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Hello and welcome all to "A Song of Blood and Storms"; a pre-generated Song of Ice and Fire Quest set in the Stormlands just prior to the events that lead up to Roberts Rebellion.

You are Manfryd Storm, bastard son of House Larkyn of Oakmoss. Whilst you were acknowledged by your father, Lord Markus, at the age of three you were sent away to the Weeping Town and given to a scribe as an apprentice. You were happy with your lot in life, realistic enough to have no aspirations of glory or grandeur, and yet there are many who detest you. The common folk look at you with envious eyes, jealous of your name and privilege, whilst many highborn turn down their noses at you for the audacity of being baseborn.

Now you have been summoned, by letter and armed guard, to Oakmoss herself. To what ends you're unsure, but in the viscous game of westerosi politics, you are little better than a pawn to be moved at will by your betters, and you shall have to navigate treachery, deceit and bloodshed if you are to survive.

And now your story continues…

Twitter: https://twitter.com/BloodStormGm
Out of Strife Prosperity: https://img.4plebs.org/boards/tg/image/1423/13/1423135781079.pdf
Master Sheet: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1uBXHhwD2t8y_FQsCztlzOiBX8Po3IphK/view?usp=sharing
Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=ASoIaF%2C+Larkyn%2C+Manfryd
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Light was peering in through the window in your fathers solar, as you gazed outside to see the endless sea of green that was the rainwood. He had summoned you early that morning, and now you found yourself breaking your fast alongside him on fresh bread and butter, bacon and hard-boiled eggs. As you were salting an egg, you could feel your fathers gaze on you. You looked up and met his stare, as your storm grey eyes lock with his own, mismatched as they were with his damaged eye, scar white and his good eye a brown that was closer to black. His long, coal black hair was normally tied back, but it currently hung loose about his shoulders, which he runs his fingers through before rapping them on the ebony table, clearly deep in thought. He eventually breaks the silence, and his sonorous voice fills the room.

“I will be holding court today Manfryd. You will attend, and I shall give you your first lesson of how to rule.

He sighs before continuing…” Your efforts in dealing with the smallfolk have been diligent, but you need to remember that you no longer are one of them.”

His brow furrows as his speaks, and his austere and noble features are lined with frustration.

“Perhaps it is my fault, as I’ve neglected to instruct you in the how a lord should conduct himself, but you must come to realize that you do not ask smallfolk, you command them. You are my son, and you must understand that when you speak, it is their duty to listen, and obey. If that overseer continues to resist you, I will remedy the situation myself, by one way or another. It is important that the smallfolk should have a healthy fear for you, as a small child fears his father’s wrath, just as they seek his protection from the things that threaten them”

You begin to speak to remind your father that you were not a lord, only a lord’s bastard, but he senses your words and cuts you off.

“Do not argue with me boy. You are my heir. The only child of my body and I aim to have you legitimized. I shall see you named Larkyn, and one day you will rule Oakmoss. Dress appropriately, and you shall sit by my side and learn how a lord holds his court, and how his subjects should address him. Be in the great hall at midday.”
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Markus leans into the back of his chair, and you rise and descend from the lord’s tower before heading to your chambers. A servant attends you after you select your clothing, a red jerkin and black pants, along with the red stone bat pin Harald had given you the day you arrived. It was taking more than some getting used to being assisted while you dressed, but it was gradually becoming more normal. You pull on your black leather boots by yourself and head to the great hall, thinking it better to arrive early than risk being late and facing your father’s wrath. You walk the long, grey stone halls of Oakmoss quickly, and the immensity of the castle once again reveals itself to you. The tall hallways were lit by torches, and occasionally a window allowing a cloudy light to shine through, and the veritable maze of halls and rooms still confused you on occasion, you had begun to get your bearings of the castle. You passed by the kitchens, and through an antechamber, across a small courtyard and into a narrow chamber, which eventually leads to a side door of the great hall.

You patiently wait in your seat beside your father’s chair, as a crowd begins to fill the chamber. There was a mix of people all seeking your father’s attention and when he finally arrived and was seated, the herald, who was also the singer, Loken, you noticed, called forth Ser Vance Halsing as the first order of business. The knight strikes an impressive feature, a man nearing the end of his prime, but had yet to lose a step. His forest green eyes shone brightly against the black of his tunic as he strode to the bottom of the dais that your fathers seat sat upon.

