A Raven |
It is a cold morning, unsually cold. You wake to the sound of a courier from your Maester bringing news of a raven. It bears the mark of the King. To the noble houses of Westeros:Greetings in the name of King Robert Baratheon. His Royal highness has declared a tourney to honor the new Hand of the King, Lord Stark of Winterfell to begin in three weeks time. All vassal' sof the crown are invited to attend and do honor to their names.
Salamae Therandis |
Salamae allowed the paper to curl back up in her fingers.
More bloodsport for the 'Gentry'. But still, the house of Therandis would have to be represented, and she was sure that the High Cleric would notice if they were not. She made her way to her room to look for something suitable to wear to the barbaric display of sword and blood. Perhaps all of the knight would be Dornish, and avoid such bloodshed. But she knew in her heart that there would be some destruction. There always is, and she would be there to staunch the wounds, as was the duty and honor of House Therandis for as long as she could remember.
Tarris Mercer |
All I wanted to do was leave, and now I am pulled back into the politics of the kingdoms. . .
Brother, you know we must go, I am needed here and my son is not yet old enough to even squire. Aside, you have always been the better knight than I, even without the title. I know you had plans to leave, but do me this last honor, I pray you. Lucas turns to around, letter in hand. Another tourney. . . that would make what, 7? 8? I've lost count. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Tarris squares his shoulders, as if adjusting himself to a new weight, he raises his chin and nods to his brother.
Aye. The House still comes first, I have spoken no vows. Three weeks time? I must leave soon, I assume you've made arrangements? I'd rather not take a full set of retainers if I may. Walking to the tower's small window, Tarris looks out upon the Wolf's Wood, the truest home he has ever known. How how long will it be afore I step into my home again? Months? Years?
I know, a great host is streaming out of the north as we speak. The Lord of Winterfell has set his own train moving. I've set four men-at-arms to travel with you, and Ethan is to squire for you. I trust you won't object? His father served loyally during the rebellion and the lad is of age. Ethan Rivers. . . aye his father served loyally, up until a wildling axe took him.
Ethan will do. When are we to set out? The morrow?
Yes. One more thing. Tarris. . . you remember Marric? What? Of course I remember my brother. I remember him falling under the blade of an ironborn.
Aye, what of him? Lucas strides briskly over to the mantle and pulls down a very familiar scabbard and blade.
I was never half the swordsman he was, nor you. It was his wish, and mine, that this honor pass to you. As he turns, he holds out the blade in one hand. Honor . . the fickle mistress indeed. To wield this blade, this curse. . .
You know I never wanted this, however I will honor his last wish. I will take the blade south and use it for the House, with pride. Foe Seeker . . . ah Marric you noble fool. Ever did you know my dreams.
I must pack and ready myself. With that Tarris gathers up his new blade and turns to leave.
Tarris, brother, Honor in life. . . Lucas says.
. . . Honor in death, brother. Tarris replies, sadness clear in his voice.
Gillem Athelstan |
Lord Gillem!!" as the short breath voice of Maester Donnen attempt to call out, but his voice is not loud enough as Gillem is practicing with Master-at-Arms Kilbas while the men watch the fight and cheer for their favorite.
The maester finally has enough air and strength to walk to the front "Lord Gillem, a tournament is to be held!"
The maester's words distract Gillem and that is enough to be struck down by Kilbas "Should not let your guard down, M'lord" said Kilbas as he stretched a hand to Gillem.
"Yes Kilbas I know..." as he rolls his eyes to such a basic lesson and turns to towards Donnen "What is this tournament you speak of? the maester simple hands him the news for him to read "This is what I have been waiting for" as sheer joy and a grin for a chance to prove his worth in a proper tournament.
"I shall assists this tournament Donnen, make preparations for it, as well as I know my father he shall make all preparations." as he walks away to his chamber to ready himself for King's Landing.
Ser Weyland Wylde |
Ser Weyland reads through the scroll he had received announcing the tournament of the Hand. I must give my Lord credit any excuse to throw a revel and he will take it. Jon Arryn is barely cold in his grave and we celebrate. Oh well life is for the living after all.
Weyland stands and heads into the courtyard where the din of clashing swords can be heard. Challenges ring forth and Weyland recognizes Chris' strong voice cry out in protest.
Coming into full view Weyland can see what the ruckus is about. Swordmaster Turin had him on the ropes again. "I thought I taught you better than that Chris, you should be able to whip that old man by now!" Turin laughs, "If you can't beat me my Lord how can you expect him to".
