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(IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

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  • #31
    Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

    ***The Heir***

    Alwyn nods to the proposal. It would have been good for the House to get additional coin yet even so it strings in him that Lord Wendel would be allowed to pay for blood with coin. If Lord Wendel wanted to change his reputation, he should do so on the field of battle with a sword in hand.

    "I am not really convinced." Alway says. "The idea that we should come skulking to press money from this man in exchange for clearing his name does not sit well with me. But if we are pressed for gold then I suppose there's no choice, no matter how bitter the taste may be. I also sense that you have plotted this out in detail since before it came to my attention." How much easier would it not be with a sword in hand? "Give me the details of how this would be arranged."

    Comment


    • #32
      Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

      The Soldier

      Balian watches as Otto stops in his tracks and makes a sign of reverence. Smiling to himself as he stands up Balian makes his way over to Otto. "Stand easy lad, I'm a simple warrior like you. I do need to speak to you though, let's step outside where we can speak privately." Balian leads the way as they step outside. Moving to an empty spot under the porch Balian waits to speak until they are alone.

      "You've known me for quite a while Otto so I won't insult you by beating around the bush. Your father needs your help. The current help he has working him is no good. He wants you to leave the Guard and come back to work for him at the forge. Now I also know how good you are at being a soldier, plus with us having to rebuild our losses from the war, it's going to be hard to justify letting you go. Yet, we are going to have to find your father some quality help."

      Balian leans back on the rail as he watches Otto think about what he was just told. "I do have a possible solution that would work for all parties involved. It will involve more work on your part, but if you pull it off you'll be set. Go to work for your father at his forge, yet at the same time you'll still be on the roster here at the garrison. While you won't be staying here with the others, you will still be training with them and if the call ever came out you'll fight with them. If you manage to work this right you'll set yourself up to benefit greatly. It'll prove to the higher ups that your capable of accepting more responsibility and possible promotion. Which will be great for you...plus it will be a decent story to tell Sassy Sara the next time you pay a visit." Balian and Otto both share a laugh at the last part.

      Once they are done laughing Balian looks over at Otto and asks "What do you think lad?"


      To convince Otto-
      http://roll.coyotecode.net/lookup.php?rollid=96450
      total- 20 (+2 for Charismatic)
      Last edited by squadfather40; 08-27-2015, 02:09 PM.

      Comment


      • #33
        Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

        The Bastard

        Overhearing things that drinking men say in close vicinity to Allyn was one of major perks of his job. Especially if they speak of work that is not pretty that pays a lot of coin.

        Hm, the bastard thought, best play this correctly than.

        "At once, m'lord!" he said, hiding his speech in a best smallfolk accent he could muster. After all, one had to act the part of an invisible servant if one wants to extract further information in his presence.

        He than walked to the kitchen and told Tanda that only he personally will serve the Dornishmens table, and fetched some wine and bread and water. For this occasion, he took the best wine he could find - best and the strongest too, in order to try and get the men drunk.

        "Here ya go m'lords, some wine and loaf o'bread, water too" he said and pretended to clean the table next to them, in order to try and overhear what he can.

        Deception: 4D6 = [3, 2, 5, 4] = 14
        - for acting out the smallfolk accent

        Awareness: 3D6 = [2, 3, 4] = 9
        - to catch what are they talking about

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        • #34
          Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

          Austace - The knight

          Austace takes a quick look around the battle field, while recovering from the arrow.

          An ambush! Damn coward stags!

          His mind had to be quick. He imagined the stags would try to ambush them from behind, not being familiar with those lands made that decision sound stupid now that they were alone.
          There's no time to complain about destiny though. There was a fight to be won and buckets was the main target at that point, Austace would never abandon one of his without a fight.
          Quikly grabbing his war lance, Austace galloped around the border of the stream, flanking the group armed with axes and clubs. Using the long reach of the lance, he strikes the closer axe fighter, while staying still out of the stream.

          7D6 = [3, 6, 2, 1, 2, 6, 1] = 21
          Final result: 20 (two 6 in case of critical, what would increase the damage)
          http://www.coyotecode.net/roll/lookup.php?rollid=96635

          - Come at me! Face a true knight once before the strager takes you all!

          Obs: At this point I believe it makes sense that Austace activates the ability fom "Annoited", that gives him extra 5 in his CD and passive results. If possible Austace is now using his great shield too in the offhand, what should count as a free action, but I don't know if you would think there would be time for it, so I'm leaving it up open. I will take the 5 damage normally to my health.
          Last edited by Tyrondir; 09-01-2015, 06:31 AM.

          Comment


          • #35
            Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

            THE HEIR

            At this point the steward's strong perfume was giving you a light headache. Master Mortymer made a new reverence, bowing so low you thought he would fall on his knees. -Indeed, young Allwyn, as your servant is my duty to prepare the arrangements for any situation, be it good or bad. All you must say is a word, and I'll immediately send a rider to the Wendwater with news of my arrival to discuss this matter personally with Lord Wendel and Morris, his steward. Even with this storm it would take less than a day's ride, my young lord. -He stopped for a moment to realign his vest. -I swear by the Father and the Seven above that I will not come back without a profitable bargain. -The fat steward smiled, making another reverence. Looking at the man, you could remember Sour Symon's words. In one hand the old servant urged you to not follow Mortymer's suggestion about asking a loan, but in the other hand Symon never learned the whole plan of the fat steward. You know both men since you were born, you trust their loyalties, but they could not be more different: Symon believes that Mortymer is a perfumed fool, full of courtesy but empty of wits, and Mortymer believes Symon is senile, blind by his constant distrust and pessimism. You could summon Symon here, but with you alone you believe their enmities would turn the meeting into an endless discussion. Other skilled advisers were your mother Corenna and your fool, Eddard. A simple word and Almaric would bring you any or all of them.

            Both your father and your older brother liked to hear other people's opinions, but in different ways. Your late father listened carefully and individually each part, meditating alone on the subject for a long time before making a decision in this very meeting room. Your brother nonetheless liked to listen to everyone at the same time, seeing their disagreements flourishing, their ideas clashing, to only then deciding and declaring publicly his mind. You are no lord. You are the heir. But right now you have the castle. So it's your responsibility to lead in Alber's absence.


