You Win or You Die: The War of the Stolen Bride -or- The Dornish Uprising.

[Toska]

Our IC!

"A cold Iron Throne,
Holds a boy bairly grown,
A crown laced in lies,
You win or you die."

In the land of Westeros the Mad King Aerys Targaryen was relieved of his rule by his Small Counsel and by his son, King Rhaegar Targaryen. Through this action the Seven Kingdoms were able to avoid Robert's Rebellion and the events that followed it. Westeros existed in relative peace through Rhaegar's reign and through that of his son, Aegon VI Targaryen.

However, several generations have now passed and a king bairly into manhood sits on the Iron throne. Inflamed by lust, and against the advise of his Counsel and his Hand, he steals the wife of a young Dornish Lord for himself. Now the Seven Kingdoms teeter once more on the brink of war as the Dornish Lord marshals forces to reclaim his bride, and schemers in the Seven Kingdoms try to use the situation to their advantage.

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Maester Tywin's Rookery - Storm's End - The Stormlands

Dark wings, Dark Words. In the past month Maester Tywin had received more ravens then he had in his entire time working for Lord Edric Baratheon of Storm's End, and with each one his heart dropped a little more into his stomach. The first raven had come from The Citadel at Oldtown, bearing the long awaited news that winter had finally come to an end. This news had been fowled before it could even reach Lord Edric's ears when a second raven had arrived in his rookery, this one came from Kings Landing. King Aenys II Targaryen had not survived to see the Spring.

Maester Tywin had met the new King, Daeron II Targaryen, once when his father had come to Storm's End. At the time he had just turned thirteen, and his behavior had not impressed the Maester or The Lord of Storm's End. Just three years later and the pretentious, entitled boy sat on the Iron Throne as the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Tywin said nothing, it wasn't his place, but he could see this going very, very badly.

As it turned out, he had been right to worry. King Daeron's first act had been to make a tour of his Kingdom and receive his oaths of fealty in person form his Lords. For whatever reason he had decided to start in Dorne, and had arrived in time to attend the wedding of the young Heir of House Uller to Nymella of House Wyl of the Boneway. Some rumors claimed that Nymella had fallen madly for the young King, others claimed that the King had been inflamed with lust by Nymella's beauty and decided to exercise his Kings Right.

Either way he had seen the results personally. The King and his Kingsguard had come rushing down the Boneway, the stolen bride in tow. They had stopped at Storm's End only long enough to command Lord Edric to call his banners and hold the Boneway against any Dornish that would dare pursue him.

They hadn't weeks had passed, and ravens had come and gone. Most were from Lord Edric's bannermen, a few were from the King demanding Lord Edric's oath of fealty and trying to direct his forces. Today though a raven had come from the south. It brought with it two letters, identical in content. One was stamped with the seal of House Uller. The second was stamped with the seal of House Martell and bearing the signature of Prince Symon Martell's heir, a close friend of Gerold Uller. Both letters were addressed to Lord Edric personally, and both appealed to The Storm Lord to either join them in seeking justice or to grant them passage through the Stormlands unhindered. In return they promised to leave the people of the Stormlands unharassed.

Maester Tywin could only mutter darkly to himself as he descended the stairs of the rookery. Defying the Iron Throne would surely garner consequences that these young lords hadn't considered, but a war with Dorne would take a terrible toll on the Stormlands if the other Great Houses didn't answer their call... and why should they, the Dragon King had incited this rebellion before even securing oaths of fealty from the Great Houses.

He could only hope that wiser men than him would steer the seven kingdoms toward a safe future.

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General Information

-This will be an Individual RP. Players will be playing single characters, not factions or nations. However if you are confident in your abilities you can play up to three characters, provided each character is accepted on individual merit.

-This is an Advanced RP, I expect creativity and effort. Spelling and grammar are important, but you will not be penalized unless it makes your writing overly difficult to read.

