So, as I said earlier, I'm extremely interested in taking control of House Marlowe of Stormtir. If it's still available, that is. Below, I've taken what you wrote about the land and its people, and have written up a small sample from the point of view of its ruler, Vivarian Marlowe; a cruel, cold woman, with an expansive goal in mind for her people. It's only a rough sample, but please tell me what you think! Oh, and when posting in the roleplay, I would not be doing so from first person; it just felt right for the sample.


[hider=Vivarian Marlowe - Sample]

[i]	Broken. Never bent.[/i] Those are our words. The Stormbroken would bend the knee to no ruler they did not fear, would follow no one they did not respect, and obey not a single ruler who did not earn their station. A man who rules simply because his father’s father won a battle that nobody can remember is no ruler at all. A crown, no matter how elegant, meant nothing if it rested upon limp shoulders. The Stormbroken followed strength, and strength alone. But strength didn’t come from [i]men[/i] alone, and as I stared out upon our ships from the [i]Broken Keep[/i] that rested upon the largest of the islands of the Breach, I knew that none would question my own leadership simply because I wasn’t born with a cock between my legs. Women and men were all alike here; we are all born the same, we all bleed the same, and we will all die the same.
	We are the Stormbroken.
	At the cusp of the Breach, where cliffs fall hundreds of feet into the cold rush of the waves, it was easy to forget all the land that lay behind you; from the Hinterlands to the Lowlands, the Arm to the Golden Fields, all paled in the sheer scope of the sea. A vast, unconquered expanse, ever changing and ever cold. We rode the waves, certainly, but we didn’t own them; none could claim the sea. However, staring down upon the fleet that rested at anchor at the harbours of the Breach, the sea was perhaps our greatest asset. The ocean was a cruel mistress, but we knew it better than any other.
	To an outsider, the lands of Stormtir were no prize at all. Its forests were too dense, its grounds too steep, and its pathways so narrow that barely a single horse could travel comfortably, never-mind an army. One must tread with caution; one misstep, one mistake of footing, and the jagged inclines of the land would claim you, as they had so many others. To an outsider, the lands of Stormtir were hardly worth the men it would take it occupy it.
	But outsiders don’t understand the land like we do. The land is temporary, and each year more and more crumbles to the Breach, back to the ocean that birthed us. We are the Stormbroken, and we make that name true. If one hasn’t experienced the peril of the waves, they can’t appreciate the ground beneath their feet. The storms that wreck the western shore have made us what we are, and they are the only thing that shall break us. We may be born to the land, but we live and die by the sea. 



[/hider]