            THE FOOL

            Outside the gambling house the sky was roaring with thunder and lightning, what didn't improve your hangover. The sun was barely visible behind heavy black clouds, and the sea was agitated. Gathering strength, you faced the cold hard water, letting it wash you and clear your mind.


            After a while, you walked through the planks over the slippery and muddy ground, hearing the men shouting in the docks. No fishing today, you thought watching the last fishermen tying their boats in the wharf before running to the cover of closer buildings. With this kind of weather the workers would surely pass their time drinking and fighting. Good for Allyn, bad for the guards.

            Sea's Point was a small village, a hamlet, build over the strip of land and rocks that gave it's name. Most buildings were close to the docks, but with the refugees from the war increasing the population, new houses were being built farther from the water. Excluding the castle, the largest buildings in the village were the Sentry House, a stone building where most of the local garrison was stationed; the Shipyard, where Errol, the master of the port lived and where the boats were made; and of course, the Bastard's Den, Allyn's house of games and drinking, a massive wooden construction of two floors.

            After a long walk out of the village and up the small hill to the castle, you finally reached it's gates. Named after the thick vegetation that covered most of the external curtain wall, Greenwalls was huge. It was the biggest castle in the Crownlands, except for the Redkeep, of course, and Dragonstone. It's walls were high, the towers even higher, with the old banners of House Gargon swinging proud in gold and green. The heavy portcullis was raised, with a handful of men guarding it. -Sleeping with the horses again? -They waved at you, laughing and making jokes. Normally you would stop for smalltalking, but the storm was just too strong and the wind too cold.

            The castle yard was almost empty, if not for some men attending the horses in the stables and a few guards running from one building to the other. Instead of going to the castle's entrance, you followed the coverture of the wall to the side of thestables, passing the armory, the storage and finally reaching the wooden stairs to the kitchens. Dripping in the open door, you could see half a dozen people working in the kitchens, smell the food that was cooking and also feel the heat coming from the big oven where Fat Molly was. By what you could see, the hardships of war have not yet touched the castle's warehouse indeed.

            The big woman was singing and chuckling, but stopped when noticing you. -Ned! -She shouted. -Where the hell you been? Lady Corenna is looking for you! -Fat Molly was a big woman, rich of breast and waist alike. -And what have I told you about coming to my kitchen? You're watering the whole floor! Look at the mud! -She hit you in the arm with her big wooden spoon.


            THE BASTARD

            Going down the stairs behind the balcony you reached the cellar in the basement. It was not a huge collection, and most of those bottles and barrels where full of watery wine, but maybe there was something for the merchant. After a quick search you found a bottle of Strongwine from Sunspear. It was expensive and the last one of a box that you bought before the war, but it would probably be a good choice.

            Coming back to the dornishman and his friends, you brought him the wine and the food for his servant. This time you could not make sense of the murmurs of the men, for they stopped talking when you approached. After serving them, you moved discreetly to other table, cleaning it for a bunch of sailors that entered the room. You could hear the Dornish speaking again.

            -This man cowardly killed my brother years ago during a summer festival in Stone Hedge. He escaped the guards of House Bracken, and I thought I would never see him again. But I saw him today. Camped not far from here.

            -You sure is him? -Asked one guard.

            -I could never forget that face. -The dornishman sipped his chalice for the first time, and by his expression you could notice he was surprised by the content of it, looking towards you for the first time.

            -And what exactly is in for us? -Said the other guard. While serving other table, you gave them a good look. You did not remember their names, but you know they are from a different cloth than Gargon's men. Almost all the good soldiers died with Lord Arold in the Whispering Woods, and the actual garrison is composed by old men and boys. Ser Balian returned home with the survivors, veteran soldiers, but those returned to their families to mourn their loved ones. But on the other hand, the Shellings were untouched by the war, so the discipline of their men was at their weakest. Those two were examples of guards that were little more than thugs, not worthy of carrying the Shell of Ser Austace's family.

            -As I told you. -The dornishman lazily searched for you in the room. -You! Boy! Come. -He waved at you. -I wouldn't serve this piss to my horse. -He pointed the wine. -But I appreciate the effort. It reminded me of home. So thank you. Now ell me, if I was to buy this little shack of yours, how much would you want for it? -He looked directly to you with his heavy, deep black eyes. He was a gaunt man, and he was obviously a successful merchant. You saw earlier this morning a caravan outside the village, maybe this man is the owner of those wagons. Any way, the grey lines in his black hair and the fierceness of his eyes spoke to you that he was not a novice in his trade.


            THE SOLDIER

            Stepping outside, Otto crossed his arms and silently listened to your words. -Aye, he needs me alright. -He said with contempt. -My whole life I was a piece of shit for him, and now that my brothers are dead 'cause the war I'm a good son again, right? No fucking way I'm going to sweat as a pig in the forge for his pleasure. Besides, I like my life here with the boys! -You could not blame him. His father was indeed a bully with his friends and even worse with his children. He seemed stubborn on his decision, but you found a way around him: hearing about some kind of reward seemingly worked on the ugly man. -Well, that could work, Ser. If you think this will please Lord Alber and there will be something for me on it, then I'll do. At least until I can teach some of the other boys how to work properly on the forge. Can't let these oafs here without proper blades, can I?

            Well, that didn't take much, you thought. But your conversation with Otto was interrupted by a group of guards that approached the sentry house. -G'day, ser. -The men greeted you while escaping the rain. They were completely soaked, and one of them removed his helmet to reveal a big smile in his pretty face. -Morning, Ser Balian! -Said Malric the Maid with enthusiasm, his golden hair now dark and soaked. -Good news from our patrols, ser: Buckets and his boys nabbed some stags in one of the farms in the border. Captain Willem and Ser Austace will probably come soon with the prisoners. With a bit of luck we can find out where the fuckers are hiding, and we can kill the last one of those traitors, right Otto? -He punched the Ugly's shoulder.

            -Seven hells, aye. -Said Otto, crossing his big arms. -Would be a sweet way to leave. -He said, with his little eyes shining.

            -Leave? Leave what? The garrison? -The Maid gasped.

            -Gotta help ma dad with the forge. His assistants are fucking around too much. Ser Balian here says it would look good for me with the lords. -You noticed Otto was already proud of his achievement, even when doing nothing.

