Vanq

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

Rhaena Targaryen

Rhaena Targaryen

18 (Born 23 AC)

Description & Biography:

The beautiful but mercurial first daughter of the king, first grandchild of the Conquerer, knew a life of comfort and ease. She had been a shy child, more likely to be found hiding behind her mother’s skirts than playing with the little noble girls her mother arranged to be her friends. People terrified her, but none more than her Uncle Maegor. Her great-aunt Visenya was only barely a close second in being able to send the child scurrying for cover. Where people failed her, animals brought out a boldness. From the time she could walk she would wander the Aegonfort with a small procession of cats and scruffy puppies following in her wake. She was gifted an exotic talking bird for her sixth nameday, a bird that eventually learned to curse at courtiers and nobles in High Valyrian. When she was just nine though, her world shifted significantly when she bonded with the young dragon she came to call Dreamfyre. It was as if part of her had finally been awakened, emboldened.

Rhaena soon formed close relationships, in particular with Samantha Stokeworth. The girls became inseparable as they grew into their adolescence. The Princess became known for a fierce loyalty to family and friends, though she still shrank in Maegor or Visenya’s presence. She had barely made it through her first moon’s blood when her mother confessed at last that at one time she had been intended to wed Maegor. The truth sent her into a fit and she spent the night sobbing in bed. Samantha, Melyssanthi, and Aegon spent the night consoling her. Though she loved all her siblings, it was Melys and Aegon who were nearly always found in each other’s company; some whispered of them as the new three headed dragon. But the trio was too often accompanied by Samantha, her arms and fingers laced through Rhaena’s, their heads bent in quiet whispers and giggles.

Not long after Rhaena and Aegon were informed they would be wed when Aegon was of age. Neither saw fit to despair or dispute it. Though Rhaena had realized she had little interest in men, she was the eldest of her father’s children and their blood’s tradition required a simple sacrifice. Still, one night as they discussed their future, the princess confessed all to her brother. They would marry, the gods would take pity on her and give her two sons in quick succession, but then she begged to no longer be needed in his bed. Her brother quickly agreed, he could not ever force her to be who she was not. They each would do their duty but no more.

When Aegon was declared to be of age in 41AC, they were wed. Rhaena knew of the discontent regarding the marriage but naively brushed it aside. Maegor had angered the Faith and the people for taking a second wife, but to secure a stable rule, they needed a stable bloodline. The Westerosi would come to see that in time, she was certain of it. And her father was so beloved by the people, surely any grumblings would pass quickly.

The reality of the situation made itself apparent far too quickly. Rhaena and Aegon were wed and sent out to visit their realm in celebration. She had been barred from riding Dreamfyre as her husband had yet to claim his own dragon. She had been despondent at first until both Samantha and a new favorite friend, Alayne Royce, reminded her it meant more time together. Aegon had not even blinked at his wife’s request to have both women accompany them, day and night. Yet, as the days and weeks wore on it became readily apparent just how unforgivable Westeros found their union to be. The foursome found fewer moments to laugh, grew more fearful with each days’ travel. There was a deepness to the anger, a danger to the judging eyes. It was no longer a question of if but of when it would spill over to violence.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

House Arryn

House Arryn

As High as Honor

House Overview

House Arryn come from the oldest and purest stock of Andal nobility, with some - including the current lord - certain that their ancestors trace directly back to Hugor of the Hill. The Vale, and the Arryns of the Vale, fought valiantly over centuries to consolidate their rule and spurn interlopers. The arrival and subsequent conquest by Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives brought fresh bloodshed to their gates, events that the eldest Arryns still hold bright in their memories.

During Aegon's Conquest the Arryn and Targaryen fleets fought in a battle in the waters off Gulltown, which resulted in the destruction of the Targaryen fleet and the death of its commanding officer, Daemon Velaryon. Visenya Targaryen, on her dragon Vhagar, burned the Arryn fleet in response. Since both fleets were destroyed, the battle was considered a tactical draw, but a strategic defeat for the Targaryens as they were unable to take Gulltown. For House Arryn the trouble did not end there, since the Sistermen on the Three Sisters revolted after the destruction of the Arryn fleet.

Later in Aegon's Conquest, Visenya was charged with subduing the Vale. Sharra Arryn, Queen Regent of the Vale, ruling in the name of her son, the boy-king Ronnel Arryn, amassed the Vale's army at the Bloody Gate. Visenya, however, flew on Vhagar to the courtyard of the Eyrie to obtain the surrender of the Vale of Arryn. When Sharra returned to the Eyrie she found her son sitting on Visenya's lap asking if he could ride the dragon with her. Once Sharra yielded and bent the knee, Ronnel twice flew with Visenya and Vhagar. The Arryns have since remained Defenders of the Vale and Wardens of the East for the Iron Throne.

Peace did not come quickly for the Vale. In 37 AC, Lord Ronnel was deposed by his brother Jonos. A civil war brewed with House Royce gathering forces and besieging the Eyrie. In response, the usurper Jonos threw Ronnel and his family through the Moon Door. Justice arrived on wingback, with Prince Maegor arriving to hang Jonos and his supporters. Order was restored by tyranny and Lord Hubert, a cousin, was installed as Lord Paramount.

--House Arryn AWOIAF

House Arryn Family Tree

• Lady Elys^{The Crone} age 59
  
  • Married three times and widowed all
  • Returned to the Vale upon her brother's ascension to act as advisor
  • Fervent supporter of the Faith, mystical, but widely respected
• Lady Rowena ^{The Mother} age 57
  
  • Widowed young and never remarried or returned to the Vale
• Lord Hubert ^{The Father} age 54
  
  • Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East
  • Wed to Lady Royce, with six living sons

  
  

  The Sons

  • Artys - 22 [Accompanying Sharra]
  • Alester - 19 [Joined Company of the Rose]
  • Andar - 17 [Gulltown, with House Grafton]
  • Arrec - 12 [Squired to House Corbray]
  • Alyn - 8 [Sent to the Faith for training]
  • Albar - 2 [In the Eyrie]
• Elder Brother Isembard ^{The Smith} age 50
  
  • Widower, wife died in childbirth and the son died just two years later
  • Joined the Faith as a Begging Brother in penance for the sins that led to his family's death
  • Settled at a septry in a small and rural outpost of the Crownlands, eventually becoming Elder Brother
• Ser Osric ^{The Warrior} age 26
  
  • Eldest born of his father's second wife
  • Egotistical but proven knight
  • Contentious relationship with his half-siblings
  • Arrived in King's Landing in 40AC with a small entourage of friends
• Lady Sharra ^{The Maiden} age 22
  
  • Named in honor of Queen Sharra
  • Overlooked for much of her life, not close to any of her siblings or half-siblings except for Lady Elys
  • Currently on a tour with her septa and small honor guard in <reach/westerlands/tbd>
• Young Jasper ^{The Stranger} age 20
  
  • A solitary outcast amongst family and Vale nobility alike
  • Unusual interest in dark topics; necromancy, the long night, the doom, and ancient prophesies from across the Narrow Sea
  • Currently in Oldtown

Lady Elys

Lady Elys of the Vale

59 - Born 18BC

Description and Biography

Elys was a young woman, freshly wed, when the conquest began. She was heavy with child when she watched Visenya and Vhagar burn the fleet off the shores of Gulltown. Her first husband burned or drowned. Like so many others from the battle, it was impossible to know his fate. She gave birth just a few weeks later, a girl. Her husband's younger brother had survived and they were married a year later. She gave him three children, two boys and another girl. Their marriage was tainted, the memory of her first husband an ever present cloud. Her second husband took heavily to drink and was found floating in the harbor just six years into their marriage.

