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DRAGONMOUNT

A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY
Darthe

A Game of Thrones - Mafia by Darthe and Ithillian - Game Over, Mafia Wins!

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Day 1, Morning

The Iron Throne sat vacant, a monstrous seat of swords melted together by the fabled breath of the dragons of old. They were gone now but all around their skulls, and empire, stood testament to their ancient majesty. A man and woman stood on opposing sides of the throne, each carefully avoiding the blades jutting out while leaning against it. It was not their weapon, but rather a tool. They knew what it brought in others, what people would do for this power. With a smirk the man ordered that a more comfortable seat be brought for the lady and a goblet of wine for himself. It would not be long now. Others would be drawn, either by the passing of a once powerful King, or in search of that power for themselves.

 

Some sat in the castle of King's Landing, so eager to reap the wealth and power that they had remained close for the King's passing. They were like vultures come to feast. However, their advantage would not be held for long. Already the man and woman decorating the sides of the throne could see the distant flicker of torches marching their way down the Kingsroad. It would be time to play soon. What alliances had already been forged or shattered? Had those that stayed in King's Landing gained the advantage that they needed? None could truly say, but all knew and all said this, with either fervor or fear. In the Game of Thrones you win or you die...

 

Day 1, Early Afternoon

...Edwall Oakheart stood silently as the retinue passed. His spear butte rested solidly on the ground beside him, its outstretched haft rising ten feet in the air before stopping at a perfectly shined and oiled tip. His face remained forward, calm so as to not bring himself to attention. He was, after all, only a guard for the gates of King's Landing. Internally, however, he was in turmoil. "These Starks are mad", he thought to himself. They had traveled all the way down the Kingsroad from Winterfell with no extra banners, no pomp or fanfare, no Lordliness. It simply wasn't expected. Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North had looked proper lordlike, riding stalwartly atop a pitch-black Northern Clyde, but even his image had been spoiled by the appearance of a little boy chasing a cat between the warhorses legs. And worse! Nobody seemed to care, not even the grand Lord Stark himself. The man had simply rode up to the gates without any proper introduction and told Edwall to let him in. Edwall, of course, obliged and found himself offhandedly flipped a coin then forgotten. And so he stood, watching the Starks pass and waiting for the next Lord to come riding forth, watching as the sun began to peak and his stomach began to rumble...

 

...

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Light shone from a stained glass window behind the Iron Throne. The veil cast by the thrones peak cast its owner in shadow. The King lounged back, despite the blades that formed the Seat, confident and powerful. Now a glance to the right of the Throne and a nod, calling the female that waited there over. As she bent down the King whispered quickly in her ear. She stood and the room fell silent, all conversation forgotten in the power of the moment.

 

"I am the Voice of the Iron Throne. You will listen to my words."

 

"The King wishes it to be known that it has been a great year in Westeros. The King is particularly pleased that the potato crop this year has been excellent so there will be an abundance of hash browns for all with their breakfasts. Also the horses have been breeding many fine foals for our knights. The Family Awareness Courses have been doing a wonderful job and the number of reported incestuous births is down by 27%, however unreported incestuous births are up slightly at 4%."

 

"Furthermore, the spider infestation of the granaries has been eradicated ... hence ---> Baguette."

 

"Let it not be said that the King does not have their finger on the pulse of the Nation."

 

 

These are the words of the King.

 

 

She held their gazes for a few minutes afterwards, to ensure they had fully absorbed the information contained within the Royal Proclamation, and then stepped back until she was back at her place on the right hand side of the Throne, where she would wait until she was called upon again...

 

Day 1, Mid-Afternoon

...The throne sat, monolithic and regal, meant to dominate any room. To the man and woman, who lounged on both sides of this great power, it was simply another tool. The King was away for banquet, his midday feast almost over by this point. The man and woman, however, enjoyed the simple luxury of a few grapes and a loaf of bread complemented by a fine Dornish wine. As the man took another sip of his goblet something caught his attention. He glanced sharply towards the entrance of the throne room and watched an escort of guards brought a tattered messenger directly to the throne. "Who Are You." It was not a question from the man.

 

"My Lord and Lady, I bring word from another, one of whom you have not heard from yet." said the dusky voice of the messenger.

 

The woman coolly replied, "We know of the one you speak. What of it?"

 

"I am afraid," the messenger said, "that attendance is not possible by the person in question and so they send another; one due to arrive shortly."

 

The man and woman glanced towards each other for a long second. Finally the man nodded. "Very well, it will have to do. Guards, give this one food and rest for the night."...

 

Day 1, Late Afternoon

...The supplicant approached the Throne. Weary from her almost labouring It was clear that she could not continue in this place of dark atmosphere and distrust and must be allowed to go her own way.

 

As the door open to let her exit, a figure was spied peeking in. He had been listening at the keyhole. That would never do. The male and female looked at each other and nodded, before the female pointed at the eavesdropper. The Guards held him and dragged him into the room. If he wanted to play, then play he would...

