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Shackled City put through a blender (updated 7-23)
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<blockquote data-quote="xnosipjpqmhd" data-source="post: 3487955"><p><strong>A Farewell To Kings</strong></p><p></p><p>"I thought it was customary to levy taxes upon entering a city, not leaving one," muttered Oberyn as he caught up with the caravan and rode next to Tateland.</p><p></p><p>"These are Yem's men," said Tateland in disgust. "They straddle the line between taxation and extortion."</p><p></p><p>"Who is Yem? I thought the Margraf's name was Tinardo?"</p><p></p><p>"Obviously news comes slow to Redgorge. The Princes have fallen. Well, most of 'em anyway. In Richfest not eight weeks ago, 27 of the 30 council nobles were slain in a single night. Many of them lost their families, too. Yem was Tinardo's advisor, so he's been running the place ever since."</p><p></p><p>"Twenty-seven nobles slain in one night?" asked Oberyn incredulously. "Who is capable of such a feat?"</p><p></p><p>Jack had been listening in on the conversation, and now he spoke up. "The Scarlet Banner, that's who. Nobody knows much about them, 'cept they sent a messenger from across the sea. The Council of Princes just laughed at their demands."</p><p></p><p>"This Scarlet Banner group must have had agents in high places," said Oberyn, "all across the eastern Hold, maybe farther. Can you imagine how long it must have taken to infiltrate that many palaces and keeps?"</p><p></p><p>Tateland nodded. "And now everyone in authority must answer to a Scarlet Brother."</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The wagon train had crossed a couple of bridges and reached a tiny village named Hollowsky when Bolgrim called a halt for a mid-day meal. </p><p></p><p>"Is there no tavern here?" asked Oberyn, looking around. The village had no discernable establishments for travellers. Aside from a mill and lumberyard, all of the structures seemed to be homes. Everyone ate in silence on the wagons. </p><p></p><p>Soon the trip resumed, but within an hour another halt was called. Shortly after entering a patch of woodlands, one of the lead wagons had struck a fallen limb and broken a wheel.</p><p></p><p>Jack and Tateland scaned the surrounding woods for any sign of an ambush. Oberyn merely rolled his eyes and looked on in boredom as two of the wagoneers--sullen looking gypies named Arturo and Zachariah--replaced the wheel while the third, a younger and less broadly built man named Simon, stood atop his wagon scanning the surroundings for any sign of trouble, the glint of a knife visible in his hand.</p><p></p><p>In short order the caravan set off again along the road, eventually meeting the long shadow of the mountains stretching out to encompass them as the sun fell behind the Kamph mountains.</p><p></p><p>The wagons passed through another flyspeck of a village, crossed a stone bridge, and came to a halt outside of a massive wooden structure called the Lucky Monkey. The building was old and well used--the chimneys stained with soot, the roof sagging, the wood siding weathered and stained from last year's mildew.</p><p></p><p>The stable to which Bolgrim steered the wagons was smaller but in similar condition. Bolgrim oversaw the activities of the three wagon-drivers in securing the caravan for the night, then with his chest puffed out, he led the entourage toward the tavern. "Meals and board are on your own coin," he said, almost as an afterthought. </p><p></p><p>The façade of the Lucky Monkey sported numerous carved wooden monkeys, many engaged in risky, death-defying stunts. Above the front double doors, a wooden monkey was shown balancing on a narrow tree branch to get a banana hanging over the sleeping tiger that was sprawled in relief across the two heavy doors.</p><p></p><p>Bolgrim and the wagon-drivers sat at the first available table while Jack, Oberyn, and Tateland surveyed the scene. The large common room into which they walked wasn't crowded. At a table to their left sat an elderly gentleman with thinning white hair and beard, who wore simple brown robes. A gnarled staff leaned against the wall behind him. Next to him sat a half-olven woman with long silver hair and dusky skin. Beyond their table, other patrons could be glimpsed sitting at a long table in a private area.</p><p></p><p>To the right was a stage area, upon which a gangly young man stumbled as he sang loudly and off-key, waving a blue bottle wildly in one hand to punctuate his refrain. At the table directly in front of the stage were two men and two women. The women were a middle-aged blonde and a more scantily clad younger woman with short, fiery hair and red tatoos on her face. The men were a dark-skinned Olman in a dirty leather vest and an overweight pasty-faced man. </p><p></p><p>As the travellers stood wondering where to sit, the pasty-faced man cracked a joke about the "dwarf's lost lackeys," and the others laughed. Oberyn shot back his own snide remark, and the patron half-stood as if to confront him, but the red-head snapped her fingers and he sat back down.