Westeros and Essos {Game of Thrones Roleplay} discussion
House Dayne
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Starfall
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Danik heard the man’s words as if coated in arrogance and superiority, he tried to get a sense whether this was due to false bravado or a genuine position of strength. Danik took a measure of the man as he emerged from the dark. Tall, Dornish, well armed and a bearing of being well taught in combat. Danik tensed his hold on the woman, before replying “I’ve seen merchants declare agreements in friendship, that have descended into the deaths of hundreds the moment they have left the table, bankers I have witnessed, quarreled with each other over a few coin that has seen whole cities crumble.” Danik paused; he felt the strain in his men around him. They were prepared to fight or flee, but waiting opposite a phalanx of blades and halberds, was cutting into them. “Pacts made at the end of a sword I have always felt are more” Danik paused for a moment “Honest. A show of strength by both parties, a clear intention of the consequences.” Danik watched the man’s eyes, alert to any hint that may give an advantage or warning. “But if proper custom must be upheld.” Danik gave a slight bow of the head “I am Danik Arlo Tremell, commander of the Marauding Basilisks, on orders from Tywin Lannister, hand of the true king of the Iron Throne, to rescue Lady Sybil Baratheon from being held against her will by the House Dayne on command of the Prince of Dorne.”
Mod
"Rescue? You're master ordered you to rescue a woman who came here by accident? And you would claim that the Prince of Dorne ordered us to hold her? What then are we to conclude from the fact that her retinue was paid using Lannister gold?"
He swung his sword through the air to articulate his displeasure.
"An honest bargain between armed combatants is always grand, Danik. But if you would try to subvert the truth by claiming that the lady is a prisoner, we are the wardens, and you are the rescuer party, you can expect to go downhill very quickly."
“Lannister gold is the reason for your suspicion?” Danik said laughing “I’ve been paid by Volantis merchants to fight Dothreki at Quarth in Lannister gold.” Danik braced his stance holding the woman.
“Lannister gold just means well paid. Besides” Danik turned his head either side quickly to assess his men “what plots kings and lords play makes little difference to me.”
Danik observed the blade that held the space between them. Fine steel, it was untarnished he noticed, well maintained but not used. Danik considered the man’s posture, well trained yes, but through bloody experience knew that an ocean of difference lay between an excellent swordsman in a tourney and a professional killer. Danik forced his point “They should matter little to you here. It does not alter the position we find ourselves in here.” Danik had met many like him, men who took another man’s honor as their own, and would kill and die for that honor. Pointless, Danik had always considered, but it didn’t make them less deadly.
“There are a just a few ways we can confront our predicament” Danik went on to explain. “You can allow me leave with Lady Sybil unharmed and avoid the wrath of Stannis bearing down here. Second, you could let me and my men leave empty handed to tell the message that Lady Sybil is here on her own free will.” Danik lingered for a moment “or this turns bloody, and this room fills up with mine and your men dead.” Danik locked eyes on him “be sure Ser, if you choose the latter, the fair lady will be the first to die, and while I may be dead, all the protest of Lannisters schemes, will fall on deaf ears at Storm’s End, as the daughter of Stannis Baratheon will have died in Dornish lands where she shouldn’t have been.”
Danik tried to convey a sense of collaboration “The Baratheon girl presence here is a perilous burden. Give her to me and I am sure the crown, the hand of the king and the Lannisters would greatly reward your lord’s loyalty.” Danik brought his blade up so tight to the woman’s throat that a bead of blood dripped out “or punish the house that protected the usurper’s Stannis’ bitch.”
Mod
The Lannisters considered all such men to be tools in their employ, and plotters did not share their true intentions with tools anymore than a farmer did the sows. They simply expected them to perform.
Alas, I am also a tool, he thought, looking to the woman Danik held in his arms. And so is she. We do only what we must, as befitting our duty. Til death take us or our master's release us.
