Tossing my name out there for this. Full stats and back story are out there on my page, including trait to tie the back story and reason for being on the ship.
Future Plans:
Depends on the party. Most likely staying full fighter. If there is another frontline fighter would like to dip into ranged combat a bit, if not will take up the role.
Personality:
Honor plays a large part in everything Tarris does or says. Not like paladin honor but honoring ones debts and word. He loathes oath-breakers.
Tarris simply goes about the party, quietly talking to those who know his family, talking of the North, gather info about the current state of the Wall.
House Lugus is it? When you attacked us at the Dannet farmstead you wore no such heraldry. You simply fired arrows, poison arrows hold up the arrow for the gathering to see from the treeline. You nearly killed the merchant Rog, whom I was traveling with. He could not attend tonight due to the poison and the wound still inflicting him, so I came in his stead. Now ser explain your actions.
Slowly make my way around him, looking for men-at-arms of the House. As I approach the man call out, Pardon ser but I feel you may have lost something upon the road. Hand him the arrow from Rog, cleaned of poison of course.
Good Master Rog took ill after a bandit attack upon the road. Thank the gods, both old and new, that we were able to treat him enough until we got to a proper healer here in the city.
Fight my bow at anyone who has a bow out and ready, then drop it and draw my sword.
To Hit - 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
Confirm - 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Dam - 2d8 + 2 ⇒ (7, 2) + 2 = 11
Just Tarris will do. My brother is a Lord, his son will be Lord, but I am just a man.
I keep my men-at-arms mounted and on watch while I dismount and take a closer look around. Looking for tracks, searching the farmstead for anything or any information I can find.
Nay, keep your silver. Have care should you attend your feast. While some hold true to the old ways of honor and guest rights, I fear more and more are forsaking the ways of old. We didn't have a chance to talk the other night on your travel. A merchant I gather? Any wares with a good tale behind them? I've some gold and some trade. I should come with some gift to the Hand upon our arrival, as honor dictates.
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22 Diplomacy to try and talk to the people of the Inn, learn why they are so quiet. Maybe drop a gold or tow buying drinks to loosen some tongues.
Do I have time to hunt the bandits and still make it to the tourney on time?
If so - try and gather a party of locals to go hunting.
If no - Rest the night and ride out in the morning, tell them I will inform the Lords once I reach the Landing.
Take a night to tend to my wounded and resupply here, then head out in the morning. Ask that they send a raven to both Whitehall (my home) and Winterfell to tell them of the wilding raiders in the wood around here.
Loot what I can/need from the dead. Set up camp here, tend to my man.
Anyone better suited to bind these wounds?
If no one is then continue to aid the wounded man while leaving the other 3 men-at-arms on watch and Ethan is tending to the animals.
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.
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.
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.
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.
