Recent History House Targaryen had spent much of Aegon V's reign fighting rebellions - either of Blackfyre in origin or due to his children's stubborness in marriage, as well as a need to intervene in the Westerlands. In his later years, Aegon became obsessed with restoring Targaryen power through dragons. Having spent much of his reign having to appease and compromise with recalcitrant lords, as well as recurring threats from the east, he sought ancient knowledge on dragon breeding. This culminated in tragedy, with fire and death consuming him and many of his family. The survivors and newly crowned King Jaehaerys II have had little time to grieve, for the threat of the Band of Nine would not wait.
184AC - Aegon IV dies after legitimizing his numerous bastards on his deathbed
196AC - First Blackfyre Rebellion
209AC - The Great Spring Sickness, King Aerys I crowned
212AC - Second Blackfyre Rebellion, Golden Company formed by Aegor "Bittersteel" Rivers
219AC - Third Blackfyre Rebellion
230AC - The beginning of a harsh 6 year long winter
233AC - King Maekar dies and a Great Council selects the fourth son, Aegon, becoming King Aegon V
236AC - Year of the Red Spring, Fourth Blackfyre Rebellion
239AC - Lord Lyonel Baratheon's Uprising
251AC - The Rat, The Hawk, and the Pig Rebellion
259AC - The Tragedy at Summerhall, King Jaehaerys II crowned
260AC - War brews across the Narrow Sea with the Band of Nine
Members of the House
King Jaehaerys II
Queen Shaera
Prince Aerys
Princess Rhaella - wife to brother Aerys,
Prince Rhaegar - a child of 1 nameday
Princess Rhaelle - married to Lord Ormund Baratheon
King Aegon V - died in the Tragedy at Summerhall
Queen Betha - died in the Tragedy at Summerhall
Prince Duncan - died in the Tragedy at Summerhall
Jenny of Oldstones - died in the Tragedy at Summerhall (assumed)
Prince Daeron - broke betrothal to Lady Olenna Redwyne, loved Ser Jeremy Norridge, died ending the rebellion of The Rat, the Hawk, and the Pig
Princess Aenara, second daughter of Vaella, broken betrothal to Godric Stark, died in the Tragedy at Summerhall
Essos
The Band of Nine
The Old Mother, a pirate queen
Samarro Saan, known as the Last Valyrian, a notorious pirate from a notorious family of pirates from Lys
Xhobar Qhoqua, the Ebon Prince, an exile prince from the Summer Isles who founded and led a sellsword company in the Disputed Lands
Liomond Lashare, the Lord of Battles, a famed sellsword captain
Spotted Tom, known as the Butcher, from Westeros, captain of a free company in the Disputed Lands
Ser Derrick Fossoway, known as the Bad Apple, an exile from Westeros, a knight with a black reputation
Nine Eyes, captain of the Jolly Fellows
Alequo Adarys, known as the Silvertongue, later called the Tyrant of Tyrosh, a Tyroshi merchant prince, ambitious and wealthy
Maelys I Blackfyre, known as the Monstrous, captain-general of the Golden Company
Description: The Red Priesthood can be found all across every major city in Essos, but with an exceptionally large presence in Volantis. Worshipping the Lord of Light, the faith is much more in line with the traditions of Essos with things like human sacrifices still commonplace, making its tenets somewhat alien to the Westerosi, and in turn having many dub it a demonic cult. Nonetheless its devotees of all classes are some of the most fervent followers of any faith in the world, their sincerity rarely matched by the followers of the Seven.
Recent History: While the followers of the Lord of Light do not have absolute control or recognition as a state religion anywhere, it is undeniable their evangelical efforts have guaranteed them recognition as an important actor within Essos. In Volantis in particular their temple is a gargantuan construct that lets all see its import within the city and the continent.
Recently their spread has become somewhat of a matter of concern. While not outright preaching any kind of sedition, people's devotion to the faith has begun to undermine the other power structures in Essos.
Now, with the rise in import of Lord Maelys Blackfyre, they see an opportunity. If they can convince him of the value of the faith and assure his claim to the throne of Westeros, they would be able to attach themselves to a powerful force to evangelize the West.
Notable Members:
Ronko: The High Priest of Volantis for the Followers of the Lord of Light, his position makes him the closest thing to a centralized authority in the religion. With control of the single largest coffer of the faith and the largest congregation the Priesthoods his decision is very often seen as final in any action of the faith. Any effort of R'hllor's worshippers needs at the very least his indifference to find any success, but ultimately all seek out his aid and favour. If he looks well upon a cause, he may shower it with gold and men to ensure its success. If he sees no fruit to be born of it, he would ensure not a single coin or Red Priest from Volantis comes to it and in turn it would likely wither and fade.
Ronko is somewhat skeptical of the mission to the Band of Nine. While it would be splendorous for the Red Cult to put its favoured man on the throne of Westeros, the plan has many issues. For one, Maelys Blackfyre has not yet been converted, and his disposition to the faith has yet to be seen. Second, the success of the new Blackfyre rebellion as some dub it is very, very dubious. Should it fail, it would simply aid the existing power structures in Westeros in demonizing the religion and hence make supporting Maelys not only a useless, but outright counter-productive proposition. However, the fervour of some of the Priests supporting this have come to interest him. He has permitted the use of some funds and resources of the Volantene Red Priesthood, but he demands that first there be results before he releases much more. Conversion of Maelys and his victory in the Stepstones would be ideal, but for now he at the very least wishes for some assurances from the Blackfyre pretender and his supporters about what might be granted for the glory of R'hllor should they throw their support behind the band of Nine.
Mara: A Westerosi woman that was once enslaved after being captured by pirates, she was liberated by the Volantene Priesthood. Since then, she has been positioned as being one of the vanguards of evangelizing Westeros. Her efforts are to be complementary to that of Koloth, ministering to the smallfolk and nobility alike in Westeros that might work as a fifth column in support of Lord Maelys should he come to worship the Lord of Light, or to simply lay the seed of converting all Westeros more organically if that fails. In particular, she is valued because she diligently kept the old Gods and the new. Having been immersed in both religious cultures she is well aware of how to best evangelize the different people of Westeros according to what they might find best convincing to follow the Lord of Light.
Koloth Age: 39
Appearance: Dark skinned and dark haired, his eyes have a milky green tint that might have been a proper green once, but is now just a symbol of his blindness. His skin has the texture of a a very old leather boot, stretched across a broad and meaty frame that is still ready to take on the duties of the Fiery Hand.
Description & biography: Koloth was born a slave to slave parents. His early life bore nothing of note. Inevitably being broad shouldered as he was he served many years as a galley slave, his back turning into a carapace of whipped scars and his body a lot of cords of muscle to better push ships across the sea. On one unfortunate journey, the ship he was on crashed on the rocks, him being among the few survivors. Nonetheless he was still property, and gladly sold to the Volantene Priesthood of R'hllor.
As the catechism of Koloth began, he took to the faith earnestly. He had quite literally nothing in his life before, and suddenly he had the whole of infinity presented before him in the form of the Lord of Light. He strived with every passing moment to better serve the Lord, and with the death of one of the Fiery Hands he was presented an excellent opportunity.
It was the first moment in his life that Koloth felt pride, when he finally donned that armour and saw a reflection of himself in the point of his spear. Now he was something, now he was not mere property of another man.
Yet as the years passed, his service felt... unfulfilling. Night after night at his post he would stare into flames, his vision seemingly dulling. Until one day, vision was gone outright. But to Koloth, this was not blindness. He had gained sight. He saw a vision of the war upon the Stepstones, and immediately came to High Priest Ronko. Visions weren't an entirely uncommon thing in the Red Priesthood, and so he was not very skeptical of Koloth's words. When the conflict between the Westerosi crown and the Band of Nine began, the affirmation of Koloth's vision gave him great credence. Thus, while somewhat reluctant, the high Priest was willing to spare some resources in the form of faithful souls and coin to support them for Koloth's vision of bringing Maelys on the crown of the Seven Kingdoms with the burning heart behind him.
So the man departs, eager to bring the Blackfyre claimant into the fold and unto the Throne.
Appearance: Just a bit shorter than the average nobleman but still taller than most peasants, Godric has thick red hair that somehow curls itself into messes no matter how much it is combed, a fact that unless trimmed almost to a buzz cut makes him look like a vagabond even in fine clothes. His eyes are a very dark, almost black colour that people have described as either a soulless void or a reflection of the night sky depending on their disposition towards him. He has a somewhat distinctive gait, even when walking slowly his legs have far more movement in the knees and calves as if he is always rushing to be somewhere.
Description & biography: Godric Stark is son of Coeman Stark, son of Brandon Stark, son of Artos. As a baby and as a child, Godric was very large leading to great hopes that he could grow into a warrior to proudly represent the House in any tourney. Alas, as the boy reached puberty he barely grew at all, leaving him if anything somewhat shorter than much of his family if still taller than commoners.
Still, all the whisperings into his ears that he was destined for great things never left him. He didn't need to be a monster of muscle to make a name for himself. He trained, he studied, he dreamed of a great destiny for himself. Whatever plans his family might have for him, he would be ready to fulfill them so long as his efforts were recognized.
With the passing of time, he feared that his labours were for not. He fought great warriors and Knights, he gained the praise of the Maesters, and yet it seemed there was naught for him. But a day dawned that it was suggested he might marry one of the Targaryen Princesses at the edge of their dynasty. He was overyjoyed, and made sure to have a good showing for himself by fighting in a tourney in the capital. Though he didn't win, the honourable position of fourth place among many more experienced Knights was nonetheless impressive. All seemed well and indeed even Aenara herself seemed to be receptive to this. She loved the sonnets he sang for her, and indeed promised her heart to him.
The negotiations for the marriage were coming to a close, when Godric's world was turned upside down. Suddenly everyone in the capital seemed cold, distant in his presence. His brother came forth, demanding if a whole slew of accusations was true. Supposedly Godric had slandered the Targaryens in a drunken rant, it was claimed he had called them inbred madmen unworthy of being royalty. He denied all of this, but none were convinced. So great was the shame was that not only was he recalled to the North, his father gave him a simple ultimatum. He would take vows and head to the Wall, or he would he would be quietly made to disappear. It didn't matter to him, so long as the King was appeased.
He seethed and writhed and cried, but what choice did Godric have? He took his vows, and went North. Briefly, he tried to make the best of the situation. Perhaps he could ascend to leadership of the Watch, perhaps he could become a great hero here to be remembered forever just as Artos for defence of the realm.
