Robert Arryn, Lord of the Vale

Age: 30 years of age (born 127)

Appearance:
Robert is atypical for an Arryn lord, lacking the distinctly yellow-golden hair of his house. Though possibly handsome, he never experienced the sort of worship his elder brother received. Still, his blue eyes are evidence of his very pure Andal blood, even though his manes are a darker shade of blonde.

Description & biography:
Though an infant the first time he saw a dragon, it was a memory Robert carries with him to this day. The fear and dread he felt the first time were reaffirmed a year later, and it cannot be said the new Lord of the Vale mourns their passing from this world.

Called “Robin” in his youth, middle-child of Jon Arryn and Amarei Royce, Robert was weaned at his grandmother’s elevated seat together with other Arryn kin. He experienced her as a most authoritative figure, tall and formidable. Beautiful still, in spite of her years, Jeyne Arryn led the Vale through the Dance on the side of the blacks. After the civil war she went on to serve on Aegon III’s regency council until her death in 134 in Gulltown. Some sort of ague, a fever, claimed her life and so the lordship passed to her son Jon.

Lord Jon Arryn’s manner of ruling chafed his second son the older he became. “Robin” saw much of his house’s authority and prestige whittled away by the headstrong lords of the Vale. While still loyal to their overlords, many grew independent-minded and raucous. Old feuds flared up again, and Lord Jon did little to check the increasingly self-governing Vale houses. Grandson to the famed Maiden of the Vale Lady Jeyne Arryn, Robert had a lot to live up to – especially after the failure his own father proved to be. Jon Arryn had a disappointing rule, in which much of the Vale’s prominence so painstakingly built up by the illustrious Maiden has slipped away.

In the two decades Jon was Lord of the Eyrie, Robert grew ever more resentful towards him. Whereas Donnel, the firstborn son was happy enough playing their father’s heir there was no sense of contentment in “Robin”. There was a restlessness about him, even from an early age rumoured he had picked up from ambulant lifestyle of his grandmother who alternated stays between the Eyrie, Gates of the Moon and Gulltown – not to mention her frequent forays into the Vale itself calling upon her subject houses. Robert too would travel later in life.

Lord Jon wasted his rule away holding feasts and tourneys, currying a lot of goodwill but little actual power. In fact, Jeyne’s heir proved adept at cultivating relationships with the Valemen, a role he had been taught by his mother who treated him as a useful extension of herself. Nevertheless, when it was time to rule in his own name, Jon lacked the sort of initiative so keenly displayed by his mother, and which was necessary to maintain his house’s lofty position. Fortunately Jeyne Arryn had wed Jon to one of Rhea Royce’s cousins, securing the support of one of the Vale’s most powerful houses.

As a child, “Robin” was quiet, private and bookish. He taught himself to play the harp, thereby earning his songbird nickname. Together with Sharra, the third and youngest Arryn child, he performed for the court. Sharra and he would often sit together to compose and write lyrics, and it remained a favourite pastime for both siblings even well into their teens.

It was Lady Jeyne and other forebears such as Oswin the Old Falcon and his son Osgood Arryn whom men called “the Talon” and sacked the Wolf’s Den that prompted Robert to look for examples elsewhere. That also meant learning about the brothers Jonos and Ronnel Arryn, showing young Robert his family was not above fratricide. Jon’s courtly fantasies knew no purchase with his second son, and so parent and child drifted gradually apart in spite of Amarei’s efforts of reconciliation. Miscommunication more than anything served to widen the divide, and when Jon and Amarei’s youngest perished in a fire things came to a head.

Donnel, who had started to drink too much, too often and too early because of his exhilarating lifestyle, had become a celebrated figure in the Vale for his congeniality and easy smile. Donnel had that quality that made men like him, almost as much as the women. For he knew how to laugh, how to dress and how to talk. He partook in practically every tournament of the Vale, often distinguishing himself in the joust. To Robert, Donnel was pretty as a peacock, radiant indeed but with an empty head. Like a golden coin, until you scratch at the surface and realise it was only veneer, finding nickel beneath.

Handsome and square-jawed the way that made girls turn their heads, Donnel made a name for himself as a splendid knight. Nevertheless, heavy drinking with his comrades devolved in a friendly wrestling match after one of Jon Arryn’s tourneys. Things would have been fine, if not for a chill wind that had chased the band of dandies inside the grand pavilion. A brazier was toppled, silk and cloth caught flame, and Sharra –likely tangled in the newly made dress for her sixteenth nameday – did not get out in time. Her charred remains were almost mistaken for the corpse of Donnel’s hunting hound that had also died in the fire.

It came close to a repetition of that age-old crime, brotherly strife, when word of the catastrophe reached Robert. The death of their sister hit him particularly hard, and Donnel’s dismissive attitude towards the ‘accident’ only served to enflame his passions. The eldest Arryn succumbed to even more drinking. Lord Jon failed to sufficiently answer the event, not even disciplining his eldest nor looking for measures that curbed such blatant alcoholism. He allowed Donnel to continue his waywardness, for that was the popular thing to do. Amarei, heartbroken, returned to Runestone, shutting herself away from the world. Shortly after she retreated to Quiet Isle, living out her days already old before her time.

Bereft of his Sister Sharra and faith in his male relatives, Robert grew disgruntled, angry at the world. He never played the harp again, and instead set his mind to acquiring the martial skills so neglected over the years. Robert became a skilled, capable fighter – particularly wielding a horseman’s pick – but never entered the lists proper. Not until he returned from a tour of the Free Cities and discovered a tournament was being held at Gulltown in his absence.

Rather than notifying his father and brother, he signed up for the joust as an anonymous knight and proceeded to single out Donnel. Robert beat him soundly, and revealed his identity to Lord Arryn and his unhorsed heir. The smallfolk cheered for him, but those lords and ladies seated close enough to see the look on Jon’s face sensed the boiling hatred that festered between the Arryns. Not that it kept the high lords from laughing in their bannerlord’s face. He had, after all, given them such free reign that even courtesy was starting to be forgotten.

Donnel, the bright lordling, inherited the Eyrie and the Vale but proved as ineffective ruling it as his predecessor. He threw lavish feasts, but failed to control his lusts and desires. One morning he was found dead after one night of heavy drinking too many, leaving no issue. Not for a lack of trying… When Robert took the Eyrie, he had to clean house, chasing out at least a dozen of his brother’s mistresses. Not just the immediate household was brought to heel, Robert has worked to restore Arryn’s influence across the Vale, led a successful Spring campaign against the Mountain Clans and, on the whole, shown to be an altogether different sort of animal than his brother or father before him.

Hugh Arryn, Knight of the Gate, also known as “Wivesbane”

Age: 50 years of age (born 107)

Appearance:
Bright blue eyes, hair gone to grey. His face is weathered, wind-swept and lined from a life lived outside. He had always been taller than his older brother, and is still lean.

Description & biography:
Younger brother to Jon Arryn, Hugh was employed in similar fashion in his mother’s policy. In his youth the brothers were close, and travelled through the Vale extensively in service of Lady Jeyne.

During the Dance, he led the vanguard of the Arryn forces that went by sea to aid the cause of Queen Rhaenyra. He won for himself a name and reputation, stepping from his brother's shadow. The similarities with his nephew Robert made him a natural confidant of the current Lord.

After Jon became Lord Arryn, however, Hugh first acted as his right hand but was later named Knight of the Gate after he began speaking up against the frivolity of Jon’s court. While initially refusing the appointment for personal reasons, Hugh accepted after the death of his third wife.

Those deaths are the subject of gossip, for Ser Hugh is known to have quite the temper. As his brother Jon, Hugh had been wont to drink which often caused serious arguments with his household and family. More than one room had to be redecorated to cover up the evidence of his displeasure. His first two wives left him childless, and they were as a result far from happy marriages. Hugh had always wanted children, and his spouses being unable to provide them to him put an enormous strain on the relationships. Discord made him reach for the drink ever more often.

The years married to Elysa Corbray were the happiest of his life, and he held a keep in his father-in-law's name. Nevertheless, fairytales do not last and Elysa too died. Officially she succumbed to the complications of giving birth to Harrold, but being known for a vicious temper and the taint of two dead wives quickly gave rise to other versions of Elysa's demise.

