What would the focus of this RP be on? Would it be centered around a small group of companions, acting within the events of the rebellion? Or will it be set across the entirety of Westeros and play more like a nation RP? Also, are canon characters permitted?
Age: Ten and Seven years, and without even a proper beard.
Gender: Male
House: As the offspring of a impoverished merchant, he is a freeman but not quite befitting of a proper surname. Instead labeling himself merely as Yardyn's son.
Appearance: Young Byden is a homely boy of middling stature. He is black of hair, and brown of eye with the look of Pentos and Dorne about him. He is not hideous by any means, but his teeth are a bit too crooked, and his nose hooked, and his eyes are sunk far too much into his head. His skin is crisped near red from exposure, and has a splotched, unhealthy look common to the sun-burnt merchant sailors. Under his lip, and in patches on his cheeks grows a scraggly beard, new grown and perhaps detrimental to the desired effect to make himself appear older and wiser. Yet despite his homely appearance Byden seems strong and capable enough, with calloused hands and broad shoulders and sturdy legs, well tuned to the pitch and roll of a ship in motion. The lad carries himself like a seaman even, with short stride, lots of arm swaying, and with his head cocked sideways and a snarky grin of perpetual challenge on his lips. The last part has more to do with his temperament, and is in fact the reason he has a crooked nose, and a few missing teeth... He garbs himself accordingly to the profession of his father, in loose sleeveless tunics and baggy pants that look as if many years ago they might have been fine clothing, but have long since been stained and tattered. Of course beneath all these outward aspects lies the voice of an angel, or at least that's what his mother claimed. The sharp tenor bark for his spoken word well conceals his capacity to sing, with admirable talent. On his hip swings a sturdy looking flanged mace, looped through his belt by a thin bit of twine, and on his head a steel halfhelm, dented but well cared for by the look of it.
Personality: Bold as he is young and inexperience, lacking entirely the talents necessary to be a merchant man. Rash, headstrong, proud and easily made the fool Byden wears his heart on his sleeve and speaks his mind with self-absorbed surety. He is a fighter at heart, and a troublemaker to boot often tickling at the nerves of his companions with pricks and prods and insinuated insults or even direct ones. His brother Tebyn often said Byden should have been born a lord to account for his nature, as only the highborn can get away with acting better then thou all the time. He is not without backing to his personality however. Alongside the many bruises, broken noses, and mud eating that came of being an irritating bastard comes a level of experience which gives him the capacity to back up his audaciousness, with a quick jab and a quicker dodge. He is only seventeen of course, and there are plenty of men who'd give him pause due to size, experience, and other factors such as nobility. Byden knows when to toe the line, and when to give it a wide berth. Beyond that lesser part of his nature comes a fun loving, roguish side. He laughs loud and often, and he loves to sing. Sea shanties, ballads, ditties and rhymes and all with exemplary talent. He can play the pipe, and dance, and keeping true to his desire to be the center of attention often does, prattling about like a bard, talking up his own bravery and accomplishments. Yet, for all his boasting and confidence Byden knows little about the realities of war, and when it comes to true bloodshed, he is as innocent and unblooded as a suckling babe.
History: The tenth son, and twelfth child to the Dornish ship's captain Yardyn, Byden was brought into a struggling household that know no end to their scandals and troubles. Most of Byden's elder half brothers were dead, the sons of previous wives that Yardyn bedded lost to a stormy sea, pirates blade, or foul disease. His own mother, Yardyn's third wife was a Pentos women, so frail and sickly it was a wonder she managed to give Yardyn another two sons and daughter at all before she died. At the point of Byden's birth, his father was an old man, ill tempered and prone to beating his young children with rod and whip. He had many mouths to feed, and plenty of debts to pay and not enough coin to go around. His rough treatment was not without its teaching moments, and the whip made Byden tough, and strong willed, the prince of his father's vessel while it was at sea. He tempered much the same as his father as he grew older, a cocky and bold fighter, but he lacked the subtlety and wiles of the crotchety old merchant. Yardyn despaired ever turning Byden into a skilled seller and buyer, not that it truly mattered, the boy had seven other brothers and sisters who were in line to take their inheritance. At most Byden would serve as a bosun or helmsman for them, and Yardyn's vast debts would fall upon the older children to stress over.
