jackslate45
First Post
Robin nodded towards the Maester, and rode the horse closer to the cart. He sheathed the dagger he carried, and breathed a sigh of relief knowing that it was safer.
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ASoIaF RPG - A Tourney of Gulls IC
- Thread starter Cor Azer
- Start date
To the west, the last of the setting sun's rays slip across the peaks of the Mountains of the Moon, throwing a dazzling rainbow into the cool evening sky as the light drizzle that hung in the air all afternoon tapers off, and the clouds begin pulling back, revealing a stunning red glow in the twilight.
"Blood," says Hanna, to no one in particular.
"What's that now?" Haken looks to the young woman riding next to the baggage cart. With the end of the drizzle, Ser Gough's lady Dawlyn and her maid-in-waiting decided to ride in the open.
"The sky's have wept, and now show that blood will spill." Hanna looks from Haken to Robin, and then turns forward, as if looking for some distant object. "This very night."
"Hanna, child," coos Dawlyn softly in her native Braavosi tongue, but easily understood by the steward riding beside Haken. "Do not frighten the men. They would not understand." Then, in the common tongue of Westeros, although still thick with her Braavosi accent, she turns to Haken and Robin. "Fear not. Hanna is sometimes plagued with wisps of nightmares. Lys may be known for its beauty, but for those outside the city, nearer the Disputed Lands, the constant fighting and occasional Dothraki khalasar can be most terrifying." Dawlyn gently places her hand on Hanna's wrist, and the maid-in-waiting smiles shyly.
"Indeed."
A sharp slap from the maester's cart interrupts Haken's thoughts.
"...-meant no disrespect. I had to remove the bindings to help you breath!" Maester Karlon's voice is barely heard through the heavy drapes of his wagon.
"My lady?", asks a quavering voice, also from within the maester's wagon.
"Still unconscious I'm afraid. You both took a terrible fall back in the woods. But she is doing well, as is the babe." Some rustling is made behind the heavy drapes, and the wagon rocks a bit. "No, please, lie down. You're not fully recovered."
"Maester, I thank you, but there are things that must be known... and things that must not be."
"And they will be. They will be." says Maester Karlon, his calm voice becoming harder to hear. "We're almost at the Three Creeks Inn. You'll be able to get up and about there, but for now, you should still rest."
Further up the column, Talmond drops back to ride along nearer to Ser Laton and Ser Jarl. "Inn's just over the next rise, Sers." He nods towards a rustling creek that snakes along the road beside them. "Wouldn't be surprised if our supper was swimming in there right now."
"Eh? Supper?" asks Ser Gough, some distance behind. Talmond rolls his eyes upon hearing what was undoubtedly the knight's stomach growl. "I believe I'll be having mutton myself. Fish from the creek is not the type of fishy taste I prefer." He slaps his knee as he roars with laughter, amused at his own secret wit.
When the ridge is crested, the Three Creeks Inn is cloaked in the cool shadows of tall pine trees. The inn itself is a solidly built structure of stone and timber, two storeys high, and nearly 20 yards to a side. Apart from the inn proper, two other buildings stand nearby - one a stable, and the other some sort of storehouse. The three creeks that lend their name to the inn meet in a small pool behind the stable, and several horses drink from the fresh water while tied to nearby posts.
"Ser Rolston's here already," says Talmond, pointing out the elderly knight's banner beside his horse, currently being groomed by his squire Ollin Erenger.
A swish of air draws attention to the far side of the creek, where a dashing young man balances easily on a stump, whipping a thin blade about him in an intricate show. "Just so!" he announces, striking an elaborate pose as he finishes his display. After holding it for a moment, he notices the new arrivals on the ridge, and then he flips his blade upright behind his back and bows so deeply, the plume from his hat nearly grazes the ground. A sharp click of his heels, and the bravo is upright again, and continues practicing his display, punctuating it with zestful, "Just so!"
"There doesn't seem to be many horses in the stable right now, Ser Laton," notes Talmond. "Do you want us to set up camp here in the field, or do you want to settle in the inn?"
"Blood," says Hanna, to no one in particular.
"What's that now?" Haken looks to the young woman riding next to the baggage cart. With the end of the drizzle, Ser Gough's lady Dawlyn and her maid-in-waiting decided to ride in the open.
"The sky's have wept, and now show that blood will spill." Hanna looks from Haken to Robin, and then turns forward, as if looking for some distant object. "This very night."
"Hanna, child," coos Dawlyn softly in her native Braavosi tongue, but easily understood by the steward riding beside Haken. "Do not frighten the men. They would not understand." Then, in the common tongue of Westeros, although still thick with her Braavosi accent, she turns to Haken and Robin. "Fear not. Hanna is sometimes plagued with wisps of nightmares. Lys may be known for its beauty, but for those outside the city, nearer the Disputed Lands, the constant fighting and occasional Dothraki khalasar can be most terrifying." Dawlyn gently places her hand on Hanna's wrist, and the maid-in-waiting smiles shyly.
