House Among Chaotic Kingdoms

Votes for this Turn:

A1 - Commons - 2

A2 - Reputation - 47

A3 - Medcorps - 0

A4 - Marshal - 0

A5 - Non-Coms - 1

S1 - Wikipedia - 0

S2 - Steam - 46

S3 - Wookiepedia - 0

S4 - World - 5

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Rolls for this Turn:

Personal: Steam Games

Thanks to the State of Decay 2: Juggernaut Edition, the Grandfather’s blood magic now comes with a built-in time limit.

Specifically, the magic in the blood of one of his worshipers will work the same as ever, but the boons will slowly destroy the worshiper's ability to think until they have been rendered into a zombie-like husk.

This would have been a horrific game to have rolled on an unlucky roll, but because this is “L7 = Most convenient,” the resulting thing needs to be almost or entirely beneficial to us.

Which is a bit difficult to do when the game we got was about a Zombie Apocalypse.

So here's the breakdown:

1 - A large hit to Nergle since his oldest worshippers will be functionally braindead at this point, so he’ll need to be slower about infections at this point if he doesn’t want the movement to die.

2 - Despite the rolled game being about Zombie, there's really no way to make that Lucky for us, so instead the resulting people are Zombie-Like in terms of mindless berserkers, not the spreading-through-bites part. (Though getting bit by one would still make you violently ill.)

World: Elder Scrolls Wiki

Thanks to the Waters of Life (Dragonborn), the Nights King now has the ability to heal all his allies and their minions in exchange for knocking himself out.

Does not revive the dead, or those killed by fire/dragon glass.

But it would regenerate a lost limb of one of his Acolytes or regenerate a large amount of damage to the shambling minions.

(Basically, if he’s willing to take himself off the board, he can give a boost to more-or-less the entirety of any army he’s with at the time.)

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Story:

The campaign through the Dornish Marches went much faster than you’d prepared for.

Your army was smaller than the one following Joffrey into Dorne.

More Reachmen arrived every few days, usually under minor lords who’d spent the last month gathering whoever they could and hurrying south.

You’d expected the Marcher keeps to make you pay for every mile.

They’d been built by men who expected Dornish invasions, Reach invasions, and every smaller war that could grow between.

Thankfully, two of the three required no siege.

Barristan Selmy commanded the army, while Beric Dondarrion rode near the front beneath his own banner.

The people inside recognized both long before the host reached the walls.

Those castles belonged to their families, and the Dornish troops holding them had been left behind by an army that was already retreating elsewhere.

The servants rose as soon as they saw the banners approaching.

Men on the walls turned on the garrisons, gates opened from within, and fighting broke out in courtyards your army hadn’t yet reached.

By the time your infantry arrived, most of the work had already been done.

Your men suffered no losses taking either castle.

The Dornish garrisons were less fortunate, though a decent number threw down their weapons quickly enough to survive.

You took prisoners, recovered both keeps without damaging them, and saved weeks that could’ve been spent sitting outside their walls.

Then the Septons started examining what had happened during the occupation.

A good number of servants and nearby smallfolk had converted to the Grandfather’s worship.

Some had sheltered his priests, while others had helped alter septs for the new faith.

Those same people had just opened the gates and restored their lord’s castles.

The King’s decree didn’t include an exception for being useful afterward.

A few Southern lords suggested sending the Old Gods worshippers to enforce it.

Their argument was that Northmen wouldn’t be troubled by destroying corrupted septs, which was true in the narrowest possible sense.

The Northmen still objected to being handed the dirty work while followers of the Seven watched from a comfortable distance.

Barristan ended the discussion before it became a proper quarrel.

The decree had come from his King, and he wouldn’t order another faith to carry it out for him.

Beric took the same position, whether from agreement or simple impatience with the whole argument.

They rode out together with several other lords, a body of soldiers, and enough Septons to identify every place that had been converted.

The priests would be arrested, the altered septs destroyed, and anyone who resisted would be treated as an enemy.

Most of the remaining senior lords went with them.

You stayed at Ashford.

Joffrey’s writ left you as the highest-ranking officer still present, which placed the siege under your command until Barristan returned.

The order was clear enough.

Several lords still looked as though they’d swallowed something sour when they heard it read aloud.

Ashford had already shown more stubbornness than either Marcher castle.

Its defenders hadn’t been waiting for a beloved lord to return beneath loyalist banners.

