The Black Burns

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The Black Burns

PostPosted by Mistefar » Sat May 27, 2017 18:00

Hello!

Well, i don't know how to begin this, so 'ill just say my name. You, the beautiful reader, can call me Mistefar, or Memesfar, like my friends call me, or just Daniel, if you prefer it. I'm planning to begin a AAR, obviously, and you might know my name by my atrocious AARs, "The White Dragon" and "The Red and the Black", which i DO NOT recommend you to read, because i did those when i was a little fourteen year old kiddo who didn't know english whatsoever.
Now, a year or less later, here i am again, feeling good and secure about my dominance of the language. So much that i've decided i'm ready to begin again, to write something "not-so-horrible" and to wipe out these two AARs that do not deserve to metioned.

Ok, enough about me and more about what is this all about:

"This is the tale of the Blakctorch family, a house which was born in the North but has valyrian origins. A man of true and pure blood of the freehold who has escaped the Doom on a lucky boat sailed, or better, drifted in the sea for months untill he finally reached one of the cities that once belonged to the Valyrian empire, but was now free to its own powers. He didn't know which one it was, for he had only seen the palaces, streets and buildings of his own people, and these structures that stood before him were bizarre for his purple eyes. This lucky valyrian man wasan't of one of the Freehold families, he was not even noble, but one thing he'd knew: He was not safe there.
It didn't take long to find a passage to the uncivilized west, and with all the gold he looted from the dead crewmen who starved, he bought it, and there was gold left. He didn't like the ideia, but war would spread throught the continent, and it wouldn't be safe for him; for anyone at all.
This time he actually sailed, and when the trip was over they landed in a far away place, a place where the wind yelled and snow fell from the sky. The name combined with the location. White Harbor, it was."

So, this is just a little introduction for the history that i did on the go. If you liked it be kind and leave a comment, if you didn't, be kind and leave a comment.
Oh yeah! I was about to forget; here is a list of some information about the game i'm playing.

Bookmark: A Century of Blood, Version 1.4.1

Submods: Cogenital Overhaul;
DLC Portraits;
People's Champs;
Realistic Battles;
BFFS
Claim Settlement;
Dragom Tamer Laws;
More Prisioner on Sieges;
Re-Enabled Trade Route Valyria;
Sin's Personal Armour;
Kinslayers Crimes;
Start Blood Feud;
Religiously Tolerant Love(Valrian);
Visit Chambers;
Wolflings.
Last edited by Mistefar on Wed Jun 07, 2017 03:10, edited 2 times in total.
Mistefar
 
Posts: 61
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Re: The Black Burns

PostPosted by Mistefar » Mon May 29, 2017 14:30

I got sick af, 40 degree fever. So i'm not beginning this AAR anytime soon :cry:
Mistefar
 
Posts: 61
Joined: Thu Aug 25, 2016 23:07

Re: The Black Burns

PostPosted by JDSweet » Thu Jun 01, 2017 16:19

Nice start. A Valyrian family in the North. Interesting concept to explore. I'm looking forward to reading this.
JDSweet
 
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Re: The Black Burns

PostPosted by Mistefar » Sat Jun 24, 2017 21:53

Hello! So, I will finally post a chapter of this!

But before, I want to explain somethings. The reason of the wait is because I, unfortunately, got pneumonia, so i stayed on the hospital with those breathing machines and stuff. That matters not now, cuz i'm good.

Somethings about the AAR now:
*I might use console to spice things up.
*I RPed that the kingdoms never got togheter in Weteros, so i iniciated the game with all realms fagmented, and later put the free cities togheter with console. I also gave the big families claims on their kingdoms, so they conquer it somewhere in the future.

And now for the AAR:

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

26, June of 7917.

A day with clouds meant a boring day, yet a morning with a clear sky meant a stale morning. For Vaeron that was a true dilemma, but he would certainly go for a beautiful morning rather than a cloudless time. It was what he preferred, which did not mean it would happen every day: the Lord Regent sighed as he contemplated the profound and light blue of the sky, a calming scene for some, even for Vaeron himself, sometimes, however nothing could make him calm, and it was so for the last two years of his life. Be it a troubling lordling, a hungry peasant or an empty pocket, being a regent was as hard as being the lord himself.

Spoiler: show
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From up the castle walls, the dirt roads seemed thinner than they really were, the grass looked darker and the trees from the Darkwood appeared taller. If you were to take the sky out of the picture it would be logical to claim that the surroundings of Black Light were desolate lands, grey of color and cold of winds. It would be right to say that the wind was cold, but the North was anything but grey, especially in the autumn that spread all over the territory. The leaves falling from the tree branches were yellow, orange and some even red, a darkish red that remembered the blood when the bodies froze on a battlefield.

