Author's Note: Only people invited to the social group created for voting and discussion purposes can participate in this game. This thread is intended purely for the updates for everyone to read and comment on, while the social group will have the players discussing, planning and voting as well as a separate archive thread. The group has been kept relatively small for the purpose of more importance to discussion and back-and-forth instead of the bandwagoning that occurs on SB/SV due to the larger player base, and will be kept relatively small as time goes on. Do not expect me to let you join the group because you PM me, but there might be people previously mentioned for joining that I've missed.

Social Group link for players: https://forums.darklordpotter.net/group.php?groupid=176

--

00a: Tales of The Rebellion

​

You were born during Robert's Rebellion, the conflict that stamped out the last flickering fires of ancient Valyria. Like most children born during that time period, you know something of the story behind it, of the seeds that blossomed into war. You know that it started with the kidnapping of Lyanna Stark , the only daughter of Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. You know that her brother Brandon Stark came to King's Landing, demanding the head of her kidnapper, crown prince Rhaegar Targaryen. You know that he was imprisoned by the king along with his party, used to lure out Lord Rickard Stark out of the safety to the North to King's Landing, where both he and his son died. You know that with their deaths, the realm went to war.

You know that the Riverlands under House Tully, though raised upon high by House Targaryen joined the rebel cause all too swiftly. Their heir had been Lyanna's betrothed, and Lord Hoster Tully's own bannermen had lost relatives to the Mad King's depravity. As well, his daughters Catelyn and Lysa had been promised to the sons of great lords themselves, Robert Baratheon and Jaime Lannister, the latter of whom's own sister had been promised to the roguish Brandon Stark. With his death, that betrothal would be forced upon his younger brother Eddard Stark, who along with his foster father Jon Arryn of the Eyrie and his foster brother Robert Baratheon, raised the might of four Lord Paramounts against the Iron Throne itself.

Victories and defeats were traded across much of the Seven Kingdoms, as Prince Rhaegar Targaryen remained hidden with his victim, Lyanna Stark. But as the rebel cause waxed and the Targaryen dynasty that had ruled for three hundred years over Westeros seemed set for defeat, the crown prince appeared again, to face the rebel armies at the Ruby Ford. There, he had died at the hands of Brynden Tully, brother to the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands and future Kingsguard knight.

But even as the armies of House Tully, Arryn, Stark and Baratheon fought in the Riverlands, a host of fifteen thousand Lannister men had marched on King's Landing. Distrusting in his once loyal servant Tywin Lannister and ignoring the advice of his Grandmaester Pycelle, the mad king Aerys Targaryen the city barred and ordered his sole present Kingsguard to summon his pyromancers. He intended to give the order to burn down the city with wildfire, destroying it utterly as soon as Tywin's forces overwhelmed the defences. Horrified, the knight slew the mad king then and there, before seeing to the arriving pyromancers themselves even as House Lannister's forces began their assault.

As the rebel forces neared the Red Keep itself, the Kingsguard knight withdrew with those of the royal family still present within the city (only Elia Martell and her two children, kept to assure the loyalty of Dorne) to Maegor's Holdfast, intent on holding out with as many loyalists until help or a ceasefire could be had. For a fortnight, he had rallied the defenders and held the keep against all odds, slaying several great knights and lords set against him. Even Lord Tywin's own brother Tygett Lannister fell to his blade, having lead an assault on it's defenses. Ultimately however, Maegor's Holdfast was overrun, with the royal children killed and Elia Martell badly wounded from a similar attempt on her life by their killer, Amory Lorch. She would hold onto life however, kept alive as a bargaining chip to pacify any further Dornish resistance as a rebel host under the command of Lord Eddard Stark rode into the capital to put an end to the chaos.

As Robert Baratheon, Hoster Tully and Jon Arryn arrived soon afterwards, deliberations were made regarding both Elia Martell and the surviving Kingsguard knight, a one Gregor Clegane of the Westerlands. Formerly squire to Lord Tywin Lannister himself during his time as Hand of the King before being raised to the Kingsguard for his role in aiding the King's escape at the Defiance of Duskendale, he had once been seen as Vhagar Greatheart come anew, a sterling addition to a new generation of Kingsguard alongside men like Arthur Dayne. The great lords and knights present debated fiercely as to his fate, with Lord Eddard Stark and Ser Barristan Selmy demanding he be sent to the Night's Watch in shame for his kingslaying. Others such as Lord Tywin, his son Jaime and even Elia Martell herself pleaded freedom, pointing out he had in one stroke saved half a million lives in slaying the pyromancers and the King, while keeping to his oaths in protecting the remainder of the royal family (the latter point raised by Elia exclusively). Lord Arryn and Tully mused as to keeping him alongside the Kingsguard, now very much depleted with only Ser Barristan Selmy accounted for. On and on the argument proceeded, pausing only for discussion of other matters such as Dragonstone or Storm's End. Ultimately, the knight himself was brought before the lords and knights present, and asked to defend himself.

