Bear Island, Seat of House Mormont

[Lord Dread]

Clawwood Village

Current ruler: Lady Deana Mormont
Income: 30,000 Dragons
Trade goods: Furs (+5% income)

Buildings
-Market Square: +10% income
--Merchant's Square: +10% province income

-Wall Reinforcements: +1 Siege Defence rolls

-(Coastal Only) Dockyard: +500 naval points, +10% income
--(Coastal Only) Large Dockyard: +750 naval points, 5% cheaper naval mercs, +5% income


Fleet of Bear Island (2,250 Points):
24 Levy Ships
23 Dromonds
8 Heavy Galleys
9 Northern Heavy Galleys
2 Grand Warships

Men-at-arms at Bear Island:
150 Heavy Infantry
200 Light Infantry
155 Polearm Infantry
150 Archers
100 Light Cavalry
10 Heavy Cavalry

The Mormonts

-Lord Harren Mormont, born in 166 AL (died by a grave illness) % Lady Alys Mormont (nee Bole), born in 178 (died during child birth)
-- Jorah Mormont, born in 195 AL (died during a wildling raid upon Bear Island's shores in 215 AL)
--Lady Deana Mormont, born in 197 AL
--Mya Mormont, born in 201 AL
--Derya Mormont, born in 210 AL

- Andros Mormont, born in 173 AL (died in battle against the wildlings in 215 AL) % Alys Lake, born in 175 AL (died by an accident)
--Yoren Mormont, born in 198 AL
--Ysilla Mormont, born in 199 AL

Regional Boni of Bear Island

• Targeted by Raiders: Despite its lack of wealth, Bear Island is often attacked by raiders from the Frozen Shore or the Iron Islands. As such, all characters have some naval prowess, and get +1 to sea captain near the island.
  
• Warrior Women: When the men of Bear Island are away, the women are left to defend their homes, and this has created a warrior culture among the women. Bear Island gains an additional 750 defenders when besieged (1d10).

[Alexandrine]

After a long voyage, ser Preston Marbrand arrived at Bear Island. It was.. different from home, but somehow much like he expected to be. He requests and audience with its lord.

[Lord Dread]

The Knight was greeted by few of Lady Deana's sworn swords upon the coast, but the atmosphere in the port of Clawwood Village was dull and cold as the region itself. Few lanterns guided the way through the alleys towards the Longhall of House Mormont, atop of the wooden village.
When the knight was lead into it, Lady Deana Mormont was already sitting on a wooden throne, carved like a large bear at the end of the hall. Upon the side walls, the preparated heads of bears, wolves and even the shields of Wildling, Ironborn and even from few Northern invaders were hanging as trophies of the past.
In the gloomy light of the hall, caused by the hearth fire, Longclaw hang like a bronze, fiery bastard sword upon the back of her lady.

"Ser ... Marbrand, I assume", she only replied towards him after a while, before standing up as if she had waited like a spider for her prey, "For what reason a Southron, especially a guest from the Westerlands dared to visit my island? Does the expectation for Lady Karstark's plans lure you into my hall - or do you seek something else, with what House Mormont can help you?"

[Alexandrine]

Young Preston followed the men of lord Mormont into the village. It was a strange village, small, silent and snowy. The wooden houses looked strange to him, they where carved and decorated and the roof were needlessly tall. He missed the yelling of men, the laughter of girls and playing children. Where were the merchants or the fishermen? He entered the hall, rather then a castle of the Mormonts. Upon an wooden throne, sat a woman. A lady? He had not expected that Bear Island would have been ruled by a maid. A maid that like to act as if she was a warrior, he thought, a sword was to be seen on her back. Such a thing he had never seen before in the Westerlands. Even Aurelia Lannister had not carried a weapon. Not a visible one, that is. For just a moment he had to adjust himself to this. With a smile on his face, he raced a hand through his hair and looked upon the lady, and bowed for her. "Yes, ser Preston Marbrand, indeed. My lady." he watched her standing up, not quite the hospitality he would have expected. But this was not the West he reminded himself, this was a whole other kingdom. Customs might be different here. "I have indeed come at seeing the news from lady Karstark. She is a wise woman to bring prosperity towards the North. Our maester pointed out that we can be of assistance to each other. You see, our maester tells me that your island is famed for its wildlife and dense forests. The Burning Dale isn't as forested any more as it used to be. But we need timber nonetheless for our people and pelts to adjust to the cold. I have come to your ladyship to ask if you we can make a trade arrangement for it. Every year your people can bring these goods to my people and we would pay you good money in gold, m'lady."

