A Song of Revenge and Gold: House Malroy Quest | Chapter XLI

Welcome to A Song of Revenge and Gold: House Malroy Quest. In which you take the reins of a House of storied glorious past since Aegon’s Conquering, but whose fortunes have taken a turn for the worse in the doom that Robert’s Rebellion brought. You are Brynden Malroy, second son to Lord Vamos Malroy and Lady Esemella Hayford and the last living heir to Steadhold and House Malroy. The year is 285AC, two years after the Rebellion and a year after your return to Westeros.

House Malroy is a pre-genned House designed around the idea of a story within the Crownlands of a House fiercely loyal to the Targaryens and their attempts to live in this new world after Robert’s Rebellion. Lord Brynden Malroy is as well pre-genned but will take direction from the players in his ways and how he develops himself further. This Quest will be moderately more story driven than others of its kind, but the development of the House and her lands will take just as much importance.

If you’ve played one of the many Quests within the ASoIaF setting the rules of the SIFRP system should be known. I will be using the Game of Thrones edition, as well as a few of the expansions namely OOSP and a few house rules which will be explained as we come to them. If you have questions about how things work or why certain actions are taken I can explain them as we go along. In truth this is a learning experience for me as well.

Google Documents Mastersheet:

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SIFRPG Resources:

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And now without further ado.

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-[4 Years Earlier]-

A smile plays upon his lips, his footwork the opposite of your own, the crowd of Second Sons that had gathered to cheer on the spot of ‘sport’ fills your ears with drunken revelry. Behind you looms the walls of Pentos, tall and massive stone things. The Second Sons had made camp here for reasons entirely unknown to you, likely a contract of some sort, Mero had gone alone into the city, leaving the rest of you to your own devices for the night. The new leader of the Second Sons wasn’t the particular sort you were fond of, he took contracts that left a sense of unease in the pit of your stomach, Ser Mason Flowers and Solhas za Tarbeck had agreed, plans had begun to form to leave. The Golden Company needed men, the Windblown and Tatters looked promising, just a few more years...

Your mind ceases restless wandering, focusing again on the task at hand, a new recruit, supposedly a Knight from the Riverlands. Not much older than yourself it looked, but the gung ho cockiness that wore upon his face had drawn the ire of some of the older sods, and thus you were here. A friendly spot of ‘sport’ Marqus Mudd liked to call it, more like hazing Mason would say. He was adorned like a Knight, castle-forged steel plate and sword, his stances were Westerosi to be certain, the way he pushed you off your attack with his shield was almost as crisp as Mason’s own, but not quite. And in Essos, fighting like an honorable Knight was more likely to get you killed in your line of work. You press your attack again as the Second Sons begin to get restless again, egging you on. Your armor afforded you a quicker step and you were into a rolling swing off his shield the moment he brought it up in defense. The old steel lashes across the back of his knees with your follow through, and he stumbles from the strike and lack of stop for his own momentum.

Vyror Ahyrs and Alester Urswyck burst into laughter as you come off the exchange relatively unharmed, playing to the crowd of assorted sellswords. This had been the third time you managed to go unscathed in a row and the Knight looked to be at his wit’s end having dropped his sword and raising his hands in surrender.

“I yield,” he says as he turns around, sweat having pressed his chestnut hair to his forehead, the smiling continuing to dance upon his lips, “My cousin had the misfortune of jousting a Malroy in a Tourney at Harrenhal. He left with a broken arm. I will count myself fortunate to have only tarnished my pride and some battered knees.”

The crowd begins to dissipate as you stare at the man, “How did you know I was a Malroy?”

The Riverlands Knight crosses the makeshift practice yard and offering out his hand, “Kind of hard to miss the gold horse pin, Ser?”

“Brynden. And not a Ser,” you say taking his hand roughly.

He laughs the smile still not having left the corners of his lips, “Not Ser than perhaps Lord? Ser Victor Haigh. At your service.”

“A Frey croony then? Tell me does old Lord Walder Frey still sit upon the Twins?” Mason asks having come up behind you.

“Does the High Septon ever pray, Ser Knight? Seven be good if the old sod ever dies. Lady Bethany Rosby, his… Sixth I think? Just passed, I was told before my coming here, and now he courts a Seventh, woman from the Crownlands if my father is to be believed. And a Frey croony I am not. My House is sworn to the Twins yes. But I am here for my own purposes. Adventure, coin, a little bit of wine and women. It’s in my heart, lust for something more.”