But, this wouldn't be. As the reality of this cold exile set in, with each passing day he felt more resentful and betrayed than he already had.
Finally, he decided he had enough. He didn't deserve any of this, and after discussions with a few fellows that had a distaste for their position he chose mutiny.
A woman of average height and of strong Valyrian looks. Her hair falls in tight silver curls to the middle of her back, though more often than not she has it twisted into a large, low bun. Her eyes are the palest of lilac that leans gray, rather than the vibrant purples her distant cousins were known for. There is no denying that her body holds appeal to many, though she does not use this as a weapon even in passive ways. She walks with purpose, not the languid strolls of women raised to please their husband or clients.
Description & biography:
The daughter of Daemon III Blackfyre and his wife, Darra of Lys; she was born barely a year before his death in the fourth Blackfyre Rebellion. Her mother’s claims of her own heritage varied, but in each telling, her mother was Shiera Seastar. Shiera had fled Westeros pursuing Aegor Rivers, Bittersteel, and their fraught union produced a single child that Shiera raised hidden away in Lys. Other times, it was that Brynden Rivers, Bloodraven, was her father and Shiera had again had to flee to raise her daughter in secrecy in Lys. When she was young, the stories were magical and romantic. When she grew older, they were things she wished her mother would just stop speaking of. The veracity of these stories would never be able to be confirmed and only brought danger with each re-telling.
Following news of her father’s death, her mother fled the Golden Company’s remaining camps in Essos before the survivors could return. Mother and daughter took up residence in Pentos instead; though never explicitly in hiding from the remaining Blackfyres, it was also something Maegara learned early on to not disclose. They maintained an easy life in the city, from what Darra said she provided through hidden caches of wealth left for her from her mother and grandmother.
The girl’s time was not idly spent. She would not be raised to be an empty-headed pretty trophy to hang off the arm of some wealthy merchant, her lineage was too proud for that, her bloodline would not be wasted. Darra arranged for education in several of the bastardized-Valyrian dialects and also in the Westeros common-tongue. She learned of the politics of Westeros and the free-cities, but also of Yi Ti and the Summer Isles. Maegara was expected to be well-read and well-informed. Darra had even insisted on basic martial training, though she showed not even mediocre talent for it. In the end, Maegara was a bright child and eager to learn, but not particularly talented in any physical feats.
She had been content enough to stay at her mother’s side in Pentos, though she’d had more than one suitor, each had been politely and delicately turned away. The Blackfyre daughter had little desire to alter the course of her comfortable life.
That changed after her twentieth nameday when on a lark and a bet from companions she went to a seer. It was a decision she would come to regret in many ways. The seer saw her immediately for what she was. The wizened woman’s plea made little sense to her though - a charge to find and reunite the last dragon lords’ swords, the Valyrian blades Blackfyre and Dark Sister. The seer refused to share the details of what would happen in a world where they were lost forever, but as a Blackfyre, the duty could be fulfilled by her if the Targaryen line did not.
Maegara laughed it off to herself for the absurdity it surely was. She ignored it for months, but her dreams turned dark and tormented her night after night. What if it were all true?
She knew that both men her mother had claimed could be her grandfather had taken a sword with them in their banishment or exile. Blackfyre was almost certainly in Essos, though her father had not wielded it. But to search for it there, while her cousins battled for control seemed more than a little unwise. To go to Westeros as a Blackfyre seemed all the more absurd.
Months turned to years before it was luck - or perhaps fate - that had her cross paths with Daegan Velaryon, a young man on his own adventures in Pentos. A deal was struck between the two, and against Darra’s strongest wishes, that when he returned to his homeland, Maegara would accompany him. Ostensibly, in order to see the land where her father had lost his life in the ill-fated invasion.
A Volantese sellsword company of over two thousand warriors of mixed origins known as the Doombringers in Valyrian dialect. The sellswords of this company have been active for approximately fifteen years, expanding their operations from as far as Braavos to the Qarth’s Jade Gates. A vast majority of their time has been spent operating in the Disputed Lands, warring for control under one contractor or another. Their reputation is fearsome, rivaling that of the Second Sons and the Golden Company in terms of martial prowess and contract satisfaction. While most of their strength comes from a hearty doctrine of combined martial traditions, it is rumored that their company employs the use of sorcerers, witches, and alchemists to boost their numbers. This includes their sizable fleet of seven carracks ready to transport at a moment’s notice.
Their leader, the Sword of Shadows, is their figurehead and the reason for their overwhelming infamy, each individual electing to join for a chance to fight with him for one reason or another. A plethora of legends have come to being because of his influence across Essos, but most link back to his company and their overwhelming success. It is primarily due to their captain that the Doombringers hold Volantis as their home, having been invited beyond the Black Walls to places unknown. Similarly, it is also due to their leader that the Doombringers refuse to operate in any part of Westeros.
Waving far above the battlefield on war banners, the symbol of the Doombringers thrashes in the wind. A winged serpent of orange, yellow, and red on a field of black. The sight is enough to strike fear in some, confidence in other, and caution in most. The clank of their armor, the beat of his greaves, and the thump of their shields drives in the bravest mercenary into fits. No matter where they hail from, the Doombringers raises men from animals to knights of their own.
The history of the Doombringers is a small footnote of history in comparison to other greater mercenaries like the Golden Company, Men of Valor or the Second Sons. Being active for approximately fifteen years, the Doombringers have managed to carve out a name for themselves that outlast their meager reputation. Ultimately, however, their history is neither written or told by their members. Everything that is said about them is myth, legends told by sellswords and sellsails. Bards and tavern-gossip are their heralds. Only the Sword of Shadows knows the truth - a truth that he refuses to yield.
In the first two years of their active operation, the Doombringers began their legacy in the Disputed Lands fighting for the Magisters of Lys. Young, prideful, and led by the Sword of Shadows showed their would-be employers exactly who they’d spent good coin on. An unprecedented level of professionalism and discipline curbed ramshackle tribes, unprofessional mercenaries, and veteran levies of the Three Daughters. All eyes were on them in those years as an up-and-coming group that could fight just as well as the most expensive companies. From there on, their connections and contracts were as plentiful as the stars. It was the beginning of their myriad relationships from the tip of Braavos to Jade Gates.
For the next two years, the Doombringers operated out of Volantism, rumored to have crossed the Smoking Sea and coordinated under Astapor and Meereen. Burgeoning with five-hundred warriors, the Doombringers brought their namesake upon the slave-soldiers of the slave masters. The deserts were ravaged by the sellswords and their enigmatic leader, engaging in rampant salvaging and expanding their operations twofold. Their reinforced numbers only further brought them work in the form of intercepting Dothraki Khals; however, the Doombringers would complete their tasks with tactics most foul. Sand traps, alchemy, arbalists, and more were used to comply with their contracts. Their enemies, eager to ruin their reputation, told stories of black magic being used against them. None had thought it possible to push so far into the Dothraki Sea, yet the Doombringers fought impossible odds with impossible tactics.
With a great haul of gold, armor, and warriors fit for a mighty warband, the Doombringers departed Slaver’s Bay greater than they had arrived. Over the next six years, the sellsword company would haunt Volantis as an ethereal phantom that appeared and disappeared at the drop of a hat. Only rumors persisted from this point compared to more extensively detailed events. At one time, they’d appear at Qarth and disappear after claiming a cabal. At another time, they’d emerge from the Smoking Sea with their vessels scarred and near wrecked by the horrors from within. Few can vouch for these stories, their insane ramblings quelled by more rational minds. No matter their presence, their activity dropped significantly from their first four years of operation. Only on the sixth year did the Doombringers return to Essos in full force with over two thousand warriors, their leader departing from behind the Black Walls of Volantis.
For the remainder of their activity, the Doombringers were a plague upon the Disputed Lands. Their contract holder by that point was none other than Maelys the Monstrous, who aimed to carve out a kingdom to claim his birthright through subjugation and war. The Sword of Shadows reportedly refused to become one of the Band of Nine, preferring to simply fight for a righteous cause. So, the Doombringers plundered, selling their wares to Lys and Volantis between weeks of warfare or reinforcing from their own recruitment camps. Although unusual, the Doombringers and Golden Company fought nearly as one, separating only in their widely different tactics and war gear.
The military prowess of a sellsword company varies between the vast number of individuals who choose to sign up for their warband. The Doombringers, however, change this and properly outfit even the lowest member or newest members of their ranks. Black half-plate with surcoats of the winged serpent on black decorate their forms, while each carries a personally forged weapon of choice at their side. By default, the untrained are given a straight sword, a spear, and a reinforced shield of hide and steel to defend themselves. Great helms with wide visors protect their skulls, eschewed of all decoration save for only the barest engravings. Sellsword members are forced to abandon their war gear, the company preferring their own tempered armory to whatever land the recruit comes from.
Their obsession with discipline is a direct tie to the Sword of Shadows, who drills his warriors for several hours every day. His rigid training plan has led to the fighting force that can be seen in the Doombringers of today; however, while many of his main fighting warriors are useful, the Sword of Shadows understands the need for specialists. The most elaborate of his chosen warriors are known as Slayers, those veteran knights that have proved their worth in prowess and tactics. Each wears a full suit of armor with a hefty great sword more akin to a polearm, swapping between a long and short stance as required.
Unlike other warbands who utilize the likes of elephants or Westerosi destriers, the Doombringers have neither the space nor the ability to move such animals in large amounts. Instead, the Sword of Shadows defeats cavalry and defenses with alchemy. A hundred alchemists, stolen from across Essos, serve within the Doombringers with warlocks, witches, and priests attached to their sides. The addition of these impractical sciences has proven themselves time and again in engagements with shock cavalry, their explosives and acids performing what they could in place of pikes or horsed knights. Their addition, however, leaves a sour taste in the mouths of some contractors for they see the forbidden practitioners by their side and frown. Whether or not the addition of the arcane practitioners is a fear tactic, or an actual application of magic is unknown, only that the Sword of Shadows knows. Only their enemies can speak of the truth, yet they lie dead and buried beneath sand and stone.
Not to be forgotten, the many men and women that support the warriors of the Doombringers. Either as liberated slaves, indentured servants, or folk without prowess in combat, the Sword of Shadows always has a place for them in his ever growing warband. From the lowest of statuses to the highborn nobles from across the realm, the sellsword company will use them as either connections afar or as assistance in menial labor when the battles have passed. They are rewarded for their service as all of them are for their help is a boon, but they are not counted in the total number of warriors present for their warband. With their numbers added, their numbers far beyond the likes of a simple sellsword company.