[Lord Dread]

The Lady had not to think for a long time upon the offer.
"The first thing, as I already thought", she replied with a cold laugh without humor, "Nevertheless, we aim for trade as well and you shall get the agreement. Gold against fur and wood it is."

[Alexandrine]

He was happy to hear it. "I am glad we could come to a agreement so quickly, my lady." He looked around. "How does Bear Island fare? Do you still often have trouble with the Wildlings?"

[Lord Dread]

"My older brother died once in a wildling attack, along with my uncle", she only replied slightly bitter, but yet as cold as before as if she didn't care too much, "Times in the North are hard. Sometimes even the strongest men die up here. Your fancy Lord of Casterlyrock, your Targaryens and Blackfyres and any Southron, you might think of - trust me if I tell you, that none of them would survive in the North all too long. The last Targaryen, who did, even died to the vile plots inside the Red Keep, I heard. Be glad that you know nothing about the Wildlings and anything what comes from beyond the Wall, Westerlander. It makes your life easier than mine was and will always be."
It was obvious that she disliked the topic. Rather the lady looked towards a large number of shields, representing several wildling clans, who assumingly attacked the island during the last centuries. Some of the shields seemed to be not all too old.

[Alexandrine]

"I am sorry you have been born to this harsh life, my lady." he said to her. "I would have been more pleased if you had been born more South, were you could live the life of a lady of leisure, like you deserve." He looked to the shields on the wall, they looked queer and some were badly made, nothing like those in the Westerlands. "Blackfyre will surely be defeated by our armies and then the Targaryens will rule again. He is my rightful lord, as he is yours."

[Lord Dread]

"I am sorry you have been born to this harsh life, my lady." he said to her. "I would have been more pleased if you had been born more South, were you could live the life of a lady of leisure, like you deserve." He looked to the shields on the wall, they looked queer and some were badly made, nothing like those in the Westerlands. "Blackfyre will surely be defeated by our armies and then the Targaryens will rule again. He is my rightful lord, as he is yours."

"Rightful Lord, eh? Guess he is as long rightful as long as his rightful successor doesn't backstab him like you Southrons always practice it! your lord, as he won't even know that Bear Island even exists!"
A large part of men inside the hall laughed about those words.
"I do not care for your petty kings and Princes, as I don't care in general who is ruler upon the Iron Throne if he is a Southron", she replied slightly sneering, "In five years all your Targaryens might be gone again and another Blackfyre will rule - what do I care?
My loyalities lies at Winterfell, not at your courts. And therefore I'm glad to be born on this poor island than in one of your wretched, corrupted cities, Ser. So do not trouble me with your pesky politics and leave, if there is nothing else to discuss."

[Hengest]

In the night a small rowing boat made its way across the rough sea west from the Northlands. The winter air was icey and the sea spray bitterly cold. The oarsman shuttled onto the shingle in the darkness, his ragged robes damp and bearing his pale skin to the shrouded snowy moon in the silvery clouds.
He strode with wide white eyes, fixed on his goal, the hall of House Mormont. His hair was frayed and knotted, whitening in streaks, his face creased with years of woe and contemplation. He sniffed the air and smelled the smokey fires of the hall, he was near. But how to announce himself.... that was the question. Erce, his ever-trustworthy guide counselled him to be nameless.
"I have come to see Lady Mormont, I bring the voice and vision of the Old Gods."

[Lord Dread]

The man is lead into the Clawwood Hall, as the guards were unsure how to threat the weird, assumingly blind man, when he arrived inside the harbour. Some laughed about those words, some were either concerned or worried and another guardsman proposed even to chop off his head for insulting the Old Gods. Not many of them believed the strange man to be a greenseer.

