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The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

So who's up next? Should I?

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

@AtomicNut Obviously somebody just read and fell in love with Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night" :D. You're in good company.

Magic RP (Open to new players)

The kobolds quickly catch on to their emperor's plan. With a roar, they swarm Merat's form, climbing up his body like a swarm of ants. They cover him until little of Merat could be seen under, then begin stabbing. Swords, daggers, even a few kitchen knives make gruesome work of the gigantic figure. Limbs grow, and are hacked off again in a matter of seconds. Merat's bellows and trembles throw off little fighters in the dozens, but such is little compared to the rest of the legion, resting quite neatly on shoulders and hanging off of knees as they saw them.

Rughoi knew that the effectiveness of this tactic was not sustainable. He was still losing good soldiers, fast. They had Merat on the ropes now, but soon, he will adapt to the situation again, and everyone would have to start over. He needed to strike now, while the iron is hot. But with what? He needed more hands, more support for this final push up to Merat's heads. "You!" he bellowed, gesturing to the nearest guard. "Fetch your worg and ride for Traeton! Get the auxiliary guard, militia, anyone!" but the soldier didn't seem to hear. It seems, once again, all of it came down to his own personal management. He began climbing at a haphazard rate up to his final goal, the heads. Occasionally, he would slip and lose ground, or suffer a near plummet to his death, but a hand from a loyal soldier would catch him, pull him up with an encouraging chorus, and help him on his way. The end was in sight, but only if he had just a bit more help.

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

I have been waiting for this topic of conversation since the very beginning . . . heh heh heh . . .

*sharpens sword* *polishes symbol of the seven* JAES JAELAGON JAES JAELAGON PURGE THE INFIDEL OLD GODS IN THE NAME OF THE ONE TRUE SEVEN!

Magic RP (Open to new players)

The first line of spears met Merat with a resounding clatter. Immediately, Merat's many limbs went to work, either smashing legionnaires into the ground or snatching them up to drop in one of the abyssal mouths of his many insatiable heads. Rughoi groaned in frustration. Merat's power cannot be unlimited! The second wave quickly followed the first, already in desperate need of reinforcing. The kobold lines hammered tirelessly at Merat's nigh-impenetrable frame. Arrows were as numerous as dust motes, arcing through the air and blanketing the area around the central conflict.

He had to think. Taking the problem head-on was amounting to little, if at all. With each passing second, a valuable member of the army is lost to the gaping maw of the many heads. He noticed how the limbs are now so many that they seem to clash and block each other's way. Then the idea struck him in a fit of desperate inspiration. He looped around the gigantic frame of his enemy to the distracted back legs, now so numerous they weave together like a net. Then, he began climbing. Merat must have noticed the movement at his flank, because suddenly he shook with all the might of his profane form. Rughoi could not hold on, and his claw lost its stamina. He tumbled and hit the ground hard. Already, he was scrambling back to his feet to try again. Kobold vigilance will win the day, one way or another.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

Frados

King Viserys of House Targaryen, the first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, is dead.
His Grace passed peaceably abed with his good wife, Queen Alicent and his first trueborn son at his side. In accordance with the decree of the Great Council of 101AC and the laws of Gods and Men, his crown has passed to Crown Prince Aegon Targaryen, the Second of his name, Rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.
Crowned in the Dragonpit, anointed in the oils of the Seven alongside his good wife Queen Helaena. May their reign be long and peaceful.

Grandmaester Orwyle

These last few nights have been quite busy. Every man he met had a different opinion on the matter. His niece's advice council bickered so frequently now that nothing could get done, at least, within the demesnes of the Ring. Already, the succession crisis has been the subject of many late nights, and everyone going to bed resentful, completely forgetting about the original intent of the council meeting. Frados rubbed his tired eyes, going over the page once, twice, and many more times, as if somehow reading it enough would change the meaning of the text. And yet, it seemed, the more he heard, the less he knew about the whole thing.