‘Sword of Shadows’
Age: Unknown Appearance: A broad, average sized man with pale skin and silver-black hair pushed back into a lion’s mane. A firm beard graces his strong chin, while mismatched eyes of green and violet peer out from thick eyebrows. His bearing is always stern as if trying to decipher the intentions of another. He often wears half-plate armor of black steel with a surcoat of black-red bearing the sigil of the Doombringers. If removed from his battle attire, the Sword wears fine linen dyed in the colors of his company with well maintained boots and gloves. Always strapped to his back is a Valyrian greatsword of an unknown name and unknown acquisition. A silver dagger further adds to his weaponry, strapped to his right leg for dire emergencies. Volantenes tattoos mark his body as a warrior beyond parallel, each as vibrant as the last and written out in Valyrian.
Biography: Little and less is publicly known about the Sword of Shadows, his enigmatic nature and relative anonymity marking him as a difficult man to discern. His story is written in bard tales, rumor-mongers, and lickspittles with too much time on their hands. What is known is that the Sword of Shadows created the Doombringers fifteen years ago, originally based in Lys. He led a company of Lyseni mercenaries in extravagant attacks across the Disputed Lands, claiming his infamy early and gaining a reputation amongst contract handlers. A strong, young knight of a sellsword company, his contractors relished in the mysterious attitude of the warrior. Such was their taste that his name quickly spread from Lys to Myr to Pentos and finally Volantis. Curiously, the sellsword never took contracts into Westeros.
For two years after the Sword of Shadows was discovered, he accepted any and every contract available to him regardless of the details. He quickly accumulated power, wealth, and remarkable ties with the various powers playing across the Three Daughters and beyond. The size of his band grew rapidly under his leadership, earning him moniker abound as a phantom and reaper of the battlefield. He was said to have defeated a Dothraki Khal in single combat, a group of tiger soldiers in a one-versus-ten fight, and successfully raided a Sothoys corsair’s barge as they sailed. Whatever tells were told, the Sword never attested or denied the fame that came to him. He only ever used it to further his gains for lucrative contracts.
The Doombringers disappeared for a year and a half after a nonstop period of activity as the Sword of Shadows brought his company to Slaver’s Bay. Rumors persist of a time he passed through the Smoking Seal however, only rumors regard the truth of these tales. His reputation preceded him this far out in Essos, the slavemasters willing to pay handsomely for his prowess against their former allies. The Sword of Shadows complied readily, fighting tooth and nail against the slave-soldiers of Yunkai or the Dothraki raiders from the Sea of Grass. His time was plentiful, yet he moved on as quickly as he arrived to seas beyond the reach of normal men.
To Qarth he sailed and spent several months before emerging from the Jade Gates and unto Asshai By The Shadows, where no record of his events transpired. What is known is that he returned from his travels to Qarth, where several warlocks and sorcerers joined his warband before departing. His widespread adventurers finally saw him return to Volantis with a vastly larger mercenary group than he had departed with. Then, astonishingly, he disappeared behind the Black Walls for seventeen days before reappearing with a new contract in hand. The Doombringers leaked from memory as they vanished.
Many thought the Sword of Shadows perished with his sellsword company. Others said he left for Westeros and settled into slow life as a reformed noble. More illusive rumors stated that he stayed in the smoking ruins of Valyria, hunting for monsters and mania. The rumors persisted for a year before they returned to Volantis and left with several ships, a hundred more men, and artifacts abound. When the Doombringers emerged from next, they did not return to Volantis but to Lys to meet with the Magisters. None can say what passed between the Magisters and the Sword; however, what can be said is that the Doombringers soon set sail and remained in the Disputed Lands for the rest of their present history.
The Sword of Shadows is actually Maegar Targaryen, son of Aerion ‘Brightflame’ Targaryen who perished in 232AC. After her husband perished and her rejection at the Grand Council, Daenora Targaryen returned to one of her former husband's holdings in Lys. She raised her son with assistance from First Magister Kasso Bazanne, who expedited the road from which Maegar would eventually carve. Not soon after the boy became three-and-ten, Daenora passed away from a shiver in the night. Only the conclave of magisters was left to raise the son of Aerion, which resulted in a small financial war over possession of the boy. Ultimately, the boy became a man and chose the path of a sellsword, leaving Lys with a wealth of knowledge and a patreon to back him. To this day, the Doombringers send back luxurious gems and trinkets to assure their continued patronage. They have yet to forget the true identity of the Sword of Shadows.
Erich ‘the Black Scythe’ Harlaw
Age: 25
Appearance: A stout warrior with the Iron Islands thick in his veins, bearing a black beard and a half-shaven skull with a flock of black hair. Hazel eyes stare out from thin eyebrows, while scars abound decorated the warrior’s face in crisscross patterns. Black half-plate sits overtop the leather jerkin of the warrior, while a raider’s helmet typical of an Iron Islander protects his thick skull. When unarmored, Erich prefers his jerkin with sailor’s boots and a decorative pin to denote his devotion to the Doombringers. Regardless of his nickname, Erich Harlaw eschews the clumsy use of a two-handed scythe and instead uses a bearded axe with a reinforced shield.
Biography: The third trueborn son of Sigrin Harlaw by his rock wife, Erich Harlow was never meant for much more than an extra to his brothers, Sigfried and Bagrond. He was born a strong lad with a hearty laugh and a booming voice, yet his brothers had been born stronger and heartier. This repeated for the rest of his life on the Iron Islands, always trumped by his elder brothers by large stretches. Never could he boast of his raids on the mainland and never could he remain proud of his battles. His brethren rose above him in even these. His father never faulted him for he was a model raider, a brilliant sailor and a wolf born in human skin. He simply had a different destiny that awaited him.
As the years passed beneath his brothers’ triumphs, Erich learned from his raids and captured slaves he deemed knowledgeable enough to fill the gap between his brothers. A hospitable master, he would learn what he wanted from them and then release them like they were fish caught from the coast. It was from the lips of a woman from Old Town that he learned of the Disputed Lands, the myriad sellsword companies, and the riches found across Essos. This Iron Islander had a dream. He set out with an axe in his hand, his salt-wives in tow, and his salt-brothers in armor out to the Disputed Lands on a longship that he built. Yet, the Disputed Lands would never be for him.
His goals had been to gain riches, fame, and glory to triumph over his brothers once and for all; however, his first fights in the arid wasteland of Essos sold him on the savagery committed there. His first contract fell through, claiming his longship and his salt-wives without a way home. His second contract saw the death of his salt-brothers, leaving him alone in a foreign country without connections or attachments. His final contract, however, was the one that reeled him in. At the last possible moment, before a tiger-soldier stole his skull, he was saved by the Sword of Shadows and his Doombringers. Alone and afraid, he decided to join the Doombringers soon after their contract was complete.
Now, ten years since he was saved by the Sword, Erich serves his captain as the pinnacle of what a Second could be. He learned beneath the Sword, adding already to his impressive knowledge as an Iron Islander, and tore into the battlefield with unorthodox tactics. His experience from travelling the known world with the Doombringers brought insight greater than the power of his brothers combined. Even now, Erich believed that he could triumph over them in all things with what he’s experienced. His destiny was to serve, and he did so willingly to a warrior that surpassed imagination beside him.
Luco ‘the Seventh Sail’ Tendyris
Age: 28
Appearance: A man of smiles with emerald eyes that twinkle in the moonlight, Luco stands as model Braavosi in stunning features and theatrics abound. Brown, shoulder length hair parts away to reveal his fine, shaven face. A thin stubble always decorates his warm smiles, while thin eyebrows always suggest more than a simple transaction. Typical for his culture, Luco wears a sailor-worthy doublet of grey-purple satin with thin trousers and finely decorated boots. Never a man to be caught unawares, Sire Tendyris carries a saber at his side; however, he eschews this when walking amongst his kin in Braavos. He prefers not to fight if he has to, it’d ruin his picturesque smile.
Biography: The young son of a Braavosi Magister, Luco Tendyris was a boy of charm, smiles, and clever wits. Even amongst the spirited folk of Braavos, Luco was considered a charmful person with the curiosity and nimbleness of a cat. He was, however, filled with hubris having known the fact that people viewed him as such. As a lad, he often found himself able to enthrall the clever Braavosi with a quick rasp of his tongue and perfect smile. If Luco had learned the depths of his hubris early, then perhaps his fate would be different.
When Luco came of age and departed his home, he knew with pride that he would become a grand merchant known throughout Essos. With silver abound as a Magister’s son, Luco fled into the seas with a small fleet of men and women willing to earn a fortune. A cunning man, he’d purchase at low, haggled prices and sell within the bay at extreme profit to start his ventures out into the Narrow Sea. With his ventures assured, he used the same tactics and sailed out with crews charmed by his smiles; however, Luco was slippery and greedy, never intending to pay or haggle down below their originally agreed crew fees. Even the ones that guarded his ship weren’t protected from his ploys, intentionally cutting their pay or stranding them deep out into the Narrow Sea. His reputation certain grew, Luco’s name now recognized for the infamous scandals and horrible practices he used.
Fortunately, his fate wasn’t to be skewered and dumped overboard. On a routine offload of cargo at an undesignated port along Essos, Luco had planned to collect his pay and return to Braavosi to increase his fleet; however, those he double-crossed had stalked his shipping lanes and finally caught him in a widesnare. Corsairs from the Stepstones intercepted him while docked with the intent to murder, steal, and use his vessels elsewhere. Who knew what god looked over Luco that day, but the Doombringers had been stalking those very corsairs and launched a counterattack to save Captain Tendyris’ ships. At the end of the conflict, Luco decided to give up his double-crossing standards and make a living elsewhere. The Sword of Shadows gave him that opportunity as a sellsail linked with the sellsword company. Luco, either indebt to his savior or smelling a fortune, happily accepted.
Now, after years spent sailing for the Doombringers, Luco has used the expenses offered to him to purchase a seventh carrack for the sellsword company. His reputation had been salvaged and reformed from a merchant captain to a glorious sellsail admiral. He prided himself on the fleet that he had earned, scrapped together from hasty deals, and haggled contracts. The Sword of Shadows had brought him near limitless funds, a loyal crew, and a strong fleet. At this point, he’d follow the Sword to the ends of the world as he has before.
