Being Archon was strange to Mero; he was only in his mid-twenties, and yet he was now in charge of the greatest city in all of the world. A city that deserved all it had and more, so much more.

His father had loved Tyrosh; he'd bled for it, he'd slaved for it, he'd died for it. And now it was Mero's turn. Mero's turn to take her to new heights, to new glories.

That was, of course, if he could win over the other magisters.

Runners were sent to all the manses of the greatest magisters, those with the most power and influence; House Ryndoon, House Uhoris, House Adarys, and House Lectris. If he could convince them to follow him into war, into the disputed lands, all the other nations and empires of the world would respect Tyrosh like never before.

He sat at the table of the meeting room in his family manse, awaiting them.

Sorry lads, I thought I could easily spend my time on two rp subreddits and my personal life. But it seems I have barely the time to spend on one. This unfortunately forces me to unclaim here. Sorry!

Hey guys, sorry!

1. I don't know anything about Essos, Pentos or the houses at all!

2. I don't have time to learn a second powers / RP game - or to even play it!

Sorry again fellas, and WKN especially! Hopefully it continues on alright!

Angry ,words were put to pen. As ,more taxes were conpounded on top of the supliers costs ,seams the triarchs had, their gready hands in everyone's pie ,from the fisher man to the mercant that sells the fine cloth . Now they tax his household for how many slaves he owns . The art of fine slaves took years of conditioning and training for the perfic servant ,with so much work put into them he would have to get a small foturne, if he was to make any coins .

A, flurry of his toung now erupted .(Hae, ziry udra sia lēdan lēda vēdros . skoro syt ēdruta tepagon zirȳ , ñuha gelebo skori mirre gaomis iksis sit va pōja rōvala rōva butts. mirre gaomis iksis indigon ezīmagon pōntāla, dōna averilla se bāne myrdys se nofel. se emagon daor mirre ribazma syt hen tolie qilōni mazverdagon pōja kisalbar) As, he words were filled with anger . why for for must give them , my silver mark when all they do is sit near their extra big butts. All they do is push into themselves, sweet wine and hot deer and cattle. and have not any brains for the other who build their feast.

Those around him skurried to get out of his way . Not one wishes their master's foot hard on their bodies.

The strongly worded letter read thusly :

Good members of the triarch, You, have taxed us of Volon Therys, till we have little to feed our own. I ,humbly request that the tax be, set at a reduced rate . Why should we strarve so you grow plump ?

lord paenymion

The Magisters gathered to elect a new Archon of Tyrosh following the death of the previous one.

Post your house's name below who you are supporting in bold. Any non-voting discussion should not be bolded.

For example - House BlahBlah is voting for House BlahBlah

Tychos entered the room in splendor, his hands nervously folded behind his back. Six guards stood beside him in solemn patience.

"I am Sealord Tychos, here to meet with the iron bank."

Tychos Prestayn rested his hands together forming into a steeple. His rise to Sealord had been seamless, effortless, and perfect.

His eyes turned to a map that was set upon his desk. He traced his fingers carefully along the lines. "It is a time for upheaval. The dragonlords are gone and the slavers are weak."

He rose from his desk and strode to the window. "Soon we shall have our revenge for all their followers have done in the dragonlords' name."

The white stallion Doom snorted as the slaves guarding the gates of Volantis opened them with supernatural haste once they saw who it was that had arrived. Jaehaerys could not be mistaken for anyone else, not even another Valyrian. Long silver hair flowed all the way down his back, and his purple eyes were like pools of liquid amethyst, not uncommon for one of Valyrian heritage, but his free spirit and flair set him apart. Jaehaerys had collected various trinkets and artefacts in his journeys, some that he wore, others he kept as trophies, but there was one that he wore all of the time. An intricate golden head-piece that did not go so far as to look like a crown. Gold chain looped in his silver hair and the solid mantle was inscribed in Valyrian.

