|
Post by Ser Willis Blackfort on Dec 19, 2016 16:25:51 GMT
"That's a fine question. I imagine we'll draw lots, that's how it's usually done, but it might be that something special's planned." It occurred to Willis that he wasn't sure if the younger knight had ever actually fought in a tourney. "You done any of this before? Fought for play, I mean. Or just the real thing in the war?"
|
|
|
Post by Lucas of Brindlewood on Dec 19, 2016 20:42:01 GMT
"Wasn't a knight before the war." Willem replied, opening up slightly but not going into detail. "Once I was knighted I concerned myself with skills useful to staying alive."
|
|
The Gambler
Administrator
Alea Iacta Est
Posts - 1,984
Likes - 612
Joined - December 2015
|
Post by The Gambler on Dec 20, 2016 6:22:53 GMT
She smiled. "But how unfair to the plain ladies! They must feel so jealous and disappointed to be excluded from your compliments. And they need them the most, you know." She leaned in and whispered "Is Lord Lucamore here yet? I have not spotted him." "Now that you belong to a noble house, I would learn to become accustomed to gaining at the expense of your inferiors," he remarked, not taking his eyes from her to help look for her betrothed. "I am sure he is waiting to address your lord brother with the other high lords. Their loss, my gain." He flashed a cocksure grin. Dacey didn't have to be educated to recognize a shit analogy when she heard one. "That is true," she said rather off-handedly, complex-free about her family's lack of formal education, "though it seems experience and skill get you much further in life than privilege." "Looking around, it seems to me there is only one family present that got to where they are through hard work and experience," Smallwood remarked, tone indicating he did not mean it as a slight, but was simply stating the reality of the situation. "A farmer with talent will never be worth as much as a prince with a bloodline." "When a look kills me, I promise you shall be the first to hear of it, fool." Willem responded, raising his voice above a whisper in disdain, obviously thinking little of the wisdom he was being offered. "No no no, the wall will hear first, but maybe they'll be good enough to inform me next," Marbles laughed, shaking his head so the bells on his motley jangled, before running off to bother someone else.
|
|
The Gambler
Administrator
Alea Iacta Est
Posts - 1,984
Likes - 612
Joined - December 2015
|
Post by The Gambler on Dec 20, 2016 6:32:26 GMT
Belric ignored the comment from Ser Aerys. He could tell when a man wanted to speak so he could simply hear himself do so. By the look of it, his attentions were already elsewhere. "I can hardly compete in my own tournament," he replied with a cheeky smile. "Who would take my gold and wed my sister once I have run the lists?" "Well, if you are so eager to part with it, House Blackwood will happily take your coin," a shelf assured voice cut through the crowd like valyrian steel though butter, as he made his way through the crowd to stand the dais. He was tall, pale, dark of hair, dark of eye, the corner of his mouth seemingly permanently curled into a smirk. "Lord Belric, it is a pleasure to finally meet you, officially that is." Lord Seth Blackwood, the half-brother of Bloodraven, had numbered among the infamous and elite Raven's Teeth company of archers that had held the Weeping Ridge at the Battle of Redgrass Field. Though he would never boast to the effect, it was the arrow fired from his weirwood bow that had knocked poor Edmure from his horse on that fateful day during that realm altering charge. One had to wonder if the Lord of Raventree Hall cursed himself for shooting the wrong brother, as it had cost him his own.
|
|
|
Post by Ser Willis Blackfort on Dec 20, 2016 7:18:06 GMT
"Wasn't a knight before the war." Willem replied, opening up slightly but not going into detail. "Once I was knighted I concerned myself with skills useful to staying alive." "As well you should have. War's a knight's main duty. But now you get to see what our lot is in peacetime. Well, already got the bandit hunts and border disputes. That's what I cut my teeth on, back when I was in the hedges." He smiled a little at the memory. "Now it's time to show off for the ladies, mayhaps impress a fair maiden or five. Make some friends, make some rivals. Get drunk with those who used to be our enemies and hope they ain't anymore."
|
|
|
Post by Lucas of Brindlewood on Dec 20, 2016 8:16:46 GMT
Willem shot the fool a scowl as he ran off before turning his attention to Willis.
"I'm a bastard. Hoster's bastard if the bastardy alone was not bad enough." He said grimly. "I know nothing of the etiquette of tournaments, of jousting, or of how one ought to converse with those of high station. This tournament may bring many things Ser, but I doubt it shall bring me esteem in the eyes of the ladies. Or even most of the men for that matter."
|
|
|
Post by Tim of Raventree on Dec 20, 2016 16:29:33 GMT
"Now that you belong to a noble house, I would learn to become accustomed to gaining at the expense of your inferiors," he remarked, not taking his eyes from her to help look for her betrothed. "I am sure he is waiting to address your lord brother with the other high lords. Their loss, my gain." He flashed a cocksure grin. "So it is," she replied. "I am most grateful for your company. Do you plan to compete in the tourney at all? It will be very pleasant to have another person to cheer for."
|
|
|
Post by Ser Willis Blackfort on Dec 20, 2016 17:06:41 GMT
Willis wasn't clued in to all the family gossip, and hadn't actually known that Hoster was Willem's father. He did his best to keep the surprise off his face. "A bastard you may be. But you're a bastard of what is, now, a great house. Know who else used to be the bastard of a great house?" He dropped to a lower volume. "I'll give you a hint: he's sitting the Iron Fucking Throne. You know how to fight, I've seen that. That's what matters here, not your name. As for manners, someone looks important, you call 'em 'my lord' or 'my lady', otherwise don't worry about the damned details. I sure as shit don't."
