Off to visit the little sister. Shall be back by Sun/Monday.
10 yrs ago
Trying to wrap my head around the new tools and bits of the site. Well done, Mahz.
Bio
Née 1991. I feel old already.
Been roleplaying from the age of 15, write on solo projects in my spare time. I heartily encourage interaction when it comes to writing and creative efforts. Like to think I'm an understanding but stern and solid GM when I host games, and a collaborative and creative individual. Used to draw. Write in advanced section.
While I might not be as omni-present a some of you are on RP:G, I have been a part of it since 2009-2010 (if my memory serves me right). However, I must admit that post Guildfall, my activity also dropped. Slowly getting back into things.
I attended university to acquire my master's degree in history. I already had an educational degree for history and English, and am teaching both in secondary school. Any questions? Ask.
11 posts in three days! Great job people. Off to a good start.
PSA: Let's try to include a TL;DR hider section from now on (like I did in the opening post). It'll facilitate keeping track of things. Include any and all information you might think important for other players to know or read at a glance.
Their seat, Storm's End, is an ancient castle raised by the Storm Kings from the now-extinct House Durrandon. The youngest of the Great Houses of Westeros, it was created when Orys Baratheon, one of Aegon I Targaryen's generals, his closest companion, and his rumoured bastard half-brother, took Argella Durrandon, the only daughter of Argilac Durrandon, the last Storm King, to wife. Orys took the sigil and words of House Durrandon for his own and became the first Lord of Storm's End. Members of the family tend to be tall and powerfully built, with black hair and blue eyes, as well as strong, square jawlines. They are known for their mercurial tempers and characters.
Recent History:
After the Dance of the Dragons, a posthumous son was born to Lord Borros who had perished on the Kingsroad. His widow, Elenda (born a Caron), assumed the regency for the infant Royce. She later remarried, to a man twenty years her junior: Ser Steffon Connington. Using her talents and daughters in deft diplomacy (though some of these caused her immeasurable headaches), Elenda made sure that the Stormlands cohered while young Royce grew tall and strong.
Royce proved to be a chip off the old block. As sole son of Lord Borros, he grew up to be rather self-important. Lacking a father figure, Royce was impressionable throughout his youth, and often irritated with trying to emulate and live up to a dead man’s example. His mother’s teachings and his own maturity blunted most of Royce’s conceit later, but in most interactions he remained high-handed and inflexible. By repeatedly clashing with the Dornish, Lord Royce assured himself of the support of his bannermen. His aversion toward his southern neighbours translated into the marital policy of his sons. Ormund married Amarei Dondarrion, while Balon wed a distant cousin of House Caron. Lord Royce perished in 190 AC, just shy of his sixtieth nameday, fighting Dornish raiders in the Red Mountains. He is remembered with equal parts fondness and frustration.
It was Balon who inherited the similarity of Royce’s darker character, being thorny and crabbed. Ormund on the other hand proved to possess an amenable personality, enjoying the company of others and bonding over good food and drink. Like one of his favourite wines, he has aged well. A true gourmand, Ormund enjoys the finer things in life whether it be hunting for game or women. Once married, Ormund’s eye wandered less though not indefinitely.
The new Lord of Storm’s End was wont to travel his lands, calling upon his bannermen at random intervals and often without advance warning. Well-liked and accessible, these visits and tours were also a good way of keeping an eye out for dissent and underhanded dealings. Never far from his side, like an angry shadow, was Balon. Though the two brothers occasionally seemed on bad terms they continued to work in tandem where management of the Stormlands was concerned. A point of contention was how akin Balon’s son appeared to his uncle in looks and nature, and rumours sprouted saying Lyonel was in fact Ormund’s. Proof is lacking, and logic suggests the speculations are mere slander, yet questions niggle in the back of Balon’s head.
The younger generation of Baratheons have been well instructed in what it takes to be a leader in the Stormlands, and indeed the world. Whether it was the Maesters at Storm’s End, Balon and the masters-at-arms in the yard, or Ormund himself – anyone who had cared for the boys’ education had worked hard to inculcate fortitude and focus. If they were to aspire to greatness, whatever that may be to each of them, they would have to fashion themselves into men of iron. Should the Stormlands cohere, then so too the sons of its lords. Balon drove them hard, collectively and separately. Even Argella, as she played in the castle’s stables or sat poise and proper whilst doing needlework, was raised within a world of sweat and steel. Childhood, for any scion of Storm’s End, was a preparation for conflict. Arms and horses, fighting, the exercises of the hunt and hawking; these were the delights of a true Baratheon. The delights and the means of putting them to the test, developing the reflex to give as good as one got. To take what was thrown at you meet blow for blow. Stormlanders were stubborn and demanding, and only by showing prowess as a horseman, hunter and warrior could one hope to win their approbation. Royce and Balon’s sons might rank among the highest born of the land, but without gruelling training and a way to prove oneself, that rank rings hollow.
