You are drowning. Salt water fills your mouth and lungs, your body thrashing in the cold waters. The drowned priest holds you by the base of your neck, submerged in the realm of god, straining for air. You open your eyes, the salt stinging them. You feel hands grab your limbs, keeping you firmly beneath the waves. Shame at your weakness is soon taken over by the salt in your body--it burns you, fills you, until there is blackness.

Awakening, you push saltwater out from your lungs, turning to your side. Some got into your stomach, and you taste bile. Just like how it came in, it burned. You turn away from the mess you made on the rocky beach, looking up at the village, your family’s castle, and the ragged priest looming above you. His disheveled look makes you uneasy.

“What is dead may never die,” the priest intoned, raising his driftwood staff.

“But rises again,” you cough, taking a step toward him. You clean your mouth with the back of your hand. “Harder and stronger.” Taking your blond hair, you strain out the excess water. The priest nods and walks away as your little brother barrels into your legs. Little Aerion’s black hair made him fit in better with the other ironborn, you think, despite being a bastard. You ruffle his head and smile.

“You did it!” Aerion’s eyes glinted in the sun up at you. “Did you see the Drowned God? Any mermaids?” His excitement is infectious and you grin with him.

“I didn’t see any.” Aerion is only nine. You wouldn’t tell him what kind of merlings you’d prefer to attend you in the Drowned Halls. Maybe when he was older. “But you might when you’re old enough.” With you, Mother had been anxious for months leading up to the ceremony. With Aerion, she may not care if the boy drowns.

Aerion runs up the beach, back to your lord father and mother. Your house guards had stood vigilant during the ceremony, and you could tell they were more at ease now that it was complete. Following him, you take deep breaths of the air. No matter where you were on Red Isle, you could not escape the salt. It was in the air, the sea, even in the fish you ate. The ironborn life. And you are now truly an ironborn, drowned and risen again.

Your mother and father stood before you. Father was garbed in black vestments, but had his weapons at his waist regardless of the occasion. He’s like a statue, a widows’ peak and slicked back dark hair showing all the chisel marks that make up a man’s life. Mother stood in stark contrast, a bright green dress, decorated with white blooms of her maiden Serry family. Her features were soft and welcoming, gold hair adorning her head, flowing down to her back. She was a stranger in a strange land, but she is your mother. And you’ve shown the doubters today that you are of the Iron Islands.

“I was so worried…” Mother trailed off, breathing easier now. Father was calm and inscrutable as ever, yet he clapped a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you ready to hear the day’s decrees and news, daughter?” His steely voice asks.

“Of course, Father.”

The Redhand family and the entourage of guards climb up through the fishing village of Archport. This early in the morning, all the whaling ships were out at sea. It was a nice reprieve from the usual smell of whale being taken apart. The wind picked up as you made the climb, and crossed the Arch, the natural land bridge to Redhand Castle. The wind was whipping--Mother had to hold her dress.

The winds felt good after the water. You split from the family, getting a cloth to dry yourself off and clean your armor.

“How was the experience?” You hear a familiar voice ask. Yann’s grin was framed by his dyed red mustache. He wore his breastplate confidently, sauntering over to you.

You shake your head. “I drowned, and it wasn’t too pleasant. But I feel like I belong now.” You shrug with a smile. “So there’s that.”

Yann laughs, but stops as he hears footfalls. A guard reports your urgent presence in the hall. You look to Yann, and both of you walk with purpose to the castle hall.

Father and Mother were seated at their thrones, looking down at the man a few steps below them. They were shocked, Aerion standing next to Father, looking between them and the messenger.

Father’s mouth moves, trying to find words as you walk up to him. He looks to you then back to the messenger. “What is dead may never die,” he says looking back to you. “Lord Quellon Greyjoy has just passed in his sleep. Balon is now the Lord Reaper of Pyke.” He sighs, leaning back in his chair. “You’re free to stay with us, messenger. Any man of House Greyjoy is welcome in my halls.”

You glance at the man, a scowl on his face as he stares at you. His eyes dart over to Father. “Thank you, m’lord.” He exits.

Father waited until the messenger was gone, and all in the hall were Redhand men. “Balon wishes all the lords of the Isles to Pyke, to hold a commemorative feast.” He strokes his beard. “It will be held in a few days time. We’ll need to prepare--”

The doors to the hall burst open. The drowned priest from earlier walked in with a limp, hanging heavy on his staff. “...any priest may go where he wills in the Isles! We are born of iron, we are not in the greenlands!” You hear the priest shout to the guards following behind. They had failed to stop the elder.

“Redhand!” He cries out, startling Mother and Aerion.

“What is it, priest?” Father demands.

“Men of greenlander faith taint your isle!” The disheveled man nearly spat on the ground, but checked himself. “On the far side. I have seen them! They are armed and beating those who deny their lies!” He takes in breaths. “They wear white cloth and dub themselves the Brothers.”

Father frowned. “Why tell me this now, priest?”

He waved his arm to the side, breathing hard on his staff. “I did not wish to interrupt the rite. And a man from another village came to me.” The guards behind him convey the same information on these men of the Faith to you.

Father sighs and looks to you. “What do you think, Victara? What course of action should we take?” He had never asked you for your opinion on a matter. At least, not in the throne room, not in front of others. Your heart beats faster, thinking of the choices.

>Investigate with Yann, find out more information
>Take a group of soldiers to the village in question.

Time to get this started boys!

>>4322919
>Investigate with Yann, find out more information

You might want to use the things in this folder QM. It would make a cleaner Char sheet in the future.
https://www.mediafire.com/folder/6sar1o14399xv/SIFRP
Not my stuff btw, Father compiled it.

>>4322919
>Take a group of soldiers to the village in question.

>>4322919
>Take a group of soldiers to the village in question.
Didn't Quellon die in battle late during the Rebellion after the battle of the Trident though?

>>4322919
>>Take a group of soldiers to the village in question.

Man I am stoked for this quest. Your descriptions are excellent and I like the diplomatic curveball you've thrown us with a feast on Pyke rather than just going straight for raiding.

>>4322919
>Investigate with Yann, find out more information

>>4322919
>Investigate with Yann, find out more information

>>4322919
Investigate with Yann

>>4322919
>Take a group of soldiers to the village in question.

>>4322919
>>Take a group of soldiers to the village in question

>>4322944
Ironboi might be going on his own timeline here?

>>4322944
Yes. I see we're veering hard away from established canon already.

He could be faking his death. Maybe he wants all the lords to gather together, hear if they talk shit about him, then pop out and say "I'M ALIVE ASSHOLES!" and smack the shit-talkers with a rotting fish. The incident doesn't go far from the isles, due to a mixture of secrecy they already have and embarrassment.

>>4322919
>Take a group of soldiers to the village in question.

Maybe it's a ploy to announce a raid on the Reach where he actually died?

>>4322935

Thank you! I'll definitely look into that.

>>4322944
>>4323000
>>4323008
>>4323029

Well at least I have your attention! I'm very humbled for these fast replies, thank you.

Writing now!

>>4323082
>Maybe it's a ploy to announce a raid on the Reach where he actually died?

Eh I really doubt that given how he was in canon.

>Quellon tried to reform the ways of the ironborn and integrate them with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms by freeing thralls, forbidding most reaving, discouraging salt wives, encouraging marriages with the mainland, and bringing maesters to the Iron Islands.

However the faking his death >>4323029 might have some merit he was noted to have been failing in health by the time the Rebellion finally rolled around. Perhaps it was a false alarm and he'll be brought back by a maester whereas a drowned priest had failed causing further divide in the ironborn during his reign.

>>4322919
>Take a group of soldiers to the village in question.

>>4323174
Our parents' marriage is probably arranged by him then.

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>>4322919
“I’ll take a contingent of men with me to weed out these Brothers.” You say, hoping your nerves weren’t obvious in your voice. “Their beating of our people will not be tolerated.” The priest nods his head, telling you the location of the disturbed village. Bowing his head, he leaves.

Mother cleared her throat. “Wouldn’t taking that many men frighten them more and make the situation worse?”

You turn to meet her gaze. “Aye, it very well might. But a few dozen axes pointed at ‘em will change their mind,” you answer. You might have said it a bit too harshly, for Mother turns her eyes downcast.

Father shakes his head. “Faith of the Seven out here? We’ve never outright banned the Faith, but for them to cause violence…” He looks to Mother. “Aren’t they a bit more, you know, peaceful?”

She looks to her husband. “Since Maegor the Cruel did away with their military, yes. The Seven led the Andals to Westeros, to war with the First Men.”

Father let out a short chuckle. “Well perhaps they’ll put up a good fight. Victara, I wanted to tell you this at a better occasion but… Your ship is ready at the docks. Take Yann with you, and I’ll ready the men. They’ll be under your command.”

You could hardly believe it. You blink trying to find your words. Aerion speaks before you, saying, “Father, can I lead the men?”

“When you’re old enough,” he replies, earning a glare from Mother.

“Thank you, Father,” you say, smiling. “But are you not coming with me?”