“Cousin, I come once more to beseech your aid, and request permission to take back the Deadwood Tower from the accursed Staedmons. My blood boils at the thought of those bastards residing in my fathers tower.”

You gaze about the room, and by the reactions of those in attendance, gather that this was a common occurrence in the court of Oakmoss. Your father rolls his eyes in an almost contemptuous manner before responding in turn.

“You ask this of me again, and yet have you done as you were bid? You stand before me, unmarried and friendless amongst our neighbouring knights and lords. Should we take the tower are we to let it sit empty as soon as you pass away without an heir? See to it that you find a wife Ser Vance. Than perhaps we may talk of war.
He than dismisses the knight before signalling to the herald to bring forth the next case. Next up is a case of a man and his two sings, who have brought forth a man tied and gagged, claiming him to be a rapist of the man’s daughter. Markus asks for the evidence and concludes that said trial will be postponed as to when the man’s daughter can be brought before him. The alleged rapist is dragged away to the dungeons, his muffled yelling drowned out by the murmur and whispers of the court. He dismisses the men without another word. A shoddily armoured man follows the rape case, and turns into a hedge knight offering his sword, as he’d heard the Lord of Oakmoss was a martial man, and always willing to take on skilled men at arms. Your father simply states that if he can stand before Ser Karson Shep, the castles grizzled Master at Arms, that he would have a place here, and welcomes Ser Balder Blacktree to Oakmoss with a pinch of salt over a piece of bread, and a cup of wine.

Another man approaches the dais, a trader by the looks of him, though one who has been worse for wear. He tells a tale of banditry and raiding, that he barely escaped with his life travelling the rainroad. He wares taken, his wagon burned, horse stolen, and guard killed. Your father eyes him before asking where this happened and when the man responds, informs him that the bandits that had been residing in his land had been rooted out and destroyed nearly a month ago. The man shakes his head and looks at the ground, before stating that he had been attacked not three days ago, near the border where Larkyn lands bordered with the Herstons. This sends a clamour through the small crowd, particularly with the guards, and Ser Greyson’s face gets a hungry, determined look on it. He hungered for a chance for glory and to do battle after he had missed the last one due to his poisoning. Your father offers the man a place to stay in the castle for a fortnight, to gather more information and details about the attack. He also promises that no bandits shall be permitted to exist upon his lands. This last sentence he says while he looks upon the crowd.
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Lastly, a septon comes forth before the crowd, a begging brother by the looks of it. His feet are blackened and bare, and his roughspun brown robes are patched and coarse; a leather thong and small bowl hang from his neck. He approaches the dais, and as he gets closer you can see scars and cuts mar his head from shaving his hair to the scalp, although his beard is a wild and shaggy thing. Perhaps the most striking thing about the man is the seven pointed star that is scarred into his forehead. When he speaks, he speaks clearly, in a highborn voice.

“My lord Larkyn, my name is Grigorious, and I come before you to seek your blessing to spread the word of the faith amongst your smallfolk. I have been set upon a penance by the High Septon himself to travel the lands as a begging brother, and to seek to offer those in need of guidance and spiritual practice succor. I’ve travelled through your lands and seen upheaval and disorder in them. I’ve performed 2 marriages and 6 funerals in as many days, and there is more to be done, but I’ve heard rumors from the peasantry that men of the faith are not well received here and that I should seek the lord’s permission. And so here I am.”

The mans eyes shine with intense faith, and his voice does not waiver as he addresses the sinister lord that sits before him. A pall falls over the great hall, as the light itself pouring in from the windows seems to fade, and as you look to your father his brow furrows, as he is clearly not used to being spoken to in such a manner, before he responds in kind.

“You…are welcome to do your work in my lands, Septon. But know this, you will find no welcome in Oakmoss. You may go about my lands with my blessing, but not my patronage, but the castle herself belongs to older gods.”

You suddenly think back to your first time in the castles godswood, and the sudden chill and feeling of a presence there. But such matters are soon cast a side as you consider the gravity of the words your father chose. Ominous, and in a land less remote than the rainwood potentially dangerous, but the forest swallowed rumours like it did men, and lords in westeros were allowed the eccentricities. The septon seems unperturbed by the threat, and simply bows his head solemnly, thanking Markus for his blessing before turning and leaving the hall immediately. At a signal from Lord Markus, the herald calls for an end to court, and the crowd disperses back to their duties and tasks, whilst your father soon disappears into a side chamber, one that you had learned led to the godswood. The day was now yours to do with as you would...