Guarding the Bloody Gate, he foreswore remarriage for a fourth time and managed to pour his grief into honourable service, and care for his children, Alyse and Harrold. Hugh has not touched a cup of wine in nigh fifteen years.

Name: Princess Alessara Nymeros Martell
Age: 18
House: Martell of Sunspear
Bio:

WIP

Personality:
Literally a whoreson, Ascario is a capable warrior and, like most sellswords, is fickle, faithless and brutal. His greed is so much of a fault that it almost turns into a quality. You can always trust Cosca… trust him to side with the highest bidder. As a soldier of fortune, he tries to enjoy life as much as possible, for tomorrow you might find your heart pierced by an arrow, or your spleen ruptured by a spear.

In a fight, Ascario Cosca is vicious, swift and incredibly agile as befits a bravo and mercenary. He is utterly pragmatic and ruthless, caring little for the fates of his men (though he is careful to conceal it of course lest the fools lynch him), always pressing them. The job needs to be done, as long as he is paid. He might look like just a joker, but he is far more cunning than he seems.

Incredibly vain and witty, he considers himself the epitome of manly attraction, in spite of having some feminine quirks. He likes to display his qualities, and is blind to his own faults. Lacking scruples and morals, Cosca has committed terrible and heinous crimes in his life, from murder and all sorts of abuse to wholesale torture and merciless slaughter.

Ascario has several great loves in his life that all compete but are never mutually exclusive. Though not exclusively attracted to women, Cosca is a great womanizer and sees all women as conquests. Other than carnal pleasures, he is fond of the bottle, dice, fists and of course the thing that makes it all possible: coin.

Biography:
Cosca was born to a Tyroshi concubine and so there is quite some doubt about his parentage. His mother always told him it was a Braavosi ship captain, but it could just as well been a lowly Myrish sailor. Nevertheless, Ascario was forced to look out after himself, helping out in the brothel occasionally, or working the streets as a purse-cut. He was little more than a gutter-rat. As he grew up, it became apparent he had a talent for violence and manipulating, joining one of the local gangs.

At the age of fourteen he left the city, using his flamboyance and genial ways to join up with the Bright Banners. He served first as a mere kitchen boy and farrier, until one of the crossbowmen took him as his shield boy. After carrying a large pavise for a few years, Ascario enlisted as a regular soldier of fortune.

Fighting in the Disputed Lands saw him wounded several times, even when he climbed the ladder of the company. It also introduced him with exploiting the company’s strengths when negotiating contracts. Aside from commanding the pike-men of the Bright Banners, Ascario functioned as a notary who drafted contracts. Aware of the military power monopoly in the Free Cities, Cosca became notorious for his capriciousness, and after rising to captain-general soon dictated terms to his ostensible employers.

Ascario Cosca preferred fighting indirectly, not directly— thus, only reluctantly endangering himself and the enlisted men, avoiding battle when possible, also avoiding hard work and winter campaigns, as these all reduced the total number of trained soldiers available, and was detrimental to the company’s political and economic interest. The Bright Banners set a trend. They fought by outmanoeuvring the opponent and fighting his ability to wage war, rather than risk uncertain fortune —defeat, capture, death— in battlefield combat.



Though not with the best reputation, the company is well-known and infamous throughout Essos. A motley crew of disparate and displaced soldiers, the Bright Banner has become the home of many a desperate man who knows how to fight. There are axemen from Qohor and Norvos, bravos from Braavos, Lyseni sellswords, Tyroshi pikemen and all other sorts of mercenaries from both sides of the Narrow Sea that serve. The units of bowmen are mostly made up of Dornish, and some Summer Islanders with their deadly bows, while occasionally contingents of Myrish crossbowmen march along. In total, the Bright Banners number 2,000 regulars, of which two-hundred are mounted fighting men, and the majority are pikemen.

Sigil: A golden oak tree on a field of green
Words:To Rise and Shine


Personality
Willem Morningwood is bitter and whimsical towards life in general, often mocking his own condition, and views steps as his greatest enemies and chairs as his greatest allies. After the accident and depression, Lame Willie became extremely cynical, capable of appreciating irony to its fullest extent. He despises his work sometimes, but enjoys the influence and protection his position bestows on him.

Spat out by his peers has made Willie thrive on isolation. Instead of the strength of his sword-arm, he had to rely on his wit. He has a sly and ruthless nature, branding himself as a survivor at all costs, trying to out-think his adversaries. Being a cripple, he has resolved to ignore, even amputate, his scruples. As such, he is no stranger to strong-arming, bribing or cajoling to have things his way. These often come in handy in both the worlds of commerce and politics.

Willem has turned himself into a caricature, and likes to mock everyone and everything. Keenly aware of the world laughing at him, he has turned to a sickly mockery and laughs back. His cane made of black oak, for instance has a silver knob in the shape of a large acorn, with leaves wrapping downward alongside the length of it.

Biography:
Willem grew up as the son of a landed knight, sworn to Ashford in the Reach. As the years went by, he received a traditional upbringing, and showed some promise while being a squire and page. Like many a nobleman’s son, Willie, generous with his smile, dreamed of making a name for himself as a tourney knight. In spite of his humble origins, the son of Morningwood was a rising star in the firmament of the Reach.

His tale of glory and fame came sharply to an end when he, at the age of 18, participated in a tourney at Maidenpool. Over-confident and careless, Willem had challenged a much older and experienced knight to a bout. The subsequent exchange of tilts ended with Willem’s horse tripping, falling and crushing its rider’s leg.

For the next two months, Willem drifted between life and death for his broken, wounded leg had begun to fester. When he finally was on the mend, it became clear that his mutilated right leg would not be able to bear his full weight any longer. His old friends left him, and he could no longer bask in the adoration of fair maidens. Instead, he was shunned by most of the society and abandoned by those he held dear. Though his father did not say, it was clear he considered Willem as less than before.

Crippled, Willem experienced a period of debauchery where he consumed vast quantities of poppy-milk and passed his time with dicing and whoring. A failed attempt at suicide later, he set sail for the Free Cities where he led the life of a rogue. After spending some time in Pentos, he moved to Lys in order to escape his debts. There he was employed by a pleasure house to handle the ledgers, accounts and sensitive information. It is said he even served with a free company as its paymaster for some time.

However, eventually he returned to Westeros at the request of his ageing father. Willem agreed to pass his inheritance over to his younger brother, Ser Joss Morningwood while he took up a position as steward in Ashford, dealing with market days and financial affairs. The local lord, however, refused to recognise his talents and so Willem departed once more after helping his brother Joss.

After the final stages of the Dance of Dragons and the chaos that followed the Regency, Willie ventured to the capital and worked as a customs officer and port official, until he was selected by the Master of Coin. For the past five years, Lame Willie has toiled in royal office, and made a reputation for himself as a brilliant accountant. When the late Master of Coin died, Willie graduated to the Small Council.

Thriving in a metropolitan environment such as King’s Landing, Willem has acquired a steady income and a reputation, and works on gathering his fortune and influence. He has, ever since his time in Lys, sworn off knighthood and donned the cape of a politician and businessman, though some might call him a crook. Dealing in coin or favours, it is all the same to him.

H O U S E H O L D

O V E R V I E W
The Yronwoods are a proud house with a storied history. Before the arrival of the Rhoynar, the Yronwoods ruled over a large and powerful Dornish kingdom that rivaled that of the Martells. Yronwood claims were fertile farmlands, well-wooded and rich in deposits of iron, tin, and silver. At their height, they were the richest of the Dornish kingdoms.

Now, they hesitantly bend the knee to the Rhoynar-backed house from Sunspear. When Nymeria landed along with the ten thousand ships, her Rhoynar bolstered the armies of House Martell. With her might, Nymeria launched a campaign to unite all of Dorne under the red sun banner. One of Yronwood's longest-standing rivalries is with House Fowler of Skyreach due to their role in Nymeria's War.