“Take this as a test. Show the men what you can do. You’ve my blood and you’ve had salt in your lungs. You’re more ironborn than some of them already. Now go,” he waves his hand. Merchants were entering the hall, and the castle quartermaster. You nod as you leave, Yann a pace behind you. He helps you get your armor and weapons ready. Your finely castle-forged sea spear, a few daggers, and a shield were all on your person as you exited the castle. The dockmaster escorts you to your ship on the pier.

>>4323186
If I had to give it a guess if not outright arranged by him very likely he had a hand in guiding it to occur. I'd bet that a young(10-13) Osric was amongst Quellon's ironborn that sacked Fair Isle and Faircastle during Lord Tytos Lannister's lordship. Perhaps our grandfather died there and Osric was taken up by Quellon and guided him to his more line straddling lordship between the New and Old ways.

I haven't read the original house creation thread so I'm just spit balling here.

>>4323207
And what a beauty she was. It was a type of ship the Redhands preferred--a taller and fatter longship, good for war and trade.The ship was freshly made with a fine layer of red to represent Redhand, if the sigil on the sail wasn’t evident enough. “You must be sick of the color red,” Yann says, hacking up mucus and spitting into the ocean.

“I sometimes pretend the thumb is a dragon’s head, the fingers its wings,” you smirk, feeling the wind gliding off from the ocean. “And just like that I’m a Targaryen.” Yann snorts at the comment.

“Heh, I don’t think anyone marries ironborn except other ironborn. Besides Lia.” He walks up the plank onto the ship, and you follow behind. “What are you going to name her?”

“Sea Dragon,” you say instantly. It felt right and natural all at once.

Yann puts a hand through his mop of dye-red hair. “It’s a good name. But how should we approach the village? Surround it and start interrogating?”

You look up at the cloudy grey sky, contemplating. “Yes. We’ll take a few longships, pull up on shore, and make a circle. I’ll begin asking questions.”

“And if things get bloody?”

“No ironborn would shed the blood of another ironborn. Unless it’s true war.”

As if on cue, the Redhand men marched onto the piers, boarding their ships. The other captains came up to you, one of the swaggering. You roll your eyes. Captain Harras. “My lassie!” The man greets you. His obnoxious mustache met with his sideburns and you wanted nothing more than to rip it off. “What are you doing out here?”

You compose yourself. “Father instructed me to lead you and your men.” To which, Harras barked out a laugh. “Do you find that humorous, captain?”

“Well when a blond haired lass I’d sooner beat and fuck tells me she’s leading me… I’d tell her to leave it in the hands of someone more capable.” Of course he meant himself. Harras had praise only for Harras. The other captains were mortified at his words, eyes as wide as plates.

You glare daggers at him. “You question Lord Osric’s commander?”

Harras nods heartily, hand on his sword hilt. “I’d also question his fucking judgment too.”

You’ve never liked Harras. One of your father’s best captains, he came from smallfolk roots. Yet he’s been a dissenting voice in the past--apparently has been since you were born from an ironborn and greenlander union. This was too much.

>Prove yourself. Finger dance with Harras.
>Make the man bleed. Duel him in front of your men.
>Talk him down. Roll 5d6 for Persuasion (Convince), keep the best 4 dice.

>>4323186
I’d imagine strongly supported rather directly arranged.
And likely to be looked down upon when his much more conservative son takes the throne.

I’m picturing our father as a canny political operator in the vein of a more honourable, less sociopathic Tywin or Roose.

>>4323214
>>Prove yourself. Finger dance with Harras
Is this where our Marksmanship does well?

>>4323214
>>Prove yourself. Finger dance with Harras.

>>4323214
>>Prove yourself. Finger dance with Harras
I’m guessing the old finger dance runs off agility or marksmanship. Perfect opportunity to play to our high stats without exposing our relatively weaker athletics, fighting or endurance.
And persuade is too passive - we need to assert our ability as a warrior.

>>4323214
>Prove yourself. Finger dance with Harras.
>Make the man bleed. Duel him in front of your men.

either or

>>4323214
>Talk him down. Roll 5d6 for Persuasion (Convince), keep the best 4 dice.

>>4323214
Seeing that there isn't enough support for a duel, which I would prefer, I guess I will go with
>Prove yourself. Finger dance with Harras.

>>4323214
>>Prove yourself. Finger dance with Harras.

>>4323214
>Prove yourself. Finger dance with Harras.

>>4323251
Fighting isn't our strongest stat. He's a veteran captain, he'll overwhelm us. There's time to improve later.

>>4323214
>Talk him down. Roll 5d6 for Persuasion (Convince), keep the best 4 dice.

>>4323214
>Prove yourself. Finger dance with Harras.

>>4323214
>Prove yourself. Finger dance with Harras.

>>4323214
>Prove yourself. Finger dance with Harras

>>4323214

With a huff, you lower your hand to the axe around your belt. You free it from its loop, pointing it at Harras. “Let us finger dance, captain. I’ll show you my worth.”

Grinning widely, Harras climbs up the plank. He stands before the door to captain’s quarters, and you take a position behind the mast. He takes out his hand axe, that grin still plastered on his face. “Let’s see how much Serry is in you, little lady. I still think a fine dress fits you better than that armor.”

You suppress a surge of anger within you. You take in deep breaths. “Go ahead, Victara.” Harras waggles his finger at you. You raise your axe up behind your head, making sure to take time to aim, but not too much time.

>I need two rolls.
>A Marksmanship test, roll 5d6 and keep the best 4 dice. This is to throw the axe.
>An Agility test, roll 4d6. This is to catch the axe.

Rolled 1, 1, 5, 1, 1 = 9 (5d6)

>>4323564

>>4323566
Uhh I hope we're doing best of 3

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

>>4323564

Rolled 6, 5, 4, 3, 5 = 23 (5d6)

>>4323564

>>4323571
What a start if we’re not

Rolled 4, 5, 5, 5 = 19 (4d6)

>>4323564

>>4323571

Yeah I'll do best of 3 rolls.

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

>>4323564

Rolled 5, 3, 5, 2 = 15 (4d6)

>>4323564
>>4323592
*Phew*
Glad I didn't sink the quest in the beginning then!

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

>>4323592
and agi

>>4323592
Just make sure you do the same for our opponents and account for it when setting thresholds for flat tests. I hate feeling like quests are easy because of the dice rather than our decisions

>Marksmanship Result: 21
>Agility Result: 19

You fling the axe at Harras, the axe head spinning in a perfect line. You see Harras’s cocksure grin evaporate as the axe comes toward him. He didn’t even bother trying to catch the weapon, he danced to the side of it, the axe embedding itself in the wood.

His face was shocked at the throw. Yann and the other captains let out a laugh. Furrowing his brow, Harras throws his own axe. You see it tumble through the air, axe head over handle, and you see your opportunity. You seize it in the air by the handle.

The salty wind feels good as it whips against your hair, and you slam down the axe into the deck. “Can a right and proper lady finger dance, Harras?” You taunt the captain. “At least I put my hand out to try and catch it.”

“She’s got more guts than you, Harras!” One of the captains shouts out, and they all laugh.

You take out the axe from the deck, and return the weapon to its owner. Harras takes his axe, and returns yours. His eyes show defeat, his mouth moving but making no words. You clap a hand on his shoulder. “I wanted you to know I can fight and lead you. I’m not directing you in a ball, I’m directing you in the field. You don’t have to like me. Just trust me in my role.” Leaving him at that, you turn to the other captains.

“Men, we’re going to row to the far side of the Isle. We’ll go ashore, surround the village and begin looking for these Brothers. You are not to harm anyone unless I tell you or you defend yourself. Is that clear?”

“Yes, my lady!” The captains speak.

“Then we head out. Ready your sails and oars!” The captains and Harras leave the ship, going to their own longships. The raiders on your ship begin to board.

>>4323724
“Did you expect to lose a finger in that dance?” Yann asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Lia would probably kill me if she knew I let you do that.”

“Surely she knows I’m not taking after her,” you say, shaking your head. “She doesn’t have a vision to put me in a dress still, does she?”

Yann smiles at you. “Every lady dreams of her daughter being a perfect lady. Even in Tyrosh, the merchant-lords do the same.” He looks about. “I believe we’re ready.”

You help prepare the ship for undocking. Soon enough the sea breeze is stronger against your face, the men rowing and letting the winds fill your sail. It takes perhaps an hour to get to the village in question. By now the land has gone from rocky cliff coasts to flatter plains. The half a dozen longships in your fleet land ashore, flanking the village. You instruct the raiders to encircle the village. The smallfolk quickly bar themselves behind their huts, women and children frightened.

You, Yann and your soldiers walk up to the elder’s hut. The man, perhaps fifty years old, stumbles out of the home. “What is the meaning of this, milord?” He blinks, rubs his eyes, noticing the gold locks beneath your helm. “My lady! Lady Victara, forgive me.”

“You are fine, elder. Tell me, what do you know of the Brothers? They follow the Seven of the greenlands. I’ve heard tale they beat anyone who doesn’t follow their faith.”

He looks at you guarded. “They’ve been through here, aye.” The elder looks at the grassy sands. “But I know now where they went.”

