Post by The Stranger on Aug 7, 2008 10:36:37 GMT -5
If sitting outside of King’s Landing had been boring, this was worse. Harrenhal was such an ugly castle and Darien could barely look at it. Asha had remained behind and now he did not have anyone to talk to… well, he did, but there were few. It was another one of those days that he was walking up and down the tent rows, looking to see if he could find anyone he knew. He never had that luck, as the men were either from the Vale or the Mander, and he knew no one from those places. Riding up he had talked to Brandon most of the time but at this present moment he couldn’t find his cousin, so he decided to go back to his own tent… maybe sleep, maybe read. He didn’t rightly know what he could do. He never had to stand guard or do any of those silly things, so all in all it was nothing but waiting.
Walking through the mass of men his mind drifted to other things and he found himself wondering about Yozs. How was he doing in Braavos? Did everything go as planned? He shook his head, finding that he was worrying about his friend. Times had changed and it seemed like his bodyguard had turned into something else… an assassin? He did need one of those, but he also needed a bodyguard. He could always find more men.
Walking into a small circular encampment of supposed Valemen, Darien procured two bottles of something powerful which he had found in King’s Landing. The ten or so men sitting around a small fire looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “Gentlemen, Darien is my name and I have brought thee some beverage!” His clothes were simple enough for these men not to even consider him a lord. Now he hoped none of them recognized his face or his name. “Who you fightin’ with, Darien?” One of the men asked him as he patted the ground next to him for Darien to sit. “Why, the Vale of course.” Darien replied, sitting himself next to the man. “Now, who would like to participate in a little game? It’s called drink and throw.” Again curious glances appeared on the men’s faces and Darien smiled. “You there, fellow soldier.” He said to a man opposite him. “Move that helmet behind you up onto that crate.” The man did as he was asked and Darien now also procured several throwing daggers. “It works like this. You take a drink, then throw the dagger at the helm. If you hit it, you get to drink again, if you miss you don’t.”
The men grinned, all standing to get ready to play this game Darien had only just invented. “I shall take the first go.” He said, taking a big gulp from one of the bottles and then swiftly throwing one of his daggers at the helm, hitting it square on. “That’s another one for me.” He said smiling and took another drink. The man after him did not do so well, but the two following him hit the target and got to drink. Out of the ten men only three missed. “Good, round two!” Darien exclaimed, taking a sip from the bottle, he threw the dagger in mid gulp, hitting again and swallowing enough of the alcohol for two hits. This time round only six of the men hit the target, the others still not getting the grasp of throwing, or already feeling the effects of the alcohol in their young brains.
Over the rounds the distance between the men and the targets became bigger, making it increasingly hard to hit. Well, not for Darien – the Drowned God was with him, as he only missed once, and after about twenty rounds there was no one left standing but him. “Oh, come, fellows!” Darien said, only feeling a little drunk, compared to the men who were almost all lying on the floor, eyes shut. “Your’s…. crashy felllllow…” One of the men muttered at him. Darien grinned to himself, before sitting down again. “Now fellows, you all had a good time, hm?” Some of them mumbled a reply, some of them nodded. It was good to know that they weren’t all asleep yet. “You see, I’m guessing you fellows aren’t proper valemen.” Three or four of them looked at him a little suspiciously. “Whyy’ss thattt?” One of them asked him and Darien chuckled to himself. “Well, I’ve had my fill of meeting and fighting sellswords, and that’s what you lot look like. Now come on, admit it – You’re not valemen are you?” The biggest one of them, who was also the man to last longest in the game, barked a laugh. “Kid is clever. And yes, we are sellswords. But you’re not just some simple soldier, are you?” Darien frowned in mock surprise. “Why would you say that?” The large man laughed again before sitting up. “’Cause simple soldiers don’t know how to throw a knife like that. You some kinda spy or somethin’?” Smiling, Darien shook his head. “No, my good man. I am Lord Darien Greenstone, of Stonedance, and I was wondering if after this battle you men might want to be hired permanently.”
