Game of Thrones: Conquest [IC Thread|AU|Open]

by **Arnoria** » Sun Jul 19, 2015 8:03 pm

OOC THREΛD ↵ | IC THREΛD ↵ | ΛRCHIVE THREΛD ↵ | TRΛILER VIDEO ↵

OP: Arnoria || Co-OPs: Valloria & The Krogan

Westeros — a mythical land of kings and conquerors, with characters we know and love. But what if the events did not proceed like they have in canon? What if the Red Wedding never happened, or Viserys wasn't killed? All this, and more, will be played out in a brilliant roleplay the likes of which you have never seen. Managed by OP Arnoria, aided by Co-OPs Valloria and The Krogan, Game of Thrones: Conquest provides a fresh alternative to the multitude of canon-following roleplays already out there on NationStates. You must choose your side in this time of chaos and war, the game of thrones is about to end as the fire sweeps from the south and the ice from the north. What would you do when all hope is lost? Will you stand and fight for the ones you love? Or flee for your life? Conquer Westeros!

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

In order to prevent moneyspam in the replenishing of troops to the maximum amount whenever any are lost, a yearly limit has been put in place for troops. The amount of reserve troops any given player has is modeled in the following equation: (R = M – F – A – L), where R is the amount of reserve troops the player can use to replenish any they have lost, M is the maximum amount of troops the player's house/territory can raise, F is how many troops the player fielded at the beginning of the year, A is the amount of additional troops they field, and L is the amount of troops they lose. Any addition to the L value is subtracted from the F value. Because each year is 12 IC pages long, the player's amount of lost troops ("L") is reset to zero at the end of every 12 pages. This is so that the player don't completely run out of troops. It also encourages the player not to field all their troops at once. The equation for currently fielded troops is (using the same variables from before, with the addition of variable T, which stands for the total amount of currently fielded troops): (T = F + A). Confused? Here's an example:

The Westerlands can field 120,000 troops at their maximum. This makes the value of "M" at 120,000 in the reserve troops equation: (R = 120,000 – F – L). If the Lannisters field 60,000 of those troops, the value of "F" is set: (R = 120,000 – 60,000 – A). However, the Lannisters get into a battle with the Tyrells and lose 10,000 men out of the 60,000 they fielded. The value of "L" is now set at 10,000, and 10,000 is shaved off of the value of "F" because those fielded troops are now dead: (R = 120,000 – 50,000 – 10,000). Now, the amount of troops they can field for the rest of this year is determined: (60,000 = 120,000 – 50,000 – 10,000). If the Lannisters choose to replace all the troops they've lost, we must add 10,000 to the value of "A", as additional troops have now been fielded.

Thusly, the equation changes: (50,000 = 120,000 – 50,000 – 10,000 – 10,000). Now there are 60,000 troops fielded in total once again, but this is not reflected in the value of "F". There is an equation to find the total amount of troops currently fielded: (T = F + A). Because in the last version of the equation for reserves, "F" = 50,000 and "A" = 10,000, we can add the two together to get the value of the total fielded troops: (60,000 = 50,000 + 10,000). Now, at the end of each 12 IC pages, the value of variable "L" is discarded. Considering the scenario above, if the Lannisters do not lose any more troops by the end of the year, "L" is reduced to zero and the maximum number of reserve troops is changed: (60,000 = 120,000 – 50,000 – 10,000 – 0). If there are confusions, you can ask for more information to the Co-OP, Valloria, who made this brilliant rule.

To avoid an overwhelming number of troopers in an army, the number of your men has been maximized according to your region. This is the maximum numbers of soldiers in each House. For the vassals, these numbers are for each vassals.
KINGDOM OF THE NORTH (110,000)
House Stark: Max. 12,500
Vassals (13): Max. 7500
The Free Folk: Max. 10,002 (Unable to interact with business in Westeros)

THE VALE (80,000)
House Arryn: Max. 30,000
Vassals (5): Max. 10,000

THE KINGDOM OF THE FLAME (90,000)
House Baratheon: Max. 32,000
Vassals (6): Max. 7000

AEGON’S GOLDEN KINGDOM (30,000)
House Targaryen (Aegon): Max. 30,000

THE REACH (170,000)
House Tyrell: Max. 50,000
Vassals (4): Max. 30,000

THE WESTERLANDS (120,000)
House Lannister: Max. 60,000
Vassals (6): Max. 10,000

KINGDOM OF THE IRON ISLANDS (56,000)
House Greyjoy: Max. 20,000
Vassals (6): Max. 6000

DORNE (80,000)
House Martell: Max. 32,000
Vassals (6): Max. 7000

TARGARYEN IMPERIUM (90,000)
House Targaryen: Max. 30,000
Vassals (2): Max. 15,000
Dothraki Khalasar: Max. 10,000 (Unable to interact with business in Westeros)

BOLTON-CONTROLLED RIVERLANDS (130,000)
House Bolton: Max. 50,000
Vassals (8): Max. 10,000

ARMY AND NAVY UPKEEPS

In order to keep Game of Thrones: Conquest realistic, we have agreed to implement the upkeep system, since your men need foods and your vessels need constant repairs. Remember to always take the golds out of your treasury every month for the upkeeps.
0-5000 men and 0-50 ships = -1000 GDs and -200 GDs
5001-10,000 men and 51-100 ships = -3000 GDs and -500 GDs
10,001-70,000 men and 101-600 ships = -5000 GDs and -1000 GDs
SHOP SYSTEM

Troops, siege machines, ships and other various units you bought from the Market or you acquired from a building instantly appears, but the building itself takes a page, or two, or three, depends on the price. So do not forget to list them all to your current Number of Troops and/or Number of Ships.

REWARDS AND LOSES

GAIN (VICTOR SIDE)

Winning a battle against a superior army will give you 4000 Gold Dragons.
Winning a battle against a balanced army will give you 2000 Gold Dragons.
Winning a battle against a lesser army will give you 500 Gold Dragons.
Invading and successfully taking a Seat of any House will give you 8000 Gold Dragons.
Destroying a fort, bridge, city, town, village and others will give you 3000 Gold Dragons.
Taking a fort, bridge, city, town, village and others will give you 4000 Gold Dragons.
Destroying an entire Faction’s land will give you 15000 Gold Dragons.
LOSE (DEFEATED SIDE)

Losing a battle against a superior army will cost you -5% of your total wealth.
Losing a battle against a balanced army will cost you -8% of your total wealth.
Losing a battle against a lesser army will cost you -10% of your total wealth.
Losing a Seat of your House will cost you -25% of your total wealth.
Losing a fort, bridge, city, town, village and others will cost you -4% of your total wealth.
Losing the entire land to an enemy will cost you -60% of your total wealth

POST FORM
This is the form for posting your roleplay, make sure not to mess it up. Every information has been given in the Factions part, you can get the link for INSERT_HOUSE_SIGIL in the Factions part also, at the right corner of the House's data. You may have more than one player in one post, just copy the Player form and you are all set. If your House or group doesn’t have a motto, insert: “For the INSERT A FACTION!” (Example: “For the Kingdom of the North!”)

Code: Select all
[floatright][img]INSERT_HOUSE_SIGIL[/img][/floatright][b][color=#BF0000][size=200]H[/size][/color][size=160]OUSE INSERT NAME OF INSERT SEAT[/b][/size] [size=140][b]TERRITORY: INSERT TERRITORY[/b][/size] [i][size=120]"INSERT HOUSE WORDS"[/size][/i] [size=85]Rated PG-13.[/size] [hr][/hr] [align=center][b][size=110]INSERT PLAYER[/size] [i]INSERT OFFICIAL TITLE[/i] INSERT CURRENT PLACE[/b][/align] INSERT YOUR POST (To insert pictures, make sure you use "align=center") [hr][/hr] [spoiler=Statistic][b]Current Wealth:[/b] [b]Number of Troops:[/b] [b]Number of Ships[/b] [/spoiler] [spoiler=Infrastructure of Month Three](If you don't want to order for Infrastructure, please delete this section) INSERT ORDER HERE[/spoiler] [spoiler=Market of Month Three](If you don't want to order, please delete this section) INSERT ORDER HERE[/spoiler]

by **Arnoria** » Sun Jul 19, 2015 8:05 pm

HOUSE TARGARYEN OF KING’S LANDING
TERRITORY: CROWNLANDS
"FIRE AND BLOOD"
Rated PG-13.

Viserys Targaryen
The Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Targaryen Imperium and Protector of the Realm
King’s Landing

“From the ashes I rise, and with fire I burn,” Viserys Targaryen, the Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Targaryen Imperium and Protector of the Realm, solemnly said whilst kneeling before his father’s statue. His purple eyes stared up at the bronze face of the Mad King. Footsteps from behind could be heard instantly for the Red Keep was as silent as the grave. The dawn was warm, white clouds scattered through out the artistic golden sky as the orange sun rose over the summit of the mountaints far in the North and the grey moon slowly faded away. Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard, with his hands grasping the hilt of his sword, lowered his head before the King and spoke, “Your Grace, Lady Daenerys Targaryen awaits your presence in the Royal Apartment.”

The King stood and walked toward the Royal Apartment with the Lord Commander escorting him. He sauntered toward Daenerys' chamber, his crimson robe dragged behind him passing nobles in their robes of yelow, green and red. Before entering the Lady's chamber, Viserys found her in the corridor, walking toward him with four Targaryen Imperium Guardsmen in their armor of black and silver, long red cloaks wrapped their shoulders. One would never stops admiring the beauty Lady Daenerys of House Targaryen, King Viserys’ sister and the Mother of Dragons. Layers of silver waterfall cascaded to her shoulders, covering most of the back of her slender neck. The Mother of Dragons gave him a smile and turned back. "I believe you wish to speak with me.”

“Yes, there is an urgent matter I need to discuss with you, Your Grace,” she said, lowering her head in respect. He offered Daenerys his arm without saying a word, and she took it. As Viserys walked, he looked down to his sister, and to the pair of her bright purple orbs in her eyes. She was beautiful beyond measure. “I can’t believe you’ve change,” she nudged him. “Just because they are going to crown you with a molten gold.”

The King laughed quietly and stopped at a balcony. He looked far to the east, to the wide ocean of blue. The birds flew around in the fading dawn, bringing the King a random yet beautiful melody. “Our dreams, our wishes,” he stated with a smile. “Dany, we are back home.”

Daenerys nodded, her eyes and nose crinkled. “I know, it’s unbelievable, isn’t it?”

“Its so different," he responded, letting her hand go as his face contorted and turned away from the view of the sea. “The capital is still beautiful as ever, but… the Usurper corrupted it, and now the Faith are rebelling against the Iron Throne. Our ancestors should destroy them when they have the chance.”

Lady Daenerys sauntered toward the King and grabbed his arm gently, whispering him. “The Sept will burn in the flame of dragons, we will take what is ours, with fire and blood.”

Viserys nodded as he took a stalk of blue rose. He forced a smiled and pushed it gently into her silver hair, over the soft left ear of hers, “For the Mother of Dragons. Nevertheless, what urgent matter you wish to discuss?”

“Jon Stark of the Kingdom of the North, Your Grace,” her cheerful face faded and so her brown brows furrowed as she gave the King an unsettling look. “Why to him? Why do you want to make peace with the North? Robb Stark steals a half of your kingdom.”

The King chuckled, leaning toward Lady Daenerys Targaryen and rest his hand on her cheek as their noses nearly touched. “You said it yourself, I have changed. We need the Starks, we need them to crush House Lannister… to destroy the Seven Kingdoms.”