You share a glance with Yann. ‘He’s hiding something,’ Yann’s eyes seem to say. All you need do is get it from the man.

>Threaten the elder. If that doesn’t work, go through with your threats.
>Order your men to drag out other villagers and question them.
>Talk him into relenting. Roll 5d6, taking the best 4 dice. (If you vote for this, go ahead and roll)
>>4323676
I'll keep that in mind, thank you!
Also I am going into work soon. I'll be back about 2-3AM UTC.

>>4323726
>Talk him into relenting. Roll 5d6, taking the best 4 dice. (If you vote for this, go ahead and roll)
It would be better to leave the rolling until a decision is made.

>>4323726
>Threaten the elder. If that doesn’t work, go through with your threats.

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

>>4323726
>>Talk him into relenting. Roll 5d6, taking the best 4 dice. (If you vote for this, go ahead and roll)

Rolled 1, 1, 4, 3, 4 = 13 (5d6)

>>4323726
>Talk him into relenting. Roll 5d6, taking the best 4 dice. (If you vote for this, go ahead and roll)

Rolled 6, 6, 2, 5, 1 = 20 (5d6)

>>4323726
>>Talk him into relenting. Roll 5d6, taking the best 4 dice. (If you vote for this, go ahead and roll)
For the future probs better to hold off on rolls until a decision has been made, don’t want anyone metagaming

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>4323778
Assuming I can refill the one for Attractive

Rolled 5, 2 = 7 (2d6)

We can re-roll two 1s on any interaction roll right? Because it's "Attractive (Re-roll any 1s equal to half your Persuasion rank)"

And it's not limited to 1 use per day or anything? If yes, I'd like to re-roll these >>4323776

>>4323726
>Threaten the elder. If that doesn’t work, go through with your threats.

>>4323794
No it's not limited per day

>>4323726
>>Talk him into relenting.

>>4323726
>Talk him into relenting.

>>4323726
>Threaten the elder. If that doesn’t work, go through with your threats

>>4323726
>Talk him into relenting.

>>4323726
>>Talk him into relenting. Roll 5d6, taking the best 4 dice. (If you vote for this, go ahead and roll)

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>>4324529
Anon... I'm right there with you, but you appear to be lost.

>>4323757
>>4323778

Damn, you right. If people see the best of the first 3 rolls, that will affect how they vote. Can you tell this is my first time being a QM? ;D

Writing now!

Just as a heads up everybody, I have a 12 hour shift tomorrow. So I won't be posting again til 2-3 AM UTC.

>Persuasion (Convince) Result: 19

You remove your helm and smile at the village elder. You extend your arm, palm up. “I’m not here to hurt you or yours. If the Brothers have done anything to harm my people, I want to know so I can protect them.” You ball your hand into a fist. “And avenge them, if I must.”

The elder is taken aback by your honest words. He seems in awe. “Milady, forgive my looks. I-I had heard horrid tales about you…”

“Such as?” You stare at the man, mayhap a bit too hard.

“The tales made you out into a monster,” he said, clutching his walking staff with both hands now. “A scheming witch, using your beauty to enchant men…”

The laugh you try to stifle escapes your lips. “Some blond witch? God, the shit I hear. But tell me about these Brothers.”

“Oh! They were an odd bunch, milady. Wore mainly white clothes. They were in the village right after a drowned priest visited. He was speaking of traveling to Archport, milady. He healed one of our boys who finger danced, with salt and fire to close the wound. But it got worse. His fever grew along with his wailing. But the Brothers came, and they had a healer among them. They were armed but not armored. The healer, she used… something on him. Like a little pouch against his wound, and strange instrument to put it inside him.”

You put a hand to your chin, thinking. “What about the beatings?”

“Ah yes! The Brothers and my villagers got into an argument. It came to blows, but the Brothers apologized as they left. Didn’t draw weapons. They headed further inland. I know not if they wanted to use the hills to hide their route from us, or if they were headed to Archport.”

You know there was nothing of real note further inland of Red Isle. The ironborn never strayed far from sea. Besides a few goat herders, no one lived at the center of the Isle. You put your fingers to your mouth and whistle. “At ease, men!” The command is echoed through your soldiers til it reaches the encirclement. You wave your hand above your head, calling your captains to you.

>>4324856

“What did you learn?” Harras asks. Of course he’d be the first to pipe up.

“Our drowned priest may have exaggerated. It sounds like an argument turned into a fight, rather than these Brothers just coming into town and beating our people. They healed a boy and left. But they were armed.”

“Ironborn can’t arm themselves?” Harras cocks an eyebrow. His question seems genuine rather than goading.

You give him a level look. “They may not be ironborn. They had a healer using instruments on the boy. She sounds like a Silent Sister.” Now that your target was on the move, you had to find a way to track them down. You glance around the village, and notice a few horses tied to one hut. And you think of the other half dozen or so small villages like this dotting the coast of Red Isle. The captains await your command.

>Favor speed. Take a small group on the horseback to the center of the isle.
>Favor thoroughness. Split your forces and begin searching the other villages.

>>4324861
>Favor speed. Take a small group on the horseback to the center of the isle.

>>4324780
You're doing well. Reading other asoiaf quests can help you catch up quickly with the common practices and writing.

>>4324861
>Favor speed. Take a small group on the horseback to the center of the isle.

>>4324861
>>Favor speed. Take a small group on the horseback to the center of the isle.

>>4324861
>Favor thoroughness. Split your forces and begin searching the other villages.

>>4324861
>Favor speed. Take a small group on the horseback to the center of the isle.

>>4324861
>>Favor speed. Take a small group on the horseback to the center of the isle.

>Favor thoroughness. Split your forces and begin searching the other villages.

>>4324861
>Favor speed. Take a small group on the horseback to the center of the isle.

>>4324861
>>Favor speed. Take a small group on the horseback to the center of the isle.
>>Favor thoroughness. Split your forces and begin searching the other villages.
Both

We don't have enough horses for everyone to mount up so we'll take a small group and ride for the centre, the leftovers can split up and work their way through the surrounding villages.

>>4324780
>Can you tell this is my first time being a QM? ;D
Well you're doing great. Very evocative descriptions.
One thing I've seen in the other ASOIAF qsts is that they give us the degrees of success along with the result. It's nice to know how much we succeeded/failed by.

>>4325096
Support

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>>4324885
>>4325096

I'm going to finally get some time to read other ASOIAF quests, so I'll be learning from them. I'll be posting up the Difficulty Check, and how many degrees we fail/succeed by. And thank you for the compliment--I majored in English in college, with a focus on creative writing. It feels good to use these skills I love, it's been a while.

But writing now! With help from my friend, pic related.

>>4326509
What do you do for a job, bro? I'm an engineer myself but my sister is thinking about taking English. What are the options out there?

>>4326509
Damn, I hate English in college. Sucks ass reading about how the room being blue has a deeper meaning than the author writing a random colour.

But I love writing, so keep doing what you love doing QM.

File: Dark Cave.png (1.51 MB, 1366x768)

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>Favor speed. Take a small group on horseback to the center of the isle.

This is not an ideal situation. That’s rarely the case, you think to yourself. No plan hits the field completely laid out like it was in the war room. Thinking on this, you clear your throat, addressing the captains. “Yann, Harras, Cromm and Matias, with me. We’re going to take those horses and go to the center of the isle. The rest of you, go to the other villages and find these men. Question them,” you glare at the captains. “But don’t hurt them. They’re our smallfolk. Now move out!” You stick a first to the air, and the captains disperse to their commanded positions.

You and your now-smaller entourage take the horses of the village. The woman in the hut wails even louder when you mount the horse. You assure her you will return it, that it’s being used for Redhand business. You don’t wait to hear for her to comply--it’s expected, after all. Your group make way out of the village, leaving behind the shouts and calls of your men boarding ships and marching.

You dare not go faster than a canter on the horse. When the other men begin to move their horses faster, you say, “slow yourselves. We don’t want to scare the goat herders out here,” you lie, mostly. It’s true you don’t want to do that, but your lack of skill with horses outweighs your concern. You’ve barely ridden a horse ten times before now. You know the basics, but that's about it.

Regardless of the speed, you make good time to the center of Red Isle. The green hills become more rocky, jagged and form a sort of ravine system. Perfect for hiding. You spot no goat herders around, but Yann points out tracks in the grass and gravel. Dismounting and traveling into the ravines, you follow the path to a small cave. A yawning dark abyss. “I’ve never seen this before,” you comment, putting your hand at the top of the cave mouth. With the sunlight you’re able to see further inside, and the cave opens up, taller and wider. Lighting torches, your group enters the cave.

For a few minutes, nothing stands out to you besides never coming across this cave before. You and your brother would travel all over Red Isle with Yann years ago, but you don’t recall the cave. You press on, until a source of light enters your view.

A small campfire surrounded by seven stones, all standing in a circle around the fire. Each has crude inscriptions on them, and you see lines in the sandy floor between each. Before you can investigate further, your sixth sense forces you to look to your left, into the darkness.

>Roll Agility (Dodge). 5d6, keep the best 4 results.

