Storm's End, Seat of House Baratheon

[Gandalfus]

Storm's End




Built in the Age of Heroes by Durran Godsgrief, Storm's End has earned its name by withstanding the endless battering from Shipbreaker Bay for centuries. It has a reputation as a near impregnable fortress, and the legends say that magic has been woven into the stones. The impressive, jet black fortress has served as the seat of House Baratheon since Orys One-Hand defeated Argilac the Arrogant, claiming his daughter and his lands for himself.

Character info

Robert Baratheon (14) Stannis Baratheon (13) Rhaelle Baratheon (12) Elaena Baratheon (9)

Lands

Regional bonuses: Storm's End is a major fortress. Storm's End is known for being able to marshal a large force. Storm’s End gets an additional 500 land militia points. Storm's End is renowned for its blacksmiths and grants a 10% discount on all weapons and armor purchased. Land Income: 70,000 Golden Dragons Levy Points: 7500 Militia Points: 6800 points Naval Militia Points: 1250

Buildings

Tier I: Militia armoury: +500 militia points Market Square: +10% income (Coastal Only) Dockyard: +500 naval militia points, +10% income Tier II: Town Watch: +1,000 Militia Points, 5% cheaper professional troop hire Merchant's Square: +10% province income (Coastal Only) Large Dockyard: +750 naval militia points, 5% cheaper naval mercs, +5% income Tier III: Barracks: +1,000 Militia Points, 10% cheaper professional troop hire. Trade Hub: +1 trade route Tier IV: Army Barracks. +2000 professional points.

Possessions

+7 duels, +2 survival (greatsword) Partial Plate (+20 hp, +4 Duels, +2 Survival) - The optimal trade-off between mobility and protection, partial plate armour is often worn by those of a knightly bearing. A thick and solid plate chestpiece protects the vital organs while segments covering the thighs, shins and forearms allow blows to be deflected or absorbed. Leaving the upper arms and legs largely unrestricted means that movement isn't too heavily constrained, allowing the wearer mobility for duelling. Full Plate (+20 hp, +1 Battles, +6 Survival, +5 post-battle condition rolls) - Covering oneself from head to toe in the best plate available brings significant advantages and drawbacks. You become near-impossible to kill but also don't move much yourself. Favoured by knights taking to the battlefield, knowing their main role in such an event will be to present the heaviest possible mass atop a horse to plough through enemy troops in a formation of massed heavy horse, this is a set of armour for surviving a major battle rather than a set for everyday wear or single combat.

Trade

Resource: Armour Route 1: Lefford - provides gold; +10% income Route 2: Redwyne - provides fruits; +1 charisma, + 600 militia points Route 3: House Blackfish of Stone Hedge - provides grain (1200 militia points)

Edicts

Militias: + 1000 militia points Military infrastructure: + 1000 militia points

Retainers

Seasoned Sellsword: +1 battles and rearguard

Military

Land Levy: 8850 points Upkeep per annum: 44,250 Militia: 6800 points 2200 Heavy Infantry 800 Heavy Cavalry Total: 3000 men Professionals: 7000 points: 1200 Bronzegate Axemen 1200 Stormlander Knights 300 Marcher Longbowmen Total: 2700 men Upkeep per annum: 22,400 Ser Tristan Declariant: 300 Bronzegate axemen 300 polearms 300 crossbowmen Total: 900 men

Direct Vassals

House Caron of Galemont House Connington of Griffin's Roost House Wensington of Adderdell House Morrigen of Crow's Nest Ser Baelor Estermont, Knight of Hadlow Keep House Caron of Nightsong, High Lords of the Marches - House Selmy of Harvest Hall - House Peasebury of Poddingfield - House Dondarrion of Blackhaven House Trant of Gallowsgrey, High Lords of Southview - House Cafferen of Fawnton - House Grandison of Grandview House Swann of Stonehelm, High Lords of Red Watch - House Lonmouth of Lonmouth - House Hasty of Lockport castle House Estermont, High Lords of Cape Wrath - House Wagstaff of Weeping Tower - House Mertyn of Mistwood - House Tudbury of Tudbury Hall - House Bolling of Wrathrock House Wylde of Rain House, High Lords of the Rainwood - House Staedmon of the Broad Arch - House Gower of Blue Grove - House Swygert of Rainwood Keep House Tarth, High Lords of the Straits of Tarth - House Horpe of Drakesgrave - House Errol of Haystack Hall - House Penrose of Parchments House Buckler of Bronzegate, High Lords of Northpoint - House Fell of Fellwood - House Rogers of Amberly