Viserys leaned forward as his lips met hers and it was soft and warm. The King leaned backward and smiled before moving in for another kiss. Daenerys returned the kiss before her shoulders hunched as she shook her head. “Its not right.”

“Even though I am promised to Margaery,” the King said with a wide smile before leaning for another kiss. “I will always love you.”

by **Yonwood** » Sun Jul 19, 2015 9:38 pm

Prince Doran Martell
Prince of Dorne, Lord of Sunspear
Sunspear, Dorne

Prince Doran was sitting upon his own throne looking out on to the golden city of Sunspear, the desert wind pass through his grey hair as he took a deep breath, smelling its captivating scent, mixed with fresh aroma of the seawater of the Sunset Sea. His Dornish guards, clad in robes of ivory and armor of gold stood quietly in corners of the large balcony. "Oberyn's daughter is becoming quite a problem for us," he told his Areo Hotah of the Free City of Norvos, the captain of Doran Martell's guards. "She would lead Dorne to war if we cannot drown out her thirst for vengeance, but I fear with the return of the Targaryens that bloody war can't be far behind. War, fire, and blood seem to follow them where ever they go," he paused for a moment and signaled with a flick of his hand as a few of his guardsmen to came forth.

"Go and bring Ellaria Sand to me. I must have a word with her," the shrouded men nodded quietly and strode out of the room in an orderly fashion to find Oberyn's beloved paramour.

A few moments later, Ellaria walked on to the balcony and looked down at the Prince of Dorne, who was sitting on his chair and moved to the edge of the balcony. "So you want to start a war do you?" he asked her coldly and was given a quick venomous retort that one might expect from a mother of the Sand Snakes.

“Yes! And I am not the only one either. The people of Dorne demand to blood of the greedy incest ridden Lannisters. We had two in our hands!"

"And have thousands of orphans wandering around the streets of Sunspear?” Doran quickly snapped back in a bellow of a great sun, shouting with rage, asking her ruthlessly which caused Ellaria Sand to cower in her coils.

"I've seen war my dear, I have seen mounds of broken and lacerated bodies, crows feasting upon those who have died or close to his hand, orphans huddled in the streets and for what? Because one lord stole another's betrothed," he said to her in very passionate emotional tone that seem be asking for sympathy from the Ellaria Sand.

"What the Lannisters did was an act that Dorne cannot forgive, Prince Oberyn has killed the killer's hand. I ask for you to wait Ellsira Snake, the Golden Spear will run though the treacherous lions soon enough," he promised the young woman who looked down at the floor with clenched fists. Doran signaled with his hand for the guards to take her back to her cell to think about his words.

Prince Oberyn Martell
Prince of Dorne
Small Council Chamber, Red Keep, King’s Landing, Crownlands

Oberyn Martell sat alone in the new Small Council chamber, carving of three headed dragons embellished the walls of this room, with banner of House Targaryen scattered around the wall. He was flicking a knife around and around with his finger as he held it in his other hand.

"What a dull place to be in. I never know why anyone want live in such a uninteresting ruthless atmosphere," the Red Viper said to himself before suddenly throwing his knife across the room. He stood up from his chair, dusts off his cloths and walked around the room, waiting for the King to come and to advise the King on how to handle the fanatic Faith Militant’s recent actions against the nobles.

by **Ancian** » Sun Jul 19, 2015 9:54 pm

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HOUSE UMBER OF THE LAST HEARTH
Kingdom of the North
FOR THE KINGDOM OF THE NORTH
Rated PG-13.

Lord Greatjon Umber
Lord of the Last Hearth and Shield of the North
Winterfell

The Greatjon breathed in the cold Northern air; it was good to be back in the North after such a long time campaigning in the Riverlands, well, he thought to himself, winning in the Riverlands. He smirked slightly at the thought. It had been a good campaign and now they prepared for a new one, the next push. The reason of the war rankled still, as he thought about it next to the fire in his quarters. Eddard captive and killed...he shook his great head in anger. It had been a long road since then surely. The North had rallied to Robb Stark, now the King in the North, they'd won battles and declared independence. And much more the accomplishment of it was that they were still alive. The Greatjon yawned , it was a powerful yawn, and sat back in his chair further. SmallJon had grown even more fierce and skilled serving as one of the King's personal guards. It made him proud to think about it. The boy had come far and killed spectacularly along the way.

As he got up to go break fast , he thought of the logistics they faced , not things he preferred to worry about or notice, but forced to look at all the same, they were nowhere near as easy as ripping men limb from limb. He had one thousand five hundred infantry and a one thousand cavalry and the same of archers, along with 20 Cataphracts, a decent force, he'd hoped to bring more, but with Balon Greyjoy and his sissies coming for them and a threat from the far north he'd left one thousand five hundred men at Last Hearth, seven hundred and fifty under his Uncle Mors Umber, the middle son , two hundred and fifty infantry and the same amounts of cavalry and archers. The same force under his Uncle Hother Umber, the youngest son, as well, totalling the combined too one thousand five hundred, an able force to secure any troubles that might arise.

Pulling on his clothes and such and strapping a sword on for good measure, he yelled for a servant "Aye you! Go ask His Grace the King when he would want his council to meet!" Booming the words out with his large lungs he lumbered off to get some blood sausage and hopefully unstale bread, calling out greetings on his way to the Great Hall of Winterfell.

by **Suekiva** » Mon Jul 20, 2015 6:48 am

HOUSE REDWYNE OF THE ARBOR
TERRITORY: THE REACH
"RIPE FOR VICTORY"
Rated PG-13.

Paxter Redwyne
Lord of the Arbor, Master of Ships
Dragonstone Bay

Paxter Redwyne sat on an elaborately carved chair on the prow of the Arbor Queen, sipping a glass of vintage Arbor red. He'd shared the same vintage with Lord Tyrell outside the walls of Storm's End two decades ago, he recalled. As Master of Ships and a member of the Small Council, he had been provided with lodging in the Red Keep, but occasionally he prefered to spend his nights aboard the magnificent flagship of the Redwyne fleet, with its three beautiful burgundy sails. Paxter sighed, watching as the sun set over King's Landing. For now the realm was divided again, and he might very well find himself sitting outside the walls of Storm's End for a second time.

Finishing the last drop of wine in his glass, Paxter stood up to return to his quarters, located near the aft section of the ship. As he brushed past a sailor, he thought about the future of his house. His twin sons, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, had recently reached their twentieth name days, but the were still unmarried. There weren't many highborn maids from the Reach available for marriage, and marrying into most of the other kingdoms would have been treason at one point. Though now that there was talk of bringing the North and the Vale back into the Targaryen fold, perhaps he could work something out with some lord over a cup of sweet Arbor wine.

Reaching his quarters, Paxter swung open the door, revealing a modestly sized room. In the centre was a map of Westeros spread out upon a table, dotted with ship figurines of different colours. Closing the door, Paxter leaned over the map, reviewing the strategic situation, so that he would be prepared for the next day's Small Council meeting. With 600 ships, the combined Redwyne and royal fleets could achieve naval supremacy in any conflict, even against the Ironborn. Pouring himself another glass of wine, Paxter sat down next to the map, noting each house's naval strength.

by **Kings Island** » Mon Jul 20, 2015 10:45 am

House Baratheon of Storm's End
The Kingdom of Flame
"Ours is the fury"
Rated PG-13.

Kings Island
Stannis of the House Baratheon, the first of his name, Azor Ahai Reborn, King of the Andals, and of the Rhoynar, and of the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm
Small Council chamber, Storm's End

"Urgent news, your grace" said Ser Davos. "A lad styling himself as Aegon Targaryen has seized Griffin's Roost with the golden company".

King Stannis adopted a stern countenance. "The Golden Company would never march for a Targaryen, but it matters not. Blackfyre, Targaryen; both lost all claim to the throne when the mad king's reign of terror ended. They will bend the knee, or be destroyed. But first, we must ascertain how many men follow Aegon".

"I have seen it in the flames, my king. A cloth dragon, made from poles, and cheering crowds", the red woman said.

"You have seen a great many things in the flames, Lady Melisandre. You saw Renly smash my host before the gates of King's Landing".

"What I saw was true. Loras Tyrell, dressed in Renly's armor, drove your army into the Blackwater".

"Regardless of what you have seen in the flames, I need hard numbers. Lord Tarth, assemble your men. You will determine how many soldiers the false king Aegon commands and return immediately. Lord Errol, you will move north and do the same. I must consolidate my position; but there is another matter of importance".

"The Houses Celtigar and Velaryon have betrayed me, and I must not let treachery go unpunished. Lord Peasbury, assemble your full strength and sail North. Set fire to Claw Isle and Driftmark, but do not engage Targaryen forces".

"The Iron Throne is mine, by right. All those who deny it shall face the King's Justice. You are dismissed".

by **Valloria** » Mon Jul 20, 2015 11:20 am

HOUSE LANNISTER OF CASTERLY ROCK
TERRITORY: THE WESTERLANDS
"HEAR ME ROAR!"
Rated PG-13.

Tywin Lannister
Protector of the Realm, Hand of King Tommen I Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock
Casterly Rock, Westerlands

Tywin Lannister, the richest man in all of Westeros, was getting old. Sixty-seven, he thought, grimacing at the thought. He was never a particularly patient man, and he hated the thought that now it became even more true that every moment counts. He sat at his massive, oaken desk gilded with various patterns vaguely resembling lions, writing letters to his various vassals demanding tax payments. Each year, he just about broke even - the cost of the massive administrative bureaucracy of Westeros was proportional to the taxes levied. Surplus was spent on infrastructure, and any year they ran in the red, a future surplus would cover it. He finished his letter of tax demand to Lord Desmond Crakehall and signed his name with a flourish. He stood, placing the dish of wax atop a candle and waited for it to soften.

"Page? Page!" Tywin's squire, a boy of fifteen, hurried into the cavernous office.

"Yes, my lord?" Martyn, his squire, said, quickly. Tywin once again moved behind his desk, taking the sealer and dipping it into the wax. The page hurriedly folded the letter in even creases, and Tywin sealed it.

"Take this to Maester Creylen, boy."

"Of course, my lord. At once."

Tywin watched the boy turn around and quickly leave the room. He sank back into the black leather-padded chair. He glanced at the oil lamp clock. It would be time for the Small Council meeting soon. But first he needed to speak with his brother, Ser Kevan. He took the two tax record books from his desk and placed them back on the shelf, dusting it off slightly with his hand before striding purposefully out of the room. He made his way down the grand halls of Casterly Rock towards his brother's office. If he knew his brother, which he did, he'd be eating lunch with his wife Dorna at the moment. He nodded to the two guardsmen, who bowed and ceremoniously knocked on the door for him. Inside, Kevan stood, wondering who it could be. He made his way through the rooms of his office towards the door and opened it.

"Ah, hello, Lord Tywin. I was just dining with my wife, Lady Dorna." Kevan greeted his brother.

"Very well, Ser Kevan. If you might, I wish to discuss strategy with you, for this is an opportune moment and we mustn't waste it." Tywin stated tacitly, noting the presence of the guards. So few people you can trust, he thought.

"Of course. If you would like to join us for lunch, and then we may discuss plans afterwards."

"I would be much obliged." Kevan beckoned for Tywin to follow, and then strode towards the dining area. Surrounded by a bevy of servants bringing in many different courses of food, Tywin barely ate. He'd always been a thin man, both because of his build and because of a relative distaste for most foods. He had a few pieces of fruit and that was all. Servants came and took away what was left of the meal. Kevan dismissed his wife and she bowed before leaving.

