Ezekiel

[ASOIAF]: Before the Dragons Danced

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The Stepstones

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By the time Corlys pulled his blade from the last of the assailants, his arm ached with a bone-deep pain which he knew would persist for many a day. Gone were the days where he could spring forth through an endless stream of melee and remain as unscathed as ever. Now each fight was a sacrifice, a piece of his future given for a greater goal.

"Pull us away from her less she drowns us with her." The seasoned sailor called back to his crew, pulling open the guard of his helm to shout the order. The Myrish had been fighting a losing battle the entire time, but not there was no avoiding it. Some were even risking the sharks to avoid any further fighting. The straights were narrow enough that some of them might reach the rocks before the fish got them, not that Corlys favoured their chances. Now would usually be the time to ransack the stricken enemy vessel for supplies, but, this was not a simple engagement or a raid, this was a campaign, and they did not have time to delay.

By the time The Sea Snake had fully extracted itself from the Myrish vessel and pushed on past, flames had already began to lick across the Essosi ship. Daemon's forces had little need for further ships at their current strength, even if they had the men spare to secure it in the meantime, so, instead, none would benefit. Corlys watched the building inferno for a few moments longer, before his eyes cast forwards.

"Stay ready, we're here for a fortress, not a ship." With that the Head of House Velaryon slammed his helm shut. Their intelligence was as good as any, there was little that could be hidden from dragonback after all, not even in the winding straights of the Stepstones. One of the last remaining holdouts in the Stepstones was close, they would bring it to heel. They did not have to wait long to find their quarry, another few twists and turns among the rocky outcrops of the islands to spy the Pirate Holdfast. A sorry thing, a wooden fort perched atop a sea-lashed rock, it's docks far outstripping the size of the fortification itself. Once an outpost for raiders, the Myrish had seized it in their efforts to control the Narrow Sea, for now, it's port remained empty. Daemon had pulled the fleet away, Corlys would strike the blow.

The low twang of Ballista soon filled the air, the Sea Snake banked around to present its broadside to the Hillfort. Many bolts simply threw up salt spray, but among them was the crash of wood and the screams of men. As time went on, the skilled crew of the Velaryon flagship struck home more and more. A spattering of return fire responded to them, but the Sea Snake weaved out of range of the land-based emplacements, and as soon as they revealed themselves, the crew had their primary targets. The Sea Snake's artillery teams ripped gouges into the wooden fort, ripping out the enemy emplacements. When the fort went silent, this was when Corlys ordered the vessel forwards.

The Sea Snakes archers cleared the enemy docks of any resistance, the flagship coming abreast of the docks, gang planks slamming down. No need to risk a boat-crossing when the foe's own docks could be used against them. Then the Westerosi, and all their assorted allies, issued forth, the crop of Daemon's forces sent to subdue a final, lonely outpost. Corlys strode among them, despite the ache in his joints. He wouldn't have it said the Old Snake could no longer stand beside his men.

I am too old for this.

Coruscant

With @Heat

As the Sith assassin watched the Republic supreme commander ascend closer towards him. A smirk danced across his lips at the sight of it, and all of the commotion he had apparently caused. He had drawn eyes away from the infiltration of the temple. The day before he laid his trap he had spent a day around Coruscant, part of it he’d paid a visit to the smouldering ruins of the Jedi Order’s former home. It sent chills down his spine, the sight of it. Even from a distance as it was blocked off by the Republic. It must have been glorious watching it burn on that day of reckoning for the Jedi. Such a stuffy, ignorant group deserved no less.

He did indeed intend to not have to face this fool down, Zes would have preferred if Malcolm had gone up in flames inside of his apartment. Left as a cooked corpse, a proper death for a constant pain in the side to the Empire. Still, he had the advantage here. His identity was still well hidden, he had no need to call upon the Force. No reason to bare his lightsabers, his superiors had told him exactly not to do that. The planet wide city gave a multitude of escape avenues. Plenty of alleyways to disappear down, places where the security did not care to look deep enough. As always, Zes was confident.

He gave a brief glance at Malcolm, then ran to the side where a dark blue speeder awaited him. He climbed into the driver’s side, locked his fingers around the controls and slammed his foot into the ignition pedal. The undercover Sith zoomed away from his position, intending to escape the supreme commander and any of the man’s lackies.

This is a stupid plan.

To say the thought crossed Jace’s mind would perhaps exaggerate the amount Jace Malcom actually ‘thought’ at times like these. He was a man of action by nature, one that could analyse a hell of a lot more data than most while in such a state, but it didn’t change who he was.

Armoured boots clanked against the building’s surface as he burst into a run, already, jets that had already burned through their fuel reserves sputtered to a semblance of life as the advanced armour anticipated the advancing drop. He had a moment, the blaster wouldn’t do it, the speeder could take the shot, nor could he guarantee a killing shot in the window of opportunity he had.

This is a really stupid plan.

With a sudden inhale and exhale of breath, the Supreme Commander of the Republic military jumped. What had been solid ground gave way to a sheer drop to the cityscape below, so far one would struggle to even see the top layer of Coruscant's many separate levels of habitation. Traffic blurred beneath him. Jace took in none of this, all he saw was the target and the speeder they were on. Gravity began to take hold of him just a moment too soon.

The impact of what could generously be considered a large man in full combat armour was enough to push the civilian speeder into a momentary downward spiral. Jace got one hand, then two hands, to the metallic surface, losing his blaster in the process, but his suit soon magnetised him to the craft. A good thing too, even with a strong grip the prospect of hanging on to a speeder about to hit its acceleration as it careened downwards wasn’t one even a hero of the Great Galactic War would be likely to consider. For now, before the assailant could gain control of the vehicle, it was all Jace could do to simply hold on.

Zes’ eyes went wide as the armored man clasped onto the front of the speeder, an incredibly bold move. But not one that was entirely unexpected considering the commander’s history of risk in the battlefield during the war.The Sith forcefully lifted the controls up to regain control, breathing heavy as the spiral downwards into speeding traffic sent a chill through his spine. With a frantic yank he managed to level the vessel, avoiding catastrophe. The panic in his veins ceased as he was in full control. A terrible prospect for his target who clung to the hood practically at Zes’ mercy. He slammed on the ignition, as the speeder powered forward into the busy traffic.

