The Fires of Valyria The next Archon of Valyria, Aurion Baelerys (the youngest Archon in history), has been chosen, and war is upon Valyria. The Rhoynar, water-mages and mystics, have slain two dragons in battle, and wounded another. The legions of Valyria are about to march, and the time is ripe for the dragonlord’s game to move into a new stage. Will you fly into battle, or plot to gain power while the dragons are at war? The choice is yours. Valyria is ruled by the Forty Families, who have dragons and blood-magic at their command. The many colonies of Valyria include Volantis, an uneasy neighbor of the Rhoynar, Tyrosh, Lys and Myr to the west, and Astapor, Yunkai and Mereen to the east on Slavers Bay. The purity of the Old Blood is valued highly, and it is essential to bond with dragons. Many believe that the dragons are kin to the Valyrians, due to the bond between rider and mount. Character Sheet: Name: What are you called? A last name is essential. Valyrian name generators are around, and I’d recommend checking them out for ideas. Gender: Obvious. Faction: Sphinx: The oldest families of Valyria remember the days when the Sphinx banner flew above the petty kings of Valyria. They tend towards sorcery and blood-magic, and practice polygamy and incest far more frequently than the Young Dragons. Young Dragons: Soldiers of Valyria who were gifted dragons for the most part, they are newer members of the game of politics and dragonfire. Some are bastards, who lack the perfect features of the Old Blood. Others are second sons and daughters, who returned from distant battles to forge a new bloodline. The Freeholders: Seldom owning dragons, if at all, the Freeholders gained wealth from trade. None of them are members of the Forty Families of Valyria, although some have the blood. Relationships: Family, spouse(s), allies and the basic info on your family go here. Appearance: This should be somewhat specific. Do you have the silver hair and purple eyes of Valyria? Are you tall or short, thick or thin? Pictures are fine, but detailed descriptions are great as well. Personality: Be detailed. Are you prideful? Kind? Maybe you are a drunkard, or a coward. Maybe you are brave, or cunning. Possessions: Valyrian steel swords, rings and other prized possessions go here. Ideally with a blurb to go with it. Age: How old are you? Are you a boy of five-and-ten, barely a man? Are you four-and-forty, with children and grandchildren of your own? Skills and Disadvantages: Pick three of each. These should be along the lines of “Cooking”, or “Frail”. History: This is added to as the campaign progresses. Dragon: Dragon Generation Name: Original names only, please. There are Valyrian name generators that could help. Primary Color: Secondary Color: Fire Color: Personality: A single paragraph works. History: How did you tame this dragon? Did you simply walk up to it, or did you feed it it’s favorite food? What was the history of this dragon before you tamed it? Is it an old family beast, or a young hatchling? This should be a small story or anecdote, about 1-3 paragraphs long. Age: Between 1-250 years. Before the age of 20, dragons are more vulnerable, and after ~100 years a dragon grows slow. At 200-250, a dragon will die of old age. Ten is considered the age a dragon reaches fighting weight. Pick three Advantages and three Disadvantages. Advantages: Thick scales Swift Old Large Strong Sharp claws Fierce Formidable Tame Cunning Free ranged Accustomed to men Battle-tested Trained Disadvantages: Young Weak Wounded Maimed Small Slow Wild Shy Cannibalistic Stabled Disobedient Lazy Once this is complete, write all this information into your character sheet under “dragon”. CAPITALIZE the advantages and disadvantages and write them into a 1-2 paragraph description. Additional Notes:https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Valyrian_Freehold The link has more info on Valyria, dragons and other useful info. @EFMingo @DarkPen14
Approved. Give me a few days to get something up. Also, please create a discussion section for out of game discussion/character sheets.
