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(RP GoT) A Song of Cloak and Dagger


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The bells of the Grand Septry rang out across King's Landing, announcing the birth of one Tommen Baratheon, son of King Robert Baratheon, First of his Name, Lord of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Not that it needed announcing. After all, the boy had been born a week ago. But, as is tradition, the bells needed to ring at the start of the tournament to welcome the new arrivals.

But everyone knew that the tournament was just to please the King, and other young and impresionable knights and maidens. At least, Maron Gairn did. The winner of the tournament would be forgotten by the time of the next, and the money that goes with it would not go beyond the brothels of King's Landing. The alliances that could be made here, however, were a different matter entirely.
Maron looked back at his companions. Faodri and Tyra were staring around the walls in amazement. It was the first time either of them, or Maron had been south of the Neck, and even the first time any of them had seen a city. The other two members of the group were a different matter entirely. Ruagan had a scowl implanted on his face, a reminder of the hard night's drinking he had done last night. Unfortunately, for Ruagan, in terms of a hangover the cause is often the best cure. Devyn was looking on in a mixture of disbelief and amusement as the large Ironborn warrior gulped down more of the thick brown liquid they had bought at the inn last night.
They were clad appropiately to display their intentions and roles to the people of the city. Faodri and Ruagan were wearing steel armour, as the competitors of the tournament. Faodri had trained under his Ironborn uncle, Ruagan, and as much as you could say about the big man- and Maron could say a lot- he could fight like a demon.
Devyn was wearing much more humble clothing, due to his name: Pyke. He was his Grandfather's bastard and while that was perfectly legitimate under Ironborn law, under the mainland law he was a bastard and disregarded because of this. Despite this, he remained a member of Jon Gairn's council, and trusted advisor, much to the chagrin of the other members of court. After all, he wasn't the politest of people. When it the need came for Tyra to need a tutor, he was the first choice, as, apparently, he can make coins appear from thin air.
Thinking of Tyra, Maron's thoughts turned to her. He was glad that she didn't take after the Gairn side of the family; the men could get away with the brutal features but for a girl of sixteen, hoping to make a marital match, it wasn't the best look. Although she wasn't too keen on getting married. It was well known in the castle at Wolves' Holm that she can swing a sword as well as the men, partly because Ironborn customs encourage this and partly becasue Devyn wanted to annoy the other nobles.

They were shown to their lodgings in King's Landing by a young clerk. Maron looked at the small wooden building.
"Not much is it?" he remarked drily. He tried to sound upbeat but there were peasants who had better living areas.
"Of course it's not," said Devyn sourly. "It's fairly well known that we're an Ironborn family. To them, we're worth little more than Hedge Knights."
"This is insolence!" roared Ruagan. "We should show them we mean business!" He went for his sword but Maron spoke up.
"Yes uncle," he said soothingly, "but we shall do that in the tournament. And, once we have enough power of our own, we can start to dictate terms."
Ruagan didn't look happy but at least he wasn't going to start killing. Maron forced a smile.
"Well, let's make ourselves at home!"

Faodri and Maron shared a room, as did Ruagan and Devyn. Ruagan and Devyn had a vitriolic relationship but they could always rely on each other. After all, they had to when an ethnic minority. Tyra naturally took her own room and, naturally, it was the best. Or at least, the one with the least amount of rat droppings.
When they had unpacked they heard a kock on the door. Faodri went to open it but Maron shook his head. As the head of the group, he had to take all the messages. Faodri nodded, understanding. He went to the door and opened it, to reveal a sharply dressed courtier with a clipped beard.
"The feast will commence in an hour. The king expects your presence there."
And without a reply he strode off to inform the next family of the feast.
Maron turned around to the others.
"You hear that," he said grinning, "the king himself wants us there. How nice of him."


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
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Agryn Skywood let out a sigh of relief when his wagon came through one of the cities gates. Agryn had feared that they would be attacked by men from the mountain Clans or bandits. But their Skywood and Stoneriver guards seemed to have made them change their minds, or they had just been lucky. His son Jon looked with big Eyes at the Red keep, it was much larger than the Castles he had seen in the Vale.

Myna Stoneriver said with a smile "My dear I cant wait to see how Rickard will be doing in the tourney, I hope he doesnt get hurt..."

