jackslate45
First Post
Robin stared hard at the sellsword before saying "Then tell me. Who exactly were you killing? Or better yet, who actually tried to kill the Ser?"
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ASoIaF RPG - A Tourney of Gulls IC
- Thread starter Cor Azer
- Start date
For the second time this evening, Haken and Adham find themselves carrying one of Maester Karlon's charges into the inn. Ser Rolston is ashen, and his black and grey surcoat is stained crimson with both wet and drying blood. The bandages fastened to his neck stem the flow, but a little trickles out even so. His breathing is raspy and wet.
"What has happened?" asks Raquinno. "Where is my man?"
Haken furrows his brow. "The sellsword smashed in the stableboy's head, blackened the squire's eye, and nearly killed the knight." His eyes narrow. "I wonder what he was being paid for?"
The Pentoshi bristles. "I resent that insinuation! I'm a simple spice merchant. My swords were hired to protect me in the wilds of The Vale." He spits on the ground. "You Westerosi savages! You claim to be so much better than us across the Narrow Sea, but no!" He waggled a finger at the guard. "No! You breed men such as the Agorn. He... He shows you as you truly are." Raquinno puffs his chest out pridefully. "Tell him, he has forfeited his pay. This was not part of his contract."
The merchant takes a few steps away from his bench and towards his room. "Merrillio. Phaqo. Follow." The trio retire from the common room, but while the Pentoshi and the Dothraki pointedly ignore any words or looks, just before exiting, the Braavosi bows apologetically, and sweeps out of the room.
"What do we do with the sellsword?" asks one of the guards.
Haken considers for a moment.
"Secure him in a room. No windows. Ser Laton or Ser Jarl may want to question him and we don't want a public spectacle."
As the sellsword is being led through the common room, quietly humming a tune to himself, the wounded squire follows a few paces behind. Ollin looks confused, shifting the gaze of his one good eye from Robin, the guards, Agorn, and back to Robin. "I don't understand. Why won't he answer you question, milord?"
The sellsword stops humming and smiles. "That stream back there, boy? That's the edge of these Vantri boys' land. This here inn is in Corbray lands, and from what I hear, Lord Lyonnel is not fond of other Houses plying justice on his lands." He licks his lips with a smug satisfaction. "So I really don't need to answer any of your questions."
Ser Gough stands, trying his best to sound formal and intimidating; a difficult feat with mutton juice staining his chin. "Then we send for the Lord! We shall have him try this foul miscreant we have caught!" He waves a sausagelike finger at the sellsword, "Your crimes against our fellow knight will not go unpunished!"
Agorn smiles, and returns to his humming.
"What has happened?" asks Raquinno. "Where is my man?"
Haken furrows his brow. "The sellsword smashed in the stableboy's head, blackened the squire's eye, and nearly killed the knight." His eyes narrow. "I wonder what he was being paid for?"
The Pentoshi bristles. "I resent that insinuation! I'm a simple spice merchant. My swords were hired to protect me in the wilds of The Vale." He spits on the ground. "You Westerosi savages! You claim to be so much better than us across the Narrow Sea, but no!" He waggled a finger at the guard. "No! You breed men such as the Agorn. He... He shows you as you truly are." Raquinno puffs his chest out pridefully. "Tell him, he has forfeited his pay. This was not part of his contract."
The merchant takes a few steps away from his bench and towards his room. "Merrillio. Phaqo. Follow." The trio retire from the common room, but while the Pentoshi and the Dothraki pointedly ignore any words or looks, just before exiting, the Braavosi bows apologetically, and sweeps out of the room.
"What do we do with the sellsword?" asks one of the guards.
Haken considers for a moment.
"Secure him in a room. No windows. Ser Laton or Ser Jarl may want to question him and we don't want a public spectacle."
As the sellsword is being led through the common room, quietly humming a tune to himself, the wounded squire follows a few paces behind. Ollin looks confused, shifting the gaze of his one good eye from Robin, the guards, Agorn, and back to Robin. "I don't understand. Why won't he answer you question, milord?"
The sellsword stops humming and smiles. "That stream back there, boy? That's the edge of these Vantri boys' land. This here inn is in Corbray lands, and from what I hear, Lord Lyonnel is not fond of other Houses plying justice on his lands." He licks his lips with a smug satisfaction. "So I really don't need to answer any of your questions."
Ser Gough stands, trying his best to sound formal and intimidating; a difficult feat with mutton juice staining his chin. "Then we send for the Lord! We shall have him try this foul miscreant we have caught!" He waves a sausagelike finger at the sellsword, "Your crimes against our fellow knight will not go unpunished!"
Agorn smiles, and returns to his humming.
ShaggySpellsword
First Post
Pate sticks close to the sellsword, pushing him with the haft of his weapon if he is ever hesitant to move.
Pate looks to the innkeep. "What room should I put this one in until Lord Lyonel gets here? I don't imagine he needs the best room you have. A closet, perhaps?"
Pate looks to the innkeep. "What room should I put this one in until Lord Lyonel gets here? I don't imagine he needs the best room you have. A closet, perhaps?"
