The Fight For The Cub

[Andrethegiant]

The year is 281- which will later be known as the year of the false spring. King Aerys Targaryen, known as the Mad King, still holds the Iron Throne, casting a shadow of fear over the realm. However for every dark cloud there is a blue sky. Rumours are that Lord Whent has started rebuilding Harrenhall. Invitations have been sent to every corner of the realm to gather the proudest knights and most humble ladies for a celebration.

Your liegelord, Lord Robert Baratheon, now in his 19th year has expressed a keen interest in the celebrations. Young Lord Baratheon has been the ruler of the stormlands since his parents were cruelly taken by the sea 3 years ago. Although young he has born the responsibility as a liegelord well. Through his reign he has seen house Scales grow in prominence. When Lord Baratheon sends letters to his noble houses to invite them to Harrenhall one arrives at Castle Redford. The blocky letters and clumsy thick penmanship of the letter you recieve suggest it was penned by Baratheon himself.

Hopeful young maids around your castle whisper the Lord Baratheon recognizes his own past as an orphan in the young lord Scales, while cynics will fear Lord Baratheon may be cleverly manipulating the boy. The cynics remind people that the holdings of house Scales are still fresh. Castle Redford, sitting at the edge of the stormlands, may prove a valuable holding for an ambitious liegelord. Close trade with Targaryen held Kings Landing can provide much gold for a Raratheon that is rumoured to be struggling to finance a dowry. The maids dreamily wonder what beauty the handsome lord of Storms end has set his sights on.

While the schemers scheme and the dreamers dream for most the days stay the same. The winter had been hard around castle Redford and a milling crowd of labourers use the dawning spring to do neccesary repairs. Inside young maids scurry about under the watchful gaze of Reyanda Challinder- a woman who had been leading the Redford household for longer than Casyr Scales had been alive. In the courtyard Ser Paxtan Challinder makes his best impression of a wounded whale as he bellows at a young squire who didn't get his shield up in time. "sloppy shieldwork was how I got this" he warns while pointin at his empty eye-socket.

[Ameraaaaaa]

The year is 281- which will later be known as the year of the false spring. King Aerys Targaryen, known as the Mad King, still holds the Iron Throne, casting a shadow of fear over the realm. However for every dark cloud there is a blue sky. Rumours are that Lord Whent has started rebuilding Harrenhall. Invitations have been sent to every corner of the realm to gather the proudest knights and most humble ladies for a celebration.

Your liegelord, Lord Robert Baratheon, now in his 19th year has expressed a keen interest in the celebrations. Young Lord Baratheon has been the ruler of the stormlands since his parents were cruelly taken by the sea 3 years ago. Although young he has born the responsibility as a liegelord well. Through his reign he has seen house Scales grow in prominence. When Lord Baratheon sends letters to his noble houses to invite them to Harrenhall one arrives at Castle Redford. The blocky letters and clumsy thick penmanship of the letter you recieve suggest it was penned by Baratheon himself.

Hopeful young maids around your castle whisper the Lord Baratheon recognizes his own past as an orphan in the young lord Scales, while cynics will fear Lord Baratheon may be cleverly manipulating the boy. The cynics remind people that the holdings of house Scales are still fresh. Castle Redford, sitting at the edge of the stormlands, may prove a valuable holding for an ambitious liegelord. Close trade with Targaryen held Kings Landing can provide much gold for a Raratheon that is rumoured to be struggling to finance a dowry. The maids dreamily wonder what beauty the handsome lord of Storms end has set his sights on.

While the schemers scheme and the dreamers dream for most the days stay the same. The winter had been hard around castle Redford and a milling crowd of labourers use the dawning spring to do neccesary repairs. Inside young maids scurry about under the watchful gaze of Reyanda Challinder- a woman who had been leading the Redford household for longer than Casyr Scales had been alive. In the courtyard Ser Paxtan Challinder makes his best impression of a wounded whale as he bellows at a young squire who didn't get his shield up in time. "sloppy shieldwork was how I got this" he warns while pointin at his empty eye-socket.

Beryl was in a tense mood today. The celebration was soon and he wondered about the future of house scales. That septon was currently leading since the lord is so young. Beryl never met him before he came like he owned the place. Which to be fair in a way he did. He is a temporary lord. So while that was the case beryl would treat him as such. But his true loyalty was to the child. Since he had the same noble blood of the man who to beryl out of poverty.

