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Post by Horas on Apr 23, 2008 21:34:48 GMT -5
A small, dimly lit tent on the outskirts of the tournament grounds. A heavy canvas flap blocks the entrance; the fortune teller inside sits in perpetual shadow, the light never quite reaching his face. A few brightly colored feathers hang to left of the entrance as a pathetic attempt at festivity, and morbidly, a dead rooster hangs upside down by its feet to the right side of the opening. Is it a mystical ward, or some sort of warning? Only the fortune teller knows.
Over it all is a crudely made sign:
The Great Horatini. Fortunes told for one silver stag.
Only the truely brave dare to enter the Great Horatini's lair.
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Post by edricdayne on Apr 23, 2008 21:39:58 GMT -5
Lord Francis Blackwood eyes the small tent as he walked along the edge of the camps, and he found a strange attraction to the place... He walked towards it, and took in the sight of the feathers as he ducks under the dead rooster to enter. He sets a silver down on the table, and speaks quietly. "My fortune, if you please."
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Post by Horas on Apr 23, 2008 21:53:27 GMT -5
A pale hand darts out from the shadows and scoops the coin off the table and into some secret pocket. There is a mystical hmmming noise from the darkness.
"You will blunder around Westeros annoying your peers for the rest of your natural life. By some jest of the gods, you will likely become skilled at knocking men off of horses with a stick, and other men will clap loudly for you. Unfortunately you will die embarassingly in a training accident, perhaps right after they discover that you fancy little boys in your bed. I would cry a river for you if I gave a rat's ass. Unfortunately I do not. Out of my tent."
The Great Horatini claps his hands twice from the shadows. The fortune telling session is over.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2008 21:56:48 GMT -5
A young maiden of about fifteen years, a citizen of the town, opens the tent flap. Her friend peers over her shoulder, giggling.
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Post by edricdayne on Apr 23, 2008 21:57:38 GMT -5
Lord Francis scowls and stands up abruptly. "I do not take jests on my kin's behalf lightly." Was all he said, as he stood there scowling like he had just eaten something foul.
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Post by Horas on Apr 23, 2008 21:59:43 GMT -5
"You have kin that fancies young boys?" The Great Horatini's voice sounds curious as he replies to Francis.
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"Who enters the Great Horatini's tent?" An ominous voice asks from the shadows.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2008 22:01:23 GMT -5
"I'm Janna, and this is Alyce," The first girl said, sounding excited.
"We want you tell us Janna's fortune," Alyce said, coming forward into the tent with Janna. They started giggling again.
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Post by Horas on Apr 23, 2008 22:09:17 GMT -5
"Coin," The Great Horatini says. A pale hand slides out of the shadows for the silver stag.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2008 22:10:38 GMT -5
Janna looks at The Great Horatini a little nervously, awed by his manner, and drops a silver stag onto his palm and withdraws her hand very quickly.
Alyce, meanwhile, was craning her neck and squinting to try and see his face through the darkness.
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Post by Horas on Apr 23, 2008 22:28:32 GMT -5
The Great Horatini hmmms mystically.
"I forsee you will marry a very handsome knight. Unfortunately, a week after your marriage he will be declared a traitor for pissing in the wrong set of bushes and will lose his cock and his head. Shortly after you will become a poxy whore, but do not despair, because everyone will still want to fuck you anyways, probably due to the immense shortage of women this side of Westeros." The Great Horatini scratches his chin, though his face is still hidden in the shadows. "Oh, and I forsee you will die attempting a particularly difficult sexual position. But nobody will care too much, because you have a hundred sisters just like you."
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Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2008 22:31:11 GMT -5
Janna's eager expression dies and she bursts into tears. "I want my silver stag back!" she sobbed. "You're an evil liar."
Alyce, on the other hand, was laughing. "She does have a hundred sisters, I think," she said to The Great Horatini. "Her father sired half the maids in Duskendale."
"Those are just lies!" Janna wailed.
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Post by Horas on Apr 23, 2008 22:59:41 GMT -5
"The Great Horatini never lies," The Great Horatini intones, "And you already paid. Out of my tent."
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Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2008 23:01:23 GMT -5
Janna gave a wild shriek and tried to pounce, but Alyce grabbed her and dragged her away.
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Post by Tallahar on Apr 23, 2008 23:43:53 GMT -5
Bardan Snow walked into the tent. He was dressed with a sun burst of the Karstarks with a large double headed axe over it. But there is the crest of Tallahar's over his heart. "One Stag." Bardan large and callused hands pass the coin to the fortune teller.
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Hope you all are well and happy.