 

Day 1, Early Evening

...Many knelt before the Iron Throne, bending knee for the first time to their new King even as they planned how to redecorate the room when they were Ruler. Stifling heat beat down into the throne room, perhaps once used to remind supplicants of who their rulers were, and cast the throne into eternal shadow. The living Wardens knelt from the forefront of the crowd, their own processions in a line behind them. Though each Lord held dislike for the other each was a man of duty and each held the other in a grudging level of esteem. The same could not be said for those behind them. Though the room remained utterly silent glares separated each line as neatly as a sword separated limb from body. The only exception to this rested in the back of the line, where two lesser individuals chatted somewhat amiably as they knelt...

 

Day 1, Late Evening

 

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The King signalled to the woman once more and she approached the Throne. Another whispered word and she turned to the assembled crowd. All fell silent again. Looking back at the King she waited and watched as a hand was raised and a finger pointed. This one had been selected for death then.

 

Now she spoke to the Crowd.

 

"The King has spoken. This one has commited Treason and crimes against the state and so must die. Guards sieze them."

 

The guards grabbed at the now gibbering wreck and forced them to their knees. A sword was raised and fell oh so quickly. There was only death suitable for such a soul...

 

 

Night 1

 

All were stunned by the actions of the evening. The King had beheaded one of them simply for suspicion of the very thing all must have known they were all there for. And to what purpose? One who did not envy the power of the throne was now gone. Each person was curtly ordered to their rooms and court had been canceled for the rest of the day, presumably to give the palace staff time to clean the defiled Throne Room. With a sigh Robb Stark walked back to his room, weary of the foolishness of court. His direwolf, Grey Wind, could be heard howling in the distance. So odd, that. Normally the wolf remained quiet and lordly as if in an impersonation of himself. Robb felt an odd sense of discomfort at being without his friend but Lord Stark had been told that wolves were not allowed inside the castle as they frightened the women. Robb had wondered then if there was not more said in that sentence than met the eye.

 

His footsteps clanked down the hallway, alone at last on his way back to the western wing. Eerily he felt a set of eyes on his back, though it could have been the drink finally hitting him. Robb turned and his head swam, his eyes watering as they blurred. His head hit a lavish carpet and the last thing that Robb could truly remember thinking was that Wolves were not allowed in King's Landing. In the distance, Grey Wind howled alone at the moon.

 

 

 

Day 2, Morning

'Enough!' cried the man, 'I can take no more of this. Please allow me to go on my way.'

 

All eyes turned to look at the figure, his face sincere. He had played his part well so far and they were loath to let him go but he was adamant.

 

The woman standing by the Throne lookeed over tothe man who nodded back at her. This one could leave and would play the game no more, but who would take his place?

 

The woman walked over to the door and looked for a likely target. There was no-one around. Only the corpses that had been left there from yesterday's business. She made a mental note to the guards to not leave dead bodies littering the place up. Sighing, she made a difficult decision - taking her sewing kit from her pouch, she deftly re-attached a severed head back onto a body. Muttering about having to do all the dirty work she summoned the Lightning and reanimated the body. On the outside he looked exactly the same, but something about him was different now. She gestured and he walked awkwardly back into the room. Satisfied, she returned to her place by the Throne.

 

 

Day 2, Mid-Morning

 

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The woman watched events with interest as the arguments went back and forth. A part of her remained as always focused on the Throne and the one seated there. Summoned across by a slight raise of a finger and a tilt of an eyebrow, she stood close to the King and nodded her assent to the royal command. As she stood and turned, first one then another became aware of her approaching the front of the dias. When all eyes were on her, and silence had been achieved she spoke.

 

"These are the words of the King. Listen and head them well."

 

"Recent events in westeros have put the peace of the realm at risk. Others have set their sights on the iron throne. Beware, for the peril they will succeed is great. Everything depends upon your loyalty to your rightful king. Resist these traitors that seek only their own ends. The time has come for all loyal subjects to stand with your king."

 

"THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE TRUE KING!"

 

Her eyes scanned the crowd, checking that they understood what had just been said. No one should fail to pay attention to the words of the King. Satisfied, she released them and stepped back again to her place beside the Throne.

 

 

Day 2, Late Morning

 

The morning had been tense for all. A lords son was dead and the chief adviser to another had been beheaded on a whim. The Iron Throne loomed like a tombstone in its otherwise barren chamber. The light of a young morning shone in through the stained glass windows of the Throne Room and cast the shadows of just two seats, one ornate and one simple. Outside the castle walls a plume of dust and the sound of clopping hoofs hinted at passage being granted. City life, for the most part, carried on oblivious to the wars being waged behind the walls of the castle at King's Landing. Wars carried on the swords of wagging tongues and jabs sent through the air with a glare rather than a strong cavalryman's arm, but wars nonetheless. Of the bodies left from the events of the night and day before, their was no sign, but the silent sisters traveled in safety back to the cold abode of Winterfell's Crypts to carry Robb Stark with all due honor. A storm brewed overhead down the Kingsroad. Cold grey eyes watched it with only one certainty. Winter was coming.

