Game of Thrones: A Feast for Crows [IC/Concluded]

[Eraus]

Axel Blacken, Lord in exile, Capt of Dark Swords

Axel was angered that he lost his temper at Ser hightower. As Axel rode beast back to it's stables he spotted the girl again. Red-headed, Nice face, Green eyes, nice hips. Axel started to walk towards her. "Ello, I'm Axel Blacken" He said but the girl just laughed and walked away. Uh.... Axel thought as he began to walk away towards where Rose and Myrcella. After Axel got their he started to take off his armor.

"Fuck this Tourney." He said as he dropped his helm. "I can't wait till we get to the melee and I get to break somebody" Axel said as he sat back down. "well, I guess we can talk without interruption this time. Where were we?" Axel said with a fake smile.

[Warg the Immortal]

Ser Sivert Pyke, Mercenary Serjeant of the Shield Scorchers Blue Maniple,
Bastard of House Saltcliffe, the White Serpent

---

Once again it was time for Sivert to joust. This time against a man from a squad under his very command, Ed Storm, a fast rider, and adequate jouster, though not as skilled as Sivert. His bout against Brick Flowers had been a thing of luck, his one strategy being ride as fast as possible.

The two took their positions and the fresh herald announced their names. "For the second-to-last match, we have the 'White Snake Knight', Ser Sivert Pyke of House Saltcliffe, and his opponent, the 'Lightning Bolt' Eddard 'Ed' Storm of House Dondarrion." The two Shield Scorchers began their courtesy pass, bumping shields and nodding heads, as a sign of respect and brotherhood.

The two took their places for the joust, and immediately Ed began barreling down at incredible speed. Sivert matched it, and already saw his opening, Ed's hip was exposed by the jostling of his mount. Sivert capitalized on it and waited till the last second to strike home. Unfortunately one of the lance's splinters flew straight through a chink in Storm's armour, and blood could clearly be seen leaking through the plates of his armour.

Sivert was ready to dismount, believing Ed would seek out the maester, but the young man shook off any attempts by the squires to unhorse him. Damn, I have give the boy props, he pushes through like an Ironborn. The two reset for the next bout, as they kicked their horses up Sivert noticed that Storm wasn't kicking as strongly as before, and he struggled to get his lance into the arret. Unusual, the injury must have been worse than I thought. A moment before meeting Sivert lifted his lance, and deflected Ed's away from him, shattering it in the process. Sivert jumped from his horse and ran to his man. Ed ripped his helm off and yelled to him. "Serjeant I'm fine let me continue!" Sivert could see signs of of the opposite, Ed's face was pale and he was sweating profusely. Sivert grabbed the man by the breastplate and hauled him down from his gelding. "Soldier, i won't have you die in a fucking tourney, your a Shield Scorcher, we die on a field of glory bathed in fire, not for the amusement of others!" With that Sivert bashed his gauntlet on the boys head, rendering him unconscious before placing him gently on the maesters cart. Sivert then returned to the jousting grounds to make an announcement to the crowd. "Noble Lords and Ladies, unfortunately 'the Lightning Bolt' Ed Storm requires medical treatment and cannot continue!" With that Sivert returned to his horse to lead him off for some rest before the final bout against Garlan Tyrell.

[The Slavic League]

Ryon Carcarion
Highgarden, the Reach

Ryon was reading Watchers on the Wall, a book about the history of the Nights Watch, as well as the Nights King when suddenly the door to his cell opened. "Did not know Ironborn could read." Ryon looked up, before him stood an old man in a tabard displaying the sigel of House Hightower. "Aye, we do. Are those the colors of House Hightower I see?" Ryon closed the book, leaving the tip of the page was on folded to mark his spot. "Indeed they are. Do you know who I am?" Ryon looked him over. "A nobody? If not, I will make a wild guess and say that you are Leyton Hightower."

The man stepped into the room and signaled the guards to close the door behind him. "Close, but both are incorrect." Ryon raised an eyebrow. "Baelor Hightower? Called the Brightsmile, heir of house Hightower, husband of Rhonda Rowan?" The Hightower sighed. "You seem to be well knowledged about our House, Carcarion." Ryon pointed to a book on the floor. "Ah yes, The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms what else can you tell me of house Hightower?"

"Tell me who you are first." The Hightower smirked. "Garth. Ser Garth Hightower. Never knew an Ironborn that was not a complete prick. Your the first." Ryon chuckled. "We can be nice when we feel like it. So, Garth Hightower. Why are you here?" Garth put his hand on his swords sheathe. "I am to escort you to the prison at Highgarden." Ryon stood up. "Then what? You going to execute me? Send me to the Wall? I will have you know that I know what a Trial by Combat is, and I have been often called the best swordsman of the Iron Islands." Garth frowned. "I fought in the Greyjoy Rebellion, I know that the best swordsman of the Iron Islands is Harras Harlaw."

"Intimidating, and you can see through lies, you would make a great interrogator. Let me tell you something, Hightower. I am certain you know of my actions during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Six Baratheon ships sunk, not a single Ironborn live lost, all because of my planning. If you think you can keep me chained up then you will have another thing coming. I always find a way. But let me tell you one more thing. So long as Euron Greyjoy is king of the Iron Islands, both me and Mace Tyrell have a common enemy."

"And why would Mace Tyrell need you? I am sure the Reach can handle itself. Whats one lord with no army going to do?" Ryon grinned. Then he put a finger to the side of his head. "Plotting. I know the Iron Islands better than anyone in the Tyrell army. I know where to set the best ambushes by sea, where you can hide ships, I even know the locations of a couple of Reaver caches. Plus I know Ironborn Nobility. I know who hates who and how to abuse that. Way I see it, you could use an Ironborn on your side."

"And what do you expect in return?" Ryon thought for a moment. "Plunder, Salt Wives, and if no one else presents themselves, the title of King of the Iron Islands. I am aware of Aegons offer to Euron, I overheard to of your guards talking about it. Both of them doubted that Euron would agree to it, and I would agree with both of them on that."

"And why would you be a better ruler than Euron?" said Garth with his arms crossed.