Sheathing his sword, Yres shook his head and delivered his own offer, though he was sure who called himself Danik would consider it an ultimatum under the circumstance.
"The Lady Sybil stays with us until her safe passage back to her father can be arranged. Release your hostage there and I can assure you and your men safe passage back to your ships." He raised his finger to impress upon his counterpart the seriousness of his next words. "But persist in this business and I shall order my men to fall upon you. Our women, like our men, are not afraid to die in the service of their home."
The proposal seemed genuine, Danik considered. At the moment surrounded, with more men inside the castle, the odds of getting himself, his men and the woman alive out were slim.Danik felt frustrated, he despised losing, especially when it involved money but it was preferable to dying. The knight sheathed his sword. A gesture of faith, Danik assumed from watching him. Danik surveyed the guards holding blades and spear tips at his men, his grip on the young lady didn’t slacken, his mind whirling about the situation he was in.
The realization hit Danik so hard, he couldn’t help himself from starting to giggle. Infiltrating the castle was too easy, the ambush too quick. Laughing, his men shifted uneasily, a little confused, Whisper turned her head away to watch curiously at Danik. Danik stopped laughing and looked straight at Yres
“Where is the real Lady Sybil?”
Mod
But he knew in his heart that his opponent had little in the way of options at this point. Perhaps he was simply delighting in the futility of his situation. Such was the way of some men, choosing to laugh in the face of fate even though they could never hope to prevail.
Ultimately, he chose to answer the question truthfully, if perhaps sparingly.
"For now, she is beyond your reach. And she shall stay that way, until such time as we are certain you have left this land. Now will you depart, or fight like a cornered animal?"
His hand slid to his sword again, preparing for the possibility that the offer might be rejected.
“I should have realized that this was a ruse” stated Danik “a Lord’s daughter would never have managed to keep quiet for so long.” Danik felt the air tighten, Whisper, he felt her muscles still coiled. He watched Yres’ hand move back toward his sword’s hilt. Danik raised an eyebrow inquisitively “When did you discover our arrival?” He dismissed it as soon as he said it, sucking at his teeth “Makes no matter, our situation cannot be altered.”
He tenderly rested his cheek against the beautiful decoy’s face he was holding; feeling her stiff with fear, cheek damp from sweat
In hushed tones, Danik spoke softly “So my dear, was you already…plying your trade here for Ser Yres, or did he bring you here specifically to deceive me?”
Mod
"All mysteries you shall ponder on your way back to Casterly Rock. Or perhaps you'd like to ask such things of the Gods when you meet them?" He allowed all traces of formality and civility to drop from his tone. "One last time. Make your decision! Leave now or forever be interred here in Dorne!"
Feeling his growing impatience Danik replied “Ser Yres I accept your reasonable terms, however if the Lady Sybil is a free woman may I meet her to convey a message from the Hand of the King?”“Of course I will go unarmed, alone and under you and your men’s watchful eye”
“But first” Danik slashed the blade across the woman’s throat, blood spurt forth like a fountain, splashing as far as the man in front. The woman tried to scream, the deep cut just released a strained gurgle. She spasmed hard in Danik’s arms, he held her tight feeling her growing weaker. Danik’s eyes didn’t leave Yres’ face, watching his reaction. She grew still, a dead weight in his arms, blood soaked into his arm sleeve that held her. Her nightgown had turned a dripping crimson. Danik released her with a slight push, dropping her on the bed, blood already soaking the bed sheets, spreading the stain across the bed. Danik wiped his blade clean, and lifted his sword into the scabbard behind his back. Danik clapped his hands together, in a jovial voice “Let us proceed Ser Yres, this eventful night is one I wish to see the end of.”
Mod
Only gradually did his eyes rise up to meet the face of the sellsword again. Grief gave way to anger, and then anger to pure rage. There was nothing standing between him and the golden-haired mercenary now, and his men remained enveloped in the hall. But more than anything, it was the fire in his blood that urged him to give the order:
"KILL THEM ALL NOW!"