> Talk with Ser Vance Halsing regarding war

> Watch Ser Balder in the yard

> Investigate the rapist in the dungeon

> Inquire after the trader

> Speak with Septon Grigorious

> Something else? (Write in)

( Two options will be taken)
> Watch Ser Balder in the yard
> Inquire after the trader
Welcome back. Been a while
Should probably write on twitter that quest is up
Thanks, It's been to long. Unfortunately, with the start of winter it means my job gets far busier than it does in the summer, so until about May I'll probably only be able to run once a month. Anyhow, I'll start writing and hopefully some more people join in.
>> Investigate the rapist in the dungeon
You decide to head to the yard to watch the hedge knight spar in the yard. Martial matters had taken a priority in your life recently, and you tried to observe as many men fighting as possible. Your father had told you that by watching men fight, you could learn to see patterns emerge, and that was the first step to defeating someone.

The clouds had rolled in and a few isolated drops of rain tapped on the stone walkway as you made your way down. You make it just in time to observe the beginning of the first spar. The cantankerous master of arms has Ser Balder up against a common guard. The hedge knight fights in a conservative fashion, using a large shield bedecked with a black tree that was his namesake to absorb his opponents blows, while waiting for them to tire before lashing out in return with quick precise cuts of his longsword. It doesn’t take long before the guard is bleeding from above his eye and a cut below his arm. Ser Karson calls and end to it, before summoning Ser Greyson to suit up. A short while later he emerges out of the armory in his half plate, and his orange tabard standing out against the monotones of the castle, mud and rain.

The two knights take up their positions across from one another, both with shields raised high. It looked set to be a defensive fight, and yet Ser Greyson came as soon as Ser Karson gave the signal to begin. He cut and slashed with a ferocity you’d never seen from the young knight before. The hedge knight was ready however, and his thick oaken shield met all of Greysons blows. Greyson wore no helm and youd could see both exertion and frustration on his face. He spun, the slippery ground making such a move all the easier, before trying to charge using his shield as a battering ram. Once again however, the hedge knight was ready. A life of travelling and fighting on the road made a man strong, and he stood as a bulwark against the charge. Ser Greysons momentum ricocheted off of the man and carried him into the mud, and he slid before cursing as he rose, spitting forth a mouthful of the wet soil.

Now it was the Ser Balders turn. He pressed a cautious attack, attacking high and forcing Ser Greyson to raise his shield in an obvious effort to tire him. What was as equally obvious was the fact that the tactic was working. Ser Greysons shield was raising slightly lower every time he blocked an incoming strike. After a few minutes of this, the hedge knight feints high, before swinging low to a knee and you can hear the force of the blow and see Ser Greyson stagger. The hedge knight presses his advantage bring his sword high to bring down an end to the spar, and that was when Ser Greyson struck.
He dropped his sword in the mud, before grasping his opponent’s ankle and standing as forcefully as he could. As he did so, Ser Balder lost his balance and toppled into the mud himself and dropped his sword in the process. As quick as a snake, Ser Greyson had pulled a dagger from his waist and placed it under the hedge knights chin, to which he promptly yields and admits defeat. As the young knights stands, you could swear he momentarily made eye contact with you, before raising his hands high and cheering with the few members of his Grey Guard that still remained with him in Oakmoss, waiting to escort him back to the lumber town.

Ser Karson barked at him to keep his celebrating down, or else he’d have to have one of his men chew his food for him before he could eat it, but you could see Ser Karson walking towards the stairs that led up to the castle proper, most likely to report to your father on the hedge knights prowess. You quickly slip ahead of him to avoid his gaze and head back into the castle. You’d be sure to speak with the hedge knight during dinner in order to pick his technique and talk warrior to warrior, but for now you decided to…

One more option please.
> Inquire after the trader
Rolled 1 (1d6)

I figured it'd be a slow start today, so I'm going to go grab some food and I'll be back in a bit.