So when he saw sir Paxton complaining to his squire he thought he'd help out.

"Sir paxton. My good man. I hope you don't mind but i think i can get your squire to take shieldwork more seriously. Afterall who wouldn't take shield work more seriously when sparring with a giant. With your permission of course."

[Andrethegiant]

The squire backs away slowly as the looming giant closes in. "Beryl" Ser Paxton looks up at you, his one functioning eye no longer needing to squint as he gets shadow from your large body. "This milksop isn't ready for a proper pitched combat, however i believe ser Ethelstan was roaming around eager to test his blades. Maybe you see him from up there?"

[Ameraaaaaa]

The squire backs away slowly as the looming giant closes in. "Beryl" Ser Paxton looks up at you, his one functioning eye no longer needing to squint as he gets shadow from your large body. "This milksop isn't ready for a proper pitched combat, however i believe ser Ethelstan was roaming around eager to test his blades. Maybe you see him from up there?"

"Very well sir. Have a good day. And squire lad. Never forget the importance of a good defense. It's what kept me alive for so long."

Beryl heads to find Ethelstan and offer a mock combat.

[Leonard Van Rin]

It was a day like many other in this rather peaceful place. Admittedly this often made him wonder if indeed the sole reason for him being hired was the putting of the worries the young lord's mother had to a rest. For what provides better security than a man who is armed to the teeth as the saying goes? Well nothing. Also the rather nasty scar below his left eye gave him a bit of a more intimidating apparition which always helped scaring off fools who would even consider hurt young lord Casyr.

Ethelstan didn't think much of the coming tournament in Harrenhal. Such events only meant more work, and as such they could be entertaining... Until one realises that this work entails walking behind a teen boy for entire days on end. At least he'd get to see westerosi knights fight, something which he had not properly witnessed just yet. As for what he thought of this lord Baratheon... Well according to some he was supposed to be quite an impressive warrior. So that could be interesting.

He was observing the bashing that a young squire got from sir Paxton. Interesting how older knights often throw insults at squires when the youngsters fail to do something properly. Wouldn't it be more efficient to just explain the mistake logically? Probably. But from the man he raised him he knew that in Westeros logic is often not the go to option. As he was thinking of all these things he saw Beryl walk through the courtyard. Perhaps this day would be interesting in the end.

The valyrian made his way down onto the courtyard, and approached the quite large man. Truth be told he found it intriguing how someone this large could even be born. For a while now he wanted to see what this giant was capable of doing.


"Good morning Beryl. It seems that sir Paxton's squire isn't quite up for the challenge of facing you. Perhaps a round with me could prove of use? After all, we both need to train, now don't we?" Ethelstan spoke with an accent, one of someone from the east. Being raised in one of the free cities will often do that to a person. His tone was calm and collected, in many ways could be described as cold. Perhaps that was why few folk actually had a proper liking of the valyrian.

[Ameraaaaaa]

It was a day like many other in this rather peaceful place. Admittedly this often made him wonder if indeed the sole reason for him being hired was the putting of the worries the young lord's mother had to a rest. For what provides better security than a man who is armed to the teeth as the saying goes? Well nothing. Also the rather nasty scar below his left eye gave him a bit of a more intimidating apparition which always helped scaring off fools who would even consider hurt young lord Casyr.

Ethelstan didn't think much of the coming tournament in Harrenhal. Such events only meant more work, and as such they could be entertaining... Until one realises that this work entails walking behind a teen boy for entire days on end. At least he'd get to see westerosi knights fight, something which he had not properly witnessed just yet. As for what he thought of this lord Baratheon... Well according to some he was supposed to be quite an impressive warrior. So that could be interesting.

He was observing the bashing that a young squire got from sir Paxton. Interesting how older knights often throw insults at squires when the youngsters fail to do something properly. Wouldn't it be more efficient to just explain the mistake logically? Probably. But from the man he raised him he knew that in Westeros logic is often not the go to option. As he was thinking of all these things he saw Beryl walk through the courtyard. Perhaps this day would be interesting in the end.

The valyrian made his way down onto the courtyard, and approached the quite large man. Truth be told he found it intriguing how someone this large could even be born. For a while now he wanted to see what this giant was capable of doing.