[Poach]

A merchant from Goldentooth arrives in Storm's End. It becomes known he is authorised to trade shipments of gold for stocks of armour, to replenish that lost at the Stepstones catastrophe.

[Gandalfus]

With the occupation of Storm's End by Blackfyre forces the merchant is directed towards Lord Baratheon's solar, rather than the Great Hall. Lord Baratheon is stood by the window, arms clasped behind his back, silently watching Shipbreaker's bay.

[Poach]

The man is shown in, he still looks somewhat perturbed by the massive army outside.

"Good afternoon, Lord... er, Baratheon." he said, before taking a moment to compose himself, "I hail from the Westerlands, Goldentooth to be precise. I have been charged with purchasing fresh quantities of armour, as the Stepstones campaign has depleted the armouries of House Lefford. I have to offer these," he said, pulling papers from his satchel, ​"agreements to provide shipments of gold, mined from the mountains."

[Gandalfus]

Lord Baratheon remained silent for an eternal moment, before turning his head to face the merchant. Many sleepless nights had affected the lord, with dark rings marked under his eyes.

"Gold, you say?" Baratheon mumbled, "Aye, that will do. Lefford shall get his armour, and I will welcome shipments from the west."

He remained silent again, for a time, but did not motion for the merchant to leave. Eventually, Steffon spoke once again, with a more steeled tone;

"When you return to Goldentooth, merchant..." Pausing again, he gathered his words to himself. "Tell your Lord things are not as they seem at Storm's End. Stags do not bend so easy."

The words were clear, though the last few were mumbled.
Again, uncomfortable silence.

"You may go."

[Poach]

"A-aye, my Lord." said the merchant, offering a hasty bow and backing away towards the door, before turning and leaving.

[Oznerol]

ooc: Do you mind if I use this, Gandy? I don't want to clutter the other thread.

King Maelys Blackfyre summons to his presence Ser Tywin Lannister. He is led to the chambers now in use by the Blackfyre. The King is heavily guarded, knight and day, including two veteran men from the Golden Company who had served previous Blackfyre pretenders and were fanatical supporters of the Black Dragon.

[Jokern]

ooc: Do you mind if I use this, Gandy? I don't want to clutter the other thread.

King Maelys Blackfyre summons to his presence Ser Tywin Lannister.

The young lion can do nothing but comply, considering his position as a prisoner of Blackfyre. His head held high, Tywin's appearance is regal and stoic, despite the slightly tattered clothes and dirt.

[Oznerol]

The young lion can do nothing but comply, considering his position as a prisoner of Blackfyre. His head held high, Tywin's appearance is regal and stoic, despite the slightly tattered clothes and dirt.

Maelys was eating, he wore black robes from head to toe. No mantle covered the vestigial twin, still he faced the prisoner sideways so he might not see easily the deformity. His back was broad and extremely strong, the pretender's arms and chest were thick with muscle and the fabric was dangerously tense at the joints. He looked at Tywin with liliac eyes.

"Ser Tywin of Casterly Rock, I presume"

He cuts a piece of boar with his dagger. Blackfyre rested on the scabbard, hanging on his side.

"You shall wear those rags no more"

He clapped and thunderously ordered a servant to prepare a room, a bath and clean clothes befitting Ser Lannister. The frightened servant hurried himself to carry his master's will.

-----------------------

Another day, Baratheon is the one to be summoned at the pretender's presence.