Gurthngwaw
First Post
Mhyrko watches as Haken and Adham carry the wounded knight into the inn. With a gesture his horse heads into the stable where it will remain until it is called. As the others lead the sellsword into the inn Mhyrko follows them silently, first letting the hounds get the scent of the sellsword from where he was held and then signaling them to stand watch outside. He follows the group into the inn and watches as the merchant exchanges words with Haken before he and his company head to their rooms. "Ale" he says to the innkeeper. "What has happened here" he asks, not to anyone in particular.
Captain Impossible
First Post
Double post.
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Captain Impossible
First Post
Ser Jarl cleaned off the blood from his hands. He heard the Pentoshi argue with Haken, but kept his mouth shut, more out of exhaustion than anything else. After the foreigners left, he saw Agorn carried through. At the sellsword's mention of being on Corbray land, Jarl said "If you were found on the other side of the stream full of arrows, I don't think Lord Corbray would say much about it." Ser Jarl had no intention of actually doing it, but he figured it might keep the rogue from feeling so pleased with himself. It was dangerous to have him here. The merchant's other bodyguards might be compelled to try to help him. And his cryptic words could be more than an attempt to rattle the men. Robin and Laton would fish out the truth.
It was a welcome sight to see Mhyrko enter the inn. "Greetings, cousin. Where is the menagerie?" He waited for Mhyrko to get a seat before continuing. "On the road we came upon a lady and her squire, hurt from a riding accident. Things were settling down, and now the damned merchant's sellsword killed the stableboy, and attacked both Ser Rolston and his squire." Ser Jarl took a long sip of his ale. "Rotten business."
It was a welcome sight to see Mhyrko enter the inn. "Greetings, cousin. Where is the menagerie?" He waited for Mhyrko to get a seat before continuing. "On the road we came upon a lady and her squire, hurt from a riding accident. Things were settling down, and now the damned merchant's sellsword killed the stableboy, and attacked both Ser Rolston and his squire." Ser Jarl took a long sip of his ale. "Rotten business."
Gurthngwaw
First Post
Mhyrko points outside to where the menagerie is. "Watching" he answers, knowing that Ser Jarl already knew the routine. He sits with his ale and listens to the events that have come to pass. "Killing a stableboy? That is despicable. Attacking a Ser is criminal. I can ride to Lord Corbray if you wish or perhaps you will take this sellsword there instead? Of course there is the question of his companions and if any of them were part of it." Mhyrko drains his ale "tell me what you need of me, cousin".
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jackslate45
First Post
Robin sighs. While what the sellsword said was true, it meant that he was getting nothing out of him. While Pate escorts the sellsword away, Robin goes over to Ser Jarl and the other man. "He is not saying anything, and I doubt he will want to towards me. I think you might have better luck Ser Jarl."
Gurthngwaw
First Post
"Hello Robin" said Mhyrko. "Your guest not so talkative? Maybe Pate will find something they can talk about." He looks back to Ser Jarl. "has word been sent to lord Corbray yet?"
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After watching the merchant and his sellswords leave the room, and returning from securing Agorn in another room, Haken returns to find the master-of-hounds being brought up to date on the day's events. The sarjeant takes a moment to pat the squire Ollin on the shoulder. "Ser Rolston seems a tough one. He'll pull through. Go on in with the maester; I'm sure your knight could use the company."
With the squire gone, Haken nods in greeting once he catches Mhyrko's gaze.
"No riders have been sent to Lord Corbray yet," says Haken, answering the new arrival's question for Ser Jarl. "And Maester Karlon didn't bring any ravens with him." The veteran guard peers around the inn, judging its strength. "Heart's Home is another day or two along the river, and not really that far off our path, milords. I daresay the innkeeper hasn't got anyone to spare after the stableboy's death, and I wouldn't trust the Pentoshi with a message for Lord Corbray. That pretty much leaves us either sitting here guarding the prisoner, or taking him with us to the Corbray's." Haken furrows his brow as he glances around the room some more. Defensible enough, he thinks, At least, to contain the sellsword. Don't know how those other sellswords will react to their old comrade being held so close by. He smiles ruefully, Sellswords and bastards - who ever really trusts us?
"Ser Laton, Ser Jarl," says Ser Gough, after clearing his throat. "Though it pains me to delay the trip to Lakelights, perhaps I may be the solution." Haken rolls his eyes at the humble bow of the rotund knight. "I could travel on to Heart's Home, and deliver the news onto Lord Lyonnel, while you and yours remain here, guarding the ne'er-do-well."
"Murderer," says Haken. "With due respect, Ser, let's not forget that this sellsword was no mere gambling cheat."
"Indeed, indeed," agrees Ser Gough. Although his words are apologetic, a seething anger can be read in his eyes for having to mollify a bastard.
"And what of the maester?" asks Ser Laton. "Ser Rolston and the lady are both under his care at the moment. Would you leave him behind?"
