Here is House Stark. I considered making Ellard's wife, but that would probably be another two days of writing for a character that I don't envision myself writing very often, so for now she'll just be an NPC. Let me know if there's anything that needs to be fixed :)
Long before Aegon and his sisters, the Starks of Winterfell ruled over the north as Kings of Winter, their bronze and iron crown a testament to the strength of their people, and the unyielding nature of their homeland. Then they ruled with the strength and honor that came to be synonymous with the name Stark. When Aegon landed, The North was far out of mind, but after the subjugation of Stormland as well as the Riverlands, Torrhen Stark called his banners, well aware of the time it would take to raise an army in his cold, harsh country. After the destruction of the Lannister and Gardener forces at the Field of Fire, Aegon turned his eyes toward Torrhen, having received word in advance of his march south. At the base of the Trident, Aegon Targaryen met Torrhen Stark with forty five thousand men and three full grown dragons, and there it was that, the last King in the North became the King Who Knelt.
This new subjugation was poorly received in the North, and Torrhen would spend the rest of his reign struggling to convince his vassals, as well as his sons, that kneeling before the Dragon King had been a wise decision. Despite this unrest, upon his death his eldest son, Rickon, kept the peace, and enforced the Targaryen’s rule as Warden of the North. While the passing of Aegon Targaryen after thirty seven years on the Iron Throne would see many rebellions against the throne, including one by Jonos Arryn who proclaimed himself King of Mountain and Vale after deposing his elder brother, the Starks remained staunch supporters of the Targaryens.
Relations between the Starks and the Targaryens remained positive for many years, but the reign of King Jaehaerys would see relations between the two houses turn sour. Alaric Stark would become Lord of Winterfell after the death of his brother Walton at the hands of a band of Night’s Watch deserters, made up of rebels that King Jaehaerys had exiled after taking the throne from Maegor the Cruel. Alaric notably blamed the king for his brother’s death, and so, in order to improve relations, King Jaehaerys planned a tour of the north with his wife, Queen Alysanne. When Jaehaerys fell ill, Alysanne insisted she go on the tour as planned. Alysanne’s tour brought her to the Wall, where she took great interest in the work done at the edge of the world. Upon her return to King’s Landing, she convinced her husband to grant the Night’s Watch more land, land which came from Alaric Stark’s domain. The Proud Wolf bristled at what he believed to be an unlawful seizure of land, land which would be squandered by the Watch. This slight would see Alaric Stark’s son and heir, Ellard Stark, to side against the King in the Great Council of 101 AC.
Ten years on from the Great Council, and Ellard Stark remains Lord of Winterfell, and despite his rising age, all who have treated with him in the past years insist that he remains hard as iron, and sharp as steel. Ellard’s heir, Cregan, has earned a name for himself over the years through his victories at various tourneys throughout Westeros. Current notable members of the house also include Ellard’s wife, Arrana Umber, their son, Cregan Stark, Ellard’s brother, Bennard and Bennard’s bastard daughter, Sara Snow
Members of House Stark
In his youth, Ellard Stark was an intimidating man. His shoulders are broad, and his body sinewy with muscle. He is formidable in height as well, standing over many a man. His face holds the classic Stark features. His jaw while hard and defined, hides behind a coarse beard of dark hair flecked with grey. His eyes are steely, sullen and almost pained, their grey depths a wall of stone that halts any that might try to glean knowledge from them.. Three scars mark the right side of his face, from an encounter in the Wolfswood when he was young. The first goes right across his eye, and the next two fall just below. His hair falls to his shoulders, and has gone mostly to grey, though like his beard some dark brown remains, a reminder of his youth.Biography
Ellard Stark was born at the beginning of the winter of 59 AC, a particularly harsh one due to the surprisingly short summer and autumn that had preceded it. Famine broke out across Westeros and soon the Shivers began to ravage the land. That winter saw the death of many, highborn and low, including that of Ellard’s mother, Raya, and his sister Lyarra. Despite the cruelty the winter of his birth wrought, Ellard survived, and it was not long before he could be seen hard at work in the courtyard at Winterfell, drilling with the master of arms.
