The Days and Nights of House Corinthyen

The Prince's Tourney: At The Greentree Inn

In which life continues to get interesting for House Corinthyen.

As Errik, Onri, Areon, and Giselle wander through the second district, trying to determine what inn they are at, Ser Brindon Lews hails them.

“M’lords!” he says, addressing Errik and Onri, “I had begun to fear the worst, and here you have been in a fight!” He gives Areon and Giselle – both of whom are uninjured and considerably cleaner – a sidelong glance. “Come, come, I will wake the Maester.”

Brindon leads them to the Greentree Inn, a very fine, respectable looking establishment and gets them settled in, then heads back out to keep an eye for Mattyw. The Maester looks after Errik and Onri, working quickly and efficiently despite his tired eyes. Errik he pronounces fine, aside from a few bruises, but he spends a few minutes applying a poultice and bandages to Onri’s injuries. {Healing, 32}

“You’ll be fine in a day or two, young master Doryc. Meanwhile, I advise you avoid getting kicked by horses. That is what happened, yes?”

“The number of legs is wrong, good Maester, but your estimation of the size is spot-on,” Onri says to his erstwhile healer.

Mattyw returns a short while later. By this time, Alexia and the twins are up and wondering what everyone has been up to all night. The group has the common room to themselves aside from a very sleepy Lyle Brewer, the proprietor of the Inn, who periodically stokes the fire and offers whomever is nearest a drink.

Errik nurses his bruises with a glass of wine. He quietly fills the menfolk in on the encounter with the thugs. When he’s finished, he finds a seat next Onri.

Sitting down by the fireplace, Mattyw looks at the innkeeper, requesting a small mug of water, before blearily eyeing the rest of the group. He takes the measure of Errik, Areon, Giselle and Onri, before trying to clear his eyes. “Of all of us, I’d expect Areon to be bloodied and muddied, not our good Lordship. And with a newcomer to boot. Apparently I miss out on all the good stuff. Well, some of it. Well, some stuff at any rate.”

Gladly accepting the mug when it returns, Mattyw nurses it gently before putting his feet up.

Attempting to keep things a LITTLE light, Areon will look to Mattyw, “You know better than that, my foes don’t get the chance to bloody nor muddy me.” Turning grave once more, Areon turns to Onri, “I thank you Ser, for coming to our lords aid. I hate to think what might have happened if those thugs caught him alone. This whole trip has been turning out to get more and more complicated.” He’ll slowly shake his head.

At Areon’s gratitude, Onri responds, “Merely doing my duty. Besides, they weren’t the first brigands to give me bruises, they won’t be the last.”


IN LOW VOICES

“You said you bought a message. Nothing troubling, I hope?”

At Errik’s question, Onri looks around, seeing a larger audience than he hoped for. He leans in, to at least prevent the innkeeper from overhearing his whisper.

“Dark wings,” he says soberly, unsealing his scrollcase and handing the scroll to Errik. “I was told to advise you to keep news of this from spreading at the tournament. It concerns your brother Aengus and Ser Alexandre. They were both badly injured fighting the bandits that Ser Jaramy has had so much trouble with. Your father wants Maester Lagorio to return as soon as possible with whatever escort can be mustered. Transportation has been arranged with the Orphans.”

Errik shakes his head in disbelief. “Bandits? I- How did it happen?”

Alexia gasps and covers her mouth in shock. Tears spring to her eyes, Janessa and Janeria pull her in to comfort her.

“All I know is that they were making a raid on a bandit camp,” Onri replies. “My father met me on the dock, took my charts and papers, handed me this scroll, and sent me back out on a Myrish ship. I’ve yet to set foot upon the solid ground of my home.”

“It seems ill has befallen our house on many fronts,” Giselle chimes in hushed tones. “I fear that encounter on the docks may not have been as random as it may have seemed. I know you must worry for Aengus, my Lord, but we must keep our own selves, you especially, from a closer foe’s intentions.”

She looks about to ensure their discussion is not being followed, “I can’t pin down the significance, but know in my heart it was no coincidental attack on the docks. The bandit I shot as he attempted to flee had the mark of a a crude red hand dripping blood on his left forearm. I know I should be able to place that symbol, but my mind is awash with other things, and I can not.”

Mattyw puts his mind to work thinking of this symbol Giselle mentions, smiling outwardly at Areon’s words. “I think it may be best to get our good Maester on his way as quick as we can, though I fear the timing for this to be too coincidental, for us to be without his services in a place such as this, where blood has already been spilt tonight.”