Rolled 2, 3, 5, 2, 4 = 16 (5d6)

>>4326584

>>4326584

Rolled 6, 2, 1, 2, 2 = 13 (5d6)

>>4326584

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

>>4326584

Rolled 2, 5, 2, 3, 1 = 13 (5d6)

>>4326584

>>4326597
>>4326598
Man am I glad I fucked up my first post.

>>4326530

I currently work for the ABC store system. In my US state, they regulate and oversee each county's ABC system, where we have the exclusive right to sell hard alcohol.

In college, at first, I wanted to do computer science. Coding and shit to get a decent paycheck and have English as my minor. Turns out I fucking hated coding. So much so I went full on into English, and then did a minor in history. If my minor had a focus, it would've been medieval and ancient history.

As far as jobs go, it's slim pickings in the US. I'm in the American South, so shit down here is rough. Your sister WILL mostly likely get asked "did you want to be a teacher?" and hearing that constantly fucking suuuuucks. As someone who's never wanted to teach, and wanted to write and edit a magazine or web articles or some shit, it's annoying when thinking back on it. Most people don't even know you have to major in TEACHING in order to teach anything now!

But honestly college wise though, I wouldn't trade it for any other major. I enjoyed the classes I took and shit, but man it got rough real quick out in the real world. Unless your sis is planning to move to upstate New York, the publishing business is pretty much nonexistent, at least in the South.

I have a friend who used to do articles for various and myriad gaming news sites. And holy fucking shit. She got paid in pennies and dimes, and part of that time, she was living in upstate NY where living costs were insane! Online work can be very convenient but damn, you aren't starting off making articles for IGN and Kotaku.

Sorry if this was a little more than you asked for. But yeah, unless your sis knows people in the industry she wants to get into, an English degree is Hard Mode.

>>4326541

Yes, I agree with the blue room sentiment. What English classes consider "canon" and great and amazing I consider bullshit. I've never really liked what books they shoved down our throats in class and put it on the pedestal as "fine works." This was mostly in high school, and it was mostly Shakespeare. I've really only ever liked Othello and MacBeth, and I prefer them actually acted out. I don't want to read a fucking play script, I want to see it performed as intended. Surface level English classes are awful until you get into the more specific stuff, which most people will never see outside of an English major/minor.

But I digress from my rantings.

Just noticed that our mother had us at 13. Is that not too young?

>>4326755
It's not safe to. Which is probably why she couldn't bear another child.

Damn, so our dad boinked our mum when she was 12?!!

>>4326869
"Uh excuse me, its called Hebephilia."

>>4326939
Not if Osric's only 3 years older

>Agility (Dodge) Result: 21
>DC: 11 (Success by 3 degrees)

You hear a muffled twang from the darkness, and you spin deftly to your side. An arrow plunges into the standing stone you were just examining. You, Yann, Harras, Matias and Cromm unsheathe your weapons. Knowing there’s at least one archer, you ready the shield you brought with you.

“Show yourselves! Cromm, Matias, throw the torches out there!” You instruct, pointing to the source of the arrow. Sure enough it reveals three figures, clad in pale cloth, weapons ready. One held a bow, the other two simple cudgels, and not even leather armor covered their bodies. Fright was evident in their eyes. They had satchels on them, and you see now a long track in the sand, leading to a small chest they dragged with them. They must have heard your arrival.

In the tense moments when men point weapons at each other, your mind flies.

>Attempt negotiation.
>Signal to attack.

>>4327241
>Attempt negotiation

>>4327241
>Signal to attack.

>>4327241
>>Attempt negotiation.

>>4327241
>Attempt negotiation.

>>4327241
>>Attempt negotiation.

>>4327241
>Signal to attack.
He shot an arrow at us. They didn't try to negotiate

>>4327241
>>4327241
>>Attempt negotiation.
No guarantees we'll let them live though. I just want to know what the fuck they think they're doing here and we can't interrogate a corpse.

>>4327241
>>Signal to attack.

>>4327241
>>Attempt negotiation.

>>4327241
>Attempt negotiation.
We could still kill them later

>>4327241
>Attempt negotiation.

>Attempt Negotiation.

“Friends, we’re not here to harm you!” You lower your sea spear and your shield, yet your grip is still firm. They hesitate, and as they do so, you glance at your compatriots. They follow your lead without a word, lowering their weapons. “We’re trying to find the Brothers. They caused a disturbance in a village, north of here,” you say, very sure these were the men. You ask, “are you them?”

The three figures look to each other, and one wielding a cudgel removes the cloth from their face. The figure is a woman and she walks toward you. You meet her in the middle, above the torches. “It sounded like there were more of you back in the village,” you state. The woman nods.

“There were, my lady,” she says. “We came here to spread healing and teach the Faith of the Seven. Not to usurp the Drowned God, but to offer succor,” she smiles. “We had an argument, and they split off. We would convene here every night. But they wanted more action. I fear I’ve brought fanatics to your isle.” She bows her head, and her compatriots do the same. “I apologize.”

“Accepted. I am Victara Redhand. What is your name?”

“Netta, my lady. My former compatriots believe they are the first in a second Andal invasion, bringing the faith with fire and steel. They must be stopped.”

You look at her, unnerved. “How many are there?”

“About thirty. I fear for your villages outside of Archport, my lady,” Netta speaks. “There’s enough of them to outnumber the villagers, even when the men aren’t out to sea. Seeing as we left on bad terms, they didn’t deem to tell me where they went.”

“My lady?” Yann comes into the light, your men picking up the torches. “How should we proceed?”

>Return to Archport, get more men and ships onto the field.
>Ride your horses and search for the Brothers.
>Find and meet up with one of your other captains. Then search for the Brothers.

>>4327515
>Ride your horses and search for the Brothers.

>>4327515
>Find and meet up with one of your other captains. Then search for the Brothers.
We need men but don't have time to go back to archport

>>4327515
>>Find and meet up with one of your other captains. Then search for the Brothers

>>4327515
>>Find and meet up with one of your other captains. Then search for the Brothers

>>4327515
>>Find and meet up with one of your other captains. Then search for the Brothers.

>>4327515
>Find and meet up with one of your other captains. Then search for the Brothers.

>>4327515
>>Find and meet up with one of your other captains. Then search for the Brothers.

>Find a meet up with one of your other captains.

Thirty men would be too much for your small group to handle. Not to say their quality was lacking, but each man would have another five on him. Linking up with one of your search parties was the best choice, in effectiveness and speed. You convey your plan to the others, and tell Netta and her group to make for Archport. Father would want to hear all that has transpired thus far, and that the Brothers were still on the loose.

Bidding Netta a quick farewell, you and your ironborn set out on horseback. You head to the west, toward the nearest fishers’ village. As you clear the ravines and return to the hilly landscape, you spot thin lines of smoke at your destination. Fearing the worst, you ride faster, saying, “they’re at the village! Ride!”

You hold onto the reins as tight as you can, bouncing a bit against the horse’s back. It’s not long before you spot the village, and a longship with the Redhand sigil on the shore. The Brothers, spread throughout the huts, were in melee with your ironborn. Small fires dotted the hut roofs and grass. It seems like they were caught in the middle of attacking the settlement.

The ironborn look to be on even ground with the Brothers as you came within range. “Let’s get in there and shed some blood!” Harras shouts, trying to hide his inept riding skills.

“No, we have to rally the men and coordinate them!” Yann yells back. “Victara?” You look at the village, hearing the cries of your people.

>Rally the men and lead them. Use the Warfare skill.
>Make them pay the iron price! Get into combat posthaste.

>>4328359
>Rally the men and lead them. Use the Warfare skill.

>>4328359
>>Make them pay the iron price! Get into combat posthaste.

>>4328359
>Make them pay the iron price! Get into combat posthaste.

Rallying them when they’re already in melee seems a lost cause, let’s get in there and start killing!

>>4328359
>Make them pay the iron price! Get into combat posthaste.

>>4328359
>Make them pay the iron price! Get into combat posthaste.

>>4328359
>Rally the men and lead them. Use the Warfare skill.

>>4328359
>Make them pay the iron price! Get into combat posthaste.
They are already engaged. Rallying won't work very well unless they fallback or some other troops move in. Giving them time to put themselves back together again.

>>4328359
>>Make them pay the iron price! Get into combat posthaste.

>>4328359
>>Make them pay the iron price! Get into combat posthaste.
Can we take an Awareness check or something to see where their leadervis or where our charge might do the most damage?

>>4328359
>Make them pay the iron price! Get into combat posthaste.

>>4328569
+1

>Make them pay the iron price!

>>4328569

And I'm good with an Awareness check! Let's see if Victara spots the leader.

>Roll 4d6 for Awareness

Rolled 5, 4, 6, 3 = 18 (4d6)

>>4328917

Rolled 4, 4, 4, 1 = 13 (4d6)

>>4328917

Rolled 2, 5, 1, 5 = 13 (4d6)

>>4328917

Rolled 4, 1, 4, 1 = 10 (4d6)

>>4328917

>Make them pay the iron price!
>Awareness Test Result: 15 (Success by 2 Degrees)

“Come on, men!” You shout behind you, cantering on your steeds. “We’re attacking! Follow my lead!” You clap your heels against the horse’s side. You try to steady yourself, scanning the battlefield. You spot the leader of the fanatics, a giant of a man with a two handed hammer. He’s shouting as he leads his men, swiping the hammer’s head against your men’s shields, and dashing brains.