Byden was not interested at all in continuing to work under his half siblings. Upon his father's death he received a few pieces of gold as inheritance, and he, and his full blood brother set ashore in Myr, purchasing for themselves equipment with their inheritance and attempting to sign on with a company of sellswords whose deeds and actions seemed to compliment the boys desire for action and glory and gold. However eager they were they met only with disappointment time and time again. Mercenary companies, or at least those of propriety credited themselves for having skilled battlers, and for two green behind the ears boys of fifteen who had never fought a battle before in their life the prospect of joining a company was low indeed. They managed to sign on with a troop of guards, who protected wagons on the paths between villages, but beyond the occasional drunk lowborn in taverns there was no glory to be found, and the pay was pitiful. Byden despaired ever garnering the experience required to pad out their verbal accomplishments, he had never been very patient person and the endless days of following a cart full of stinking fish dragged on his nerves.
For two years the brothers lived day to day, taking the odd job on the wharf and ships of the free cities, sometimes crewing a vessel here, or loading lumber there, never with true direction in mind. Until that fateful day when Tebyn returned one night to the tent they shared from a evening at a brothel. Excitedly he informed Byden of a new mercenary company that had arrived in Myr and was looking for fresh swords who could speak the common tongue. The very next morning the brothers gathered up what little they called their own and recruited with the Meereenese Knot, eager for the battles to come.
Skills: When it comes to Byden's skills he is seriously lacking in the warfare department. All around he is more suited to crewing a merchant ship then swinging a sword, but when it comes to thrusting with a spear or bashing someone's head in with a mace anyone with half a wit can learn it to a measure of competence, and Byden has always been quick and smart. He is a rather good brawler, knowledgeable of where to hit a man to knock him down, or knock him out. He can read and write, though poorly, and count, and sing and dance and play the whistle pipe.
Equipment: Byden carries with him the articles of war of a poor mercenary, which includes a fine flanged mace, a short spear, a padded gambeson, and a steel halfhelm bought and paid for with his inheritance coin. The items are well cared for even though they have known previous owners and show signs of wear, they are oiled and polished with dedicated attention. Byden also keeps a two man tent which he splits with his brother, a small red-wood whistle he carved himself, and a mess kit along with all the other odds and ends folk carry with them.
@Sini Have you determined if you'll be playing as House Hightower or not? I'd like to start a Direct Message thread so we can discuss the finer details, if you would be so inclined.
@Ezekiel I understand of course, which is why, before I finished the sheet, I asked whether the scenario would be to chaotic of a starting point. I'll rewrite, as I do intend to keep applying for Baratheon. Your suggestion for Robbas being the younger brother of Jocelyn and Boremond is excellent, I was originally intending Robbas just as an outright replacement for Boremond but this way we can maintain canonical characters a bit more.
Edit: Finished my watered down back-up version. Please let me know if this one is more palatable?
I understand your concerns in that regard. So keep in mind any of the four rebel houses named can be changed to another Stormland house if a player doesn't want them to be, well rebelling. I don't want to do a peasant rebellion or outsider invasion as that would unite the power of the Stormlands under the Baratheon's, and at the start I want their power to be basically zero.
Still, I don't want to step on your toes, or anyone else's so please take a gander at this WIP and let me know if the scenario is too crazy, and not too your liking.
HOUSE BARATHEON of STORM'S END
'OURS IS THE FURY!'
Recent History
The youngest of the the seven great houses of Westeros, House Baratheon of Storm's End was installed by Aegon I during his conquests of the region. The Baratheon's were named thereon Lords Paramount of the Stormlands, and seen with high favor by their Targaryn Kings. For nigh nintey years the sons of Orys 'The One Hand' Baratheon have ruled the Stormlands from their seat Storm's End, taking the words, castle, and honor of the Storm King who came before. The Storm men they preside over are a resilient and fractious people, with a long memory, and a righteous fury. House Baratheon, from Orys then to Robbas in the present have struggled to rein in the proud Storm lords and their chivalry, keeping them loyal to the wishes of the Targaryn King on the Iron Throne. Their efforts have not been in vain, and it could be said that with a Baratheon at their head the armies of the Stormlands are the most loyal and dangerous force in all the Seven Kingdoms. Though many of the great houses would beg to differ on surety of that point, there is no denying the Stormlands; at least before that pincer grip on power slipped under the chaotic rule of Robbas Baratheon I.