Raegal ‘the Forsaken’ Varranis
Age: 20
Appearance: A gaunt, yet attractive Dornishman that hides his more comely features beneath a thin hood of midnight. Much like his kinsmen of House Varranis, Raegal prefers satin robes of black embroidered with orange decorations that remind him of Duskspire. Tall and lanky, he never had the natural born proficiency to be a warrior like his brothers. Short, black hair brushes against thick eyebrows nestled above hazel-orange eyes. Never one to embellish his features with ornaments, Raegal wears no jewelry unlike his family but keeps an amulet of the Seven Who Are One close to his chest.
Biography: The stories of the fifth brother of the House of Dusk have already been told before in the tomes of Duskspire; however, his story had not ended with his disappearance from Dorne. As a young adult, scrutinized by his desires and interests, he fled the Duskspire to chart his own journey away from his brothers and his father. He refused to become a maester, his destiny decided by a heavy chain spent in the depths of a tower in service to a foreign lord. Raegal charted a vessel with stolen jewels from his eldest brother to take him to Qarth and eventually beyond where Westeros could not find him. So, he sailed with longing in his heart, spurned even by his beloved brothers who would see him bound to the Citadel’s links. His fate was forever altered as the charter stopped at Volantis to resupply for the journey forward.
Disembarking, Raegal spent their resupply time in a dockside tavern indulging in the wealth of culture, drink, and tomes he had purchased for prices wildly exaggerated. The tavern at that time had been full of mercenaries, each as surprisingly professional as the next, cheering their most recent victory. A man sat across Raegal, a silver-haired man with a lifetime of experience visible on his scarred face. The two engaged in conversation, slow at first to test the boundaries of the other until the two had spent countless hours conversing over everything from theories to facts. This man was the Sword of Shadows, leader of the Doombringers, and soon to be Raegal’s employer as his ship had long left port to finish the journey without him.
Raegal was brought from one end of the known world to next, experiencing everything that he had read in the books Zaphariel had provided. He learned from the various alchemists, warlocks, and sorcerers of practices unknown and sciences unseen. Their knowledge became his and his knowledge became theirs in an equivalent exchange, forever changing the way that the Doombringers operated in their arcane warfare. Most importantly, Raegal felt at peace here in a place and company that he could call home with people he could call brothers and sisters.
For six years, Raegal Varranis serviced the Doombringers as their chief alchemist and lore master of the arcane. He only furthered his intelligence by adding fleeing maesters, roaming alchemists, and hidden practitioners that suffered the same fate as him. To a small group of people, he became known as a savior, as much as the Sword of Shadows had been to him. His soul was bound to the company he loved, forming friendships and bonds that he never would’ve attained as the fifth son of a Dornish House. His soul, however, is stained by the things that he has done and the things that he has seen. The Light of the Seven can never truly forgive him, and he knows this well.
Orrosa’a
Age: Unknown
Appearance: A tall and lithe woman with pale skin, blue lips, long silver hair, and eerie violet eyes that seem to pierce the soul. She wears heavy robes of black fabric with a hood embroidered with strange, swirling designs. Every step that she takes is ethereal in movement as if she was not accustomed to the plane of man. Undiscernable tattoos of dark inks decorated her skin from head to toe, sparsely dying her body in a tinge of light blue.
Biography: It has been known that the Doombringers employ strange arts in their battle formations. Alchemists, warlocks, witches, sorcerers, seers, priests and wyrds are commonplace amongst their number. These people of the uncommon practices, however, were later additions to the vast bulk of the sellsword company. Only one witch has been present from the start, forever at the side of the Sword of Shadows. The witch is known as Orrosa’a. She was there when the Sword of Shadows set sail from Lys, there when he fought in the Disputed Lands, there when he crossed the Smoking Sea, and there when he claimed a cabal of warlocks for his own in Qarth. Her past is mysterious, shrouded under a perpetual coat of darkness to be forgotten and unremembered. Her present, however, can be told as it tells much of her character.
Tutor, guide, companion, priest. The warriors of the Doombringers have known Orrosa’a as all of these beside the Sword of Shadows. When the company is lost in the Essossi wilderness, Orrosa’a already knows the way to their destination. When the company is low on morale and their faith is faltering, the Sword and Orrosa’a bring them to the Light of their respective gods. When the company struggles to comprehend their situation, Orrosa’a is readily available to enlighten their stance where the Sword cannot. She has proven herself as a helpful creature, a warm presence in a cold body, and a calm hand in a company of brash warriors. She has seen to the death rites of their fellow sellswords, weeping for their loss and lamenting their passing. To some, she is likened to the Mother instead of the Crone. To others, she is considered the motherly presence needed in a family as large as the Doombringers.
Her role has not been forgotten. She is a witch, a practitioner of the forgotten magics of the world. From her den, it is said that she leads a cabal of myriad forsaken professions in arcane rituals hidden away from the Doombringers. Only the Sword of Shadows and his closest aides are permitted to watch. Enemy formations months before their arrival, good fortunes from a contract, and other boons granted to them prove her arts are at work. It is unknown if these events are due to her supposed forbidden feats. If there is an answer, then only the Sword of Shadows would know. Due to their secrecy, the sellsword company spreads rumors abound. Perhaps she uses the Sword’s seed for her rituals, or perhaps his blood to dribble into a demon’s jaw. Perhaps they used stolen flesh from Valyria as sacrifice, or perhaps they used an artifact of immense power found in the Smoking Sea. They will never know the answer.
What answers are certainly known amongst their rumors is the closeness in which the Sword of Shadows and Orrosa’a share. More than often if she isn’t spotted with the sellswords or her cabal, she is found by the sellsword captain’s side or hidden within his chambers. The Sword has only ever shown a certain fondness for the sorceress, relenting to the rare moments that they share. Some have said that they shared a wedding in the Smoking Sea, among the Valyrian ruins and produced a dragon-child of his own. Others have said that his retreat into the Black Wall of Volantis was for his eternal servitude bent to Orrosa’a. None of these are correct, but they are fond of one another in a way incomprehensible.
Dagger of Shadows
Age: Unknown
Appearance: A young boy of ten as tall and lean as a broom. His face is soft, untouched by the roughness of a hard life. Long, silver hair nurtured with brush and blade dangle over violet eyes and sad, thin eyebrows. A curious lad, he wears a permanent frown under his inquisitive eyes, watching and observing as if he experienced the world for the first time. He is commonly seen in clothing fit for a noble’s squire with black-red satin or frolicking around in the Sword of Shadows long, black cloak.
Biography: The presence of the illusive Dagger of Shadows, a moniker given by the sellswords, wasn’t originally noticed at the start of their journey. When the sellswords crossed the Smoking Sea to Slaver’s bay, they began to notice the shadow of a male boy no greater than five or six slinking through the warriors. Often, he feared their presence and hid away behind the comforting presence of Orrosa’a. Gradually, the sellswords managed to coax the lad from hiding and join them in feasts and storytelling. Creeping from the darkness, they found a boy curious of the world around him and everything. He listened keenly to stories, swapping from different variations of frowns no matter his supposed mood. When too much time had passed, the Sword would claim him and return him to chambers unknown. The rumors spread like wildfire throughout the Doombringers.
From that point on, the Dagger was seen more and more until he became a common occurrence amongst the sellswords. They’d train him, teach him, and let him listen into the events of their most recent battles. They’d pay him coin to fetch them something. He’d comply as a studious and obedient son to the Doombringers. Some saw profit in a silver-haired child, thinking to steal him away but those few were dealt with swiftly by the bulk of the sellswords. His appearance grew more vivid yet never lost their overall wonder at the world. It came to a point that he even ventured out with them in limited scope, from camp to town outskirt or from ship to dock.
Only after their second return to Volantis, where upon the Sword was allowed entry into the Black Wall, that the Dagger fully emerged from his shell. He was the sole squire and page of the Sword, venturing into smaller skirmishes armed with fitted armor for his size and a surcoat with the Doom bringer’s sigil. The Doombringers couldn’t be happier, watching one of their own grow into an unknown role that was thrusted upon him. From that point onward, the Dagger was always sheathed beside the Sword wherever they went. No matter the danger.
The Dagger of Shadows is the firstborn son of Maegar Targaryen, and the witch known as Orrosa’a. His unobscured name is Aerion Targaryen after his grandsire. While the boy is silent and inquisitive, Maegar has already told the boy about their heritage and their right to the Iron Throne. Maegar has spoken at length about his father, their denial at the Grand Council, and the length at which people would see them dead for merely existing. As life is never promised, and the Stranger hangs over him, he felt it necessary for Aerion to know should something come to pass. When the two are alone, though, they bond as father and son where in public they cannot. Their identities ever hidden by the sellsword company.
House Varranis is a Dornish House located in the central southern region of Dorne along the sulphurous river known as the Brimstone. Proud, wealthy, and powerful, the Varranians have managed to rise from obscurity to an unprecedented level of power due to their location and ties. The men and women of House Varranis are known in appearance for their silky black hair, charming features, and hazel-orange eyes that rival on mysticism. While their features may be charming, they should never be underestimated for beneath their careful guises are martial geniuses and knowledgeable alchemists of fearsome prowess. Their symbol is the downward sword and dusken sun on a split field of orange and black. Their house’s motto is ‘Drown in Dusk’ for their presence beneath the shadows of the Brimstone’s coastline, forever basking them in a dull dusk.
The histores of House Varranis are stooped in legend, forever shrouded by thick tomes with heavy locks on them. Some claim they were Valyrian impoverished nobles that snuck into the Andals, escaping along with them across the Narrow Sea; however, their midnight hued hair deny this. Others claim that they were Summer Islanders having made peace with the First Men, establishing themselves on the mouth of the Brimstone; however, no record of these Summer Islanders exist. What is true is that they existed in the time of the Andals and remained unnoticed for hundreds of years as tenders of the Brimstone.
(3 AC) In the time of Aegon the Conqueror, they were forced into the light as dragon fire reigned down upon the deserts of Dorne. No sooner had they come to witness destruction did they come under the thumb of House Uller. Discounted as desert nymphs and Rhonyish faeries, the Dornishmen hadn’t realized the folly of their superstitions. It was there upon the Brimstone that Uthor Uller, in a desperate attempt to save himself, named them House Varranis and gave them the ruined estate of Duskspire. He grimly pleaded with them to use their magic, but they were simply men and had none. Uthor Uller later perished in the dragonflame that consumed the desert sands, leaving shattered glass in their wake.
Yet House Varranis had earned their keep. They did not have magic, but they were accustomed to the harsh sands of Dorne and the sulfurous rivers of the Brimstone. They had lived, breathed, and adapted the land to their sake. House Uller survived with the assistance of House Varranis, teaching them of the harsher desert lifestyles and the barebone alchemicals necessary to survive living by the river. When the dragonfire passed, the two rose each other up as kin.