The stout knight mutters for a moment, as if speaking to his chin. "Well... I... Well... harumph... I... I would have to bring him with me. My brother would never forgive me for leaving such a valued servant of House Crelling behind." He gestures at Haken, hoping for an out. "But here, the sarjeant himself said that Ser Rolston will pull through. He just needs some bandages changes, I'm sure. Even Maester Karlon said earlier he should be fine." The knight points vaguely off towards the rooms. "And the pregnant lady just needs sleep. She has her squire to guard her, and really... it's just a bastard in her belly... not really that important..."
You pompous idiot, thinks Haken. I wonder if the Seven would hold me in judgment if I cut you down.
Ser Gough continues to babble, oblivious to Haken's rising ire and contempt. "Even given two days to ride to Heart's Home, and two days back - that still leaves enough time to just arrive at Lakelights and the tourney. Why, I'm sure Ser Terald would understand our tardiness and make suitable arrangements for us in the lists."
"You assume Lord Corbray would ride out here immediately, Ser Gough," says Haken, taking a small amount of pleasure in keeping the knight's thoughts on having a conversation with a mere bastard. "And that all this mess with the sellsword will be resolved quickly." He smirks, a friendly one to his lords, but cynically to Ser Gough. "Lords are not known for rushing through their duties."
Outside, Mhyrko's girls begin barking and braying. Shouts are heard, and a glance out the window shows four horses and three riders near the barn. A fourth person stands in the entryway of the barn, taking in the bloody scene within. The wind outside is faint, but a few gusts show enough strength to billow out the banner held by the smallest rider enough to note the three crows and hearts of House Corbray.
One rider, wearing a fine red and black surcoat, turns and trots his horse towards the inn. "I am Ser Patrek Ravensblood, sworn sword of Lord Lyonnel Corbray of Heart's Home. I demand an explanation."
With the squire gone, Haken nods in greeting once he catches Mhyrko's gaze.
"No riders have been sent to Lord Corbray yet," says Haken, answering the new arrival's question for Ser Jarl. "And Maester Karlon didn't bring any ravens with him." The veteran guard peers around the inn, judging its strength. "Heart's Home is another day or two along the river, and not really that far off our path, milords. I daresay the innkeeper hasn't got anyone to spare after the stableboy's death, and I wouldn't trust the Pentoshi with a message for Lord Corbray. That pretty much leaves us either sitting here guarding the prisoner, or taking him with us to the Corbray's." Haken furrows his brow as he glances around the room some more. Defensible enough, he thinks, At least, to contain the sellsword. Don't know how those other sellswords will react to their old comrade being held so close by. He smiles ruefully, Sellswords and bastards - who ever really trusts us?
"Ser Laton, Ser Jarl," says Ser Gough, after clearing his throat. "Though it pains me to delay the trip to Lakelights, perhaps I may be the solution." Haken rolls his eyes at the humble bow of the rotund knight. "I could travel on to Heart's Home, and deliver the news onto Lord Lyonnel, while you and yours remain here, guarding the ne'er-do-well."
"Murderer," says Haken. "With due respect, Ser, let's not forget that this sellsword was no mere gambling cheat."
"Indeed, indeed," agrees Ser Gough. Although his words are apologetic, a seething anger can be read in his eyes for having to mollify a bastard.
"And what of the maester?" asks Ser Laton. "Ser Rolston and the lady are both under his care at the moment. Would you leave him behind?"
The stout knight mutters for a moment, as if speaking to his chin. "Well... I... Well... harumph... I... I would have to bring him with me. My brother would never forgive me for leaving such a valued servant of House Crelling behind." He gestures at Haken, hoping for an out. "But here, the sarjeant himself said that Ser Rolston will pull through. He just needs some bandages changes, I'm sure. Even Maester Karlon said earlier he should be fine." The knight points vaguely off towards the rooms. "And the pregnant lady just needs sleep. She has her squire to guard her, and really... it's just a bastard in her belly... not really that important..."
You pompous idiot, thinks Haken. I wonder if the Seven would hold me in judgment if I cut you down.
Ser Gough continues to babble, oblivious to Haken's rising ire and contempt. "Even given two days to ride to Heart's Home, and two days back - that still leaves enough time to just arrive at Lakelights and the tourney. Why, I'm sure Ser Terald would understand our tardiness and make suitable arrangements for us in the lists."
"You assume Lord Corbray would ride out here immediately, Ser Gough," says Haken, taking a small amount of pleasure in keeping the knight's thoughts on having a conversation with a mere bastard. "And that all this mess with the sellsword will be resolved quickly." He smirks, a friendly one to his lords, but cynically to Ser Gough. "Lords are not known for rushing through their duties."
Outside, Mhyrko's girls begin barking and braying. Shouts are heard, and a glance out the window shows four horses and three riders near the barn. A fourth person stands in the entryway of the barn, taking in the bloody scene within. The wind outside is faint, but a few gusts show enough strength to billow out the banner held by the smallest rider enough to note the three crows and hearts of House Corbray.
One rider, wearing a fine red and black surcoat, turns and trots his horse towards the inn. "I am Ser Patrek Ravensblood, sworn sword of Lord Lyonnel Corbray of Heart's Home. I demand an explanation."