He rapidly shifted left and right, doing his damndest to fling Malcom off the hood. If he couldn’t send the man flying off then he’d scrape him against a building. With a quick glance, an affirmation that he had buckled in he shifted the speeder. He watched as the sides floated around him, then smiled as the rapidly moving vessel was now upside down. The Falleen was still in control as he whizzed through traffic. The force guided him, cautioning him of any imminent dangers he could not see. Horns honked and brakes slammed around him as he dodged other speeders, making as many near collisions as he could.

Jace was immediately very thankful he was wearing his helmet. The world spun and lurched around him, but the stabilisation sensors within his armour and helm shielded him from the worst of the discombobulation. Still, it was a disconcerting experience to remain hanging from the wildly turning vehicle in the middle of heavy traffic by only the magnetic force of his armour. His initial instinct was to reach for his sidearm, now magged to his thigh, but the forces throwing him about reduced his ability to aim successfully to practically nothing. Perhaps he had prevented the Assassin from an easy escape, but it seemed beyond him to finish the job himself. The thought brought a growl of frustration to Malcom’s lips.

There was one final parting gift he could leave, however, momentarily bracing both hands on the vehicle, another gesture within his helm activated a secondary module within the armour, a small tracking device slipping from his palm to attach to the speeder. He highly doubted an accomplished agent would fail to notice it for long, but it might give the Republic forces a chance to catch up, at the worst, it was simply another pain for the attacker to deal with, and Jace was petty enough to take some joy from that. Once the tracker was set, he exhaled slowly, calming himself despite the chaos around him. Meditation was a Jedi trick, but, well, it had its uses.

In the next moment, the Supreme Commander threw himself from the speeder, pushing off against it, the magnetic lock of his armour disabling with the motion, and for the third time in one evening Jace Malcom found himself suspended in nothing. This time, however, it was remarkably short lived. The armoured form of the ex-trooper immediately struck a large freighter among the bustling traffic of Coruscant, the force jarring through him, and he half span-away due to the impact. He flailed out with one hand, just about catching the rim of the vehicle to arrest his descent, once again the enhanced grip of his armour keeping him from the plummeting drop below. While he was rather glad to have survived, even with the advanced systems of his armour, the sight of the would-be-assassin was soon lost to him in the blur of the skyline.

[ASOIAF]: Before the Dragons Danced

@Ezekiel Curious if you have room for another? I'm toying with the idea of a hedge knight seeking service at the Red keep and a possible dragon seed from Lys from a certain clever Targaryen who ran away from home (Saera Targaryen). Basically using the hedge knight to get into positions that amuse her, if that would be possible? As for the hedge knight himself, Viserys was known for holding tournaments and Jasper Wylde was known to have twenty-nine children. I can image one of them seeking such fame. I could take Lord Jasper 'Ironrod' Wylde as well if need be. I can't see him being pleased if a son was toting about a silver-haired witch.

@LadyRunic

I actually had plans to incorporate some Saera dragonseeds at some point, so I'd be more than happy to have one of them actually played in this game. The background for the Hedge Knight fits as well. If you want to chat more specifics feel free to drop a PM or hop in the discord :)

[ASOIAF]: Before the Dragons Danced

<Snipped quote by Ezekiel>

Done.

Joanna Lannister

Name: Joanna Lannister, "Lion Cub of Casterly Rock"
Age: 15
House/Affilitation: House Lannister

Appearance:

Biography: Joanna Lannister in many ways hadn't expected to partake in the life she had - as born a woman and though first-child for the seat of Casterly Rock - she was behind inheritance to her brothers Tyland and Jason Lannister.

Thus while she was the eldest, she mostly partook in the different life of House Lannister - far from becoming a lady or handmaiden, she instead used her fame and fortune to train. Already born young and with a higher vitality than even her brothers Joanna played in the same games as her brothers. As her dreams too were to become like Rhaenys Targaryen, a warrior and a woman at that. This was aided by Joanna being born stronger and taller than most women.

Still life for Joanna wasn't sunshine, as numerous times she denied and refused any courtship that her father had engaged her in, while also slipping away from her Lady' duties whenever possible - so much so, that some rumored her of liking only women and other whispers. So much so, that when Joanna was five-and-ten old - she was given a choice of 'doing her duty' and stopping her foolish dreams or be sent to the 'Silent Sisters'.

As such, Joanna was soon enough sent to King' Landing with another member of her House.

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Alton Frey

Name: Alton 'Longjustice' Frey; Master of Laws

Age: 55

Appearance:

House/Affliation: Frey/Targaryen

Biography: Alton Frey happened to be one of many uncles from the House of Frey - having spent his earlier years helping his five brothers manage and run the Twins, writing up laws and rules that helped increase the livelihood of both those crossing their bridge and the smallfolk in their lands.

Alton Frey was a deep man of honor and the law - taking things on some occasions literally. Holding both his brothers and their families to a high standard, in order to improve their lot in Westeros. Not to mention, with House Frey as large as always - rules and boundaries helped keep everyone from going after each other.

Sadly the relationship of Alton and his brothers wouldn't last - as the son of one, was caught pillaging one villager' hut during a drunken rampage. Instead of excusing and paying for his crime, Alton instead decreed they be hanged or 'take the black'. This ended up alienating him from House Frey entirely - since while he wasn't head of the House, he did cause enough trouble among the smallfolk when he informed them of small details and whom might be responsible. In the end, Alton got his way - while also being banished from his home for being a 'rat'.

Granted Alton' reply at such a situation was to call them all 'rats whom ate other rats'. Alton spent most of his time as always, travelling the lands as a hedge knight, and upholding justice. Keeping the King' Road clear of brigands and bandits - utilizing his longbow, often claiming to be 'the best bowman in the Seven Kingdoms'.

During one such incursions he encountered the 'Wise King' Jaeharys I Targaryen during one of his many visits in the Two Crowns Inn. Here he would befriend the wise and just King - five years later, he would once more meet the King, when he was asked to fill the post as Master of Laws. Due to in part the last one dying, and his growing reputation for upholding law and order in the Riverlands - a man of virtue and honor.

For the time being he has held the post for almost twenty-seven years.

@NecroKnight

Made another POV character ahead of working on a post for the IC, will edit into my main house sheet, but also posting here for GM review etc.

