Post by The Stranger on Apr 29, 2008 18:43:03 GMT -5
The Swords of Dawn ushered out of Qohor, over one hundred and fifty men in all. Qohor was a rather large city; sprawled out, but yet still crowded and dirty. It had been the fourth of the Nine Free Cities that Barris had visited, and the one he had liked the least. The whores were ugly and the ale weak. Not a good combination.
Beric Dayne had gave the other order that they would march back west towards Norvos, rather than to push on east or head south to Tyrosh. As always, “Ser Farren Flowers” traveled in the back of the column, surrounded by his twelve men from the Arbor.
Barris watched Ser Beric lead the column. His golden armor was shining despite the chilly air, and he had his magnificent sword, Dawn, at his hip. Barris cursed the sword when his eyes fell upon it. He had no desire to kill this man, Ser Beric; yet he had been instructed to do that very thing, both by his real master and his fake master.
If that damned sword was out of the equation, perhaps Barris could have came up with a method of “fake killing” Beric. Get him to agree to go into exile in the far east, never to be seen again. Kill a man who looks like him and use his head as proof. There were ways to get around it. But there was still one problem: Dawn. His real masters wanted the sword. And no matter how fond Barris was of Beric Dayne personally, he could not let that get in the way of his orders. Peace was at stake, afterall.
And so his plotting began. Night after night as they made camp in the countryside, in the area between Norvos and Qohor, Barris watched and waited for an opportunity. He had his basic scheme of attack ready; he just needed to work up enough nerve to put it in to action. The last few days he had avoided talking to Beric Dayne, due to him feeling more than slightly guilty.
On their fifth day out from Qohor, their party came upon another settlement of camped men. The Swords of Dawn halted for a while before approaching. Ser Farren watched with some interest as Beric met with a few of their leaders. A short while later the word came back through the ranks that the party had been incorporated into theirs, under Dayne's command. "Almost five hundred Swords o' Dawn," one man said to Barris, smiling. Regardless of exactly how many they were, they all made camp together in the small valley. A few of the men were told to guard the perimeter, but Barris had little confidence that they obeyed the order.
He dismounted and led his men to the very outskirts of camp, next to some heavy woods. He ordered them to make a small fire. "Why are we so far away from everyone else?" Ser Tyler asked questioningly. "Today is the day. Let us review the plans, gentlemen." His twelve men, smiling anxiously, sat close to the fire as they quietly went over every detail. They had not enjoyed their time riding across the east in a rag-tag sellsword company, and were looking forwards to being out on the run again, the road full of adventure.
Night was falling quickly. Barris looked up at the stars and estimated it would be there within twenty minutes. Leaving his men around the fire, he gathered up the wine they had with them. Filling two flagons, he took the one that looked newer and cleaner into the woods, assumably so he could drink while he pissed. He did indeed piss, but before returning, he took three vials and carefully and precisely administered four drops of each into the newer flagon. He knew that by themselves four drops of each poison may or may not prove to be lethal; but his meticulously chosen liquids added together, four drops of each, would easily do the job. Now he just had to get Dayne to drink it. The poison was just a caution, however-- he had a better plan.
When he returned and night had fallen, he ordered the fire to be snubbed out. He led his men into the forest, and it was not looked on as uncommon. Many nights Barris had led his men off to genuinely train by themselves, but also to speak to them about future plans without having to worry about eavesdropping. He gave his men a short battle speech, hoping to steel their courage, though he hoped Dayne would come alone. He provided the leadership on where to set up, and designated the signal for when the men were to come out of hiding.
Barris walked through camp, confident and cheerful. Hooded, he reached Beric Dayne's tent, where he found the general outside speaking to some of his men. Approaching him, he said, in his Ser Farren speak, "Milord Dayne, may I have a word?" The general nodded and led him into the tent. Glancing around once inside, Barris leaned forwards and appeared to be paranoid, swiveling his head on his shoulders to look in every which direction. "I am Farron, not Barris. I cannot write. If someone should walk in and see me... No. I have told my men I am going for a walk, follow me to the edge of camp. We can talk there without eavesdropping ears." He looked around paranoid, as if someone might jump out of the shadows at him. His long scar on his face stuck out like a sore thumb. He waited to see how the commander would take these words. He only hoped his act had been pursuasive enough.
Beric nods and walks with Barris to the edge of the camp, indicating to his personal guard not to follow him. As they get out of earshot from everyone he looks at Barris. "What is it?"
"I have been instructed to kill you," Barris said simply. "Both by the Dragon and the Stag. What do you expect me to do? I am in no easy position here." He continued to walk further into the trees, his head straight ahead, but his eyes moving from side to side, trying to determine if he was exactly where he had planned. He saw the gnarled tree twelve feet to his right and knew that he was indeed in the perfect spot.
"I see. I am not surprised the crown wants me dead, but the dragon? No matter, I can understand your situation." Beric flexed his hands, unsure if he would be about to use them. "Now, I do not know if you yourself want me dead, but doing the deed might be a little hard, no?" Beric said. The commander seemed to grow a little suspicious, and backed up just a half step, his hand perhaps leaning towards his sword just a tad. He still appeared confident and in complete control of the situation.
"Me?" Barris said in a surprised tone. "I don't want you dead. I like you, milord, but that is beside the point, is it not?" He smiled sadly. He held out his hand to Beric. "From one good man to another. I do not wish to say anything further, milord, just remember that I liked you, but that men cannot always follow their hearts." He sighed and walked off, then run in full sprint, off through the trees, back towards camp.
