Psyker Landshark

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Dragan Meszaros

Dragan frowned at the thrall's response, turning away to let Luna do as she would with her. If the poor woman truly had no desires of her own left, then she would continue to serve. As a bewitched minion of a siren, no doubt. But he could not defend the wishes of a thrall that had no such thing. Just as the door opened and Ichor's voice began to be heard, Dragan noted the arrival of yet three more vampires out of the corner of his eye.

The newcomers were, at the very least, somewhat familiar to him. The ambassador, the ice princess, and the cleric of the blood lily. Over the course of his unlife, he'd either met or heard of each of them enough to recognize all three by sight. Each was at least respectable in some way, perhaps moreso than either of the other two vampires he'd been accompanying. By reputation, at least. In practice, things could be entirely different.

Regardless, Dragan nodded towards the newcomers, removing his helm as he turned towards the door.

"Welcome, compatriots. It seems you're just in time to hear what the Goddess wills for us. Shall we?" With little more said, he followed Ilena through the door and onto the balcony, kneeling before the light.

"Command us, Goddess Ichor. We are your swords, to do with as you will."

A Song of Ice and Fire - the Blackfyre Rebellion

House Tarly

House Tarly of Horn Hill

First in Battle

House Description:
An old noble house with blood dating back to the Age of Heroes, House Tarly is blessed by rich lands, deep forests, and a legacy of martial might. For ages, the lords of Horn Hill have stood as a cornerstone of the Reach's military might, able to call up several thousand swords and possessed of several great generals and warriors throughout their lineage. The fertile farmland surrounding their seat of Horn Hill ensures that the house suffers very few shortages of supplies and funds, as the land's fruits find easy sale in the markets of Oldtown, but a hundred leagues away.

Being placed just north of the Dornish Marches, Horn Hill stands as one of the Reach's foremost keeps in defense against the Dornish to the south.

Recent History:
In the years following the ascension of Daeron II to the Iron Throne, many marcher lords of both the Reach and the Stormlands have grown increasingly discontent with the growing influence of the Dornish at court in King's Landing. One of the foremost among these discontent houses is House Tarly, which has grown ever more distant in recent years to the point where its head of house wed a marcher Stormlander lady over furthering an alliance with other Reach families. Affairs between the Tarlys and other Reach houses have been tense as a result, with a possible betrothal of the house heir with another Reach family possibly alleviating matters.

Family Members:

• Lord Talbert Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill (42)
• Lady Cassandra Tarly (nee Selmy) (38)
• Ser Samwyle Tarly, Heir to Horn Hill (21)
• Lady Mina Tarly, first and only daughter of Lord Talbert (16)
• Rand and Victor Tarly, second and third sons of Lord Talbert (13, 6)

---

Lord Talbert Tarly

Lord Talbert Tarly

Age: 42 (Born 160 AC)

Appearance:
Strong and tall, standing at approximately 6'4" with broad shoulders and a muscular build. The lord of Horn Hill is harsh and lean despite his wealth and status, his eyes never fully trusting. His dirty blonde hair and beard are somewhat lengthy, but remain well-groomed when the occasion allows.

Typically wears linens and leathers lined with furs hunted from his own lands. Will occasionally consent to being seen in rich silks for when dealing with high lords and potential visits to the royal court.

Favors a set of full plate in combat, along with a crested greathelm over his head. Wears a surcoat bearing House Tarly's arms and colors over his plate. Wields the Valyrian steel greatsword Heartsbane on foot, but bears lance and morningstar while on horseback.

Description & biography:
Talbert of House Tarly was born into the world fatherless and as the lord of Horn Hill, as his father, elder brother, and uncles had all perished during the conquest and occupation of Dorne. As a result, he was forced to grow up quickly throughout his childhood in order to regain control over his territory and his family's bannermen as quickly as possible. The young lord proved to be a canny fighter and able student as he grew and matured, taking easily to matters of the battlefield and of administrating his lands. By the age of sixteen, Talbert was knighted after proving himself in battle against Dornish mountain raiders, and took up the mantle of lord of Horn Hill in true, along with his ancestral Valyrian steel blade, Heartsbane.

Given that the occupation of Dorne robbed Talbert of his family and his childhood, he grew up with a deep dislike of his southern neighbors, especially as mountain raiders continued to harass the borders of the Marches. In preparation for what he believed to be an inevitable war against Dorne within his lifetime, Talbert sought to strengthen ties among his fellow marcher lords, Reachmen and Stormlanders alike. To this end, he went so far as to take a Stormlander wife of House Selmy. As of the current day, the union has produced four children and has been rather happy, despite being a political match.

