Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tidehall, Midnight, 2nd Day - Seff, Roger, Lara, Daeron
Seff sits at a rough table in the gatehouse with two guardsmen. This was a favorite perch of his in Tidehall. It is situated over open air in front of the portcullis. The guardsmen, Mint and Rufus, are recounting a story oft repeated and likely exaggerated about their lieutenant’s drunkenness. In the corner of this small room stands a great winch and wheel of brass and oak, connected by a heavy chain to a black-brown stone cube the size of an ox. This was one of the counterweights used to open the sluice below their feet, and fill the moat around Tidehall with the warm waters of Ironman’s Bay. Past the wheel is a row of small slit windows, meant for archers within the gatehouse and gives a clear view of the causeway and Tannyr’s Quay below. The town is settling to sleep. On the other side is a clear view of the yard, the troupe wagons, the stables and Hollen’s Tower. He spies Daeron entering the stables, and then a few minutes later, a hooded figure follows through the stable doors.
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Maester Aldrik lights another taper, and responds to Ser Roger’s query, “As you know, the lands of House Brook are larger than our own, but bad soil and worse bandits have left them poor. Gilder had offered them the Fog to help root out the problem years ago, as well as farmers to help clear their fields, but they took the suggestion as a slight on their honor. And Gilder’s disaffection with his wife is known in their house, as well as it is in our pubs.” A cold breeze is picking up from outside, and the candle sputters and dies, leaving the two men in the dark.
ReplyDeleteDaeron enters the stables and finds his horse Wesley, pawing the ground outside his stall. As Daeron approaches, it’s head raises and watches him intently. The horse wickers and trots forward in greeting, nuzzling hungrily for the apple. The horse seems apprehensive, so Daeron spending some time brushing down his mount as the stablehands had shown him. Daeron notices that the horse’s stall has been left unlatched even though he's certain he had latched it that morning, and the straw from his feed trough has been strewn haphazardly throughout the stall. As he examines the scene, he notes a glint of silver among the straw.
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OOC: I need an awareness check, but go ahead and act, the check will be at the end of your turn.
Despite their protests, Lara had shoos the last children to bed. Lights have gone out throughout the troupe, and even Peg had fallen asleep between the bit about the fish pirate queen and the singing oysters, with his mop of hair on the haunch of her snoring grey mutt. Lara flirts with the idea of scaring him awake as punishment for missing the best of her show. Before she can act, she hears a quiet call of “fire!” from a guardsman on the parapet directly above her, but neither sees nor smells flame. Peg awakes and looks to her in fright, “Is it them? The fish pirates?”
ReplyDelete"Almost certainly not," Lara mumbled, her hand mussing Peg's hair. He rolled over and with only a silent whine from her "guard dog," they both fell back asleep.
ReplyDeleteShe stood up, trying to squint past the glare of torch light up to the parapet. She couldn't tell what direction the guardsman was looking - out to sea or into town - but both thoughts filled her with a queasy sense of unease.
She tried to judge the distances up - from the back ledge to the wagon top she was familiar with, but from there to the wall walk would be tricky to judge in the poor light. Probably more sensible to either take the long way around or see if she could see what caused the raised alarm from the front gate.
Sensible, but her curiosity had always been a catalyst for recklessness impulsiveness - why stop now? It was better to know now then let the uncertainty burn in her gut.
(Acrobatics 6,6,6,5,3,(3,2,1) = 26)
Lara scrambles from the wagon to a tent pole leaning against the wall like an ape from the Summer Isles, and upon reaching the top leaps to a stone that has loosened mortar forming a grip just wide enough to support her fingertips. With deftness that surprises even her, she swings her legs around to a small window. Balancing on her toes but for a moment, she squats and pushes off in a clean flip to land on her feet on the wide parapet, immediately behind the guardsman who was yelling moments before. Not realizing who had arrived behind him, the young man points and stammers, “Lookit, Grenth! There, to the north. Fire on the coast, a big one, I’d say 3 or 4 leagues.” Turning, he squints down at his unexpected visitor. Another man who she assumes is Grenth, tall and thin like a reed, arrives beside her. Both are looking at her with a mix of surprise and disapproval.
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ooc: Seff can see this scramble up the wall.
The cloud cover made the night especially dark, and the blaze burning brightly on the horizon was the only light Lara's eyes could see past the scattered torches illuminating Tannyr's Quay. She cocked her head toward the second guard as he came in, but her eyes stayed focused on the blaze.
ReplyDelete"Grenth, fire," she gestured with her head toward the northern horizon, "over there," she summarized for the surprised looking second guard.
She watched the flames in silence a little longer before she finally noticed the guards looks. "Should we tell somebody? It seems like this is something we should tell somebody." Lara suggested.
