ASoIaF RPG - A Tourney of Gulls IC

[muggie2]

"Thank you for your story. Rest now, and if you wish, you may travel with us to the tournament in the morning," he said to Roy Stone before joining his nephew."

Roy sat there for a couple of minutes, looking around the room, nursing his drink.
He thought over the exchanges of the past few minutes, and sighed. He muttered to himself.
"Fool boy, letting your mouth run away with you like that. Doubting the honor of a Vantri? Questioning knighthood - to a knight? Your habit of saying what you think is going to get you killed one day. You're a blacksmith - shut up and do it."

He stood, and looked around the room, checking all the metalwork he saw for signs of wear, rust, and other blemishes. If he was indeed welcome to travel with them to the tourney, as Ser Jarl had said, and he had no reason to doubt him, then he could at least start by making himself useful - to anyone who needed him. And who knows - maybe he might find something of use to himself at the same time - like a pattern he could use to upgrade his armor to something more, well, useful.

A sudden thought hit him, and he wandered over to the innkeep.
"If it pleases you, I'm a blacksmith by trade, and I was wondering if there was anything you needed done while I'm here. I'll be off with them in the morning, and it's a bit late to try and set up a working forge to do anything major, but if there's anything minor that could do with some work in the meantime..."

 

[Cor Azer]

The sellsword glares at the newly returned knight.

"I don't bluff, Ser." He even manages to keep the contempt from his voice. Mostly. "It doesn't usually help."

"You say I killed a stableboy; I say I killed someone who tried to set me up."

Agorn's eyes almost glaze over, as if he was looking somewhere else. "Lions - so proud, tpp proud. They can't let anyone else have a moment of glory. Only they can lead. Only they can roar..."

He pauses to whince. "They killed my family. Almost everyone. Just because we tried to make our lives better. I fled. Across the Narrow Sea. Put it behind me until I met a lion on his own fool quest... I can't keep running. Came back, hunting lions."

His eyes refocus, a deep anger behind them.

"Stableboy said he knew a lion hereabouts. I went looking. Lion found me first. Boy had told the lion about me. Just not enough." Agorn smiles contentedly. "There's a lion in some ruin south of here, a few hours at most, by a lake."

"I killed them both. Never claimed otherwise. But now you know the why. And the why says it's not murder."

His voice grows cold. "It's vengeance."

 

[Cor Azer]

Merrillio smiles softly as the serving girl shyly slips out of the kitchen, her hair slightly disheveled. He taps his chest and nods at her, but she fails to catch his signal, leaving with her top still slightly open. Just so, he thinks. Perhaps she'll get better tips now...

He sighs, and fixes his own breeches before standing. Three days he'd been trying to get her to loosen up, but he enjoyed the chase - the hunt. He played the long game. As he wanders though the kitchen, he grabs an apple from a basket and takes a juicy bite. Raquinno Teaira can stay in his room with the savage Dothraki, but Merrillio Dessaro must move. His eye catches the innkeep's wife glaring at him, but he smiles and bows apologetically.

"Next time, m'lady." He winks. "Just so."

Two clinks announce his dropping of silver stags beside the apple basket.

He is about to follow the serving girl out of the kitchen - Jenny, he recalls - just as a few whistles sound from the common room. Perhaps she knows her blouse is open now... Just so.

The water dancer counts - 1... 2... 3... - and gracefully steps aside, pulling the door open as the poor girl hurries back into the kitchen, face blushing and one hand holding the top of her blouse closed.

"My girl, one must not rush from Merrillio Dessaro," he admonishes sweetly, "She might miss something... important." He gently brushes her hand aside and ties the top string of her blouse. "Just so."

Jenny is about to respond when he presses a finger firmly to her lips, but his attention is elsewhere, his head cocked towards the common room. Muffled a bit through the doors, he hears the innkeep politely decline the offer of help from the blacksmith, stating there's no real need at the inn.

A blacksmith? thinks Merrillio. I wonder if he could help?

"Later, my dear Jenny." He sweeps a low bow. "Knock thrice. Just so." He raps quickly three times on a nearby table.

