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Thread: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

  1. #181
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Quinton

    Ser Meryn steps up to the dais upon which Lord Roote’s mighty weirwood chair sits. He steps behind it and you hear a metallic scrape as he retrieves the Lord’s arms and armor. Lord Roote glances back to you. “You have nothing to fear, Quinton. I find that when people’s throats are being slashed, it’s best to don some armor. I apprehend that the miller’s blood was very fresh—therefore I do not suspect you in this crime.”

    Just then, you hear a shout from beyond the door. The voice seems familiar, yet strangely out of place at first, until you register the words. Ser Timon is the Leyburn bailiff and uncle to Lord Ethan. He spends most of his time in Reedtown, whereas your garrison is typically encamped at Templestone. You know him about as well as any Leyburn officer, though his reputation is more storied than most—he’s a dogged lawman, unyielding in his commitment to justice. But why send you and Ferret separately, when you could have traveled here with Ser Timon?

    Lord Roote squints his eyes in confusion. After a moment’s thought, he calls out a response. “Let your men hold the steps, Ser. You may enter.” Ser Meryn takes his side, holding a long shirt of chainmail. “Ser Meryn, have them sound a trumpet blast above in honor of Ser Timon.” Ser Meryn drapes the mail over a chairback, hands the hammer to Lord Roote, and walks to the edge of the stairs. “Up in the tower! A single blast!” Lord Roote takes the hammer—a one-handed length of steel with an end wrought in the likeness of a rearing horse, the four hooves splayed in a claw-like head—and slides the leather-wrapped shaft down beneath his belt.

    OOC: Where are Quinton’s weapons and armor? I assume he’s wearing his leather at least. I ask so that I can get a sense of how threatened Lord Roote might feel, with four Leyburn soldiers and Timon in attendance.


    Ser Timon

    Lord Quincy Roote’s voice calls from within for you to enter. The tower-hall is gloomy and dark, lit only by the slivers of twilight admitted by the arrow-slits and the warm glow of a torch framing the doorway that stands at the top of the internal stairs.

    You’ve been in this hall perhaps three times before. The first was just after Redgrass Field, when the hall was filled by the bloodied and battered knights of Ser Fredemure Tully’s war council. It was there that Tully pledged to seek lands and titles for Gareth in return for you leading your freeriders to pacify House Strickland. House Roote offered up provisions and horses, but did not take part. In the end, the Stricklands had no resistance left to give. They had already looted their own holdings and made for the Narrow Sea. The second was some seven or eight years ago, for Robar Roote’s wedding to Vanessa Darry (she died in the Spring). The third was perhaps two years past, to negotiate trade rights: Lord Roote agreed to close his docks to ships bearing bolts of cloth, in return for Ser Gareth limiting the number of inns in Reedtown.

    As your eyes adjust to the dimness, the room comes into relief. A dark carpet flows the length of the hall, bisecting four brazier-bearing pedestals, and ending at a raised stone dais upon which sits a mighty chair carved of white weirwood. To the side is a small table, strewn with coin and surrounded by a few chairs.

    Ser Gerold Whent steps forward to greet you. He’s a well-built man with a stern face and the same spiky white hair that he’s had for the last ten years. Today he wears a black and yellow tabard with his signature white bat sewn abreast, as well as a suit of mail beneath. A mace hangs from his belt.

    Lord Roote is standing by the table, busily tucking an ornate warhammer into his belt. He appears as you remember him, as if he’s slowly melting down a little shorter and wider every time you see him. Lord Quincy has always been the bookish type, ever since he tried to forge a chain in Oldtown. But his companions are puzzling. There are two of them—boys, really. One has the look of a clueless peasant, clad in roughspuns and in need of a barber, but the other wears the livery of a Leyburn man-at-arms. When he turns to face you, you recognize him. This one squired Ser Vlad.

    In the back of the hall is a broad-shouldered, long-haired knight with a star on his chest. He too is armed and armored, but you don’t recognize him or his sigil.

    After you’ve clasped arms with Ser Gerold, Lord Roote speaks. “Ser Timon. I did not realize you were coming. Otherwise I might have prepared a more hospitable welcome. Something tells me this is visit has a flavor of urgency.”

    Up above, you hear a trumpet blast out. A welcome or a warning?

