Braavos is already offering the same, we will not condemn them at all. Our war is with Westeros not Essos you would do wise to remain our friends. Remember the Lord of Light sees everything.
And how many R'hllorists did they slaughter in Pentos? Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? The Braavosi do not care about your followers and are just as willing to slay them as the Westerosi are, if it helps them achieve their ambitions.
Your war may be with Westeros but the Red Faith's home is in Essos. If the southern Free Cities fall, what will happen when the Braavosi turn against the Red Faith?
You must pick your friends carefully, else you may end up having a knife wedged into your back.
And how many R'hllorists did they slaughter in Pentos? Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? The Braavosi do not care about your followers and are just as willing to slay them as the Westerosi are, if it helps them achieve their ambitions.
Your war may be with Westeros but the Red Faith's home is in Essos. If the southern Free Cities fall, what will happen when the Braavosi turn against the Red Faith?
You must pick your friends carefully, else you may end up having a knife wedged into your back.
We believe your information is wrong. They did not attack people of the Light, yes some were lost but most lost in Pentos were rallied by the Magisters who are still at large in the countryside.
You must remember there is a rather large following of the Lord of Light in Braavos. In fact is has one of our largests temples there as well. If Braavos truly wanted to attack us they would do so there, though they wouldn't like what they found.
You have brave words First Magister Roagre, perhaps you should remember that we also have temples in your city as well.
My lord Leyton, I have been informed that the guards that were at the Starry Sept were those of the Faith and that they walked off with many of the Septon of the Faith and out the gates. Those at the gates were also of the Faith and freely let them into the city.
If any were moronic enough to remain in the city have then arrested and trialed for being complicit in the murder of every man women and child that died in the riots.
If any were moronic enough to remain in the city have then arrested and trialed for being complicit in the murder of every man women and child that died in the riots.
We believe your information is wrong. They did not attack people of the Light, yes some were lost but most lost in Pentos were rallied by the Magisters who are still at large in the countryside.
You must remember there is a rather large following of the Lord of Light in Braavos. In fact is has one of our largests temples there as well. If Braavos truly wanted to attack us they would do so there, though they wouldn't like what they found.
You have brave words First Magister Roagre, perhaps you should remember that we also have temples in your city as well.
We do not have issue with Lys and nor do we wish to see it come to that. If you allow our own ships to pick up those that wish to fight for the Lord of Light, than we should have none at all. This will allow you to protect your own lands from anything Braavos does.
.The new ambition of Lord Roose Bolton is to have several sons and daughters .... thinking of alliances in the future.,
. Lord Roose Bolton will avoid to the maximum have bastard children.
.When it is possible to reform the DeadFort .... leave it looking less dark, if at all possible ,and also to reform old torture chambers.
.At the moment helping Lord Arryn to face the Mountain Clans in the Vale at the request of Lord Rickard Stark.
.Diplomacy:
To: Lord Wyman Manderlyn@hassnain123
From: Lord Roose Bolton
Private
Well I hear you're looking for a wife for your second son, right Lord Wyman ?, Well, in that case I offer my little sister Anissa's hand to marry her son, what do you say to me, Lord Wyman ?.
@Skrevski
To: Lady Royce
CC: Lord Yohn Royce
Private: As promised to your Lord Husband I shall be releasing the children to your care, I offer you the chance to return to your seat or take up residence in Gulltown where I swear you will be treated as guests not prisoners. If as is entirely natural you prefer to join your husband across the sea instead then I shall arrange for a ship to take you and yours away. I beg your pardons for forcing your unseemly rout and taking your home from you my Lady, war is a cruel thing.
For the return of my family I give thanks. I will however not return to either Runestone or Gulltown but will find protection at Ironoaks and protection of my sister and hopefully sit out the rest of this insane war.
For the return of my family I give thanks. I will however not return to either Runestone or Gulltown but will find protection at Ironoaks and protection of my sister and hopefully sit out the rest of this insane war.