“Not a banished son? Disgraced by his own hand?” Mason asks.

“Hardly,” Victor responds with a scoff, “I’m in line for nothing in the Riverlands, unless my cousin dies childless. Why not come here? Enjoy my youth. Seven knows Westeros hardly has anything to do outside play fighting anymore.”

“Greater truth has never been spoken,” you say allowing your own smile, “Welcome to the Second Sons, Ser Victor. Come drink with us.”

The smile dances about his face, young as it was, “It would be my pleasure Lord Malroy.”

“Let’s not start that Ser Victor.”

-[Present Day]-

“How you doing Victor?”

“Hurting like a son of a whore Lord Malroy,” Victor responds from his place on the floor, one of the freed captives is helping Yondril tend to his tattered leg, he grunts in pain as the pull out the last of the bolts, “Tell me doc, will I ever walk again? Or should I start shopping around with the butcher?”

“Funny,” Yondril responds simply as he pulls something he had been chewing from his mouth and forcing it into the hole, “Will walk. Not for while. Need rest. Hold here woman, pressure. Do not speak with Victor. Tongue knows no bounds.”

“Thanks Yon,” Victor says with an allowed amount of sarcasm. Yondril nods to you as he stands, wiping his hands clean of Victor’s blood. Eyes cast about the dim room, more than a few of the prisoners still needed attention, more than your company doctor could give at least. They were still massively unsafe here in the crypts below the forgotten hall. Armed sellswords sat overhead, at least 200 if you had to take a guess. You simply couldn’t whisk them away under night’s cover, “Brynden? You alright up there?” Victor asks.

“Worried Vic. A lot more people here than I expected. Dontos is still hours out and we’re dead middle in enemy territory with wounded men.”

“Mason doesn’t seem concerned.”

You cast your eyes towards your old friend, head turned towards the darkness of the crypts beyond, leaning against the walls with arms crossed hoping Marqus Mudd and Alester Urswyck would be back soon with the Dargood captains. The frown upon his face spoke to quite the opposite of Victor’s words, a purposeful oversight on the Haigh’s part you knew. Taking a seat next to him you run a hand over your hair, the tight braid having hardly come undone in the previous conflict, Isis’ black ribbon a smooth and calming contrast.

“I always hated Myr. We went on contract there, what? Two times in the three years I was with the Sons? Always with the bloody crossbows. Oh one isn’t enough, got to throw three of the damned things at you,” Victor says with a laugh, cringing a bit from the pain, “But we always came out of it Brynden. I trust ya. The captives do as well I’d imagine. And knowing Mas he’s blaming ‘imself for shit out of his control more than he ought to.”

“Brynden,” Mason’s voice calls filling the room with its loud baritone. summoning you.

“Rest up,” you say pushing off the ground and swinging your bow off your shoulder, an arrow notched lazily as you approach. Marqus and Alester push down two bound men before yourself and Mason, and pulling the bags from their heads, the Dargood Captains. They were both in a state of undress and sleep still hung upon their eyes.

“Wot is this!” the elder one asks, looking about the room with a faded eye, “Who te hell are you? And, wot the fuck is Ser Dargood doing in chains!?”

The other man is looking about frantically, the captives pressing as far away into the corners as they can, looks of fear still worn upon their faces. His eyes come to rest upon you, tall and proud, hair of silver, black bow and arrow, wildfire pouring over them. He licks his lips with a quiver, “Seven above, your Lord Brynden Malroy. The Blackshaft. Emmett, shut the hell up man. They came, they found us.”

You stand over them as tongues both silence, eyes suddenly filled with fear. Your own burning in the torches that lit the dank crypt. Silence fills the room, the murmur of the captives having died down at the sound of your name. Most hadn’t known yet. It was a not a matter of importance to you that they had. You sigh, and nod towards the Sons to pick the men up, bringing them to the only private and still lit place you could find. As they sat roughly upon the floor you take a seat across from them, plucking at your bowstring in silent thought.

>Convince them to your side. Providing evidence of Tano Osten’s lies to their liegelord and the slaves.
>Intimidate them into compliance. Banditry and slavery were no small crime. And you had a lot of leverage.

Look at that we're back. Apologies for yesterday. End of thread is going to have some news regarding the quest. Good to see you all again. For those in uni hope finals went well and that you're enjoying your summer break.

Quick question:
Should we be offended?
Thanks.

>Convince them to your side

Honestly just tell them how deep in shit they are, we all know it. When the army comes there won't be any mercy, just looking to spare as much bloodshed as possible.

