Dragonstone, Seat of Prince Jacaerys.

**Velasco** · June 19, 2015, 07:16 PM

DRAGONSTONE

Seat of Prince Jacaerys

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Finances & Economy:
Base Land Yield: 40,000/year
Trade: #1: Furs, from Karhold of House Karstark. +5% Income, +1 to convincing AI to do anything.
Trade: #2: Perfumes, from Claw Isle of House Celtigar. +2 to convincing AI to do anything.
Bonuses:
Total Income: 62,000/yearly
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Upgrades: * - stacked bonus
- n/a
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Land Levy: 4,500 points
450 Heavy Infantry
1,125 Light Infantry
600 Polearm Infantry
675 Archers
450 Light Cavalry
150 Heavy Cavalry
Total: 3,450 men
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Naval Levy: 2,000 points (1,000+1,000)
21 Levy Ships
17 Dromonds
12 Heavy Galleys
6 AOR Ships
2 Grand Warships
Total: 58 ships
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Dragonstone was and is the origin of this great kingdom, the birthplace of conquerors and kings, and the nest of dragons. The Targaryens came here from Valyria to escape the Doom, and within two generations, set about bringing the whole of Westeros under their control, through fire and steel.

The island sits in Blackwater Bay, guarding the Gullet, and is created by the active volcano Dragonmont.
The fortress itself sits upon the side of the volcano, while around the other slopes sit many caves, cliffs, and piles of dragonglass. The castle was built using old Valyrian techniques which were lost in the Doom. The citadel is of black stone, the towers are carved into the likeness of dragons, and some 1,000 gargoyles guard the walls and balconies.

Today, Jacaerys of Houses Velaryon and Targaryen rules here and makes his court in the ancestral halls of the dragonlords.

Residents, updated 130 AL

Regional Bonus

Professional Forces, updated 129 AL

**Velasco** · June 19, 2015, 08:49 PM

Jacaerys could not help but smile as he threw his leg over into the saddle and pulled Vermax into the skies over Raventree Hall. Lord Blackwood had adamantly remained neutral throughout, refusing calls from both his mother and her Council and the Tullys and their Regent...but Jacaerys they had not denied. The men of House Blackwood marshalled their infamous bows, mustering in force at Raventree Hall. Soon they would join the mad Mance at Riverrun and fight alongside the other trouts...Rivermen rather...against the lions of the West. If young Ben Blackwood could be believed, his father's lands could field 5,000 war-ready men with relative ease.

5,000 could make or break a battle.

Gods willing 5,000 would wash out the bitter aftertaste of Jace's stay at Riverrun and ensure the Tully regent did not waver in his loyalties.

His heart a little lighter, a slight smile on his face, the Prince had set out south-eastward, bound for the capital. He rejoiced in that familiar feeling, the wind in his face and hair, fire in his loins, his sword in its sheath and purpose in his heart. But he felt a pang...a darting, pulsing inclination...and he threw Vermax to the side, racing for a new destination.

He found the hedge knight's daughter kissing another behind her father's inn, by the stream which watered their garden of herbs and vegetables. Thankfully his rival was of the canine variety, a scruffy dog who looked like he had a good bit of wolf's blood in him. A good gift to give to the Starks perhaps...but there was no time for that now. Ser Thom frowned, and stammered a few worried words, but he could not deny the Prince. A half hour later Collyflower Twill bid her father goodbye and, with a few bumps here and there, straddled Vermax bound to Jace.

She would be sick with fright at the start of their expedition, and what was to be a romantic stop by the Gods Eye was everything but when the young maid vomited there to her heart's content. But at last she got the hang of it and it was with reluctance that she quit the dragon's back by the Kingsroad. Ever aware of appearances, Jace knew he could not enter the capital astraddle some lowborn maid. He gave Collyflower some coin and a hastily drawn up warrant giving her admittance to Dragonstone, where she was to serve as a lady-in-waiting (justified publicly as a favour to her father, in payment to some unnamed grace the knight had rendered Jace during his time in the Riverlands). As for Jace, he turned Vermax's head south and made for the dragonpit, from whence it was but a walk (filled with cheers and the kind words of the crowd) to the Red Keep.

