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Thread: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

  1. #81
    Keeper of Secrets
    Join Date
    Aug 2014
    Location
    Sweden
    Posts
    338

    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Ser Timon
    Quote Originally Posted by Ser heretic View Post
    Ser Walton raises a hue and cry. “Ser Vlad has the southron shore, two hundred yards behind us!”
    Timon turns at the sound of Ser Walton's cry and curses silently as he spots the Leyburn banner on the southern bank. Too late and too soon all at once, my friend. A little longer and we might have come alongside the Riverfly without tipping them off as to our intentions. But if we can see your banner, so can they...

    Timon swiftly makes his way to the aft of the ship, motioning for Harn, Ryk, and Ser Walton to join him. "Gentlemen, a slight change of plans. I fear that with the arrival of Ser Vladimir's patrol, we are about to find ourselves in a chase. Captain Harn, I need you and your men to do everything in your power to bring us alongside the Riverfly as quickly as possible. Ser Walton, we must pull the men from the oars and prepare them for battle - and it must be done as surreptitiously as possible. If fortune smiles on us, we may still be able to catch the Riverfly without Captain Longpalm realizing that we carry armed men aboard the Moonspirit. When we come alongside, we will proceed as previously planned, but instead of ordering Captain Longpalm to accept our boarding party immediately, I will tell him to make for the southern bank - that way Ser Vladimir can support us when we board the Riverfly. If Longpalm refuses or tries to make a run for it, we will revert to the original plan and board her here on the river. Any questions?"

    OOC: If there are no questions, Timon will let Walton get on with getting the men to suit and prepare for action, while Timon does the same. I'm assuming he was travelling with his sword and shield, but perhaps no armor. I didn't request it specifically, but I hope it's okay to assume that Walton also brought Timon's armor from Templestone. If so, he will have brought the mail armor with him but left the brigandine in Reedtown.

  2. #82
    Defender of the Word
    Join Date
    Aug 2016
    Posts
    89

    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Quenton

    Ferret straightens back up and wipes his mouth and nose on the back of his sleeve, leaving a trail like a slug’s on the rough fibers. He grasps his shirt with both hands, pulling it out so that he can see it better, as if this will help him remember where it came from. The shirt is a long one, long enough to not require breeches. It’s a simple spin of wool yarn and some straw, with some low-slung pockets stitched in. “I think I was robbed. He took my clothes and left his.” Next he fingers the belt, turning the steel buckle and feeling the holes punched in the leather. “And then I nicked this because the roughspuns were flopping all about.” He checks the pockets again. “The money I earned.”

    For the first time that day, his voice strikes a prideful pitch. “Some men deigned to challenge me to a game of wits. The subject was armies, and I performed splendidly. We took turns naming numbers of footmen, knights, pikemen, archers, and so on under a certain lord. My opponent drew House Frey and as luck would have it, I drew House Leyburn—well the master of games drew for both of us, but nonetheless the Gods smiled on me. I put him to shame, and he was a knight himself. Ser Joren, his name was, and he takes a fox for his sigil. No doubt he’ll be scouring that one off right away. He would be better served by a stone or lunk of wood!” The vomit and change of subject seem to have invigorated him. “He hung in for a bit, long enough for us to get to the hard subjects, like names of commanding serjeants, garrison locations, salaries, stores of arms and such. But I dispatched him in the end. His purse fetched me two whores, the finest wines—from bottles, mind you—and a little fun in the dicehalls. Why, I could have lived off his coin for…” His face falls a bit as he realizes what he’s saying. “Well, a long time if I became a hermit and had no fun.”

    You’ve never heard of this Ser Joren.


    Ser Timon

    Captain Harn springs into action, ordering his crew to secure the sails in a certain manner and then take the oars. The men-at-arms scramble up, trying to stay out of the way. The archers have lit the two pitchpots and strung their bows, while the others retrieve their helmets and polearms, taking care to try and keep the telltale glint of steel below the edge of the boat.

    Moonspirit shifts into a graceful sprint, smoother than before. You can see now that Harn’s men have better synchrony and timing at the oars—the boat is gliding, instead of jerking forward with each stroke. They’re also rowing harder, seeing as they will not have to row for long. However, speed has a price. Only two crewman aside from Harn are off the oars. Both are preparing grapnels and occasionally easing the rigging lines to control the slack.

    For a few minutes, Riverfly continues her pace, hauling hard. Still, Moonspirit gains on her steadily. But when the distance is just a hundred yards, she draws in her oars and slows, allowing Moonspirit to draw close.

    At twenty yards back and to the side, you catch a view of a commotion on her deck. The crewmen are standing tense and not at any discernable post, some of them reaching for poles or other tools. Up at the bow, two unshaven men in boiled leather are facing them and shouting. Lew Longpalm is up closest to them, yelling something back. He’s tall and broad, as you remember, with black hair falling to his shoulders and a clean-shaven face. A moment later, the Longpalm draws his sword. Both men follow suit, standing off against captain and crew. Back near the till, you spot Jax, Ryk’s son. He’s perhaps eleven years old and has Ryk’s curly hair, barely visible above the side of the boat.

    OOC: I think it’s reasonable that Timon would have sword, shield, and mail with him at Reedtown and would have brought them on the chase.

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