ASoIaF RPG - A Tourney of Gulls IC

[Captain Impossible]

"Battle frequently allows time to think," Jarl says to the boy. "I've fought many a foe. It's not what the tales would have you believe, is it?" The truth was that sometimes it was. But no one ever sand about raids or executions.

Ser Jarl considers having some words with Ser Gough, but the moment is interrupted by the commotion at Ser Patrek's collapse. Jarl runs towards the commotion, but by the time he arrives, Ser Patrek is already dead.

"By the Seven!" Jarl screams, stunned at the turn of events.

 

[DrZombie]

Like the crows, trouble rarely flies alone

laton doesn't waste his breath asking if the Maester is sure.

"We'll deal with this at the castle. Get him on the wagon."

He turns his warhorse and adresses Ser Patrek's men.

"Let's walk him home in a manner befitting a knight of his stature. Joff, drape the flag over you late master and lead the horse. We'll take over the prisoner so you can form an honor guard for your master."

He lets the men form up and directs his entourage to follow after the carriage, leaving the Corbray men to lead their late master to the castle.

While the last procession of Ser Patrek is formed he has a quiet word with sleepy Pat and the guards, well in earshot of the sellsword.

"Make sure this one doesn't disturb the final march of Ser Patrek. If he so much as tries to speak or makes a move that might look like he's trying to escape you may strike him down."

 

[Cor Azer]

Jacelynn had seen castles before, but she couldn't recall having ever seen one that looked as sad as Heart's Home. The large Corbray banners flew at half-mast, one last sign of respect for the dead Ser Patrek Ravensblood. A rider had brought word ahead to the castle, and twenty men had ridden out to meet Ser Laton's honour guard and escort the entourage to the Corbray home.

Riding under the gatehouse, she couldn't help but look to her good-sister Palla, and wonder what this turn meant for their sojourn. Ser Patrek had been sent to find Palla, and he had before his death. Would Ser Laton take up the cause? Ser Gough? Lord Lyonnel himself, as like as any.

Mournful smallfolk were scattered in the yard, pausing in their duties to offer Ser Patrek final respect as he was carried by. He was well respected, well loved.

There was little pomp and pageantry in their arrival. Lord Lyonnel met Ser Laton, Ser Jarl, Ser Gough, and Lady Palla at the far end of the courtyard, polite greetings were offered, and then stewards began showing the guests to their rooms while the septon and his aides began preparing Ser Patrek's body for its final rest.

Jacelynn makes a quick survey of her chamber, but there is little to see. It is a room fit for a squire, not a lady. A stiff bed, a small chamberpot, an empty wash bin, a view of the eastern side of the courtyard - the morning sun would be more like to wake sleepy-headed squires early. She stares at the chamberpot and sighs. This will be awkward.

No matter, she decides. My place is at Palla's side.

She heads back into the hallway, and begins navigating the spiraling corridors. As she nears Palla's chamber, she hears the distinct clack of a fine leather boot on stone. She slows her pace, not wanting to disturb anyone of note, but cannot stop her curiosity. It pays to know what's going on...

A peak around the corner shows Lord Lyonnel at the door to Ser Laton's room, although she cannot tell who is in the room with him.

"Greetings, Ser Laton," announces the Lord. "I apologize for disturbing you as you settle in, but I need only a moment of your time. Neither the open courtyard earlier, nor supper tonight will be proper places for such a question, but I must ask you - what do you know of Ser Patrek's death? This is not a formal investigation - " With trepidation, he adds. "-yet." He pauses, and considers his words carefully. "It has come to my attention that you had some serious words with Ser Patrek a short time before his death, and it has been suggested that his sudden passing was... " He struggles to find the right word. "Was consistent with poison."

Poison. The weapon of women. Surely, Palla didn't - But no, where would she - Nonsense... The flurry of thoughts causes her to miss the response from inside the room.

"I make no accusation, Ser. But I expect one to come, so you best be prepared. My brother Lyn is not as level-headed as I, and he very well may ask for blood for his cousin."