Alaric Stark had been a cold and proud man, harsh as the lands he presided over and he sought to instill the same values in his son. While he loved his son in his own way, his affection was hard to come by. Ellard often tells the story of his twelfth name day, when his father took him out into the wolfswood for a hunt that was meant to last a week. On the third day, as Ellard tracked a deer, his father slipped away, taking his horse and leaving the boy alone. At first frightened, Ellard began to track his father, assuming he’d only wandered off. Soon however, he lost Alaric’s trail, and he became fearful once more. The heir to Winterfell ended up so turned around, that he did not return for three nights. When he did, he carried a dead wolf across the back of his horse, and bore a fresh scratch across his face. After the maester had patched him up, his father came to see him. The man sat across from him, and took a long look at Ellard’s wound. “I watched you slay that wolf. You were strong. If you hope to rule one day, you’ll need to be just as strong as that, stronger even.” Alaric had then placed a hand on his shoulder, and offered up a soft smile, one of the few Ellard ever saw.
By the time of Alaric’s death in 82 AC, Ellard was a man of three and twenty years, and much like his father. Cold as ice and as unyielding as the stones of Winterfell, there were those who said that the winter of his birth had stayed with him, and that should you cut him, an icy river would pour out in place of blood. Ellard would prove that his nature was not a detriment. While not the warmest of men, Ellard was just and honorable, and the smallfolk came to love him, as did his bannermen.
When his father had died, Ellard had been unmarried, having refused the hands of many women. This had been a point of contention between him and his father, and his advisers would continue to insist that he take a wife, for the good of the house. Ellard refused to entertain the idea until the harvest feast at Winterfell, in 84 AC, when he laid eyes on Arrana Umber. His bannermen’s daughter, she was a maid of seven and ten, and her beauty had caught the eye of many men that night. However, when it came time to dance, it was Ellard’s hand she took. They were married soon after the feast, and many in attendance said it was the first time they’d seen the Lord of Winterfell smile.
Today, Ellard Stark is growing old. He looks out over Westeros with the eyes of a seasoned man. He’s been lucky enough to rule in a time of relative peace and prosperity, but he’s seen the turmoil brewing in the south. The North will be called upon, sooner or later, he’s sure of it. His son, Cregan, while strong and hardy, is still a green boy, arrogant and brash as young men tend to be. Ellard fears that he might die before Cregan is ready. The future of his house hangs in the balance, as Westeros moves further and further towards chaos.
Built for strength, Cregan stands tall over his contemporaries, an intimidating brute of a man. He prefers his hair cut short, and his face kept shaved, leaving the chiseled jaw that looks so like his father’s, open to the air. One look at the young man is enough to note the resemblance between him and his father. They have the same grey eyes, Stark eyes, and while Ellard’s hair has gone to grey for the most part, the dark streaks that remain are the same shade of dark brown that color Cregan’s hair.
Born and raised a noble, Cregan walks about with a certain sense of importance that is evident in the way he swaggers through the streets of Winter Town. He is still blessed with the youthful arrogance of someone too young to know the true hardships of the world, and nowhere is that more apparent than the energy he carries with him, so full of lust, both for women and battle.
Born six years after his parent’s wedding in 84 AC, Cregan Stark was welcomed into the world with a great clangor, perhaps an indication of the life he would lead. He was the third son of Ellard and Arrana Stark, but the only one not born still. A spirited young boy, Cregan was often seen running through the courtyard after the older boys that resided within the castle, wooden sword in hand. A mischievous boy, he and what soon became his band of castle boys were responsible for more than one foolhardy trick, played on the unsuspecting denizens of Winterfell. Cregan would have invoked his father’s wrath, had it not been for his doting mother. More often than not, when he was caught causing trouble his mother would step in and sweep away any issues with her kind words. In spite of his troublemaking, Cregan’s jovial personality made him many friends. His nickname, The Summer Wolf, was given both for the season of his birth, but also for the warm blood that ran through him, so different from his father’s wintery harshness.
