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Post by Ethan Flatrivers on Jul 6, 2016 16:43:40 GMT
Working in the winter was an awful experience, but Kyle didn't mind much. His hammer clanged as he pounded pegs into boards to shore up the last few missing pieces of wood in his tavern he planned on opening. The three story building looked solid enough, he hoped the couple he'd bought it from had taken decent care of it; if he wanted to make a flat silver he needed to open soon. He opened the back of his wagon and started trolling barrels of wine in, and paid a few local children (there weren't many children, he'd noticed) to help him move in. The top floor would be his quarters and the side rooms could be his upper class rooms, he'd decided. The second floor would have its walls knocked out one day and just be a common bunk room for those too drunk or weary to go home, or for future tourney housing. The main floor, though...here he'd put his work in. His hand carved animals adorned the walls, and he would soon find some good musicians to provide some music.
After a week or so he felt good about his work, and he wiped his brow and looked up at the sign over the door. "Shit," he muttered. He'd thought so hard on what his place would look like, he'd forgotten to name the damned thing.
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Post by Benjen Blackfort on Jul 6, 2016 22:16:12 GMT
Benjen figured he should get better acquainted with Harrentown at some point or another, but after a bell's time of wandering through the streets in the frigid morning air, Ben was beginning to have second thoughts. He stopped next to a building where a workman of some sort seemed to be installing a new sign. It was a large building, particularly by Harrentown standards. Maybe it was an inn. Ben hoped it had a fire going; he could stand to get out of the cold.
"What's this place?" Ben asked the workman without preamble.
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Post by Ethan Flatrivers on Jul 7, 2016 0:23:53 GMT
Kyle cracked his neck and turned. "Gonna be my new tavern," he said. "Almost done, just need workers and a cook," he said. "But I promise the ale's like nothing you've had since before the fucking war." He holds out a hand. "Kyle."
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Post by Benjen Blackfort on Jul 7, 2016 0:53:47 GMT
"Ben Blackfort," Benjen replied, gripping the man's hand and releasing it. "Bold claim on your ale, Kyle, but I like the sound of that. You brew it yourself?" Ben surveyed the sign as he talked, realizing with curiosity that it had nothing painted on it.
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Post by Ethan Flatrivers on Jul 7, 2016 1:01:27 GMT
"I do," he said. "Finding barley this let in the year is a problem, but I should have enough til the roads clear up," he said. "And if not, it's because you all drank too much," he jested. "Blackfort eh? Ain't the lord I hope. I need better boots if I'm seeing the lord hisself." His accent comes slightly through. "I was about to pour myself an ale. "Care to join for one?" He enters the building and looks about, then sets the logs alight and opens the tap on his thick oak keg. The beer that comes out is thick and honey gold with a coat of foam two inches thick. "Added some honey to this, keeps it from spoiling," he said.
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Post by Benjen Blackfort on Jul 7, 2016 1:15:09 GMT
"Not the lord," Benjen confirmed, "Just his kin." He grins widely at the offer of the drink. "I ain't the type to say no to such a generous offer, goodman."
Ben followed Kyle into his establishment, looking around at the wall carvings as the proprietor set the fire. He takes beer-filled mug when it is offered and immediately takes a long drink. Ben wipes the foam from his lip with his sleeve, then lowers the mug and looks at it appreciatively. "Well damn," Ben comments after a long moment. "You weren't lying."
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Benjen Snow
Serf
Posts - 70
Likes - 2
Joined - July 2016
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Post by Benjen Snow on Jul 7, 2016 3:23:37 GMT
Benjen Snow made his way into the tavern and set a coin on the bar as he bellied up. He flagged down the bartender, in hopes of getting a pint of goodness as a reward for a hard day's work.