Lady Amarei Dondarrion, recently dead of a wasting illness.
Royce (31), named for his grandsire, the heir to Storm’s End.
Cyrenna Tarth, died in childbirth.
Gowen and Cyrenna (named for her mother), their young children
Orryn (29), recently returned from Essos. He was called Ornery Orryn in his youth by Royce.
Harlan (23) “Hotspur”, a dandy and real spendthrift, doubling down on the profligate and indulgent example of Lord Ormund. Harlan has a swordsman’s grace and a courtier’s wit, with the arrogance to inflate both. He is at times referred to as Hotspur due to his temper and nimbleness.
Argella (21), the youngest and most doted upon, the apple of Ormund’s eye.
Ser Balon (49), Lord Ormund’s brother, married to a lady of House Caron.
Lyonel (27, born AC 175) the Laughing Storm, a knight of renown so called because he has the habit of laughing loudly at his opponents. Beloved by the smallfolk. Nephew to the Lord Baratheon.
Royce Baratheon
Age: 31 (173 AC)
Description & biography: Built like an ox, Royce is the eldest of Lord Ormund’s sons and stands to inherit Storm’s End. He has lived up to everything required of him, excelling in the yard and at court alike. A golden age loomed, Ormund boasted. That is, until Lady Cyrenna Tarth, died in childbirth. The infant girl was given her mother’s name, as if it might somehow alleviate Royce’s grief. For theirs was that rarest of matches, borne out of political interests but blossoming into true love.
Gone is the happy child grown into a likeable man. Royce has been scoured of warmth, it seems, much to his father’s chagrin. Did life not have so many delights on offer? Over the years, a rift opened between lord and heir, the latter feeling as if the ever-cheerful Ormund did not understand the depths of his son’s loss. The death of Lady Cyrenna laid bare the difficulties of communication between the father and the sons he had sired. The former increased his travels around his domains, whereas the latter sought comfort elsewhere. Balon was ill-equipped to provide it to them, having troubles of his own regarding his son Lyonel who preferred traipsing along with his uncle. Another falling out occurred when Lady Amarei confronted her eldest with his own failings as a father. Cyrenna had blessed him with two children, if only he could see she was with him still, through them. Yet, that was exactly where the torment lay, for young Cyrenna was too much a memory of his late wife for Royce to bear. Besides, how would… could he care for them? Cyrenna Tarth’s death resulted in a rapid deterioration of the harmony at Storm’s End. Rancour festered between relatives who claimed others shirked their responsibility.
His smiles have become rarer than summer snow, and wherever he goes he bears the weight of loss with him. When Orryn suggested he move on, and relinquish his self-assigned blame, and be a father to Cyrenna’s children, to be who he was meant to be, the two brothers quarrelled most viciously. Blood was drawn, and Orryn took his leave while Harlan, young as he was, flung himself into indulgence to bury his head in the sands.
At present, Royce officially resides at Storm’s End but can half of the time be found in the Kingswood or King’s Landing. Joyless unless deep in his cups, Royce is a man prone to violence and intransigence. Ormund, though he does not show any perturbance regarding his heir’s attitude, no longer boasts of a coming golden age for his house.
Especially not since Lord Ormund has become intimately familiar with the grief of losing a beloved wife himself...
Orryn Baratheon
Age: 29 (173 AC)
Description & biography: Orryn is lither than his older brother, athletic instead of brawny. A second son through and through, he loyally followed Royce around, marvelling at how he was always was just that little bit stronger, that little bit quicker. Things came more difficult to Orryn, which put a lot of stress on the boy. His single-minded, tough nature earned him Royce’s esteem as well as ridicule, and the moniker of “Ornery”. Other boys, wards and peers were naturally drawn to Royce’s magnetic presence and the lustre which being the heir to Storm’s End brought him. Orryn lacked those social skills which used to come naturally to his elder sibling, though Orryn is compelling in his own way. There has always been an intensity to the second Baratheon boy… like a clap of thunder or a flash of lightning just waiting to fall. Then again, it is a trait usually shared among the family. The mixed blood of Valyria and the Storm Kings makes for a potent, violent brew.