Once inside the city, Jaehaerys pushed Doom forward until he reached the Black Walls. The Tigercloaks made to stop him. "Get out of my way, tiger cubs," he said with a smile, as Doom seemed to glare at the men who had interrupted his run.

One bold Tigercloak stood forward, his chest puffed out. "People do not just come and go through the Black Walls, not even you. I can call on the Triarch -"

Jaehaerys laughed as the man spluttered. "Don't bother with my brother, friend. He's a busy man, and so am I. I don't have time for this. Aneas needs to know about the expedition."

The brave Tigercloak seemed less certain. "Expedition? You mean the one with the explorers?"

"The very same," Jaehaerys said quickly. "Now, get back to actually guarding against threats. Twenty faceless men could have passed you while we had this little chat, although it was amusing. You're good at your job, stopping the brother of a Triarch, good fellow, I'll remember you and make sure your name is mentioned." He spurred Doom forward and the Tigercloaks were forced to jump out of the way. Jaehaerys flicked his hand backwards in a wave as he passed into the Black Walls and made his way to the Triarch's Palace.

Several of those damned mute slaves met him along the way. Useless things, couldn't even give him directions. It was lucky he knew his way around the place. Far too well for Aneas's liking, not that he really knew how many times Jaehaerys had slipped through into the compound.

Eventually Doom came to a halt outside the grand Palace. Doom snorted, and Jaehaerys nodded in agreement. As far as palace's went, it was good, he supposed, but far too gaudy.

And that rule about the feet. He shook his head.

Vaulting off the back of Doom he pat the white stallion and murmured, "Don't cause trouble," before striding into the Palace. Mute servants rushed to his attention, but fortunately for him, they couldn't speak, therefore they couldn't nag him with protocol.

He made his way to the central chamber, throwing the doors open without ceremony. He saw Aneas and smiled. "Good to see you, brother!" he said brightly. "How's Ayrmidon? Still trapped in the god-awful bubble Daena wrapped him in?" he shook his head. "Poor boy will never learn. You should let him come with me for a while, that'll do it!"

Aneas said nothing, his face remaining neutral through the exchange. His brother tolerated Jaehaerys because - even if he wouldn't admit it - he was fond of his charm and wit.

Jaehaerys turned to bow to the other Triarchs. "Good day, fellows. Good to catch you all at once. Saves time."

"Get on with it, Jaehaerys," Aneas said in a cool voice, one that Jaehaerys recognised well.

His smile faded, replaced by a grimace. "About the Valyrian Ruins. They were much, much more than simple ruins. It's a long story..."

Jaehaerys recited the events, omitting the prophetic visions he had in the final chamber. They were too dangerous to be revealed just yet.

Need an active one.

###Arrono Reymnos

After a quite productive conversation with the bearded priest, Arrono makes his way to see the Magisters of Norvos, the puppet nobles. Everyone knew that it was the Bearded priests who held the true power in Norvos, but the Magisters were important as well, if mostly for running day to day operations and alliances through marriage. This was the latter case, and Arrono was quite happy about it. He cared little for looks, although it would be nice if he got a pretty bride, and he only hoped that his new bride would have the same apathy when it came to his appearance. He had been a handsome man once, in his youth, but had grown overblown in proportion to the point that it was difficult for him to walk. He may need a cane soon, despite only being in his thirties. The news troubled him, but food was a vice he had turned to after the death of his wife and newborn daughter, and he had no intention of giving it up. He supposed that he may not need such vices if his new wife made him truly happy as his first one had, but he doubted the likelihood of that. Like as not they would give him their ugliest, meanest daughter and expect him to thank them for it. He would thank them, of course, as Arrono was diplomat first and man second, but he didn't have to be happy about it.

Sorry for my inactivity lately but I've been sick and just some heavy stuff IRL. I hope to get a post and some replies up by tomorrow.

Advina Malavott sat perched in the tree. The early morning quiet was always serene as the sun’s light began to scatter its way through the trees. The canopy of branches and leaves above would soon become golden, radiating down light and removing the gloomy greyness that saturated the dawn. It was always difficult to keep warm when spring’s dew would often make her more vulnerable to the chill winds common this far north in Qohor. Stretching a leg to make sure she did not cramp a muscle when it may be needed, Advina tried to relax as much as possible perched the way she was.This time of day was what one waited for.