He did not. Before half the chivalry and nobility of Westeros, Gregor Clegane accepted the punishment of exile to the Night's Watch as just, viewing it as necessary redemption for his crimes. He did however, castigate many of those present for their own sins, including Lord Tywin for the murder of children and Ser Barristan for kneeling to continue service in the Kingsguard with several of his brothers already dead at the hands of the rebel cause. He would leave the capital soon afterwards, heading north to take his vows in service.

Elsewhere, the war continued. Lord Eddard Stark marched south to relieve the siege of Storm's End conducted by Lord Mace Tyrell, freeing Robert's own brother Stannis Baratheon from the siege even as his besiegers dipped their banners and bowed out of the war. As negotiations continued on between the rebel council in the capital and Prince Doran Martell of Dorne, Lord Eddard Stark marched south to Dorne with a small band of companions, having been informed as to the whereabouts of his sister, as well as the three remaining Kingsguard.

The true details of what occurred are unknown to all, but what is known is that Lord Eddard returned to Winterfell with his sister's bones, leaving behind seven dug graves for seven dead men. He paused briefly at King's Landing, attending the rebel council as they crowned his foster brother Robert Baratheon as the King on the Iron Throne, all the while as the siege of Dragonstone continued and the Targaryen heirs fled across the sea. All in all, it seemed that justice had been served, the scars of the war and House Targaryen 's actions fading away.

But then there was you.

His son.

Before his marriage to Cersei Lannister had been made in the wake of your uncle and grandfather's death, your father had been intended to marry your mother, Ashara Dayne of Starfall. The betrothal seemingly set in stone since the tourney of Harrenhal a year prior to the Rebellion, your mother had already been pregnant when Rhaegar Targaryen had kidnapped your aunt. By the time your grandfather Lord Rickard had arrived to King's Landing, she had begun showing slightly. The execution of both your uncle and your grandfather had set off alarms for both Ashara and her lady Elia Martell, who aided in her escape south to Dorne even as the Rebellion took place. Though she sent word to the Eyrie and Winterfell for your father, they did not reach him as rebel and royalist armies moved across Westeros in battle. Pregnant, she had been asked by her brother to act as companion to Lyanna Stark at the Tower of Joy, though spoke little to you of those times. She had remained until word reached Dorne that he had married Lady Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock, that House Lannister had declared for the rebels and stormed King's Landing and that House Targaryen had been crushed.

She had left for Starfall then, sending messages telling him of where his sister was, begging him to attend on her. You had been born some few months prior to that, and she'd held hope that that tales of his marriage were false, that she would yet become his lady wife. But when he had arrived, it was grim-faced and bloody, presenting her and House Dayne with her brother's corpse and Dawn, their ancestral sword. He had thought her dead, he said. Killed in King's Landing much like his brother and father, much like Lyanna was now dead. Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully pressured him to make peace with Tywin Lannister, to marry his daughter and bind the lions to the rebel cause. He had resisted for a while, but as the rebel cause struggled in those early months against the royalist hosts, as House Lannister's forces awaited on the sidelines... he married Cersei Lannister at the Gold Tooth, even as Jon Arryn destroyed Jon Connigton's army at Stoney Sept.

Despite your mother's tearful pleadings, he refused to consider the matter. For better or worse, he had married Cersei Lannister and would not disown her now, especially as she was with child. This last wounds your mother deeply, demanding in turn what of her child? When he learned of your existence, that Ashara had birthed him a son, a now bastard-born son, things had turned tense. You knew that it had been a most tense argument, the matter of your custody, but ultimately you grew up in:

[] Dorne - You were to be raised in your mother's lands, your father both accepting your existence as well as his own isolation. While he headed north to rule and father your trueborn siblings, you remained in Starfall, raised amongst your cousins and the shining star in your mother's life, of a life now denied to her. Name: Jon Sand.

[] The North - You were taken north, to be raised in Winterfell alongside your trueborn siblings and under your father's wife, Cersei Lannister. Your mother had died soon afterwards, though whether or not it was suicide from grief you do not know. What you do know is that Lady Cersei dislikes you, and has done her best to develop that thinking in her and Lord Stark's children. Name: Jon Snow.

And so the years passed and you grew older. You went from babbling to speaking, crawling to running, becoming your own person as you laid down roots and created your own history. You are now sixteen years of age, having spent your formative years in:

[The North Only] Winterfell - Growing up in Winterfell for all those years, kept close at hand by your father. Your relationship with most of your paternal family is close, excepting of course Cersei Lannister and her small coterie of attendants and friends from the Westerlands. As a bastard of House Stark in an unwelcoming environment, you have oft looked to other such Stark bastards for inspiration and support, and have patterned yourself on Brandon Snow, brother to the King Who Knelt.

[The North Only] The Eyrie - You were sent to the Eyrie at the age of ten, becoming a squire to Lord Denys Arryn, heir to House Arryn and Knight of the Bloody Gate. You remained there until your most recent birthday, winning a squire's tourney to receive a knighthood from your host and mentor. Educated thoroughly into the Andal traditions of the Vale, you are the very image of a southron knight, with few suspecting your Northern & Dornish roots.