 

Day 2, Mid-Day

 

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The woman was tired, but her face did not show it. Perhaps just a little sign in her eyes, they seemed darker than usual. Another slight gesture from the figure seated on the Throne caught her attention. Whispered instructions, followed by those same few steps to the front of the dias. Waiting for silence so that she might speak.

 

"These are the words of the King. Listen and heed them well."

 

"Peace is wIse indEEd. He has seen what others have not. He is however mistaken about this Ned Stark. By claiming the Throne of the North he is a rebel to your rightful King. I call on the loyal people of Westeros to stand and vote with their King."

 

The King lifted one hand to point at Eddard Stark and a vote was cast.

 

Wearily she took her place back by the figure's side. Where she would always stand until she was needed.

 

Day 2, Late Afternoon

 

Back in King's Landing, there was one who had been watching with great interest. Persuasive and beautiful, when she spoke it was hard not to pay attention. It was near impossoble not to do what she wanted ... and she wanted so much. Perhaps too much. Certainly another in the crowd believed this to be the case. A sudden rise in volume and activity allowed him to slip to her side un-noticed. Now standing there nonchalantly, nodding along and appearing so un-threatening. No-one saw the knife drawn and plunged into her back, low down on the left hand side. A severing that even the most determined of women could not stitch back together again.

 

Holding her upright for a moment, so that none would know what he had done, he casually wiped his blade on her dress, before stepping back and turning into the crowd, becoming lost in their wheels within wheels. He was gone as if never there as she slowly folded up upon herself and fell to the floor dead.

 

 

 

 

Day 2, Early Evening

 

This was news they could use. This was evidence surely that would lead them to another who sought to tear the Realm apart. As the Lady fell, the others turned towards the unfortunate who now stood silent in a widening circle of space. They had heard enough from him, time to silence him once and for all. He talked far too much. As one and then another and another added their lots to his tally, it became clear that he would not survive this day.

 

The Guards held him and forced him to his knees. He looked one last time at those who had cast him down and then closed his eyes. The sword cut down and ensured that they would never open again.

 

 

Day 2, Late Evening.

 

On the Kingsroad, one stood staring back towards the castle that they had journeyed from. The castle was long gone and the day, by all rights, seemed to have went smoothly but he felt that something was amiss. Those others had gone before him and his party, those Silent Sisters, so eager to do their solemn duties that even he and his men had fallen behind. His men, however, did not know the importance of their mission. They carried a message that would shake the realm forever. Suddenly a man who he recognized as the one who had stood with the throne earlier that day appeared walking down the Kingsroad! The man walked up next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He knew not who the man was and yet when the man leaned forward and whispered into his ear, he believed the news without question. However the man had gotten there or knew this information was irrelevant. The letter was no longer necessary, only himself.

 

Night 2

 

The woman reached for another glass of wine. There were two glasses she could choose from, it was impossible to say which one would satisfy her more. Eventually she chose the wine in front of her, and surveyed the room.

 

Over in the corner a figure had been still and quiet for far too long. Holding her glass in her hand she stepped forwards and down the stairs. The crowd cautiously parting in front of her has she walked, careful not to attract her gaze or attention. Finally she stopped and looked the silent one up and down for a few moments, before nudging him slightly with her toe. He did not react. Carefully she leaned forward until her face was almost upon his lips and felt the faint breath of life still there.

 

Her eyes narrowing with disappointement she summoned the Guards and ordered that he be thrown outside the Doors immediately. Sleeping! When there were so many things of importance being decided. That would never do. She turned her gaze on the rest of them now, to make certain that they understood what was and was not acceptable in this place, at this time.

 

Now another would have to be found. Heading back to her place beside the Throne, she remembered a letter she had received several days earlier. A request to be admitted to the proceedings from one who would seem to be almost identical to a corpse that had been dragged out only the previous night. Perfect. He had written that he would keep abreast of these high matters of state and be available whenever she should summon him. That time was now. She motioned to the Guards and they opened the Doors once more to allow access to him. Now their number was complete again and all was well in the Realm ... for now.

 

 

Day 3, Morning

 

The pale insubstantial light of morning began to filter through the

windows, into the Great Hall. Those assembled looked around nervously and mentally counted the people they knew and expected to be there. Then they counted them again. Surely that could not be right.

 

But it was ....

They were all still there.

 

 

Day 3, Afternoon

 

The woman reached for another glass of wine. There were two glasses she could choose from, it was impossible to say which one would satisfy her more. Eventually she chose the wine in front of her, and surveyed the room.