(103 AC) For a hundred years, they maintained an amicable relationship based on goodwill and knowledge. The Varranian serfs mined the bristle brimstone, honed the sulphurous rivers, and aided their lives when their Maesters could not. In those hundred years, they were acclaimed and reviled for their secrecy and apparently arcane arts by other houses. Fortunately, House Uller was the shield that defended. In times of joy they made marry and interwed to one-another, promising the future and beyond.
(153 AC) Yet, House Uller was mad. Fifty years later, they grew jealous of the Duskspire and House Varranis’ fortunes at the mouth of the Brimstone. The ruined estate had become a mighty bastion of trade, knowledge, and power that grew with the accumulating wealth of House Uller. They had grown from a small, insignificant tribe to a rival worthy of their attention. House Varranis benefited greatly as they expanded out onto the coast with castles and townships befitting their granted territory. They had grown too much, Joslena Uller had thought with envy on her tongue, remembering the days of which they were nothing.
(178 AC) For the next twenty-five years, House Uller of Hellgate became an oppressive tyrant to House Varranis of Duskspire. Tithes of soldiers, weapons, gold, alchemy, and more were raised beyond their productive capabilities. Once more House Varranis plunged into poverty, their eastward expansion crumbled into obscurity and decline. It was this moment that the foundation for vengeance was established. The Varranians were not to be trifled with power and connection attached to their fingers. A dark chapter began as they learned to become harbingers of the dusken sky.
(187 AC) In the one-hundreth-and-eighty-seventh year since Aegon’s Conquest, Dorne bent the knee to the Targaryen throne and became one with the Iron Throne. Prince Maron knelt in King’s Landing along with all of the respective heads of the most powerful Houses in Dorne. It was this most benevolent day that House Uller suffered a devastating blow as House Varranis seceded from their territory. A series of assassinations and poisonings plagued House Uller, claiming the lives of Boran Uller and Ormond Uller along with their children among countless others unnamed. No direct link drew ire to House Varranis, yet Lord Daemon Uller knew well that it could only be Lord Matheil ‘the Scorpion’ Varranis that could’ve orchestrated such a thing. Upon returning with the Prince of Dorne, the two Houses engaged in open arms; however, Prince Maron intervened for the sake of the peace most recently gained. In the open fields of the Sulphur Flats, hosted by Lord Quinlan Cook of Sulphur Hall, House Varranis became a direct vassal under House Martell. For thirteen days and nights, the four houses celebrated under the gaze of their liege-lord; however, conflict brewed under the surface. It would only be the first of many conflicts.
(196 AC) In the one-hundredth-and-ninety-sixth year since Aegon’s Conquest, House Varranis participated in the First Blackfyre Rebellion alongside their Prince, Maron. On the Redgrass Field, House Varranis hosted two-hundred Duskblades and two-hundred spears with Matheil Varranis and his two brothers, Mortred and Zahariel. Fifty men died in the charge along with Sire Mortred ‘the Black Serpent’ Varranis, but House Varranis received accommodation and honors for their service to the Iron Throne and Sunspear.
All good tales for House Varranis end in tragedy, however, as several women and children were abducted from the Midnight Villa. Enraged, Zahariel ‘Dusk’s Edge’ Varranis led a daring assault on the kidnappers only to be ambushed by spearmen bearing House Uller’s sigil. Zahariel was murdered along with twenty Duskblades of Duskspire. Their remains were later found in the mouth of the Brimstone by fishermen off the coast of Dorne.
Vengeance was demanded, but Matheil refused to involve his liege lord. In the midst of the night with ten men and women of acquired talent, Hellgate Hall was emptied of life through the use of alchemical mixtures and daggers. Their hostages were saved and returned to Duskspire, yet House Uller used the events to leverage the crimes on House Varranis. A challenge was issued and accepted, laying low the cousin of Lord Daemon Uller, Sire Preiss Uller. The crimes of House Varranis were forgiven, but the price was much too high.
(200 AC) After the death of two sons, Matheil Varranis’ father, Zalach Varranis, perished from a broken heart and illness. Matheil Varranis ascended the Dusk Throne and ruled over House Varranis for thirty years. His hold over the aptly renamed Midnight Coast saw a flourish of expansion to the east over the barren hills. Under his guidance, Matheil saw the warhost of the House increase to two-thousand spears, two-hundred Duskblades, and forty knights of low- and highborn birth. Several castles were bolstered, towns grew large, and the amnesty between the Martells and the Varranians grew from plentiful trade. That year, Matheil remarried to Amalia Dayne after the loss of his previous wife in the siege of Hellgate Hall. They were blessed with two sons, Vallor and Zaphon, and three daughters, Miska, Anelia, and Elysa.
(230 AC) In the two-hundredth-and-thirtieth year since Aegon’s Conquest, the realm was in a state of grave recovery as Westeros recovered from the Third Blackfyre Rebellion. House Varranis, however, was in shambles as Matheil Varranis finally passed from his wounds having never fully healed after the Rebellion. He was joined by his son, Zaphon, who passed a year earlier from a broken leg. Vallor, his firstborn son, rose to the Dusk Throne and lorded over his father’s domain during an age of crisis.
A noble man with a strong bearing and an ambitious heart, Vallor Varranis was a warrior and veteran of the last rebellion and had planned for more. Martially focused, he continued Matheil’s efforts of raising an army worthy of attention from their liege-lord. While he was certainly successful, it only drew further rivalry from their Uller neighbors. His success, however, did draw the interest of a Velaryon woman by the name of Raeya during a routine stop along the Midnight Coast. The two quickly fell in love, earning some wrath from House Velaryon; however, the growing power of House Varranis cooled their anger. Their union was greatly blessed as they bore five sons: Zaharion, Zorian, Aldrich, Arthur, and Raegal. For the next twenty years, House Varranis grew greater and stronger with their Velaryon and Martell allies.
(255 AC) In the two-hundredth-and-fifty-fifth year since Aegon’s Conquest, House Varranis suffered a terrible blow as Vallor Varranis and Raeya Velaryon perished in an ambush along the most recently expanded territories of the Midnight Coast. Only recently left reeling by the Red Spring, the last sixteen years saw misfortune for the Varranians in the form of several cousins perishing from tragedies most foul. While their power as a Great House of Dorne had risen sharply, it could not stop the Stranger from looming over the household. Many within the House believed they were abandoned, while others believed that House Uller played a dreadful part in their demise. No matter the opinion, one thing could be certain this year. It was the beginning of a long reign of greatness beneath Vallor’s first son, Zaharion, known throughout Dorne as the Magnificent.
Ascending at the age of twenty-and-five, Zaphariel reigned in House Varranis with a firm and soft grip. His policies were lavish, his spending ludicrous, and his wealth generation tremendous. For the next ten years, Zaharion saw House Varranis grow beyond it’s size as he explored the world on Dornish ships. Trade beyond the shores of Westeros into new trading lanes with Qarth and Astapor saw an influx of exotic goods spread throughout Dorne. Towns began to burst from their original walls along the Midnight Coast, threatening to blossom into a great coastal city not unlike Pentos. The Era of Zaharion was bereft of trouble, save for the extravagances that the Varranian son dined upon; women, weapons, wine, and silk abound. He blessed the dynasty with two children after marrying a Lyseni by the name of Asalia; however, rumors abound ascertained that the House Head had harbored many bastards during his exploits. Curiously, the fear of the past eleven years passed as no further deaths were recorded. A true testament to House Varranis’ new, golden era.
(260AC)The last five years have been a golden era in the eyes of House Varranis while Lord Zaphariel has taken the reins. Their largest haul of exotic goods has brought their military might into unprecedented levels, while their ties have grown far beyond Westeros into Essos’ fertile lands. Because of his efforts, wanderers and nobles from the Three Daughters have become commonplace amongst the Dornish populace in their demesne. Although their complaints have been heard, their liege has ascertained the necessity of this to retain their level of luxury; however, some have seen Lord Varranis walk with the darker elements of Essos. A vapid rumor amongst the dockworkers and lickspittles of House Varranis tells about the House of Dusk interacting with hooded figures from across the sea. These rumors have been silenced at the source, yet these tales continue to persist. None can say if it is House Uller that spreads these lies or if it is simply the work of the peasantry.
House Varranis rules over the southern central area of Dorne where the Brimstone meets the Summer Sea. Ruling from the great towering bastion known as the Duskspire, the Dornish house extends their will across several minor towns and castles that’ve blossomed from their personal expansion or proximity. One of the few ports outside of Sunspear, Duskspire is a monument of preservation and wealth that has brought innumerable benefits not only to the House, but to the Martells. Two-tiered circular walls surround the great fortress with the first wall protecting the port and city, while the second defends the spiraling castle of the Dusk Throne. The ambitious home of House Varranis is often likened to Starfall in its design, yet it pales in comparison due to its dark stones and proximity to the sulphurous river.
Second only to the Duskspire is the Midnight Villa, an estate several miles away from House Varranis’ primary castle bordering on the edge of Uller’s territory along the Brimstone. Built as a home away from home, the Villa was a prideful creation at the height of House Uller’s aggression. To establish their political power and wealth, the Villa rose up as a direct sign of insurrection with high walls around a beautiful manor.
Plentiful mines from nearby villages along the mountainous terrain surrounding the Brimstone feed minerals and precious metals across the Varranian domain. Towns, threatening on becoming a single city not unlike Pentos, dot the Midnight Coast of southern Dorne, stretching out into the Summer Sea with wooden docks and piers. Castles of midnight hue with the banners of House Varranis dot the wasteland spreading from the Brimstone, each garrisoned completely and ready to strike should House Uller press their supposed advantage.
At the dawn of their inception, House Varranis was a weak and timid family built on the protection of House Uller from would-be aggressors. Since that time over two-hundred years ago, House Varranis has grown a strong military that easily dwarfs their neighbors in terms of prowess and numbers. Either due to the circumstances of their upbringing or based on the focus of their leaders, the Varranians continue to grow the numbers of their military to this day.
The composition of their warriors appears simple at first until firmly observed by a cunning eye. Traditionally, Dornish spearmen and archers make up the vast majority of their ranks from levies raised by towns, villages, and castles; however, House Varranis has cultivated special men-at-arms ready to deliver their justice. The infamous Duskblades, warriors in half-plate and hooded helmets, fight valiantly with wicked hand and a half swords forged from dark metals. Their serpentine blades are their modus operati, flasks full of brewed poisons ever ready to be splashed against blade to further reinforce their alchemical prowess. Each is a master of murder, specialized in the brewing and application of toxin-infused dancing. Their prowess, at times, can equal that of knights from mainland Westeros, yet they are extraordinarily difficult to train and require specific teachings from Varranian knights, alchemists, and craftsmen to operate their gear.