Inside the hall, Lady Mormont was dinning with her family upon a table, wearing this time at least no armour. Nevertheless none of the women in court wore a dress, speaking for the warrior culture upon Bear Island.
The Lady mustered the intruder for short time, waited some time to finish the ham chop she was eating and then decided to stand up, to inquire one of the guardsmen what the old man wants from her.
She was told that the man came to see her in name of the Old Gods. The lady looked at the man questionable upon those matters were clarified, but then nodded.
"Fine, leave now, Harrold", she replied towards the obeying guardsman before turning towards the stranger, "And you are? A Greenseer? Or why do I have to believe your words?"

[Alexandrine]

"Rightful Lord, eh? Guess he is as long rightful as long as his rightful successor doesn't backstab him like you Southrons always practice it! your lord, as he won't even know that Bear Island even exists!"
A large part of men inside the hall laughed about those words.
"I do not care for your petty kings and Princes, as I don't care in general who is ruler upon the Iron Throne if he is a Southron", she replied slightly sneering, "In five years all your Targaryens might be gone again and another Blackfyre will rule - what do I care?
My loyalities lies at Winterfell, not at your courts. And therefore I'm glad to be born on this poor island than in one of your wretched, corrupted cities, Ser. So do not trouble me with your pesky politics and leave, if there is nothing else to discuss."

Young preston just stood there, a little bewildered. No one had ever spoken to him in such a manner; only a fool would admit that he didn't care if a Targaryen ruled or a Blackfyre, because they were not there rightful kings. Below the Neck, it would be your neck to pay for it. In some way the woman might be right, but it was not right to say it out loud in such a public manner. He doubted that Winterfell was free of corruption and backstabbing, but he didn't want to suggest it to her.
So he did what he would have done to a fair maid in the Westerlands, he bowed for her. "I am sorry if I have upset you, my lady." and he looked around, he was clearly out of place here. "I will take my leave then, my lady. I bid you a good day." ​Seven blessings...

[Alexandrine]

"Rightful Lord, eh? Guess he is as long rightful as long as his rightful successor doesn't backstab him like you Southrons always practice it! your lord, as he won't even know that Bear Island even exists!"
A large part of men inside the hall laughed about those words.
"I do not care for your petty kings and Princes, as I don't care in general who is ruler upon the Iron Throne if he is a Southron", she replied slightly sneering, "In five years all your Targaryens might be gone again and another Blackfyre will rule - what do I care?
My loyalities lies at Winterfell, not at your courts. And therefore I'm glad to be born on this poor island than in one of your wretched, corrupted cities, Ser. So do not trouble me with your pesky politics and leave, if there is nothing else to discuss."

Young preston just stood there, a little bewildered. No one had ever spoken to him in such a manner; only a fool would admit that he didn't care if a Targaryen ruled or a Blackfyre, because they were not there rightful kings. Below the Neck, it would be your neck to pay for it. In some way the woman might be right, but it was not right to say it out loud in such a public manner. He doubted that Winterfell was free of corruption and backstabbing, but he didn't want to suggest it to her.
So he did what he would have done to a fair maid in the Westerlands, he bowed for her. "I am sorry if I have upset you, my lady." and he looked around, he was clearly out of place here. "I will take my leave then, my lady. I bid you a good day." ​Seven blessings...

[Lord Dread]

Young preston just stood there, a little bewildered. No one had ever spoken to him in such a manner; only a fool would admit that he didn't care if a Targaryen ruled or a Blackfyre, because they were not there rightful kings. Below the Neck, it would be your neck to pay for it. In some way the woman might be right, but it was not right to say it out loud in such a public manner. He doubted that Winterfell was free of corruption and backstabbing, but he didn't want to suggest it to her.
So he did what he would have done to a fair maid in the Westerlands, he bowed for her. "I am sorry if I have upset you, my lady." and he looked around, he was clearly out of place here. "I will take my leave then, my lady. I bid you a good day." ​Seven blessings...

The Lady only nodded upon those terms and gave her guards orders to escort him back to the ship, from where he came.