Collyflower Twill, a lady-in-waiting at Dragonstone

**Poach** · June 20, 2015, 02:24 PM

A Raven from Karhold confirms the trade agreement.

**Velasco** · June 20, 2015, 05:05 PM

Prince Jacaerys was sitting in the Chamber of the Painted Table when the man-at-arms disturbed his silent meditation. In truth the Prince had no idea how long he had been sitting there, staring aimlessly at Storm's End...Horn Hill...King's Landing. This war had robbed him of all he held precious and dear and it showed no sign of letting up. He would do anything to make it stop. He had thought to marry Helaena himself, unite Black and Green and sew this gaping wound that tore Westeros asunder...but would his mother even countenance such an agreement? Would Helaena? Aemond...with Vhagar...Aemond had to die, and for all his faults Helaena would surely not forgive his demise. Even if the Kinslayer chose to be reasonable...where would he go? Essos, to father a rival line to trouble Westeros for all eternity? The Wall, to serve the Night's Watch while commanding the greatest dragon in existence? Neither seemed likely, nor desirable.

Joffrey. Lucerys. Grandmother. I shall avenge you all.

He looked up at the man-at-arms and forced a smile. Olaf High was the tallest man in the Narrow Sea, everyone agreed, and rumour had it his mother was a dragonseed, a bastard great-aunt of Jace's. The woman was long dead, her mother too, so there was little chance of Jace getting to the bottom of the connection, though Olaf's white hair and violet eyes seemed testament enough of this antecedence. Many had encouraged the man to clamber up the Dragonmont and join those who sought to ride the unclaimed dragons of the mount in the Queen's name, but Olaf had excused himself every time. A curious man, Jace found him, a man without ambition...or else a man without balls, too craven to take the risk.

Olaf excused his intrusion with a sheepish smile, crossing the round room and handing the Prince a note across the ornate painted table-map between them.

Good news, at last!

Jace shot up from his seat with a more natural smile and slapped the man on the shoulder. "Come!"

The way down to the harbour was no short trip, and even young athletic men like Jace and Olaf were out of breath by the time they had relocated from the Painted Chamber to the sea shore. Jace however felt impelled to welcome the Realm's Delight back home. The ship was the first he had sent out upon his return, to trade the goods of Dragonstone (or more correctly, the goods which passed through Dragonstone) for the furs and rich pelts of the North. Lord Karstark had received them at Karhold and purchased their goods at solid prices; Karstark was all too happy to accept the Prince's offer of a constant trade. The ship's hull brought more furs than the Prince could count. Furs for his mother, his bedwarmer, his step-sisters, and most importantly, furs to be sold on both sides of the Narrow Sea at great profit.

**Gandalfus** · June 20, 2015, 05:10 PM

Celtigar accepts the trade agreement.

**Velasco** · June 21, 2015, 08:03 AM

Jacaerys was still inspecting the fox furs and bear pelts when The Prick of Vermax rolled into the harbour. The ship had been sent to the nearby Claw Isle, seat of the Lady Helicent Celtigar. She and Jace had butted heads when he had first called the Black Council, with the half-breed trollop going out of her way to flutter her eyelids his step-father's way and challenge Jace's own prerogatives as Prince. But the Celtigars were his kin, all the same, and standing alongside the Velaryons and Sunglasses as the chief lords of the Narrow Sea sworn directly to him. It was reported far and wide the Celtigars sat silently on a great trove of treasure - artefacts brought here from before the Doom, great chests of rubies, a horn to awake krakens, and of course, their ancestral weapon, the axe of pure Valyrian steel.