M I L I T A R Y
The Yronwoods are the second most powerful of the Dornish houses. They are capable of fielding between 9,000 and 10,000 soldiers at full-strength. In addition, the Yronwoods have a strong chivalric tradition especially among the Dornishmen. Landed knights under the Yronwood banner number close to 100. An elite group of ten knights make up Yronwood's elite guard, all knights in emply of House Yronwood report to Lord-Commander Martin Yronwood - Lady Yronwood's younger brother.

R E L A T I O N S

R E C E N T H I S T O R Y
Lady Yronwood birthed an heir the same year as King Daeron's coronation; the babe cements the union between the Martells and their Yronwood bannermen. Just a year before, however, her elder brother died a freak accident;with no heirs of his own, House Yronwood passed to Lady Irene. Prince Osvald Martell has journeyed to Kings Landing to congratulate the new King on his coronation. Lord Martin Yronwood is thus far unmarried, though he is nearly thirty.

B A S I C
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Occupation/Titles: Knight of the Kingsguard
Birthplace: Driftmark, Crownlands, Westeros
Faith: The Seven

A P P E A R A N C E
A bastard of House Velaryon, Corlys has the silver hair of Old Valyria but the muddy brown eyes of Westerosi stock. Corly's stands six-foot-three, his height diminished somewhat by his stocky stature. He has, by all accounts, a body fit for a knight of his standing. He carries a well-crafted steel longsword along with his kingsguard attire, on the hilt is the seahorse of House Velaryon.

Though he is a knight, the only fighting he has taken part in has been in knightly tourneys and during training fights. As a result, his face is relatively unmarred save for a sizeable, round scar on the upper-right hand side of his face. The result of an encounter with an over-zealous steed during a jousting bout.

B A C K S T O R Y
Corlys is the product of a tryst between a handmaiden and a minor lord of House Velaryon. For most of his life, he served under a single master - an old knight, a veteran of the Dance only a few years prior. Though not the most able-bodied master, the old knight was more-than-competent in molding the young Corlys into the knight he is today. Corlys finished his vigil and was knighted for his loyalty to tending for his infirm master.

After his knighting, his noble father discreetly sent him a gift , a long-sword, to congratulate him which he has carried to this day. In addition, Corlys was employed as a sworn sword under Lord Velaryon and spent his time keeping the king's peace in Driftmark.

Corlys has also participated in several tourneys across the south, growing his prestige with each bout. On the twenty-fifth anniversary of King Aemon III Targaryen's reign, Corlys earned his spot on the Kingsguard's radar by winning a tourney dedicated to the Broken King.

Lord Velaryon, who at the time was looking to fill a vacancy on the Queen Consort's personal guard, took notice of Waters' skill and after the tourney was over he appointed the young knight to the guard.

It was within a year that the intirgues of Kings Landing wrapped themselves around Corlys. An agent working for a rival house had been spying on the Queen's private doings for several months, tracking her movements and when and where she was with her guardsmen. One night, while patrolling, Corlys had a strong intuitive feeling that something was amiss and began to search for the sourve of the feeling. The spy awaited with hushed breath and just on the verge of being discovered, he tried to make a break for it.

However, Corlys managed to snag the rogue by his shirt and subdued him before he could escape. Within the day he was before the king's courts and sentenced.

Now on the radar of the Red Keep for potentially saving the Queen's life - and certainly saving her further shame - Corlys was one of the first picks for the Kingsguard once a spot had opened up.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S
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Name: Symon Rivers
Age: 29
House/Affiliation: House Hightower

Appearance:


Well-mannered and soft-spoken, Symon isn’t a man to stand out in a crowd. His thoughts are often obscured behind a characteristic smirk and he is very careful with his body language, doing his best to reveal nothing of himself. Symon walks with a visible limp in his left leg, which is the cause of some speculation in regards to his past, but it is doubtful he received it on the field of battle as he is not much of a warrior. Nevertheless, he is well-set and has the rough skin of someone used to travel and manual labour.

Biography:
Symon Rivers is a bastard-born of uncertain lineage who was unheard of until recently. As his name suggests he likely hails from the Riverlands, though he’s not claimed descent to any of the noble families there. Much of his past is shrouded in mystery and Symon isn’t very keen on talking about it, usually remarking that “he’s been here and there, doing whatever needed doing” and leaving it at that.

The paradoxical thing about him is that while few have heard of Symon Rivers, he seems to know a great many folk from whom he can call in a favour. His contacts extend well beyond the Reach, going as far as King’s Landing and Riverrun. While he cannot count the truly powerful among his associates, he has connections to many low-ranking officials and middlemen, not to mention a host of dubious characters who aren’t in the habit of asking questions.

Symon arrived in Oldtown sometime during or before the first snows and quickly made a name for himself. He started out by managing a couple of warehouses on the docks, but was soon called in to oversee the city’s granaries. Nobody can say for certain how he got the job at the wharves in the first place, though it is likely the result of someone repaying a favour. Whatever the case, he proved himself of being more than capable of managing Oldtown’s granaries during the harsh winter by conserving a remarkable amount of food, preventing any thefts and meddling from foreign forces while keeping everyone more or less happy.

His successes eventually garnered the attention of the Hightowers, especially Lord Otho, who invited him into his court. Ostensibly this was on account of Symon’s skill as an administrator, however it’s likely his network of contacts played a much greater role. With the coming of spring Symon is still settling into his elevated position, but he has already proven quite deft at navigating many of the court’s dangerous undercurrents.

Personality:
While he is insignificant in the grand scheme of things, Symon has proven to be an adept player of the Game. He has risen much in a relatively short time and shows no sign of stopping. A cynic at heart, Symon honestly believes that everyone is out for themselves and will not hesitate to use whatever means are necessary to gain the upper hand. That said, despite his flexible morals, he has a sort of personal code he sticks to. Favours are everything to Symon, he owes his success to them and knows that he must honour his obligations when called upon.

He is loyal to the Hightowers not because of some abstract ideal, but of pure necessity – he knows that the only way to achieve what he wants is to attach himself to a powerful lord and to aid in his endeavours. Perhaps one of his greatest strengths or flaws, depending on how you look at it, is that he is a realist, fully aware of his own position. As such, his ambitions are rather humble – he wishes to legitimise his name and found a House of his own. He will not get in the way of those more powerful than him, unless he has sufficient backing and a good reason for doing so.

Name: Willam Whitehill, “Will the Knight” or “Ser Willie” (the latter two are used mockingly)
Age: 36
House/Affiliation: House Bolton

Appearance:


As a result of the gruesome scar running across his face, Willam’s mouth is permanently twisted in a snarl, giving him an unpleasant appearance. He walks confidently, like a lord, and speaks with a rough, grating voice. Willam is often dressed in his armour, well-made plate and mail, which men of his station normally cannot afford. Thick-necked and muscled, his body is criss-crossed by scars and old wounds, but he still appears to be healthy and robust. Upon meeting him one would usually notice that he has an extremely strong grip, even for a swordsman.

Biography:
Willam claims descent from the Whitehills of Highpoint, though he comes from an estranged branch of the family. His grandfather, Gareth Whitehill, was the youngest of three sons and would have remained relatively unknown if not for an event which shaped his life. Very shortly after the death of his father (Willam’s great-grandfather), Gareth’s oldest brother passed away under mysterious circumstances. The exact cause was never determined, but the shadow of kinslaying was cast on the young lord and he was forced to abandon his ancestral home. Neither the Glovers nor the Starks would have him, so he fled eastward and sought refuge in Bolton lands. The head of House Bolton at the time accepted the man’s fealty and offered his protection.

Gareth Whitehill was a renowned fighter in the region and served faithfully for many years. Near the end of his life he was granted a small tract of land and a keep to call his own, though it’s said the memory of Highpoint never left him. He was succeeded by Rickard Whitehill, Willam’s father, who proved to be a capable warrior in his own right. He fought in the Dance as part of the Winter Wolves under Lord Roderick Dustin and came back from the south with many spoils. Rickard is said to have been an ambitious man and used his newfound wealth to strengthen the keep, but after the death of his wife he took to drinking and squandered what remained of his fortune. Rumours say he found his death at the bottom of the keep’s well, falling in it after a night of heavy drinking.