            -Don't do that you ox! -Maid punched Otto again in the arm, without reaction. Suddenly remembering you were right beside him, the Maid looked to you with pleading eyes. -Please ser, you can't let him leave the garrison. Half those men can't hold a spear, even less a sword. -He pointed inside. -Otto may be ugly as a pig and dumb as a fish, but he can fight! If you come to count one by one in the garrison you will only find a handful of true men: Buckets, Rugger, Mors, One-Eye, Gull, Otto and I! We're doing good job here ser, because we want to try and deserve a place in the Green Guard, ser.

            Lord Arold's personal guard was named Green Guard, for their colors. They were clad in painted steel, with a darker tabard than the rest of the Gargon forces. They were all killed in the Whispering Wood, you recalled. Died trying to defend their liege. You remember they breaking under the Young Wolf's cavalry, with Ser Godfrey of Oxcross facing the gigantic Greatjon Umber, trying to win time for Arold to escape. All in vain, thanks to the Coward. You heard Alber saying that he was interested in rebuilding the traditional guard and it seems Malric and other men in the garrison have heard about it as well.


            THE KNIGHT

            OOC: Consider that you have your great shield in hand
            That’s why men need training.

            The screams of battle made your blood boil. The whole world is now a mess of water coming down the sky and projectiles coming from the rocks. Snapping the shaft of the arrow stuck in your splint mail, you took to the lance, your eyes seeking the clash of men and water in the stream. With a strong pull of reins and a kick on Sugar, you make your horse jump in the direction of the deserters, following the bank of the stream. With your right arm you lift the shiny metal blade of the lance, circling as the open wing of a bird, only to descend on the first bandit before he clashes with Bucket. You hit solidly, the weight of the big weapon smashing the deserter's face with the leather cap he was wearing, and turning his head into a red glob as he falls on Buckets feet. The veteran couldn't thank you, as he was forced to raise his axe against the axe of the other bandit.

            Pulling your arm back, two of the deserters now were facing you, one was a bald man with an iron mace full of spikes and the other was filth with dirt in his hair and beard, armed with a wooden club whose head was made of a iron stag with iron antlers. With such a small reach, they tried to flank you, but a quick move of your lance made them retreat a step. With a opening, the bald one jumped at you with his weapon, trying to hit your leg, but you quickly pulled Sugar over the deserter, making her push the man back to the water. You raised your lance to thrust it against his neck when a suddenly slam hit you in the shield. A second arrow appeared, sprouting in the interior of your shield. You looked to the other side of the stream, where in the rock three men were still attacking at a distance. You saw the archer, his hand reaching another arrow, and his eyes fixed on you.

            -I GOT HIM! I GOT HIM!-The bearded rascal shouted when finally reaching your reins. He grabbed your belt in the waist and pulled you. Suddenly Sugar escaped from your legs and you held the lance fiercely to not lose it too, with the ground coming against your back in an explosion of pain. You felt a kick in your belly, rolling in the mud and the roots in the slippery ground, and someone was pulling your lance, trying to disarm you. You could hear a thunder in the sky and the deserters laughing. -Kill the knight! I'm in need of a good sword!

            -Austace! -Buckets shouted, seeing you in need. -I’m coming you fuckers! -It was when you were trying to get up again, covered in mud, that you saw Buckets nailing his axe on his enemy shoulder, and kicking him to the water. -Face me you cowar...uhgn...-Only to be struck by a spear in his back. The old guard screamed in pain, falling on his knees in the water trying to reach the wood stuck in his back, until finally falling facedown in the stream.


            OCC: You successfully killed the first man. The second one could not pass your CD, nor did the archer (only by 1 though), but the third succeed in pulling you out of your mount. Your armor absorbed the damage from the fall, and the "trying to disarm you" is merely a description, BUT now you are prone.

            The other bandits successfully killed Buckets but failed to kill Garth, who in turn killed other enemy.
            Last edited by Saturno; 09-04-2015, 12:39 PM.

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            • #36
              Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

              Originally posted by Saturno View Post

              THE FOOL

              After a long walk out of the village and up the small hill to the castle, you finally reached it's gates. Named after the thick vegetation that covered most of the external curtain wall, Greenwalls was huge. It was the biggest castle in the Crownlands, except for the Redkeep, of course, and Dragonstone. It's walls were high, the towers even higher, with the old banners of House Gargon swinging proud in gold and green. The heavy portcullis was raised, with a handful of men guarding it. -Sleeping with the horses again? -They waved at you, laughing and making jokes. Normally you would stop for smalltalking, but the storm was just too strong and the wind too cold.

              The castle yard was almost empty, if not for some men attending the horses in the stables and a few guards running from one building to the other. Instead of going to the castle's entrance, you followed the coverture of the wall to the side of thestables, passing the armory, the storage and finally reaching the wooden stairs to the kitchens. Dripping in the open door, you could see half a dozen people working in the kitchens, smell the food that was cooking and also feel the heat coming from the big oven where Fat Molly was. By what you could see, the hardships of war have not yet touched the castle's warehouse indeed.

              The big woman was singing and chuckling, but stopped when noticing you. -Ned! -She shouted. -Where the hell you been? Lady Corenna is looking for you! -Fat Molly was a big woman, rich of breast and waist alike. -And what have I told you about coming to my kitchen? You're watering the whole floor! Look at the mud! -She hit you in the arm with her big wooden spoon.
              Eddard was deep in thought as he entered the castle, merely acknowledging the guards as he wanted to get out of the rain. Certainly, it felt like winter was coming. He would certainly need a thicker cloak. Last time it had been winter, he had still been training to be a maester and preferably, he would spend it before a roaring fire and hopefully not being hunted by men who stank of salted fish. Smelling the food emanating from the kitchen, his stomach began to rumble and gurgle, reminding him that he had not yet eaten and he was still feeling the effects from the night before. Following the smell of food, he sauntered into the kitchen, which earned him a rebuke from Fat Molly.

              "Oww," Eddard rubbed his arm, pretending the scolding was unexpected, a wide smile on his lips, as this was a regular rebuke that he was used to, "that hurt my dear lady. At least today, I am wearing shoes. Your rebukes when I have misplaced my attire provide far more of a sting For that, I must fine you this lovely pie that you have made. In fact, where do you get the ingredients for such fine food. Do not worry, I will ensure that it reaches our fair lordling. It is important that I see him before I attend any other business.