[The North Only] The Night's Watch - You had grown up in the shadow of your trueborn siblings, of a family not truly yours. As a result, as a part of a desire to make your own way, you had joined the Night's Watch at a young age, coming underneath the eye of your paternal uncle Benjen Stark. Being of Stark blood, it was reasonable to assume a future as an officer and consequently you were groomed for command.

[Dorne Only] Starfall -You were kept close to the traditions and heritage of House Dayne by your mother's wishes, and taught the ways of both chivalry and the First Men traditions upheld by your maternal family, most recently your uncle. Though it is yet only a dream of yours, you desire to succeed your uncle and become the next Sword of the Morning, having patterned much of yourself in his memory.

[Dorne Only] Sunspear - You and your mother had travelled to Sunspear several years after the Rebellion, invited by Lady Elia Martell. Oft called the Dragon's Widow for her incidental role in the destruction of House Targaryen, she was close to your mother and had sought her presence and company. This in turn meant your own presence and company amongst much of the high-born nobility of Dorne, many of whom with their own bastards. In particular was one man called Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell, oft-known as the Red Viper. You grew close to him and his family in time, and you're not ashamed to admit that you see him as a second father and his daughters as the sisters you never had.

[Dorne] Planky Town - You might have travelled and lived in Sunspear, but it was the orphans of the Greenbloods who claimed your interest, particularly with tales of Mother Rhoyne and lessons as to the healing arts. You consequently developed a sense of adventure, a desire to see as much of the world as possible, and to perhaps one day reclaim the Rhoyne for your greenblood friends.

And so you grew up, nestled in your new family and surroundings, developing your own feelings on the Houses Dayne and Stark:

[The North Only] House Dayne 01 - You dislike them greatly. Lord Eddard Stark took you from your mother, and in doing so set in motion the events of her death. His wife dislikes you, and does her best to poison her trueborn children against you and see you out of the North entirely. It doesn't entirely work considering you have amicable relations with Robb, Myrcella, Joanna, Brandon and Rickon, but you possess a serious rivalry with Robb that at times outweighs your friendship. More than once you dreamt of your mother's home in Dorne, of the trueborn cousins and kin down there. Dorne is kinder to its bastards than elsewhere you know, and you could have been happier there....

[The North Only] House Stark 01 - You love your northern family greatly, and consider yourself lucky to have been raised amongst them, despite the hatred and vitriol shown your way by the Lady Stark. Your relationship with your trueborn siblings is unchallengeable, much to her distaste. You rarely if at all consider your maternal kin down in Dorne, the men and women of House Dayne.

[Dorne Only] Stark 02 - You feel uncomfortable in your surroundings and environment in Dorne. Every day, you are reminded of the unfortunate circumstances of your birth, of your northern heritage. As son of the man whose sister set in motion the civil war, whose good-father oversaw the death of Lady Elia's two children, you feel a hostility and aggression, that while not directed whatsoever by Lady Elia or her family, is inspired by Dorne's love for them. You often wonder of the North, of your northern brothers and sisters and your father. Would they welcome you, if you went north? Would they accept you?

[Dorne Only] Dayne 02 - You love Dorne and treasure it highly. While of mixed blood and controversial heritage in Dorne itself, you do not let that affect your own feelings for the land and find yourself a true part of House Dayne, as much as your cousin Edric or your aunt and uncles. You think little and care less for the Starks of Winterfell, for ties of blood do not alone make a family. Let them keep their frozen homes and summer snows, you are of sand and sun, and there you will stay.

 

So, who can join the social group...? Still not sure what your criteria is.

Either way, looking forward to this

 

People who have been invited to the social group already are those who will be the players. If you haven't received an invited already, you probably won't.

 

Winning Vote:
[X] Dorne/Sunspear/Dayne 02

--

00b: Of Sand & Sun​

Sunspear.

Though you had often visited your mother's home every year, it seemed somewhat lifeless in comparison to Sunspear, capital of Dorne and home of House Martell. You had only been a child when you had first come here, barely six or seven years old. Your mother and you had been invited to the famed Water Gardens of House Martell at Princess Elia's bidding. A close friend to your mother for many years, she and a Kingsguard knight had been instrumental in aiding your mother's escape from King's Landing, from the Mad King's clutches. A deeply sad woman, you will never forget how she burst into tears the day you had first met, comparing you to her deceased son Aegon. While your mother had rushed to take her into her own arms, you had stood there dumbly for a moment, almost afraid. As she continued weeping while your mother directed her to sit, you came around from the other side to give her as big a hug as a child of your size could manage. After all, your mother had always appreciated hugs from you when she was upset.

Since then, she's always had a certain fondness for you.