Agryn said "Dont worry Myna, remember when he defeated Dragga the chopper?" She nodded and shuddered at the memory. Dragga had been an infamous raider of the Mountain Clans. He had Always chopped his victims to pieces. He had attacked Agryn, Myna and Rickard when they had been at a visit to the Eyrie, Dragga had used his two-handed axe to kill his way through their guards. Only to be stopped by Rickard who had separated his head from his body.

They had been delayed due to bad weather, but they had made it in time. It was Little more than an hour Before the feast would commence. They could now see the stone building that they would reside in. Agryn smiled at the wagon stopped infront of the house. Agryn jumped off and helped his wife down.

Jon helped jumped down and were followed by his sister. They were both eager. Rickard came riding on his horse, he grinned as a Child when he saw Knights training in a distance. A Skywood guard walked in first, and Agryn came after him. "Home sweet home..." he said with a Little smile. He started Walking up the stair to investigate the second floor.


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My spirits rose as the walls loomed above me, and I dug my heels into my black and red sand steed's sides, gaining speed as we rode towards the River Gate. I looked at my husband, a magnificent sight, clad in orange and white silks atop a beautiful sand steed, my husband's pride, dark red with a golden mane and tail. Nymeria, Oberyn's baseborn daughter cooly examined the walls, no doubt for any flaws, as she always did, ignoring the splendor of the actual city, while Elia stayed intent on examining the days catch as they rode through the fishmarket. Daemon rode next to Oberyn on his black and white steed, talking, no doubt, about how they would approach the other more powerful houses and how not to make enemies, pretty much the same thing he did every time they approached a castle. The gates were open for the houses coming in and I could see a house ahead of our small party. We consisted of five members of our party, ten guards for us and a bannerman. At that thought I twisted around in my saddle and looked up at our banner, a small one, but nonetheless, a banner. It was blown back in the strong gale and it looked like the man carrying it was struggling to keep it up. My heart lifted as we rode through the gates, my legs ached, my muscles were cramped. A servant met us and led us to the stables where we dismounted. After patting my steed one last time I followed the servant into the stone building where we would be staying for the event.

The ringing bells were starting to get on my nerves and I gladly followed Oberyn and my family inside. It was pleasant, I could say that, and near a brothel. Despite Daemon's seriousness in court, I'm sure he would be pleased, at least we would know where to find him when he went missing. Me and Oberyn quickly grabbed the biggest room, full of silk hangings, deerskin rugs and a large feather bed. Nymeria went grumbling to her room, the smallest room which was more like a cell, with a scratchy straw mattress and a tiny window. After we were settled in, the guards had gone to mix with the gold cloaks and our chests of clothes, armour, weapons and valuables had been unloaded a servant knocked on their door. "The feast will commence in an hour, the lady and lord expect you there." Oberyn nodded and shut the door quickly in the servants face. I started to wander around the house, taking pity on Nymeria and taking one of our many fur rugs to her room. Daemon was already gone.


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Lord Brandon watched as his guards beat his son Seth. "You were given specific instructions to enter the tounament. Then i find you not only didn't sign up, but your brother, Miles, is taking your place?"

The bruised Seth picked himself up and spat out a little blood. "This is a great way to treat your son," he smirked, "Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?"

"If you defy me again I will do worse than kill you, I will disown you." Brandon turned around to leave. Seth followed.

"Actually you are staying here. Guards, give him ten lashings for every competition Miles loses."

Miles started putting on his armor.

"You sure you want to do this?" said Samantha, "I could take your place?"

"Father would have a fit if he found out I let my sister fight for me. Just sharpen my sword a little before I head out."

"Have you ever killed a man before?"

"Twice, but I don't intend on killing anyone today. Hopefully I will only have to incapacitate my opponent. Ugg. This armor is far too heavy. Why couldn't we just skip to the joust. Horses are the only battle field i feel comfortable on."

"You shouldn't feel comfortable while fighting someone, even in a tournament."

"Yes that kind of thinking will surely get you into the NIght's Watch. I'm suprised you even want to go there. Most of their soldiers are prisoners. Your dream is most people's nightmare."

A squire walked into the room, "It's time sir."

"Here I go," said Miles nervously, grabbing his sword.