It didn’t tale long for the men to come to a decision. It was always simple hiring sellswords… get them drunk and impress them and then they are yours. So simple.
Darien Stone advances to Noteworthy Knife-throwing
Darien Stone advances to Noteworthy Drinking
Darien Stone hires ten sellswords for his household.
Walking through the mass of men his mind drifted to other things and he found himself wondering about Yozs. How was he doing in Braavos? Did everything go as planned? He shook his head, finding that he was worrying about his friend. Times had changed and it seemed like his bodyguard had turned into something else… an assassin? He did need one of those, but he also needed a bodyguard. He could always find more men.
Walking into a small circular encampment of supposed Valemen, Darien procured two bottles of something powerful which he had found in King’s Landing. The ten or so men sitting around a small fire looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “Gentlemen, Darien is my name and I have brought thee some beverage!” His clothes were simple enough for these men not to even consider him a lord. Now he hoped none of them recognized his face or his name. “Who you fightin’ with, Darien?” One of the men asked him as he patted the ground next to him for Darien to sit. “Why, the Vale of course.” Darien replied, sitting himself next to the man. “Now, who would like to participate in a little game? It’s called drink and throw.” Again curious glances appeared on the men’s faces and Darien smiled. “You there, fellow soldier.” He said to a man opposite him. “Move that helmet behind you up onto that crate.” The man did as he was asked and Darien now also procured several throwing daggers. “It works like this. You take a drink, then throw the dagger at the helm. If you hit it, you get to drink again, if you miss you don’t.”
The men grinned, all standing to get ready to play this game Darien had only just invented. “I shall take the first go.” He said, taking a big gulp from one of the bottles and then swiftly throwing one of his daggers at the helm, hitting it square on. “That’s another one for me.” He said smiling and took another drink. The man after him did not do so well, but the two following him hit the target and got to drink. Out of the ten men only three missed. “Good, round two!” Darien exclaimed, taking a sip from the bottle, he threw the dagger in mid gulp, hitting again and swallowing enough of the alcohol for two hits. This time round only six of the men hit the target, the others still not getting the grasp of throwing, or already feeling the effects of the alcohol in their young brains.
Over the rounds the distance between the men and the targets became bigger, making it increasingly hard to hit. Well, not for Darien – the Drowned God was with him, as he only missed once, and after about twenty rounds there was no one left standing but him. “Oh, come, fellows!” Darien said, only feeling a little drunk, compared to the men who were almost all lying on the floor, eyes shut. “Your’s…. crashy felllllow…” One of the men muttered at him. Darien grinned to himself, before sitting down again. “Now fellows, you all had a good time, hm?” Some of them mumbled a reply, some of them nodded. It was good to know that they weren’t all asleep yet. “You see, I’m guessing you fellows aren’t proper valemen.” Three or four of them looked at him a little suspiciously. “Whyy’ss thattt?” One of them asked him and Darien chuckled to himself. “Well, I’ve had my fill of meeting and fighting sellswords, and that’s what you lot look like. Now come on, admit it – You’re not valemen are you?” The biggest one of them, who was also the man to last longest in the game, barked a laugh. “Kid is clever. And yes, we are sellswords. But you’re not just some simple soldier, are you?” Darien frowned in mock surprise. “Why would you say that?” The large man laughed again before sitting up. “’Cause simple soldiers don’t know how to throw a knife like that. You some kinda spy or somethin’?” Smiling, Darien shook his head. “No, my good man. I am Lord Darien Greenstone, of Stonedance, and I was wondering if after this battle you men might want to be hired permanently.”
It didn’t tale long for the men to come to a decision. It was always simple hiring sellswords… get them drunk and impress them and then they are yours. So simple.
Darien Stone advances to Noteworthy Knife-throwing
Darien Stone advances to Noteworthy Drinking
Darien Stone hires ten sellswords for his household.