I'll roll right now in case there isn't any interest so I can move the story along. (The two extra are because of the two votes we have already)

> 1.Talk with Ser Vance Halsing regarding war

> 2. Investigate the rapist in the dungeon

> 3. Inquire after the trader

> 4. Speak with Septon Grigorious

> 5. Inquire after the trader

> 6. Investigate the rapist in the dungeon
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As you walked back to the castle, the report of a bandit attack weighed heavy on your mind. Seeing as you’d recently been attacked by a large force of bandits in the Lumber Town, where you led the Grey Guard and the townsfolk to victory, the fact that this man claimed to have been waylaid by such a group so openly was troubling.
You press on and find a servant, who informs you that the trader has been given a room just off of the main hall. You walk through the long, low lit halls of Oakmoss before coming to the man’s room. You knock politely before entering, and find him kneeling in confession before the septon who’d also arrived at the castle today. As you begin to edge back out of the room, the septon speaks to you as the confession comes to an end.

“No need to leave my Lord, we’ve just finished and I’m sure you’ve pressing business to attend too.”

The priest exits the room, but not before offering to take your own confession before he leaves to which you reply that perhaps you would find him before he left the castle. The man leaves with a nod and a blessing before leaving you with the trader.

The man was middle aged, with common brown eyes and hair, but when he smiled you noticed the glint of a gold tooth in his smile, which spoke of his success as a merchant. You introduce yourself as Manfryd Storm, and his eyes betray a small amount of distaste, but he attempts to be polite and hides it as best he can. He introduces himself as Dale, and tells you that he was from the crownlands to the north, and had taken a ship from Kings Landing with his wares, wagon and men to the Weeping Town, and they were heading to the Dornish Marches to peddle his wares. You inquire in more detail after the bandits, and the man has a distant look in his eyes. You pry further and he breaks down. The traumatic experience had taken it’s toll on the man, but he manages to describe the bandits in further detail.

“They was at least two score. Mostly bowmen M’lord, and they was mostly in leathers ‘n’ the like. Their leader had a sword though. Good steel too. He talked kinda funny too, from across the sea I’d reckon.”

You scratch your chin as you think thoughtfully…

> Any questions for Dale the Trader???
The look of the leader ?

Where exactly where the ambush ?

What goods do you normally peddle?

What did they take ?
Yeah this
Well, I think I'll try and pick this up tomorrow. I figured it'd be slow, but not quite this slow.

Thanks for playing though!!
Ask him where he stayed in Weeping Town, if he recalls conversing with anyone before leaving and which ship he arrived on. Manfryd is from the area, but Dale doesn’t need to that know. Plus we can go back home to check if he’s lying and try to recruit some old buddys.
Welcome back !

After this we should get back to training, maybe a bit of exploration, reading other books ? Or trying to help the management of the lands with Harold (especially for the creation of the small port city, since it will need to be planned out and have a project for building it* [like 50 stone houses, an Inn, a new smith, a dozen of piers, a barrack, a small market, 2/3 warehouse for our future stocks of wood to sell&send, a stone wall with some towers, a stone lighthouse and maybe a small chapel of the seven; too much for the start of a small port city ? we probably need to think of how many people live in that village. ) ?
Or a training session with Greyson and the new knight ?
*unless when there was that first council we did already give a project, well we have at least the exact location and already controlled it.
You furrow your brow and stare at the man with purpose as you keep trying to wring more details out of him.

"You said the leader had a sword correct? Did you happen to see what he looked like? If he had a beard, or any other distinguishing traits?"

He steadies himself with a long drink from a cup of wine before he continues.

"He was short. Real short actually, and he had a black mustache. That and he talked funny, but I dunno what kinda accent he had. Can't say I saw more'n that from where I was hiding."

"Do you know where this all took place exactly?" you inquire.

Well, we'd past the watch tower with the cock banner flying above it about 2 hours or so before we was attacked, and than they took both me wagons back up the road the way I came"

"What exactly were these wagons of yours carrying? What do you normally peddle, trader?"

The man produces a ledger drawn from inside the sleeve of his tunic which you turn your attention to. It seemed the man was carrying the usual fare of wine, grains and cloth, but as you come to the bottom of the list your eyes widen as you read the last line of his ledger...
"You said these bandits were mostly bowmen correct" you state plainly, to which he nods his head.

"And now they are in possession of an entire units worth of ash longbows?"

The trader puts his head in his hands and says nothing for a moment, before gaining his composure.