-Politenss OOC is a must. You don't have to be friends with anyone, but don't be and ass. (You can be as much of an as IC as you feel is appropriate for the story)

-There will be no official character sheet. To submit a character you will write an introductory post that introduces the character. We are maxing out at six players (excluding myself) or ten characters, if we hit that number then players will be chosen on the merit of their intoductions.
- You are free to include a traditional character sheet if you so choose.

-We will start IC once we have four accepted characters.

-If you have any qustions I would love to hear them, especially if they halp to refine the mythos we will be working in. Please ask them here so other players can see my answers and give their positions.

[Rtron]

Introduction post!

There was quite a crowd gathered in the tavern. It was far to the north, and people would naturally be seeking escape from the frigid wind in the warmth of the fire and the bottom of a tankard. But, the crowd was larger than usual, even in the north, and they seemed to be packed around this one man his armor was black, all of it. That which wasn't naturally black was painted over. He had placed his weapons to either side of him, and his hood and cape were off. Next to this pile was a large, black as night dog. His face was clearly shown. It was angular, and his nose looked as if it had been broken before. His eyes were a piercing ice blue. There was a scar going across his face, diagonally from top left to top bottom right. He calmly finished his tankard and smiled to the crowd. A tooth was missing from his front teeth. "And that, my friends, are all the stories and rumors I've heard about the man known as 'The Shadow'."

A voice from the crowd spoke forth. "And how do you know if these are true or not?" The man smiled again. "I suspect at least a few of them are true. The most believable ones anyways." The voice spoke again, this time with scorn dripping from it's words. "Oh? And what would those be? The one where he disappears into the shadows? Where he can call Direwolves to his aid? Where he can summon blades from thin air?" The man's smile grew wider, and more mocking. "Please, good sir, come forth from the crowd. Let me speak directly to the one who challenges me."

A tall, heavily muscled, man came forth. A sneer was plastered across his heavily scarred face. "Alright raconteur, here I am. And before you ask, the name is Fredrick Burons. So, tell me, are those things true, or are you pulling them out of your ass?" The crowd had gone quiet. Fredrick was a recent arrival to the tavern, carrying with him a large purse. He had arrived covered in blood and armed. His battle axe was clearly hanging at his hip. The so called raconteur's eyes gave a subtle change. In place of the warm, friendliness, there was a cold, calculating, predatory light.

"Well, I can answer two of those immediately. He lifted up his hand, and a dagger was in it. The crowd backed up in alarm, sensing a coming fight, though the more keen eyed amongst them might have noticed his simply drew it from a cleverly hidden sheath. "Clearly, this dagger came from 'thin air'. Now, as for summoning Direwolves," the man gave a shrug. "Rog here is rather large, but I wouldn't say he was a Direwolf." He said this with a gesture to the dog, whose eyes had opened, one a golden orb, the other a emerald green, and stood up a low growl in his throat.

Rog's shoulder reached just below the man's own. Fredrick's eyes began flicking back and forth, he sensed danger. "Also, my career name is 'The Shadow'. My actual name is Edwin. No. Don't go. We've only just started talking." This last part was said to Fredrick as he began backing up. Clearly, he was terrified of the man whom had announced himself as both 'The Shadow' and Edwin. "Besides, Rog here will just finish you off far more brutally than I finished off your companions." It was true. Edwin had been tracking the bandit Fredrick and his fellows for a month now. He had finally caught up with him in the north. With the king busily stealing wives, and rebellion on the wind, most patrols out into the country side had been pulled back.

Fredrick and his fellows had taken the opportunity, raided and pillaged a small gathering of farmhouses, and ran. Edwin had been hired to hunt them down. He had caught up with them a couple of days ago. He still had a working crossbow then, and had picked off most of the guards, and slit the others throats when one had awoken and raised the alarm. A few tried to drunkenly fight Edwin, as they had celebrated their freedom earlier that night, and died. Fredrick and two other smart ones ran for the horses. Edwin hit them as they ran.