Restless and pragmatic, Orryn grew up to be unashamedly godless. Respect for religion, or even spirituality, is profoundly lacking despite the septon’s efforts. Orryn believes in what he sees, experiences, and feels to be true. In this vale of tears there is no room for the divine. Beauty is circumstance and chance, to be savoured and enjoyed without giving thanks to some arbitrary cavalcade of deities. There is little Orryn despises as much as a godly man.
Royce (to Orryn's mind) never understood the golden life he had been given, by happenstance, by being firstborn, by his match to Cyrenna, by their children. Orryn faulted him for that lack of gratitude. He faulted him even more for not taking up responsibility, for not stepping up. Was that not what they had been taught? Every challenge was to be met with a straightened back and indomitable resolve. After their vicious argument, Orryn realised neither of his parents would step in to mend the cracks between them. Ormund was too busy touring his estates, testing his bannermen’s hospitality, and Amarei remained preoccupied caring for Argella as well as her grand-children by Royce. Harlan was too young and too self-absorbed to really take a stand. The sense of isolation and helplessness stole upon him. To avoid a calamitous resolution, Orryn chose to leave. He took ship at the Weeping Town and did as many younger sons before him: hire out his skills as a fighting man in Essos. Previously extreme in his view of the world, his time abroad has forged him into a man able to recognise nuance and necessity.
Only recently, Orryn has returned by way of King’s Landing, upon receiving word from Argella of his mother’s worsening condition.
Harlan Baratheon
Age: 23 (179 AC)
Description & biography: Harlan grew up in the shadow of two brothers with strong personalities. While as a child this caused him to be timid, looming adulthood prompted him to develop an outspoken character with a mean streak. In a household and family like the Baratheons, there would be no obvious room for a quiet boy. Wishing to stand out, and claim his own place, has made Harlan wont to flaunt. Like his father Ormund, Harlan can wax boastful and proud.
After all, as a Baratheon he has much to be proud of, and as a Baratheon he lives up to the family expectations. He has yet to put on some extra muscle that is such a family trait, though his lack of physical bulk has made him an agile and swift-footed swordsman. Harlan is quicksilver, both as a fighter and person. Dark moods cloud his judgement at times, as if the changeable climate of the Stormlands has somehow fused with his bones. His temper, combined with the intensity of his lifestyle, has earned him the moniker of Harry Hotspur. Harlan enjoys the nickname and believes it adds to his reputation as a (tourney) knight of renown.
Harlan prefers the company of his friends, younger sons of the Stormlords. They are often found on escapades throughout the Stormlands and have swaggeringly styled themselves the Wild Harts. Revelling in the imagery, the company carry bugles and favour cervine themes and motifs reminiscent of stormy weather. To the older generation these cocksure displays verge on caricature, but the eager youngbloods marshalling around Harlan delight in it. No barrel unemptied, no maiden unspoiled is their unofficial motto.
The youngest of the Baratheon boys has the makings of rising above his youthful pettiness. At least, that is the prevailing opinion among his kin and peers, but it will require a baptism of fire of some sort to truly come into his own.
Summerhall had been built around a fortified castle which had been extensively used by King Daeron in his youth. New wings had spread out from the core, converting the Marcher castle into a palatial residence – which together with the surrounding estates had been the king’s wedding gift at Maekar’s marriage to Lady Dyanna Dayne. Indeed, nestled in the luscious hills north of the Red Mountains, the vine-covered slopes make for an idyllic refuge. From its cypress lined paths and fecund fields went out a declaration. Wishing to celebrate the end of Summer and the end Daeron’s infancy (Maekar and Dyanna’s son), a grand tourney was to be held. A troupe of royalty and half-royalty were to attend, marking Summerhall’s Tourney as the event of the season. Not in the least because with so many opposing factions present there was bound to be drama.
The rules were simple: any knight may enter, provided they adhere to custom that if defeated his mount and suit of armour must be ransomed back from the victor. Fights may continue until either party yielded or was incapacitated. Altercations off the tourney fields were strictly forbidden and would result in heavy fines and disqualification. This was Ser Alyn Horpe’s duty, serving as Maekar’s castellan. The man’s temper had frayed due to the amount of contestants flooding Summerhall’s fields.
The ringing of hammers had been heard for weeks, as carpenters nailed together jousting barriers, raised lofty viewing stands, and erected fences, shacks and stables. Spectator boxes divided the tourney grounds into sections, rank and capital determining which competition one would witness. After the call had gone out, lords great and small had descended upon Summerhall. They brought with them a cavalcade of courtiers, servants, and footloose tagalongs. Errant knights, musicians, merchants, charlatans, artists, and artisans all came to ply their trade and sell their wares, as did whores and thieves and cutpurses. Like flies to dung they were drawn to the assembly of tourney participants and audience.