"Cost me a bloody fortune to get those bloody things. I'd figured maybe one of them Marcher Lords'd be interested in acquiring some quality bows seeing as there ain't to many trees up in the mountains."

You let out a sigh of frustration. There were now supposedly a band of bandits, running around the rainwood armed with quality long bows.

You begin to rise but before you leave you ask about the mans stay in the Weeping Town, hoping to hear a word of news there, or perhaps even of your old friends. When he mentions that he'd stayed at the Drunken Dornishman, you get a queer feeling in your gut.That had been the inn where the many of the corrupt guards operated out of, where bribes were taken and smugglers met and operated.

"The Dornishman? Seems like a rather dangerous place for an honest man"

Dale looks at his feet for a heartbeat, before insisting that his guard were more than up to the task, and seeing as the Dornishman was the closest inn to the docks, that it only made sense that they stayed there.

Roll 5D6 for knowledge please (4D6 Knowledge + 1B for Streetwise)

If successful, how do you react...

> Be aggressive

> Play it cool
Rolled 1, 4, 1, 6, 2 = 14 (5d6)

>Keep your cool
Rolled 1, 5, 6, 2, 3 = 17 (5d6)


> Play it cool
Rolled 2, 5, 2, 5, 2 = 16 (5d6)

> Be aggressive
Knowledge Test Results

Rolled: 17(16) vs DC:9

2 degrees of Success

The man was lying you knew. Anyone who'd spent a deal of time in the weeping town could tell you that the Loon was the inn closest to the docks. A fact you knew down to your bones as that was the inn you'd frequented whilst living there, brawling, drinking and dicing many of your nights away with sailors who were docked there.

If he'd chosen to do business through the Dornishman, there was something he was hiding, or rather smuggling most likely. All sorts of illicit substances and goods made there way through there, as it was the way most of said goods made it into the Stormlands.

You decide not to press the man however, to keep your cards close to your chest. Perhaps you could catch the man drunk while he was staying at the castle, or even better yet, find and root out the bandits and find whatever goods he was most likely smuggling through your fathers lands, provided the bandits hadn't found it and either used, consumed or sold them them.

You leave the man to his own company and stroll through the door. As you walk down the hallway you can see the rain has come down in earnest, and you quicken your stride as you pressed on to...

> The library ( Try to improve knowledge, and speak with Harold)

> Explore ( If so, where?)

> Find your father (And inform him of what you learned)
> The library ( Try to improve knowledge, and speak with Harold)
>This is ribrary
The library. Many small folk were moving near to the coast as the maple grove was beginning to be tapped, and the , and it was your goal to ensure that this burgeoning village would be organized and structured. And whilst your father had stubbornly resisted the building of the port, citing the cost as his primary reason, you planned on the village and port eventually becoming a single entity. But to achieve this goal, you would need help, and the man to do it was Harold Whitehead.

You stopped by his chambers and found him diligently writing down numbers, as his fingers flit at an abacus.

"Manfryd! Come in my boy, come in. Perhaps you could lend me a hand, I'm nearly finished totally up this months numbers, and it appears that we've not reached our quota of timber, nor lumber. Too be honest, I'm a little hesitant to bring these numbers to your father at the monthly council meeting."

You assure him that they were simply growing pains, as many of the local lumberjacks were moving their families and building new homes, and the inn may present a problem for a while, the overseer would eventually have to move or starve.

"Harold, speaking of the new village, would you care to join me in the library? I've a mind to begin planning it out, instead of just building as it expands. A well organized town, with wide streets and simple lay out will serve us far better once I can convince my father to finally allow us to build a port."

The steward looks at you with wide eyes, before nodding and putting away his abacus and gathering quill, ink and parchment. The two of you head to the library, and you talk of things you will eventually need to plan for.
"Well, for a certainty, the town will need a smith, an inn and a square for merchants to trade and exchange their goods, along with warehouses and dry docks for storage. The Grey Guard will need a barracks, and perhaps even a sept? All of this will need to be protected by a wall. Is there a reliable source of stone we could perhaps trade for Harold? I know we've an abundant source of lumber, but wood rots. I would see the town built with cobblestone streets, and a stout wall of rock to protect it."

The old steward scratches his beard thoughtfully, before a light comes to his eyes.