Where the men-at-arms of House Varranis have earned their infamy across Dorne, it is their knights that truly shine as beacons of prowess and intelligence. Practised alchemists, rightful scholars, and excellent duelists make up the warriors that lead their levies into battle. Landed warriors, risen by the hands of Varranians past, eagerly fill the ranks of the many knights in service to House Varranis. While many have their own particular way of fighting, they are taught and trained in Duskspire to be Duskblades of their own. A great number of them carry the infamous swords of the Duskblades into combat, but feel the necessity to wear Dornish full-plate when sallying out.
Unfortunately, perhaps due to the Brimstone, House Varranis lacks cavalry and the raw shock-and-awe of their thunderous assaults. The ingenious minds of the House, however, make up for it a thousandfold using alchemists and their arcane arts to fill the gaps. Toxic elixirs, combined from gases of the Brimstone, are often used as combustive throwable weapons by their deft hands. Their aggressive use of these tactics has garnished bitter opinions from the Citadel and Old Town.
Not to be forgotten, the relatively small armada of House Varranis merely adds to the Dornish fleet mustered by the Martells. Unable to acquire a local source of wood, House Varranis imports precious timber at extraordinary prices from the Reach and the Stormlands. It is only due to their remarkable wealth that they’ve managed to hold onto a fleet of twenty galleys and a pair of carracks. A sizable portion for the Duskspire docks, but pales in comparison to any other Westerosi or Essosi fleet.
As of the two-hundredth-and-sixtieth year of Aegon’s Conquest, the military numbers of House Varranis average around four-thousand spearmen-archers, a thousand duskblades, and a hundred knights. Although the numbers have previously been counted by the Maesters attending Duskspire, it is currently unknown how many alchemists exist amongst their number that are and aren’t registered with the Alchemist’s Guild. It is fair to assume that these numbers are specifically hidden by Lord Varranis for some unknown reason. Perhaps a censure is in order from the Citadel?
Zaphariel Varranis - Lord of Duskspire b. 230 (30) Asalia Nahohr - Lyseni wife of Zaphariel b. 236 (24) Aethor - son of Zapharie b. 251 (9) Aelio - son of Zaphariel b. 251 (9) Zorian Varranis - brother of Zaphariel b. 234 (26) Cerenna Hightower - wife of Zorian, b. 236 (24) Lemerra Varranis - daughter of Zorian b. 252 ( 8) Vallor Varranis - son of Zorian 257 (3) Aldrich Varranis - brother of Zaphariel b. 239 (21) Viola Redwyne - wife of Aldrich b. 230 (30) Zaharius Varranis - son of Aldrich b. 259 (1) Arthur Varranis - brother of Zaphariel b. 239 (21) Rylene Fossaway - wife of Arthur b. 240 (20) Matheil - son of Arthur 256 (4) Raegal Varranis - brother of Zaphariel b. 241 (19) Vallor Varranis - father of Zaphariel b. 200 - d. 255 (55) Raeya Velaryon - wife to Vallor Varranis b. 205 - d. 255 (50) Matheil Varranis - grandfather of Zaphariel, b. 170 - d. 230 (60) Arelia Dayne - wife to Matheil, b. 175 - d. 245 (60) Zalach Varranis - great grandfather of Zaphariel, 130 - 200 (70) Myria Uller - wife to Zalach, b. 130 - d. 188 (58)
Zaphariel ‘the Magnificent’ Varranis
Age: 30
Appearance: Enigmatic, beautiful, and powerful are the words that best describe Zaphariel Varranis of Duskpire. A trimmed beard, shoulder-length black hair, and the hazel-orange eyes of House Varranis decorate any already meticulously sculpted face. Jewelry from across Essos decorates the knuckles, fingers, and ears of the opulent Dornishman. In particular, he keeps a total of eight silver claw rings attached to his fingers at most given times. His height only further boosts his ego as a tall man of nimbly muscular proportions. Black satin with decorations of orange make up the vast majority of his attire, yet he is never afraid to dawn the half-plate armor of the duskblades. Always in his possession is the Valyrian curved sword known as Pandjoras, ever sheathed in a decorated scabbard to further enhance his image.
Biography: (230 AC) Born to Vallor Varranis and Raeya Velaryon in the two-hundredth-and-thirtieth year since Aegon’s Conquest, Zaphariel was the first of five that would forever change the lives of House Varranis. A strong, healthy, and curious child was what awaited his parents. From the moment he was born, the very sands of Dorne whispered the name Zaphariel. Raised in a time of prosperity for the House of Dusk, Zaphariel was gifted the luxuries of a privileged upbringing. Nothing was barred from his hands; alchemy, schooling, fighting, sneaking, and gallivanting were his to play with. As a boy, he grew into a model son with limitless charisma and an affectionate smile on his lips. He never faltered in his learnings, never lost interest in schooling, and never wanted to be scolded. Vallor found himself a proud father in the early years of the dusken heir’s life. The birth of his brothers changed his personality forever.
As a growing adolescent, Zaphariel took upon himself the duties of defending and raising his siblings where his father or the maesters could not. While remaining a charismatic boy of limitless potential, Zaphariel became more stoic and serious in his past-times. He turned away from playing in the sands or making believe the fantasies of dragons aflight to the world beyond Westeros and the dealings of the Iron Throne. His father cherished the sight of a dutiful heir, who gorged on literature and experiences like a starving wolf. It was only a prelude to the possibilities of the dusken heir.
As a young adult, Zaphariel had squired under his father and rode out to battle with corsairs and pirates along their trading lanes or intercept House Uller incursions upon their land. He was officially knighted after defeating a pair of Uller knights in battle, their lungs still breathing but their pride shattered by the dusken heir. From there it was a plethora of fresh responsibilities that saw his connections grow like wildfire spread across dry shrubbery. Where his father’s stewards couldn’t attend trading consultations, Zaphariel stood in place and executed the will of House Varranis excellently. Where a head alchemist’s formulae was trumped by stunted logic, Zaphariel could concoct a solution that their intelligence could not see. To some among House Varranis, he was everything that they could wish for in a firstborn heir. To Zaphariel, he only wished to see his brothers grow strong and healthy in a prosperous era for the House of Dusk.
At twenty-and-one, Zaphariel waved his brethren goodbye as he set sail to Essos. A contingency of several knights and duskblades accompanied him on a two-year sail of the Essossi coast to Lys. From there, few accounts can afford the luxury of his extravagant adventures through Essos; however, he was noted to have travelled as far north as Braavos and as far south as Qarth. Tales of an orange-eyed man stated that a lone ship sailed through the Jade Gates, yet more said that a large expedition of Dornishmen vanished into the Dothraki Sea and were never seen again. Accounts differ wildly about the adventures of the dusken heir, but all agree that he did return with an entourage of strange persons and a Lyseni wife by the name of Asalia. The reaction from Lord Vallor was a strong one as Zaphariel was meant for a match with a cousin of Lord Martell. His father was prepared to force the marriage apart, yet the sight of his grandsons eased him enough to forgive the matter. Little Aethor and Aelio were the two greatest treasures the Heir of Dusk brought home, alongside a wealth of many other things. As a gift for his survival, his marriage, and his children, Vallor allowed him the Midnight Villa as his personal home.
For the next four years of the dusk heir's life, Zaphariel changed in ways more subtle than shifting sands. Lord Vallor either never noticed or preferred not to as his firstborn son grew more ambitious and powerful. The strangers that accompanied him were always nearby, teaching him in strange arts and strange languages. The Midnight Villa became a crossbreed of Dornish and Lyseni livery with myriad artifacts from their journeys. His sons were raised just as he was, each a burning image of their father. Zaphariel was always seen with the two, pushing their education and allowing them the experience of his governing capabilities. His aptitude was certainly needed over the years since his return as he watched many members of House Varranis suffer unfortunate demises. He spent these years looking into the incidents himself along with his wealth of connections, while his father continued to govern the domains of the House of Dusk. It was in this year that Zaphariel gained the moniker of ‘the Magnificent’ after a particularly large, opulent feast with all the major lords of Dorne.
On the two-hundredth-and-fifty-fifth year since Aegon’s Conquest, his father Vallor and mother Raeya passed from their mortal coil in an ambush along the Midnight Coast. Enraged from his failure, Zaphariel begrudgingly accepted the role of Lord and rose up to take the Dusk Throne. His brothers grew infinitely closer in the year of their father’s death as his responsibilities increased a thousandfold. It was a cold year for Zaphariel even as he crossed the deserts to ascertain his allegiance to House Martell in Sunspear. He felt the Stranger lurked over his House and knew that only he could fix this issue. For the next five years, Zaphariel invited those from across the Narrow Sea and consulted them on matters unknown. Only the grave tragedy of Summerhall and the rise of the Ninepenny Kings drew away his attention as House Martell called his bannermen to war. Himself and his brothers marched to war at the fore of House Varranis’ might.
Zorian ‘the Dusk Knight’ Varranis
Age: 26
Appearance: Zorian Varranis is a strong, tall man with broad shoulders and impeccable musculature. Where his elder brother, Zaphariel, was the very model of House Varranis and a charming individual, Zorian was a brutal warrior and the very model of a knight. If circumstances had been different, there’d be no doubt that he could be a kingsguard. A flock of short black hair decorates his scalp, while a stony edifice of tanned skin is complimented only by the hazel-orange eyes of House Varranis. Forever a stern look upon his face, Zorian wears a plethora of scars that dance across his features and mix with a full-beard of black. He is rarely seen outside of his family’s special plate, ever a knight in half-plate and orange tabard with a hooded helmet. Outside of his warrior’s garb, Zorian shows himself as an austere individual in Varranian satin simple clothes. Zorian Varranis wields the Valyrian greatsword of House Varranis, Duskbringer, instead of his elder brother; a magnificent long, wavering blade of midnight hue with a serpentine pommel and decorative crossguard. His personal coat-of-arms is a black longsword through a red serpent on a field of checkered black and orange.