Lady Elys was barely twenty-six and had been widowed twice. Her dead husbands' family, House Shett of Gulltown, turned on her in their grief. Not knowing what else to do, she returned to her famiy's estate. But her father was a pragmatic man and his eldest daughter still had some youth and was proven as fertile. When House Melcolm's aging lord had need of a new wife, and one who could give him a son, the match was quickly agreed to.

But Elys, now Lady of Old Anchor, was not well. She fell pregnant quickly, but while her previous pregnancies had been without issue, she barely survived her fifth. Her son was born, though she had nearly wasted away during the final months. It took her nearly a year to fully recover. Perhaps having lost her previous children due to circumstance, she found no joy in the new babe and spurned her husband. Though her father had been deeply religious, Elys had not shared his devotions. In the months that alternated between extreme grief and pain, and months of dull ambivalence, she found solace in the Seven. She took to the sept and believed herself to commune with the Crone who guided her to an understanding of herself, her family. When Lord Melcolm passed of old age a decade later, Lady Elys stayed to guide their son to adulthood. She still did not consider herself his mother, she had been too distant for too long, but instead a divine mentor.

When her brother ascended to the Eyrie, due only to Targaryen violence inflicted once more, she returned to his side. They had grown closer in the past two decades - by missive and brief visits - than they had been as children. Their shared faith bound them and they saw in them and their siblings the aspects of the Seven. She is most concerned with the way Hubert's children seem uninterested in carrying on the faith beyond the most superficial displays. Her brother shares some of these concerns but believes they will grow into it, when the wildness of youth is spent.

Ser Osric Arryn

Ser Orsric Arryn of the Vale

26 - Born 15AC

Description and Biography

Osric is a talented knight, for his age. He thinks far too highly of himself, a trait encouraged and groomed by his mother. His father died just a year after the birth of his youngest son leaving the raising of the three youngest Arryns to their mother and the disinterest of their eldest brother, Hubert. House Royce and their knights attempted to forge Osric into a true Andal warrior, a faithful servant of the Seven. The lad was only ever briefly proficient at keeping up the pretense of piety. His father would have been disappointed, Hubert certainly was, but his mother shielded him from nearly any consequence.

As a squire he accompanied several forays against the mountain clans. Osric enjoyed his time in the wilderness, crossing the hills and mountains to quell the heathen rebels. He enjoyed it, perhaps, too much. He had a taste for violence and soon also found a taste for ale and women. Before his eighteenth nameday, he had earned a reputation for himself along Gulltown's docks as well as the city's whorehouses. He earned his knighthood at twenty-two, leading a charge against a hill tribe that had kidnapped a minor noble's daughter. The girl was killed in the chaos of battle, a minor inconvenience to Osric, but he was thanked for exacting justice on the heathens who had assaulted her.

The knight was enamored with Maegor's arrival to exact justice against Jonos. Though he thought Hubert a terrible choice, too pious, too dull, too pandering, it did offer more opportunity to Osric. Not long after, he found reason to ask for leave to go to King's Landing. By the time Hubert had given permission and Osric set off with a small group of companions, Maegor had been exiled. Not deterred, they carried on to enjoy all the vices the new but bustling city had to offer men of a certain type.

Alester Arryn

Alester Arryn

The Pretty Bird

19 - Born 22AC

Description and Biography

member of the Company of the Rose for 2-3 years
joined when they were stopped in Gulltown for supplies on their way south
father incredibly displeased but was never on good terms with the family
given the nickname by men in the company for how delicate he was at the start of his training with the company
closest to X in the company / semi-father figure

Lady Sharra

Lady Sharra of the Vale

22 - Born 19AC

Description and Biography

Lady Sharra was the second born to her father's second wife. Her elder half-siblings paid little mind to the young ones and her older brother, Osric, was the apple of their mother's eye and could do no wrong. Her younger brother, Jasper, was an oddity from a young age. The girl was alone no matter the size of her family. It did not help matters that their family had not been welcome at the Eyrie, though they were close cousins to Lord Ronnel, they had been barred from the Eyrie since before the conquest. The family instead was relegated to the winter castle with House Royce, or Gulltown. Sharra had always preferred their time at Gulltown over the stout castle.

Her care was largely left to her Septa. Her father had been a severely pious man, though her mother paid only lip service to the Seven. Her elder siblings inherited far more of that same fervor. Sharra cared little for such things though she loved the imagery of the Seven. It pleased her septa enough that her charge grew talented in painting religious icons and scenes. As a young teenager, she was a gentle and compliant daughter, always in vain hope that she would garner some attention for being the good child. It was all for naught, Osric's churlish nature and Jasper's strangeness pushed Sharra further into the shadows as her family tried to wrestle her brothers into proper Arryns.

When her eldest brother was made Lord Paramount following the murder of Lord Ronnel and justice against Jonos, the entire family ascended to the Eyrie. Sharra spent only two years in court before at last Lord Hubert seemed to realize her presence. He had arranged for her to spend some time in other courts - Riverrun first, then Casterly Rock, Highgarden, and Storm's End. Her cousin, Hubert's heir Artys, would accompany her along with a small number of knights, other lesser nobles, and her septa. Alone again, in a sea of people.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

Rhaena Targaryen

Rhaena Targaryen

18 (Born 23 AC)

Description & Biography:

The beautiful but mercurial first daughter of the king, first grandchild of the Conquerer, knew a life of comfort and ease. She had been a shy child, more likely to be found hiding behind her mother’s skirts than playing with the little noble girls her mother arranged to be her friends. People terrified her, but none more than her Uncle Maegor. Her great-aunt Visenya was only barely a close second in being able to send the child scurrying for cover. Where people failed her, animals brought out a boldness. From the time she could walk she would wander the Aegonfort with a small procession of cats and scruffy puppies following in her wake. She was gifted an exotic talking bird for her sixth nameday, a bird that eventually learned to curse at courtiers and nobles in High Valyrian. When she was just nine though, her world shifted significantly when she bonded with the young dragon she came to call Dreamfyre. It was as if part of her had finally been awaken, emboldened.

Rhaena soon formed close relationships, in particular with Samantha Stokeworth. The girls became inseparable as they grew into their adolescence. The Princess became known for a fierce loyalty to family and friends, though she still shrank in Maegor or Visenya’s presence. She had barely made it through her first moon’s blood when her mother confessed at last that at one time she had been intended to wed Maegor. The truth sent her into a fit and she spent the night sobbing in bed. Samantha, Melyssanthi, and Aegon spent the night consoling her. Though she loved all her siblings, it was Melys and Aegon who were nearly always found in each other’s company; some whispered of them as the new three headed dragon. But the trio was too often accompanied by Samantha, her arms and fingers laced through Rhaena’s, their heads bent in quiet whispers and giggles.

Not long after Rhaena and Aegon were informed they would be wed when Aegon was of age. Neither saw fit to despair or dispute it. Though Rhaena had realized she had little interest in men, she was the eldest of her father’s children and their blood’s tradition required a simple sacrifice. Still, one night as they discussed their future, the princess confessed all to her brother. They would marry, the gods would take pity on her and give her two sons in quick succession, but then she begged to no longer be needed in his bed. Her brother quickly agreed, he could not ever force her to be who she was not. They each would do their duty but no more.

When Aegon was declared to be of age in 41AC, they were wed. Rhaena knew of the discontent regarding the marriage but naively brushed it aside. Maegor had angered the Faith and the people for taking a second wife, but to secure a stable rule, they needed a stable bloodline. The Westerosi would come to see that in time, she was certain of it. And her father was so beloved by the people, surely any grumblings would pass quickly.

