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The Mountain Men are certainly making their presence known.
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Is Timett son of Timett there?
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Should any of the claimants wish to speak with me, my rookery stands ready.
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FINAL VOTE TALLY DAY 10
Ser Courtney Penrose (Darth Vilus): Robb (Coffee Warlord), Balon (The Jackal), Asha (britrock88), Stannis (Autumn), Florent (claphamsa), Davos (InBlue), Ser Barristan (mauchow), Littlefinger (saldana) -- 11 votes Ser Axell Florent (claphamsa): Renly (path12), Penrose (Darth Vilus) -- 3 votes |
When the ravens start to arrive at Storm's End, Ser Courtnay Penrose knew they would come calling for him.
"It was me or that lunatic Florent, my Grace," he said to King Renly. "It was only a matter of time for me." King Renly turned to his Hand, his mood somber. "This saddens me greatly, Lord Penrose," he said. "You have served me loyally and to great result. You deserve a better end than this." "Mr Grace, just continue to be the best King this kingdom has ever had," Penrose said. "If my life and death leads to that end, there can be no better purpose to either one. To the Seven with me." He nods to Renly's guards. "No need for the escort, lads. I'll do this myself," he said. Before anyone can stop him, Lord Penrose has revealed a short dagger from within his mail sleeve, and viciously cuts across his own throat! Penrose falls to his knees, blood spurting fron his open neck, King and guards watching aghast. The guards run forward and attempt to hold him up by the shoulders, as he vaults to the stone floor. Nothing can be done. Penrose is dead. SER COURTNAY PENROSE HAS COMMITTED SUICIDE IN ANTICIPATION OF BEING NAMED AN ENEMY OF THE REALM. |
Casterly Rock and Dragonstone were both raided in the night!
It's unclear who hit Casterly Rock, but Dragonstone was yet again the target of Tyrion's Mountain Men! |
Fare thee well, Ser Penrose.
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House Stark will give 50,000 gold to any and all bannerman who flees the service of their King today.
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I am sure the ghosts of my bannerman will be glad to flee to take that gold.
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So. Because I'm sure people would love to know.
Stannis has 20,000 men and 66 ships under his direct command, plus whatever his bannermen have. Renly has 47,000 men and 57 ships. |
By the by, my dear Kings. I outnumber both those two combined, and no assassin's knife can touch me.
I suggest you bend knee to me, and we win this. |
All PMs are out.
I have a few actions still to process, but they are Day 11 actions, so I will get to them when I can. Right now, I need to concentrate on getting some work done (stupid job!). DAY ELEVEN DEADLINE IS 5 p.m. EST/2 p.m. PDT THURSDAY. |
There are those who would rather fight than bend the knee, Young Wolf. I think you misjudge some of your elders.
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Well, then fight. I will even back you when our colleagues inevitably delays the assault and tries to pile onto you.
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I believe that that would be the definition of a hollow victory. Success through survival in a game where the kings cannot be killed. I suggest that the kings put your words to the test. It would seem there is nothing to lose. Are you worried my lord? |
I welcome any army to march on my lands.
I will meet them in the field. No running, no waiting. The North will not give up one inch of territory to an invader. |
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I will give 50,000 grains of sand to any and all bannermen who do not flee the service of their King today. They will serve you as well as the coin Stark is willing to throw at you. Do you truly believe Asha or Seaworthy care about money? It seems you have been dealing with the Imp and Littlefinger for too long Lord Stark. |
I declare myself the one true winner... as the only remaining Bannerman!
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One on one you beat any of us. Combined we have about 35% more men and more than double the ships.
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There are three of you ;) |
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Indeed. And we all know the second anyone attacks, they will delay, and half the realm will pile on. |
It is a quandary.
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Do you want 50,000 gold too? |
I'd rather have the name of the person responsible for the death of my father. And then 50,000.
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I wouldn't mind knowing either. I can only tell you it wasn't me, and it wasn't financed by me either - at least not even close to fully. I've handed out coin, but not even close to enough to finance an assassin.
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I've not hired any assassins this game.
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So it seems we're at one hell of an impasse.
Unless of course, you all bend knee to me. Which you're still welcome to do. |
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Well a further impasse is that the first person to bend the knee to you will be voted for execution. I believe the laws of the realm may need to be altered. Or, possibly, clarified. |
Although I must say I find the lack of action today to be most disappointing.
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I do not believe the Imp was responsible. I don't believe the Baratheons are responsible. I think Lord Balon might be unpracticed in the intricacies of Westeros and could be responsible. Other than that there is Baelish or Varys. I cannot fathom why either would make the effort, unless Baelish hopes to be your Hand. I tend to suspect that Greyjoy is to blame. |
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Theon? Theon had nowhere near enough coin to do the deed. |
Balon.