Vaeron Blacktorch looked restlessly, trying to spot something that wasn’t there, or he just fooled himself into thinking like that. What he truly did was simply wait, it was what he had done for all his regency time, he waited for his father to come back, for him to appear on the horizon with horses, servants and treasures from Valyria. The more he waited, the less he believed. Valyria, Blacktorch thought bitterly, was supposed to be raised there, as a true valyrian. Yet, all I’ve got is a freezing castle on a freezing land, where all people do is freeze, serving as a loyal subject of the freeze king.

His own father’s story made him remember of the Ashwoods, the ones who held those same freezing lands before the Blacktorch came.

“I’ve served Lord Ashwood”, said Edward Blacktorch to his heir when he was but an innocent boy. Lord Ashwood had just died a day before. “He was alive when I landed at White Harbor, an old man then. Even being old and powerless, he took pride on his name, bragging annoyingly about the deeds of his ancestors a thousand years ago, when there were a thousand kings. He had three sons, one more proud than another, so proud that they wished not only to see the Wall, but to serve there as honorable men of the Night’s Watch. They asked, he conceded, they went and he stayed. He bragged and I laughed. Lord Ashwood was a fool, the only family he had left for the Wall, he had no heirs and, apparently, he became sterile. The Ashwoods never did anything to be proud about, and now they never will, for they are doomed to disappear in history, as petty lordlings who achieved nothing. With no heirs and no distant cousins the title had to go to someone, and, fortunately, Lord Wyman Manderly took a liking on me. We are Blacktorch son, we were nothing a day before, but now we are the Lords of Black Light, and we’ll make history.”

Who is the fool now father? Vaeron kind of wanted to laugh, however he didn’t dare to, the black burns.

Vaeron—No one— knew why Edward would go in such an adventure; maybe he just wanted to see his home once before dying. That’s what the Lord Regent tried to believe, the court and everyone else, however, said that Edward was driven mad after his wife died. Leaysa. Any man would be driven mad after knowing what Torrhen Hornwood had done to her. One of her eyes was taken off with a dagger and one of her delicate hands was chopped off with Hornwood’s own sword, and to make it all worse, her bloody carcass was delivered at the gates of Black Light. Lord Edward was an extravagant man, and disappearing in Valyria was an extravagant way to go.

Yet none of that enraged Vaeron more than the fact that no king, lord or God would be a better person than his father. He was as kind as a man could be, his bravery in battle was flawless, the purple in his eyes were dark, and his hair shinned silver, and no person could deny his attractiveness, he worked hard for his peasant and vassals and even then the Lord Regent could hear his smooth voice teaching him about the ways of the sword, shield and lance. And he was lustful. After Leaysa’s gruesome death, there was none who could hold Edward back, and as a result: two Snows, a impure boy, son of a commoner, and a pure girl, daughter of Flora Herston, the most feared woman in the North, and now Lady of Ramsgate. Vaeron never thought his father was truly mad, but since the title was given to Lady Herston by Edward his son had nothing but questions.

Spoiler: show
Image


When Vaeron expressed those questions to Lord Blacktorch the answer talked about love retribution. The smoothness in his voice, still, had left him together with his lady wife. And then he sailed to Valyria…

“My love.” Vaeron heard from behind him.

When he turned around he found what he expected to find: His lady wife.

“Where’s Haera?” the Lord Regent asked immediately. She was very attached with her mother.

“We should’ve never named her that.” Haera replied with a half-smile in her face “She is sewing with her sister. It was way too boring to me, and it seems that my lord husband is worried”

Spoiler: show
Image


She had her hair in a ponytail, and the silver somehow fused with her fair skin. The purple in her eyes were dark, just like in Edward’s, and was the characteristic that most stood out in her face. There was beauty there, but it was not because of her beauty that Vaeron loved her.

“Why do you care now?” the answer came out bluntly, “it has been like this for two years now”
She drew back.

“I’ve always cared” it was too smooth to not make him feel bad.

His sigh created a cloud of vapor in the air.

“Winter is coming” he said as he looked in the sky, “I’m not worried, I’m afraid”

Haera’s touch was gentle on his shoulder. It made him feel better, but when he looked on her eyes the sensation slipped from him. She pointed with her finger, her gaze behind Vaeron. He looked, and he saw five men and five horses galloping towards Black Light, with Lady Herston’s banner flowing in the cold wind.