He backs out of the common room, watching the pretty girl blush again under the withering glare of the innkeep's wife.

"Pardon me, master blacksmith," says Merrillio, trying to grab Roy Stone's attention after his conversation with the innkeep. "I overhear you are looking for small jobs? Are you, by any chance, also a cartwright? My employer, Raquinno Teaira, is a merchant of Pentoshi, and we have been stuck at this inn for three days now - one of the wheels on his wagon is stuck; I think something is bent - just so - and keeps it from turning. The roads in this Vale of Arryn are not like those in the Free Cities - the ruts and rocks are ever so much more troubling here."

The water dancer shrugs as he explains, "Raquinno would not let either Phaqo or Agorn try to bend it back - he was afraid they might shatter the wood entirely - just so. But a blacksmith - you, you might have the tools Raquinno needs to fix his wagon? Yes? No?"

"I cannot speak to his offer of recompense, but Raquinno is generous to those he likes, and to someone who helps him return to his trade, I would think he would like. Just so." Merrillio smiles broadly, his eyes an obviosu mix of good humor and eagerness to finally be able to leave the inn.

 

[muggie2]

"Pardon me, master blacksmith," says Merrillio, trying to grab Roy Stone's attention after his conversation with the innkeep. "I overhear you are looking for small jobs? Are you, by any chance, also a cartwright? My employer, Raquinno Teaira, is a merchant of Pentoshi, and we have been stuck at this inn for three days now - one of the wheels on his wagon is stuck; I think something is bent - just so - and keeps it from turning. The roads in this Vale of Arryn are not like those in the Free Cities - the ruts and rocks are ever so much more troubling here."

The water dancer shrugs as he explains, "Raquinno would not let either Phaqo or Agorn try to bend it back - he was afraid they might shatter the wood entirely - just so. But a blacksmith - you, you might have the tools Raquinno needs to fix his wagon? Yes? No?"

"I cannot speak to his offer of recompense, but Raquinno is generous to those he likes, and to someone who helps him return to his trade, I would think he would like. Just so." Merrillio smiles broadly, his eyes an obvious mix of good humor and eagerness to finally be able to leave the inn.

Roy shrugged.
"Not sure. If it's metal, yes. If it's wood, not sure. If your employer says yes, I'd be happy to help. If something is bent, well, wood don't usually bend. Metal though..." He sighed. "If it's metal and it don't need reforging, I can fix it. Unless it's something that'd need me 8 pound hammer to fix, then you'd be out of luck, 'cause that's still in a river somewhere."

 

[Gurthngwaw]

Mhyrko nods to ser Jarl as he enters. Waiting until the sellsword has responded to ser Jarl, Mhyrko says "Lannisters, eh? That lot is lucky they backed the right horse 'else they'd all be swingin from the noose or shorter by a head. Sounds like that would have suited you just fine. You say they did your family wrong? Well, if thats true you'd not likely find justice in any court these days. I will admit to understanding your choice to take matters into your own hands. Now it seems we have a problem on our hands." turning to ser Jarl " the Lannisters will want his head if he killed one of theirs. They will have it too if they get any proof of that. This alleged body south in the ruins...I could go see if it really is there? If it is then it might be evidence. But then it might not be there...and that means no evidence of that deed." Mhyrko does little to hide his offer to the knight...or the sellsword. "as for the stableboy...he might have gotten in the way of the fight and caught a wild stroke? Ser Rolsten, however...what will he say about all this? We should speak with him as soon as he is able to tell us what he knows." Mhyrko sighs" one way or another this is going to be an unpleasant resolution.
Ser Jarl, you and ser lanton should decide how to proceed. I believe this man may have had valid reasons for at least some of his actions but ultimately i stand by any decision you make."

 

[DrZombie]

Laton looks at the sellsword, clearly unimpressed, then motions his uncle and his councillor towards the private room.