Ser Lymond Darry was grim-faced as the screaming waves of Westermen and Reachmen neared the palisade. Ensconced in steel and bright livery they made a formidable sight, ordered ranks charging forward with death on their lips and hate in their eyes. The Bull of Bulwer, the Cornucopia of Merryweather, the Apple of Fossoway, and what seemed like a thousand and one more banners all rushed at him, while House words were cried out as the moment of the inevitable clash came close and closer. The hastily-prepared and unfinished palisade wall now seemed so inadequate in the face of such furor and sheer number of the foes that they faced today, trembling the very earth as they were.
"Prepare to receive the enemy!"
The men on the impromptu wall shifted nervously, murmuring among themselves. Many are tensed up and still as a stone even as others fidgeted and did all but quake in their boots. A sea of whispers drifted up, fear and apprehensiveness blended into one, but there was defiance buried within the frantic words as well.
Were he Tristifer or his father, he might even have spoken a great speech to rouse the men's spirits and fan that defiance into flame, but he was only the spare, never expected to lead in battle. Lymond settled for clear and steady commands, and hoped that the men do not hear his own worries and uncertainties within those words.
"Archers! Knock! Draw! LOOSE!"
The creaking of a thousand bows is an impressive cacophony by themselves. Whistling arrows streaked past the palisade, over the ditches and trenches, and slammed into the horde of onrushing men. Shouts and cheers turned to screams and cries all too soon, the less-armoured levies and men-at-arms suffering under the withering hail of arrows. The dismounted knights hurt less with their fine plates of steel, but lucky shots struck their joints and other weak points within their iron suits, luckier shots still found their way into jugulars or eyes, spraying lifeblood across the muddy field. Men fell, but to the young Darry it seemed to make no difference at all, for the onrushing men never once stopped.
If they fell, they are good as dead, he realized. Trampled by those who comes after them.
Catapults now slung their deadly cargo into the midst of the attacking foe, huge balls of flame and death wreaking destruction wherever they landed. Some of the siege engines crafted by the enemy were crushed or set alight before making it ten paces, others less fortunate bore the burnt of the strikes with their own selves, and were immolated as they stood, their last thoughts nothing but the horrid heat and begging for release. The steady lockstep of the siege engines being loaded, primed, then shot became no more then just another part to the symphony of death and agony.
Despite this, despite the black shafts that fell like no more then common rain, despite it all, the self-proclaimed Lord Regents' army pushed forth, now almost at the palisade itself. Startled cries of anguish and pain burst forth anew, as they found yet another gruesome defence against their advance. Lymond winced and glanced away when blood-soaked stakes punched through flesh and steel alike, only to drag his sight back when the first of the enemy finally pushed himself up the palisade, an unsteady ladder under him, a large apple emblazoned on his leather vest. And before Lymond can so much as move to cut him down when still exposed, three different bolts caught his chest, the man coughed crimson, and he fell back among the mass of pushing and shoving humanity right beyond the wall.
They came, and Lymond with his House's men answered.
"Save your shots! Cut them down when they are exposed!" he cried, his sword already flashing to accentuate his command, leaving a man short a leg when he tried to step onto the palisade, now tumbling onto it with an ugly crack, suddenly off balance. Similar shouts ringed out by gruff and foul-mouthed sergeants, berating the men to use their swords or spears or axes, that they don't need to be reloaded nor do they run out, and how cutting down men just leaping off siege ladders is easier then lifting the skirts of...
...Lymond focused back onto the battle. He saw a knight of House Bulwer in deep and fierce red, horned helmet crafted to resemble their sigil's beast, and moved to intercept. It can take many men to subdue one knight, and with the tide of numbers already vastly against them, every man is vital. He had the training, the armour, the weapons to slay a knight, and for his men's sake he will have to do so. He fought to keep back treacherous second thoughts of how the knight is assuredly trained to slay him as well.