The reality of the situation made itself apparent far too quickly. Rhaena and Aegon were wed and sent out to visit their realm in celebration. She had been barred from riding Dreamfyre as her husband had yet to claim his own dragon. She had been despondent at first until both Samantha and a new favorite friend, Alayne Royce, reminded her it meant more time together. Aegon had not even blinked at his wife’s request to have both women accompany them, day and night. Yet, as the days and weeks wore on it became readily apparent just how unforgivable Westeros found their union to be. The foursome found fewer moments to laugh, grew more fearful with each days’ travel. There was a deepness to the anger, a danger to the judging eyes. It was no longer a question of it but of when it would spill over to violence.

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

as high as honor enters the chat

A Song of Ice and Fire - the Blackfyre Rebellion

House Tully

“Sister.”

Ravella stopped in the corridor, the tiny voice squeaking in the silence, reverberating off the damp, cold walls. Her heart jumped to her throat at being found; it thudded still at being called sister. It took a moment to clear the pain from her face, even after all these years.

“Yes, Ronn?” The petite brunette turned, dark and sensible navy woolen skirts brushed against the stone walls. Her face was poised, emotionless, though her muscles twitched at the effort.

“Where are you going?” The little boy peaked out from the doorway of his chambers and rubbed at his eyes. It was late, far too late for the little heir to be awake. Ravella had snuck in to watch him sleep for a few minutes but, it seemed, she had awakened the boy.

“To bed, which is where you should be, little one.” She returned to his side and knelt, her hand cupped to his plump cheek. There was sleep in his eyes; she gently cleared it away with her other hand. His hair was much like hers, though tightly curled, his eyes though were a deep blue unlike her own, unlike their mother’s. Rhialta would admonish her for trekking to her brother’s room like this yet again. What servants see they wag their tongue about. The constant reminder echoed in her mind. But there were no servants here, not now. The corridor was quiet enough to hear vermin scurrying behind the walls.

“Tell me a story.” He whined through a yawn as he yanked his head away from her ministrations.

“Once upon a time a little boy went to bed without complaining.” She smiled softly, her hand moving to his shoulder to pat and turn him back towards his bed.

“Not that one.” He grew defiant, his eyes fluttering with only half-feigned contempt. The defiance was short lived as he took a stumbling step forward.

Ravella giggled quietly as she rose to follow him back towards his bed, her hand on his back to guide him forward. “This little boy knew that one day, he would rule the Riverlands. He had to grow big and strong to sit the high seat, to pass wise and fair judgements. But to grow big and strong, he knew he had to go to bed and sleep sweet dreams each night.” Ronnel climbed into bed and she tucked him in beneath layers of blankets and furs. “Good night…brother.” She bent to brush her lips against his forehead with a sigh. She could hear his soft snores before she had taken two steps away from his bed.

---

Medgar’s muffled groans signaled that the lord had risen for the day. A servant outside the door inhaled deeply, as if to savor the final moment before attending to his lord. Within Riverrun’s Lord’s chambers, the large bed dominated the room. Massive trouts leapt from the bedposts. With each shift the current lord made, the entire bed trembled and groaned in response. Medgar struggled to pull himself up to a seated position, thin but grubby lips pressed tightly in the effort. His eyes were crusted shut. From the servant’s perspective it was as it a giant catfish flailed about on land. Then the smell hit, a few more steps in. A rancid, sulfuric,stomach turning scent. The Lord Tully had shit the bed, again.

The servant stopped midstep. “Have the tub readied, milord will need a bath this morning before breakfast. Find fresh linens as well, and some scented oils for sevens’ sake.” He whispered the sharp commands to the small boy at his side. A little lad from some pissant Riverlands’ house who had the great misfortune of serving as a page in the Tully household.

It took four men to lift Medgar from his soiled bed and into the readied tub. No matter that he was cleansed, a sickly sweet smell clung to the man. The exertion of the morning was too much for the lord and breakfast instead was brought to the rooms. A dozen soft boiled eggs - peeled as Medgar would eat the shells in his haste, rashers of soft cooked bacon, fat greasy sausages, crispy fried trout, pureed turnip with a massive lump of butter, honey cakes and cream cakes. All was washed down with copious amounts of ale. Medgar rarely appeared drunk, whether due to his size or the amount of food to soak up the alcohol was a running discussion amongst Riverruns’ inhabitants.

Lord Tully belched loudly. “No guests today.” The first words he had formed, several hours after waking. His steward had joined him at the end of breaking his fast. Few could stomach watching the man eat for long.

“My lord, there is one matter most pressing. Unless you would like the council to address it?” He asked a question he was certain of the answer to. Yet it was only proper to maintain the charade. Rumors swirled, even with half the realm removed to Summerhall. In Kermit’s long rule he had made few errors and done much to mend together the disparate houses of the Riverlands after so much destruction. In just a few years, the foundation was cracked and flooded. The steward knew it, the council knew it. House Tully, now like trout in an ever-evaporating pond, flailing for breath.

Medgar made a small movement with his flabby hand, waving off the suggestion. “Not today. Handle it.” He moaned suddenly, both hands pressing into the rolls of his abdomen. His eyes squeezed shut, sweat formed at his receding hairline before dripping down his face. “Send in the servants, I have need of them again.”

The steward bowed his head and quickly backtracked from the room. The servant from the morning stood waiting outside the doorway. “Lord Medgar has need of a chamber pot, make haste.”

The Maester met him at the end of the corridor. “A shame our lord cannot join us. You’ve seen the messages, what shall we tell the rest of the council?” His concern was unconvincing, but it needn’t be.

“That it is just rumors. Have we had any word from Merrett or does he continue to evade us?” He spoke quietly. Merrett had disappeared from the Riverlands years ago and refused all contact. They thought he was perhaps married with children, with sons. The heir was but a small boy with questionable parentage, Merrett was a solution or a threat. The steward and maester were not sure which, yet.

“None, though we believe him to be in the Crownlands now, a guest of House Stokeworth.”

The steward mulled it over briefly. “Too far, he will be gone before we get anyone in place. It would have been too easy had he gone to Summerhall, damn the man.” The pair made their way to the council chambers, a nest of intrigue and shifting alliances without anyone to keep them in line or focused. The Riverlands bent beneath the weight of its incompetent lord.

A Song of Ice and Fire - the Blackfyre Rebellion

House Tully of Riverrun

Family, Duty, Honor

House Description:

Info

House Tully rose to prominence during Aegon's Conquest, when Lord Edmyn Tully led the rebel riverlords who deserted Harren Hoare, King of the Isles and the Rivers, and instead supported House Targaryen. Following the burning of Harrenhal, Edmyn was rewarded with dominion over the riverlands by Aegon I Targaryen as the first Lord Paramount of the Trident. Despite being their new liege lords, the Tullys fielded smaller armies than the Blackwoods, Brackens, Freys, and Vances. House Tully was also not as wealthy as the Mootons, nor considered as prestigious as the Mallisters.

One of Edmyn's daughters married Lord Quenton Qoherys of Harrenhal, while Edmyn himself served two years as Hand of the King to Aegon the Conqueror, the first King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. King Aenys I Targaryen relied on the Tullys during the rebellion of Harren the Red, and King Maegor I Targaryen was supported by the Tullys and the Harroways against Prince Aegon Targaryen in the Battle Beneath the Gods Eye. The Tullys later supported Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen against Maegor. Lord Prentys Tully served Jaehaerys I as master of laws, while his wife, Lady Lucinda Tully, led the household for Queen Alysanne Targaryen.