"Join me in my office, my lord." Kevan said, standing. Tywin followed him into the room. Not as impressive as his own, the office was still a sight to behold - dark oaken walls with gilded supports in the shape of lions holding up the ceiling. Similar to his own, if slightly less impressive. Lord Tywin waited barely a moment before launching into his lecture.

"The Riverlands is ours, completely. The Boltons and the Freys are loyal to us in their entirety, and it will be a matter of five thousand gold dragons to each house to ensure a cession of titles. House Lannister will become the Protectors of the Riverlands. We will then solve the matter of the Brotherhood Without Banners," he said with contempt for the villainous organization. He cleared his throat and took a sip of wine. "Petyr Baelish is another matter entirely. He is one of the smartest men in Westeros, perhaps on par with even myself. He must not be underestimated in this respect. However, we can outspend him nearly one hundred to one. He knows this, but he will not be tempted by wealth. What he wants is power."

"So how will you convince him to join us?"

"We will legitimize him as the father of Robin Arryn if he helps us win the Iron Throne. He becomes Lord Paramount of the Eyrie, and Baelish becomes the name of a Great House."

"But what if he refuses?"

"He can't. He needs our gold and supplies. The Targaryens in King's Landing have threatened to invade if Petyr does not recognize them as rulers and field men in their aid. We offer a much better alternative. I've never known Petyr Baelish to choose incorrectly. Even if he does side with the Targaryens against us, we will have raised another forty thousand troops by the time any meaningful offensive is mounted."

"And what of battle strategy?"

"I have called to arms new troops, totaling just above 15,000, and they should be finished with their training soon. If we include Petyr in our alliance, we have roughly one hundred and twenty thousand men. First, we field thirty thousand, march up North and take everything up to the Neck. It takes months to summon all of the North's troops, and any responders would have to cross through Moat Cailin. Our troops wait at the end of the causeway for a crossing army and we break any first responders there. Moving on, we have ninety thousand men left over - the combined forces of the Reach and the Targaryens are eighty thousand, but we cannot field all of these troops. Fifteen thousand men, which is roughly seventy five percent of Roose Bolton's troops are needed to suppress insurgencies in his lands. That leaves seventy five thousand troops. However, we will only send seventy thousand men the way of the Reach, as we will need five thousand to man our ships. Coastal defense is warranted, as the Iron Islands refuse to cooperate."

"But the Northerners have fifty thousand men - almost double what you plan to station there."

"Fifty thousand men cannot all cross a single causeway at the same time, Kevan. And Robb's troops certainly won't all get there at once, unless they choose to meet up at a single location, which would give us ample time to either take Moat Cailin or build a settlement of our own. Now, it will take us a month to field all of our troops, and I will send a letter to Roose Bolton requesting five thousand of his men."

"And what of the Dornish?"

"It would be foolish to plan so far ahead, because circumstances will change. They are of little concern to us, at least for now. Regardless, I would have you leave for the Eyrie as soon as possible with a caravan of twenty men and formally request Petyr Baelish for an alliance. It is much harder to decline if the petitioner has a presence in the court of the petitioned." Kevan digested the information for a moment, then cleared his throat and stood.

"Good day, Lord Tywin. I will make arrangements to leave for the Eyrie before the week's end." Tywin stood and nodded towards his brother. Kevan bowed.

"Good day, Ser Kevan." With that, Tywin strode out of the room and into the massive hallways of Casterly Rock.

by **Lunas Legion** » Mon Jul 20, 2015 12:12 pm

HOUSE TARGARYEN OF CAPE WRATH
TERRITORY: STORMLANDS
"BENEATH THE GOLD, THE BITTER STEEL"
Rated PG-13.

Aegon Targeryen
Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Golden Kingdom and Protector of the Realm
Griffin's Roost

"How is he, Haldon?" Aegon asked as his 'maester' stepped into the great hall of Griffin's Roost. The 'he' he was referring to was Jon Connington; Hand of the King, and recently flayed by his own choosing.

"Recovering, although it may be a week or more for his arm to properly return to him, and I fear the threat of the Greyscale will never quite leave him."

Aegon sighed. "It was the best you could do in the situation. Cutting the marked skin off will hopefully at least have given him more time."

"We can hope." Haldon glanced over the other assembled figures, Aegon's Small Council. "But I presume you did not summon me to merely inquire about Lord Connington's condition, did you, Your Grace?"

"No. Lord Strickland, the plan was yours, so I shall let you present it."

'Homeless' Harry Strickland coughed, stepping forwards. "Right. For the Maester's benefit, the plan we've worked out is as follows. Those 200 who have joined us will remain here at Griffin's Roost under the command of Ser Franklin Rivers to protect Griffin's Roost while we raise more men, while myself, Aegon and Ser Duckfield lead the Golden Company north to besiege Storm's End while Franklin Flowers brings the fleet around to enforce a blockade. From there, we intend to invest Storm's End until Stannis surrenders."

"Risky. I'm sure you all remember that Stannis Baratheon held Storm's End near the whole length of Robert's Rebellion."

"And he was saved by an onion smuggler." Aegon snorted. "Said smuggler so happens to be within Storm's End. It is a risky plan, but fortune favours the bold. And if the Seven do truely favour us in their realm, then mayhaps Stannis will take to the field so we can decide this one King to an upsurper. I'll take that as approval. Harry, ready your men. We march at midday tomorrow."

by **Great Nepal** » Mon Jul 20, 2015 2:49 pm

HOUSE STARK OF THE NORTH
TERRITORY: WINTERFELL
"Winter is Coming"
Rated PG-13.

Robb Stark
The First of His Name, King in the North and Trident, Lord of Winterfell
Winterfell

King Robb walked along the courtyard, looking as the soldiers keeping their skills sharp in the practice ground while the the armourer worked with latest shipment of forester ironwood to create shields for the new push south - this was a town, a region in complete war footing. It had been like this for months, all waiting for one word from their king to leave and that day was no more than week away. Vassals of the kingdom had been invited to attend the war council and commanders of large armies had been summoned this evening in the Great keep so that North could stand united behind a common strategy and destroy the unholy southern alliance. As a servant informs him that they are ready in the Great keep, he shouts for Jon before walking together towards the keep.

"Jon, I was thinking", Robb speaks "you know the Targaryens have taken Kings Landing and they have good following, either by choice or otherwise", looking towards his brother he tries to choose words carefully - it hadn't been that long since his lover Ygritte died by his own men to boot. "I'd not even bring this up if we had other choices but -", he continues.

Fortunately he is interrupted by Jon, "you want me to marry Daenerys to create alliance in the south", deliberately speaking monotonously.

"You two could grow to love each other..."

"She's a Targaryen, her father murdered our aunt and our father rode south to overthrow him. I'm not holding my breath on that."

"He rode alongside Boltons and Lannisters in that war too, tides of war has changed the loyalties. Plus you have to admit she's a looker."

"That I can't argue with. If its necessary for the realm, I'm fine with it., he says holding up his hands.

At the keep among the assembled are all the members of the small council, Lord Edmure Tully, Mance Rayder, Lord Greatjon Umber and several other lords of the realm. Walking across a table shaped as Westeros in middle of the room he announces "thank you for turning up at short notice", taking his place in the throne as the cupbearer serves all the guests finest wine. "So I expect everyone know why we are here, the Kingdom faces threat from three fronts", he continues putting wooden units on the map of westeros "on the North we have the walkers, perhaps one of the most serious threat to the known world. Lets hope the wall holds or we will have serious problems". Putting units in the Iron islands and riverlands, "on threats we can do something about, the Iron Islanders on the west and the Bolton-Lannister alliance to the south. Boltons are only where they are because they have their noses firmly stuck in Lannister asses; our men here", he says putting down the units with rebellion flag to say "can camp around Riverrun, shooting down all the ravens and ambushing the riders. Meanwhile I want our entire army with small contingent to repeal islanders to sweep in and force lords of Riverlands to bend the knee to their true lord Edmure or we execute them for treason. Any questions?"

Lady Maege spoke up "your grace, that would leave us open to attack from the ironborn..."

by **Arnoria** » Mon Jul 20, 2015 5:21 pm

HOUSE TARGARYEN OF KING’S LANDING
TERRITORY: CROWNLANDS
"FIRE AND BLOOD"
Rated PG-13.

Viserys Targaryen
The Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Targaryen Imperium and Protector of the Realm
King’s Landing

The young King would need to maintain peace and stability in his newly founded Imperium, not from the North to the deserts of Dorne, but in King's Landing only. The members of the Small Council sat around the wooden table in the Chamber of the Small Council, entering the room; King Viserys was tired from the entire walk he spent, and he took a sit on his chair. There was Prince Oberyn Martell, Hand of the King and Protector of the Realm, a powerful and valuable ally. Beside him sat another member of the Council, advisor to the Iron Throne, with a blue satin dress, she was known as Myrcella Baratheon, her hand holding Trystane Martell's. There was also Tyrion Lannister, Master of Coin; and the heir to the Iron Throne, Lady Daenerys Targaryen.

"You are late, Lord Varys," said Viserys in a well-mannered way as Varys made his way to the council table, bowing his head toward the young King.

"Forgive me, Your Grace," Varys replied in his most obsequious manner as he sat. "I have just come from the City Watch's headquarters, they are blockading Aegon's High Hill, no Brothers from the Faith Militant will be able to get inside the Royal sector."

"The Mother Queen, that golden lion, what was she thinking? Arming the Faith? Does the lost of her cursed son made her stupid?" Viserys shouted as his hand moved aggressively, running through his silver hair. He calmed himself down before speaking, believing that there was still hope. “A direct attack against the Sept of Bealor will be a stupid action, we will butcher a half of this city's population.”

Daenerys shook his head. "Your Grace, what better alternative do we have?"

The Chamber became silent instantly as Viserys observed the surrounding before looking to Varys. "What about the North, where are Robb's forces now?"

"I believe they are still far in the North, Winterfell I presume," Varys reported. "My birds told me as well that the Lannisters are moving against them."

"Another war would be ruinous for the kingdoms," added Tyrion Lannister. "Best to avoid it if at all possible. Make peace with the Lannisters, and wed Lady Daenerys to Lord Jon Stark, if my father should reject this offer, we can crush the lion from south and north. Its the Vale that I worry about, thirty five thousand strong and a strategic location."

Varys unfolded the map and laid it out on the table, it was a map of the Seven Kingdoms. The King observed it. “The Baratheons are still a threat to the Iron Throne, and so do that boy who calls himself Aegon. Why would anyone believe him? Aegon is long dead.”

“House Tyrell will provide us time to regain our strength. Send them two thousand Unsullieds to defend the Reach,” Tyrion suggested, looking down at the map. “With both Stannis and Aegon distracted, we can attack the Westerlands.”

"We don't have enough men to do such thing, we will be crushed before we set foot on Casterly Rock. Our dragons are still too young to take a part on such large-scale battle," Viserys added, leaning back against his chair. He turned his attention to Myrcella Baratheon, brave enough to confront her. "Tell me, my Lady, why do you choose to stay in King's Landing to serve my House instead of yours? Is it love? Or are you a pawn of the golden lions?"

by **Ancian** » Mon Jul 20, 2015 6:13 pm

HOUSE UMBER OF THE LAST HEARTH
Kingdom of the North
"FOR THE KINGDOM OF THE NORTH"
Rated PG-13.