Like his grandfather, Willam had two brothers that were older than him, as such he never expected to inherit anything and left the family keep shortly after his seventeenth name day. He wandered the south for years as little more than a hedge knight, taking part in the isolated conflicts that sometimes broke Aegon’s troubled peace. Though not much of a tourney knight, Willam participated in several and even won the melee at Duskendale, a feat for which he was knighted. A strange thing for a northerner, but as the Whitehills had always been devout followers of the Seven it was legally acceptable. Around this time Willam received news of his oldest brother’s passing due to some malady.

Willam’s second brother urged him to return and to help around their family lands, but Willam delayed until the first snows began paralyzing the countryside. When he finally came back, he learned that his brother had died in a hunting accident, leaving behind an infant boy. Willam had no choice but to remain and look after his nephew - he had never married and had no children of his own, so he and the young boy were the sole surviving Whitehills in Bolton lands.

Following the family tradition, he took up service with the Boltons and proved himself to be a capable and dependable man. Willam's skill with weapons, the experience he picked up from wars in the south and his unflinching loyalty to the House earned him the position of master-at-arms at the Dreadfort, following the death of the previous one. He quickly gained a notoriety among Bolton men for being exceptionally strict and severe in his training, but they grudgingly admit that he is one of the best this side of the Wolfswood. Willam's swift rise to fame has made him quite a few enemies among his peers and he is often mocked for his knightly title and “southron ways”, but thanks to his reputation and the favour of Lord Bolton his position remains strong.

Personality:
Willam has one and only passion – fighting. He knows little of life without violence and has fully embraced it, leaving room for little else. Loud, boisterous and quick to anger – he is just as likely to regale listeners with tales of the Whitehills’ exploits as to brawl with someone over a perceived slight to his family’s honour. While he frequently performs grisly deeds in the service of his lord, Willam takes no pleasure in it and believes himself to be better than the rabble he often works with. He sees his service to the Boltons as a sort of family debt – after all, they were the only ones who took his grandfather in when the other lords had shunned him. As such, with no one else left to fulfil the debt, Willam considers it a matter of family honour to be a dutiful servant.

A man of little ambition, Willam’s greatest regret is that he could not surpass the exploits of his father and grandfather - there were no great wars in his time and he feels he squandered his best years in the south with little to show for it. He loathes his life, but firmly believes he can do nothing to change it. In recent years this has driven him to drink, though he takes no pleasure in it, indeed he takes little pleasure in anything, except for battle.

No one would take Willam for a spiritual man, however the Gods are what he has turned to in order to ease his troubled mind. Even in this he seems torn and uncertain, as a Whitehill and a knight he has taken his vows before the Seven, but the Old Gods call to his northern blood. Willam bears the weight of this soul-searching by himself, he has no true friends and thinks that opening up to people is a sign of weakness.

A man of chivalry, honour and prestige matched only by his unparalled modesty, Lord Lyonel upholds all the traditional values of House Tyrell, and is sincerely popular among both his bannermen and the smallfolk alike. A man of a martial mind, Lyonel is skilled—though not superb—at both generaling and personal combat, and is especially talented at the Reach's national sport and that most practical of schools of combat: jousting.

Aged 28, Lyonel is still in the earlier part of his prime, having personally ruled the Reach for over a decade now, and still looking forward to what will likely be decades more. Although made fatherless by the death of his predecessor and progenitor, Lord Viserys Tyrell, in his infancy, Lyonel was raised capably his mother, a woman known lovingly to the smallfolk as the Good Lady Merry. It was Lady Meredyth that governed from Highgarden while Lyonel was a child, often times placing him upon the throne in Highgarden to make decisions on unimportant matters even as a small child. It was the rumours of what occurs to boys raised only by their mothers, though, that first turned young Lyonel's mind towards knightly endeavours. He was determined to be a strong lord, of both mind and body, and learned to ride and to wield a blade in his early teens, taught by the greatest warriors that House Tyrell's immense coffers could afford. Lyonel had some measure of natural aptitude to the arts of a knight, but most of his skill could be attributed to the second-to-none training he received in Highgarden, from the greatest knights in the realm.

As he entered his adulthood, Lyonel became interested in women. He never became obsessed with lust—as some Tyrells had before him—but the young man's status as one of the greatest Lords in Westeros attracted a more than fair share of interested ladies, and it is difficult for any young man to refuse such advances. Most of these indiscretions, smallfolk servants for instance, were little more than a distraction for Lyonel. One lady, though, a beautiful, black-haired woman of the Stormlands, earned Lyonel's golden heart. After enjoying her company on the night of a tournament in Hightower, Lyonel inquired about the woman (politely) to his mother, and other advisors in court. It was decided that she would make a perfect match for Lyonel, as her marriage to him would win the Reach an alliance with the neighbouring Stormlands. This would serve House Tyrell well, ensuring that if the realm were to be brought back to the chaos that had ensued during the Dance of Dragons, there would be at least one mighty ally on which the Tyrells could rely. Thus, in a spectacular, vibrant ceremony along the Mander, Lyonel became wed to the young Lady Jocelyn Baratheon. The two quickly become close after their half-arranged marriage, blossoming into loving partners and often accompanying each other on public excursions across the Reach and beyond, winning Lord Lyonel the image of a popular romantic in the eyes of the smallfolk. The vassal lords of the Reach, however, were not entirely pleased with the match; each had hoped that one of their own daughters or cousins would wed Lyonel, and his and Jocelyn's (suspiciously) rapidly blossoming public love became evidence for those shrewder among the Tyrell bannermen that the pair's wedding night had not been the first occasion they had known each other. The feud between some houses of the Reach and some of the Stormlands was also agitated by the wedding. The Tyrells had always stylized themselves 'Defenders of the Marches', even though the Dornish Marches were mostly a part of House Baratheon's domain, and those Reach lords whom dwelled in the western Marches resented that they would not be given opportunity to seize their eastern neighbours within their new Lady's lifetime.

Not long after Lyonel and Jocelyn's wedding, the new Lady of Highgarden became pregnant. She gave birth to a healthy baby boy, whom Jocelyn gave the name 'Rendall'. The birth of a Tyrell son calmed, somewhat, the anxieties of the Tyrell's bannermen. The Baratheon woman was at least fertile, and had already managed to produce as many children as her mother-in-law Meredyth had birthed. Lyonel was excited to become a father, living out the romanticized image of a Lord that he had harboured since his youth, and was especially pleased to have sired a healthy baby boy. His love for his wife only exceeding past highs, Jocelyn became with child once more only months after Rendall's birth, and the midwives informed Lyonel that he could expect twins. It was a disappointment to him, and emotionally devastating for his wife, when one of the two children that Jocelyn carried did not survive birth. Of the girl and boy that the new mother bore, only the girl survived, the boy succumbing to the Stranger in the night before he could even be named. Teary-eyed, Jocelyn named her new daughter 'Sanya'. Lyonel became disappointed in his inability to improve Jocelyn's mood after her second son's passing, and the two began to drift apart slightly, Lyonel turning away from his duties as a father towards his duties as a lord, and Jocelyn becoming ever more invested in caring for her two young children.

Charitable and kind, Lady Jocelyn Tyrell is well known as a patron of the arts in the Reach, having already become a popular figure in her adopted homeland even in the relatively short time since she has arrived. Her influence on her husband has focused mainly on supporting investments in the smallfolk: a number of new orphanages and septs all across the Reach bear Jocelyn's name, as do infrastructural works such as bridges and mills. Among the court in Highgarden, Jocelyn is somewhat infamous for her excessive charity, disliked by the house steward for her constant attempts to spend more and more still on everyone and everyone else. Nonetheless, she is adored by the smallfolk for her very public acts of kindness towards them, and is held in esteem by most of the lords of the Reach as well, held as an exemplar of a proper lady in both manner and appearance.

Known as the most beautiful lady in the Reach (and punishing accusations elsewise), Lady Jocelyn is an adoptee of the watershed of the River Mander, but an especially adept one. Her few years in Highgarden seem to have melted every drop of the Stormlands off of her frame, preserving only her assertive attitude, which she has learned to temper since her behaviourly impetuous days of youth alongside her family in Storm's End. Now a twenty year-old independent minded woman, Jocelyn is fond of her husband's laissez-faire attitude towards her, allowing her to dress and to act and to spend coin as she likes. The two spent their first year together after their marriage travelling all across the south of Westeros on an extended honeymoon, but still take excursions together into the beautiful countryside and to neighbouring holdfasts on occasion. These travels inspire Jocelyn's paintings and poetry; as an artist herself, the Lady of Highgarden is fond of lending financial support to her compatriots of creative mind—a fact which has attracted many great artisans to Highgarden, in the hopes of acquiring Jocelyn's patronage.

