You stand silently for a moment before taking a step back so your youngest sister's eyes are on your eldest.

The tall, long-haired and proper-looking woman shoots you a look before taking little Shera off of your dumbest brother's shoulders.

"No, he's there feasting with grandfather and mother, telling them all about us and what's happened since they passed."

Shera buries her head in Gremma's chest and sobs as your second-born sister punches your muscle-head brother.

Muffled laughter snickers someways behind you.

Turning your head away from your siblings and the low-tide beach, you glance back at your youngest brother, Qhorwyn.

"Is everything set?"

The youngest Saltlciffe man nods.

"Daegon, you put me, Mhaegon, and Frenya on preparations: of course everything is in place."

You furrow your brow.

"Then tell me where Daemon is, he should be here for when the tide comes to take our father away; you should all be here."

Qhorwyn frowns.

"Daemon is with Maester Ryan and our father wasn't exactly kind to the rest of us, brother."

Relaxing, you uncrease your forehead.

He wasn't nice to anyone and you have more personal reason to not be here than them but you have to as the new lord of your house: it's not like the old man was going to drown his own corpse.

>[ ] "We're Ironborn, kindness is for the greenlanders and it will get you killed here. You've spent too much time with Maester Ryan."
>[ ] "Try not to say that when all of the old man's friends arrive: they'll laugh at you for the whinging shit you talk like."
>[ ] "As his children, it's our duty, Qhorwyn. You don't have to like it."
>[ ] "The man tried to disinherit me, how do you think I feel?"
>[ ] "What is Daemon speaking with Ryan about?"
>[ ] "Are they talking about Essos again?"
>[ ] "Lord, I'm the head of the house now."
>[ ] "Then why exactly are you here?"
>[ ] "Go bring them."
>[ ] Write In.

>>3576917
>>[ ] "We're Ironborn, kindness is for the greenlanders and it will get you killed here. You've spent too much time with Maester Ryan."

>[ ] "We're Ironborn, kindness is for the greenlanders and it will get you killed here. You've spent too much time with Maester Ryan."

More GoT HYPE!!!

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "We're Ironborn, kindness is for the greenlanders and it will get you killed here. You've spent too much time with Maester Ryan."

Qhorwyn's increasing Greenlander sentiment needs to be curbed before it becomes a problem. His attitude will get him in trouble with the lowborn as well as the other nobles, which means you'll be in conflict with them. You're perfectly willing to kill anyone for one of your siblings, but you'd prefer not to get water on your deck and someone on your ass.

"We're Ironborn, kindness is for the greenlanders and it will get you killed here. You've spent too much time with Maester Ryan."

The lad crosses his arms.

"And you haven't? He raised you beside mother when father was away."

You scoff.

Ryan did used to fill in the role your father and lord should have taken but he never really was one. The old maester was assigned to your family by the citadel after your father sent for one. Apparently, he once raided a Volantene ship that had important trading records stored in it, and, incapable of making sense of them, asked for someone who can. Maester Ryan ended up being that someone with several gold links in his chain, two black iron, a few silver, and somme others likely to ensure your father wouldn't just kill him afterward for being of no further use.

"And I didn't pick up any of his Greenlander personality. Some people might like it but a lot of others will see at as weakness, especially here. When Uncle Dunstan and father's friends arrive, keep your kindness and appreciation for Ryan's to yourself."

The youngest Saltcliffe man uncrosses his arms and sighs.

"I know how to handle myself, I don't need any of you to remind me."

Nodding, you glance back at your elder sister holding your crying youngest and your giant brother rubbing his bruising face.

This is your family now and you have to lead all of them even if they don't want you to.

>[ ] "You shouldn't brood, it gives the kind of man you are away."
>[ ] "Ragner. Lyssa. Do either of you know what Daemon's up to?"
>[ ] "Gremma, have you kept your eyes on Daemon as of late?"
>[ ] "What is Daemon speaking with Ryan about?"
>[ ] "Stay here while I go fetch the rest."
>[ ] "Come, let's go get our siblings."
>[ ] "Go bring the rest, Qhorwyn."
>[ ] "Do you hate me?"
>[ ] Write In.

>>3577067
>[ ] "Come, let's go get our siblings."

>[ ] "You shouldn't brood, it gives the kind of man you are away."

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "You shouldn't brood, it gives the kind of man you are away."
>[X] "Come, let's go get our siblings."

While you could order him to go fetch them on his lonesome being the lord of the house, it would just breed more resentment, if he has any towards you. It's best you get your information about Daemon from the man himself or Ryan. You can already guess what he's going to do, however.

"You shouldn't brood, it gives the kind of man you are away."

Qhorwyn sits himself down with a huff.

"And what kind of man is that?"

You stare blankly at your youngest brother.

"A man who cares about stupid things he shouldn't give a single shit about."

The young lad averts his gaze.

Laughing, you walk up to the growing boy and ruffle his hair.

"Come, let's go get our siblings."

Qhorwyn lets out another sigh before standing himself up and following your lead.

Both of you walk from the stony shore into the meager village your family castle overlooks. Men, women, and children nod their heads in greeting as you pass them on your way. The Greenlanders make all sorts of gaudy gestures of submission when simple acknowledgment is more than enough.

When you reach the castle, the garrisoned men open the portcullis for their rightful lord to enter.

You and Qhorwyn walk through your modest courtyard into the castle hall proper.

Seated in the middle of the hall's long dining table opposite to one another are your beautiful young sisters Mhaegon and Frenya, black-haired and dark-eyed as are all the members of your family.

They turn to you and fix their eyes on their favorite brother out of the four of you.

While Qhorwyn gets a lot of his Greenlander sentiment from Maester Ryan, you're pretty sure your younger sisters' tastes for diplomacy and trade, in contrast to your older sisters, are where we gets his fish-out-of-water attitude from.

>[ ] "What are you two gossiping about this time? Did the fat lion wed one of his children to a Frey again?"
>[ ] "I see the three of you have fixed up the hall. How many servants did it take?"
>[ ] "So this is what the hall looks like when someone bothers to arrange it."
>[ ] "Has Daemon been saying or doing anything strange lately?"
>[ ] Go to Maester Ryan's room, you need to know for sure what Daemon's up to.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3577192
>>[ ] "So this is what the hall looks like when someone bothers to arrange it."

>>3577192
>[ ] "So this is what the hall looks like when someone bothers to arrange it."
>[ ] Go to Maester Ryan's room, you need to know for sure what Daemon's up to.

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "So this is what the hall looks like when someone bothers to arrange it."
>[X] Go to Maester Ryan's room, you need to know for sure what Daemon's up to.

>(1/2)

Your father never had a reason to clean up this hall. Whatever celebrations he had with his men took place on their ships or in the village for everyone to see and join. The funeral celebration could be held in the village but the Lord Paramount of the Iron Isles himself might show. He could take a village party as an insult of sorts.

"So this is what the hall looks like when someone bothers to arrange it."

Frenya rises from her seat, spreads out her arms, and spins around.

"Isn't it amazing!" The girl stops and folds her hands together by her face. "Just like the Greenland castles. It just needs lords, ladies, and gallant knights in place of iron-clad reavers."

Shaking your head, you shoot your second-youngest sister a look.

"You've been reading too many books."

Frenya plops back down on her wooden chair and pouts.

"Better than reaving, raping, and watching the waves come and go."

You and Mhaegon laugh at your romantic sister.

>(2/2)

She is definitely where Qhorwyn gets his attitude from. Mhaegon is sympathetic but more accepting of the reality: while Frenya stears more towards diplomacy, Mhaegon is all about written in stone arrangements and hard facts. It's why she helps whenever Maester Ryan goes over taxes and reports. Now that your father's dead, it might be worth having her as a steward on a full council; the old man never bothered keeping an official one.

Focusing back on matters at hand, you make your way from the hall's entrance to Maester Ryan's room on the second floor.

The moment your hand touches the door handle, it opens to reveal your ever bored brother.

Both of you stare at each other in silence.

The second-born was rowing at five and reaving at ten while you did the same three years older than he was. He killed some feared pirate captain in a ship raid when he was twelve and some mercenary knight on a Myrish patrol ship when he was thirteen. By the time he was fifteen, he had been to Lorath and seen the monsters of Mantarys.

Your father tried disinheriting you once years ago so Daemon would be his heir. In comparison to him, you were okay if not barely passable. Daemon threatened to sail to Essos and never return when he heard you were no longer heir to Saltcliffe. Ruling over some nearly barren rock sounded like a death sentence to him. In response, your father forbade him from ever sailing again so long as he lived and threatened to drown anyone who dared take him, even Ragner and Lyssa. You were heir to Saltcliffe again but Daemon was trapped here until you'd inherit, which you finally have.

He already knows all the thoughts and questions you have in mind: he man's is far sharper than yours and Maeter Ryan's. You only really came here as a formality. After this, you don't know when you'll ever see him again.

>[ ] "Don't be surprised if I disown you and name you a traitor if the King ever asks me to answer for your reaving."
>[ ] "I need you here, Daemon. You can reave and rape as much as you want but I'm going to need you."
>[ ] "At least show Qhorwyn how to fight before you go, lad needs all the help he can get."
>[ ] "When another Kingsmoot is held, will you come to be my champion if I send word?"
>[ ] "...I'm going with you."
>[ ] Pass by him into Ryan's room, nothing needs to be said.
>[ ] Embrace him, he is your brother.
>[ ] Wave farewell, it's appropriate.
>[ ] Write In.

Hey QM, could you give us a list of our family and their respective ages relative to us? Also, do we have a character sheet? Just want to know who's who and what's what before we decide about reaving

>>3577387
>>[ ] Embrace him, he is your brother.

>>3577387
>[ ] Embrace him, he is your brother.
>[ ] "If you ever grow tired of reaving and raping. Which I doubt you ever will. Remember that you have home here"

>>3577422
This is just a temporary sheet of the characters. I haven't worked out what kind of system I'm going to use or if I should start from scratch. Definitely not going to do d20 for this quest, though.

First-Born: Daegon Saltcliffe 25 (Master Web weaver, sharp minded, smart and deceitful skilled figheter with a preference for shortswords)
Second-Born: Gremma Saltcliffe 24 (Master Web weaver, sharp minded, smart and deceitful skilled fighter with a preference for daggers)
Third-Born: Daemon Saltcliffe 19 (Master Strategist, Genius, smart formidable fighter with a prefrence for battle-axes and side throwing-axes)
Fourth-Born: Lyssa Saltcliffe 18 (Skilled strategist, smart and deceitful skilled fighter with a preference for throwable hand-axes)
Fifth-Born: Ragner Saltcliffe 18 (Dutiful Commander, dumb, strong, giant, dumb formidable fighter with a preference for long-axes)
Sixth-Born: Mhaegan Saltcliffe 16 (Skilled Steward, sharp minded, smart and deceitful trained fighter with no weapon preference)
Seventh-Born: Frenya Saltcliffe 14 (Skilled diplomat, sharp minded, smart and deceitful untrained fighter)
Eighth-Born: Qhorwyn Saltcliffe 13 (Trained Steward, coward)
Ninth-Born: Shera Saltcliffe 6 (Skilled Web Weaver, sharp minded, smart and deceitful skedaddler)

Formidable fighter is Duncan the Tall, Jaime Lannister, Arthur Dayne, and Barrister Selmy tier. If you've noticed the CK2-ness of the sheets, I am guilty of being a crusaderholic

Also, Lyssa and Ragner are salt children.

>>3577477
That's a lot of siblings
You could try using the SIFRPG system if you're familiar with it from the usual got quests here.
Also what year is it?

>>3577488
255 AC

You know what's coming.

Voting closed; writing now.

>>3577499
Pretty boring. We should raid the fuck out of Essos until the fun comes

>>3577525
That's Daemon's plan, part of it at least. Lot of other stuff is going to happen in the meantime.

>[X] Embrace him, he is your brother.
>[X] "If you ever grow tired of reaving and raping, which I doubt you ever will, remember that you have a home here."

Both of you have never really shown much affection to one another. It's the way of the Ironborn, you hold on to your children when they're still children and let go when they're grown. Brothers can hold one another until their first kill as a man while sisters may do so as they please, being women folk. Embraces are sometimes done in greeting between old friends or stalwart companions but only in greeting. The two of you have never needed to say or declare your fondness for one another. Daemon refusing to be heir of Saltcliffe was all the expression he ever needed.

You open your arms and embrace your first full brother.

The man stiffens in actual surprise for once before folding his own arms around you.

"An enemy could've fit his blade in my back by now."

Laughing, you separate from your brother and pat his shoulder.

"If you ever grow tired of reaving and raping, which I doubt you ever will, remember that you have a home here."

Daemon shrugs.

"The sea is my home but I'll try to remember. I'll be reaving but I don't know about raping, that's more Ragner's trade. Besides, all the salt-wives I've taken have killed themselves."

You nod and frown.

"So have mine and Ragner's. I could've had a son by now if they didn't always break with the raping."

The man groans.

"Can you believe what the old man said about making them love it? It may have worked for Lyssa's mother and Ragner's but Lyssa's was a Lyseni bed slave and Ragner's was a Dothraki; not to mention, the rest he had killed themselves too."

Shaking your head, you furrow your brow.

"I keep forgetting Ragner's part Dothraki; the man's as pale as the rest of us despite being a giant."

Daemon moves out of the doorway to your side.

"We Ironborn are something else if our legends are to be believed."

A familiar, warm croaky voice speaks up.

"The seed is strong."

Both of you glance at the old grey-haired man now behind the door and laugh.

You and every one of your siblings do have black hair and dark eyes. He'd be on to something if most Ironborn didn't have the same features. The occasional dirty blond head pops up from time to time as does brown.

>[ ] "...Out of everyone, you were with my father the most before he died. How did it come to pass? He was too fierce of a reaver to just drop dead one day."
>[ ] "You should be in bed, old man. Sleep is important at your age, isn't it?"
>[ ] "Maester Ryan, what were you talking with Daemon about?"
>[ ] "What was the color of your hair before it went gray?"
>[ ] "Are you coming with us to the burial?"
>[ ] Write In.

>>3577626
>>[ ] "Maester Ryan, what were you talking with Daemon about?"

>>3577626
>[ ] "Are you coming with us to the burial?"

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "Maester Ryan, what were you talking with Daemon about?"
>[X] "Are you coming with us to the burial?"

>(1/2)

You can trust Daemon but you're curious as to what they were talking about. There's a lot of interesting places in Essos to see and raid. Lands lay beyond even the Free Cities and Slaver's Bay, if the tales are true.

"Maester Ryan, what were you talking with Daemon about?"

The old man smiles.

"Old Valyria, Ibben, Asshai, Qarth, and the Golden Empire of Yi TI. I don't know whether he wants to visit them or is just curious about them. Knowing him, it's both."

A hum of agreement crackles in your throat.

"He got as far as Lorath and Mantarys, figures he'd want to know what's past them."

