[center][h3][B][color=fff200]House Baratheon[/color][/B][/h3]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/W8E5hUU.jpg?1[/img][/center]
[B]Name:[/B] House Baratheon
[B]Seat:[/B] Storm's End
[B]Words:[/B] [i]Ours is the fury.[/i]
[B]History:[/B][indent]House Baratheon is the youngest of the original great houses, tracing its origin back to Orys Baratheon. Their castle is one of the strongest in the Seven Kingdoms. It is known as Storm's End. The Baratheon sigil is a crowned black stag on a field of gold and their house words are "Ours is the Fury." Orys adopted the home, sigil, and words from his wife's family line, the Durrendons.[/indent]
[hider=House Baratheon of Storm's End][b]Recent History:[/b][indent]The Great House that rules the Stormlands, Baratheon had the bad luck of switching sides against relatives during the Dance of the Dragons, allowing the murder of Rhaenyra's son on the doorstep of Storm's End and then was, out of fear, forced into alliance with Aemond One-Eye, Aegon II and the Greens. After a lengthy period of sitting on his hands, Lord Borros led his troops to liberate King's Landing only after the battle for it was all but won and then, in a fit of optimism, proceeded into the Riverlands to be cut to pieces, along with his heirs and much of his strength, on the Kings Road, a battle known as the Muddy Mess.

Harwyn Baratheon was there. He picked up the pieces of his dead older brother. With a determination to see his wife, Lynara, again, he rallied what strength he could to break out of the trap that the Riverlanders laid for his fool brother. He delivered the news to Aegon II of the battle and counted himself lucky to survive it. It was the end of the Dance, and he was allowed to return to Storm's end to lick his wounds. Through his wife, a Mormont of Bear Island by birth, he was able to negotiate honorable surrender with Cregan Stark, having seen his fill of bloodshed and slaughter to fill a lifetime in the Dance. He was left with a bad limp to show for his season of war.

Harwyn devoted himself to the uneasy and gloomy peace during the reign of Aegon III. He worked to repair his lands and the good name of House Baratheon. His wife was a Mormont of Bear Island, a bloodline that was fertile, and they had a number of children. He made marriage alliances with Borros' daughters first to get them out of where they could be troublesome reminders of the darkest days. His wife bore strong children. They argued which bloodline the children resembled more with pride. He watched as his lands healed, slowly at first, and then flourished under his stewardship. He died three years back, leaving his son Edric to rule in Storm's End. He married his daughter Jocelyn to House Tyrell. He sent his second son, Steffon, to Bear Island, to know his mother's kin. 

Disaster struck in the form of a harsh winter, and Edric was laid low with the flux. Maester Alyn did all he could. Steffon was stuck on Bear Island for the duration, unable to travel safely down, and it fell to Ser Martyn Storm and the Lady Lynara to see to it that Storm's End could weather the winter. When the Winter seemingly relented, Steffon came back to Storm's End, prepared to assume his mantle of Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, with much work to do in rebuilding from the depredations of Winter. His story, of course, is added to elsewhere. Boisterous, loud and passionate for life, he is a rougher man than his father or older brother. It was not for him, Lordship and Land, but it fell to him and duty compels him to assume the mantle.

As of now, Lord Steffon has only begun to assume the mantle of Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, but he has already been active. Under the pretext of hunting, he's ridden over much of the territory already and laid eyes on it. He surrounds himself with a rougher sort of entourage than his more staid father and his more polished older brother, but the big and loud Lord of Storm's End seems energetic and already has created a bit of a stir among his vassals and the peasantry of the Stormlands with his rougher, readier and more boisterous ways.[/indent]
[B]Members of the House[/B][List]
[*] Lord Steffon Baratheon, 23.
[*] Lady Dowager Lynara Baratheon, mother, 52, born a Mormont of Bear Island.
[*] Joceyln Tyrell, 28, sister, married to Lord Lyonel.
[*] Elinor Baratheon 25, sister, Married to Lord Caron.
[*] Cassana Baratheon 17, sister, not promised yet.
[*] Ser Davos Baratheon, 25, cousin and a noted tourney champion that serves as the master of arms at Storm's End.
[/list]
[B]Bound to the House[/b][list]
[*] Maester Alyn, 67, who is one of the senior advisors of Lord Steffon and served his grandfather, Boremund, well. He could have been an Archmaester, but for his devotion to Lord Boremund. He seems to have transferred that loyalty over to Steffon who is a very different lord from Harwyn or Edric. In turn, Steffon shows him a strong fondness as regard.
[*] Ser Martyn Storm, 46, a household knight of his father's serves as Captain of the Guard at Storm's End. He is a seasoned warrior that knows his business. 
[*] Ser Rickard Mormont, 22, a cousin and a friend of Steffon's from when he fostered. As a companion of Lord Steffon's, he traveled down largely to see the rest of Westeros and find some adventure before he ventures to the wall to take the black. He is not a sworn sword of Storm's End, but he is well-regarded by Lord Steffon nonetheless. 
[/List]
[B]Sworn to the House[/B][indent]
- [url=http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/House_Baratheon#Houses_sworn_to_Storm.27s_End]Others as listed here.[/url] (up for grabs)[/indent]
[b]OOC:[/b][/hider][hider=Lord Steffon Baratheon]
[Center][B]Steffon Baratheon[/B]
[B]Age:[/b] 23
[b]Affiliation:[/b] House Baratheon
[img]http://image.wikifoundry.com/image/1/T4qvrBsNJ_92-y0CggDzkg129368/GW702H503[/img][/Center]

[B]Biography:[/B][indent][hider=The Father]Borros Baratheon was a fool.