Convince them to turn traitor against Osteen.

And glad that your back. Really been missing a good quest.

Offended by what?

>Convince them to your side. Providing evidence of Tano Osten’s lies to their liegelord and the slaves.

>Convince them to your side. Providing evidence of Tano Osten’s lies to their liegelord and the slaves.

However we should not be afraid intimidate if we have to.

It's just a passive aggresive fag trolling, they get banned for saying to move quest on /qst/.
Because the mods said quest on tg are okay as long as the new board is on trial.

And i have no idea how come my trip is still on.

Sorry.

When will you run again?

Tomorrow.

Bit of a slow start, to be expected.

Anyway, looks like we'll go with Convince.

Roll 5d6 for Convince.

Rolled 6, 4, 5, 6, 4 = 25 (5d6)

Rolling for the silver tongue

...

Rolled 1, 4, 3, 4, 3 = 15 (5d6)

Here we go

Rolled 2, 5, 4, 5, 5 = 21 (5d6)

Trust me, I'm kind.

Well that should just about do it

Rolled 3, 4, 1, 4, 2 = 14 (5d6)

21,14, 19

Damn son look at that first roll. Solid way to come back.

Alright writing, sorry if I'm a bit slow today. Little out of practice, should get better as we go on. Today will be the last of this battle.

I'm here, sorry I'm late

>When we return Obella will have turned into a hormonal tyrant

Oi ye barmy bastard! Don't worry dad you'll get used to it.

>hormonal tyrant who sells romance novels to the young girls of the reach of her husbands exploits.

Fucking Malroy son

>All very true and have at least a company of men as witness.

Hey father, I can't thank you enough for running today. Life has been shitting on me and my loved ones, and I could use the diversion. Sincerely

>Dontos is surprisingly a big supporter of the novels

Only cause they feature an ex targ Prince.

Father Father you are here! Huzzaaa! Friday evening is complete now!

Scholagladiatorias Tower of Joy review and this same time!!!

Father and anons how hyped are you for Cleganebowl after the last episode fucking confirmed it?

Wait, Gleganebowl confirmed? Did I miss something?

youtube.com/watch?v=XAGR735xfgM

They hinted it suuuuper fucking unsubtly during the Arya scene when they talked about the Hound's death

>Robert Strong confirmed as Gregor Clegane
>Confirmed as Cersei's champion in a trial by combat against Sparrow
>Hound unsubtly hinted at Arya scene
It's fucking confirmed get hype

...

Emmett Waters: Success, two degrees.
Harys Pottmore: Success: three degrees.

“Harkon, bring Osten over here,” you say. The fat man is plopped in front of you, his hands and neck still tangled up in the shrew’s fiddle, a lump of cloth keeping his mouth shut. One of his eyes had begun to swell from where your fist had landed. He begins to sputter and yell through the gag at the Dargood Captains who look at him with horror before eyes land upon you again.

“This man is Tano Osten. Not ‘Ser Dargood’ as he has pretended to be. Marqus show them the papers,” you say. The Muddman, as Victus liked to call him, drops the few papers you had found with his name, the figures and sums of the trade going on beneath their feet. It was not much, but enough to that if found it would lead back to House Dargood, only you had the pieces that lead it further, “Tano Osten, is the nephew of a would-be magister in the Free City of Myr. He is Essosi, not a long lost Dargood here to save the House from ruin. His uncle is a slaver. Those men, women, and children you saw down here. They are- were rather slaves. No longer.”

The younger man is going through the papers, reading at as slow a pace as you can expect the common born to. Occasionally he’ll say a word or two to the other man who has yet to look away from you towards the papers scattered before him. He’s chewing on the inside of his mouth, spitting a black liquid onto the stone below him upon occasion. But never breaking his eye contact.

“Oi, what’s your problem?” Harkon asks him, tapping the back of his spear against his back and nearly knocking him over.

“Can’t read milord,” he says simply, gathering himself up again to maintain his eye contact with you, “Harys said he couldn’t neither.”

“O-only the simple words, milord. I know names and figures. Not much… else. Seven be good, we’re doomed Emmett,” the younger man responds flipping through what he can and can’t read before falling back onto his behind, the papers a scattered mess before him, “You truly speak true milord?”

“In all things,” you respond, flicking a wrist for Harkon to pick up the papers again, “This man is a lying snake. His allies are my enemies, as much as they are your liegelords. He was fooled into helping these men, hiring them, hosting them. All of it, a lie. They would bankrupt House Dargood, he is their sacrificial lamb.”

