Post by Prince Auron Nymeros Martell on Dec 2, 2015 9:25:02 GMT
Prince Auron Nymeros Martell
Age: 48
Status: 4D
Role: Prince of Dorne
Agility 3
Animal Handling 3
Athletics 3 (Strength 3)
Awareness 5 (Notice 2)
Cunning 5 (Logic 3)
Deception 1
Endurance 5
Fighting 3 (Spears 3)
Healing 3
Knowledge 3
Persuasion 4 (Intimidate 4)
Status 4 (Reputation 3, Stewardship 1)
Stealth 3
Survival 3
Warfare 7* (Command 4, Siege 4, Strategy 4, Tactics 4)
Will 5
Admin Ability:120
Intrigue Defense: 5 + 5 + 4 = 9
Composure: 3 × 5 = 15
Combat Defense: 3 + 3 + 5 = 11
Health: 3 × 5 = 15
*Cruel Insanity: –2d on all Awareness tests involving Empathy; disposition penalty in all Intrigues
*Disturbing Habit: +1d on tests involving Intimidate; -1d on all Persuasion tests not involving Intimidate (Keeps a museum of past victims and enemies)
*Honor-Bound: Reroll 6s on all Deception tests
*Insensitive: -1d on all Healing tests
*Marked: Reroll 6s on all Persuasion tests
*Nemesis: The Royal Septon
*Authority: Reduce Disposition penalties to Persuasion by 2
*Charismatic: +2 to all test results Requires Persuasion 3
*Famous: Bonus dice become test dice in all Persuasion tests; Subtract Status rank from all Stealth test results
*Head of House: +2 to all Status test results
*Inspiring: Reroll any Warfare test and take the better result in each round of a Skirmish or Battle Requires Warfare 4D
*Leader of Men: Reorganize one disorganized unit or rally one routed unit in each round of a Skirmish or Battle Requires Warfare 4D (command 1b)
*Lucky: Re-roll one test per day and keep best result
*Sinister: You radiate menace. For the First round of any combat you gain +2 to defense
*Weapon Mastery: +1 to this Weapon's base Damage^
*--Improved Weapon Mastery: +2 to this Weapon's base Damage^
*Spear Fighter I: Spears gain a free attack against a different target if the attack against the first target misses
*Spear Fighter II: Spears gain 1 yard of range further than their default range with no penalty
"The Mother's Crown was a great ship too. Gulltown's finest, they once said. Now it lies at the bottom of the Narrow Sea with my mortal soul and sweet Estella... If you believe I have some unspoken kindness for heathen sailors and foreign merchantmen, you are greatly mistaken. Again, rest assured that I will happily torch any ship that presents any threat of contagion or sedition, along with its crew. Good health to you, Your Excellency."
-Excerpt from Prince Auron's correspondence with the Sealord of Braavos
-Excerpt from Prince Auron's correspondence with the Sealord of Braavos
"In the sight of R'hllor, Mother Rhoyne, and the Principality of Dorne, Oberyn, known as Oberyn the Obsequious, has been condemned to public burning for the crime of robbing his neighbour and assaulting his neighbour's wife. In observance of his otherwise apparent piety, his penance has been transmuted to death by drowning. The sentence shall be carried out upon the beach at noon tomorrow."
-Ordinary public notice
-Ordinary public notice
"Our Prince's visage is a daily reminder that, unlike the false faiths of Westeros, our god makes his presence known upon this earth. When the young Prince strode out of the sea, his lady a martyr, his body a tapestry of suffering, having endured the burning and the drowning and the constant taste of tears in his mouth... R'hllor showed us his will, not through a puppet... but through his own hand, which has lifted up Auron Martell as an example for all of us, poor and small."
-Trystane of Sunspear, explaining to his family his choice to become a red priest
-Trystane of Sunspear, explaining to his family his choice to become a red priest
"What in the Seven Hells...?"
-Opening statement of His Holiness's former emissary Septon Loras upon arriving in Sunspear
-Opening statement of His Holiness's former emissary Septon Loras upon arriving in Sunspear
Our party was treated to the finest beverages and carnal delights, as was expected. The Prince himself indulged little of the former, and none of the latter. While a Qartheen slave sucked my cock, I asked my companion if Auron Martell was a eunuch as well as deformed, but I was quickly hushed. "His Grace's hearing is excellent... He is also still in mourning for his wife."
"Mourning, you say? But it has been twenty years their ship sank, has it not?"
"Prince Auron is well-respected in this part of the world for his... dedication."
"You know, I have heard it said there is nothing so terrifying as a truly just man."
I suspect so has he."
After the orgy was concluded to our own satisfaction, the prince rose from his pillowed sofa. I had not realized, likely due to my own distractions and his never standing through the entire 'ordeal', how extraordinarily tall he was. I was reminded of the horselords, who rule the grass sea and terrorize certain of the so called 'Free Cities'. Only this man, there was none of that primal angst expected in the Dothraki. Despite the fiery mythology that had arisen around him, Auron's eyes were more reminiscent of the dark waters that haunt old sailors... unknowable and uncompromising.
"I wish to thank the Wise Masters for their continued friendship with the people of Dorne." His voice was slow, rolling, like the low growl of a tiger who has no need to raise it's voice. There was almost no emotion in his voice. It was a wonder this man had a cult. "With your support, Dorne has undergone a rebirth. Thanks to the adoption of slavery, our Dprnish men and women can now more fully commit themselves to defense of our home." There was a round of clapping, which immediately halted upon the realization our host was not finished, and was probably not the sort to indulge in that sort of thing.