Lord Greatjon Umber
Lord of the Last Hearth and Shield of the North
Winterfell

The Greatjon scratched his beard with the stumps of his fingers, before standing up. "My King!", he called in his naturally booming voice, "You know better than anyone I shall never shy from a fight nor death." He glared around. Daring any to challenge it. Satisfied he continued. "But that would be a strategic blunder my Grace. If we attack the Riverlands , the Lannisters will hit our backs, and if we attack the Lannisters, the Bolton and Freys will take advantage. " He let his words sit there for a few seconds.

"I suggest drawing them to the neck my King, ambush and attack them in small parties, and draw them to attack us at Moat Calilin, either of those whores we face. Bring both on for all I care! But my Grace we must lure them to attack us there, if we Sally forth we will be slaughtered. " Breathing deeply from, and surveying his audience he continued slightly less forcefully and a mite less loud. A mite mind you.

" As for the Greyjoy Bastards I say we leave some men behind to rally again any assault. House Glover would be a prime candidate to lead such a push, come an invasion. I myself can guarantee my Uncles and their one thousand five hundred men from the Last Hearth. " Grunting loudly and with some satisfaction, the Greatjon sat back and reclined in his chair, waiting to see his fellow Lords and His Graces reply.

by **Nasaira** » Mon Jul 20, 2015 8:48 pm

House Arryn of The Vale
TERRITORY: The Eyrie
"As High As Honor"
Rated PG-13.

Robert Arryn
Lord Paramount of The Vale
The Eyrie

House Arryn and The Vale has avoided the war since its start, the Lady Lysa did not see the need to support either House Stark or House Lannister. Instead she kept her only son, Robert Arryn sheltered from the world. But the Lady Lysa is now dead and under the tutelage of Lord Royce, the once young and sickly Robert was turning into a man the Lord Paramount of The Vale. Since Lord Royce started mentoring the young Robert he was learning how to wield the sword, how to act like a lord, and most importantly how to be a man.
Lord Arryn was in the training yard of the Eyrie practicing his sword ship when Lord Royce approached and spoke to the young lord.

“ milord you are getting better the sword.”

The young lord paused before speaking to Lord Royce.

“ I owe all of my improvement to you Lord Royce.”

Lord Royce approached Lord Arryn.

“ I am sorry for the intrusion milord but we have matters of some great importance to discuss.”

Robert gave a head nod in agreement and handed his practice sword to the young squire standing in the training yard. Then Lord Royce and Lord Arryn walked to the great hall of the Eyrie where vassal lords had assembled and were waiting for Robert to appear. Once inside the great hall Robert walked up the steps that lead to his throne that overlooked the moon door and took his seat.
Lord Royce waited for Robert to get comfortable before he spoke.

“milord as you know the realm is still in a state of chaos and with the return of the Targaryens we have some important decisions to make.”

Robert sat and listened to what Lord Royce spoke of.

“ Your uncle is still at war with the Lannisters, and I am sure the Targaryens will be at war with them soon enough. Now is the time that we make our choice for which side to send our support.”

The look on Roberts face was a stern look of a man and not a boy. The great hall was silent for many minutes before the Lord of The Vale spoke.

“ and who have we received word from? Last I knew my uncle hasn’t sent a raven nor the Targaryens. No nobody has sent us anything so why choose a side when no one offers anything. So far we have remained neutral which has saved us from destruction. Until someone shows interest in us and until they treat me as the lord I am we will do nothing.”

The look of disappointment came across the face of most of the lords. Whispers have been spreading in the Vale and talk. Most of the lords supported Robb Stark and their cause, but the ultimate decision would come from Robert Arryn.

by **The Krogan** » Tue Jul 21, 2015 7:13 am

HHouse Glover of Deepwoods Motte
TERRITORY: THE NORTH
"FOR THE KINGDOM OF THE NORTH!"
Rated PG-13.

Galbart Glover
Lord of Deepwood Motte and Commander of the Wolf Legion
Winterfell

The Lord of Deepwood Motte and the Commander of the Wolf Legion, Galbart Glover, had been silently watching the proceedings with a keen interest. Taking in all the information that he could and what the plans were for the coming war. His eye's roved across the battle table, taking in troop positions of both their friends and their allies, noticing, as King Robb had pointed out, that they were beset from at least three front. The White Walkers in the North, the Iron Born scum in the West, and the Lannister/Bolton alliance in the South.

Hmmmm looks like we're in a right pickle, Galbart thought to himself, as Greatjon pointed out the to the rest of the people in attendance.

Galbart was listening to Greatjon lay out his plan before the gathering, nodding his head in agreement at his fellow Lords points. Upon hearing his name mentioned as a candidate for the defense against the Iron Born, Lord Galbart stood, bowed towards the King and said,

"I agree with Greatjon, we cannot not go below the neck for our next offensives, we're being assaulted on three fronts and Winter is coming, and with it the White Walkers... If we spread our forces to thin to fortify each other when an attack comes we might lose more then just a battle.. As for the Iron Born I am more then willing to see to our defense against them, as my own lands and those houses of the West coast are directly in the path of their war parties, and I thank you Greatjon if your uncles and troops would help in the defense of the West."

With that said, Galbart sat back down and awaited the response of his liege lord.

by **Valloria** » Tue Jul 21, 2015 9:47 am

HOUSE LANNISTER OF CASTERLY ROCK
TERRITORY: THE WESTERLANDS
"HEAR ME ROAR!"
Rated PG-13.

Kevan Lannister
Master of Laws and Knight of the Rock
Bloody Gate, The Vale

"Halt! Who goes there?" Ser Lomas Cacklesby shouted from atop the gatehouse. Kevan Lannister was always a very meticulous man. Remembering everybody's names was part of that. He had met Lomas during the Battle of Breydon during Robert's Rebellion. He'd never forget such a cowardly fool. No wonder he was out in the cold, watching the gate. No self respecting knight would ever do that unless forced. However, Ser Lomas seemed to be in a better mood than most, and looked to be wrapped in expensive fabrics. Perhaps his obsequiousness had paid off and the young Lord Arryn had thanked him with some small riches.

"Ser Kevan Lannister and ten riders!" Jon, one of those very riders shouted, his horse braying as he said it.

"And what is your purpose here?" Ser Lomas asked, still smug. Kevan wondered why, if he was now so wealthy as to be able to buy such warm clothes, he was out here guarding the Bloody Gate.

"Ser Kevan would parlay with Lord Robin Arryn, milord." Jon replied once again.

"Very well. Open the gate!" Lomas shouted. The gate let out a groan. It began to lift, creaking all the way. Ser Kevan nodded thanks to Lomas and the gatekeepers, then rode through. At trotting speed, it was a five minute ride to the first castle between the Gate and the Eyrie. Once he and his retainers reached the gate, he took a drink of water out of the flask strapped to the horse. Inside the walls, a massive smithy could be seen. Next to that, a respectable stable was found. He dismounted his horse and a servant led it away to one of the many stalls.

"Come now. Jon, Willas, Martyn, grab the saddlebags. It's a long hike up to the Eyrie." And with that, they began. Kevan and his ten men had spent a day and a half riding at full speed across the land to the Bloody Gate. It would be another six hours before they reached the ancient fortress. Because of the unstable terrain, horses had a difficult time reaching the castle. They had chosen to walk rather than ride because of this. An hour later, they reached the first intermediary castle between their current location and their destination. An exchange similar to that which they had with Ser Lomas occurred here as well. Another three hours, and they reached the next great keep. This time, they were let through without question. No-one could pass through both the Bloody Gate and the other castle without being seen, so security became rather lax. They trudged an hour further along the steep, rocky path and reached the final terminus before their destination.

Kevan motioned to his men that they'd rest here for about a half an hour. They were glad for the respite, collapsing inside the walls of the third great fortress. "Only an hour's walk to the Eyrie from here. You will have a chance to eat here if you wish. I must change into court apparel as so not to offend Lord Arryn." With that, Kevan jogged over to an empty room with the saddle bag containing his court clothing. He unstrapped his armor, took off the chainmail and leather undergarments and put on a tasteful, if minimalist, white shirt, over which he donned a mid-thigh length crimson sleeveless tunic embroidered with golden lions. He put on calf-length pants with a similar pattern to the tunic, which he then tucked into his knee-high black leather boots. Over his tunic, he put on a knee-length jacket of the same pattern as the pants and tunic, as the cold of the Eyrie was a bit much for his thick Southern blood. The altitude also had an adverse effect on him.

He exited the cloakroom with his armor in a heap and placed it in the saddlebag that had previously contained the clothing he wore now. He beckoned forth his men and told them it was time to leave. It took them an hour to reach the gates of the Eyrie. Kevan was lucky to have changed when he did, for the higher he got, the more doubtful he was that his armor would have kept him warm - after all, the cold had started to seep in midway through the longest leg of their hike. As he approached the gates with his ten retainers, the two guards standing in the cold nodded in his direction, bowed at his visible lordship, and opened the massive double doors into the grounds of the castle. Thankful for the relatively flat and well-paved terrain, Kevan and his men hurried towards the doors of the keep. Kevan dismissed the men and they bowed and left, presumably to find an eatery and some well-deserved wine or ale.

Kevan, however, did his duty. He walked up to the guards in front of the keep's smaller, yet equally impressive, double doors. He nodded to them and they withdrew their pikes. They delivered three knocks to the door, which opened from the inside. Kevan saw Lord Arryn sitting on his wooden, tree-like, willowy throne. Petyr Baelish stood next to him. Kevan grimaced, as the presence of Lord Baelish would greatly influence his negotiations with the boy. This would not be as easy as he'd thought. Regardless of his inhibitions, he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. He strode deeper into the throne room and looked around. Most of these lords were anti-Lannister. He hoped to the Gods that they were not in control of the court here. They would make his mission harder still. However, he yet again would not let this affect him - his resolve was stronger than most.

"Greetings, lords, ladies, your majesty Lord Arryn. I am Ser Kevan Lannister, Master of Laws on the Small Council of King Tommen I and a Knight of the Rock. If you might, I would speak with you concerning matters of an alliance between our two great houses. My brother, Lord Tywin wishes he could be here, but alas, the war keeps him too busy to travel."

Myrcella Baratheon
Princess Royal
Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands

Princess Myrcella missed her mother. The thought of that woman preoccupied her thoughts, even though she knew she should be paying attention to the Small Council meeting going on around her. She knew that her brother was not the rightful king, but he was too timid to realize this and rebel against their mother's authority, let alone their grandfather's. Tywin was not a man that allowed disagreement. She was shaken out of her thoughts when she heard King Viserys call her name.

"Tell me, my Lady, why do you choose to stay in King's Landing to serve my House instead of yours? Is it love? Or are you a pawn of the golden lions?" Viserys asked her. It was an uncomfortable topic. She never thought he'd have the gall to ask. But he was her king, and as such she could not deny him an answer. Better honest than false, she thought.

"Neither, your Grace. Once I found out that neither Tommen nor Joffrey were Robert's trueborn heirs, and that Stannis was not fit to be King, the obvious choice was you."

by **Wolfmanne** » Tue Jul 21, 2015 10:46 am

HOUSE BOLTON OF RIVERRUN
TERRITORY: The Riverlands
"Our blades are sharp"
Rated PG-13.

Roose Bolton
Lord Paramount of the Trident, Warden of the North, Lord of Riverrun, Lord of the Dreadfort
Riverrun

The mist settled over the uplifting former hold of House Tully, obscuring what was a beautiful sunshine above. Yet the atmosphere inside couldn't had been more sombre. The servants were silent, never gossiping as they used to, never raising their heads to the men they now served. The Bolton men who now patrolled the corridors of Riverrun were distant, never warm or approachable, yet reluctant to intervene in the day-to-day affairs of the castle. The skilled men who continued to reside here worked as they once did, but whatever passion they once had in their art had now disappeared. Armour bearing the trout, a sigil that inspired a sense of fraternity among the Rivermen, was now replaced by the bloody sigil of the Boltons, one that inspired even among the wielders. The only people who remained the same were the whores; what united the lions, wolves and flayers was that lust was a banner that they would all follow.