"Good morning Beryl. It seems that sir Paxton's squire isn't quite up for the challenge of facing you. Perhaps a round with me could prove of use? After all, we both need to train, now don't we?" Ethelstan spoke with an accent, one of someone from the east. Being raised in one of the free cities will often do that to a person. His tone was calm and collected, in many ways could be described as cold. Perhaps that was why few folk actually had a proper liking of the valyrian.

Baryl smiled. Most knights wouldn't agree. But the only thing he cared more about then fighting was house scales itself.

"Indeed. Let's grab the wooden equivalent of our weapons and spar. As a experienced knight i want to see if you got that warrior in you. I heard you were talented. So let's see how much."

As beryl the 7 foot giant goes to get the sparing equipment he asked "what do you wield? Personally spear and shield myself."

[Leonard Van Rin]

"Bastard sword and a large shield actually. As for being talented... I don't believe this is about talent. But let's not speak of such things now. Sir Paxton I think the young squire will benefit from watching this. He just might learn a few things." He looked at the youngster who had the rather large displeasure of being associated with the one eyed knight. Ethelstan found him to be... Ungrateful towards most folks.

[Ameraaaaaa]

"Nice choice. Squire lad. Pay close attention."

Beryl grabbed the equipment and distributed it.

"Ethelstan Pyke. Don't let me down ok. Ready. Set. Go."

Spoiler

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So now i guess the gm can teach us how it goes.

[Leonard Van Rin]

Ethelstan took the gear and got ready, standing quite close to the giant knight. For this way they both were in range of each other. "Indeed, let's begin this."

(4d6)[5][2][6][4](17)

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So I read the rulebook. Again haha We must roll Initiative aka each of us makes an Agility test

[Ameraaaaaa]

(3d6)[4][5][4](13)

Beryl was never the fastest but that didn't mean he did not try.

[Leonard Van Rin]

Perhaps it was because he was lighter, or due to a huge amount of luck. Being in the position to he decides to attack the large man. He makes make a cut from his left towards the right with as much force as he can master in the moment

(8d6)[1][1][4][5][2][3][3][2](21)

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And here we go! So, am using a long blades weapon aka the bastard sword. Due to having Long Blades 3 I add 3 bonus dice. Five plus three is eight. Now if your Combat Defence is higher than my roll I don't hit. But if I roll higher than your Combat Defence, I hit!

[Andrethegiant]

Perhaps it was because he was lighter, or due to a huge amount of luck. Being in the position to he decides to attack the large man. He makes make a cut from his left towards the right with as much force as he can master in the moment

[roll0]

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And here we go! So, am using a long blades weapon aka the bastard sword. Due to having Long Blades 3 I add 3 bonus dice. Five plus three is eight. Now if your Combat Defence is higher than my roll I don't hit. But if I roll higher than your Combat Defence, I hit!

"Oh, you did it now newcomer, you made him angry", Ser Paxton, along with most of the other squires have gathered around to see the fight between the houses two prime fighters.

Spoiler: OOC

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Because this is PBP we do all the calculation for our rolls to make it easier. First off bastard sword is a weapon requiring 1 BD to use. So for the next roll you'll have 7 dice (keeping the 5 best), but as this was inconsequential we'll roll with it. So you rolled a 17, Baryl has a defence of 9+tower shield adding 6, so 15. You get 1 degree of success on your hit. So your damage is multiplied with one. You use a bastard sword (athletics of 3+1)*1 DOS= 4 dmg, Baryls thick splint coat has an AR of 7+armour mastery and improved armour mastery. So he absorbs the first 9 points of damage from a hit.

[Leonard Van Rin]

"Oh, you did it now newcomer, you made him angry", Ser Paxton, along with most of the other squires have gathered around to see the fight between the houses two prime fighters.

Spoiler: OOC

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Because this is PBP we do all the calculation for our rolls to make it easier. First off bastard sword is a weapon requiring 1 BD to use. So for the next roll you'll have 7 dice (keeping the 5 best), but as this was inconsequential we'll roll with it. So you rolled a 17, Baryl has a defence of 9+tower shield adding 6, so 15. You get 1 degree of success on your hit. So your damage is multiplied with one. You use a bastard sword (athletics of 3+1)*1 DOS= 4 dmg, Baryls thick splint coat has an AR of 7+armour mastery and improved armour mastery. So he absorbs the first 9 points of damage from a hit.

