Once a had filled their drinking vessels, he leaned back in his chair and began to speak.  His baritone voice bellicose and passionate as he told his tale.
   It was the edge of winter in Banemark lands, at castle Ironhold.  The ground was hard with frost, and the last leaves of harvesttide clung to bare trees.  Lord Banemark had gone to see to Swiftrun hold, for there were rumblings of war and Swiftrun was usually the first to be attacked.  A guard of Bannermen and three free companies were left at Ironhold.  Among them the Iron Banner, with myself among them.  No Knight then was I, but a proud member of a proud company.
   As dawn broke, a great mass of mist could be seen rising from the field.  The steaming breath of thousands of Westermen.  Swiftly they charged, but not so swift as they had hoped.  For too soon the bells were wrung, and bridge was raised.  The iron gate came crashing down, and the Ironhold was shut.  Well was it that the Bannermen had been vigilant.
   With speed all was placed in order, and Lady Banemark and her son made safe within the keep.  The Westermen set camp before the walls, more than a bowshot out, for any closer and they were met with a hail of arrows that blackened the sky, and left hundreds dead.
   The days went by, and battle upon the walls was bloody.  Those who passed through the storm of arrows unleashed by Grims' Hunters, met death upon the battlements by Bannermen and the Iron Banner.  Lady Banemark herself would watch from the tower, and had ready every need the defenders could want, before even they could ask, so good a steward of their realm was she.  Lord Banemarks' heir too would watch, as the men clashed, fought, and died to keep Ironhold.
   Weeks later, a messenger from Lord Banemark came.  By stealth, and through what means I know not.  He carried through danger a letter, beading the writ to bring Lady Banemark and his heir to Raventree Hall.
   A mixed company was made Grims' Hunters, The Bold Lances, and The Iron Banner each gave ten men, myself among them.  Ser Harun led us, Bannerman to Lord Banemark.  For few could be spared from the walls, and hope was in speed more than size.
   By Postern we set out at night.  From a muddy culvert we emerged.  A Swift clash of arms, the we were through the sentries.  Their bodies left to foul the crisp air with the stench of death.
   We made good till morning, but then pursuit was upon us.  Swiftly we rode our roundseys, but not Swift enough.  Ever and again we would have to turn, send out a charge of the Bold Lances, to drive back pursuit.  As the Lady and her son were kept in the center of the company which moved on with all haste.  Three days, and we had covered eighty miles to the meeting point.  But no guard was there at the rocky gnoll.  Nor further could we get with the last two of the Bold Lances on weary horses.  Their fellows left here and there where they died in the skirmishes.
   As safe as we could make them in the center of our company, we kept the Lady and her son.  Then they were upon us, charging up the hill.  The two Bold Lances, scorning death in the shield wall, charged the coming horde.  Their lances shattered, and they lay about them with their swords two handfuls each they slew ere they fell.  Dragged down by bill-hooks, and hacked to death by axes.
   Our lines were tight, shield against shield we stood, and arrows flew like seeking hawks from the bows behind us.  First was I charged by a Westermen, axe swinging he came.  Only to be blocked by my shield, as I crushed him beneath the iron of my ball and chain.  Then the press was on!  Steel flashed in the sun, blood gleaming on blade.  Long we fought, till they withdrew.  Fewer now we stood, the arrows spent and bodies piled like firewood.  Three good men of the Iron Banner would nevermore see the sun rise, and with them four men of Grims' Hunters, their arrows spent.
   The night was cold, and butter the air.  What little wood there was we used for fire to keep the Lady warm for she carried Lord Banemarks' child, and with her too her son, hier to Lord Banemark.
   Where was the party to take the Lady and the hier to safety?  Ser Harun too wondered that.  After a cold night, a bitter morning broke.  More does upon the field there were.  And amid a hail of sling stones the charged.  Up the hill the came, the weight of their run slamming into our shields.  All day we fought.  Sporadic charges driven back with desperate strength.  Not a man there was who carried less than a dozen wounds.  But all were resolved that no harm would come to Lady or child.  8 left we were, the last two of Grims' Hunters left to stand with Ser Harun and we of the Iron Banner.
   Another cold night into hopeless day we spent.  The shields and bows of the dead giving final service to keep Lady and Child warm.
   The clear broke the third day.  Before us our foes stood.  Out numbered ten to one at least, we faced them with grim determination.  Silently they moved toward us, building speed, till with a final roar they closed the last dozen feet.  The thunder of our meeting crashed like waves upon the shore.  For hours we fought, slew, and died.  Our line thinning faster than theirs, though each man took a half dozen with him at least.
  Last to fall was Ser Harun, fighting by my side.  Three Spears took him, though he felled one with his dying breath.
   I was driven back, between two trees I stood, my armor rent.  Only my shield stood between the Lady and the child, and certain death.  Only my ball and chain struck out to kill a who approached.  The sun crested to noon, and I fought on.  Two dozen wounds covering my body.  The dead falling before me like wheat to a scythe.  Gore bathed my shield, and dripped from my steel like rain.
   Then, in glittering light an armored company rode upon us.  Faster I swung my ball and chain, the swifter to kill the Westermen for, and turn to this new threat.  For dark upon a dark horse, a knight led them.
   Then turned I to them as the last Westerman fell, but it was the missing Knight, and his party to escort Lady Banemark and her son.
   Neither of the journey that followed, and my knighting, nor of the charge through the Westerman horde that broke the siege and fed the crows will I speak.  Those are stories for latter.  Now let another tell their tale.  But first, charge your vessels and drink with me.  To the honored dead fallen to deliver a Lady and her child safe to home.
   So saying, he stands and raise his tankard The Honored dead, and the Iron Banner!". He takes a long drought, then slams his tankard down, and resumes his seat.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)