    OOC: I’ll leave it to you to decide the exact details of what Timon knows already of Quinton. Quinton is young and shy, but also skilled in certain things, including archery and assistant-quartermastering. I imagine Timon has more than a passing knowledge of the more noteworthy men of the garrison. Quinton’s background of previously serving in the Raven’s Teeth seems like something Timon would not forget if he has previously learned it, but I’m not sure he has.

  2. #182
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Ser Timon
    Quote Originally Posted by Ser heretic View Post
    Lord Quincy Roote’s voice calls from within for you to enter. The tower-hall is gloomy and dark, lit only by the slivers of twilight admitted by the arrow-slits and the warm glow of a torch framing the doorway that stands at the top of the internal stairs.

    ...

    As your eyes adjust to the dimness, the room comes into relief. A dark carpet flows the length of the hall, bisecting four brazier-bearing pedestals, and ending at a raised stone dais upon which sits a mighty chair carved of white weirwood. To the side is a small table, strewn with coin and surrounded by a few chairs.

    Ser Gerold Whent steps forward to greet you. He’s a well-built man with a stern face and the same spiky white hair that he’s had for the last ten years. Today he wears a black and yellow tabard with his signature white bat sewn abreast, as well as a suit of mail beneath. A mace hangs from his belt.

    Lord Roote is standing by the table, busily tucking an ornate warhammer into his belt. He appears as you remember him, as if he’s slowly melting down a little shorter and wider every time you see him. Lord Quincy has always been the bookish type, ever since he tried to forge a chain in Oldtown. But his companions are puzzling. There are two of them—boys, really. One has the look of a clueless peasant, clad in roughspuns and in need of a barber, but the other wears the livery of a Leyburn man-at-arms. When he turns to face you, you recognize him. This one squired Ser Vlad.

    In the back of the hall is a broad-shouldered, long-haired knight with a star on his chest. He too is armed and armored, but you don’t recognize him or his sigil.

    After you’ve clasped arms with Ser Gerold, Lord Roote speaks. “Ser Timon. I did not realize you were coming. Otherwise I might have prepared a more hospitable welcome. Something tells me this is visit has a flavor of urgency.”

    Up above, you hear a trumpet blast out. A welcome or a warning?
    Timon's eyes flick quickly from person to person as they adjust to the lighting. He does a poor job of disguising his surprise when he sees the boy in Leyburn livery near Lord Quincy.

    "Ser Gerold," he greets the white-haired man with some warmth. "My lord Roote," he continues, bowing to the master of the town. "I am indeed here on an urgent matter, but...forgive me, I find myself somewhat confused. You appear to have unexpected guests," he says, nodding towards Quinton and Ferret.

    "Boy!" he calls out. "Quinton, isn't it? What in the Seven Hells are you doing in Lord Harroway's Town and - more to the point - what are you doing in Lord Quincy's tower?!"

  3. #183
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Ser Timon and Quinton

    Lord Roote quickly speaks up, cutting in before Quinton can respond. "Quinton here has already related to me the circumstances of his visit. I'll have the same from you first--a lord must maintain a measure of command in his own hall. Once we've dispensed with your tidings, Quinton may fill you in."

  4. #184
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Quinton

    Quinton looks with surprise to Ferret as he mentions the name they've heard. "Ser Timon!" he says with a bit of a gasp. "What is he doing here?" he then whispers excitedly before looking about the great hall until he can focus on the main door he'll be entering through in a few moments. Certainly word of any theft would not have made it to Leyburn ears by now, so why suddenly would he be there? He tries to straighten his posture a bit and licks his lips in anticipation of his house's representative appearing.

    The young boy starts to push his head forward as if to speak, but Lord Roote's 'request' of Ser Timon puts an immediate pause on that action. His head turning to look at Lord Roote, Quinton bows his head slowly in acquiescence before sheepishly looking back at Ser Timon. He does not appear to be ashamed of where he is, but certainly looks anxious and unsure as to how to respond given the political positioning going on. It seems he defers to inaction as opposed to overstepping his bounds this time around.

    OOC: Yes - Quinton has his leathers, but I don't think he would have carried any weaponry in with him. His club and bow would be back with the horses.

  5. #185
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Ser Timon
    Quote Originally Posted by Ser heretic View Post
    Lord Roote quickly speaks up, cutting in before Quinton can respond. "Quinton here has already related to me the circumstances of his visit. I'll have the same from you first--a lord must maintain a measure of command in his own hall. Once we've dispensed with your tidings, Quinton may fill you in."
    Timon's eyes snap back to Lord Roote, his shoulders sagging a little as a wave of weariness overcomes him. "Yes, of course, my lord. I beg your pardon for my poor manners, seeing young Quinton made me forget myself - his presence here is the latest surprise in an eventful and tiring few days."