"Well for one I am not crazy. I don't betray my men, or my promises like Euron does. Even if Euron agreed to Aegons alliance, he would take his independence and go right back to raiding the mainland. If I was king of the Iron Islands, we would not be raiders, we would be more of, whats the word? Privateers? We raid the Kings enemies, and anyone else that he says is okay."

Garth was thinking for a moment. He put his hand on his chin, grunted, and then finally came to a conclusion.

"Fine, I will tell Mace your request. Can't promise anything though. Not sure what Mace has planned for you, but I hope that he lets you live. You are an interesting Ironbron, lord Carcarion. It was a pleasure. Now, I must escort you to Highgardens prison."

"Lead away, Ser Garth."

[The Forsworn Knights]

---

Princess Myrcella Baratheon. Princess of The Iron Throne and current heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Member of House Baratheon of King's Landing, daughter of King Robert 'The Usurper', and younger sister of King Tommen 'The Kind'.

---

In the stands watching the Tournament in Highgarden, The Reach.
Myrcella would smile as Rosethorn approached, nodding to Axel's friend. "Hello Ser Rosethorn. I do apologise if you have yet to be knighted as is the case your most gallant friend here." She would say, adjusting her Dornish dress. It was easy that the Knight of Thorns was one of the friendlier, or at least more charismatic of the Hedge Knights and Mercenaries that now roamed Highgarden. Of course, with what little experience with Hedge Knights such as Ser Bronn and Sandor Clegane, she knew that such brutal men who were willing to end each other for a dozen silver stags were not to be trusted, given her experiences with the brutality of Sandor Clegane and Ser Bronn abandoning Tyrion to his fate in that trial. The Princess would smile as her new friend unhorsed Dickon Tarly. Axel would walk back to their position in the stands a few moments later, speaking of some strange girl before asking the two if there was anything they desired to take on as the group's topic of conversation. She stayed silent as Ser Rosethorn offered to explain his name to the two. Of course, Axel was then called to his next tilt against some Hightower boy. Of course things did not go well for Axel and he seemed highly enraged by the loss as he returned to them, clearly very aggrivated.
"Oh yes," Myrcella began, attempting to calm the dangerous man down by steering the conversation away from the man's loss in his most recent tilt in the Joust. "I believe that Ser Rosethorn was about to tell us about where he got his nickname from. I suspect it somehow involves alcohol, but that's just me"

---

Ser Jaime Lannister of King's Landing. Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Master-At-Arms of the Iron Throne, and uncle of the King. Son of Lord-Paramount Tywin Lannister.

---

Several days after being sent away from King's Landing with a force of 5000 mixed Lannister and Crownlander Soldiers. Outside the Castle of Riverrun
Jaime rode at the head of his column of 5'000 men, each man adorned in the iconic armor of a Lannister or Baratheon Soldier. The siege of Riverrun was an absolute mess as he arrived. The latrine pits were filling up, the soldiers were lying about half-constructed tents and campfires, and the Tully rebels did not seem fazed at all by the beseigers. Jaime was able to not only approach the camp undetected, but when he rode ahead he was able to ride straight into the heart of the encampment before being noticed by the Frey Soldiers. Luckily for Jaime his well-known looks and his Kingsguard armor mixed with his gilded hand were enough for the Frey soldiers to recognize him, causing the men to back away as the Lannister approached the Frey boys leading the siege. Jaime watched on in a mixture of amusement and disappointment as the Frey's made their empty threats to kill Edmure. It was clear that this was not the first time they had made this threat as the Blackfish did not even flinch as he and his men stared down at them. The Tully forces had clearly been watching Jaime's forces from the very moment they came within view of the Castle's towers as evidenced by the lack of surprise expressed by even the most inexperienced-looking of Tully men. As Edmure was hauled away Jaime would approach the Freys.
"Quite the Siege you have here." Jaime would say sarcastically. Lothar Frey would beam at Jaime proudly, clearly not picking up on the obvious sarcasm as he responded.
"Thank ye Ser Jaime, we have-" Lothar would begin, before promptly being cut off by Jaime.
"Quite the Siege indeed. First you lost a castle such as this to a couple hundred disorganized, malnourished soldiers- and an old man. Now you think that you are winning a Siege when you refuse to carry out your most basic of threats and give Brynden Tully a consistent source of entertainment. You really are a true pair of idiots, you know that?" Jaime would say to the two Frey's in an irritated tone.
"Your Latrine Pits are full, your tents not posted, and your camp insecure against outside forces. With no subtlety at all I have just marched five thousand armed men into the heart of your encampment without a single man raising a finger against me, and without a single man even noticing me. I have been sent by the Hand of the King to seize control of this operation." Ser Walder Rivers would then speak up indignantly, moving his hand to the pommel of his sword as he stepped closer to Jaime- only to be shoved away from the Kingsguard, barely stopping himself from falling into the latrine.

[The Independent Hazerls]