{Knowledge, 7: Mattyw has never seen or heard of such a tattoo, that he can recall.}

Onri thinks for a moment, but the description of the tattoo doesn’t stir any memories for him. {Knowledge, 13: The tattoo is not something that Onri is familiar with, so far as he can recall.}

“Dark wings, dark words, indeed,” Maester Lagorio mutters. “I had best begin packing.”

“M’lord Errik,” Ser Brindon steps forward. “Your noble brother and the good Ser Alexandre have been injured whilst aiding my liege lord. I offer my sword to defend the Maester on his journey, lest some further ill luck should befall us in his injury.”

Pulling herself together, Alexia also joins the conversation. “I’m going back, too. I feel that my proper place is by my father’s side. But I must appear at the Prince’s feast tomorrow as well, in the interest of maintaining secrecy concerning these injuries – if everyone knew how close you and I are to becoming the heirs of our houses, Errik, we might be in even greater danger.”

She purses her lips and flicks her nails distractedly. Addressing no one in particular, she says, quietly, “I don’t know what to do.”

Onri leans forward uncomfortably, with a twinge of pain from his injury. “I would not attempt to advise you for such a decision. But if you wish to leave, then you should do so with the Maester. Given everything that has happened, we should avoid splitting up into ever smaller groups.”

Alexia nods her head. “That makes sense to me,” she says. “Perhaps…perhaps I could fall mysteriously ill, or have been poisoned by our known enemies?”

Maester Lagorio clears his throat. “I could fake either with ease, and my standing with the local collegium is strong enough that I doubt any questions would be asked. Although I admit the thought makes me a tad uncomfortable – and my dear Lady would need to suffer some stomach cramps to make it truly convincing.”

Areon has long been staring intently into the fire, even more distant and aloof than normal. “I remember the hand… that bloody hand. What became of the man you shot?” Areon asks, with steel in his voice.

“He was apprehended by the city guards after all was said and done,” Giselle says to Areon, “but unless they bothered to see to his wounds, I doubt he will live to see the sunrise through the window of his cell. What do you know of that symbol, my friend? It is right on the edge of my knowing…”

As he looks into the fireplace, the light there pales in comparison to the fire burning in his eyes. After a moment, Areon says quietly, “Long ago, when I was a boy, I saw that symbol. I was 12 years old when a man bearing the same tattoo rode down my family’s caravan.” He pauses, as if to compose himself, “I was the only one to make it out alive.” Areon blinks, and seems to come back to himself. Looking as Giselle, he adds, “The man on the docks was not the same man, I would recognize his face as if it were my own…”

Areon’s story helps Giselle connect the dots, and she is suddenly able to put something together. {Giselle: Knowledge: Memory, 9, Success} The tattoo is the symbol of an old brotherhood of bandits and killers, the aptly named Bloody Hands, who marked their membership with such tattoos. They haven’t been active in the nearly 20 years since Giselle was a girl, not since Aelius Corinthyen ordered the Hoplites to drive them out of Dorne in one of his first acts as Lord after Halpern’s death.

As Onri listens to Errik’s tale, the name Maiyo Vierro strikes him as strangely familiar. {Cunning, 9, Success} He recalls that Vierro is a moderately wealthy and successful Braavosi spice merchant, the owner of perhaps half a dozen ships, and has a dangerous reputation among his own people. With a bit of field research, Onri is sure that he could dig up more details.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

(I forgot to put Mattyw’s name in this part, but it was him, all along!)

Seeking to break the somber mood that has ensorcelled the room, Mattyw claps his hands and plants his feet firmly on the ground, launching himself into a standing position. “At least the night is not all gloom! I have, through various means, managed to procure the location where those of Lugus lay their head, and some choice tidbits for Areon as well, should he care to remain both blood and mud free in the contests to follow.” His eyes glint in the firelight mischievously.

Onri turns his attention to the jovial Mattyw. “So, friend, do not keep us in the dark. Out with it,” he says, the man’s jubilant manner spreading to Doryc.

The conversation continues for another hour or two as the compatriots fill each other in on the events of the evening and become acquainted with their recently arrived friend.


_____________________________________________________________________________________
BY MORNING’S LIGHT

Come morning, everyone but Alexia and the Maester congregates in the common room for a breakfast of fresh fruit and lightly sweetened pastries.