Spoiler: OOC

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5 dmg... As I have Weapon Mastery for the Bastard Sword

[Ameraaaaaa]

"Oh, you did it now newcomer, you made him angry", Ser Paxton, along with most of the other squires have gathered around to see the fight between the houses two prime fighters.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Because this is PBP we do all the calculation for our rolls to make it easier. First off bastard sword is a weapon requiring 1 BD to use. So for the next roll you'll have 7 dice (keeping the 5 best), but as this was inconsequential we'll roll with it. So you rolled a 17, Baryl has a defence of 9+tower shield adding 6, so 15. You get 1 degree of success on your hit. So your damage is multiplied with one. You use a bastard sword (athletics of 3+1)*1 DOS= 4 dmg, Baryls thick splint coat has an AR of 7+armour mastery and improved armour mastery. So he absorbs the first 9 points of damage from a hit.

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I just checked ny character sheet. Just a regular shield tho now i wish i had a tower shield. Oh well.

[Gareth3]

Tommen frowns and looks down at the courtyard where Ser Paxton is yelling at the squire. That's not a good way to teach him, maybe I should go down there... He shakes his head, realising he knows nothing about combat, and Paxton won't be receptive to any advice. He returns to his reading, but looks down again when Beryl makes the challenge. May as well learn something myself. He leaves his room and joins the audience, standing next to Ser Paxton. "Good morning, Ser. Who do you think will be the victor here?"

[Andrethegiant]

Spoiler: ooc

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I just checked ny character sheet. Just a regular shield tho now i wish i had a tower shield. Oh well.

Spoiler: OOC

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Assumed you wanted a tower shield as that is the reason to get bonus dice in shields? You may change if you want. If not your defence is 11, not 15. If so the calculation would be Ethelstan dealing 5 dmg*2DOS= 10 damage. Minus your 9 damage resistance is one damage.In either case, your turn to try an action.

Tommen frowns and looks down at the courtyard where Ser Paxton is yelling at the squire. That's not a good way to teach him, maybe I should go down there... He shakes his head, realising he knows nothing about combat, and Paxton won't be receptive to any advice. He returns to his reading, but looks down again when Beryl makes the challenge. May as well learn something myself. He leaves his room and joins the audience, standing next to Ser Paxton. "Good morning, Ser. Who do you think will be the victor here?"

The grizzled veteran jumps when you talk to him- his missing eye leaves him without peripheral vision on his right side. "Ah, Ser Storm. Well, this newcomer hits very hard indeed, these bast... well, these swords are meant to give a beating." As for illustration the blade hits Ser Baryl with a deep thud. "But my boy can take a beating, he's been hit around this yard for years now and I have yet to see him concede before he gets carried of in a stretcher". Ser Paxton takes obvious pride in seeing his prodigy fight. "It's never too late to learn to fight Ser Storm. Although winter is just over we can never be too prepared for hard times. Without wanting to pry in your heritage too much I'd say fighting is probably in your blood."

[Ameraaaaaa]

Spoiler: OOC

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Assumed you wanted a tower shield as that is the reason to get bonus dice in shields? You may change if you want. If not your defence is 11, not 15. If so the calculation would be Ethelstan dealing 5 dmg*2DOS= 10 damage. Minus your 9 damage resistance is one damage.In either case, your turn to try an action.

"

Spoiler: OOC

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sure I'll switch to tower shield

[Andrethegiant]

Spoiler: OOC

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sure I'll switch to tower shield

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Great- it is your turn to attempt to hit the mercenary

[Ameraaaaaa]

Spoiler: OOC

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(6d6)[1][5][2][6][6][5](25)

Remember that 2 die are bd so i only take the top 4 rolls not all 6. Unless i misunderstood the rules.

Beryl took the hit mentally thinking hmm. Nice strike. He has talent

Beryl holds his shield in front of him (both for defence and to hide his spear) while pulling back of the spear then pulls his shield to the left and push forward the spear hoping to strike pyke in the lung. Let's see how good his stamina is with a strike to the lung. Those are exhausting. I know from experience.

[Andrethegiant]

Spoiler: OOC

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[roll0]

Remember that 2 die are bd so i only take the top 4 rolls not all 6. Unless i misunderstood the rules.