A fondness shared by her brother Oberyn, who took you under his wing soon after. While initially cold to you due to your paternal heritage, your innocence shook him of that bias and he began treating you as any other of the noble youths visiting Sunspear. As you grew older, he began to teach you of many things, some that you knew your mother would disapprove of had she known, and others that she did approve of and did know. You learned of weapons-craft, of horsemanship, of jousting, of poisons and potions. He taught you how to swim, shared something of his education with the maester's of Oldtown, introduced you to his daughters and coached you on the ways of manhood after he found you kissing one of the Drinkwater twins.

Still, he was not your only parental influence. You had often received letters from your father in Winterfell, asking about your circumstances and life, often sharing in turn of his own and of your siblings, telling you tales of your paternal ancestors, of House Stark. Your mother as well was most present, impressing upon you the lengthy history of House Dayne and doing her best to keep you firmly rooted in her family's ways.

Ultimately it all came together, a mish-mash of influences from every direction, making you into the young man you were today:

[]History Of:

[] House Dayne
[] House Martell
[] House Stark
​

[] Horsemanship
[] Jousting
[] Letters to:

[] House Dayne
[] House Stark
​

[] Maester's Education

[] Black iron (Ravenry)
[] Brass (Geography & Cartography)
[] Bronze (Astronomy)
[] Copper (History)
[] Electrum (Astrology)
[] Yellow Gold (Economics)
[] Iron (Warcraft)
[] Lead (Agriculture)
[] Pale steel (Smithing)
[] Pewter (Household Management)
[] Platinum (Languages)
[] Red gold (Animal Husbandry)
[] Silver (Medicine and healing)
[] Steel (Politics)
[] Tin (Philosophy)
[] Valyrian steel (magic & occult)​

[] Personal History (each choice represents two choices)

[] At the age of fifteen you had fought against slavers operating from the Stepstones raiding on the Broken Arm. You fought valiantly, earning a knighthood from Ser Symon Santagar. Effects: Knighthood, relations with House Santagar, Opportunities

[] You had been caught in the bed of Jayne Ladybright when her family had come to visit Sunspear. While Oberyn intervened so as to oppose a trial by combat, you had been sent away to Norvos for three years to wait on Prince Doran's estranged wife Mellario. Effects: Rivalry with House Ladybright, Free Norvosi Long Axe Education of Average, Romantic History with Jayne Ladybright, Opportunities

[] You had met and befriended a hedge-knight called Bryan Telson on a visit to Oldtown, with Oberyn, who told you of a fellow knight that he had been seeking, one Gennady Shannin and a Valyrian sword in his possession called Scorpion. While Oberyn dallied with old friends, the two of you ran into the man in the city and a fight ensued, resulting in the death of Ser Shannin and Bryan's recovery of the sword. When arrested by the City Guard, he revealed himself to be Tygor Wyl of House Wyl, seeking to recover his family's ancestral blade, stolen during Robert's Rebellion from his father. Effects: Friendship with House Wyl, Opportunities

[] You and Daemon Sand (Oberyn's squire) had always had a see-sawing relationship, in part due to your shared bastard heritage and your own relationships with House Martell. At times friendly and others aggressive to one another, you've spilled each other's blood on more than one occasion. Often times, it was over Arianne Martell. Effects: Rivalry with Daemon Sand, Romantic History with Arianne Martell.

[] Out riding deep across the lands of House Martell, you discovered a series of deep natural cisterns with significant deposits of pure, drinkable water collected within them. Reporting this to them upon your return, you were rewarded for your service and loyalty with a sizeable amount of gold, and the personal thanks of Doran Martell. Effects: Sizeable starting money, improved relations with House Martell, Opportunities
​

[] Weapons Choice

[] Bow

[] Longbow
[] Shortbow
​

[] Buckler & Spear
[] Daggers (Dual Wield)
[] Long Axe (Two Handed) (Norvosi Only)
[] Mace (One Handed, Mace & Shield)
[] Sword

[] Arakh (One Handed, Two Handed, Sword & Shield)
[] Bastard Sword (One Handed, Two Handed, Sword & Shield)
[] Greatsword (Two Handed)
[] Longsword (One Handed or Sword & Shield)
[] Shortsword (One Handed)
​

[] Write In
​

==

Author's Note: Sixteen votes, combat options can be selected again to increase it from Mediocre(starting) up until Elite, while individual Maester options can be selected for a maximum of three times. Also keep in mind that these options chosen, along with previous ones from 00a will indirectly and directly lead to skill and trait creation.

 

So, is this not getting any more updates or something?

 

I believe that Hash is/has moved the last week which is probably the reason for the delay.

But he recently posted the character sheet in the group so I expect that he will continue his regular schedule soon.

 

Well, let's see...

1. I'm doing a semi-write up for 5 different areas of the world in terms of plot development (Wall, North, King's Landing, Dorne, Essos if you're curious) as preliminary choices, with examinations of characters, path-lines, opportunities and events for the players to get into.
2. I'm doing the next update for ASOSS, where I want to smoothly introduce and mention all the stuff chosen by the players as an introduction to those only reading, which will segue into the first year or so of preliminary story.
3. I've got three updates for ADOTN hesitantly scripted and awaiting writing.
4. I've got packing to do because I'm moving flats twice in September.
5. I've got planning to do because I'm starting a Masters in September.
6. I'm stressed out via family financial IRL troubles.
7. I'm trying to find part-time work to help cover bills current and impending.
8. I'm currently burnt out in writing ASOIAF + Skyrim materials and am struggling for inspiration.