Lord Garlan Tyrell "The Gallant", Lord of Brightwater Keep
Highgarden, The Reach

And after the semi-final rounds, all the contenders went off to sleep. The final would take place the morning after, between Garlan and Ser Sivert Pyke, and the former of the two fervently hoped his main horse Wind of the Sea would be ready for it.
As the lights of dawn appeared, the crowd started filing back into the stands. The audience was buzzing with excitement, and ladies and lords from all over the southern tip of Westeros chatted amiably about who would win. The favorite seemed to be Garlan himself.
And finally, the two knights rode out in shining armor with lance in hand. "Lord Garlan of House Tyrell, 'The Gallant!' And Ser Sivert Pyke, 'The White Serpent!?" Claps and cheers came up from the audience, and Aegon could be clearly seen, sitting in fine silks hand-in-hand with Margaery. Garlan could also see his father and his brother, Lord Mace and Ser Willas, and his friends Axel Blacken and the Rosethorn, jesting with Myrcella. Damn them... going after girls wherever they find 'em... chuckled Garlan under his breath.
And then he gazed at Sivert. He wasn't too large a man, but he looked frightening. In a white and grey armor, he was sitting astride Hellhound, a stallion of the Tyrells lent to the Ironborn for the tourney. Finally, the moment came and the two surged forwards, both going at the greatest speed possible.
Finally they collided, and Garlan risked going down. Sivert's spear took him in the shoulder, but for some miracle the Tyrell knight held tight and stayed on.
After having changed lances and shields, the two charged again. This time the lord of Brightwater started slow, speeding up just towards the end. It took Sivert, who used constant speed, by surprise, and Garlan's spear caught him just below the throat.
The Ironborn bastard flew off, flipping in the air, but landing on his legs, with no great damage. Garlan had won the tourney of Highgarden!
The crowd cheered even louder. Aegon and Margaery stood up, clapping, a happy smile on their lips. After having congratulated Pyke, Garlan Tyrell took out a single, red rose, and went to crown the Queen of Beauty.
He trotted calmly and silently, until he reached his sister. Then, he stopped, nodded in Aegon's direction, and handed the flower over to Margaery. "My lady, I crown you the Queen of Beauty of the Tourney of Highgarden." The girl smiled in joy. "Your grace, you are truly a lucky man to have her as wife. I wish you luck and healthy children," jested then Garlan.
But there wasn't time for feasting; the melee was coming up.

[Warg the Immortal]

Ser Sivert Pyke, Mercenary Serjeant of the Shield Scorchers Blue Maniple,
Bastard of House Saltcliffe, the White Serpent

---

The joust had just finished, and Sivert had lost. He wasn't particularly upset though, Garlan was simply better than him. Willas had even been kind enough to loan him one of their prized stallions, a massive horse named Hellhound, as opposed to the gelding he had ridden in previous bouts. Sivert smiled when he climbed into the saddle, he could feel the beast's muscles tensing, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. As the two began their courtesy pass, Sivert nodded respectively to the Tyrell lord and was reciprocated. As the first pass began Sivert saw an opening in Garlan's defense and managed to land his lance into the man's shoulder. Sivert was amazed that the man managed to stay on his horse. they changed lances and shields and began their second pass, Sivert barrelled down the track with blinding speed aboard the massive stallion, while the Tyrell opted for a slower speed. Short moments before they met Garlan kicked up his speed and Sivert was caught of guard, and in doing so dropped his shield too low to protect his neck. Garlan's lance took him in the gorget, sending him flying of the back of Hellhound, Sivert landed on his legs, but with minimal damage.

After Garlan helped him to his feet the men exchanged a few words of congratulations for an honourable bout. Sivert remained long enough to see Garlan crown his sister, Lady Margaery Tyrell as the Queen of Beauty. Sivert clapped along with the crowd, and had to admit, she was one of, if not the most beautiful of the ladies in attendance. After returning Hellhound to the Tyrell stables, Sivert hurried back to his tent outside the walls to prepare for the melee. Selecting his Ironborn short sword and favourite war axe, a name day gift from his father. It was Ironborn made, and engraved with twisting snakes, and a handle wrapped in sharkskin. Additionally he selected a large round shield with the bastardized sigil of house Saltcliffe engraved upon it. Sivert gave a few runs on the grindstone before returning to the tourney grounds for the melee.

---

Handless Basaran, Mercenary Captain of the Shield Scorchers Purple Maniple,
Monster of Mantarys

Basaran awoke to the pale smiling face of Sallow Toad. His squire was dressed unusually, for him. Instead of his usual ragged robes, he had on a billowing robe coloured gold with grey highlights along the edge, with a large hood covering head. "Master, you've been sleeping in this garden for so long that the joust has ended, the Tyrell, Garlan was the victor, in case you were wondering." Basaran grunted, grabbing his helmet from where it lay beside him and rising from the ground beneath the tree he had been resting against. He cracked the kinks from his neck and stalked off to the tourney grounds, with his large single edge blade in his right hand, his scissor on his left and his squire following close on his heel, dusting off the small amounts of dirt that had collect on the back of his armour.

---

Ser Wilhain Storm, Mercenary Captain of the Shield Scorchers Blue Maniple,
Bastard of House Gower, the Knight of Silver Trefoils

Wilhain had been eliminated in the joust in the second round, but it had been to the winner of the tourney so at least there was some honour to be had. Now he sat in preparation of the melee with his other men, sharpening his bastard sword, and shining the large kite shield emblazoned with his sigil. On his left was Serjeant Gedyc Sand, who had selected a spear with a broad leaf shaped blade, as well as a short sword with a single edge and broad blade. On his right was a new Ghiscari recruit named Kazzar zo Reznos, sharpening two long and thin curved blades with harpy styled cross guards. Kazzar had been from a minor noble family in Meereen who was known for being kind to slaves under their ownership, and had willingly given his slaves freedom when Daenerys invaded the city. Now he was a Serjeant under Handless Basaran, and a fierce warrior in the shield scorchers.

Wilhain looked up from his blade and saw the colossus himself approaching. "Well boys, if it isn't our fellow scorcher, the Monster of Mantarys. Looks like this melee's really gonna be a fun one."

[Republic of South Vantaria]

Areo Hotah
Captain of the Household Guards of Sunspear

Highgarden, The Reach

The first part of the tourney, the joust, had finished; Areo had hardly watched it, for he had no interest in Lordlings riding down a track and slamming into each other... no, he had a taste for melee.
And in an orange tent, the Martell shield hung outside, he prepared for it alongside other. Ser Costayne Yronwood and a Qorgyle knight included.
Areo knew he could win. It very much depended on one's "allies," and all the Dornishmen would be helping him win as it would bring honor to Dorne.
The only one of these who is any good, is Jyk, reflected the Norvosi as he sharpened his side dagger on a whetstone. But he is craven; I can win, he also told himself. Ser Costayne was praying under his breath, and a stocky commoner was practicing parrying with his bastard sword.
Finally, Ellaria Sand came in with Prince Trystane, breaking the silence. "Men, we are Dornishmen." She announced grandly, "and so we must honor our home and House Martell. I fervently hope, and I know deep down in my heart, that one of our brave men will win today. Please do not leave me or Prince Trystane down, and offer a show to the people. I trust you all." With that, they both turned abruptly and left.

