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Post by Ulfric Harlaw on Oct 7, 2012 10:34:13 GMT -5
The fortress of Yronwood sits at the mouth of the Stone Way, which is called the Boneway by those who live to the north of it after the thousands of men who have been slain by Dornish ambushes along its length. The northern gate leads up into the pass, while the southern faces the rocky foothills of the Marches, with a few trade roads leading along the northern coast. The castle's spires are built into the sides of two mountains that nearly touch, marking the entrance to the Stone Way; it is impossible to leave Dorne by this route but by passing through Yronwood.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 11:39:40 GMT -5
///
December 4th, 378
From the south a large host of Dornish approach. Banners from every house save Fowler, Dayne, Blackmont, and Jordayne fly. In front, Ser Andros Martell and Harryld of the Marches fly a great sun and spear flag, and immediately behind them rides the Princess Nalya herself.
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Post by Ulfric Harlaw on Oct 7, 2012 12:10:16 GMT -5
The south gates stand open, though there are more soldiers than the eastern lords tend to keep garrisoning their castles; life is harsher in the Marches, and men are of a more militant nature. Lord Yronwood and a score of his household guard wait outside the gates all mounted, spears standing upright with the butts resting in their stirrups. The Septon of the Stone Way also sits on a horse, beside the Lord Yronwood.
"Wlecome, to Lady of Sunspear and Princess of Dorne," he said smoothly, "my lords as well, who travel with the Princess. The Stone Way lies open to you, of course."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 12:16:54 GMT -5
Nalya dismounts and holds a sword sideways in front of her in a short salute. "Lord Oberyn, I see that the years haven't made the Boneway any less formidable. I hope our presence isn't too much of an inconvenience; we brought more than enough food to feed ourselves." She is tall, just under six feet, and striking more than beautiful, with a narrow chin and high cheekbones. Her hair is black and functionally cut, not done up like most noblewomen. "Any problems of late with the Dondarrions?"
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Post by Ulfric Harlaw on Oct 7, 2012 12:38:04 GMT -5
Lord Oberyn dismounts as well, a groom running up to take his spear. "That is well. We are well provisioned, but not for such a formidable train of mounts as you've brought," he said, smiling. "The Dondarrions are cowards," he added, his smile quickly fading. "They rarely venture into the mountains, as it is far rarer for them to leave, if they do come so far south."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 12:47:12 GMT -5
"Good. I should hate to have to break my truce already by flattening Blackhaven on the way." She scratches her nose as a fly seems to have bit it. "Lords Dayne and Fowler are headed up the Prince's Pass as we speak, heading to this meeting of Monarchs or whatever they're calling it. I have high expectations for the tourney; the goldlands and Kingsland will see that dorne is not to be trifled with, whether in battle or even on the melee pit."
As they talk, Lord Oberyn sees a young man approaching from the rear of the column, his giant white sword plainly visible. Nalya gestures briefly in his direction. "Lord Bryce has finally seen fit to allow his son to bear Dawn. May I present Ser Markus Dayne, the Sword of the Morning."
The young man bows before the Bloodroyal respectfully, but says nothing.
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Post by Ulfric Harlaw on Oct 7, 2012 12:51:44 GMT -5
The Bloodroyal's face is impassive, and he inclines his head at the lad also in greeting, meeting his eyes for a moment, and then speaking. "I am sure you are well worthy of that legacy, Ser, you do me honor by enjoying my hospitality, and you as well, Princess," he added. "The prowess of Dorne is already known, at least to those who have tested it in battle."
Lord Yronwood was not particularly loud in his distain for tournaments, but he was known to not participate in them; his personal opinion was that they were expensive distractions at best, and hotbeds for unrest and bloodbaths waiting to happen at worst.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 13:19:12 GMT -5
It is known that to some extent Nalya shares the same concern, but the appearances have to be kept up. "Indeed, lord Oberyn. Now, let us eat inside. It has been quite the long journey these last two weeks. Daeron! Fetch those boar we killed yesterday, and ensure the fire peppers ahve marinated them well enough to remove!"
Ser Markus nods again to the Stone Lord. "I thank you, my lord. I plan on upholding my family's legacy with all my ability."
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Post by Ulfric Harlaw on Oct 7, 2012 13:57:22 GMT -5
"Indeed, I have had a feast prepared in your honor and I am sure my cooks will appreciate the contribution; boar is rarer, further up in the mountains," Yronwood replied. "Bread and salt, of course, for all, but most importantly wine! Please, enter," he added, and his men filed in to lines into the castle, dismounting to be met by a veritable army of grooms and stablemen, who ran up to take the reins of the guests' horses, to be led to the massive army stables carved out of the east side of the mountain.
The Great Hall and living chambers were all in the west mountain, along with the Lord's quarters and a small barracks for his personal guard, and quarters for the Maester. The main military barracks was a level above the stables in the east mountain. A semi-circular curtain wall connect the mountains on both the north and south sides, with mirrored gates opening in them; just inside the south gate is a large seven-sided Septry.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 14:07:44 GMT -5
After bathing, the lords and knights of Dorne commence the feast. Revelry and tale-telling are rampant. Nalya watches it all with a look of detachment and the party seems a great success.
Later, when the festivities are over, Nalya requests her strongest lords' presence to a small meeting.
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Post by Ulfric Harlaw on Oct 7, 2012 14:16:40 GMT -5
Lord Yronwood offers his solar, of course, and leather chairs are brought for all, which surround a round table on which is a number of charts and maps. Lord Yronwood stands in front of his seat, facing the door, with crystal glasses at each seat and several large decanters of deep red wine on the table as well. His son, Ser Aaron stood slightly behind him, beside Septon Tomas.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 15:37:05 GMT -5
Nalya takes her seat and a glass of wine, and her cousin is near, as well as the amnesiac master swordsman Harryld. "Our spies intercepted a letter a few weeks ago. Lord Baratheon is in the final stages of concluding an alliance with Pentos. I do believe he plans on using their sellswords to assist him in retaking Nightsong.""
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Post by Ulfric Harlaw on Oct 7, 2012 15:46:46 GMT -5
"We should forgo this tournament, and seize Blackhaven while their backs our turned. If we cannot hold it, then dismantle it and retreat back down the pass," he said, after a few moments of thought. Septon Tomas made a loud, disapproving sound in his throat, but did not speak.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 16:27:31 GMT -5
"I had considered it; massing the host, razing Blackhaven and then pressing on to Storm's End. However, prior to this information reaching my eyes, I did sign a document with witnesses promising my fellow monarchs I would behave myself. King Terrence will come to our aid if they attempt some sort of surprise attack, but not if we initiate the conflict. Above all, we must prevent the Goldlands from feeling threatened for now. Also, I think finding our own ally may have its uses now. Lys's fleet is strong and they are only five hundred miles away across islands and water."
She swirls her thoughtfully. "Of course, if we do find out they finalized an alliance, we will burn Lord Dondarrion and his entire pathetic line into the ground and then bury Blackhaven in its peoples' ashes."
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Post by Ulfric Harlaw on Oct 7, 2012 16:35:24 GMT -5
Yronwood's fist tightened at his side. He would do much worse to the Dondarrions of Blackhaven, if given half the chance. "It will be as you say, princess. However bear in mind that if they do intend treachery, they could rather easily trap us on their side of the mountains while their sellswords attack. It will be a good opportunity to probe the lesser lords of the Goldlands; with allies of the borderlords we have less to fear with them on our flank, for it is always the Marcher Lords that drag their compatriots to the west into battle against us, not the other way around."
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