Fires of Valyria Story Post You all have been invited to Valyria, the massive and elegant city of wonders at the heart of the Freehold. Black dragonstone towers rise, dragons and sphinxes adorning them. The city seems to glow in the setting sun’s light. You are all standing on a grassy pavilion, dragons off to the side. The Archon should be arriving any minute, so take time to get aquatinted. Three faces stand out of the rabble of dragonlords: Auraches Baalgris, a prodigious warrior and oldest son of the Baalgris family. A Sphinx to the bone, and rider of Bloodfury. Daarus of Gorgossos, a Freeholder with an eye for wealth... and dragons. Maeleysar Targaryen, the rider of massive Vermithrax, a cunning boy with a cunning dragon. Any or all of these would be useful allies. @EFMingo @Bone2pick
Lucaelarys tries not to fidget - he is a Dragon Lord, and Dragon Lords don't start tapping their feet and biting their nails just because they are kept waiting. Still, being out in a crowd of unknown people is his idea of torture. If the Fourteen Flames chose that moment to erupt and cover the Lands of the Long Summer with molten lava, he believes he might just spend his last moments giving thanks to the gods. Alas, there is never a fiery cataclysm around when you need one. He grimaces, straining to think of some small talk to fill the time with. What is it regular people talk about, again? Mostly he'd like to talk about things he's read, but no one ever seems to want to listen to him about that. People are philistines. "Well," he says gruffly. "A warrior maiden with a scar - that, I think, makes you Lady Maera of House Qarreos. I am..." He tries not to grit his teeth before saying it. House Galaereon is in no position to alienate anyone, even upstart Houses whose ancestors herded sheep while his were burning Old Ghis to the ground. Especially since he can see her dragon from here, and it's bigger than his. "... honoured to meet you." He nods to the aging man. "And that medallion carries the House Algaeris crest. You, then, must be Lord Aegalor. Well met. Yours is an old and respected name." Well, old, anyway - they lost most of their respect when they turned into cow peddlars. But again, manners.
Daarus, she thought as the ridges of her naturally flat expression developed into a disgusted frown, a right bastard who needs nothing more than to watch his family and his wealth burn. He had been the subject of many trade deals by the Qarreos that had been lost, and a sore spot in their records. But she respected him in his tenacity. Not his manliness, but his ability to control. If he were more imposing he may find himself in her chambers at some point, but she never had much time for that sort of thing. Maera's focusing gaze was disturbed by the calling of sounded like a child. A young boy, trying to present himself as a man. An introduction of sorts from one who barely grew out his first beard. She breathed in hard through her nose, rolling her eyes as she turned toward him. A snarling sneer grew out of the side of her mouth. Did he just call me a maiden? The leather of her gloves cracked like bones as it tightened with her squeezing grip. Maera knew the temper rose, but had to hold it back for the sake of the party. She couldn't get too far off track and start hacking at assumed royal necks in center of somewhere so vast and powerful. The strength of it made her sick with envy. This should have been her lands, her realms. These dragons should answer to her. Not some old sphinxes who've had their day. Or the young ones. She glared at the boy, ready the chew him a little out and show his weakness. "A maiden? Boy I've fucked lads twice your size and your age and threw 'em out of my tents on the battlefield when I finished with 'em. A maiden? Fuck off. Dandy like you makes for short work for a man like that." She nodded to the old Algaeris man. "Bet he's had his way with as many boys your age as you've had years on you." She crossed her arms and stood looking pleased with herself and her acid tones. Standing around waiting was always too boring. She needed fights and blood to build up the fire in the conversation. Her own brand of house diplomacy. Her dragon roared in the back as he heard the sound of her voice. Aeranyx was her first an only love, and it could feel the fire within her emotions. He was ready to feed on someone a little tougher than slave boy getting too friendly. Maybe some royal blood could make the veins a little richer. "And if you don't respect someone for who they are, have the decency not to lie. I'll respect a shit fighter with a honest mouth more than a slug wriggling under the dry tones of platitudes."
Lucaelarys feels all the blood rushing to his head. A muscle starts working spasmically just beneath his left eye, and the whole world seems to be spinning. Every one of his valiant ancestors is screaming in his ears that this insult to House Galaereon is unacceptable, that honour must be restored, that justice must be done and, just generally, that he's gonna have to dracarys a bitch. He struggles to control himself and tries to tell his noisy forefathers that 1) he can't dracarys a bitch right now, because he's the last of the line and he and his dragons don't have any real battle experience and just generally, if he starts something it will more likely than not mean the ignoble end to their proud legacy, and 2) if they don't please bugger off and go back to being dead soon, he's going to have one of his fainting spells, and if a crowd full of dragonlords sees Lord Galaereon swoon like a maiden aunt at the sight of a mouse it's all going to be over. Whether because that argument successfully excorcises the ghosts or just because he manages to get some air into his lungs, he slowly begins to feel like his head isn't about to pop open. He draws a deep, shuddering breath. "I... I don't have to listen to this!" he growls. He shakes a trembling finger at Maera. "The day will come, wench, when you will wish that you had minded your tongue!" With that, he turns around and strides off as fast as dignity permits, in a desperate search for someone serving refreshments. A glass of wine or three sometimes steadies him. Gods, but he really hates these public events!