The men sit quiet, the elder, Emmett continues to chew and spit out his black tar, the younger, Harys rocking back and forth and clutching his hair in his hands. The elderly and green, the last able bodied men of a failing House. You didn’t doubt this was the extent of it. Between the archers and what was left of the Bright Banners here, House Dargood was more than on its last legs. It was ready to collapse.

“Wot do you wants of us?” Emmett asks after a long silence.

“Your cooperation. I am well aware, House Dargood has been fooled, that they are not my true enemy. The silver tongue of this fat princeling is enough to convince a well it is in need of water. His family makes their money that way afterall. You, House Dargood, are not my enemy,” you state, “My men, lead by the Black Knight himself, are marching as we speak. They bring siege engines, veteran foot, cavalry. Twice the army you have here. If you wish to live, to avoid needless bloodshed. You will cooperate with me. Is this understood?”

The men look at each other, the elder hanging his head a moment longer before glancing back at you, “They told us we was fighting ‘the last dragon’, bunch of fookin’ hogwash dat. King should be doin’ dat I said. But no. We out here, fightin’, dyin’. My son. He died. Up on dat Trident. Harys’ pa, he died Seven fookin’ knows where. I tell you what your lordship, I’m done fightin’. Me and te greybeards, we ‘s all done. You gots me cooperation.”

Harys nods along, “We… The Lads and I, we… We’ll stand down milord. I won’t be part of slavery. No Ser, not ‘ere.”

You sigh, resting your bow across your legs, “Good. Now, tell me everything. Time is short.”

---

A moment later you’ve gathered just about the extent of what you can from the two Dargood Captains. Emmett seemed to know about us much as you would expect of someone of his rank. Where the stables were at, the guard rotations, Aeror’s orders. As it happens, not a few weeks passed they were shorted two shipments. At a guess you assume it was the ones Wesley had found in Hayford. Aeror got into a fight with Tano, who assured him everything would be fine and their money would arrive. But ever since then, they hadn’t heard a word. Emmett had assumed they were waiting on the shipment to arrive, but he began to see less and less of Tano as the days went on, rumors began to circulate through the camps. And the sellswords had begun to get more aggressive. When patrols began to go missing, Tano disappeared entirely and the Dargood men were beginning to get restless.

Harys on the other hand seemed a fairer bit smarter beyond his years, still wet behind the ears but he knew enough to be useful. The sellsword here were the veterans of the company. Aeror was their leader, obviously, and was one of the Captains of the Bright Banners themselves. There were 240 sellswords here. Two of them were veteran footed units. The other two light cavalry, they took turns on guard rotation. They didn’t have any range outside the Dargood Archers however. The Dargood men were green as gooseshit, but had the walls to their advantage in any fights. The camps were seperated, with the Dargood men being closer to the weak side of the wall that you entered, while the sellswords were all gathered in the old hall’s ruins or the camp just outside. The hall itself still had a few rooms. Aeror kept personal captives there, his man Adaren Ormion had captured someone of relative importance in one of his raids before disappearing the day before last. Aeror had grown paranoid with the silence, and with his second hand man disappearing, he had grown impatient and was ready to leave the next day.

In the end, while they were willing to cooperate with you. Emmett was done, he wouldn’t fight either side, more willing to take his men and flee. While Harys was ready to fight, for what reason you didn’t know, but enough to tell you 100 men would be on your side. At guess the guards you killed tonight would ruin one of their light cavalry forces, dropping them down to about 220 while you stood at 120. The Sons of Gold were definitely trained better, but in overwhelming odds and without horses they were crippled comparably.

As you stand in the room over, watching Yondril tend to those he can you ponder your decision, dawn was mere hours away. And as day broke it was likely the others would find their fallen comrades or that Tano had been captured and the slaves set free, setting the camp immediately on high alert for when Dontos arrived and putting you in more immediate danger. The walls would come down easier, but someone might escape, Aeror was ready to flee as it was and the counter attack would hurt. Then their was the option of a sneak attack at night, you had half the men, and yours were unmounted. You could steal their horses and gain an advantage, but green troops against veterans, even in an ambush was dangerous. And there was a real chance your men could be overwhelmed in the chaos. Without Dontos’ relief in another couple of hours, you could be captured, forcing Dontos to stand down or worse, die.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, Mason comes over to you, placing his hand on your shoulder, “We need to make a call now Brynden.”