You aim your horse at him, and as you near, you jump off the steed. Your dexterity seems to be with you this day, and you roll along the grass. The loose steed barrels into the enemy mob, disorganizing it even further. Yannis hot on your heels, the only one of your group staying mounted--his cavalry experience in the Disputed Lands clearly showing. He weaves circles between huts and Brothers, slashing and sowing chaos.

The leader stomps towards you, not missing a beat. You are one of the more heavily armored combatants here and you just steered an unmounted horse at him. You point your spear at him, calling, “to me, you big bastard!” There’s just enough time to throw one of the sea spears on your back at him, and you stab your finer quality one into the sand.

>I need two rolls. A Marksmanship of 5d6, keeping the best 4 dice.
>Then for our inevitable melee attack, I need a Fighting roll of 5d6, keeping the best 3 dice.

Rolled 1, 2, 1, 4, 6 = 14 (5d6)

>>4330208

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

>>4330208
Rolling for throwing spear

Rolled 4, 5, 3, 5, 4 = 21 (5d6)

>>4330208

Rolled 2, 3, 2, 3, 6 = 16 (5d6)

>>4330208
Fighting

Rolled 6, 1, 1, 2, 4 = 14 (5d6)

>>4330208
If we're going shieldless then the melee damage should be added by another +1

Rolled 6, 4, 2, 4, 4 = 20 (5d6)

>>4330208

>>4330295
+2 if we draw our dirk as an off-hand weapon instead of using the frog spear 2hd.
Against someone with a massive warhammer though I think we should keep the shield up instead.

>>4322907

>her

Cringe.

>>4330460
Excellent post. Thanks for the contribution.

>>4330208
We should use the +1D from blood of the Ironmen now. We can use it once every combat and the faster we can get this big guy out of action the safer we'll be from his club (and the better we'll look in front of our men).

>>4330480
forgot about that. Yeah we should definitely use it.

>>4330480
>>4330489

Oh god I also forgot about it. Yeah we should go ahead and use the plus 1d6 to a combat test.

I can add it to the Test that needs it more. Somebody gimme a roll!

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>4331804
DROWNED GOD BLESS MY DIE! WHAT IS DEAD MY NEVER DIE BUT RISES AGAIN HARDER AND STRONGER!

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>4331804

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>4331804
You should ask at the start of each combat whether we'd like to use blood of the ironborn next time.

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>4331804

>>4331809

THE DROWNED GOD HAS BLESSED YOU WITH ONE NUMBER ABOVE AVERAGE! PRAISE BE

>>4331811
>>4331827
>>4331849

Thanks guys, will be writing shortly.

>>4331865
I'm converting to R'hollor

>>4331869
5 damage from throwing + likely 12 damage from melee. Ouch

>>4331869
We unironically should if we get the chance.

>Marksmanship: 15 vs Combat Defense 10 (Success by 1 Degree)
>Damage: 5

You ready yourself with your spear, entering into the same pose as you have a thousand times before. All that practice pays off now. Your right leg slides back and you bring your spear arm up beside your head, spear point aimed at the leader. Muscle memory takes over, and the spear soars into the giant. He lets out a cry as the spear embeds itself in his right breast. You let out a triumphant laugh as you ready your melee spear, raising your shield up.

Between the wound you gave him and his lumbering bulk, your agility is with you. His lack of any real armor makes sticking him that much easier.

>Fighting: 14+Ironborn Bonus(4) vs Combat Defense 10 (Success by 2 Degrees)
>Damage: 10 holy shit

He barely gets to lift his hammer. The fanatic feels your spear slide into his belly and sides. The poor fool was not expecting to fight an armed ironborn. The white cloth he wore was quickly becoming red, and with a sidestep, you watch him tumble forward onto the earth.

His men fare no better. Not ready to fight so many armed men, the Brothers crumple without their leader shouting orders. Some try to escape, but Yann catches up with them, flicking his blade along their backs. You watch him as your retrieve your thrown spear.

You meet your captains in the middle of the huts, some of the women crying over their husbands. “We’ve done it!” Harras proclaims, raising his bloody axe. “How many did you get, Vic?”

You scowl. “One. But he was a big one.” You look to the villagers, and the captain that had began battle with the Brothers. “Get your men and these villagers tended to. Then we’re going back to Archport.”

“Tell your father your great victory?” Harras grins.

“No. We have a septa of the Faith to deal with.” Yann trots up to you, controlling the horse as he wipes his blade clean. You can’t help but feel he’s showing off, smiling under his red moustache. “Yann, as the only person on this island who can ride a horse properly, find the other captains and tell them to convene at Archport. And bring the Sea Dragon back with you.” With a nod, the sellsword sets off.

>>4332321

You give your men and the villagers to tend their wounds, put out fires, and sort the bodies. The pain the Brothers caused these, your people, makes your heart heavy. Your thoughts linger on Septa Netta and the fanatics she brought to your isle, knowing their kind was not welcome. How long had they been on Red Isle? Most of the Brothers wore dark features--were they ironborn converts? The idea disturbs you, but doesn’t linger when the ship is ready.

The first taste of battle lingers in you. The adrenaline had faded, but you won’t soon forget that hulking giant, coming at you with his hammer. That moment when all became action and reaction. It felt good. Like what a reaver should feel like. You don’t dwell on it, for Archport lies around the next craggy outcrop. You’re soon ascending through the village and going over the arch.

Septa Netta and her two compatriots were on their knees, Redhand guards standing over them. Your Father and Mother sat on their thrones.

“...she knows us, I swear it, my lord.” Netta says as you walk in. You stride past her, taking your place beside Father. “I did all I could to help her, my lord,” she continues. “I wanted to bring healing to this isle, but I brought blood. I only hope Lady Victara stopped the bloodshed.”

All eyes were suddenly on you. Mother had her hands together in worry, while Father leaned forward like a predator over prey. He did not turn to face you, but you knew who his focus was on. “Aye, we killed your fanatics. A village was attacked but not destroyed.” But you brought them here to begin with, you think to yourself. Father is silent, awaiting your decree.

>Execute her and wash away this budding Faith movement.
>Let her continue her work--under Redhand oversight.
>Expel her from Red Isle, never to return on pain of death.

>>4331869
>>4332103

I'm interested in hearing why we should have Victara convert to R'hllor. It's a novel idea, and I like it, but I'd like to hear the reasoning why.

>>4332323
>Execute her and wash away this budding Faith movement.

Our father might be a man of compromise, but that doesn't mean we have to be. People bringing strange religions to our land will have to pay the iron price if they want to live.

>>4332327
In all seriousness I think we should stick to the Drowned God personally. At least to start. If we go to Essos and find some fire worshiping people who influence us, maybe.

>>4332323
Expel her from Red Isle, never to return on pain of death.

>>4332323
>Expel her from Red Isle, never to return on pain of death.
No need to be too bloodthirsty, she did help us after all. 'you have caused enough damage to us with your zealotry, go back and we'll forget this transgression'

Also question her on where she came from, if she came from her own will or sponsored by someone, whether more will come after her, whether there are others in the iron isles.

>>4332323
>Execute her and wash away this budding Faith movement
The septa and her small group fired on us without warning. Her talk of peacefulness is bs. They came armed and attacked first.

>>4332354
Frame it as 'answer these questions truthfully and we'll let you go, otherwise execution >:-('

>>4332323
>>Expel her from Red Isle, never to return on pain of death.

>>4332354
I'd still like to ask these questions first before announcing our decision, even if anons decide to execute her.

>>4332323
>>Execute her and wash away this budding Faith movement.

>>4332323
>Execute her and wash away this budding Faith movement.

The people will want blood whether it's justified or not. They were attacked by outsiders and she's one of them. Sucks for her, but probably the best move for us.

>>4332323
Expel her

>>4332323
>Expel her from Red Isle, never to return on pain of death.
No need to be cruel to someone who helped us.

>>4332323
>Expel her from Red Isle, never to return on pain of death.

>>4332323
>>Expel her from Red Isle, never to return on pain of death.
"Should your people wish to send another healer in the future, I suggest that they come with protection that is more neutral in matters of faith."

>>4332323
>Execute her and wash away this budding Faith movement.

>>4332327
For the memes. But seriously, Rhllor is the only god whose magic has been shown to work. He listens to his followers pleas and guides them to the correct path. It might be worth considering, for now.

>>4332323
>>Expel her from Red Isle, never to return on pain of death.

>>4332845
Stop metagaming and praise the Drowned God you foreign ninny.

>>4333136
metagames been on the brain of players since thread zero

>>4333136
>>4333141
Alright alright. Hail the Drowned God. What is dead may never die but rises again harder and stronger. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

>>4332323
Fug it

>Execute her and wash away this budding Faith movement.