And that is where Lord Harwyn Baratheon's story starts. Before Borros Baratheon was killed invading the Riverlands, he allowed one of Rhaenrya's sons to be slaughtered outside his own gates by Aemond One-Eye and was forced to take a side one and there out of fear for his own skin, brought on by being too craven to tell a prince of the Realm that it was unacceptable to kill a stripling boy on his doorstep after he'd been made a guest. And worse, Borros convinced himself he was clever, as he did when he held back his forces and allowed Kings Landing to be sacked, and then as he did when he invaded the Riverlands impetuously, convinced that he only faced feeble opposition.

Borros had a brother named Harwyn. He was there. He cut his way clear from the battle and rallied what he could of the shattered host, mourning the strength of the Stormlands that perished in that folly under the arrows of Black Aly and the swift and decisive flank by Bloody Ben. Battered, bloody and defeated, Harwyn didn't have much of a host. He gave word of the battle in person to Aegon II, being of sterner stuff than Borros, and reported in that deep voice of his precisely what happened. Perhaps something of the towering young man standing before him impressed Aegon, either the candor or the man's grim but unbowed demeanor. He was conferred the title of Lord Baratheon, for he was indeed the heir at that point, commanded to return to the Stormlands and raise a new force, to defend Kings Landing with it. 

Harwyn was not, in the eyes of many in the Stormlands, the material a Great Lord was hewn from. It did not necessarily help that he had a Northerner for a wife, of an obscure house -- a woman met in a tourney he'd fought in, a woman he'd fought against. Before the disaster of the dance, he was seemingly destined for little besides serving Storm's End as a household knight. A good fighter, Harwyn. He'd squired in the Marches under Lord Caron, but he and Borros didn't get on. He had much more of his father than his older brother did though, and he was steadfast to family, even as he detested the choices it made.

When he returned, he showed unexpected mettle, more like his grandfather Boremund than his uncle Borros -- though unlike either of him, he displayed little of their belligerent temperament; Harwyn Baratheon quickly resolved inheritance disputes and rallied the Stormlands with what resources he had, instructing the preparation of the keeps for invasion, provisioning them for siege, setting up rider relays to warn other keeps when such a siege happened. He prepared for more fighting, but he hoped for peace. They'd been battered and beaten in battle in the Riverlands, but a folly of a fight in the Riverlands did not mean the Stormlands were easy; such a folly was the province of Borros and others like them. He did his best to put off Aegon's calls for troops and reinforcement. He didn't have anything to send and had no taste for more bloody sacrifices.

Aegon was poisoned, though the Lord Baratheon had naught to do with it from so far away, though the resolution of the Dance seems to have left a boy on the throne but the Wolves at the door of King's Landing. Lord Harwyn swore that he would not suffer others to punish his lands for the follies of Borros, though he has sent out heralds in an attempt to negotiate for a peace, reckoning that even the most impetuous of the Blacks might look upon the Stormlands and consider that a negotiation is preferable to a bloody season of grinding war against keeps well-prepared for the onslaught. He was right. Cregan Stark required an indemnity, a taste for those who marched in his host to satisfy them with easy gold and no blood, and Harwyn paid it. It was not an easy choice, but it was the right one. If it hadn't been for the Lady Baratheon, a Northerner herself, treating with the Starks the price might have been higher.

Lord Harwyn spent subsequent decades rebuilding from the folly of Borros. He had sons and daughters. He worked to keep the uneasy, bitter and bleak peace of Aegon III's reign.[/hider]

Steffon was born fourth child of Lord Harwyn and Lady Lynara Baratheon. His brother Edric was the heir apparent of the family, though Jocelyn and Elinor were also older. Given the order of things, when time came to foster the boy Steffon elsewhere, he was given to Lynara's kin in the North, the Mormonts. It was, of course, a much lesser house in stature compared to the Baratheons, but they were a family with strong traditions and honor and it was felt that the boy, Steffon, was a wilder sort that would do well in the North; he was, it was said among the nurses, the loudest of Harwyn's children, with a lusty roar as a baby. As page and squire to Lord Willam Mormont, his uncle, he learned not only skill at arms, but also an appreciation for the ways of the North and an understanding of the people he came from. Bear Island was not Storm's End or the Stormlands, but it was similar in that it relied on fishing and the hardiness of its folk. Steffon was not content merely to sit in a keep and be a little lord, his preference was to mud-wrestle with the children of Bear Island, do mock battle with his cousins and go out on the water to haul in the catch. He was happy to hunt and then cook the kill himself, standing over a firepit with friends and letting the juices run down his chin. It was Bear Island, there was little point in standing on decorum. When there was trouble, Lord Willam's squire was often involved, if not the leader of the pack. 