“A messenger?” Vaeron asked, more to himself than to Haera.

“No” she said a little shakily, “don’t you remember?”

While she pronounced the words he remembered. What was his name? What was it?! He asked on his own head. And then he remembered, again. Fashbinder

Spoiler: show
(Didn't have older photos of him, if i was to show the full picture it would be a spoiler)
Image
Image
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_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

... And it is done! The prologue is finally out. Anyways, if you find any grammatical mistake, comment and 'ill be glad to fix it, or if you just liked it (or hated), you can comment with your honest opinion.

Thanks for reading!
Mistefar
 
Posts: 61
Joined: Thu Aug 25, 2016 23:07

Re: The Black Burns

PostPosted by JDSweet » Sat Jul 01, 2017 23:30

Cool. I love the DLC portraits submod you are using. I would have used it for my AAR but I just can't get past my canonically beardless ancestors having long flowing beards.
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Re: The Black Burns

PostPosted by Mistefar » Thu Jul 20, 2017 17:21

NOTES: So yeah, another chapter up, probably not gonna have another for quite some time since i'm going back to school soon and this is only a hobbie. I will also like to distress again: my first language is not english and if you spot something wrong or confusing please tell me, this is a learning experience.




3, July of 7917


Somehow, he was surprised when he heard it. Lord Edward no longer lives, my lord, the man said. Somehow, when Vaeron heard the words, he wanted to cry. He wanted to ready the horses and travel to Ramsgate, where he could sail to Valyria, to rescue his father’s bones. But the new lord of Black Light knew better, that if he were to go there, he would get the same end as Edward. It seemed he’d have to make history alone.

Fuck”, grumbled Bernarr, a maester of blonde hair born in the Riverlands, well after the gates were opened, “greyscale”

Spoiler: show
Image


He wasn’t wrong. Fashbinder came with four guards which bore the Herston banner on their chests. The surprise came again when Vaeron detected on his face: half of it was grey and rocky, yet he still lived, and Bernarr was fascinated.

Spoiler: show
Image


“Indeed”, said Fashbinder when he grasped the maester’s fascination, “you can touch it, the fiery god has cured it.”

“No one will touch that”, Vaeron commanded, stopping Bernarr from doing so, “in fact, I wish to speak with him alone. Maester, if you will.”

He bowed and left, unwillingly, but did so. Then it was only the adventurer and the lord in the maester’s chamber, full of lengthy books and exotic potions in the plates.

“The fiery god?”

Fashbinder touched the part of his face consumed by greyscale, moving his finger. Up and down, up and down.

“R’hllor. Your father should’ve told you about him.”

“He told me enough.” Edward never showed love for the red god, yet, he didn’t show hatred either. He taught what he needed to teach and moved on, “and he never said anything about magic”, he did, “Tell me, how did they manage to stop the greyscale?” Vaeron was truly curious.

Fashbinder’s expression grew rigid when the question was made, if it even was possible.

“My lord, some things are to remain secrets.” He said, almost too quiet. He stepped closer, “I came here for a reason.” his hand reached for something on his belt, and, for a quick second, Vaeron thought the man wished to grab a dagger.

Vaeron put his hand on his sword and released it from the sheath on his waist, but stopped a moment later when he saw the map on Fashbinder’s possession.

“My lord is a cautious man.” He proclaimed with his hands on the air, “I can appreciate that.”



Exile, Shield and Sword. Those were the names of the isles, just southwest of the valyrian peninsula. Exile was the bigger one, and Sword and Shield stayed closer to the coast, preventing Exile from doing any harm to the good and noble valyrian people. As the name might’ve suggested, the isle served as “home” for those who committed a crime or another in the eye of the Gods, or better, in the eyes of the valyrian authorities. Kinslayers, rapists, murderers and, sometimes, even adultery would result in a banishment, if the accused were of high enough birth and status.

What mattered though, was that ten generations ago, Alaryen Zobrie’onos, an ancestor of the people that housed Edward, was exiled, for the crime of kinslaying. With him went Whitelight, the sister from the sword Vaeron held in that exact moment.

Blackburn. The honor and pride of house Blacktorch. It’s hilt, as black as a moonless night, was long enough to fit two hands, but nothing more. The crossguard stretched for twelve centimeters on each side, and ended on fiery spikes carved in the obsidian pointing outwards. A ruby shinned red on the end of the pommel, too carved to resemble fire, the tips as thin as the teeth of a hungry dragon. Thinner, only, was the blade itself, which lengthened proud and straight, painted with the most variable tones of black and grey. It was priceless, and, according to Fashbinder, Edward wanted more — he wanted Whitelight.