Her father and siblings had gone to Qohor, to the city, while she remained at their ancestral home deep in the northern Forest of Qohor. It was hardly even a village, with the small few who occupied the lands, yet it was familiar to her. Her stepmother had gone as well. Such a passive, easily tempered, and foolish woman. How could she compare to Advina’s true mother, who had made her the fabulous tapestry hanging in her quarters? Gardening and toiling in dirt, was not a recreation for someone married to a magister. A scowl found its way on Advina’s face at the thoughts taking her mind, her stepmother was too warm, too kind, and too foolish to be anything compared to her true mother.

Below a buck made its way to the tiny spring that ran through the glade she was perched overlooking. Without a moment’s hesitation, her bow was raised with an arrow in hand. It was fired a second later, trained well to not hold or to question her aim. Advina dropped from the branch just after sending the arrow. The buck was too large to go down quickly with one blow. Landing on her feet, she slunk forward searching as the buck cried out and frantically stirred to flee the area. She did not waste an arrow. Instead, she followed.

It was not a difficult trail. The buck’s movements were chaotic, yet a clear sign of blood could be found on the low brush that it passed. Still, Advina was sure to move cautiously. A desperate creature nearing its doom would lash out if able. Like she expected, a buck so large would push itself further away from the initial blow. It was a patient movement that she used. Leather clad feet made steady steps through the forest, her clothing dyed in rich forest greens with supple leather of subtle browns. Her long brunette hair tied in a ponytail behind her head and the gloves she wore would offer little trace of her presence by sight. Careful, well experienced movements allowed her graceful footing as she neared her prey.

The buck was leaning against a boulder for support. The arrow still wedged in its chest, a punctured lung. It wheezed before sensing her and staring at her, enraged. An arrow found its eye the next moment. Advina would not take chances as it collapsed. She moved forward, removing the two arrows and cleaning their points of blood before placing them back in her quill. Undoing the satchel that was closely around her back, she put it down Inside the neatly packed bag, she took out rope, a ceramic bowl with a lid left to the side, and netting.

Tying the buck’s hind legs together tightly, the rope was tossed over a high branch then wrapped around the tree so she could pull the buck to hang from its hind legs as she tied the rope by the trunk of the tree. Taking out her hunting knife, the throat was slit with the ceramic bowl underneath to collect the blood. It was was important to properly prepare the animal. Not a sacrifice, but she saw no reason to waste the blood that could be given to the Dark One instead. As the blood drained, Advina unhooked the chord on her bow to stop it from loosening then prepared a few traps back by the stream to catch something for lunch and dinner this evening.

Returning to the buck, Advina spotted the large figure before it saw her. She paced backwards at that, finding a tree to begin climbing up as quietly as possible. Once on a branch that could see the small glade where the buck hung from. Advina took her bow and restrung it, testing the tightness of it. Below was a brown bear seeming far more interested in the buck and the bowl of blood than anything to do with her.

Her options were limited with that. A glance back at her quill, but she only truly was looking at the value of each steel arrow point. The buck was most out of reach of the bear, yet it was able to reach and pull on the ropes. The knot would not hold against that weight for long. Advina had seven arrows with her.

She took the first sending it quickly without hesitation into the bear’s soft side. Enough to get its attention, yet not to truly harm the bear...or the arrow point. The creature turned towards her, seeing her movement in the branch above and letting out a huff of anger. Her second arrow was sent to scathe by its shoulder. It charged towards the tree now as her third and fourth skimmed either side of it. The arrows landing on dirt to ensure they did not get ruined, three left.