They saw Stormlanders who’d spent the last year at war with the Reach, Northmen who worshipped trees, and another army settling across their fields.

They closed the gates and prepared to hold.

You couldn’t tell how much loyalty remained inside for Aegon’s cause.

It was possible they’d simply reached the point where every approaching army looked equally unwelcome.

You had enough men to attempt an assault.

You didn’t have enough to make that choice sensible.

Much of the cavalry had ridden out with Barristan, and many of the knights who remained had little enthusiasm for following you through a breach.

The infantry would’ve done it.

They also would’ve paid for the decision while better-armored men watched from behind them.

You ordered the army to settle in.

Roads were watched, messengers were stopped, and patrols began ranging around the castle.

The men dug where they were told and started putting together the ordinary arrangements of a siege.

Ashford had food behind its walls, while your reinforcements were still arriving.

There was no reason to throw away men before either side had been given time to become uncomfortable.

The delay left you with a problem that had been following you for months.

Jon brought it up first, although Tulin agreed with him before you’d finished arguing.

Your standing among the soldiers wasn’t going to carry you through every command.

The lords could make any order slower.

They could misunderstand simple instructions, demand pointless discussions, or comply exactly enough that nobody could accuse them of disobedience.

A commander didn’t need their friendship, though he needed something stronger than their resentment.

The army at Ashford gave you a decent chance to change matters.

Many of the lords who’d spent months forming a poor opinion of you were serving elsewhere.

The Reachmen arriving now had heard rumors, though few had spent enough time around you to decide which ones they believed.

Their existing opinion mostly amounted to your being young, Northern, and favored by the King.

That wasn’t ideal.

It was still better than active dislike.

You began meeting each group as it arrived.

Ordinarily, you would’ve greeted its lord, found space for his men, and returned to whatever work needed doing.

This time you stayed.

You invited the new lords to eat with you.

You asked what they knew about Ashford, its lands, and the people inside.

Several had relatives nearby, while others had hunted across the region or visited the castle before the war.

Some of the advice helped.

A few men mostly enjoyed having everyone listen while they explained the obvious at length.

You let them finish.

Joffrey had always been good at making a man feel that his words had mattered.

He’d ask another question, remember some small detail, and leave the speaker convinced he’d contributed something important.

You couldn’t copy his manner perfectly, though the general method wasn’t difficult to understand.

A lord who’d spent half an hour explaining Ashford’s western road became invested in seeing that road properly watched.

Another who knew the nearby streams volunteered men to check them.

Even the useless advice sometimes came from someone with useful soldiers.

You also began accepting more invitations.

When the lords gathered to spar, you joined them.

When they rode out to hunt, you went whenever the siege allowed it.

You sat through meals that lasted much longer than they needed to and listened to arguments about horses whose names you immediately forgot.

You still preferred working with the men.

The difference was that you stopped treating every hour spent among the lords as wasted time.

Their games decided who trusted whom, whose judgment carried weight, and which man would receive support before anyone had heard his plan.

You didn’t leave Ashford with a collection of new brothers.

Several Reachmen seemed to like you well enough.

Most of the others decided you were at least tolerable, which was already an improvement.

The lords who’d known you before became less openly dismissive.

Eating with a man made it harder to maintain some of the stranger ideas about him.

Beating him in a spar helped, though losing to him seemed to work even better.

The training yard did more for your reputation than all the dinners together.

That was irritating, although you couldn’t pretend to be surprised.

A lord could hear months of reports about well-trained infantry and remain unimpressed.

Watching someone handle a sword properly made immediate sense to him.

You did well enough with ordinary weapons.

Once Unhalig came out, the yard usually became crowded.

The blade was too old and unusual to pass without comment, especially among Reachmen who’d spent their lives hearing every sword with a name discussed as though it were a distant cousin.

Hart Weard drew more attention once the sparring began.

The shield’s runes had always been visible, though most Southerners had treated them as decoration.

Several had apparently spent weeks arguing over whether Northern runes did anything at all.

The Northmen insisted they worked.

The Southerners pointed out that nobody could explain exactly how.

That argument had continued without anyone finding much proof beyond old stories and the opinions of men who already believed them.

Most Northern armor carried one or two familiar runes.

A smith copied them because his master had done so, and his master had learned from somebody before him.

Whatever effect they produced was usually small enough to blame on good steel, confidence, or luck.

Lately though, Northmen had started claiming the marks were growing stronger.