Outside of the marches, Talbert has recently managed to arrange a betrothal between his son and heir Samwyle with the youngest daughter of Gorlois Redwyne. Having heard of Aegon IV's bestowment of Blackfyre upon his legitimized bastard Daemon, part of Talbert's curiosity over the upcoming Tournament of Summerhall is to see the man in action. Both he and Samwyle plan to compete, with the rest of their immediate family in attendance as well so that both the Tarlys and Redwynes can evaluate each other before the betrothal is signed.

Ser Samwyle Tarly

Ser Samwyle Tarly

Age: 21 (Born 181 AC)

Appearance:
While not as tall as his father, standing at "only" 6'2", Samwyle's muscles and build are equally as developed as the elder warrior's. His hair is a slightly darker brown, inherited from his mother. Samwyle carries himself with a warm demeanor, attempting to resemble a perfect knight, chivalrous and courteous.

In battle, Samwyle wears the same unadorned plate and Tarly surcoat that knights of his family tend to prefer, with a green-plumed armet atop his head. He bears lance, bastard sword, and shield as his armaments.

Description & biography:
Samwyle Tarly emerged into the world with two firm, yet fair parents, and spent his childhood attempting to live up to their expectations of him. He was educated in and excelled at his studies of administration, politics, and war while squiring for his grandmother's family, the Fossoways. Ser Samwyle was knighted at the age of seventeen after proving himself in helping to drive off a band of outlaws alongside several knights of the Reach.

While Samwyle doesn't share his father's near-obsessive dislike of the Dornish as a whole, he defers to the man's judgement in matters of politics, acknowledging that at the very least, Dorne is given too much preferential treatment by the throne. On the field, Samwyle is just as able a swordsman on foot as his father, who is already one of the greatest knights of the Reach. Some even say that the heir to Horn Hill has already exceeded his father's swordsmanship. However, he isn't quite as able on horseback. While an adept rider, Samwyle is no champion jouster.

ASOIAF - Fire and Blood

New or old, you're welcome either way. Very happy to see people interested.

Seems to be going between the Dance and Blackfyre Rebellion - then it begs the question whether we want dragons to be living still or dead. I'll have a think on it.

@Sini

Thinking on it further, I think I'll shift my vote to the Blackfyre Rebellion specifically. As cool as the Dance is, it's hampered by the fact that Valyrians pretty much shove everyone else to the side since they're pretty much the only ones that can ride dragons.

ASOIAF - Fire and Blood

Expressing interest. Preference-wise, I'm a fan of both the Dance and the Blackfyre Rebellion, so I'd be fine with either.

Pokemon: Ascendancy

Fiona MacConnell

Morning had brought a hangover with it, but that wasn't exactly something Fiona was unfamiliar with. Coffee, breakfast, and aspirin helped her feel like a human being again by the time the message to meet at Hyacinth Tower, which she responded to with a groan.

"Och, ye've gotta be fuckin' me..." Fiona planted her head onto her kitchen table in resignation. She already hadn't exactly been looking forward to doing the opening ceremony hung over, but considering that was how she'd done it two years in a row already, that was to be expected at this point. Her phone pinged again at that moment, and she lifted her head slightly to stare at the news alert that said opening ceremony had been cancelled.

Only an idiot wouldn't have been able to connect the dots. Whatever the Chairman wanted now, it was important enough to cancel the entire ceremony for. That was...almost unheard of, really. Great. Just great. That meant she actually had to attend this meeting instead of skipping out. With another irritated groan, Fiona forced herself out of her seat and started trudging across her house towards the addition she affectionately referred to as the Birdcage.

Functionally, it was a large second building she'd had built attached to her existing house to contain all her Pokemon in. As befitting housing for Flying types, there were multiple exits built into the roof for her Pokemon to fly in and out of as they saw fit, allowing them to go out hunting in the nearby woods for food should they wish it. Fortunately, it seemed that whatever hunting any of her Pokemon did had already been finished by the time she walked in, as her entire lineup was gathered around the massive 4k TV installed on the far wall. It seemed that the League opening cancellation had already made the morning news.

"Gooood morning, motherfuckers!" Fiona shouted out, her assorted Flying-types turning to her with cries and greetings. "Well, looks like ye've all seen th' headlines. Bad news is, I'm gettin' called into th' office. Whatever this shite is, it's probably important. So looks like we're gonna go wit' a full team." She fished out six empty Pokeballs, gesturing towards her main team. "Aye, pile in. Except fer..." Fiona looked her squad over, trying to decide who she wanted as her ride to Wyndon today. Well, she only really had three choices that could bear a human, and one of them wasn't on her primary team. "Raptor got two turns last night, so yer up, Felon."

