House Rys is neither rich, nor powerfully, nor influential. What they are, is ancient. House Rys traces its bloodline back to the First Men, and boasts that Stonehold has never been taken by force.
Outside of one seemingly unconquerable fortress, House Rys has little. There mountains are devoid of precious metal and poor in even iron. Beyond that the land surrounding Stonehold is not fit for any but the hardiest crops, and while Stoneholders are adept at hunting in the mountains and fishing in the caverns underneath the fortress, there is nothing that any Westerosi would pay money for.
Both the men and women of House Rys are stalwart and fearsome warriors but centuries of tradition have stressed defense over attack, and their modest forces only leave the Hold in defense of their dearest allies.
In recent years, Lord Ælfnoð Rys has become increasingly isolated, neither leaving Stonehold (nor allowing others to leave) and sending away the few visitors that come to Stonehold. In the last few months this odd behavior has escalated to the Lord claiming himself to be a King, and challenging anyone to try and take his crown from him… a challenge that has of yet, not reached the ears of the true king.
“Let Mad Lord Noð call himself a king if he wishes, it makes no real difference… He’s barely even a lord besides, more like the hill tribesmen than like you or I”
Lord Edmund Redfort sat back in his chair, suddenly distracted by his cup of Arbor Red. Lord Andar Waxley simply nodded, his own head swam with the effects of their late night cups and he found he had little to add to his friend’s emphatic statement.
“It’s not as if this so called king is any threat…” Lord Edmund continued unexpectedly. “To the real king, that is (May he live forever.) Stonehold has barely enough funds to fund a feast, let alone a war, and they’ve maybe got a hundred men fit to swing a sword.
The young drunken lord hiccoughed, and then took a long slow sip of his wine. Eventually Lord Andar found himself impatient… he was sure that his friend had a point, but he was taking his time in getting to it.
“… your point, Edmund?”
“Ah, yes… I was simply saying, that no one really *needs* to tell the King of Mad Nod’s delusions of independence.”
Andar grinned. “Are you afraid of Mad Old Lord Nod, Ed?”
“No!” Edmund jerked upright in his chair, suddenly quite awake. “Not afraid, just…”
“…Prudent.” Andar finished for his friend. “And right you are, to be. Out here in the world Old Nod is a toothless wolf, but in Stonehold…” Andar shuddered, and took a generous portion of wine in an attempt to fight off the memory. “Even with a dragon no man has ever taken Stonehold by force, So deep in the heart of the mountains that even the sun is hidden by the cliffs… When you’re there, it is easy to see why Old Nod fancies himself a King… Have you ever been?” He asked his friend.
Edmund hadn’t, and he merely shook his head.
“I went with my father once, when I was just a boy. Lord Nod was an odd one even then, but my father made sure that I knew to be polite. He said that it may be easy to look down on the Lords of Stonehold when all was well, but that there was no better friend than a Rys when your back was against a wall. Of course he didn’t mention what happens to Rys’ enemies, but I found that out on my own…”
“The men in the trees?” Edmund interrupted, leaning so far forward that he threatened to fall out of his chair. Andar pursed his lips. “Do you want me to tell the story or not?” When Edmund remained silent, Andar continued. “The Rys line stretches back unbroken to the First Men, as any man of The Stonehold will gladly tell you, and they don’t worship The Seven… Instead they pray to the Old Gods, and keep a Godswood instead of a Sept. At that age I had never seen a Godswood. So left to my own devices, I inevitably found my way to the Stonehold Godswood. I quickly wished I hadn’t, too… There’s something unnerving about a Godswood to begin with, the blood red and bone white carved into faces… but the Godswood at Stonehold was something else entirely. Each tree stood rooted and growing around a suit of armor, their faces carved like skulls where the helmets opened.”
Andar paused to take a deep breath… the scene he painted was an eerie one, but words did no justice to the sense of primal fear that had welled up in him that day. Of course he didn’t tell his friend that he had run, or that he had cried when he got back to his father’s room… begged to go back home… Instead he skipped forward.
“You’ve clearly heard the tales but I had not, and my father refused to tell me. I only learned years later when I worked up the nerve to ask our Septon. He told me how, when the Andals came to Westeros and the First Men fell, Stonehold stood weathering sword and siege… and how each Andal warlord who fell to House Rys was planted in the weirwood, with a seed in their mouths. A reminder to all that House Rys still stood against all storms… It’s even said that there is a Targaryen planted in the Stonehold Weirwood, from before the Targaryens did what no Andal had… They bought Rys’ loyalty, not with gold or steel, but with a woman.”
Edmund laughed at that. “So, you’re saying we just need to find a woman who is willing to marry Old Nod?”
Andar swirled his wine in his cup. “Or wait for him to die… surely his heir can’t be as Mad as he is.”
Age: 53 Appearance: Sigil: A red suit of armor, backed by a white tree on a grey field Words: Still We Stand Personality: Lord Nod has always been cold and gruff, though these qualities were softened by a strong sense of honor and loyalty, and an overpowering love of family. After the deaths of his wife and son however, Lord Nod has grown increasingly temperamental. In addition to becoming quick to anger, he has also developed an increasing sense of grandeur. These delusions center on the old tales of the First Men and the undefeated Kings of Stonehold.
Age: 24 Appearance: Personality: Signý Rys inherited a sense of loyalty, honor, and family from her father. Unlike her father, she was not as heavily scarred by the loss of her mother and brother. She has an appreciation for beauty and a sense of romanticism that is unusual for a person from Stonehold, and secretly longs to see the world outside of her father’s lands. Despite this she is a skilled warrior, which lends itself to a certain stubbornness that is generally frowned upon for a lady in most of Westeros.
Age: 13 Appearance: Personality: Del is an inquisitive young man, and timid by nature. Despite this, his Grandfather’s expectations for him to become an ‘undefeatable’ king has caused him to believe that he should be bold. As such he will often force himself to say and do things that he is afraid to, even if his doubts shine through. After his father’s death, Del developed a close bond with his Aunt Signý Rys, and he views her as a hero. Because of this he shares her desire to see the world outside of Stonehold, but does not speak of that desire for fear of is Grandfather’s wrath.
Well, that's three. I'm going to wait a little bit to try and hook in a couple more. If we don't have anything new on Monday, then I guess we'll play with what we have.