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(Misread your first comment about Balon, sorry)
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I can assure you we have no need of assassins, nor have considered purchasing one.
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I'd like to see CW name Cersei hand of the King, just to see her go :)
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It appears that Tyrion Lannister has joined the Starks!
Tyrion Lannister has Bent the Knee and is now a member of House Stark! He may start viewing the House Stark thread. |
The Imp is still not eligible to be voted, and his vote still only counts for one half of a vote.
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Others would be wise to bend the knee to king Stark before it is too late.
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#teamstark
Tyrion leading troops into battle would be a fine display |
I'm sure he will be happy to stand behind me.
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King Stark sentences Tyrion Lannister to de...names him Hand of the King.
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5th time is the charm!
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And then Tyrion was hit by lightning.
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Unfortunately you are the forth Uncle. Seems that you are already wishing your successor luck. |
Well, to be fair, Theon was being delivered the Hand's sigil, when the delivery boy was mauled by a yak stampede. So technically he is fifth.
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It is time of the dwarf
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[ooc] Shouldn't it be the "Winterfell Hand of the King Corpse" in order to complete the pun? [/ooc]
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I apologize but matters of state keep me busy. I will do what I can to proceed as I have time.
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I am looking at possibilities to try and break the deadlock as well. I find this inactivity tiresome and hope that a resolution can be found today.
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I wonder how Lord Baelish will respond to this. I hope Ser Barriston can watch your and Stark's back at the same time brother. We saw how well he protected the previous Hand though. |
I should be around more today, but still a rather busy day.
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i have no aspirations of power, nor do i bear any ill will towards your brother, hence, I am perplexed as to why you choose to characterize me in any manner that would be envious or in any other way, negative towards Lord Tyrion |
It seems that some people place far too much emphasis on money - it is merely a means to an end, and there aren't really many ends that are worth it at this stage.
I have heard rumours that Balon is definitely taking the black. It would seem he is a patient man, as would be necessary if he is to stand on the Wall for the rest of his life. Waiting. |
That would be...bizarre.
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[ooc] wouldn't surprise me if Balon wasn't allowed to bend the knee [/ooc]
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[ooc] Still haven't heard from a few people today...path/autumn/mr. greyjoy/joffrey [/ooc]
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I expect you will have a raven at some point from me. |
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I heard a rumor that there is always room for more saltwives on my ship. |
Maester Pycelle's aide hurried to the tower of the Master of Coin. King Joffrey was not pleased at all that Master Baelish chose not to attend the Small Council meeting today, not even sending a message.
The page himself, having been in attendance on these great personages for some years, was a little surpirsed as well, as it was not in Littlefinger's nature to insult--at least not until he was done with you. And men who go to Small Councils aren't the types of men Littlefinger chooses to insult. As the aide approaches the door, he sees a diminutive figure standing before the door. Littlefinger's visitor turns around in alarm it his approach. He is taken aback, as the woman is strikingly attractive. She seemed to recover quickly after seeing him, no doubt because he wore no Gold Cloak. To his knowledge, Baelish does not waste his time on women, ironically, so this must be one of his many whores, delivering messages or pouches of gold, more like. "My Lady, are you here to visit with Lord Baelish?" the aide asked. He turned an inquiring glance at the closed door. "Has he not responded? Perhaps he is not inside?" She seems to take a pause to consider the situation before responding. "Yes, ser, I have business with the Lord this morning," she said. "I do believe he is within, though, as I thought I heard a groan and a noise at one point." The aide turned to the door and knocked with some force, requesting Baelish's presence. When there was no response after a few moments, the aide took another glance at the young woman and then reached for the door handle. It turned easily--it was unlocked! The door creeped open, so the aide pushed it open. Sunlight shot through the bottom tower room where Littlefinger made his residence, casting the space in streaks of light and dark. A foot was illuminated by the light, leading toward a corner of the room. Lord Baelish! The aide rushed forward to the Master of Coin's prostrate form on the ground. He knelt down to check on him. He's breathing, thank the Seven, the aide thought. Others had begun to gather at the door, as the woman hovered over him and Littlefinger. "Call for the maester!" the aide yelled. "Lord Baelish is ill!" As if to emphasize the point, Littlefinger groaned in pain. His eyes did not open, nor did he move, but he seemed to be breathing regularly. The aide noticed the overturned vial by his right hand. Before he could pick it up, he heard a gasp behind him. The woman noticed something on the top of a table near the window. He stared at in shock--a scorpion! Pinned to the table by a dagger! It appears to be dead. He knew this type, having been raised in the Reach. He had gone on merchant trips to the Sunspear in Dorne and seen this scorpions sold as "pets" in the marketplace. Their quick acting poison is reknowned. Did this scorpion sting Littlefinger? A maester and two guards rushed in and went over to the fallen Lord. "Maester, I believe he was stung by this scorpion," the aide said, pointing to the dead arachnid. "I believe you are correct, ser," the maester said, leaning down next to the man. He picked up the vial and sniffed it carefully. "And I think he had an antidote!" "He is... admirably resourceful," the aide noted with alacrity. The maester bent over Lord Baelish again, listening carefully to his breathing and looking in his mouth and at the tips of his hands. He looked up at the aide. "He will live," the maester said. "He would not have without this antidote, but he reached it before he lost consciousness. He will need to be on bedrest for a couple days, though." With that, the maester and guards started to lift Littlefinegr and take him over to his bed to continue his care. LITTLEFINGER was targeted for an ASSASSINATION, which has failed! Littlefinger will be out of commission through the DAY TWELVE deadline. |
Of all the people to try and assasinate. Baelish? Really?