|
|
|
Post by Lucas of Brindlewood on Dec 20, 2016 17:39:40 GMT
Willis wasn't clued in to all the family gossip, and hadn't actually known that Hoster was Willem's father. He did his best to keep the surprise off his face. "A bastard you may be. But you're a bastard of what is, now, a great house. Know who else used to be the bastard of a great house?" He dropped to a lower volume. "I'll give you a hint: he's sitting the Iron Fucking Throne. You know how to fight, I've seen that. That's what matters here, not your name. As for manners, someone looks important, you call 'em 'my lord' or 'my lady', otherwise don't worry about the damned details. I sure as shit don't." Willem resisted the urge to ask Willis how he well he was esteemed in the eyes of the lords and ladies of the realm, but did not, since the man was clearly trying to show him some compassion. "Perhaps you are right, Willis." He said hesitantly. "Thank you for your words."
|
|
|
Post by Ser Willis Blackfort on Dec 20, 2016 20:40:10 GMT
Willis nodded. The younger knight had grown on him, and he accepted the thanks earnestly. "My pleasure." He looked out on the assembled crowd, scanning for maidens likely to be charmed by a serious young knight looking to make his name. "Now let's find you a target to aim for."
(Observation 37)
|
|
The Gambler
Administrator
Alea Iacta Est
Posts - 1,984
Likes - 612
Joined - December 2015
|
Post by The Gambler on Dec 21, 2016 0:43:15 GMT
(+2 Observation)
The most eligible woman in the room was Lord Tully's daughter, who was surrounded by suitors, a bored expression on her features. The next most eligible was certainly the widowed Lady Mandrake, waiting to address the dais with her son. Besides that, the Lord Frey had a gaggle of daughters and nieces.
For someone more on the level of Willis and Willem, most of women had a lady in waiting or two with them. Otherwise, there was always the Lowborn Encampment.
|
|
|
Post by Lord Belric Blackfort on Dec 21, 2016 2:54:43 GMT
Belric ignored the comment from Ser Aerys. He could tell when a man wanted to speak so he could simply hear himself do so. By the look of it, his attentions were already elsewhere. "I can hardly compete in my own tournament," he replied with a cheeky smile. "Who would take my gold and wed my sister once I have run the lists?" "Well, if you are so eager to part with it, House Blackwood will happily take your coin," a shelf assured voice cut through the crowd like valyrian steel though butter, as he made his way through the crowd to stand the dais. He was tall, pale, dark of hair, dark of eye, the corner of his mouth seemingly permanently curled into a smirk. "Lord Belric, it is a pleasure to finally meet you, officially that is." Lord Seth Blackwood, the half-brother of Bloodraven, had numbered among the infamous and elite Raven's Teeth company of archers that had held the Weeping Ridge at the Battle of Redgrass Field. Though he would never boast to the effect, it was the arrow fired from his weirwood bow that had knocked poor Edmure from his horse on that fateful day during that realm altering charge. One had to wonder if the Lord of Raventree Hall cursed himself for shooting the wrong brother, as it had cost him his own. "Yes!" barked Belric, slapping his knee jovially. He made the connections, registering the man as his legendary rival's kin. For whatever it was worth, Belric held no personal hatred for house Blackwood. He had won, there was little resentment left to be had. Considering Bloodraven's current predicament of not being alive, Belric figured he wasn't holding any grudges either... again, Belric proved oblivious. "That's the spirit!" He drank from his cup, chuckling from the amusement of it all. He licked at a drip of wine that had fled his lips and took a deep breath, regarding Seth genuinely. He did not speak for a moment, his expression hardening while the room quieted. Then, he stood. "Well met, Lord Blackwood. And this time without all the plate." He smirked, "I have no doubt of your skill. If you are half the warrior your brother was, I would pay just for the show." (Observation: 15) Disposition check, even though I already know the answer.
|
|
|
Post by Ser Willis Blackfort on Dec 21, 2016 6:53:24 GMT
Willis mentally crossed the most eligible ladies off his list. That wasn't likely to go well. But highborns couldn't be ruled out entirely. "Any Freys that catch your fancy?" He tried to come up with a euphemism involving bridges and tolls, but nothing came to him. "They brought enough of 'em that one's likely a little less than virtuous."
|
|
|
Post by Lucas of Brindlewood on Dec 21, 2016 7:52:48 GMT
Willem raised an eyebrow. "If I was looking for that matter of satisfaction I could find it at the nearest whorehouse, from one who actually knows the art." He hesitated, looking across the room toward the crowd of Freys. "The suggestion of a Frey does not strike me as a bad one however. It is true they have many eligible ladies. Perhaps they would not be opposed to the idea of ridding themselves of a younger one, or a cousin."
|
|
The Raven
Administrator
Posts - 1,119
Likes - 230
Joined - December 2015
|
Post by The Raven on Dec 21, 2016 7:56:41 GMT
(Failed roll.) Blackwood's disposition remains a mystery, no doubt well guarded in the presence of his sworn enemies nearby. Speaking of which... Lord Bracken's brother Ser Ned stood up, slamming his fist into the table. He was a familiar face to nearly everyone, having fought often throughout the war at his cousin Aegor's side. One of the finest swordsmen in the Riverlands, he was also one of the most temperamental. "Is this a jest, Lord Blackfort? You call us here for a tourney and then you praise this sneakthief for his courage? Did not this brazen coward sit upon the Weeping Ridge and hurl arrows upon our true king? I was at the Redgrass too, and I will never forget how quickly he fled your wrath while better traitors than him had the mettle to at least stand and die in Daeron's name!"
|
|