Grenth looked over at the other sentry. They exchanged a brief look before Grenth sprinted off, and the sentry who originally spotted the blaze turned back towards it, working his hand through his hair nervously as he helpless watched the fire burning in the distance. Lara didn't wait for him to remember her presense as she quickly slipped out of the parapet to follow the sounds of Grenth's retreating footfalls.
"I will take that as a sign that I should retreat to my own chambers." Ser Roger says as his eyes slowly adjust to the new dark. "Thank you for indulging my curiosity."
ReplyDeleteRoger stands and with a slight bow, makes his way to the door. Roger walks the torch lit halls with a slight swagger as the wine courses through his veins and almost walks right past his own room while thinking about the misfortune of Lord Castriati.
Roger makes his way to the window and looks out with a silent prayer to the seven that Lord Castriati return safely.
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ooc: Awareness [1,4,4,2]= 11
“Sleep well, Ser Roger.” Aldrik walks wearily to his bedchambers as Roger exits, drawing the curtain to block the breeze.
ReplyDeleteRoger arrives at his room, a stately affair just above the base of the Old Tower. If the stories were to be believed, this room was once a cistern for the Tower when it was built, but little sign of plumbing remains, and two narrow windows give a good vantage of the narrow coastline west and north of Tidehall. The real advantage for Roger is that this large half-cylindrical room can accommodate someone of his stature better than most; the ceiling is raised another of his heights above him, and the doors are broad and a half again as tall as he is. Lord Castriati had given this room as a gift upon his knighting, and it is well appointed with finely crafted but utilitarian furnishings. His greatsword and axe are hung within a wooden case on the south wall, sealed by a door paned with single sheet of glass. The glass is good quality, but a sheet that large is difficult to make, and the weapons ripple and distort as he walks across the room.
He steps to the western window. From here he can see the dark water of Ironman’s Bay below, and the coast sloping up towards the walls. Tidehall is located on a jut of land that presses out into the bay, with Tannyr’s Quay to the north and east. The moat around Tidehall is like a needle, with the point stabbing into the sea to the north of the main gates, and Tidehall situated in the eye. He can see that the moat is currently high with tidewater, although he imagines that the sluice is open and it will drain once the moon falls. Even with the water, it is still easy enough to cross the moat at various locations. Castriati lands have been at peace for many years and the house staff had erected small ‘temporary’ bridges of rope and plank, like the one leading from the postern door below his feet in Old Tower down to the coast below. It is there that Roger sees a single figure, moving across the bridge toward Tidehall at some speed. In the darkness, he cannot be sure of the figure’s identity.
Grenth walks quickly, Lara reflects as she trots to keep up. She had been at Tidehall for some time, and even though she had never entered from the parapet, and Lara knows they are heading to the quarters of the high officials and Castriati family (roll: knowledge, Tidehall = 6,5,5 = 16 against 12). She rounds a corner to see Grenth pounding flat-fisted on a iron-strapped door, which opens abruptly before he begins his second pounding. Ser Bohemund is standing in an open nightshirt, a small oil lamp in his hand. Grenth stammers and attempts to salute. “Have it out then, Grenth!” He looks past the slender man and spots Lara, “You, girl, what are you doing here this time of night?”
ReplyDelete"Um... Grenth thought he might need protection from practice targets," Lara mumbled looking down at the floor trying to avoid eye contact with Ser Bohemund.
ReplyDelete"Isn't anyone else interested in finding out what exactly is burning? Or if you could just tell me what was on fire I'd be on my way..."
Roger considered the workmanship of the rope bridges and decided he would not want to be running across that bridge at such a pace. His curiosity peaked, Roger finds his key, unlocks the wood case and retrieves his greatsword and its scabbard.
ReplyDeleteWith Lord Castriati, Ser Malcolm, and the Fog having yet to return, Ser Roger could only hope there was good news on its way.
With a stifled yawn, Roger makes his way to the tower's postern door to intercept the figure making his way to the tower.
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As Ser Roger reaches the bottom of the steps, he sees the guardsmen have already opened the door, admitting a bedraggled man in a mud-caked, green-gray mottled cloak. The men share a joke as he drops the cloak in a heap, and unstrings a bow over his knee before handing it to the nearest guardsman with a clap on the shoulder of thanks. His hair is greasy with sweat underneath the cowl, and it does not appear that the cloak did anything to protect him from the smells of the swamp.
ReplyDeleteHe notices the naked blade in Roger’s hand, straightens and eyes him warily, “Beggin’ your pardon for the hour, Ser. Just glad to be back in the walls. Name’s Scrag, man of the Fog. I come with word from Sergeant Riker, and Ser Malcolm Fendry for the ears of Ser Bohemund. Might you direct me to him?”
“Burning?!” Bohemund looks to Grenth, who explains animatedly about the fire. Both men turn when a door opens behind Lara. Ser Sigurd, mostly dressed but his square blonde beard mussed, enters the hallway from his rooms. Lara notes two tiny faces peering from behind the door: his young daughters Esly and Meera.