    "As I was saying before, I am indeed here on a matter of some urgency. Two days, ago a pair of whores were found murdered in the Ley. In the course of my investigation, I found that the killers were a group of brigands that had arrived by boat in Reedtown. They had already sailed on when I found out about the girls, but - not satisfied with murder - they kidnapped the son of a witness to force his silence. I could not let such a challenge to House Leyburn's authority stand, so I commandeered a ship and ran them down. We caught them on the river earlier today, and I'm pleased to say that the brigands are all dead or soon to be so."

    Timon pauses a moment to catch his breath before continuing. "However, before he died, their leader confided in me that he and his men were part of the bandit Quickfinger's organisation, and that they were on their way to Lord Harroway's Town to meet with one of his lieutenants, an honourless cur called Joren the Fox. He claims to be a knight, but he is naught but a common criminal - an outlaw, an oathbreaker and a fugitive from justice. I had a rope ready for him when we caught him waylaying House Leyburn's tax collectors a few years ago, but he escaped by falsely taking the black."

    "I've not been able to lay hands on him since, but now there's good reason to believe he is here in your town, waiting for his compatriots to arrive. This is an unlooked for but very welcome opportunity to serve justice and strike a blow against Quickfinger all at once. And so I come to you, my lord, to ask for your permission to arrest Joren the Fox in the name of Ser Ethan and to bring him back to Templestone to hang for his crimes against House Leyburn."

  6. #186
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Quinton and Ser Timon

    Ferret smacks his lips in confusion, clearly excited by the conversation, but unable to contribute meaningfully. Lord Roote strokes his chin. "Quickfinger is certainly a familiar name, though he is more legend than man around here. My son Dickfred swears he almost clapped irons on him a few years back, but the jackanapes fled across the river just in time. He's the one that drew poor Jaime Velaryon into the folly at Reedtown, isn't he?"

    "Did these bandits have any purpose in meeting here? Some criminal artifice they seek to craft?" He glances over toward Quinton. "I don't know any Ser Joren, but you say he's called 'the Fox'? Quinton has told me of a miscreant of the same name. He may have committed a murder in town just minutes ago."

    Quinton

    You recall that Ferret claims to have gambled--"tested wits"--against a knight named Joren, and won a fair number of chits in return.

    Ser Timon

    The memory of Jaime Velaryon's attack still stings--the acrid stench of burning pitch, the screaming, the arrows, the utter inability to fight back until King Daeron's Fist ran aground while ramming through the slatted docks and their stout pylons. Worst of all was the piercing futility. The garrison of Reedtown and the crew of the Fist fought for hours, many on both sides burning alive or falling to their deaths beneath the Red Fork's waters. Velaryon's fury was genuine; he acted on information that you had sullied the honor of Catelyn Lothston, his betrothed. But it was all a lie devised by Quickfinger, who always had a knack for forgery (doubly so when it comes to House Lothston). Many good men, women, and children died that day, all for Quickfinger's petty revenge against you.

  7. #187
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Quinton

    The young man's lips twist and contort quickly at the mention of Lord Roote's son. Quinton is fortunately mindful of this and quickly bows his head until he can compose himself - his face (hopefully) quickly out of view from everything but the floor itself.

    After he is able to muster a stone-face, he brings his eyes back up nearly in time to meet Lord Roote's gaze as he mentions Ser Joren. Looking towards Ser Timon, Quinton nods in agreement with Lord Roote's statement. When the lord has finished speaking, Quinton speaks up - adding to the facts - "Ferret indeed was drawn into a game with a man wearing a fox sigil, the way he tells it. I believe he was setup by a dwarf... Lie... Ly..." Quinton's eyes drift towards Ferret as if seeking some sort of assistance in remembering the name. "Lychester? Orange and white," he recalls, returning his sight to Ser Timon. "... that's what I remember. Ran into him shortly after leaving the gambling hall. He seemed to recall Ferret's game with some delight."

  8. #188
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Ser Timon
    Quote Originally Posted by Ser heretic View Post
    Ferret smacks his lips in confusion, clearly excited by the conversation, but unable to contribute meaningfully. Lord Roote strokes his chin. "Quickfinger is certainly a familiar name, though he is more legend than man around here. My son Dickfred swears he almost clapped irons on him a few years back, but the jackanapes fled across the river just in time. He's the one that drew poor Jaime Velaryon into the folly at Reedtown, isn't he?"
    "Indeed he is. And many men, women, and children died that day for the sake of Velaryon's honour. No doubt Quickfinger laughed his rotten guts out," Timon replies with ill-concealed anger.