"I am told several of my guests are vassals of the Lord of Light. I believe you would appreciate a tour of my private museum. Please follow me." I would learn soon that 'please' was just a meaningless affectation, like godless men who instinctively swear by the Seven.
We were herded into a long, dark corridor. Beside me, I felt some sort of glass case. I presumed it contained some exotic Westerosi beast, such as a shadowcat, or perhaps the skull of a mammoth. I had always wished to see such a monstrosity. Sometimes, the gods are very poor with syntax.
"To the west of our continent lies a series of isles. On these isles is a mongrel race of men called Ironborn. These Ironborn have many curious beliefs and customs. Among the most prevalent is the idea that this world is torn asunder by two great cosmic forces. A Storm God, who reigns suffering from above, and a Drowned God, who drags the doomed below. In this harsh cosmos, the Ironmen drown themselves and then are resuscitated by a wise man. Then they declare 'What is dead may never die' and exploit this new found courage to inspire their many coastal raids."
I of course had encountered the Ironborn in my own travels. Fine sailors, but unreliable comrades. Also apparently unaware of the discovery of steel.
Some slave was now lighting torches and setting them behind the several glass cases. The contents of the case beside me were elusive, as the light did not seem to properly illuminate through the glass. Someone beside me gasped when his eyes finally adjusted. He murmured an old prayer to ward off evil, as I finally made out the shape. It was a man, suspended in water, almost certainly seawater based on how the torch struggled to illuminate it. As more torches were lit, we all received a much better view of the Prince's collection. Some men still clearly displayed the agony of drowning.
"Despite my reputation, I am in fact quite fascinated with other faiths. For example, I am currently constructing a labyrinth with the appropriately fatal accouterments. In it, I will place a septon, and see how well his visions guide him through the pitch black and the death traps. I hope it is suitably more impressive than these pirates were. I cannot abide a liar."
To this day, I do not know if the Red Lord was somehow jockeying for a more generous arrangement in the future, if we had somehow offended him, or if perhaps, he was simply trying to be an entertaining host.
-Konis, Ghiscari adventurer and erstwhile trader
"Mourning, you say? But it has been twenty years their ship sank, has it not?"
"Prince Auron is well-respected in this part of the world for his... dedication."
"You know, I have heard it said there is nothing so terrifying as a truly just man."
I suspect so has he."
After the orgy was concluded to our own satisfaction, the prince rose from his pillowed sofa. I had not realized, likely due to my own distractions and his never standing through the entire 'ordeal', how extraordinarily tall he was. I was reminded of the horselords, who rule the grass sea and terrorize certain of the so called 'Free Cities'. Only this man, there was none of that primal angst expected in the Dothraki. Despite the fiery mythology that had arisen around him, Auron's eyes were more reminiscent of the dark waters that haunt old sailors... unknowable and uncompromising.
"I wish to thank the Wise Masters for their continued friendship with the people of Dorne." His voice was slow, rolling, like the low growl of a tiger who has no need to raise it's voice. There was almost no emotion in his voice. It was a wonder this man had a cult. "With your support, Dorne has undergone a rebirth. Thanks to the adoption of slavery, our Dprnish men and women can now more fully commit themselves to defense of our home." There was a round of clapping, which immediately halted upon the realization our host was not finished, and was probably not the sort to indulge in that sort of thing.
"I am told several of my guests are vassals of the Lord of Light. I believe you would appreciate a tour of my private museum. Please follow me." I would learn soon that 'please' was just a meaningless affectation, like godless men who instinctively swear by the Seven.
We were herded into a long, dark corridor. Beside me, I felt some sort of glass case. I presumed it contained some exotic Westerosi beast, such as a shadowcat, or perhaps the skull of a mammoth. I had always wished to see such a monstrosity. Sometimes, the gods are very poor with syntax.
"To the west of our continent lies a series of isles. On these isles is a mongrel race of men called Ironborn. These Ironborn have many curious beliefs and customs. Among the most prevalent is the idea that this world is torn asunder by two great cosmic forces. A Storm God, who reigns suffering from above, and a Drowned God, who drags the doomed below. In this harsh cosmos, the Ironmen drown themselves and then are resuscitated by a wise man. Then they declare 'What is dead may never die' and exploit this new found courage to inspire their many coastal raids."
I of course had encountered the Ironborn in my own travels. Fine sailors, but unreliable comrades. Also apparently unaware of the discovery of steel.
Some slave was now lighting torches and setting them behind the several glass cases. The contents of the case beside me were elusive, as the light did not seem to properly illuminate through the glass. Someone beside me gasped when his eyes finally adjusted. He murmured an old prayer to ward off evil, as I finally made out the shape. It was a man, suspended in water, almost certainly seawater based on how the torch struggled to illuminate it. As more torches were lit, we all received a much better view of the Prince's collection. Some men still clearly displayed the agony of drowning.
"Despite my reputation, I am in fact quite fascinated with other faiths. For example, I am currently constructing a labyrinth with the appropriately fatal accouterments. In it, I will place a septon, and see how well his visions guide him through the pitch black and the death traps. I hope it is suitably more impressive than these pirates were. I cannot abide a liar."
To this day, I do not know if the Red Lord was somehow jockeying for a more generous arrangement in the future, if we had somehow offended him, or if perhaps, he was simply trying to be an entertaining host.
-Konis, Ghiscari adventurer and erstwhile trader