ReplyDelete“What’s the racket about fire, Ser? You’ve woke my dear wife, who I remind you again is expecting my son, if the Mother is gracious. Have you tried to sleep in the same bed as an angry woman? And close your damned shirt in front of my girls.”
Bohemund growls, “Back in your rooms, Ser! We’ve no need of fishing nets to man the wall,” but he pulls his shirt closed and fumbles with the ties.
Sigurd smiles languidly. “I’ll not fight with you tonight, Ser. I imagine I’ll have my fill of words when I get back. But I will have a look at this fire.” Sigurd stoops to kiss his daughters on the head before shooing them to bed and closing the door. “You, mummer girl. You’ve sense enough to be quiet after dark, perhaps you know where this fire is? Lead on then.”
Bohemund has finished knotting his shirt. “I’ll see it too, girl.”
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ReplyDeleteDaeron paused in his brushing as he took a moment to notice the piece of metal, then look at the door again, then look back at his horse.
ReplyDelete"So, have you learned to open doors now? I wouldn't bet a stag that you haven't..."
Daeron glances around the stables as he steps closer to the silver glint for a closer look. "What have we here, hmmm?" he mumbles to himself...
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Awareness [5,4,4]+3= 16
Lara looked to Grenth for guidance, but he seemed more than happy that Ser Bohemund and Ser Sigurd had turned their attention to Lara. Lara could understand why Grenth wouldn't want to be caught between them - their animosity seemed to go beyond age old soldier-sailor rivalry. A more distant part of Lara's mind wondered about their history and how to turn it into a profitable song. Next time she was in Tidehall's kitchen she would make a point of fishing for gossip about them.
ReplyDelete"Let's not wake any more of Ser Sigurd's women," Lara suggested in a whipser. She turned and worked her way back towards the outer wall, Ser Bohemund and Ser Sigurd falling into step behind her, with Grenth bringing up the rear.
"I can show you what I saw from the parapet, Ser Sigurd, but if you want a closer look I suggest you find someone else. I'm sure Ser Bohemund has someone on The Watch who can take you out and throw a blade straight."
Lara emerged into the cool night on the wall walk. Lara saw the guard waiting in the parapet, his eyes growing wide as he caught sight of the two men following Lara. Lara entered the parapet and leaned on the window ledge. The fire still burned bright on the horizon. She waited for the reaction of Ser Sigurd and Ser Bohemund behind her.
Ser Sigurd’s silence is made all the more noteworthy by the stream of curses coming from Ser Bohemund. Lara cannot parse all of what is said, but Ser Malcolm is mentioned, and something about him riding in that direction after Ironborn and the Fog. Finally, the sailor interjects, “So, Bohemund, what’s burning? A village? Raiders work?”
ReplyDeleteBohemund takes a deep breath, and nods. ”Most like. There are a number of small villages in that direction near the water. By the look, a whole settlement has been put to flame.”
Sigurd turns to walk back inside. “I’ll take 2 ships with the tide, and the Seaguard that didn’t go with Gilder or the ships that I sent to find him. I’ll leave Gribbs, in command of the Morningstar and the Wanderlust to guard the harbor until we return.”
Bohemund roars, “Seven hells you will! You send out ships all day and have nothing to show for it. If the Ironmen are burning villages, it’s not time for 40 sailors with hatchets. We need spears, swords, and chain. I can put 100 men there by dawn!”
Ser Sigurd surges back onto the parapet. “You’d take the garrison? Grenth can’t even deliver a message better than that fool, and you want to take him to battle? You’ll get their at first light, as will I, but my men will have slept, where yours will be dead on their feet before they're dead in fact.”
Bohemund retorts “Gilder left me in –“ “He left Malcolm!” “Who ran off and left me –“ “All the more reason for you to stay!”
The quarrel is quite loud, and most of the men on the wall are watching. Lara notes a few lanterns being lit among the troupe wagons.
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ooc: LR, assuming of course that you’re going to take Scrag to bohemund, if you walk outside or even near a courtyard window, you’ll hear this back and forth.
Seff, you too are aware of this argument, and the men with you at the gatehouse have stopped their jokes to listen.
Daeron picks up and examines a silver hairpin, the length of his palm. The workmanship is exquisite, likely from the silversmiths of Lys or Myr; the head of the pin is an open lotus, with minute petals picked out with gold. As he lifts the pin, he disturbs a thin blue ribbon amongst the pile of burlap, straw, old corn, and dark feathers. The ribbon looks quite like one he saw just a few minutes before, in the hair of the serving girl who gave him the apple.