Will probably place her in KL to give a lever to work that end of the plot

Vysenna Saan

Vysenna Saan

18

House Saan of Wreckstone

Appearance

Vysenna Saan shares many similarities appearance wise with older brother Lysono. They are both small, slim individuals bearing the blood of Old Valyria which manifests itself in their pale and silvery hair. Like her brother her eyes are not the deep purple of a Valyrian, but rather a sea green colour. Though fully grown into her womanhood for a number of years, Vysenna's waif-like proportions sometimes causes others to mistake her for being younger than she actually is.

Her dress differs drastically from her brother's in terms of the her preference for simple elegance over gaudy extravagance. Her dresses very well tailored but often are cut from plain silk or satin with little additional embroidery to embellish them. She prefers blues and greens, colours that bring out her unusual eyes. Though she has many jewels, Vysenna is unlikely to be wearing many of them at any given moment, often choosing a single necklace or broach depending upon the outfit. Though no doubt her dress sense would be considered foreign and revealing by Westerosi standards, in Lys it would be considered demure.

Biography

Vysenna Saan was born on the isle of Wreckstone in the year 93AC, the third and final child of pirate lord Sharako Saan, and his second daughter. Vysenna spent most of her childhood in Lys, with the Wreckstone branch of the Saan family originally leaving the island when Vysenna was only three years old prior the assault of the Triarchy in 96AC. The death of her father a few years later in a mutiny on the summer sea and the subsequent disappearance of her older brother to life a piracy left Vysenna alone in with only her Mother and her older sister Elaena.

Though they were nowhere near as wealthy as they had once been, the Wreckstone branch of the family still possessed some property in Lys. This along with what profits Lysono erratically sent back to them allowed Saan family enabled them to live a comfortable enough life independent of their cousins. But when Vysenna's mother was struck down by a sudden illness when Lysono was at sea this changed. Magister Samarro Saan acted as guardian to the two sisters, and married Elaena off to his own son Salloreon. Supposedly to maintain close relations between the two branches, but others said it was so Samarro's family could claim her portion of the inheritance for themselves.

When Lysono finally returned to Lys and heard these tidings he was furious and immediately took custody of his other still unmarried sister, Vysenna, fostering her with friends in ports and cities outside of Three Daughters. She has spent time in the free cities of Pentos and Braavos, on the isle of Driftmark with the Velaryons, and at King Daemon's Court on Bloodstone. She has returned to Lys since her brother claimed her, but only ever in his company.

@Kassarock

Bish bash bosh.

All of these can go in the character tab now, gg on being accepted.

[ASOIAF]: Before the Dragons Danced

Will get to reviewing sheets soon.

Also sorry to everyone involved in the Sea Snake scene for my lack of update post. Been very distracted with health things irl and what energy I have had to write has gone into PW Mod stuff, we'll be on track soon.

[Coruscant, 6 ATC 4] A House Divided II: A Little Wrong

Aylara Tehoe and Senator Eyri. Senate Building, Offices of Senator Pharliis

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Eyri wished to be nowhere but her office at any point of the day now. After Iri’s death, anywhere she went was a test on her emotions. At least in her office, Eyri felt as if she had a sense of peace and security, she could be herself.

The statement to her people had been finished. It was well known that Iri Mosvaine of Pantora had been found dead earlier that morning, the Chairmen himself had contacted Pharliis to discuss what she knew.

It seemed that was all everyone wanted to talk about now, was Iri. Eyri was sick of riding the emotional rollercoaster. She didn’t wish to take leave to grieve, there were important issues to discuss with the committee and important work Eyri did not want to leave to her Junior Representative, Barin.

The senator’s back was to the room, for if anyone did come in she didn’t wish for them to see the tears in her eyes. She cried all that she could that day. Now her eyes simply welled up with tears when thoughts of her friend came across her mind.

The view from her office was something she and Iri had always enjoyed. Eyri stood, wiping tears from her eyes as she gazed out the window at the afternoon setting of Coruscant. She leaned against a support pillar that merged the window into the wall of the office, taking deep breaths, eyes closed as she attempted to rein in her emotions yet again.

It was often surprisingly easy to get into places that really shouldn’t be that easy. Getting out was always more difficult, that was for sure, but you’d have thought with an ongoing investigation into the death of a key member of staff, the former might be a little difficult too. It seems someone important really was that keen on selling the ‘overdose’ narrative.

This was how Aylara found herself in the offices of one Eyri Pharliis, dressed in a rather convincing replica of a Coruscant Security uniform. The Identification she flashed to get in was legitimate, aside from an altered image file. She breezed past others dressed in similar garb to herself, as well as any staff members in the building which hadn’t been sent away. There weren’t many of those, which is why she’d been forced to go with the Security angle. She hated the uniform, no matter how advanced the technology, standardized never really worked for her. Now it was just a matter of finding the right room.

It took her a few minutes of wandering around, but, eventually, she caught sight of the Senator, facing out across the view of the City trailing away into the distance, leaning to one side.

That’s a good angle

She thought to herself, as she blinked twice, the imaging software built into her right contact lense capturing the picture. Not that anyone she might send the eventual file to could use it without the Senator knowing, but it was still pretty. Maybe she’d even like it.
After a few more brief moments of pacing to and fro, trying to see if there was a ‘better’ angle, she moved to open the door, sliding into the room softly, although by the time she spoke, she was already pulling off the outer layer of the security jacket, exhaling in relief as she rested the, to her, unsightly garment on a chair.

“Senator Pharliis? Sorry for your loss, I have some information you might be interested in.” Aylara finally spoke to draw her attention, waggling a datapad at the politician, maintaining an even smile that was warm without seeming at odds with the sombre mood of the office.

“I believe we can help each other out here.”

The unfamiliar voice caught her off guard. Eyri turned her head, frowning a little as she looked upon the stranger in her office.
She saw the datapad, saw the security jacket the woman was taking off. The “information” the woman spoke of caught her interest for a quick moment but was quickly pushed to the bottom of the priority list as she tried to figure out just who this was in her office.
“Um, thank you but-” Eyri wiped the last of the tears from her eyes as she stepped towards her desk, arms crossed almost as if she was cold. “Who are you, exactly?”

“Aylara Tewoe, I work for the Times.” Ayla maintained the polite smile, some situations called for obfuscation, but from what she’d read up on in regards to the Senator, playing it straight might work better with this particular individual. Quite rare for a politician really. Rather than carry on speaking, she instead placed the datapad down on the table, a holographic display flickering to life from the pad, presenting a list of names, some with faces. Originally this had included the recently deceased Iri, but, on a whim, Ayla had removed the woman’s image from the file, instead allowing the presence of the Senator's friends name to simply tell the story for her.

