Oldtown's Harbor

[Sam]

Hundreds of wharves and docks line the mouth of the river around which Oldtown is built.

[Sam]

The Valkyrie sailed into Oldtown's harbor towing their captured ship; flanked by a pair of galleys that flew the banner of Hightower. They had met a patrol and allowed the Far Reachmen to board their damaged vessel and hear the story of the fight. The patrol agreed to escort them back to Oldtown and to deliver the imprisoned pirates to the City Watch for trial and punishment. When dockspace was found for the two ships, the patrol ships took custody of the prisoners and sailed off presumably to the dungeons.

Ser Tarannon looked around for someone who could help him repair the Valkyrie, and sell the ship that he had captured.

[The Flint]

A bald, squat, irritable looking man is sitting on the edge of the dock. He looks at the damaged ship, and than back at its owner, and than back again to the ship.

"Be needing repairs than?" He asked rhetorically.

[Sam]

Ser Tarannon chuckled. "Yes, I suppose she does need a touch up or two. Are you the sort of man I should turn to for repairs?"

[The Flint]

"No, I'm the village drunk," the man said, a little to readily. "But I know where the fella you want to talk to is, and it might be that I could help ya."

As he talked, the man began to pick his teeth with the remains of a small chicken bone, which he apparently had saved for just such an occasion.

[Sam]

Tarannon was unsure if this man was being serious or not, but did not wish to start a fight in a foreign port, especially when his lord's ship was in its current state. "I would appreciate if you could help me then. I need repairs done as quickly as possible, and I would also like to sell this second ship here; it's seaworthy and in decent condition except for the hole I punched in the hull."

[The Flint]

The man nodded, "Farnsworth, is the name, and for the low low price of one bottle of wine, I'm your man. I'm an accomplished tour guide, servant, pathfinder, and man about town. I keep up on all the local color and gossip, and... for the low low price," Farnsworth seems to have forgotten he already mentioned the cost once already, "i'm your man. So what do you say?"

[Sam]

Ser Tarannon pressed half a dozen silver stags into the man's palm; enough money for a dozen bottles of wine, or two very good bottles. Farnsworth grinned, and Tarannon spoke again. "So is anyone around here looking to buy a slightly-damaged ship? And who does hull repair?"

[The Flint]

Farnsworth pockets the money without bothering to count it. "C'mon my friend, c'mon... follow me," The bum stumbles to his feet, and saunters down the dock, headed towards the many bars, inns, and shops along the seaport. "So where ya from then son?" the man asks, scratching himself indelicately, as he looks over his shoulders at his employer.

[Sam]

Ser Tarannon assigned guard detail to the ship, and had the few carpenters on board get to work acquiring materials for repairs. He would have a professional shipwrigt hired, but he would have as much work done by the ship's crew as possible. He followed the Reachman down the dock, half a dozen guards trailing behind him. "Faircastle, on the western coast south of Lannisport. I am on my way to King's Landing; I'd hoped to arrive before the tourney ended but I was happened on by some pirates and thus am delayed."

[The Flint]

"Mighta gone overland. Whole lot less pirates. Course than you got the highwaymen, and what not. Although its supposedly not as bad as late it was." Farnsworth burped, and continued on. "So a sailing man are ya? You been to all the free cities and what have you? It's right this way, Best shipwright in the whole damn city, we're almost there."

[Sam]

"I have not been to the free cities," Ser Tarannon said as the man led him down the long docks. "I've wanted to go to Braavos for a long time though, but it's pretty far."

[The Flint]

"Shithole, skip it." Farnsworth says summarily, as though the single expletive covers everything which could possibly be known about Braavos. "Buncha idol-worshipping buggers of their fella men. " he added, possibly unnecessarily. The small party has arrived outside a shop which reads "Harry Peters' Shipwright, Wheelwright, Cartwright and..." some other word which was hastily scratched out with a knife. It may have said Seamstress.

"In ya go," says Farnsworth. "I'll wait here for ya in case ya be needing me."

Inside the dim-light shop, there is a small lobby and an enormous wooden counter. There does not seem to be anyone behind it, but there is a large metal bell with a short sign that reads, "Ring for Assista... Asi... Help."

[Sam]

Tarannon steps into the shop, and four of his guards follow. The remaining two take up positions on either side of the doorway. He steps up and rings the bell, waiting for assistance from the man who could not spell it.

[The Flint]

"What do you want?" comes the cry from behind the counter, seemingly out of nowhere. There is the sound of scuffling behind the counter for the moment, before Tarannon can begin to see some kind of movement, and, after a short while, a.... short man appears behind the counter, apparently standing on some kind of a stool.

"Whaddaya want?" he repeats, not at all good-naturedly.