant spoke of crowns.

And now Donysios thirsts for the greatest prize of all, Volantis and the world at his fingertips. The vast wealth of his family at his beck and call, his mercenary army, and the aid of these fellow degenerates will see it done.

Name: Hakahr zo Garaz
Archetype: Highborn
Bio: Born in a pyramid manse on Ghaen across the bay from New Ghis, Hakahr spent his youth as an almost perfect New Ghiscari noble. His time was split between the city and his family's lands on Ghaen, exploring the low hills on hunting trips with friends of in the city with his father. When he came of age, he joined the Iron Legion like every good citizen should and spent a dozen years under the Harpy. A serjeant's horsehair came quickly and on his third term he earned command of an entire legion, he had faced every army in Slaver's Bay at least once and even been part of a battle that saw Unsullied invincibility disproven, though the eunuchs reaped a heavy toll nonetheless.

However no matter how high one goes, they can always fall. His time away on campaign had allowed political rivals to spew slanders upon his name. Accusations of keeping the spoils for himself rather then distributing them to the city as was customary, rumours that instead of taking slaves entire towns were slain under the spear, and worse. Was there a grain of truth in them? Possibly but no man in his legion would hear it, and neither would Hakahr. When whispers reached him that the west was boiling and another war coming in the Narrow Sea he gathered his men and made a speech.

The patricians of New Ghis demanded the legions plunder without fighting, shamed them for killing enemies instead of taking them as slaves, and brought down any commander who rose too high. Would they follow him west to glory? To face the child cities of Valyria and prove that the Harpy was still greater than any of them?

The Legion's acceptance was roared back. When they entered the Disputed Lands, Hakahr was met with the Golden Company and he met with Maelys. The Blackfyre spoke of fighting the realm of the last dragonlords and ripping a new home for his legion from them, and Hakahr eagerly swore the oath beneath the Tree of Crowns.

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Name: Janni
Archetype: Warlord
Bio: All that have met Janni and survived report a head full of never cut braids that reach her waist and hang heavy with jingling bells, scars equal to any warrior in Essos, and eyes that burn with a hungry dark fire. Janni's childhood is unclear and the woman herself is silent on the subject but for a few scarce words regarding a beloved father, a Khal that fought Norvos, Qohor, and Ibb. Her reputation however speaks very loudly, she emerged from the Dothraki Sea with a handful of riders under her command and starting raiding up and down the Rhoyne and her daughters. From that small band of bloodriders that were willing to buck tradition and follow a Khaleesi into battle has grown one of the most feared khalasar's of recent memory.

As she burned her way south and towards the Disputed Lands the opposition she faced changed from local militia's and the guards that small towns could afford to proper sellswords. Her first battle with them was the closest Janni has ever come to defeat, when a company of westerosi exiles clad in heavy plate riding destriers matched her charge with one of their own that nearly shattered the Khalasar, with only a lucky cut that slipped beneath the enemy leader's helmet allowing her to slay him and rally her riders.

One day when her Khalasar was passing near a lake they were hailed by a man bearing a golden standard. Captain-King Maelys Blackfyre had head of the fearsome Warlady and wanted to discuss an arrangement. Janni accepted and met with the Monstrous a few days later, and upon hearing of his intentions to conquer Westeros made an offer. Let her take the best grazing lands of Westeros, it's strongest horses, enslave it's fiercest knights, and unify them all under her to create a cavalry force that could shatter empires.

Janni wouldn't simply wait for the Stallion who Mounts the World. She would bring him into existence and ride him to eternal glory, so that the star of her afterlife shines even brighter than any dothraki before or after.

Character Name: Sar'ath the Cyclops
Archetype: Street Rat
Biography: Born among the back streets of Quarth to a drunk and a deadbeat Sar'ath had a tenuous upbringing. His mother barely had the time or money to care for him and with the famine of bones she sold the young boy for a sack of grain and thirty pieces of silver to the tower. Perhaps she had thought that they would care for him, but she should have known better. Over long weeks the monsters which dwelt there used him for their rituals.

