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Post by Teirney Lannister on Aug 8, 2007 21:46:44 GMT -5
ooc: I know, but I couldn't resist with the magical. It sounds better  |
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Post by Teirney Lannister on Aug 8, 2007 21:59:48 GMT -5
ooc: so I guess we'll meet them tomorrow-ish. You can go ahead with it if I'm not on.
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Post by Bunny-Rabbit on Aug 8, 2007 22:09:17 GMT -5
ooc-I will be at a Mets game so you go ahead if I am not here.
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Post by Imry Willfyre on Aug 11, 2007 14:26:10 GMT -5
Still exhausted from his ride, despite it having been a short one, Rhett rode his horse up to the gates of Grandview and calling out to the guards he said, "Ho there, soldiers! I seek food and rest in Grandview, I've come from the burned city."
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Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Aug 11, 2007 19:19:25 GMT -5
OOC: I'm not really sure if I am the right 'authority' to be playing characters in Grandview anymore. But for the moment I'll pretend I am, and the Smith can step in and take over the NPCs at any time.
IC: The soldiers ask to ensure the guest has peaceful intentions, and if he agrees, bid him enter as guest.
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Post by Imry Willfyre on Aug 12, 2007 0:03:58 GMT -5
The visitor accepts graciously and enters the gates inquiring where he can find the most comfortable stay in Grandview.
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Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Aug 12, 2007 0:49:59 GMT -5
"The village is small and in a little valley behind the castle. One of the farmer's rents some rooms. But the Lady Fenra is usually happy to have guests here in the keep," he tells the visitor.
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Post by Imry Willfyre on Aug 12, 2007 1:10:22 GMT -5
"Ah! That sounds most pleasant, please lead me to where I can meet the Lady of Grandview. It would be an honor."
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Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Aug 12, 2007 1:34:54 GMT -5
The guest is brought to the Great Hall. The woman of the house, Lady Fenra Grandison, sweeps into the Hall wearing a brightly brocaded blue and gold dress that amply displays her somewhat aging bosom.
"Greetings, greetings! Who are you to visit us so high here in Grandview! You are a handsome gentleman..."
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Post by Imry Willfyre on Aug 12, 2007 10:02:31 GMT -5
The visitor smiles graciously and says, "Hail, Lady of Grandview!", as he bows deeply. "I am Rhett Flowers, a wandering craftsman looking for patronage in these cold and bleary times."
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Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Aug 12, 2007 12:55:32 GMT -5
"Why, you are a delicate flower, my dear. Never has that name been more suited. What is your craft, so that I can be your patron?" she asks, a smile playing on her lips. She looks entranced by this new guest.
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Post by Imry Willfyre on Aug 12, 2007 14:21:33 GMT -5
"I'm an instrument maker, a musician, and I've recently crafted something beyond my own skill that plays wonderfully." He undid a pack he wore and took out a string instrument, smaller and more narrow than a lute. "And I've been thinking to play it with a bow of sorts."
The visitor was obviously excited about his instrument and continued without giving Lady Grandison time to reply, "I took horsehair from my own mount and stretched it between the two ends of this piece of wood. It makes a brilliant sound!" Rhett sampled a few high but clear notes on his instrument, and when he finished he looked at her, waiting to see how she would react.
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Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Aug 12, 2007 14:30:27 GMT -5
"Oh, that is most wondrous! What a soaring vibrato*! I do love a man with such skilled hands."
*Since you've just invented the violin, that word probably doesn't exist yet. Oh well.
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Post by Imry Willfyre on Aug 12, 2007 14:37:05 GMT -5
Rhett smiled, pleased that he had made a good impression on the Lady. "My thanks, Lady Grandison", he said bowing. "So will you be my lady patron? I don't require much, but I think there is much money to make here. That's obviously not the most important part, but it's often on my mind when I'm starving on the road."
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Post by Lord Rhodri Arryn on Aug 12, 2007 19:05:49 GMT -5
"Oh, you needn't starve on the road, young man. We have the most comfortable furnishings here. We shall set up some apartments for you, just across from mine. I do hope you'll be comfortable," Lady Fenra gushes.
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