A clash of spears and shields sounded in the halls, and Yres raised his blade and bellowed for all to hear...
The years of fighting other men’s wars, had taught Danik on how to read other men’s faces and the situations they found themselves in. More than once it had given Danik a few moments before a clash, and that could be what carried the day.Danik watched Yres’ face change from the arrogant air to one of fury. Danik saw his eyes widen and face strain with anger bursting within him. Danik prepared himself for what he knew would come next, his muscles grew tight, ready to move. Danik couldn’t help a small smirk rising on his face, partly nervous excitement but also a man full of raging anger makes mistakes.
Yres’ cry filled the room; Danik’s men needed no such call. Before the proud knight’s roar had ended, Danik and his sellswords answered. His men released their crossbows, the dull twang of the taught lines as their bolts fired rippled the air. At 100 paces, bolts can pierce steel plate; here against Dornish leather and mail, the bolts tore straight through the spearmen. Even before the first men fell, Danik’s crossbow men pulled the second lever, releasing the second bolt that Mereense crossbows carried, into the Dornish sentries not hit with the first volley or making sure that the ones hit were dead. Expended bolts thudded as they embedded themselves in the walls, trailing blood and ripped flesh.
Danik glimpsed Whisper rise onto her hind quarters giving a cold snarling hiss, swiping with her outstretched claws missing Yres neck before leaping onto a man beside him, digging her fangs into his face. A guard to Danik’s left charged, halberd lowered. The bedroom was larger than the house Danik grew up in, yet close quarters were no place for spears and long swords. Danik coolly sidestepped the spear tip, watching it brush past. In one fluid movement, his right hand pulled the curved dagger from behind his back, while his left griped the spear pulling it toward him. The guard stumbled from the jolt, as Danik plunged the blade into his stomach. Danik felt the hot blood bathe his hand, the guard heaved, his breathe forced out, Danik kicked out hard, pushing the dying man toward Yres, to act as shield between him and Yres’ incoming blade.
A second man rushed toward Danik, bellowing an incoherent war cry. Sword and dagger in hand, Danik readied to meet him, out of the corner of his eye he watched as a broadsword swept down striking the man, the weight of the blade doing more harm than its sharp edge. Mikael’s sword smashed through armor, skin and bone, cleaving the man from neck to breast. Thick crimson blood whipped across Danik’s face, as Mikael ripped his sword out. Danik exchanged a nod of acknowledgement with Mikael before carrying on. The room tasted of blood and metal, the air filled with deafening cries, Danik took a swift glance around him, men, his and theirs battled, bodies lay on floor, it slippery and tacky from spilled blood and gore. Danik spun back round to Yres, his Night Watch sword raised in one hand, dagger in the other, sweat and blood ran down his face stinging his eyes. We’ve got to break out Danik thought. Even if they killed all the men in this room, Danik didn’t have enough to fight all of Starfall.
Danik considered Yres before him, wet blood shimmering on his armor from the moonlight leaking from the window, his whole body twisted in fury. Danik prepared himself. Over the clashing steel and men’s screams, Danik looked over Yres and brashly bawled “All this for a whore?”
Mod
"All this for a comrade," he said, eyes burning with intent. "All this to stop murderers for hire from taking that which is not theirs."
Pulling a dagger from his belt, and matching his opponent's stance, Yres began to move in an arc towards Danik. The tight confines made a direct assault difficult, as did the blood now at his feet.
Things fared differently in the hallway, where the other sellswords now found themselves being pressed by spears and polearms from both sides. Without their crossbows loaded, those men had little choice but to stand back to back and try and fend off an increasingly savage volley of sharpened metal being thrust into their ranks.
Looking at last at Danik, Yres smiled devilishly and lowered his stance, preparing to lunge. "Now shall we dance, sellsword? Or will you and what few men you have left flee?"
