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Post by Lyonel on Oct 7, 2012 9:51:22 GMT -5
A large room with six carved stone pillars along it's extension. In the walls are hanged dozens of myrish tapestries with images of all over the world, from Westeros to the Lands Beyond Asshai. Upon the dais stands a blackstone chair carved with strange symbols and all kinds of gems encrusted on it, in the wall behind there's a stained glass image of Valyrian, Salladhor's lysene war galley with it's mighty painted hull and and three hundred oars.
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Apr 28, 2015 18:20:47 GMT -5
Quentyn Cleftjaw takes up residence in Blackstone Keep, awaiting word from King Euric and Prince Killion.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Apr 29, 2015 11:07:04 GMT -5
Currently, the sensible orders for the forces are consolidation and awaiting the full repairs to the Iron Fleet's galleon corps. The Iron Fortresses are also being fully reprovisioned. Orders are sent to tax the new holdings for food and repair materials on the more forested islands while the Ironborn prepare for their next move.
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Apr 29, 2015 12:52:04 GMT -5
Groups of corsairs are sent out for food and wood from the other islands.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Apr 29, 2015 13:59:50 GMT -5
Over the weeks (ooc: the last RL day or so) the ships bring in a fair amount of supplies, and Lord Cleftjaw has amassed a fair amount of supplies. Word from Tyrosh states the Iron Fleet is rebuilding and preparing for war anew.
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Apr 30, 2015 10:43:39 GMT -5
Freya Drumm arrived at the keep. She had been looking over her ship in preparation for their departure from Blackstone Keep in the near future and right now all she wanted was a drink. She looked around for Lord Cleftjaw.
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Apr 30, 2015 10:51:59 GMT -5
Quentyn was in the Great Hall, lounging on the throne while reading a letter. A number of Ironborn sat around at tables about the hall, gambling and drinking. A couple of them even had a finger dance going. He looked up when she arrived, and rose to greet her.
"Freya! Good to see you, as always." He held up the letter. "Word just arrived from his princeliness."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Apr 30, 2015 10:56:42 GMT -5
"has it? I hope it's good news. Ah, this is yours, I believe." She tossed a bag of gold onto the table then grabbed a cup of ale from a thrall and drank deep. "I'd have been back sooner, but I wanted to check on my ship first. So let's see, what are our orders?"
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Apr 30, 2015 11:00:20 GMT -5
"Ever been to Dorne? Other than the little battle off of Sunspear, that is. We're to reave up the Greenblood."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Apr 30, 2015 11:05:41 GMT -5
"Oh|? No, I've never been to Dorne, not truly. They've little worth raiding, except for wine and sandsilk. And I always did prefer ale and good wool. But it's not for me to question our prince's orders."
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Apr 30, 2015 11:16:53 GMT -5
"I believe there are farms along the river. That should be helpful, it's not as though these rocks can grow much themselves." Quentyn moves over to a map on one of the tables. "The issue is Lemonwood, at the mouth of the river. If they try to stop us, we may have to take it, and we won't have any Iron Fortresses to do it with. I don't much like the thought of having to land on a beach and immediately take a keep."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Apr 30, 2015 11:40:46 GMT -5
"We'll do our best," she said. "Perhaps we could send someone ashore early to scout out the castle."
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Apr 30, 2015 11:58:26 GMT -5
"Who? We've got no decent land scouts. We'll have to make do with scouting from the sea. Then you lead the siege, if necessary. Might be that if you can keep them busy without using all the men, I can sail up the river while you besiege them."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Apr 30, 2015 12:04:46 GMT -5
"That might be for the best but I can't commit to an attaxk before I know the lie of the land. Preparation is important."
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Apr 30, 2015 13:07:58 GMT -5
"Of course. I'm not going to charge in blindly." He poured himself an ale and held it up to clink with hers. "Leave in the morning?"
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