As much as Cregan may have preferred it, his life was not filled with endless play. His father was adamant that Cregan learn to fight, and trained the boy himself. He was a harsh teacher, but an effective one. The song of steel is a familiar one to Cregan, a sweet tune that he seems to chase. As soon as he could properly hold a sword, the boy was challenging whoever would listen to him to a duel. Many defeats followed, but soon he began to win. Now, Cregan’s skill with a sword has surpassed even his father, and he is known throughout the North for his prowess in their brutal melees.
Ellard Stark would not be content with a son who simply knew how to hold a sword however. Shortly after his eighth name day, Ellard took Cregan into the Great Hall with him, and had him sit by his side while he held court, listening to the troubles of the peasants and noble lords alike. He taught Cregan about justice and honor, about the weight of his family name. The word of a Stark meant something, Ellard would say, and it was Cregan’s duty to uphold that meaning.
Cregan, for the most part, has done his best to live by his father’s teachings. He does his best to be honorable, and courageous, just and kind. Despite that, Cregan is not his father, and he answers to impulse more often than not. He finds it difficult to resist the tempting curves of the young women who work the inns in Winter Town, and he is a green boy in truth. He is brash, and quick to draw steel, but he has yet to be in a true fight, having spent the majority of his life in Winterfell, aside from traveling to the keeps of his father’s bannermen. His thirst for glory has brought him to King’s Landing, where he will compete for the honor of House Stark at the upcoming tourney.
While Bennard shares the dark hair and grey, steely eyes of the Starks, that is where the resemblance stops. His father and brother were both large, imposing men, but Bennard has no such qualities. He is not particularly tall, though he’s not short either. His frame is slim, lacking the bulging muscles built by years of training with sword and shield. His face is long, somber, and since returning to Winterfell he’s let a beard grow out that covers his mouth and makes his almost gaunt face seem fuller, and more lively.
The second son of Lord Alaric Stark is a far cry from the first. Where as Ellard is a fierce warrior and a firm ruler, Bennard is bookish, preferring the biting wit of his words to the cold bruteness of steel. Born to the second wife of Alaric Stark, Bennard was born in 65 AC, Bennard was always in the shadow of his elder brother. His father had loved his first wife, but his second had been a marriage of duty, and Alaric came to resent Bennard’s mother. That resentment seemed to extend to Bennard as well, at some point. Bennard was not made of cold iron like his brother, and he often failed and shortly after his eighth nameday, Bennard was sent to foster with his father’s bannerman, Lord Harys Umber.
At Last Hearth, Bennard was treated as his brother had been at Winterfell. He was respected, and while Lord Harys pushed him to learn to wield a sword, the maester of the keep taught him all he could of numbers, the great houses and the relations between them, as well as the history of Westeros. It was at Last Hearth that Bennard grew up, and it was there that he met his first, and some say only, love. Arrana Umber, two years younger than him and the daughter of his foster father, became his closest friend at Last Hearth. Friendship became desire, and it became apparent to all at Last Hearth that Bennard lusted after the girl. It’s said even, that he asked for her hand in marriage, twice, but her father refused him both times, thus resulting in his sudden return to Winterfell when he was seventeen.
Shortly after Bennard’s return to Winterfell, his father died and his brother became Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North. The rift between the two brothers was already growing by this point, but the final straw would come at the harvest feast of 84 AC when Ellard danced with a young Arrana Umber, spiriting her away from Bennard. The younger brother took the insult to heart, and left Winterfell before the wedding. Furious with his brother and unsure of his place in the world, he took a ship from White Harbour to Oldtown, and began studying to become a maester.
Bennard’s time at the Citadel proved fruitful. He served as a novice for a short time, before he began forging his chain. He was set to take perform his ritual and become a maester, sometime in 87 AC but his success proved short lived. While studying, a serving wench had caught his eye and they soon became enamored with one another. He’d taken the girls maidenhead and put a baby in her belly instead. When the archmaesters learned of the illicit relationship, they reminded Bennard that one of a maester’s vows is celibacy. They gave him a choice; forsake the woman, and the child she bore, or leave the Citadel. Bennard chose the serving girl, not that it would matter in the end. She died giving birth to their daughter, Sara.