When winter came, there was no way to get back from Bear Island. He was forced to weather it with the Northmen, in the hall of his Mother's childhood. Lord Willam died of a chill and Lady Bethany, his sister, took over the rule of Bear Island. To survive, all had to do what they could and Steffon found himself laboring with the servants of the hall, alongside the Lady of the longhall, to salt fish and otherwise do what could be done to survive the winter. He learned to use a cook's knife as well as the heavy axe he began to favor. He grew tall and strapping, tough from hauling nets and whatever labor needed performing to keep Bear Island alive through the winter. Bear Island was blessed with fish aplenty even through the bitter cold, but illness carried the young and old alike away, leaving survivors who cared for them. There were fights among some on the island but he tried to put these down without undue slaughter, knowing that they could ill afford to lose the strong to such bloody infighting. He roused spirits, he kept people laughing, he fought when it was necessary.

Through the harsh winter, he began to dream the dreams. He confided in Old Wynie, the wizened old woman who passed for the mistress of the household servants in the Mormont Hall, who told him the tales of those who saw visions. He could make little sense of them, but wrote them into a journal nonetheless, a practice he continued to the day. It was like an eye only half open, a song only half heard.

That labor turned bloody when wildlings, desperate, raided in force toward the end of the winter. It fell to Steffon to organize a defense and fight them off with an axe in hand, watching the steam rise from the blood of his foemen who were fighting for food and survival, just as he was. He found himself toe to toe with a huge, giant-blooded beast of a wildling with an iron-studded club and a crude but thick shield that was seemingly impenetrable. All the same, howling his battlecry and hacking ferociously in the snow, he managed to break down the shield and then break the man's thick skull in half. 

When winter seemed to lift, the news came to him that his brother Edric was dead of an accident in a tourney. He was the Lord Baratheon. He took his leave of Bear Island with the well-wishes of its people and his aunt. Accompanied by one of his cousins, Rickard, he made his way down to Storm's End. He finds himself in a different sort of Storm's End; a new king, a new era, and the drumbeats of potential war with Dorne. The dreams are almost a part of him now, hardly accorded much in the way of attention. He is loathe to bother his Maester or his Mother with such. Instead, he focuses on the work of a Lord. 

On Bear Island, he learned how to work the fishing boats and the nets, and in Storm's End, he looks over the fishing and the farming, the land and its people, more than the boy king's dreams of conquest; he's never one to stay away from a good shindy, but there's plenty to do in the Stormlands. 

His own dreams are darker things, only half remembered terror in the dawning light and there is much to do; he is active. Not able to abide merely sitting in Storm's End in endless councils among his household and vassals, he prefers to use the excuse of hunting as a cover for his ability to cover his lands and those of his vassals, to meet his sworn houses and learn their problems, even as he feasts peasant, hedge knight, sworn sword and lord alike on the kills of his hunts. His entourage is a strange one, often including the kind of bards that sing for coppers in a tavern rather than some harp-strummer. He's let it be known that he'll pay crowns and take into service the hedge knight or any other that can beat him on the training field, feeling that there is always a lesson to be learned from someone better and to ensure that no one holds back against him. He'll happily fight a man in the morning and spend an afternoon in a tavern with that same man afterward.

Unlike Harwyn, who was gloomy and sedate, or Edric who was a bit of a silken tourney champion, Steffon is loud, boisterous and generous. His feasts at Storm's End are not the affairs that the Tyrells would know, of men stuffing their faces and reciting poetry, but rather of boisterous song and the occasional brawl or wrestling match. If Harwyn was a more staid man and Edric too dainty for such amusements, it is Steffon that brings clamour and wildness back to Storm's End with a rough retinue of boisterous huntsmen and warriors. He also keeps on the move; he might spend four nights out of fourteen in Storm's End, but otherwise is content to stay on horseback, hunt game and send messengers back and forth. 

Far from being lazy, he is up from bed early and to it late, eager to get on with a day's work. There's been a time or two where a knight has come to a well digging to find Lord Steffon in the hole with a shovel, or helping push a peddler's wagon out of the mud. Leadership, he was taught, is in the example and that example is being noted in the Stormlands. Harwyn was staid and reserved but competent. Lord Edric preferred to spend his time in Storm's End preparing for the next tourney or at King's Landing, or even visiting Jocelyn at Highgarden. It seems almost as if Lord Steffon is almost a lord by accident; he has little patience for those that are 'too noble to shit.'[/indent]

[b]OOC:[/b][indent]Steffon is unmarried. [/indent][/hider]