Daemon leans back against the stone parapet.

"I'm right here."

You glance at the masterful warrior and look back to your wise man.

"Are you coming with us to the burial?"

The maester shakily nods, clinking his chain.

"Of course, it'll take me some time to get there however."

You smile back at Ryan.

"We'll see you there, then. Knowing Mhaegon, she'll escort you to the shore and save you the fearful stares the lowborn have for a man who can read."

>(2/2)

Laughing again, the aged man treks behind you as you make your way back down the castle steps, brother and heir in tow.

Qhorwyn, Mhaegon, Frenya, and a lot of familiar faces from your castle guard stand and sit in your lord's hall.

The few men who are sitting stand to attention as they notice you walking down.

Euron, the stone-faced captain of your castle guard and former right hand of your father, steps forward.

"Lord Daegon, me and the rest of your men would like to pay our respects to your father before the Drowned God takes him."

You nod your head in understanding.

"Half of you can, we still need to maintain a garrison."

The experienced reaver nods his head back.

"Our new blood can man the walls while we're seeing Lord Harrag off: they're about a fourth of our number but still experienced men who reaved once or twice with your father."

You hum to yourself.

"I suppose it'll do, we're not at war or expecting any conflict. What my father did to all the thieves would prevent any from thinking they can make off with our gold."

Euron turns to his men and signals them to come along with a simple jerk of his head.

Motioning your siblings to rise, you make your way to the hall's gate.

It takes you and your men about twenty minutes to reach the shore. Mhaegon and Ryan arrive about five minutes after the rest of you do. As your gatherings usually go, Ragner and Lyssa sit down with Euron and the rest of your household men as Frenya, Mhaegon, and Qhorwyn sit down with old Ryan. You sit beside Gremma and a puffy-eyed Shera while Daemon sits alone, distant from the rest of you.

The high-tide is an hour or two away so you have some time to mingle amongst your family and your men.

>[ ] "...Isn't it a little odd how our perfectly healthy father just dropped dead one day?"
>[ ] "Do you think it's time we find ourselves matches? We're not getting any younger."
>[ ] "Is there anyone I should watch out for tomorrow at the celebration?"
>[ ] "How long have you been crying, little snake?"
>[ ] Go to Daemon, you're not letting him go alone this time.
>[ ] Join your fierce siblings with Euron, the man knew your father as much if not more than Ryan did.
>[ ] Walk over to your greenlander loving siblings, they usually have nothing going on but they might this time.
>[ ] Wait for the tide to come in, you're not interested in talking.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3577887
>[ ] "How long have you been crying, little snake?"

Late where I'm at. Will close voting and update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8).

Any thoughts or questions? How are the characters and pacing so far? Is there anywhere I can improve?

What kind of system should I use for?

How many of you know me from my other quest?

>>3577887
>[ ] "Do you think it's time we find ourselves matches? We're not getting any younger."

>>3578039
Some pictures to help visualize the area we are in or around.

>>3577887
>[ ] Join your fierce siblings with Euron, the man knew your father as much if not more than Ryan did.
>[ ] "How long have you been crying, little snake?"
>>3578039
probably some pictures or some element for the game for us to go reaving east.
So far, seems cool

>>3578039
Enjoyed what i've read so far. I think some pictures would be good and maybe a bit more detail around what ruling Saltcliff actually means. do we have a village, do we share the island with another house ect ect?

Voting closed; writing now.

Character sheets updated: https://pastebin.com/sqr7zgwz

3d12 Sound like a good enough system? I'm still undecided.

>>3578880
>3d12 Sound like a good enough system? I'm still undecided.
Sounds good enough

>>3578880
Personally I'm a fan of the d6 system in the ASoIaF roleplay book, but it's your game and your rules boss.

Some more information about Saltcliffe would be heavenly

File: tumblr_otns7hv1Jz1u6zcyso(...).jpg (226 KB, 1280x830)

226 KB JPG

>>3579306
Cant say how close to canon these are. Don't remember where I found them either.

>Saltcliffe is one of the islands that make up the Iron Islands. It is located south of Great Wyk and west of Pyke. Noble houses from the island include House Saltcliffe and House Sunderly.

Curious as to our relationship with House Sunderly. Uniting the island through marriage might be a path worth going down for Daegon.

>[X] "How long have you been crying, little snake?"
>[X] "Do you think it's time we find ourselves matches? We're not getting any younger."
>[X] Join your fierce siblings with Euron, the man knew your father as much if not more than Ryan did.

>(1/2)

The little girl won't be one forever. She can cry out all her tears now but she has to grow up one day. You all live in a cruel, uncaring world where you must carve your way with salt and steel, piss and vinegar. Father's cold corpse isn't even one of the hardships she'll have to face in her life. If anything, losing him was the best thing that ever happened to her and her family. Shera would know if your father lived long enough to see her grown into her own woman far from his obedient little girl, as Gremma did.

You glance at the little black-haired treasure.

"How long have you been crying, little snake?"

Shera shifts her face to look at you from Gremma's chest.

"Too long for an Ironborn."

You ruffle the little girl's hair and look out to the perilous Iron Island waves.

"Get it all out now while you can. Don't be like Frenya or Qhorwyn."

Gremma chuckle to herself.

"Those two are still children."

You let out a laugh of your own and blink as you come to a certain realization.

"Do you think it's time we find ourselves matches?" You turn to your black-haired sister. "We're not getting any younger."

>(2/2)

The young woman raises a hand to her chin.

"Now that father isn't here with his ridiculous qualifications, we can actually start building alliances."

A confirming hum stirs in your throat.

"The Harlaws, Goodbrothers, Botleys, Orkwoods, Sparrs, Tawneys, Merlyns, Farwyns, Wynchs, Stonehouses and Blacktydes have no relations to us. The Sunderlys are our cousins and our uncle is lord of House Drumm. The main-line Goodbrothers and Harlaws are too above our station to normally consider a marriage alliance with us but they might if we distinguish ourselves well enough. The Orkwoods and Tawney's have mines, the Blacktydes have land, the Botley's have Lordsport, the cadet Harlaws have their men, and the Farwyns have their strangeness. We have options to choose and siblings to give away."

Gremma nods her head in agreement.

"That just leaves the question of who and for what."

Little Shera blinks as you rise up and walk over to your martial siblings and your castle guard.

There are about a hundred men in your household guard so there's about seventy-five here. You can raise a total of about 1,400 men from your lands. A lot of them have no actual combat experience but some have reaved in the past with your father on his raids. One thing your father did right was having each village train their own militia. He would not abide ruling over Ironborn who didn't know how to fight. Considering you and your family haven't been thrown out of your castle yet, it's safe and beneficial to keep that practice up.

>[ ] "What should I do now as lord of Saltcliffe? I'm ruling half a fucking rock with shit for crops and a few mines."
>[ ] "One of you needs to beat some sense into Qhorwyn one of these days."
>[ ] "Do any of you know what Daemon's planning for when he leaves?"
>[ ] "Euron, who was the best fighting man you've ever killed?"
>[ ] "Are either of you wanton reavers ready for marriage?"
>[ ] "Have you all said farewell to Daemon?"
>[ ] "Plotting raids on the free cities?"
>[ ] Write In.

Fuck the lack of actual information about the Iron Isle houses, their structure, and GRRM's bullshit army numbers.

Jesus Christ, the Goodbrothers have so many cadet branches its absolutely fucking insane how they haven't won the Kingsmoot by now.

>>3579409

They have, though. Only house Greyiron won the Kingsmoot more then house Goodbrother, and house Greyiron is now extinct.

House Greyiron abolished the Kingsmoot, and House Hoare took over from them, again without the Kingsmoot. House Hoare burned with Harenhal; and the Grejoys won the single Kingsmooth the Iron Islands held in all the years between the times of Urron 'Redhand' Greyiron and Euron Greyjoy to become hereditary lord paramounts.

>>3579549
It's still held when the lord paramount dies, though.

...

>>3579554

Once. After the death of Balon Greyjoy, called by Aeron Greyjoy to try and stop Euron getting the chair (and failing). Iron-throne era Iron islands had NEVER held a Kingsmoot before that moment in the books.

>>3579560
Didn't Balon get elected after Quellon bought it or was that a show only thing?

>>3579562

No election, just hereditary principle at work, being Quellon's oldest surviving son.

>>3579565
Well, that sounds greenlander as fuck.

maybe you can do a thing or two about that

>>3579403
>[ ] "Plotting raids on the free cities?"

I like how many option ignore Daemon's presence. Is it some sort of gag?

>>3579582
Do you mean the people around him? There's a lot of options about Daemon, for a good reason.

>>3579586
Im mean options when we talk/ask about him when he stands two meters away

>>3579592
Oh, as I mentioned in the narration, he's always to himself.

You can talk about him while he's just standing there and none of your other family members will really notice.

>>3579403
>>[ ] "Do any of you know what Daemon's planning for when he leaves?"
>>[ ] "Plotting raids on the free cities?"

>>3579403
>>[ ] "What should I do now as lord of Saltcliffe? I'm ruling half a fucking rock with shit for crops and a few mines
>[ ] "Have you all said farewell to Daemon?"

I don't think it hurts to build further relations with the Sunderlys. Should figure out what they have available, a second son wouldn't be bad for our younger sisters. And a second or third daughterwouldn't be bad for our younger brothers, besides Daemon. Keep a strong bond there to maintain our island and then branch out the other islands with our own hand and Gremmas. Aim high, a Harlaw would be a great match.

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "Do any of you know what Daemon's planning for when he leaves?"
>[X] "What should I do now as lord of Saltcliffe? I'm ruling half a fucking rock with shit for crops and a few mines."
>[X] "Plotting raids on the free cities?"
>[X] "Have you all said farewell to Daemon?"

>(1/2)

Everyone is probably just as lost as you are but it couldn't hurt to ask. He's going to Essos and likely somewhere far past the Free Cities and even Slaver's Bay. This side of the world bores him far too much to stay closer than he has to.

"Do any of you know what Daemon's planning for when he leaves?"

Your siblings and household guard collectively look to one another before focusing back on you and shrugging.

"Knowing Daemon, everyone will know of it eventually." Lyssa speaks up.

Ragner laughter booms through the air.

"Our brother was born to carve his name unto this world! From Ibben to Asshai, men will know his name."

You shoot the big man a doubting look and shake it off.

He's going to be famous for sure, but you doubt he'll reach Asshai or bother going to it or Ibben. At the very least, he's getting away from here. Instead of ruling over part of a barren land trying to aquire more, he's going to be collecting fortunes and ruling over the waves.

...

You breathe in and sigh.

"What should I do now as lord of Saltcliffe? I'm ruling half a fucking rock with shit for crops and a few mines."

Lyssa, Ragner, and your men all furrow their brows at you as if you said something Qhorwyn would say.

"Reaving, what else? Father raided and raped along the narrow sea for decades; men called him the Marauding Sea-Dragon for a reason. Unless you want to rot in Salt's End for the rest of your life, you should come with us."

>(2/2)

You raise an eyebrow at your salt sister.

"Plotting raids on the free cities?"

The bold woman laughs.

"We're true Ironborn, we're always plotting raids."

Shaking your head, you glance back at your first brother admiring the tides.

"Have you all said farewell to Daemon?"

Lyssa has her eyebrows raised and head slanted as you turn back to face her.

"Ragner and I are going with him."

You blink.

"What?"

Giant brother laughs once again.

"There's nothing for us here, you're the lord of the house now. We're sailing out with Daemon and deciding whether or not we'll follow him wherever he goes."

A grunt of disbelief escapes your lips.

Your late dropped dead father's funeral celebration is scheduled for tomorrow. More than a few of the neighboring lords and your uncle are going to show up. Quellon Greyjoy himself might make himself known to pay whatever respect he had for your father. Having three of your siblings off raiding isn't going to reflect well on your control over the house.

>[ ] "Sure, I'll disown the both of you as I will him when the crown inevitably realizes the marauder captains of the Boundless, Silt-strider, and Iron Hammer are Saltcliffes."
>[ ] "What am I to tell Erik Anvil-Breaker when he sees I couldn't keep my father's children together?"
>[ ] "You'll have me shown to be incapable of controlling my family to other lords of the Iron Isles?"
>[ ] "I need the two of you here. Daemon's waited years to strike out on his own."
>[ ] "The three of you are staying until tomorrow's business is attended to."
>[ ] "You're not leaving me without two possible marriage alliances."
>[ ] "Daemon, did you know about this?!"
>[ ] "No you're fucking not."
>[ ] Write In.

>>3579786
>[ ] "No you're fucking not."
>[ ] "You will be captains in my fleet and I will make sure that there will be something for you"

>>3579786
>[ ] "The three of you are staying until tomorrow's business is attended to."
>[ ] "Then all of us will go reaving free cities. We will make family outing out of it. Something to keep family strong together"

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>[ ] "No you're fucking not."
>[ ] "You will be captains in my fleet and I will make sure that there will be something for you"

>[ ] "The three of you are staying until tomorrow's business is attended to."
>[ ] "Then all of us will go reaving free cities. We will make family outing out of it. Something to keep family strong together"

>[X] "No you're fucking not."
>[X] "You will be captains in my fleet and I will make sure that there'll be something for you to do."

Having sacrificed several years of his life for your inheritance, Daemon can go and do as he pleases. Ragner and Lyssa will have to stay with you, though. Losing either of them will leave you without two great warriors and decent to great leaders, not to mention marriage alliances.

"No you're fucking not."

The salt siblings blink.

"What?"

Clucking your tongue, you roll your eyes.

"You will be captains in my fleet and I will make sure that there'll always be something for you to do."

A cry of disbelief escapes Lyssa's pink lips.

"Not even a week of being a lord, and you've already become father."

You shoot the woman a look.

"I'm not disinheriting you or forbidding you from ever sailing again so long as I live, am I? Daemon will just have to go do whatever it is he's going to do alone, like he always does. We probably won't even notice he's gone until we see him again."

A weary yawn erupts someways from your left side.

"What are we discussing about me this time?"

You point your thumb in the man's direction without actually looking at him.

"See? He's been standing there for Drowned God knows how long and none of us noticed it."

Daemon lets out a small hum.

"I just walked here."

Nodding, you set down your thumb.

"Exactly."

Your surrounding dumb warrior men and one woman look at you in confusion and stupidity.

There are few people in the entirety of the Iron Islands who can banter as well as you. Daemon is one of those men, of course, but he hasn't tried his hand with you in a long time. Now, he probably never will.

>[ ] "Say your goodbyes while you can, Daemon. It'd be rude to the young ones to leave without a word."
>[ ] "One of you needs to beat some sense into Qhorwyn one of these days."
>[ ] "You don't mind if I marry you off before you leave, do you Daemon?"
>[ ] "Euron, who was the best fighting man you've ever killed?"
>[ ] "Are either of you wanton reavers ready for marriage?"
>[ ] "What are you going to do in Essos?"
>[ ] Go back to Shera and Gremma, they're your favorites.
>[ ] Sit and wait for the tide to come, nothing more needs to be said.
>[ ] Trek over to Ryan, Mhaegon, Qhorwyn, and Frenya. Maybe they'll know what else you could do as a lord.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3580049
>[ ] "Any of you think Deamon would mind if I would married him off before he leaves?"