19:11, Today: Ser Jarrak rolled 8 using 2d6 with rolls of 6,2.  Persuasion.

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This message was last edited by the player at 14:12, Sun 21 Nov 2021.

The girl listens intently to the knights and minstrel. From across the table her attention is clear, with her eyes on whomever speaks. But she keeps her head faced a little down and not directly toward them, hiding from any beside or behind her where her interest is truly directed. She says nothing to interrupt not applaud, but she does crack a few small smiles.

Gwen smiled slightly at Ser Berion's reply, but she seemed to have no interest in making light of his fall. She'd never been in the heat of battle, but controlling a frightened animal while also attempting to use you hands and attention for fighting didn't seem a particularly simple task to her. Instead she nodded at his agreement that feasts were more enjoyable. "We will certainly enjoy a few of those over the coming days, if tradition holds."

The Blackfin heiress observed the interaction between those discussing Daveth. She didn't give any of her own thoughts just yet, though her attention was clearly on that conversation.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:51, Sun 21 Nov 2021.

He chatted amiably with those at the table who were interested in making conversation with him. As Jenny mentioned jousting, he nodded along listening.

"Will you be participating in the joust then, Ser Konrad?" he asked of the knight beside him. Not all knights were for such things, but many were. He knew little of the man save that he had come from Fairmarket, and by his name, some small bit of his origins.

"Thank you very much for your kind words" Jenny said politely, then giggled. "Well, I hope I don't look like a ghost. I was only bruised and scratched a little" she said, although she finished mournfully "but a lovely dress was completely ruined."
"Your own gown is quite beautiful, Lady Yve" she added.
She looked down as she remembered what had happened and shivered. "I was quite shaken at the time. Of course I was dreadfully frightened. No proper Lady wants to see such beasts. But Darvil, Thoren and the others were most valiant rescuing us, and now I feel entirely safe. I agree with your Lady mother, I don't blame the Lychesters. After all, who can command the wolves of the wilderness?" It had really frightened Jenny, but she was exaggerating lest anyone think she was not a properly delicate flower of Westeros.
She looked over at Thoren's question; she was very interested in jousting.


15:37, Today: Jenny Goodbrother rolled 16 using 3d6+2 with rolls of 6,4,4.  Status.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:37, Fri 26 Nov 2021.