Sword met axe, the larger Bulwer grunting with effort. His blows were more slow then Lymond's, great arches flashing through the air, any one blow strong enough to cleave right through his helm and head. The Darry in turn relied on his smaller size and speed, darting back and forth, feinting this way and that, fighting to keep clear of the bull knight while landing glancing blows on his arms, legs, and back, trying to slow him down even further. Finally, with a flush of relief through his body, Lymond leaped around the axe and in turn sunk his blade into the gap between the bull's helm and the crimson chest plate, neatly - or as near as neat given the circumstances - detaching the head from the body.
As the men-at-arms who were around him cheered even as they fought their own battles and duels, each no less dangerous or important to themselves then Lymond's own fight with the Bulwer, he allowed himself a grim smile, a small thing that lasted but a moment.
"Men of Darry! On me! On me!"
Slowly, as he lead the defence against the onslaught of Reachmen, their tide ebbing and flowing, he found a brief respite. The Reachmen fell back, drifting back to a fair distance way from the blood-soaked palisade, to tired jeers and laughter from the protectors of Duskendale. Lymond cleaned his sword, and sheathed it, resting his sore arms. So tired were they, he realized, he did not know how weary they are. He stood there, leaning steeply on his shield, panting and gasping, drained and exhausted.
Perhaps even the exhaustless sons of the Mander have their breaking point, however quickly they seemed to be recovering from charnel house that is the palisade wall. The chivalry of the Reach once again bore down on the beleaguered defenders, and Lymond knew that this might be the only time, the final time, he can speak to his men, speak to anyone at all with words other then hate and as friends rather then foes.
"Men, friends, brothers, you have done all I could have asked of you, the King could have asked of you, giving your all and then some. Mayhaps the bards will sing of your heroism aeons from hence, but know that at this very moment, there are no others I would rather fight besides, no others that I will die besides!"
Whoops and hearty cries rose up from the gathered men of House Darry, more at ease then they were mere moments ago. The Reachmen are almost here, swearing death and defeat for those accursed defenders of Duskendale and King Rhaegar.
"But today is not the day we die! We hold, we force them back, we stare down the Stranger eye to eye, and what do we say?! Not today! Not today! Fight, and live, damn the odds and damn how many bloody Reachmen there are baying for our blood! We shall give them blood, but only their own!" And, as if in a trance, Lymond drew his sword once more, the crisp sound ringing through the air as he cried, "are you with me, men of Darry?!"
What follow was not a cheer, not a roar, but a deafening blast of sound that was awful and majestic in every way, an undeniable and unanimous yes that seemed to shroud everyone with bravery beyond bounds and a determination to fight to the very end, if need be. The Reachmen have now reached the wall, only to meet the charge of Ser Lymond Darry head on, all those men following him, whether it be knights or levies, with one word on their lips.
"Have you heard? The King hanged himself!" "No no no. He is in his cage don't believe the rumors."
"The King is free!" "Shut up!"
"What do you mean he had a rat army?"
"Why follow a King born of incest? Follow one born true of blood! Look to the Stormlands! Look to the man that can heal the nation on both sides!"
"Dorne has wronged us! They still hold the Red Priests there to arms I say to arms!"
"The Red Army comes FLEE FLEE!"
"Hey bread! The Reach brought bread!"
"Die you unfaithful dog!"
These words and more were being shouted out all across Westeros. From the North to Dorne. Rumors and gossip were time honored traditions within the Seven Kingdoms and they ran rampant now.
Throughout the capital rumors were starting to spread that in fact King Aerys was dead, though the method of his death went from he being hanged to him using his own nails to do it himself. Others spoke that he was well and "enjoying" his confinement in his cell. Throughout the Crownlands people still swung the praises of the Targaryens, they having been faithful to them for hundreds of years and many soldiers of the Regency would get sneered at and booed.