When Barris begin to run, shadows seem to pop up out of nowhere, and crossbolts began to fly....
To be continued.
Results:
Barris gains beginner leadership.
Barris improves to noteworthy poison lore.
Beric Dayne had gave the other order that they would march back west towards Norvos, rather than to push on east or head south to Tyrosh. As always, “Ser Farren Flowers” traveled in the back of the column, surrounded by his twelve men from the Arbor.
Barris watched Ser Beric lead the column. His golden armor was shining despite the chilly air, and he had his magnificent sword, Dawn, at his hip. Barris cursed the sword when his eyes fell upon it. He had no desire to kill this man, Ser Beric; yet he had been instructed to do that very thing, both by his real master and his fake master.
If that damned sword was out of the equation, perhaps Barris could have came up with a method of “fake killing” Beric. Get him to agree to go into exile in the far east, never to be seen again. Kill a man who looks like him and use his head as proof. There were ways to get around it. But there was still one problem: Dawn. His real masters wanted the sword. And no matter how fond Barris was of Beric Dayne personally, he could not let that get in the way of his orders. Peace was at stake, afterall.
And so his plotting began. Night after night as they made camp in the countryside, in the area between Norvos and Qohor, Barris watched and waited for an opportunity. He had his basic scheme of attack ready; he just needed to work up enough nerve to put it in to action. The last few days he had avoided talking to Beric Dayne, due to him feeling more than slightly guilty.
On their fifth day out from Qohor, their party came upon another settlement of camped men. The Swords of Dawn halted for a while before approaching. Ser Farren watched with some interest as Beric met with a few of their leaders. A short while later the word came back through the ranks that the party had been incorporated into theirs, under Dayne's command. "Almost five hundred Swords o' Dawn," one man said to Barris, smiling. Regardless of exactly how many they were, they all made camp together in the small valley. A few of the men were told to guard the perimeter, but Barris had little confidence that they obeyed the order.
He dismounted and led his men to the very outskirts of camp, next to some heavy woods. He ordered them to make a small fire. "Why are we so far away from everyone else?" Ser Tyler asked questioningly. "Today is the day. Let us review the plans, gentlemen." His twelve men, smiling anxiously, sat close to the fire as they quietly went over every detail. They had not enjoyed their time riding across the east in a rag-tag sellsword company, and were looking forwards to being out on the run again, the road full of adventure.
Night was falling quickly. Barris looked up at the stars and estimated it would be there within twenty minutes. Leaving his men around the fire, he gathered up the wine they had with them. Filling two flagons, he took the one that looked newer and cleaner into the woods, assumably so he could drink while he pissed. He did indeed piss, but before returning, he took three vials and carefully and precisely administered four drops of each into the newer flagon. He knew that by themselves four drops of each poison may or may not prove to be lethal; but his meticulously chosen liquids added together, four drops of each, would easily do the job. Now he just had to get Dayne to drink it. The poison was just a caution, however-- he had a better plan.
When he returned and night had fallen, he ordered the fire to be snubbed out. He led his men into the forest, and it was not looked on as uncommon. Many nights Barris had led his men off to genuinely train by themselves, but also to speak to them about future plans without having to worry about eavesdropping. He gave his men a short battle speech, hoping to steel their courage, though he hoped Dayne would come alone. He provided the leadership on where to set up, and designated the signal for when the men were to come out of hiding.
Barris walked through camp, confident and cheerful. Hooded, he reached Beric Dayne's tent, where he found the general outside speaking to some of his men. Approaching him, he said, in his Ser Farren speak, "Milord Dayne, may I have a word?" The general nodded and led him into the tent. Glancing around once inside, Barris leaned forwards and appeared to be paranoid, swiveling his head on his shoulders to look in every which direction. "I am Farron, not Barris. I cannot write. If someone should walk in and see me... No. I have told my men I am going for a walk, follow me to the edge of camp. We can talk there without eavesdropping ears." He looked around paranoid, as if someone might jump out of the shadows at him. His long scar on his face stuck out like a sore thumb. He waited to see how the commander would take these words. He only hoped his act had been pursuasive enough.
Beric nods and walks with Barris to the edge of the camp, indicating to his personal guard not to follow him. As they get out of earshot from everyone he looks at Barris. "What is it?"
"I have been instructed to kill you," Barris said simply. "Both by the Dragon and the Stag. What do you expect me to do? I am in no easy position here." He continued to walk further into the trees, his head straight ahead, but his eyes moving from side to side, trying to determine if he was exactly where he had planned. He saw the gnarled tree twelve feet to his right and knew that he was indeed in the perfect spot.
"I see. I am not surprised the crown wants me dead, but the dragon? No matter, I can understand your situation." Beric flexed his hands, unsure if he would be about to use them. "Now, I do not know if you yourself want me dead, but doing the deed might be a little hard, no?" Beric said. The commander seemed to grow a little suspicious, and backed up just a half step, his hand perhaps leaning towards his sword just a tad. He still appeared confident and in complete control of the situation.
"Me?" Barris said in a surprised tone. "I don't want you dead. I like you, milord, but that is beside the point, is it not?" He smiled sadly. He held out his hand to Beric. "From one good man to another. I do not wish to say anything further, milord, just remember that I liked you, but that men cannot always follow their hearts." He sighed and walked off, then run in full sprint, off through the trees, back towards camp.
When Barris begin to run, shadows seem to pop up out of nowhere, and crossbolts began to fly....
To be continued.
Results:
Barris gains beginner leadership.
Barris improves to noteworthy poison lore.