In one single fluid motion, Danik flicked his dagger up, grabbed its blade and hurled it toward a smirking Yres. As the blade left his hand, Danik spun swiftly round to face the rest of the battle, a melee of screams and crashing screeching steel.
He focused on one bulky guard ahead, currently defending blows from one of his men. The importance of this one Starfall guard to Danik was that he was lined up to the bedroom door. Danik charged, colliding hard, shoulder first into the man’s body. Danik felt the shock as he hit, forcing the man’s breath from him, Danik pushed using the man as a battering ram forcing him to the doorway. Danik’s feet slid over pooling blood as he pushed, heavy footed toward the door, Mikael appeared beside him on the right, face pouring sweat, he placed a hand on the guard’s chest and pushed. The guard squirmed as they pushed him into anyone, his or theirs as the marched to the door. “Kill him!” yelled Danik. Mikael quickly without a word plunged his sword into the man’s stomach. As the body became still, Danik held it up as he pushed on.
Danik kept his head down; he couldn’t see ahead, he glanced to his left, and saw he was level with the doorway. Danik took a heavy breath, and rammed the corpse out the door, before letting the body drop limply to the floor.
Danik scanned the gloomy corridor, more Dornish fighters were waiting, flanking at either ends. One came at him, sword glinting in the torchlight. In a mailed fist, Danik grasped the blade stopping the man dead; with his other hand, Danik punched his face using his sword’s iron hilt. Blood splattered out, Danik hit him again, the hand guard digging a ragged bloody hole in the man’s face. Danik continued for another three solid blows, turning half the swordsman’s face into a gory pulp. Danik stopped, the man fell to the floor gurgling blood and air through a destroyed nose. More approached, Danik unsheathed his other sword, one in each hand, looked back, Mikael was swiping his broadsword at two hesitant men, cowering behind their shields, the rest of his men were still fighting brutally in the bedroom, many lay sprawled dead on the ground. More guardsmen encroached, giving Danik a sense of enveloping dread, forcing his men-at-arms into a dwindling corner, fighting fiercely. Danik breathe was coming heavy and forced as he judged his few remaining paths.
Over the raging battle to any of his men that could hear, Danik shouted, voice rasping and dry “Basilisks, sheath your swords!” Danik dropped his two swords to the floor, clattering on the hard stone.
“We yield.”
Mod
He stepped forward, inching towards the one who called himself Danik, who matched his pace; inching backwards as the drawn blade neared him.
Yres breath drew tighter, and his eyes drifted to the floor. There blood had become thick enough that it was flowing over the stones, pooling in crevasses. He spotted the two bloodied swords that now lay at Danik's feet, looked to see the Basilisk's who now stood with their hands outstretched.
How desperately he wanted to plunge his sword into the sellsword's belly, to order his men to complete the slaughter. But deep within him, a voice cried out. A surrender had been issued, and the men standing before him were now defenseless. No honor would come from killing them now.
"Guards! Take these men into custody. They are our prisoners now and must be spared." His voice sounded bitter, but nearly so bitter as the shreaking of his blade as he slid it into his sheath. One by one, the guards put up their weapons and grabbed hold of their respective prisoners. Looking to Danik, Yres raised a stern finger.
"And you... you I shall escort to the gallows personally!"
Danik looked down, he slowly breathed in, and heavily out. ‘You’re not the first to offer me the noose’.
Danik’s mouth tasted bitter, the rush of blood, drying it hoarse. A small bottle of wine lay on its side beside the bed, wine slowly now dipping out. The wine’s red colour lost in the blood awash on the floor. Danik carefully reached down, picking up the bottle. The bottle was warm and almost empty. He slugged he bottle back, draining it. Never, did Danik’s gaze leave Yres, measuring each slight twitch for any opportunity. He lowered his hand letting the bottle slip from his fingers. The dull thud of the bottle hitting the floor, made a few of the guards’ flinch.