As she leaves the large suite that she shared with Alexia Thracyen and the Corinthyen twins, Giselle discovers a young serving boy waiting outside her room with a small package. He looks up when she steps out, furrows his brow for a moment, and then nods.

“Mizz Giselle Montkillier of House Corinthyen?” He pipes up questioningly. “I’ve a package for you. Master Brewer said someone dropped it off last night, but didn’t give a name.” He holds it out to her.

Onri steps out into the common room, wearing a courtier’s outfit. Snatching a pastry, he moves towards Giselle. “What is it?” he ask, taking a nibble from his pastry.

“Lord Errik,” says Giselle, snapping the lid shut on the box and ignoring Onri’s question. She strides towards Errik. “Pardon my imposition, my Lord, but I must needs speak with you, and a common room will not do, I’m afraid.”

Errik frowns in concern, but acquiesces. “Come then, let us speak in my rooms. Areon, will you keep a close eye on the twins? With Lady Alexia leaving, I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what to do with them.” He sighs.

Onri watches as Giselle seeks a more private setting to talk to Errik, an amused expression on his face at the castellan’s pointed secrecy. He finishes pastry and wipes his hands, making sure he does not let any crumbs fall on his courtier’s outfit. As Matthyw enters the common room, Onri presumptuously lifts a pitcher of water and a cup and carries it to the troubadour. As he sits next to Matthyw, he says “Strange, isn’t it? One thirst leads to another.”

Mattyw laughs, clutching the cup as though it were a rock in the middle of a raging rapid. “That’s the last time I spend the night with the landed gentry and a lady-of-the-night… well, now that I say that, I feel rather foolish. I take it back!”

He takes a deep draught of the water. “Why is it that the nobles always seem to be falling in love with the street-wives? Are they just that good at their jobs?”

Onri laughs at Matthyw’s observation. “The ones worth bedding, I suppose. But this is nothing! In Braavos, swordsmen duel to the death in the streets over which courtesan is the most beautiful. And some of those courtesans make some of our nobles look like paupers. Come to think of it, in the Summer Isles, some of the courtesans are nobles.” Onri reflects for a moment, before concluding, “Across the waves, they take the profession much more seriously, no?”

Mattyw smiles fondly. “If only mannerisms mattered, then the best of us would live like kings, nobility or not! I dream of visiting the Summer Isles some day. Although in Braavos I would hate to be caught out in such a duel. My skill lies with rapier wit, rather than the blade itself.”

Finishing his water, he gets up and begins pacing around the common room, stretching his legs. “Still, I’d rather see woman fight over gentlemen like us than be forced into it the other way around. I don’t suppose they have that over in the Summer Isles, though.”

His walk completed, he collapses back into his chair. “So, are you planning on entering any parts of the tournement? If so, I pray you don’t end up against Areon!"

“I am not competing in the joust. I am more suited to the sea than horseback. I may enter the melee though.” Onri looks as Errik and Giselle reenter the room.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
ERRIK’S CHAMBERS

Giselle shows Errik the dagger, and explains the circumstances of its arrival.

“How odd.” Errik comments. He chews his lip, considering the blade. “Dragonbone and, likely enough, Valyrian Steel. In light of all else, I’m not quite sure what this can mean, but it strikes me as ominous. What do you make of it, Castellan?”

Giselle frowns, “I’d like to think of it as a precious gift,” she says somewhat sarcastically, trying to lighten her own mood, “but in light of recent circumstances, I feel it to be either a not-so-subtle threat, or a ‘request’ for a sinister act, the specifics of which we do not yet know. I like it not at all despite it’s beauty. I was thinking I might search out more information about the blade itself, for surely it is one-of-a-kind, and the weapon’s origins may help to shed some light on why it’s been delivered to me.”

She thinks for a moment, “But I fear there is little time for investigation, as we dare not be absent from the Nameday events.”

Errik paces back and forth, considering. “Today is merely the presentation of arms and the establishment of the lists. The only real requirement is that I make an appearance – the rest of you can pursue other leads regarding our current troubles.” He stops pacing and smiles at Giselle a bit grimly. “I can already see why my father prefers to stay home from these events.”

“I should like to be present at the events this evening,” says Giselle, “but I feel as this weapon was delivered to me specifically, that it must needs take priority. I should hate to think what it means to not find the answer to this riddle.”

She approaches Errik cautiously, as she has yet to establish what would be called a “friendship” with the man. Respect, which she feels is mutual, yes…but they have certainly had their moments of…resentment?

