Boros
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Post by Boros on Jun 11, 2016 19:19:02 GMT
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"Ah think 'tis is da place..." Hoster stood before the entranceof the Granary. He tried the door, if they had lock it, Hoster would seriously consider killing himself.
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The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Jun 11, 2016 19:22:18 GMT
It was indeed locked. Near the locked door was a box of razor blades, a book of goth poetry, and the sheet music to "Hurt".
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Boros
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Jon
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Post by Boros on Jun 11, 2016 19:26:38 GMT
"Da feck is 'tis shit?" Hoster grabbed the box and started to shake it. He did the same with the book and the sheet of music, he couldn't read letter nor musical notes, to him that was all baloney. "Any o' ye kno's wha's written here?"
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The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Jun 11, 2016 19:27:46 GMT
Hoster's men laughed, all of them even less educated than he was.
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Boros
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Jon
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Post by Boros on Jun 11, 2016 19:34:16 GMT
"FEEEEECK!" Hoster roared as he tried to force the door in desperation. All he asked was for a sip of wine, it didn't even have to be good wine, it could be dornish piss, nothing else. " Gods, ye maniacs, ye ruin'd it! Damn ye, damn ye all ta hell!" He hammered his fists against the door, abstinence was clearly not good for him mental health. "Why hav' ye forsaken me?!?"
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The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Jun 11, 2016 19:34:20 GMT
"Would you like some assistance with that?" a cold voice asked from behind them, making Hoster's hardened killers jump.
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Boros
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Post by Boros on Jun 11, 2016 19:42:42 GMT
"Finally! I kne' ye'd listen ta m..." Hoster was about to thank the soulless bastards- who he had just cursed to hell - for sending someone to help, only until he noticed who was the speaker. For a moment he froze in place, it was not that he was scared of Simon, it was just that he realized that Harrenhal was already disturbing by itself, the old knight's figure appearing from out of nowhere did nothing to improve it.
"Eeeer..." Hoster fixed his composure, stretching his back and adopting his old trademarked frown. "Door is lock'd. Ah'm Belric's uncle, need ta git som'thing ta drink." He said unwaveringly, the initial shock of terror having passed.
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The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Jun 11, 2016 19:50:37 GMT
Apparently accustomed to this sort of reaction, Ser Simon produced a long black metal key and unlocked the door.
"There's a cask of strongwine from Lord Redwyne's private reserves in the east wing," he informed Hoster. "Dark purple, languorous and heady on the tongue. Lady Danelle was saving it for a special occasion."
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Boros
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Post by Boros on Jun 11, 2016 19:56:19 GMT
"Don' bother, ah'll leave it foh Belric... Prefer da chepah ones meself."" Hoster forced a smiled and a nod. He had to take a mental note never to get near that cask, and anyother Ser Simon might suggest. He darted into the storage, towards the closest cask, already producing the wineskin.
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Boros
Knight
Jon
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Post by Boros on Jun 12, 2016 13:57:35 GMT
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From what he had seen the day had been over, the deal with the Whents resolved, Belric only had to deal with the peasants now and what kind of trouble poor people could provide? He was certain they wouldn't need him for the rest of the day. He did not abuse with his drinks though, lil' Belric might not like him wildling prowling through the storage, so limited their drinks to one wineskin each.
"From there ta here, from here ta there. All black an' brown an' cover'd in 'air..." Hoster sat by the granaries door with his two companions, singing merrily to the top of his lungs. This was the best wine he had had in quite a while, not because it was actually good, but because anything will be the best if haven't had anything for a whole day. "He smell'd da girl in 'er summ'r 'air. Da Be'r, da Be'r an' da Maiden Fair."
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Post by Lord Belric Blackfort on Jun 12, 2016 23:30:51 GMT
Belric entered the granaries, walking in with authority.
"Uncle," He said spotting Hoster doing a fair job of appearing a fool. "I see you waist no time. Finish what you have opened, but rest is to be accounted for and saved." He was sure to add emphasis to his orders, for fear Hoster was too sauced to understand Belric's word was not optional.
"Ser Simon," Belric said, addressing the old knight, "In the interest of your well being, wait for me in your solar. I will call for you when the time comes. Be wary, there is an army of men returning home who would like to claim your head as a trophy."
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Boros
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Jon
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Post by Boros on Jun 12, 2016 23:38:01 GMT
Seeing his nephew arrive, Hoster got up to his feet as fast as a one can say 'Oh fuck...'. He fixed his rumpled clothing and paid Belric a military salute.
"Aye aye, nephew. Ah just had ta fill me skin, rest will be sav'd." Hoster closed his wineskin, letting it hang against his waist. "Me throat was dry, fecking bitch in the inn wouldn't give me any. Ah'm good naw, best state ta serve." He felt just a little dizzy, but that had never impaired his ability to work. "Can I do som'thin' fer ye, m'lord?"
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The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Jun 12, 2016 23:39:09 GMT
Simon was not sure why he would be going to Kingspyre, when his solar was right upstairs. So he simply walked up the stairs without comment.
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Post by Lord Belric Blackfort on Jun 13, 2016 0:28:49 GMT
"Assemble my guard, Uncle. I have treated with Jamie the Smith, and have reached terms of the commoner's surrender. A coalition has been instituted to tally our grain stores and to distribute supplies amongst the people. I will need trustworthy men to overlook the process, which means none of your Boony Boys." Belric gave Hoster a curious look, checking over his shoulder to make sure Ser Simon was no longer within ear shot. "Ser Simon is to be relieved of his position here at Harrenhal, I will be needing your men to accompany me to his solar. I believe he is obediant, but would not take the chance with a man such as him."
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Barley
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Post by Barley on Jun 13, 2016 0:33:25 GMT
Saesha had followed her husband out, and to the granary, "we would be wise to cushion the blow with a new commission," she suggested.
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