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It is disheartening to see that men have lost the courage to wage battles. Assassins are the way of cowards.
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We will march right now, Iron Born, were you to either stand with us or at the very least stand aside when the other cowards flee from our army.
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The two of us want the same thing, and that cannot be achieved together. |
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Then I'm not certain how to progress. I fear no battle, but I am no fool to march into a suicide mission when I have other options. Which is what it is, at the moment. I do find it amusing, however, that these so-called 'Kings' only dare stand and fight when they have the support of their rivals. |
A convoy of King Renly's men has been attacked on the road from Highgarden to Storm's End!
The attackers were unusually uncouth for this far into the genteel south of Westeros, a much more gentle and prosperous land than the darker, rockier terrain of the North. It seems clear this attack spawned from those lands. The convoy was wiped out and a large shipment of Tyrell gold was taken! TYRION LANNISTER'S MOUNTAIN MEN HAVE VENTURED FURTHER SOUTH AND SNEAK ATTACKED KING RENLY!! |
Oh, right. We gotta kill someone today.
Vote Axell Florent |
It is a silent and creepy night in the war camp of House Stark, tendrils of fog interlacing through tents and mingling with the dying smoke of a thousand campires.
Greywind slumbers at the entrance to King Robb Stark's tent, beside a half eaten slab of meat, a growl rumbling deep in his throat with every slow exhale. Two guards stand in silent guard outside of the talent, bored and as always a little uneasy at the presence of the great direwolf. But the wolf seems to have had his fill with the meat. The closest campfire is snuffed out by an Umber man, and the great light shining on the tent entrance snuffs out. At the very moment the firelight dies, a dark form that had all the appearances of a pile of firewood rises up near one guard and grabs him by the hand. He gasps in surprise and pain from the pinprick of a needle in the intruder's hand. He falls to his knees as everything starts to go dark. The guard beside him turns at the sound, but before he can withdraw his sword, the attacker has spun and back-chopped on his neck, almost a delicate move. Despite this, the guard suddenly cannot move. He is paralyzed! The dark form catches him as he starts to pitch forward. The attacker applies a grip to the guard's neck until the guard has passed out and then silently eases him to the ground. The Faceless Man has arrived. His target is the King of the North... |
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Actually, it's not necessary to vote. Florent is the only eligible player left. So at the end of the day today, he will die as an Enemy of the Realm. |
Ruh roh.
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vot axel florent
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sacrifice
Shrug.. |
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NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO |
A dangerous day for the realm today, it seems.
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Theoretically, everybody could vote no lynch, could they not? Not that it would happen, but I'm just saying ... |
vote axel
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A man steps silently over the sleeping wolf. The waft of a drug all too familiar drifts through the air, for earlier it was sprinkled ever so lightly upon the meat the direwolf consumed.