>>3580049
would lord saltcliffe know about greenlander issues ie. rhaegar shenanigans? in other words, how metagamey can we get?

>>3580134
Nigga Rhaegar aint even born yet

Getting late and I am really tired for some reason. Will close voting and update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8)

Any thoughts or questions?

Any recommendations on dice systems and explanation for the insane asoiaf one?

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "Any of you think Deamon would mind if I would married him off before he leaves?"

Just like he came, he vanished as he always does. You understand as you're sure he does so as well. The man's never really talked about getting married or seemed interested in it. Closest he's gotten was salt-wives, and, like he told you earlier, they all killed themselves out of shame.

"Any of you think Deamon would mind if I would married him off before he leaves?"

The man in question that's not actually here lets out a confirming hum.

"Yes, yes I would."

Lyssa nods.

"Unless his match is perfectly willing to spend her life at sea away from her family and fighting all the time, yes."

A hum of your own churns in your throat.

"That sounds like him and a lot like you. If you weren't our sister, he would take your hand."

The girl of Lysene descent laughs.

"He wishes he could get his hands on a woman half as good as me."

Ragner holds on to his sides.

"And half as impudent?"

Scowling, your salt sister spins around and socks your giant brother in the face again, drawing cheers and laughs from your household guardsmen.

A smile creeps its way on to your lips.

Greenlanders will never know, understand, or experience this kind of hard and blunt familial love.

>[ ] "Say your goodbyes while you can, Daemon. It'd be rude to the young ones to leave without a word."
>[ ] "One of you needs to beat some sense into Qhorwyn one of these days."
>[ ] "Euron, who was the best fighting man you've ever killed?"
>[ ] "Are either of you wanton reavers ready for marriage?"
>[ ] "Ragner, it's a good thing you're a giant."
>[ ] "Who am I going to marry you off to?"
>[ ] Go back to Shera and Gremma, they're your favorites.
>[ ] Sit and wait for the tide to come, nothing more needs to be said.
>[ ] Trek over to Ryan, Mhaegon, Qhorwyn, and Frenya. Maybe they'll know what else you could do as a lord.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3581349
>>[ ] "Say your goodbyes while you can, Daemon. It'd be rude to the young ones to leave without a word."
>[ ] "Ragner, it's a good thing you're a giant."

>>3581539
+1

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "Ragner, it's a good thing you're a giant."
>[X] "Say your goodbyes while you can, Daemon. It'd be rude to the young ones to leave without a word."

>(1/2)

As your sister said, if the man wasn't as tall as a tree, someone would've cut his tongue out by now. Your father probably didn't precisely for that reason considering all the horribly stupid shit he's said in his presence. If he wasn't a salt son, he would've been disinherited if he had anything to inherit.

"Ragner, it's a good thing you're a giant."

The man raises an eyebrow.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Lyssa crosses her arms.

"Because it's true."

You nod.

"He is a giant, yes."

Sneaking a side-glance at you, the girl looks to the shore and at your shared father's corpse.

"Just how exactly did father got his hands on a Dothraki? My mother, I can understand, but a horse fucker? Those baked desert riders don't raid with ships or go near the sea."

You briefly raise an eyebrow before focusing on your huge brother.

"Dothraki slaves are common in Slaver's Bay: most of them are from defeated Khalasars or descendants of such. They're rarer in the Free Cities but they're traded from time to time. Can't imagine they'd be good for anything other than fucking or fighting, though."

Ragner laughs.

"Isn't that what Greenlanders say of us Ironborn? Seems fucking and fighting is in my blood."

Averting your gaze, you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

>(2/2)

Sometimes you wonder how Ragner can be related to you before remembering who your father is. Like him, Ragner's a dunce. You doubt the Dothraki in him helped with that.

Speaking of blood relations.

"Say your goodbyes while you can, Daemon." You turn to your brother who is actually here. "It'd be rude to the young ones to leave without a word."

The man stares at you with the usual bored look on his face.

"I thought they wouldn't even notice I was gone until they saw me again."

You furrow your brow.

"Just fucking say goodbye; you know how sentimental they are. I don't want to hear or see Qhorwyn brood and Frenya complain. Shera will probably cry but at least she has an excuse for behaving like a child."

Euron sighs.

"Where did those two go wrong?"

You glance at the greenland-ish group.

"Father quit on Qhorwyn too early, not that I blame him, and Frenya never showed interest in reaving like Mhaegon and the rest of her sisters did. I'm not sure Shera will want to raid as she blooms but I'll make sure she at least knows how to fight."

The experienced reaver nods.

"I'll help you with that, m'lord."

Humming, you turn back to Daemon and see him crouching down next to Shera and Gremma.

He knew you were going to tell him to get to it and did so before you could stop your conversation.

Classic Daemon.

>[ ] "One of you needs to beat some sense into Qhorwyn one of these days."
>[ ] "Euron, who was the best fighting man you've ever killed?"
>[ ] "Are either of you wanton reavers ready for marriage?"
>[ ] Go back to Shera, Daemon, and Gremma. They're your favorites.
>[ ] Sit and wait for the tide to come, nothing more needs to be said.
>[ ] Trek over to Ryan, Mhaegon, Qhorwyn, and Frenya. Maybe they'll know what else you could do as a lord.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3581956
>>[ ] Trek over to Ryan, Mhaegon, Qhorwyn, and Frenya. Maybe they'll know what else you could do as a lord.
I'd say let's go over all our choices

If I'm being honest, I find the fact that a "master web weaver" of a man, who is 25 and doesnt know what his duties as a lord are rather unbelievable. But sure let's talk to everyone

Voting closed; writing now.

>>3582268
He does know his duties. The problem is that there's nothing of real value on the Iron Islands besides some meager metals. With little of value to actually lord over, there's nothing for him to do other than mediate disputes the low-born bring to his attention, if they ever bother to as Ironborn. Besides that, it's collecting taxes and choosing what to do with his wealth.

It's little wonder why the Ironborn lords who don't live on the few fertile rocks are fond of reaving.

>[X] Trek over to Ryan, Mhaegon, Qhorwyn, and Frenya. Maybe they'll know what else you could do as a lord.

>(1/2)

Your job as lord is mostly management and stewardship so the little team of learned number-counters might have some idea of what you can do in your free time. Besides your responsibilities, there is fuck all for you to do but reave and invest your gold into this side of your practically worthless rock. It might be worth expanding your meager port from the south of the island but it's not going to do you any good without anything to actually trade. Iron-bought gold can only get you so far, especially when you're the only one with it.

Standing up from the beach sand, you turn to your younger siblings and maester.

The four gold-hands notice you as you walk along the sands towards them.

"Grown bored of hanging around reavers and sneaks, brother?" Giddy Frenya asks.

You shrug.

"Something like that. As lord of Salt's End, I have nothing better to do but wait for the lowborn to finally bring their grievances to me, collect taxes, pay taxes, and raise men for war if Lord Greyjoy call for it or if someone attacks us or if we declare war on someone." You hold out your arms annoyance. "I have nothing to do but reave to pass my time"

Maester Ryan frowns.

"You can read."

Furrowing your brow, you shoot the old man a look.

"Not the kind of pastime I was referring to: I meant, reaving is all I can do to improve our family's situation. No one of importance wants to sail here for their iron ore much less trade with simple fishermen, Ironborn fishermen at that."

>(2/2)

The second-youngest Saltcliffe girl raises a hand to her chin.

"We can go to the Summer Isles and trade our iron to them directly." She smiles. "They can give us exotic crops, exquisite gems, foreign clothes, and maybe even crops that can grow just fine in our soil."

You blink and frown.

"The first swan ship that sees our longboats would feather us with their Goldenheart bows. Do I need to remind you what happened to Uncle Dalton and cousin Balder?

Frenya deflates.

"Oh yeah, we're a filthy people of raiders and rapers."

Mhaegon lets out a curious hum.

"Trading with the Summer Isles might actually be profitable: their mines have gems and no actual iron. It's why they trade their wood to Braavos. We have a few galleys we could sail in to the Summer sea. If we can convince the Summer Islanders to come to us and assure them of their safety, we can get a trade route going and grow our ports. Hell, if we can get them to sell us enough of their Goldenheart wood, we can start selling to the other Ironborn lords.

You part your lips to say something but stop as you realize the actual benefits of your sister's idea.

No one longship can take down one of the Summer Islanders' swan ships without a boarding so you don't have much to worry about possible piracy disrupting a potential trade route. Goldenheart wood is too valuable of a material to let the other Ironborn lords have without a steep enough price, though. If the Summer Isles do have a resilient crop that can grow just fine in your craggy soil, that alone will make this all worth it. Biggest problem will be your lack of iron in comparison to the houses on Orkmont, Great Wyk, and Harlaw. They can swipe such a trade right from under you, if they bother to with their already great wealth.

>[ ] "Neither of you would mind if I married you off to potentially secure a trade route, would you?"
>[ ] "As soon as tomorrow's affairs are over with, we're setting sail to the Summer Isles."
>[ ] "Maester Ryan, what crops do the Summer Isles bear?"
>[ ] "I'll keep that in mind for the future."
>[ ] "We don't have enough iron."
>[ ] Go back to Shera, Daemon, and Gremma. They're your favorites.
>[ ] Sit and wait for the tide to come, nothing more needs to be said.
>[ ] Walk back to your salt siblings, you stil don't know what their stances on marriage are.
>[ ] Write In.

Late. Will close voting and update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8)

Any thoughts or questions?

>>3582477
>[ ] "Neither of you would mind if I married you off to potentially secure a trade route, would you?"

The first thing to do should be a reaving in essos. keeps funds and morale high, increases lord saltcliffe's reputation, which is especially important because daemon was probably more popular than him.

after that some trade routes would be good. minimize reaving in westeros, but otherwise dont enforce quellon's reforms too enthusiastically. (is this already a thing?)

thats all i got. nice quest, afungi, always wanted to see a quest of ironborn leveraging their unique skills to prosper instead of hurrrdurr iron price

Voting closed; writing now.
>>3582615
>after that some trade routes would be good. minimize reaving in westeros, but otherwise dont enforce quellon's reforms too enthusiastically. (is this already a thing?)
Not yet.
>thats all i got. nice quest, afungi, always wanted to see a quest of ironborn leveraging their unique skills to prosper instead of hurrrdurr iron price
I think only the Greyjoys and the lords without any prosperous lands were like that. I can understand the houses with jack shit raiding but can't for the life of me understand why the fucking Greyjoys kept to the old way when they were getting all the taxes and of the same rank as the other lord paramounts. You'd think they'd have tried expanding trade since reaving got outlawed by the crown.

>[X] "Neither of you would mind if I married you off to potentially secure a trade route, would you?"

>(1/2)

It's possible for you to secure a trade route with a marriage alliance. There's few things in this world people respect more than marriage and family. No Summer Island lord is likely to break a deal put forth by marriage. War might disrupt and change that, though, as would politics. Someone too powerful will decline any offers of yours and someone too weak will likely be unable to offer you much. Best for you to start directly sailing down to trade so you can establish a reputation and learn who's who in the Summer Islands. You can set up a trade route and make a marriage alliance after.

"Neither of you would mind if I married you off to potentially secure a trade route, would you?"

Frenya crosses her arms.

"Only if it's with a Greenlander lord, preferably from the Westerlands or the Reach. I suppose a River or Vale lord won't be that bad but don't sack me up with a Storm lord or, Drowned God forbid, a filthy worthless Northern lord."

Chuckling, you focus on your only reasonable younger sibling.

"Mhaegon?"

The raven-haired girl hums.

"I'm not as fond as sex as our dear sister Lyssa and brother Ragner are, but I like wine and gemstones."

A whine whimpers in the throat of your most greenlander sister.

"They're going to shower you with fruit over there." She cringes. "But you do have to lay with those degenerates."

>(2/2)

Mhaegon gives the foolish girl a scolding look.

"And, pray tell, what are we again?"

Frenya sighs.

"Reavers and rapers."

Little silent Qhorwyn nods his head in solemn support.

You roll your eyes at your soft siblings and land them on the smiling old Maester.

He's obviously happy you've found a possible alternative to reaving. You're still probably not going to stop. Sitting on your ass waiting for shit to happen isn't exactly your forte. Reaving is the only way you're going to gain prestige among the other Ironborn lords but trade can get you the attention of House Harlaw. If you can marry one, your children would have a claim on the Harlaw isle and you would have a powerful ally in the meantime. You'd lose in a direct war though not in a political one. If just the right people die, you can stand to inherit the Ten Towers.

Your family is already in line to inherit the Sunderlys' lands thanks to your grandmother and their shitty warriors. Tomorrow just might be the perfect opportunity. Quellon might get suspicious but, if you can feign 'just cause', you can take the Sunderlys' lands and lives without a war, which would just be bad for everyone. It might be worth having Daemon stay for one more day until then: he can carve through any champion Quellon has and even through Erik Anvil-Breaker if everything goes to complete shit.

A smile creeps back on to your face as you see Daemon approaching from the corner of your eye.

Father's sudden death was probably the greatest thing that ever happened to your house.
'
>[ ] "Could you show Qhorwyn how to fight? I know it's impossible but you've done impossible things in the past."
>[ ] "As soon as tomorrow's affairs are over with, we're setting sail to the Summer Isles."
>[ ] "Daemon, I'm going to need you to stay until tomorrow's affairs are over with."
>[ ] "Maester Ryan, what crops do the Summer Isles bear?"
>[ ] Go back to Shera and Gremma, they're your favorites.
>[ ] Sit and wait for the tide to come, nothing more needs to be said.
>[ ] Walk back to your salt siblings, you stil don't know what their stances on marriage are.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3583518
>>[ ] "Daemon, I'm going to need you to stay until tomorrow's affairs are over with.
>[ ] "Maester Ryan, what crops do the Summer Isles bear?"
>[ ] "Could you show Qhorwyn how to fight? I know it's impossible but you've done impossible things in the past."
I'd say these three are probably the most important before the tide comes

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "Daemon, I'm going to need you to stay until tomorrow's affairs are over with."
>[X] "Maester Ryan, what crops do the Summer Isles bear?"
>[X] "Could you show Qhorwyn how to fight? I know it's impossible but you've done impossible things in the past."