In 101 AC during the Great Council, Lord Grover Tully spoke in favor of Prince Viserys Targaryen over Laenor Velaryon as the successor to Jaehaerys I. During the Dance of the Dragons, the Tullys ruled over, in name at least, the quarrelsome riverlords. The aged Lord Grover wanted to support the greens, but his grandson Elmo and great-grandson Kermit supported the blacks. Elmo led the riverlords to battle on the side of Rhaenyra during the Second Battle of Tumbleton. His grandfather died soon after, and Elmo himself followed his grandfather to the grave forty-nine days later. His young son Kermit led the Lads and slew Lord Borros Baratheon in the Battle of the Kingsroad. Kermit's brother, Ser Oscar Tully, founded the Stormbreakers.

Riverrun is the ancestral castle of House Tully, the Lords Paramount of the Trident. It is situated in the western riverlands, at the confluence of the Tumblestone and Red Fork rivers. Riverrun is north of Pinkmaiden and northwest of Acorn Hall. The castle sits along the river road, an easy ride which links Lannisport and the crossroads. It is a strong three-sided castle, although not especially large. It is a tenth the size of Harrenhal.Riverrun is bordered on the north by the Tumblestone and on the south by the Red Fork, while on the west a third side faces a massive man-made ditch. In time of danger the sluice gates can be opened to fill a wide moat and leave the castle surrounded on all three sides by water, turning Riverrun into an island and leaving it practically unassailable. It commands a view of many leagues.

The riverlands is a central region of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, consisting of the rich, fertile, and populous areas around the three forks of the Trident and the northern Blackwater Rush. At the time of Aegon's Conquest the riverlands and the Iron Islands were ruled by House Hoare, the Kings of the Isles and the Rivers, although native river kings ruled centuries earlier.

Because of their central position in Westeros and lack of natural boundaries, the riverlands have been a frequent battleground. The people of the riverlands are known as "rivermen" or occasionally "riverlanders", and they are a mixture of hardy warriors, peaceful fisherfolk and devout smallfolk. Their lords have a reputation for being notoriously quarrelsome, and are referred to as "river lords". Noble bastards born in the riverlands are given the surname Rivers.

The riverlands are ruled from Riverrun by House Tully, the Lords Paramount of the Trident. Notable houses of the region have included Blackwood, Bracken, Darry, Frey, Lothston, Mallister, Mooton, Mudd, Piper, Ryger, Strong, Vance, and Whent.

Recent History:

Lord Kermit ruled the Riverlands through the end of the Dance into general prosperity and peace, at least for the riverlands. While his bannermen held greater wealth or could call up more men, Kermit sought to bind them through marriage and respect. The quarrelsome Brackens and Blackwoods would remain a thorn in his side, yet with his own marriage and those of his children, he kept the peace even through the tumultuous reign of Aegon IV.

House Tully, though, has cracked beyond easy repair. Some smallfolk say it is a curse from the woman Ser Oscar left behind when he left for Essos. With the death of two sons, grandsons, and a son to take the black, House Tully was left to a man most unfit to rule. While Lord Kermit could have done more, perhaps, he was still a father with too much faith in his son. Naming Medgar as heir was perhaps Kermit’s greatest error in his long reign. Plenty pay lip service to their liege lord or peer, but few can claim to actually respect the man. Many hope, some in secret, some blatantly, that a young Ronnel inherits with his uncle Merrett as regent.

Family Members:

• Lord Medgar Tully
• Lady Rhialta Tully (nee Manderly)
• Lady Ravella Tully
• Ronnel Tully, a boy of 6 and heir to Riverrun
• Ser Merrett the Mild, the youngest of Kermit's sons, currently at Stokeworth
• Garth Rivers

---

Lord Tully

Medgar Tully

Lord Paramount of the Riverlands
Medgar the Massive
The Fleshy Fish

Age: 62 (born 140AC)

Appearance:

Lord Tully’s weight cannot be overstated. Now approaching his elder years, he is frequently unable to carry himself more than a few steps, instead requiring servants to carry him to another room when he needs to leave his chambers. While he has earned his moniker, some of his other contorsions are due to the mysterious ailment no maester was able to diagnose. His eyes, once sparkly blue, are sunk into his face. His skin is either greasy with sweat or dry and flaking. He bears a perpetual look of self-disgust.

Description & biography:

Medgar was never supposed to be Lord Paramount. At times it seems as though it were his first memory. He never cared for his studies with the septon, maester, nor armsmaster. He cared little for women, never wished to wed, never wished to spread his seed nor sire children. He was a sickly child who grew into a rotund adolescent and never stopped widening into his adulthood. Nothing else could sate him like a hot meat pie, or glistening slices of fatty goose. He had no natural gifts, no ambition. He often hoped the ailments that plagued him would take him. Yet Malwyn died and he lived. Mordyn died and he lived still. His father told him to go to Oldtown, to take a vow to the Seven, to take the fucking Black.

Medgar had no desire to rule, but he had less of a desire to do anything at all. Surely he too would die and Myles would inherit. Instead, it was Myles forced to take the Black for accidentally killing his betrothed’s cousin. Instead, it was Medgar who wed Rhialta Manderly. He would marry the woman, or he too would take the black. Marriage was less work than traveling that far north to be that cold all the time. He married her but would not put a child in her. His wife, to anyone paying attention, was faithful to her duties. She attended him several times a week in his bedchambers. Not many months after their wedding, she gave birth to Ravella.

Some talked and made suggestions, yet as a daughter, with one remaining son able to inherit after Medgar, the talk remained whispered only. Issues over inheritance only came to a head again when young Ronnel appeared at court in 197AC. Though Rhialta had faithfully shared her husband’s chambers once per month, no other child had ever grown in her until the year she had disappeared with Ravella.

Medgar paid no attention to any of it. When his father died in 190AC he stayed in his rooms for nearly a month. He received visitors and bannermen reluctantly. Yet those who managed to see him found him to be easily manipulated, if also petulant and petty. His ambitious lords, his nefarious lords, were quick to take advantage. The Riverlands, which his father had done so much to build and care for for decades, began to crack and crumble. Medgar’s advisors, those that remained, do what they can to patch the damage inflicted by a negligent lord.

Most notably, though many of his bannermen made their way to Summerhall at the invitation of the Targaryen prince, Medgar did not want to attend, nor did he want his family to go and return with more petitions. All were barred from attending.

The River Maiden

Ravella Tully

Age: 28 (born 174AC)

Appearance:

Ravella is short, with few of the Tully characteristics. She shares much with her mother, hair dark but devoid of all but a glimmer of red, her eyes a warm chestnut, not blue. It would be hard to find Medgar anywhere within her pleasant features or mannerisms. Because of her mother’s influence, she is reserved in her dress.

Description & biography:

While Ravella’s birth may have cast doubts on her parentage, she was largely shielded from it as a child. Her grandsire, Lord Kermit, ensured she received a proper upbringing as her father would not. She spent years of her early adolescence touring the Tully bannerman houses, to strengthen ties through friendship with the river lords’ daughters or sisters. Her mother’s religious zeal for the Faith was never distant, and though she was present in her daughter’s life, she sought to influence her daughter to a chaste life, to join the Faith as she wished she had.

Kermit would not hear of it, and before he died, he had arranged a good match for the girl with one of Lord Darry’s sons. Lord Kermit died before the betrothal could be agreed upon in full. Medgar ignored it for months, his advisers claiming it as a period of mourning, until at last there was little they could do except send their apologies and weak excuses for why the two could not be wed. Ravella was not displeased about it, a girl of only six and ten, yet the slight her father paid his bannerman was a mark against her as well.

With her father in control of Riverrun, she found herself increasingly isolated. She no longer traveled, and her mother’s absence was felt more strongly. Rhialta would leave to tour septs or break bread with cloistered septas, leaving her daughter alone in the Riverrun’s chaotic halls. Instead, Ravella took to wandering her family’s lands. In one of these walks, she had a chance encounter, a beautiful melody of despair and longing emerged from the reeds and drew her in. The girl was besotted before she ever saw his face. Garth, her granduncle’s bastard’s bastard. She knew of him, the man who took to calling himself Ser Fishbones. With childish naivete, she thought of herself as his muse and gave in too willingly to the inappropriate affair.