    "Did these bandits have any purpose in meeting here? Some criminal artifice they seek to craft?" He glances over toward Quinton. "I don't know any Ser Joren, but you say he's called 'the Fox'? Quinton has told me of a miscreant of the same name. He may have committed a murder in town just minutes ago."
    "They didn't say, my lord. But given that they were to meet Joren the Fox, I do not doubt that they would soon have engaged in further villainy under his direction. As for 'Ser' Joren, murder is certainly something he's capable of. Though for him to do so now, when he is expecting allies to arrive shortly, suggests to me that he either plans to leave town soon or that he doesn't fear capture." Uncertain of Lord Roote's loyalties, Timon elects not to volunteer any more information than is strictly necessary.

    After he is able to muster a stone-face, he brings his eyes back up nearly in time to meet Lord Roote's gaze as he mentions Ser Joren. Looking towards Ser Timon, Quinton nods in agreement with Lord Roote's statement. When the lord has finished speaking, Quinton speaks up - adding to the facts - "Ferret indeed was drawn into a game with a man wearing a fox sigil, the way he tells it. I believe he was setup by a dwarf... Lie... Ly..." Quinton's eyes drift towards Ferret as if seeking some sort of assistance in remembering the name. "Lychester? Orange and white," he recalls, returning his sight to Ser Timon. "... that's what I remember. Ran into him shortly after leaving the gambling hall. He seemed to recall Ferret's game with some delight."
    "Balon Lychester?" Timon retorts, managing to sound surprised and annoyed at the same time. "This just keeps getting better and better," he grumbles through gritted teeth.

    OOC: Timon is being evasive, but I checked Timon's interactions with Lew, and it's true that he never directly asked what Lew's business in Lord Harroway's Town was, or why he was meeting Joren the Fox. Lew also didn't volunteer any such information.

    Also, Awareness (Empathy): 6d6k5 19 to get a feel for if Lord Roote is genuinely unaware of who Joren the Fox is or that he's been hanging out in Lord Harroway's Town.
    Last edited by rax; 11-16-2017 at 03:16 PM.

  9. #189
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    Re: (IC) Black Dragon Rising

    Ser Timon and Quinton

    Lord Roote and his retainers listen to the exchange. When Balon Lychester’s name comes up, Roote clears his throat. “Balon Lychester is indeed visiting the town, though I have not treated with him. He buys sourleaf and all manner of noxious elixir, and is known to visit the whores.”

    There’s a scrape on the outer step and two more of Roote’s knights step into the hall. The first is a baby-cheeked man in boiled leather, his auburn hair swept across his head to fall down to his collar on one side. His leather chest-plate is lacquered with wavy lines of white, yellow, and green, and he wears a bastard sword on his belt and a dustcloak about his shoulders, affixed by a double-horsehead pin in the style of House Roote. Behind him is a slightly older man in splinted mail and a light dustcloak, a short sword by his side. He has a neatly trimmed mustache and patch of beard beneath his lip that give his mouth the resemblance of a little house with a mildly peaked roof.

    Lord Roote continues. “It appears that to learn more, we need Ser Joren in chains and Balon Lychester in my custody. If you concur, Ser Timon, I will allow you and yours accompany my men as I dispense justice.”

    He begins to don his mail shirt, somewhat awkwardly.

    Ser Timon

    It seems that every layer of the onion you discard reveals another beetle feasting on the rot. Not only is there a Lychester here—Ser Vlad’s battle with the Lychester footmen is still in recent memory—but it’s Balon Lychester, a well-known rogue and accused compatriot of Quickfinger. You’ve never seen proof of that last point. Lychester’s champion put an end to the accuser in trial by combat, spoiling anyone’s appetite to inquire further.

    Lord Roote’s face is attentive but impassive at the same time. He seems to be genuinely surprised at your presence and showed no particular recognition of Ser Joren’s name.

    The newcomers are both strangers, though you take them by their sigils to be a Butterwell and a Vance of Wayfarer’s Rest—the lesser branch of an ancient, storied house.

    Quinton

    Clearly, speaking of Lychester was important. Rivalries and slights between knights are rarely forgotten and you seem to have stumbled upon one.

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