Is that enough of a reason for the delay?

 

No. You live to serve us. But seriously, nothing annoys me more than people hassling the author about an update, and I've never even written anything. Wishing you the best of luck with everything you've got on your plan.

 

You can also add in the fact that I have no one to beta for me, unlike in ADOTN.

 

Sorry if I came across as hassling I was honestly just wondering if it was cancelled that's all.

 

Plan Typhon (Winning Plan):

• General: History Martell/Letters Stark
• Maester Knowledge: Medicine 2/Language 2/Politics/Geography
• Personal History:Knighthood/Ladybright/Cisterns
• Combat: (Elite) Long Axe Skill

Social Group Thread: https://forums.darklordpotter.net/group.php?do=discuss&group=&discussionid=218476
--
​

01: The Bastard of Starfall​

You'd had an unusual childhood.

Yes, that was the right word for it... unusual.

Born a bastard to Lady Ashara Dayne of Starfall and Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, you had been provided opportunities and a life most bastards could only dream of. Growing up in Starfall at the agreement of both your father and mother, you had spent your childhood years there, cosseted and surrounded by all manner of Dayne history and artifacts. Told tales of your ancestors, of the First Dayne, who had lead his people across the Narrow Sea, survived the Broken Arm and made himself a lord in what was now Dorne. Of the Sword of the Morning, a title and status passed down to the worthiest members of the House since time immemorial. Since the Long Night and the War for the Dawn, where Daynes, Starks, Blackwoods, Crabbs and all manner of First Men fought the Others, fought to survive. Of the great knights who followed, like Ser Ulrick Dayne, who led the Stone Dornish of the Red Mountains in war against the Rhoynar and the Martells before he bent the knee in obedience. Of your own uncle now passed, Ser Arthur Dayne. Sword of the Morning, knight of the Kingsguard, the greatest knight in his generation. No brigand, no knight, not even royalty could best his blade in combat. A shining light amongst a house of light. When you were still young, you'd thought to yourself of reaching such hallowed heights, of following his footsteps. You were a bastard true, but Dawn passed only to those worthy of her, irrespective of bloodlines.

You knew your mother had cherished similar dreams for you, encouraged you to play at wooden swords, told you tales of your ancestors and oft-called you her little knight. And so you were... until you had left for Sunspear.

Lady Elia Martell, former consort to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and once your mother's mistress in King's Landing had called upon her. You understood now what you hadn't then, how the loneliness, the grief and sorrow had overtaken her in her return to Dorne. How the loss of her children still hit her anew every day. She had called her (and you in turn) to keep her company, hoping for a true companion to help her in her hour of need. Your mother had been true then, and had left Starfall with you in tow and headed east. Your uncle had made offer of keeping you there, you remembered. But your mother did not stand for it.

"He belongs with me," she had said at the time "And I belong with Elia."

And so you travelled to Sunspear.

--

Gods, Sunspear.

What could you say of it, but that it was your home? What fond memories of Starfall you had faded in time, replaced with love for the ancient seat of House Martell. Sunspear, Plankytown, the Water Gardens... so many adventures you'd had as a child, with so many people. Lady Elia's nieces and nephews, both bastard and true had been your companions, and you theirs. But your closest friend of all was far more than that. No, not only a friend. A mentor. A father, of sorts.

Oberyn Martell. The Red Viper of Dorne.

Younger brother to the reigning Prince Doran, it was he who solidified and cemented your love and loyalty for the Martells. through the time he had spent with you, teaching you all manner of crafts that he himself had learned elsewhere. Horsemanship, Languages, Medicine, Poisons were lessons he imparted upon you, often in line with his own daughters, the Sand Snakes who in turn became as your sisters. When you grew older and became a man, it was he who spoke with you of love and women and men and more. Who spoke to you of the wonders of the world, of the things he had seen across Westeros and Essos. Men of every colour and shape and size, old ruins of empires long since passed, languages and arts that few but the maesters of Oldtown cared to learn.

What dreams you'd had then as a child. Before you saw the world at it's cruellest.

Before your exile by Prince Doran's command.

As you'd grown older, changed from boy to man, you'd grown increasingly wild, much to your mother's dismay. You'd ride out of Sunspear with a few highborn children on the back of a sand steed, riding around the nearby holdfasts and desert dunes with only provisions and little warning. Spending time under the stars, going into caverns (you'd found a deep cistern once as a result!) and amongst some of the nearer hills, spending time with some of the girls... ahem. Every so often a brother or father would find out and you'd be in some small amount of trouble, but Oberyn or your mother or Lady Elia would usually step in to smooth things over. It had never gone too far anyway. A kiss here, a little ride out into the sand dunes, typical for a boy of your age, a state of affairs had continued on for several months.