Prince Maekar’s days were filled patrolling the hubbub and imposing order, leading knights and guards to and fro to dispense rough justice. The first man caught stealing had lost his hand, and been made to travel the tourney grounds with it dangling from his neck. He was soon followed by another, and then another. A man who had raped a serving girl had found himself in a similar situation, though the lifeless appendage had been his scrotum instead. When a mouthy murderer was brought in front of the Prince, the man in utter disregard of death had japed about what limb or piece would be removed for that. Maekar removed his tongue for the insolence and placed a noose around his neck. Prior to hanging the man, he dragged him behind his horse when he next did his rounds, until they reached the roadside gallows. Henceforth, incidents occurred few and far between.
In the meantime, over fourscore pavilions had sprouted from the green fields around Summerhall, like so many colourful blooms. Some were small, others large, and a very few were huge; cathedrals of cloth and canvas. Banners streamed over them in colours even brighter. In other times, the grounds served as a common grazing area but with the arrival of the Realm’s high and low society it had been transformed into bustling city of coloured canvas. Hundreds of merchants and peddlers had set up shop beside the road and the edge of the fields reserved for the highborn, selling furs and fruits, felts and belts, leatherware and pewterware and ironware and earthenware. Wares of every kind and origin. The smell of spices, food and drink tried its hardest to blunt the odorous fumes a mass of humanity produced. The Redwyne delegation with their famed vintages were particularly popular and seemed sure to make a killing.
No less than three lists for the hastilude there were. Two lesser ones for the knights and squires lacking reputation or reference, and the main range reserved for those who had proven themselves through blood or feat. There was also to be a major mêlée at the end, after the days of jousting were concluded. It remained to be seen which knights would enter after the toll of the lists and evening celebrations. In the morning, before the afternoon tilts, marksmen might try their arrows’ luck in the archery contest. The latter had been a hard requirement by Lady Dyanna, a consummate markswoman herself. Given that was how their relationship had first started (by her beating Maekar’s aim), not having it had not been an option. Indeed, the winner of the contest stood to win as much as the ten last standing in the mêlée. One of those rare grins flickered on Prince Maekar’s rugged face as he thought back fondly on how his lady wife had reacted to his suggestion she be the queen of love and beauty. Dyanna, three and twenty, had said with her customary sardonicism she was “an old woman and mother of two. Surely there are young pretty things needing such a title and acclaim.” Remembering, he almost dared chuckle at what might have happened had he commented thus. No, she had declared herself queen of bow and arrow instead.
Scenic description of the tourney grounds, rules and mention of Ser Alyn Horpe as the NPC running the day to day, whilst Maekar severs offensive limbs and tongues.
Their seat, Storm's End, is an ancient castle raised by the Storm Kings from the now-extinct House Durrandon. The youngest of the Great Houses of Westeros, it was created when Orys Baratheon, one of Aegon I Targaryen's generals, his closest companion, and his rumoured bastard half-brother, took Argella Durrandon, the only daughter of Argilac Durrandon, the last Storm King, to wife. Orys took the sigil and words of House Durrandon for his own and became the first Lord of Storm's End. Members of the family tend to be tall and powerfully built, with black hair and blue eyes, as well as strong, square jawlines. They are known for their mercurial tempers and characters.
Recent History:
After the Dance of the Dragons, a posthumous son was born to Lord Borros who had perished on the Kingsroad. His widow, Elenda (born a Caron), assumed the regency for the infant Royce. She later remarried, to a man twenty years her junior: Ser Steffon Connington. Using her talents and daughters in deft diplomacy (though some of these caused her immeasurable headaches), Elenda made sure that the Stormlands cohered while young Royce grew tall and strong.
Royce proved to be a chip off the old block. As sole son of Lord Borros, he grew up to be rather self-important. Lacking a father figure, Royce was impressionable throughout his youth, and often irritated with trying to emulate and live up to a dead man’s example. His mother’s teachings and his own maturity blunted most of Royce’s conceit later, but in most interactions he remained high-handed and inflexible. By repeatedly clashing with the Dornish, Lord Royce assured himself of the support of his bannermen. His aversion toward his southern neighbours translated into the marital policy of his sons. Ormund married Amarei Dondarrion, while Balon wed a distant cousin of House Caron. Lord Royce perished in 190 AC, just shy of his sixtieth nameday, fighting Dornish raiders in the Red Mountains. He is remembered with equal parts fondness and frustration.