 

Over in the corner a figure had been still and quiet for far too long. Holding her glass in her hand she stepped forwards and down the stairs. The crowd cautiously parting in front of her has she walked, careful not to attract her gaze or attention. Finally she stopped and looked the silent one up and down for a few moments, before nudging him slightly with her toe. He did not react. Carefully she leaned forward until her face was almost upon his lips and felt the faint breath of life still there.

 

Her eyes narrowing with disappointement she summoned the Guards and ordered that he be thrown outside the Doors immediately. Sleeping! When there were so many things of importance being decided. That would never do. She turned her gaze on the rest of them now, to make certain that they understood what was and was not acceptable in this place, at this time.

 

Now another would have to be found. Heading back to her place beside the Throne, she remembered a letter she had received several days earlier. A request to be admitted to the proceedings from one who would seem to be almost identical to a corpse that had been dragged out only the previous night. Perfect. He had written that he would keep abreast of these high matters of state and be available whenever she should summon him. That time was now. She motioned to the Guards and they opened the Doors once more to allow access to him. Now their number was complete again and all was well in the Realm ... for now.

 

 

Day 3, Midday

 

The cold grew in their bodies with the slow promise of death on their journey North. Two had died in the night, found frozen in their sleep come morning because they considered the chill to be less than significant. The man knew it to be otherwise. The Targaryen family had always bathed in fire and feared the cold but they were all but gone. A gust wrapped around him, caressed him as he took his next

step with the new Lord at his side. The sound of hoof and boot trampling snow and muck was the only noise that offset the wind in this abyssal place yet they continued. They must. the man looked back, his hair flowing around his head to bow to the will of the wind, and examined the serpentine caravan stretched behind them. It was ragged but purposeful, filled with hard men. Any would say so. He worried that they were not hard enough. Ahead the peak of a tower could be barely seen over the crest of the next hill. Somewhere out in the forest a howl rose to meet winter's first breath.

 

 

Day 3, Evening

 

Tyrion Lannister strolled around the edge of the castle wall, seemingly admiring the hovels and brothels of King's Landing. Internally he was seething. Night was almost upon them yet he, a Lannister of Casterly Rock, was not allowed into the banquet as he offended the King's tastes. Well, he could find his pleasures elsewhere. Tyrion had been down this street before and though anger still filled his heart he felt an entirely different sensation elsewhere. He sorely missed the simplicity that came with a whorehouse. The smell of wine and relief filled the air from the entrance onwards, bringing a smile to his face. Half drunken, Tyrion stepped into the entryway of a little shiner called the Nine Horse Hitch, his squat legs carrying him as best they could. His eyes first found what they searched for, voluptuous women to treat a man's every need. What he never saw was the dagger in the hand of the man stepping away from the bar. In an instant its cold steel bit into his flesh, unmade him. Tyrion dropped to his knees, his crimson blood paying final homage to the life he had chosen as the man darted out into the dusky streets of King's Landing.

 

 

Day 3, Sunset

 

He ran screaming, his clothing half torn from catching on brambles in the woods. The North was a forbidding place to most, but he had always known it as home. Now some dark terror chased him, a looming shadow forged from the malice of winter. He could hear it screaming, promising things more terrifying than his own imagination could take. Hodor cried out, screaming the only word he knew over and over in a vain cry for help but help would not come. With a glance back he saw it, an abyss, a maw ready to shred him and suck his very marrow. Tears ran down Hodor's face as he realized that there was no hope. Suddenly Hodor came upon a castle wall, the wall of Winterfell stretching to either side of him. He knew that he could find safety in the light but knew not which way to turn. With a final cry, he shouted "HODOR" and was taken by the darkness.

 

 

...later that night...

 

"What do you think killed him" The man asked as he stared sadly down at the remains of Winterfell's gentle giant.

 

The one who had stood beside the Iron Throne glanced upwards to hold his gaze. "Indecision".

 

 

Night 3, Midnight

 

Hodor had passed only hours before and already the man found himself tormented by shades in Hodor's image. They filled his mind and his dreams that night, carrying him on the dark tides of nightmare. He was running, running for salvation in Winterfell and yet he could not find it as the cold began to claw at his heels. He felt it creeping on him, bringing him the slow kiss of death and screamed. "HODOR!!!" with a jerk he woke and felt his face. It was normal but for a moment he had been Hodor. A tear ran down his face. Outside a wolfs howl rang in the darkness.

 

 

Day 4, Morning

 

The woman had been silent for some time. It had been a difficult Day and she had been glad when Night finally came. The last few moments of light had produced a cacophony of noise and indecision and the quiet darkness that followed had been a relief. Receiving permission from the King, she left for her rooms for the evening and rested.

 

The following morning she woke early and made herself ready for the day's proceedings. Walking back to the Hall she saw the other members of the gathering leaving their rooms to join her there, the doors to their rooms left open in their haste to not be the last. But one door remained closed.