[Jokern]

Maelys was eating, he wore black robes from head to toe. No mantle covered the vestigial twin, still he faced the prisoner sideways so he might not see easily the deformity. His back was broad and extremely strong, the pretender's arms and chest were thick with muscle and the fabric was dangerously tense at the joints. He looked at Tywin with liliac eyes.

"Ser Tywin of Casterly Rock, I presume"

He cuts a piece of boar with his dagger. Blackfyre rested on the scabbard, hanging on his side.

"You shall wear those rags no more"

He clapped and thunderously ordered a servant to prepare a room, a bath and clean clothes befitting Ser Lannister. The frightened servant hurried himself to carry his master's will.

Ser Tywin took a closer look at his captor. Maelys the Monstrous was large, bigger than any living man in the Seven Kingdoms, and the extra head on his neck gave the pretender the aura of a monster. Perhaps Ser Duncan the Tall had been able to compete, but he had perished at Summerhall just last year in a fire along with King Aegon V. Tywin wondered how things had turned out if the tragic at Summerhall had never happened, if a Blackfyre would be feasting the halls of Storm's End. Ser Tywin gave a courteous nod to Maelys at the offer of tiding himself up.

"Have I been led up here to be clad and displayed like a mummer's pet, or did your grace have business with your prisoner? I have urgent business to attend to in my dungeon."

[Oznerol]

Baratheon was silent for a moment, considering his words carefully. Loyalty and family above all else. His uncle and father had spoke that phrase to him many times, ingraining it within his thoughts. Dragons had been good to house Baratheon indeed, Steffon's own mother was a Targaryen. Thanks to the conqueror, House Baratheon was now among the mightiest families in the Seven Kingdoms. But Red or Black, a dragon is still a dragon."Power lies where men think it resides." Replied Steffon vaguely. "The Iron Throne holds power. A throne that you do not sit."He risked a glance at the deformity that grew from Maelys's shoulder. It's expression looked pained, the facial features scarred and shrivelled. It reminded Steffon of death, and the tales of Wights that would devour children in the Long Night. "You will not have my loyalty, Your Grace, if that is what you seek." Baratheon stated, matter of factly, his eyes quickly flickering back to Maelys.

"I will sit on that throne, stepping on the fool's skull if necessary. I will trample the gates of King's Landing with my own fists if necessary!"

His clenches his fists. The vestigial twin had a reddish hue, like Maelys' cheeks.

"I do not need love, Lord Steffon. Fear will suffice, I will earn your loyalty one way or another and after the war we shall decide you fate. Power will be yours to take if you are willing to overcome your pride, Lord Baratheon"

There was a hint of rage on his raspy, deep and booming voice.

"For now you shall remain at your quarters. Your uncle will marshall the Stormlander forces"

He clapped and guards appeared to carry him away.

Would be so easy to end his line, here and now...

Ser Tywin took a closer look at his captor. Maelys the Monstrous was large, bigger than any living man in the Seven Kingdoms, and the extra head on his neck gave the pretender the aura of a monster. Perhaps Ser Duncan the Tall had been able to compete, but he had perished at Summerhall just last year in a fire along with King Aegon V. Tywin wondered how things had turned out if the tragic at Summerhall had never happened, if a Blackfyre would be feasting the halls of Storm's End. Ser Tywin gave a courteous nod to Maelys at the offer of tiding himself up."Have I been led up here to be clad and displayed like a mummer's pet, or did your grace have business with your prisoner? I have urgent business to attend to in my dungeon."

He throws away a bone, to be eaten by a pair of ferocious black hounds. A third rested next to Maelys' feet. The pretender scans Tywin with his gaze.

"I bet counting the roof's beams is interesting"

He chuckled and continued eating for several minutes. Furiously. A tense silence only interrupted by the dogs' chewing the bones discarded by the voracious pretender.

"If I wanted display I would have placed you in a cage"

Maelys sipped some wine.

"It's said you are clever, Ser.."

He looked back at Tywin. His wolfish smile was unsettling.

"Do you want power?"

