The Gambler
Administrator
Alea Iacta Est
Posts - 1,984
Likes - 612
Joined - December 2015
|
Post by The Gambler on Jun 13, 2018 4:02:22 GMT
The inn is three stories tall with turrets and chimneys made of white stone. On the north side there is a stable with a thatch roof and a bell tower.
|
|
Harlan
Peasant
Posts - 146
Likes - 32
Joined - April 2018
|
Post by Harlan on Jun 13, 2018 8:23:15 GMT
Harlan entered Warren’s Respite, clothed in simple garments, covered in an acceptable amount of dirt and grime from the road. Tim was dressed the same, he had made sure of it. Harlan immediately tried to get his bearings on the room upon entry, looking to spot the proprietor of the establishment or any peculiar patrons.
(Observation: 39)
|
|
|
Post by Tim of Raventree on Jun 13, 2018 17:34:16 GMT
Tim followed behind Harlan and attempted to catch the eye of someone serving drinks. After all, they might as well have a drink while they scouted the place, and besides, he'd need a good reason to go wandering off to explore, and what better reason than needing a piss. And that, of course, would be even more plausible if he'd had a drink first. While he looked around, he also took a look at the doors and windows to get a feel for the layout of the place.
Observation 35
|
|
The Gambler
Administrator
Alea Iacta Est
Posts - 1,984
Likes - 612
Joined - December 2015
|
Post by The Gambler on Jun 14, 2018 2:33:57 GMT
Noting stormclouds rolling in as they enter the tavern, Harlan and Tim first note the comforting warmth within from the roaring fire in the hearth. The second thing they note is the mouthwatering scent of the whole roast boar turning on a spit over the flames, occasionally hissing as a drop of rendered fat rolled off the perfectly browned flesh into the flames beneath. They note the following employees and patrons within the establishment: The eponymous Warren is hard to miss, a jovial barrel chested man in his usual post behind the bar. Despite the fact he was missing his right leg below the knee, he got around with a spring in his step and a booming laugh that was infectious. In his former life he had been a serjeant-at-arms in Lord Roote's army, fighting under the black dragon, losing the limb and his only son that day. He was wont to say in one of his rare somber moods that he'd gladly trade the left as well for another day with his boy. As Warren tells it, after the battle, King Daemon Blackfyre had paid a personal visit to the medical tent, spending time with each of the men who had bled in his name. The tavern owner claims the two had developed a rapport, the man destined to be king visiting each day thereafter before the army moved out. Warren had missed his last visit, dead asleep in a poppy induced slumber, and awoken to find a note on his chest with warm regards and a gold dragon. The letter hung in a frame above the bar saying the old soldier had "earned his respite" and the gold piece had built this tavern. *** Warren's wife Ethel busied herself sweeping the tavern, turning the meat on the spit, and managing the tavern's books. While she couldn't match her husband for cheerfulness, for few could, she emanated matronly warmth. Caring more for people than the bottom line, she was known to dish out extra portions to travelers she deemed "too thin", especially those who bore a passing resemblance to her lost son. *** A young minstrel with sandy blonde hair by the name of Marlon, played a somber melody in the corner on a mandolin. He had been orphaned in the war, one of the many strays Warren and Ethel had taken since opening the Respite. His singing voice had considerable depth despite his relatively young age. I was a highwayman Along the Kingsroad I did ride With sword and crossbow by my side Many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade Many a soldier shed his lifeblood on my blade The bastards hung me in the spring of ninety-five But I am still alive And I'll be back again, and again and again and again and again*** Bethany had the best qualities of her parents; a cheerful disposition, a tireless work ethic, and a kind spirit. When Warren had left for war, he had left a gangly young girl behind, and