The wolf will sleep fitfully and then be sick for several days. Respect is granted to those creatures which are the tools of the Many-Faced God. The wolf will not interfere tonight. The young king tosses and turns in his sleep. A man can sense his silent anguish, his connection to the great wolf. He can sense something is wrong, that the wolf's sleep is unnatural. Yet he sleeps on. A man makes no noise. A pouch is retrieved from a pocket in a man's cloak. A fine sedative, similar to the concoction on the needle of the palm. A breath, a cloud, little is needed to induce an even sounder sleep. A man dips a gloved finger into the pouch. A man leans over a King, and puffs ever so slightly on the finger. The powder drifts down upon the young man. A man stands still for the seconds it will take for the sedative to have its affect. The young king's breathing grows softer, but deeper. He will not wake tonight. A man steps forward to cover the king's mouth and nose and give him the gift. The young king barely struggles, but he is strong. It will take time. A man hears a noise. A man knows it well, not even needing to turn to the tent entrance. The old man returns. He is a man to be feared, respected. The old man gives a great roar. A man can start to hear the alarms rising in the camp. A man has underestimated the old man, whom a man felt would be away in the slumber those of such an age as he would need at this time of night. The old man takes out his sword and charges. A man sweeps out a Myrish knife, but only for defense. A man wishes not to give the gift to any but the young King. The old man swings his sword mightily. A man deftly steps aside, and then in, looking for pressure points. The old man surprises, jumping into a man and knocking him aside. A man turns to shelter his fall to the ground, catching all weight on a hip and rolling up to a stand. The Myrish knife is no longer in his hand. It is in the old man's side. The old man will not live for long. He falls to the ground and pitches over. A man intends just one gift. But the gift has been given to another. Most unfortunate. But so is the will of the Many-Faced God. A man must retrieve the knife and complete the gift to the young king. Time is short. The knife will be needed. A man kneels lightly on the old man's chest and reaches for the knife handle. A man looks down upon the old man's silent face and closed eyes, and whispers, "Valar morghulis." At the sound, the old man's eyes flutter open for a second and before a man can move, the old man has swung his left hand toward a man's side. A man can feel the dagger enter and pierce a man's heart. Pain tingles, running through a man, though not in any way a man can feel. Pain was conquered first. It matters not. The old man has given a man the gift. It is fitting. A man failed. A man is no longer fit to serve the Many-Faced God. The old man gasps out, "Valar dohaeris." And then he dies. A man can see that, and soon a man will follow him into the dark. The tent flaps open as swords leave their sheathes. But it matters not now. The dark takes a man to the Many-Faced God. |
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You are absolutely correct. I presumed that wouldn't happen, but, yes, that's possible. |
An old man will be greatly remembered.
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A FACELESS MAN WAS HIRED TO KILL KING ROBB STARK.
Ser Barristan Selmy has saved Robb Stark's life, but given his own life in doing so. |
Assassinations are now out of the game.
Due to the crackdown across the kingdom from the recent spate of assassinations (Melisandre, Tywin, the attempt on Littlefinger, and now a Faceless Man himself arrives in Westeros), it is currently untenable for assassins to operate, and the Brotherhood has gone underground for the remainder of the game. |
No King has defeated me in battle.
No King dares send their army against me. Thanks to the sacrifice of the most honorable man in Westeros, not even a dreaded servant of the Many Faced God was able to defeat me Bend the knee. |
If you dispute my superiority, face me on the field. I unlike any of you, will not run.
If, instead, you acknowledge you cannot defeat me, then acknowledge me as your liege. |
Great write up chief.
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A woman is not happy.
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You tried to send that against me?
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Yes, I have been accumulating 250,000 gold secretly throughout this time and sent a faceless man against you. I can't imagine who would have the required resources - I imagine you would be able to save the coin. Unless Lord Baelish has reason to see you dead, and I don't see why he would.
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Oh, I've had the coin and then some for quite some time. The North, however, does not hire killers.
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I was rather hoping that something would happen to change the status quo though.
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I did warn people that no assassin's knife would touch me.
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Varys - it was not an insinuation. I've made my stance on assassins quite clear. I, for one, am glad to see that they will not interfere in the coming events.
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Stannis? Renly? Joffrey? Who wants to swallow their pride and unify this realm with me?
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I pose the same query, of course. |
The death of Lord Selmy does perhaps mean that Lord Stark is more vulnerable on the battlefield, should it come to one-on-one combat.
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A pity it seems none of these so-called Kings dare try it.
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Stark, you'll have to do it on the battlefield and I believe you're going to have to do it against all of us.
You win that, we'll talk. |
I don't see you declaring war, Robb. Stop acting like the big man. You know you can't declare a war and win it and everyone else knows they can't declare a war and win it. Most people do not go out to actively lose.
I would have gladly knelt to you if you had not backstabbed me. So I suppose you'll have to win the realm the difficult way. |
Lord Renly,
Tis nice to see you are still alive after the events of today. |
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So in other words, we either sit here while nothing happens, or I can choose to lose the game. |
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*shrug* The Mountain Men want money. Money is not a big concern at this point. Thank you for the well wishes though, my lord. |
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I've noted before. 'Tis a quandary. |
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