>Wait for Dontos to arrive
>Sneak attack now
>Custom

>Any further questions for Emmett and Harys?

Allowing discussion and open to custom plans on this one. It’s a big decision.

>Wait for Dontos
and
>Herd the saved smallfolk through the escape tunnel if it is possible away from battle

Otherwise just act like nothing is happening and when Dontos is here with army, backstab the sellswords and open the gate.

Are there any walls between the camps? Places to put archers that are hard to reach from the merc camp? If not could they build barricades quickly?

So there were no other captains? Thought there'd be another slaver working from the inside of the house Dargood. Sorry won't be able to last the entire thread Father glad this is back.

>reading the archives
>you actually pulled the 20 good men
You fags are absolute madmen. Completely worth it.

Best part was that we realized after combat was solved that we did pull 20 Good Men.

Absolute mad men we are.

Just the walls that surround the entire area. The back wall is closest to the sellsword camps.

And no, building anything right now would not only take too long, but would draw attention.

There is one more captain actually, good catch. He leads the footed sellswords while Aeror leads the mounted men. His name is Belidos. Not hard to find him. Likes the front lines.

If I am to assume that Dargoods men hold the walls, we could bluff the mercenary host into surrendering.

The Mercenary host wouldn't be able to verify the strength of Malroy forces and with half the camp turned against him it would be a simple affair to convince the sellsword that this fight isn't worth it.

We would need to wait for Dontos to Arrive and communicate with him the plan of attack.

My plan is hopefully get the mercenary captain to Capitulate. Then, since heads are going to roll for slavery and the Crown is going to go for blood on the issue use the Dargood men and the Captain for evidence against Redwood and the False Malroy in essos (I forget his name).

I want the merc captain alive to use as a trading and bargaining chip in case the crown is bloodthirsty and wants more victims in its pursuit of justice.

We try to save the Dargood men and have house Dargood bound to us. In return, they become our allies and maybe even convince them to adopt Victus as heir since they no longer have one. House Dargood would continue in name, and Victus would get his own house (Maybe Victus can marry a cousin of the Dargoods and therefore lessen the sting of the Dargoods loosing their line).

The opening act of fighting could be just ordering mass volley or two at unprotected backs of sellswords. Complete surprise to knock few out and make chaos.
In addition we could ask the two Darqood captains to lend us Darqood uniforms to blend in.

>Wait for Dontos to arrive

On mobile so no discussion from me.

>Wait for Dontos to arrive

>Wait for Dontos to arrive

Then let the the archers on the walls open the gates. That is if we can get word out to Dontos

>Wait for Dontos
>Hide what evidence we can to delay them
>Attempt to convince Harys to send word to Aeror that Malroy's forces have them surrounded and a messenger was sent to have them parlay and that the first of their demands is to set the slaves free

enjoy your ban faggot, reported. Quests can stay on Veeky Forums until the /qst/ trial period is over and it's confirmed whether or not it will stay up as a board. Not before then.

Please don't respond to them.

Point to remember. Varys at the moment told you to keep the slavery ring under wraps. The moment the Crown sticks their nose in it, is the moment you start to lose power in the situation.

You could do the uniform part, blend in with the chaos. Not a bad idea.

Could definitely do this. Emmett and Harys would both agree. Though they'd both end up surrendering immediately, rather than the latter helping you.

Can definitely do this as well. You'd need to send Tano Osten and a guard or two to help lead them, but it would work and would keep the smallfolk as safe as possible.

Alright. I don't see a lot of dissent, and not a lot of support behind ideas otherwise, seems like we want to wait for Dontos while doing a few small things to keep people safe and blend in. It's a dangerous thing regardless but having Dontos help will make the fight much easier.

So subvotes, which I imagine will all lean one way, but for the sake of it:

Uniforms?
>Request Dargood uniforms to blend in
>Do not

Smallfolk
>Have a guard or two and Tano Osten lead the smallfolk out to safety
>Do not

Dargood Forces:
>Have Harys and Emmett open the gates for Dontos and surrender immediately
>Allow Emmett and his men to flee the field, while Harys' men fight alongside your own

>>Request Dargood uniforms to blend in


>Smallfolk
>>Have a guard or two and Tano Osten lead the smallfolk out to safety


>Dargood Forces:
>>Have Harys and Emmett open the gates for Dontos and surrender immediately

>Request Dargood uniforms to blend in

>Have a guard or two and Tano Osten lead the smallfolk out to safety

>Have Harys and Emmett open the gates for Dontos and surrender immediately

Seconding Sleepy, but add two of your own to make sure that Osten stays there and doesn't try to get away.