As the Lady of Highgarden and wife of the Lord Tyrell, Jocelyn knew on her wedding day that she would be expected to bare children for Lyonel. Her first child, a perfectly healthy baby boy, was delivered without incident, and to the pleasure of both court and the whole realm. The previous three Lords of Highgarden, Lyonel's father, grandfather and great grandfather, had scarcely bore fruit for their House. Lyonel was the only Tyrell left of the male line, and had been kept under close watch by his mother Meredyth because of the risks pressing on any such a young lord's life. The birth of Jocelyn's son, Rendall, ended these fears, and considerably improved the cold relationship between Jocelyn and the Good Lady Merry. Jocelyn's second pregnancy, however, was a different story.

After the ease of her first pregnancy, Jocelyn had let her guard down for complications in her second. Early into her pregnancy, the midwives had told her she could expect twins, and that because of this there was a greater risk of issue in the delivery. Jocelyn had scoffed; she was an accomplished mother, bountiful and glowing, and was confident that she would have three children with her beloved husband before their second year of marriage was concluded. Unfortunately, the midwife's warnings were proved correct, as althogh both children (second son and first daughter) were delivered without issue, the son died the night after he had been born. Jocelyn was devastated, and found that no effort on her husband's part could console her grief. She began to become more reclusive from him, leaving him to the affairs of the realm and contenting herself with dotting over her precious newborn daughter Sanya, and her older brother Rendall. Jocelyn's growing matronliness has put an end to her travels across the Reach alongside Lyonel, and halted, perhaps even lessened, the ever tightening bond between them that arose since the day they'd wed.

The mother of the Lord of Highgarden, Meredyth (or 'Merry' by those close to her) would be expected to be a figure of considerable respect, due simply to her stature within the Tyrell household. This does not begin to explain the esteem owed to the spymaster of Highgarden, however, for nearly all of the renown she has acquired over her 48 years has come from her aptitude, not her lineage.

Born into House Hightower, Meredyth married into the Tyrell family at age 19, wedding the chivalrous Lord Viserys Tyrell in a grand, colourful ceremony in Highgarden. Their families wished them countless years of happiness together, but the Gods did not; Viserys died less than a year after their marriage, and on his death the leadership of House Tyrell fell to their infant son, Lyonel Tyrell. Most members of the household wished for Viserys' brother, Kevan, to serve as Regent, as he was the most military minded of the House, and the ongoing succession crisis in King's Landing threatened to plunge House Tyrell into armed conflict. Meredyth outmaneuvered Kevan, however, pledging as Regent to keep House Tyrell out of the war. Kevan retreated from the household, taking a trio of bastard cousins and a portion of House Tyrell's material wealth with him, with the intent of fighting alongside the Greens of his own accord. This unilateral move on Kevan's part solidified Merry's role as Regent of the Reach, and she would apply her diplomatic aptitude in the preceding years to lessening the war's impact on House Tyrell and the rest of the Reach as much as possible. She became beloved by the smallfolk in Highgarden's environs, revered as "Good Lady Merry" for keeping the bloodshed at bay and using saved coin to sponsor acts of charity. Gradually this admiration came to extend to much of the rest of the Reach, both among the smallfolk and the other lords and ladies who had kept their houses neutral throughout the war, as well as the ensuing ruthless politicking of the regency era. By the time of the adulthood of Aegon III, and the dismissal of his regency council, the Good Lady Merry had established herself as the beloved ruler of the most prosperous kingdom in Westeros. She would retain this status unopposed, until the participants of the Dance of the Dragons had finished licking their wounds, and the overmighty vassals of the Reach again began to assert themselves.

Meredyth had always been unsympathetic to the lesser lords of the Reach. Their cries of descent from House Gardener and demands for greater autonomy and respect fell on deaf ears in the latter years of Merry's regency, as the Reach's Good Lady Merry grew thorns to match her rose. She began to expand House Tyrell's demesne, using her good will with the smallfolk to annex towns, villages and farmlands from neighbouring rebellious houses. When Lords resisted, Merry responded spitefully, inciting revolts in their lands and hiring bandits to harry their roads. Only the Hightowers were spared, Meredyth still having a soft spot for her maiden family and it's Lord (and her brother) Otho Hightower. Over time, Merry's dealings with the underworld of Westeros to sabotage her vassal's affairs earned her a cadre of trusted agents—spies with whom she could rely on to ferry away whispered secrets in other households to her own ears. However, it was not until the adulthood of her son, Lyonel Tyrell, and Meredyth's subsequent dismissal as regent, that she began to perfect the art of intrigue.

Meredyth loved Lyonel. She had always been fiercely protective of the boy, insistent that the last son of House Tyrell would not follow in the footsteps of his father, Viserys, or his uncle, Kevan, and meet an untimely demise. In his first years as ruler in his own right, Meredyth leaned heavily on Lyonel, helping him to simmer down the heated conflicts that had arisen between House Tyrell and its most uppity vassals. The ambitious Lords of the Reach came to like Lyonel, associating his leadership of House Tyrell with a period of increased authority for them. This was largely an illusion, however—Meredyth still pulled the strings, but she had simply expanded House Tyrell's lands and authority enough for her own tastes. As Lyonel aged, Merry was content to help him usher in an era of increased respect between House Tyrell and its bannermen, to avoid the young Lord running into trouble in the future that he could not handle. Even as Lyonel asserted himself more, wedding Lady Jocelyn of Storm's End and turning his mind towards martial affairs, the Good Lady Merry kept a finger firmly planted in the Tyrell pie. Her influence as spymaster is much greater than her son realizes, and far, far greater than her old lordly rivals would hope.

Name: Ser Garland "The Pale Rose" Tyrell
Age: 23
Appearance and Personality:





Garland appears to have the traits most Reachmen exibit, albeit perhaps refined particularly; with very well kept long brown hair, and a swordsman's physique, being perhaps as strong as a Ser ought to be when it comes to wielding a weapon- a foe to fear, with tourneys and his prior experience giving him plenty of experience for his young age. His skill is less from tuition, more from practice, being skillful in a melee, less so on a horse. A couple of scars from conflicts past still lie on his left shoulder, though it is difficult to immediately spot. Garland stands remarkably tall at 6"4, with hazel colored eyes, a short and striking beard that wraps around his chin, with no upper lip hair. His face neither too lean nor fat, though he is paler than some Tyrells, leading to his nickname. You couldn't forget his face easily.

By most southern standards, he is regarded as amongst the most beautiful men in the castle....and has found that it has been more than enough to attract women across the court, with fairly expected effects! At 23, he's had a number of bastard children, the mothers of whom haven't even returned to Garland regarding it, which speaks volumes about Garland's charming nature- they seem humbled to have had a tumble with him, they feel blessed to have had sex with a highborn. Apparently. He is still unmarried after all, much to the dismay of his sister, though this is something that is possibly to open to change in Garland's mind when he finds the right woman.

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Beyond his looks, Garland is a quick figure, perhaps the luck of the draw giving him the ability to do well at getting down to the business of being Castellan. This quickness perhaps allows him to continue the typical Tyrell traits that can be observed in many members of the family, particularly on the male side- being astute, gregarious and chivalrous, having a high sense of honour and a high regard to family, perhaps the former coming into question recently. He has courage and while not addicted to violence, is happy to get stuck into a fight. As a commander, he serves well, being able to make reasonable tactical decisions on both his theoretical knowledge and his previous experiences, though he is no legendary figure on the battlefield, not yet at least. On the surface, appears to be kind and charitable, a good hearted fellow- though it seems that the last few years have hardened his resolve and made him a little cynical towards some topics, perhaps through his sister. While he is impaired by youth, he does not overestimate or underestimate his position, a mixture of cocksureness and care keeping him in the position he is in, his wit sometimes breaking up an overt seriousness or monotony when required.