come back to a young woman. The flaxen-haired beauty moved around the tavern with an effortless grace, cleaning tables and taking orders as she hummed the minstrel's melody, under the ever-watchful eye of her father. *** The only patrons at the moment were three men sitting at one of the tables, two of them playing dice and the the third sat glumly beside the pair looking very much like he did not wish to be there. The first of the dicers had the looks of a Myrish crossbowman. The man he was playing with had the looks of a mercenary as well, though was clearly Westerosi. He was clad in chainmail, a longsword and shield on his back, the latter displaying a personal sigil of a pair of bone dice that had come up snake eyes. Upon closer inspection it was clear that the man not dicing had recently taken a vicious beating. Even more curious was that he had shackles around his wrists and ankles, which were attached to one another by a chain, which was in turn attached to an iron band around the Westerosi mercenary's wrist. *** 'Dornish Red' was a lanky young man with distinctly scarlet locks but the features common to Sandy Dornish and certain peoples of Essos. His back is strong but his hands and arms are covered in filth. He has a harsh gaze as certain patrons sneer at him, but he has kinder eyes for newcomers. He has worked for Warren nigh on a year now, possibly because even most Targaryen loyalists despise any man even suspected of having Dornish blood coursing through his veins. Warren's stable is his sole respite in this part of Westeros. *** Gwyn hovers near the bar, her attention divided between prospective 'patrons' and the small boy playing with a smaller cat nearby. Her husband got her with child early in the war and died only days before Daemon marched into King's Landing. Her lowcut dress is a pale purple, signifying a much easier life when she could survive on a hedge knight's wages. She is still beautiful, but it is clear from her nervous and shamed expession that she has not felt beautiful in a very long time
|
|
|
Post by Tim of Raventree on Jun 14, 2018 17:40:48 GMT
Tim leaned in to Harlan and whispered "Let's get drinks and decide what t'do next. I don't like t'look o' some o' these people. Might be a problem."
He made a small gesture with his head towards the men playing dice, both of whom looked like they might be an obstacle to the gang's plan.
|
|
Harlan
Peasant
Posts - 146
Likes - 32
Joined - April 2018
|
Post by Harlan on Jun 14, 2018 17:57:03 GMT
“Nonsense,” retorted Harlan under his breath. “These are salt of the earth people. If you leave them to their lives, there’s nothing to worry about. They’re just like us, trying to pick up the pieces follow the war.” Harlan gave Tim a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading to the bar.
“Evenin’,” Harlan said to Warren with a slight accent. “My friend and I is just passing through, lookin’ for a cheap bed fer the night, an’ somethin’ to eat an’ drink.”
|
|
|
Post by Lucas of Brindlewood on Jun 14, 2018 18:05:30 GMT
Lucas scarce looked up as the newcomers entered. It was just two more smallfolk off the road, scarce good they would do him. He had been trying to come up with a way out of his predicament for some time now, but nothing had occurred to him as of yet. He had considered possibly getting his captor drunk, but he could hardly suggest that without seeming suspicious and risking another beating, his face was still sore from the last and he didn't care to put it back on the line without a hope of success.
Head down he tried to determine where the keys to his shackles were on his captors person, for they must be somewhere.
(Observation 50)
|
|
|
Post by Tim of Raventree on Jun 14, 2018 18:16:37 GMT
Tim slumped his shoulders. Normally he'd want to flirt with the women and impress them with his tall tales but that would draw too much attention his way, so he had to restrain himself. He also deemed it wise to avoid the men playing dice. Instead he sidled towards the minstrel, reasoning that even the simpleton he was supposed to be acting the part of would enjoy music. Yet he wondered why Harlan had wanted him to play that particular role.