Spoiler: show
Image




Otherys struggled on the training yard as a bigger kid smashed a wooden sword on his shield when Vaeron walked in to see his son. As soon as the boy saw the lord he stopped with the beating, dropped his sword and ran to the company of the other kids. For a second, Otherys didn’t know what had happened, but then he turned his head, still on the ground.

“Father!” he definitely hadn’t expected to see Vaeron there and then. He got up quickly and approached his mentor, “Lord Maegon told him to beat me!” he voiced, dropping the shield and hugging his dad.

“What I saw was…” Vaeron saw Maegon’s look on the his child, he gave up, “that you were losing.”

The boy raised his eyes, clearly surprised.

“But…!”

“But Blacktorch men don’t lose. Are you not a Blacktorch?” he asked as he crouched and moved the boy away, so he could look on his eyes. Purple.

“I am.” Otherys said with tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Then you’re going to win. You’ll fight that fat little fu… boy, and you’re going to win”

“But he is big.” This time Vaeron let the kid speak.

“If my father said buts we wouldn’t be where we are now.”

Otherys looked down, chocking on his own words.

“But my Lord Grandpa lost as well”

The Hornwood.

“He lost a battle, yet he won the war.”

“He lost the war! He was imprisoned and my lady grandma was killed!”

Vaeron felt a little proud when he heard Otherys saying those words. At least he knows his family’s history.

“People can say we lost” Vaeron sighed, “but Edward won a trial by combat, and, without shedding any more blood, he won Hornwood and added their power to his own. They are our vassals and we are their lieges. We won.”

Spoiler: show
Image
(Attached to his realm and since i had the high lordship of Darklands (Broken Branch) i asked the king for the vassalage of house Hornwood)



Otherys didn’t have an answer to that, and Vaeron was grateful for it. He was worried too. The boy was too small and so afraid. The Blacktorch house could fall under the command of a craven, or his vassals could do it themselves if they thought their liege was weak.

“Go back into fighting”, Vaeron proclaimed as he got up, “and this time you’ll win.”

Otherys did as his father told to, putting his shield up and looking for an opponent, a smaller one, this time.

The New Lord of Black Light disentangled his hair when he noticed Fashbinder behind him. It wasn’t a surprise, no one could say the man was patient.

“Have you considered my request, my lord?” he voiced, clearly impatient.

“I have”, Vaeron replied, looking solemnly at his greyscale, eating up half his face. He knew Fashbinder didn’t like his look. “Walk with me…”

“I want an answer.” His voice came out as blunt as the rock that grew up on his right cheek.

“Well, then it is a no.” There was no way Vaeron would go out and look for a rusty old sword on the other side of the world.

“Then why do you want me to walk with you?”

“You seem loyal. I need loyal men” Vaeron began walking, “you can come or stay there.”

In a moment, when he entered inside the wall that protected the castle, the sounds from the children and courtiers training on the yard were muffled, in another, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind him. The lord turned around. It was a long hallway, as if the walls where empty on the inside. It wasn’t like that, the walls were thickest walls Vaeron had seen. When he thought about it he realized he hadn’t seen many castle walls on his life.

“What do you want from me?” Asked Fashbinder when he reached Vaeron.

“Well, you offered to protect me on a trip to the isles my father hoped to reach” began Vaeron, with what he hoped to be a smart look on his face, “but why don’t protect me here? Going to rescue a rusty white sword is a lost cause, but you could help defeat my enemies.”

The greyscale affected man half-smiled, or better, just smiled. It wasn’t possible to half-smile with a face like that.

“How can you have enemies? There hasn’t been a war for the past ten years.”

“ah” so innocent, “tell me, Fashbinder, where have you came from?”

That annoyed the man.

“My father was a farmer and my mother was a whore. What do you expect to get from this?”

“Aye? And my father chose a farmer boy instead of one of his own fighters?”

“What is this leading to?”

“I know that you are no northerner, and I know that you want no one to know about it” Vaeron got so close to Fashbinder’s face that he could smell his rigidness. But then he backed away, “people hate me as much as they hate you. I am a foreigner to them even though I was born in the North.”

“How...?”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me”, yet Vaeron was curious, “your parents escaped the Doom?”
Fashbinder’s eyes were locked on the floor.