              Afterwards, could you tell me where might I find Lady Corenna on this admittedly foul and dreary day and why might she desire my company?"


              ooc
              charm the cook: 6d6k6 19
              Last edited by Corrigon; 09-13-2015, 05:27 AM.

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              • #37
                Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

                Austace - The knight

                Austace's world went spinning after the fall, the mix of pain and dirty made him choke for a second.
                The noises and screams of the battle field filled his ears like water.
                He was caught with surprise by the hands of those bandits, maybe he undersestimated them..

                No... that was a lucky strike, now it's my turn!

                Austace rolled on his back leaving his lance on the flor, he pulled the warhammer from his belt while lifting his body up again to the fighting stance.
                Doing an extra effort, the knight lifted the heavy two-handed weapon in the direction of the face of the bandit with the spiked iron mace, with just one arm, and prayed for his luck and skill to do the rest.

                King Robert must have felt like this in the Trident...

                7D6 + 1 = [5, 4, 2, 5, 3, 3, 6]+1 = 29
                Final Result: 5+5+6+4 +1 = 21 (one 6 in case of critical)
                http://www.coyotecode.net/roll/lookup.php?rollid=96981

                OBS: I used one fatigue point to be able of getting up and attacking in the same turn as I'm wearing a quite heavy armor, to compensate that in my attack I used my +2 daily bonus from Blood of the Andals.

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                • #38
                  Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

                  The Bastard


                  Uncommon offer came out of the blue and hit Allyn like a sledgehammer. His mind worked hard and fast in order to comprehened and utilize all the words spoken and heard.

                  So far he knew that the men was wealthy beyond a doubt, and that he had someone he wanted dead in Gargon or Shellings land. He also wanted to stay here for a while, hence the need to purchase the Inn.

                  Continuing on with his smallfolk ignorant scharade, Allyn said

                  "I'm afraid it's not for sellin'. See, m'lord, the Inn doesn't look like much but it is well connected. All kinds of people pass through here, and I have many a drink and rumour to sell, services to provide - and that makes me a comfrotable livin'. I can't think of any coin that would be able to buy that off." he stroked his chin and leaned over, closer to the Dornishman

                  "But if you want, I can rent out one room for you, the best in the house - for indefinite number of nights. Along with the room come benefits, services.. And you look like a man that might appreciate the kind of services I can provide."

                  Allyn took a nearby bottle and started polishing it, awaiting answer.

                  For now, he wanted the men close, until an opportunity presents itself in all it's glory.

                  Comment


                  • #39
                    Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

                    ***The Heir***

                    Alwyn looks at the man. There were alot of money that could be made but at what cost? He knew he would have to confront his brother on this later, and perhaps Mortymer would bring it to the lord's attention, yet he knew the path before him.

                    "No." The word hanged for a second in the air between the two men. "I cannot allow Lord Wendel to clear the stain on his honor with gold. The Father and Warrior would never forgive me if I did a thing like that, and perhaps my brother, our lord, would see things differently but I cannot accept this solution."

                    Comment


                    • #40
                      Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

                      The Soldier

                      Balian laughs as he watches Otto and Malric tease each other. Watching them brought back a flood of memories of comrades and brother in arms. Some fell on the field of battle and others made their way back home with him. "Rest easy Malric, Otto isn't leaving the guard. In fact he will be staying around, but he will be taking on more duties. His father needs a capable assistant at the forge. Otto will help out until a decent replacement is located. Then he will be back in all of his glory."

                      Leaning back on the railing Balian lets Malric digest the information. "Now I've heard the same rumors as you have. My curiousity lays in who will be put in charge of the unit. I've a mind to toss my hat in for that spot. Odds are that when they do put the word out there will be a muster for all interested parties. With the way you two handle yourselves I'm sure you will find a spot in the unit."

                      Looking out into the rain Balian sighs as he gives up on waiting the storm out. "Now I'm sure both of you have duties to attend to. Otto first chance you get let your leadership know the situation with your father needing help. Let them know the solution we came up with. If they have any questions I'll be glad to speak with them. Now, if you lads will excuse me I'm going to see if I can make it up to the castle without floating away."

                      With a final wave to Otto and Malric, Balian grabs his long axe and pulling the hood of his cloak up and steps out into the rain and moves towards the castle.

                      Comment


                      • #41
                        Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

                        THE HEIR

                        It took a moment for Mortymer to understand that his plan wasn't approved. The fat man gasped, opening his mouth to speak, but saying nothing at all. Finally, he gathered enough dignity to humbly accept your decision, curving his corpulent self in a reverence. -Of course, my young lord. -Swallowing his sadness, the fat steward quickly reached a book from his purse, a heavy collection of yellowed pages glued together inside two leaves of hard leather. -There is still the matter of the annual festival of your vassals, the Shellings. As you know, young Alwyn, the Shellings earned the privilege of managing the Feast for Good Winds a hundred years ago, and they have been doing it swiftly ever since, but this terrible war have also put their supplies in dire situation. Sweet Leyla, ser Austace's sister, tells me that her house could not gather half the food and drink needed for both the men and the offerings, and so she plead our house's helping hand. By my calculations, even with considerate cuts, the major spending in the festival is the prize for the traditional meele contest: last year the champion earned a sum of five hundred golden dragons.

                        In fact, the Feast for Good Winds was the major event on this part of the Crownlands. A tradition held by the original owners of Greenwalls by milennia, it was an old First Man custom that the Gargons wisely decided to preserve, in spite of their Valyrian heritage. Time altered the purpose of the day, for originally it was a date for rituals and sacrifice to please the Old Gods and guarantee a good year of fishing, but now it became a meeting for fraternization and celebration between the folk of the Kingswood. The festival honors were passed from the Gargons to Henris Shellings in 204 A.C, and since then it was traditional to the knightly house to host the event. The First Men originally celebrated the date in the first day of their year, but after the Andal's Invasion the calendar changed, and then changed again with Aegon's Conquest, so now it was celebrated close to the end of the year. If you are not mistaken, the Feast should occur within a week.

                        You always loved the festival. It was always a day of sports and fun, with games and competitions, and a night of feasting and reverencing with boats filling the sea with lamps. You remember how you loved to mingle between the lords of the kingswood and their sons, how you learned how to fish with a spear with a man from the Hook, and how you met Celen Massey, the sweet daughter of Stonedance, under the big rocks of the Circle. But as you grew you started realizing now it was in truth not just a date for playing, but a delicate event that should be carefully handled.