Edmure Tully, a man some considered to be a fool, was still a well-loved ruler who was well-known to care for his people, the Lord of Riverrun by right of birth, a right that all Rivermen, whether a Bracken or Blackwood, a part of the Smallfolk or a member of the Highborn, a soldier defending the fertile lands of Riverlands or a farmer toiling those soils, acknowledged. All the houses had different loyalties, ambitions and ethoses; the Mallisters were famed for their hatred of the Ironborn, the Brackens and Blackwoods for their longstanding rivalry, the Darrys and Mootons for their former loyalty to the Targaryens, yet were all united to the trout. The Boltons, to the Rivermen who fought for the Kingdom of the North, were nothing more than a pawn of the Lannisters, driven out from their own lands and forced upon them as Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. A lovely sentiment, but not one born out of a feeling of brotherhood; the Lannisters knew that strong leadership was needed in the Riverlands. The Boltons may had lost Dreadfort, but they have won allies in the Riverland, either from tact, from the edge of a knife or from plain fear. Even so, the honourable ones will secretly be giving toasts to King in the North and the ones that could be swayed could be stolen away just as easily.

"I am sure he was delivering messages for the Tullys, Lord Bolton" the young squire said, a man with a look that made him appear feminine and treacherous. "What more do you want? I've read his letters. He is delivering them towards High Heart. And he always wants me to saddle a horse for him at midnight, then we ride off for hours until we meet the same woman at an inn on the road ahead. He hands her the letters he always seems to write". Stood on the stand where the Tullys once handed down judgement, it was interesting to note the kind of people who take advantage of opportune moments such as this. This squire could not hope to obtain a knighthood now; he was far too young and he squired for a Riverman hedge knight down on his luck who could barely make enough gold to sustain himself let alone buy a knighthood for him. That and he was motivated by the hedge knight's apparent cruelty, but the boy was playing a risky game here by betraying the man he squires for, the King he fought for and, worst of all, his own people. A man of the dishonourable colour, yet Roose was more than happy to take him in. He was apparently a good soldier and a knighthood could do him well; it would certainly be a good enough excuse to send him on a horse to the battlefield.

"Throughout the trial, you spoke of these 'Tullys'" Lord Roose concluded. "In fact, throughout this trial, you've uttered the word the 'Tullys' when they are gone, carried off in the mouth of the wolf. The men your master served were nothing more than rebels, traitors to the Riverlands. You have done us and your people a service. If he was still alive, I would sentence him to death. As for you... gaving you unrewarded would be seen as unfitting, wouldn't it? My men will find you some quarters to sleep the night. You will go to bed a squire, walk to the Sept tomorrow and fight your next battle as a knight under my banner". The young squire uttered a thanks of sorts, but Roose did not care for him.

"Once again, I do apologise for the... botched 'interrogation' of Ser Robert" Ramsay said smiling, standing next to the young squire. "Still, it was one of my finest works of art. It really captured what he was feeling in his... last moments. I think I'll exhibit him on the gate of Riverrun. Wouldn't that be aesthetically pleasing young squire?" The boy nodded nervously before leaving the hall. A number of the Rivermen inside could be seen grimacing in disgust at the poor veil of words that Ramsay used to hide his work. A truer Bolton than any - and yet Roose despised him for being exactly that. Nevertheless, he was his trueborn heir and Roose asked nothing more than for him to do his duty. An awkward silence passed and a Roose gave a stone cold look. The Rivermen caught on and they finally emptied the room. There would be no more petty business for now.

The two went into a next room, where a temporary war room had been set up. A map of the Riverlands, the Westerlands and the North was laid on the table, with pieces indicating various armies. At Riverrun, a number of flayed men and twin towers pieces were presented, representing Frey and Bolton forces, along with whatever houses who saw a benefit to the ambitions of the Freys and the Bolton. The Lannister forces in the Riverlands were virtually nonexistant for now, but soon they would arrive and Lord Tywin would assert his authority. A feared man in the Riverlands who had pillaged their farms and sacked their towns, yet could not follow up on his brutality by defeating the Starks. Alas, the Lannisters had something the Starks could not match; gold. King Robb was a military genius, with a natural ability far exceeding that of Tywin's, but the Lannisters could throw more gold and more men at the Starks - a frightening combination.

"The Rivermens' hospitality seemed a bit lacking father" Ramsay said, interrupting Roose's inner thoughts. "Well, at least the Mallisters are on our side. But then who wouldn't when the Ironbrains are at the gate? And the Freys. We could turn Walder's sons, grandsons and great-grandsons into an army. Perhaps add a few bastards to the mix too". Roose didn't speak. "Apparently the Brackens and Blackwoods have a feud that's a bit more than a brotherly rivalry. Lord Blackwood says he loyal, as does Lord Bracken. Seems like they want to be friends; I should pay them a visit and see if I can get them to make up. As a concerned friend, of course".

"You're trying my patience" Roose said. "Tell me Ramsay, what is our next move? Where do we go next?" It would be interesting to see what his son came up.

"Once Lord Tywin arrives, it's a simple matter of raising our own men and binding them to his command. We go North, with whatever meat for the carrion the Riverlords give us and have them carve as path back to Winterfell. Then we capture the Starks, make them take apart Winterfell and use the stone to rebuild the Dreadfort before we flay them. But I'm thinking too far ahead; to win the North we need to control the Neck. And hunting frogs would be a new experience".

"And what of the Riverlands?" Roose said. "I have no care for The Riverlands. Once we're done the Freys can have it and dine on all the trout that they will fish the day we march into Winterfell. But that is a long way away. Yet The Riverlands is our home; the farms there will feed our men, the Riverlords will provide us with men to send to the Gods and most importantly, it will provide us with many battlegrounds in the days to come. The best thing about it is that it is not our own land; we are Northerners Ramsay and I mean to rebuild the Dreadfort one day. The North has lived under 11,000 years of Stark rule and that has served The North well. But that era ended the day Eddard Stark betrayed the crown and Robb lead us into a rebellion we were doomed to lose".

"The Starks have always been weak" Ramsay said. "It is only correct that the Boltons take their place as the rightful rulers of the North".

Roose ignored his comment. "This is unfamiliar territory. The Rivermen are untrustworthy and the Northmen who followed us are in a land that for all intents and purposes are as foreign as Essos. Yet we need them both. Until the Lannisters arrive, our duty in this region is extinguishing the very thought of rebellion against both the crown and our House. In time, you will see to that, but for now I want you to take a host of four-thousand north. The Mallisters are bearing the brunt of the Ironborn. I want you to go north to Seagard to assist the Mallisters in repelling any invading Ironborn force and ensure they are adequately prepared to defend. To accomodate our needs, the Brackens and Blackwoods will provide us with the bulk of these men. Take one ward each from the Brackens and the Blackwoods; we need to assure the loyalty of the Brackens and to keep the Blackwoods on a tight leash. Ludd Whitehill has also pledged five hundred of his own, including some of his finer ones. Along the way, I want it to not only be made clear to the Rivermen that in this time we protect and serve them until the North is reclaimed, we do not tolerate rebellion. I do not have to instruct you on what to do should you encounter any form of disobedience".

"And what of you father?" he said. "Don't you forget the Targaryens? Or the Northern army Robb will send? Are we doomed to fighting freedom fighters armed with pitchforks and glorified pirates? What is your part in all of this?"

"I will wait and rule, Ramsay" Roose replied. "What you are doing is just one small step on the road to Winterfell. It is the lion that will take the leap for us and I shall be along side them when the time comes. But there is no point if the trouts keep nibbling at our feet. They will make their move and I will respond in turn".

by **Kings Island** » Tue Jul 21, 2015 12:21 pm

House Baratheon of Storm's End
The Kingdom of Flame
"Ours is the Fury"
Rated PG-13.

Kings Island
Stannis of the House Baratheon, the first of his name, Azor Ahai Reborn, King of the Andals, and of the Rhoynar, and of the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm
Ser Davos's Quarters, Storm's End

"Ser Davos. Ser Davos. Ser Davos, you have been summoned". The guard gently prodded the Onion Knight.

"At this hour? Who summons me?"

"Your King summons you. There is urgent news from the Stormroad. He requests your presence at once".

Grudgingly, Ser Davos rose from his bed and followed the guard. Storm's end is an ancient castle, with high walls; in some places, they soar a hundred feet above the ground and are forty feet thick. It rises from a parapet of rock, connected to the mainland only by a small causeway of hard dirt. The passage was long, smooth, and curved; the castle is large enough to house forty thousand men at the least. Thunder and waves had assaulted the it for the last fortnight, and would likely continue. They were approaching an exit now.

The Onion Knight was almost knocked over by the rain as he stepped out onto the parapet. Stannis stood firm like a tower in the storm beside his castellan, Elwood Meadows.

"Place a trench at the start of the causeway, three feet wide and four feet deep", said the king, yelling over the rain. "I want a line of stakes forty paces before the gate, with caltrops and bear traps surrounding. Leave a small path for our men, and drill them on it's location. Send men to gather logs and boulders at once."

"Your grace, perhaps we ought to wait until an enemy of ours shows up? It seems the men could spend their time on more productive measures".

Stannis grimaced. "A raven from Lord Tarth has arrived. The Golden Dragon moves north, with at least fifteen thousand men at his back. Assuming he still only employs the golden company, this should be most of his strength; should he assault the castle, his men will break upon our walls like water upon rock. The boy may attempt to besiege us, but he does not have the naval strength to do so".

"The Golden Company employs at least sixty carracks. We now have the strength to crush them. I expect they are in harbor, as Aegon moves by land, and I need those ships, Ser Davos. You are to command the royal fleet as well as all the vassal fleets stationed in Storm's End and move South at once. Encircle his ships, and capture as many as you can. Take two thousand swordsmen, five hundred archers, and three catapults, and burn Griffin's Roost to the ground. Then blockade his lands. "

"A risky plan, your grace. But if it succeeds, we will bankrupt our opponent and our fleet will grow. I will set sail at once".

Stannis reached into his coat pocket. "Lord Meadows, send ravens to the Eyrie and to Braavos at once. We need gold in the short term, and allies in the long term. Jon Arryn was a man of honor; let us hope his son is the same. You are dismissed".

The king continued to stand before the rain, arms folded behind his back, lost in thought.

by **Great Nepal** » Tue Jul 21, 2015 2:51 pm

HOUSE STARK OF THE NORTH
TERRITORY: WINTERFELL
"Winter is Coming"
Rated PG-13.

Robb Stark
The First of His Name, King in the North and Trident, Lord of Winterfell
Winterfell

Robb sat back as lords of the realm discussed a defensive plan, a plan which appeared to have wide backing of the lords, it was an usual tactic for the northern war - draw out the attackers and attack in the neck. Problem was of course that Boltons were ultimately a northern house, or at least they used to be so they would undoubtedly be aware of the ambush in Moat Cailin. "Ambushing the incoming army at the neck would indeed be quite a good strategy but Roose Bolton for all that he is, is no fool. He used to command Moat Cailin and he knows coming through there is suicide", he started but sensing the mood in the room he added "it could work if they believe we are about to attack the iron born instead".