She lays what she intends to be a comforting hand on his shoulder, and says, “You’ll be fine, my Lord. These formalities and politicking are both your birthright and your curse, I’m afraid. Try to enjoy it…I’ll see to this mystery. Shall you be taking the Prince’s gift this evening? I’ve marked the crate carefully so as not to present him with a case of scorpions!” she laughs awkwardly, not knowing how the informal attempt at familiarity (if not friendship) will be received. {We’ll call it Persuasion to cheer him up: Persuasion, 14, Success x2}

Errik sighs, and gathers himself together. “Thank you, Giselle. Let’s keep this to ourselves, shall we? The fewer tongues wagging, the better, I think. And yes, I will take his gift later this evening, but I expect you all to join me for the feast! We’re not like to eat so well again any time soon.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________
BACK IN THE COMMON ROOM, ALL TOGETHER

Errik and Giselle emerge back into the common room. “Well,” Errik says to Giselle. “Nothing we can’t handle, then.” Turning to the larger entourage, he says, “I think you all have something to do today. Areon, I would ask that you accompany Giselle, if you’ve nothing else. Onri, you may accompany the girls and I-” Here, Errik is interrupted by twin shrieks of joy as his sisters realize that they are going to the presentation of arms with him, and not being sent home.

“-Ahem. The girls and I are going to the Presentation of Arms. We’ll be heading up early so that I can see to their seating, and introduce them around. You are invited to accompany us if you wish, but I understand if such things do not interest you. Otherwise, of course, you are free to do as you like.”

Then he finds a seat next to Mattyw, and calls for wine. Turning to Mattyw, he says, “And you, my good bard: Are you ready to enter tonight’s tournament of music? I understand the Prince is offering quite a sum, and I will most certainly sponsor you.”

Mattyw all but leaps out of his chair in excitement. “My lord, you do me an unimaginable honor! I shall not fail you, if you sponsor me!”

He leaps up to the back of the chair, arms spread wide for balance. “I shall sing songs so sweet that they shall snare the hearts of young maidens! I will ply my poetry to pierce the hearts of old harden warriors and make them weep! I will wind my words into the hearts and beings of all present, and bring honor to your house!”

Errik grins at Mattyw’s excitement. “Well spoken, Mattyw! I’ll hold you to it!”

“Thank you for the offer, my lord,” Onri says with a slight bow. “However, given the circumstances surrounding your arrival here, I would like to figure out what is afoot. Starting with the Braavosi. From what I know about him, I don’t think he is here simply to sell spices. If Mathyw has time, I’d like him to join me. Also, if I may ask, what was the gift sent to us this morning?”

Mattyw nods in affirmation at Onri. “I believe the music entry is not for some time yet, and maybe this will provide some much needed inspiration!”

Addressing Onri’s question, Giselle says, “I think we should perhaps save that discussion for another time or place, my new friend. Suffice it to say that I have to look into a few things before attending the tourney in order to set my mind at ease. I welcome your company, if you wish…not sure how you feel about libraries, though."

“Of course, I will accompany Giselle, my lord," Areon says. "I wish for the necessity for hushed tones to come to an end. I only ask that I be allowed time to enter the Grand-Melee. It has been a long time since I was able to test my blades against anyone of equal skill.” The sour look Areon has been wearing ever since hearing of the bandits’ symbol seems to lift a little at the thought of swordplay. “Where will we be off to my Lady?”

{COMPLETE}

Comments

Errik nurses his bruises with a glass of wine. He quietly fills the menfolk in on the encounter with the thugs. When he’s finished, he finds a seat next Onri.

“You said you bought a message. Nothing troubling, I hope?”

 

“The number of legs is wrong, good Maester, but your estimation of the size is spot-on,” Onri says to his erstwhile healer.

At Errik’s question, Onri looks around, seeing a larger audience than he hoped for. He leans in, to at least prevent the innkeeper from overhearing his whisper.

“Dark wings,” he says soberly, unsealing his scrollcase and handing the scroll to Errik. “I was told to advise you to keep news of this from spreading at the tournament. It concerns your brother Aengus and Ser Alexandre. They were both badly injured fighting the bandits that Ser Jaramy has had so much trouble with. Your father wants Maester Lagorio to return as soon as possible with whatever escort can be mustered. Transportation has been arranged with the Orphans.”