The other men observing the sparring session laugh as well as Weyland heads over to show the gathering the news. "It seems the King is throwing another revel. This time in honor of our new Hand Lord Stark. I am not sure whether my cousin will participate but I will certainly raise the banners of House Wylde and ride forth in victory!"
The men in the courtyard howl in excitement. Ser Weyland turns to his eldest son, "It is time for you to be a man son, you will be my squire in this tourney". Chris' eyes light up at the announcement, "I will make you proud father".
Chris rushes back into the keep to announce the news to his mother and half brother. Weyland turns to Turin, "See that he is suitably prepared for this my friend". "Aye my Lord".
Ser Weyland turns from his master at arms and the worthies of the keep and heads to the stables, Time to stretch and prepare Thunder for this joust. This should promise to be a more memorable tourney than the last few I hope.
Nimon |
Stars Hide your fires, let not light see my black and deep desires
Ser Weyland Wylde |
Is there any way for Ser Weylan to contact anyone to determine if these rumors of slayings on the King's Road are connected to a particular group?
Salamae Therandis |
"Well, at least they'll be taken care of, if they do get bloodied." Her fellow septons nodded their heads, now eager to get to the medicus tent.
Tarris Mercer |
Always around, but never within reach.
A man of the Night's Watch should never lack for company, mind if I join you? Tarris slides into a seat near to black brother, and glances at his charges.
More men for the Wall? Would that I could follow. Too few men stide upon the Wall I hear, and too many dogs, aye. Let me buy you a round, some food perhaps.
Gillem Athelstan |
Gillem
"Donnen can you go find out for me more about this poachers, it will at least help me raise our house and my reputation." as Gillem sees to the accommodation of his family and talks to the men about the tourney there is to come and how he hopes to do well.
Once Donnen comes back with more information regarding the poachers or other news "I will go and enlist my aid to this cause at list it will help me to practice with real opponents."
Nimon |
Ser Weyland Wylde |
"Yes I will be participating in the tournament. Thank you for the advice. Who should I join on patrol to Dag's Tavern? Don't think I have ever been there before".
Nimon |
Ser Weyland Wylde |
Ser Weyland will travel with the House Lugus men. House Wylde will be represented by Ser Weyland alone as I want to ensure that all is ready for the tournament upon my return.
I will ask the Lugus men if they have ever met Ham Flowers before to take his measure.
Should I spend more time detailing where I live near the city and the amount of retainers I would have here? I would imagine even a minor House would have retainres to spare for me once I moved here.
Ser Weyland Wylde |
Sense Motive on the House Lugus men 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16 The bonus is 3 if they are trying to bluff me.
Nimon |
Nimon |
Ser Weyland Wylde |
Nimon |
Tarris Mercer |
Of course. Innkeep, a round for the Watch if you please, something with a bit of fire to it to keep the chill at bay. Tarris tosses a gold to the innkeep to cover his meal and the round of drinks.
Alas I cannot stay long, but maybe this night we can share a meal, aye and some mead, and you can tell me of the Wall. It is my hope to make my way up there following the appointment of the new Hand.
Nimon |
Tarris Mercer |
I've tangled with wildlings often enough, my lands sit in the shadow of the Wall, just off the Gift. White walkers? Like in the old stories? Gah. Wean-mother tales to scare wee ones into bed. I seek the Wall for my own path. They say even the lowest born can rise high in the brotherhood. Fancy parties and noble ladies have never been to my taste. I much prefer a fire and a horn o' mead. Let's talk of the Wall. How does it fare? Tarris spends to rest of the night swapping tales with ranger. Wildlings, tales, the lands, the Old Bear, the First Ranger, all tales flow freely as does the mead.
Salamae Therandis |
Sense Motive
1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14
She raps at the door for the Maester's attention, then makes her formal request for the milk of the poppy.
Nimon |
Salamae Therandis |
Craft(Alchemy)
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Heal
1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29
Ser Weyland Wylde |
Tarris Mercer |
More nobles are their pretty fights. Does the realm really need another war? We only just finished the last two.
Men, keep yourselves ready, this does not bode well for travel on the Kings Road. Ethan, keep your bow handy at all times.
Continue to travel south, keeping the trails paralleling the Kings Road when possible, and only use the main road what needed.
Nimon |
Ser Weyland Wylde |
I will take care of Thunder myself. I want to sleep out of my armor but with my sword close at hand just in case.
Nimon |
Nimon |
Gillem Athelstan |
Gillem
Nimon |
Ser Weyland Wylde |