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Post by Deleted on Aug 23, 2007 18:03:20 GMT -5
White Harbor is a small city on the eastern coast, the only great city of the North Kingdom. Its roads are clean, its houses and shops neat and orderly. Many sailors have likened its beauty to Oldtown, saying White Harbor is like, "a grand lady's pretty daughter." Admittedly, it does not have the stink and filth of King's Landing, and Lord Manderly of White Harbor is said to be as rich in silver as Casterly Rock is in gold.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 23, 2007 18:06:06 GMT -5
Andry's Fury pulled into port, the sailors scrambling when they saw the ship. Aranya and Selwyn came down the gangplank, Selwyn cradling Brynden this time, Lustrig and Beaumarin close behind. Their servants brought their horses, and their knights came down with their own steeds. Andry's Fury was a large ship.
"It's even colder up here than it was in the Vale," Aranya said, drawing close to Selwyn and shivering. She checked to see that Brynden was bundled up adequately.
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Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Aug 23, 2007 18:08:54 GMT -5
"Just wait until we get further north, further past Winterfell. Then you'll regret not having brought along the Raventree sapling to warm our bed for us," Selwyn says.
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Post by Percy Rivers on Aug 23, 2007 18:18:29 GMT -5
A shout drew their attention. They turned to see Hodrick Royce waving to them. "I was wondering when you two would get here. Just like you Selwyn to leave an old man waiting. Dragonstone may have been dreary, but at least it was warm." He lightly cuffed Selwyn on the ear.
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Post by Percy Rivers on Aug 23, 2007 18:24:40 GMT -5
OOC: Um Elane, double post.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 23, 2007 18:29:07 GMT -5
OOC: My stupid ass computer lost connection four effing times. Ugh. Thanks for pointing it out.
Aranya batted her lashes at him. "Why would I need the Raventree sapling when I have a big, hard oak to keep me warm enough?"
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Post by Deleted on Aug 23, 2007 18:31:01 GMT -5
"Great-uncle!" Aranya punched him, pleased. "Did Callen tell you we were coming?"
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Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Aug 23, 2007 18:31:07 GMT -5
Selwyn winks at Aranya in response, then turns to his distant nuncle.
"What happened to Dragonstone, Ser Hodrick? I thought you were Castellan there, sent to watch the stone dragons and ensure they never rose in rebellion," Selwyn asks.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 23, 2007 18:32:50 GMT -5
"You wouldn't have had to watch the little dragons, if Callen had done what was needed," Aranya said. All the Targaryen children should have died, as I told him.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 23, 2007 18:43:14 GMT -5
A little old woman pottered up to them. She had been staring from the docks, ignored by the sailors, for she really was little. The little crone was a wizened creatured who only stood high enough for her head to reach Aranya's elbow. She was toothless, her skin shriveled and pale, her back bent and only a few wisps of hair clinging to her scalp - but her eyes saw deep. They were great eyes, large and gray-green, and they seemed to see far.
She gaped at Aranya silently.
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Post by Percy Rivers on Aug 23, 2007 18:49:02 GMT -5
Hodrick glanced at the crone nervously. "Aranya, the moment you start killing children you stop being a king, and begin being a tyrant." He changed topics, "Dragonstone was quiet enough, and the king sent me to find you up here, felt that you could use all the swords you could get. I'm sure the next castellan will be good enough to watch Kidwell shit and pick his nose all day."
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Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Aug 23, 2007 18:49:48 GMT -5
"We should be moving. The snows have settled, we should not tarry in comfort in White Harbor while more storms approach," Lustrig says, eager to ride.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 23, 2007 18:51:35 GMT -5
Aranya shrugged at her great-uncle's words. "Whatever. Let's do as the Lance says and ride." She beckoned for her black courser.
"Wait!" the crone said sharply.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 23, 2007 18:55:11 GMT -5
"Who are you?" Aranya frowned. "Speak, woman." Her courser snorted.
The little crone leered at her. "Your horse knows who I am."
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Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Aug 23, 2007 18:56:23 GMT -5
Lustrig, Beaumarin, and Selwyn all turn their heads and the old woman's cry. None had noticed her before.
"What, are you going to sell us cockles and mussels for the campfire, crone? Begone with you," the Lance says.
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Hope you all are well and happy.