[The Valyria Empire]

---

His Lord Paramount, Jon "Snow", of House Stark, Lord Paramount of the North and Lord of Winterfell

---

"Lord Blacken, you honor me with your offer but I must be off. I need to visit Lord Reed and Lord Cerwyn. With them at my side I should have enough men to take back Winterfell." Jon responded as he remounted his horse. "I know you have many duties, but you may join me, if you bring a small force. I need to remain incognito to the Boltons." Jon then reared his horse around, then Jon turned around to look at Adam. "We shall wait till sunset before we march should you desire to march with us. If not, remember Lord Blacken, Winter is Coming. Once it gets here, The North Shall Rise." Jon and his companions then rode out back towards Jon's army.

[Tyr-Basiliscus]

SANDOR "THE HOUND" CLEGANE
CAPTAIN OF THE SELLSWORD COMPANY "THE HOUND'S BITCHES
HIGHGARDEN, THE REACH

The time of the melee had reached Highgarden, and men in all suits of armor and leather were making their way to where we'd fight for glory, and for the Dragon-fucker.
I spotted soldiers and knights carrying weapons of all kind. A huge, mutilated brute in the colors of House Blackfyre with a crude single-edged blade cradled in his right hand, his only hand. A large bearded priest, whom I recognized as Areo Hotah of Dorne, lumbered along with a two-handed battle axe and a polished dagger hanging at his belt. And the Tyrell, Ser Garlan, stood straight and proud, in the colors of his House. He had a beautiful longsword and a small pole-arm too.
Those three are the dangerous ones, I mused as we took our places. Everyone else was just a little something to beat into the dirt.
And finally it started. Hotah remained cautious, in a group of four Dornishmen, standing at the side. Still, very soon, the Dark Swords' Captain, Blacken, and Ser Derron approached them. Together they took down Jyk and another man, this one in the colors of House Qorgyle.
My Bitches, Crag, a Riverlands' bastard, twin Westerlands' bastards, and a commoner, charged at the Dornishmen as well. Hotah took down the commoner and the fairer of the Hill brothers, while a man of House Yronwood landed a blow with a morningstar on the Riverlands' bastard's head. He went down, making no sound. Crag and the other Hill returned to my side, and we three charged at the Scorched Shields.
The colossus sent Hill flying with a hit from his his fist, and then hit him a bit more with the flat of his sword. I took down two, and Crag one. We retreated again, and gazed about us...
So many men were already in the dust. The crowd cheered, excited, and I noticed only ten men remained: I, Crag, Hotah, Garlan Tyrell, the Colossus, Blacken, the Rosethorn, an Ironborn and a Gower bastard, and the heir of House Hightower. It was time for me to really fight.
I faked charging towards Rosethorn and Blacken, and instead went at the Hightower knight. In the corner of my eye, I spied Storm fending off the large man.
Once Wilhain Storm grew tired, I moved out of the way of his slice, and tripped him up. He fell, and as he readied to get up I smashed him down again with my axe. Hightower had lost, as well. The Colossus kept hitting, hitting and dodging until the knight stumbled, and he got pushed over violently by the horrendous man.
That was the first time I noticed Garlan Tyrell in the whole melee. He was fighting Pyke and Crag at the same time. The blow from his sword to Crag's chest could have killed the man if it had been real fighting, but he simply passed out. Then the Ironborn stepped to close to the Lord of Brightwater Keep, and what passed seemed spectacular:
Garlan seized his helm, tearing it off the head, and brought his knee up to hit the man into unconsciousness. I chuckled, finally a lordling who can fight like a man.
Basaran then went at him, and I left them to it, preferring easier prey. I set my eyes on the Rosethorn, but as I approached a hit from Hotah's axe under the chin unbalanced him, and then another to his waist sent him down.
Axel was a different story. He held for long, with patience and stamina, until when I came, approaching his Dornish opponent from behind. As soon as Hotah sensed me he slightly turned, letting his frontal guard down, and Axel went in for the "kill," eagerly.
Still, it had been what I hoped for. As he elongated his arm I hit it hard with the flat of my axe, and proceeded to slash at his armored belly. The northerner made a groaning sound, and I punched him hard on the jaw, just to be sure. He dropped down, out of the games, just as Garlan succumbed to the huge fighter.
Hotah came at me, a blur, but I deftly moved out of his weapon's way, barging into his side. Being both roughly the same in weight, and me having the point of advantage, we both went to the ground. As I pointed my axe's tip to his throat, he whispered coarsely: "I yield."
Only Basaran the Handless, the Colossus of Marnys, remained standing apart from me. The whole stands held their breaths as we closed in on each other. I started talking.
"Colossus, they call you, don't they? You thinkin' it scares me, no doubt. Can't blame ya... whooah!" I muttered as his sword flew perilously close to my face. I went on nonetheless. "Calling ya Colossus and all that, it scares men. Still, you know who I am?"
This time I attacked, my axe blow aimed at where forearm and upper arm meet. It bruised him, but no more.
"I am Sandor Clegane, called "The Hound" by friends. You know mah brother? Gregor Clegane, call 'im the Mountain that Rides. I'm used to fighting big fuckers!"
He had been almost captivated by my narration, and when I raised my axe yet again it took him a second longer than usual to react. Still, react he did. He parried and tried to slice at my chest with one, serpentine movement. And then we started the dance...
For what seemed like hours we parried and hit, grunted and stumbled. At the end, as he searched to jump on me, I raced out the way. He fell on the ground, and I kicked him hard enough in the lower back. That made him arch it, and as he did I pointed my axe at his neck, jesting:
"I believe I've won, friend. I won't wait for you to tell me ya yield, cause that wouldn't come to easy to you..."
I had won the melee of Highgarden.