                        -I am sure Master Symon would suggest to cut the spending even more and cancel the meele tournament, but I strongly advise to not do so, my young Alwyn. It is on the Feast that the major names of the Kingswood gather for drinks and talks and it's a very important day for both our Houses as the commerce increases considerably. Let me remind you that his will be the first Festival since the beginning of the war. Traditionally every House from the Kingswood and the Hook come to celebrate, so considering the aftermath of the Blackwater and Stannis defeat, certainly the event will be important to sediment the peace in this region.


                        THE BASTARD

                        The dornishman eyes betrayed his feelings towards your answer. He didn't like it. After a long breath staring you, he said. -Very well. Prepare me your best room. Go. -He waved you away and watched you leave to speak again with the guards. As you moved away, you could hear he speaking. -You hear? That man can't even imagine how much I would be able to pay. I believe you two, on the other hand, are blessed with much more imagination. Say a price and I will pay. If you bring me the murderer's head.

                        Ordering Tanda's sister to prepare the room, you walked out of the establishment pretending to carry some sacks outside, only to turn left on the porch and reach the wall close to the merchant's table. The rain was terribly cold and the wind was even worse, but thanks to a crack in the wood you could see the guards faces and the merchant's back. They were whispering and it was noisy outside, but putting your ear in the wall was enough to listen their conversation almost entirely.

                        The two guards looked to each other, and one of them said hesitantly the biggest number he could imagine: -A thousand...
                        -Yes. -Interrupted the merchant. -A thousand silver. Enough for you two to buy a real set of armor, swords and even good horses. -It was a lie, you know that. That man was rich, but not mad. A full set of armor could easily cost eight hundred silver stags. With the war, the prices for food were raised, but armor was easy to find, robbed from the dead, and so cheaper than in times of peace, but the problem was the quality of the pieces. These two men would only realize this in a big market like the ones closer to King's Landing, and then they would have to fight for the biggest part of the money. He was quickly taking advantage of the inexperience of the guards with larger sums of money, usually living their days with coppers and stars. Still was a lot of money for one dead man.

                        -Agreed. -The other guard promptly accepted the merchant's hand. -You know the whale's graveyard east of here? He is camped nearby, and he is alone, accompanied only by a wench. I care not for her, just want his life. -Said the merchant, and the guards smiled. -Aye, we know the place. It is on the Shellings. We'll be back in the noon, and with your gift in a sack. -They finished their drinks and prepared to leave. When you returned to the tavern's entrance you could see both guards leaving the place, and inside the dornishman was still drinking his wine, this time alone.


                        THE FOOL

                        Fat Molly's eyes were hard pressed. -You are a sleazy weasel aren't you? -She waved the big spoon towards you. -THIS TIME I'll let you take a SLICE, as you're skinny as a rat, but STAY AWAY FROM MY KITCHENS NED. -She pushed you to the door with relative ease thanks to her corpulent personality, saying to you before closing the heavy door. -Lady Corenna is in the throne room. Hurry, you know how she don't like to wait for no one. Now GO! -The door almost hit your face when slammed.

                        Quickly eating the sweet pie, you walked the corridors to the entrance hall. Meeting a few guards and servants on the way, you happen to clash against Sour Symon on a corner, with the old man almost falling back, only stopped by you quick reaction grasping his clothes. -SEVEN HELLS! -The old man shouted at you. -YOU HAVE SWIFT STEPS, BARD. Swift enough to cause harm. -The old master of the household didn't like you a bit. Never did. -What are you doing sneaking around? And completely wet?? -After the mention of Lady Corenna summoning you, the sour face of Sour Symon turned red. -Snif... is this wine I smell? Are you drunk? And you are going to meet her just like that? Have you no shame at all? Hey! Don't ignore me! Come here you little shit! COME HERE!

                        Walking as fast as you could without running, you escaped the claws of that monster, still hearing the echos of his curses in the corridors. Finally reaching the throne room, Mors and Haral were on the door. Haral was already laughing of you. -HAH, I see Master Symon still want to hang your ass, Greybard. But I guess you're safe for as much as you can outrun him. -Haral laughed. He was always laughing, good old Haral, with his big smile covered by his black beard. Mors was another matter. He was silent, his stern face obviously displeased by the lack of discipline of both you and his fellow guard.

                        Mors was a veteran from the Whispering Woods, came back with Balian and the others, defeated, ashamed. He was the best sword the castle had in it’s service, if you set aside Balian himself and Ser Austace, who was superb with weapons, enough to deserve a place on the Kingsguard, at least that is what everyone says. Haral on the other hand was a nice fellow, the best partner for playing dices and telling jokes, but he was of not much good for anything else. Still laughing, Haral pushed the big dark oak doors for you to enter. The throne room was very big, almost as wide as the Entrance Hall. Once a year, Lord Gerald Gargon opened it's doors for all his men to feast with his family. Big wooden tables, big enough for a total of two hundred men, filled the low part of the room, and for a single night every man could eat and drink as much as he liked, while the old lord personally talked, drinked and laughed to each and every one of his guests. Lord Arold kept his father's custom, even being much more timid and less charismatic. Today the tables were not there, so the room looked much larger than usual. It was dark too, for the storm outside was grey and there was no sun coming from the high windows. Over a number of stone steps, the throne of Gargon was there, empty. A big stone detailed carved with a endless number of fishes, perpetually frozen in the stone waves of the big chair. A beautiful, if rustic, piece of stonemansory, sadly dead in current days.

                        Lady Corenna was alone in the great hall, warming her hands over the fires of the big lord's hearth. She was dressed in dark tones, as she did ever since the news of her husband's death. The lady was a beautiful woman, even in her age, tall and smooth of skin and hair. With your approach, she turned her head to see you from eyes to toe. -I was to speak with you last night. See that you don't disappear again. -That woman was cold. She had cold eyes, but intelligent ones. All the Bucklers were like that, except maybe for Blessed Brian. And she was not the worse on her family, no, that was reserved for Lord Ralph. She was a powerful woman, though, anyone could see that. Lord Arold was a very learned man, more than you, more than many maesters, but Corenna had another kind of wit on her. She was quick, she was hard, and she was determined. Her late husband was the exact opposite of these traits.