It was Balon who inherited the similarity of Royce’s darker character, being thorny and crabbed. Ormund on the other hand proved to possess an amenable personality, enjoying the company of others and bonding over good food and drink. Like one of his favourite wines, he has aged well. A true gourmand, Ormund enjoys the finer things in life whether it be hunting for game or women. Once married, Ormund’s eye wandered less though not indefinitely.
The new Lord of Storm’s End was wont to travel his lands, calling upon his bannermen at random intervals and often without advance warning. Well-liked and accessible, these visits and tours were also a good way of keeping an eye out for dissent and underhanded dealings. Never far from his side, like an angry shadow, was Balon. Though the two brothers occasionally seemed on bad terms they continued to work in tandem where management of the Stormlands was concerned. A point of contention was how akin Balon’s son appeared to his uncle in looks and nature, and rumours sprouted saying Lyonel was in fact Ormund’s. Proof is lacking, and logic suggests the speculations are mere slander, yet questions niggle in the back of Balon’s head.
The younger generation of Baratheons have been well instructed in what it takes to be a leader in the Stormlands, and indeed the world. Whether it was the Maesters at Storm’s End, Balon and the masters-at-arms in the yard, or Ormund himself – anyone who had cared for the boys’ education had worked hard to inculcate fortitude and focus. If they were to aspire to greatness, whatever that may be to each of them, they would have to fashion themselves into men of iron. Should the Stormlands cohere, then so too the sons of its lords. Balon drove them hard, collectively and separately. Even Argella, as she played in the castle’s stables or sat poise and proper whilst doing needlework, was raised within a world of sweat and steel. Childhood, for any scion of Storm’s End, was a preparation for conflict. Arms and horses, fighting, the exercises of the hunt and hawking; these were the delights of a true Baratheon. The delights and the means of putting them to the test, developing the reflex to give as good as one got. To take what was thrown at you meet blow for blow. Stormlanders were stubborn and demanding, and only by showing prowess as a horseman, hunter and warrior could one hope to win their approbation. Royce and Balon’s sons might rank among the highest born of the land, but without gruelling training and a way to prove oneself, that rank rings hollow.
Lady Amarei Dondarrion, recently dead of a wasting illness.
Royce (31), named for his grandsire, the heir to Storm’s End.
Cyrenna Tarth, died in childbirth.
Arlan and Cyrenna (named for her mother), their young children
Orryn (29), recently returned from Essos. He was called Ornery Orryn in his youth by Royce.
Gowen (23) “Hotspur”, a dandy and real spendthrift, doubling down on the profligate and indulgent example of Lord Ormund. Gowen has a swordsman’s grace and a courtier’s wit, with the arrogance to inflate both. He is at times referred to as Hotspur due to his temper and nimbleness.
Argella (21), the youngest and most doted upon, the apple of Ormund’s eye.
Ser Balon (49), Lord Ormund’s brother, married to a lady of House Caron.
Lyonel (27, born AC 175) the Laughing Storm, a knight of renown so called because he has the habit of laughing loudly at his opponents. Beloved by the smallfolk. Nephew to the Lord Baratheon.
Royce Baratheon
Age: 31 (173 AC)
Description & biography: Built like an ox, Royce is the eldest of Lord Ormund’s sons and stands to inherit Storm’s End. He has lived up to everything required of him, excelling in the yard and at court alike. A golden age loomed, Ormund boasted. That is, until Lady Cyrenna Tarth, died in childbirth. The infant girl was given her mother’s name, as if it might somehow alleviate Royce’s grief. For theirs was that rarest of matches, borne out of political interests but blossoming into true love.
Gone is the happy child grown into a likeable man. Royce has been scoured of warmth, it seems, much to his father’s chagrin. Did life not have so many delights on offer? Over the years, a rift opened between lord and heir, the latter feeling as if the ever-cheerful Ormund did not understand the depths of his son’s loss. The death of Lady Cyrenna laid bare the difficulties of communication between the father and the sons he had sired. The former increased his travels around his domains, whereas the latter sought comfort elsewhere. Balon was ill-equipped to provide it to them, having troubles of his own regarding his son Lyonel who preferred traipsing along with his uncle. Another falling out occurred when Lady Amarei confronted her eldest with his own failings as a father. Cyrenna had blessed him with two children, if only he could see she was with him still, through them. Yet, that was exactly where the torment lay, for young Cyrenna was too much a memory of his late wife for Royce to bear. Besides, how would… could he care for them? Cyrenna Tarth’s death resulted in a rapid deterioration of the harmony at Storm’s End. Rancour festered between relatives who claimed others shirked their responsibility.