“You may or may not need me to tell you about just how nasty the Senate’s politics can be, but, I think you’d agree with me that this is a very long list for a short time, Senator. I believe you’ve had contact with the homicide division? It’s good to know someone is finally taking this seriously.” Ayla moved her hands forwards, flicking through the hologram, progressing the list. They were mostly aids, actual Senators dying was big news, but this amounted to those who might inform their bosses being knocked off. There were a few names here and there Ayla was fairly sure had nothing to do with this, gambling debts or whatnot she’d manage to dig up, but, a bigger list made for a more convincing tale.

“The thing is, Senator, how far can you trust any part of Security these days?”

Eyri watched as the holographic display flickered through names and faces of people she had heard of, some she knew, and many she didn’t. Eyri was in her first term as a Senator, that was true, but she had also been in politics for a long time before now. Many of the names she recognized, and she quickly made the connection between the list, and the status of all of these names. They were all deceased.
“I’ve talked with the homicide-” Eyri paused, catching her own words.

Homicide division? Homicide?
It had been a detective, but Eyri had never really asked for which division. Leena had only stated that she was a detective. Everything pointed in one direction now, though up until this moment Eyri refused to come to that conclusion.

“What are you trying to say?” Eyri prodded, eyeing Aylara as she placed both hands flat on her desk.

“I’m suggesting that someone is covering their tracks, and they’re doing it in a way which doesn’t hold much regard for the lives of those working to keep the Senate on track and informed.” Ayla’s eyes drifted from Eyri for a moment, catching a specific name on the list. Journalists weren’t exempt from whatever was happening behind the scenes in this sordid affair. She’d need to remember to be more careful, or at least, carry a blaster.

“The thing is, brutal and only passably subtle as they may be, they’re doing a good enough job that they’re not leaving a trail beyond the names, it’s obviously caught up in the Senate, but ‘what’ and ‘why’ I should think the only people with answers to those questions are on this list.” Aylara reached down to lift up the datapad, the holographic display fading as she did so.

“The people of Coruscant, of the Galaxy, deserve to know if someone is steering their representatives through murder and misinformation, but a list isn’t a story, nor is it protection. I’m trying to uncover what it is all these people knew that got them in trouble, and why no one’s caught them so far.”

“And by got them in trouble, you mean, got them murdered?” Eyri asked, her face hardened in anger as she thought of her friend, of Iri’s final moments. What torment was she forced through?
Was this what her message was about the night before her death?

“Iri sent me a message the night before she died… she wanted to talk to me about something. I told her to meet me in my office the next morning but got no reply. That’s the last I heard from her.”

“Exactly.” Ayla nodded, looking down at the datapad she was holding, punching in several digits into the interface, before offering it over to Eyri, her other hand resting on her hip. “Go through it yourself if you feel the need to, I’ve added some contact details there, they’re mine. If you want to help, stay in touch. I can’t tell you what to do, but I’d share anything ‘before’ you tell anyone working for security, even those that seem like they’re trying to help. No one gets away with this much nasty without having insiders with them. Help me, and we can keep sharing what we know, and find the people that did this to your friend, stop, whatever it is they’re trying to do to the Republic.”

Eyri took the datapad cautiously, reaching over her desk to grab it. She watched Ayla for a few long moments before looking at its screen.

Did this go against anything that Eyri held as her values? The young woman searched through her feelings. Nothing about this felt wrong, if anything she was trying to help Iri, to avenge her murder. Right?

“I’ll do what I can.” Eyri said quietly, setting the datapad down on her desk as she looked at Ayla. “I’m not sure if I should thank you, but I appreciate the information you’ve brought me.” she said, giving a weak smile to Ayla in response.

“You can thank me when it’s over, until then, maybe hire your own security.” Ayla winked at Eyri as she turned to go, picking up the Coruscant Security jacket as she did, pulling it on with one movement and zipping it up. She was out the door in another moment, moving back through the building at a quicker pace than she’d arrived, yet still within what might be perceived as normal. She passed the final checkpoint to the outside world with a polite nod to the legitimate Security team, before making her way to the nearest public parking bays. This was a nicer part of town than she usually worked in, the lack of neon advertisements and countless alleys to disappear down made her a little uncomfortable. Still, it was convenient not to have to hide your bike.

Exactly where she left it, sitting atop the highest floor in the speeder-bike bays was the bright red model. Corellian make, which, was ironic given the news lately, she quickly opened it’s rear storage bay to begin stowing the Security uniform, leading her standing in the sun-touched parking bays wearing the white tank and black shorts she had on underneath, sighing with dramatic relief at not being cooped up in the uniform. She then retrieved a second datapad from the bike, flicking through to a list.

“One down.”

[ASOIAF]: Before the Dragons Danced

@Ezekiel

Shall I edited those parts into my char sheets then and be good to go?

@NecroKnight

Edit them in and just say when you have, I'll read over them again before I accept them just to make sure.

[ASOIAF]: Before the Dragons Danced

@Sini

Frey:

1) My mistake, might have written wrong there.
2) Longjustice in a way, while kind and honorable has a deep sense of law - basically 'either you do it, or I do it for you'. Basically he threatened the young one and told much of the smallfolk what has happened. Thus punish or risk justice by mob rule.

Joanna:

1) I suck at bio, sorry.
2) Hmm. That could work. Perhaps she might swordplay in secret?
3) Perhaps ward to some other minor or major house then?

@NecroKnight

Frey:

1) -
2) I suppose that makes sense, while I don't think mob justice would amount to much given how untouchable the nobility can be to the Smallfolk, public knowledge is certainly a way to ensure justice is done.

Joanna:

1) Don't we all
2) Perhaps she could, but, a noble lady has very little secret time to herself, doing so might make her far more dangerous than your average lady but it won't make you 'that' good.
3) A wardship could work, although she's quite old for that to be the case. I could imagine she'd be forced to accompany another relative to King's Landing to seek a suitable match, with the punishment of her not playing along being the Silent Sisters.

Sorry that feedback took so long, I've had struggles with my health the last couple of weeks.