Just Below the Salt
Ser Jasper’s young ward Bryn Blackfin spoke up on the matter for the first time, having listened attentively to the others. He nodded thoughtfully at Ser Lothar’s words before adding his own view in a briskly spoken pace “Naturally, but we must consider the many responsibilities of knighthood. A knight is not just a mounted soldier, or the savage Dothraki spilling across Essoss would be the greatest assemblage of knights in history. A knight is not simply an emblem of chivalry and piety, or every seven-swearing septa would be greeted as “Ser”. And a knight is not simply an administrator of accounts and logistics, even if they have vast retunies sworn to them on behfalf of their lord, or every Maester would have a sword placed on his shoulder, and not his metal chain. So a knight is more than one thing and cannot be ranked or considered in full on any one to the exclusion of others, I’m sure you’d agree.”

Lady Aliana  nodded at Bryn’s words “well spoken young sir, well spoken. You see Lyonel, you must consider the other dueis of a knight, or any of the blackguards seated at the low table might serve as your heir. Gareth is a good fighter, and loyal, but he will remain those things as a sworn sword. Elevating him above his birth…”

Ser Lyonel had been caught off guard by Bryn’s words, but recovered well enough during Aliana’s reply for his cheeks to grow a deep and furious red.

‘Enough,” He barked, slamming the table with a mighty thud. “Such talk is unseemly even in private. I have not shed blood in combat this day only to be lectured in my lord’s hall about the delicacies of knighthood by an unblooded pup and a jealous wife.”

Aliana burst into tears and hurried from the hall, leaving a grumbling Ser Lyonel to take an angry bit of his supper and mutter his apologies to those seated nearby.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Bryn Blackfin, rolled 20 using 6d6, dropping the lowest dice only ((2,5,1,2,5,6)). [success]
Berion Knollwood assists Lady Alianna [ED.] [giving +1]
Lady Alianna Darry drops disposition to Friendly and rolled  [With Berion's Assist] 14 using 4d6+4, dropping the 2 lowest rolls of 3 & 4 ((3,6,4,4)). Achieving 2 degrees of success for 6-2=4 Influence
<s>Ser Lyonel Darry drops disposition to Friendly and rolled 7 using 3d6+3 with rolls of 1,2,1.  R2 Convince Lady Alianna. Achieving 0 Degree of success, and quits the intrigue
Lady Alianna wins the first round of a complex intrigue against her husband to determine the succession of the Lesser House Darry.

---

This message was last edited by the GM at 00:42, Mon 29 Nov 2021.

In reply to Thoren Blackfin (msg # 23):

The stormlander chuckled, his manner brusque and dismissive "I am not usually one to lend myself to tournaments. I have seen the great knights of the realm compete in Duskendale and Storm's End itself, and know myself to be no more than a dilettante of the tourney field in comparison, and yet this paltry affair seems almost comical." He paused, considering, "Of course, you riverlanders are not to be blamed, it is simply in your subservient nature to produce knights of an inferior calibre. Indeed, for that very reason, I have just decided that I shall compete on the tourney field, as it seems well suited even to those who find their interests fixed elsewhere. As he finished speaking, the edge of his mouth smirked only slightly, and his eyes flicked past Thoren to the high table, where the Ladies Sylvia Connington and Iris Lychester were conversing.

"I imagine the knights of your house will also compete?" Konrad replied, gesturing vaguelly as though he could not quite place what house that might be, an could not imagine that it could hold any consequence.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:13, Mon 29 Nov 2021.

In reply to Jenny Goodbrother (msg # 24):

Lady Yve grimaced in sympathy as Jenny gave a tally of her losses, and radiated happiness at Jenny's compliment, "I quite agree. We saw little more than the shadows of the beasts as they raced by our tent, but even that was quite enough, let me assure you." she shook her head, as if to banish such dark thoughts.