|
|
The Gambler
Administrator
Alea Iacta Est
Posts - 1,984
Likes - 612
Joined - December 2015
|
Post by The Gambler on Jun 14, 2018 19:06:13 GMT
“Nonsense,” retorted Harlan under his breath. “These are salt of the earth people. If you leave them to their lives, there’s nothing to worry about. They’re just like us, trying to pick up the pieces follow the war.” Harlan gave Tim a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading to the bar. “Evenin’,” Harlan said to Warren with a slight accent. “My friend and I is just passing through, lookin’ for a cheap bed fer the night, an’ somethin’ to eat an’ drink.” "Well you've come to the right place, friend," Warren replied, with a hearty laugh, truly delighted at the sight of each new patron that walked through his door. The realm was still healing from the wounds of a civil war and Warren took it as his personal mission to heal them with warm food and stiff drinks. "Eight coppers a night for a bed, two for a bit of my wife's cooking, and one for a mug of the coldest ale this this side of the Wall. If you're interested in some company for the evening, have a word with Gwyn and you'll not be disappointed."
|
|
The Gambler
Administrator
Alea Iacta Est
Posts - 1,984
Likes - 612
Joined - December 2015
|
Post by The Gambler on Jun 14, 2018 19:27:36 GMT
Lucas scarce looked up as the newcomers entered. It was just two more smallfolk off the road, scarce good they would do him. He had been trying to come up with a way out of his predicament for some time now, but nothing had occurred to him as of yet. He had considered possibly getting his captor drunk, but he could hardly suggest that without seeming suspicious and risking another beating, his face was still sore from the last and he didn't care to put it back on the line without a hope of success. Head down he tried to determine where the keys to his shackles were on his captors person, for they must be somewhere. (Observation 50) (+1 Observation) The keys were hanging from a string around his captor's neck, tucked securely beneath his chain armor. "So after a night of dicing I have the knight's purse, his sword, his horse, his plate, and his spurs. He's basically down to his smallclothes," the bounty hunter tells Taero the Myrish crossbowman as they toss bones. "So on a lark I ask him how much he thinks a knighthood is worth. The unlucky sod rolls snake eyes and the rest is history."
|
|
Taero of Myr
Peasant
Idiot #5
Posts - 101
Likes - 20
Joined - May 2016
|
Post by Taero of Myr on Jun 14, 2018 19:37:51 GMT
Taero laughs heartily into his mug of ale, all the while inside trying not to roll his eyes. These Westerosi knights loves to tell stupid stories of how they gained titles. "And what about this 'un you have chained up like a rebelious slave who you took a liking too, he loose against your dice as well?" He says taking a look at the chained man with feigned interest.
|
|
The Gambler
Administrator
Alea Iacta Est
Posts - 1,984
Likes - 612
Joined - December 2015
|
Post by The Gambler on Jun 14, 2018 19:47:50 GMT
"Not at dice bus his lucks run out all the same," he replied, tugging Lucas's chain so the foreigner could get a better look at him. "Might not look like much but this here is the Butcher of Brindlewood. Got a price on his head in Stone Hedge bigger than a Summer Islander's cock."
|
|
|
Post by Tim of Raventree on Jun 14, 2018 19:53:50 GMT
When the minstrel had finished his song, Tim decided the time was right to do some digging. Keeping the posture of a man who had been beaten down by a hard life, he feigned tiredness by yawning and spoke.
"Good song, that. Know any 'appy ones. 'Bout women and drinkin' and such?"
|
|
Taero of Myr
Peasant
Idiot #5
Posts - 101
Likes - 20
Joined - May 2016
|
Post by Taero of Myr on Jun 14, 2018 20:02:53 GMT
"I find that hard to believe. My pa' traded a pleasure slave once that was a Summer Islander, man was famed for the size of his manhood. That and always talkin' about himself by name." Taero says dubitably. "Was claimed by his previous master that the man walked into a feast once and had everyone laying on the ground in pleasure after a candlemark."
|
|
Harlan
Peasant
Posts - 146
Likes - 32
Joined - April 2018
|
Post by Harlan on Jun 14, 2018 20:13:26 GMT
Harlan nodded, withdrawing the proper sum from a pocket within his shirt. At the mention of Gwyn, Harlan was sure to give her a worthy glance. "You are pretty far out 'ere in the country," said Harland, turning back to Warren. "How long 'ave you owned the Tavern? Is she a new buy, or did yah some'ow avoid the war?"
|
|