[Eraus]

Adam Blacken, Lord of Blacken Castle, Head of House Blacken

Adam was smiling when he rushed back to his gates. After Jon was out of sight the guards and soldiers gathered around Adam who was still smiling like a boy who has just seen a nude woman. "Lord...." He said as he stopped himself "King Jon, The White Wolf of the North. Is calling upon his vassals to join his side in reclaiming our lands from the Boltons. I will be taking 20 men with me. Only My House Guard. The rest of you will wait until one of the guard comes back and tell you where we need you to march off to. Inform the others and if the Boltons come send a Raven to Greywater Watch and Castle Cerwyn aswell as White Harbor." Adam said as he began to walk back to his keep.

"May the Old gods watch over my lands, my family, and the north" Adam said as he grabbed his shield which has the Blacken sigil on it. Adam was ready for war and had been for sometime and he hoped that they would win the war for the north depended on it. As Adam was walking out he saw his older sister.

"Emma, You are the Keeper of my Lands. Ensure it's safe." Adam said as his beautiful sister. "Don't you know sister, For the North Shall Rise" Adam said as he headed to the stables and got his horse. At this point the 20 men he wanted where ready and they headed off to Jon Snow's Army

[Warg the Immortal]

Ser Wilhain Storm, Mercenary Captain of the Shield Scorchers Blue Maniple,
Bastard of House Gower, the Knight of Silver Trefoils

---

Wilhain picked himself up from the grounds of the melee arena. Damn that Hound is as vicious as his namesake, even managed to get Basaran on the wrong end of the blade. Atleast I finished in the top ten, top third is better than nothing. He went over to Sivert to check him, his face had gotten bashed rather soundly by Garlan, but other than a bloody nose he seemed fine. The two men dusted each other off, collected their weapons and made their way back to camp to change from armour to more comfortable clothing for the upcoming archery event.

Sivert opted for a yew bow while Wilhain chose a weirwood bow he had won in a game of cards in Volantis. As they made their way toward the tourney grounds Wilhain caught sight of the other Shield Scorchers who would be participating. Sivert's father, Maron Pyke was carrying an elm bow, while another recruit named Lionel Hill, a Lannister bastard, distantly related from the main branch, carried one of ash. The strangest site was the man known as Sallow Toad, who carried a masterfully made goldenheart bow. Well, for a ragged looking man he certainly carries fancy equipment. Wilhain caught site of another man, Axel Blacken who carried a dark black bow of ebony wood. Arriving at the grounds the men exchanged a few polite words while waiting for the other competitors to arrive.

Finally the tournament was under way. The first round took place from 20 paces, everyone in the competition being at least a semi-competent archer, their were no eliminations. The second round went the same way. However the third, from 40 paces, saw the elimination of the Martell lordling and a man named Rupert Coffin. In the fourth round from 50 paces Wilhain, Sivert and Axel Blacken all became relegated from the competition. Wilhain chuckled as he walked to the stands with Blacken and Pyke to watch the remainder of the competition.

The next round saw the loss of Lionel Hill, who ran to join his captain in the stands. The sixth round from 70 pace began, and saw the elimination of all but three competitors, Maron Pyke, Oberyn Cutjack and unexpectedly, the man known as Sallow Toad. The crowd seemed upset as Edric Appleton, who had been favoured to win, missed one of his three shots, leaving him with vastly less points than the remaining competitors.

In the seventh round, at 80 paces, Maron Pyke missed his mark on two shots and was eliminated, earning third place. The competition lasted two more rounds, until finally at 100 paces, Oberyn Cutjack missed one shot, while yet again Sallow Toad scored high with all three shots. There was light applause as the herald announced the winner of the competition, as most were clueless to the identity of the unusual, pale man from Essos. Wilhain whistled through his teeth, "Well Sivert, remind me not to anger the yellow man while within bow range." Sivert, Lionel and Blacken chuckled at the joke as the four made their way from the stands to the feast that was soon to begin in Highgarden.

[The Valyria Empire]

---

His Lord Paramount, Jon "Snow", of House Stark, Lord Paramount of the North and Lord of Winterfell

---

The sun had just started to set when Jon left his tent with Val at his side. The free folk were all bustling about, getting ready to march to Greywater Water. Jon, Tormund, and Val were assisting everyone pack, when a lookout shouted, "Lord Blacken approaches!" Jon then started to run to the edge of the camp. There in the distance he saw Lord Blacken and about twenty men riding towards him.

[Danceria]

Event post
Highgarden Dining Hall, the Reach

---

The evening came and the tourney ended, and tonight the champions and runner ups dine with the Lords and Ladies of the south.

Each one there, no matter if they are from a prestigious bloodline destined for greatness, or a lowly bastard, who arose through cunning and skill. All sat equally (somewhat) at the table. Once the Bread and Salt were shared, the feast began.

Roast boar and mutton, warm soups, breads and cool wines graced the table, and the conversations began. Thinly veiled flirting from those who wish to have their bed a little warmer for tonight, bold boasts and tales were energetically told and countered, as each knight tried to outdo the other. Raucous laughter at the well timed joke, and cries for more wine and food, a cacophony that overcast the silent and hidden whispers of deals being made, promises made and broken, and threats from the servants ("Jecov, if I see your sorry head drinking up the ale like a fish out of water, I swear by the Seven I'll...")

So amidst this energetic night, the worries of the world were far and away. For just this night, there was no inbred bastard sitting on the Iron Throne, no false Lords breaking sacred oaths and warring with each other, no usurpers and claimants plotting and arguing over who would get the Crown, no Mother of Dragons hungry for revenge or ominous Winter coming. For now, there was only this feast, and after all: worry takes up room in the belly, so quaff another tankard and just be merry! Tomorrow will be worried about when it comes...tomorrow.

[Eraus]

Adam Blacken, Lord of Blacken Castle, Head of House Blacken

Adam and his men rode towards the camp and Jon was standing watching them approach. As Adam got closer he told his men "Help them get ready to move" which caused his men to dismount and help those who needed it.

"Well Snow, You couldn't have expected a Noble lord let myself to pass up on the offer to both fight and get a wife after this is over" Adam said as he dismounted. "So, 21 men including me. This should be interesting.....One question Cousin, any good looking wild women around?" Adam said with a giant smile. "I should not gloat but I am a handsome northerner." Adam said jokingly. "Anything I should know before I help you pack?"

