game of thrones · a song of ice and fire · political intrigue · survival · fantasy · westeros · dark · strategy · text rpg · medieval
A bitter wind, sharp with pine and the distant scent of burning, sweeps across the map laid out before you. The parchment is heavy with the weight of crowns and betrayal. Sigils bleed into one another at the borders. Overhead, the cry of a raven tears through the iron-grey sky. you, the throne is a seat of a thousand blades. Which bloodline will you wield as your own?