Until the trouble with House Ladybright. that is.

--

It was stupid of you, in retrospect. Her father had arrived with her and two dozen guards to present her to Prince Doran as a potential bride for his eldest son Quentyn, a ward of the Yronwoods in the north. An old Dornish house of Andal lineage, one of the more powerful houses in Dorne itself...

More powerful than House Martell at times.

Which in turn, necessitated the renewal of dynastic alliances in what was an ever-shifting political landscape. House Ladybright was a house on the rise in recent decades, bolstered by great warriors who'd distinguished themselves against the Ninepenny Kings, even during the Rebellion. Jayne's own uncle had died defending Lewys Martell at the Trident, you knew. One of many Dornishmen who'd died fighting under the royalist banners.

You'd danced a few times after the feast House Martell had prepared for their visitors. Quentyn had come home for the visitation, but had been too standoffish to stay with his would-be-betrothed, instead remaining closeted with his small group of friends who had ridden south with him. You'd grabbed her then, taking her with you, Daemon, Arianne and some of Oberyn's daughters to go elsewhere in the castle with some watered wine. Brazen of you, considering your differing standings, but she'd been eager to get away. And then eager for other things as she led you away from the others...

Jayne's father had wanted your head. Quentyn had been more than a little offended. Oberyn had been too busy laughing at first to be of much use. Your mother had been furious. And as ever, Prince Doran remained calm and collected. Really, the man's self-control would be maddening if you'd been anyone else.

He went behind closed doors with Oberyn and Lord Ladybright for a day, with little to interrupt them besides an occasional servant entering with beverages or food, and ushered out just as quickly. When they did eventually exit Prince Doran's personal chambers, it was only so that Oberyn could inform you of your exile to Norvos. There you would remain until his brother saw fit to call you back, serving his estranged wife as a page and servant.

--

You spent three years there, under the watchful eye of Lady Mellario. Born into a noble family of Norvos, her familial connections and relations within the city itself had afforded you an almost privileged insight into the Esossi city-state. Prince Doran's wife had taken a maternal pleasure in setting you to every errand and task she could think of, a fact-of-life that had in turn brought you in touch with the Bearded Priests of Norvos. A militant priesthood local to the city-state itself and loyal to its High Magister (a cousin to Lady Mellario, you would learn), who acted as both the spiritual and temporal leader of the Norvosii peoples. Though you were nobly born and had some basic instruction in Westerosi arms, Lady Mellario insisted that you bought to bear arms and fighting in the manner of Norvos, with the longaxe you had until then only seen in the presence of her husband's guard, Areo Hotah.

And so you learned. You built your strength to standards worth y of carrying the heavy weapon, learning proper footwork and stances with which to strike and retreat with. Your preliminary lessons under Prince Oberyn regarding the Dornish spear had roosted here, as your style with the longaxe began to differ and separate itself from the standard. You moved with speed, not strength in your spars. You weaved and bobbed rather than stand your ground, using shaft as well as axe's edge to your means. It was unorthodox to say the least, and more than one elder of the priesthood had disparaged your intentions in those early months.

But there was method to the madness. Unorthodox and atypical your style might have been, but as you grew older and more developed, so too did your style. Where once you were mocked by even the lowliest of initiates, slave-boys stolen from holds across every corner of the world, by the time came to return home, not even the most venerated battle-priests of Norvos could come against you without trepidation or surety of success.

Not that they hadn't tried. Bearded Priests , sellswords of standing in Norvos, Dothraki outcasts, wild Andali hillmen and even Unsullied guards owned by merchant interests in Norvos and Qohor. Some Ghiscari slaver princes had made offers to Lady Mellario for your service, you knew. To fight across the cities of Slaver's Bay, where some of the most renowned pit-fighters of the age yet resided.

Even if she had willed it, you would not. Though Norvos was kinder than some slaver city-states in Essos, that meant little except in comparison. You had seen how many of the initiates had died under the harsh, punishing regimens the Bearded Priesthood demanded. How the slave markets processed such abundant amounts of human flesh, brought in by ships up the Rhoyne or from the Great Grass Sea by Dothraki khalasars. Of children torn from their parents , of pregnant wives from their husbands, paid for with greedy intent for the prospect of the babe as well.

It sickened you. No, more than that: it enraged you. Though Dorne held much of its Rhoynish roots to heart, your blood was of First Men origin. Your mother was a scion of House Dayne, known for justice and mercy above all. Your own uncle, Arthur Dayne had been named the Sword of the Morning, a pillar of both moral character and martial skill. This... this was not a thing you could stomach, and that sense of outrage had only festered as you grew older, more keenly aware of it. It had been reason enough to return home, as you became more outspoken in Norvos and word reached the lady Mellario. She wrote in turn to her estranged husband, eager to avoid a scandal.

And so you were called home, by merchant's ship and princely command.

--

You really hadn't expected your return to Dorne to be so eventful.