Across all of Westeros the cries of those of the Faith were heard loudly and boisterously. Many still called for striking down any R'hllorite invader and rally to the Faith Militant and follow the true King of Westeros. Yet not everyone followed what the Faith want the people to do and fighting between the smallfolk and "soldiers" of the Faith now became common throughout the land. Most were just with fists, but some became bloody with weapons pulled. Yet still thousands answered and joined the ranks to help make sure the Faith truly ruled in Westeros and that they had a friend in the King.
In the Reach and even the southern Stormlands calls went out for soldiers, knights, and the people to join in a crusade to end the Red Faith in Dorne. "They are already here! Let us end it now before the rest come and they get thousands to join them! To Arms!" This message was passed on through messengers as a small yet determined group closed on the Prince's Pass. More began to rally from southern houses in the Stormlands as the fear of a crusade against them grew.
In the Stormlands proper another cry began to be heard, one that was being picked up across not just the Stormlands but the Crownlands and the Reach. A call for someone that so far had shown that they could distance themselves from the battle of Faith and was untainted by the incest of the Targaryens, one that had shown madness across the line. One that had worked with both sides trying to stop the war that was still killing thousands. The cries of "Make Robert king! A true King!" began to spread across the Westeros as a possible way to end the war.
We do not have issue with Lys and nor do we wish to see it come to that. If you allow our own ships to pick up those that wish to fight for the Lord of Light, than we should have none at all. This will allow you to protect your own lands from anything Braavos does.
We have no issues with Lys as we said, we wish to keep it that way. War between us does nothing, as you know the Night is Dark and full of terrors. Our ships will pick up the Company of Lys.
We have no issues with Lys as we said, we wish to keep it that way. War between us does nothing, as you know the Night is Dark and full of terrors. Our ships will pick up the Company of Lys.
.The new ambition of Lord Roose Bolton is to have several sons and daughters .... thinking of alliances in the future.,
. Lord Roose Bolton will avoid to the maximum have bastard children.
.When it is possible to reform the DeadFort .... leave it looking less dark, if at all possible ,and also to reform old torture chambers.
.At the moment helping Lord Arryn to face the Mountain Clans in the Vale at the request of Lord Rickard Stark.
.Diplomacy:
To: Lord Wyman Manderlyn@hassnain123 From: Lord Roose Bolton
Private
Well I hear you're looking for a wife for your second son, right Lord Wyman ?, Well, in that case I offer my little sister Anissa's hand to marry her son, what do you say to me, Lord Wyman ?.
#HouseBoltonTurn4
[/QUOTE
From Lord Manderly
To Lord Bolton
Of course let's marry them right away
To: The Golden Company @Velasco From: The Free City of Volantis
Private
I remain aware that your recent involvement with Westeros and later Braavos have not ended too profitably for the Golden Company. The city of Volantis finds itself in need of additional professional soldiers for an endeavour it plans to undertake. Might the Golden Company be free of contract?
To: The Golden Company @Velasco From: The Free City of Volantis
Private
I remain aware that your recent involvement with Westeros and later Braavos have not ended too profitably for the Golden Company. The city of Volantis finds itself in need of additional professional soldiers for an endeavour it plans to undertake. Might the Golden Company be free of contract?
The Golden Company is uncontracted at present, but we would need to know details of this endeavour before agreeing to anything. We learnt our lesson with Braavos.
The Golden Company is uncontracted at present, but we would need to know details of this endeavour before agreeing to anything. We learnt our lesson with Braavos.
It is a shame then that you would not accept the word of Volantis. As with any military endeavour ensuring secrecy as long as possible is a key part of success and thus an opportunity passes.
As a courtesy, we would advise the Golden Company to not be in the Vale in the coming months.
It is a shame then that you would not accept the word of Volantis. As with any military endeavour ensuring secrecy as long as possible is a key part of success and thus an opportunity passes.
As a courtesy, we would advise the Golden Company to not be in the Vale in the coming months.