Garland is not a spider, yet he seems able to comprehend how to present his image, being smart enough to know when to lie and when to be honest, and as an administrator, he is well suited to be Castellan- he knows how to handle money, people, dissidents, as well as project his own ambitions into the job. He still does need to improve his skills in general rulership, however, and to drop his parts of his provincial nature, that of a lower character than a Lord, taken from his low position in the court. Perhaps Garland is a little naiive of the world around him at times, though he seems to be still connected the political frameworks at play in the castle and the wider realm.

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On the field of combat or a Tourney, Garland can be seen wearing a Reach-produced suit of plate armour- the designs from this part of the world always raising eyebrows in other parts of the Kingdom, as a result of the many curves and details that they entail, clearly being a highly-strewn piece of work- roses and flowers intricately scratched into the armour, making distinct ridges that seem to fully validate Garland as the Castellan, probably second in it's intricacy to Lyonel himself. While the metalworkers of the Reach are not renowned in the Kingdoms, the artistic flair and beauty of such armour is distinctly eyecatching. He usually wields a longsword, paired with a large wooden heater shield, fighting in the traditional Westerosi fashion. The sigil used by Garland as a cousin is a distinctive one- a field of green and gold roses on his shield, rather than a lone rose is used to define Garland's position as a Tyrell distant to the current line, although unique to him. Training puts him a league above most Hedge Knights, alongside practice, yet he is no famed Knight. Off the tourney field or battlefield, he can be seen wearing a expensive white, gold and green tunic, suitable for the fairly temperate to semi-arid climate of the Reach, being usually more than enough, if not a more suitable garb for colder climes.

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Biography:

The Reach find Garland a man of chivalry and binding servitude to his family, being generally lusted for by Reachwomen of all types, though without the benefit of a long serving ruler's wisdom.

Garland was born in Highgarden to Moryn Tyrell and Elinor Ambrose, and received an education that would only befit a child in a position such as himself...and whilst nobody dared wish for it, he was in all terms, the heir to Highgarden if Lyonel did die. Whilst he was only a mere distant nephew of the current Lord, he was taught by both maesters and a tutor, in methods of swordsmanship and scholarship. He did not receive the best tuition, but he received a courtly education of high standard due to his position as this heir. Garland was shown he could serve if he wanted to become anything decent of himself, and serve exceptionally well, but that he was a distant Tyrell, and that in reality, the line did not owe itself to him. A distant growing flower, away from the magnificent petals of the Lord Paramount. And if Lyonel did pass away, then he would have the skills required to continue the same, or so they taught him. Never to even dare think about what he could steal, or take that was not his, but what he ought to serve loyally and honourably to family.

The part folk-tales, part reality of Kevan and the Thorns did inspire him to perhaps follow in their steps, and when Garland was younger, perhaps he looked up to it far too much. He squired for many a Knight in his youth, his wit and charming nature certainly developing from the personalities he met, including the Lady Meredyth Tyrell, who he had a brief tutelage with, albeit not as far as his sister, Alerie did. Perhaps his cynicsm grew into his later adolescence, when he found lust, women, and what really stabbing a man through the throat felt like. It felt like duty and fear, not like honour. Well, not entirely.

It was a typical education for Tyrell, it seemed- and Garland was acknowledged as being a quick lad, definitely of use to the family in one way or another, even if he would never obtain the Lordship. He had no idea of what his future held- he had considered becoming a man of the Kingsguard if he could devote himself, but swiftly rejected this after he found himself perhaps too attached to female admirers, leaving a small trail of bastards in his wake at festivities held in Highgarden. Instead, he was offered the chance to work within the Court in Highgarden by Lady Meredyth, assisting with the administration of the Reach, and from the age of 16 onwards, was actively involved in the inner workings of running a Lordship. Fighting was still his talent, and whilst he never was actively involved in the Dance of Dragons, Garland understands what taking another man's life feels like when dealing with pillagers and thieves.

He was concerned with the affairs of the castle, and making sure that the Kingdom's men and vassal houses kept the knee bent towards the family of the gold rose, almost acting in a diplomatic sense to maintain The Reach's power internally. A Tyrell was to be respected, even if he wasn't the closest blood to Lyonel that there was, Garland perhaps able to retain this due to his own friendships with Lyonel, and his sister's tutelage under Lady Meredyth Tyrell, and the fact that he was de jure, the heir of the Kingdom. It was a well balanced approach, and whilst there was no promise of land at the end of it all, he served the Kingdom without question, his Knighthood unquestioned at the end of his squirehood.

It was perhaps from this beginning, the proven experience and loyalty to House and to Kingdom, that Garland was named Castellan of Highgarden, the Hand to Lyonel's Lordship.

Garland has served in this role for at least four years, and has proven his talent well, despite his youth, in making sure the castle runs well and the administration is retained in Lyonel's absence. As now his de jure second-in-line heir, some have viewed the appointment as a way to prevent Garland mustering support in another court to ever pursue a claim on the Kingdom of the Reach, yet Garland's lack of interest in becoming the Lord of Highgarden perhaps could serve to disprove this- Garland wishes for land, but he is not material enough to become a Lord, he is merely a pretty face who is a steward, not a ruler. Perhaps he is content with his life, perhaps he seeks something different to just power, but he knows he plays a vital role in it's fulcrum in Highgarden. Perhaps that talent, and his friendship with Lyonel has retained his position, and in the brave new world in the aftermath of the Dance of Dragons, Garland serves to put the fragmented pieces of the Reach back together.

Perhaps keeping in mind that the death of only two people would make him the Lord Paramount, is something that serves as a reminder that the Lord Paramount's position, even if Garland is not his foe, is one that can slip into the Pale Roses's thorns.

Name: Alerie Tyrell
Age: 19
Appearance:


Standing at 5"6, with a thin and short, yet well developed frame, Alerie is visibly beautiful, her youth still running strong and making this occur. With a moderate bust, and hazel-blue eyes, she clearly has caught the attention of more than just one Reach Knight, though she has not yet found a suitable man to wed, one that would increase the family's already formidable connections. Alerie happens to have a burgundy-red hair, something that seems a little unexplained- given the family's strong trend towards passing down the dark brown hair throughout the family's offspring. None the less, Alerie still holds a wonderful physique, and makes no mistake in showing it off.

Alerie's personality is sharp, thorny and most definitely a darker side to the chivalric touches that House Tyrell has- though you won't see it immediately, because her appearance and outlook towards others in public is highly controlled. Able to joke with her brother, yet immediately outdo anyone who dares threaten. She is as quick as her brother, if not more intelligent, and she can often subtly watch others' deceptions, wittingly putting up her own where she pleases without barely even blinking, a trait earned from Lady Merry, perhaps.

Her knowledge of what assets she has, both in her beauty and of scheming compensate for her lack of wisdom and life experiences; she has already learned through her young years that men will do anything for a woman like her, and as such, beyond this far more can be done. She has the utmost respect for Garland, but understands that sometimes more dastardly approaches must be taken to make the family's power echo- being tutored by the Lady Regent making this idea stick in her mind. She still has a lot to learn, however- and understands that she must prepare to scale up her already existing thorns in her personality. She seems openly charitable, being very careful regarding her image towards her peers, almost being a master of presenting herself correctly. Whilst her gregarious and otherwise positive and glowing demeanour can make but the coldest of hearts feel at home, being famed for her warm and good nature, below this facade a calculating and sophisticated mind is at work, for her young age proving clearly her ambitions.

She can often be seen wearing a dark green and gold dress, embroidered with golden roses across it's surface- a fortune to pay for, as a result of it's intricate dressmaking and the expensive dyes used, being suitably revealing at the bust but not uncomfortable- giving her a charming image when at court. The ante is increased, as at a fair, she may wear an even more expensive garb, with corsets and eloquent golden and green dresses coming out for the show; a reminder that even at 17, she has an aware knowledge of her need to impress. Her aurora seems to be well projected when she is in a room, because no matter how silly some Northmen or Ironborn may consider it, it turns heads.