Every important Valyrian noble was in attendance, or so it seemed to Aegalor. He searched for familiar faces as he and his first son, Saenon, made their way through the crowded pavilion. He spotted a few, but not as many as he hoped. "I've never seen so many dragons in one place," Saenon remarked quietly. His son was scanning the ranks of basking dragons in the great yard near the pavilion. "Look, that's Bloodfury there; I'm sure of it." Up until then Aegalor had been doing his best to ignore the awe-inspiring beasts. Centuries had past since House Algaeris last commanded a dragon. A fact that always stirred up shame in Aegalor. Despite his mixed feelings he managed to summon a smile for his son. "I have, but it's been years," Aegalor said. "I hate leaving Volantis anymore, but traveling is healthy for a man your age. It puts the world in perspective." "Vaerion would agree with you." Saenon's tone had been playful but Aegalor's smile faded all the same. "Yes, he would. Though in his case I fear he'll never find his way back home." Saenon turned to his father, his face apologetic. "He will. Vaerion may not want the life you and mother planned for him, but he wants his family." Aegalor met his son's eyes. "You're right. I always imagined being a father would get easier once you boys became men. But it hasn't." "Maybe its because you still see us as boys." The two grinned at one another and then Saenon clapped his father's shoulder. They attempted to continue through the pavilion but only made it a few strides before Saenon stopped them. "That woman there, with the red hair . . . That's Maera Qarreos," Saenon said quietly. "See the scar on her cheek?" Aegalor nodded and then grinned. "Are you frightened of her son?" Saenon laughed. "No, if it comes to that, I'm sure she'd have mercy on someone as handsome as I. But I do fear for you, father." They both chuckled. "Pay attention Saenon, I believe that young dragonlord of House Galmaereon is getting an earful from Maera." Aegalor wagged a finger at his son. "Either he must not be handsome enough, or you might not want to hope on your looks saving you with Lady Maera."
A dragon’s roar echoed across the assembly. A vast golden-white dragon landed, hissing at the smaller wyrms. That would be Sunburn, largest dragon in Valyria, 230 years old, and mount of Aurion Baelerys. Aurion unbuckles the chains that fasten him to the saddle, and dismounts. Sunburn is led away by a contingent of slaves. Many dragonlords would sacrifice a son for an egg from her clutches. Aurion is armored in Valyrian Steel, glowing black and streaked with sunlight. The simple Valyrian Steel circlet of a conqueror gleams like his dark purple eyes. He raises a hand in a request for silence.
"I... I don't have to listen to this!" he growls. He shakes a trembling finger at Maera. "The day will come, wench, when you will wish that you had minded your tongue!" Exactly what I expected, a pretender in a dead house. Maera was pleased with herself, believing she forced a negative display on someone barely holding on to the privileges of being born into power and nothing more. Like a common pest, scared off with a show of force. That was not the first time she had received this treatment, and it certainly wasn't the last. Maera was on at least a hundred lists to be exacted revenge upon. Not one had succeeded yet, and she rather die violently than let one ever make it happen. The old man and his son quietly pointed her out as well, but they remained quietly at a distance. She could see he knew better, even though she did just use him for a jab at the Sphinx boy. Maera didn't recognize house seals, as she never particularly cared to, but they were more clever and better positioned. The son seemed a pretty boy, better for merchant trade than battle, but the father had the face of experience. She felt him read her with his eyes for the short moments he did look at her. Clever men never stare. She would need to watch out for what their interests were, especially since she didn't see a dragon involved with them. Power without direct force was something to be concerned about. Thunderous crunches of grounds impacting with the weight of an expected dragon shook the grounds, and turned Maera with rapidity. He was here. She wasn't versed in the families, but everyone knew Aurion Baelerys, and his exemplary beast, Sunburn. That was a prize to be had if any existed, she thought, a man and a beast worth taking. She cursed her house silently. The weakness of merchant families was known, though she tried so desperately to drive back the image. Maera breathed in deeply and prepared for the man to speak. He raised his hand, and she stood tall at attention. Though she was an experienced leader in battle, this man was legend, and his dragon was a God. Aeranyx snarled back at the behemoth, but looked to Maera for approval. She tempered him with a slight wave down and a smirk. Fighter to the end? Not this place, my friend. Not yet. Respect was to be given to those who earned it, not the pretenders who thought they deserved it.