While the truth of what happened remains murky, a few details were accepted by the court. A man, barely more than a commoner, was accused of being Ravella’s lover. He bled and died for the slight. Not long after, Ravella came down with an illness. Before it could become too obvious that she grew heavy with a child, Rhialta spirited her away, leaving Riverrun for nearly a year. When they returned, it was with a baby boy. Rhialta presented him at court, naming him Medgar’s son and heir to Riverrun. There were loud whispers, but Medgar would not refute the claim and his advisers were gleeful at having an heir no matter the questions it raised.

Ravella remains closer to the boy that many find typical. She keeps a small book with her, full of poetry and songs by some nameless bard, writings that bring a small smile to her lips or to cause a few tears to well up, sometimes both. Now passing twenty-eight namedays, she has resigned herself to a life of solitude and of the being the river maiden.

Fishbones by Sini

Garth Rivers

Age: 37 (born 165AC)

Appearance:

attractive bastard

Description & biography:

Ser Oscar Tully had always liked to cast his rod and bait among the realm’s women, usually reeling in quite the catch. There were few enough whom he thought of a week after, yet the rake had made sure that Edmyn (Garth’s father) was recognised his son. Then, he abandoned him for his Essosi adventures and life as a mercenary captain. The boy grew up to be a chip off the old block: proud, wont to fight and fuck. In true emulation of his sire, he himself begot a son – and possibly more – out of wedlock. Edmyn’s bastardised Tully charm won him a taste of Gysella Cox, with another apple not falling far from the tree.

Garth was born a right bastard (a bastard’s bastard even – and so a bastard twice over), into a family riven by disaster and riddled with discord. Gone were the days of ease and comfort brought about by Kermit’s deft rule and Oscar’s martial prowess. As Kermit’s years advanced, his judgment waned, naming the least suited of his progeny heir. To be fair to the Old Lad, there was little in the way of proper candidates as scandal and misfortune sheared House Tully of its finest members. The intricate web woven through marriages and diplomacy frayed, and the friendships and glories of the past were ignored.

Growing up on the periphery of Riverrun’s court allowed Garth more liberties than most. From a young age he read as much as he played, often sneaking out with one of the Maester’s books to read on the riverbank. His favourites were compendia of bardic prose and minstrel’s songs which prompted an adolescent squire to start compiling texts of his own. The words Garth commits to paper speak of a surprisingly old soul feeling deeply about the world. These revelations were never intended for an audience other than himself, and the only occasions when the words were sung was when he lounged by himself in the sun among the reeds.

Garth was restless if not rebellious and wild, leaving the white walls of the Tully keep behind him as he traipsed the countryside… but only after having stirred up trouble and mischief. Slippery as an eel, Garth complied with whatever punishment was doled out when caught. However, there was not much which could apparently touch him. Though there was one who managed to pluck the strings of his heart… and breeches.

Illicit affairs cause great excitement, and Ravella and he tasted of forbidden fruit in the pursuit of delight. They were one another’s escape from Medgar’s gloom and dourness creeping from the stone and mortar of Riverrun. To Garth, their ongoing torrid tryst is a vital adventure, and the fact that Rhialta became involved in the conspiracy only added to the thrill.

Because of his status as a bastard, and the aloof attitude of Medgar and his advisers, Garth changed the inverted Tully arms into those of a fish carcass. He participated in local tourneys as Ser Fishbones and greedily gobbled up the antipathy it conjured up. It was one way of making up for the lack of attention he received as a child. Garth’s innate melancholy goes hidden behind a mask of mirth.

A Song of Ice and Fire - the Blackfyre Rebellion

Pageantry and Procession

Vanq with @Danvers

The Princess sat silently, a goblet pressed between her lips, soft lilac eyes stared absently in the distance. In her youth, she was shamed for her appearance, yet she had aged finer than the vintage she sipped at now. Or at least, that’s what men said. Her brow furrowed at the errant thought. How much of their lives had been lived at the whims of men. Baelor, Aegon, even Daeron...Daeron, who, though he knew her worth, would not name her to his small council directly. She prayed that her fool of a husband would not undo her work in her brief absence.

Perhaps that alone was the reason she had invited Shiera to speak with her in her tourney box. Maekar and Baelor had made their invitations, yet she preferred having control of who would join her. Bloodraven’s consort had set off waves of rumors with her entrance, sufficiently enough to pique the aged princess’s interest. So much of Shiera reminded Elaena of herself at a certain age. The bastard was known to the princess for many years, she saw potential in the woman, if she would only grasp it fully.

The princess had been given a young kingsguard as her escort. Perhaps they thought she would appreciate having the handsome young man in attendance, but Elaena had never been one to be drawn to youth, even a pretty one. As Shiera entered though, the princess spared a glance to see how her guardian would react. The Seastar was a beauty, perhaps one to even rival Daena in her youth, and like Daena, Shiera knew it. Though today the woman seemed less herself.

“Ser Leyton, my my.” The Lyseni dragon took in the white-clad knight before her. “The white still complements your blush so well.” Leyton Tyrell, a young savant of a swordsman when he took the white, Shiera had often taken to teasing him in passing in King’s Landing. She did so to toy with Brynden, but the young flower’s responses only ever served to spur her on. She placed a hand softly to his elbow as she teased with a sensuous smile. She could not help herself, no matter the mood she had been in. “It’s been too long, I hope you have not missed me in my absence.”

Leyton nodded politely as Shiera entered, one hand resting on his sword's hilt, the other held strictly at his side. Yet his ease of bearing was promptly interrupted by her blatant flirtation and he instantly blushed, mortified as she pointed out the contrast between his cheeks and cloak. "Of course I have my lady." He smiled awkwardly, anxiety written plainly across his features. "Not that I should have reason to! Simply that you are always a welcomed sight in King's landing." Leyton added, maintaining his tall stance as he spoke, eyes watching any entrance ways, if only partly to avoid looking at the woman.

"I don't mean to say I care only for your looks. I do not!" He tensed as he began to dig himself deeper. "But, well they are very pleasing, I am sure. Many must like looking at you! Though- though I do not, of course!" The words tumbled out of the young man's mouth with an alarming rapidity and his flushed cheeks only worsened the more he spoke, blood heating his face. He fixed his gaze downward, busying himself with the droll task of ensuring his scabbard was secured properly, which of course it was. He would never dream of protecting the princess without being fully prepared.

“Shiera, leave the poor boy be. I cannot expect him to guard me if he is ogling your breasts.” Having let it go on long enough, Elaena called the woman over, though her chastisement was mixed with a hint of mirth. The boy was a rather pleasant shade of red. "And, Ser Leyton, perhaps you should learn less is more. Back in my more youthful days you would have been taken to task for a tongue wagging like that." At last a small but throaty laugh erupted from the princess. "Besides, our dear Seastar is quite aware of her pleasing looks. Men seem unable to not remind her of this fact."

Shiera's eyes narrowed at the reproach. Elaena was well known for her sharp tongue and brusque nature. The great bastard was never sure if it was jealousy or respect she felt for the princess. Perhaps both, though times like this, it was a bitter draught to swallow.

"Ser Leyton and I are old friends, he knows I mean no offense." She turned her head for a final glance in enjoyment of how thoroughly ruffled the knight was. Her tongue traced her lips teasingly before she returned her attention to the princess and took a seat next to her elder. Her skirts lightly pooled around her, cloth-of-silver paneled with delicate white lace. Elaena had been too accurate as well, the top of her dress barely obscured her chest, adorned by long but delicate strands of emeralds and sapphires.The necklace had been a gift from Brynden. Absent-mindedly, she traced a strand between two slender fingers.