>Expel her

Netta’s words now and when you met felt genuine, despite your previous doubts. But you don’t trust her fully. “What made you think coming to our isle was a good idea, Netta?”

She looked to you, brown hair streaked with silver. “Smallfolk life is hard. My whole family served House Reyne, digging out their mines and expanding their underground home. When Lord Tywin flooded Castamere, the waters drowned my husband and sons.” Her eyes were hard like an ironborn’s. “I went to the nearest sept and found refuge in the Faith. I wished only to provide the same to other smallfolk.”

You glared at the woman. “The only sept I know who would bother to fund such an expedition is the Great Sept of Baelor. And the Baratheons don’t care for us.” You walked down the steps to stand above her. “Who sent you?”

She looked down at your boots. “My lady, I…” You tapped your foot as she stared at it. Father barked a laugh, Netta jerking her head up. “I don’t know his name,” she said, just above a whisper. “He approached me when I was making sermons in Banefort. He wasn’t of the westerlands. Do you have any enemies, my lady?”

“Hmph. Many. Anything stand out about this man?”

“I tried following him. He gave me a sack of coppers, gave me some men for protection, and took ship.” That ship could’ve gone anywhere. A dead end.

“So those men he gave you… Was the giant among them?”

“Y-yes, he and the others were smallfolk of House Banefort. He led the Brothers astray.”

Or that was the plan all along. You raise your voice, “thank you, septa. Unbind her and her companions.” The guards do as you bid, and helped them rise to their feet. You give Netta a friendly clap on the shoulder. “You have until sundown tomorrow to find passage off my island. Never come back.” The guards escort the three out.

Father rises from his throne. “Exile. Interesting choice. I was thinking of killing her myself.”

Mother gasps. “Osric, she’s a woman of the Faith!”

“On our island where we rule,” you correct her. “She helped but she was part of it. Who’s behind it?”

“Many of the green landers have reason to hate us. Subversive, or at least an attempt to.” He looks at you quizzically. “Who do you think it is?”

>House Drumm, our ancient rival
>House Banefort, our nearest greenland neighbor

>>4332845
>>4333136

>you foreign ninny
Love it.

But real talk, why R'hllor's magic/faith works and not the others is a mystery that will never be solved.

>>4333246
>Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.
>foams at mouth

>>4333975
>House Drumm, our ancient rival

>>4333975
>House Banefort, our nearest greenland neighbor

>>4333975
>both
But for the quest,
>House Drumm, our ancient rival

Also
>“The only sept I know who would bother to fund such an expedition is the Great Sept of Baelor. And the Baratheons don’t care for us.”
Isn't this still pre-rebellion? So the Targaryens are still in charge of King's Landing, and thus, the Sept of Baelor?

I hope it's House Banefort but I have a feeling it's sabatoge from

>House Drum, our ancient rival

>>4333975
>House Banefort, our nearest greenland neighbor
Drumms would send raiders than sisters.

>>4334063
>>4333975

Oh fuck me. I meant Targaryens, not Baratheons. I'm so used to assuming the Stags being the current royalty, jesus. My bad.

>>4333975
>>House Banefort, our nearest greenland neighbor

>>4333975
>House Drumm, our ancient rival

>>4333975
>House Drumm, our ancient rival

>>4333975
>>House Banefort, our nearest greenland neighbor

>>4333975
>House Banefort, our nearest greenland neighbor

>>4333975
>House Banefort, our nearest greenland neighbor
Our old rival would never stoop to using sister as it would anger our God and deeply disgust other ironborn. Its just not worth it for them. Greenlanders on the other hand...

>>4333975
>House Banefort

QM where art thou?

>>4333975

House Drumm. No way greenlanders have the balls.

>>4336950

I am here! I just finished a shitty work schedule--had a closing shift followed up by a 12 hour shift.

Writing now!

File: Osric Redhand.jpg (26 KB, 449x640)

26 KB JPG

>House Banefort

You think of the possible enemies your house has. None compare with the mutual enmity Redhand has with House Drumm, but likewise the greenlanders hate the ironborn as a whole. Banefort is a likely candidate and you voice this to Father. “It’d be hard for Drumm to orchestrate such a thing with the Faith, it’s true,” he speaks. “Banefort has always hated us. We helped occupy the westerlands when we were strong enough to hold the green lands. We pushed back the westermen when they retook Fair Isle, and we’ve hold onto our rock for centuries,” he walks from his throne, pacing about. “Their mines have never been plentiful. Like us they turned to the sea. I’m sure our whaling expeditions are taking wealth away from Banefort.” He stops in front of you, his cold grey eyes looking down at you.

“Lord Quellon kept the islands together in peace, and helped broker the marriage between your Mother and I,” he glanced over his shoulder, smiling at Mother. “The meat of whales keeps the people fed, and the oil we get flows down to the Serry’s, lighting their fires and keeping the candles of the maesters’ Citadel burning. We’re starting to become like the greenlanders in some ways.” You wondered where his speech was going. “But hate can outweigh such obvious benefits. In days of old, this would be answered immediately, with iron and blood. But not anymore. Now the greenlanders are one whole kingdom, and if we attack with no proof or even try for a peaceful resolution, we’ll be labeled as troublemakers at best. Greyjoy would get punished for not keeping us in line,” Father moves his mouth before grunting.

“House Banefort maybe behind this, but we must decide on an action. Lord Quellon’s commemorative feast will be held in five days. Pyke is only a day’s travel away. Should we take this to the Greyjoys, or investigate the Baneforts ourselves?” It would be a tight trip, but possible. More fanaticism coupled with hate might be brewing just over the water, with a noble house more than happy to aim it at House Redhand. You thought of possible ways to investigate Banefort--or you could take counsel with the Greyjoys.

>Take this news to House Greyjoy
>Investigate House Banefort yourself

>>4337546
>Investigate House Banefort yourself
We don't look ironborn so we can sneak into their lands and gather intel.

>>4337546
>>Investigate House Banefort yourself

>>4337546
If we take the 'investigate ourselves' option will we miss out on the gathering of the nobles of the Iron Islands?
If yes,
>Take this news to House Greyjoy

If not,
>Investigate House Banefort yourself

>>4337546
>>Investigate House Banefort yourself

>>4337579
Good question. I'll hold off on voting until it's clarified.

>>4337546
>Take this news to House Greyjoy

>>4337579
>>4337613

Choosing to investigate will not mean you'll miss out on the noble gathering in Pyke. However, going onto those lands announced or unannounced (and also getting in trouble if caught) will have consequences.

In other words, going to investigate is the more overtly Risk and Reward choice.

>Investigate House Banefort yourself

We chose to play as a woman in a mans world. An especially hard and unforgiving world at that. If we're going to stand out we need to make a name for ourselves

>>4337546
>Investigate House Banefort yourself

>>4337640
Alright, thanks for answering
>Investigate House Banefort yourself

>>4337546
>>Investigate House Banefort yourself
Can we get more than one update for weekends now?

>>4337640
Thanks for the clarification qm

>>4337546
>Investigate House Banefort yourself
We just have to not get caught

>>4337546
>Take this news to House Greyjoy

>>4337546
>>Investigate House Banefort yourself

>>4337546
>Investigate House Banefort yourself

>>4337546
>>Investigate House Banefort yourself

>>4337706

Yes, sorry about that. Every other weekend I work two 12 hour shifts. But this weekend I have off until Tuesday!

>>4337676
>>4337740

You are most welcome.

Writing now!

>Investigate Banefort

“Lord Balon wouldn’t look kindly upon us crawling to him for help, at least so early on and with no proof,” you answer Father. “If we took this to the Greyjoys, all they could then do is go to the Lannisters. And they don’t give a wit about us,” you recall Netta’s words about her family’s deaths. How Tywin Lannister drowned an entire house and made a song about it. You think, perhaps there’s more iron in his veins than gold. “We will go to Banefort.”

“With a good disguise and careful steps, it can be done. I’ll be more than happy to accompany you,” Yann speaks, strolling into the chamber.

“He only says that because I’m here,” Mother says, smiling her too-pleasant smile. “I can go as well. A lady from the Reach and her daughter would be much less scrutinized than her ironborn father.”

“Nothing better than a father-daughter led raiding party,” Father jokes, flashing a grin. “How do you wish to approach this?” Father asks. You think for a moment, a few ideas coming to mind.

>Put on disguises and infiltrate with Yann.
>Go under the guise of a visit with Mother.
>Be completely transparent, confront House Banefort directly.

>>4338222
>Go under the guise of a visit with Mother.

>>4338222
>>Put on disguises and infiltrate with Yann.

>>4338222
>>Put on disguises and infiltrate with Yann.

>>4338222
>>Go under the guise of a visit with Mother.

>>4338222
>Put on disguises and infiltrate with Yann.

>>4338222
>Put on disguises and infiltrate with Yann

>>4338222
>>Go under the guise of a visit with Mother.

>>4338222
>Put on disguises and infiltrate with Yann.

>>4338222
>Go under the guise of a visit with Mother.

why do you guys pick Yann? being received in the castle with the help of our nobility gives us better chances.