Shortly after Sara’s birth, Bennard left Oldtown on a ship bound for Volantis. His time there is largely a mystery. When asked, Bennard claims he stayed in the manse of a wealthy noblewoman, but that is as much as he has ever been willing to share. All the people of Winterfell know for certain is that eight years after he’d left for the Citadel, Bennard returned, seeking a home to raise his daughter, offering an apology and his service. Ellard received his brother as warmly as he knew how, and granted him the position of castellan, a position he holds to this day. Bennard has become one of Ellard’s closest advisors. Rumors of Bennard’s lingering resentment are not uncommon, but Bennard dismisses them as simply that; rumors, made up by smallfolk who have become bored with their dreary lives.
Dark hair frames Sara’s heart shaped face, and along with her cold, grey eyes, remind everyone that despite her birth, Stark blood runs through her veins. Hers is a somber face, her mouth drawn into an ever present frown. When she smiles however, it lights up her face, and remind everyone that beneath the boiled leather and mail, a beautiful woman resides. Her body is slender, but toned after years of working with a sword. Her face is scarred, a silvery line of flesh that cuts across her upper lip, the unfortunate result of a fight with a Dornishman. She walks with the swagger of someone who does not fear death, and is anything but dainty. Her ferocity is evident in her stare, harsh and cold, looking for blood.
Born beneath the Citadel, in a musty room meant for servants, Sara took her mother’s life as she came into the world. She has never forgotten that, no matter how hard she tried.
The early years of her childhood are a blur of sights and sounds. She was raised amidst the household of a Volantene noble, and she remembers the bustling city with a fondness, though she can hardly picture it now. Then, she remembers her father coming, and telling her that she’d be getting on a boat with him, to go home. She’d been confused then. As far as she knew, Volantis had always been her home. Nevertheless, she and her father boarded a ship, bound for White Harbour, and made their way to a place he called, Winterfell.
Winterfell was different from Volantis in many ways. It was cold for one, too cold for Sara’s liking. Volantis had been much nicer, always warm, and nobody gave her the strange looks that the people of Winterfell did. Her father explained to her that in Winterfell she’d be Sara Snow, not Sara Stark, which was strange, even after he explained to her that she was a bastard, and thus couldn’t carry the family name like her cousin could. In Volantis, she hadn’t been a bastard, at least not in the eyes of their hosts
Despite that, Sara soon became at home in the great castle. The strange looks ceased to bother her, especially after she and her cousin Cregan became close, wreaking havoc throughout Winterfell. The little lordling’s seal of approval meant that she was part of the castle, whether people liked it or not. She didn’t understand why Cregan got to train with the men outside, while she was forced to sew inside with the women. They always bothered her, gossiping about this and that, never anything important. Thankfully, Cregan would give her lessons in the godswood secretly, and as they grew up, their lessons continued until one day, after finding the duo sparring, her uncle relented. “If you’re going to insist on getting into trouble, I’ll see that you know how to get yourself out of it as well,” he’d said in his gruff voice. From that day on, Sara spent her days learning how to fight rather than. The strange looks came back again, but nevertheless she persisted.
Sara came to appreciate the freedom of her bastardy. Cregan would be forced to take up the Lordship of Winterfell, marry some woman his father chose for him, and ultimately, live a life that is not his own. After her seventeenth nameday, Sara decided that she would live her life on her terms, and hers alone. She gathered men, from the castle as well as Winters Town, and made for White Harbour. There, her and the men she’d gathered sailed for Braavos, where they became known as the Pack From Across the Sea. They made their names as sellswords, and Sara became known as the Bloody Wolf. When Daemon Targaryen came to conquer the Stepstones, the Pack From Across the Sea fought for him, after a considerable amount of payment that is. Today, Sara’s whereabouts are mostly unknown, though rumors say she’s remained in the Stepstones with her Pack, aiding Daemon Targaryen in holding his kingdom.