"Indeed."
A sharp slap from the maester's cart interrupts Haken's thoughts.
"...-meant no disrespect. I had to remove the bindings to help you breath!" Maester Karlon's voice is barely heard through the heavy drapes of his wagon.
"My lady?", asks a quavering voice, also from within the maester's wagon.
"Still unconscious I'm afraid. You both took a terrible fall back in the woods. But she is doing well, as is the babe." Some rustling is made behind the heavy drapes, and the wagon rocks a bit. "No, please, lie down. You're not fully recovered."
"Maester, I thank you, but there are things that must be known... and things that must not be."
"And they will be. They will be." says Maester Karlon, his calm voice becoming harder to hear. "We're almost at the Three Creeks Inn. You'll be able to get up and about there, but for now, you should still rest."
Further up the column, Talmond drops back to ride along nearer to Ser Laton and Ser Jarl. "Inn's just over the next rise, Sers." He nods towards a rustling creek that snakes along the road beside them. "Wouldn't be surprised if our supper was swimming in there right now."
"Eh? Supper?" asks Ser Gough, some distance behind. Talmond rolls his eyes upon hearing what was undoubtedly the knight's stomach growl. "I believe I'll be having mutton myself. Fish from the creek is not the type of fishy taste I prefer." He slaps his knee as he roars with laughter, amused at his own secret wit.
When the ridge is crested, the Three Creeks Inn is cloaked in the cool shadows of tall pine trees. The inn itself is a solidly built structure of stone and timber, two storeys high, and nearly 20 yards to a side. Apart from the inn proper, two other buildings stand nearby - one a stable, and the other some sort of storehouse. The three creeks that lend their name to the inn meet in a small pool behind the stable, and several horses drink from the fresh water while tied to nearby posts.
"Ser Rolston's here already," says Talmond, pointing out the elderly knight's banner beside his horse, currently being groomed by his squire Ollin Erenger.
A swish of air draws attention to the far side of the creek, where a dashing young man balances easily on a stump, whipping a thin blade about him in an intricate show. "Just so!" he announces, striking an elaborate pose as he finishes his display. After holding it for a moment, he notices the new arrivals on the ridge, and then he flips his blade upright behind his back and bows so deeply, the plume from his hat nearly grazes the ground. A sharp click of his heels, and the bravo is upright again, and continues practicing his display, punctuating it with zestful, "Just so!"
"There doesn't seem to be many horses in the stable right now, Ser Laton," notes Talmond. "Do you want us to set up camp here in the field, or do you want to settle in the inn?"
"We'll setup inside the inn. That poor woman needs all the rest she can get, even if it's for only one night. I doubt the lad that accompanies her will want to part from her side. W'ell figure roome as soon as we know what's available." the young man says after a while, his mind clearly on something else.
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The inside of the inn is dry, but a bit cool - the big common room fireplace has yet to be lit for the evening, although a warm breeze wafts in from the kitchen, smelling faintly of fresh bread and roast mutton.
The common room itself is nearly empty; only one of the three longtables has anyone sitting. Three men eat and drink between the fireplace and the large front window - a reedish man with a forked yellow-dyed beard common in Pentos across the Narrow Sea, a bronze-skinned giant Dothraki that causes the bells tied in his hair to tinkle with each vicious bite of food, and an ugly but stout Westerosi man with a plain longsword and shield leaning against the bench beside him. Only the Pentoshi looks up at your entrance, obviously eying up your worth.
"Plenty of room, m'lords," says a young wisp of a girl. "My father's out back tapping a new keg, but he'll be back soon. Meals are only a few pennies a plate, twelve rooms are a stag each; the six with windows are two." She shakes her head as if remembering. "Oh, but the Pentoshi and his sellswords have two of those, so there are only four rooms with windows free."
The common room itself is nearly empty; only one of the three longtables has anyone sitting. Three men eat and drink between the fireplace and the large front window - a reedish man with a forked yellow-dyed beard common in Pentos across the Narrow Sea, a bronze-skinned giant Dothraki that causes the bells tied in his hair to tinkle with each vicious bite of food, and an ugly but stout Westerosi man with a plain longsword and shield leaning against the bench beside him. Only the Pentoshi looks up at your entrance, obviously eying up your worth.
"Plenty of room, m'lords," says a young wisp of a girl. "My father's out back tapping a new keg, but he'll be back soon. Meals are only a few pennies a plate, twelve rooms are a stag each; the six with windows are two." She shakes her head as if remembering. "Oh, but the Pentoshi and his sellswords have two of those, so there are only four rooms with windows free."
jackslate45
First Post
Robin wanted to stay quiet, knowing that he should wait for his lord to speak to the inn keeper. He nodded politely to the Pentoshi, and walked over to Maester Karlon and whispers "Everything alright?"