                        -Arold gave me this on my nameday. Before leaving. You remember, right? -She was holding a small piece of wood in her hands. It was a clumsy sculpture of two whales, twirled together, black and golden, roughly bigger than her palm. And yes, you remember when the late lord made it. Lord Arold was famous for his shrewdness, always sparing any copper he could, and he boldly claimed to you that before paying a fat artisan to work for him, he would easily learn the trade himself. The results were... intriguing. During years he trained and learned in secret, but his skills never improved, and at the same time his thirst for the practice never waved. You know he struggled with that particular piece of craft for months. And for a whole afternoon you and he laughed over the result of so much work. Many noblewomen from the kingdom would be furious to receive such simple gift, even more on her nameday, but you know Corenna loved it. They were like that. -He told me this piece of wood was the most precious good he would ever have, for it was the result of countless years of both sweat and love, and so it could not be damaged nor destroyed, even if the wood that made it could, because it was love materialized. Love for me and for our family... -You could see that the hard woman was shacking a little. Water glimpsed in her eyes.

                        You don't know what is going on. You don't know why she is telling such personal things to you. You just feel you should say something.


                        THE SOLDIER

                        -Aye Maid, stop being such a prickle, don't you see that everything is settled? -Said Otto, putting a heavy finger on his friend's pretty nose.

                        Malric the Maid didn't seemed much content with the explanation though, you could clearly see. Apparently he did not have only the looks, at least between him and the Ugly. -With all due respect ser, but how could that work? The forge is not easy to work with, even as a helping hand he would lose almost the whole day on it, and even if he only stays half a time in the garrison, when would he sleep? He will be of not much use in any... oh shit.

                        The guard suddenly widened his eyes and lowered his voice. -Oh shit, it's Black Meldred.

                        -Where? -Otto looked around indiscreetly, making Malric grow red with rage. -Fuck the Seven you stupid fuck! Don't look at him you shit! He's right there in the fence, close to that wagon. -More able to be discreet than Otto, you glanced towards the other buildings, easily finding the man seated on the fence, protected against the rain. Black Meldred was one of the Rotten Seeds, the bastards of the terrible and infamous Artos Gargon, named Rottenfish for the foulness of both his humor and his smell. While his father was a giant of a man, almost as big as the equally monstrous Mountain that Rides, Meldred was of average height, but he had the same crazy eyes of his elder. He was easily a dangerous man. And a killer too.

                        -So what's the problem? I saw him this morning on Ally's. -Asked Otto.

                        -Yes, but well... -Malric looked to you with shame on his face. -The thing is... I owe him money. A lot.

                        -So what? Pay him already, you blonde shit goatfucker. -Otto was visibly irritated for being called stupid.

                        -I said a LOT of money, pighead. More than I have. Bet against Meldred on a horse ride and lost... huh... three times. Thought that I could find some on the floaters Errol fished this morning, but... -He suddenly realized who you were. -But that would be wrong, to defile good men corpses like that, so I refused. So I still don't have near enough to pay him, and I've been juggling this problem around for some time now. It is alright, I'll just stay here in the sentry house the rest of the day, he would not dare...

                        Jared shouted far away, from inside the sentry house. -MALRIC! OTTO! ERROL BROUGHT THREE MORE TO BURY. GO NOW, THEY'RE ALREADY SMELLING ON THE CART!!

                        -I can't fucking believe! I'm really fucked now! Meldred is going to cut my nose off, or even worse, he's going to take my balls! Ser, please, could you help me?

                        -Don't you dare to ask such a thing to ser Balian, you craven. You have to resolve this like a man. If you don't, I will set things straight with him. -Otto punched his own chest, proud of his manliness.

                        -Are you kidding? I am not craven, but you can't fuck around with Black Meldred, you fat slug. He is Artos son, for the Seven sakes! He will cut you like a pig and on the next day Allyn will serve your fat roasted ass for his guests on his house. Even Mors would lose a fight against the man.

                        -Then let's gather some comrades and beat him up if he come closer to you, that's simple, you prick. -Said Otto with an angry face, refusing to let his determination wave away.

                        -Can't do that. I would never be allowed on Allyn's again! And Willem would cut me off the garrison if he finds out I'm causing this kind of situation. -He looked even more ashamed to you, begging you with his eyes to keep the secret. -Besides, he earned my money rightly, it was a fair race. Three times. But I don't have the coin, and he told me on the second race that he would fuck my ass bloodly if I escaped the payment.

                        -And even warned you still raced him? -Otto was still mad with the Maid saying he would lose a fight against Meldred.

                        -I thought I was doing to win, Otto!. -He turned to you. -Please ser, I beg of you, help me! Help me and I will be eternally grateful.


                        THE KNIGHT

                        You are Austace Shellings. The Knight of Shellings. The Knight of the Lonely Tower. The best sword of the Kingswood. You will not die in the mud. Not today.

                        You looked in the eyes of your enemies, and you shouted. With a grunt, you pulled the shaft of your lance with all your might. With a solid hit of the hard wood against the legs of the bald deserter, you made him fall hard against the ground with the back of his head. The bearded man tried to hit you with his heavy mace, but his weapon found only your shield of trusted oak, which not only absorbed all of your enemy's blows, but also gave you time to reach your powerful warhammer. Finally armed, you rushed upward, coming on your feet again while pushing your opponent guard open enough for your hammer to find the right angle to his chin. With a powerful thrust, the sharp metal head of your weapon kissed the teeth of the bearded bandit with enough strength to lift the man off the ground and throw him back. You kicked the bald man who was getting up again with a kick, making him roll away in the mud, only to descend the pointy end of your hammer in the chest of the bearded man strongly enough for you to hear the crack of the man's ribs.

                        Then the third arrow reached you. It hit you in the shoulder's plate, hard enough for you to spin with the impact. The bald man was already up, and he clashed against you hitting you endlessly with his mace in a fury of blows. Covered by your shield you struggled to both resist the man's strength and also don't slip on the muddy ground. A fourth arrow got you in the back, as you danced with the bald man, not knowing with the pain was not coming for not passing your armor or thanks to the heat of your blood.