Elaena took a sip of wine, eyes trained on the woman before her. “You know, Bloodraven was really in quite a state when you departed King’s Landing.”

Shiera’s head dropped slightly, silver hair a curtain to shield her face. “Good.”

“Oh child, one day you will regret taunting that man so much.” The princess waited but cleared her throat when no response came. “It was unexpected, I will give you that. No one thought you would seek out Bittersteel.”

“Nor did I.” Shiera’s lips were pressed together as she made her admission. “It was impulsive.” Like much of her life, if she gave a moment for self-reflection. “I love them.”

Elaena grunted softly. She had known love once, and fate had seen fit to tear him from her too early. “You play with fire. Do not protest yet, listen to me.” She raised her hand though Shiera had barely opened her lips to speak. The princess paused to appreciate a single man in the procession before them. A barely perceptible blush crept across her cheeks as his head turned and their eyes met for the briefest of moments. “We live and die by the men we bind ourselves to, surely you recognize this truth.”

“As you have bound yourself to the Lord of Parchments?” Shiera responded quietly but with an uncharacteristic bitterness to her voice. “I will choose who I wish, when I wish, and remain unbound.”

Tsk. “Perhaps if you had chosen any other than your brothers who were fated to hate each other from birth.” Elaena attempted to mellow her words, she extended her hand to take Shiera’s. “You think you have a choice but it’s an illusion, girl. Do you not feel it? Daemon and his supporters - including your new love - put us on a dangerous path.” She sighed. “Bittersteel can only give you death and destruction. Whatever his faults, with Bloodraven you could have a life with at least half of what you long for.”

Shiera’s eyes narrowed again, her head raised in defiance. “And what is it you think I long for?”

“Respect.” Elaena let the word hang in the air. “To be recognized as an equal.” It was an unlikely thing to hope for.

Once she had dreamed of such things, thought them within her reach. Shiera pulled her hand from Elaena’s and rested her chin upon it with a pout forming across her lips. She could not refute the princess’s claim, nor could she vocalize her agreement. “I will think on your advice. But I fear it may be too late.” She sighed deeply, her mind unable to let go of the images she had seen brought forth from the prior night’s ritual. Her life would not be the same, and soon, she felt it and knew it to her core.

The quiet lingered as the procession of knights became barely more than a trickle and the men before them bore heraldry only the most astute would recognize. Elaena broke the silence. “I expect Rhaena to arrive soon. She is still a prudish bitch, you may wish to take your leave before she lectures you on the Maiden’s virtues.” It was offered as a suggestion but spoken as a dismissal.

Shiera simply nodded in response. Of the Maiden Vault sisters, the bastard knew of Rhaena only by reputation. “Thank you for the invitation, Princess. I should return…” She paused, a moment of uncertainty. The statement hung in the air unfinished.

“Just be cautious dear. Even a dragon can be burned and you are only half of one.” Elaena spoke without turning her attention back but waited for the sound of her soft footsteps to end. “Ser Leyton, have a page send word to Ser Michael of Kingsgrave. I’d like him to join me for dinner tonight, we have business to discuss.”

A Song of Ice and Fire - the Blackfyre Rebellion

Tully WIP

House Tully of Riverrun

Family, Duty, Honor

House Description:

Info

House Tully rose to prominence during Aegon's Conquest, when Lord Edmyn Tully led the rebel riverlords who deserted Harren Hoare, King of the Isles and the Rivers, and instead supported House Targaryen. Following the burning of Harrenhal, Edmyn was rewarded with dominion over the riverlands by Aegon I Targaryen as the first Lord Paramount of the Trident. Despite being their new liege lords, the Tullys fielded smaller armies than the Blackwoods, Brackens, Freys, and Vances. House Tully was also not as wealthy as the Mootons, nor considered as prestigious as the Mallisters.

One of Edmyn's daughters married Lord Quenton Qoherys of Harrenhal, while Edmyn himself served two years as Hand of the King to Aegon the Conqueror, the first King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. King Aenys I Targaryen relied on the Tullys during the rebellion of Harren the Red, and King Maegor I Targaryen was supported by the Tullys and the Harroways against Prince Aegon Targaryen in the Battle Beneath the Gods Eye. The Tullys later supported Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen against Maegor. Lord Prentys Tully served Jaehaerys I as master of laws, while his wife, Lady Lucinda Tully, led the household for Queen Alysanne Targaryen.

In 101 AC during the Great Council, Lord Grover Tully spoke in favor of Prince Viserys Targaryen over Laenor Velaryon as the successor to Jaehaerys I. During the Dance of the Dragons, the Tullys ruled over, in name at least, the quarrelsome riverlords. The aged Lord Grover wanted to support the greens, but his grandson Elmo and great-grandson Kermit supported the blacks. Elmo led the riverlords to battle on the side of Rhaenyra during the Second Battle of Tumbleton. His grandfather died soon after, and Elmo himself followed his grandfather to the grave forty-nine days later. His young son Kermit led the Lads and slew Lord Borros Baratheon in the Battle of the Kingsroad. Kermit's brother, Ser Oscar Tully, founded the Stormbreakers.

Riverrun is the ancestral castle of House Tully, the Lords Paramount of the Trident. It is situated in the western riverlands, at the confluence of the Tumblestone and Red Fork rivers. Riverrun is north of Pinkmaiden and northwest of Acorn Hall. The castle sits along the river road, an easy ride which links Lannisport and the crossroads. It is a strong three-sided castle, although not especially large. It is a tenth the size of Harrenhal.Riverrun is bordered on the north by the Tumblestone and on the south by the Red Fork, while on the west a third side faces a massive man-made ditch. In time of danger the sluice gates can be opened to fill a wide moat and leave the castle surrounded on all three sides by water, turning Riverrun into an island and leaving it practically unassailable. It commands a view of many leagues.

The riverlands is a central region of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, consisting of the rich, fertile, and populous areas around the three forks of the Trident and the northern Blackwater Rush. At the time of Aegon's Conquest the riverlands and the Iron Islands were ruled by House Hoare, the Kings of the Isles and the Rivers, although native river kings ruled centuries earlier.

Because of their central position in Westeros and lack of natural boundaries, the riverlands have been a frequent battleground. The people of the riverlands are known as "rivermen" or occasionally "riverlanders", and they are a mixture of hardy warriors, peaceful fisherfolk and devout smallfolk. Their lords have a reputation for being notoriously quarrelsome, and are referred to as "river lords". Noble bastards born in the riverlands are given the surname Rivers.

The riverlands are ruled from Riverrun by House Tully, the Lords Paramount of the Trident. Notable houses of the region have included Blackwood, Bracken, Darry, Frey, Lothston, Mallister, Mooton, Mudd, Piper, Ryger, Strong, Vance, and Whent.

Recent History:

Lord Kermit ruled the Riverlands through the end of the Dance into general prosperity and peace, at least for the riverlands. While his bannermen held greater wealth or could call up more men, Kermit sought to bind them through marriage and respect. The quarrelsome Brackens and Blackwoods would remain a thorn in his side, yet with his own marriage and those of his children, he kept the peace even through the tumultuous reign of Aegon IV.

House Tully, though, has cracked beyond easy repair. Some smallfolk say it is a curse from the woman Ser Oscar left behind when he left for Essos. With the death of two sons, grandsons, and a son to take the black, House Tully was left to a man most unfit to rule. While Lord Kermit could have done more, perhaps, he was still a father with too much faith in his son. Naming Medgar as heir was perhaps Kermit’s greatest error in his long reign. Plenty pay lip service to their liege lord or peer, but few can claim to actually respect the man. Many hope, some in secret, some blatantly, that a young Ronnel inherits with his uncle Merrett as regent.