>(1/2)

Instead of half a useless rock, you can lord over all of it. Any possible contest from the Sunderlys regarding your potential trade route will be entirely cut out of the equation. Quellon might try and command you to stop in your confrontation but he knows full well any Ironborn conflict has to end in blood. If he tries to interfere or even arrest you, it's in your best interest to kill him. His two sons are still babes and will either require a regent or the first Kingsmoot in several hundred years to be held. Harlaw's most likely to win, but you and your best men could slaughter everyone on Nagga's Hill if you had to. Your Uncle Dunstan has the advantage of actually owning land on the isle so he could help, if he doesn't want the throne, or do the same.

This is all assuming the man bothers to show up, though. If not, you can take out the Sunderlys uncontested and grant their castle to one of your brothers. Quellon might protest but there's little he can do considering you have a claim, however weak; a perfect just cause, and would have already done it by the time he hears.

"Daemon, I'm going to need you to stay until tomorrow's affairs are over with."

The prodigal reaver raises an eyebrow.

"You just said to say my goodbyes a couple of minutes ago."

Nodding, your smile shifts into a grin.

"There's been a change of plans, I'll tell you about it when we're done here."

Mhaegon raises her own suspicious eyebrow from the corner of your eye but says nothing.

You turn to the actual Greenlander of the group.

"Maester Ryan, what crops do the Summer Isles bear?"

>(2/2)

A croaky hum churns out of the old man's throat.

"Grapes, apples, oranges, many different melons, peaches, corn, all manner of plums, lemons, figs, apricots, strange nuts with milk, red bitter berries, a yellow-jacketed and oddly phallic-looking berry, a rich sweet fruit with spikes, giant spiked fruit that grows off trees, and little white berries with red hair cocoons." Ryan lets out a throat laugh. "That's just what I can recall. The Summer Islands' total variations of fruits are still unknown to us. If you were to sail down, I'm sure you could possibly find a native who speaks the common tongue to tell you more about them."

Blinking, you try to picture those last four in your head to no avail.

You'll see it all for yourself if you ever decide to sail down to the Summer Isles.

A sigh escapes your lips as you turn to your most combat capable brother.

"Could you show Qhorwyn how to fight? I know it's impossible but you've done impossible things in the past."

Daemon groans.

"Father asked me to do the same thing before in the past and I couldn't even teach him how to keep his eyes open and focused on his opponent."

Qhorwyn scoffs.

"I don't need to know how to fight."

You, Daemon, Mhaegon, and even Frenya share glances with each other and look back at the runt of the Saltcliffe litter.

"Little brother, even the fucking Greenlanders know a boy should know how to fight."

A weak groan croaks from Maester Ryan's throat.

"Not all need to, however. Qhorwyn can spend time at the Maester's citadel learning without giving up his name, if he so chooses."

The boy scoffs.

"I don't have to be a warrior or a maester. As a noble, I can do whatever I want so long as I don't step on another noble's toes. Ironborn or Greenlander, it doesn't matter."

You stare blankly at little Q.

He is the weakest link in your family behind Frenya and her behind Shera.

>[ ] "Qhorwyn, you are going to be a steward someday and maybe even a lord depending on how things go: our family luck is shit. You have to be able to fight, you have to understand responsibilities, and you have to know how to play the game."
>[ ] "Daemon, as soon as we get back to the castle, I want you to start drilling this little shit."
>[ ] "I think I just might give you over to the maesters."
>[ ] "Oh you sweet summer child."
>[ ] Go back to Shera and Gremma, they're your favorites.
>[ ] Sit and wait for the tide to come, nothing more needs to be said.
>[ ] Walk back to your salt siblings, you stil don't know what their stances on marriage are.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3584001
>>[ ] "Oh you sweet summer child."
>[ ] "Qhorwyn, you are going to be a steward someday and maybe even a lord depending on how things go: our family luck is shit. You have to be able to fight, you have to understand responsibilities, and you have to know how to play the game."
>[ ] "Daemon, as soon as we get back to the castle, I want you to start drilling this little shit."

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "Oh, you sweet summer child."
>[X] "Qhorwyn, you are going to be a steward someday and maybe even a lord depending on how things go: our family luck is shit. You have to be able to fight, you have to understand responsibilities, and you have to know how to play the game."
>[X] "Daemon, as soon as we get back to the castle, I want you to start drilling this little shit."

He needs this attitude beaten out of him before he comes of age. Beatings don't actually work in your experience though, so you require the use of a gentler hand despite how much you want to be rough with the bitch. Restraining yourself is the key to being a good communicator.

A groan escapes your lips.

"Oh, you sweet summer child."

The little tyke blinks.

"What?"

You shake your head.

"Qhorwyn, you are going to be a steward someday and maybe even a lord depending on how things go: our family luck is shit. You have to be able to fight, you have to understand responsibilities, and you have to know how to play the game."

Your second-stupidest brother scrunches his face in confusion.

"What game?"

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes and sigh, you look out to the perilous ocean.

"The game all high-born play. We pretend it doesn't exist but it guides our every action. Us Ironborn lords like to pretend we're above it all even though we try to undermine one another all the time. And when you play the game, you win or you lose; I don't intend for our house to lose."

Qhorwyn blinks.

"...Huh."

You nod and turn to your genius brother.

"Daemon, as soon as we get back to the castle, I want you to start drilling this little shit."

The current heir to Saltcliffe nods.

"Aye aye, lord Daegon."

Scoffing, you look back to the ocean.

The waves around the Iron Isles could all be yours to rule one day.

>[ ] "As soon as tomorrow's affairs are over with, we're setting sail for the Summer Isles."
>[ ] Go back to Shera and Gremma, they're your favorites.
>[ ] Sit and wait for the tide to come, nothing more needs to be said.
>[ ] Walk back to your salt siblings, you stil don't know what their stances on marriage are.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3584382
>>[ ] "As soon as tomorrow's affairs are over with, we're setting sail for the Summer Isles."
>>[ ] Go back to Shera and Gremma, they're your favorites.
Time to take the whole family out

Getting late. Will close voting and update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8)

Any thoughts or questions?

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "As soon as tomorrow's affairs are over with, we're setting sail for the Summer Isles."
>[X] Go back to Shera and Gremma, they're your favorites.

Depending on how things go, you might end up leaving earlier or later than you expect to. Wiping out the Sunderlys on their lonesome would be easy but having Quellon around will complicate things. You won't be able to set sail if everything goes to complete shit, of course. Murdering your liege lord doesn't exactly look good on you or your house even if you didn't vote for him. Guest Right is a Greenlander tradition so all is fair game if he attacks you or insults you in your own castle, though. This is all assuming you go through with your plot and don't let your father's strange death go to waste.

"As soon as tomorrow's affairs are over with, we're setting sail for the Summer Isles."

Frenya lets out an excited squeal.

"We're finally going to get some fruit on this barren rock!"

Maester Ryan's throat churns to emit another of his old man groans.

"If such a fruit did exist, the order would've recorded it a long time ago. Then again, we still haven't discovered all the crops the Summer Isles bear."

The girl's form shrinks once again.

"Our chances are slim but we could at least bring back some fruit for ourselves."

Daemon hums

"I've thought about sailing down there after I leave but Essos calls to me more. I wouldn't mind stopping there before I leave for good, though."

You raise an eyebrow at your best brother.

"We're taking the Boundless down there, and we're probably going to fill its hulls with goods. Do you mind spending a few extra days sailing back home and unloading? I'll reimburse you for the trouble."

The man shakes his head.

"It's fine. Seeing the Summer Isles in person is its own reward. Whatever you give me for my trouble won't even by a fraction of what I'm going to reave from Essos, anyway."

You shrug.

"Suit yourself." Turning to your favorite siblings, you wave goodbye behind you.

Shera is dozing off in your eldest sister's arms when you get to them.

Gremma looks up from the youngling's sweet face to your dour one.

The woman is a faint image of your shared and dead mother.

>[ ] "Tomorrow, I'm thinking of moving on the Sunderlys when they come to pay their respects. Father's sudden death is the perfect excuse. We'll corner them in the hall and slaughter them like Greenlanders. Their lands will pass on to me and I'll grant their castle to Daemon or Qhorwyn, raising them as my bannermen."
>[ ] "What do you think Quellon Greyjoy is planning with those ravens he sent to the other paramount lords? Our friends in Lordsport have been saying some strange things ever since he got that maester."
>[ ] "How much rocking did it take to get her to sleep?"
>[ ] "Do you ever think of mother?"
>[ ] Sit down and wait for the tide to come, nothing needs to be said and no one needs to know.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3586248
>>[ ] "How much rocking did it take to get her to sleep?"
>[ ] "Tomorrow, I'm thinking of moving on the Sunderlys when they come to pay their respects. Father's sudden death is the perfect excuse. We'll corner them in the hall and slaughter them like Greenlanders. Their lands will pass on to me and I'll grant their castle to Daemon or Qhorwyn, raising them as my bannermen."

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "How much rocking did it take to get her to sleep?"
>[X] "Tomorrow, I'm thinking of moving on the Sunderlys when they come to pay their respects. Father's sudden death is the perfect excuse. We'll corner them in the hall and slaughter them like Greenlanders. Their lands will pass on to me and I'll grant their castle to Daemon or Qhorwyn, raising them as my bannermen."

>(1/2)

It's not a perfect plan but it's an adequate one. You have a claim on their lands through your grandmother and a potential just enough cause to declare war. With the Sunderlys dead, there'll be few who can dispute your claim to their castle, especially with the levies you can raise from your new lands. The only possible snag will be Quellon, if he bothers to come.

You look from your eldest sister to your youngest.

"How much rocking did it take to get her to sleep?"

Gremma lets out a small laugh.

"I didn't bother keeping count."

A warm laugh of your own escapes your lips before they thin themselves against one another.

"Tomorrow, I'm thinking of moving on the Sunderlys when they come to pay their respects. Father's sudden death is the perfect excuse. We'll corner them in the hall and slaughter them like Greenlanders. Their lands will pass on to me and I'll grant their castle to Daemon or Qhorwyn, raising them as my bannermen."

Your sister's own smile shrinks into a thin line.

"Lord Greyjoy won't like that, if he even bothers to come; he might even get caught in the crossfire. It won't look good on our house if we ended up killing our liege lord without just cause. Quellon's strange ways and lack of grown children will keep us safe for a time if things go for the worst. Uncle Dunstan could help us but he has no reason to other than blood."

Humming, you lack back out at the tides.

"Blood is a powerful thing: it's why we're lords and why we're going to finally have control over the other half of Saltcliffe."

Gremma sighs.

"That blood won't save you from an axe or a dagger from the Sunderly or Greyjoy men."

A scoff escapes your lips.

"Daemon's agreed to stay until tomorrow and I've made plans to sail to the Summer Isles. We'll load up our galleys with iron ore to trade and fly a banner not bearing our sigil. With you, Daemon, Mhaegon, Lyssa, Ragner, Euron, and the rest of the household guard by my side, there's nothing either of them combined could throw at us and walk free from."

Your biggest little sister grins as you turn to face her.

"That is almost guaranteed." She lets out a laugh. "It's been some time since I've killed someone."

>(2/2)

You sit down and lay back on the sand, breathing out a wistful sigh.

"He should've taken you out reaving more often than he did me and Ragner."

Gremma rests a hand on your head and ruffles your hair.

"Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy it. Those were the few times I've ever seen you and father behave like a proper father and son. Besides that, you took home several pretty girls after every reaving."

A groan escapes your lips.

"They all killed themselves. I think one of them was even pregnant when she did it."

Your sister laughs.

"And you doted them like little puppies."

You let out another groan.

"What was I supposed to do? Beat them and rape them some more?"

Gremma scratches your scalp.

"You should have had them gagged and bound to beds. During the mornings and evenings, you should have forced food into their mouths."

Rolling your eyes, you scoff again.

"That would have just given them more reason to kill themselves."

A hum of agreement purrs in your sister's throat.

"But they wouldn't be able to and stop themselves from being yours or giving you adorable little black-haired babes."

You gaze up at the always cloudy Iron Isle sky.

Sometimes you forget the reason why your father first started taking the women of your family out to reave. Gremma was always sweet and kind before she finally realized the reason behind your shared house words. Like that boy you blinded, that girl who angered your sister that one fateful day will never forget it.

>[ ] "What do you think Quellon Greyjoy is planning with those ravens he sent to the other paramount lords? Our friends in Lordsport have been saying some strange things ever since he got that maester."
>[ ] "Have you ever thought about having children?"
>[ ] "Look at you having a way with women."
>[ ] "Do you ever think of mother?"
>[ ] "Would I be a good father?
>[ ] Sit down and wait for the tide to come, nothing needs to be said and no one needs to know.
>[ ] Write In.

Late. Will close voting and update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8)

Thoughts or questions?

>>3587282
>[ ] "What do you think Quellon Greyjoy is planning with those ravens he sent to the other paramount lords? Our friends in Lordsport have been saying some strange things ever since he got that maester."

>>3587284
>>[ ] "What do you think Quellon Greyjoy is planning with those ravens he sent to the other paramount lords? Our friends in Lordsport have been saying some strange things ever since he got that maester."
>>[ ] "Have you ever thought about having children?"
>>[ ] "Look at you having a way with women."

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "Look at you having a way with women."
>[X] "What do you think Quellon Greyjoy is planning with those ravens he sent to the other paramount lords? Our friends in Lordsport have been saying some strange things ever since he got that maester."
>[X] "Have you ever thought about having children?"

>(1/2)

Considering you're already talking about the Lord Paramount, your less savory friends' gossip is appropriate to bring up. You're not sure if he's trying to join the Ironborn with the rest of Westeros or just seeking alliances from outside the isles. The latter is understandable but the former is downright impossible with how barren the isles are in comparison to the rest of the continent and the way everyone else views Ironborn. Without anything of value to trade, Ironborn lords will continue reaving the lands outside of Westeros. You're incline to continue raiding even then with how much loot, women, and prestige reaving gets you. Opening up a trade-route with the Summer Isles could change that but you doubt it.

Witty banter first, though.

Your lips curve upwards into a smirk.

"Look at you having a way with women."

Gremma lets out a sultry laugh.

"They're either clay in my hands or sweet obedient dolls."

A disgusted groan escapes your lips.

"I don't need to know what you do with our serving girl thralls in your free time."

The second-born scoffs.

"Please, I've caught you with them more than once."

You shoot a snide look at your sister.

"And I you; let's stop talking about this and discuss something else before we recall any more of our awkward early tens."

>(2/2)

A rosy blush flashes on your sister's pale face.

"Agreed, what do you propose?"

You thin your lips back into a neutral expression.

"What do you think Quellon Greyjoy is planning with those ravens he sent to the other paramount lords? Our friends in Lordsport have been saying some strange things ever since he got that maester."

Gremma looks down at you.

"Marriage proposals and alliances, most likely: Yara Stonetree did die just a few months ago. His sons sounded like they were sickly last we heard of them from our friends. Lord Greyjoy is wise to spread his seed before those three go to the Drowned God."

A hum crackles in your throat as you glance at sleepy little Shera.

"Have you ever thought about having children?"

The eldest Saltcliffe lady laughs.