Three years away in Norvos, and you were as flat-footed as an Andal in the sandy warmth of your home. If it wasn't for the fact you had a blessed touch when it came to your long-axe, you suspect that slavers who'd been raiding the Broken Arm might have had you for a Ghiscari slave-market. You definitely weren't pretty enough for the pleasure palaces of Lys, for all that you shared their violet eyes. Not that you'd quite know what a pleasure palace looked liked, since Lady Mellario took her pleasure in setting you to every errand she could think of to keep you busy and out of trouble's way, when your training with the longaxe did not await.

That training had served you well upon your return with these slavers. You'd noted their ships at the distance when you'd been travelling the Stepstones, two small ships further off and keeping to themselves. You'd have thought them merchants if you hadn't seen them move northward into the Dornish Sea, and then you knew their intent. There were no respectable ports on the coastlines there, and no Stormlander or Dornish lord would make use of such ill-looking vessels. Landing in Plankytown, you had ridden north immediately to Spottswood, home to House Santagar, sworn vassals of House Dorne. Their lands stretched over much of the damaged coastlands, a tribute to the might of the Children of the Forest of old. Whatever the truth, it had left them particularly vulnerable to slaver raids, as their many fishing villages made for easy targets for smaller raiding groups looking for easy prizes for the nearer slave-markets across the Narrow Sea.

You'd watched the coasts for a day and night, your eyes peering into the distance for the ships you had sighted. The further west they had gone into the Dornish Sea, they more likely they'd find hilly holdfasts and royalist patrols to bar them from profit and fortune. Though King Robert ruled from King's Landing, his birthplace and summer seat at Storm's End meant that royalist ships oft passed through the area, maintaining security and safety in his name. It was only further south in Dornish waters where the king's laws and power faded that the pirates felt safe. The Usurper's War had pleased few in Dorne, and the fragile truce between Houses Baratheon and Martell had created significant autonomy for Dorne, for better and for worse.

This time, it would be for the worse. As you spotted the ships in the distance and waited for them to near the coastline, you galloped down to the nearby village on your sand steed, bought dearly from Dornish merchants at Plankytown who relished at charging exorbitant amounts to a half-Northern high-born bastard. The horse was ill-tempered at best and stubborn besides you thought, but it had the speed of its kind and had taken you into the village's heart well before the ships neared. The villagers had already raised their spears even as you arrived, and with a few moment's conferral sent a young boy on your horse to Spottswood and House Santagar even as they moved the women and children away as the enemy made to land on sandy shore.

They had not been normal Essosi slavers. In well-mended chainmail and with axe and shield in hand, of lighter skin and hair than any Essos slaver-prince you had seen, you knew their nature well enough.

Ironborn.

Exiles of the Iron Isles, who had escaped death or the Night's Watch when King Robert and your father Eddard Stark had fallen upon them in Balon Greyjoy's doomed rebellion. Tens of thousands dead, hundreds given the choice of death or service, the islands themselves given to House Stark... and what few who chose to resist escaping past the Sunset Seas to safer ports in Essos. The Kraken's Men, they were called, for the sigil of their lord and master Euron Greyjoy.

Self proclaimed King of the Iron Isles, the Lord Reaper of Pyke and Son of the Sea Winds, and truly a favourite of the many masters of Old Ghis. Merchant princes and slaver-lords alike paid him well to trouble them not, and what was once a motley fleet of a few stolen ships had turned over time into an armada of dozens to rival the great fleets of Westeros. Their masters were hardbitten survivors of Balon's Rebellion, their diminishing numbers replenished with bastards spawned upon salt-wives drawn from across the world, baptized into their violent beliefs and set upon the world as if a scourge sent by the gods themselves.

Foes to be feared, if the tales were to be true. But on this day, at this place... they were not. Hairless youths and long grey beards with few fingers and even fewer teeth told the tale here. A simple raid to blood those yet unblooded under the eyes of those long-lived in such crimes. Anywhere else across the Narrow Sea, their deed might have been died without resistance or loss.

But this was Dorne, and for decades and more had the words of House Martell echoed as example to all its sons and daughters: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.

You fell upon them as if they were youths playing at battle. You hadn't the strength or size that most wielders of the long-axe had, and consequently maintained a more flowing form. You did not bash and smash as any Andal knight would, but rather moved as if water with your axe. It's edge would find itself in the neck of one unaware youth, before ducking under a wild sword slash to kick your axe free of its attached corpse and continue onwards. Even as you moved amongst them, hitting into one shield or upraised axe to keep them off-balance, the villagers held their own, advancing with a spear-wall in support, fighting fiercely until help could arrive.

"Hold!" you remembered shouting as the villagers neared the breaking point "Hold!"

And then you heard it. And as you turned, you saw them.

"Santagar! Santagar!"

Help had come at last, in the form of a hundred and twenty lancers under the command of Ser Symon Santagar, the Knight of Spotswood. Riding down through the village itself, their raucous arrival saw the raiders fall further back, their elders shouting to all to form a shield wall to blunt the spearhead cavalry charge. The villagers, weary of battle sought only to pull away their dead and dying from the oncoming mass of men and horse.