Ruby forcibly dragged me (but not really) out of my extremely long absence from Roleplayer Guild by dangling this roleplay in front of me. I'll be posting one or more character sheets in the near future, just wanted to make my presence and interest known.
Would it be alright if I at some point elaborated a little bit about the captains and crews under my character's control, as well as a maybe making a full house sheet for the Saan family? Although pretty much all other members are going to be in Lys and hence might not be that relevant?
House Saan of Wreckstone - Vassal of the King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea
Lysono Saan is a svelte and lithe man of shorter than average stature. Like many other Lyseni the blood of Old Valyria flows in his veins. This tells true by his long silvered hair that is twisted into a mass of braids and the gracile features that adorn his face. But Lysono's eyes are not those of some Valyrian dragonlord, instead they are an unusual blue green hue, the colour he likes to say of the seas he has made his fortune on. Most often he is clean shaven, and when taken into consideration with his fine facial structure, long hair, and full lips, there is more than just a hint of androgyny about the pirate lord.
Lysono dresses richly. Turquoise silks from beyond the Jade Gates of Qarth, bone white Myrish lace, purple dyed satin made from Tyroshi sea snails, and cloth of gold and silver from Lannisport and the mines of the West. From each ear hangs long teardrops of black amethyst set in bright silver, its purple so dark it almost looks like jet. His thin wrists jingle with bangles of precious metals or carved from ivory and amber. His slender fingers seem almost overwhelmed by the abundance of gaudy rings set upon them. But if called to action, those fingers can still easily reach down to Lysono's sword belt and grasp the two weapons that hang from it. From the left hip hangs a silver hilted narrow arming sword, while from the right, hangs a valyrian steel dagger with a black dragon bone handle.Biography
Lysono Saan was born on the isle of Wreckstone in the year 82AC, the first born son of Sharako Saan, a pirate lord of the isle of Wreckstone and head of a cadet branch of the ancient and noble Lyseni House of Saan. His father was the cousin of the senior branch of the family, which was at that time firmly based in Lys and in mostly legitimate trade. Though they both descended from the infamous Sargosso Saan who had been a Pirate King in the days of Aegon I, only Sharako's side of the family decided to take up his mantle.
Lysono's childhood was spent between the rugged and dangerous pirate dens of his father's world, and the genteel pleasure palaces of his cousins and kinsmen. This simultaneous induction into dual worlds of ruthless violence and idle hedonism marked the young man strongly, and is something which stayed with Lysono throughout the rest of his life. Though relations between both sides of the family were generally good, the same could not be said for the relations between most traders in the Triachy and pirates in the Stepstones. As the situation began to boil over into a crisis in the year of 96AC, word was dispatched from Lys warning the Saan's of Wreckstone to flee their island fastness lest they be swept away along with the other pirate lords and petty kings that profiteered off the flow of trade between the Narrow and Summer seas.
Sharako was a prudent man and elected to sail his family to Lys until the threat of war receded, while he himself would seek out somewhere else to continue his piratical activities. But in leaving the rich trading routes from which his family derived their income, he opened himself up to a danger from within. Rumours began to spread amongst his crews that Sharako didn't have gold enough to pay them without the plunder from the Stepstones, or that he had secreted away an a larger than fair share of the recent hauls in order to support his family in exile. Talk turned to mutiny. Before long words turned to actions.
Sharako was murdered by his crew in his sleep while sailing the summer seas. Anarchy descended upon his small fleet as rival captains turned upon each other. When the news of the calamity finally reached Lysono on Lys, he found all that he had once expected to inherit, a lordship, a fleet, an army, was all taken from him, along of course with his own father.
The news hit the young Lysono hard, and for months he turned to running up debts in the pillow houses and wine sinks of Lys in order to escape the reality of his much reduced situation. It was during this time that the rumours first began to spread about the unusual.. preferences that the young exiled lord possessed. Soon his credit began to turn bad, and even these distractions were lost to him. Indeed, all seemed lost. Until one day, a familiar ship limped back into the harbour below the city. Only one ship, one ship among half a score, had remained loyal to the elder Saan and had sought out his son and heir. It was only one ship, but it was enough. Enough to start again, restore his fortunes, and maybe one day take back what was his by right of birth.