She leaned in closer to Jenny, speaking so that it would be hard for anyone to overhear at table without awkwardly leaning closer, "You must forgive my brother, he may have heard too many stories of warrior maids and has an overactive imagination. Mother does not approve, but he did make me promise..." she trailed off, rolling her eyes, and passed a small scroll sealed in wax to Jenny, trying to hide her interest at the Ironborn's response.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
The poem begins vaguelly and is written in a clean crisp hand, or perhaps the third or fourth draft of a less clean and crisp hand. It's concluding stanza reads:

Lit bright by fire and blood, untarnished,
By glint of steel, her locks of gold,
Shine bright, as flesh of man: wolf-torn; harsh bled
Like cloth she knits, and shares heart bold…

---

This message was last edited by the player at 02:03, Mon 29 Nov 2021.

Darvil had taken his seat next to Ser Ronnel at the feast. He had gotten to be a close friend of the Reachman during his time as a squire, and enjoyed hearing the man's experiences in both the Riverlands and the Reach. He would listen intently to the man's stories, engaging in conversation with him.

In reply to Ser Konrad Storm (msg # 26):

"I think some were going to, but I should probably tell them all that if you're entering the lists then perhaps they best not bother at all," he said, feigning the sound of being impressed. His smile was polite as he continued his meal, though it didn't reach his eyes.

In reply to Ser Jarrak (msg # 20):


The Low Table

There is a widespread thumping of the table At the end of Ser Jarrack’s story, with Ser Otto clapping him on the back and announcing Jarrack’s story the greater. Several asked for the name who had so betrayed House Banemark.

A few others took their turns as well, with the Knight-Militant sitting with the Mooton girl identifying himself as Ser Randyl. His own story was long, with an obvious moral lesson of avoiding vagrancy and serving ones noble lords well, and most of the hedge knights rolled their eyes by the end of it.

Finally, a young member of the poor fellows stood, pulling back her hood to reveal a shaven head and striking lilac eyes often associated with essosi. She gave a short striking speech that struck most at the table dumb, and soon drew the attention of the entire hall, with folk at higher tables craning to hear. While many would hear and remember different sections of what was said, physically shaking with the intensity of her words, all would remember her final words, before she collapsed, overwrought.

“We stand within this burning tower, and I see two would-be kings lit by its flames, one true and another false!”

A silence filled the fall, interrupted only by the tinkering laughter of a few souls already deep in their cups. It was Farther Matheus who broke it, calling down the tables toward Septa Illa, companion to Ser Randyl, “Sister, our dear companion is clearly indulged too quickly and freely with Lord Lychester’s ales, please see her safely to one of the guest rooms.” The Most Devout looked down to Lord Lychester, whose ghostly pale face nodded, and sent a pair of guardsmen to escort the Septa and her unconscious charge.


Those who wish to hear more of what will become known as the Seer’s Speech will need to make an Awareness (notice) check to have heard it, and a cunning (memory) check to remember it. The test will be easier the closer one is to the speaker, and more degrees of success will grant a better recollection
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:25, Tue 30 Nov 2021.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
08:05, Today: Ser Jarrak rolled 9 using 3d6 with rolls of 3,2,4.  Cunning.

08:05, Today: Ser Jarrak rolled 14 using 3d6 with rolls of 5,4,5.  Awareness.

---

The flanked girl listens intently to the various stories around the low table. Though with Ser Randyl's she rolls her eyes shortly after he starts, as though she's heard this one before.

Valen had come to the feast wearing a set of garments that displayed a quartered set of both House Vance of Atranta and House Knolwood, indicating the value he put into both his own family and in his service to Ser Berion.

He had spent some time politely introducing himself to passing lords and ladies, but those interactions didn't take long as he was a merely a cousin to the main branch, and as such not many people truly had any business with him here. He feels more confortable once he finally reaches his seat and can be around other squires and people of his age. He takes some time observing Ser Gareth, as a knight he hadn't met yet he was curious to see how he carried himself, but Valen wasn't too keen on actually talking to the man yet.