Noah was no doubt reading his books back at home. Their was no formal training to become a warlock avaliable. All he had was an alchemist and a few books on magic. His most impressive feat was simply communnicating with people without talking. He couldn't send them a message, only emotions. The only emotion he could get from Seth in his cabin outside King's landing was disgust. Disgust at his father. Miles however was too afraid to even tell someone was crawling around in his mind.

Miles watched as his opponent came out from a doorway near the stands. He had a mace. A heavy set weapon perfect for dealing with Miles, who had only been trained in fighting opponents with delicacy in their moves. His opponent slowly walked into the center of the field. Miles and him stared eachother down. A voice called out, "Sir listamp of House Rown vs. Miles of House Ilesworth. Begin! Miles made the first move, targetting his legs. Listamp jumped to avoid the attack and countered with a lunge. Miles leaned to one side and grabbed him by his outstretched arm. With a grunt Listamp tossed him back. Miles found himself on the ground with some wind knowcked out of him and realized his opponent was stronger than he was. Listamp ran foward and smashed his mace down toward Miles, who rolled out of the way and onto his feet. Before he could regain his balance, Listamp dahed toward him and delivered a strong punch to his chest, kknowcking more wind form his system. Miles now realized his strategy, to wear him down until he could no longer focus and then deliver a finishing blow. He wouldn't let this happen. Listamp tried to punch him again. On this attack Miles skidded to the ground and kicked him in the thigh, making him lose balance and step back. In the second it took him to swing back his mace, Miles tossed a hand of dirt into his helmet.Instinctively he dropped his mace tocover his face as the dirt stung his eyes. Miles took this opperotunity to grab his neck and thrust him to the ground. While there he kicked him in the head. When he tried to get up Miles landed the last blow with his sword and put one foot on his opponents back. Listamp was smart enough to not attempt getting up. Miles looked to the audience who began cheering, mostly out of obligation. A few grunts came from people who lost money. Miles headed back inside to prepare for the next round only to find Samantha storing a few weapons in her bag. She didn't know he was watching her and decided keep it that way. He waited a minute before entering and pretended he saw nothing. She was planning to run away. Miles knew the Wall would be the death of her.
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((( The tournament hasn't started yet. We'll have a feast so everyone can meet each other, then we'll have the tournament as a background for the RP)))

Maron looked around the halls of the Red Keep. It truly was spectacular. The walls were adorned with Baratheon and, curiously, Lannister colours. Dozens of families from all over Westeros were gathered. He could see the dark skinned Dornish, the golden haired Westlanders. In the corner was a man clothed in red robes, whispering eagerly to the noble beside him, who looked more interested in the food, drink, and the pretty girls serving them. He searched the face for any Northerners he would recognise.
A large man who was downing cups with ease could only be the Greatjon, and the woman with the steely look in her eye would be Maege Mormont, who would be competing in the tournament, much to the southerners pain. He knew her, as Tyra modelled herself on her, although she had reluctantly learned the courtesies. But the majority of the Northerners had stayed in the North. After all, a second son was not anything to get excited by. The same went for the Ironborn, although for other reasons as well.
Faodri went up to stand next to him.
"It doesn't look full," he commented quietly.
Maron nodded in agreement. "Aye, more are still to come," he said...


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

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"I don't suppose i need to remind you to not repeat what happened last year," Lord Brandon said to Seth. He didn't need to. The three scars from the three tournaments Miles lost were enough reminder for that. As much as it hurt he loved those scars. All that pain was the reason Samantha decided to stay behind instead of leaving for the NIght's Watch. Miles was forced to stay in the stands with the Lannister Sigil tied to his shirt as punishment for taking Seth's place last year. His mother Joceline was at his side with a guard next to her.
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Karl Roche sniggered as his latest victims squirmed in their bindings. "This is my road," he announced to the supposed trespassers, "If you want to use it you must pay the price." he said grinning.
His men where digging through the cart's spoils, looking for anything of value they would be able to barter with.
"m'lord" one of the Roche men called tossing him a small bag of coins and beckoning him to come look.
Karl turns around and hops into the cart, where the men presented a chest. It was well made with a sturdy lock on it nothing these peasants would have been able to afford. "Take it with use he commanded" as he started for the woods with a spring in his step.
"What 'bout them" another of his men asked.
Karl spun on a foot "should I care?" and he continued, the green of the forest swallowing him as the noise of steel tearing through flesh sounded through the air.