>Put on disguises and infiltrate with Yann

“Yann and I will go. It will be faster than strolling in abruptly with you, Mother,” you say. You believe she’d put you in a dress if you went with her, and the thought doesn’t sit well with you. Traveling clothes or armor fit you better. “We’ll get disguises and see what we can find.”

“I think taking the Sea Dragon with some trade goods would be a good way to get over there,” Father offers. “And you’ll have a few extra men around if you need it.”

You nod. “That sounds good. Prepare some smallfolk clothes for Yann and I,” you look to the sellsword. “We’ll have to arm ourselves lighter than usual for this. Otherwise we won’t fit in.”

“Perhaps we can pose as sellswords from Tyrosh?” Yann asks. “At least it won’t be a lie for me. We can stay armed and armored. I could get some dye in your hair.” He shrugs off the gasp from Mother. “It washes out!”

“Prepare both disguises and I’ll see how well they look. We’ll leave at first light tomorrow” you say, feeling the fatigue from the day catching up to you. “May I retire for the day, Father?” He nods, and you give a quick bow before leaving.

On your way through the castle, you take the long way. Even during the day Redhand Castle was dreary, just like the rest of Red Isle. You went to check on Aerion in his room. The boy was sitting at his desk, a quill slowly gliding over parchment. He was practicing his writing--you recall your time with the quill was harsh with Mother overlooking you. He seems to be grasping it faster than you. You knock on the open door, tearing the boy from his work. You meet him in the middle of the room, giving him a hug.

“How was it today?” He asks, smiling at you.

“I killed a man three times my height. We stopped bad men from killing our people,” you explain, omitting Netta. The boy may not understand and you didn’t want to doubt your decision--one Father let you have. He could have superseded your order, but he let it go. You were nearly there, a true heir ready to lead. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Was the giant a fierce fighter?” Aerion asks, his dark eyes glinting.

“He was the leader of the bad men! I threw my spear and stabbed him a few more times in the belly. He had no armor, but he had a hammer as big as you!” You pat him on the head, ruffling his black hair. “I’ll tell you more about it after my trip. Would you like that?”

>>4339297

“I would!” He nods. “I hope your trip goes well.” Aerion hugs you again. “I love you.”

The thought of his true parentage, the question of succession, everything about the future of the Redhand line washes away with those words. You repeat them to your brother, but your questions still linger in your mind. As you lie in bed, the thoughts swirl in your head until exhaustion takes you away into slumber.

The next day you break your fast with Father, Mother and Yann, and the disguises are presented to you. One is simply your ringmail armor, embellished with a few motley colored scarfs by Yann. The other are simple traveler’s cloths, a wide brim fisher’s hat with brown pants and brown jerkin. Just the right colors to fit in. Both outfits are well made, it’s just a matter of which one you want to wear.

>Wear the smallfolk clothes, favoring total stealth.
>Pose as a sellsword, bringing your weapons.

>>4339298

>Wear the smallfolk clothes, favoring total stealth.

I feel better about our chance to surprise someone with our combat skill if we're plainclothed.

Who would expect dad and daughter to be deadly fighters? Plus we can confidently carry a nice staff around with our spear proficiency.

>>4339298
>>Wear the smallfolk clothes, favoring total stealth.

>>4339298
>Pose as a sellsword, bringing your weapons.

>>4339298
>>Pose as a sellsword, bringing your weapons.
I don't want to go in unarmoured

>>4339298
>>Pose as a sellsword, bringing your weapons.

>>4339298
>>Pose as a sellsword, bringing your weapons.

>>4339298
>Pose as a sellsword, bringing your weapons

>>4339298
>Wear the smallfolk clothes, favoring total stealth
I've always wanted to try being a peasant for a day

>Pose as a sellsword

“We’re going in, full gear,” you point to your ringmail and sea spears. “I don’t want to be caught without our weapons. Ready the Sea Dragon!” The Redhands move, preparing the ship and men. The servants help you put on your armor, and you instruct the sailors to replace the Redhand sail with a generic one. Mother entered your room as the servants leave you. She messes with the scarfs on your limbs.

“Yann used to wear this hat back on Southshield. The ladies would always look at him, strutting like a rooster on his horse.” She places it on your head, adjusting it. “The brim should help hide you. And you can bend it up if you need better vision.”

“Thank you, Mother,” you adjust it on your head, bending it up. “Between the outfit and my features, no one will think I’m ironborn.”

Mother nods, “please be careful. The Brothers and the Baneforts will not take your presence kindly.” She takes the seven-pointed star from her neck and places it in your hand. “I know the Seven aren’t regarded well here… And that priest just drowned you today. But between mother and daughter, who do you believe in?”

>Roleplay Vote
>I believe in the Drowned God only
>The Seven are not so bad

>>4340346

Whatever your choice, your Mother departs, leaving you the necklace to better blend in.

You’re on the Sea Dragon, a bit defanged to better blend in at the Banefort harbor, but still just as deadly. Twenty good men run the ship with you, and will be ready to help. Your First Mate Cromm handles the ship once you make landfall. An uneventful ship ride passes by, and even the rocky coasts of the westerlands are greener and friendlier than those of Red Isle. Small wonder my ancestors of old would raid these lands, you think.

“My lady,” Cromm disturbs your thoughts. “I fear for this mission. You out on the field and the rest of us sittin’ on our asses. Don’t feel right to me.”

You nod empathically. “I don’t like the situation at all, Cromm. But we have to see how the Brothers got over to Red Isle. If the Baneforts or any nobleman is funding them, we have to nip it in the bud. If I discover the Brothers have no superiors, then we’ll kill them and loot them for the trouble,” you mirror the grin Cromm gives you.

The Sea Dragon sails into the Banefort port. The dreary harbor alone could swallow Archport--castle, village and lighthouse all. The port was flanked by large stone men in robes, hoods up, arms lost in the folds of the robes. It was the Hooded Man of House Banefort. Your ship passes the massive statues, thinking of the bountiful resources the greenlanders have to make such frivolous things. A spike of jealousy shoots through you, until you see the busy port and all the folk moving about it.

When the plank was pushed out, a dock quartermaster met your ship. Cromm posed as the merchant, having iron ore and whale oil to trade. After a brief talk, the quartermaster let you by, stating you simply hired on for passage. The greenlander gives you and Yann a strange look, but let’s you pass.

Yann stretches his arms as you both walk down the dock. “The number of smallfolk walking around right now could overtake Red Isle,” he says idly, looking up at the town and castle. “Tell me, how do you wish to approach this?”

>Go to House Banefort and offer your service as a sellsword
>Look into Faith congregations and Brothers

>I believe in the Drowned God only

>Look into Faith congregations and Brothers

If House Banefort is using the faith to try and upset or usurp us and destabilize Red Isle, they're likely strong adherents to the Seven. Inquiring after the faith seems like a way to find stuff out without actually revealing ourselves.

>>4340346
Also, throw our mothers pendant overboard as an offering to the true god. Not maliciously or to spite her, but to show our dedication.

>>4340346
>I believe in the Drowned God only
We think the Seven aren't evil though and we're not actively hostile against them.

>>4340348
>Look into Faith congregations and Brothers

>>4340387
+1

>>4340348
>I believe in the Drowned God only
Keep the pendant on us as a disguise, to fool the brothers that we're believers.
>Look into Faith congregations and Brothers

>>4340387
>>4340403
This

>>4340348
>I believe in the Drowned God only

>Look into Faith congregations and Brothers

>>4340387
I support this
>>4340403
And this

>>4340403
>>4340418
Support

>>4340346
>Drowned God or the Seven? My soul is for whichever can catch it first.
I like the idea of our character being Drowned God-leaning but open-minded, not discounting her mothers faith out of hand.
>>4340348
>>Look into Faith congregations and Brothers

File: Banefort Sept.jpg (32 KB, 450x320)

32 KB JPG

>I believe in the Drowned God
>Faith congregations

“Let’s work from the bottom to the top,” you nod to Yann. “Disguised as we are, we are still suspicious. I only want the Baneforts to know of our presence if we must.”

“Very well, Vic,” Yann flashes a smile, knowing he can get away without proper titles. You were never fond of being called lady. Captain had a better ring to your ears. “Now we just have to find out more about the Brothers.”

“The sept would be a good start.” You shrug, walking with Yann. “Perhaps our old friend Netta is there.” Yann’s face showed he thought otherwise. You change the subject. “Do all Tyroshi wear these gaudy hats?”

“Only those wanting to stay fashionable. Dye and clothing colors come and go with the tides. One day all blues and greens, a fortnight later, reds and oranges.”

“It must be hard being so terribly wealthy,” you scoff, glancing around the crowds who give you and Yann curious looks. You hold the seven pointed star amulet to your chest, hoping it will help. You ascend the steps to the sept, sitting alone on a small hilltop within the town’s gates, but separated. A graveyard creates the divide between sept and port town, and you are uncomfortable passing by buried corpses. They should be returned to the sea--but these are not ironborn you walk among. “Any ideas for talking with the septon?”

“Let’s say we just came from the North, having worked for House Manderly. They showed us the Faith and we wish to work with more faithful,” Yann suggests.