After a moment of silence in the room King made himself heard, "We'll camp out in Moat Cailin, await the Bolton army for a month - if there is none we'll strike. That should be enough time to conclude talks with Lord Arryn and King Viserys; which if goes to plan should give us almost sixty thousand men allies in all. As for the Iron born, Lord Galbart I agree your house is obvious choice for the defence. I intend to leave no more than five thousand men behind including those to keep order in the realm; when we strike at the Boltons we need to be able to hit them hard or else we risk Roose Bolton and his dogs flee justice to protection of Lannisters. We'll be marching south for Moat Cailin next week, I would like some form of defence plan against Iron born by then, take any advisers you need. Anyone have any other suggestions?"

Catelyn Stark
The Queen Mother of The North
Winterfell port

The queen was joined in the port by the maester and forty men - ten of Robb's personal guard and rest elite guard of the north charged with ensuring safe travels for the queen mother. As the captain of galley announces they are ready to leave, the men start to board while the servants start to load the cargohold with gifts. "Careful! thats some of our finest fortified strongwine from Dorne", she shouts as a servant carrying the wooden carton stumbles before turning her attention towards the maester.

"Are you sure this is wise, your grace? There are skirmishes going on not too far from the river...", Maester Luwin questioned softly.

"Its the only thing we can do, maester. My son, and King wants his cousin to open a second front against the Boltons and that could save lot of lives. I do have the forty best troops of the North, hopefully they wont be needed."

"Of course, godspeed your grace. I'll send a raven ahead to inform Lord Arryn of your arrival".

"Thank you maester", she answers turning towards the ship after everything else is loaded. Following the captain to the her quarters she lies down hoping to get quick sleep as ship starts its sails for Gulltown.

Maester Luwin
The Maester of Winterfell
Winterfell

After bidding Queen Mother good voyage, Luwin returned to his quarters with words of the king still fresh in his minds; it was usual for him to write letters in behest of entire Stark household but usually the sender seals the letters themselves. These being unusual circumstances, King had allowed him to use his best judgement in crafting the letter; with army prepared to march south there were more pressing things for him to be concerned with.

by **Arnoria** » Tue Jul 21, 2015 10:56 pm

HOUSE TARGARYEN OF KING’S LANDING
TERRITORY: CROWNLANDS
"FIRE AND BLOOD"
Rated PG-13.

Viserys Targaryen
The Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Targaryen Imperium and Protector of the Realm
Small Council Chamber, Red Keep, King’s Landing, Crownlands

"Clever girl," Viserys instantly said, smiling at the young Lannister princess. Her hair so gold it brighten the room, so young and innocent, a lion in their midst. The King leaned back against the back of his golden chair, thinking if a truce drawn between the Houses would ever be possible. It was time for peace. A truce even. But some men do not kneel easily. Viserys smiled at the young Prince of Dorne, sitting beside Myrcella. He had decided having Trystane Martell as an advisor was a prudent decision and Oberyn Martell as the King's Hand. She had respected the Martells. Viserys then took the thin silver blade with its amethyst encrusted hilt. It was a gift from a powerful Lord. He made a small cut on his palm and showed it to the members of the Small Council. He saw it on their faces, some were confused and others were smiling.

"Blood of my blood..." he said, observing the Small Council before laying his eyes on Myrcella. "You are safe here, I will protect you."

Daenerys Targaryen sighed, reaching for Viserys' arm. She gave his brother a smile, and spoke up softly. "Viserys, she's just a child. You're scaring her."

Viserys then gazed at his sister. The young Targaryen princess, strong and young. Where would she be without her dragons? The King was too young, too arrogant and uncontrollable even. That was what Tyrion had told Daenerys and she agreed. The King was still a little naive. A stranger in the land he now ruled. He knew nothing of this new Westeros politics. He was wearing a black undercoat asymmetric cut along its entire length, and a high embroidered collar with textured embroidery reminiscent of dragon scales, wearing ostentatiously large Targaryen sigil on his chest. Viserys ignored his sister, looking at Trystane and gave him a smirk before turning to Myrcella again. He reached for her hand, drawing circles with his fingers on her soft skin. "Tell me, little princess, do you—"

"Your Grace, a letter from the Kingdom of the North," a young squire interrupted, sauntering toward the Targaryen King, carrying the letter. Viserys winked an eye at Myrcella, before glancing at the words, noticing the Stark seal on the paper. “On behest of my younger brother prince Jon, commander of the Northern armies and heir to Kingdom of the North and Trident; ever since he has seen your sister, her highness princess Daenerys, he has asked me to raise possibility of marriage between himself and the princess,” he read. “Ah, Dany, we have an opportunity here,” he ripped the letter in half, ripped the halves in quarters, and let the pieces flutter to the table.

“Why did you ripped the paper apart?” Daenerys asked, shocked.

“Oh, can't I? Am I the King after all?” Viserys replied. “If we can have an alliance with the North, we can crush the Lannisters from two fronts and destroy the Seven Kingdoms and slowly replace Westeros under the Imperium rule. Robb Stark stole a half of my land, and I will not sit here and be quiet about it. If we can destroy the Lannisters, we can destroy the Starks too, but we need them, for now. Lord Tyrion, send a raven to Winterfell, tell Robb Stark that my sister will marry Jon Stark as soon as possible, probably after I destroy the Faith Militant and then I can send Daenerys to the North.”

Tyrion nodded, bowing his head, "As you wish, Your Grace," he sauntered off, heading to his chamber to write the letter.

"Now, Lady Margaery and Ser Loras Tyrell are rotting in the Sept of Baelor," Viserys informed. "We need to get them out of there before we launch an offensive strike against the Faith. You are all dismissed."

by **Mesrane** » Tue Jul 21, 2015 11:24 pm

HOUSE GREYJOY OF PYKE
TERRITORY: THE IRON ISLANDS
"We do not Sow"
Rated PG-13.

Balon Greyjoy
the Ninth of His Name Since the Grey King, King of the Iron Islands and the North, Lord Reaper of Pyke
Pyke

Balon took a long, satisfied whiff of the salty sea air as he crossed the stone bridge connecting Pyke's Great Keep with the Bloody Keep, the stone behemoth that rose from an isolated sea stack along with two smaller keeps, the Kitchen Keep and the Sea Tower at the very end. Together the four structures formed the ancient castle of Pyke, seat of the Greyjoys for centuries and the High Kings of the Ironborn for thousands of years before that. Now the old stones were home to a king again.

As he passed beneath the roof of the Bloody Keep his personal guardsmen stood straight at attention. Servants busy with one task or another inclined their heads in respect as they hurried by him. There was no groveling or bowing to Balon in Pyke, or anywhere in his domain for that matter. The Ironborn had never pressed their faces into the mud for their own kings; if the man who ruled the Iron Isles was strong, what need was there to grovel in the dirt in order to pay the proper respects when all knew that the man was strong and deserved obedience? Nor did the Ironborn silence their tongues in front of their king. It was expected that a man should speak his mind in full; to keep silent was to follow the way of the Green Lands.

And Balon hated the Green Lands.

He dwelled on this hatred as he exited the Bloody Keep and crossed over to the Kitchen Keep. His pace was steady, ponderous, and it had little to do with his relatively advanced age. Balon Greyjoy was simply not a man to be hurried.

The hatred built as he wound his way through the corridors of the third keep. Northmen, Rivermen, Valemen, Westermen, Reachmen, Stormlanders and Dornish, all fighting amongst themselves again. Horrendously typical, he thought bitterly. The worst part was that they actually asked him to kneel to them. Do they not understand the iron price? Aegon the Conqueror forged his kingdom because he had the strength to do so. He had no claim to even an inch of Westeros. Now there are five kings in the Green Lands, and they demand that I kneel when none have proven their primacy? The only right to any throne ever has been iron. The allegiance of the Ironborn is not something to be demanded with a piece of parchment.

Now furious, he shoved open the thick oaken door that opened onto a rickety, treacherous rope bridge which connected the outermost keep, the Sea Tower, with the rest of the capital. The sight of the sea calmed him again. It always did. Ironborn his race might be called, but it was the salt of the sea that ran through his people's veins. It was the sea that allowed them to prosper under the Old Way, and it was from the sea that their power was derived.

"What is dead may never die," Balon bellowed as he shoved open the door to the Sea Tower.

"But rises again, harder and stronger," came the reply.

Situated around a map of Westeros in Balon's solar was the rest of the Greyjoy family. Theon, his last remaining son. And made soft by the wolves, Balon thought bitterly. Asha, his daughter. Victarion, his dependable younger brother and Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet. And finally Aeron, known to many Ironborn as the Damphair, the youngest of the Greyjoy brothers. Aeron had acquired a truly stupendous amount of piety and faith in the Drowned God since Balon's first rebellion a decade before. Considering the arrogant and foolish boy he had been before the disastrous Battle of Fair Isle, Balon found the new Aeron both more reliable and mildly amusing. He sometimes wished that the Damphair would translate his piety into skill at arms instead of praising the Drowned God all day long. Still, Aeron's leadership of the Drowned Men was a major boon to Balon's kingship, especially since his youngest brother's loyalty to him was outmatched only by the steady Victarion.

Euron . . Balon pushed the thought of his third brother from his mind. Euron had doomed himself to exile when he decided to rape Victarion's rock wife. He had done the right thing in sending him away.

Victarion made a face at the map of the continent and patted the axe at his side appreciatively. "Brother, the Iron Fleet and the ships of all the Ironborn are gathered in Lordsport. Five hundred longships, the mightiest fleet in Westeros. Give me a place a strike and it will burn for the Drowned God."

Balon did not hesitate. He placed a finger on the North. "Again. And again. And again. Until the Starks have paid for Rodrik and Maron with two of their own. Until all the centuries of warfare between the Kings in the North and the High Kings of the Iron Islands culminates in the conquest of the North and the enslavement of its people."

Life seemed to desert the room in an instant. Aeron looked mildly pleased, but Victarion made the same face he had made at the map; as if he had expected this answer and dreaded it at the same time. Asha and Theon exchanged wary glances.

Slowly, Victarion shook his head. "It would be folly."

Balon gave his brother a withering look. "It did not seem folly to me when we pillaged up and down the west coast of the North practically at will. When we seized Torrhen's Square and Deepwood Motte with such ease. When we sacked Winterfell."

"Taking half the North and Winterfell was only easy because Robb Stark was occupied with the Lannisters in the Riverlands," said Asha. "If we're speaking of ease, why not mention how easily the Young Wolf pushed us out once he was back in the North with all his strength?"

Victarion nodded in agreement. "Young he might be, and of the Green Lands, but the lad's ability in war has more than been proven. The waves might be ours, but that boy is the best commander in the Green Lands. When he suffers a defeat I'll consider someone else, but we have no reason to believe that any success in the North will be lasting success. If he has to, he'll just come north again and push us out once more."

"I fought with him at the Whispering Wood," Theon added. "That was a smashing victory. The Lannisters and the Boltons have yet to beat him. If you haven't noticed father, he's winning."

Balon glared at his brother and both his children in turn. "I cannot believe what I am hearing. Showering praise upon our worst enemy? Look what his father did these islands. If he secures his kingdom's freedom, he will sack Lordsport as Robert did, with that damned Eddard Stark at his side."

"The North has no strength at sea," Asha pointed out. "At least, not comparable to our fleet. Robb can have a million men behind him if he so wishes. Westeros could be unified against us and its king could have a million men. If he has no ships, the Iron Islands will not fall. The size of our . . numerous enemies' armies are meaningless if they do not possess the means to transport enough of them over the sea."