He was never meant to rule. Robbas was the younger brother to Boremund Baratheon and Jocelyn Targaryn née Baratheon. Boremund was sickly in his youth, prone to coughing fits and spontaneous bleeding from the nose, unlike his brother and the Baratheon's who came before he was weak of body, and slight of build barely able to stand and play. He remained in his chambers for the most part, while his brother Robbas lanced and hunted he wrote and read. At the young age of seventeen he passed away while abed, the servants discovering him pale as a ghost, perished from what the maester claimed was internal bleeding. The end scenario suited Robbas just fine. He never much cared for his brother, their personalities and pursuits clashed without end, and Robbas had always felt slighted that the lands and titles went to his pathetic excuse for a brother. He had always been strong and energetic, filled with all the wrath and lust of ten men, whereas Boremund died a virgin. Later Robbas became a knight, and at twenty-two a lord, and not one drop of his personality left him. During his reign as Lord Paramount, Robbas Baratheon was known as an effective yet ruthless ruler, the veteran of a score of battles and a master of fear. He fathered two sons and a daughter, with the Lady Sayella Baratheon, née Tarth. During the time of his rule he gathered very few powerful friends, but a great many dangerous foes, including the houses of Connington and Selmy, Fell, and Buckler, by insult and disrespect among other acts. During one night of heavy drinking, Lord Robbas bedded the new wife of Lord Selmy during his wedding day celebrations, disarmed Lord Buckler in a duel for Buckler's daughter's honor, and spit in Lord Fell's face for the slightest backtalk. In a single evening he had made three new enemies, who evermore looked on him and his household in disdain. Years later he would execute the Lord Connington for being late to battle and a craven, and installed the man's bastard son as heir, an act that has never been forgotten by Connington's trueborn sons. Robbas was no man to make amends, and actively furthered the bad blood, antagonizing the lords of his sworn houses. Even those families he was not openly feuding with him looked on disapprovingly. Of Houses Selmy, Buckler, Fell, and Connington cadets he made open mockery, and dug salt into their wounds as was his combative nature. Despite this, those four houses could do not but grit their teeth and bend to his will, weathering their Lord Paramount's mood. For it was well known by then that Robbas Baratheon harbored little patience, and was terrifying to behold in battle.
Of the Baratheon children Robbas II, 'The Younger', was the heir to all the titles and lands. He was as blusterous and promiscuous as his predecessor, his apple falling close to his father's tree. He resided at Storm's End, married to Tolana née Swann with a young son of his own, Robbas III, perhaps his fifth child, but his only true-born. Robbas The Elder's second born was Oryon, a man of twenty who was seen far more favorably then his father and elder brother by the Stormlords, he was soft spoken, and true hearted, loyal to a fault, or a "weak willed follower" as his father called him. He spent much of his time away in the Reach, courting his intended bride to be. Mellaran the youngest at only twelve remained in Storm's End, she is a pretty enough girl, and well known for being cleverer then Robbas, and bolder than Oryon. Together the five of them made a rather broken family, with the only ties maintaining their cohesion being blood and honor.
Nevertheless due to Robbas I's iron will they maintained and prospered, never giving an inch to their foes in battle or otherwise until those fateful days when the Baratheon's pincer grip on power faltered, and his demons came all at once. The day came when Robbas I fell deathly ill, his skin pale and his hands once powerful without equal shaking and weak. He was reaching middle age as they say, but the disease struck him hard and fast, and despite the maester's best efforts he could not break his fever. On the second week the bleeding began, running fast and free from his nostrils until the Lord Paramount was pale as his brother had been all those years before. That was when the ravens arrived from the Weeping Town, bearing condolences and tears of their own. Whilst riding with his friend Ser Whitehead, Ser Robbas II fell from his horse and shattered his neck on the rocks below. There was no saving the young heir, and Robbas The Elder died only days later before the funeral for his eldest son could even be held. Following soon after their passing Robbas' political enemies began making themselves known, emboldened by the loss of Robbas and his son they moved on Storm's End like ravens to carrion. Before Tytan Baratheon, Robbas I's youngest brother could even arrive to say his final goodbyes to his deceased sibling, Lord Buckler had snatched away Robbas III and his mother. Carting them back with him to Bronzegate, claiming he was chosen to foster the boy until he came of age. Upon arriving at Storm's End in a rage at the news, Tytan was shocked to find Selmy wheat flying alongside the Baratheon stag, and the gates barred to him. The Lord Selmy had occupied the castle, naming himself its caretaker until Robbas III was deemed of capacity to take up the mantle as Lord of Storm's End himself. Tytan was turned away, unable to even speak to his niece, or sister-by-law. In short order Robbas' foes had dug their claws in, with clear intention to remain.