The Salamence nodded and roared as the remaining five members of Fiona's team were sucked into their balls, lowering his body to allow Fiona to clamber on. "Right, we're off. Rest of ya got free reign about tha house." With that, the remainder of Fiona's menagerie started to separate, some staying to watch more television while others flew off themselves. With a pat of Felon's neck, they were off.

___

At the meeting, once the news broke, Fiona leaned back in her admittedly very comfy seat with a groan. What a goddamn shitshow this was.

"Gonna play Darkrai's advocate here fer a sec, bossman. Yer absolutely sure Ryker got his arse kidnapped? He don't just have a messy apartment an' he stepped out fer a bit? Because, every offense intended to 'em, I'm surprised some of yer assistants're able tae dress themselves in th' morning." She popped open a water bottle and took a few swigs before continuing.

"That bein' said, if th' coppers're sure, what's yer plan? Please tell me it doesn't involve us spinnin' our wheels here, dicks in our hands doin' nothing."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Renar Hagen

A pathetic end to a pathetic foe. As the last bandit before him fell, Renar straightened up, catching his breath as he surveyed the field. Captain Fanilly's orders rang out, and the Bastard of Brias simply nodded to himself before starting to do as he was bid, nonchalantly thrusting the tip of his poleaxe into the chests and throats of already dying men. Some pleaded. Others cried. Not a few soiled themselves before their lives ended.

Renar regarded all of these men dispassionately. Would it be him in their position one day? Perhaps. But that didn't mean he was going to look at these bandits with anything resembling sympathy. What point would there be to feeling such for men who raised swords against him with no remorse? No, there'd be far more corpses in his wake until he achieved his dreams. And likely after, as well. If he mourned them all, he'd go insane.

The cloaked knight trudged past the green boy and the bard without a word. Storm hadn't been slain on his first outing, eh? Perhaps he'd make something of himself yet, though until he did, there was little point in acknowledging him. The ad-hoc interrogation did give Renar an idea or two, however. The next bandit he came across at least faced the end bravely, bitterly chuckling despite bleeding out. Beyond saving, to be certain, but still possessing his wits. Perfect for what Renar intended.

"Took a bit of a bad turn, have we?" Renar squatted down next to the man, planting his poleaxe in the dirt. "Unfortunate wound, that. You'd have half an hour left, at best." He said truthfully.

"Aye, perhaps I do." The dying bandit nodded. "What's it to you, Sir Knight? Taking the time to mock me?"

"Hardly." Renar shook his helm, reaching to his belt to unhook something. "The way I see it, you were sent out here to die. Hell, you've already given your life. So you owe nothing left. Here's my offer:" He proffered a wineskin to the man.

"May as well meet the end with a good drink in your belly. I offer you a sip now, and the entire skin once you tell us as much as you can of your former fellows' defenses."

The bandit stared hard at Renar for a moment before nodding. "The sip first. Then you take me to that squealing girl you call a captain." Renar nodded in return, lifting the wineskin up to the man's lips for a moment before withdrawing it. He'd need help getting the man over. No sense leaving his weapon behind.

"Sir Fionn," Renar called over towards the closest knight that was actually known to him. "Help me drag this one back over towards the Knight-Captain before he bleeds out. It seems he's willing to talk."

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Dragan Meszaros

As his companions bickered over the fate of the thrall, Dragan murmured quietly in prayer. The familiar practice, in life and in death, centered him. Ichor saw fit to reverse his fate after what should have been his true death, and for that, he would be forever grateful. To say nothing of his centuries of service in her name already, of course. As the vampire lord finished his prayer, a sensation bid him to look up.

A red light came from the doorway leading to the cathedral yard's balcony. A sign of the Goddess's favor, perhaps? Dragan stood, placing his helm back onto his head as he looked to Ilena and Luna.

"Enough." His voice rumbled as he gestured up towards the balcony door. "I agree with Ilena. For leal service, we ought to reward the thrall with the fate she wishes for herself. Should she want to continue to serve, we will allow it. Should she desire the peace of the grave, we ought to allow her to make that choice." He stared Luna down unflinchingly. Of course the bloody siren would choose to be obstinate now and disregard a loyal servant's choices for her own wants.

"In the meantime, it seems we are beckoned. Join me if you wish, or continue to debate over the thrall." With his piece said, Dragan leapt up toward the balcony, extending a hand to crack the door open and see what the source of the crimson glow was.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Renar Hagen

If it were anyone else, Renar would have already given a smart comment or two about the foolishness of rushing ahead and then staying dug in, all for one old wretch already bleeding out. Unfortunately, the one who committed to this nonsense was his commander, so he bit his tongue and swung his head up, hearing the rustling of leaves and branches breaking. Up in the trees, then. Someone clearly thought too highly of their own planning, if this was the best the bandits had.