As such he talked with Daveth Darry for a whiele, recounting the fight with the wolves that had just occurred and the attack of the Shadowcat, though he made sure to keep the retelling as very matter of fact, as he was confident enough of his actions in the former and was curious to talk honestly with the other boy on how he experienced it, and in the latter...being stopped from pursuing the cat and berated for it was something he'd rather not mention at all.

It was when Darvil started talking to Ronnel Beesburry that the moment he'd been waiting for all this time showed himself, thankful to Darvil for breaking the ice with the Knight, he scooched closer to the two. "I've heard much of the valor and virtue of Knights of the Reach and its splendid Tourneys, but I've never had the chance to talk to one before Ser Ronnel. If you'll forgive my curiosity could you to tell me if there have been any great events or renowned champions there as of late?" He of course maintains a polite tone in speaking to a Ser, but his earnest excitement and wonder over the topic can't be stopped from shining through his eyes as he awaits a response.

Thoren turned, his thoughts taken momentarily from the amusing arrogance of the bastard seated near him to that of this strange speech that was being given there.

OOC:

Awareness: 21
Cunning: 14

11:52, Today: Thoren Blackfin rolled 14 using 4d6, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 6,5,3,2.  Cunning (Memory).

11:52, Today: Thoren Blackfin rolled 21 using 5d6, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 5,1,5,6,5.  Awareness (Notice).

Carefully concealing his thoughts behind a neutral mask, Berion flashed Gwendolyn a knowing look before turning his attention back to his plate of food.  Until the young lady at the end of the hall began her speech that is.  Unable to catch the whole thing, he simply hoped that the other members of the Blackfin party had.


Berion Knollwood rolled 9 using 3d6 with rolls of 1,6,2.  Awareness.
Berion Knollwood rolled 9 using 3d6 with rolls of 3,5,1.  Cunning.

As the others of the Blackfin party seemed to turn their attention toward the woman's speech from the end of the hall, Gwen did as well. Her features clouded momentarily, which was noteworthy as it happened so rarely.

OOC:

11:55, Today: Gwendolyn Blackfin rolled 15 using 4d6 with rolls of 2,2,6,5.  Awareness (Notice).

11:55, Today: Gwendolyn Blackfin rolled 16 using 4d6 with rolls of 5,3,6,2.  Cunning (memory).

While he converses with the knight he catches a few words with religious connotations on another part of the hall, so he perks his ears to listen momentarily.

OOC:
Valen rolled a 19 using 4d6. Awareness(Notice)
Valen rolled a 10 using 3d6. Cunning(Memory)

In reply to Valen Vance (msg # 33):

The Reachman quirked an eyebrow at Valen's question. 'You wish to hear of chivalrous knights and champions young man, eh? Well in all the Reach there is probably no finer cream of the cavalier crop than young Ser Mance Tyrell, called the barbed rose for his wit and skills with the lance. He has won half a dozen tourneys in the last year alone, by all accounts. I doubt we shall ever see another from that family rise quite so high, as his father is merely the Gardener King's steward.

As for events? Well, the lords of the Dornish Marches are a harsh lot, but need to be, and word reached me that Lord Sam Tarly, called "The Black" by some, has marked his border with the Dornishmen with five hundred impaled dornish smallfolk, he argues to better keep the peace and avoid misunderstandings of where the border lies. Lord Perwyn Osgrey leads by a different example, and has just finished his family's newest keep Coldmoat, making them by all accounts the most widely landed of any house, as they now hold four seats of power to Lord Peake's three." Ronnel paused, "The young Lord Abelar Hightower bends to the High Septon's whims, and wears a shirt of hair to show his humility, and argues on the faith's behalf in Highgarden, causing friction, and Lord Merryweather shows up every one of his peers by throwing a great feast to celebrate the onset of spring, when most lords are scraping the very bottom of their cellar for scraps before a fresh harvest fills them to the brim."

Ronnel clapped Darvil on the shoulder as he grinned, and continued his response to Valen, "As this young man knows, the Reach is a place of sharp contrasts - great chivalry and villainy, great hedonism and piety, these are the traits of the largest of the great westerosi kingdoms."