Biography and Personality:

There's always something about the women in the Tyrell family, like a gift from the Seven. A sharp wit, and an even sharper appearance, a charm and an intelligence that gives them the capability to make the Tyrell family almost matriarchal. Alerie is a fine example of one very capable female member of the House, a protege of Lady Meredyth Tyrell.

Born in Highgarden, Alerie was also born to Moryn and Elinor Tyrell as Garland's sister. As her brother was educated, so she was too. She was taught how to be a lady in the court, and was given tutors and also teaching from the then Lady Tyrell, learning the way of the world. She was taught particularly well by Meredyth how to lie and how to present herself, being a beautiful girl and uncannily good at concealing the truth, when needed. Meredyth must have seen something in the young burgundy-haired girl, someone that perhaps seemed more mouldable than Lyonel was in his youth, to further the family's influence and control.

The years rolled by, and outside of playing the harp and horse riding around the wooded estates surrounding the banks of the Mander, she embarked on learning the ins and outs of the local politics, often spying on the other ladies of the court and the debauchery they got up to. Always chuckling, yet always watching, figuring out her way to keep out of trouble, and to make sure she got her way.

The ascent of Garland Tyrell to Castellan meant she followed him in power, and perhaps matured into playing an active role in the court, shadowing Meredyth. In comparison to Garland, she acts as the thornier Rose in comparison, to continue to impress at fairs and banquets, and play the part in making sure the family stays in power.

A handsome young man of impressive creativity and intellect, Artran has recently come under the patronage of House Tyrell, his poetry and other artworks having caught the eye of renowned aesthete Lady Jocelyn Tyrell. Artran's name and the various collections of writing associated with it are known throughout the south of Westeros, his poems some of the most often copied non-liturgical literature among the scribes of Oldtown. Although he is lowborn, his fame has awarded him both considerable prestige and considerable wealth. What's more, both the romanticism he peddles and his handsomeness have won him his most personally favoured prize: a place in the bed of many of Westeros' loveliest young ladies. Not that he would ever kiss and tell.

Artran's expertise in pulling heartstrings makes him an excellent manipulator. He is perceptive, able to employ his knowledge of the world and of people to guess, usually quite accurately, at the intentions and proclivities of those around him. To make best use of this, Artran's personality and beliefs are adaptable. Though always polite and helpful, Artran is a man without serious convictions, happy to (temporarily) share the prevailing opinion of his company, only to privately confide in dissenters that he is truly on their side. Although witty and pretty, Artran is not especially physically imposing and is unskilled at martial affairs; he is the archetype of a man invested in the idea that the quill is mightier than the sword.

When asked about his past, Artran of Nightsong is happy to regale his company with tales of exciting exploits from all across Westeros, some real but most borrowed. He is known for unobtrusively self-inserting himself into the famed stories of others, insisting that when legendary figures of history achieved their great deeds, it was only due to his intervention, in some small but important way. When Durran Godsgrief bested the God of the Sea in constructing Storm's End, for instance, it was only because Artran had introduced Durran to Bran the Builder one day, over lunch. Similarly, when Lann the Clever won The Rock from the Casterlys, it was all because Artran had gotten the Casterlys drunk on Arbour Gold. These tall tales are deflections, an excuse for Artran to be dishonest and inconsistent about his past. All that he will assure his listeners of without reservation is that he is a common man, from a town near Nightsong—hence the name. The rest of the dashing poet's past and identity is shrouded in layers of black.

Name: Geldyr Falenhearth
Age: He's seen 30 name days
House/Affilitation: Hightower

Appearance: (Or description): His hair is black and worn in an unkempt fashion, pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. His skin is fair but ruddy. He has a noticeable fit and trim body, with practiced hard muscle, though lean. His face is not unhandsome, in a half commoner sort of way. He has a small scar on his left cheek, as well as 4 scars along his back, 2 criss crossing on his right bicep and one on the back of his left hand. He wears a torn wool vest over a grey-tan shirt. He wears a sarashi over both of his hands and forearms, leaving his fingers unwrapped. His feet are covered with sturdy traveling shoes. He wears halfplate armor, compromising of a breastplate, pauldrons, bracers, and thigh guards made of plate mail.

Biography: Born the bastard of a minor lord in the Storm lands, he wasn't even given a chance at the life of a Lordly house, having been rejected by the father he never knew. So he took his mother's maiden name for his own, Falenhearth. He was very much treated like a bastard growing up, his mother doing her best to provide for him working in the local winery. He was often treated like a stray dog or an unwanted guest by the townsfolk. By age 8, he had felt very much like a burden to his mother, despite her professings of the contrary. Even at such a young age, he felt so very out of place in the small town.

The Seven smiled upon him, for on his ninth birthday he pleaded a local Knight to take him as his page. Geldyr was not even entirely sure of what that entailed, but he needed to go somewhere else. Do something else. The bandits of the region had been growing ever bolder, and the Knight knew it would continue as such. He accepted, and there was a transformation that occurred in young Geldyr when he picked up his first sword in the training yard. It felt natural, and he felt whole for the first time, as if the father who left had always been there in the form of the weapon in his hand.

The next eight years went by quickly. He learned how to saddle a horse and strap on armor, as well as less mundane skills such as archery, swordsmanship, horsemanship, and even the usage of the spear and mace. By age 17 he was Knighted, something he had been told for many years as something that was extremely unlikely to happen for his lack of wealth. But he had been rewarded for his noble deeds in quelling a bandit raid upon an outlying town where his master had been killed. He took up his old friend's sword, and slew his attackers. Two had been felled by his master, but Geldyr slew three, as the other four fled into the woods. He used the resources that was now available to him as a Knight to find the bandits that had escaped, before he traveled eastward and sought to carve a name for himself.

He was to be no mere mercenary. He had seen too many of them to be keen on that line of work, so he instead sought to be a retainer in a notable house, and found his place as a household guard for house Hightower at age 19. The next 11 years would be much akin to the past four. With superb soldiery and fierce dedication, he served his master well and climbed the ranks to be Hightower's chosen sword and Champion should they require a matter to be settle with a trial by combat.

Personality: Determined, skilled, and passionate are the three words that can describe Geldyr. He is introverted, but confident. Geldyr has a compassionate heart, but a strong sense of justice and a streak of ruthlessness should the situation call for it. He's bound by an unspoken honor code and is determined to live by it. A better way to explain it would be, he follows his rational thought that has been transformed by his ideals. It's worked so far. He enjoys learning new things, and he expresses himself through his sword play and actions, rather than his words.

Name: Frados Roxton

Age: 44

Appearance: Frados is very tall, towering over most of his court. He is also very wide, partly because of his military training, mostly because of his affection for meals. His light brown hair, once thick on his head, has begun to recede, leaving a bald patch on the top where most can't see. His expression is often sour and grim, but softens up in the presence of his niece.

Personality and History: Frados was born to Lord Galder Roxton and Lady Lima Roxton in 113 AC. Unfortunately for him, he shared a womb with another, his twin brother Balros. Balros had the gall to have been born only thirty seconds before Frados, and therefore had cheated him out of what they both called their "rightful title".

The early days for both of them were uneasy, for they were both sickly as youths. The new maester at the time, Maester Saruman, had told their parents that neither of them were likely to survive the first year, if the first week. Both, miraculously, overcame the odds and grew to childhood.

The Roxton brothers were already becoming very different people. While Balros' fate was to rule the Ring, and therefore resigned himself to endless hours of learning to make critical decisions, memorize house banners, and listen to people, Frados decided that if he couldn't be the lord of the Ring, he would become a Kingsguard. So he went down every morning to train with the squires and footmen. The one thing they had in common, though, was a love of games. They especially adored games of chance, and took the stakes very seriously.

When they were both 18, Galder was taken by the stranger, and his land and titles passed on to Balros. His wife, grief stricken, soon followed. However, Frados had grown angry with that in the end, and challenged his brother to a duel for the seat. Quickly improvising, Balros proposed instead a coin flip to decide the fate of the Ring. Alas, luck was against Frados this time, and Balros remained Lord of the Ring.

In time, Balros found a match, marrying Jana, a lowborn woman, in 150 AC. Their marriage was fruitful, and soon they had a daughter, Lindsay, in 151. However, the childbirth was difficult, and Jana died of birthing fever soon after. Balros tossed himself out of his highest tower, unable to cope with his wife's passing.