Lucaelarys interrupts his unsuccessful search for a moral fortifier and stands a little taller at the approach of the Archon. Now, here is a living model of all the finest and oldest ideals of the Freehold if ever there was one - not to mention a highly useful example of how quite young men can do great things, and that therefore one should not trifle with a dragonlord just because he still has some trouble growing a proper beard. It of course remains to be seen if Aurion will give the old Houses of the Sphinx their due, what with all these upstarts nipping at his heels and demanding favours they have no traditional right to, but so far in his reign there is cause to be optimistic. In fact, Lucaelarys muses, it might be worth talking to some of his father's old friends to see if any of them can get him introduced. Winning the Archon's favour would of course do much to secure the House's position, but it might not be necessary to set his hopes quite so high. Even him being seen in conversation with the ruler of all Valyria might be enough to make some of the vultures currently eyeing the Galaereon holdings pause and think again. But that's for later. For now, Lucaelarys stands in reverent silence to hear what their fearless leader has to say.
“I am here to confirm certain rumors,” Aurion said. “The Rhoynar have killed two dragons, and maimed another. This challenge cannot go unanswered. We will wage war, and teach these turtles the meaning of fire and blood. “I request not only dragons, but gold as well. We shall not only destroy as we did Old Ghis, but conquer! We shall rule the Rhyone from Volantis to Dagger Lake! And for that we need wealth. “What reward is offered, you say? Well, Sunburn has recently clutched. Three eggs even now are waiting. Valiant warriors and cunning merchants alike can have this opportunity. All of Sunburn’s eggs have hatched before.” Aurion smirks slightly. Although it goes unsaid, he is also unmarried. A suitable match would have access to the wealth of House Baelerys. Baelerys is a wealthy house.
Aegalor exhaled deeply when the Archon finally finished. He wondered if he had held his breath the entire speech. When he glanced at Saenon beside him he discovered that his son appeared nearly as disturbed as he was. "It's as we feared," Saenon said. Cautiously Aegalor peeked at anyone standing within earshot before shaking his head, the gesture barely perceptible. "Worse. We feared commitment to a few battles, not a campaign of expansion. This will cost the Freehold terribly, both in lives and in gold." "Undoubtedly, but if one of Sunburn's eggs sh—" "No dragon will go to us." Their conversation was just above a whisper. "Make no mistake, son. There are at least forty Houses better positioned to win one of her eggs. No, the best we can hope for is to minimize our losses." Saenon frowned and took a moment to consider his father's words. "They'll commandeer our horses and elephants." Aegalor nodded. "Our cattle too. It takes a lot of food to feed armies, and our herds are already in Volantis." Saenon's eyes grew wide at that. "But . . . we'll eventually be reimbursed . . . from the spoils? We'll itemize our contributions. They have to—" "I wouldn't count on it. There will be so many noble hands out waiting to scoop up whatever treasures our armies pillage we'll be lucky if anything trickles down to us." Saenon's eyes flashed in anger. "Damn this war." "Careful son, remember where we are." A smile then twitched onto Aegalor's face. "Besides, things could be worse." "How so?" Saenon looked and sounded utterly confused. "We could be Rhoynish."
Lucaelarys almost woops and punches the air, only stopping himself at the last time because he's a gentleman, damn it. The gods smile upon him! The offered reward is actually the least interesting parts. Yes, the spawn of a powerful dragon would make the next generation of his House mighty, but right now he's more worried about there even being a next generation, and anyway, House Galaereon already has a few dragonspawn and eggs, even if they aren't of as impeccable breeding as great Sunburn. But the chance to ingratiate himself with the Archon - that, at this point, is invaluable. And a nice, bloody war where he can prove his mettle is precisely what he needs. People who think that the Galaereons are weak because the House is led by a stripling will reconsider once the House is led by a veteran of a few victorious battles. He just has to survive, and while Bryghtscale would have trouble winning a fight against a mature dragon, he has absolute confidence in her ability to dodge a few arrows. "Your Radiance, never has House Galaereon failed Valyria in her hour of need!" he shouts. His words carry well; he might not have much skill at socialising, but he started taking lessons in battlefield bellowing years before his voice broke. "Nor shall it ever! I will fly with the Archon against the Rhoynar!"
The Archon’s inky purple eyes alight on Lucaelarys, and a slight smile appears on his face. Soon, others take up the cry, and “Valar Morghilus” echoes in the night as dragons rear up and illuminate the pavilion with dragonfire. Soon, almost everyone is cheering.