[The Independent Hazerls]

Ser Willas Tyrell, Heir to Highgarden
Highgarden, The Reach

Willas sat at the high table, with his lord father on his right and his wife on his left. All around him, the feast raged on. Further down the table Garlan jested with Axel, and Aegon the King narrated some Essosi tales to Margaery. Her eyes were captivated, and she laughed at times. It seems it was a good match, thought Ser Willas as he looked on.
Finally, a servant carried a large roast boar platter to the table, and Highgarden's heir could feel his mouth watering.
Sandor Clegane, strangely invited to the high table, served himself first. "The dog has no manners," Lord Mace mumbled, but the sellsword captain seemed not to care. He took a large portion and started wolfing it down hungrily.
Others sat around that majestic piece of oak-wood were Ser Derron, Ser Baelor Hightower, the heirs of Houses Hewett, Appleton and Rowan, Varys and Jon Connington. After another five minutes, a fight broke out between one of the King's archers and a Tyrell man-at-arms. The latter got a knife in the thigh for his troubles, while the Golden Company man got carried out.
Willas heard a soft sigh near him, his wife. "Sweet treasure, no need to worry. Men fight when they drink, but they cannot harm you." Ser Edric Appleton, the woman's brother, agreed. "Ser Willas is right, sister. This is simply the way of men. You needn't trouble yourself with it."

[Danceria]

Ser Derron "Rosethorn" of Duskendale, Heir of House Dargood
Highgarden Dining Hall, the Reach[/align]

---

"Damn yer hides!" the Hedge Knight shouted the curse at both the Tyrell and Golden Company Men-At-Arms "Is the wine so strong tha' ye don't know th' diff'rence between th' battlefield an' the dinner table?! Seven mend your manners eightfold!"

To be honest, the wine of the Reach was the best he'd ever tasted, and he only had a single glass because he feared it's potency might cause him to do something rash. Derron sighed as he looked at the other mercenaries, hedge knights, and sons of nobles bickering and arguing like children. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the fact that some of them were sore losers, either way: this could turn into a brawl.

With a quick tug at a servant's sleeve, Derron spoke softly, but loud enough to be heard. "Is there any entertainment for t'night? Like a minstrel or a fool or a dancing bear...?"

The servant shook his head "I apologize, good ser. Plucker's been knocked unconscious by a member of those Shield Scorchers...or was it the Dark Swords...? Either way, the only entertainment you might have is each other."

"Gods preserve us!" Derron sighed in exasperation, then, perhaps due to the genius of a slightly impaired mind, he asked an unusual question "Is th' lute o' this "Plucker" undamaged?" The servant was uncertain as to what he meant. "I believe so... but I am no minstrel, ser." "Fetch it boy," the Rosethorn commanded "fetch it wi' all due haste!" When the Servant did so, Baelor Hightower turned to the man from Duskendale "What are you planning on doing?" "I spent me childhood sittin' in front o' a minstrel an' heard nothin' but th' songs an' stories o' knighthood." Derron explained with a smile "I intend ta' make meself a minstrel. Get these sers an' gentlefolk ta' not kill each other. I've 'eard enough about those sorts o' feasts..." Baelor smirked "If nothin' else, your fate may be the same as this "Plucker"." he chuckled. "I wouldn't bet against me, good Ser..." Derron countered with a wry grin. "At least, if ye value whatever it is yer bettin'...ah 'ere's the lad now."

The confused servant dutifully brought the lute to the Hedge Knight as quickly as he was sent off. "Here's the lute, ser. But how do you mean to play it?" the lad asked with concern and confusion. "The din is so great, I doubt you'd be heard..." "Ne'er underestimate th' power of a song, young lad." Derron reassured him as he inspected the lute. Seemed undamaged, strings were taught, greased too. Perfect for a strum and song. "Now, good Ser, lad. Fix yer eyes carefully..." He smiled and tuned the instrument, and began to play.

The effect wasn't instantaneous, nor was it meant to be. The music first caught the attention of those seated at the great oak table, but then the silence spread like wildfire as they hoped to listen to the new tune that was coming. It was the simple fact that there was something different to listen to beside each other arguing, and more and more heads from the other end of the table, to those beneath the table in which the lords sit at, till it wound it's way to the outside of the hall and was heard outside of the great dining area. Once his audience's curiousity was piqued, he played a second song as he got up and made his way to the center of the room. It was a careful gamble, as all eyes would be on him and he would be on all eyes... Once the second tune reached its conclusion, the Hedge Knight bowed and spoke to those at the head of the highest table. "Milords and Ladies, Your Grace. A servant has just informed me that there would be no entertainment save for the unruly fightin' that we saw ten minutes prior." he announced "I for one, do not wish to turn this fine hall into th' site of a tavern brawl, that's for th' inns. I mean to offer meself as th' minstrel, for yer listenin' pleasure..."

A voice called out, clearly drunk and with laughter "Wha'? Are you gonna sing th' "Dames of Dorne" to these High-*hic*-lords?" Derron rolled his eyes "There's always tha' one bastard in 'ere who wants ta hear "Dames o' Dorne". Why don't ye sing it yerself, since ye knows it!" he taunted, unperturbed by this. But like all drunkards of his day and days to come, he accepted the challenge...

"When th' lass went to the young man fair
Twas after dark an' in th' chair..." the man warbled and flailed all over the spectators, much to the disgust and annoyance of all unfortunate enough to be near him.

"Oh, Seven help us..." Derron sighed and called to the lad "Me mug please..."

"An' when they pulled the curtain to close th' shop
'Er bare dark hips went down to the weasel-" *WHAM* The tankard made it's mark square in the foul mouth of the drunkard, ending the bawdy ballad before it reached its quite literal climax. "Perhaps instead o' that watered down old tale..." the Rosethorn began again, hoping to defuse the awkwardness "Would any 'ere know o' the tale of a certain "Snowbank Knight"...?" he asked, hoping to further pique his audience's curiosity.