 

Cautiously she open the door and entered the room. Crimson arcs on the wall and sheets greeted her, the signs of a struggle that had ended in a death and its victim lying prone in the bed. She glanced around the room and saw that his remedies and instruments had been taken.

 

Summoning the guards to deal with the mess, she continued to her place by the Throne, pausing slightly at the top of the stairs to announce to the crowd.

 

 

Day 4, Mid-Day

 

Varys giggled as he watched his children play. As a eunuch they were the closest he would ever have to kids and watching them attempt to plot was simply delightful. The bald man found himself smiling from his balcony while they chatted, unaware of his presence behind a thin silk veil. Oh, the luxuries of King's Landing would always provide a good home for a spider. He wondered how his plays, when he made them, could best serve the realm.

 

Varys was, however, unaware that as he plotted above so did those below and his name was on almost every tongue. The spider, they said, was treacherous. They called his very nature profane and when one of them spotted his shadow outlined behind the silk by a light coming through the throne room the group sent guards to him.

 

"What is your defense spider?" One asked.

 

"Oh, I rightly have none that is certain." Varys said, "But alas it is not my words that you have come for. It is simply my head. Do you not think a man such as I would be better than to misguide justice? I, after all, serve the realm first and foremost."

 

But Varys's words rang out and fell on deaf ears. Two guards forced him to his knees, one unsheathing his sword. There would be no more poison from his lips. The man who had asked the question gave a nod and the Spider fell, his head reaching the ground only an instant before his body.

 

The people went back to their rooms satisfied and contemplated for the rest of the day.

 

Night 4

 

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A Throne sat in Winterfell, immovable and ancient. Most did not know of its existence as it had been around since the Seven Kingdoms began, but those who had been lord of Winterfell, Kings of their time, knew it well. A roughly hewed beam of wood from the old trees composed the most of it's seat, the sides pure granite that were carved from the plinth that circled it. Centuries it had sat in silence, sat in the dark save a single window, and collected dust... Until today. The man had been there as the doors were opened, the Throne taken. Winter had come and with it all of the fury of the North which rested in the hands of their new king. The Winter belonged to the North. Taken by the storm of events the man found himself writing a letter to send to the masses at King's Landing. The King wished for them to know and so know they would.

 

To King's Landing -

Loyal subjects of the North! Friends and family! Death has swept us like a plague in recent times. The best way to end this bloodshed is at the source, at the one who has allowed this to happen to his kingdom. Yes, the Iron King! His weakness has allowed rebellion and treachery to flourish, while the people starve! A new king is needed... a strong one. Who, it does not matter, but this king must be brought to justice.

 

- The Northern Throne

 

Night 4, past midnight

 

The man who had stood by two thrones walked down a hallway lined with marble statues. Each held a different face, a different story and a different name. His steps echoed down the corridor as he admired their faces peering back at him. Some were animated, some lifeless. To most the faces and room would appear to be ordinary, similar to many other rooms, but then again most would never be in this nexus. A caress on one face told the man that it was not who he was looking for, peering into the eyes of another decided it's fate. Finally his steps halted, his eye caught on one statue that stood out more than the rest to him, a lifeless one. With a smile he removed it from it's plinth and replaced it with the living one he had caressed earlier. Life fluttered back into the statue and the man surveyed his work with satisfaction. Some of the statues seemed to glow moreso than others. With a hurrumph he stepped towards the end of the row and was gone.

 

 

Night 4, Near Dawn

 

The woman heard the words from the Northern Throne and her face twisted slightly with distate. Upstart Usurpers had no place in this Hall, and daring to speak with the conviction of a King. She looked to the shadowy figure seated on the Iron Throne. They cared not for this alleged King and so she would not would not either.

 

She had more immediate problems to resolve first. Another member of the gathering had gone silent and requested that they be allowed to leave. Reluctantly she agreed, but with no dead bodies to necromise, where would she find another.

 

Suddenly, in the back corner of the hall, a pile of bottles moved and clanked, and a figure sat up amongst them, looking rather the worse for wear and dressed in an outlandish brightly coloured outfit. He had been here all along, listening to their every word. Now he would get the chance to speak as well as listen. Holding out her hand she pulled him to his feet and directed him to where the crowd waited.

 

 

Day 5, Morning

 

John Snow, King of Winterfell and the North, sat on the floor staring at his new throne. He worried about his new power and the weight behind the crown now resting upon his head. Lord Snow, they called him. His head shook slowly in the empty room, it was too much. He was not even a Stark but he had been called to duty by the passing of his brother and Father. Truly Bran was next in line but his age and Lady Catelyn's health had prevented that. The soft rustle of a cloak brushing the door announced the entrance of the one that had traveled with him from King's Landing. John turned and stared with stark eyes as the man walked forward. When they saw the look in one another's eyes each realized that the other knew. A slow nod and the King bowed his head. The man reached forward, placed a finger on his temple, and allowed the King to fall and be with his family. With a toss of his head the man pulled a guard from the entryway. "The King has fallen. The people have no King. Please prepare another crypt, I will be with you all shortly."