The bear knocked into the tree with its full weight causing everything to wobble as the branch Advina was on swayed wildly, but she was ready. Crouched now to hold onto the shaking branch as she watched the creature’s charge. It would continue knocking at the tree unless she did something. Waiting until the movement of the branch was less wildy, Advina stood back up. Lowering the bow once more and taking the fifth arrow sending it down at the bear’s neckline. It lunged as she did causing the arrow to go into its back as she struggled to absorb the once more swaying tree and fire her sixth. This hit. On the left side of its neck causing the bear to howl up.

Advina took her last arrow firing it quick as she tossed her bow and quill into the leaves. She jumped down taking her knife out as she did. The seventh arrow had struck the bear in its right shoulder blade, seeming to have lost use of the arm. Advina crashed down on its right side as the bear snapped with its mouth. Her dagger dug into his neckline slashing down as his teeth caught slicing across her arm before the bear’s mouth went slack. Stumbling backwards bloody and falling over from the momentum.

She took a breath. Then stood up taking her knife from where it was impaled in the bear’s throat, she cut the bottom of her shirt with her left arm. Ripping of the shreads of her right sleeve and tying the cleaner piece of cloth around the worst of the wound. Advina looked up at the tree, she would need her bow and quill. Slowly climbing up and taking her time on the weakened arm, she managed to arrive and gather her things on the still wobbling branch. This time she eased her way down instead of thudding as she had against the bear.

It was a process of collecting her arrows, two badly damaged but the tips still in good enough shape. They would need to be sharpened. With that settled, she decided to carve into the bear some. It would give her a meal at least, then it would be to take the buck back to the village for the butcher. As well as giving the remaining blood to the Dark One, the Dark One had looked out for her today.

Advina set to work.

The great fields of Northern Essos began to rise and fall as the travelers moved north-west. Eventually, they came onto the beginning of the great hills of the region. It would become hard travelling from here onward but the chance at glory and riches was enough to keep the group moving for now. The sun had been hidden behind clouds for most of the day but now was setting on the other side of the sky.

Over one hill, the group came upon a series of caves. Most of them had small mouths only large enough for a small child to walk through upright. In the middle of them all, though, there was a large mouth that stretched high enough for almost two men high to pass through. The path downward was easy enough to see but where it went was shrouded in darkness.

Does the group go through the cave, inspect the smaller ones, or move on?

Some heavy stuff has come up IRL, and my time will be spent on that for the time being. I'm actually fucking sad about this but I'll be back when it's dealt with.

(mood: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGZghBIESnE)

The day went smoothly and yet, Melirah knew it was the calm before a storm ,she had seen it before.She, remembers the day the harbor ran red the sights and sounds of death ,and the wailing of the wives and mothers as they walked amunst the dead. these things she saw in the deep red of the central flame of her god Rh'illor. The flame ,told of other things that brought death to all the doom ,was only one peice in the tapastry of time as many red priestesses before her said "Bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys." we all must be careful as many will come to take all from us . The flame, lept and danced as the room showed her sceens of his bidding . The ,temple guards found her laying ,in the dead embers of the center flame. They carried her into her chambers she was muttering still 'Bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys.' "the night is full of terrors "the young priest replyed to the others ,as they placed her on the bed.

Later, she would preach on the things she saw ."I, Melirah High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and First Servant of the Lord of Light,have seen things .The ,lord of light has done, he stamped his feet on the fourteen hills and they went asunder, fire ,smoke , ash rained down on the people ,as the fire of our lord tore at the very foundation of the lands. It shook and belched and threw up the vile from the very bowls of the land .This ,is only the begining of his plurging ,making things in his image ,we must believe and make attunement or we are taken with the unholy .

"My friend ,sisters, brothers Harken to my call ,for great is the wisdom of our lord of light . As she spoke a crowd gathered to hear her words " I, have seen wars i know not if they are those of old or yet to come .Weeping ,wailing of our women , our sons and brothers, fathers pairshed in these terrors. Each one,s blood will fill the harbor till it turns red .Harken, to my words guard your families well for the time will come we will lose many of them. She ,turns looking at the crowd, her eyes are warm and kind she begins again," My friends there are many terror yet to come but the lord of light has chosen some of you today for his holy war listen to him and believe ,the cold blades will come of his true warriors, we will be strong again like before . The lord of light will show us the way ." Turning ,to the temple she points saying, "come rejoyce with us for the lord of light ,will bless those who are worthy ." then moves through the shocked masses, towards the temple of her lord.