"It was Ser Malus' Mistwood who led the late party.  Though why they were late, I do not know.  But I saw no marks of battle upon them.". He replies, his baritone voice serious.  He leans back in his chair, as more food appears.  Who will ride in this Tourney?"</Brown>. He asks Set Otto.  Then stops as the girl breaks into prophecy.  Before resuming his conversation once she is led to a quiet chamber.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:49, Wed 15 Dec 2021.

Jenny was not pleased with Ser Konrad's speech. Though it was hardly a proper thought for the occasion, she wished she were a bit more skilled with weapons so she could defeat the arrogant Stormlander knight.

Jenny nodded and smiled at Yve. "Well, we must keep our siblings happy" she said. It was Gwendolyn she thought about when she said it, though; although she cared about her brothers and sisters it had been years since she had seen them.
She blushed as she read the poem. "Dunstan is most kind, Lady Yve. I am not worthy of such generous description." No one had ever written a poem about Jenny before. Her heart was a-flutter, but she tried not to show it.


11:41, Today: Jenny Goodbrother rolled 9 using 3d6 with rolls of 5,2,2.  Cunning.

11:41, Today: Jenny Goodbrother rolled 12 using 3d6 with rolls of 5,2,5.  Awareness.

As the talk settled, meals were eaten, and wine and ale continued to flow, the feast became less structured and folk began to make their way about the hall. Each of the three hearths gathered a loose group of guests, with Sam the Sweet offering simple smallfolk ballads at the low hearth, and a trio of musicians brought by Ser Jasper serenading the highborn on the harp at the high hearth.

As the night progressed, platters of food were delivered intermittently from the kitchens, until some folk gradually began to excuse themselves, wishing Lord Lymaan, Ser Jasper, and the prospective newlyweds good fortunes and the Sevens' blessing on the morrow

Players may choose to:

1. Gather information or rumours on a specific person or topic [Knowledge: Streetwise, or Status: Breeding].
2. Gather rumours generally. [Persuasion: Charm, or Awareness: Notice]
2. Observe and gather information about tourney combatants [Status:Tournaments, or a more difficult Awareness: Notice]
3. Seek to engage a specific Character socially, for a simple or standard intrigue [NPC, roll Status: Breeding]
4. Enjoy the celebration and entertainment [Select ability as appropriate].
Players with the Connections Benefit can choose two options of the above.

Cat sits rather awestruck at the Essosi woman's words. Even after the woman is carried off, Cat remains lost in those lines.

After a while, she starts paying attention to other things again. As the tables break down into a more amorphous crowd, Cat speaks gently to the Septa beside her. "Please, Septa, could I say hi to cousin Bryn? He won't be around much as he's a ward elsewhere. The Seven have seen fit to let our paths cross today. This may be my one chance to see him in a long time." She flashes pleading doe eyes at the Septa.

OOC:
18:07, Today: Lady Catelyn Mooton rolled 10 using 3d6, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 6,1,4.  Status to meet Bryn.

Valen thanks Ronnel for telling him things in such detail and being honest on the region's true nature, in a way it is disappointing when things do not correspond to the tales about them, but the Reach didn't lose its charm still, and it made Valen want to visit it one day that much more.

For the rest of the feast Valen will simply try to look for information about the tourney, looking to discover who Ser Berion might face and trying to get some basic information on how the event for the squires would work.

OOC:
Valen rolls 9 with 4d6 in Awareness(Notice)

The young Bryn makes the round of the room, talking to this person and that, a light smile and a warm laugh following wherever he goes. He carries himself with a quiet confidence that can be both reassuring and off-putting depending on which side of a conversation he lands on. While the young Blackfin may be just that, young, the subtle impression of a man of substance lurks just below the surface.

In a seemingly natural way, the conversations he takes part in end up touching on the host Lord Lychester, though only briefly, before winding away on some other tangent.

OOC: Gather information or rumours on Lord Lyman Lychester, Status: Breeding 11
17:00, Today: Bryn Blackfin rolled 11 using 4d6, dropping the lowest dice only ((2,5,4,2)).