It took a while but Karl finally managed to pry off the lock to the chest and open it. Inside was fine silk and wool clothing folded neatly, sitting on top a envelop with the seal bearing the crowned stag of king Robert. He broke the seal and attempted to read it's contents. "SNOW!" he called out frustrated.
"Yes, Roach" A man in a large brown robe says ducking into the ruined house Roche took refuge in.
"Make sense of these markings!" Karl demanded, throwing the letter at him
The bastard read over the letter.
Look at him, a half blood able to read Karl had no love for the man, he only tolerated him because his father claimed him as his own.
Rickard snow looks up from the letter "it's a summon for a tournament being held by the king for his youngest sons name day. The reward is (x amount)"
Karl pondered what the half blood had just said. This could be a chance to make some coin, he thought to himself, unfolding a silk tunic. He had not lived in luxury since the day he fled his fathers lands after watching helplessly as ironborn raiders put their lands and seat to the torch. Back then Karl was a fat child who's only desires was dark ale and a whore squealing in his bed. Since he abandon his home he had learned the importance of fighting for his survival, and to pay the iron price for his needs.


Karl gazed at his reflection in the mirror, he was not a good looking man his beard was patchy, his stupid grin revealed crooked yellow teeth, and one could see lice bouncing around his thick brown hair his life in the wilds has taken it's toll. Karl was wearing his old northern armor he had stored away when he fled Cape Kraken. At one time the steel suit fit snug, but now, now he looked like a skeleton in it. This suit will have to do, he decided. He will win this tournament and renew his house with it's rewards. No more will he be "lord of the hedge". He turned around and left the ruined house for the last time...


it had taken a fortnight to reach the capital. The stench was the first that greeted them. Karl rode on his stead, or the closest he could get to a jousting horse. A lance he bartered for lay within the cart he confiscated earlier that month along with all he owned. He didn't fly any colors, the only thing to identify him with was the white lighthouse on his green shield. Karl preferred it that way, he didn't like to identify with the coward he once was, and on multiple occasions he had considered taking the black.
Karl was a hedge knight and that was how he was entering the tournament.


reaching the tournament grounds Rickard and the Roche men find a good place to set up a tent.
This post was last modified: August 3rd 2013, 08:01 AM by cadian13


Bernhard the Scarred
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"winners don't win forever, and losers can play a good game"
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Lord Brandon Ilesworth entered the feasting hall with Seth and Samantha to his right. He is standing tall but noticably weak with a scowl across his face. His black hair is clearly balding leading many people to look away due to his unpleasent atmosphere. A man in red comes up to them and guides them to their seats. Miles and Joceline are still in the stands having been told they cannot come to the feast. The latter of which finds herself in her old age unable to stay awake and falls asleep. Miles grows bored of this and pulls off the sign, tosses a sack of coins to the guard for his silence, and walks around the grounds looking for something interesting. He notices a shaggy man on a horse wearing no House symbols standing near a group putting up a tent. "Do you need any help with that?"
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AGRYN

Agryn Skywood entered the feast hall togheter with his wife Myna Stoneriver and their Children, Agryns black beard were tied togheter at its bottom, his family were all dressed in something blue, their house color. Agryn and Myna started greeting the other nobles that they met.


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I watched bitterly as my family walked further up the table and were seated at around the middle of the table, with other lords. I myself was led down to the furthest part of the table, where all the base born of the lower families were seated. I took a seat next to some other girls of around fourteen. By their looks I could not tell where they came from but upon asking them I discovered that they were the base born of some Northern family. I myself could not understand why the Northern family would have kept them, simpering fools that they were, but they seemed to have been in Kings Landing longer then me, maybe they would come in useful. Daemon came in late, flustered and red faced, searching for my family. I turned my attention from him to a slight disruption further up the table where a bastard was demanding to be seated with him family. Finally he was given consent and sat down next to what looked like his brother. Though I felt bitter, it was not that I was sat apart from my family, it was that I was treated like a commoner.

Oberyn
I let out a laugh as Daemon hurried towards us, completely forgetting about Nymeria. "Been somewhere?" I raised an eyebrow before letting another laugh and patting him on the back. My brother stumbled forwards with the force of the pat and sent me a glare before being seated next to me. I noticed Elia already talking to some Vale lord and my wife sitting stony faced next to me. I shook my head and clasped my hands together in anticipation of the food. It had been a long ride and the bowl of fruit we had had, had not filled me up.