>Request Dargood uniforms to blend in
>Do not
>Allow Emmett and his men to flee the field, while Harys' men fight alongside your own
Just tell Emmett we might come around to ask him to testify before the crown when the time comes

>>Request Dargood uniforms to blend in
>Have a guard or two and Tano Osten lead the smallfolk out to safety
>Have Harys and Emmett open the gates for Dontos and surrender immediately

How much glory do we get?
If we defeated four units outnumberd 20 to one we get eight fucking glory from this victory. That's enough to make the second sons personal guard/promote a trained unit to elite

>>Request Dargood uniforms to blend in
>>Have a guard or two and Tano Osten lead the smallfolk out to safety.
Have Mason or one of the Sons accompany the guards, someone with some measure of authority that can explain why they are leading two hundred or so odd people out of a derelict fort
>Have Harys and Emmett open the gates for Dontos and surrender immediately

I do Glory differently. Sorry to say it doesn't quite work that way here.

>Request Dargood uniforms to blend in

>Have a guard or two and Tano Osten lead the smallfolk out to safety
Make it 4

>Have Harys and Emmett open the gates for Dontos and surrender immediately

>Have Harys and Emmett open the gates for Dontos and surrender immediately
>Request Dargood uniforms to blend in

Second sending Mason or one of the other Sons along with the slaves.

>>Request Dargood uniforms to blend in
>>Have Mason and two guards lead Tano Osten and the smallfolk out to safety

While I agree sending Mason and doubling up the guards is a good idea, remember we have two hudred something pairs of eyes and ears who are none too pleased by being enslaved by Osten. I doubt they'd want to see the pig flee before being served up to the Crown

You are right better keep it close at hand.

“It’s suicidal to attack now Mason,” you say after a long moment, “The captives would be in danger. We’re outnumbered and unhorsed. Not to mention, if you died, if I died. I don’t know if I can ask the Sons or the Dargood forces to sacrifice when forces are on the way.”

Mason stands quiet, watching the captives, Harkon and Marqus had found some water and stale bread, enough to get them moving. Some of the children looked to be thin as paper, slaves were usually treated better, needed to look strong for purchase. It was a sickening display of human depravity. Your old friend sighs, “You’ve the right of it. I just… I worry for them.”

“That’s why I need you to protect them Mason.”

Mason looks to you for half a moment before realizing what you actually mean, “Brynden. I can’t. My place is by your side. Send them with Yanno or Yondril.”

“Mason. I’m sending you alongside them. You’re the only one here I trust enough. That’s an order.”

The Knight grits his teeth, “Where to?”

“To the west, meet up with Dontos’ forces. Let him know what’s going on. I am certain he will be wroth with me, but it will help save innocent lives. Take Tano with you, if he gives you any troubles. Feel free to break a couple fingers. Take Victor too, he’s done for today.”

Mason nods, even in his body language you could feel how uncomfortable he was with the situation. He swallows hard and looks to you, hands placed upon his hips, “Don’t die out there, ya? I need a best man for my wedding.”

You scoff, clapping your hand upon his shoulder, “Yes Ser.”

---

Emmett and Harys leave off to gather spare uniforms around the same time Mason has managed to organize the captives and start escorting them through the crypts. Victor looks just as displeased with the situation though hardly complains as the young woman that had been helping him with his leg aids in his walking now. Tano Osten waddles in front with Mason’s dirk placed firmly upon the small of his back. He waves a final time as he disappears into the darkness. Harkon and Yanno begin to put out the torches lighting the area, Yondril, Vyror and Alester hiding what bodies they could find. The last moments of glimmering emerald allows you to finally read the name of those stored in this crypt. Thorne. Small wonder they hated you so.

Harys and a few of his men arrive the moment you arrive at the entrance to the crypts. Bit of a tight fit in the chest. Always was. Doing a quick head count you see the Sons are doing about as well as they can. No dead, only minor injuries, including the one on your drawing arm. The stinging pain reminding you of the joy you’d experience later in getting it redressed and cleansed. Snapping a quick nod off to Harys you follow after and emerge from the crypt. The moon is low, the slight colors of morning beginning to swirl in the sky. Few more hours. Sneaking through the shadows again you begin to see the brief morning stirrings of camp. More camp followers than actual armed men, it worried you. A single body would set the entire camp off. You trust the Sons to have done as clean a job as possible, but all the same.