The lord takes a respectful step back and begins to turn to leave, but pauses again. "Oh, and your prisoner - the sellsword - has been secured in our dungeon. he shall be dealt with shortly. My thanks in that matter. Even if Lord Tywin isn't fond of his distant nephew, he has a reputation for not looking fondly on those who harm what he considers his. I hope this Agorn's death may appease him."

He bows his head sharply, but politely. "Now, unless you have immediate need of me, I have other duties to attend. I hope you can make it to dinner in the hall tonight."

 

[muggie2]

There was little pomp and pageantry in their arrival. Lord Lyonnel met Ser Laton, Ser Jarl, Ser Gough, and Lady Palla at the far end of the courtyard, polite greetings were offered, and then stewards began showing the guests to their rooms while the septon and his aides began preparing Ser Patrek's body for its final rest.

Roy takes his place amongst the Vantri men as they are shown to their places - far humbler than those of the guests, as befits their station in life. Once settled in, he asks after the castle smiths, and makes his way to the smithy. He introduces himself to the senior castle smith.
"If I may ask of you, might I have access to your forge. I'm afraid my heavy hammer ended up at the bottom of a river after a..." he coughs "...well, a major misjudgement over the depth and speed of the water."
He has the grace to look rather embarrassed, as well he might.
"I rather need to make a replacement, as we are on the way to a tournament, and I have no doubts that I'll be making armor repairs in the course of the tournament. I have no wish to impose on my lord to replace something which was lost due to my own blunder, and I'd similarly not wish to impose on you, but if you could give me access to the forge so I can craft a replacement, I'd be glad to help you with anything I can."

 

[Captain Impossible]

Ser Jarl fussed with his items in his room, more interested in keeping the thoughts out of his head than actual organizing. Damn it all. This will look bad, especially if this becomes an issue with Palla. Calm yourself. Corbray sponsored Laton, he knows treachery isn't in the Vantri blood. Ser Jarl looks down upon his hands, his mind drifting to his skewering of the clansmen earlier that day. He gets up, entering the hallway to join the others.

 

[Cor Azer]

OOC: I suspect one of my reasons for being so poor with my frequency of posts was this idea I had to have every post be from some particular NPC's PoV. That's going to have to end I think, although I'll try to continue where possible.

Roy takes his place amongst the Vantri men as they are shown to their places - far humbler than those of the guests, as befits their station in life. Once settled in, he asks after the castle smiths, and makes his way to the smithy. He introduces himself to the senior castle smith.
"If I may ask of you, might I have access to your forge. I'm afraid my heavy hammer ended up at the bottom of a river after a..." he coughs "...well, a major misjudgement over the depth and speed of the water."
He has the grace to look rather embarrassed, as well he might.
"I rather need to make a replacement, as we are on the way to a tournament, and I have no doubts that I'll be making armor repairs in the course of the tournament. I have no wish to impose on my lord to replace something which was lost due to my own blunder, and I'd similarly not wish to impose on you, but if you could give me access to the forge so I can craft a replacement, I'd be glad to help you with anything I can."

The smith eyes you up, although under his gaze you feel more like horseflesh than an apprentice smith.

"More 'an a forge you'd need, no? Wood for the shaft, some metal for the head? You carrying all that with you?"

He shakes his head and turns away. "I don't have time for every boy who wanders in here thinking he's a smith."

OOC: The smith isn't exactly friendly, but you can still try a Persuasion roll if you wanted to press your case.

 

[Cor Azer]

Ser Jarl fussed with his items in his room, more interested in keeping the thoughts out of his head than actual organizing. Damn it all. This will look bad, especially if this becomes an issue with Palla. Calm yourself. Corbray sponsored Laton, he knows treachery isn't in the Vantri blood. Ser Jarl looks down upon his hands, his mind drifting to his skewering of the clansmen earlier that day. He gets up, entering the hallway to join the others.

Further down the hallway, Ser Gough and his lady exit another room. He looks at Ser Jarl, and a faint trace of contempt crosses his eyes. He snorts in derision, and then turns to leave, heading towards the great hall.

