|
|
Post by Ser Kenneth Coyn on Nov 18, 2007 16:21:33 GMT -5
"I'd say, I haven't participated in many knightly competitions unless you count drinking as a sport, lets say we send a Raven from here to let them know that the gallant Ser Gilbert Flowers will participate hoping to bring glory to the Reach, err well at least not embarassing her too greatly."
|
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on Nov 18, 2007 16:28:11 GMT -5
"I doubt that's possible," Said Ser Torn glibly. "And I hear there may be a drinking competition. So perhaps you'll bring home honors despite your efforts."
|
|
|
|
Post by Ser Kenneth Coyn on Nov 18, 2007 20:50:21 GMT -5
"Well unless there is a prize for getting drunk and passing out the fastest." Ser Gilbert joked "in fact I think I'll practice some now, just in case" He takes a long slow chug from the ale he brought with him.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on Nov 18, 2007 20:57:02 GMT -5
Ser Torn punched him on the arm, to insist he share. "I'll have the cook put something on for us to eat, it'll keep you on your feet longer. Gotta eat right if you want to practice." Torn said chuckling, as the two men took a seat at the long bench in Stoatheart's great hall.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ser Kenneth Coyn on Nov 18, 2007 21:00:40 GMT -5
"Good enough," Ser Gilbert says passing the jug to his old friend. "I am not much for practice though, I prefer to fight with instincts like a wild animal." Ser Gilbert says giving his best war face.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on Nov 18, 2007 21:10:19 GMT -5
"That's your war face? You look like you're being buggered by a snow bear." Torn said with a grin. "And practice is everything. Training and commitment beats raw talent every time. It's why I'm still whipping the young pups. Besides, you to rely on raw talent you have to at least have raw talent."
|
|
|
|
Post by Ser Kenneth Coyn on Nov 18, 2007 21:32:03 GMT -5
"I didn't say talent friend I said instincts," Ser Gilbert said grasping the jug back and taking another swig. "A wild animal isn't dangerous because it practices killing, it just does and when its cornered it comes out snarling, thats me thats how I fight" Ser Gilbert starts to show Ser Torn his snarl but instead decides to take another swig of ale before passing it back.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on Nov 18, 2007 21:39:04 GMT -5
"You want to see a snarl?" Ser Torn said, and stood. "You wanna see a snarl?" Torn said again and begged Ser Gilbert to follow, with his jug. The went down a series of steps to the armory. Inside, pikes, and swords, and mail and maces, and a heavy locked cabinet. Ser Torn took a key hanging from his neck, and undid it, Sitting inside the case, was a long sword, it's blade nearly white in color, with black etchings, depicting a Weasel striking a Viper on the hood.
"That's Longsnarl, been in this family for generations. I don't know that its been wielded in battle since the Gardners sat on their throne. Good Lord Marcus, you'll remember, chose the axe for his weapon, and Francis is a dagger man. But god she is beautiful." Ser Torn said, almost longingly.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ser Kenneth Coyn on Nov 18, 2007 21:46:20 GMT -5
Whew whew, Gilbert attempts to whistle his appreciation for the piece but it sounds more like hot air escaping from a kettle. "She's a beaute, she'd make any man a warrior, I bet."
|
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on Nov 18, 2007 21:51:52 GMT -5
"She'd make an any-man a dead man, while some true warrior took her off his body. The weapon doesn't make the knight. Although by gods' if it did, she'd be the one to do it. Beautiful. Maybe some day Lord Varner will have a boy, and I can teach him the sword. That'd be almost as good as getting to touch her myself." Ser Torn closed the cabinet and locked it up tight, before leading Ser Gilbert back up to the hall.
"We used to be a Great House you know Gilbert. And we will be again, with Francis' help. But he ain't no soldier, so he's gonna need strong arms. Like you and me, and Alex."
|
|
|
|
Post by Ser Kenneth Coyn on Nov 18, 2007 22:01:05 GMT -5
"Oy, being a Great House is a lot of work," Ser Gilbert says taking another swig and stumbling "I'll be here for the fighting but, I am not into all the fancy smancy balls and flourishes nonsenesf," he takes another swig and passes it to Ser Torn, "In fact if your ever looking for me during one of those things you'll find me with the other animals in the stable getting drunk."
|
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on Nov 18, 2007 22:03:09 GMT -5
Ser Torn laughed, "We'll I'll be inside dancing with my wife. A good dance is my best chance for my ration of lovin' for the year."
|
|
|
|
Post by Ser Kenneth Coyn on Nov 18, 2007 22:15:28 GMT -5
"Piff, I dole out my own. . my own. . rashon of love." Ser Gilbert says possibly making a reference to masturbation but its difficult to say what he meant given his state after consuming almost a whole jug of ale.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on Nov 18, 2007 22:32:47 GMT -5
Four chickens roasted over a spit arrived and were set on the table by Lise, a blue eyed wench with an ample bosom and a nice posterior. She darted nimbly out of Ser Torn's reaching hand, and returned to the kitchen.
"mmm that looks delicious." said Ser Torn, although its not entirely clear what he's talking about.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ser Kenneth Coyn on Nov 18, 2007 22:38:34 GMT -5
"I'd like some breasts." Ser Gilbert says pointing to the chicken, not completely aware of the dual meaning of his statement.
|
|
Hope you all are well and happy.