A shield lasted through a blow that should’ve split it, or a man tired more slowly while wearing an old rune.

The changes remained slight, and every example allowed another explanation.

The Royces might’ve settled the matter years ago.

They covered armor in runes and claimed an unbroken tradition reaching back before the Andals.

Unfortunately, the Vale’s famous concern for honor hadn’t yet carried its army into the war.

Hart Weard gave you something better than another argument.

You let one of the Reach lords strike the shield while you held it.

His first blow landed cleanly and felt far lighter than it should’ve.

He struck again harder, then lowered his weapon and accused you of moving with the impact.

You handed Hart Weard to Tulin and had him hold it instead.

The result didn’t change.

Each strike lost part of its force when it hit the shield.

Then you took Hart Weard back and drove it into your opponent’s guard.

The shield released what it had gathered and knocked him several steps across the yard.

He kept his feet, though only because two men behind him caught his shoulders.

After that, everybody wanted a turn.

Some tested the shield by holding it.

Others preferred striking it themselves and watching the next bash hit much harder than it should’ve.

The effect remained consistent regardless of who carried Hart Weard.

The Northern lords took the result with remarkable dignity for almost half a minute.

Then they began reminding every Southerner nearby of every argument they’d lost over runes.

Several managed to become smug about a shield they hadn’t known could do that until the same afternoon.

The Southern lords handled it better than you’d expected.

A few started asking whether Hart Weard’s power came from the runes or some older enchantment placed upon the shield.

You couldn’t answer that with certainty.

The runes were the only visible explanation.

They were also arranged far more carefully than the simple marks found on most Northern equipment.

Whatever made the shield work, the old runes were plainly part of it.

You felt somewhat guilty once the demonstration ended.

Hart Weard had been hanging from your arm through months of arguments about whether runes were real.

You could’ve settled at least part of the question much earlier.

Nobody had asked you directly.

You also hadn’t paid enough attention to notice the dispute growing between the Northern and Southern lords.

That was another cost of spending nearly all your time with the soldiers.

Proving that runes worked didn’t mean anyone could reproduce Hart Weard.

Omek knew a large number of individual symbols and could explain their meanings.

Several older Northmen had learned the same knowledge from their families.

One rune meant strength, while another meant endurance or protection.

Knowing the words didn’t teach a man how to put them together.

The order mattered, along with the shape, placement, material, and probably several other things nobody remembered.

An ordinary smith could carve a strength rune into a shield.

He couldn’t explain why several runes placed together might absorb a blow and release it later.

Most of that knowledge had disappeared long before any living man was born.

The lack of answers didn’t prevent experimentation.

Northmen began showing interested Southerners the simpler runes they knew.

Before long, Reach lords who’d dismissed the marks as scratches were having them carved onto shields, sword belts, and pieces of armor.

Nobody promised much from a single rune.

A small chance of added strength still sounded attractive when the next battle was waiting somewhere ahead.

It gave the lords something to discuss besides religion, treason, and which kingdom had suffered most.

The change around camp was easy to notice.

Northmen enjoyed having knowledge the Reachmen wanted.

The Reachmen could ask questions without surrendering much pride, since nearly everyone had been missing the same answers.

Men who’d barely spoken before began comparing weapons and arguing over the cleanest way to carve a mark.

Your own position improved along with it.

The new lords had seen you listen, fight, and command without embarrassing yourself.

Those who’d disliked you beforehand had fewer reasons to keep doing so quite as loudly.

Some still thought you’d been promoted beyond your proper place.

That opinion wasn’t going to disappear over several suppers and a clever shield.

They’d at least stopped treating your orders as mistakes before you’d finished speaking.

The timing mattered.

Joffrey was marching with another army, and Robb was nowhere near Ashford.

You no longer had either man standing close enough to settle every challenge by entering the tent.

Your authority came from a piece of parchment bearing the King’s seal.

That was legally enough.

War had already taught you that what was legally enough and what men accepted without trouble weren’t always the same thing.

Barristan would uphold the writ.

You trusted him on that without reservation.

He wouldn’t discard the King’s order because several lords disliked receiving commands from somebody younger.

Barristan was also old.

He remained one of the finest knights alive, though skill didn’t make him impossible to kill.

Every battle carried some chance that he wouldn’t return.

If that happened while the army still disliked you, the parchment might become a very thin shield.

The lords could obey while undermining every decision you made.