House Members
Name: Lord Robbas I Baratheon Age: Forty Deceased Appearance: (Or description) Biography:
@Sini I actually was planning on one of the Baratheon children to be in the Reach at the time, courting a Lord’s daughter, if you’re going Hightower would you be interested in collaborating on that front?
@Ezekiel I’m working on House Baratheon right now. By the way, I’m adding a little extra flavor to the opening of my character/s stories, how much can we break away from the canon events right off the bat? For context essentially I’m writing in ‘recent history’ the details of a rebellion of sorts occurring in the Stormlands against the Baratheons.
Age: Ten and Seven years, and without even a proper beard.
Gender: Male
House: As the offspring of a impoverished merchant, he is a freeman but not quite befitting of a proper surname. Instead labeling himself merely as Yardyn's son.
Appearance: Young Byden is a homely boy of middling stature. He is black of hair, and brown of eye with the look of Pentos and Dorne about him. He is not hideous by any means, but his teeth are a bit too crooked, and his nose hooked, and his eyes are sunk far too much into his head. His skin is crisped near red from exposure, and has a splotched, unhealthy look common to the sun-burnt merchant sailors. Under his lip, and in patches on his cheeks grows a scraggly beard, new grown and perhaps detrimental to the desired effect to make himself appear older and wiser. Yet despite his homely appearance Byden seems strong and capable enough, with calloused hands and broad shoulders and sturdy legs, well tuned to the pitch and roll of a ship in motion. The lad carries himself like a seaman even, with short stride, lots of arm swaying, and with his head cocked sideways and a snarky grin of perpetual challenge on his lips. The last part has more to do with his temperament, and is in fact the reason he has a crooked nose, and a few missing teeth... He garbs himself accordingly to the profession of his father, in loose sleeveless tunics and baggy pants that look as if many years ago they might have been fine clothing, but have long since been stained and tattered. Of course beneath all these outward aspects lies the voice of an angel, or at least that's what his mother claimed. The sharp tenor bark for his spoken word well conceals his capacity to sing, with admirable talent. On his hip swings a sturdy looking flanged mace, looped through his belt by a thin bit of twine, and on his head a steel halfhelm, dented but well cared for by the look of it.
Personality: Bold as he is young and inexperience, lacking entirely the talents necessary to be a merchant man. Rash, headstrong, proud and easily made the fool Byden wears his heart on his sleeve and speaks his mind with self-absorbed surety. He is a fighter at heart, and a troublemaker to boot often tickling at the nerves of his companions with pricks and prods and insinuated insults or even direct ones. His brother Tebyn often said Byden should have been born a lord to account for his nature, as only the highborn can get away with acting better then thou all the time. He is not without backing to his personality however. Alongside the many bruises, broken noses, and mud eating that came of being an irritating bastard comes a level of experience which gives him the capacity to back up his audaciousness, with a quick jab and a quicker dodge. He is only seventeen of course, and there are plenty of men who'd give him pause due to size, experience, and other factors such as nobility. Byden knows when to toe the line, and when to give it a wide berth. Beyond that lesser part of his nature comes a fun loving, roguish side. He laughs loud and often, and he loves to sing. Sea shanties, ballads, ditties and rhymes and all with exemplary talent. He can play the pipe, and dance, and keeping true to his desire to be the center of attention often does, prattling about like a bard, talking up his own bravery and accomplishments. Yet, for all his boasting and confidence Byden knows little about the realities of war, and when it comes to true bloodshed, he is as innocent and unblooded as a suckling babe.
