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Post by brigida on Jan 18, 2008 1:38:53 GMT -5
Tristeza's eyes remained unmoved, and he mind was much the same. "I am also a loyal friend to you, Lord Francis, and your burdens are mine--Tell me. Speak freely."
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Post by The Flint on Jan 18, 2008 1:48:23 GMT -5
"How could I Tristeza? You serve Emelia, Emelia serves the Sealord. She may not think she does. No doubt she has many a snide comment about how she will cleverly come out on top of it all, but don't you believe it."
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Post by brigida on Jan 18, 2008 1:55:36 GMT -5
"I will tell you frankly, Francis, that her plans, as she explained them to me, seemed, at the least, precarious, and doubtful." she admitted sincerely to her old friend. "You are right to say I serve Emelia--But my greater service is to Dorne--you must know I will always tend to the orders tendered by Emelia, as far as I can see them to a positive end for our Kingdon--come; what is it you were going to tell me. It may be of importance." She urged him, more out of curiosity than anything else.
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Post by The Flint on Jan 18, 2008 11:51:30 GMT -5
///////////// Francis Varner, Ser Torn and his Ten, and a escort of fifty men, travel west to the Hightower by horse.
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jan 18, 2008 16:51:36 GMT -5
A letter arrives by raven.
Lord Varner,
Having read your letter through thoroughly, having weighed up the pros and cons of going to war against Andry Baratheon and his foreign allies, I have decided that indeed it is the right course to take and that you shall have the full support of Blackcrown behind you.
May we put an end to these foreigners pretensions once and for all.
Lord Jackson Bulwer
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Post by The Flint on Jan 19, 2008 2:52:29 GMT -5
///////////////////// Francis returns to Stoatheart. with his people.
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Post by The Flint on Jan 27, 2008 19:49:17 GMT -5
/////////////////////////// Francis sits in Stoatheart, drumming his fingers impatiently.
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Post by The Flint on Feb 1, 2008 13:05:38 GMT -5
////////////////////// Francis is finally up and out of bed, although his wife and guards are keeping a watchful and nervous eye on him.
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Post by The Stranger on Jun 27, 2008 16:32:52 GMT -5
/////////////// Ser Martyn and Lewn arrive at Stoatheart, and are eagerly admitted to the keep.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 27, 2008 16:42:56 GMT -5
Lewyn looked up at the castle in interest, feeling a wave of excitement. One day, I am going to serve a castle like this, he thought. Part of him hoped it was the Dun Fort, for the sake of living with Brynden and Selse and Lady Aranya....but another part of him yearned to see the far places of the realm, and the great castles.
They rode through the gates, their horses damp with sweat, and dismounted. Lewyn carefully lifted his saddlebag and his other bag of belongings, patting his chestnut. He felt a bit nervous, now that it was time to meet them. He became uncomfortably aware that his clothes were dusty, his face was sweaty, his hair was unruly, and that he was generally a not very presentable sight.
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Post by The Stranger on Jun 27, 2008 16:58:45 GMT -5
They are created in the courtyard by Lady Anne Varner, holding Shauna's hand, and Corrine and Loren Irwyn. Their younger brother was away in the nursery. Maester Timlon stood in the rear, fingering his chain.
"Welcome to Stoatheart Lewyn." Anne said softly. "It's a pleasure to have you."
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Post by Deleted on Jun 27, 2008 17:03:24 GMT -5
"Thank you, my lady," Lewyn said sincerely, with a smile. "It was very kind of you to invite me, the best surprise I've had all year." He pulled out the wrapped set of scented candles from his saddlebag, and as he gave it to Anne he said, "I bought this in Oldtown, just before we left, to try and show how much I appreciate this."
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Post by The Stranger on Jun 27, 2008 17:20:45 GMT -5
"I hope your hungry, we've set up a little dinner for you." She looked at him, like a farmer might inspect a pig. "As I thought, skin and bones. They remember to feed you at all in that Citadel?"
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Post by Deleted on Jun 27, 2008 20:36:23 GMT -5
"Mostly bread and stew that is not too watery," Lewyn admitted, his stomach rumbling at the idea of dinner. "We stea - I mean, we get more from the kitchens, sometimes."
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Post by The Stranger on Jun 27, 2008 20:40:30 GMT -5
Lady Anne smiled. "That won't be a problem here. We'll put some meat on your bones." She put her arm on his shoulder, and guided him into the great hall.
Men filled the hall, mostly in the White Weasel of Varner, but some were in the Oak tree of Irwyn, the Black Weasel of the Blacksables, and the dove of the Whitebyrds. They made room for Lewyn near the head of the bench, where bread was being broken and stew coming in in large pots.
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