In the dank corridors the child was bled, drugged and finally at the climax of the ritual his eye was taken. In that moment he saw things that man was never supposed to see. He saw the gods and their fell plans, he saw the future and the past and he saw the moment. The child thrown from tower survived by some miracle. Whether to spite the gods, or perhaps by their plans; he lived.

And so by paths winding and long boy made his way north becoming the cyclops over time. It started small; the contents of merchants letters finding themselves to rivals or bandits ambushing convoys. Over time it grew and by the hands of him and his acolytes Lords rose and Magisters fell. Even a Keyholder of bravos fell to a black fletched arrow fired by one of his feared Karnac acolytes. He is a snake, a manipulator and a monsters. He has patroned as many bandit gangs as inns and he sown more harm to the world than most petty warlords.

He trades in secrets and lies, He traded in lives and blood. A network of agents grew from a kernal into a vast web of eyes; every shadow being where he sees with the eye he lost. Beyond his unsettling perceived omniscience his visions and believed mystic powers sought by bandit kings and merchant lords alike.

Over time he made his way to the place he saw, he made his way to the King he'd serve.

With his acolyte Karnac Archers standing watch it was he who drew the blood of the other eight and comingeled their blood; before making them dabble their fingers in it. He was the one who sealed their path. He is the sorceror of the Nine Penny Kings. He is the hearld of the new age.

He will save the world; or see it burn before the coming storm

(OOC: Whether he's a mystic, a charlatan or a poor kid who had a really bad trip while drugged and developed psychotic delusions is up to you)

Gunnar Snow, Lord Commander of the Wolf Pack, the King From the Wall

Archetype: Exile

Bio: Sent to the Wall under threat of death by his highborn father Gunnar tried his best, really, he did, he took the oath, trained in the yard, swallowed his pride and was assigned to the rangers. He served his time on the wrong side of the Wall, he hunted wildlings, rode into snowstorms to find lost brothers, suffered the cold, the privations, the hunger, he looked ten years older than he was. He was good with a sword, fine with a bow and a skilled tracker, he did everything he was supposed to do. When First Ranger Horace fell through the ice Gunnar dragged him out, risked his own life to save the old man, and when it was for nothing he brought his body back to Castle Black

So why, in the name of the Old Gods and the New, did he get passed over for that perfumed southern cunt Lonnel Hightower? Why? He'd done everything right, he'd done what he was supposed to, at the Wall any man could rise on ability, that's what his father said. So why the fucking hell didn't he get what he'd earned? What he was owed? Because Lord Hightower bunged a bunch of gold and supplies to the Lord Commander? Was that it? Because some highborn with a fancy name could steal what a man with no name had earned by right?

Well, fuck that, fuck all of them. If a man couldn't get what he'd earned at the Wall, there were other places

So when he'd been ranging north of the Wall, again, having to babysit two new brats, again, and he'd seen those Tyroshi slavers running down that wildling family, he hadn't stayed back. He'd send the brats off into the wild and he'd caught that family, slew the man with his sword and sold the wife and children to the Tyroshi in exchange for passage. Then he'd gone to Essos, worked a sellsword and ended up in the Wolf Pack. Of course by then it wasn't all Northmen but they saw a man who'd had the stones to walk away from the Night's Watch and saw a man worth embracing, worth fighting alongside, worth promoting, and in time, worth following. And he'd taken them from a third rate band of thugs to a company greater than the Windblown

And when he crossed paths with the Golden Company and its Captain-General, he saw another man who wanted what he'd earned and had taken it, and who could help him get what he wanted. Gunnar wanted to take his new brothers back home, march up to his fathers castle, break down the gates, put his worthless kin to the sword and take their keep, lands and name for his own. And if the rest of the North had a problem with that, he'd take it too