The laugh that filled the room was harsh, and utterly devoid of humor. Balon shook his head. "You think I'm worried about my kingdom falling anytime soon? This is not about survival. So long as our fleet is as large as it is that is guaranteed. This is about expansion. Winning lands for our people. The Hoares conquered the entirety of the Riverlands." He turned to regard Aeron. "Brother, you have been silent. Come, speak your mind."

Aeron arched an eyebrow. "The Northmen are the traditional enemies of the Ironborn. The Drowned God would be pleased if we spilled their blood all over again."

Balon smiled, clearly pleased with his youngest brother's support. "See? This is an opportunity to finish them once and for all."

"This is an opportunity to ensure that Westeros remains divided," continued Aeron. "If it is unified, we will fall. Balon, can you not see that vengeance on the Starks has already been had? Eddard, the man who smashed the walls of this castle and sacked Lordsport a decade ago alongside Robert, is dead. Killed by Lannister arrogance. Robert is dead. We've sacked Winterfell and taught the North a thing or two about sea power. Vengeance on the Starks is had. You ignore that of all the kings in Westeros, Robb Stark is the only one besides you who does not lay claim to the Iron Throne. He simply fight for the North's freedom and for the Riverlands. If he were to win all, what would it matter? Do you think he'll demand that you bend the knee?"

The High King snarled, full of fury. "And now you as well. So be it, the wolves will be left in their den!" Balon flailed about with rage, looking just for a moment like the kraken that graced the banner of his house. He whirled on Victarion. "Well Lord Captain, surely then you have a masterful scheme? Out with it, fetcher!"

Victarion shrugged. "Westeros must remain divided. We fight according to that and see what we can do to ensure the continent stays that way. I confess, I have no master plan. I only know that should someone sit the Iron Throne and hold the mainland completely in their possession, your current kingship will only be remembered as Balong Greyjoy's second failed rebellion."

"This will mean . . fighting with the wolves."

"For a time, yes." Victarion was as frank and direct as ever. "Certainly not forever. Perhaps in time, if the various claimants come to accept that none of them will ever lord over all Westeros and settle into their domains, the North will be a target again. Do not think that at the next war council we will ask you to find a Stark girl for Theon. But fighting alongside Robb Stark at least for the time being carries less risk than assisting one of the Iron Throne claimants. Robb is a masterful general, he's winning, and no matter how successful he is he will never ask you to bend the knee. If he is eventually defeated, what does it matter? We are not one of his bannermen. We will still be here, still free, even if his head mounts a pike at Casterly Rock or King's Landing. Do you think the Lannisters will actually confirm our independence in return for launching a few raids on the North? Oh they might say so. They might promise to do so in time. Say what you will about honorable men and dishonorable men, but Tywin Lannister is not the former certainly. He's smart, he's capable. His skill as a general is proven. He's a masterful administrator. He came within an inch of victory but couldn't finish and now Westeros faces several more years of war at the least. If he is actually interested in securing the Iron Throne for Tommen he has no intentions of letting us stay independent after our usefulness to his cause has expired. The same is true of either Targaryen house. The thought of Stannis parting with an inch of his claimed kingdom is laughable. Our independence is only worth upholding until our fleets are no loner needed. After that we are a liability to anyone after Westeros. What is true of all these claimants is not true of Robb Stark."

There was a long silence as Balon digested everything his brother had said. Slowly, his head began to shake in resignation. "May the Drowned God give us all quick deaths. We're fighting on the side of the bloody Starks."

"I wouldn't say that," remarked Asha. "It is more advantageous at the present for us to lend assistance to the Stark cause than it is to assist the Lannisters. Fun as invading the North was, the Westerlands will yield us a vast amount of wealth. The Westerlands are much closer; so holding territory and getting troops to the mainland will be much easier. If the war turns against Robb you can shrug him off as easily as you would a blanket."

Balon snorted. "What you've just described is fighting on the side of the Starks. And if Robb loses, the Lannisters will not just accept that we aren't willing to fight to the end for Robb Stark. 'A Lannister always pays his debts' they say. And Tywin Lannister isn't one to like such fluctuating loyalties. Look no further than House Reyne."

"He can take us as lightly or heavily as he likes," said Theon. "There's no getting to us without ships. The same is true for Stannis and the Targaryens."

"We are not declaring for Robb, brother," added Aeron. "You are a king, Stark's equal. You must realize that if we are to help any other claimant to full victory they will demand that we bend the knee within a few years of the war ending. It is inevitable. Stark cannot demand this of us. I will be blunt, Balon. The only thing holding us back from making the seas our kingdom is your hatred of the Starks, who we all grew to hate after Robert set the Iron Islands ablaze. But Eddard is dead and Robb's death will not bring back Rodrik or Maron to us. We've sacked Winterfell and looted up and down the North. Robb is like to defeat us in the field. Vengeance. Is. Had. Rodrik and Maron died beneath the walls of Seagard. They feast in the Drowned God's halls now. But they are not coming back."

"I know." For the first time, Balon's facade of stone crumbled. His voice was full of loss. All of a sudden he looked like a bent old man. "I know." Tears welled up in his eyes. Finally he nodded, seeming to come to terms with what his brothers and children were saying. "Eddard Stark was first over the walls of Pyke, but Jason Mallister cut down my sons. Robert sacked Lordsport. Two of those men are dead now."

"So Seagard then?" Theon was eager to prove himself. His capture of Winterfell had won him some respect in the eyes of his uncles, but still not so much as Asha. Balon remained as cold to him as ever. As far as he was concerned, Theon was still more wolf than kraken, though the High King was starting to accept that this was no fault of Theon's.

Victarion shook his head. "Seagard was built for the sole purpose of defending against us. It might be lightly garrisoned, but the Bolton army has not departed the Riverlands yet, so chances are that there is a sizable force there. I would not attack it until I was more sure of the garrison's strength." He pointed to the long stretch of Riverlander coast between Seagard and the Banefort in the Westerlands. "There are no major towns between Seagard and the Banefort, but the coast is peopled enough with fishing villages. It is no prestigious target, but if we were to ravage it thoroughly the Lannisters might anticipate an invasion of the Riverlands. The Bolton fleet is small and of no consequence. With it split between the east and west coast of the Riverlands we could destroy Bolton naval strength with as few as two dozen longships."

Asha gestured towards Lannisport. "The lions' fleet is a different story. Over a hundred ships in all."

"If they try to stop us from raiding the Riverlands then they'll be defeated so long as we have two hundred ships on hand to face them," said Balon, his stoic self again. "In fact, if they give battle at all, they'll be defeated. Our ships are better captained and better crewed. Numbers are overwhelmingly on our side."

"The only trouble is what Tywin Lannister plans on doing with his fleet," observed Theon. "I certainly wouldn't give battle. And as remote as it may seem, the wildest countermove I can imagine is sending his fleet against the Islands."

Victarion chuckled. "We'll finally get a taste of what we've been dishing out eh?"

Balon silenced his mirth with a look. "I find the possibility as remote as Theon, and yet I wouldn't bet against Lannister not doing just that. Very well, we'll leave three dozen ships behind and raise a small army on each island temporarily. Naturally his ships will have swordsmen and archers filling the decks but he can't prepare an invasion force when our loyalties, at this time, are completely unknown. He can't have more than a few thousand men manning his fleet at a time."

"No he can't," agreed Asha. "So, who shall lead? How many ships are we to commit to each objective?"

Turning from the map table, Balon paced to the window and stared out over the sea. Again, the mere sight of it seemed to calm him immensely. The loss of his sons was forgotten. "Victarion will take the Iron Fleet and one hundred additional ships to harass the Westerlands and see if we can't catch and destroy Lannister's fleet. Asha will take a hundred sixty ships and set the Riverlander coast on fire. Forty will remain here to patrol the Islands, and each vassal will keep a part of his strength here in the event that the Lannisters actually strike out for the Islands themselves."

"What of the Stark boy? We'll have to send someone to speak with him," growled Aeron, a grimace upon his lips.

He isn't liking this either. "Ah yes. I think . . Hmm . . Rodrik Harlaw would make a good candidate. He's always in his books like some soft green lander. Talks like them too. We'll send him, in a single ship so the Starks don't think we're invading them again."

"What of me?" Inquired Theon. "I can command a squadron in Victarion's fleet."

Balon chuckled. "You'll do no such thing. It's Rodrik Harlawq and the North for you."

Theon looked aghast. "B-but . . I-I can't lead even a ship? Not one? I led a single ship against the North and took Winterfell with my crew," His words were laced with anger and the pain of embarrassment. "Now you want to pack me off on some diplomatic trip? It's outrageous!"

Victarion was laughing as well, but for a different reason. "Have you taken leave of your wits, brother? The Starks are not Boltons, but they'll flay Theon alive all the same. The northmen must hate the late King Joffery, but now he's dead. That must make Theon the most hated man in the North. Theon did the right thing, coming back to us, but in the eyes of Robb Stark he's a traitor who turned on his lord and sacked his king's seat."

"And that is why he is going," said Balon. "A test, not just to see what kind of a boy Robb Stark is, but a test for my son as well." He turned to regard his son, eyes hinting at an emotion which he had not displayed for many a year, especially in regards to Theon: concern.

"You and Rodrik Harlaw will arrive in the North bearing a few peace terms which I will draw up tonight. It may be that the northmen will try to tempt you back into Robb's service. You will be reviled by many, but I care only for how Robb receives you. And the terms, of course. If you are tempted, remember always an Ironborn proverb." He glanced at Aeron.

"We are born from the sea, and to the sea we must return," said the Damphair. "The Drowned God will guide you. Look to the waves, Theon."

Glum and dejected, Theon accepted. He wanted to prove himself to his father and would do what was asked of him, but sailing north to parley whilst his kin sailed east and south to fight and die for the Drowned God was borderline-shameful for an Ironborn, even if the order came from his own father, the High King.

Balon turned to Victarion. "Lord Captain, the Iron Fleet awaits you down the road in Lordsport. Go now, and secure for my kingdom it's independence." He then turned to his daughter. "Asha, my dear, you will take a hundred and sixty ships from the great fleet in Lordsport. Set the Riverlander coast afire and prove their seven gods to be weak. Remind them why Seagard was built in the first place."

"What is dead may never die!" Bellowed Aeron.

"But rises again, harder and stronger," came the reply.

by **Lunas Legion** » Wed Jul 22, 2015 8:25 am

HOUSE TARGARYEN OF CAPE WRATH
TERRITORY: STORMLANDS
"BENEATH THE GOLD, THE BITTER STEEL"
Rated PG-13.

Aegon Targeryen
Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Golden Kingdom and Protector of the Realm
South-West of Storm's End, Golden Company Encampment

"Our outriders report that Stannis is digging in at Storm's End. Trenches, caltrops, standard siege works. He intends to outlast us."

"It appears our gamble has failed." Aegon slammed a fist down on the table that the Golden Company's commanders sat around. "Stannis has refused our bait and has chosen instead to cower inside his castle. If he wants a siege, we'll give him one."

"But Your Grace, we don't have the navy to-"

"Fuck the navy." Aegon swore. "We don't need to blockade him. He wants the Throne, a Throne that is rightfully mine, then he'll have to commit to the field. We advance into siege positions outside of catapult range and dig in, with defences on both sides. If Stannis wants to win this war, well, he'll have to sally eventually if he wants to have a hope in his Red God's name of winning this war. He can't sealift his entire army out of there, and I'm not willing to leave him alive. Two men enter, one man leaves."

"And if the Seven have a say, I intend for that one man to be me."

by **Ancian** » Wed Jul 22, 2015 8:39 am

HOUSE Umber of the Last Hearth
Kingdom of the North
"FOR THE KINGDOM OF THE NORTH"
Rated PG-13.