His smiles have become rarer than summer snow, and wherever he goes he bears the weight of loss with him. When Orryn suggested he move on, and relinquish his self-assigned blame, and be a father to Cyrenna’s children, to be who he was meant to be, the two brothers quarrelled most viciously. Blood was drawn, and Orryn took his leave while Gowen, young as he was, flung himself into indulgence to bury his head in the sands.
At present, Royce officially resides at Storm’s End but can half of the time be found in the Kingswood or King’s Landing. Joyless unless deep in his cups, Royce is a man prone to violence and intransigence. Ormund, though he does not show any perturbance regarding his heir’s attitude, no longer boasts of a coming golden age for his house.
Especially not since Lord Ormund has become intimately familiar with the grief of losing a beloved wife himself...
Orryn Baratheon
Age: 29 (173 AC)
Description & biography: Orryn is lither than his older brother, athletic instead of brawny. A second son through and through, he loyally followed Royce around, marvelling at how he was always was just that little bit stronger, that little bit quicker. Things came more difficult to Orryn, which put a lot of stress on the boy. His single-minded, tough nature earned him Royce’s esteem as well as ridicule, and the moniker of “Ornery”. Other boys, wards and peers were naturally drawn to Royce’s magnetic presence and the lustre which being the heir to Storm’s End brought him. Orryn lacked those social skills which used to come naturally to his elder sibling, though Orryn is compelling in his own way. There has always been an intensity to the second Baratheon boy… like a clap of thunder or a flash of lightning just waiting to fall. Then again, it is a trait usually shared among the family. The mixed blood of Valyria and the Storm Kings makes for a potent, violent brew.
Restless and pragmatic, Orryn grew up to be unashamedly godless. Respect for religion, or even spirituality, is profoundly lacking despite the septon’s efforts. Orryn believes in what he sees, experiences, and feels to be true. In this vale of tears there is no room for the divine. Beauty is circumstance and chance, to be savoured and enjoyed without giving thanks to some arbitrary cavalcade of deities. There is little Orryn despises as much as a godly man.
Royce (to Orryn's mind) never understood the golden life he had been given, by happenstance, by being firstborn, by his match to Cyrenna, by their children. Orryn faulted him for that lack of gratitude. He faulted him even more for not taking up responsibility, for not stepping up. Was that not what they had been taught? Every challenge was to be met with a straightened back and indomitable resolve. After their vicious argument, Orryn realised neither of his parents would step in to mend the cracks between them. Ormund was too busy touring his estates, testing his bannermen’s hospitality, and Amarei remained preoccupied caring for Argella as well as her grand-children by Royce. Gowen was too young and too self-absorbed to really take a stand. The sense of isolation and helplessness stole upon him. To avoid a calamitous resolution, Orryn chose to leave. He took ship at the Weeping Town and did as many younger sons before him: hire out his skills as a fighting man in Essos. Previously extreme in his view of the world, his time abroad has forged him into a man able to recognise nuance and necessity.
Only recently, Orryn has returned by way of King’s Landing, upon receiving word from Argella of his mother’s worsening condition.
Gowen Baratheon
Age: 23 (179 AC)
Description & biography: Gowen grew up in the shadow of two brothers with strong personalities. While as a child this caused him to be timid, looming adulthood prompted him to develop an outspoken character with a mean streak. In a household and family like the Baratheons, there would be no obvious room for a quiet boy. Wishing to stand out, and claim his own place, has made Gowen wont to flaunt. Like his father Ormund, Gowen can wax boastful and proud.
After all, as a Baratheon he has much to be proud of, and as a Baratheon he lives up to the family expectations. He has yet to put on some extra muscle that is such a family trait, though his lack of physical bulk has made him an agile and swift-footed swordsman. Gowen is quicksilver, both as a fighter and person. Dark moods cloud his judgement at times, as if the changeable climate of the Stormlands has somehow fused into his bones.
Gowen prefers the company of his friends, younger sons of the Stormlords. They are often found on escapades throughout the Stormlands and have swaggeringly styled themselves the Wild Harts. Revelling in the imagery, the company carry bugles and favour cervine themes and motifs reminiscent of stormy weather. To the older generation these cocksure displays verge on caricature, but the eager youngbloods marshalling around Gowen delight in it. No barrel unemptied, no maiden unspoiled is their unofficial motto.
The youngest of the Baratheon boys has the makings of rising above his youthful pettiness. At least, that is the prevailing opinion among his kin and peers, but it will require a baptism of fire of some sort to truly come into his own.
There's been a steady flow of entries for sheets, and the IC will kick off soon (I estimate within the week). It's not too late to join before we start stirring up trouble. Then again, people are always welcome to join in at a later date.