History: The tenth son, and twelfth child to the Dornish ship's captain Yardyn, Byden was brought into a struggling household that know no end to their scandals and troubles. Most of Byden's elder half brothers were dead, the sons of previous wives that Yardyn bedded lost to a stormy sea, pirates blade, or foul disease. His own mother, Yardyn's third wife was a Pentos women, so frail and sickly it was a wonder she managed to give Yardyn another two sons and daughter at all before she died. At the point of Byden's birth, his father was an old man, ill tempered and prone to beating his young children with rod and whip. He had many mouths to feed, and plenty of debts to pay and not enough coin to go around. His rough treatment was not without its teaching moments, and the whip made Byden tough, and strong willed, the prince of his father's vessel while it was at sea. He tempered much the same as his father as he grew older, a cocky and bold fighter, but he lacked the subtlety and wiles of the crotchety old merchant. Yardyn despaired ever turning Byden into a skilled seller and buyer, not that it truly mattered, the boy had seven other brothers and sisters who were in line to take their inheritance. At most Byden would serve as a bosun or helmsman for them, and Yardyn's vast debts would fall upon the older children to stress over.
Byden was not interested at all in continuing to work under his half siblings. Upon his father's death he received a few pieces of gold as inheritance, and he, and his full blood brother set ashore in Myr, purchasing for themselves equipment with their inheritance and attempting to sign on with a company of sellswords whose deeds and actions seemed to compliment the boys desire for action and glory and gold. However eager they were they met only with disappointment time and time again. Mercenary companies, or at least those of propriety credited themselves for having skilled battlers, and for two green behind the ears boys of fifteen who had never fought a battle before in their life the prospect of joining a company was low indeed. They managed to sign on with a troop of guards, who protected wagons on the paths between villages, but beyond the occasional drunk lowborn in taverns there was no glory to be found, and the pay was pitiful. Byden despaired ever garnering the experience required to pad out their verbal accomplishments, he had never been very patient person and the endless days of following a cart full of stinking fish dragged on his nerves.
For two years the brothers lived day to day, taking the odd job on the wharf and ships of the free cities, sometimes crewing a vessel here, or loading lumber there, never with true direction in mind. Until that fateful day when Tebyn returned one night to the tent they shared from a evening at a brothel. Excitedly he informed Byden of a new mercenary company that had arrived in Myr and was looking for fresh swords who could speak the common tongue. The very next morning the brothers gathered up what little they called their own and recruited with the Meereenese Knot, eager for the battles to come.
Skills: When it comes to Byden's skills he is seriously lacking in the warfare department. All around he is more suited to crewing a merchant ship then swinging a sword, but when it comes to thrusting with a spear or bashing someone's head in with a mace anyone with half a wit can learn it to a measure of competence, and Byden has always been quick and smart. He is a rather good brawler, knowledgeable of where to hit a man to knock him down, or knock him out. He can read and write, though poorly, and count, and sing and dance and play the whistle pipe.
Equipment: Byden carries with him the articles of war of a poor mercenary, which includes a fine flanged mace, a short spear, a padded gambeson, and a steel halfhelm bought and paid for with his inheritance coin. The items are well cared for even though they have known previous owners and show signs of wear, they are oiled and polished with dedicated attention. Byden also keeps a two man tent which he splits with his brother, a small red-wood whistle he carved himself, and a mess kit along with all the other odds and ends folk carry with them.
Dr. Robert Delvon, or Doc Bob as most people call him is a middle aged man of moderate build and height. He has all the signs of a stressed, aging man, including the wrinkling face and the receding and silvering hairline, and yet he maintains his body in good physical condition. Overall he is a pleasant enough person to look upon, though he does not stand out. His eyes are a soft brown, and his laugh is good matured and his demeanor friendly and relaxed. It can be difficult to tell when Bob grows angry or cold, as he maintains a casual air, never growing distant or aloof. He has a deep affection for his family and the people of his community and carry's photos of his wife and two daughters with him everywhere. For attire he maintains a formal appearance, old fashion as he is. Its rare to ever see him not in a button down shirt, or a suit, or a lab coat. Although he has since been retired from military service the old nature of respect and customs and courtesies dies hard. Most people who knew him before his second wife and his internment as a Devo, recall him being wild, high energy and crass. Cussing and yelling and drinking with all the abandon of youth. That side of him has mellowed down considerably over the last twenty years, and with the birth of his children it became rare for anyone to hear him say 'darn', let alone anything more profane.