Family Members:

• Lord Medgar Tully
• Lady Rhialta Tully (nee Manderly)
• Lady Ravella Tully
• Ronnel Tully, a boy of 6 and heir to Riverrun
• Ser Merrett the Mild, the youngest of Kermit's sons, currently at Stokeworth
• Garth Rivers

---

Lord Tully

Medgar Tully

Lord Paramount of the Riverlands
Medgar the Massive
The Fleshy Fish

Age: 62 (born 140AC)

Appearance:

Lord Tully’s weight cannot be overstated. Now approaching his elder years, he is frequently unable to carry himself more than a few steps, instead requiring servants to carry him to another room when he needs to leave his chambers. While he has earned his moniker, some of his other contorsions are due to the mysterious ailment no maester was able to diagnose. His eyes, once sparkly blue, are sunk into his face. His skin is either greasy with sweat or dry and flaking. He bears a perpetual look of self-disgust.

Description & biography:

Medgar was never supposed to be Lord Paramount. At times it seems as though it were his first memory. He never cared for his studies with the septon, maester, nor armsmaster. He cared little for women, never wished to wed, never wished to spread his seed nor sire children. He was a sickly child who grew into a rotund adolescent and never stopped widening into his adulthood. Nothing else could sate him like a hot meat pie, or glistening slices of fatty goose. He had no natural gifts, no ambition. He often hoped the ailments that plagued him would take him. Yet Malwyn died and he lived. Mordyn died and he lived still. His father told him to go to Oldtown, to take a vow to the Seven, to take the fucking Black.

Medgar had no desire to rule, but he had less of a desire to do anything at all. Surely he too would die and Myles would inherit. Instead, it was Myles forced to take the Black for accidentally killing his betrothed’s cousin. Instead, it was Medgar who wed Rhialta Manderly. He would marry the woman, or he too would take the black. Marriage was less work than traveling that far north to be that cold all the time. He married her but would not put a child in her. His wife, to anyone paying attention, was faithful to her duties. She attended him several times a week in his bedchambers. Not many months after their wedding, she gave birth to Ravella.

Some talked and made suggestions, yet as a daughter, with one remaining son able to inherit after Medgar, the talk remained whispered only. Issues over inheritance only came to a head again when young Ronnel appeared at court in 197AC. Though Rhialta had faithfully shared her husband’s chambers once per month, no other child had ever grown in her until the year she had disappeared with Ravella.

Medgar paid no attention to any of it. When his father died in 190AC he stayed in his rooms for nearly a month. He received visitors and bannermen reluctantly. Yet those who managed to see him found him to be easily manipulated, if also petulant and petty. His ambitious lords, his nefarious lords, were quick to take advantage. The Riverlands, which his father had done so much to build and care for for decades, began to crack and crumble. Medgar’s advisors, those that remained, do what they can to patch the damage inflicted by a negligent lord.

Most notably, though many of his bannermen made their way to Summerhall at the invitation of the Targaryen prince, Medgar did not want to attend, nor did he want his family to go and return with more petitions. All were barred from attending.

The River Maiden

Ravella Tully

Age: 28 (born 174AC)

Appearance:

Ravella is short, with few of the Tully characteristics. She shares much with her mother, hair dark but devoid of all but a glimmer of red, her eyes a warm chestnut, not blue. It would be hard to find Medgar anywhere within her pleasant features or mannerisms. Because of her mother’s influence, she is reserved in her dress.

Description & biography:

While Ravella’s birth may have cast doubts on her parentage, she was largely shielded from it as a child. Her grandsire, Lord Kermit, ensured she received a proper upbringing as her father would not. She spent years of her early adolescence touring the Tully bannerman houses, to strengthen ties through friendship with the river lords’ daughters or sisters. Her mother’s religious zeal for the Faith was never distant, and though she was present in her daughter’s life, she sought to influence her daughter to a chaste life, to join the Faith as she wished she had.

Kermit would not hear of it, and before he died, he had arranged a good match for the girl with one of Lord Darry’s sons. Lord Kermit died before the betrothal could be agreed upon in full. Medgar ignored it for months, his advisers claiming it as a period of mourning, until at last there was little they could do except send their apologies and weak excuses for why the two could not be wed. Ravella was not displeased about it, a girl of only six and ten, yet the slight her father paid his bannerman was a mark against her as well.

With her father in control of Riverrun, she found herself increasingly isolated. She no longer traveled, and her mother’s absence was felt more strongly. Rhialta would leave to tour septs or break bread with cloistered septas, leaving her daughter alone in the Riverrun’s chaotic halls. Instead, Ravella took to wandering her family’s lands. In one of these walks, she had a chance encounter, a beautiful melody of despair and longing emerged from the reeds and drew her in. The girl was besotted before she ever saw his face. Garth, her granduncle’s bastard’s bastard. She knew of him, the man who took to calling himself Ser Fishbones. With childish naivete, she thought of herself as his muse and gave in too willingly to the inappropriate affair.

While the truth of what happened remains murky, a few details were accepted by the court. A man, barely more than a commoner, was accused of being Ravella’s lover. He bled and died for the slight. Not long after, Ravella came down with an illness. Before it could become too obvious that she grew heavy with a child, Rhialta spirited her away, leaving Riverrun for nearly a year. When they returned, it was with a baby boy. Rhialta presented him at court, naming him Medgar’s son and heir to Riverrun. There were loud whispers, but Medgar would not refute the claim and his advisers were gleeful at having an heir no matter the questions it raised.

Ravella remains closer to the boy that many find typical. She keeps a small book with her, full of poetry and songs by some nameless bard, writings that bring a small smile to her lips or to cause a few tears to well up, sometimes both. Now passing twenty-eight namedays, she has resigned herself to a life of solitude and of the being the river maiden.

Fishbones by Sini

Garth Rivers

Age: 37 (born 165AC)

Appearance:

attractive bastard

Description & biography:

Ser Oscar Tully had always liked to cast his rod and bait among the realm’s women, usually reeling in quite the catch. There were few enough whom he thought of a week after, yet the rake had made sure that Edmyn (Garth’s father) was recognised his son. Then, he abandoned him for his Essosi adventures and life as a mercenary captain. The boy grew up to be a chip off the old block: proud, wont to fight and fuck. In true emulation of his sire, he himself begot a son – and possibly more – out of wedlock. Edmyn’s bastardised Tully charm won him a taste of Gysella Cox, with another apple not falling far from the tree.

Garth was born a right bastard (a bastard’s bastard even – and so a bastard twice over), into a family riven by disaster and riddled with discord. Gone were the days of ease and comfort brought about by Kermit’s deft rule and Oscar’s martial prowess. As Kermit’s years advanced, his judgment waned, naming the least suited of his progeny heir. To be fair to the Old Lad, there was little in the way of proper candidates as scandal and misfortune sheared House Tully of its finest members. The intricate web woven through marriages and diplomacy frayed, and the friendships and glories of the past were ignored.

Growing up on the periphery of Riverrun’s court allowed Garth more liberties than most. From a young age he read as much as he played, often sneaking out with one of the Maester’s books to read on the riverbank. His favourites were compendia of bardic prose and minstrel’s songs which prompted an adolescent squire to start compiling texts of his own. The words Garth commits to paper speak of a surprisingly old soul feeling deeply about the world. These revelations were never intended for an audience other than himself, and the only occasions when the words were sung was when he lounged by himself in the sun among the reeds.