The explorers moved across the great plains of southern essos as they followed the course of the nearby river that to some divided the Disputed Lands from Volantene lands, though that distinction as many others was in dispute. The rolling grass hills of the region continued as they flowed into the banks of the river. As they neared, there was an older man sitting on the hill smoking a pipe with thick plumes of smoke coming from it. He was older, yet looked in decent shape. His clothing was worn, but a good quality to be resistant to the harshness of living off the land. Greying hair belied an eagerness in his eyes as he watched the travelers approach. Next to him was a large sack presumably filled with supplies he needed and a sturdy long piece of wood as a walking stick.

The explorers are able to approach the older gent or continue on as they like...

It had been a long and tiresome journey, trapped in a tiny boat full of sailors. Visenya Vaelaros had cleared the captain's schedule and all of it's pitiful merchandise. It had been paid for, of course, little as it was, and the weasel of a man had receive far more coin than he deserved.

As the ship came into port, Maelor, another outcast and unwanted Vaelaros stood staring at the city of Myr as it came into view. He had already ordered the two dozen slaves to prepare their palanquin and the two dozen slave-guards of the Vaelaros family to prepare for anything.

"Captain, raise the flag of House Vaelaros, let these Myrish know the Blood of Valyria has graced their city," Visenya snapped, and the Volantine captain jumped to attention, the silver dragon on a golden field flying in the wind.

It was said that the banners of Vaelaros were based on the first Dragon-Rider of their House, who rode a silver-white dragon named Vaelayon Silverflare. Vaelayon's scales were said to have reflected gold in the sunlight or as her fires scorched Ghiscar and their slaves.

Lost was the might of the Dragon-Riders, even the Dragons seemed to have disappeared after the doom, but the blood of Valyria ran strong in Visenya and her half-brother Maelor. Aneas - the wretched bastard - had made her emissary of Volantis. A high position of great honour, he had said, but Visenya knew better. It was the work of that bitch Daena. Arymidon had become fond of her, very fond, and the harpy of a woman shielded her son and heir of Vaelaros like a she-wolf.

After my time here is done, Arymidon will be mine, you hussy, Visenya thought to herself as the Captain and Maelor hailed the dock masters to inform them just who had arrived, and I will be the wife of the head of House Vaelaros, as it should have been all along.

As the explorers came up across the river, they would notice that suddenly, the river was no longer exposed to the sun, but sat in the shade of many trees. Though most of them looked natural, some of the younger ones were on with ropes, which connected to pegs, pulling the saplings towards the river as they grew.

Up ahead, under the shade of one of the largest trees, a woman dressed in black, was filling several buckets with water. Behind her, the thickness of the tree line disappeared, as there only appeared to be one or two trees behind any one in sight. What lay beyond, would not be discernible yet.

As the woman continued to collect water, she looked up, and spotted the explorers. Petrified, she could not do anything but stare.

Today was perhaps the most important day for Malorno since the establishment of the Conclave, almost 20 years ago, which saw him become one of the most powerful men in Lys today. He'd amassed a lot of wealth, accumulated loads of influence, but one thing was missing: true alliances. And alliances were best made through marriages to powerful and influential families. And that was exactly what Malorno was trying to achieve today.

There were two main prospects for two of his different children. He was to discuss the betrothal of House's ... Magister to his only daughter Alyssane. But the most important was the betrothal of Robb to Daenerys Rogare. If he could get them in a steady alliance, he could have a definite age over all the other magisters.

Tychos was restless at night, always had been since he was a boy. His father was content to simply grind away at the same work from dawn til dusk with not a care in the world. He was a follower, a sheep.

Tychos was no sheep.