<Snipped quote by Ezekiel>

Thanks! Yeah of course

Part of the reason I put in the other children was because the next Lord Tyrell apparently isn’t born till 129ish. I was a bit confused by that, since Matthos has been a Lord since at least 101 (and why would he have an heir so late). I’m happy to put in a young’un though!

@Danvers

I actually keep forgetting how much time 'before' the Dance I set this game, it wouldn't actually be necessary for the next Lord Tyrell to be born, just, canonically, most of your Tyrells are set for short existences! So, yeah, totally ignore my early feedback. You'll have to excuse me my ear was trying to explode.

[ASOIAF]: Before the Dragons Danced

House Tyrell

House Tyrell traces its ancestry to Garth Greenhand, the legendary first king of the Reach who made the land bloom. They, along with many other houses in the reach, claim descent from his line, though theirs is through the females of the family. For over a thousand years, the Greenhand’s sons and grandsons ruled the Reach as House Gardener. The offshoots of his daughters grew into vast and powerful houses in their own right. Except for House Tyrell. They instead chose to serve the Gardeners for centuries, as stewards of Highgarden and the daily affairs of the Reach.

Then King Mern, the last Gardener King of The Reach, joined forces with Loren Lannister to face the then King Aegon who had landed in Westeros. At the Field of Fire, Aegon burned their armies and Mern himself was killed. Until the maesters sorted out the entail amongst Merns cousins, Harlen the steward was acting lord at Highgarden. He, looking to ensure peace, yielded Highgarden and its lands to King Aegon. The King accepted the proposal and to show his gratitude, entitled Harlen to Highgarden, making the Tyrells his Wardens of the South and choosing them over many older & greater families in the Reach.

It has been one hundred years since then and the Tyrells have successfully cared for the Reach and its people, as they did for centuries before. However many houses, including the Florents, can boast a greater claim to Highgarden, and still see the Tyrells as little more than upjumped stewards. That said, the Tyrells are well-liked amongst the common folk, providing bountiful harvests for much of Westeros and commanding a formidable army. The Tyrells have been seemingly loyal to the Targaryean dynasty since Aegon's reign, Lord Martyn, and his wife Lady Fossoway, even serving as master of coin for King Jaehaerys. The two (although it really was Florences doing) proved extremely able and with their help the Seven Kingdoms prospered, King Jaehaerys being able to use the extra gold to expend his project of roads; which includes the roseroad and kingsroad to name a few.

House Members:

• Lord Matthos Tyrell (50, born 61 AC)
  
  • Lady Elinor Tyrell née Rowan (46, born 65 AC), his wife
  • Garrett Tyrell (born 82 AC), his eldest son, deceased
  • Ser Leyton Tyrell (27, born 84 AC), member of the Kingsguard, nicknamed The Blushing Rose
  • Leyla Tyrell (19, born 92 AC), his eldest daughter
  • Alester Tyrell (16, born 95 AC), heir to Highgarden
• Ser Rycherd Tyrell (49, born 62 AC), second son of Lord Martyn & Lady Florence.
  
  • Maerie Merryweather (43, born 68 AC), his wife
  • Arthur Flowers (23, born 88 AC). Raised by his mother & little known to his father. Currently working as a sellsword somewhere in Essos.
  • Multiple other legitimate children - including 4 daughters & 2 sons.
• Lady Florence Tyrell, née Fossoway (70, born 41 AC) wife of the former Lord Martyn Tyrell

House members

Lord Matthos Tyrell

Name: Lord Matthos Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Reach, Warden of the South

Age: 50 (born 61 AC)

Appearance:

A tall, well-built man, Lord Matthos stands at a height of 6 ft exactly and still retains a generally fit physique, though his wife has recently voiced concerns that he is losing weight. Where once sported a crop of thick curly hair, similarly to his son, in recent years he has started to bald and has begun ordering his servants to shave it close, to save himself from any embarrassment. Handsome in his youth with well-defined features and a charismatic smile, he still retains much of his former good looks, though the recent loss of his son has led to the development of a more tired, haggard appearance. When his mood periodically worsens, he will be seen sporting dark circles under his eyes. Once quick to laughter, he is now more prone to stern moods and it is an uncommon sight to see him smile nowadays. Generally he sports a beard that is trimmed short, serving to accentuate his defined jawline.

Biography:

Born the first son of Lord Martyn Tyrell and Lady Florence Fossoway, Matthos ended up being the eldest of only two siblings, his sister (whom was only a babe at the time) having died in the winter of 59 AC from the Shivers. With his father the Master of coin (and his mother unofficially aiding him in this), Matthos spent much of his time divided between King’s Landing and Highgarden. With a brother, Rycherd, only a year his latter, the two would run riot around the City, often escaping from the guards so that they could explore around the winding streets & back alleys. When they become of age, they would frequent the brothels and although Matthos insists he has been true since his marriage, it is entirely possible that there is a Tyrell bastard or two running around Kings Landing.

Like many other nobles, Matthos saw fit to travel throughout his youth, though chose to meander slowly throughout Westeros rather than cross over the Essos. He and Rycherd together would make there way from inn to inn, drinking and charming any pretty serving girls along the way. Rycherd, a summer knight himself, liked to visit the small tourneys as they travelled and although his skills were variable at best, he seemed to care little whether he won or lost.

Always charming and easy on the eyes, Matthos had no problems when it came to courting maidens. It was therefore only when, at the age of 18, he was betrothed to Elinor of House Rowan, that he even begun to contemplate the idea of marriage. The pair married a year later and went on to have four children, Matthos always being particularly close with his eldest Garrett. Elinor sadly miscarried one babe between the births of Leyton and Leyla, the child not even making it a few months in the womb. He happily remained in Highgarden during this time, visiting other Great Houses and King's Landing when required, but otherwise content to remain with his family and look after his people.

Since he inherited Highgarden in 84 AC, Matthos' focus had been directed towards maintaining the Tyrells grip on the Reach and quietening the mutterings of those Vassal Houses who still object to their position. This particularly has caused tensions with the Florents, who of all the houses, are still the most vocal about their greater inheritance rights. Although not the most intelligent or cunning Lord who has ever ruled the Reach, Matthos is nothing if not amicable. A great host, he knows how to throw an excellent banquet or a lively tourney, and is known for such gatherings. In his youth he was an excellent drinking partner and even now can outdrink men many years younger. It is through this amicability that he has been able to keep many of the houses on his side, although the mutterings throughout the Reach never cease completely...