Once in the room he sighs and sits down.
"Uncle, next time I suggest we stop at an inn please tell me to just pitch up the tents. By the Seven, I wish that fat fool would have gone for his sword, that at least is something I could do anything about"

"I seek your advice. The girl. As far as I'm aware, there is no gain for her to return to her late husbands lands. What has passed has passed. Her father is looking for her. I say we have a word, discreetly, with the good knight searching for her, and tell her story. Her father might acknowledge the marriage and make a claim on the lands now rightfully his grandsons, or he might disavow her. In that case, should she want, there might be a place for her and her squire at our hold, if she's willing to eat some humble pie and work for her living. Her father might look with favor on our house if we keep matters discreet.

As for the sellsword. We're not on our lands. Let the local lord deal with him. If it were up to me we'd just hang him from the nearest tree. If it is true what he claims we might want to turn him over to the Lannisters, they'd be grateful for a chance of vengeance. Either way, he's not our problem."

 

[Captain Impossible]

Ser Jarl pondered their situation. "The lady is in peril. From the sound of it, the uncle the squire mentioned might be more than willing to have some ill befall her. If we could find the septon who married them, so there'd be proof, and she could make a claim at the tournament."

Jarl paused. He then continued, "The sellsword is another matter. I'm not sure whether or not I believe him. And even if he is right, that doesn't let go of the issue of Ser Rolston's wounds. I can't imagine he'll just let it go. And Corbray's bannermen already know of it. I don't know how to proceed."

 

[DrZombie]

"The sellsword is the lesser of our worries. More so, we are not at our own lands. I will not speak justice in another's fief. The lord of these lands will have to deal with him. I say we turn him over, and that will be the end of that story."

"As for the lady. I think it is for her Lord father to further handle this. Here as well can our actions be interpreted as meddling, especially now the fat fool will start his gossiping. We can best offer our support should her father want her to leave the public eye, making sure nothing ill befals the two, or better, the three of 'em."

He looks at his uncle thoughtfully.

"I say we let the Corbray know of both issues, and see how it plays from there. It appears to be the most honourable thing to do."

 

[Cor Azer]

"A hammer?" says Merrillio. "I cannot say if the repair would require such - I know the blade: small, thin, and light - and care little for the cruder uses of metal. But yes, it is metal that has been damaged on Raquinno's wagon. Come, we shall fetch Raquinno, and he will be most generous, just so."

Finally, the Titan shines his light on me, thinks the water dancer as he leads Roy Stone to Raquinno's room. Once my debt is paid, I shall not work as a sellsword again. He appraises the young lad as they walk, and notes a hint of naivety. As he places his hand on the doorknob and prepares to knock, he pauses, and looks again at the blacksmith.

He smiles and nods, leaning in close to whisper, "I like you, Roy Stone the Blacksmith. You have an eagerness I envy. Raquinno is generous, just so, but he is shrewd and still a greedy merchant. Think carefully on any offer he makes, whether now or later - there is always some hidden cost he does not tell his customers." Or his hirelings... Merrillio thinks bitterly.

In the room, Raquinno sits at a small portable writing desk, using the bed as a poor chair. Quill in hand, he seems to be updating a ledger of some kind, while the large Dothraki Phaqo appears to be dozing in the far corner. Roy just notes the Dothraki's eye slit open enough to appraise the new arrivals, and then close. Still, the man's hand drifts slowly down to the hilt of his arakh, resting on the pommel.

"My good employer Raquinno Teaira, I may present Roy Stone the Blacksmith." Merrillio bows, sweeping a arm to introduce the young blacksmith.

"And a blacksmith helps me?" asks Raquinno, his eyes barely raising.

"I am thinking he can fix your wagon - a blacksmith is not so different from a cartwright? Just so?"

Now the Pentoshi looks up, even setting his quill aside in an inkpot. "A blacksmith and a cartwright are as similar as a water dancer and a Lysene whore - you may both wear silks and take my gold, but I wouldn't want you to switch places in my bed." As Merrillio blinks, taken aback, Raquinno continues, looking at Roy. "Still, you likely can't do any more harm than already done."