</p><p></p><p>"Good dog," muttered Oberyn.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="xnosipjpqmhd, post: 3487955"] [b]A Farewell To Kings[/b] "I thought it was customary to levy taxes upon entering a city, not leaving one," muttered Oberyn as he caught up with the caravan and rode next to Tateland. "These are Yem's men," said Tateland in disgust. "They straddle the line between taxation and extortion." "Who is Yem? I thought the Margraf's name was Tinardo?" "Obviously news comes slow to Redgorge. The Princes have fallen. Well, most of 'em anyway. In Richfest not eight weeks ago, 27 of the 30 council nobles were slain in a single night. Many of them lost their families, too. Yem was Tinardo's advisor, so he's been running the place ever since." "Twenty-seven nobles slain in one night?" asked Oberyn incredulously. "Who is capable of such a feat?" Jack had been listening in on the conversation, and now he spoke up. "The Scarlet Banner, that's who. Nobody knows much about them, 'cept they sent a messenger from across the sea. The Council of Princes just laughed at their demands." "This Scarlet Banner group must have had agents in high places," said Oberyn, "all across the eastern Hold, maybe farther. Can you imagine how long it must have taken to infiltrate that many palaces and keeps?" Tateland nodded. "And now everyone in authority must answer to a Scarlet Brother." *** The wagon train had crossed a couple of bridges and reached a tiny village named Hollowsky when Bolgrim called a halt for a mid-day meal. "Is there no tavern here?" asked Oberyn, looking around. The village had no discernable establishments for travellers. Aside from a mill and lumberyard, all of the structures seemed to be homes. Everyone ate in silence on the wagons. Soon the trip resumed, but within an hour another halt was called. Shortly after entering a patch of woodlands, one of the lead wagons had struck a fallen limb and broken a wheel. Jack and Tateland scaned the surrounding woods for any sign of an ambush. Oberyn merely rolled his eyes and looked on in boredom as two of the wagoneers--sullen looking gypies named Arturo and Zachariah--replaced the wheel while the third, a younger and less broadly built man named Simon, stood atop his wagon scanning the surroundings for any sign of trouble, the glint of a knife visible in his hand. In short order the caravan set off again along the road, eventually meeting the long shadow of the mountains stretching out to encompass them as the sun fell behind the Kamph mountains. The wagons passed through another flyspeck of a village, crossed a stone bridge, and came to a halt outside of a massive wooden structure called the Lucky Monkey. The building was old and well used--the chimneys stained with soot, the roof sagging, the wood siding weathered and stained from last year's mildew. The stable to which Bolgrim steered the wagons was smaller but in similar condition. Bolgrim oversaw the activities of the three wagon-drivers in securing the caravan for the night, then with his chest puffed out, he led the entourage toward the tavern. "Meals and board are on your own coin," he said, almost as an afterthought. The façade of the Lucky Monkey sported numerous carved wooden monkeys, many engaged in risky, death-defying stunts. Above the front double doors, a wooden monkey was shown balancing on a narrow tree branch to get a banana hanging over the sleeping tiger that was sprawled in relief across the two heavy doors. Bolgrim and the wagon-drivers sat at the first available table while Jack, Oberyn, and Tateland surveyed the scene. The large common room into which they walked wasn't crowded. At a table to their left sat an elderly gentleman with thinning white hair and beard, who wore simple brown robes. A gnarled staff leaned against the wall behind him. Next to him sat a half-olven woman with long silver hair and dusky skin. Beyond their table, other patrons could be glimpsed sitting at a long table in a private area. To the right was a stage area, upon which a gangly young man stumbled as he sang loudly and off-key, waving a blue bottle wildly in one hand to punctuate his refrain. At the table directly in front of the stage were two men and two women. The women were a middle-aged blonde and a more scantily clad younger woman with short, fiery hair and red tatoos on her face. The men were a dark-skinned Olman in a dirty leather vest and an overweight pasty-faced man. As the travellers stood wondering where to sit, the pasty-faced man cracked a joke about the "dwarf's lost lackeys," and the others laughed. Oberyn shot back his own snide remark, and the patron half-stood as if to confront him, but the red-head snapped her fingers and he sat back down. "Good dog," muttered Oberyn. [/QUOTE]
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