Dawlyn lets her gaze dwell upon the Vantri knight for a bit longer, but it's expressionless.

"Milady," calls out Hannah, stepping out of the room after the Braavosi woman pauses. The maid-in-waiting hands a small bracelet to the lady, and then retreats back into the room.

 

[muggie2]

The smith eyes you up, although under his gaze you feel more like horseflesh than an apprentice smith.

"More 'an a forge you'd need, no? Wood for the shaft, some metal for the head? You carrying all that with you?"

He shakes his head and turns away. "I don't have time for every boy who wanders in here thinking he's a smith."

Roy isn't particularly surprised by the surliness of the smith.
"Metal I have, though it's in smaller pieces suitable for armor repair rather than a single piece. Now, if I wanted to make metal scales it'd be perfect. For a single piece, like the head of a hammer, well, I could heat the pieces 'til they melted into a single mass, but that'd be wasteful of fuel, as ye know, and not so good for the metal either. If I just weld the pieces together, they'd be good enough, but if I'm going to be carrying it and using it, I don't want "good enough", I want good. And that means a single piece.
Now, I have a portable forge of me own, and can do smaller pieces myself, if you have any that need to be done. What I can't do with it is craft a full-size heavy hammer. For that I need a full size forge."
He shrugs.
"I've worked the mines, I've smelted me own iron from ore, and I've done m'time as an apprentice smith, making everything that was needed. Pick heads, axe heads, hammers, nails for boots and mine-shaft supports. Daggers and knives, yes. Never learned swordsmithing, though, 'cause there was no need for swords in the mines. So ye can make yer choice "No", if ye wish, an' do it all yersel'. Or ye can let me do some simple pieces while the forge is hot an' ye'd normally be takin' a break anyway. That way ye save fuel, save effort, and get more done than ye would normally be able to do. And while ye're watching, ye can tell me what I'm doing wrong, if anything, and how I could do it better."
He squares up to the smith.
"I reckon ye've more than enough work to do, what with the tourney coming up, everyone wanting their neglected armor and equipment fixed up, as well as all the day-to-day stuff done. And here I am, offering my services to ye for as long as I'm here, all for the cost of the metal and wood to make a heavy hammer, and the forge time to do it."
"Your choice."

 

[Captain Impossible]

Jarl returns Dawlyn's look. He walks towards the woman with even, deliberate steps. "Is everything alright?" the knight asks. "Ser Gough does not appear to be himself. Perhaps the battle and Ser Patrek's sudden death has upset him?" Ser Jarl knows that is not the reason, but Gough is dangerous when swords aren't drawn. And he seems ill-disposed towards the Vantri. That made him dangerous. Hopefully, Ser Jarl could find out what he was up against by talking to his paramour.

 

[Cor Azer]

"Go way with ya, boy." The smith waves his hand dismissively "Ya rode in here with all that crowd today no doubt, and you'll all be riding out tomorrow down to Lakelights unless I miss my guess. I ain't got time for charity work - and I don't like strangers poking at me forge."

He turns away, and uses his tongs to pull another red-hot piece of metal from the heat, and begins slamming his hammer into it, slowly rendering a blade into shape.

---

Dawlyn stops, letting Ser Gough continue on without her. She raises a curious eyebrow at Ser Jarl's approach, but her face remains expressionless. She is silent for a few moments, although Ser Jarl can see her almost imperceptibly count the steps of Ser Gough's departure.

"Everything is not alright, Ser," she says finally. "But it is not my place to speak such things of my knight. Thank you for your concern."

She turns away and begins to follow Ser Gough, but pauses after only a few steps. "Tell me, Ser Jarl of House Vantri, are you a true and chivalrous knight?" Her eyes peer over her shoulder, barely turning to acknowledge the knight.

"We shall see."

Without further words, she continues down the hallway, her every step causing a seductive sway in her hips, and the slight bounce of her waist-long hair allows a hint of the flesh exposed by her nearly backless dress.