It was only after the sudden death of his eldest son Garrett in 109 AC, the then heir having passed from a sudden & violent fever, that things begun to change for Lord Matthos. Once a lively and amicable fellow, recent months have seen a marked change in the Lord. Nowadays he is prone to sombre moods, where he will retreat to the solitude of his chambers. Whilst he tries to hide this from his family, his poor appetite and lack of sleep are clearly apparent to them. He does all he can to put on his usual vigour for his guests, but this act is draining to him and it is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain the façade. Matthos also seems to have convinced himself that his son was poisoned and whilst the Maester has tried to reassure him, his inability to be able to explain what killed his son only serves to further antagonise the Lord. With increasing tensions in Westeros and many Vassal houses who still question their position, it is becoming increasingly unclear how Matthos will continue to maintain the Tyrells position in the Reach.

Ser Leyton Tyrell

Name: Ser Leyton Tyrell

Age: 27 (born in 84 AC)

Appearance:

Though not overly short at 5ft 10, Leyton has always been insecure about his height with a brother & father of greater reach than himself. He sports a crop of thick and curly dark brown hair that is classical for the Tyrells and serves to make him look more boyish than he actually his. Dark brown eyes and modestly good-looking, Leyton would have been able to attract a half-decent wife if not for his complete lack of courting abilities. Unlike many lords and ladies from the Reach, Leyton cares little for his appearance. Whilst in his former years he would dress formerly in his house colours, at the behest of his mother, he now prefers to simply dress in his knightly attire when possible.

Biography:

A boisterous lad throughout his childhood, Leyton was over-confident and demanding to his peers. If another child did not want to play with him, he would insist on it, running to his father if he did not get his way. Somehow his outgoing nature seemed to make up for this though and he found he could make friends easy enough...though being the son of the Lord Paramount of the Reach may have helped. He often wanted to play at swords and horses, preferring the idea of a real battle over that of a tournament. Lord Tyrell even had the woodworkers craft him miniature soldiers and horses, so that he could act out mock battles, his father secretly taking much amusement in playing this game with him. Though he may not have much of a knack with politics, he consequently has a decent knowledge of battle strategies and tactics.

Born the second son of Lord Tyrell, Leyton was never expected to be the heir to Highgarden. His brother Garrett, an intelligent and healthy male two years his elder, was always on course to take over rule once their father passed. The two were close throughout their formative years, Garretts more laid-back and calming attitude helping to balance his brother out. Whilst Garrett would sit in on his father's meetings, studying carefully the ways of a Lord, Leyton instead dreamt of the Kingsguard. And where he could not fight in real battles, he would partake in tourneys. Though many squires and knights dreamt of winning the joust, Leyton only cared for the melees. Naturally agile of foot, with an aptitude for sword-fighting (although you could have handed him any weapon and he would have barrelled on ahead), he became known for his talents, attracting many an approving eye.

At the age of 12 he was permitted to go and squire under Ser Bryndon Hightower in Oldtown. A rowdy lad and unused to being told what to do, Leyton had a steep learning curve, nearly being shipped back to Highgarden on more than one occasion. However, Bryndon was the perfect mentor for the boy, having no qualms in putting him in his place. Eventually, he settled into the role and though not studious when it came to books, he was keen on learning all that came with being a knight. He even took pride in polishing the armour to perfection, surprising for a boy who found it difficult to keep still for more than a minute at a time. During his time in Oldtown he also became close with Ormund Hightower, the two training together and providing a somewhat healthy level of competition for one another.

Knighted at twenty, he journeyed to the Stepstones in 107 AC to fight alongside Daemon Targaryean. It took the young Tyrell a while to get his sea legs but on land he was able to prove his worth. A single-minded knight with seemingly unlimited energy, Leyton became known for ceasing only when there was no-one left to fight, never running from a battle or leaving a man behind. He seemed to care little for politics but rather would remain firmly loyal to whomever he had pledged himself. Likely the young Tyrell would have remained in the Stepstones far longer if not for his family, the chaos of fighting & piracy suiting him down to a tee. His father and grandmother disliked that he was fighting for Daemon, concerned that is would reflect on the Tyrells as a whole, therefore he begrudgingly returned to The Reach. It was not long after his return, and after a rather splendid effort at a small tourney his father had thrown, that Leyton was offered a place in the Kingsguard. Leyton suspects that his grandmother may have had a hand to play in it, although she denies it to this day and states that it was simply his prowess & reputation that must have gained the Kings attention.

Though he will never have a wife or lands, this is probably for the best as his methods of courting ladies are dubious at best, usually involving talking in gory details about battles & war tactics. Either that or he becomes so daunted by the prospect of talking to a lady in his fancy, that he will became overly drunk. To his dismay the other members of the Kingsguard have taken to naming him The Blushing Rose due to the lovely shade of rouge that spreads across his cheeks whenever he speaks to a pretty maiden.

Only a few short months after Leyton had arrived at Kings Landing, his eldest brother become suddenly ill with a great fever. The maesters tried all their remedies but no cure could be found, and only a week later he passed on with the aid of milk of the poppy. A tragedy for the family and the Reach as a whole, the Tyrells still mourn his loss to this day. With Leyton in the Kingsguard, the mantle passed down to the next youngest son. Alester, a boy of sixteen, smart enough though a tad too bookish for his fathers liking, was now burdened with the future of being the next Lord Tyrell.

For now Leyton remains at Kings Landing, intent on staying true to his pledge and serving his King faithfully. His temperament has certainly calmed as he has aged, though he still can be stubborn and single-minded in his pursuits. Once he has decided on something, he will follow it through to the end. That provides a double-edge sword in many situations, but it also means that he is loyal to a fault. Its not clear what his views are on the issues of Targaryean inheritance, for he does not speak of it, though it is likely that he would serve whoever next ruled, regardless of whom they were.

Leyla Tyrell

Name: Leyla Tyrell

Age: 19 (born in 92 AC)

Appearance:

At only 19 years of age, Leyla still maintains that bright vigour of youth that has not yet known great trials. She truly encapsulates her family in how she looks, her demure and seemingly innocent appearance hiding her clever mind and sharp wit. Many often underestimate her because of this and still believe she is the same prettily dressed girl who was once paraded around by her mother. She sports the same thick brunette hair as the rest of her family, which she wears long and usually loose. As generally befitting any nobility from the Reach she dresses well and with whatever style is currently common in the region, often wearing a variation on her house colours.