"What are you doing?" came a familiar chirping voice. Frados nearly jumped straight out of his chair. His heart pounded, threatening to escape the prison of his chest. He glared at the source of the raucous giggling that started up in the wake of his fright.

"You frightened me, Lindsay," he scolded, getting out of his chair with a soft groan and embracing his niece. "I had thought you were asleep, like I had told you but an hour ago."

"I couldn't sleep. Keles is really bad at Antepiece," she responded. Now that she mentioned it, Frados could recognize the distinct wedge of a board game, located somewhere between him and Lindsay. "Will you play with me? I can't sleep without a good challenge." Without waiting for a response, she set the board down and began arranging the pieces into their respective positions. "Here, you play yellows. They always go first."

"As your regent, I still reserve the authority to banish you to your bedchambers for a period of ten hours," he huffed. "Don't make me do it again." This sent his little niece running. Sighing again, he looked out the window to see the beginnings of a rising moon. Strange, he had promised himself he would deal with all the papers by morning. The advice council meeting should be beginning in less than a pace. He had to hurry.

When he reached the room, he already found it loud and full of conflicting voices. "Order!" he bellowed, the moment he entered. This shut the entire room up for a few precious seconds. "Now, to some truly relevant business, please. Keles, I've told you far too many times now. Don't humor Lady Roxton after the sun sets."

"My lord," said Keles, his voice clouded by his thick Rhoynish accent. "Now is the time for action. Rhaenyra sits in Dragonstone, waiting for her loyal subjects to reclaim her throne. We must throw our support behind her now, while the sentiment is strong."

"The line cannot pass through a woman!" answered Ser Haraway, in his squeaky tone brought by anger. "How can a woman hope to maintain old legitimacy, or bring in new members of the dynasty? One bad marriage and the throne will be held by Baratheons!"

"I've lived a long life now," muttered the gravelly lows signature to Maester Sarren. "And never in my life have I seen a queen on the throne. Whether blessing or curse, Aegon is still deserving of a chance, at the very least. We must maintain good diplomacy with Hightower, for the inevitable conflict with Wythers and Alden Keep." The room quickly devolved into senseless shouting once again.

"Silence! Silence!" shouted Frados, but his voice was drowned out by the collective roaring of the three other men. He tried for a few minutes to impose a semblance of order, but gave up and left them to work out their difference themselves, as usual. Perhaps he'd have better spent his time playing another game of Korzion with Lindsay after all.

Magic RP (Open to new players)

Rughoi slapped the dracon's hand away and growled at him in the most intimidating way a kobold could. Unfortunately, it came off as mostly a hiss, but he's quite sure he make his point. "Don't think our mutual enemy makes us friends," he said, and raised his shield. Already, the cage surrounding Merat was beginning to flicker, and some of the dracons responsible have taken to collapsing where they stand, snouts covered in blood. The slow sound of the kobold army making its inevitable advance brought Rughoi back into sharp focus. He looked back, to see the full force of the imperial legion a few hundred feet back, come to join their emperor in battle.

Merat howled within his tiny domain. The rage inherent in such foul magic bubbled up within him and came out in an explosion. Limbs began growing out of him at an alarming rate, and soon, they began penetrating through the force wall imposed upon him to grab at soldiers and mages all around.

Rughoi shouted his command and raised. The collective roar of the kobold infantry, breaking into a full charge, filled Rughoi's heart with pride. This is his chance to remove Merat forever.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

So is everyone free to make IC posts yet?

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

(Couldn't have been done without @MrDidact and @AtomicNut. Thanks!)

William could see through the flimsy lies of the Stepstone drunkard's guild. Perhaps the Targaryens and Starks are gullible enough to actually accept this surrender joke, but he knew better. When the battle was over, he ran over to catch Visenya's attention.

"Get your twits in line," he growled, shooting a steely glare at one of the pirates. All he saw was a reflection of his own expression. "This isn't a peasant revolt. They won't 'see the light'. I think you'll find that they have been killing their whole lives, and today was just more of the same. Any commander with any brains at all would call for their execution, starting with blondie in the middle. Allow me to demonstrate." He tightened his grip on his sword and chose a near prisoner at random. "You! Best start praying."