"I'm of age and high-born, of course I have." She rubs the youngest Saltcliffe lady's hair. "I could die in childbirth but I wouldn't mind it if it meant bringing a beautiful babe into this world." A frown makes its way on to her face. "My heart would break if they were stillborn or died young. Even more so if I died and left them alone with a terrible father." She turns back to you. "Do you think mother felt the same before she died?"

You frown.

"There's little point to asking those kinds of questions."

Gremma nods and sits in silence.

The only way any of you will know such a thing is for when you're inevitably dead.

>[ ] "What about Greyjoy's overall plan? Marriage to another Lord Paramount's daughter binds him and by extension us closer to the mainland."
>[ ] "Would you marry Quellon if he doesn't find a match?"
>[ ] "Do you think of mother often?"
>[ ] "Would I be a good father?
>[ ] Wait for the tide to come, nothing needs to be said and no one needs to know.
>[ ] Stand up and go to your martial siblings, you haven't gotten their opinions aobut marriage yet.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3588317
>>[ ] "Would you marry Quellon if he doesn't find a match?"
>[ ] "Do you think of mother often?"
>[ ] "Would I be a good father?

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "Would you marry Quellon if he doesn't find a match?"
>[X] "Do you think of mother often?"
>[X] "Would I be a good father?"

Marrying Gremma off to the Greyjoy could protect you from his potential wrath when he hears the news and protect you from others who might want your lands. Not to mention, it would help you secure trade routes to the Summer Isles and protect them from would be meddlers. This is all assuming he helps you instead of just taking the trade route idea for himself and making Pyke a trade hub for Summer Island goods, though.

"Would you marry Quellon if he doesn't find a match?"

The grown women raises an eyebrow and shrugs.

"He sounds like a decent enough man. A bit old for my age but I can work with that. I don't think he's a warrior, though: word is his last reaving was a decade ago. If his children die, mine by his will be Lord Paramounts of the Iron Isles. They won't be of our house but they will be family. Are you fine with that?"

You raise an eyebrow of your own.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Gremma shoots you a look.

"Because it means we'd still be lesser lords of a barren rock while the Greyjoys get to rule over the rest of us. He'll be my son and your nephew but he'll still be our overlord and the Lord Paramounts after that until our blood runs thin in them."

Looking out into the cloudy sky, you let out a sigh.

"Do you think of mother often?"

The eldest Saltcliffe lady blinks.

"What?"

You shoot her a look.

"Do you think of mother often?"

Gremma frowns and nods.

"Yes, why?"

Shrugging, you focus back on the sky.

"No reason, just wondering is all."

The girl sighs.

"What's on your mind?"

A frown makes its way on to your face.

"Would I be a good father?"

Gremma blinks and raises a hand to laugh in.

You let out a groan.

"Am I really that bad?"

Your eldest sister shakes her head and uncovers her mouth.

"No, no, no, no. That was just the cutest thing you've ever asked."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How?"

The woman giggles.

"It just is, you're always a dour-looking and grim talking bastard."

You shoot your sister a look and slump against the beach sand.

It's not your fault the other man who raised you was a reaver, raper, sadist, abuser, and all around cunt.

>[ ] "What about Greyjoy's overall plan? Marriage to another Lord Paramount's daughter binds him and by extension us closer to the mainland."
>[ ] "I thought Daemon was the dour and grim talking bastard."
>[ ] Wait for the tide to come, nothing needs to be said and no one needs to know.
>[ ] Stand up and go to your martial siblings, you haven't gotten their opinions about marriage yet.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3589200
>>[ ] "What about Greyjoy's overall plan? Marriage to another Lord Paramount's daughter binds him and by extension us closer to the mainland."

Getting late. Will close voting and update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8)

Thoughts or questions, my anons?

>>3589200
>>[ ] "What about Greyjoy's overall plan? Marriage to another Lord Paramount's daughter binds him and by extension us closer to the mainland."

>>3589200
>[ ] Wait for the tide to come, nothing needs to be said and no one needs to know.

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "What about Greyjoy's overall plan? Marriage to another Lord Paramount's daughter binds him and by extension us closer to the mainland."

The result of marrying a Greenlander lady and forming an alliance with a greenlander house is undoubtedly tying the Iron Isles to the rest of Westeros. You're not sure whether he's going to try assimilating the Ironborn to Andal culture, plotting something against the crown, or just seeking a high-born girl to bear his children. Little reason exists for the man to seek a normal marriage alliance: the Greyjoys have been marrying into the Ironborn houses for the centuries they've been under Targaryen rule and the man has no enemies as well as no friends you know of among the Ironborn lords. Add in his lack of raiding, and the idea of him trying to Andalize the Iron Isles or plotting something makes more sense.

"What about Greyjoy's overall plan? Marriage to another Lord Paramount's daughter binds him and by extension us closer to the mainland."

Gremma raises a hand to her chin.

"He must be plotting something against the crown or seeking to form new trade routes between us and the mainland: Aegon's reforms haven't given him any friends among the high-born and probably angered those he had. It wouldn't surprise me if some lords rebelled in the future seeking to depose him. Although, we have little to gain from rebelling against the crown other than independence and no one wants Ironborn reavers pillaging and settling their coasts like the days of old."

A hum rumbles in your throat.

"Trade routes are a possibility but he could also be trying to initiate his own reforms here: he hasn't gone reaving in a decade and he's taken in a maester, like our father has. Could be he's seeking support in case of a rebellion."

Your eldest sister laughs and shakes her head.

"Only a fool would try to reform our ways. If our lands were more fertile and trade more plentiful, it could work but they're the reason we reave, rape, and enthrall. Without reaving and enthralling, where would we get our income and how would we convince others to work our hazardous mines for a wage?"

Sighing, you look out into the sky.

"Trade and finding some protection and we have absolute shit to trade with no idea how to make those molten hells safer."

Gremma nods.

"Exactly. I suppose you'd be in good standing if Quellon does make reforms when you go out trading in the Summer Isles."

A frown makes its way on to your face.

"We'll see."

There could be other things the Lord Paramount is plotting but all you can make is hypothesis for now.

>[ ] "I should pay a visit to the Westerlands sometime and see how they work their mines. May cost me a few dragons but it would cut down on the amount of raiding required to replace our thralls."
>[ ] Wait for the tide to come, nothing needs to be said and no one needs to know.
>[ ] Stand up and go to your martial siblings, you haven't gotten their opinions about marriage yet.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3591182
>[ ] Wait for the tide to come, nothing needs to be said and no one needs to know.

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] Wait for the tide to come, nothing needs to be said and no one else needs to know.

>(1/2)

Lyssa and Ragner are obviously averse to marriage: it'd stand in the way of their reaving and raping. The two of them are also too blunt to keep secrets and weave webs of intrigue as well as you and Gremma can. Daemon's smart enough to figure out what you're plotting on his own, if he hasn't already thought of this being the perfect opportunity to take hold of the Sunderly lands. As for the rest, they don't need to know and will probably protest.

You shift back into a seated position and look out at the crashing waves.

Slowly yet steadily, the crashing tides rise.

The Iron Isle brine soon flows over your father's graying hair.

As the water flows over your father's chest, his body begins dragging closer to the sea.

Gremma, seeing your shared father begin to join the Drowned God, gently shakes Shera awake.

You and everyone else on the beach rise as old Harrag 'the Marauding Sea-Dragon' Saltcliffe is taken beneath the waves.

A resounding thump pounds through the air as you beat a fist into your chest.

"What is dead may never die!"

A beautiful and harsh symphony of thumps follow yours.

"What is dead may never die!"

The tide drags back into the sea and crashes back against the shore, your father's body nowhere in sight.

Sea Burial done, your household guard escorts you and your family through the village of stone houses back into your castle.

>(2/2)

You cut through the stone fortress's interior to your father's chambers, your new chambers.

Shutting the door behind you, a heavy sigh wheezes out of your mouth.

You walk to your father's bed and fall back on to its bear fur blanket.

The chamber door creaking open makes you raise your upper body up to see a blurry Gremma.

Without saying a word, your eldest sister marches over to your bedside and embraces your stiff self.

You sit still for a moment before you begin quivering.

Gremma runs a hand through your black hair as her other pats you on your back.

Taking a deep breath, a whimpering sigh chokes out of your lips.

Soft shushes cause a sense of ease to brush over your buried sorrow.

You nuzzle against your sister's shoulder and weep salty tears for the first time since your mother's death.

At first, you couldn't help but feel relief over all this. Your father had been the main source of you and your sibling's miseries for years but he was also the only real Ironborn man in your lives. Ryan's passive ways and passive form of parenting may be useful in some situations but a father must play more than just a supportive role in his children's lives. Harrag was there when you took your first wound, gutted your first man, claimed your first salt wife, sailed your first longship, made your first sacrifice to the Drowned God, led your first reaving, took your first ship, and sacked your first village. He looked at you with pride and love after every single one. No substitute father can lay claim to any of those deeds.

The two of you sit with one another for a few minutes before Gremma stands up and waves farewell before making her way out, leaving you alone again.

You have little else to do today save loading up your galley ships ahead of time, checking in with the rest of your family, giving any orders you have to your household guard, and talking with Maester Ryan.

Of course, you can just lay down and rest until tomorrow.

>[ ] Find Euron, there are a few ideas in your head you have about training the peasantry more and you need his help loading up the galleys.
>[ ] Scour the castle for your martial siblings, they're always together and always plotting raids of some sort on foreign lands.
>[ ] Go see if Daemon's thrashing Qhorwyn somewhere in the castle or in the courtyard, it's good that he learns how to fight.
>[ ] Check in with Gremma, she's most likely doting Shera right now who's probably crying like you were.
>[ ] Make your way to Mhaegon, you'll find Frenya and maybe Qhorwyn that indolent shit with her.
>[ ] Trek to Maester Ryan's chambers, he was close to your father too.
>[ ] Sleep, there's nothing else you want to do.
>[ ] Write In.

>>[ ] Go see if Daemon's thrashing Qhorwyn somewhere in the castle or in the courtyard, it's good that he learns how to fight.

>>3592681
>>[ ] Sleep, there's nothing else you want to do.

Late. Will close voting and update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8)

Thoughts or questions?

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>[X] Go see if Daemon's thrashing Qhorwyn somewhere in the castle or in the courtyard, it's good that he learns how to fight.

>[X] Sleep, there's nothing else you want to do.

File: Spoiler Image (58 KB, 550x800)

58 KB JPG

>[X] Sleep, there's nothing else you want to do.

You've just buried your father at sea, made plans to wipe out another house, plotted to trade iron with the Summer Isles for wood and crops, hypothesized what your lord Paramount is doing with his new fondness of maesters, convinced your brother to stay for the potential slaughter tomorrow, and cried for the first time in years.

Some sleep would do you some good.

Wrapping yourself in the bed's bear fur, you rub your head against the bed's pillaged dove-feathered pillow.

Harrag's Ironborn hardness contrasted with this strangely soft bed setup would surprise you more if you weren't already tired.

Closing your eyes, you let exhaustion take you.

Storms thundering over raging waters fills your resting mind. A nine-headed sea dragon's tallest head feasts upon a drowned man as the armored ones hold back a golden Kracken's tentacles, assisted by armored mermen. Its younger heads bow before its eldest and its wisest watches ever ready to support the others if needed. The golden Kracken floats vulnerably, as all Krackens are to sea dragons.

H' ahf' mgep ah'lw'nafhagl gn'th, R'luhhor, watches beneath in his halls, waiting.

You open your eyes to the stone roof of your father's chamber.

Glancing to your side, you see a familiar beautiful face dusting your father's old wardrobe.

She was taken from Myr as a girl and put to work in your castle as a maid. You, her, and the rest of your older siblings grew up alongside one another. All of you broke away when you discovered she had known each of you in a certain way and most of you had known her the same, with the exception of Daemon.

Needless to say, things became far too awkward with Camyla for any of your relationships to be anything more than masters and thrall.

Part of you wonders if maybe you can use her to make Qhorwyn grow some balls, though.

>[ ] "You're a sight for tired eyes. Why are you here? I thought you stopped cleaning my father's room after he took you in it."
>[ ] "I just had the strangest dream, I was the first head of a nine-headed sea dragon."
>[ ] "Did you clean Qhorwyn's room yet? I want to surprise him."
>[ ] "How long have you been in here?"
>[ ] "What time of day is it?"
>[ ] "Good morning, Camyla."
>[ ] Get out of bed and head to your hall, breakfast is probably being served right now.
>[ ] Start preparing yourself for the funeral celebration, you can't go looking like a tired ass.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3594459
>[ ] "Good morning, Camyla."
>[ ] "What time of day is it?"

Gotta go do stuff. Will close voting and update when I get back.

Anyone got any thoughts or questions in the meantime? Anyone?

I'm back.

Voting closed; writing now.

>>3594717
Honestly my guy, I feel like the quest is a touch vague. We know very little about our character, his childhood, family or lands. We don't know what motivates him, what scares him, if he hates eating fish stew despite being an Iron Islander etc. It makes it hard to get emotionally invested in the character.

Also, the quest feels kind of directionless. It just seems like selecting dialogue options if I'm being really honest, and there doesn't seem to be an obvious plot hook to suck the players in.

Just my two cents, and I hope that doesn't come across as harsh. I like the idea, and your writing is really solid, just giving some constructive criticism. Hope you keep this going!!

>[X] "Good morning, Camyla."
>[X] "What time of day is it?"

The woman's far too luscious for that foolish boy: he'd get too excited before she's even getting into it. No one needs to know what goes on in your skull when you're dreaming. Half of the time, you don't even know what your dreams are telling you, if they're even saying anything. Mentioning your father taking his rights as her master is just cruel after the man died. Whatever enjoyment she got from the event would be ruined by you mentioning that occasion.

A groan escapes your lips.

"Good morning, Camyla."

Your myrish thrall turns to you and laughs.

"Enjoying your new lordship, lord Saltcliffe?"

Nodding, you ease your head back on to the soft pillow.

"What time of day is it?"

Camyla steps back from the old wardrobe.

"Morning, as you said, mi'lord. Very early in the morning, in fact. When did you go to sleep yesterday?"

You let out another groan.

"After the evening tide came. What are you doing up at this time?"

The Myrish maid shrugs.

"I've always woken up early in the morning. One of my favorite times of day to be awake, really: no one around to avoid, navigate past when I'm cleaning their room, worry about offending, or guards awake enough to size me up. Think nothing of it."

An understanding hum churns in your dry throat.

You'd like being awake around this time too if you had to work her job.