The problem with falling down onto one's foe was that one only had a single vector of attack. In other words, they were predictable. As the bandits began to fall, Renar looked straight up, determining which one was aimed for himself. A particularly large one, clutching some oversized cleaver of a sword. With a casual, almost lazy cadence, Renar simply sidestepped out of the shadow that was quickly descending towards him. The bandit crashed to the ground, his telegraphed strike completely missing, and the hammer head of Renar's poleaxe came swinging for his skull, smashing the man's brains in.

Renar huffed quietly in disgust at how easy the kill was, already twirling his weapon around into a ready stance as two more bandits charged him at once. They weren't in sync, and the one on the left outpaced his compatriot, hoping to score a blow on this knight. He was only clutching a hand axe. Another easy kill. Renar slid into a short serpent guard and simply lunged forward with the spear point of his weapon, completely outranging the bandit and plunging the tip into his belly.

The bandit on the left fell and Renar yanked his poleaxe out, leaving him to writhe on the ground as he screamed in agony from his belly wound. Even as the knight turned to face the one on the right, he already knew that the bandit was getting closer than was optimal, and he didn't quite have the time to shift his grip for another attack. That was fine.

Instead, Renar caught the bandit's blade at an angle with the haft of his poleaxe and twisted, yanking the crude sword out of the man's grip. Before the bandit could recover, the knight jammed the spiked butt end of his weapon into his foe's throat.

With the immediate threat to his life taken care of, Renar took a moment to raise a sabaton and stomp down onto the windpipe of the bandit that had already been dying of a belly wound, granting him the mercy of a quicker death. His cloak whirled around him as he turned, facing yet more bandits.

"Elegance?" Renar scoffed in response to Serenity as he swung for a brigand's legs, hooking his ankle with the axe head and tripping him, which sent him crashing to the dirt before the spear tip plunged into his chest. "We're in the midst of battle, not a tea party. Though at this rate, the latter would be more exciting than this fodder."

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Dragan Meszaros

They'd managed to retreat in good order, and now found themselves on far safer ground. He'd been here before, of course. Centuries ago, back when he'd first explored the world as a fledgling vampire. And now he returned once again, no more powerful than he was when it all began. Full circle. At least he could begin to remedy that in part now. Dragan took a single vial of blood, and with very great reluctance, only a single vial. It wouldn't do to leave any more vampires starving should they make it to the cathedral, of course. He doubted the three here would be the only ones called.

Dragan uncorked the vial and sipped slowly, relishing the taste of fresh vitae after so long in torpor. He could feel a small measure of his strength returning to him. Not nearly enough, of course. But anything was better than nothing. When the vial was drained, he set it down and looked to Luna and Ilena, pondering the situation before them.

"The thrall will likely awaken on her own in time. I don't much care to interfere with another kindred's servant. Some don't take kindly to such, and it would be poor manners after they so generously provided us with fresh blood. In any case, I believe we ought to give thanks to Ichor for our deliverance, before anything else." With that said, Dragan faced the image of the goddess and knelt down, murmuring a prayer under his breath. It seemed old habits died hard for a former paladin.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Renar Hagen

Renar let the byplay between Dame Serenity, Sir Fionn, and the archers pass over him without comment, not seeing any particular need to interject in that conversation. Besides, it seemed the Knight-Captain was finally doling out orders. A standard encirclement tactic, as was expected, considering her last move. Still, there were prisoners to save, he supposed. No time to come up with something more inspired or unique.

As the knights advanced, Renar noticed the obstacle ahead almost immediately, and just as quickly recognized that it was an obvious trap. What he somehow failed to recognize, however, was that their captain would suddenly decided to run forward and leave herself vulnerable to it. For a moment, he was more disappointed in himself for not realizing that this would be Fanilly's exact move than he was in her actually falling for this trick. Of course an inexperienced, impulsive sixteen year old would take the bait immediately out of a misguided sense of compassion.

"Oh, dear." Renar sighed, twirling his poleaxe down into a ready position as he stalked forward, following after Serenity, Gerard, and Fionn. He kept his gaze towards the trees as he reached his compatriots, taking his weapon up into both hands as he took up a defensive stance next to Serenity.

"Knight-Captain, with all due respect, we're about to be surrounded any moment now." Renar chided gently. "Us four will provide cover and clear a path for you to bring that man back to be questioned. Dame Serenity, it seems our comrades plan to do the clearing. Shall we ensure the captain isn't sniped by a stray arrow?" He didn't have a shield like Serenity did, but his cloak would at least provide some measure of deflection so long as he could see where the bandits would be firing from.