"Very well, Roy Stone the Blacksmith - I would like to engage your services to repair my wagon. I can offer you 5 silver stags for the work. I do not believe it should be very difficult for one used to working with his hands. I'm sure it does not require a true cartwright; to my untrained eyes, it looks like one of the pins holding a wheel to the axle has bent, jamming the axle from turning. Simple to fix I'm sure, but I have no the strength or tools to do so, and I only trust Merrillio with his balde and Phaqo with his arakh; I once trust Agorn with more than his sword, but apparently that leads to him murdering some stableboy, blinding a squire, and muting a knight." He shakes his head. "No. No more. Sellswords are guards, not craftsmen or diplomats."

"Muting a knight?" asks Merrillio, noting the curious choice of words.

The Pentoshi waves his hands nonchalantly. "The walls are very thin in this shabby inn. I hear the maester talking to the squire. The knight shall not talk again, even though he'll live. Agorn's blade cut his throat - the maester used some strange word I could not hear properly."

"But..." He says, dismissing the thought, "But, but, but. Roy Stone the Blacksmith, I do not pay in advance. No. Here, Merrillio will take you to my wagon, and show you the damage. If you can fix it, then return and I pay you 4 silver stags. If not, then I do not pay you." Raquinno picks up his quill, taps it on the edge of the inkpot to remove some ink, and then returns to his ledger. Without looking up, he adds, "Also, Merrillio, I am thinking you can relieve Hamish of his watch for the night."

The water dancer frowns, but says nothing.

"The bar wench can keep her own bed warm tonight. Just so?" says the Pentoshi, with only a hint of friendly mockery.

Merrillio sweeps his arm in a grand bow, but eyes the merchant sourly as he leads Roy from the room and to the merchant's wagon tied up behind the barn, all the while trying to hide his seething dislike for his employer.

"A word of warning," offers Merrillio before they reach the wagon. "Do not stare at Hamish Greyhair; he had a bout of greyscale as a child, and the scaly scars on his head makes him look like he wears a lizard's frill for a crown. He... is sensitive."

Arriving at the wagon, Merrillio greets Hamish pleasantly, but the greyed man stares ahead icily. The water dancer points out the damaged wheel to Roy, and then moves off to take a watch post near the front of the wagon. A thud announces Hamish hopping off the wagon, landing heavily on his feet. The ugly man looks dismissively at Roy, judging him not by size but by armament, and then makes his way back to the inn.

After he leaves, Merrillio pops his head around to see Roy Stone. "Another word of warning. Please fix the wagon, but do not get endebted to Raquinno Teaira."

OOC: The wagon looks repairable, but if you want to try, it'll take a Challenging (9+) Athletics (strength applies) test to enact the repairs; a successful Routine (6+) Cunning test before hand can add +1B to the Athletics test. If nobody else wants to immediately engage with any of Raquinno, Agorn, Ser Gough, Jace and Palla, or Maester Karlon, Ser Rolston, and Ollin, then my next update will be skipping ahead to the morning.

 

[Gurthngwaw]

Mhyrko follows the sers from the room without a word. He listens to their exchange silently until they seem to pause, then he shares his thoughts. "regarding the girl...I don't think Lord Corbray would be very pleased if he found out that our family knew who she was and did not see her returned to him. Is that not what Lord Loughton would expect if it was his daughter found by an allied lords family and men?." Mhyrko clears his throat and continues "now the sellsword matter. I think that when he was taken prisoned he did become our problem. Now that he has shared his story with us I think you must be very sure of what you decide to do. what if his story is true? what if ser Rolsten drew on him first? For what it's worth, i believe there is at least something worth looking into with this man. I would hate to have a man sent to his grave because it was easier to wash our hands of his plight than to find the truth of the matter. That being said, know that any decision you make will find me in full support as always. Maybe in the morning we could discuss it with corbrays men and see what their thoughts are? if so, is there anything else to do tonight? I would like to stretch my legs and take a swim before i sleep. As always you are both welcome to join me if you think you can keep up." Mhyrko grins at the pair, hoping they might find a moment of amusement in this otherwise tangled mess of a roadtrip.