>[ ] "...Could you make me breakfast? I'm incredibly hungry right now and I don't want to get out of bed."
>[ ] "Was Daemon beating the shit out of Qhorwyn with a practice axe yesterday?"
>[ ] "Do you have strange dreams from time to time?"
>[ ] "How long have you been in here?"
>[ ] Get out of bed and head to your hall, breakfast is probably being served right now.
>[ ] Start preparing yourself for the funeral celebration, you can't go looking like a tired ass.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3595878
>[ ] "Was Daemon beating the shit out of Qhorwyn with a practice axe yesterday?"
>[ ] Get out of bed and head to your hall, breakfast is probably being served right now.
>[ ] Start preparing yourself for the funeral celebration, you can't go looking like a tired ass

>>3595878
>>[ ] "How long have you been in here?"

>>3595859
I get what you mean. Things are going to go down, though. Didn't want to force you into anything right off the start. I was surprised no one immediately grabbed the first plothooks I set up. As for Daegon, in asoiaf tradition, he's not going to be the only pov character. Besides that, I like taking things slow. You're not going to be invested in the main character right from the beginning, neither am I, and your certainly not going to if I dump everything about him on to your lap on the first thread.

>>3595908
>[ ] Get out of bed and head to your hall, breakfast is probably being served right now.

ah, forgot to edit this option.

this is the making your own breakfast and not being a lazy ass option

Speaking of food, I gotta go out for dinner. It'll be late when I come back so I'll update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8)

Anymore thoughts or questions, anon(s)?

>>3596068
nothing, but I'm just wondering how our house even got power

>>3596446
Voting closed; writing now.

Same way all the other Ironborn houses with the exception of house Goodbrother did: their founding ancestor was one of the sixteen sons of the Grey King left standing after the hundred of them started killing each other over his throne.

File: castle kitchen.jpg (2.15 MB, 3724x2248)

2.15 MB JPG

>[X] "Was Daemon beating the shit out of Qhorwyn with a practice axe yesterday?"
>[X] Get out of bed and head to your larders, breakfast isn't going to serve itself at this time.
>[X] Start preparing yourself for the funeral celebration, you can't go looking like a tired ass.

>(1/3)

Though you would very much like to chow down on Reach oranges and smoked fatback bacon right now, you would very much like to know if Daemon did as you asked yesterday. Qhorwyn's no good to you as a simple bookeeper. Mhaegon at least knows how to slit a man's throat and gouge out his eyes in combat.

"Was Daemon beating the shit out of Qhorwyn with a practice axe yesterday?"

Camyla laughs.

"Qhorwyn was using a practice sword while Daemon used an axe, but yes. Poor boy kept getting his wooden sword flung out of his hand when he wasn't being pulled closer to his big brother. It's amazing what Daemon can do with a simple axe head.

You nod in agreement.

The man's performed the same trick on you during the many times you've spared. It took a while for you to learn how to avoid his weapon hook and longer how to avoid his limb and joint hooks as well. No knight, Dothraki, Essosi mercenary, or even other experienced Ironborn reavers are capable of responding well to those kind of tricks: by the time his real axe is hooked, it's too late to save you.

A groan escapes your lips as you toss the bear fur to the side of the bed and off of you.

Your Myrish thrall laughs while you stumble on to your feet.

"Did you sleep well, mi'lord?"

Walking over to your chamber door, you shrug before opening it and walking out.

You stumble your way through the faintly lit castle to your large larder room.

Inside, numerous cupboards filled with pillaged spices, traded fruits, and wrapped smoked fish line the stone walls while several coal hearths are built into the mortar and stone.

File: bathhouse.jpg (46 KB, 700x394)

46 KB JPG

>(2/3)

A sigh escapes your lips as you retrieve a cold smoked trout from one of the cupboard's fish wrappings and grab hold of a reach blood orange with your free hand.

You impale the fish on to the nearest hearth's spit and pour some nearby fish oil over the coals.

Besides iron, tin, and lead, a lot of coal is mined from the Iron Isles and a lot of oil is made from fish fat to lighten your stone homes and halls. You wouldn't exactly be capable of living on the Iron Isles if you didn't have a substitute fire source for wood or a substitute building material in the form of stone. Wood is more valuable than even steel here thanks to its scarcity and use in building long-ships, making axes a symbol of prestige rather than swords, the opposite of what it's like on the Greenlands.

Picking up an iron knife and a flint from the nearby utensils, you strike the flint next to the coals and watch the fire ignite under the trout.

You skin the orange while you rotate your breakfast and plop its rich sweetness into your mouth.

The Reach doesn't have much in the way of mines compared to the Westerlands so you often get traders seeking to exchange your lands' plentiful iron for fruit. Of course, a lot of other Ironborn lords have it better than you so they get much more ripe fruits.

Fish crisped to your tastes, you retrieve the spit and carefully push the morsel off on to an iron plate.

You tear into the lightly scaled fish with fingers and teeth before wiping yourself off with your stored mainland serviettes.

Putting the iron plate with the rest of the dirtied dishes, you walk out of the now lit larders back into your castle hallways and make your way out the castle gate into the courtyard.

The posted night guards nod their heads in salute as you cross by them on your way to your castle courtyard's bathhouse.

You find a dozen or so stone bathing tubs spaced out from one another inside, numerous iron seawater drums lining the walls, and a large coal hearth with a grate placed over it.

(3/3)

Once again, you light the hearth with nearby equipment and set a few drums atop the iron grate.

Some time passes before they reach the appropriate temperatures you want them at and dump them in your intended bathing tub.

Peeling off your modest wool clothing, you hop into the warm brine.

A please sigh escapes your lips as you're engulfed by the salt water.

Sea water is fine and safe to bathe in, unlike what a lot of Greenlanders think. You get covered in salt when you dry off by air but you can easily wipe that off when you're still wet with a drying cloth. It might even leave you cleaner than bathing in fresh water would. Besides, bathing in fresh water is a waste of it: there's only so much fresh water in your wells to drink, much less use.

You spend about half an hour bathing before the water cools, much to your distaste.

Hopping out, you grab a drying cloth, use it per its purpose, wrap it around yourself, and glance at the bathhouse mirror.

You're muscular and good-looking enough but nowhere near as fit as Ragner or handsome as Daemon. Stubble has started to come in on your chin and cheeks again. Unlike Ragner and Harrag, you do not look good or anymore masculine with a dead black goat on your face. While having a beard would give you more prestige amongst your iron lords, you cannot abide looking like a homeless drunk.

>[ ] Trek back to your new chambers and see what clothes your father has, he fashioned himself as a warlord with some protective plate and mail on certain parts of his casual clothes. Few will question the purpose behind your sense of dress if they think it's to honor your father.
>[ ] Go change into your fancy clothes, they may call you a whore but they cannot deny your fashion sense or that it's good for hiding weapons to stab them with.
>[ ] Put on some casual clothes, Quellon and the Sunderlys can comment all they want on your bulging seax but you will not be called a whore.
>[ ] Go wake Euron, he should be in the guardhouse and he should know what you have planned.
>[ ] Wake up Daemon, the man has to know what you have planned. You know he'll support you.
>[ ] Visit the beach, the waves are abnormally calm during the early morning.
>[ ] Shave, prestige is not worth looking like a layabout worthless drunk.
>[ ] Wait until the celebrations start, nothing else for you to do.
>[ ] Sit until morning, there's plenty else for you to do.
>[ ] Write In.

replace all that wood in the images with stone in your minds, please

wood is fucking everywhere in real life

>>3597605
>[ ] Trek back to your new chambers and see what clothes your father has, he fashioned himself as a warlord with some protective plate and mail on certain parts of his casual clothes. Few will question the purpose behind your sense of dress if they think it's to honor your father.
>[ ] Go wake Euron, he should be in the guardhouse and he should know what you have planned.
>[ ] Wake up Daemon, the man has to know what you have planned. You know he'll support you.
>[ ] Shave, prestige is not worth looking like a layabout worthless drunk.

Voting closed; writing now.

how my world building so far?

Fuckin' Martin and his laziness, inconsistencies, rip-offs, and "realism"

>[X] Trek back to your new chambers and see what clothes your father has, he fashioned himself as a warlord with some protective plate and mail on certain parts of his casual clothes. Few will question the purpose behind your sense of dress if they think it's to honor your father.
>[X] Go wake Euron, he should be in the guardhouse and he should know what you have planned.
>[X] Wake up Daemon, the man has to know what you have planned. You know he'll support you.
>[X] Shave, prestige is not worth looking like a layabout worthless drunk.

>(1/3)

No one will suspect a thing if you wear your father's clothes. They would be a little bulky on you, but that's more the gambeson than anything else. Euron knowing your plan means a prepared household guard, and Daemon knowing your plan means him potentially improving on it besides knowing to reach for the stashed weapons in your hall.

As for the shaving, that's been long overdue.

You walk out the bathhouse into the cold courtyard, nod at your laugh muffling guards, and enter your castle hall.

Camyla blushes as you enter your father's chambers and lays herself down on his bed, but her perceptions of your lewd intentions are dispelled with a simple shake of your head.

When the Myrish lass walks out the door, you drop your drying cloth and open your father's dressing wardrobe.

Your lips part at the sight of numerous shining mails over leather jerkins, breast plates over gambeson, rawhide covering wool, coats of plate, brigandine coats, splint armor, lamellar half-tanned and coat plated, scaled mail, and an actual full set of plate.

The crazy old bastard kept a goddamn armory in his own room.

You sift through the sets of armor and settle on the rawhide. It's protective enough to defend against slashes from swords and dull arrows as well as inconspicuous enough for you to wear in company. Anything with mail over the chest, especially plate, is going to tip someone off. Any decent enough axe blow will probably break a rib or two, though. You'd wear gambeson but that would make your intentions more obvious. It'd be wise for you to get a hold of a shield for when the blood-letting starts.

Fully dressed, you walk out of your father's room and out of your castle to your guardhouse.

The guardsmen guarding the guard building nod and raise eyebrows at your unusually militant choice of dress.

You walk through the rows of sleeping experienced soldiers to the captain's room, open it, and enter.

Euron rises as he hears the door open and reaches for his axe before realizing it's you.

"...Lord Daegon, what's happening? Are we under attack?"

>(2/3)

You shake your head.

"We're going to be attacking someone soon. I have reason to believe they poisoned my father and I have a claim on their lands. By all means, I have the right to declare war and slaughter them in my own hall if need be. If Quellon Greyjoy arrives and forbids it, I may have to add his corpse to the pile. You know exactly who our enemy is, don't you? Are you willing to play along?"

The man blinks and nods with a grin.

"I followed your father to the shores of Slaver's Bay and Ibben, I'll gladly help you slaughter the Sunderlys and the Greyjoys even." He frowns. "But did they really poison Harrag?"

You shrug.

"He just dropped dead one day and never was fond of his cousins. I heard he even knocked a few of Drennan's teeth out when they were children. Wouldn't surprise me if he did or is glad my old man died."

Euron smiles and laughs.

"I guess he wouldn't have minded this little scheme of yours. My men will be ready."

Nodding, you turn back and exit your captain's room.

It takes you a few minutes to get back to the courtyard, traverse your castle, and enter Daemon's chambers.

As soon as you close his chamber's door, an axe bounces itself off the stone wall beside your head.

You glance at the weapon, blink, and focus on your sleepy-looking brother.

"I know you can be jumpy, but this is ridiculous."

The man outstretches his arms and yawns.

"Sorry, had the strangest dream followed by the best."

You raise an eyebrow.

"What were they about?"

He shrugs.

"The Drowned God and me sailing to Asshai." He raises a hand to his chin. "Or was it Valyria? They're both dark, dank ruins."

>(3/3)

Blinking, a small hum rumbles in your throat.

"I think I had the same first but no second."

Daemon lets out a hum of his own.

"Why are you here and dressed for reaving?"

You frown.

"I'm going to take out the Sunderlys after accusing them of poisoning my father and declaring war with my claim on their lands."

He nods his head.

"I thought as much. I guess you've also taken in the possible interference of Lord Greyjoy into account, right?"

You nod back.

"He dies with them if he tries to stop me."

Daemon laughs.

"I hope you're ready to overthrow the Greyjoys then. I doubt his children will be much of a threat until they grow old enough to lead men. Quellon doesn't have an assigned regent as far as I know so maybe you can swipe that and murder the little things while they're still young. The first kingsmoot in centuries will have to be held, though. You're not exactly in high enough standing to be voted in but we could just beat everyone else and hold them hostage." He frowns and sighs. "I'll have to stick around even longer if that's the route you take. Just take Quellon hostage and rule as regent if it comes to that for my sake, will you?"

You shrug.

"That's a good idea but no promises."

The lazy man sighs and wraps himself back in his furs.

Smiling, you exit your brothers chambers and return to your old ones.

You retrieve a straight razor from your tool chest and begin to work on your infant beard with some assistance offered by your barely visible reflection.

Shave done, you set down the razor and rub your smooth face.

Women won't love you as much as they love your brothers at first glance but few will ever feel your beautiful smooth face or Daemon's for that matter.

>[ ] Go to Mhaegon's chambers, she should know too. She won't fight as well as the others but the element of surprise can kill any champion.
>[ ] Exit the castle and practice with some of your household gaurd, it's been a while and a warm-up would do you some good.
>[ ] Visit the beach, the waves are abnormally calm during the early morning.
>[ ] Wait until the celebrations start, nothing else for you to do.
>[ ] Sit until morning, there's plenty else for you to do.
>[ ] Write In.

Late. Will close voting and update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8)

Any thoughts or questions?

>>3598261
>>[ ] Go to Mhaegon's chambers, she should know too. She won't fight as well as the others but the element of surprise can kill any champion.
>>3598772
sorry chief knocked out the other day, but I am starting to get intrigued if the Sunderlys really did poison our father

Voting closed; writing now.

>>3600535
It's cool, man.

>[X] Go to Mhaegon's chambers, she should know too. She won't fight as well as the others but the element of surprise can kill any champion.

>(1/2)

No one else who should know your plans is left but her. She can hold her own against a man, though she'll probably need the help of a household guardsmen or two to end one. However, you won't be surprise if she opts for making sure Frenya, Qhorwyn, and Shera are in safe position rather than fighting your fight. It's probably the better thing for her to do: you don't want any of your innocent blood spilled.

You walk out of your old chambers and make your way to your middle sister's.

As you enter quite possibly the only balanced Saltcliffe's room, a sword bounces against the stone wall by your head.

You glance at the weapon and shoot your bed-heady sibling a look.

"Did you just throw a fucking sword of all things at me?" you look back down at the blade. "We may have plenty of steel but these things have trading valuable and can still break."

Mhaegon sinks back into her bed and groans.

"You sound like you're angrier I threw a sword at you than the fact I threw something that could kill you at you."

Bending down, you pick up the still whole blade.

"Daemon threw an axe at me earlier, so I was kind of expecting something like that to happen again."

The middle sister giggles.

"Sorry about that, Daegon." She frowns. "Now, can you tell me why you've come into my chambers at this hour, why you're wearing father's barbaric clothing, and why you visited our dear lazy brother?

>(2/2)

You briefly raise an eyebrow before lowering it.