Beryl took the hit mentally thinking hmm. Nice strike. He has talent

Beryl holds his shield in front of him (both for defence and to hide his spear) while pulling back of the spear then pulls his shield to the left and push forward the spear hoping to strike pyke in the lung. Let's see how good his stamina is with a strike to the lung. Those are exhausting. I know from experience.

Spoiler: OOC

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So that's a 22 (5+5+6+6). Ethelstan has 9 CD, but is using a shield giving him +4, but wearing a halfplate giving him- 5. So 8 In total. 22-8=14. You get 3 DOS. Your athletics is 4, so you deal 12 damage. Ethelstans half plate gives him 9 AR, so he takes 3 damage. Before the tourney we will look at spears as a weapon, because it is underwhelming as of now.

"See, the boy knew how to hit back" Ser Paxton comments to Tommen as the spear lands. Paxton then quickly intercedes as he sees the valyrian sellsword raises his sword again. "That's enough for an exhibit thank you both. I know you have a long and ardous journey ahead of you, I wouldnt like to be the reason anybody got injuried before the large seven sided melee we hear rumours of."

[Andrethegiant]

Later in the day, with your ship, the Spray, packed and ready for travel you all stand atop it's deck. The trek to Harrenhall starts with fanfare, smallfolk and family alike standing on the dock bidding you safe travels. The start of your journey goes well. Aided by a light breeze putting wind in your sails, the Stormlands proved to be a misnomer as the crew of your ships spend most of their time basking in the unusually mild weather.

You sail in past Crackclaws point towards Darry, the beautiful inlet lets you see trees and a bustling wildlife on both sides. Some of the attending ladies laugh as a pair of clumsy does trip through the undergrowth. The serenity proved to be shortlived however.


While you all look to the side your captain, Brandon Waters, exclaims “mothers mercy” as he lowers his looking glass, revealing eyes just as wild as the nature you travel through. “Turn the ship you moonfaced idiots” he commands, but it is too late, already large ships with banners from the north is blocking your passage out. The ship has nowhere to turn.

As he lends his looking glass to you all you can see the cause of his fear. Further up stands majestic warships. Their masts standing tall against the sky, an amalgamation of banners signifying powerful houses, all barely moving forward as the narrowing inlet traps them. Some of the larger ships are pushing their way forward, but this only makes the channel more digested. Smaller boats, filled with minor knights and traders from near and far are desperately milling about to avoid being caught in the clash of giants.

Some enterprising nobles are already hastily unloading on the riverbank, but the tummultous waves makes this a dangerous enterprise and you see more than one shipchest bobbing along the stream from failed landfalls.

The captain looks at you all in question. “Sers? Septon?” and in desperation he even look to the women in askance: "ladies, what can we do?"

[Ameraaaaaa]

Beryl is a bit confused what's going on. "What are they thinking? Can't anyone talk to them?"

Beryl stays close to the child lord for his protection. Grippinghis shield and spearkeep scales safe. Protect them with your life. That is your oath. That is your purpose.

[Harmony]

Amyra Vaith

Amyra loved travelling, everything from ship to riding, and sometimes even by foot. Seeing new parts of the Kingdom, even as it got greener and greener and the sun got lower and lower. The new vegetations and the huge farms. In Dorne, such massive irrigation could only exist near water, and yet up here in the cold north there were just fields and fields. She had wondered if Harrenhall was so long up north that there would be pines and other curious trees, bushes and flowers she had only seen drawn images off.

It had been hard to say good bye to her daughters, but they were to young to come apparently. Had Valena been a boy, it would have been a good learning experience here in the north, but she was not. Broderiers and curtsies was the norm, even though Amyra made sure to indulge her oldest daughter's whims, to some extent allowing her to try to become the woman she wanted to be, rather than reverse. Her younger daughter, Sylvenna, was more cut out of the northern lifestyle. She was kind and soft like the grass that was in such abundance here. Even among the rocks it thrived.

She was getting bored after having spent most of the journey relaxing, watching the ocean and talking to the other women. She could melt in if she wanted. It was a relaxing life, without much responsibility, but it was never a choice. She understood while some might make that choice, but she did not enjoy seeing it forced on others.