ShaggySpellsword
First Post
Pate goes to an empty chair, pulls it over to a corner, leans his pole-arm into the corner, and settles in. He watches the room with heavily lidded eyes, exhausted after a long day's ride, waiting for Ser Laton to work out sleep and food details.
Captain Impossible
First Post
Ser Jarl wiggled his toes in his boots to fight off the cold. It was a bit of disappointment for him that it was not warmer inside the inn. Still, it was better than staying outside, where the wind would drive the chill into his bones. As he stands there with the others, he looks over the warriors at the longtable. They boded ill in Jarl's mind, as he presumed that such an exotic array of sellswords wouldn't travel to the Vale without a definite purpose.
"Haken," Ser Jarl whispers to the man-at-arms. "We should make sure we have two-man shifts guarding our carriage and horses, just in case." He took a seat at the end of an unoccupied table, so he could get up or draw his sword if need be.
"Haken," Ser Jarl whispers to the man-at-arms. "We should make sure we have two-man shifts guarding our carriage and horses, just in case." He took a seat at the end of an unoccupied table, so he could get up or draw his sword if need be.
Maester Karlon busies himself with a damp cloth on the brow of Lady Palla Lynderly, gently trying to soothe her tormented dreams. "She is waking, of a sort, young one," he says over his shoulder, trying not to stare as Jace rewraps the cloth tightly around her breasts. "Soon. Perhaps a bit longer. It seems more sleep now than unconsciousness."
"Thank you, maester." Formal, polite, but Karlon hears the layers of emotion in her tone. She does not trust me, he thinks. I doubt she trusts anyone. Not with her lady.
"If she will not wake for a bit, I will speak with your lord."
"My lord is far from here, young one," he replies. "I travel here with Ser Gough at my lord's behest. But I would not counsel you to speak with him; Ser Laton and Ser Jarl of House Vantri saved you and your lady." No need to put her anywhere near Ser Gough needlessly.
Jace nods, pulls on her tunic, and then pins her cloak about her neck with a twined snake brooch.
Just after the girl leaves, Maester Karlon hears her talking briefly with someone outside his cart.
Then a knock.
"Maester?" Karlon looks up, and recognizes the Vantri sarjeant, Haken Stone.
"Yes?"
"Ser Laton wanted me to let you know that he secured a room for the pregnant lady and her... uh... squire."
"Jace just left to speak with him." Karlon takes the damp cloth from the lady's brow and wrings it out into a bowl.
"Yes, I spoke with... uh... the boy. Sent... him... on his way."
"Lady Palla will not be able to walk for some time. Even if she wakes soon, I'd advise her to rest. Do you think perhaps you might find one or more of your men to help me move her into the inn?" Karlon changes the subject from Jace; the guard is obviously uncomfortable with carrying on the young girl's ruse, and the maester figures he'd best help the guard not overthink it.
"Certainly, maester. I'll be back with a few."
While waiting for the guards' return, Karlon begins looking through his supplies. I'll need Dawlyn's help to keep Ser Gough busy tonight. It'll do no good to have Ser poking around the inn.
"Everything alright?" Another visitor to his cart. The steward, Karlon recalls.
"Yes, Robin. The lady sleeps, but will recover soon I think. And the squire Jace just went off to speak to your Ser." Karlon pauses for a moment in thought, and then fetches a small pinchpouch from one of the many hidden pockets in his robe. "I wonder, steward, if in fact you might do me a favor. I dare not leave the lady until I know she has fully recovered, so I was wondering if you might give this to the Lady Dawlyn for me. It's an... herb... that she likes to take with her meal. An... ahem... aphrodisiac." He whispers the last word, slightly embarrassed. "Without Ser Gough's knowledge., if at all possible."
***
Heavy feet, Jacelynn thinks as she steps onto the floor of the inn. Men, even boys, have heavier steps than me. She scans the room, noting the innkeep behind his desk, the wench serving drinks, several House Vantri guards in one corner. Is that one really sleeping? A fat knight and two ladies sit closer on a bench, apparently deep into a take from the knight. Sellswords in another corner. No, not all sellswords. Damn, not them. Jacelynn swore to the Seven beneath her breath. The two knights must be Ser Laton and Ser Jarl.
Jacelynn takes a deep breath, and plods across the common room to the two knights. Heavy feet. "Ser Laton Vantri? I am Jace Weatherley, protector of the Lady Palla Lynderly. I must thank you for you aid out on the road. Our horse slipped in the mud -"
"Squire Weatherley!" shouts the Pentoshi from across the room. "I know you, I do! It is I, Raquinno Teaira. Pray tell me, has your lady come searching for me? I still have my spices for sale. Always for sale, they are."