"I'm planning to move on the Sunderlys when they come to pay their respects at our father's funeral celebration. My claim from our grandmother might be weak but my father's suspicious death is just enough cause to move on them when they're in our own castle. Drennan's relationship with Harrag was shaky enough for him to try something eventually. If Quellon Greyjoy shows up and tries to interfere, I might have to add his corpse to the pile; the man's sons are still babes so we've got some time to eliminate them before they grow old enough to retaliate or look into their father's death. Daemon proposed holding him prisoner and me ruling the Iron Isles as regent but that leaves us having to make sure the Greyjoy is secured at all times."

Mhaegon blinks and sighs.

"You are fucking insane; you know that, right?"

Shrugging, you run your hand along the flat of your sister's thrown blade.

"I don't think I'd be able to know if I was."

The young woman wraps herself back in her furs.

"I'll make sure no one who can't fight is near you when everything goes down. I can't promise you I'll help but I will defend myself if I need to. Make sure not a single one of them is left alive if you do decide to go through with this plan of yours: there'll be war if any of them live."

You frown as you open the chamber door.

"Nothing is going to happen to any of you, I'm doing this to avoid a war and to gain more lands for our family; you have nothing to worry about."

Mhaegon grumbles in her bed while you exit her room.

Not the response you hoped for but an understandable one that works in your favor. It's not like she's going to warn anyone of your plans, like a craven would. She'll come around when you're the lord of all of Saltcliffe.

>[ ] Exit the castle and practice with some of your household guard, it's been a while and a warm-up would do you some good.
>[ ] Grab some hand-axes from your actual armory, you never know when you need to cleave someone's skull from a distance.
>[ ] Visit the beach, the waves are abnormally calm during the early morning.
>[ ] Wait until the celebrations start, nothing else for you to do.
>[ ] Sit until morning, there's plenty else for you to do.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3600933
>>[ ] Visit the beach, the waves are abnormally calm during the early morning.

Getting late where I'm at. Will close voting and update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8)

Thoughts or questions, anon(s)?

Voting closed; writing now.

File: drowned_man.jpg (56 KB, 675x563)

56 KB JPG

>[X] Visit the beach, the waves are abnormally calm during the early morning.

You've got some time to yourself before everything goes down in your castle hall. The peaceful waves will wash over whatever stress you have about this, of which is basically none. It'd just be nice to see the seas around this rock at peace.

Picking up a nearby oil lamp from its perch, you make your way out of your castle.

It takes you about fifteen minutes to go from your stronghold to the beach you buried your father by.

Near the shore, you see a kneeling crusty-looking man you haven't seen in a long time.

A large squelching gulp fills the air before he rises and turns to face you with his cloudy eyes.

"Daemon, is that you?"

You frown.

"I'm Daegon, Vickon."

He blinks and nods.

"That's what I said, Daemon." The Drowned Man turns to the tranquil tides. "Harrag feasts with the Drowned God, does he not?"

A confirming hum murmurs in your throat.

"I'm the lord of House Saltcliffe now and the ruler of Salt's End."

The drowned priest sighs.

"What is dead may never die. So long, old friend; I'll meet you where you are eventually."

You raise an eyebrow at the absentee priest and lower it.

Vickon is your father's drowned man. He baptized you and all your siblings when you were newborns, which means he killed all of you as babes and brought you back to life. As he grew older, the old man lost his mind as well as most of his sight. The poor bastard spent entire years roaming your side of the isle with no idea where he was or what he even wanted to do. Your father had to send a squad of men to track him down when your mother was revealed to be pregnant with Shera and that took two months. There's no way he could be here and know what happened to your father unless he had some way of knowing.

>[ ] "While I slept, I had a dream of things to come and saw the Drowned God in his hall only his name was something incomprehensible and R'luhhor."
>[ ] "How did you know to come here or is this purely a coincidence?"
>[ ] "I think he might have been poisoned."
>[ ] "Daegon, my name is Daegon."
>[ ] Sit down by the shore, the drowned priest won't bother you.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3602322
>[ ] "While I slept, I had a dream of things to come and saw the Drowned God in his hall only his name was something incomprehensible and R'luhhor."
>[ ] "Daegon, my name is Daegon."

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "While I slept, I had a dream of things to come and saw the Drowned God in his hall only his name was something incomprehensible and R'luhhor."
>[X] "Daegon, my name is Daegon."

He's probably the only person you know besides Daemon who won't call you crazy if you explain your dream to him. The man's position as a drowned man could give you insight to it. You'll have to decipher the senile old fool's words, though.

"While I slept, I had a dream of things to come and saw the Drowned God in his hall only his name was something incomprehensible and R'luhhor."

Vickon slowly turns himself around to face you.

"R'hllor?"

You blink and shake your head.

"No, R'luhhor. I'm not sure what it means but the Lord of Light is a strange burning shadow of our god as I'm sure his followers view ours as a drowned shadow of his. The names could be connected, though I doubt it."

A hum croaks in the old man's throat.

"What you say is true, Daemon: our Drowned God brought fire to this world, raises those brave who die, and invites them to feast in his watery halls when they return to him. R'hllor is fire, is said to raise Azor Ahai, and brings those that worship him who die into his hall of light. One is no doubt a shadow of the other and seeing as how R'hllor's worshipers have been made our thralls and saltwives countless times, R'hllor is that shadow."

You sigh and shake your head.

Throwing out the possibility that both could be two sides to the same coin is simply naive on that premise alone. All Ironborn attempts to free themselves from the yoke of the Seven's rulers have ended in failure. The Seven may be gods of weakness but they have numbers.

"Daegon, my name is Daegon."

Vickon nods.

"Aye, Daemon, you are Daegon. Two sides of a nine-headed coin born under the same flickering stars." He raises a hand to his chin. "Will you devour all the stars in the sky one day, I wonder? The shadows of the east still call to you; mysteries, questions, and answers lay in wait but will remain forever unsolved, answered, and unheard if you stay."

Raising an eyebrow, you shoot the man a surprised look.

Now that's something insightful.

>[ ] "Do you see anything behind those clouded eyes of yours?"
>[ ] "...I'm not Daemon; I'll never be as great as he is."
>[ ] "How will he devour all the stars in the sky?"
>[ ] "What do you mean by flickering stars?"
>[ ] "Just what exactly lays east?"
>[ ] Write In.

>>3602751
>[ ] "How will he devour all the stars in the sky?"
>[ ] "What do you mean by flickering stars?"
>[ ] "Just what exactly lays east?"

Also if "Do you think the sea dragon can slay the golden kraken?"

Voting closed; writing now.

>>3602751
>>[ ] "How will he devour all the stars in the sky?"
>>[ ] "What do you mean by flickering stars?"
>>[ ] "Just what exactly lays east?"

>[X] "How will he devour all the stars in the sky?"
>[X] "What do you mean by flickering stars?"
>[X] "Just what exactly lays east?"
>[X] "Do you think the sea dragon can slay the golden kraken?"

Of course you're going to ask him about all the things he said. You'd have to be an idiot not to with the dream you had and his mysterious appearance here. Hopefully his answers don't just raise more questions.

"How will he devour all the stars in the sky?"

The Drowned Man lowers his hand.

"You will become one and you will shine brighter than them all, become them all, or drown them all under one."

Lowering your eyebrow, a frown makes its way on to your face.

Stars can only mean a few things and you don't like what they entail.

"What do you mean by flickering stars?"

Vickon blinks and points to the extremely starry sky.

"On the day you were born, there were stars shining in the sky brighter than others which blinked out of existence when directly looked upon. It was a sign from the Drowned God or some other god who had taken notice of you. When all nine of you were born, I knew you all had a great destiny to play a part in. Harrag's death paved a path for you all to walk on."

You let out a small hum.

That last part is true but the man's sanity is questionable on the other fronts, though your dreams may lend them some credibility.

"Just what exactly lays east?"

Your Drowned Priest laughs a hardy laugh.

"What doesn't lay east? Dragons still roam in Asshai if the stories are to be believed, stone men dwell in Valyria as do the dragons' forgotten treasures, the old Valyrian blood is strong in Lys, Myr has its contraptions, the other free cities have their wealth, and the Golden Empire of Yi Ti lies near the end of the Jade Sea. Your greater destiny lies there as your great destiny lies here in Westeros."

Furrowing your brow, you glare down at the sand.

They're only words but you know he's right about what Daemon will accomplish.

You relax as you look back up to the drowned man.

"Do you think the sea dragon can slay the golden kraken?"

Vickon blinks his milky eyes once again.

"Of course it can: sea dragon's feed on krackens and other leviathans."

Smiling, you let out a laugh.

That was a stupid question of you to ask but it reaffirms your earlier beliefs: you can slaughter the Greyjoys if you need to or even want to.

>[ ] "Are there others like our drowned god? The Stranger could be an envoy of his to the Seven, considering how little worship him."
>[ ] "Do you think I can call a Kingsmoot if the lord paramount dies and leaves behind helpless babes in his place?"
>[ ] "Come with me, old man, you haven't been in the castle for years."
>[ ] "Do you see anything special behind those clouded eyes of yours?"
>[ ] "It was good seeing you again, Vickon. Take care."
>[ ] Write In.

>>3603408
>[ ] "Come with me, old man, you haven't been in the castle for years."

Getting late where I'm at. Will close voting and update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8)

Any thoughts or questions, my dudes?

>>3603408
>[ ] "Are there others like our drowned god? The Stranger could be an envoy of his to the Seven, considering how little worship him."
>[ ] "Come with me, old man, you haven't been in the castle for years."

>>3603616
You've been doing great! Really enjoying this quest so far.

Voting closed; writing now.

>>3603701
Thank you. What's your favorite part of it so far?

>>3604781
Haven't played an Ironborn house before, and that makes playing hard mode yet fun.

>[X] "Are there others like our drowned god? The Stranger could be an envoy of his to the Seven, considering how little worship him."
>[X] "Come with me, old man, you haven't been in the castle for years."

The seven are often said to be one god but the Greenlanders sure like to ignore the stranger's existence. You're pretty sure anyone who doesn't study the faith or has a formal education doesn't know that. It could be the Seven were just seven different gods who made friends with one another but those who took to worshiping them thought of them as one, if they ever even existed. Wouldn't surprise you if there were other drowned gods of sorts out in the world.

"Are there others like our drowned god? The Stranger could be an envoy of his to the Seven, considering how little worship him."

Vickon tilts his head to the side.

"Our god is the only one of his kind, worshiped by merlings and the Deep Ones."

You frown and glance away from the zealot.

Again, you're not sure what you were expecting.

You let out a sigh and turn around, waving at the priest to follow you.

"Come with me, old man, you haven't been in the castle for years."

The old man blinks, nods, and scurries behind you as you make your way home.

As you approach your castle gates, the posted guards stare at the weathered man by your side.

Your portcullis opens for you two to enter, but your household reavers still eye your drowned priest warily.

Vickon has a reputation for being an insane raving madman in your household, of which he pretty much is most of the time. Shera, Qhorwyn, and Frenya are going to be terrified at the sight of him. If you leave him on his lonesome, the crazy old bastard might try to drown Maester Ryan again.

It's a long and amusing story but it'll have to wait for now.

>[ ] "Follow me to your old chambers, they're still wet and damp with the sea water you kept in there."
>[ ] "You aren't going to try giving Maester Ryan to the drowned god again, are you?"
>[ ] "Make yourself a bath, old man. I trust you know the way?"
>[ ] "Do you still remember how to fight?"
>[ ] Grab some hand-axes from your armory, you never know when you need to cleave someone's skull from a distance.
>[ ] Practice fighting with some of your household guard, it's been a while and a warm-up would do you some good.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3604955
>[ ] "Follow me to your old chambers, they're still wet and damp with the sea water you kept in there."

> "Merpeople and Deep Ones eh? I've heard of the first in stories, but the second?" After that leave and do the below choice.
>[ ] Practice fighting with some of your household guard, it's been a while and a warm-up would do you some good.

>>3605411
+1

Voting closed; writing now.

>[X] "Follow me to your old chambers, they're still wet and damp with the sea water you kept in there."
>[X] "Merpeople and Deep Ones? I've heard of the first in stories, but the second?"
>[X] Practice fighting with some of your household guard, it's been a while and a warm-up would do you some good.

You can't just leave the old man wandering your fortress: one of your men might kill him out of surprise or in self defense. Not to mention, he might wander into one of your younger siblings' rooms and scare them to death. Qhorwyn's young frightened face is forever pleasantly seared into your mind.

"Follow me to your old chambers, they're still wet and damp with the sea water you kept in there."

Vickon grumbles from your side.

"It's holy water blessed by the Drowned God."

Rolling your eyes out of the old man's sight, you lead him into your castle hall.

"Merpeople and Deep Ones? I've heard of the first in stories, but the second?"

The drowned priest hums.

"Deep Ones and merlings are kin. Merlings are of the sea while Deep Ones were children of sea creatures that mated with human women. They are all children of the Drowned God as are we."

An intrigued hum of your own rumbles in your throat.

There might be some truth to that, but, like any reasonable person, you have your doubts.

You take the man to his chambers and leave him to sort out his few old belongings.

Walking out of your castle once again, you tap one of your nearby guardsmen on the shoulder and lead him to the center of the courtyard.

Dozens of weapons exist in this world and they all have their own specific uses. You favor the short sword for its mobility, stabbing ability, and the added defense of a shield. Axes, however, are good at giving armored fops internal injuries for when they're not straight up cleaving through their skulls, besides the added ability to hook and use a shield.

>[ ] Have him drop the shield, it'd be easier to pummel him without the protective wood circle enforced with steel.
>[ ] Throw him a practice axe, the Greyjoy and Sunderly men are probably going to use axes instead of swords.
>[ ] Throw him a practice longsword, you haven't had a decent longsword duel with anyone of skill in years.
>[ ] Pick up a practice short sword, its speed outdoes any axe's swing despite its lack of killing ability.
>[ ] Pick up a practice longsword, you prefer the short sword but longsword dueling is a fun pastime.
>[ ] Pick up a practice axe, you are Ironborn despite your preference for more Greenlander weapons.
>[ ] Pick up a shield, the average survivability of a soldier in battle goes up with a shield.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3605895
>>[ ] Throw him a practice axe, the Greyjoy and Sunderly men are probably going to use axes instead of swords.
>[ ] Pick up a practice short sword, its speed outdoes any axe's swing despite its lack of killing ability.
>[ ] Pick up a practice axe, you are Ironborn despite your preference for more Greenlander weapons.
want to try out both of these before anything serous

Late where I'm at. Will close voting and update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8)

Any thoughts or questions?

Voting closed; writing now.

File: axe and sword.png (133 KB, 1000x1034)

133 KB PNG

>[X] Throw him a practice axe, the Greyjoy and Sunderly men are probably going to use axes instead of swords.
>[X] Pick up a practice short sword, its speed outdoes any axe's swing despite its lack of killing ability.
>[X] Pick up a practice axe, you are Ironborn despite your preference for more Greenlander weapons.