He had considered making a wedding proposal to Lady Helicent himself. Those rubies could pay for soldiers....but he had decided against it in the end. The Celtigars were already of certain loyalty, despite their personal antipathy for each other, and her hair was dark, like his. He could take a dowry of dark hair if it came with the swords of a Paramount or great lord, but Claw Isle? It was not worth the sacrifice. Jace counted himself lucky to have been born from a Valyrian womb of unquestioned pedigree, but he knew he did best to wed a girl of pure Valyrian descent, preferably of Targaryen blood. Unfortunately, such girls were scarce on the ground...Baela, pledged to the Stark lad, and Rhaena, previously pledged to his own brother, and more distantly, the daughters of Arryn and Corbray, of regrettably tainted lineage. No, none of them were right. He must look elsewhere...

He quit the Realm's Delight and boarded the Prick, inspecting the wares of Lady Celtigar's men. Good, good, splendid. For his commerce with the North to truly boom Jace knew he had to have a steady supply of his own goods, and while Dragonstone claimed the lion's (or rather, dragon's) share of the trade passing through these waters, Claw Isle got its fair slice of the action too. Sending part of that slice to Dragonstone so Jace's men could fetch bigger and better prices with them was only logical. And so the accord had been signed and ratified, and Lady Celtigar's handed proper warrants allowing them privileged access to the harbour and accommodation whenever they were in port.

Matters of trade and commerce thus resolved, the Prince returned to the castle at a leisurely pace. He was eager for word from the Dragonmont, where his mother and bastard brother (former bastard brother, as it turned out) were clambering up through obsidian, bone and ash to claim firey steeds of their own. He and Olaf High made preparations for the evening's meal, it was fitting the Queen and his brother be fêted appropriately for the duration of their stay. Climbing and dragon claiming was hungry work, Jace imagined, and their efforts would be more successful had they full stomachs.

Arriving at the Stone Drum, Jace was taken by a merry mood, and bid Olaf kneel before him. There he knighted the man as Ser Olaf of the Stone Drum and took him in as his own personal sworn sword, a rather more prestigious post than that of mere man-at-arms. Ser Robert Quince, the Castellan of Dragonstone, Ser Robert Stillwaters, the Master-at-Arms, and Ser Russell Blackberry, Captain of the Guard, were all present at their Prince's side. All three had been known to Jace from infancy, with Stillwaters appointed by the Prince to replace the deceased Ser Alfred Broome and Blackberry a former tutor of the Prince; the affable and enormously obese Quince being an appointment of Rhaenyra herself. The Prince smiled wide, feeling all the safer with loyal men about him.

**Pontifex Maximus** · July 03, 2015, 10:05 AM

RP Void, Cersei and child are still in King's Landing.

**Oznerol** · July 04, 2015, 07:00 AM

ooc: she's suposedly here. Her plot to escape wasn't attended by mods, so she's probably here. Better for you to be here as I told you, Xion.

A raven arrived:

Daughter,

You shall sail to Driftmark, when you will be married, inmeditely, to Addam Velaryon. I have to solve a large issue; it's my duty to finish Aemond's menace. I must rid the realm of that dragon and that bastard if we want to have some peace, at last. My last will, if I don't survive the duel, which is likely, is that you marry Ser Addam and bear him a son, a true heir of Velaryon blood, continuing Rhaenys' line. That's something I owe both Corlys and Rhaenys after log years of friendship. I know you aren't satisfied by this marriage, but these are my last wishes, this is a debt I must repay. Once you father a son you may fly away or do as you please, the world is yours to roam freely. I cannot bind you to a men forever, your sister was a sacrifice I was unwilling to do, but my hand was forced.
I loved your mother dearly. She's the woman I've loved most; I miss her laugh, her hair wavering on the wing as we flied all over Essos. How she leaped on the saddle, how she snapped her whip, how she danced and flied. How she lived, fearlessly, bodly. I loved her, and I love you too, Rhaena. You're his living image, my daughter, my blood, my flesh, part of my soul.

You have my blessings, Rhaena.

Daemon.