Saltcliffe - IC

[BelGareth]

Lord Dagon Saltcliffe sits in his chair, tasting the wine, it wasn't great, but it was still wine, and he thought on how he got to such a place.

[Deadline]

Dagon Saltcliffe, aboard The Hell-born Raider - 2 weeks from the Iron Islands on a journey to King's Landing

The coup had been swift, and remarkably bloodless. A small miracle, given the natural predisposition of the Ironborn, he mused to himself. But he had to admit, his wife's counsel had been near prophetic, and now his family ruled the Iron Islands. Sure, Theron Blacktyde was still unaccounted for, but that is why he, his wife, and his personal guard had departed for King's Landing immediately following the meeting of the Ironborn nobles. He left the task of putting down the pockets of resistance and securing his rule to his son and his brothers.

He idly traced his thumb down the length of the nasty scar on his cheek. All that needed to happen now was to head to King's Landing and deal with Theron. Anarys clearly had other matters to discuss with the High Lords there, but the wheels of destiny were finally in motion. He grunted a bit as he stood from his seat, and strode out on deck. The sailors were in a flurry of activity, they would reach the mouth of the Mander river soon, and preparations were under way for the journey up the river to Bitterbridge.

Dagon's wife stood at the bow, a picture of radiant beauty in regal attire. She turned as he approached and smiled at him. "We're going to make a brief stop in Highgarden to discuss the details of Rhaenys and Greta's wedding with members of the Mountry family. It won't take long, my love." She took his hand into hers and turned her gaze back to the sea.

I have chatted with Dunkoro via PM, and we've hammered out an alliance. Greta Blacktyde will marry Lord Endar Mountry, and Rhaenys Saltcliffe will marry Lord Darrin Mountry. The weddings are slated to take place in 3 months time. Dunkoro also agreed to back House Saltcliffe as a great house, and acknowledge their claim to the Iron Islands as valid. We haven't sorted out trade agreements or the like as such.

I'll be posting again with some of the other family members soon, just putting this here for now.

[Deadline]

Rhaenys Saltcliffe, Pyke

Rhaenys sat at a windowsill high up in the Ravenskeep tower in Pyke. He hair was pulled back and braided in a style favored by the ladies of Highgarden, though she decorated it with the same fine silver chains that her mother wore. Her bright fuschia gown stood out like a sore thumb amidst the drab decor of her home. Her mood had been subdued these past weeks from a failed trade negotiation with Lord Harkard Ray, but now she clutched a letter from her mother tightly to her chest, a smile of absolute delight on her face. I'm getting married! She thought to herself, Married to the handsome Lord Darrin Mountry! I can't believe mother agreed to it! Her smile faded for a moment as she considered what possible ulterior motive her mother might have for such a union, but it returned after she could think of nothing. Unable to contain her excitement, she made her way through the halls of the fortress as paintings of her ancestors scowled down at her joyful pace with sour disapproval.

She made her way past servants and staff who couldn't help but smile at her bright gown and brighter smile. Despite, or perhaps because of, their hard lives, the Ironborn found a certain fascination with their princess, and she was generally well-liked by many. She flitted about through the kitchen staff and gave orders for a small banquet to be set. She wouldn't be able to celebrate with her mother and father until they returned from King's Landing, but she could celebrate with the family she had here, her uncles, aunts, and cousins.

While Dagon and Anarys are away, Rhaenys sees to the day-to-day administrative tasks in Pyke. That includes trade negotiations via ravens until her mother has set up shop in King's Landing. The negotiations with Lord Harkard Ray ... did not go well. I don't think drack has decided to have Harkard riled up to the point of war, but the elder Ray sure isn't happy. :smallbiggrin:

[Deadline]

Erik Saltcliff, walking alone on the shores of Pyke

The thrice blessed walked along the beach, seemingly unaffected by the biting wind and cold wet sand on his bare feet. He mused on the death of Fellion Blacktyde, and relished the memory of the look on the fool's face as he choked on seawater before the Drowned God claimed him. Surprise and panic, Erik thought, the fool had actually been surprised to see him, and he had panicked when Erik called upon the Drowned God to fill his lungs with water. What manner of holy man feared to serve his god? A weak fool, Erik thought, but weakness will be purged from him. What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger. The Drowned God will make him stronger.

Erik paused and listened to the crashing of the waves before smiling and nodding, "Yes, yes. We will make this world harder and stronger." He began cackling madly as the ocean waves crashed against the rocks, the spray drenching his robes. His cackling laughter turned into crazed shouting as the noise of the waves grew louder, "Together, we will carry His blessings to all the people of Westeros. Together, we will drown the world!"