With Lindsay far too young to govern, effective control went to Frados. To this day he rules in the Ring as a regent to his niece. He has attempted to abstain from bets, but the prospect of a good gamble still makes his blood boil.

Name: Lindsay Roxton

Age: 6

Appearance: Little is remarkable about Lindsay. She is a good couple of inches taller than the average child, a mark of her father. Her hair is in light brown locks, almost yellow in the right light, a gift from her mother. She always appears intrigued by something off in the distance, which nobody else except her can see.

Personality and History: Lindsay's life has been rather tumultuous as six year olds' lives go. Soon after her birth, her father killed himself, leaving her to the care of her uncle. He was kind enough to her, but was also always busy with something, and can only spend time with her for a few minutes at a time before he's called away by another knight or servant. She sometimes wonders if had father been alive, he would have been the same.

Her uncle would frequently tell her how lucky she was, being born late and avoiding the Dance of Dragons. It was a terrible war, he said, that split the kingdom into two fanatic sides, neither of which were truly in the right. She didn't really understand all the politics of it, but from what she heard, there were dragons in it, and she liked dragons.

One thing Lindsay inherited from her father was her love of games. She was extraordinarily good at Korzion, and would spend lots of playing it against her uncle and whoever she could goad into playing. Most of the time, they lost. Perhaps that's why whenever she shows up anywhere anymore, board in hand, all the servants clear out of the room. When this happens, and her uncle is passed out in bed, she would just play against herself. It wasn't as fun winning then.

Maester Saruman
Ser Haraway Falhen

Name: Coganon (born Cogon)
Age: 18
House/Affilitation: Lowborn

Appearance: Coganon is quite a sight to people that see him for the first time. He looks like a fool, with a goofy expression and mismatched clothes. A bucket has been upturned and placed on his head (which he calls his "helmet"), a burlap sack billows from his shoulders (his "cloak"), and two wooden boards, connected by two pieces of string, lay on his chest and back (his "plate"). He is often seen riding around on a donkey, which he has named Florian, waving around either a cheap, poorly weighted shortsword or a kitchen knife.

Biography: Cogon lived his life in Flea Bottom. It was where he learned his place in life, how the social class system worked, and how little hope there was for him to become renowned. He grew up in a common household, was taught sensible values based on faith, and generally turned out the same way as everyone else.

Due to his short life of tedium, he often spent his hours dreaming about what the upper class life was like. Gallant knights in shining armor fighting for beautiful ladies clothed in silk. Noble lords commanding vast armies in a clash of glorious steel upon steel. Daily feasts, courtly romances, jousts and melees, these thoughts festered in his mind, growing like a tumor from a tiny niggling thought to totally consuming his mind.

Cogon, being fortunate enough to be a lowborn who learned to read, spent every waking hour looking for books. He would sometimes visit the docks, where merchants were bound to have novels to trade between each other, and beg novels of chivalry or eroticism out of them. These books, with their writings matching with the dreams in his head, perhaps sped along the process of which his sanity slowly unraveled.

Quickly, one night he rushed home in an epiphany born from madness. He quickly changed his name from the boring sounding Cogon into the more fancy Coganon, gathered together what little coin and belongings he had, and saddled up his donkey (who before that day was named Rocin). From his home, he sallied forth, eager to try his hand at being a chivalrous knight straight out of the Age of Heroes.

He, in his delusion, saw his humble home of Flea Bottom as a vast domain, which he has been called upon specifically to represent. He operates out of a tavern, which he sees as a castle, and attempts to interject into situations where he deems an innocent is in danger, often turning out to be a misunderstanding. The tavern keeper and most of the attendees think he's some sort of odd jester, with his mock knight costume and repeating terrible cliched chivalry stories, perhaps making a sort of satire about the differences between the ideal knight and the actual ones. A pity Coganon doesn't seem to understand that.

Name: Keles
Age: 67
House/Affilitation: merchant organizations in Dorne

Appearance: Keles' skin has been thoroughly browned by his years of sailing under the Dornish sun, and now hangs loose on his bones. When he was fifty, he was annoyed by his balding process, and decided to shave his hair all off to avoid having to talk about it. He walks with a long metal pole he uses as a staff, and has a visible limp in his left leg.

Biography: Keles was no lord. He had a merchant father who did well enough, and a mother who worked cleaning the houses of various rich folk (and according to his childhood enemies, whoring herself out to said rich folk). He competed for the attention of his parents with roughly 4 brothers and sisters, but wasn't nearly as good at it as they were (him being born third), so instead he mingled among the burghers and landed a job managing the accounts of one of them at the age of fourteen. Surprisingly, Keles turned out to be very good at handling money, and the burgher's accounts have never been more efficient. Through merit, he began to rise in the favor of his master, taking on more and more responsibilities and ousting all the other ledger handlers out of a job. His pay rose, but not at the rate he wanted, so one day he decided to steal the ledgers and plant false evidence in his master's office. Keles made off with all the banknotes, and the burgher was found guilty of various murders of a rival organization. He likely died in his cell.

From his newfound wealth, he forged documents stating that he would join his master's trading company and administrate in his name. As it turns out, his master held rather little say in the company, which was actually not that large. Keles was forced into sailing long distances to arrange diplomatic relations and trade networks with the Free Cities and other trading ports in the Stormlands. He picked up a love for the sea and sail, and by the age of twenty one, his tongue was more silver than the water on a sunny day. However, this was still not enough to satiate his growing taste for wealth. So he split off from his trading company and attempted to establish his own business at twenty five.

This turned out to be a mistake. Whatever he could cough up for a good advocate, his former partners could double. He ended up with less money than he had when he joined. He was still quite wealthy, but now his lust for gold was near insatiable, and to see it all being taken away drove him to anger. In his hubris, he bought a small trade ship for sailing, and spent whatever he had on assassins to unleash upon his former compatriots. Upon their deaths, their funds were seized by the Myrish.

He, desperate for cash, took up with a sellsail company operating out of the Stormlands. This wasn't a very good idea either. His pay was incredibly low, and he suspected it was because he was Dornish while his captains were often Stormlanders. In his off time, he travelled back to Dorne to do a bit of individual trading on the side, much like his father did. He even collaborated with his father and one of his brothers.

Keles discovered one upside to working with the Stormland mercenaries in Planky Town. As it turns out, saying "I am a mercenary" was very popular among the women. He fell in love with a woman named Molly, who was actually the youngest daughter of a minor lord. They eloped, and by the age of thirty eight, he had four children by her, three daughters and a son.

A little while later, the Dance of Dragons erupted all across Westeros, and Keles was mobilized by his company. It was very lucrative being a mercenary during that time, and even he had a very large wage hike. However, he didn't like the fighting. The hours were long, the soldiers were rude, and twice he narrowly avoided being seared into charcoal by a dragon. When the conflict was over, he quit the company, stating that he hated wars and anyone who waged them. He returned home to find that his father in law had been conquered, his wife killed, and his children exiled. In his grief, he turned to alcohol and whores. One whore he took quite an interest to, because she reminded him of his late wife. He had three more bastard children by her, a daughter and two sons. He later discovered that she was in fact his eldest daughter, and in his shame he tried covering it up by marrying her and forcing her to change her name.

Eventually, his daughter-wife died of an illness, and Keles shed no tears. He went back to his first love, coin administration and mass trading, going into a partnership with his merchant brother. Together, with him on the accounts and his brother on the sails, they once again flourished, amassing more and more investors bearing gold. This income source lasted a long twenty years, and ended when his brother eventually contracted a plague in Slaver's Bay and died there.

Now, he is an old and mostly jaded man. He bought himself a nice plot of land on the Dornish coast, and as many swan ships as his heart desired. However, none of his children grew up very well adjusted. They were all soft, with no will and less ambition. They all pandered to him, each hoping that he would grant them his wealth and plot upon death. He doesn't wish for any of them to have a single copper, but they just had to be his children. On the other hand, a Yunkish trader had offered him a slave-boy as a show of respect, who had grown into a kind, intelligent man. The now-free man served as Keles' personal assistant, and nothing would make Keles happier than granting it all to his last friend. If only he could.