 

Sitting down by the fireplace, Mattyw looks at the innkeeper, requesting a small mug of water, before blearily eyeing the rest of the group. He takes the measure of Errik, Areon, Giselle and Onri, before trying to clear his eyes. “Of all of us, I’d expect Areon to be bloodied and muddied, not our good Lordship. And with a newcomer to boot. Apparently I miss out on all the good stuff. Well, some of it. Well, some stuff at any rate.”

Gladly accepting the mug when it returns, Mattyw nurses it gently before putting his feet up.

 

Errik shakes his head in disbelief. “Bandits? I- How did it happen?”

 

Attempting to keep things a LITTLE light, Areon will look to Mattyw, “You know better than that, my foes don’t get the chance to bloody nor muddy me.” Turning grave once more, Areon turns to Onri, “I thank you Ser, for coming to our lords aid. I hate to think what might have happened if those thugs caught him alone. This whole trip has been turning out to get more and more complicated.” He’ll slowly shake his head.

 

“All I know is that they were making a raid on a bandit camp,” Onri replies. “My father met me on the dock, took my charts and papers, handed me this scroll, and sent me back out on a Myrish ship. I’ve yet to set foot upon the solid ground of my home.”

At Areon’s gratitude, Onri responds, “Merely doing my duty. Besides, they weren’t the first brigands to give me bruises, they won’t be the last.”

 

“It seems ill has befallen our house on many fronts,” Giselle chimes in hushed tones. “I fear that encounter on the docks may not have been as random as it may have seemed. I know you must worry for Aengus, my Lord, but we must keep our own selves, you especially, from a closer foe’s intentions.”

She looks about to ensure their discussion is not being followed, “I can’t pin down the significance, but know in my heart it was no coincidental attack on the docks. The bandit I shot as he attempted to flee had the mark of a a crude red hand dripping blood on his left forearm. I know I should be able to place that symbol, but my mind is awash with other things, and I can not.”

 

Mattyw puts his mind to work thinking of this symbol Giselle mentions, smiling outwardly at Areon’s words. “I think it may be best to get our good Maester on his way as quick as we can, though I fear the timing for this to be too coincidental, for us to be without his services in a place such as this, where blood has already been spilt tonight.”

Seeking to break the somber mood that has ensorcelled the room, he claps his hands and plants his feet firmly on the ground, launching himself into a standing position. “At least the night is not all gloom! I have, through various means, managed to procure the location where those of Lugus lay their head, and some choice tidbits for Areon as well, should he care to remain both blood and mud free in the contests to follow.” His eyes glint in the firelight mischievously.

 

//I’ll attempt to respond to PMs shortly. Crazy morning at work so far, but will try to catch up with y’all ASAP.

 

//Okay, I think this is going quite well. Just an FYI, you should probably all re-read the log before posting again – I’ve added in some NPC dialogue, and arranged things slightly out of the order that they were written to try and give each conversation a bit of continuity in the text.

 

//…I think you did a great job adding continuity and flow to it, tbh.

 

//I concur. Also, I’ll roll knowledge to see if I know anything about the thug’s mark.

Onri leans forward uncomfortably, with a twinge of pain from his injury. “I would not attempt to advise you for such a decision. But if you wish to leave, then you should do so with the Maester. Given everything that has happened, we should avoid splitting up into ever smaller groups.”

 

{Knowledge, 13: The tattoo is not something that Onri is familiar with, so far as he can recall.}

 

Areon has long been staring intently into the fire, even more distant and aloof than normal. “I remember the hand… that bloody hand. What became of the man you shot?” Areon asks, with steel in his voice.

//Sorry, been a very busy and… eventful trip here in california :P.

 

//Okay, I just posted the tourney’s schedule of events in the adventure log. The “this very day” reference at the beginning refers to tomorrow for your characters – you sleep one more time, then this schedule begins.

 

//I have to say, I am pumped for the musical competition – I’d love to try my hand in the grand melee, but I’m pretty sure I’d get maimed up pretty badly.

 

“He was apprehended by the city guards after all was said and done,” Giselle says to Areon, “but unless they bothered to see to his wounds, I doubt he will live to see the sunrise through the window of his cell. What do you know of that symbol, my friend? It is right on the edge of my knowing…”

 

As he looks into the fireplace, the light there pales in comparison to the fire burning in his eyes. After a moment, Areon says quietly, “Long ago, when I was a boy, I saw that symbol. I was 12 years old when a man bearing the same tattoo rode down my family’s caravan.” He pauses, as if to compose himself, “I was the only one to make it out alive.” Areon blinks, and seems to come back to himself. Looking as Giselle, he adds, “The man on the docks was not the same man, I would recognize his face as if it were my own…”

 

Onri turns his attention to the rather jovial stranger in their company. “So, friend, do not keep us in the dark. Out with it,” he says, the man’s jubilant manner spreading to Doryc.