"Santagar!" shouted the knight in the forefront of the charge "Santagar and Dorne!"

--

That had been a day ago now. The battle had ended swiftly with Ser Symon's arrival, and as the dead were buried (or in the Ironborn's case, placed on their ships for pyre funerals) and the wounded attended to, you had spoke and conferred with Ser Symon. You offered your timeline of events, including your suspicions and your immediate departure from Plankytown (apparently that had concerned more than a few people in Sunspear) to head north. Thus informed, Ser Symon asked you to be on your way, to report the news of the raid to Prince Doran, and to inform him those captured would be interrogated for further information.

But that hadn't been all he asked of you, as his hand went to sword-hilt.

"Kneel, boy. Kneel, to arise a knight."

--

You rode south hard after that. Your sand steed had been replaced with one of better temperament and quality from House Santagar's stables, yours bought at Plankytown having been ridden to near exhaustion by the events of the past few days. Ser Symon spoke highly of its constitution, thinking it to be one of Oberyn's abandoned projects. As it was, your new steed bore you far more smoothly past Sunspear, taking you to the Water Gardens where Prince Doran held court.

Your arrival causes a little stir in meeting the guards on watch. Some recognize you vaguely from your youth, and make jibes of your time in Essos and of House Ladybright. Their captain shows better deference and respect, particularly after correcting one of the guards to address you as ser. They share with you little tidbits of information as you unsaddle and administer to your new horse, speaking of Prince Doran's gout, of how Lady Ellaria is pregnant once more (this time hoping for a boy!) and this and that...

All inconsequential things, enough to bring a bout a quick end to the conversation on your part.

"The sun begins to set," you notice quietly as your attention turns again to the captain of the watch "I'll imagine I'll be seeing all come dinner, but for now... where is everyone? It... it has been a while."

"Of course. You'll find Lady Arianne with Prince Oberyn's paramour & children deeper into the Water Gardens, ser."

"And my mother, captain? Where is she?"

"With Lady Elia," he responded hesitantly "Some ill news came by raven earlier today, and they have been closeted ever since."

"And Prince Doran? Prince Oberyn?"

"Also closeted, though that's been some else entirely. They've been arguing over some matter for days now in private, with only foul temperament to show for it. Perhaps paying your respects could wait until dinner."

"Perhaps...."

[] Ashara Dayne & Elia Martell - Whatever this ill news might be, you've a duty as a son (and surrogate nephew of sorts) to see to your mother and Lady Elia first...

[] Arianne Martell & Others - Or rather, you could go see your friends and pseudo-siblings first. They seem to be the only ones with unbarred passage...

[] Doran & Oberyn Martell - No. Prince Doran is your liege lord and master, and Prince Oberyn as close as possible to a father and mentor both. You will pay your respects first before anything else.

---
​

Author's Note: Think of Jon's long-axe fighting style as a two-handed version of Oberyn's spear-style, with significant elements of dervish whirling and quarter-staff training, to compensate for his speed-over-strength physique.

Also, fuck did this thing take forever to get out. Basically exposition ala the Arlan dream segemnets, but hopefully I can get into a rhythm of updates once we get plot rolling after this one and avoid updates like this unless you enter new areas with lengthy arcs.

 

What a lovely and interesting character choice, and excellently told by yourself Hashasheen. I was really exited reading this finally. Could you answer some questions for me though?

1) The social group. I know you wish to keep it limited, but I believe you have several further exposition pieces (Ironborn rebellion, Night's Watch, ect) and the character sheet in the group forum. It would also be interesting to see the discussion even though you can't participate in it. To solve this, would you be willing to open it so anyone can view it but only the members can contribute ala that Hogwarts/Harry quest.

2) There wasn't anything regarding the Stark letters/Martell history that was in the note at the top, will this come later or was it forgotten? I doubt it was the later though it is a possibility.

3) There were several mentions of skills learned under the various people throughout, but which weren't chosen. Am I right in assuming that they gave bonuses and the further options made them better? Example, going to Norvos probably improved our languages and philosophy, Oberyn taught us the basics of the spear style, horse riding, ect.

Anyway, as I said at the beginning it was really fun to read and I hope you continue.

 

1) Problematically, certain things related to ADOTN may be mentioned by members of my preview group who will be playing ASOSS, so that's a no.
2) They will be background information for Jon to rely upon going forward as well as basis for existing relationships.
3) Yes.

On another note, I'm still working on the next update. I'm just having immense trouble doing Doran and Oberyn justice and doing the set up into their stuff with Jon properly without anyone raising any eyebrow at it.

As a teaser to keep things going (and because it'll be mentioned in time), the Ashara/Elia piece was going to lead to a revelation that word came from the Night's Watch stating that Gregor Clegane had been badly wounded in a Great Ranging beyond the Wall, being one of a few survivors to make it back to safety. Ashara and Elia are planning on head to the Wall to see to him (regardless of the long travel), and if dead to bury him. If alive, to make sure he returns to good health and to give support to the Night's Watch as well.