Biography: (234 AC) House Varranis delighted at the birth of a second son from Vallor Varranis and Raeya Velaryon on the two-hundredth-and-thirty-fourth year since Aegon’s Conquest. A larger, heavier child that already showed his strength when gripping his father’s thumb. Vallor was pleased to see that he had borne another son that was a warrior in the making. His elder brother was beyond pleased to have a sibling, one that he could protect and play with. The boy was immediately raised up to be a knight, gifted toys to inspire his courage like tiny wooden swords or clay horses with miniature warriors. In the same way that Zaphariel was raised, so too was Zorian as the education of both crossed into one-another. When Zorian was not learning under the maesters, his father, or his brother, he was out in the sands with a wooden sword slashing at invisible things and claiming victory over the sands.
As a young adolescent, Zorian grew strong and bulky as he continued his martial journey into knighthood. Lord Vallor personally saw that Zorian was trained under the greatest of their knights, Sire Michol the Dusk Blade. The two were as inseparable as he was with his elder brother, training from dawn to dusk and stopping only when Michol was summoned by Lord Vallor for a patrol or a skirmish. Never one to be beaten, Zorian would continue to play and learn with Zaphariel. He never missed an opportunity to test his elder brother’s tactical prowess against his own.
As a young man, Zorian witnessed the death of Sire Michol and inherited the moniker of the Dusk Blade, thereby inheriting Duskbringer from his father as a gift of service and knighthood. The second born son would go on to attend tourneys and melees whenever travelling with Vallor; however, he preferred to remain home with his brothers and train in the courtyards of the Duskspire. His upbringing and honor had allowed him the right of becoming House Varranis’ Master at Arms, upholding tradition as the holder of Duskbringer. One of the last things that Vallor and Raeya were able to witness was the wedding between Zorian Varranis and Cerenna Hightower, daughter of Lord Lymond Hightower.
The next year, Vallor and Raeya perished in an ambush set along the Midnight Coast. Zorian was never able to defend them as he celebrated a new life together with Cerenna, their first child being born to them in the confines of the Duskspire. Despite the joy of his firstborn daughter, Zorian was crushed by the overwhelming fact that he couldn’t save his parents. He carried on his duties, however, and travelled with his elder brother, Zaphariel, to Sunspear to swear loyalty alongside the new Lord of Duskspire. When the two returned to their ancestral home, they grieved for thirteen days and thirteen nights with the rest of their brothers.
Over the next five years, Sire Zorian remained a steadfast companion to his elder brother and a tyrant to those that sought the demise of his family. He was their strongest knight, their strongest tactician, and their strongest fanatic. From his military oversight, he has only focused on strengthening the warriors House Varranis owns and doubling the amount of patrols across their territory. As the War of the Ninepenny Kings rose up on the Stepstones, Sire Zorian was one of the hundreds of warriors sent with Maron Martell to fight against a would-be usurper. He left behind his daughter of five, Lemmera, and his son of three, Vallor, named so for his grandsire.
Aldrich ‘the Brimstone Scribe’ Varranis
Age: 21
Appearance: Aldrich Varranis is a gaunt, tall man with a lighter complexion than his brothers. Long, silky black hair trails down either side of his temples, while dark hazel-orange eyes poke out beneath thick eyebrows. He is neither bulky as his elder brother Zorian, nor is he charismatically nimble as his eldest brother Zaphariel. A lanky man, Aldrich prefers to shroud himself in scribes robes of fine satin and hold onto a large tome wherever he travels. A notable feature of his appearance is the lack of a maester’s chain, despite being everything that a maester could be in his appearance. Alas, his brethren had forbid him from journeying to the Citadel; however, this is something he doesn’t mind.
Biography: (239 AC) Born on the two-hundredth-and-thirty-nineth year since Aegon’s Conquest, Aldrich was born as a twin to Arthur in a frail state. While the first two, Zorian and Zaphariel, had been strong and healthy children, Aldrich was a weak and somber child. Vallor and Raeya assumed this would simply pass, using his brothers as a point of reference; however, the frailness of the child never left even as he grew into a young boy. He would skip martial lessons in favor of reading, delving hungrily into literature to escape the harsh reality of the Dornish sands. His two elder brothers never mocked him, instead encouraging him to pursue a different calling than theirs. This, for better or worse, he took to heart and allowed himself the joy of freedom.
As a young adolescent, Aldrich spent much of his time in a plethora of tomes across Duskspire’s grand archive. The maesters were his friends as much as his brothers were. He drank deep of their knowledge and internally raised them up on a pillar of brilliance. From an early age, Aldrich knew that the Citadel would be his one and true desire. When he told his father about his wants, Vallor politely put him down and turned his attention away from the maesters to the alchemists of the House of Dusk. A young boy being rejected would certainly dishearten them, but it never bothered the hungry Aldrich. Where maesters had consumed his early years, alchemists became his next obsession that he delved further into. His time with the alchemists was exactly what the boy required, trumping even his eldest brother in some practices and combining potions of such virulence that it defied traditional logic. The hunger never passed, however, and Aldrich searched for more.
As a young adult, and a thirdborn son nonetheless, Aldrich experienced a level of freedom that he hadn’t yet achieved as a youth. He knew that he would never be a knight and never sought to be such, yet Aldrich craved more and more of the delicious meal known as knowledge. His calling as a maester was denied, yet he was never prohibited from travelling as his eldest brother had done. Unwilling to travel outside of Westeros, Aldrich spent several months across the rest of his adult life with the scholars of the Citadel and the septons of the Starry Sept. He further travelled across Westeros, returning home every so many weeks to feast with his brothers before setting off again. It was only when a match was made for him by Vallor Varranis that he returned to his home at last to serve as the House of Dusk’s chief alchemist. That year, Aldrich Varranis was blessedly married to Viola Redwyne in the grand halls of the Duskspire. Although the bride was happy, Aldrich never had a desire for love but understood his duties well enough. They bore a single child before Vallor and Raeya perished the next year named Zaharius after his eldest brother.
In the year that their parents perished in an ambush, Aldrich returned from his gifted home of Brimtower with his wife and newly born child. Never known as an emotional man, Aldrich wept with his brothers over the loss of their parents for thirteen days and thirteen nights. He dedicated his time over the next five years to the House of Dusk, aiding Zaphariel whenever necessary and conducting new, elaborate potions pushed by his eldest brother’s cabal. With the rise of the Ninepenny Kings, Aldrich remained behind to watch over the demesne in Zaphariel’s absence.
Arthur ‘Midnight’ Varranis
Age: 21
Appearance: A jovial and young knight, Arthur combines the charisma of his eldest brother and the might of his elder brother. Soft facial features rise up to shoulder-length black hair and trail down to a finely trimmed beard of midnight hue. Warm, hazel-orange eyes peer out from thin eyebrows. Unused to proper skirmishes and raids, Arthur is devoid of scars like his elder brothers and retains his youthful appearance in a state of near perpetuity. As a tourney knight, Arthur prefers full-plate with a surcoat of black-ornage and a plumed great helm uncharacteristic for a Dornishman. On the field, he wields a straight sword and a kite shield embellished with his family crest and his personal coat of arms. When removed of his warrior’s garb, he lives comfortably in black-orange nobles attire with decorated boots and fitted gloves with a traveller’s cape.
Biography: (239 AC) Born in the two-hundredth-and-thirty-nineth year since Aegon’s Conquest, Arthur was born as a twin to Aldrich. Unlike his brother, he was a healthy and bright baby that was blessed with hearty laughter. Some considered it ominous that Arthur was healthy, while Aldrich was frail; however, the two would never go on to argue these facts. The young Arthur, as Zorian had once been, was fascinated with knights and chivalry more so than his elder brothers. He would follow his elder brother, Zorian, everywhere around Duskspire and watch him train in the sparring yards. Vallor was more than happy to receive another son worthy of being a warrior.
As a young adolescent, Arthur squired to a knight from outside of the House of Dusk. He served as page to Sire Alester Dayne from Starfall, who trained frequently and longingly with the duskblades of House Varranis. Where Sire Michol taught Zorian of strength and skill, Sire Alester taught the young Arthur of chivalry and sport. The two were fond of each other as teacher and mentor, but it never passed beyond that as a true friendship. After all, Arthur preferred to spend time with his brothers when possible. Nonetheless, he learned much of Alester’s swordsmanship and combined it together with the skills he learned from Zorian, for the two sparred often when available.
As a young adult, Arthur was knighted after winning a local tournament in the Reach and offering the flower wreath of the queen of love and beauty to Rylene Florent. It shouldn’t hold any surprise that the two were quickly wed no sooner had Lord Vallor Varranis and Lord Imry Florent had heard of his victory. Upon returning to Duskspire, the two wed upon the great docks of the House of Dusk.
Not long after their first child was born, a son by name of Matheil, Vallor and Raeya passed in the ambush that claimed their lives. Although not one of the many guards of House Varranis, Arthur felt responsible for their loss just as Zorian had. He joined his brothers in Duskspire to pray for their souls, feasting for thirteen days and thirteen nights in mourning. The next five years passed by in a blur as he worked together with his brothers to raise House Varranis in a way that Vallor would be proud. Arthur would march out with elder brothers to the Stepstones as the Band of Nine dared to attack the Iron Throne.
Raegal ‘the Forsaken’ Varranis
Age: 20
Appearance: A gaunt, yet attractive Dornishman that hides his more comely features beneath a thin hood of midnight. Much like his kinsmen of House Varranis, Raegal prefers satin robes of black embroidered with orange decorations that remind him of Duskspire. Tall and lanky, he never had the natural born proficiency to be a warrior like his brothers. Short, black hair brushes against thick eyebrows nestled above hazel-orange eyes. Never one to embellish his features with ornaments, Raegal wears no jewelry unlike his family but keeps an amulet of the Seven Who Are One close to his chest.
Biography: (240 AC) Born in the two-hundredth-and-fortieth year since Aegon’s Conquest, Raegal was an omen to the family and their final child. He was sickly pale, did not cry, and did not have a strong grip. The maesters comforted the two worried parents, assuring them that it was normal for their fifth child. Raeya had then named him after one of the Targaryen’s past, claiming him as more Velaryon than Dornish. Vallor believed this was a sign of things to come. His suspicions would be proven correct as he steadily grew as an outcast of his brothers. He saw no desire in combat, no desire in study, and no desire in speech. His brothers were not to fault as they tried everything possible to connect with their youngest. Nothing would form between them, no connection that the other four had developed from birth nor the things that they had fancied among them. The only thing that Vallor had noticed would shift the young boy’s mood was the sight of the Brimstone and the things that perished from it.