At the end of the day Bob is a professional and acts like it. His mission is far to important for him to be seen as anything else, and his advocacy for non-violent intervention in the Devo situation is paramount to him. Of course, his willingness to bend to the Peacekeeper's whim, and seemingly weak kneed approach to Devo rights paints something of a target on his back to the more hardliner revolutionaries. Still Bod strives day and night to archive yet another genetic breakthrough, and free himself and the other Devo's from the yoke of their own uniqueness.
Abilities
Planer Gateways The first and most powerful of Dr. Robert Delvon's powers is his ability to open up portal doorways from nothing into any location on earth, or into a secondary blank dimension. A seemingly unending space of nothingness. Anyone can pass through these gateways that Robert opens, and technically anyone can step into the secondary dimension as well, but due to the lack of oxygen, pressure, or electromagnetic waves they almost instantly perish. For normal gateways as long as Robert had seen the location before in person he can open one of his portals with relative ease, large enough for two people walking abreast to step through. However, with the inhibitor chip Robert cannot open a gateway large enough for a mouse to pass through making the ability null and void.
Instant Teleportation When it comes to this ability dark nights and fog are Bob's greatest weakness. As long as he can physically see his landing target Robert can warp himself and anything he has a tight grip on to that destination within milliseconds. Should he lose his grip, or if the item is to heavy it will be lost forever in the secondary dimension either to die, or simply be torn apart on a molecular level in the dangerous vacuum. Every teleportation is accompanied by a sharp but distinct pop as air fills the void that's left behind, and a swoosh upon his arrival as oxygen is forced away. If anything heavier than liquid is in the way of his arrival Bob has theorized that it will be moved as well, though he does not wish to test his theories with his body. With the inhibitor chip dampening his powers Robert finds it difficult to teleport even thirty yards let alone carry another person with him.
Item Warping Although this power works on a smaller scale, it is very similar as his instant teleportation ability. By focusing on a medium object or a person of a smaller size Robert can move them instantly from one space to the next within sight without touching it or them, even into solid objects resulting in a small explosion of atoms. These teleportations have the same accompanying pops and bangs as his instant teleportation. With the inhibitor the size of the items he can move, and the distance is once again dramatically reduced.
Skills
First and foremost Dr. Robert Delvon is a scientist, a geneticist and physiologist of apparent skill. He has been studying physics and genes for the majority of his life as a military researcher. Although he isn't an engineer he was one of the people who pioneered the technology that led to the development of the Dampening D3-VO Inhibitor Chip. His own research was what led to him being discovered as a dormant Devo, and his internment. Beyond Bob's scientific pursuits he is also of a military mind, with experience in leading men and with ample combat hours as a Company Commander in the wars just after the turn of the millennium.
The rest of his skills are social in nature. He was a failed statesman, though only due to his unfortunate discovery of his own powers and the accompanying stigma.
Biography
Born in 1976 Robert Delvon's life began rather normally. His discovery of his powers didn't happen until well on in his life, therefor leaving him to develop himself and his reputation without the wary caution most felt around the more unique members of society. He graduated from his expensive private gifted students high-school as valedictorian, and went on to college for a major in physics. Before he graduated however Delvon jumped at the opportunity to gain his doctorates degree in West Point military academy where he graduated third in his class attaining the rank of second lieutenant in the armed forces. Robert surprised most of his family and peers however by investing his time into becoming and infantry officer, rather than a military researcher as was expected. He was to wild back then and the most dangerous and thrilling tasks are what enticed him.
At first Robert Delvon showed great promise as a military leader, spending time on three different tours fighting the nations wars until ascertaining the rank of Lieutenant Colonel and retiring from active duty service. Eventually however, after divorcing his first wife Robert began to slip. At this point in his life Bob became very interested in the D3-VO gene and their practical applications. He returned to university, got remarried and had two daughters. Around this time was Black Sabbath, and Robert's powers became apparent. He practiced what he was capable of it secret for several months before his own research was used to oust him for a Devo and he was interned with his family in the ghettos they called compounds.
Fortunately for Robert he had some strings to pull, and connections to give him and his family a slightly better life even within the compound. Under the close and uncaring supervision of the Peacekeepers Robert Delvon and a small team of willing researchers began work on eliminating the Devo gene, or dampening it below noticeable levels.
Member