And Lysono did just that. Over the next decade he raided and traded in every port from Ibben to Asshai, he stole from men, sold his wares to others, and as his fleet of corsairs grew, he began to sell his sails in petty wars all over Essos. But none of it was enough, the grip the Triachy held on the Stepstones was too strong for one mere pirate lord to break. But one day word reach his ears of another who might share his goal and was far more than just a pirate lord, he was Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the Iron Throne, and dragonlord.
Lysono sailed all the ships he had gathered to Driftmark, and bent his knee to the Rouge Prince on the condition that he and his heirs be named Lord of Wreckstone in this new kingdom Daemon sought to carve out from amongst the Narrow Sea. Other than the Sea snake himself, Lysono brought the largest contingent of ships to Daemon's cause and he quickly found himself a part of the prince's war councils. Three years later, when the prince is crowned King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, Lysono Saan takes is confirmed as Lord of the Isle of Wreckstone.
Alright, there we go, let me know if you want any edits.
I am also interested in this, are you still accepting?
I feel like perhaps playing a slightly lower born character, or maybe a foreigner?
Main current idea is a Lyseni pirate, who might have teamed up with Daemon in the War for the Stepstones for revenge on the Kingdom of the Three Daughters after they drove the pirates out in 106AC. Could even be a member of the Saan family actuallu, there's no canon members for this time period I think.
Rhaenyra has inherited her families Valyrian looks, described as a beautiful child and declared by some to be 'the most beautiful maid in all of the Seven Kingdoms.' She is known for wearing her hair in a long braid in the same manner that Aegon The Conquerers wife, Visenya Targaryen had. Rhaenyra has always dressed befitting of her status, favouring purple and maroon velvet's as well as golden Myrish lace with intricate patterns for her dresses. Her bodice always seems to be glittering with different pearls, diamonds or other gems and she always likes to wear rings on her fingers.
Born in 97AC, Rhaenyra Targaryen is the only living child of King Viserys I Targaryen and her late mother Queen Aemma Arryn. If the gods had been kinder then Rhaenyra may have had two younger brothers, however the mother above saw it fit to take them for herself while they were still in the cradle.
Rhaenyra was 6 years old when her father became King of Westeros and from his coronation she was seen with her father practically wherever he went. If it was feasts, balls or tourneys then the young princess would always be found close to her father's side, eventually the King even named his daughter the royal cup bearer and through her appearances with her father the young Rhaenyra was dubbed as 'The Realms Delight.'
However Rhaenyra was not just a shy or quiet young girl who could not survive beyond her father's presence. She was the blood of the dragon, her temperament reflected that through her pride and stubbornness. At the age of 7 she had convinced herself that she would ride a dragon. And so she did. Young Rhaenyra chose a young dragon to take flight into the skies above, a dragon that she would name 'Syrax'. After a goddess of Old Valyria. Syrax may have been young, however she was a large and formidable beast who prior to Rhaenyra had no previous rider. She is known for her yellow scales and fierce appetite.
Rhaenyra was both charming and daring, as well as sulky and wrathful. Perhaps this is why she had found herself being captivated by her uncle, Daemon Targaryen. Her uncle would often bring her exotic gifts from across the Narrow Sea and was known to often keep her company. Another man who had caught her eye from an early age was Ser Criston Cole, who had defeated her uncle Daemon at both the melee and the jousts in the tourney celebrating her fathers ascension to the crown. When Ser Criston joined the kingsguard the young Rhaenyra had become even more smitten with him, calling him her 'White Knight' and requesting that Ser Criston should be her own personal guard, which her father allowed. Since then Ser Criston has always accompanied Rhaenyra to public events as her personal protector and always carries her favour whenever he enters the lists of a tourney.
Following the death of her mother, Queen Aemma Arryn, King Viserys named his daughter Rhaenyra his heir and Princess of Dragonstone. He had all the lords of the seven kingdoms swear fealty to her and promise to honour and defend her rights as his successor.