Lord Greatjon Umber
Lord of the Last Hearth and Shield of the North
Winterfell

The Greatjon sighed. He knew there was no point arguing with the King. He had made his mind. Waiting a month at Moat Cailin would only give the Boltons time to be backed by the Lannisters. Attacking right away as his grace suggested would work, but they all knew the Lannisters would defeat their weakened force. Waiting a month would in turn mean that when they attacked they would be fighting the combined forces of Lannisters and Boltons. A no ground win or lose scenario, he thought as he set back in his cushioned chair. While he himself would rather wait at Moat Cailin, waiting until another force distracts the enemy , and then march. But unless his grave had a secret alliance with the Arryns or Stannis Baratheon he could not see how the King's plan would succeed, on the bright side, if any allies come to support them we'll have time to surround the enemy by waiting a month.

However, their are no allies, meaning their is a quite plausible chance of losing. And Gods forbid they ever rely on the Targaryan scum in Kingslanding. Never. Grunting he re focused on the preceding at hand. After the meeting he would join with Galbert Glover and plan for the defense against Iron Born, but for now he waited to see the rest of the meeting through.

[spoiler=Statistic]Current Wealth 9800
Number of Troops:5000
Number of Ships0

by **Great Nepal** » Wed Jul 22, 2015 4:03 pm

(Image)

HOUSE STARK OF THE NORTH
TERRITORY: WINTERFELL
"Winter is Coming"
Rated PG-13.

Robb Stark
The First of His Name, King in the North and Trident, Lord of Winterfell
Winterfell

With the discussion drawing to a close, king stood up to dismiss the council to go back to make arrangements for the long march south but before he could start Maester Luwin opened the door with a parchment with broken seal of dragon, "I'm sorry your grace. I know you asked not to be disturbed but I thought you'd want to know this", he apologised handing over the message from Kings Landing. As soon as his gaze fell upon the letter, his face boiled with rage. "That bastard dares send a letter written by a damned Lannister!", Rob slammed the letter on the table without giving a blind care for the content.

"But your grace, he agrees with you - actually he appears to be in a pickle of his own with the faith", Maester adds trying to calm his king down.

After finishing the entire glass of wine in one gulp he backs down "perhaps you are right, perhaps it was not impertinence jut old fashioned idiocy. I wouldn't mind a fool for king of the south." After dismissing the maester, he turns his attention to bemused lords of the realm. "I have some good news, some time ago I discussed a matter of importance with my brother; Viserys controls armies of the Dorne, the Reach and the Crownlands - and given we'll not see another dragon rider any time soon he will continue to. Of course they are weak, he is new to the realm and has chosen to take it when he doesn't even have control of his own capital which is why we can turn this to an advantage. There shall be a wedding of my brother Jon and sister of Viserys, Daenerys - giving us not just an alliance in the south but a safety measure in case Viserys decides he isn't comfortable with independent Kingdom of the North after all."

Leaning back over the board he puts up the Imperium troops near Lannister borders, "these Targaryen armies, can threaten the Lannister southern borders or better yet open a second front. With their masters preoccupied, Boltons should be an ripe picking for our army. With his sister in our court, I doubt Viserys would dare move against us with his sister in our court keeping our borders safe for at least couple of decades. On another and more pleasant note, I am so proud that my little brother is all grown up ready to be married so soon; here's to looking forward to a tiny nephew!", Robb declares raising his glass for his brother.

Catelyn Stark
The Queen Mother of The North
Gulltown port

The vale; mountainous, dangerous and largely isolated place - it was difficult to travel to but at least it served as preamble to the negotiations she would have to do with her own nephew. She knew the difficulty in getting Vale involved in the war first hand, after all she came here as soon as the war broke out but her own sister turned her down for fear that her son would be threatened. There were rumours floating that her nephew was not the same boy suckling on his mothers milk she had seen few months ago; death of his mother had apparently forced him to grow up quite quickly. Hopefully, the gods grant Stark this one wish, the rumours to be true.

With that thought ringing in her mind, she got changed walking out her cabin to see a welcoming sight - an envoy from Lord of the Vale. Hopefully that was his call not one of his regent: talking to a young, pampered baby into a war would be nightmare but it was time to face whatever his nephew had become. As her men disembarked, and the gifts were unloaded she approached the envoy commander "greetings from the North, you know me Queen Mother Catelyn Stark and these are my men. I presume you were sent on my nephew lord Robert Arryn?"

by **Ancian** » Wed Jul 22, 2015 4:39 pm

HOUSE UMBER OF THE LAST HEARTH
Kingdom of the North
"FOR THE KINGDOM OF THE NORTH "
Rated PG-13.

Lord Greatjon Umber
Lord of the Last Hearth and Shield of the North
Winterfell

The Greatjon nodded with approval of Robb's outburst. It was a good response for a impotent letter. But upon hearing of his next few words he started to rise angrily before realizing himself and sitting down. His brain overtaking his initial anger. Something the Greatjon had to admit rarely happened. However he knew very well what nearly happened to Karstark and did not want that to happen to himself. Besides, as much as the Greatjon would rather not admit, the King's plan was the better. His own of waiting on the neck for a stroke of fortune could mean the Riverlands would never be taken, but the North secure.

The King's plan on the other hand would work. In a month their allies would attack and draw away the Lannisters leaving the Boltons all on their lonesome. And compared to the northern army they were brigands in comparison. Sighing he knew the king had the right of it. As much as he loathed the Targaryans he knew that with the sister a prisoner they would never dare attack. It was a good idea for the mad kings sons good behavior. Calmed down if not still angry for being allied with the House many, including himself, hated most, rose his glass as well. "For a nephew!" He bellowed, happily chugging his wine. It was good to have more starks. He himself would make sure the little ones grew up loyal to House Stark , not the Targaryans. It was indeed a good thing to toast, and he had done so full hearted.

0

by **Kings Island** » Wed Jul 22, 2015 6:03 pm

House Baratheon of Storm's End
The Kingdom of Flame
"Ours is the Fury"
Rated PG-13.

Kings Island
Stannis of the House Baratheon, the first of his name, Azor Ahai Reborn, King of the Andals, and of the Rhoynar, and of the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

Storm's End

When Lady Melisandre entered, Stannis stood beside his maester. Caldwin arrived roughly a week ago; he was young, and eager to serve. They stood before a map of Westeros; in the north, krakens fled back to the isles, while wolves rushed in every direction. Lions gathered at Casterly Rock and flayed men patrolled the Riverlands. But the King stared intently at the dragons which moved against him. Black dragons to the south, red dragons to the north, and even golden dragons. The Iron Bank of Braavos had agreed to send him fifty thousand Gold Dragons, but with only eight month's time to repay it. The letter was still crumpled in his fist.

"The boy-king Aegon has moved north since the map was last adjusted, your grace. He has made camp beneath your walls. It is time," the red woman said.

Stannis pulled a scroll from his desk. "Maester, send ravens to Lord Stark, Lord Tarth, and Lord Errol. This letter is addressed to the former; write a new letter for the latter two. Inform my bannermen that they are to harass the False King Aegon. Kill his outriders and foraging parties, and prevent supplies from reaching him via the Stormroad; tell them they are not to engage the entire enemy force. That will be all".

"Lady Melisandre, the ceremony will begin immediately. Give me time to don my armor".

Shortly thereafter Stannis emerged from his solar, adorned with the crowned stag of his house and the fiery heart of R'hlorr. The storms which ravaged the coast had ended for now, but the night was overcast and black as pitch. All was eerily quiet; but as he exited the building, the cackling of flames was heard. Melisandre was already outside.

"A year ago, we offered the false idols of Dragonstone to the Lord of Light. Your king pulled a sword from the pyre, and it was Lightbringer; as is written in the ancient books. We bathe these false gods in the cleansing fire of R'hlorr, so that he may shed his light upon us."

"Lord of Light, show us the way". The crowd kneeled.

"For the night is dark, and full of terrors".

Stannis drew Lightbringer; it was resplendent before the flames. "For the night is dark, and full of terrors"

Shipbreaker Bay

The Royal Fleet had been at sail for nearly a week. The command felt novel to Ser Davos; from avoiding the King's ships to commanding them. It was a small fleet, but very elite; twenty-five carracks, as many cogs, and thirty Braavosi War Galleons. Mercenary galleons all looked different: some had towers with archers, some had a ballista, some both. All were compact and with thick hulls, unlike the thin, long skin of a carrack. And all had rams which could split a ship in half; carracks did not.

"Ships approaching fast! Fifty carracks at the most, moving quickly towards our position," the helmsman cried.

The plan was simple. The cogs, which carried the men headed for Griffin's Roost, were to stay behind and away from the battle. If things went awry (which was very unlikely considering the size and quality of the opposing forces) they would flee for Storm's End. The galleys were to fire there ballistae from range and avoid the range of the carrack's archers for as long as possible, with the carracks also avoiding the enemy.

This was assuming the enemy had any archers; they would probably have very few. Eventually, the galleons would run out of ammunition for the ballistae. The fleet was then to move closer and attack what remained of the enemy marines with arrow fire. Once arrows had been expended, the galleys were to launch a coordinated charge towards what little remained and wreak havoc with their rams. The few ships still floating would be boarded and seized. The King's Hand had devised this plan himself; and he was very proud of his work.

"Sound the drums at once; tell the other ships to proceed as planned," Ser Davos cried over the crashing of the waves.

by **Nasaira** » Wed Jul 22, 2015 8:30 pm

House Arryn of The Vale
TERRITORY: The Eyrie
"As High As Honor"
Rated PG-13.

Robert Arryn
Lord Paramount of The Vale
The Eyrie

The young lord sat on his throne looking down upon Ser Kevan Lannister with a mixture of caution and distaste. Robert knew why Kevan Lannister was at his court, what other reason was there other than to try and forge an alliance and bring The Vale to the assistance of the Lannisters in the west. Robert was fidgeting in his seat a little bit, showing his nervousness and his lack of experience with diplomacy. Lord Royce was quick to speak to Robert concerning his manner.

“ my lord, you need to be as still as a stone. Don’t show any fear to this Lannister.”

Robert quickly brought himself back to the present and making his body go ridged in his seat Robert looked down at Ser Kevan Lannister with an intense stare, his face showing no emotion as he began to speak.
“ Lord Lannister, I know why you have come but I fear anything you have to say will be in vein. Why would I call my banners to your cause? You have nothing to offer me. You cannot buy my loyalty with your gold. Please Lord Lannister why would I betray my uncle and flock to you?”

The young lord had made his point, why would Robert call his banners to fight for the Lannisters. What Robert spoke was truth, What could the Lannisters possibly offer to Robert. The Lord of The Vale did not give Ser Kevan Lannister much time in which to answer him.
“ But we can worry about that later as I am sure you are tired from your journey. Please go eat and drink, rest and when you rested we may talk, and in a more private setting.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Ser Kean Cave
Knight of The Vale
Gulltown

The young knight stood at the harbor in his silver armor that bore the sigil of House Arryn on his breastplate with eleven other knights waiting for Lady Catelyn to make her way from her ship. Once she was standing in front of them she asked the young knight.

“I presume you were sent on my nephew lord Robert Arryn?”
Ser Kean did not make the lady wait long for a response.

“ yes my lady, as soon as your letter arrived we were instructed by Lord Arryn himself to come to Gulltown and personally escort you back to the Eyrie.”

Game of Thrones: Conquest [IC Thread|AU|Open]

Game of Thrones: Conquest [IC Thread|AU|Open]

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