Biography:

Leyla Tyrell was born in 92 AC, as the eldest daughter of Lord Matthos Tyrell. Easy-going and often in high spirits, Leyla has always found an ease in speaking to strangers, being able to talk on simple matters and deeper subjects alike. She would often be paraded around at banquets as a small child, her easy manners and surprisingly clever wit seeming to delight the other nobility. No-one can deny that she was loved by her parents but much of her youth seemed to be seemed to revolve around ceremony and putting on a show, her mother being the driving force behind this. Lady Elinor would take her on long journeys throughout the Reach, visiting other Great Houses and small villages alike. Eager to please her mother and naturally outgoing in nature, Leyla was happy to play the part, albeit begrudgingly at times.

All of this would have likely produced a rather silly and frivolous girl, if not for her grandmother, whom had seen the spark of intelligence in the young Tyrell. Florence insisted that she had strict instruction under both the Septa & the house Maester, and unlike Leyton who had fought against such boring lessons throughout his own youth, Leyla was happy to learn. Consequently close throughout the years, Florence is now an old lady whose health is ailing with each passing day and who rarely leaves Highgarden. However, Leyla still enjoys visiting her in her chambers and will often go to her to seek advice or simply listen to her stories.

When Leyla was but 13, whilst her small party was visiting Oldtown, a boy from House Bulwer quickly became enamoured with her. Inexperienced with love and the art of courting herself, Leyla saw this as a fine opportunity to learn how it worked. Though she had no feelings for him, she played the part, sitting with him at meals and walking with him around the gardens. The romance…if that’s what you could call it, lasted just short of nine days, but Humfrey was a foolish boy who had no wits about him, save for some superficial charm, and mistook lust for love.

Thus, Leyla found herself walking by the harbour, trying to ignored the strong smell of fish, being proposed to by a boy who thought this was a suitable time or location. She instantly denied him, apologising for leading him on and stating that she did not think they were a suitable match. At first he seemed to take this gracefully enough, walking her back to her room in a sullen silence. Yet that evening when the guards were switching, he entered her chambers and tried to force himself upon her. Luckily, one of her personal guards came back in time and she was saved from any shame. Instantly telling her mother of what had happened, the two decided to keep it amongst themselves as it would do naught but ruin her reputation if it was found out, paying off the guard and vowing not to speak of it again.

Since that day, she has been increasingly cautious and does not give her trust over easily. It unfortunately seems she has become known for being difficult to court, having denied other men since – although many seem to view this as a challenge in of itself. It is not that she does not wish to marry, rather that she simply no longer suffers fools. Whereas once this created tension between her and Lord Matthos, his recent change in demeanour has meant he rarely questions his daughter on this anymore. Her focus instead become on her family, noticing the struggles that her father was having in keeping his Vassal houses loyal, especially with his changing demeanour. The young Tyrell is intent on ensuring her family remain steadfastly at Highgarden, whatever the cost...she has strong instincts of self-preservation for herself and her family, and will do anything to protect them.

Here's my lot finally!

@Danvers

Hey, sorry to take so long to get back to you.

I'm happy with the direction you're taking House Tyrell, even if it is a drift from canon (the next generation of Tyrell's is regency due to lack of heirs and your's don't seem to have that issue).

The only alteration I'd ask to be made is either the addition of an infant son or the ageing down of one of the children to fill that role, just so we have a character that could be the next canonical Lord Tyrell. This is a request rather than a demand, either way the sheet is accepted and you can post em up.

[Coruscant, 6 ATC 4] A House Divided II: A Little Wrong

Aylara Tewoe. Galactic Times Complex

---

"No farcking way did the Herald get this."

Aylara was still in the process of tying up her hair as she practically threw a datapad down onto the desk before her. To his credit, editor Jen Surve, a Zabrak with an almost permanently mild expression, managed to not react to the piece of expensive tech being thrown 'loosely' at him with all the care of an 'eyed up' cargo transfer. He took a moment to finish typing the end of a thought process before he inevitably lost it, before looking up.

Aylara Tewoe had a certain mastery of the 'well?' expression that put even trained actors to shame. Now both her hands were busy with the process of subduing her cascade of auburn hair up into the usual ponytail she wore, but that didn't stop her eyebrow from being raised in such a manner that he suddenly felt under interrogation for something far beyond his control.

"Right place at the right time, you know the way, one of their interns happened to be at a party nearby." He exhaled at her, anticipating another dramatic standoff with his best, if painfully aggravating, member of staff.

"Jace Malcom gets blown out of his own flat on CORUSCANT and we don't have ONE reporter within a mile, and the HERALD gets the scoop? Pfaask, Jen, they're barely better than a gossip archive." Her hair remained in place for now. It was still slightly damp, which was impressive given the speed at which the staff facilities could dry even the hairiest of the team after a soak in the showers. She'd clearly bolted over right from the fitness suite after some poor fool had decided to show her the article. Perhaps he should be thankful she wasn't in a towel.

"They're our main competitor, Ayla, I hardly think that's a fair-"

"Exactly! Coooooome on Jen how can we hope to win the-"

"Listen, Tewoe, just because I'm not shouting and screaming the office down doesn't mean I'm not bugged out either, but what are we going to do? Far as I'm aware neither your or me has 'quite' worked out how to distort time and space to work on a story. if you want, there's a spot on the team to go probe the Security teams for answers tonight." He finally lost a degree of his cool, a slight raise of his voice that would shock most of his team but barely had an impact on the human woman whose attention seemed barely on him by this point.

"Can't."

"Why the frack not?"

"I've got a date."

"Tewoe, I've known you for the last three years and I've never once heard you call anything a 'date'," His incredulous tone hid the moment of frustration behind her dismissively turning down what many others in the building would consider a fairly prime opportunity. Even his usual composure broke away and he permitted himself to rub his face with a building sigh.

"Fine, I have a lead."

"What's this on? What's more important than the Supreme Commander of the Republic's little sojourn through the skies?"

"Not sure yet, I've got a good feeeeeling though. See you Jen." She'd already turned to leave. It was some time after the door shut behind her that Jen permitted himself to lob a fairly sizable desk sculpture at the space Aylara Tewoe had previously been occupying.