"Forgive me Ser Laton." She looks up from the two knights to address the Pentoshi merchant. "No, Raquinno. My Lady Palla has no interest in your wares... " Jacelynn glares at him, hoping he would finally take the hint. "Spice or otherwise."
"I understand," says Raquinno politely, smiling. Gods, thought Jacelynn. Why does he always smile?
"Thank you, maester." Formal, polite, but Karlon hears the layers of emotion in her tone. She does not trust me, he thinks. I doubt she trusts anyone. Not with her lady.
"If she will not wake for a bit, I will speak with your lord."
"My lord is far from here, young one," he replies. "I travel here with Ser Gough at my lord's behest. But I would not counsel you to speak with him; Ser Laton and Ser Jarl of House Vantri saved you and your lady." No need to put her anywhere near Ser Gough needlessly.
Jace nods, pulls on her tunic, and then pins her cloak about her neck with a twined snake brooch.
Just after the girl leaves, Maester Karlon hears her talking briefly with someone outside his cart.
Then a knock.
"Maester?" Karlon looks up, and recognizes the Vantri sarjeant, Haken Stone.
"Yes?"
"Ser Laton wanted me to let you know that he secured a room for the pregnant lady and her... uh... squire."
"Jace just left to speak with him." Karlon takes the damp cloth from the lady's brow and wrings it out into a bowl.
"Yes, I spoke with... uh... the boy. Sent... him... on his way."
"Lady Palla will not be able to walk for some time. Even if she wakes soon, I'd advise her to rest. Do you think perhaps you might find one or more of your men to help me move her into the inn?" Karlon changes the subject from Jace; the guard is obviously uncomfortable with carrying on the young girl's ruse, and the maester figures he'd best help the guard not overthink it.
"Certainly, maester. I'll be back with a few."
While waiting for the guards' return, Karlon begins looking through his supplies. I'll need Dawlyn's help to keep Ser Gough busy tonight. It'll do no good to have Ser poking around the inn.
"Everything alright?" Another visitor to his cart. The steward, Karlon recalls.
"Yes, Robin. The lady sleeps, but will recover soon I think. And the squire Jace just went off to speak to your Ser." Karlon pauses for a moment in thought, and then fetches a small pinchpouch from one of the many hidden pockets in his robe. "I wonder, steward, if in fact you might do me a favor. I dare not leave the lady until I know she has fully recovered, so I was wondering if you might give this to the Lady Dawlyn for me. It's an... herb... that she likes to take with her meal. An... ahem... aphrodisiac." He whispers the last word, slightly embarrassed. "Without Ser Gough's knowledge., if at all possible."
***
Heavy feet, Jacelynn thinks as she steps onto the floor of the inn. Men, even boys, have heavier steps than me. She scans the room, noting the innkeep behind his desk, the wench serving drinks, several House Vantri guards in one corner. Is that one really sleeping? A fat knight and two ladies sit closer on a bench, apparently deep into a take from the knight. Sellswords in another corner. No, not all sellswords. Damn, not them. Jacelynn swore to the Seven beneath her breath. The two knights must be Ser Laton and Ser Jarl.
Jacelynn takes a deep breath, and plods across the common room to the two knights. Heavy feet. "Ser Laton Vantri? I am Jace Weatherley, protector of the Lady Palla Lynderly. I must thank you for you aid out on the road. Our horse slipped in the mud -"
"Squire Weatherley!" shouts the Pentoshi from across the room. "I know you, I do! It is I, Raquinno Teaira. Pray tell me, has your lady come searching for me? I still have my spices for sale. Always for sale, they are."
"Forgive me Ser Laton." She looks up from the two knights to address the Pentoshi merchant. "No, Raquinno. My Lady Palla has no interest in your wares... " Jacelynn glares at him, hoping he would finally take the hint. "Spice or otherwise."
"I understand," says Raquinno politely, smiling. Gods, thought Jacelynn. Why does he always smile?
"Good evening squire. Might I present my uncle, Ser Jarl Vantri?" Laton says, ignoring the interruption by the merchant.
"I have secured a room for you and your mistress. My men will stand guard in the hallway, and will protect your door as well, squire." Laton says.
"I hope she gets well soon. It must be dire straits indeed, for a lady to travel accompanied only by a squire in these lands. It is my duty to offer you protection as long as our paths go in the same direction."
"Sit, eat, and have something to drink. You have been through a lot. We will talk later, in our room, or in yours should your lady have awoken by then."
"I have secured a room for you and your mistress. My men will stand guard in the hallway, and will protect your door as well, squire." Laton says.
"I hope she gets well soon. It must be dire straits indeed, for a lady to travel accompanied only by a squire in these lands. It is my duty to offer you protection as long as our paths go in the same direction."
"Sit, eat, and have something to drink. You have been through a lot. We will talk later, in our room, or in yours should your lady have awoken by then."