Danik knew himself. Proud of the fact he knew his sins, his own weaknesses; greed, women, drink and surrounded by Dornish steel, his reckless ambition. But he knew where his strengths lay, his sword, ability to command men in battle…
‘Lord, I have a proposition.’
Danik was proud that he was always ready to make a deal.
Yeah whatever. Might be nice to start again.
Sybil-Louise Baratheon, daughter of Stannis is at Starfall as a 'guest', after travelling through Westeros and being recognized by the warden if the castle.Tywin Lannister has learnt of this, and as she is a potential heir to the Iron Throne has dispatched one of the sellsword companies he has hired to fight in the war to capture her. The sellsword company, led by Danik (my character) is a wildling, ex-Nights Watch Ranger who deserted to fight in Esso, who was drawn back to Westeros by Tywin's gold. After infiltrating Starfall to capture Sybil, Danik and his men are caught in an ambush by Sir Yres, warden of Starfall. After a bloody fight, Danik attempts to make a deal with Yres...
Mod
I give it a go jumping back in. See how it goes.
The manacles were heavy, thick with rust, but it wasn’t the first time Danik had been placed in chains. Danik had watched as his men, were tied up and chained, the clatter of swords and daggers thrown to the floor added to the clunk of the lock on the chains. Two spearmen he saw, trapping Whisper in a corner, the spearpoints shaking, showing their fear in the face of the silent snow cat.Danik was aware of his men, their anger aimed at both the Dornish basterds and him, but Danik just watched Yres. Danik knew a lot about honourable men. Arrogant, high-minded, immovable in their convictions, to their lord, house, gods, king. Danik depended on it. He knew Yres’ honour was like a mountain, if he told Yres this, Danik in his pride would agree. But Danik saw this as his means of victory. A mountain was strong, impervious, steadfast. However, unlike Danik, it can’t move, its anchored by its convictions and oaths. A mountain can only stop something until it goes around or under. And when an honourable man showed Danik his back, he was always waiting with a dagger in hand.
As Danik watched, the bed chamber door swung open, fresh air swept in, brushing the sweet, cloying stench of blood away. Danik’s gaze turned to the door. Escorted by guards in strode a woman, Danik could tell from her poise as high-born. Danik was more surprised that he knew her. He’d seen her when Tywin had greeted him in Kings Landing, and Danik never forgot a beautiful woman with comely breasts. Danik smiled, his face becoming a dark grin.
‘Lady Zyarah, if I knew that Starfall’s walls were this easy to breach, I would have entered with you rather than crawl through mounds of shit.’ For Danik now saw, that Yres’s mountain may now be bypassed ‘tell Sir Yres, that I’m here on orders of the hand, your father Lord Tywin by command of the king of the Seven Kingdoms.'
Mod
One thing, I take it Zyarah has come to Starfall on the Lannister's behalf? Is that what I am reading here?
Mod
Sir Yres stared uncomprehendingly at their new guest. Her appearance alone, and the timing of it, were enough to immobilize his tongue. But the words she uttered, so free of denial, was all the more shocking. Sir Yres took a moment to gather his thoughts to him. Between being forced to addressed a paid murdered on the one hand, and a haughty high-born on the other, would require all his patience and tact.
"This man," he said, straining to say the word," has been apprehended for attempting to kidnap a lady that is currently under the protection of House Dayne. He has murdered members of the household guard and slit the throat of of an innocent woman. If it is your contention that Lord Tywin dispatched this murdered to do his bidding, then Lord Tywin has much to answer for indeed."
Yres turned his blade away from Danik and held it low, but ever-so-carefully aimed in Zyarah's direction.
"If you are threatening to attack the castle in order to free him and take the lady with you, then you risk open war with both House Dayne and House Baratheon. I imagine the Martells would have something to say about it too."
Ypres stressed the name of this last house. The latest whispers from King Landing had indicated that in the wake of the death of their crown prince, the lord feared open rebellion from Dorne. Yres only hoped that the implication was enough, or that the mention of lady Sybil's attempting kidnapping would sway the lady's favor. Even though he had the advantage of standing within his own battlements, having enemies on two sides was not a situation he much cared for.