A long campaign offered endless ways to make another commander fail without openly refusing his orders.

You’d treated noble politics as an irritation for most of the war.

Much of it deserved that judgment.

Ignoring it completely had still left you vulnerable.

Helping the common soldiers required enough authority to protect what you’d built.

Training good sergeants meant little if offended lords could scatter them afterward.

Keeping men alive sometimes depended on persuading their commanders before the fighting began.

You weren’t going to abandon the soldiers to spend every night flattering lords.

You also couldn’t keep acting as though the opinion of those lords had no practical effect.

From then onward, you’d have to give both sides enough attention to keep the army working.

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Skills:

Combat:

(11) Westerosi CQC - 280/300 (+50)

(10) Westerosi Swordsmanship - 140/200 (+50)

(11) Northern Archery - 230/300 (+50) (Skilled)

(11) Northern Equestrianism - 155/300 (+50) (Talented)

(12) Heavy Armour - 310/400 (+50) (Prodigious)

Diplomacy:

(11) Interpersonal Communication - 225/300 (+50) (Skilled)

(8) Public Speaking - 20/100 (+15) (Skilled)

(13) Management - 300/500 (+50) (Prodigious)

(7) Stewardship - 100/100 (+15) (Knack)

(7) Northern Law - 40/100 (+5) (Knack)

(7) Westerosi Law - 30/100 (+5) (Knack)

Language:

(10) Common Speaking - 165/200 (+25) (Knack)

(11) Old Tongue Speaking - 160/300 (+10) (Knack)

(7) Valyrian Speaking - 85/100 (+5) (Knack)

(7) Common Reading - 25/100 (+0)

(4) Westerosi Runes - 90/100 (+0)

(6) Valyrian Reading - 30/100 (+0)

Scholarly:

(9) Math(s) - 45/100 (+5)

(12) Accounts - 110/400 (+25) (Prodigious)

(10) Northern History - 160/200 (+5) (Knack)

(8) Westerosi History - 15/100 (+5)

(8) Northern Peoples - 80/100 (+0)

(6) Westerosi Peoples - 95/100 (+5)

Leisure:

(10) Northern Hunting - 15/200 (+7)

(7) Fishing - 59/100 (+0)

(6) Swimming - 39/100 (+0)

(6) Seacraft - 6/100 (+0)

(6) Climbing - 60/100 (+0)

(5) Acting (Lying Convincingly) - 20/100 (+10)

War:

(11) Strategy - 200/300 (+50) (Prodigious +)

(6) Castrametation - 70/100 (+30) (Knack)

(2) Poliorcetics - 85/100 (+75)

(3) Fleetcraft - 95/100 (+5) (Knack)

(3) Battlewise (coup d’œil) - 25/100 (+50)

Magic:

(12) The Green - 275/400 (+25) (Prodigious)

(6) Warging - 20/100 (+30) (Gifted)

(1) The Force - 30/100 (+5) (Knack)

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Earning: 6

Spending: 0

Banked: 84

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Rolls for Next Turn:

T5 = Power/Skill for a Prominent Figure

L2 = Moderately Inconvenient

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Voting:

Main Actions: Who should we focus on during the march South?

A1 - Focus on the needs and training of the Common men.

A2 - Focus on your reputation with the Lords by training with them.

A3 - Work with the Medcorps and other Support Staff.

A4 - Focus on your Marshal Skill by Training with Jon and the Knights.

A5 - Focus on the Organisation and Non-Coms of the Army.

Personal Rolls Sources:

S1 - Wikipedia

S2 - Steam Games (On Cooldown 1/1)

S3 - Wookiepedia

S4 - World Rolls List

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Information/Maps:

1 - War-Map: In Zones mode for easier understanding.

Imgur - File Garden - Catbox

2 - New World Map

Note: Not accurate to Westeros or Western Essos/the Free Cities.

For those interested, I recently discovered this map and the discussion on SB led me to make it the official map for what the rest of Planetos looks like.

It shouldn’t come up for this quest, since we're pretty focused on Westeros, but it's a fun map and could become relevant in some kind of sequel/post Long Night quest.

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Write-In/Questions:

1 - Do you think the current strategy for rolls is good or would you prefer a different one?

Obviously you lot can change how you vote at any time, but since you seem to have largely agreed on a strategy, I should ask now if you like it or would prefer to pivot in some way?

Either way, now is the time since we're in a new situation with new responsibilities and power.