Turning his gaze to the maps on his desk, calipers in hand he set to drawing a map of expanded border colonies. A new world. A brilliant world. His world.

The Lothar family arrived at the Ormollen estate.Vilarys,his sister Vhaesa,his sister Haelenna and his mother Naerys were present.His brother Gaelor was still asleep,after spending the whole night drinking and whoring.

Vilarys walked to the guards standing at the estate door,smiling.

"Please,notify Magister Ormollen that the Lothars are here to meet with him."

Magister Kestos Voatar - Born 42 BTD - Kestos has devoted his life to the Black Goat and the city of Qohor but it has left him a jaded old man as he feels he's been on the wrong side of fate. In his final years he has become more volatile and resentful towards everything and appears to be going out of his way to make everyone as miserable as he is.

His wife Zamyra Voatar - Born 18 BTD - A beautiful woman, Zamyra was born to a family of family of criminals before managing to seduce Kestos. Still maintains most of her criminal roots though and has stolen from her husband to provide resources for the underworld of Qohor without him knowing. Another thing she has hidden from her husband is her relationship with his brother.

Their first daughter Nyssa Voatar - Born 2 ATD - Nyssa is very complacent towards the Qohor ways and doesn't believe in the Black Goat. Nyssa is intelligent and self reliant, she often clashes heads with her parents and believes she can achieve greater things than just following what her family wants.

Their second and third daughter Sharee & Asteria Voatar - Born 5 AD - Sharee & Asteria are identical twins who follow strongly after their mother. They both enjoy practicing the dark arts and have adopted some of their mothers criminal traits as they steal from the rich and use the dark arts for more nefarious means. Both of them have a malevolent side as they enjoy seeing others in pain.

Jarkus Voatar - Born 15 AD - is the current heir to House Voatar. He is actually not born to Kestos but rather his brother Zarbo. He is a bigger kid and has a bratty nature.

Kestos' older brother Zarbo Voatar - Born 24 BTD - Zarbo has a reputation around Qohor as someone you don't mess with. His brutish strength and volatile nature have lead to him getting in many a fight and usually coming out unscathed. Is the chief commander of the Voatar troops and has a secret relationship with Zamyra.

Kestos' younger brother Benjen Voatar - Born 22 BTD - Benjen travels around Essos bragging about his various "conquests" has given himself the nickname "The Dragon Slayer" because he claims to have defeated over 20 dragons before The Doom (something which he has also claimed to be responsible for). Believes in honour and integrity before all else. Currently in Pentos.

AC's

Brachiryo Stave - Born 20 BTD - A commander of the troops primarily in charge of the strategic planning.

Donnus Khaled - Born 17 BTD - In control of the trade and economy of House Voatar, a bit of a hustler. Currently in Braavos

Aegor Rogare entered an Inn called "The Valyrian Spirit" a place where highborn tended to go to get away from social standards. The place was known for its whores, it was said that if a kind of whore was not found at the Valyrian Spirit it meant it didn't exist, inside you could find Andal whores, Dothraki, Braavosi, Pentoshi, whores from Slaver's Bay and even from Yi Ti and Ibben, some even said for the right price you could get a whore from Ashai but that was basicallly a rumor.

"What happens at the Spirit, stays at the Spirit", was the place's unnofficial motto since people went there to do stuff they would normally not even talk about. A runner had been sent to the Lothar estate to tell Gaelor of Aegon's presence there that night but he had had no response. Even so he was going there as he usually did whenever he had the chance.

Aegor jumped from his boat, nearly falling over his own feet. Fuck. I hope there isn't anyone... actually important around. Sighing, he looked back to Moredo, who followed slightly slower. Walking towards a guard, he bowed, and flashed a quick smile. "Aegor Ormollen and Moredo Maar, ambassadors from Lys. Please inform the Prince and the Magisters of our presence. Doubtless they would want to listen to us." The Ormollen raised an eyebrow, and waited for the guard's response.