As an adolescent, his macabre fascination grew beyond what Vallor understood as a vague interest. He became curious of everything from the Seven Who Are One to the plants beneath their feet to the metal that they forged. It wasn’t a scholar’s obsession. It was the beginning of a lunatic’s querying. Lord Varranis tried desperately to turn the boy’s attention away from the morose and to things more beneficial to his upbringing. It only further distanced him away from his last child, pushing what little closeness that they had between them. Vallor began to plan for the eventuality that he saw as his duty.
As a young adult, Vallor would demand that his fifth born son take the chains of an arch maester and journey to the Citadel. Endorsed by the maesters of Duskspire, they had decided on his fourteenth birthday to send him away. His reaction was understandable, sobbing and profusely pushing back at the wishes of his house. When the decision was made, his brothers weren’t accounted for and not there to witness his sorrow. On his knees, Raegal pleaded for one more year to spend with his brothers before becoming a maester. It was the first time that Vallor had witnessed such a strong emotion from the boy, soon to become a man, and he hesitated in his decision. Lord Varranis relented, allowing Raegal one more to bond with his brothers before departing for the Citadel. It was a mistake for both parties.
Before the end of the year, when Vallor and Raeya perished from an ambush, Raegal fled into the night on a charter set for an unknown voyage. Gems had been stolen from Zaphariel’s personal chest and Zorian’s training sword was stolen. None could guess where Raegal had escaped to, but his presence was felt when their parents passed away. The brothers mourned together over the loss of their outcast brother and the loss of their parents. Raegal would never find out until it was too late, far beyond Westeros’ shores.
Appearance: A young man of unassuming height and a rather slender physique, Jayse is at the very least known to be a handsome young man. His hair falls near shoulder-length, largely unkempt except for when he dons his armor to which he ties it into a ponytail. Jayse, while not exuding confidence in his gait, does carry himself rather merrily and a smile is almost always on his face. While not in his armor, he wears rather common rags, greys and browns that bear the sign of many wearings on and off. His armor, however, is maintained and polished - cleaned to now end as a mark of pride in himself and the house he comes from. Over it, he wears a cream tabard with a gray eagle on it and with this donned he ensures that he stands above the rest.
Description & biography:
Born in 241 AC, Jayse Rivers was the bastard son of a minor Mallister lord and a Lysene courtesan who spent one scandalous summer in Seagard before vanishing without a trace. She left behind a baby with dark brown hair, a knack for avoiding responsibility, and an almost supernatural ability to stumble into fortune. Unlike most bastards who burned with ambition or resentment, Jayse never saw much point in dwelling on his station. Life was comfortable enough—he had food, a roof over his head, and just enough noble blood to get invited to feasts but not enough to be expected to do anything useful.
Jayse had an older half-brother, Ser Edric Mallister, a proper knight—dutiful, disciplined, and annoyingly noble. Unfortunately, Edric died in a skirmish with ironborn raiders when Jayse was 17. As the family mourned, Jayse quietly took his brother’s well-crafted armor—not out of ambition, but because no one else claimed it, and plate was expensive. He never intended to impersonate a knight, but life had other plans. The first time he wore Edric’s armor in public, someone mistook him for "Ser Jayse Rivers," and correcting them seemed like too much effort. He never called himself a knight, but if others assumed… well, that wasn’t really his fault, was it?
Jayse spent the next two years bumbling through the Riverlands, trying (and failing) to avoid trouble, yet always landing on his feet.
In 258 AC, he was supposed to deliver a message to a Mallister vassal but got lost and wandered into the wrong keep. When questioned, he panicked and claimed to be a hedge knight looking for service. The lord, impressed by his "humility," gave him a meal, a room, and a bag of silver before Jayse slipped away the next morning.
In 259 AC, he entered a Lannisport tournament on a whim. He had never jousted, and it showed—he fell off his horse before the tilt even began. As he scrambled to get up, his opponent’s horse spooked and threw its rider. The crowd, assuming Jayse had won through unconventional means, cheered. He collected a small purse and spent it all on wine that same night.
Later that year, while traveling to King’s Landing, he got into an argument with a Dornish sellsword. A duel was arranged, but before it could begin, Jayse tripped down a flight of stairs. The sellsword, taking this as an omen from the gods, decided to let him live.
By 260 AC, Jayse had acquired an odd reputation—not for skill, but for sheer inexplicable survival. Wherever he went, things just happened.
Jayse’s luck took a turn for the worse in the village of Greenbrook, where he stopped at an alehouse called The Staggering Stag for a drink. He had no coin left, but he was confident in his ability to charm his way into free ale—unfortunately, he misread the situation. The alehouse belonged to Harwin Grell, a petty knight known more for his temper than his skill. Jayse, thinking Harwin was just another tavern drunk, made a careless joke about the man’s receding hairline. Harwin, well into his cups, took offense and challenged Jayse to a duel at dawn.
Jayse tried to talk his way out of it. When that failed, he tried running. That failed too. By sunrise, he was standing in the muddy village square, armed with a rusty practice sword someone had thrown at him.
The duel began—and immediately ended when Harwin’s foot slipped in the mud. He pitched forward, cracking his head on the ground and knocking himself unconscious. A hush fell over the crowd. Jayse, covered in someone else’s spilled breakfast, awkwardly raised his sword. Someone cheered. Someone else called him "the luckiest bastard alive." That might have been the end of it—except Harwin’s younger brother, Alric, was furious. He demanded satisfaction and called Jayse a cheat. Not wanting to test his luck twice, Jayse made the wise decision to steal a horse and flee the Riverlands entirely.
Jayse arrived in Volantis with little more than a stolen horse, his dead brother’s armor, and a dwindling purse. Within days, he lost most of his silver to a rigged dice game, nearly got press-ganged onto a merchant galley, and somehow became the accidental bodyguard of a Volantene wine trader who mistook him for an actual knight. His true stroke of luck came when he crossed paths with the Sword of Shadows, the enigmatic leader of the Doombringers of Volantis, a sellsword company with a fearsome reputation. Jayse mistook the man for someone else and spent an hour recounting his version of his adventures across Westeros. Whether out of amusement or curiosity, the Sword of Shadows offered him a place among the Doombringers.
And so, by 260 AC, Jayse Rivers—bastard of Seagard, knight by mistake, survivor by sheer accident—found himself a sellsword.
Emnyra is a tall woman, standing around five feet and nine inches. She possesses a broad build, punctuated by hard muscle, whilst also having a noticeable softness to her figure. Those casting a fleeting glance at the Bastard of Claw Isle would likely notice her brawny arms, wide hips and rounded belly.
Emnyra has the pale blonde hair and vibrant purple eyes that are typical of those with old Valyrian blood. The Bastard of Claw Isle has a love for the rich and decadent, regularly garbing herself in ornate jewellery and fine silks.
A cruel smirk often pulls at Emnyra’s full lips. She has a plump face, with a double chin and a noticeable bulge in her nose, from where it healed at an awkward angle after breaking.
Biography:
It is said that black clouds blanketed Claw Isle on the day of Emnyra’s birth. From the moment she came into the world, screaming and covered in blood, the infamous Bastard of Claw Isle would bring darkness and misery wherever she went.
Emnyra was conceived when Vakadlyn Celtigar, the notoriously twisted and deranged second son of House Celtigar, raped his niece, Rhaelythe, during a drunken mania in the aftermath of a Maiden’s Day feast.
Rhaelythe claimed that she was assaulted by one of the Celtigar’s guardsmen, who was gelded and sent to the wall for her uncle’s crimes.
In spite of the horrific circumstances surrounding the birth of Emnyra, Rhaelythe had grown tremendously fond of her baby, and insisted that the bastard child was raised alongside the legitimate Celtigar children. Due to the immense wealth of House Celtigar, even a lowly bastard such as Emnyra was afforded a life of splendour and luxury that most in the Seven Kingdoms would marvel at.
Rhaelythe adored Emnyra, who could do no wrong in her eyes. The rest of House Celtigar were far less enamoured with the disobedient young girl. Her behaviour was erratic, and she was plagued by painful headaches which would make the already quarrelsome girl even more difficult to manage.
When Emnyra was seven, she was found beating a stable boy with a wooden club. When she was confronted, Emnyra claimed that the stable boy had stolen an apple from the bowl of fruit in her room. Rhaelythe Celtigar unquestionably believed her daughter’s story, but others were less convinced.
That was the first of many such incidents.
Mere weeks after assaulting the stable boy, Emnyra set her septa’s hair on fire, in retaliation to a vicious scolding.
As Emnyra grew older and more indulged by her mother, her cruelty blossomed from mean-spirited pranks into pure sadism.
Complaints of an overpowering, putrid stench lead the household guards to the decaying corpse of a Celtigar handmaiden, crudely hidden beneath Emnyra’s bed. Fearing a scandal, the death of the serving girl was publicly attributed to sickness.
The bastard of Claw Isle was eleven years old at the time.
The excuses that Rhaelythe made for her daughter failed to placate the rest of House Celtigar, who were adamant that they could no longer indulge the obviously demented Emnyra.
Ignoring Rhaelythe’s pleas for clemency, House Celtigar arranged for Emnyra to be sent to Old Town, where she would study to become a septa.
Emnyra’s legitimate half-brother, Ulmond Celtigar, was dispatched to escort the Bastard of Claw Isle to Old Town, alongside two men-at-arms. The bodies of Ulmond and the two soldiers were found dead in the beds of a roadside tavern, less than a week after they had departed from Claw Isle.
The Bastard of Claw Isle disappeared for a stretch of years, with no reputable stories of her whereabouts or exploits surfacing. House Celtigar would go on to claim that Emnyra and Ulmond had been killed by roving bandits whilst on their way to Old Town.
When whispers of Emnyra Waters next arose, it was in the form of grotesque stories of an especially vicious woman with silver hair and purple eyes, who had become something of an outlandish spectacle in the Fighting Pits of Meereen.
It appeared that Emnyra had made her way to Essos in the intervening years, amassing a not-trivial amount of fame and fortune as a pit fighter. No sooner had rumours of the Bastard of Claw Isle made their way back to House Celtigar, than Emnyra disappeared into the shadows once more.
Emnyra Waters would next emerge serving as the right hand of the Old Mother, a pirate queen of great infamy and renown. Now in her elder years, the Old Mother did not fight as she once had, instead adopting a more directorial position within her fleet.
At the Old Mother's command, Emnyra is more than eager to smash skulls, flay flesh, and inflict countless other atrocities upon those who displease the pirate queen.
When the Old Mother and the rest of the Band of Nine came together, Emnyra Waters grew giddy with thoughts of returning to Westeros and taking vengeance against the family that had betrayed her.