ReplyDeleteIntrigued, Daeron pockets both of his finds, and turns to see a hooded figure walking down the center aisle of the stables. He quickly identifies the face of his aunt, Ayala Castriati, even though her hair is covered. She has already seen him, and greets him. “Dear nephew, I hope all is well?” She kisses the air near his cheek, and clasps his hands in her own cool fingers. “My prayers are ever with your father. I heard the mummers say he smiled at some of their jests tonight. Good news, no? But what brings you here at this hour, dear boy? Cannot sleep? I love the solitude of this place, although with the shouting on the walls, I doubt there will be much solitude to be had.”
Daeron notices the shouting to which she is referring, and easily identifies both Ser Bohemund’s rumble and Ser Sigurd’s nasal tones, although he cannot make out what is being said.
Roger slides his sword back into its scabbard. "I am happy to see you safe within the walls. I will take you directly to Ser Bohemund." Ser Roger turn on his heals and walks briskly toward Bohemund's quarters.
ReplyDeleteThe trek is cut short as Roger enters the courtyard and hears Bohemund's voice arguing with the voice of Ser Sigurd.
"Sorry to interrupt," Roger calls loud and deep, "but there appears to be a message for Ser Bohemund from Ser Malcolm and Sergeant Riker."
Lara looked at the distant fire, ruminating on Ser Bohemund's words. Raiders. A village razed. The words should have filled her with dread or at the very least unease - but somehow those feeling would not come.
ReplyDeleteMaybe it was the thick walls of Tidehall she leaned against now, but all she could feel was tired, her energy waning as the men behind her talked of battle.
She descended from the parapet down a short set of stairs to the exposed wall walk. Ser Bohemund and Ser Sigurd, wrapped up in their argument, didn't seem to notice her exit. She looked down at the ground beneath her, instinctively judging the drop, but felt no haste to reach the courtyard below. She instead walked along the outer wall until she reached a ladder. She slid quickly down it and cut across the courtyard to where the troupe wagons waited. She suddenly could think of nothing more satisfying than curling up in the hammock that hung inside her wagon, strung between the wooden beams of the roof. She hoped whoever had been awoken by the tumult would be able to satisfy their curiosity without bothering her. Lara smiled. Of course, if they were anything like her, they wouldn't let her sleep until they got the full story...
As Lara neared the wagons, she saw the unmistakable form of Ser Roger standing by Niccolo and Sophia Grissios' wagon, shouting up at the parapet Lara has just exited.
Scrag nods his thanks to Ser Roger and mounts a creaking ladder to the parapet. Roger thinks better of it and walks to a stone stair some distance away. When he arrives on the wall with Sigurd and Bohemund, they are, thankfully, quiet as Scrag continues his tale.
ReplyDelete“…at least five bodies, perhaps more, we weren’t looking for the dead. One was their captain, dead on their own axes. Whole place looked a butcher yard, Sers. Riker says to search for tracks of them that did it, and we found a set, leading off east, I’d say a dozen or so. Riker sent me and Wendt to give word, but Ser Malcolm, all dressed for war, found us on the way. Wendt took him to see the lot of it, the beached reaver ship, the little empty village, and then track to Riker. I came home to deliver their messages.”
Ser Bohemund looks from Roger to Sigurd, before returning his gaze to Scrag. “So what’s that light then?” He points at the fire, glowing in the distance. Scrag walks to the edge of the wall, and rubs his jaw. “Could be the village we were at, or the ship either one. Hard to tell from here.” He turns. “With your leave, Sers, I’m like to fall off this wall if I don’t get to a bunk.”
Bohemund begins to bluster, but Sigurd gives the man leave. After Scrag is down the ladder, Sigurd says. “He’s got the right of it, Bohemund. If it was just a dozen men from a reaver ship, Riker can find them, and take them. Perhaps they decided to torch a building to clear it of the corruption of all those bodies. Either way, look at the man.” He points at Scrag, entering the armory door on his way to the barracks. “Every one of your men would be at least that tired if you march them now.”
Bohemund calms, considering. “Alright, Sigurd. You have the right of it. I’ll march at dawn. Perhaps Roger will join me? We could use his like if there’s fighting to be done.”
Sigurd smiles and shakes his head ruefully, “Perhaps, perhaps not. I still say my ships will get there faster if I leave with morningtide…”
The pair of men bid goodnight to Ser Roger, and indicate that they will call council at dawn to decide what to do about the reavers and fires to the north.
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At this point, I intend to time accelerate to morning. I will make that post at some time after midnight EST tonight. If there are actions you wish to take other than “go to bed and not earn a fatigue point” post them in this thread today and I'll respond to them before continuing. I’ll accept OOC actions as well, so you don’t have to write a story if you want to do something.
ooc: Roger will be heading back to bed, but will be getting up early enough to polish his enameled black scale armor. Roger will be attending the council in full battle gear, including his great sword at his side, his axe on his back and shield in hand.
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