Salt and steel and stone run in the veins of the Ironborn. Greyjoys live to fight, to sail, to take what they want by force of arms.
They are the line of the Grey King, who slew the sea dragon Nagga and made a hall from her bones. They preserve the ancient traditions, and their raiding is blessed by the Drowned God. Although their rebellion was quashed, the old words claim that what is dead can never die, but only rises again, stronger and harder. They will rise again and from the Seastone Chair will rule over rock and wave and coast.
The Ironborn fight to the death for what is theirs by right and will carve their independence from the flesh of their enemies. They know the value of freedom, for each is ruler absolute on their own ship. Like the Kraken sigil of the Greyjoys, the Ironborn are undisputed master of the seas, and stand as strong as the Kraken’s arms. Should you search the waters for a wrecked ship cast asunder by the Storm God, you will see a fraction of the treasure that can be gained by an unforgiving will and a blade in hand.
You pay the iron price for your wealth, rather than the gold. You are remorseless as the tide, and the soft people of the greenlands are no match for your steel. From the longships you chant: We are reavers! We are raiders! We Do Not Sow!
Will you swear fealty to House Greyjoy or oppose them?