 

As the guard walked away a single tear rolled down the man's face, freezing as it reached his jaw. The wolves had stopped howling in Winterfell.

 

 

Day 5, Afternoon

 

Where had he got to? He should be right in the middle of things, twisting and plotting, always making sure there was another play available, another move that could be made.

 

Ah, there he was. Behind the pillar at the far right of the Hall. Target spotted the man strode towards him confidently. He was looking in the other direction so did not have time to react as the man put his hands around his head and twisted sharply. The sharpe crack was hidden amongst the sound of debate and the man emerged from the other side of the pillar having hardly broke his stride.

 

His victims eyes registered the shock at him finally losing the game, before they glazed over and he slid down the pillar to the floor.

 

 

Day 5, Mid - Day

 

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The King beckoned her over and whispered from the shadows. She nodded and went to stand at the front of the dias and waited for them to become quiet. When all eyes were on her, she turned to look at the King. The King's hand rose and a finger pointed. That was all it took.

 

 

Day 5, Mid-Day

 

The day had seemed far too short. Either that, or they had got better at reaching a consensus. The last finger pointed and the final decision was made. Asthe guard was summoned another stepped up instead and blocked his path. This one was dangerous and only a skilled warrior would be able to implement the will of the Realm. Drawing his sword he carefully approached the chosen one, his stance loose but ready. This was to be no execution, but a demonstration of his skills. The other watched him approach and drew his own sword and the crowd moved back, forming a circle around them.

 

A brief pause and then they rushed at each other, their blades crashing and sparking with the strength of the blows. Long it continued, until the light began to glow golden through the windows, a sign that even the sun was tired. The valiant warriors spun and clashed again and the one selected for death stepped back just a fraction too much - losing his balance and causing an opening, an advantage that the warrior immediately siezed upon, thrusting his sword directly through the other's heart - stopping it instantly.

 

Looking up at the crowd, to receive their applause and adoration, he was confused to see horror on their faces instead. What was wrong? What were they looking at. There eyes were not meeting his, but instead looking a little lower. He looked down also and was astonished to see the other's sword embedded in his own chest. It was a trap then, and a clever one. If he had only had the time, he would have commended the other for his cleverness. But there was not enough time, and he was already dead ... They fell towards each other and then to the ground, together.

 

Night 5

 

The night had been long, stretching out dark and cold. There was no comfort to be had. These were troubled times. The memories of the previous day were still fresh in everyone's minds as they tried to sleep and gain some respite from the trials of the day.

 

One who had been there throughout went to his bed with a heavy heart. He felt the pain of the one who had lost two people on the same day, but he also felt a brief flicker of hope ... with no one to contend with, the path to his ultimate goal was now clear. Once he showed her how hard he had been working to protect the realm, she would accept him finally. Inside his head he ran through scenario after scenario, each one ending with her being in his arms. Everything would be ok. Now all it would take was time, and he had plenty of that. Sighing happily he closed his eyes and slept deeply.

 

He did not hear the door to his chamber opening, or the light footsteps that padded across the room to his bed. He did not see the figure standing over him or feel the narrow blade that was positioned on his ribs to his left and angled slightly upwards. A slight push was all it took to permanently break the heart that was only just begining to heal. At least his dreams had been happy and now they were timeless. The silent figure looked down and saw a slight smile on the now corpse's face and couldn't understand why anyone would be happy to be dead.

 

 

Day Six, Mid-Afternoon

 

ironthrone.gif

 

A hush fell over the room and the shadowy figure seated on the Throne summoned his Voice once again. She leant close and heard his words, and then moved forwards so that she might share them with those gathered there, in this place, at this time.

 

These are the words of the King.

 

"The King has become aware of a corruptor of hearts. This can not be allowed to stand. There is a recruiting recruiter that recruits among us. This scourge must be expunged. My loyal citizens of Westeros aid me in ridding the realm of the scourge in our midst."

 

With the message delivered, the King's hand rose and pointed, as it had often done during these dark days.

 

 

Day Six, Evening

 

He had stood silent when they had previously challenged him. Voicing defiance at their demands. Did they not know who he was? No ... and that was doubly the problem.

'Tell us your name', they said, 'and we will leave you be.' but he knew that if he did that, they would likely not leave him alone at all.

 

'You may have my identity when you pry it from my cold, dead hands,' he said.

 

'Very well,' they said, 'We shall.'

 

The Guards were summoned to fulfill the conditions upon which his name would be released to them, just as soon as he was released from life. He knelt, and a blade was placed on the back of his neck. There was only a moment's pause before it was driven down into his body. He died with the whisper of a name upon his lips.