"We currently do trade with the Swanns, exchanging wood for iron, which we use to fashion weapons and armor for your fathers military. They also have a considerable quarry operation however, and I'm sure they could be persuaded to expand trade. Their Lord Giles Swann has an eye for trade and profit, and they may even be an option to get your syrup to market. Well worth considering...although there is one minor problem..."

He trails off the last sentence quietly and when you ask what that might be he gives you a look you've seen many a time.

"The Swanns are old and proud Manfryd. I highly doubt Lord Giles will be of a mind to negotiate with a bastard, even one in a position such as yourself. He is quite a haughty man, and puts much stock in propriety."

You run your fingers through your thick brown hair in annoyance.

"Perhaps a ruse than? We could travel there together, with me masquerading as your apprentice. My name need not come into the picture, and if we manage, Lord Swann will be none the wiser. We may even be able to do so at Crows Nest if the man attends."

Harold looks perturbed, but he grudgingly agrees to consider it when the time comes, but tells you to not engage Lord Swann alone, as he will not be travelling for the tourney due to his duties in Oakmoss.

The two of you proceed to pour over numerous tomes over the course of the next few hours, searching for any books or scrolls that pertain to architecture, construction and trade.

Roll 4d6 for research please.
Rolled 1, 2, 2, 2 = 7 (4d6)

Rolled 3, 5, 3, 1 = 12 (4d6)

Rolled 4, 3, 2, 2 = 11 (4d6)

Research Test Results

Rolled: 12 vs DC: 12

One Degree of Success

As you sort through the seemingly endless scrolls and tomes you find a few books that pertain to economics and construction, but they are few and far between. You glance at a scroll detailing grain incomes, before grabbing a new book off of the shelves, one that appears to be ancient and unread. Near the bottom of the spine is an eerie "M", and when you open the book the ink appears as a dull, rusty brown, and the account details the topography and landscape of some hill or mountain. You put the book aside and delve back into the search.

Harold has better luck than you however, and soon comes back with a book that describes the ways to cut and shape stone, along with the properties of several types.

The candles burn low as the two of you continue to work into the night, cataloging and categorizing the information as you go on, and when a servant hesitantly creeps into the old tower to inform you that dinner has begun, there is a small dent in the first floors shelves.

You pinch the last candle wick with a satisfying sizzle, and the two of you leave your work where it lies, informing the servant to ensure nobody disturbs the tower. Small chance of that you could swear you heard him murmur under his breath.

As the two of you enter the great hall, there is a fair size crowd feasting, mostly soldiers and some servants who weren't currently working. You notice the hedge knight from earlier, along with the trader seated on a bench near the high table. You take your seat at said high table, seated next to your father, on his right hand. As you sit down, he barely acknowledges you, clearly still fuming from holding court earlier in the day, and you tuck into the second course, having missed the first, and enjoy a light cold soup of fish, which has been seasoned with mint.
And with that, I have to disappear for a little bit as I've got some errands to run. I'll be back in a few hours to continue if anyone is still here. Cheers
We should find that "M" book again and read through it more thoroughly
M for Monty, Monty Burns!
The mood at the high table is tight. You can feel the tension spreading from your father onto Lady Helena, and from her to Ser Gregory, the castles castellan, and Ser Vance Halsing. From the benches below though comes a soft murmur, which eventually grows into a dull ruckus from ample wine, beer and ale consumption. You can see Ser Greyson looks especially drunk as he stands on the bench, jesting with the hedge knight he’d beaten earlier in the day, yelling something about how he could use a sergeant for his men. The escapades of drunk men seem much more appealing than the rigid high table, so you quietly excuse yourself before descending to make merry with people who were closer to your true station. You find an empty seat next to a soldier and the trader Dale sits a few spaces down, who is regaling the soldiers with news of the crownlands, and in particular, Kings Landing.

“Rumour ‘as it that there’s been bandit trouble brewin’ in th’kings wood. Worse’n the problems you lot got here. There’s apparently a band ‘o’ bandit knights who go by the name “The Kingswood Brotherhood’ and they’ve been givin’ the kings toll men and tax collecters a right thrashin’. Gold cloaks been sent into the woods and ain’t come out with nothing but empty hands, and if the rumors are true, a few ain’t come back at all…”

He slurs his words as he shakes his empty mug at a passing serving girl, who promptly tops up his mug to the brim with a dark beer. He continues with vigor, clearly enjoying the attention.