There seemed to be some tumult with the captain and once the men had seen the looming catastrophe in the looking glass, she needed only a glance to see the problem. Amyra was not the most book-smart of people. She had been riding the wondrous horses of Dorne before she could write, so her writing classes had been doubled and her riding halved. But problems like these made her mind spin. She was more comfortable with logistics at land, but the ocean was just the side, simply that you could not stop, and the wind decided the direction and speed that was possible to travel. This was so typical of northerners, so busy minding their own business that they did not see what they were causing. Steering, and navigating tightly, anchoring to loose speed or make sudden turns, all these were possibilities, but it seemed like the captain had already lost control over his own ship.

It was not her place to take charge, but the man had asked. That was an invitation. Perhaps they could cruise it, but perhaps it was better to just anchor and wait out the jam. She did not know the quality of these men and how well they could handle the ship they were on. "It will be alright." She soothed. "Do you think you can get us through?" She asked. It was an honest question, and while she did like his self-confidence right now, people had the right to loose their nerve and be able to regain it. "Or should we anchor and wait out the worst?" The last part could mean they got stuck here, so it was as much intended for the captain as it was for their Lord.

[Andrethegiant]

"I suppose we could try to push through my lady, but it will be risky. with those large wartubs floating about they could easily crush us to splinters if we get stuck between them. They belong out on the open sea, not in these narrowing inlets. Anchoring down is possible too my lady but no telling how long we will be stuck here then, no telling how many other boats want to get to Harrenhall now."

[Harmony]

Amyra Vaith

"You strike me as someone who's sailed your entire life." Amyra warmed up with a compliment to the Captain. "How well do you know this ship and how well does its crew know it?" It was no point in trying something risky if the captain was not certain in the ship and the crew. She was not a sailor, but she understood familiarity, logistics, travel, maneuvering room, speed and like the captain mentioned, impact. She fully agreed with his assessment that the big ships should not be travelling here, but northerners did what northerners did, their egos often as big and as much in the way of others as the ships in front of them were. Being crushed between two ships was not ideal either, but those ships may soon realize that travel upstream would be impossible in such a ship, which would leave them stuck hopelessly behind them, perhaps even missing the tournament. "It is your ship, Captain Waters, and you know her best. If you believe in her capable, so do I." She encouraged him. It was the easiest way, she found, to inspire people. Some, like most masters-of-arms, liked screams and intimidation. She had since long found that inspiring confidence was much more effective.

"My Lord." She curtsied quickly as she spoke to her young Liege, her eyes glancing between his mother and the Septon to ensure that she was not leaving them out of the conversation. "We might risk to come to late for the tournament. Even landing a few horses and riding with the ship trailing seems like large risk, and then we may not be able to bring everything we need too." She nods towards some of the ships failing to make landfall. "I might be able to help plot a course and do the timing, and with such an amazing sailor as our captain at the helm, I do believe it's a possibility." As much as she hated it, the risks excited her. Her late husband had been all to timid and she hoped none of those traits would take hold on the young Lord. At the same time, she did not want to encourage it. While he might not be entirely in control, he could likely sway his regent should the need arise. But they might strike down the entire idea as well, she had the hot blood of Rhoyne in her veins which was flaring up at this possibility. No one would remember the ships anchoring here.

[Gareth3]

Tommen is horrified at the crush of ships. "Seven Gods, people could die in this." He moves back and forth on the ship's deck, trying to get the best view of the ships and their banners.

Spoiler: OOC

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Tommen is trying to determine which ship is flying banners of the most powerful House. He has Knowledge 4 and Knowledge Focus (Heraldry).

[Wymmerdann]

Casyr felt horror twist a gut already wrenched by hours of sea travel. He had not travelled well, and his face was pale, his cheeks sunken as he assessed matters through the lens of his personal far-eyes.
He heard his Uncle Tommen’s words and a shiver ran up his spine. Many could die, not out of any malice, but sheer incompetence. Someone should have anticipated this risk, and yet, none had. He was confronted with chaos and given the choice of fleeing from it or recklessly advancing into it. Each choice felt like a trap, a chance to be proven a craven or a fool.

As Lady Amyra approached him, Casyr snapped his far-eyes shut, perturbed by the sight of the hazardous landings and near misses. He must plot the third course. “If you are willing to shoulder that responsibility, then I am inclined to put my faith in you,” Casyr replied sombrely, forcing gravitas into his tone was like donning clothes made for a taller and more experienced man, a man like his father. “But we must think not just of ourselves, for a great many lives are in peril who are thinking in just the same way. We must coordinate with other ships and bring as many to safety as we can.”