[Deadline]

Balon Saltcliffe, aboard the Kraken's Kiss just outside Ironman's Bay

As the dice clattered to the deck and came up with two ones, the crew erupted in cheers and laughter. Balon Saltcliffe, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet and Admiral of the Northern Fleet chuckled and shook his head. "Well done Aeron, it looks like my luck just couldn't hold." He tossed a pouch of coins to his bosun, "A bet is a bet. Spend it well. Now back to your stations, you dogs, or it'll be the lash!" Balon shook his fist in mock fury with a grin, his crew laughing at the idle threat, but they moved to obey his command all the same. He rose and moved to the starboard side of his flagship. He idly grabbed some rigging and propped his foot up on the railing before gazing out to the south. He and his men had finished chasing down a ship of Ironborn who had decided they'd rather become raiders than submit to his father's rule of the Iron Islands. He had seen to it that they had been sent off to the proper watery grave that ultimately awaited all Ironborn, and committed their names and faces to memory. He shook his head and gazed at his reflection in the water. The men will soon grow bored of hunting down deserters and rebels, he thought to himself. I'd better come up with something to keep them occupied, or their thirst for raiding the coastline might push us to war. Then again, there's no glory to be won in peacetime.

[BelGareth]

******Meeting with Lord Hand and Steward of the Throne, Brynden Targaryen******

You easily find Ser Brynden, your ears and eyes pointing you to the direction of the Hands chamber, which oddly enough is a bustling center of guards, gold cloaks and servants moving with papers, oils, ointments, some bringing bread, others bringing weapons, the Kingsguard, or whats left of it, is stationed outside the chamber as your approach.

[Deadline]

Anarys and Dagon approach the chamber, or rather the Kingsguard stationed outside of it. "Good Ser, Lady Anarys and Lord Dagon from the Iron Islands, here to see Ser Brynden." She pauses for a moment to get acknowledgement from the guard before heading inside. Dagon remains in the hall, unless the Kingsguard will let him in with his house blade.

It is worth noting that Anarys carrys a pair of masterwork daggers concealed on her person at all times. Assuming she has time to take 20 on her sleight of hand check to hide them, the DC to spot them is 31.

[BelGareth]

The kings guard nods and turns to allow you leave, not doing anything or seemingly caring for the weapons, openly carried or otherwise.

As you pass, he corrects you "Lord Brynden is ready to receive you."

You walk through the Hands door and see a tall thin man, with stark white hair, his cheeks are hollow as if he had not eaten well in a long time, but there was a strength and purpose in him which held your eyes for longer than you would admit, upon his cheek is the famous bloodraven, the birthmark of his namesake.

The King stands as you enter, leaving Maester Brand sitting where they were discussing, food is steaming on the table, seemingly untouched, a plate at his place on the table beside them.

"Welcome! Welcome" he greets you with opened arms, if he was perturbed by your presence, you cannot tell. He walks over to Dagon and shakes his hand, grabbing him by the shoulder with a strength that a man of his age and former location should not have. You can see he is full of life and vigor, he almost radiates it. "I have heard of this rumor that the Saltcliffes were now the rulers of the Iron isles? Is this true? What Strange news is this, the shifting of the wind affects us all, and how the Stranger likes to make fun of us!"

He leads Dagon to sit down and stops, and turns to Anarys, "But of course!" he says smiling arms in the air "Lady Anarys, come, come, sit with us, we shall dine together no?" He pulls out a chair and after you sit, sits himself.

"So, what do the Lord and Lady of the Iron Islands want from the King?" his smile is still present, but you can tell a sharp mind resides behind his bright violet eyes, a strange precarious intelligence....

[Deadline]

Dagon is caught completely off guard, but shakes Lord Brynden's hand and takes a seat where indicated. His discomfort quickly fades at Brynden's demeanor, and he gives him a rare smirk, "Seems to be a lot of that shifting wind going around."

Lady Anarys smiles and takes a seat as well. She doesn't touch the food as she eyes the hustle and bustle of activity in the Hand's chambers, and raises her eyebrows when Brynden asks what the king can do for her. "The Saltcliffes do indeed rule the Iron Islands. It would seem that leadership of the Blacktydes did not agree with the Ironborn. You have our condolences on your loss. It's always hard to lose family, even those you didn't get along with." She smiles sadly to Brynden and then blinks as if something just occurred to her, "My Lord, are you sure it's wise to call yourself King when you have not yet been crowned?"

[BelGareth]

Lord Brynden pauses at the question and blinks at lady Anarys.

"Why on earth would that be a problem?" he asks, almost incredulously, "I am the Kings the Uncle, legitimized by his father and served as hand to his brother. Who on this world has a better claim than I?"

[Deadline]

Anarys nods her head, "Of course, your claim is quite strong. I doubt anyone will deny that. And yet, claiming the title before the coronation draws more ill attention than it should. You are free to concern yourself with that, or not, as is your right. I do not mean to trouble you with such talk." She smiles and continues, "It was most gracious of you to receive my husband and I. Tell me, how go your preparations for dealing with the North? And have you chosen a small council yet?"

I apologize, but I'm going to be out of town until late Monday of next week. I'll catch up to any action then. As far as this conversation is concerned, Anarys is looking to find out if there will be war with the North, and if she can get a favorable position on the Small Council. Preferably Hand.