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Thread: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

  1. #231
    Keeper of Secrets
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Ser Timon and Quinton

    The gloom has deepened. After the ambush, every shadow looms a dark attacker; every alleyway full of hidden peril. But no soul dares challenge you as you make your way to up Tower Street. Some onlookers appear, at the doorways and windows. Here, a drunkard pisses against a wall, twisting around to behold the passage of your armed troupe. There, an innkeep pauses with an armful of firewood. Mychel Hayford stands ‘neath the eaves of a tavern, his face lit by lantern-light, taking in your passage with his eyes. They say Lord Bloodraven has a thousand eyes, and one. Two of his thousand overwatch you tonight, if not more.

    Soon enough, you gain the tower. Meryn Templeton stands guard at the step and quickly ushers you inside before raising the drawbridge by counterweighted device.

    Inside, the braziers are alive with flame, brightening the hall. Lord Roote is lying on a table with his leg outstretched, propped up on his elbows. His grey-haired maester is bent over his leg, performing some sort of healing. Bottles, blades, and linen bandages are strewn beside Roote on the table, readily at hand. Ser Tremond Butterwell remains close by his side.

    On the far side of the hall, the captives have been made to sit in the corner, disarmed but unfettered. A shorn-headed man stands over them, cradling a loaded crossbow. He’s clad in simple roughspuns, with the martial bearing of a common soldier.

    Ser Gerold Whent strides across the hall to greet you. “Leyburn, bid your men drag another table over here for the Fox. We’ll have the truth soon enough, likely before Lychester or any other accomplices flee. I’ve ordered Ser Sebaston to muster the garrison and seal the town.” Ser Sebaston Frey is the one household knight who did not attend the dockside sortie.

  2. #232
    Defender of the Word
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    Dec 2016
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Quinton

    While Traveling...

    "Yes, Ser Timon," Quinton says sheepishly, embarrassed by the knight's reprimand for his seemingly foolish question. "For a moment, I wasn't sure..." he admits, as if wanting to continue with some thought, but then immediately clamming up. Instead, he firms his jaw, trying to pick his spirits back up off the ground and looking ahead of them. He says back to the knight, "It is good you came when you did, Ser Timon. We were quite fortunate."

    At The Tower...

    The young man in Ser Timon's service looks to his master at Ser Gerold's request, showing his willingness to complete the task of fetching a table. With Ser Timon's leave, Quinton would work with any of the Leyburn footmen in their company to grab one of the tables and bring it to a lit area of the hall where Ser Joren could be tended to and inquired upon. In the process, he would stow his bow and quiver against the wall - inaccessible to any of the prisoners, but out of the way from anyone tripping over them or otherwise finding them an obstacle.
    Last edited by Jewdebega; 02-13-2018 at 01:39 PM.

  3. #233
    Keeper of Secrets
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Ser Timon
    Quote Originally Posted by Ser heretic View Post
    Soon enough, you gain the tower. Meryn Templeton stands guard at the step and quickly ushers you inside before raising the drawbridge by counterweighted device.

    Inside, the braziers are alive with flame, brightening the hall. Lord Roote is lying on a table with his leg outstretched, propped up on his elbows. His grey-haired maester is bent over his leg, performing some sort of healing. Bottles, blades, and linen bandages are strewn beside Roote on the table, readily at hand. Ser Tremond Butterwell remains close by his side.

    On the far side of the hall, the captives have been made to sit in the corner, disarmed but unfettered. A shorn-headed man stands over them, cradling a loaded crossbow. He’s clad in simple roughspuns, with the martial bearing of a common soldier.

    Ser Gerold Whent strides across the hall to greet you. “Leyburn, bid your men drag another table over here for the Fox. We’ll have the truth soon enough, likely before Lychester or any other accomplices flee. I’ve ordered Ser Sebaston to muster the garrison and seal the town.” Ser Sebaston Frey is the one household knight who did not attend the dockside sortie.
    Timon nods his assent to Quinton and another soldier to drag a table into position, then has Joren the Fox deposited on it. "A proper maester and all, Joren. You may yet live long enough to hang," he comments dryly.

    "My Lord Roote, it's good to see you awake and in good hands. Your health permitting, I would have a private word with you when your maester has finished binding your wounds."

  4. #234
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Quinton

    Johnny helps you drag the table into place. Soon after, the Fox thereupon, still groaning and breathing heavily. His gaze meets yours and his eye twitches, a hint of anger cutting through his pain and delirium.