Aylara Tewoe. Iko District

---

There are two types of Senatorial families. The first kind are those that will never leave the Spires high above, mostly out of choice, what could they want from the lower levels? But also out of safety. Those who believe in the honesty of their work, who simply don't have enough influence or any other myriad possibilities that might put them at risk in the underbelly of the Republic's capital.

Then there were those who could go where they please. Attached or related to Senators who had all the strings to pull in the galaxy, making their spoiled heirs all but untouchable to even the most desperate of Coruscants' gangers. These were the types that lounged in their sense of untouchability, all bought by the Galaxy's finest. It was a sorry state of affairs, but not one Aylara wasn't willing to take advantage of.

Not that she was even remotely thinking about that right now, not that she was thinking about anything. When you're moving at a speed where observation becomes retrospecting, at best intuition, to think is to die, and end up a very pretty smear on a wall. Everything around her was a blur, a featureless rush of colour and sound that existed for mere nano-seconds as she blasted past them. The speederbike beneath her screamed into the night. It was hot. Not in the temperature kind of hot, in the don't even buy my dinner first kind of hot. The panelling was a bold harlequin green, combined with a deep black for the exposed mechanics and durofoam seating, it was very much a statement race bike. The whole thing 'roared' when she pushed it to the max, it road corners like a dream and the controls responded without a hint of lag. It was state of the art and a dream come true, beneath her helmet, coloured to match the bike, she laughed.

With a twist of her wrist, she turned the bike horizontal, riding 'just' above the blurring ground as she powered beneath the hovering shape of a street-freighter. She was going too fast, even if the engine of the bike and the protection of her helmet would have made it impossible, to hear the cursing of the workers above the larger vehicle turn to stunnned appreciation of the piece she was riding. They had further choice words for the gaggle of bikes which shortly pursued her, kicking up a storm of rushing air as they powered down the tightly woven streets of the district. None of the bikes in the race were worth any less than anyone actually living on these streets could afford to buy in ten years of hard work, despite that, they were a regular sight down here. Influential gangers, the spoiled brats of the wealthy, anyone with a head for unnecessary risks and speed, they could all find themselves down here, far from Coruscant Security, pushing each other to new heights of thrillseeking.

Ayla had done this before, countless times, but never on something as nice as this. It wasn't even fair, she'd back her chances to beat any of those racing today even on her own bike, garaged far away, but on this monster of a machine, she was unbeatable. All she had to do was not die.

That moment almost came on the final turn. The street rose and she was already riding the bike low, close to the ground. She'd turned off the proximity alerts and correction intelligence, safety features that could kill you with their own precautions when you were pushing corners or weaving through traffic, but now she had little way to tell the metal of the floor beneath her was rising. There was a hiss of sparks, not from the bike itself, but the metal, melted away by a fine shield that she didn't even know the vehicle had. The kickback, however, pushed the nose of the bike up into the air, and for a moment she was dramatically higher than she had anticipated. Once again she had to shift the bike horizontal to avoid being crushed into a cab above her. It was a close thing, the bike rebounding off the prepulsion system of the other vehicle, pushing her back towards the ground. She righted the bike just in time, and coasted over the finish line set out in blinking red lights, twisting the bike to a stop.

She was still laughing as she pulled her helmet free from her head, her hair tumbling out. Still her thighs squeezed around the speeder as it continued to growl in active power, barely contained within it's chassis. She was panting, laughing, panting again. As the rest of the racers pulled up over the line, two figures began to approach her, and she beamed them a smile. With almost palpable resentment, she swung herself off the speeder, exhaling deeply as the two males arrived within ear shot over the continued, if cooling, roar of engines.

"How did you find her?"

"Stars have mercy, she's gorgeous." Ayla beamed a genuine grin, placing her hands on her hips and blowing a strand of hair away from her eyes as the first man laughed in amusement. Tevo Knicks was the son of one of those aforementioned untouchable senators. She'd met him down here racing a while back, not knowing who he was at the time. He still had no idea who she was, and that was perfect. Before she turned to regard the second male, she allowed the young, blonde man to catch her biting her lower lip, a flicker of her eyes at him, before she refocused.

"Alright, the bike's a stud, but, showing it off to me with Little Miss here on it's hardly fair, she'd make a Tantooine scooner look first rate." The other male was a shorter, immediately less appealing man, but one Ayla had known for far longer. Caylo was short for a Nautolan, with a skin shad that could be described as a dirty blue and was the wrong side of slightly overweight. Still, he was closer to her than family by this point. The man was a dealer of all things engines and revs down in the lower districts, and had been looking to buy a racing piece for an unnamed client. She'd needed a set piece to draw Tevo in, and done a favour for a friend at the same time.

"You won't find a finer bike for the price I can give you, Caylo, you know that. Maybe she could make anything look fast, but she's not stopped smiling, that should sell it for you." Tevo smirked at Ayla, who did a very good job of not relinquishing that smile, turning into a private laugh as Caylo looked at her, rolling his eyes whilst the Senatorial heir was focused on her.

"Alright, we'll go take shop and get the details down, don't dawdle." Caylo shook his head, tendrils rolling about, before treading his way back towards the curb, leaving the two humans standing beside the bright speederbike.

"I'm giving your friend too good of a deal."

"Aw, you're too kind." Ayla practically pouted at Tevo, who took more than a step towards her. She didn't reciprocate the motion but didn't fight it either, running her fingers through an errant strand of hair as their forms moved closer together.

"I think that means you owe me."

"Does it now..." Ayla let the words slip from her lips, barely unpursing them, before her hand moved forwards, reaching into the man's pocket to pull back with his comms device. As he exhaled sharply from the contact, she grinned at him, before offering the device back. "Let me put my details in, and we can 'see' about me owing you...If you've got more bikes like that."

Aylara Tewoe. Personal Apartment

---

"Farcking Stoopa." Aylara breathed, almost a sigh, as she sat at her home desk, flicking through the files currently streaming before her. The tasty bit of malware she'd dropped into Tevo's comms had opened up his father's personal files to her, just as soon as she'd made her way home. The lowlight of her small, if not neatly maintained, high-rise apartment cast into a blue glow by the screen she was watching. She had to trawl through a lot, mostly dull even when it was scandalous, but here it was, the big fish.

Resolution 4-1138-95

All she did was shove a copy in a message to Jen with two other words neatly slotted above.

Run This.