“I heard from me brother in law, who heard it from a gold cloak himself, that a few ‘o’ them missin’ gold cloaks have turned the cloaks to join the brotherhood. Word has it that Aerys ‘imself has said that if he catches any ‘o’ them, he’s gunna burn ‘em. Them pyromancers ‘o’ his been brewin’ wildfire by the wagonful, and believe you me, Aerys is gunna bankrupt himself, payin’ for all that. Right expensive that stuff is.”

The drunk man continues on, before long he’s telling the men of his plight and promising them a silver piece apiece, after he’d sold his misplaced wares of course, if they can help him get them back. The men simply tell him if their lord orders them to flush them out, they will, but they won’t risk their own necks and head into Herston land to go looking for bandits without their lord’s explicit permission. A wise move, especially considering your fathers current mood.
Ser Balder makes his way over to your bench, clearly not enjoying the goading he’d been receiving from Ser Greyson. He sits heavily down in his mail, and strikes up a conversation with you, inquiring after your experience leading the Grey Guard, having heard that it was you, not Ser Greyson who’d led them to a victory over a force of bandits. He regards you through common eyes, clearly impressed, before telling the soldier next to you asks where he’s fought and what lords he’s served.

The hedge knight explains he was originally the son of a bastard of a small knightly house in the river lands, and his father knighted him and taught him everything he knew. He’d found employ amongst the quarrelling river lords for a time, before heading to the reach to try and find permanent employment. It was his misfortune to find that many reach lords looked down on hedge knights, viewing most of them as untrustworthy vagabonds. He than made his way through the Dornish marches, but was turned away by the Lords Caron, Dondarrion and Swann in turn. After that, he made his way into the rainwood, and found his way here. He also explains that he’s heard rumours of bandits infesting the rainwood, and that was a large part in why he came. He figured that he’d be able to find work fighting off the scum, and in particular, the rain road has had rumours of more than a few bandit groups.

Perhaps there was something more to what the trader, Dale, had been mentioning to you earlier. This had begun to sound like a pandemic, with all the rumours you’d heard over the course of the day, with bandits infesting both the rainwood and the kingswood. Perhaps it would be worth sending out Owljack and his guerillas into neighbouring lands, in an attempt to at least locate a fort or camp. Perhaps the prospect of battle would bring your father out of his mood. But you decide to pull out of the merriment and head off to your chambers. You’d discussed travelling to the site of your new village with Harold, and he thought it best for you to at least give the smallfolk a hand in planning out the design and layout of their new home. Infrastructure would be key he said, with easy access to the where the port will be.
As you close your eyes, you dream of a large town, all made of stone and timber, with clean orderly streets and a busy dock, ships berthed there and men from all over the seven kingdoms haggling. You walk along the cobblestone sidewalks and buy a fresh meat pie from a cart, relishing the fresh, flaky pastry, before heading into the heart of the town. You pass a smith next to the barracks, and Ser Greyson hails you as he drills his men in their training yard. Soon you find yourself heading into the sept at the centre of town, a beautiful seven-sided building made of pure white stone, with leaded glass in the tower depicting the aspects of the seven. As you open the doors, the building falls away to rubble, and in the heart of the ruined foundation, stands an ancient weirwood tree, with it’s angry face seemingly screaming its rage at you. Its mouth begins to move in a grotesque, unnatural manner and you can hear its ancient voice that sounds like the wind rustling through the trees. The tree begins to shake and its branches rustle and creak. It almost seems to uproot itself before a rainbow of light cascades down from the sky, and you snap forth in a cold sweat as you awake from your dream. You try to fall back asleep but when you finally do it’s restless and filled with images of faith.

Alright I'm off for the day, but we'll finish up quest #3 tomorrow by heading over to the village and maybe trying to find a solution to our lumber mill problem.

>bands of bandits infesting the rainwood.

that sound bad, for all our projects.

and a religious dream.

Thye life of Manfryd is really change.

-- -- -- - - - - -

for the name of the new town, it s the better if we wait or think about already ?
Something like Larkyn Harbor could do ? Or perhaps another name ?
Thanks for the run.

Wood Needed Milord.
Good to see ya running again, Rex!

I say we speak with Septon Grigorious next, if he’s been traveling nearly as much as he claims, he might’ve heard of a few leads or seen potential hotspots of discontent.

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