[Hengest]

The man is lead into the Clawwood Hall, as the guards were unsure how to threat the weird, assumingly blind man, when he arrived inside the harbour. Some laughed about those words, some were either concerned or worried and another guardsman proposed even to chop off his head for insulting the Old Gods. Not many of them believed the strange man to be a greenseer.

Inside the hall, Lady Mormont was dinning with her family upon a table, wearing this time at least no armour. Nevertheless none of the women in court wore a dress, speaking for the warrior culture upon Bear Island.
The Lady mustered the intruder for short time, waited some time to finish the ham chop she was eating and then decided to stand up, to inquire one of the guardsmen what the old man wants from her.
She was told that the man came to see her in name of the Old Gods. The lady looked at the man questionable upon those matters were clarified, but then nodded.
"Fine, leave now, Harrold", she replied towards the obeying guardsman before turning towards the stranger, "And you are? A Greenseer? Or why do I have to believe your words?"

"Lady Mormont" he savoured her name "your voice is like the sound of music to one who had forgotten its sensation. I am honoured to be in your presence and to be accepted as your guest." He paused remembering her question... "Ask and I shall See for you, I do not hide who I am nor do the Gods, it is only men who choose to see and not to see."

[Lord Dread]

"Lady Mormont" he savoured her name "your voice is like the sound of music to one who had forgotten its sensation. I am honoured to be in your presence and to be accepted as your guest." He paused remembering her question... "Ask and I shall See for you, I do not hide who I am nor do the Gods, it is only men who choose to see and not to see."

The Lady wasn't sure what to think of this man. He could as well just be an imposter like many before him.
"If you do not hide who you are, speak honest upon my court instead of speaking in riddles", she replied only, mustering the man careful, "I haven't said yet that you are my guest, as I haven't offered you any food - and I do not share my food with charlatans, if you just came to profit from famous myths to survive two other nights. Any beggar can claim that he has the third eye. And for lies I carve you a third eye with Longclaw into your front, if you dare to insult the Old Gods."

[Hengest]

The Lady wasn't sure what to think of this man. He could as well just be an imposter like many before him.
"If you do not hide who you are, speak honest upon my court instead of speaking in riddles", she replied only, mustering the man careful, "I haven't said yet that you are my guest, as I haven't offered you any food - and I do not share my food with charlatans, if you just came to profit from famous myths to survive two other nights. Any beggar can claim that he has the third eye. And for lies I carve you a third eye with Longclaw into your front, if you dare to insult the Old Gods."

"I would gladly spill my blood for truth, honour and the Old Gods for they and the spirits of my forefathers know the way. I am, or at least I was... Beron Stark."

[Lord Dread]

"I would gladly spill my blood for truth, honour and the Old Gods for they and the spirits of my forefathers know the way. I am, or at least I was... Beron Stark."

She raised an eyebrow, unsure about the name, as she remembered it. Of course, she did. Her father mentioned the name more than once.
"Beron Stark is dead", Deana replied cold, her voice sounding as angered as the chill of the winter,"He died during the first war, I remember the name. Why would you insult the name of a former Lord Paramount's brother, stranger, as anyone can claim these days to be a member of House Stark?"
From her point of view the man didn't even looked like a Stark at all. Maybe in hair colour and by a closer look through his wild beard - but imposters, who seek for claims by hollow words, are common and sometimes even hang for their dangerous game for a Lord's throne. The doubts of Lady Mormont were strong in this story.

[Hengest]

"I have no claims, Lady Mormont, I gave up those long ago... or at least they were taken from me at the moment the king was slain by the Blackfyre." His eyes reddened as he stared into the distance, seeing the scene before him once again as if it was yesterday. "Perhaps I may be allowed to warm myself by your fire and tell you my tale. Then you may decide if you deem it the ravings of a madman, the yarn of a charlatan or the fancies of a poet.

[Lord Dread]

Deana thought for a moment, but saw nothing wrong in it. In worst case this old man was just wasteing her time, as she couldn't risk to just let him leave unheard.
"Take the fireplace and go on", she only replied, "I will decide, as you said."