 

 

Night Six, Morning

 

The day dawned bright and warm, the promise of Spring instead of Winter. Those assembled blinked as they entered the Hall, their eyes struggling to adjust to the light. Cautiously they looked around at each other, as had become their habit. The mental count a matter of survival now. This time, they were one short.

Guard were sent to the missing person's chamber, to ascertain his current status. As suspected, it was 'Deceased'. His body lay on his bed in the false pose of peaceful death. The knife plunged into his heart confirmed the lie, as did the letter the knife had pinned to the body. This death was an act of revenge.

 

 

Day Seven, Mid-Day

 

ironthrone.gif

 

The figure seated on the Throne was cast even deeper into shadow by the bright sunlight. The King raised his hand and beckoned his Voice to him. She leaned close, awaiting his words. Then she stood and slowly backed away from the Throne, eyes lowered. This time, the King would speak himself.

 

Rising from the Throne, the King stepped into the pool of light that had formed directly in front of it, his hair bright and golden, his eyes cruel. At last he was revealed.

 

"Stannis has reaped that which was sown. For I reward that which is given. Fealty with love. Valor with honour. Disloyalty with vengeance."

 

"Thought for the day: whose fault is it that I am king? I say it is Jaime's fault for not being able to control himself around his sister. For his inability to treat me properly I say off with his head."

 

"I hate you daddy/uncle!!!! Just die!!!"

 

 

Day Seven, Evening

 

The King had revealed himself. There was no going back now. All threats to the Throne must be removed as quickly as possible. Those loyal to the King made their move, and another also played their part. To be King was to be independent, and that meant there was no need for any *parental supervision*. He had managed quite well without his Mother, now his Father, who must be missing her terribly, could join her for all eternity.

 

The King held his father's gaze and the guards took him by the arms, forcing them behind his back. In the Game of Thrones, you win or you die. The King had won, time for those who were against him to die. A cruel smile curled upon his lips as the sword came down and severed the last of his family ties. Now there was only one last move to make and then Checkmate.

 

 

Night Seven, Midnight

 

It was barely past Midnight in King's Landing. A wolf played with a lion in the courtyard and, as expected, the lone wolf fell quickly to the beast. All was in order for the good King Joffery, ruler of the realm and those in it. To his sides two retainers stood, not the man and woman but a new pair. Arya Stark, little devil that she was, had come to see reason. She stood where the woman had and actually smirked when the Lion took the throat of the Wolf. On the other side, where the man had stood, now stood Lysa Arryn. Since his mothers death Joffery needed someone that could care for him, one that new the ways of the court. She would never need know that he had Robyn thrown out the Moon Door the day after she hit the Kingsroad. Oh yes, all was well... Except that a few remained who opposed his own. That would be changed tonight. With an order Joffery had sent one to kill his most valued guard. The man was dangerous and had fought well, but even he couldn't defeat the other members of the Kingsguard once his hand was gone. Joff had always liked Uncle Jaime but his realm came first. Tonight would be much dirtier business. Tonight, everyone would hear him roar.

 

First, Joffery sent a command to his royal guard. He would need the messenger brought before him. Within moments the three of them stood looking down at a fat sobbing mess. He begged, like a dog, before the king. He promised that he would never send a message against him and that he would never betray King Joffery. But he had. John Snow, his best friend, had ridden North to oppose the rightful King and left this little piggy here to squeal his every move. With a smirk Joff nodded at Arya. Her needle was good with little fat boys. A quick thrust and blood spurted from his neck, his death rattle echoing in the throne room pitifully.

 

That would not be enough. A dagger had to be sent across the narrow sea to deal with the Horselord's wife, should she ever gain ideas of grandeur. His father had always thought she was a threat.

 

The hound, his faithful servant as ever, bowed to him. Joffery would need this one alive. He had done well...

 

One Month Later...

 

Daenerys Targaryen roamed the desert with her horde, rapidly gaining enough power to become more than Khaleesi. During the day she was the embodiment of a woman's power, yet during the night she slept alone. Her husband and her friends, her confidants and her colleagues were all gone. Earlier in the day she had even thought she saw Drogo riding with the others. Would he approve of her decisions? As Daenerys stepped into her tent she froze. The Dragons always made noise yet it was completely silent today. With a shock Khaleesi saw him! Khal Drogo, love of her life, stood there by their bed. She rushed forward, how could this be? Daenerys never saw him peel away his own face, never saw the knife he brought down with his embrace.

 

Game Over, Mafia Wins

Night One Begins Here:

 

http://www.dragonmou...n/page__st__680

 

Day Two Begins Here:

 

http://www.dragonmou...n/page__st__800

 

Night Two Begins Here:

 

http://www.dragonmou.../page__st__1220

 

Day Three Begins Here:

 

Night Three Begins Here:

 

 

Day Four Begins Here:

 

 

Night Four Begins Here:

 

 

Day Five Begins Here:

 

 

Night Five Begins Here:

 

 

Day Six Begins Here:

 

 

Night Six Begins Here:

 

 

Day Seven Begins Here:

 

 

Endgame:

 

 

**********************************************************************************

Rules:

1. Day 1 will have no deadline, unless the game starts to drag. Days thereafter will be 72 hours long, night will be 48 hours, or until all NA’s are received.