 

//Just to review:

1. Onri has brought a message from his father, and a letter signed by Aelius Corinthyne himself, indicating that Ser Alexandre Thracyen and Aengus Corinthyen were injured while raiding bandits in the hills around Chalcy’s Lakethorn Tower.

2. The letter also summons Maester Lagorio to return at once to House Chalcy to treat the two men, both heirs to their respective houses. Ser Brindon Lews, Mattyw’s brother, has volunteered to act as guard to the Maester on his journey. Alexia Thracyen insists that she must return to be by her father’s side.

3. The Maester has suggested that an illness could be faked for Alexia, requiring her to be taken home for treatment.

4. Errik was attacked by bandits while walking along the river docks just outside of Sunspear’s walls. Thanks to Onri Doryc’s blade, and the timely arrival of Areon and Giselle, he escaped unscathed.

5. Giselle observed a strange tattoo on the arm of one of the attackers. Areon then related a story about seeing a similar tattoo on the man who killed his family. Giselle seemed to see something familiar in this story, but has not said anything yet.

6. Mattyw revealed that he now knows the location of House Lugus’ quarters for the tournament, and that he also has a bit of advice for Areon during the tournament.

Sound familiar? I’ll do a full recap of our story so far after this scene. Which, really, could end now if everyone is willing to sleep on it.

 

//I’m quite willing to move it ahead – the location is known to Mattyw, and he’ll gladly give it out, or lead everyone there, but I lack the verbiage to express the exact directions, as such. I’ll gladly go with the consensus of the group, however, if there are things that need discussing here.

 

//Giselle will explain the tattoo situation more fully to the group if there’s an appropriate opening, but I’ll need Jon to do it for me, as I’ve managed to delete the message he sent it to me in, somehow. It has to do with a forgotten gang of bandits that our Lord took care of upon acquiring the house in the first place.

 

//Jeez, P_P, making me do all the work. I actually shared that with you in a Secret section up above, so you didn’t delete anything. Anyway, here it is:

The tattoo is the symbol of an old brotherhood of bandits and killers, the aptly named Bloody Hands, who marked their membership with such. They haven’t been active in the nearly 20 years since Giselle was a girl, not since Aelius Corinthyen ordered the Hoplites to drive them out of Dorne in one of his first acts as Lord of the House after Halpern’s death.

//Oh, and House Lugus is camped outside of near the tourney green. And yes, Mattyw could definitely find his way.

 

//Just quickly before we move ahead, there were several independent threads going before the attempted mugging. Is that information being shared with other PCs? I especially want to know what secret Matthyw is privy to. Tell me when you rolled deception when you promised not to tell! :)

 

//I’m afraid that several responsibilities have pulled me away this week. Just wanted to let you know I haven’t abandoned or forgotten y’all. I’ll move us on ASAP.

//And Bohemond, everything that has been directly shared should be visible to you. Some players may or may not be keeping secrets, though. Was there a specific post you were looking at? If Onri has reason to question some part of Mattyw’s story, that definitely calls for a roll.

 

//I was referring to the various “Night One” threads. I know that they were made available to read, but no one really recounted what they were doing before the Encounter at the Docks in this thread.

 

//Unless someone objects, if it’s available, it’s not unreasonable to obtain in-character during the space between log posts.

 

I will certainly specifically ask that something stays confidential if I want it to stay confidential. Most of the time I’m more worried in the other direction, in fact. I don’t think we should have to say everything in character that develops away from the group (that seems like a time waster for everyone), but if you want to keep it to yourself, you should make it know to Mr. Jon.

My 2 bits about that, anyway.

ps. Sorry about making you recount the story about the tattoo there, bud. Just couldn’t remember where the damn convo happened as was worried I might’ve got drunk and deleted it by accident one night when I needed to get away from busy-ass stressful life stuff and delve into geekdom.

 

//No worries at all, Paladin, and I think you’ve made a good point. The only reason I kept those posts secret while they were ongoing was to limit any opportunity for meta gaming, and to provide each player an opportunity to do things that they might not want the others to know about. But if you all prefer, I can just set everything to public by default, unless someone specifically messages me requesting that I take things into a secret page.