                        -FOR THE KING! -A scream came in a rush, with the sound of horses. Someone mounted passed through you as a lightning, splashing water all around and a fillet of blood on the air. Only when the bald deserter fell with a red gash on his back that you recognized Meryn charging through the stream, followed by Willem. Both crossed the water, making the archer and his fellow spearmen break their formation. Farther to your right Lamprey and Samm were helping Garth, who was stuck under his horse. The boy Samm protected Garth as Lamprey threw his spear as he would do when fishing, a low throwing, that got one of the running deserters right on his back, making him fall screaming in pain before going silent.

                        In a matter of seconds everything was over and you could only hear the wind blowing the trees with strength, and the moaning of Garth's horse, hurt with a spear on his neck. Sugar was fine, now covered in mud slowly washed away by the rain. All deserters were dead, except for the three that ran away, with Meryn and Willem pursuing them on horse. Buckets was lying facedown in the stream. The water painted read around him thanks to the blood of his deadly wound. The spear that killed him was still stuck as a banner on his back.

                        OOC: Thanks to your Anointed quality the archer could not penetrate your defenses. You have only small cuts and bruises from the fight (your Health is replenished but you have the penalty of -1 for using fatigue). All enemies are dead, with the exception of those which ran away. Sugar is fine, but Garth's horse was fatally wounded. With Larry and now Buckets, this is a black day for House Gargon, as it took the lives of two good men.
                        Last edited by Saturno; 09-14-2015, 05:58 PM.

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                        • #42
                          Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

                          ***The Heir***

                          Alwyn was struck by the sword of pity as he made his rejection to Mortymer. He was a good man and wished only the best but a man not of noble blood did not always understand matters of honor such as these without any ill will.

                          "Your words on the festival are most prudent, Mortymer." Alwyn told him. "The festival is crucial and must go on regardless of what else, besides I do not wish for other Houses to know in what situation my lord brother has put us with his spendings at court." Alwyn ticks the table with his fingers then closed his eyes for a moment before he dared to go on. "How much wealth would this festival cost us, if just the champion gets 500 gold dragons?"

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                          • #43
                            Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

                            The Soldier

                            Balian stops short and turns to look back at Otto and Malric. Stepping back to regain the cover of the porch Balian listens to Malric and his money troubles.

                            Once Malric is done, Balian pauses to think of a solution. "Rest easy lad, I'll help you keep your limbs as well as your virtue intact."

                            Reaching down to his belt Balian grabs his coin pouch and gives it a gentle shake to test it's weight. Satisfied with the weight he hands it over to Malric.
                            "There is 60 silver stags in the pouch. Put that together with what you have saved already and present it to Meldred as a down payment. Once that is done we will discuss terms of how you can pay him the rest of what you owe. Once you've paid him back, you can pay me back. Let this serve as a reminder the next time you want to make a wager."

                            Looking out into the rain, Balian remembers the mistakes he's made himself when he was younger. Allowing his expression to soften Balian smiles and turns to look over at Malric.

                            "You'll be fine and a bit wiser after today. When you agree to terms with Meldrid be a man of your word. Prove to me that you are and you have my word that I will vouch for you when the time comes to put forth names for the Green Guard."

                            Allowing Malric time to collect the money Balian looks out into the rain. "Ser Meldred, a moment of your time. If you would sir, we have a proposal to discuss with you."

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                            • #44
                              Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

                              THE FOOL
                              Fat Molly's eyes were hard pressed. -You are a sleazy weasel aren't you? -She waved the big spoon towards you. -THIS TIME I'll let you take a SLICE, as you're skinny as a rat, but STAY AWAY FROM MY KITCHENS NED. -She pushed you to the door with relative ease thanks to her corpulent personality, saying to you before closing the heavy door. -Lady Corenna is in the throne room. Hurry, you know how she don't like to wait for no one. Now GO! -The door almost hit your face when slammed.
                              Before Eddard could say anymore, he found himself on the other side of a heavy door, holding his piece of pie. He sighed, annoyed that she had completely ignored his questions. Unfortunately, the corridor he was in would pass directly by the throne room. He could try to sneak past and try and find Lord Alber, but he had time and maybe Lady Corwenna could help with what he had to do, though not knowingly. She was probably the dangerous person in the castle if she chose to be.

                              Quickly eating the sweet pie, you walked the corridors to the entrance hall. Meeting a few guards and servants on the way, you happen to clash against Sour Symon on a corner, with the old man almost falling back, only stopped by you quick reaction grasping his clothes. -SEVEN HELLS! -The old man shouted at you. -YOU HAVE SWIFT STEPS, BARD. Swift enough to cause harm. -The old master of the household didn't like you a bit. Never did. -What are you doing sneaking around? And completely wet?? -After the mention of Lady Corenna summoning you, the sour face of Sour Symon turned red. -Snif... is this wine I smell? Are you drunk? And you are going to meet her just like that? Have you no shame at all? Hey! Don't ignore me! Come here you little shit! COME HERE!
                              Eddard had never liked the old master. If there was an antithesis to him in the castle, it was him. He was full of bile and relied on his assistants to read. Eddard had once changed one of his reports to spite him after a prolonged vitriol about his worth; caused him weeks of work as he tried to find out where something valuable was. Eventually Eddard had ensured the old lord was aware of what happened and the matter resolved, but Eddard would find ways to spite the old man where he could, usually without Sour Symon realising that Eddard was the source.

                              Still, dealing with him at the moment was more than he could be bothered with, especially with the Lady Corwenna waiting. He gave a theatrical bow and with a swift turn of his heels, was away from him.

                              Walking as fast as you could without running, you escaped the claws of that monster, still hearing the echos of his curses in the corridors. Finally reaching the throne room, Mors and Haral were on the door. Haral was already laughing of you. -HAH, I see Master Symon still want to hang your ass, Greybard. But I guess you're safe for as much as you can outrun him. -Haral laughed. He was always laughing, good old Haral, with his big smile covered by his black beard. Mors was another matter. He was silent, his stern face obviously displeased by the lack of discipline of both you and his fellow guard.