[Gandalfus]

OOC: Of course, no problems

[Gandalfus]

Baratheon emerges from his solar, where he spends most of his time of late. Unshaven and tired, Steffon presents himself before his own throne, where the Blackfyre King now sits, his fists clenched, yet his eyes dull and devoid of any obvious emotion.

"You summoned me, Your Grace." He states monotonously.

[Oznerol]

Maelys had his deformity exposed. It almost looked like both heads were staring at Baratheon. His unflinching gaze was terrifying.

"You are the last of your line"

His fingers pitter-patter the throne's arm.

"So I am"

He chuckled. It was a twisted laugh.

"I know you want to gut me... but trust me, we have more in common that you dare to admit, Lord Steffon"

[Gandalfus]

Steffon tried to avoid gazing at the monstrous growth that sprouted from Maelys' shoulders. The head unsettled him, and he had heard tales that it groaned and moaned with its master when his wroth awoke. Instead, he tried to keep his gaze on the living head.

"We are both, indeed, your Grace. Since my father now lies buried in the earth." The Baratheon's eyes narrowed as he grunted his response, recalling his father's pleading look as he bled to death in his arms. Slain, by this pretender. The steely anger in his voice had been evident, his previously monotonous tone turning cold.

[Oznerol]

Steffon tried to avoid gazing at the monstrous growth that sprouted from Maelys' shoulders. The head unsettled him, and he had heard tales that it groaned and moaned with its master when his wroth awoke. Instead, he tried to keep his gaze on the living head.

"We are both, indeed, your Grace. Since my father now lies buried in the earth." The Baratheon's eyes narrowed as he grunted his response, recalling his father's pleading look as he bled to death in his arms. Slain, by this pretender. The steely anger in his voice had been evident, his previously monotonous tone turning cold.

"Anger"

The pretender was satisfied with the answer.

"My own father was betrayed and murdered by Bloodraven. At least I killed yours in singular combat, face to face. One of the worthiest duelists I've ever faced"

He stared at Baratheon with intensity.

"But, least we forget our grudges I suggest us to colaborate. I bet you would not refuse more power or influence, doesn't it, Lord Steffon?"

He smiled, sharp teeth.

[Gandalfus]

Baratheon was silent for a moment, considering his words carefully. Loyalty and family above all else. His uncle and father had spoke that phrase to him many times, ingraining it within his thoughts. Dragons had been good to house Baratheon indeed, Steffon's own mother was a Targaryen. Thanks to the conqueror, House Baratheon was now among the mightiest families in the Seven Kingdoms. But Red or Black, a dragon is still a dragon.

"Power lies where men think it resides." Replied Steffon vaguely. "The Iron Throne holds power. A throne that you do not sit."

He risked a glance at the deformity that grew from Maelys's shoulder. It's expression looked pained, the facial features scarred and shrivelled. It reminded Steffon of death, and the tales of Wights that would devour children in the Long Night.

"You will not have my loyalty, Your Grace, if that is what you seek." Baratheon stated, matter of factly, his eyes quickly flickering back to Maelys.

[Jokern]

A raven arrives at Storm's End.

To Maelys Blackfyre,

I have come to terms with your demands and will agree to them. In exchange for my oath however, I humbly request the release of Ser Raymar Lefford, as a sign of good will between two men of honor. Once Ser Lefford is safely back at Golden Tooth, the Seven Kingdoms will know the liege of the West.

Signed,
Lord Tytos Lannister of Casterly Rock, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and Warden of the West

[Dirty Chai]

Nary a week after the disaster at Dragonstone, a few ships slide into the harbor of Storm's End, asking for anchorage, waving Blackfyre flags above the masts along with the individual captains' flags.

A silver-haired captain steps onto the dock with around fifteen sailors, all stretching limbs and necks as they go. He is recognized from afar, even from the battlements of Storm's End. Making his way up to the fortress, the sellsails move at their own leisure up the paths before seeking entry.

[Gandalfus]

The guardsmen spot the Blackfyre banners as the sellsails move towards the castle. Slowly, the vast gates creak open, permitting the mercenaries entry into the fortress.