The three-headed Targaryen dragon, crimson on sable, quartered.
Targaryen of Summerhall
"Fire and Blood"
House Description and recent history:
While the heir apparent to the Iron Throne was known as the Prince of Dragonstone, a younger son could be titled the Prince of Summerhall. Located in or near the foothills of the Red Mountains, Summerhall is close to the Stormlands' border with the Reach, east of the Cockleswhent and southeast of the Blueburn. The Boneway runs south from Summerhall through the Dornish Marches to Yronwood in Dorne. Originally it was a small castle, but early in Daeron’s reign expansion began to turn it into a splendid summer residence befitting a king.
The King spent much time at Summerhall in his youth, but now resides in King’s Landing. Baelor, as heir apparent, holds the fief of Dragonstone, and Aerys and Rhaegal seldom leave court. And so, Maekar received the palatial castle for his seat and become known as the Prince of Summerhall. Though the prince is not blind to its pleasures and comfort, it is mostly Dyanna’s preference for the site and surrounding area which renders him appreciative of it.
Family Members:
Maekar, fourth son of King Daeron II and Myriah Martell
Dyanna Dayne (23), his wife
Daeron (5) and Aerion (3), their two young children
dead member of importance
Household:
TBA
Ser Alyn Horpe, castellan
Maester Melaquin
A thousand thanks to Vanq for edits.
Maekar Targaryen
Age: 28 (born 174 AC)
Appearance:
Maekar is powerfully built and tall. He has violet eyes. Unlike his eldest brother Baelor, Maekar looks a true Targaryen. However, when exposed to the sun, he tans easily, courtesy of his Dornish mother. Maekar has straight hair which he keeps close cut on the side, and a square beard, both being the colour of silver with a touch of gold.
Description & biography:
Growing up in the shadow of his daring and charismatic brother, Baelor, made Maekar wont to be prickly and impatient. With three elder brothers there was always a comparison going on. Maekar matured feeling as if he did not live up to the standards set by his elder siblings. It was sometimes said that Maekar was “not as bold as Prince Baelor, nor as clever as Prince Aerys nor as gentle as Prince Rhaegel”.
Nursing his wounded pride, the prince grew up to be a harsh man, quick to judge and to condemn. This was after all how the world treated him. He would give as good as he got, and more. Unlike Baelor, he has difficulty with being charming and making friends or allies. Even as a child, the fourth prince was sullen and prone to brooding, seldomly mingling with his peers. Nevertheless, he is not without his qualities. Duty and loyalty he holds in high esteem, and has the mettle and air to be an able commander of men. Those who sang Baelor’s praises as a knight, lord, and heir, often extended the accolades to Maekar for his prowess and bearing. The King and his council learnt that if they wanted something done, they could entrust Maekar with it if they were willing to tolerate some collateral damage. Efficient and hardheaded yes, but refined, Maekar is not.
As if embracing the reputation due to his black moods, Maekar favours dark attire according to the colours of his house. Like other Targaryens, his darkened armour is decorated with dragon elements such as teeth along the shoulders and down his back, and the crest of his helm had dragon teeth as well. His weapon of choice is a spiked mace.
Dour as he is, Maekar had expected little in the way of love in his life. In his youth, carnal passions were summarily and easily dealt with, there being no shortages of those willing to mount a dragon. As such, he never saw it coming when at a tourney he met (and was bested by) Lady Dyanna Dayne during the archery contest. Like her aim, Dyanna's unusual charms found their mark. When later he asked for her favour, she opted to point out her superior skills it only infuriated and intrigued the youngest Targaryen prince further. Enlisting the help of his sweet-talking brother Rhaegal, Maekar started a courtship via raven until affairs progressed far enough to warrant a visit to Starfall. While parchment had provided a conduit for their mutual infatuation, it was a prolonged stay at the Dayne seat which sealed the deal. Indeed, illicitly, the two parties acted upon their longing. They were wed soon after (196 AC) and eventually set up a household at Summerhall, the halls of which promptly echoed with the sound of little stars and dragons.
The three-headed Targaryen dragon, crimson on sable, quartered.
Targaryen of Summerhall
"Fire and Blood"
House Description and recent history:
While the heir apparent to the Iron Throne was known as the Prince of Dragonstone, a younger son could be titled the Prince of Summerhall. Located in or near the foothills of the Red Mountains, Summerhall is close to the Stormlands' border with the Reach, east of the Cockleswhent and southeast of the Blueburn. The Boneway runs south from Summerhall through the Dornish Marches to Yronwood in Dorne. Originally it was a small castle, but early in Daeron’s reign expansion began to turn it into a splendid summer residence befitting a king.