                              Mors was a veteran from the Whispering Woods, came back with Balian and the others, defeated, ashamed. He was the best sword the castle had in it’s service, if you set aside Balian himself and Ser Austace, who was superb with weapons, enough to deserve a place on the Kingsguard, at least that is what everyone says. Haral on the other hand was a nice fellow, the best partner for playing dices and telling jokes, but he was of not much good for anything else.
                              “Well, he should refrain from eating quite so many of Fat Molly’s pies and maybe learn to exercise his legs rather than his mouth, and then he might be able to keep up with something other than just the food on the table,” Eddard answered Haral, smiling, the jest leaping from his lips, “if that man could be harnessed for a useful purpose, we could place him on the Wall and not have to worry about the Wildlings wanting to cross over.”
                              “Still, you have Mors here for company, as long as you prefer the sound of your own voice.”
                              He grasped the veteran’s shoulder, “I’m sure he’d happily help Symon to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

                              Still laughing, Haral pushed the big dark oak doors for you to enter. The throne room was very big, almost as wide as the Entrance Hall. Once a year, Lord Gerald Gargon opened it's doors for all his men to feast with his family. Big wooden tables, big enough for a total of two hundred men, filled the low part of the room, and for a single night every man could eat and drink as much as he liked, while the old lord personally talked, drinked and laughed to each and every one of his guests. Lord Arold kept his father's custom, even being much more timid and less charismatic. Today the tables were not there, so the room looked much larger than usual. It was dark too, for the storm outside was grey and there was no sun coming from the high windows. Over a number of stone steps, the throne of Gargon was there, empty. A big stone detailed carved with a endless number of fishes, perpetually frozen in the stone waves of the big chair. A beautiful, if rustic, piece of stonemansory, sadly dead in current days.

                              Lady Corenna was alone in the great hall, warming her hands over the fires of the big lord's hearth. She was dressed in dark tones, as she did ever since the news of her husband's death. The lady was a beautiful woman, even in her age, tall and smooth of skin and hair. With your approach, she turned her head to see you from eyes to toe. -I was to speak with you last night. See that you don't disappear again. -That woman was cold. She had cold eyes, but intelligent ones. All the Bucklers were like that, except maybe for Blessed Brian. And she was not the worse on her family, no, that was reserved for Lord Ralph. She was a powerful woman, though, anyone could see that. Lord Arold was a very learned man, more than you, more than many maesters, but Corenna had another kind of wit on her. She was quick, she was hard, and she was determined. Her late husband was the exact opposite of these traits.
                              Eddard was struck by her beauty, as he generally was when he saw her. Even in dark tones, she radiated charm, poise and beauty that few women could match even with the aid of a legion of servants. Of course, even with his penchant for seducing beautiful women, he was not fool enough to make an attempt. In some ways, she was his equal and that made her very dangerous. They had a frosty relationship from the moment he had joined House Gargon, but then, most people did not understand why he was there.

                              “My lady, I offer my humble apologies for my absence.” Eddard thought ‘I was so inebriated last night, I suspect that would not have ended well.’ “I was caring for a sick woman down by the docks and it was not prudent to leave her when she could have been taken advantage of.”
                              He kept his distance from her; they did not have a close relationship that would warrant him coming too close and considering his current bedraggled appearance and the smell that Sour Symon had complained about, … she could probably tell what he had been doing, but better to not confirm the suspicions.


                              -Arold gave me this on my nameday. Before leaving. You remember, right? -She was holding a small piece of wood in her hands. It was a clumsy sculpture of two whales, twirled together, black and golden, roughly bigger than her palm. And yes, you remember when the late lord made it. Lord Arold was famous for his shrewdness, always sparing any copper he could, and he boldly claimed to you that before paying a fat artisan to work for him, he would easily learn the trade himself. The results were... intriguing. During years he trained and learned in secret, but his skills never improved, and at the same time his thirst for the practice never waved. You know he struggled with that particular piece of craft for months. And for a whole afternoon you and he laughed over the result of so much work. Many noblewomen from the kingdom would be furious to receive such simple gift, even more on her nameday, but you know Corwenna loved it. They were like that. -He told me this piece of wood was the most precious good he would ever have, for it was the result of countless years of both sweat and love, and so it could not be damaged nor destroyed, even if the wood that made it could, because it was love materialized. Love for me and for our family... -You could see that the hard woman was shacking a little. Water glimpsed in her eyes.

                              You don't know what is going on. You don't know why she is telling such personal things to you. You just feel you should say something.
                              The late Lord Arold had been Eddard’s friend. The one thing that bound him to Lady Corwenna was their shared grief. Often, there was a slight mocking tone when he spoke to people, but here, his voice was straight and true.

                              “My lady, Lord Arold was one of the finest men I have ever met, a man capable of turning his hand to almost any subject. The sculpture you hold in your hands was the work of years for him to present something that was simple and at the same time epitomised his love for you, that he cherished you beyond all doubt and still does from the bosum of the Seven. He is sorely missed and I feel his loss every day, but it must tear at you every day.” Eddard’s eyes watered. All the grief that he had been locking away behind the quips and the drinking flooded out
                              To the outside world, his mask barely slipped, but inside, a determination was made; Lord Wendel would pay for what they did. This he swore.
                              “What can I do to ease your pain my Lady? Ask and it shall be done.”

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                              • #45
                                Re: (IC) - The Price of Power - Chapter 1: Whispers of the Dead

                                Austace - The knight
                                Following the bloody battle Austace took a deep breath, the battle was harder than expected, but those bandits would not be much trouble no more.
                                He looked at buckets' corpse and shaked his head while putting his warhammer back on his belt and his shield back on his back.

                                This is the life we chose... May the Father give you justice...

                                Austace grabbed his War Lance and mounted Sugar. His duty was still not done, not until he would have dealt with all those stags.

                                - Take buckets from the water, the man deserves to be burried - He ordened to the rest, as his horse followed the way after Will and Merryn.

                                The knight galloped after the bandits. In his heart, he had the desire to bring those murderers and thiefs to justice.

                                Austace first two rolls on Horse Chase: Animal Handling + Notice/Forage(both 0) + 1D(enemies by foot) - 1 Fatigue
                                Result1:9
                                Result2:15
                                http://www.coyotecode.net/roll/lookup.php?rollid=97893


                                Seven guide me! Father, Warrior, lead my spear so it brings justice to this realm
                                Result third roll: 15
                                http://www.coyotecode.net/roll/lookup.php?rollid=97894
                                Last edited by Tyrondir; 09-22-2015, 03:36 PM.

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