Visenya caught Will's arm in a viselike grip before he could do anything and she said calmly, "I understand your concerns. I understand you are angry with these men for taking Arak. But your brother is safe now. And don't worry, I won't trust these cutthroats. But we made a vow. And we shall abide by it. Besides, they are mercenaries. They have no loyalty to anything but coin and their own lives. They are no diehard fanatics. Still all the same, that is why we will have our men watching them, ready to kill at the first sign of betrayal." She glared at one of the Maiden's Men with her steely violet eyes and the man looked away fearfully.

"Aerion will make sure they behave. Now, can I let your arm go or are we going to need to talk further?" Visenya cooly waited for her friend to respond.

"Every man set on watching for the inevitable is less fodder for the enemy bow," William spat. "Look at that one. I'll wager you a dragon he's got two knives in his boots, one for each of us, no matter how much we pay. Know that the less money we have in the reserves of the kingdom, the less we have on public works for the smallfolk to frolick in or whatever it is they do in their nonexistant spare time. That means more rebellion. We can't fight everyone forever. I should know." He chose not to reveal exactly what he knew about peasant rebellions.

Visenya smiled minutely, "Perhaps you are right Will. They may have hidden weapons, I suppose the only thing to do is start checking. " She released his arm and said, "Better get them down to their smallclothes, just to be sure. Shall we begin?" She flashed him a mirthful glance.

Seran eyed both left and right both nobles bickering, himself following at a tired pace. After all, even if it had been for the sake of theatrics, he had accepted to take a beating for the crown's plan, and he ached everywhere. Perhaps that is why his patience waned for the time being, huffing exasperation. "Not to mention that some people don't even need weapons to kill a man, Lord Bolton." He added, his headache making his inflection bitter. "To make sure we should break their bones and cut their tendons aswell." Seran added. "I think it'd be better if we count our blessing. The Stranger, as some say, doesn't accept the coin of mere mortals."

William turned, angrily, to meet the new voice.

"I don't recall you being part of this conversation. Don't interrupt your betters, whitehead. Don't you have elderly captains to attend to?" he said, making a rude gesture with his free hand implying self-pleasure.

Visenya chuckled, "Peace Will. Seran here risked his life to save your brother. It would do you only good to show him some respect, even friendship. And it wouldn't kill you to say thank you either."

"I prefer northmen lords like you, Lord Bolton. You're exceedingly attractive." Seran added, his patience reaching zero thanks to the dull pain, but he forced himself to make a kissy face, even with his bloated face. "That's why I could not help myself..." He added. "Jokes aside, if they cause problem, just give the word. I'll gladly gut them. They'd do the same to me if our roles were reversed." Seran said clenching his teeth "Vows and annointed knights be damned. If it gets us alive out of here, I'll do it."

William said nothing, but the tingle in his hand let him know how tightly now he was gripping the handle of his sword. He mentally added a note to himself to not employ Essosi mercenaries for upwards of five years. Instead of retorting, like he usually would, he sheathed his sword and nodded to Seran. Then, he remembered the seemingly ever-present hand on his arm.

"You can let go of me now," he said, returning to his old self. "Courts across the kingdom might be abuzz of whispers if word gets out that a scion of the illustrious Targaryens can't keep her hands off of some lesser lord from the North."

Visenya scoffed, "I'm a bastard of King Robert, grand-daughter of the Mad King. Leader of a band of warriors. Rumors abound around me already. Now can I trust you two to act as allies should? To shake hands in friendship?"

William chose not to offer his hand. Instead, he gently shoved Visenya's hand off of his shoulder. "If you'll excuse me, I have a relative to scold," he said.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

@MrDidact Well now I can't get that song out of my head. This may torment me for days. I might just have a major Freudian slip and write down the lyrics in my next tax return files. Hey . . .

. . . If I spread the earworm to government, how much do I get back in returns?