It didn't took long for them to arrive,Myr was not that far after all.It was a good looking city,but,in his opinion,Lys was certainly better.He hoped that he would find a Magister available,he wanted to make a good impression and start their relationship in the right hand.

As the ship arrived at the port,Aelor,his assistants and the Rogare boy all went to the docks.It had a smell quite similar to Lys,and that wasn't a good thing.All ports smell like shit,he thought.A look of clear disgust in his face.The party quickly left the area,going in the direction of the Conclave Building.Arriving,he spoke to the guards at its door.

"Hello!I am Aelor Lothar,a member of House Lothar and the lyseni ambassador to Myr.I wish to speak with the Magisters,if any of them are available."

Magister Salladhor Saan and his little entourage arrived early in the buzzing port of Volantis. The sun shone bright, birds chirped but could not be heard, and more filler words stood in between Salladhor and a swift walk towards the Black Walls that hid the elite of Volantis from view. After several interactions between his nephew Gael and Volantene freedmen, in which they were given directions, Salladhor made his way down to the Black Walls in his palanquin - carried by four Unsullied.

Due to a distinct lack of time, Salladhor found himself visibly annoyed with having to travel by palanquin. From his palanquin he could not see the Black Wall of Volantis arise in front of them, as the others could. A sight to behold, for sure, but as a Magister of Lys Salladhor was obligated to travel in style. Before a giant gate they were halted by the tigercloak in command who most likely had a protocol to follow as well as lines to read off a cheat sheet.

Viserys Rogare's ship passed between the legs of the Huge Titan of Braavos, it was impressive one of the tallest buildings made by men, if it could be called a building.

Soon after they arrived to some docks near the palace of the Sealord and the Iron Bank, they headed first to the palace as it was expected. At the gates they called for a guard.

"I am Viserys Rogare, named ambassador from Lys to the city of Braavos, may you please tell The Sealord of my presence"

Rollo was had made the run down the Rhoyne and it's tributaries many times in his life, but this time was different. His little boy Harruk was born in a time of war and violence, the chaos that followed as people scrambled for power. The river was hardly safe from river pirates now, but death was not so certain for a child. Besides at seven years old he was practically a man!

"We have arrived at the first daughter of the first daughter of Valyria, Harruck. The only grandchild of Essos, if you will. Let's not call it that in front of the Governor." His loreboat pulled up to the riverport and Rollo wasted no time looking for somebody official.

"Excuse me, I am looking for a custom's officer. I am a fur trader from Qohor and I am seeking permission to sell some of my wares, or pass through unmolested at the least."

Well this is certainly a bigger operation than I intended. Tycho stood at the helm of the Lysene carrack, overseeing the preparations for their journey. He had just intended for it to be him, some soldiers and a few companions but now it seems every family in Lys wants a foot in the door. No doubt they want a share of any loot I find.

The whole thing had turned into quite a big deal among the nobility. They had sent a twelve year old and the Ormollens had even sent his cousin. Tycho didn't doubt that if one of these noblemen died on the expedition the blame would be thrust upon him.

The ship they had been granted by the magisters was a magnificent thing. A large carrack, big enough for a force twice their size. They would need the space too, the fifty cavalrymen all needed to bring horses, armor and food for themselves and the horses. The boat would be filled to the brim by the time they set off.

Seeing that everything was going smoothly above deck, Tycho headed down to the cabin that probably should be the captain's, but he had laid claim to himself. The cabin was the only space which he trusted to be dry enough to house all of his precious maps. On the table in the center of the cabin, he had lay out the most accurate map of the area they were headed that he could find. It wasn't a very detailed map, but Tycho was sure that it would get them to the mouth of the river.

"Once everything is loaded, set sail." He said to the captain of the vessel. "And if any of the Lysene noblemen want to talk, tell them they can find me in here." Tycho dismissed the captain, he turned back to the map. In his short time working as an explorer, he had found the job was much less about luck than meticulous planning, and he had a lot of planning to do.

[m] Feel free to come talk to Tycho, or use this thread to talk to anyone aboard the ship.