Re: OOC!!!!
Hey there! I clicked on a game for Ice and Fire but it was all filled up. Saw a Measter Bannacor there! Looks like a great game. I am not too familiar with Green Ronnin's rules though. they are a great company BTW. I did a table top and PBP game here on RPOL set about a Hundred years before the Martin Books. Here is the basis and Opening Scene!
The Swords Of The North
The year is 195 & Daeron II sits upon the Iron Throne. To the North ,beyond the wall, Raymun Redbeard gathers the Wildlings under his banner as King Beyond The Wall. To the South Daemon Blackfyre gathers followers to contest Daeron’s right to rule. The Greyjoys continue to raid the western coast in their longships. House Martell & Dorne remains uneasy allies even though a Dornish queen shares the throne at Kingslanding. The Houses, both great & small, must now maneuver for their best place in the upcoming Game Of Thrones! A game where the stakes are high & to lose means death!
The Game will take place primarily in the North, hence the name. Not many believe, including Lord Willam Stark, that Raymund Redbeard is a real threat. To the South rumors come of a possible civil war. Ravens have been flying from King's Landing wanting to know of Lord Willam's allegiance & support.
Now to wet your appettite... The Opening Scene
The lone horseman crested the low rise that overlooked the abandoned tower named Icemark. He was a dark rider, covered from head to toe in black, the color of the Night Watch. His horse was skittish and he must pull hard on the reigns to keep control!
“Easy, easy girl” he said in a voice no louder than a whisper- the mist flowing from his mouth as his warm breath met the cold air Beyond the Wall.
His head tilted back and upward as if he were a hound on the trail. Great in takes of breath through his nose- again and again.
He patted his sure footed garron on the neck and said “You smell it too… don’t ya girl! Yes the snow’s done covered t’ up n’ all but yer right it’s there!” He had smelled the tangy sent of blood many a times before. His eyes began to scan his surroundings.
To his left rose the enormous thing of grey ice and stone that men had named the Wall! So tall a man would looked like an ant up top the rider thought. To his right loomed the Haunted Forest, a wood so dark, old, and gloomy, that it lived up to its’ name. It grew up nearly to the wall here. The stewards were too few these days to keep it back. Before the rider stood the abandon tower named Icemark, and rightly named all covered with hoarfrost. But for all the space around him the man was alone. Neither man, nor horse from the repair party could be seen. Two builders and their escort Rangers were a week over due and the Lord Commander had sent him and nine others to find them. He poked his dark garron with his black boots to descend the rise into the clearing below. With some protest the surefooted horse made its’ way carefully down.
Again the dark rider put his nose to the air. The tang was stronger for sure. A day’s worth of snow and wind had erased the signs.
“But not the scent to be sure” said the tall rangy man as he dismounted.
There was a slight jingle as his black ring mail settled which he wore over black boiled leather. He pulled his dark cloak closer around him as he took one more look around. His eyes squinted against the bitter wind as he inspected the gateway into the Icemark. Someone had been doing there best to get in all right. The builders had been there as well. The bars were reinforced and polished nicely. His head slowly turned to take in the surrounding forest.
They wouldn’t have far t’ come, n’ be on ‘em quick! he thought.
The Rangers like me – Hal Halfstrider and Moe Yaggart – t’was good swords both but them builders weren’t good at hit’n anything but nails the rider thought. He spat loudly on the ground.
The Wildlings that had come n’ gone had been smart. Simun thought.
They didn’t leave anything behind. Oh, they always took the weapons, usually took the armor n’ horses, but they always left the bodies. Lest ways what was left of them. The Wildlings burnt their dead- for whatever superstitious reason the rider could not be certain. But someone smart had told the rest to drag them bodies off n’ to make it look like they up and rode off.
Someone smart aw’right! the rider thought.
Someone like Raymun Redbeard for sure. Everything bad and unusual was blamed on him. So much so, that he was rumored to be able to cover the ground between The Shadow Tower and East Watch by the Sea in a single day.
This made the rider smile. “N’ burp fireballs n’ fart lighten’ too” he said to himself.
The skittish horse pulling back on him with a wild look in her eyes brought the rider back to his senses and the present. His hand dropped to the pommel of his sword as if by reflex and his eyes swung around behind the saddle where his long bow lay strapped down and useless. He could hear the hooves beating the hard ground a few heartbeats later. His hand relaxed and the smile returned to his lips. No Wildling would make such a noise!
“No that ‘would be that prissy noble, Ser Arden Rosby” said the rider softly! The rider spat again as though that would wipe the taste out of his mouth.
He soothed his mare with soft words and gentle strokes-“Now, now girl. There’s a girl. There’s a girl. No need to make good ole Ser Arden piss himself again is there, girl? And don’t let his big ole warhorse scare ye none either. Soon enough it’ll slip n’ break one o’ those big legs … as sure as Winter is coming! You’ll see. That’s a girl.” The noise behind him made him turn to meet it.
“Hold Up!” cried the young man- little more than a boy- wrapped in a sable cloak and wearing shining mail glinting in the sun.
“Well scout? … What’s your report?” said the boy. “Surely you didn’t stop to relieve yourself again?” The others just riding up heard him- some laughed, but others, to their credit, did not.
The other eight were Rangers like the dark rider himself; hard men made harder by The Wall. The youth a top his destrier eyed him closely, his lips upturned as if he was amused by his own wit.
“No m’lord. Just eyeing the place n’ seeing our brothers gone is all” said the dark rider with deference in his voice.
“Do you take me for blind or stupid!” the Knight spat. “I can see they’re gone! Where did they go and did any harm befall them?” the young noble stared with a noticeable effort to calm himself.
One of the other Rangers giggled which caused Ser Arden to turn so quickly he nearly fell from his fore and aft peaked war saddle- made mostly for war and jousting not hard riding. The rawness of his groin only adding to his displeasure. The rangers became quite quiet and solemn looking.
Ser Arden slowly turned back to the dark rider and said, “I am waiting scout or do the Others have your tongue.”
The dark rider spat again- away from Ser Arden a stated calmly “In there M’lord!”
With a black gloved hand the dark rider pointed to the Haunted Forest. “And there are no bodies or burnings to be seen now are there… M’lord?” Again the dark rider smiled.
“Wipe that damnable grin off your face Simund … Simund The Scenter!” Ser Arden said with a sneer.
Simund let the smile drop from his face as the others laughed at the “nickname” the Master of Arms had given so long ago; the sting of it was freshly felt though. As Simund slowly mounted his mare she again became skittish. For a moment snorting wildly, eyes showing fear.
"Can’t you control your mount “SCENT?” the young noble laughed. “There is daylight left and we should join our brothers soon enough!” Ser Arden shouted as he plunged his warhorse down the rise slipping every so often and plowed into the dark forest beyond.
Simund paused for a moment and took the time to sniff once more. The “tang” was still there as he watched Ser Arden and “his” brothers disappear beneath the branches of the brooding forest.
A smile came unbidden to his lips once more “Yes you’ll be joining them … n’ soon enough M’lord. Come now girl we’ve company t’ meet.” Simund said in a quiet but happy voice.
