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Post by shacklock on Dec 10, 2007 18:47:33 GMT -5
Sargon manages a slight smile, standing. “Aye, of course. Goodnight.”
Striding from the tent, he recognizes the voice of his half-brother, entering the closely, and much louder tent, Sargon grins at Erik. “Having a party without me Coldiron?”
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Post by Horas on Dec 10, 2007 18:50:22 GMT -5
"You. Out." The beer-seeking guard says to Sargon. "This is not a gods-damn party."
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Post by Erik on Dec 10, 2007 18:51:23 GMT -5
"Oh, please!" Erik yells to the guard, "I might die in the morning! Let me have a decent time! And go find your damn beer!"
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Post by loremaster on Dec 10, 2007 18:53:58 GMT -5
"Why, yes, I would appreciate that, my lord. The stirrings of war have left my throat parched, I'm afraid." Edrick vaguely remembered him as Master of Whisperers from some party years ago, but that was it.
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Post by shacklock on Dec 10, 2007 18:55:46 GMT -5
Greyjoy grins, pushing past the guard and sitting himself down.
“How is the imprisonment life treating you then brother? And where’s the damned ale? I thought this was a party.” He chuckles.
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Post by Erik on Dec 10, 2007 18:57:29 GMT -5
"That guard you just pissed off is supposed to be getting some." Erik nods to Mortimer. "Do you know our cousin Mortimer? The rightful Lord Greyjoy if we ignore that whole legitimacy issue."
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Post by sethgreyjoy on Dec 10, 2007 18:59:08 GMT -5
"Charmed." Mortimer announced, nodding to Sargon.
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Post by shacklock on Dec 10, 2007 19:00:01 GMT -5
Sargon raises an eyebrow, scrutinizing Mortimer. After a moment he replies, “Aye…a distant memory though. Assumed you were down in the Drowned God’s watery halls, coz.”
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Post by sethgreyjoy on Dec 10, 2007 19:08:39 GMT -5
"Never assume, cousin, it is terribly bad form." Mortimer offered him a seat. "The wine is good."
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Post by swammeyjoe on Dec 10, 2007 19:09:36 GMT -5
Randal and his bodyguard's walk over to Horas' tent and the Randal asks to speak to Horas in private.
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Post by Horas on Dec 10, 2007 19:11:03 GMT -5
Horas pours Edrick a glass of Arbor Gold, then leans back in a chair. "It has been some time since you have ben in Westeros, has it not? What made you decide to return?"
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Post by Horas on Dec 10, 2007 19:13:49 GMT -5
Randal is escorted in. Horas sends his guards outside so that they may speak privately.
"Lord Randal," Horas says. "To what do I owe the honor?"
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Post by Erik on Dec 10, 2007 19:14:57 GMT -5
Erik pours out some more wine for those present. "So, Sargon. Give me a good reason to not have you drowned as soon as I'm set free."
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Post by loremaster on Dec 10, 2007 19:21:05 GMT -5
"In truth, my lord, the decision was out of my hands..." He sat across from the Lord, a sober, mournful look on the Prince's face. "I recieved word of my nephew's death. We had never been close, but once I heard his heir was only a child... well, the memories of my brother returned. You see, I remember what it's like, being isolated as a youth, denied a normal life. But I was secondborn, so it wasn't oppressive as it could've been, especially as I grew and found my own path. But poor Rickon... a child that young, bearing the pressure so soon, and without a father to guide him?" He sipped his wine solemnly. "I had to leave Pentos immediately. I couldn't allow that sort of anguish to my great nephew. Not to another little boy."
He cut off his story to greet Randal.
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Post by shacklock on Dec 10, 2007 19:23:11 GMT -5
In response, Sargon grins, draining the wine. “For one, this has helped your claim to Bear Island and more importantly, we’ll be killing and burning these Bolton fuckers soon enough.”
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Hope you all are well and happy.