Garth was restless if not rebellious and wild, leaving the white walls of the Tully keep behind him as he traipsed the countryside… but only after having stirred up trouble and mischief. Slippery as an eel, Garth complied with whatever punishment was doled out when caught. However, there was not much which could apparently touch him. Though there was one who managed to pluck the strings of his heart… and breeches.

Illicit affairs cause great excitement, and Ravella and he tasted of forbidden fruit in the pursuit of delight. They were one another’s escape from Medgar’s gloom and dourness creeping from the stone and mortar of Riverrun. To Garth, their ongoing torrid tryst is a vital adventure, and the fact that Rhialta became involved in the conspiracy only added to the thrill.

Because of his status as a bastard, and the aloof attitude of Medgar and his advisers, Garth changed the inverted Tully arms into those of a fish carcass. He participated in local tourneys as Ser Fishbones and greedily gobbled up the antipathy it conjured up. It was one way of making up for the lack of attention he received as a child. Garth’s innate melancholy goes hidden behind a mask of mirth.

A Song of Ice and Fire - the Blackfyre Rebellion

Hear Ye Hear Ye

Tourney deets incoming

We have three main events - Archery, Jousts, and will close out with the Grand Melee. If you haven't already, make your way to the tourney gsheet to enter any characters you'd like to be in the competitions (pinned in the discord).

Writing for the tourney is by no means a requirement to be a participant in the tourney. Over the next few days (aim for Friday), please let us know if you would like to write, or, would like to determine how your character performs and allow us to write it into the collab. PvP should ideally be sorted out between players, but I will be on call to referee/help resolve disputes. The goal is to tell a story, not have a lance measuring contest.

As the joust would be the primary 1:1 competition, I have some suggested match ups. Once everyone is satisfied with their entrants being recorded, I will add a sheet of the match ups. But you'd be free to create/reference other matches (to other player characters or NPCs) as desired. Surprise victors, catastrophic tragedies, so many possible outcomes.

Archery: Can be handled in a single post by anyone who wishes to write
Jousting: TBD dependent on your input
Melee: TBD

A Song of Ice and Fire - the Blackfyre Rebellion

Another Skagosi Approaches

The Shivering Sea gave way to the Weeping Water, or at least, that was what their reluctant guide had told them. They had started with ten, but accidents, misunderstandings, and ineptitude had reduced that to the final man who guided them to a safe harbor. Yrsa had led her men ashore, their guide bound and dragged behind them. He was silent at least, he did not wail or sob as those before him had. The woman was not sure if it was resignation or defiance. He seemed to know he was a dead man walking, though he would last at least another few days. “We follow the river inland, surely we cannot miss a castle called The Dreadfort.”

“Yes, Tvisal.” Her captain snapped his fingers at the men behind him. Two-souled. The title they used that melded reverence and fear. Yrsa’s father did not understand the nuance of the term and had seemed content that it meant they respected her. Yet Torwynd’s daughter was more Skagosi than either Westerosi or Wilding. There was a depth to the word that was difficult to articulate in the common tongue. Much as the Skagosi themselves were too easily dismissed as just brutish heathens. They were brutish. They were cannibalistic. They scorned the mainland and their soft ways. Their lives tended to be short and hard. But there was something more to the people of Skagos, something ancient and true. She felt a kinship to them her father never would, even if she would never be fully Skagosi either.

“Keep him alive until we reach the fort. He betrayed his people, we will offer him to House Bolton in their custom.” She shifted from foot to foot, her lithe body still bundled beneath layers of leather trimmed with fur.

Yrsa had ordered the majority of her men to stay back in the forests that surrounded The Dreadfort. She had kept only a dozen men as an escort for the final approach. Surely they would not have been missed but Torwynd had been clear that they should not appear an outright threat. They were not there to seize the castle. At least, not yet. If all went well they would have a few more weeks before they raised their weapons in battle.

Initial forays towards the castle returned unexpected news. It seemed most of the men had gone far south to attend a tournament. The words felt utterly foreign to the Skagosi. What opportune timing for their rebellion, to have so many men distracted by soft war games. Clearly their advance was favored by the gods. At night with a fire roaring, they agreed that Torwynd would likely have encountered the same. Their main force must have certainly been victorious. Yrsa knew her father considered himself their king, though she also knew the title there was also not so literal a translation. He was stuck in the terms of his birth. She knew better. They would follow Torwynd for as long as he could maintain control. They would follow him for as long as she submitted to his wishes. She could hear it in the way they spoke of him now. He had achieved much, but he was and always would be one wrong step from losing it all.

"We begin at dawn.”

They were a people of few words, the dozen men grunted their agreement before settling into the pine beddings they had pulled together for the evening. They roasted the bits of small creatures they had killed that day and passed around skeins of their fermented milk. Yrsa took a long, deep drink, dragged her hand across her mouth, and leaned back to stare up to the night sky.

It was quieter here, gentler, easier. It was unsettling, and she knew her men felt it too. Torwynd had promised them much with this rebellion, yet now that their boots were on these shores, Yrsa felt a shift in the men’s attitude. They would gladly plunder and kill, but to stay? She questioned how her father would achieve that. It had taken nearly her entire life for him to bring them to these lands. She felt their discomfort in her bones. Still, she had been charged to bring House Bolton to their aid, and they had a reputation that reached even the island of Skagos. Yrsa looked forward to testing their mettle to see whether it was truth or exaggeration.

She was up before dawn, awake even before her men. Sunrise was not far off, but for now, the sky was dark still. They had bound the guide to a tree, cloth stuffed to his mouth though he had been silent for days now. His clothing had become barely more than scraps, his body bloodied and bruised. Even if they were to cut him loose, he would not last a fortnight.

“You will die today.” She spoke harshly, deeply, rugged edges around each word.

The man lifted his head, but his eyes remained as empty as they had been days ago. She would have guessed that he was older than her father, face worn and rugged, stringy hair fully grayed. He had lived enough of a life, perhaps he would view his impending death as a release.

“It will not be a gentle death.”

He dropped his head down, his shoulders sagging as much as the bindings would allow. Yrsa thought she heard a stifled grunt or sob, but it passed so quickly she questioned whether it had been a trick of the mind in the dark twilight hour.

“You’ve accepted this, then. How unexpected.” She cocked her head in thought, her hand resting on the obsidian axe at her waist. Behind her she heard movement at last.Her men would be waking now. “You’ll be flayed alive. Slowly, to keep you alive as long as possible.” Yrsa approached the man and roughly grabbed his chin, pulling his face up so his eyes would meet hers. “The Boltons flay their enemies, or so we were told. But we are Stoneborn. Once you have been flayed and your last breaths leave you in excruciating pain, we will slice you from chest to groin.” She pushed his head back, her lips caressing his filthy ear with a gruff whisper. “We’ll rip out every last organ from your body.” Yrsa pressed her cheek to his in a cruel tease. “We’ll leave your carcass for the scavengers. Your wife or children, they’ll never have a body to bury.”

She stepped back, the man held his head even, staring at her still. For a moment she thought she saw a spark of fire, but it was quickly extinguished. Emptiness returned to them even as he maintained her gaze. Yrsa barely heard Wull behind her, but she had been trained by the best. And her game had offered her no entertainment. “You’re ready to move out?”

Her captain grunted his answer. “And this one, he ready for us?” The short warrior spoke, his voice heavy with blood lust.

Yrsa gave him a short nod. “We break camp as soon as you are finished with him. We’ll reach the Dreadfort by the evening. Make sure this gift stays fresh for the offering.”

tl;dr

Yrsa arrives at the Dreadfort with a small contingent of men - 100 total, a dozen to join her in approaching the Boltons directly. They bring with them a flayed gift.