The King spent much time at Summerhall in his youth, but now resides in King’s Landing. Baelor, as heir apparent, holds the fief of Dragonstone, and Aerys and Rhaegal seldom leave court. And so, Maekar received the palatial castle for his seat and become known as the Prince of Summerhall. Though the prince is not blind to its pleasures and comfort, it is mostly Dyanna’s preference for the site and surrounding area which renders him appreciative of it.
Family Members:
Maekar, fourth son of King Daeron II and Myriah Martell
Dyanna Dayne (23), his wife
Daeron (5) and Aerion (3), their two young children
dead member of importance
Household:
TBA
Maester Melaquin
A thousand thanks to Vanq for edits.
Maekar Targaryen
Age: 28 (born 174 AC)
Appearance:
Maekar is powerfully built and tall. He has violet eyes. Unlike his eldest brother Baelor, Maekar looks a true Targaryen. However, when exposed to the sun, he tans easily, courtesy of his Dornish mother. Maekar has straight hair which he keeps close cut on the side, and a square beard, both being the colour of silver with a touch of gold.
Description & biography:
Growing up in the shadow of his daring and charismatic brother, Baelor, made Maekar wont to be prickly and impatient. With three elder brothers there was always a comparison going on. Maekar matured feeling as if he did not live up to the standards set by his elder siblings. It was sometimes said that Maekar was “not as bold as Prince Baelor, nor as clever as Prince Aerys nor as gentle as Prince Rhaegel”.
Nursing his wounded pride, the prince grew up to be a harsh man, quick to judge and to condemn. This was after all how the world treated him. He would give as good as he got, and more. Unlike Baelor, he has difficulty with being charming and making friends or allies. Even as a child, the fourth prince was sullen and prone to brooding, seldomly mingling with his peers. Nevertheless, he is not without his qualities. Duty and loyalty he holds in high esteem, and has the mettle and air to be an able commander of men. Those who sang Baelor’s praises as a knight, lord, and heir, often extended the accolades to Maekar for his prowess and bearing. The King and his council learnt that if they wanted something done, they could entrust Maekar with it if they were willing to tolerate some collateral damage. Efficient and hardheaded yes, but refined, Maekar is not.
As if embracing the reputation due to his black moods, Maekar favours dark attire according to the colours of his house. Like other Targaryens, his darkened armour is decorated with dragon elements such as teeth along the shoulders and down his back, and the crest of his helm had dragon teeth as well. His weapon of choice is a spiked mace.
Dour as he is, Maekar had expected little in the way of love in his life. In his youth, carnal passions were summarily and easily dealt with, there being no shortages of those willing to mount a dragon. As such, he never saw it coming when at a tourney he met (and was bested by) Lady Dyanna Dayne during the archery contest. Like her aim, Dyanna's unusual charms found their mark. When later he asked for her favour, she opted to point out her superior skills it only infuriated and intrigued the youngest Targaryen prince further. Enlisting the help of his sweet-talking brother Rhaegal, Maekar started a courtship via raven until affairs progressed far enough to warrant a visit to Starfall. While parchment had provided a conduit for their mutual infatuation, it was a prolonged stay at the Dayne seat which sealed the deal. Indeed, illicitly, the two parties acted upon their longing. They were wed soon after and eventually set up a household at Summerhall.
Née 1991. I feel old already.
Been roleplaying from the age of 15, write on solo projects in my spare time. I heartily encourage interaction when it comes to writing and creative efforts. Like to think I'm an understanding but stern and solid GM when I host games, and a collaborative and creative individual. Used to draw. Write in advanced section.
While I might not be as omni-present a some of you are on RP:G, I have been a part of it since 2009-2010 (if my memory serves me right). However, I must admit that post Guildfall, my activity also dropped. Slowly getting back into things.
I attended university to acquire my master's degree in history. I already had an educational degree for history and English, and am teaching both in secondary school. Any questions? Ask.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Née 1991. I feel old already.<br><br>Been roleplaying from the age of 15, write on solo projects in my spare time. I heartily encourage interaction when it comes to writing and creative efforts. Like to think I'm an understanding but stern and solid GM when I host games, and a collaborative and creative individual. Used to draw. Write in advanced section.<br><br>While I might not be as omni-present a some of you are on RP:G, I have been a part of it since 2009-2010 (if my memory serves me right). However, I must admit that post Guildfall, my activity also dropped. Slowly getting back into things.<br><br>I attended university to acquire my master's degree in history. I already had an educational degree for history and English, and am teaching both in secondary school. Any questions? Ask.</div>