However only a year after he mothers death, King Viserys remarried. Initially Rhaenyra got along fine with her new stepmother, the Queen Alicent Hightower, however things soon changed once Alicent had given birth to two sons, Aegon and Aemond Targaryen. King Viserys did not proclaim either of these sons his heir however, that still belonged to Rhaenyra. For now...
That did not do much to stop some of the Lords of the realm to continue questioning King Viserys on the matters of succession, the Hand of the King, Ser Otto Hightower being one of the main members of court who pressed the issue. Even after Ser Otto was dismissed as hand it had already become clear that two factions had formed within the court. One supporting Rhaenyra and the other supporting Queen Alicent and her sons.
Due to the ruling of the Great Council at Harrenhal in 101AC, many lords of the realm believed that the males of the Targaryen family should take precedent over the females. Meaning that a female heir should be passed over for a male heir as the paternal line was argued to be more favourable than the maternal in the eyes of the realm. This along with the faction supporting Queen Alicent means that Rhaenyras position as heir is greatly threatened. Rhaenyra however is far to proud and far to spirited to simply set by and let the Queen and her men have their way. She means to remain as heir to the Iron Throne and will do anything that is in her power to make sure that comes to pass. She will not allow herself to be passed-over as her aunt Rhaenys had.
FEAST YER EYES ON THIS!
We do not sow.
Name: Yadira Greyjoy. “Yadira Blacktooth”.
Face Claim: @black_bunny on Instagram.
Yadira Greyjoy is a squatly built young woman, with the hard physique of a warrior, supplemented with an element of softness, and the beginnings of a wine belly, due to a tad too much time spent revelling in the spoils of her conquests.
She has the dark hair typical of her family, and a slew of decorative tattoos are inked across her body in swirls and coils; depicting the various conquests and achievements of her reaving days.
Her right canine and premolar have been replaced with onyx dentures, sharpened to have fang-like points.
From an early age, it became apparent that Yadira Greyjoy was “the mad one”. If she wasn’t playing twisted mind games on other children, she was getting into fights, or taking out her fits of rage on any small animals unlucky enough to cross her path. She was always an effortless liar, and showed no remorse for those she hurt. Her childhood was defined by strife and disorder, much to the anger of her family.
It was obvious that Yadira no interest in being subservient to anyone, be they man or woman, and that the life she sought was one of adventure and violence.
Although she was reviled by most on the Iron Islands, for her sadistic nature, Yadira began to attract a crowd of some of the more savage islanders to her side, who became known colloquially known as “The Cunt’s Corsairs”.
The young woman’s life truly changed on the fifteenth name day of her younger brother, when a drunken argument between the two culminated in Yadira smashing her sibling over the head with a metal goblet, which split his skull open, and left him blind in one eye.
Her father furiously struck her, knocking out the teeth which she would later replace. Years of depraved behaviour, coupled with her recent transgressions, soon saw Yadira exiled from the Iron Isles, and cast out from House Greyjoy.
Yadira and her followers stole one of her father’s galleys, Stormdrinker, and set sail for Old Town. Once they arrived in the port city,, the reavers encountered the Mereenese merchant Sqkur Zo Alois, after introducing themselves as simple sell-swords. Sqkur hired Yadira and her crew to escort him back across the Summer Sea, which was an opportunity that they all were eager to seize. Sqkur was impressed with the efficiency at which they dealt with the pirates that tried to raid the merchant’s ship, throughout their voyage, and found the idea of Yadira, a foreign woman with a knack for fighting and cruel tendencies, to be rather delightful.
Striking a deal, Sqkur sponsored Yadira to train as a gladiator, before entering her into the fighting pits of Meereen, where she has since gained herself an infamous reputation as “Blacktooth the Brutal”.
Yadira has adapted well to life in Meereen, and draws savage enjoyment from her victories over beasts, and other gladiators, in the fighting pits.
Nah, I think I'll write up an original Greyjoy character. Or maybe go with a lesser house - if I go Bracken, would anyone be interested in playing a Blackwood?