“That is what they told me.”

“How did they die?”

At this point questions were not being made anymore.

“In a bar fight. Both of them.”

“Someone didn’t like how they looked.” it wasn’t a question, “or someone heard what those septons of the south were saying. That happened a dozen times with a dozen different silver haired people on the close villages, when I was only a boy. Now there is no valyrian to be seen on The North, only the Blacktorch men and women.”

“And me.” What was it that Vaeron heard? Contentment?

“You’re lucky you don’t look valyrian.”

“I’m lucky your father picked me from the village they were going by.”

Vaeron let out a muffled laugh.

“That was no luck. My father knew a valyrian when he saw one.”




It was easy to figure it out. No northerner would let a filthy red priest touch his skin. No northerner would let his companion die without him. No northerner would have the brain to flee a country where he could barely speak. And no northerner would live with greyscale, a northerner would take his own life rather than living with his face like a rock. Whomever were Fashbinder’s parents, they taught him to be a valyrian.

It made Vaeron remember from his past, when he was a child. They rode on the countryside in order to see how the villages surrounding their castle were doing, and it was Edward’s will to bring his heir with the party of twenty-five loyal men. On the first townlet they arrived in, not on the second or third, the voices of a septon met their ears. That on itself, a septon in the North, was unusual enough, but the ideology that came out of his fat mouth was… just bullshit.

“… I do not come here to spread the word of the Seven, my people, but to spread the truth behind the Doom.”, every time Edward heard those words it seemed someone stabbed him in the back, “The valyrian people cursed themselves when they chose to use magic to hold of the fourteen flames, and now… everything is gone. They deserved it. But now, they hope to come to our country and to curse our lands… we can’t let them do that!”

And the septon saw the silver-haired lord on his horse, and the other guards behind him. The agglomerate that watched him did the same; some of them left for the safety of their houses, others picked the closest thing they could use as weapons, but only one of them charged in the direction of Edward.

Blackburn cut him so deep that Vaeron saw pieces of his brain falling in the dirt.

And for the following months Edward chose to stay behind their walls while the people that escaped the Doom, old acquaintances and strangers, ran from their hunters, the septons that came from the far South and anyone who dared to believe them. Most, if not all, of the people that sailed in the same ship as Edward were reported dead.

And then, it was only the Blacktorch that remained from a destroyed race. And it would still be like that a thousand years from then.



It was the hour of the wolf when Vaeron finally opened his eyes. He could feel Haera’s warmth on his chest, where her hand rested there like a stationary rock on a hill somewhere. Strangely, it even seemed as it made part of him, as if it was attached to his chest. He didn’t want to get up, but he knew it was needed. With certain delicacy, he left the covers and the bed, and was quick to find suitable clothes.

And when he looked back, Haera sat at the side of the bed.

“Why do you make such an effort to not wake me up?” with the query came a gaze of those dark eyes of hers, “don’t want me on your meetings anymore?”

She literally caught him with no pants.

“I was going to wake you up.” He simply put, pulling his trousers up. Black

He reached for his belt on the coat rack, and from the desk, Blackburn. It’s weight on his hip made him more balanced, more safe and courageous. Courageous men, however, had questions to ask as well.

“How do you know I have a meeting?”

Haera was on the wardrobe when he voiced the question. Leaning. Half-naked. Glorious. As sudden as Vaeron had been, she turned and walked straight to her husband, touching his chest when getting close enough. Then there was no doubt, he knew she made part of him.

“You seem nervous.” she said quietly, “And you’re the new lord, the lord needs to meet his councilors, discuss how the things are going.”

“Indeed.” Vaeron grumbled while stepping away from her and the temptation of falling in her arms, “I have a meeting and I have to attend it.”

In the matter of minutes Vaeron was ready and standing next to the window close to the bed. It wasn’t an adorned or a pretty window, it was more like a hole on the wall really, its perimeter made from the coldest and greyest kind of stone: the old. When this castle was found it was nameless and abandoned for ten generations, and when Edward found it, there were bricks falling off its base, weeds climbed up the walls in a vain and slow attempt to knock it all down. The restoration of the building was much cheaper than making something new yet it wasn’t anything luxurious

When a blow of cold wind penetrated inside, Vaeron finally woke up from his thoughts. The quarters of the Lord and the Lady were located at the highest tower in the castle; not as big as half the towers of Winterfell, but high enough to be hit by colder air than the air in the ground.

The meeting room was just below them, and even though he refused to admit, he was nervous.
Mistefar
 
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