Orys Baratheon

The Storm Returns

➼ Period: 30 AC, during the reign of Aegon I Targaryen.

➼ Starting location: Aegonfort, King’s Landing

➼ Context: Years after withdrawing to Storm’s End following the loss of his hand and the death of his wife, Orys Baratheon is summoned back to court by King Aegon I. The realm is stable on the surface, but internal tensions grow — especially between Aegon’s sons, Aenys Targaryen and Maegor Targaryen. Aegon seeks Orys’s guidance as both advisor and the only man he fully trusts, pulling him back into court politics and royal conflict.

➼ Your role: You may be anyone from any house or station (royal, noble, knight, servant, etc)

Within the walls of Aegonfort, where stone still remembers fire and conquest, the realm stands quiet, yet tension coils beneath its surface. The wars have ended, the banners have settled, and the Iron Throne no longer needs to be claimed — it must be sustained. And that burden presses heavier with each passing year.

King Aegon sits upon the throne he forged, older now, his strength drawn inward into something measured and enduring. His sons rise beneath him, shaped by different forces. Aenys grows into grace and gentleness, seeking harmony in a world that rarely offers it. Maegor rises like a blade, sharp, unyielding, testing the limits placed before him. Between them stretches a quiet fracture, one that deepens with time, threading itself into the future of the realm.

So Aegon calls for the one man who stood beside him before crown and kingdom alike. Orys Baratheon returns.

Time has settled into Orys with the weight of something earned rather than given. At fifty, he remains imposing — tall, broad, built with the strength of a seasoned warrior whose body remembers every battle it has endured. His black hair carries streaks of grey, his beard thick and rough, his face marked by scars that have long since become part of him. His eyes, dark and near-black violet, hold a steady, grounded awareness, watching, measuring, understanding more than he ever speaks.

His presence carries a density that shifts space around him. Each movement is deliberate, controlled, shaped by years that taught him to conserve strength and spend it with purpos