Anyway, sorry for the long delay. I’ll be updating stuff as the day continues.

 

As Onri listens to Errik’s tale, the name Maiyo Vierro strikes him as strangely familiar. {Cunning, 9, Success} He recalls that Vierro is a moderately wealthy and successful Braavosi spice merchant, the owner of perhaps half a dozen ships, and has a dangerous reputation among his own people. With a bit of field research, Onri is sure that he could dig up more details.

 

//Updates complete for the moment. It’s a new day, folks.

 

//Huzzah indeed – I’ll be posting more when I get home, I think. Some fancy schmancy developments lately. I imagine Mattyw gave a bit of information away last night. I’m very excited for the upcoming events of today – a feast and all sorts of goodies!

 

Onri steps out into the common room, wearing a courtier’s outfit. Snatching a pastry, he moves towards Giselle. “What is it?” he ask, taking a nibble from his pastry.

 

“Lord Errik,” says Giselle, snapping the lid shut on the box and ignoring Onri’s question, striding towards Errik. “Pardon my imposition, my Lord, but I needs speak with you, and a common room will not do, I’m afraid.”

 

Errik frowns in concern, but acquiesces. “Come then, let us speak in my rooms. Areon, will you keep a close eye on the twins? With Lady Alexia leaving, I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what to do with them.” He sighs.
_____________________________________________________
Errik’s Chambers

Giselle shows Errik the dagger, and explains the circumstances of its arrival.

“How odd.” Errik comments. “In light of all else, I’m not quite sure what this can mean, but it does seem ominous. What do you make of it, Castellan?”

 

Mattyw rises and heads down to the common area, packed and ready for the day ahead. He’s rubbing his head a bit and shading his eyes as he begs some food to break his fast from anyone serving in the commons. If the children are downstairs, he’ll entertain them with some farcical stories.

 

Giselle frowns, “I’d like to think of it as a precious gift,” she says somewhat sarcastically, trying to lighten her own mood, “but in light of recent circumstances, I feel it to be either a not-so-subtle threat, or a ‘request’ for a sinister act, the specifics of which we do not yet know. I like it not at all despite it’s beauty. I was thinking I might search out more information about the blade itself, for surely it is one-of-a-kind, and the weapon’s origins may help to shed some light on why it’s been delivered to me.”

She thinks for a moment, “But I fear there is little time for investigation, as we dare not be absent from the Nameday events.”

 

Onri watches as Giselle seeks a more private setting to talk to Errik, an amused expression on his face at the castellan’s pointed secrecy. He finishes pastry and wipes his hands, making sure he does not let any crumbs fall on his courtier’s outfit. As Matthyw enters the common room, Onri presumptuously lifts a pitcher of water and a cup and carries it to the troubadour. As he sits next to Matthyw, he says “Strange, isn’t it? One thirst leads to another.”

 

Mattyw laughs, clutching the cup as though it were a rock in the middle of a raging rapid. “That’s the last time I spend the night with the landed gentry and a lady-of-the-night… well, now that I say that, I feel rather foolish. I take it back!”

He takes a deep draught of the water. “Why is it that the nobles always seem to be falling in love with the street-wives? Are they just that good at their jobs?”

 

Onri laughs at Matthyw’s observation. “The ones worth bedding, I suppose. But this is nothing! In Braavos, swordsmen duel to the death in the streets over which courtesan is the most beautiful. And some of those courtesans make some of our nobles look like paupers. Come to think of it, in the Summer Isles, some of the courtesans are nobles.” Onri reflects for a moment, before concluding, “Across the waves, they take the profession much more seriously, no?”

 

Updated as a post edit.

 

Mattyw smiles fondly. “If only mannerisms mattered, then the best of us would live like kings, nobility or not! I dream of visiting the Summer Isles some day. Although in Braavos I would hate to be caught out in such a duel. My skill lies with rapier wit, rather than the blade itself.”

Finishing his water, he gets up and begins pacing around the common room, stretching his legs. “Still, I’d rather see woman fight over gentlemen like us than be forced into it the other way around. I don’t suppose they have that over in the Summer Isles, though.”

His walk completed, he collapses back into his chair. “So, are you planning on entering any parts of the tournement? If so, I pray you don’t end up against Areon!”

 

Mattyw all but leaps out of his chair in excitement. “My lord, you do me an unimaginable honor! I shall not fail you, if you sponsor me!”