“Do we have signalling flags, that might normally be used to coordinate with other ships in harbour?” he inquired of Captain Waters, “They will be useful here, with ships running too close to one another, they will be easily visible, and serve to remind captains that larger vessels ought give way to smaller craft.”

He gestured to his long shadow, “Ser Beryl I must grant you the task of making this ship twice as imposing by lending your stature to the waving of such flags – take your instruction from the ship’s signalman.”

“Master Pyke,” he nodded to the mercenary, feeling even more the untested youth in comparison to such a veteran “clear everyone but our immediate retainers and the crew from the deck, lest they interfere with smooth sailing.

“Lady Heartly,” his tongue suddenly felt too big in his mouth, “there are a number of animals below that are as dangerous in this chaos as they are irreplaceable. Please, I leave them in your care.”

“Uncle Tommen, Mother," he added, “we must identify those who may actually know what they are doing and can help us bring chaos from such madness. Ships belonging to houses that have harbours of their own, that know the risk in this moment and have the experienced crew required to coordinate. Hightower, Lannisters, Graftons, Manderlys, Velaryons.” He almost added “Darklyns” before remembering the King’s Justice “Rykkers”. And friends inclined to listen to our signal.”

He paused, catching his breath and leaning against the side of the ship. To cover the moment of weakness he drew the far-eyes again and scanned nearby ships, hoping that his voice had seemed less strained, presumptuous and foolhardy than it had sounded in his own ears.

[Ameraaaaaa]

Casyr felt horror twist a gut already wrenched by hours of sea travel. He had not travelled well, and his face was pale, his cheeks sunken as he assessed matters through the lens of his personal far-eyes.
He heard his Uncle Tommen’s words and a shiver ran up his spine. Many could die, not out of any malice, but sheer incompetence. Someone should have anticipated this risk, and yet, none had. He was confronted with chaos and given the choice of fleeing from it or recklessly advancing into it. Each choice felt like a trap, a chance to be proven a craven or a fool.

As Lady Amyra approached him, Casyr snapped his far-eyes shut, perturbed by the sight of the hazardous landings and near misses. He must plot the third course. “If you are willing to shoulder that responsibility, then I am inclined to put my faith in you,” Casyr replied sombrely, forcing gravitas into his tone was like donning clothes made for a taller and more experienced man, a man like his father. “But we must think not just of ourselves, for a great many lives are in peril who are thinking in just the same way. We must coordinate with other ships and bring as many to safety as we can.”

“Do we have signalling flags, that might normally be used to coordinate with other ships in harbour?” he inquired of Captain Waters, “They will be useful here, with ships running too close to one another, they will be easily visible, and serve to remind captains that larger vessels ought give way to smaller craft.”

He gestured to his long shadow, “Ser Beryl I must grant you the task of making this ship twice as imposing by lending your stature to the waving of such flags – take your instruction from the ship’s signalman.”

“Master Pyke,” he nodded to the mercenary, feeling even more the untested youth in comparison to such a veteran “clear everyone but our immediate retainers and the crew from the deck, lest they interfere with smooth sailing.

“Lady Heartly,” his tongue suddenly felt too big in his mouth, “there are a number of animals below that are as dangerous in this chaos as they are irreplaceable. Please, I leave them in your care.”

“Uncle Tommen, Mother," he added, “we must identify those who may actually know what they are doing and can help us bring chaos from such madness. Ships belonging to houses that have harbours of their own, that know the risk in this moment and have the experienced crew required to coordinate. Hightower, Lannisters, Graftons, Manderlys, Velaryons.” He almost added “Darklyns” before remembering the King’s Justice “Rykkers”. And friends inclined to listen to our signal.”

He paused, catching his breath and leaning against the side of the ship. To cover the moment of weakness he drew the far-eyes again and scanned nearby ships, hoping that his voice had seemed less strained, presumptuous and foolhardy than it had sounded in his own ears.

"Yes cesar! I will!" Beryl was impressed with the boy. Definitely a smart one.

Beryl followed the instructions with a fever of a man ready to die. Thankfully the task was not fight to the death but flag signaling. Beryl definitely listened to every single last thing the signal man told him. Must not let a potential mistake of his be house scales end.