“Sounds good,” you say, knocking on the sept’s door. You think no one is there when you hear the floorboards creak within. “Hello? We wish to speak with the septon.”

The door opens slightly and you see an eye poke out. “And who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” An elderly eloquent male voice asks.

“This is Kiera of Tyrosh,” Yann intervenes, motioning to you. “And I am Yann of Tyrosh.” He bows and you mirror him. “We’re sellswords looking for work. We wish to serve the Faith.”

“If you wish to serve us, become knights,” the eye darts from Yann to you. “At least one of you can. I’ve dealt with enough strangers lately. Good day.” Strangers? The old man goes to close the door as you grasp your necklace.

>Roll 5d6, keep the best 4 dice for Persuade (Convince) check

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

>>4340744

Rolled 3, 2, 2, 5, 4 = 16 (5d6)

>>4340744

>>4340774

Re-roll that 1, thanks to Attractive benefit. Thanks!

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

>>4340744

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>4340791
Rerolling

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>4340774

>>4340805
Nice

>>4340805

Can I get a hell yeah?

>>4340797

Can I get a hell nah?

I'll be writing after my dinner!

>>4340918
hell yeah

>>4340918
Hell yeah!

>Persuade (Convince) Result: 15 (Success by 0 Degrees)

“Wait!” You put out your hand, showing your Mother’s necklace in the other. “We are converts to the true gods,” you lie through your teeth. “We wish to help the Faith. We’ve heard of troubling tales with a group calling themselves the Brothers.” Your tone seems to soothe the septon, and he allows you to open the door. The sunlight reveals a man who has seen better days, wearing a tan robe with a simple stitch design down the middle with buttons. His black hair was beginning to bald, and his long beard had many grays mixed in.

“Aye, I can assure you they are trouble,” he says, stepping back and motioning into the sept. “Not many come into the sept anymore,” he walks further in. You follow and Yann closes the door behind him. “They prefer the streetside sermons now.”

“Why are they separating from your sept? They follow the Seven.” You speak. The septon sits on one of the pews and you take a seat next to him.

“The Brothers believe in a new Faith Militant. Some of my younger followers told me they want to prove their worth to the Seven Kingdoms by wiping away worship of the Drowned God,” he eyes you. “Do you even know of the Drowned God, foreigner?”

"I do. Dealt with ironmen before. So the Brothers want to prove themselves." You mess with the hat on your head. "Are the lords doing anything about it?"

"Nay, they don’t do anything about it. They’re content to let the rabble gather. It’ll start another war, I tell you. Our king was held hostage just three years ago. The men want blood.” Raid in the Stepstones, you think, but the greenlanders don’t do such things.

“Do you know where the Brothers gather?”

The septon looks at you curiously. “Why is a Tyroshi woman so interested in the Faith of Westeros?”

You smile, a good tale coming to mind. “As you can see, I’ve the features of the Andals. I grew up in Tyrosh but I have Andal blood in me. The Seven are my gods,” you lie, hoping the Drowned God sees your intent.

“I’ve nothing to pay you,” the septon begins, “but you may rest here. I’ve some beds in the back room. Even the sick don’t come to me anymore!” He throws up his hands, smiling.

“Thank you, Septon…?”

“Septon Jeor,” he says, shaking your extended hand. His face was wary. “Pray forgive me, I’m not used to dealing with foreigners. But to answer your question, the Brothers meet in an old tavern just about every night. They’ve practically taken it over, the bastards. It was my favorite spot. The all white robes they wear are hard to miss.” You thank Jeor for his time, and tell him you’ll be back later in the evening, taking up his offer of open bedding.

>>4341555

You and Yann are walking past the graves again toward town when he speaks. “You did well. I was convinced you really were Kiera the Andal.”

“Maybe I am. It’s a decent name, if a bit misleading. Victara the Andal.”

“It will throw warriors off, that’s for sure.” Yann glanced at the sun hovering over the horizon. “We should get to that tavern. I’m sure the Brothers will be perched around it if we look hard enough.”

And so you venture around the winding and hilly streets of Banefort. A light rain begins to fall from the sky, a purple-orange dusk. The white robes of the Brothers stand out to you near a tavern named The Winking Piper, and it has a dancing maiden you swear belongs to a greenlander house. The carving had her bare naked and you wondered why supposed holy men called this their home tavern. You glance at the Brothers watching from the patio roof as you enter.

There were patrons other than the white hooded men, but not many. The Brothers were the loudest lot, drinking and singing, paying no mind to your entry. It seems like the other patrons and even the tavern keeper himself tried their best to ignore them.

>Speak to the tavern keeper and see what he knows about the Brothers
>Confront the Brothers, ask if they’re interested in hiring Faith following sellswords

>>4341561
Shouldn't the result of the roll be 17?

>Speak to the tavern keeper and see what he knows about the Brothers

>>4341561
>>Speak to the tavern keeper and see what he knows about the Brothers

>>4341561

>Speak to the tavern keeper and see what he knows about the Brothers

>>4341581
Yeah I counted 17 too

>>4341561
>>Speak to the tavern keeper and see what he knows about the Brothers

>>4341581
>>4341617

Are you guys only keeping the best 4 dice results?

Cause I got 17 + 14 + 13 = 44. Then 44 divided by 3, rounded down to equal 14.

>>4341561
>>Speak to the tavern keeper and see what he knows about the Brothers

>>4341638
Usually we just take the best of the three dice (17) instead of averaging them.

>>4341638
Best of 3 means taking the highest roll only.

>>4341561
>Confront the Brothers, ask if they’re interested in hiring Faith following sellswords

>>4341659
>>4341646
Bo3 does lead to very overpowered characters though.
Its way enough to correct for in combats where the QM can just roll Bo3 for our opponents behind the scenes but it causes issues with static test thresholds. Like if we're trying to befriend a peasant or climb a wall and the QM thinks we should have about a 50/50 chance of success. Normally he'd be able to just check the average result of our dice pool and set that as the threshold but of we're rolling Bo3 how the hell does he know what sort of threshold is easy, moderate or hard?

>>4341751
Other QMs can manage it just fine. He wanted to use BO3, I'm just correcting him. see >>4323592 If he wants he can raise the difficulty he can just add 3 more to the DC.

>>4341561
>Speak to the tavern keeper and see what he knows about the Brothers

File: 6C453201-9C2B-4228-BBE3-4(...).jpg (378 KB, 640x831)

378 KB JPG

>>4341561
>Speak to the tavern keeper and see what he knows about the Brothers

>>4341751
There's this neat little chart in the book (pic related) for setting difficulties, but obviously that's for best of 1. I'll admit, I do think best of 3 is too easy and I've considered dropping it in my own quest. Well, I already have dropped it for stuff like house fortunes and casualty rolls because of the fixed nature of those charts doesn't allow me to just raise the DC by a few, which is something I do for regular rolls. It becomes more of a problem when you start dealing with 5 or 6+ rank abilities because of how statistically unlikely it is to fail unless you're attempting some bullshit or just flat out cheating players out of their investments by artificially raising the DC to match the ability rank.

>>4341646
>>4341751

Sorry about that guys, it was a 17 then. I think I had a brain fart and thought we were averaging the 3 rolls instead of taking the best of the bunch.

>>4341751
>>4342193

I am starting to keep the BO3 in mind, but also not wholesale just ramping up the difficulty just because of the BO3. Thanks you guys.

Writing now!

>Speak to the tavern keeper

Despite your bright colors and the strange hat adorning your head, you cross over to the bar without the Brothers stopping you. They seem too deep in their drinks. You take up a seat, and the tavern keeper’s eyes stay on the white clothed men. Knocking on the bar tears him away, and he walks to you. “What will ya have?”

“Two ales,” you say, producing a few coppers for the man. You also take out a silver stag and place it down next to the coppers. “What do you know about the Brothers?”

The keeper blinks at you. “I know they’re nothing but trouble. Runnin’ off all the proper septons, is what they’re doing. Bullying and intimidatin’ is how they do things. Wanna destroy the ironborn or some horse shite,” You turns his back to you, filling two mugs of ale. Yann begins to drink his but you wait. “They aren’t the best neighbors but it’s been decades since they raided. Aye, they’re different, but we’re all folk of the Realm.”

“Do they give you trouble?” you ask.

The keeper’s eyes shift about. “Not too much, but they’ve started making this place their own. They’ve rented out a private room in the back for a few weeks now. The ones that go in there never drink out here. They got better clothes on, and they wear bands of black against their white.” Superiors or captains, you think. And they meet here. “I see you wear the Faith star, but…” He trails off as you look up at him with your green eyes. He grunts. “Maybe they’ll accept you even if foreign born.” The keeper hooks a thumb behind him, pointing the way to the back room.

A Brother stood next to the door, keeping his gaze across the tavern room. You take a few sips of the ale and elbow Yann. “Think we should go to the back room?”

“I think whoever is back there knows more than these louts.” His red moustache dances as he moves his mouth. “We could either walk up there ourselves, or try and befriend these fools out here. Might let us in with familiar faces in tow.”

>Walk up to the back room with just Yann
>Make new friends first, then try to enter the back room with them