Arriving in the Dargood camp you’re greeted with more woken eyes than you had expected, word had gotten around already. The greybeards and green boys alike looked at you with fear. Harys leads you and the Sons to his command tent, enough room to house the seventeen of you. Water and salted beef is offered, some take others deny. You chew hard on the stick as eyes peer from the tent flaps. Waiting for morning to come.

---

“Milord, we’re being called to our posts,” Harys says while bursting through the tent flaps half out of breath, “Someting spooked Aeror. He’s getting the men ready to march.”

“Suppose we couldn’t hope they’d notice twenty some odd men missing for too long,” Alester says, “Sons are ready when you are boss.”

“You know what to do Harys.”

“Aye milord. Wave the flag, surrender. We know.”

Waving Harys off you peak through the tent flaps and see a cadre of sellswords on the approach from the main camp. The Dargood forces are scattering to the wind, heading towards their positions on the walls. Eyes glance to the sky, red in the morning, sailors warning. You scoff. Then hear the sound. A bullhorn, the call to war. Dontos was in sight. The cadre of men stop and look back to the main camp that has gone into an uproar. You’ve a moment to go, perhaps cause your planned distraction. For a moment a smile dances upon your lips.

>Using the chaos as cover make a break for their stables and steal their horses for your own
>Make a mad dash for the gate, instantly linking up with Dontos forces

>Using the chaos as cover make a break for their stables and steal their horses for your own

>>Using the chaos as cover make a break for their stables and steal their horses for your own

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>1 Chaos
>2 Dash

>Using the chaos as cover make a break for their stables and steal their horses for your own

>Using the chaos as cover make a break for their stables and steal their horses for your own

Veeky Forums break for anyone else for a few minutes?

not for me

Eye glance about, the camps had become a madhouse. In the distance you see a handful of men screaming and yelling at the sellswords. The bullhorns go off again and in the distance, you catch a response. The low rumbling of multiple horns of war fills your ears. Dontos’ forces echoed the pitying call to arms that the Bright Banners were attempting and for a brief moment, you could taste fear. The song is long, a single note carried about the forest, echoing in the forgotten hall, echoing in the ears of those who suddenly very aware of what was coming their way. They stood silent, motionless. Eyes trained to where their ears told them the sound had come.

Your fist was raised in the air, the Sons of Gold flanked you on both sides. The sound had provided enough distraction for you to sneak up through the Dargood camp and plant yourselves in a firing line before the cadre of men from the main camp. They would not be missed. Your arm falls the snap of sixteen bowstrings at once filling your ears for the briefest of moments. They hadn’t seen you coming, only one managed to lay eyes upon you for a moment long enough to realize what had happened. His eyes wide with fear his mouth attempting to form words before the arrow caught his throat and his body fell to the ground.

Flashing looks to either side you get nods for confirmed kills, a quick wave and your men form up behind your mad dash towards the stables. No particular need for stealth now, the camps had fallen to disarray again, those few that still held command found it fleeting and failing as Dontos’ horns only swelled as they drew nearer. The Sons scatter when they meet the edges of the mercenary camp, dashing through the mess of men, tents and steel with wild abandon.

You found yourself alone for a moment, quickly bouncing between the nonsensical pathways, rolling off of those you ran into and pushing through the crowds of the few assembled men. They hardly gave you a look. Oh how Dontos would rage if he had known. For the better though, your arrows were the dead give away, enough to last the night. Enough to last the day. Black on black, silent, deadly. Breaking through the camp you take a short moment to gather yourself and track down the stables. Along the back wall, by the Hall, Harys’ words were. The braying of the horses, the yells of men, that took you to where you needed to be.

You link up with Yanno, Yondril and Reddyar Harmith, joining in their stride as they had pinpointed your destination as well. Bows fall off shoulders, arrows notching loosely as you ran. The horses were going wild, bucking their riders and chopping at anyone that drew near. Poorly trained, likely not warhorses. You’ve managed worse. The others have joined you now, what a sight you were, sixteen men dressed in ill fit Dargood uniforms, bows drawn and ready as you all took up position. Some had noticed you, yelling at you to get back upon the wall. That deserters would be hung. You could only smile, a playful thing that danced about your lips.

The bullhorn stops. A ringing in your ear the only sound as an otherwise deafening silence looms over the camp.

Ready.

The riders finally realize they are surrounded. Steel is drawn as suspicion gives rise to doubt. You are not Dargood men.

Aim.