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Karl
"M'lord" a Karls appointed steward bowed his head low after handing Karl an invitation. "the king has assembled all the houses, both great and lesser to the red keep for the feast.
Karl nods and waves the man away without a word.
hmm, who should i take? karl ponders stroking the dark, patchy stubble of his chin.
"Rickard! would you care to accompany me to this feast?" Karl demands. His half brother could look the part of a lord, where Karl on the other hand looked more like a swine farmer.
"Of course" Rickard replied hesitantly....

Karl and Rickard go to the red keep to the feast, sitting amongst the lords of the minor houses (hasty post need to go)
This post was last modified: August 7th 2013, 12:51 PM by cadian13


Bernhard the Scarred
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(((Right, I won't be starting anything for a while, so knock yourself out starting conversations and making alliances)))

Maron looked around at the nobles around him. He weighed them up, judging who would make an advantageous match for House Gairn. Although, to be honest, that was pretty much the entire population here. He saw a prominent house from the Vale enter, as well as a Riverlander house and a Dornish one. (I'm presuming your characters haven't come in yet cadian)
He looked at the others. "Right, Faodri, you're with me. We're going to see if we can find you a lovely wife. A rich, powerful, lovely wife." Faodri looked uncomfortable but he nodded. Maron nodded back at him in appreciation. Faodri was, if anything, loyal. Obviously the arrangements wouldn't be made yet, but it was just to show the other families of Westeros that House Gairn was open for business.
He turned to Tyra.
"Fuck off," she told him.
Maron grinned. "How elegant. But we need to find you a husband."
She glared at him. "I would rather die than marry."
"Good, that means its a win-win scenario."
She continued to glare at him. He sighed. "Devyn, I'm blaming you for this. It's up to you to sort it out."
Devyn cackled. "Nice to know I have an influence. Come on girl, let's have a look at the markets. Who knows? Maybe one of these prancy, southern mainlanders actually likes women."
He led her away from the group. Ruagan shifted his wait.
"And what, pray tell, am I supposed to do."
Maron grinned. "You, dear uncle, will be getting as drunk as you can. I want these competitors to think of us as drunks and the may think you will have a hangover come the morn. However, we both know there isn't enough alcohol in this room to give you a hangover. So drink away!"
Ruagan laughed and clapped Maron on the shoulder. "You know, I wasn't sure about having you in charge. I'm beginning to see Jon's reasoning now!" The big man continued to chuckle away as he headed towards the wine barrels.
Faodri looked at Maron. "You've left yourself out of all this."
Maron looked at him. "I'm advertising you. The Drowned God knows you can't."
A small smile came to Faodri's face. "I'm not a horse."
"No but your something else that sounds like it."
Both men chuckled as they set off to find an arrangement.


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

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Seeing Karl approach the hall, Samantha walked up to him.
" I am Lady Samantha of house Ilesworth. My husband would like to speak with you."
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Elia
I took a seat at the left hand side of my brother, Oberyn. As Daemon entered the room I muttered to Oberyn, "We need to keep him under control, limit his visits to the pleasure houses." Oberyn gave a slight grunt, and I took that as a yes. I forced a smile onto my face and leant forwards to address the person across the table from me.
"Hello, I don't believe I've seen you around Kings Landing yet." My smile faded slightly as I studied who I was talking to. "I'm sorry, I can't tell, where are you from?"

Daemon
I cursed Oberyn as he laughed at me and hurriedly sat down. I had lost track of time, and money in the pleasure house. I was as empty as my purse, and ready to eat whatever they put in front of me. I would eat food, then regain my wits, though I was tired and not looking forwards to talking with the idiots I would inevitably be forced to talk to. I looked around while waiting, I could see some Ironborn, some fellow Dornish families, and some Northerners, but the other families were indistinguishable. I gave a start when I realised Nymeria wasn't there to look dolefully at me the whole time, and I wasn't too sad either. I looked around for wine, so I could drown myself in the red liquid until this damn feast was over.
This post was last modified: August 7th 2013, 10:32 AM by Miasmador


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Agryn smiled at Rickard, he were already charming Young ladies. Agryn saw that someone from a house named Gairn from the Iron Isles came towards him. He wondered what they wanted him.


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