[Eraus]

Axel Blacken, Lord in exile, Capt of Dark Swords

Axel had been drinking and found his way over to the Red haired lady. "Ello M'lady, I'm Axel Blacken....Axel the Wolf, Axel the Northerner, Axel the most handsome man you'd ever seen" Axel said pausing "You can call me any of those" Axel said as he sat down next to her. "So what is your name" He said with a smile.

The Red headed girl looked at him and Axel felt lost in her Green eyes. "Flowers, You can call me that since I'm a Bastard" She said to him.

"Oh M'lady, You are not a Bastard in my eyes but you are a Flower. Beautiful and full of life" He said seductively. Axel then saw Garth Hightower enter the hall and head towards Mace which caused Axel to head towards them. As Axel got closer he heard Garth say "Ironborn Lord is in our Prison" which caused Axel to clench his fist.

"Lord, I would like to request to talk to the Ironborn. I have a few questions for the man." Axel said with anger written on his face. Axel could feel himself getting more enraged thinking about what the Ironborn did to the North and to his Kin in winterfell.

[Warg the Immortal]

Ser Sivert Pyke, Mercenary Serjeant of the Shield Scorchers Blue Maniple,
Bastard of House Saltcliffe, the White Serpent

---

Sivert had been sitting in the feast hall, drinking Highgarden wine with the Shield Scorcher members who had been allowed to attend, aside from the captains all thirty sergeants were in attendance, including the Lannister bastard, Lionel Hill and the boisterous Ghiscari, Kazzar zo Reznos. The man barely spoke the Common Tongue of Westeros, yet he was extremely popular among the men of the Scorchers and the Reach. His bawdy jokes could be heard clearly from the opposite end of the table. Even Sivert allowed himself a few chuckles at the man's humour. Suddenly something caught his eye. A man entered, wearing the Tyrell colours, older than Lord Mace Tyrell, appeared to be making his way to the Lord of Highgarden, and begin speaking in hushed tones. I wonder if this is Lord Tyrell's uncle, Garth with the unfortunate moniker of 'the Gross.' Deciding to investigate, Sivert made his way to the front of the hall, ahead of him he saw the Dark Swords Captain, Axel Blacken, making his way towards the two Tyrells as well. Sivert didn't hear what was spoke of, but did hear Blacken mention wanting to speak with an Ironborn. Sivert came up to the group. "Pardon me milords, but did I hear mention of an Ironborn? Perhaps I can be of assistance, I myself being an Ironborn."

[The Independent Hazerls]

LORD MACE TYRELL
HIGHGARDEN, THE REACH

Ser Garth Hightower, brother of young Ser Baelor, came storming in. Most didn't notice him, and so the feast went on happily.
Still, the man approached Mace himself and sfiffly bowed. "My lord, we have a noble Ironborn prisoner. Ryon Carcarion, he is. He wishes to speak with you."
Two other men quickly reached the two straight after. Axel Blacken with a look of calculaged rage, and Sivert Pyke simply curious. Both intended to be the representatives for Lord Mace.
"Captain Blacken," the Tyrell started, "and Ser Sivert. I understand why you both wish to be my representatives and talk to Lord Carcarion. Still, I will only send Axel. My lord Pyke, once I have understood what this is all about, I will no doubt let you see the man yourself. But for now, I think this is wiser."
The sellsword bastard bowed his head and walked away. Mace turned yet again to the Northerner. "Captain, my son Willas will accompany you. You will meet with this Ironborn straight after the end of the feast, and once it is finished come find me and King Aegon. Go now."

[The Valyria Empire]

Event Post (This character is unclaimed and this post is only here to continue RP)

---

Her Grace, Daenerys "Stormborn", of House Targaryen, The Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and Princess of Dragonstone

---

After having been kidnapped by the Dothraki and having spent many weeks in Vaes Dothrak, Dany finally escaped them with the help of Drogon. However, in her escape she ended up burning Vaes Dothrak to the ground, thus awaking the wrath of the Dothraki. Now the Dothraki ride for Meeren, so that they might take their revenge on the Dragon Queen.

Having landed back in Meeren to see it under siege from the Slavers of Yunkai, Astapor, Volantis and Elyria hoping to restore slavery to the city. Once she arrived, the slavers sent her a deal. Leave Meeren and it's slaves and in return they will give her all the ships she needs to transport all her soldiers. She is even allowed to keep the Unsullied, and any freed slaves that wish to join her.

While Drogon is at her disposal, with her army occuiped she wouldn't be able to defeat the masters. So, she accepted the deal, followed by releasing Rhaegal and Viserion. After all the ships had been loaded, as well as about 1,500 untrained freed slaves joining her. Danny finally leaves Meeren, wondering if what she did was worth it. However she knows that the masters will regret making her leave, for the Dothraki ride for Meeren and the city will burn. She smiles thinking of that.

Dany's Forces:
Unsullied-30K
Dragons-3
Daegon's Forces-910
Westerosi Defectors-100
Untrained Escape Slaves-1,500
Stormcrows-500
Second Sons-500
Total: 33,513

Event Post (This character is unclaimed and this post is only here to continue RP)

---

His Grace, Euron "Crow's Eye" of House Greyjoy, Iron King, King of the Isles and the North, King of Salt and Rock, Son of the Sea Wind, Lord Reaper of Pyke, Captain of the Silence and Protector of the Realm.

---

Victarion and his fleet were just now sailing around the Valyrian Penisula. While it would be faster to sail the smoking sea, it would also be a suicide mission. Victarion gazes at the Dragon horn, next to him. Dragonbinder, his brother called it. With it, Victarion will be able to control a dragon. The thought excited him, as he could use it to turn on his brother. At last, he would be King of the Iron Isles.