He leaps up to the back of the chair, arms spread wide for balance. “I shall sing songs so sweet that they shall snare the hearts of young maidens! I will ply my poetry to pierce the hearts of old harden warriors and make them weep! I will wind my words into the hearts and beings of all present, and bring honor to your house!”

 

//Those of you who have more to do in these scenes should continue to post as needed, but I am going to post up the next scene.

 

//HUZZAH! Now I have to work on my loquacious lyrical limericks to hope I win!

 

“I am not competing in the joust. I am more suited to the sea than horseback. I may enter the melee though.” Onri looks as Errik and Giselle reenter the room.


“Thank you for the offer, my lord,” Onri says with a slight bow. “However, given the circumstances surrounding your arrival here, I would like to figure out what is afoot. Starting with the Braavosi. From what I know about him, I don’t think he is here simply to sell spices. If Mathyw has time, I’d like him to join me. Also, if I may ask, what was the gift sent to us this morning?”

 

Mattyw nods in affirmation at Onri. “I believe the music entry is not for some time yet, and maybe this will provide some much needed inspiration!”

//Just realized I’m in the other scene, but this is likely an appropriate comment before I left, too.

 

//Time dilation! Woooo-oooooo! You’re now entering – The Twilight Zone!

 

//Oh dear… does that mean… wait… Matthyw is played by Patrick Stewart! Time-dilation is his bread and butter!

 

//Foiled again!

//Okay, so the only thing I really need to know here is: who is going where? Onri and Mattyw want to investigate the merchant, and Giselle has the special delivery. What of Areon? And will the group walk about together, doing one task and then the other, or are we splitting up again?

//Also, if you still need something to happen here, get ‘er done. I’ll be closing the scene shortly.

 

//I have no problem sticking together with the group. I think the timing of events allows for that flexibility.

 

I was wondering the same thing (about the splitting of the group again) because I got that impression, and was waiting for the thread that Areon and Giselle would be on. If that’s not the case, I will chime in on the other, but as I didn’t see her name, I was confused as to where I should be putting her actions.

Will be responding to Onri’s question thusly:

“I think we should perhaps save that discussion for another time or place, my new friend,” says Giselle. Sufficed to say that I have to look into a few things before attending the tourney in order to set my mind at ease. I welcome your company, if you wish…not sure how you feel about libraries, though."

 

*should be another quotation mark before “Sufficed” there. haha

 

//Ah, well, it’s up to you all. Like I said, I’m fine with either option, and the story makes no demands, so: player choice. Right now we have 1 vote for everyone sticking together from Rase, and Onri wants Mattyw with him for his investigation. Reading back, I suppose you’ve weighed in somewhat, PP, so now it’s on Bohemond and Gaaran to chime in. I’m going to try running all three threads in a single log, so I’ll just add a new section if needed.

 

//I’m hesitant to have the group do everything together. I was planning on finding out about the merchant at the docks, maybe even approaching the merchant himself for some fancypants intrigue. I think the entire group doing that en masse would make that plan a little awkward. Onri could possibly help Giselle research at the library, depending the information is, but we might need some off-camera OOC discussion about what everyone wants to investigate. Also, is Areon going to joust? ’Cuz that seems like easy betting odds.

 

//Thanks, Onri – looks like we’ll probably be splitting up then, I just want to know what Areon is doing, now.
//Also, great question: since it’s about to come up, can I have every confirm (for Errik) what events they’ll be entering? So far, I know/guess:
Joust: Errik
Melee: Onri, Areon?
Archery: Giselle
Bardic: Mattyw

 

//apologies for my silence, I’ve been far too busy as of late. I will make an effort to keep up, but if scene’s must go on without me, Areon is a rather stoic and quiet individual anyway, so it’s not a problem.

“Of course I will accompany Giselle my lord, I wish for the necessity for hushed tones to come to an end. I only ask that I be allowed time to enter the Grand-Melee. It has been a long time since I was able to test my blades against anyone of equal skill.” The sour look Areon has been wearing ever since hearing of the bandits’ symbol seems to lift a little at the thought of swordplay. “Where will we be off to my Lady?”

 

//I was half thinking of entering the Melee, but I’d probably just end up wrecking my good looks, so I may steer clear of that until I manage to get that sword I have been wanting.

 

//Great! I’ll go ahead and mark this one complete, then, unless someone has something to add?

JonathonVolkmer JonathonVolkmer

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