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Post by The Smith on Oct 7, 2013 23:57:23 GMT -5
"Damon and I dueled once. Just a practice match. He sought me out the orphanage." Harlaw replied. He did not seem to have any knowledge or care of Teirney's association with the Prince. "He is better then your great uncle too. Quickest blade I ever have seen." There was a slight smirk as he relived that memory.
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Post by The Smith on Oct 7, 2013 23:57:27 GMT -5
"Damon and I dueled once. Just a practice match. He sought me out the orphanage." Harlaw replied. He did not seem to have any knowledge or care of Teirney's association with the Prince. "He is better then your great uncle too. Quickest blade I ever have seen." There was a slight smirk as he relived that memory.
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Post by Teirney Lannister on Oct 8, 2013 0:11:27 GMT -5
"Who won?" she prompted him haughtily, though never letting her innocuous smile slide from her face.
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Post by The Smith on Oct 8, 2013 22:50:38 GMT -5
"I never lose. Tough fight though. He was not very use to fighting axes, but I have killed hundred of men with their swords." Draken replied, and then smirked a little more, "Knocked him on the side of his head, he must have had an egg for a week." Teirney did remember Damon getting a bump on the side of his head almost a year ago now, and he was furious when it had come up in conversation.
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Post by Sam on Oct 11, 2013 10:44:57 GMT -5
Lord Baratheon walks down the Street of Silk slowly, toward Flea Bottom. He does not apear to be in a particular hurry, merely perusing the various brothels whose mistresses are touting their wares. A fat coinpurse hangs at his belt, uncovered by his cloak; an extremely tempting target for any thief of decent skill. Four guardsmen trail behind him, about ten feet back but keeping pace with their lord.
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Post by The Stranger on Oct 11, 2013 11:56:56 GMT -5
A crowd of drunken celebrants begins moving down the street in the opposite direction.
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Post by Sam on Oct 11, 2013 11:59:19 GMT -5
Lord Baratheon eyes them curiously, but does not change his pace or direction. He assumes that they are celebrating the Queen's coronation, as the city had been awash with festivities, but one can never truly be sure of such things.
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Post by The Stranger on Oct 11, 2013 13:59:27 GMT -5
Baratheon passes through the crowd, and is roughily bumped several times, "Hoi Congratushuans" yelled one of them in his direction as the group turned off the Silk road towards Flea bottom.
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Post by Sam on Oct 11, 2013 15:41:59 GMT -5
Lord Baratheon weathered being slightly pushed aside by the drunken revealers, but a few steps beyond them he checked his coin purse to see if it was still there and full.
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Post by The Stranger on Oct 11, 2013 16:21:49 GMT -5
The coin purse clanks reassuringly and Baratheon continues on. Suddenly he gets an odd feeling and looks down again.
The purse is the wrong color.
Opening it he sees it contains tin disks.
The crowd of men is gone.
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Post by Sam on Oct 11, 2013 18:27:43 GMT -5
He swore violently, and moved swiftly in the direction that they had gone, checking alleys as he passed them that they might have turned down to escape detection.
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Post by The Stranger on Oct 11, 2013 18:28:36 GMT -5
The drunken crowd was not that far away, although they had turned down another corner, and were piling into a rundown looking tavern.
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Post by Sam on Oct 11, 2013 18:32:27 GMT -5
Baratheon followed them, his four guardsmen on his heels.
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Post by The Stranger on Oct 11, 2013 18:44:50 GMT -5
As the men step inside the tavern all heads turn in their direction. Lower class working men, drunks, and thugs populate the bar. They eye the Baratheon men with a look that stray dogs often get, when they are debating either tucking tails or ripping throats.
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Post by Sam on Oct 11, 2013 19:00:45 GMT -5
Baratheon ignores them, looking for the pack of drunks that had, quite deftly, stolen his coin.
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Hope you all are well and happy.