A distance thump, two, three. The whistling of something hurled through the sky interrupts the quiet. Screams meeting it in turn. Your smile dances to the song.

Fire.

>Roll 6d6+1 for Marksmanship.

Rolled 6, 4, 5, 5, 3, 1 + 1 = 25 (6d6 + 1)

Rolled 4, 1, 4, 2, 1, 4 + 1 = 17 (6d6 + 1)

Rolled 3, 3, 5, 3, 4, 3 + 1 = 22 (6d6 + 1)

24,16,19

Hasn't lost a step.

Goddamn right

Like shooting fish in a barrel

Which is actually harder than one would think.

Actually hitting them, yes. Killing them? A lot less so.

Depends a lot on cartridge and shot used. One that transfers a loy of energy deep in the water would be best.
.

Success, three degrees.

The moment feels long, the arrow flying from your bow just the same moment one of the men begins to yell in scream in Myrish. A few caught words, shit, piss, fuck. Normal. The ground rocks, the chorus of screams reaching their peak as the boulders roll through the camp. The man continues to scream and yell, attempting to force the reigns free, his horse fighting him every step. Your arrow streaks through the air, catching him in the back of the neck the very moment he turns from you, his body falling over in a thump. The Sons’ arrows follow not soon after, catching their various targets as chaos truly takes hold in the camps behind you. Few more minutes and another volley of boulders will come, then they’ll invade the camp. The cavalry first, the footed men soon after. You had a few moments to capitalize on the hell that had broken loose in here.

You march towards the horses, calm, collected even as hell raged around you. Your men quick to dispatch anyone left over and covering your rear. Alester and Yanno find them by your sides as you enter the stables, “Cut those too wild to ride free. Gather up those worth riding. Let’s move.”

“Yes Brynden,” they respond in unison. Daggers at the ready, your eyes fall upon an old boy, black, but just as calm as you. His nostrils flaring as you approach his hoof stomping at the ground before him as he slightly tugs at his reigns.

“You’re a real horse aren’t you,” you whisper on your approach, hand outstretched for him to smell. His eyes narrow for a moment and he shakes his head giving you pause for a moment, “Easy there old boy. I’ve enough ornery old man nonsense from Goldsong. Let’s say you and I go for a ride. Last one, then you can retire for real. My stables got the best oats this side of the Narrow Sea. How’s that sound? Hm?”

The black warhorse bows his head, sniffing at your hand, enough time for pleasantries. Your hand glides up his face and pats the side, “A deal then. Let’s get you loose. YANNO! STATUS?”

“Ready my Lord!” he yells, herding a fair few horses out the stable, slapping more than a few on the arse as they break loose from their bounds and attempt to escape the war around them.

Luck for you the old boy had his saddle ready and you swing into it easily. Not the right feel you notice immediately, bit wider than the coursers. Destrier it was, not quite the same, built for battle but expensive, almost not worth it sometimes. But you could manage the old man. Spurs dig deep and he protests your lead before being forced towards the entrance of the stable. The other Sons had begun to filter in, swinging in the mixed bag of horses and following after your lead.

Your ears begin to fill with the rumbling from the skies again, this time the boulders were smaller, breaking apart into a hail of stone and death as they crashed into the camps below. The moment you emerge from the stable you see the pelting hailstorm assaulting the camps and scattering them to the winds. The moment is fleeting though as you break into a gallop, “Come on old boy. Show me what you got left.”

The archery skills Brynden has would make Robin Hood worry

The Sons follow after you at full gallop, bows at the ready as you circle the forgotten hall gathering momentum. The echo of fellow horses begins to collect in your ears, Ser Lucas Longwaters and Raymun Chelsted leading their own men and you intended to meet them there. A quick glance shows you the makeshift flag of purple and black flying in the air upon the wall, the Dargood forces giving up their arms in short order and surrendering with ease. Dontos and Mason would be there to deal with them. The clean up of the camp fell upon you. The camp comes into sight again as you round the broken hall, those few left attempting to form up and mount a counteroffensive against the eighty heavily cavalrymen racing towards them.

The camps were broken, men had begun to flee. But you had people to find, those to capture. Belidos in the ground camp if he still yet lived. And the main prize, Aeror in what was left of the forgotten hall.

>Go after Belidos in the ground camp
>Go after Aeror in the hall’s camp

>Roll 7d6+1 for Marksmanship.

God are catapults strong in this game.

Rolled 2, 6, 5, 3, 6, 6, 5 + 1 = 34 (7d6 + 1)

>Go after Aeror in the hall’s camp