[Batcathat]

As was her habit, Roanne Scales kept to the back of the crowd, observing not only the ships ahead of them but the people around her. Despite the situation, she almost smiled when Casyr started barking orders. Although her son's habit of leaping into action head first sometimes drove her crazy with equal parts worry and annoyance, his instinct for taking charge would serve him well once he became a man and a ruler, at least if he learned to reign it in when necessary.

As Casyr spoke to her and Tommen, she nodded. Although usually not one to happily follow anyone else's orders, even her son's, Roanne knew little of sailing. Not to mention that openly pushing back would risk not only her son's authority but her own image as a proper, demure lady.

Instead, she pulled out her own far-eyes and looked towards the ships.

[Leonard Van Rin]

Casyr felt horror twist a gut already wrenched by hours of sea travel. He had not travelled well, and his face was pale, his cheeks sunken as he assessed matters through the lens of his personal far-eyes.
He heard his Uncle Tommen’s words and a shiver ran up his spine. Many could die, not out of any malice, but sheer incompetence. Someone should have anticipated this risk, and yet, none had. He was confronted with chaos and given the choice of fleeing from it or recklessly advancing into it. Each choice felt like a trap, a chance to be proven a craven or a fool.

As Lady Amyra approached him, Casyr snapped his far-eyes shut, perturbed by the sight of the hazardous landings and near misses. He must plot the third course. “If you are willing to shoulder that responsibility, then I am inclined to put my faith in you,” Casyr replied sombrely, forcing gravitas into his tone was like donning clothes made for a taller and more experienced man, a man like his father. “But we must think not just of ourselves, for a great many lives are in peril who are thinking in just the same way. We must coordinate with other ships and bring as many to safety as we can.”

“Do we have signalling flags, that might normally be used to coordinate with other ships in harbour?” he inquired of Captain Waters, “They will be useful here, with ships running too close to one another, they will be easily visible, and serve to remind captains that larger vessels ought give way to smaller craft.”

He gestured to his long shadow, “Ser Beryl I must grant you the task of making this ship twice as imposing by lending your stature to the waving of such flags – take your instruction from the ship’s signalman.”

“Master Pyke,” he nodded to the mercenary, feeling even more the untested youth in comparison to such a veteran “clear everyone but our immediate retainers and the crew from the deck, lest they interfere with smooth sailing.

“Lady Heartly,” his tongue suddenly felt too big in his mouth, “there are a number of animals below that are as dangerous in this chaos as they are irreplaceable. Please, I leave them in your care.”

“Uncle Tommen, Mother," he added, “we must identify those who may actually know what they are doing and can help us bring chaos from such madness. Ships belonging to houses that have harbours of their own, that know the risk in this moment and have the experienced crew required to coordinate. Hightower, Lannisters, Graftons, Manderlys, Velaryons.” He almost added “Darklyns” before remembering the King’s Justice “Rykkers”. And friends inclined to listen to our signal.”

He paused, catching his breath and leaning against the side of the ship. To cover the moment of weakness he drew the far-eyes again and scanned nearby ships, hoping that his voice had seemed less strained, presumptuous and foolhardy than it had sounded in his own ears.

Ethelstan looked at this entire situation and wanted to facepalm, as he had seen such issues before. In truth Bravoos rarely had such trouble but ut still on occasion happened. He didn’t understand how competent captains can lead ships into such stupid traps. Then again, most Westerosi captains ain’t really good at their job.

He was standing right by the young lord, for when outside the castle a bodyguard must stay around his client. He was in full gear, including his sword and shield. Sure, few people would be going for a kill when it comes to exploiting. Easier to get the kid married to someone… Preferably one’s own daughter. Arranged marriage always pissed him off. Sure he is a strange and at times cruel man but in the end he still believed in true love. Sadly young women of all status saw him more as a danger to them than a potential partner. He sighed.

It was then that Casyr gave him the order to act. If the valyrian was good at something then it was fighting and threatening people to do what he needed them to do. He walked into the middle of the deck and looked upon the kind folk present there.

“Ladies and gentlemen, by command of lord Casyr you are to head beneath deck and to your cabins. We have the situation under control, and if you require any assistance am here.” The tone he used was rather harsh, though he was honest about being helpful when the need for aid would arise. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to resort to violence this time around.