The two anyways, another drunken bandit had swung his sword at Edwin and sliced through the crossbow. Forcing Edwin to track down Fredrick once again. He had caught him here in the bar. "Now, I would rather not get this barkeeps fine establishment bloody, so, I'll give you 10 seconds to run. 1." Fredrick began running immediately, and reached the door, yanked it open and was running out by the time Edwin said "3." Fredrick was barely halfway out when Edwin said to Rog, "Get him." The large dog complied. He tackled poor Fredrick a few feet outside the door.

Collecting and equipping his gear, Edwin walked towards the screaming and snarling, dropped a few gold coins on the Barkeeps counter, and calmly stared at the writhing mass in the snow. Rog was badly mauling Fredrick. After a minute or so, Edwin said something indiscernible, and Rog leapt off. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I hear guardsmen. I'll kill you now." Edwin commented, hearing voices in the distance and seeing torches that glinted off of Stark armor. He drew a sword, and plunged it into Fredricks neck. He then ran into the nearby deep shadows, calling Rog over to him softly, and they both held stock still. Rog with his eyes closed. This is where the darkness of their fur and armor came handy. As the guards looked for whomever did this. The guardsmen peered into the shadows where the pair hid, and only saw more shadows. They walked into the bar. By the time they came out, looking for Edwin. He and Rog were long gone.

- - - Updated - - -

I may have made it much longer than planned...

[OlNoSoul]

Rtron, my friend, this is the OOC. Save that pent up energy for the IC, bud.

[Rtron]

I seem to be seeing you everywhere. One of us is stalking the other. >.>

[Sloth]

I have a few questions before I make my introduction post(s)

Is Maester Tywin related to the Lannisters? I actually had an idea to make a Lannister Maester if we were running entire families. If so, how well would he know the "main" Lannister line? Seeing as I had an idea to make the heir to Casterly Rock, unless we're trying to not be....entirely related to the nobles.

Would you be heavily opposed to a Faceless Man or member of the Kingsguard?

Just how much control would we have over the actions of our respective noble families if we made a member of said family? Will we be seeing any sorts of posts of Lord Stark speaking with Lord Baratheon and stuff like that? Seeing as heirs and Maesters have little say in the political realm. This is just making me tempted to make an entire House Sheet

[Toska]

Rton: Looks good. Assuming we don't go over our limit and I have to get more picky, you are accepted. Three more till IC.

Don't worry about the length, I thought it was just right.

On the topic of the dog, it seems a little larger than believable. Should I assume that Edwin is a shorter man or am I misreading and you mean shoulder height when on it's back legs? Using the Irish Wolfhound as and example, and allowing for slightly larger dogs in game, I would alow as tall as elbow height on an average sized man.

Assuming I didn't misread that's the only adjustment I would ask.

[Rtron]

Edwin was sitting down, so I just brought it up. Rog would be roughly elbow heighth when Edwin was standing.

[Toska]

Sloth: My intention is that Maester Tywin was originally from the Casterly Rock region. He would not have been in line to be Lord of Lannister, but would be distantly related... Let's say he's a decendant of Lancel Lannister.

As far as running families, you can make up to three main characters and as many NPC's as you need. We aren't doing a nation RP though.

Nobles on the other hand are entirely fine. Unless someone writes a fantastic introduction, however, I will be keeping the rights to Lord Edric Baratheon, The King, Symon Martell, Gerold Uller, and the Stollen Bride.

I have no issue with someone playing a Kingsguard member, but would prefer to keep Faceless Men as NPC's and mainly in GM controll.

If you chose to play a Lord (or Lady) or Heir, your controll over the house would be the same as that individuals would be. Keep in mind though, that one of the major GoT themes is that people don't ever have as much control as they think they do.

On the topic of Nation Sheets. Feel free, if you are creating an original House please keep it in mind that the Great Houses are still the same and you would be someone's bannerman. If you mean creating a family tree and such, feel free as well. I encourage anything that refines or expands the mythos, If you step outside of my vision for the RP I will offer suggestions to fix them.

- - - Updated - - -

Rton: Thank you, I assumed it was something along those lines but I wanted to be sure before it became an issue.

[Sloth]

Why do I torture myself?

Now...to get started on House History....

[Rtron]

Ya...good luck with that. Can't say I envy you. XD