    The maester pulls on a leather mitten and lifts a steel flagon from one of the braziers. You know what will happen next. So does Lord Roote. He leans his head back and looks away. Nevertheless, he screams when the maester pours the boiling wine into his wound. Steam billows forth as the maester sets aside the flagon and hurriedly dabs the leg with a cloth. Once the wound has been dried, the maester begins wrapping the leg in clean linen bandages.

    As Ser Timon steps up to Lord Roote, Tremond Butterwell steps up beside you. “You shot well back there boy. My lord might have been trampled elsewise. Did your father teach you to shoot like that?”


    Ser Timon


    The room cringes as Lord Roote fails to withhold the quavering scream that builds in his throat. It’s over almost as soon as it began, and old Roote lays there shuddering as the maester ties off the last bandage.

    After you speak your piece, Roote waves off Butterwell and the maester, allowing you to speak privately, if you huddle in and keep your voice low. “What is it?”

  5. #235
    Defender of the Word
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Quinton

    The boy gives Ser Joren a cautious glare back as he sees the anger in the man's eyes. He 'knows' Ser Joren is fairly injured and cannot harm him, but there is still some fear... some uncertainty... as to what danger could befall him. Ser Joren, after all, had orchestrated the surprise attack on their entourage. Not knowing the man, only bits and pieces of his reputation that Ser Timon has shared, Quinton knows he could be capable of just about anything.

    Butterwell's question jerks Quinton's attention away from Ser Joren. Looking up at the man, a little startled, Quinton answers hesitantly at first. "Yes ser - a bit at first, for hunting," he responds. "He gave up pretty soon after he felt he couldn't teach me more than I knew already," Quinton then remarks alluding to a natural gift of marksmanship. "I learned the rest in service of Lord Rivers," Quinton finally added, taking in a sharp breath upon the admission and then swallowing it down.

  6. #236
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Ser Timon
    Quote Originally Posted by Ser heretic View Post
    The room cringes as Lord Roote fails to withhold the quavering scream that builds in his throat. It’s over almost as soon as it began, and old Roote lays there shuddering as the maester ties off the last bandage.

    After you speak your piece, Roote waves off Butterwell and the maester, allowing you to speak privately, if you huddle in and keep your voice low. “What is it?”
    Now weary to his bones, Timon grabs a nearby stool and sits down heavily, before leaning in to speak to Lord Roote. "My lord Roote, I thank you for your help in apprehending the Fox, and I am sorry for the wound you received. I shall pray to the Seven for your swift recovery." Weighing his words carefully, he continues. "My lord, when I came to your tower today, I was uncertain of where you stood, but now - please forgive my bluntness - I am at least certain that you are not an enemy of House Leyburn. Perhaps that makes me sound foolish or arrogant, but I believe that when I have finished telling my tale you will understand my concerns."

    Again, Timon pauses, this time helping himself to a cup of water. "I think you will find what I have to say very interesting, my lord, but I doubt you will thank me for speaking of it when I am done. I have been truthful with you about my reasons for coming here and seeking to capture Joren, but when we captured Riverfly we found more than just the murderers we were pursuing. Hidden in the hold was the reason for the murders they had committed - a mint. A mint to make coins in the likeness of Daemon Blackfyre."

    "The Longpalm - Riverfly's captain - swears he didn't know what he was transporting, and I believe him. He had been contracted to transport the chests and their escort here, and deliver them to Joren the Fox. When I heard that, I was certain that Quickfinger was behind this, but I am also that he would not undertake such a venture alone. Quickfinger served the Blackfyre cause fifteen years ago, but he is no lover of lost causes. He would not risk his neck unless he believed that he stood to gain mightily from it, and that means he has powerful allies who will protect and reward him for his efforts."

    "My lord, the King's Hand sees treason everywhere, but now I hold proof of actual treason, and the trail leads to your town. I would not have Lord Bloodraven's gaze fall unfavourably on House Leyburn or House Roote, but I believe that unless we can uncover some of Quickfinger's allies to prove the truth of this conspiracy, then Lord Bloodraven may convince himself that we are the traitors he seeks. Can I count on your help in pursuing this matter?" Having taken the plunge in trusting the old lord, Timon drains the last of the water and awaits Lord Roote's thoughts on the whole affair.

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