[The Independent Hazerls]

LORD MACE TYRELL
HIGHGARDEN, THE REACH

The feast had been a glorious thing, with joyful guests, delicious food and spectacular Arbor gold and red. Now, as the whole of Aegon's followers made their ways to sleep, Mace knew something was to be done.
"Your Grace," he said, "I think it'd be wise to call for the War Council now. The time for feasting has gone, and war is ahead."
So they all assembled in Highgarden's Council Chamber. King Aegon, Lord Mace, Ser Baelor Hightower, Ser Edric Hightower, the heirs of Houses Hewett and Rowan, Captain Blacken, Captain Storm, Captain Clegane and Ellaria Sand.
"My lords and lady, these days of feasting, I hope, have pleased all of you. Still, war is ahead and we must prepare for those days." Murmurs of consent came up all around the table.
"So, we will naturally hear from His Grace the King, but I would like to explain my plan now."
Mace's plan was in fact Willas'. The two had come up with it earlier that day.
"We have 155,000 men. The Reach's 100,000; King Aegon's 10,000; Dorne's 50,000; and a good 5,000 counting all sellswords, freeriders and Hedge Knights. Naturally, not all these men can be used offensively, as some must stay to defend our homelands.
I say the Reach leaves behind 20,000 soldiers. 10,000 will be used to guard our eastern borders, and 10,000 to guard our shores. We are at peace with the Greyjoys, but as soon as we march off they may strike.
Furthermore, I say Dorne leaves behind 10,000 men. They will send 20,000 north into the Stormlands, and 20,000 to the Reach, to go directly under His Grace's command. 20,000 men can easily take the lands of House Baratheon; they have no more than 5,000 at the moment.
After all this is done, 80,000 Reachmen; 20,000 Dornishmen; 10,000 Gold Company men and 5,000 more will be ready for battle. I say we send 80,000 of those north into the Westerlands. Such a large number of men will take those lands quickly, and the Crown will have to send men there to fight us. Still, at the end, those lands too will be ours. I say we send 50,000 Reachmen, 10,000 of the King's men and the 20,000 Dornishmen. It will leave the Lannisters weakened, the Stormlanders destroyed, and King's Landing stuck between three of our armies."
Mace then looked around the room. Well, they seem pleased. Hopefully I convinced them... he reflected calmly.

[Warg the Immortal]

Lord-in-Exile Daegon Blackfyre, Lord of House Blackfyre,
Last of House Blackfyre, The Inferno that Walks

---

The past days had been hectic, to say the least. Daegon's two formerly-slaver ships had arrived back, with word that his men had arrived in Westeros. Not long after, Yunkai and Astapor laid siege to the city, along with aid from Elyria and Volantis. All of them hoping to restore Meeren to a slaver city and wrest it from the control of Queen Daenerys while she was missing. Daegon had managed to outfit his former slaver ships into makeshift war galleys, and currently had them patrolling the harbour, he had placed Shield Scorchers captains Treon "Red Tooth" Drumm, and Wenzel Waters in command of them, the two captains dubbed the vessels Cannibal and Wrath of Meeren, respectively. The rest of Daegon's men were aiding in keeping order in the city, or assisting Ser Barristan Selmy with the seige. The conflict reached its zenith when the Queen returned, on the back of a large black dragon, bringing with her news of an impending Dothraki invasion. The slavers had seen her arrival, and sent an envoy demanding the city and its slaves be returned to them, and in exchange, Daenerys and her forces would be allowed transport for her men, and was allowed to lee any free slaves that joined her, in addition to her Unsullied troops. Clearly these slavers are afraid of dragon fire. Too bad we can't capitalize on it with the impending horsemen warpath. Daenerys agreed to the terms, Daegon was not pleased but knew that it was the only choice they had, a siege this large, and another force en route, they would be mad to try and hold out. At least those slaver scum will have a nice surprise arriving in short time.

...

The sun was rising on Meereen and the last of the ships were being prepped to sail. Daegon was about to make his way to the harbour, but first stopped in the throne room to speak with the Queen. "My Queen, I know this cannot be easy for you, having to leave these people who could not join us. But I know now that you truly are the great leader you were rumoured to be. Staying would have been suicide, but now we have a chance to one day return, and save these people from their plight, and I will be honoured to aid you in your endeavours, whether they are in Westeros, Essos or any land that you lead us." With that Daegon bowed deeply, something he had not learned until his arrival in Meereen, where his courtly manners had improved greatly, thanks to observing the way Ser Barristan Selmy acted, and turned to begin walking to the harbour, where the Waters brothers, 150 Shield Scorchers, 200 freed men and the Wrath of Meereen awaited him.

[Eraus]

Axel Blacken, Lord in exile, Capt of Dark Swords

Axel didn't really stay long enough to hear of his speech. "Wilas come with me" Axel said as he started to head to the prison. Axel wasn't sure what the Ironborn wold say to plan his way out of this. "Wilas, How bad should we hurt this dick?" Axel said joking around.

Before they enter Axel removed any sigil or notable feature that could possibly identify him as a Blacken. "Wilas, Let's have fun" Axel said as he entered the Ironborn's cell. "Ello, Watermate......How are you today?" Axel said faking a pause and immediately said "After this..your day will be horrid" Axel said with a devilish smile

[The Slavic League]

Ryon Carcarion
Highgarden, the Reach

Ryon was trying to sleep on an uncomfortable pile of hay when the men entered the room. He turned his head to them, and then stood up. "Ello, Watermate......How are you today?" said the man who entered first, who then followed up with "After this..your day will be horrid".

Ryon lifted an eyebrow. "Too whom am I speaking too? Neither of you are fat enough to be Mace Tyrell. Also, in what way will my day be horrid? My home is in the hands of an insane king, so I don't think anything you can do to me can compare to that."

[Eraus]

Axel Blacken, Capt of Dark Swords

Axel sat down still with his Smile."I'm the Big Bad Wolf......I'm the Fury in the Forest.....I'm Death himself" Axel said "I'm Anders Wolfs, Son of Eddard Wolfs, Kin of the Death, Lord's of the Seven Hells.....and your Killer of your Kinds" Axel said looking the man in the eyes

Adam Blacken, Lord of Blacken Castle, Head of House Blacken

Adam walked over to the Tormund the man that Jon was with earlier. "Ello, So....you wild folk don't use armor do ya?" Adam said curiously. "I mean I can see kind of why but it's protection and in war you need to be able to protect yourself so you can kill" Adam looked at the Wild man. "What do you think?"