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Post by Ethan Flatrivers on Jul 7, 2016 10:48:28 GMT
Kyle nodded his appreciation. "My thanks, Benjen Kin," he joked. He took another swig and looked as the other man came in. He debated informing him the tavern wasn't actually open yet but, he'll, it was damned close enough. "You all have some unnecessary workers or folks looking for honest coin, I need a few people for drinks and a cook," he said. "I can make a good camp stew and roast vegetables with beef as well as anyone but this place needs proper food." He took the coin and then filled up Benjen's mug. "Nice meeting you, stranger," he said. "Busy already. I'm Kyle and this is my Nameless Tavern. Might have pretty girls hold a contest to christen'er properly." He fills up a mug with his honey ale and hands it to him. "And who might you be?"
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Post by Benjen Blackfort on Jul 7, 2016 16:38:16 GMT
"Ain't too likely," Ben replied. He was not privy to the specifics, but Harrenhal was so massive and in such a state of disrepair he imagined they would need every worker they had to fix the place up. "You're probably better off looking for help in town, or maybe even further afield."
Trueborn Benjen took another drink as bastard Benjen came in and sidled up to the bar, and so did not immediately see his face.
(OOC: Do we know each other from the war already, Irenicus?)
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Post by Ethan Flatrivers on Jul 7, 2016 16:41:31 GMT
"Well, we'll see," Kyle said. "Not everyone wants to lift rocks in the cold all day, and I imagine even the lord himself would want his people happy after their long days toiling to rebuild that Titan of a castle." He rubbed his jaw. "You all fought in the war then I imagine? Must have been a fucking thing."
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Post by Benjen Blackfort on Jul 7, 2016 16:48:21 GMT
"It was a fucking thing," Ben agreed, "Ain't never heard a better description of it than that. So you didn't fight in it?" That part surprised Benjen. The innkeep was plenty old enough to have fought, and did not seem to have any physical deformities that would stop him from taking part. "I thought both sides were conscripting anyone they could get their hands on. You from around Harrenhal?"
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Post by Ethan Flatrivers on Jul 7, 2016 16:54:16 GMT
"I'm not," he said. "From Horn Hill way. War never really got so intense that way. We had some skirmishes but to be honest I never been any use with a blade bigger than I need to cut meat," he said. "But I have good hands and so when the wounded'd come back from wherever they wanted to fight the maesters too old for stitching would have me needle up their cuts. I got pretty good at it." He shrugged. "If I can be honest, the color of the dragon we pay taxes to ain't never made a lick of difference to me. Red dragon followers, black dragon followers, well, everyone bleeds the same. Maybe I sound like a coward, but the only colors important to me are copper brown, silver, and gold," he said. "And even soldiers can respect brewing. Even if they did sack our old alehouse."
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Post by Benjen Blackfort on Jul 7, 2016 17:03:19 GMT
"I'd say soldiers enjoy good brewing more than most," Benjen chuckled. "And good healing," he added a little more soberly. "And it's a new world now, ain't it? There is no red and black no more. We're better for it, I think. Let the old grudges die over an ale or two."
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Benjen Snow
Serf
Posts - 70
Likes - 2
Joined - July 2016
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Post by Benjen Snow on Jul 7, 2016 17:55:20 GMT
"Benjen Snow," he responded to Kyle, "Many thanks for the welcome. Surprisingly enough, you're the friendliest barkeep I've seen in at least a few months. You'd think folk in the business of hospitality would be more... well, hospitable." He took a long pull of the beer and smiled in satisfaction. "Damn fine brew. If your stew is half as good, I'd like a bowl of that as well."
((OOC: I think tgey would, since they were in the same line of work.))
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Post by Benjen Blackfort on Jul 7, 2016 18:42:43 GMT
Benjen Blackfort heard the newcomer say his name and turned to face Snow at the bar. "Well I'll be damned," Benjen remarked, "If it ain't the bastard of... where you hailing from this week, Snow? Deepwood Motte?" Ben laughed. He had been on a few different scouting parties and broken a few camps with the mercenary northerner, enough to know that the only consistency about his past was its constant inconsistency. "Figured you would've fucked back off to the North by now, what with the peace and all."
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