No point in handing the man a practice sword: Ironborn warriors have always preferred the axe and entire household guards have been outfitted with them for as long as the Ironborn have been. You could pick up a shield but dual wielding axe and sword might be effective despite the lack of protection. Your old man would occasionally fight with two axes or an axe in one hand and a sword in the other. The abilities and properties of both will be at your disposal in sacrifice of a shield.

You pick up a practice axe and throw it at your guardsman.

The man lets go of his real axe and catches the fake one by its wooden handle.

Picking up another fake axe and a fake short sword, you brandish both in a modest flourish.

The guardsman blinks at your choice of weaponry before shrugging his surprise off.

All your guards are either trained or skilled warriors. You're not sure which this one ascribes to but he's not nervous or afraid of your choice of weaponry. Either Euron or your father disciplined him or he's been in enough fights to know dual wielded weapons aren't much to be concerned about.

You can slowly close the distance from here, charge, throw your axe, or just order him to come to you.

>[ ] "You come at me first."
>[ ] Charge at the man with a thrusting stab aimed at his throat, his aventail will protect him but it'll hurt like a bitch.
>[ ] Throw your axe at the man's face, his helmet will take most of the blow but it'll unbalance him for a quick attack.
>[ ] Slowly approach the man, charging will just get you pushed back and slashed with that shield of his.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3607812
I'd recommend archiving this thread soon.

>Hook his shield with your axe, block his axehead with your sword, and deliver a swift kick to try and knock him prone.

>Combat Roll
>+16 modifier
roll a 3d12 with a modifier of 16. Best of the first two wins.

Note, I'll be tweaking the system and making shit up as I go along because SIFRPG is insane and d20 is a little simple for what I have in mind for this quest.

Rolled 6, 6, 11 + 16 = 39 (3d12 + 16)

>>3607812

Alright now for the guard's roll.

Rolled 7, 9, 7 + 10 = 33 (3d13 + 10)

Rolling done; writing now.

>[X] Slowly approach the man, charging will just get you pushed back and slashed with that shield of his.
>[X] Hook his shield with your axe, block his axehead with your sword, and deliver a swift kick to try and knock him prone.
>Combat Roll
>+16 Modifier
>Rolled 6 + 6 + 11 + 16 = 39
>Target Rolled 7 + 9 + 7 + 10 = 33
>Success!

Charging is never a good move against any opponent unless they have their backs turned to you. It's why cavalry hammer and anvil tactics are so effective: the infantry keeps other infantry at bay while the cavalry rightly slaughters them from their unprotected flanks. Unlike in the Greenlander tales and songs, a blatant cavalry charge into a wall of infantry will end with your cavalry getting slaughtered. You know that from observing Essosi mercenary wars.

Taking long and deep breaths, you calmly approach your guardsmen in a low defensive stance.

The man has his axe-arm pulled back and his shield held out in front of him when you enter just beyond his swinging range.

You close the distance between the two of you with a lunging step, hook his shield with your practice axe before he can try to push you back, raise your short sword to press against the bottom of his axehead, and raise your other leg to deliver a vicious swift kick to the man's gut.

The armored man keels slightly before taking a step back, unhooking your weapons from his.

"Nice work, mi'lord! If I weren't wearing armor, that might have made me piss myself."

A smile makes its way on to your face as you ready your weapons again.

You should have saw that coming but that small keel almost convinced you that you were capable of knocking a grown man in armor on his ass with a single kick. The same tactic could work on Greenlanders wearing leather jerkins with no gambesons or aketons: padded armor works better against blunt force from a kick or a mace.

Enough dwelling on that, though; you have some more practice to get in.

>[ ] "Are you just going to stand there or what?"
>[ ] "What's your name?"
>[ ] Hook his shield, you're not going to be able to get any blows in if you don't move it away.
>[ ] Thrust at his throat, you can sneak it through his axe and his shield if you're quick enough.
>[ ] Feint a stab and smack his helmet with your axe, not as surefire as a hook but good enough.
>[ ] Feint a hook with your axe and stab at his throat, he'll definitely buy a feint like this.
>[ ] Throw your axe at his skull, it'll probably hurt from this distance.
>[ ] Disengage, you're too close to him from here.
>[ ] Write In.

>>3608771
>>[ ] "What's your name?"
>[ ] Feint a hook with your axe and stab at his throat, he'll definitely buy a feint like this.

Late. Will close voting and update tomorrow morning my time (UTC-8)

Any thoughts or questions, my dudes?

>>3609432
>time to kill some greyjoys

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>[ ] "What's your name?"
>[ ] Feint a hook with your axe and stab at his throat, he'll definitely buy a feint like this.

>time to kill some greyjoys

>>3610645
Wait, is that even an option? I mean, you could keep going but that's more so I can get a feel for my current system than anything else.

>>3610906
Oh that was just my opinion of how things are going lmao. Just memeing.

>>3611158
whelp, i'm already writing it so may as well skip ahead

>[X] Prepare for the arrival of your guests and wait for them to arrive, that was all the warmup you needed.

>(1/2)

You could definitely keep going but that was all the practice you needed. Dual wielding wasn't exactly the most optimal style of fighting to use, but you've at least figured out that it's not as bad as you thought it was. Sword and board is still the way to go, so long as you're not wearing full plate, which makes all other forms of defense unnecessary.

Lowering your practice weapons, you smile at your household guardsman.

"Good job." You blink at your random faced man. "...You?"

The improptu training partner lowers his arms and chuckles.

"Qhored, mi'lord."

Laughing, you walk back to your practice weapon rack and put away your training arms.

"Good to meet you, Qhored. I'll see you around the palace sometime."

The man places his training axe back on to the rack and picks up his real axe from the ground as you walk away.

For the next twelve or so hours, you wait for the sun to rise, explain to your breakfast-eating siblings that your militant state of dress is to honor your father, order your castle servants and thralls to start preparing a feast, have a luncheon of Reach barley and roasted codfish, talk with Euron over your hall's possible chokepoints, and wait for your guests to arrive.

>(2/2)

You're sitting on your lord reaver's throne when you hear three successive horn blows.

A frown makes its way on to your face as you stand yourself up.

One drawn-out horn blow is the sign for an attack, two is to let your village fishermen know a Saltcliffe has passed, and three is to signal the arrival of a fellow lord at your castle gates.

The Sunderlys should be the first to arrive, seeing as how they share your island, but they're a lot later than expected, if it's even them. None of them have any claims on your land, so they can't declare war without just cause while you have both. If they chose not to come at all, you can't press your claim without needless bloodshed. You can take care of all of them now, if it is them, and explain yourself to your Lord Paramount when he comes or slaughter all of them wholesale in your hall while they're feasting. It would work a lot better in your favor if you took care of the Sunderlys in front of your lord, though: it'd show him that you wanted him to be there and judge, if he doesn't take there side and die along with them.

You step down from your noble chair and make your way out your hall's gate into your courtyard.

Twenty fully armored men stand on each sides of your battlements, looking down from behind the parapet.

It'd be easy to invite the Sunderly envoy in and order your men to throw an axe volley down, butchering them in a swift ambush. You could meet them at the gates and order a formal declaration of war before slaughtering them with minimal bloodshed too. Quellon might be less pissed if you handle them like that. Of course, butchering everyone while they're drunk and in your hall will be a lot easier.

You still don't know if it them, though.

>[ ] "Who is at our gates, boys!"
>[ ] Have your men open the gates as you go back into your hall, it's better to take them all by surprise.
>[ ] Order your men to open the gates, you're not risking anything.
>[ ] Meet the noble envoy at the gates, what harm could it do?
>[ ] Write In.

>>3611367
>>[ ] "Who is at our gates, boys!"
>>[ ] Have your men open the gates as you go back into your hall, it's better to take them all by surprise.

>>3611428
This, if we are going to a dirty job let's do it correctly.

Voting closed; writing now.

>>3611367
>>>[ ] "Who is at our gates, boys!"
>>>[ ] Have your men open the gates as you go back into your hall, it's better to take them all by surprise.

File: sunderly.png (206 KB, 1200x1320)

206 KB PNG

>[X] "Who is at our gates, boys!"
>[X] Have your men open the gates as you go back into your hall, it's better to take them all by surprise.

>(1/2)

There's no reason to kill a few birds with a dozen axes when you can kill a dozen with a handful of them. It's better to take them all out when they're drunk than when they're still sober and probably on guard: your men are more well equipped than most Ironborn retinues, you're still wearing a wool shirt covered with rawhide, and there's a sword at your hip. Also, there's a great deal of you that just wants to murder Quellon Greyjoy for the small chance of becoming lord of the Iron Isles. It'll likely put your trading plans on hold but you can get to it as soon as you're done with his children and the other Ironborn lords.

You look to your castle sentries.

"Who is at our gates, boys!"

The armored men turn back to you.

"Sunderlys, mi'lord!"

A grin spreads across your face.

"Open the gates and invite our dear kin inside our hall! There's a feast waiting for them!"

Your sentries beat their axes against their shields.

"Aye aye, mi'lord!"

Spinning on your boot heel, you turn back to your hall's doors and make your way to your throne.

The servants are still making preparations when you enter but the mead and ale flagons are already set at your long dining table with your siblings seated close to your seat and your men.

>(2/2)

A few minutes go by until your hall's entrance doors open to reveal a familiar old man, a young man around Daemon's age to his right, a grown woman about Gremma's to his left, and several armed guards in mail flanking them in a protective phalanx.

You shift your grin into a smile at Drennan "the Drowned Worm Bait", as your father liked to call him, and his last surviving children.

They don't have much in terms of protection other than their men, who wear mail with no brigandine or gambeson over it unlike your men. In a straight up fight, yours would probably win by terms of protection not counting their experience with your father and Euron. Euron's drilling and Harrag's daring raids put these poor green boys, who've seen their pathetic lord's children die, at a disadvantage. That isn't even factoring in your men's loyalty to your house or the reverence they have for you and your siblings, who most were reaving at a time when other children were just beginning to touch themselves.

Like their sigil, the Sunderlys are already dead.

The old worm looks around the hall with a pleased smile on his face before raising a cautious eyebrow at you.

"Dressed for war at a feast?" Your distant kinsmen laughs. "It seem you really are your father's son, Daegon."

His men and son laugh, echoing their lord.

You and your siblings stare unimpressed at the posse of somewhat experienced Ironborn reavers.

That wasn't funny, that wasn't funny at all.

>[ ] "I didn't think you would come, Drennan. I thought you and father didn't get along from the way he told me how your teeth got knocked out by that stone wall he slammed your head against."
>[ ] "The food will be ready in an hour or so, Sunderly. Tell us tales of your raids and exploits."
>[ ] "Sit yourselves down by the left near Ragner, you're the first ones to arrive."
>[ ] "Who's the boy by your side, Drennan? I don't think I've ever seen him before."
>[ ] "Not all of your men will be eating, will they?"
>[ ] "Drennan, it's been a long time."
>[ ] Write In.

Late. Will close voting and update tomorrow my time (UTC-8)

Any thoughts or questions?

>>3611965
>[ ] "Who's the boy by your side, Drennan? I don't think I've ever seen him before."
>>[ ] "I didn't think you would come, Drennan. I thought you and father didn't get along from the way he told me how your teeth got knocked out by that stone wall he slammed your head against."
>>[ ] "The food will be ready in an hour or so, Sunderly. Tell us tales of your raids and exploits."

Voting closed; writing now.

File: dunstan.png (1.05 MB, 675x769)

1.05 MB PNG

>[X] "Who's the boy by your side, Drennan? I don't think I've ever seen him before."
>[X] "I didn't think you would come, Drennan. I thought you and father didn't get along from the way he told me how your teeth got knocked out by that stone wall he slammed your head against."
>[X] "The food will be ready in an hour or so, Sunderly. Tell us tales of your raids and exploits."

>(1/2)

Seeing as how they're disrespecting you in your own hall, albeit very badly, it's only 'fair' you disrespect them. There's nothing to respect anyway. It'd take more effort actually thinking of a compliment for the Sunderlys than an insult.

You focus on Drennan's last living son, Lor something.

"Who's the boy by your side, Drennan? I don't think I've ever seen him before."

The young boy scoffs.

"My name's Lorren, Daegon, and I'm no boy: I'm a man."

Raising an odd eyebrow, you shoot the Sunderly a look.

"How can anyone tell with that face and attitude of yours? One word of boy and you call yourself a man without proving it. Are there balls between your legs or the winds of words?"

Lorren glares and takes a step forward, as your more dominant siblings and guardsmen laugh, only to be stopped by his father's hand.

Sunderly sighs.

"Forgive my idiot son, Daegon. He's just as bright as his brothers were when they decided to go and get themselves killed away from the ocean. We're not here to fight: we're here to pay our respects to our fallen kin."

A hum rumbles in your throat.

"I didn't think you would come, Drennan. I thought you and father didn't get along from the way he told me how your teeth got knocked out by that stone wall he slammed your head against."

>(2/2)

Drennan blinks before smiling a broken-toothed smile, your bold siblings and guards chuckling chuckling all the while.

"How could I not come and drink in my cousin's former hall while he feasts in the Drowned God's? What better way to spite the fucker when I meet him down there? An old reaver like me still has a few good raids left in his bones. I'll sink down there and tell that old Sea Dragon what I accomplished while his corpse was getting eaten by fish."

You sink back into your throne and look into the blue eyes of the big, fat old man.

"The food will be ready in an hour or so, Sunderly. Tell us tales of your raids and exploits."

Once again, the lord of the drowned fort blinks before taking a seat by Ragner, followed by the rest of his kin.

An hour or so of red tales, a little too romantic in your tastes and quite possibly fake, go by.

Your servants and thralls come out from your larders to set down plates of roasted salmon, swordfish, tuna, red snapper, bowls of barley, oranges, apples, and loafs of bread around your dining table.

Before you can dig in and enjoy your salmon, three successive horn blows sound through the air.

You stop and hold up a hand commanding the hall to pause for your new guests.

Ten or so minutes pass until the hall's gates open to reveal two familiar sights, your Uncle Dunstan Drumm and Erik "the Just" or "Anvil-Breaker" Ironmaker.

A smile makes its way on to your face and on some of your siblings. '

You're not sure whether or not they're incline to help you, hinder you, or leave you in peace but it's nice to see them again.

>[ ] "Anvil-Breaker! You didn't shatter any of my blacksmiths' anvils while you were coming here, did you?"
>[ ] "Come, come! Share your stories of daring raids and accomplishments. I'm tired of hearing Sunderly's"
>[ ] "About time, I was worried this hall would be decorated and our table filled for nothing."
>[ ] "Uncle! I was expecting you later but you're a welcome sight."
>[ ] "Drennan, you know my Uncle and Erik, don't you?"
>[ ] Toast in your kin and family friend's direction, they'd appreciate it more.
>[ ] Write In.