2. NO personal insults.

 

3. Don’t game the mod without reason.

 

4. Do not quote any portion of any conversation I have had with you. This includes QT’s, PM’s, IM’s, and any other form of communication that we may share.

 

5. Don’t discuss the game except on a designated QT or on the game thread.

 

6. PM me with any questions. I don't promise to answer but will be glad to clarify anything necessary.

 

7. No self-votes.

 

8. You may vote for no lynch.

 

9. Penalties for rule breaking may range from a PR to a modkill.

 

10. Even if you have a PR, I expect you to remain active.

 

11. If a person is inactive they may be modkilled or replaced without warning. If the game is inactive, I may make things more interesting….

 

12. Votes/unvotes must be in bold and red.

 

13. No editing.

 

14. This is a hammer game.

15. One “bah” post after you’re dead. NO game info may be contained in that post.

 

**********************************************************************************

 

Players:

 

1. Pankhuri alannalynn - Tyrion Lannister: Third Party Godfather - Killed Day 3

2. Arez Al'loke - Melisandre, The Lady of Light: Town Vigilante - Lynched Day 1

3. Jack_D BlackHoof-Two: John Snow: Town Special Rolecop and The Northern Throne - Killed Night 4

4. Tinker bgrishinko-Two - Sir Jorah Mormont: Town Roleblocker - Killed Night 5

5. TinaHel - Samwell Tarly: Town Messenger - Killed at Endgame

6. bgrishinko - Master Pycell Town Weak Doctor - Killed Night 3

7. Myndrunner - Cersei Lannister: Mafia Vote Controller/Silencer - Killed Day 2

8. Turin Turambar - Joffery Baraetheon: Mafia King - Alive

9.Nightstrike Arez Al'Loke - Two - Varys the Spider: Third Party Redirector/Messenger - Lynched Day 4

10. Basel Gill - Robb Stark: Town Deputy - Killed Night 1

11. Lenlo - Petyr Baelish, Littlefinger: Mafia Recruiter/ Day Ender - Killed Day 5

12. Blackhoof - Random Killed Day 3

13. Sakaea - Khal Drogo: Town Bomb Converted Third Party - Lynched Day 5

14. RandA lThor - Daenerys Targaryen: Town Voyeur - Killed at Endgame

15. Razen - Sandor Clegane, The Hound: Town vanilla converted to Joffery bodyguard night 1 - Alive

16. Kudaran Dragon Blooded Basel - Two - Tywin Lannister: Town 2 x double voter - Lynched Day 6

17. Despothera - Lysa Arryn: Vanilla Town converted Vanilla Mafia Night one - Alive

18. peacesells - Jaime Lannister: Town one sided lover - Killed at Endgame

19. Songstress: Stannis Baraetheon - Vanilla Town: Personal win of hammering a King- Killed Night 6

20. Kaylee AndrewLee - Sir Barristan Selmy: Town Vanilla - Killed Day 5

21. TheMasterDude dicetosser1 - Arya Stark: Town BPV converted Mafia BPV Night 5 - Alive

22. Eternal Pheonix: Eddard Stark - Town Bi-Nightly Special Role Cop - Lynched Day 2

 

Backups:

 

1.

2. Nolder

3. Pankhuri

 

 

If you have any questions feel free to ask them in your role PM! If you have a QT please submit actions there, if not please submit actions in your role Pm. Thank you!

 

For those of you that do not know much about the series here is a small character bio and general information link: http://en.wikipedia....of_Ice_and_Fire

 

Here is a vote for you all to copy if you are on a mobile device:

[b][color="red"]vote Darthe[/b][/color]

Edited by Darthe

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I don't know who is who ... I think Darthe is working on PMs now.

 

NO MORE POSTS

 

Till Darthe confirms all PMs sent.

 

Don't make me lock this thread. :dry:

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Official Vote Count:

 

Despothera (1): Turin Turambar

 

Basel Gill (1): RandA lThor

 

With 22 Alive it takes 12 to lynch.

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Vote Turin

 

:wub:

 

He totally deserves that.

 

Missed one, that's a lynch!

 

Turin ran more quickly than he ever had before. It was not enough. The whomp of its wings beat down on him in an instant, the air pressurizing to a painful level. His last thought before death was that Ithillian would never get the new dress she wanted. Flames took him.

 

The next morning a charred corpse was found with half melted armor encasing the majority of it. The city walls to both sides of the corpse were scorched and the earth underneath was as smooth as glass.

Edited by Darthe

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