Danik watched the two highbloods, separated by gleaming blades pointed at each. He turned to observe his men, he saw the way their bodies twitched, they were unsure on what lay ahead. They were highly trained, professional sellswords, and Danik only hired battle hardened, bloody ones. Either fight or die was their creed; this impasse, is something Danik and his men lacked experience in. Danik was filled with trepidation, here he was at the mercy between two of the most powerful families in Westeros. However, digging in his mind, as always was his play, Danik felt his foreboding mix with excitement, his blood rushed, Danik felt a small smirk cross his face.‘If the sweet lady and the noble lord wouldn’t mind’ Danik spoke in a barely hidden mocking tone, walking slowly over to Whisper, who now lay curled on the floor, a thick length of rope around her neck.
‘as the daughter and emissary of the Hand’ placing his hand on his chest ‘and my siege lord, and you’ pointing at Yres ‘the steward of this castle. I believe, I just a poor sellsword should remove myself and my men to allow more important matters of the realm be discussed’ Danik reached down, his fingers slowly curling the thick, soft fur on Whispers neck. Danik knew the two easiest ways sellswords ended up slain. Either by a Dothraki arakhs or the words of highborn lords.
Mod
Yres' eyes darted between the two foes. On the one side, a sellsword issuing honeyed words that felt more like slime in his ears. On the other, the proud bastard child issuing demands with a feigned sense of importance and power. He was not sure which he found more distasteful. But seeing them both together arrayed against him somehow cut to the core of his being.
A proper soldier never cedes ground, he thought. Even in the face of overwhelming odds and death. The words rung out in his mind and he felt the truth of them. But under the current circumstances, he was forced to wonder if following this most simple of codes would be worth it. His life alone was not in the balance, but those of his men and the people of the Keep.
All he could at the moment was argue the case, and trust that right could sway the lady's heart, perhaps diffuse the situation.
"My lady, you ask for what is not your to take," he said. "The lady Sybil would not be safe in your charge. Her presence here was clearly part of a plot by your house, and your man here - whom you openly claim as your own - is a murderer and her attempted kidnapper. No highborn bastard, be they Lannister or not, can ask me to release him or surrender a highborn lady to her doom."
He raised his sword in a flash. All those who had bared their weapons flinched and raised them slightly. They relaxed slightly a Yres sword came to rest just inches from his own nose. He issued a short laugh before issuing one last warning.
"If your men fall upon us, they will die. If you survive the altercation, you will be my prisoner too."
(Intermission)
Sybil, get in here before we all kill each other! At this juncture, you're the only one who can diffuse this situation! ;)
Mod
Yres could not believe what he was hearing. He was forced to repeat her words, with the addition of what they meant.
"You ask me to release a man who murdered my kin so he can complete his mission to abduct a lady of House Baratheon?" he said. "I would see this man dead and you a prisoner before I let that happen! And Lady Sybil is going nowhere with those who mean her harm, regardless of what threats you might offer. And if House Lannister's armies march south, they will find Starfall joined by her allies, notably House Baratheon and Sunspear. And I doubt your father would enjoy marching his armies south when they are still engage in the Riverlands, trying to end the Tully's rebellion."
Mod
Hey Zyarah. Seriously, Sybil needs to get in here and offer her ladies opinion. I am thinking at this point, the only way to avoid a war is to have her show up and say "I'm going! I'm going! Don't kill each other for my sake!"
Danik turned to Yres,‘Well, this noble endeavour seems to have reached this end’.
Looking at the gleaming puddles of blood, unable to hide his dark humour in his voice ‘You must excuse me for the mess I have caused'.
Still, he was not about to make it easy for the man.
"Deals are for bankers and merchants," he said. "And they can only thrive between people who trust one another. And I do not even have the pleasure of your name, good sir."