Post by The Smith on Aug 13, 2008 0:48:30 GMT -5
Wencel stifled a yawn behind one hand as the elderly Trystram Sands continued his droning speech to the rest of the court. Words like “honour” and “duty” kept cropping up with depressing regularity. He toyed with his wine glass and gestured for a servant named Arron to fill it up, much to the disapproval of the septa behind him, whom he duly ignored. The old hag had been his minder, keeper and spy for Sands for the last 5 years, ever since Wencel inherited the castle after the war. Trystram Sands was the castellan appointed by Lord Qorgyle to keep an eye on Skyreach and ensure that Wencel didn’t grow up to be another Quentin Fowler. No fear of that happening, Wencel thought to himself. He had no wish or desire to die a patriot’s death in the desert, fighting for some lost cause for some Princess who’d already fled the country. He was interested in power of course, and the first step on that road was already in motion. He smiled to himself and took another sip of wine, watching through hooded eyes as Sands did likewise, in between exhortations to the Skyreach retainers and men at arms.
You couldn’t taste the poison in the wine he knew, but he fancied imagining a slight tingle on his tongue none-the-less as Arron retreated a few steps backwards. He glanced at Wencel and gave an almost imperceptible nod. He was a venal and greedy man and Wencel had little trouble in getting him to agree to the deed. Trystram paused for a moment as his voice gave out and he gave a little cough. He carried on for another few moments before he began coughing again, a small puzzled frown forming on his weathered face. This bout of coughing lasted longer than the last and an unhealthy pallor was forming on the man’s face. He looked across at Wencel with growing horror as realisation dawned on what had happened but also confusion, as he had shared the same wine as the young man. Wencel, however, had taken the antidote to this particular poison for many months now, building up immunity to it and Trystram Sands had not.
The castellan fell to his knees and grasped his throat as the onlookers raised the alarm, calling for the maester. Wencel looked concerned as he rushed over to “help” the castellan who was feebly trying to say something but by now his face was purpling. He pointed a wavering finger towards Wencel who quickly shifted his body and looked behind him at the servant. “What’s that you say, Lord Sands?” he said loudly as he leaned close in “It was Arron who did this?” he said in mock anger, glaring accusingly at the man who was just now beginning to realize his danger. Wencel quickly got to his feet as Trystram Sands gasped his last breath and crumpled to the floor. He ran across to the servant, who had opened his mouth to deny or incriminate others, and drove his dagger deep into the man’s chest, under the arm. Arron cried out and looked in confusion as his ‘employer’ gave him a rather different reward to what he’d been expecting. He opened and closed his mouth wordlessly for a few seconds before he too crumpled to the ground dead.
Wencel quickly took charge of the situation and calmed matters down, promising an investigation into what had happened. Sure enough, it was later determined that Trystram Sands had been poisoned and some of the same poison was found in Arron’s quarters. Wencel, now Lord Wencel Fowler of Skyreach wrote to Lord Qorgyle to tell him of this rather unfortunate occurrence and to inform him that he was assuming command of Skyreach as he had now come of age, promising to present himself to Lord Qorgyle at the earliest opportunity.
He smiled as he sealed the letter and sent it off. At last, he was Lord of Skyreach.
Results:
Wencel Fowler gains control of Skyreach
Wencel improves to Noteworthy Intrigue
Wencel improves to Apprentice Poison Lore