Post by The Smith on Aug 21, 2008 4:32:43 GMT -5
Walter woke to the sound of a heavy banging on the door of his Braavosi tavern suite. Rising groggily, he looked about himself. It was still dark. What in the name of buggery… he muttered to himself as he clomped over to the door. “Who is it,” he asked wearily.
“Tallahar fucking Tyrell, who do you think it is,” came the whispered familiar voice of Steffen Lannister in reply. “Let me in.”
The door opened, revealing a becloaked Steffen hauling a sack over his shoulder. He rushed inside, beckoning irritably for Walter to shut the door behind him.
“Ser Steffen…” Walter began, surprised.
Steffen interrupted him, dumping the sack on the floor. “…We’re leaving,” he said simply. “Now.”
Walter looked nonplussed, and his confusion seemed to grow as Steffen began to start picking up bits and pieces around Walter’s suite and dumping them on his bed. Suddenly he paused and looked to Walter. “Well? Come on! Pack any things you’re bringing.”
Walter remained rooted to the spot. “Ser, where…”
Steffen interrupted him again with a raised hand and small sigh. “King’s Landing. Aellion Targaryen is an absolute fucking joke and I’ve had enough of pandering to his every ridiculous whim. ‘King’ Rhaegar doesn’t have dragons, Lord Rhaegar is dead, along with the remnants of my family…” he paused, something that might have been regret flickering through his eyes, “It’s through, we’re done here, we’re starting again in King’s Landing.”
Walter nodded after a moment, and began helping Steffen in picking up his things. “The Baratheons…” he began.
Steffen interrupted him for a third time, “…will be happy to let me tell them all I know of this disgraceful little shithole. I have committed no treason Walter. Now. Quickly. Our transport leaves in under an hour.”
The final remnants of Walter’s belongings were gathered together and slung into a sack similar to Steffen’s. They made their way quickly and quietly down to the docks, taking less well-lit passages where possible, hoods drawn firmly over their faces, with no badge or ornament displaying their houses. They arrived with ten minutes to spare, according to the huge clock in the tower above the customs building, and hurried over to a small Westerosi merchant galley loading on one of the peripheral jetties.
The captain on this galley, a man known as Gerrard, nodded to his men, raising his hand in acceptance as he saw the two hooded men hurrying through the moonlight. He started making commands for the casting off and the commencement of the journey as soon as the men made it aboard. They rushed up the gangplank, Steffen shaking Captain Gerrard’s hand with a thankful nod as he was ushered into the cabin.
The gangplank was kicked free, the anchor raised and the oars were dipped as the galley slowly left the docks of Braavos, on a course for the capital of Westeros.
Results:
Ser Steffen Lannister and Ser Walter Sarsfield flee Braavos for King’s Landing.
“Tallahar fucking Tyrell, who do you think it is,” came the whispered familiar voice of Steffen Lannister in reply. “Let me in.”
The door opened, revealing a becloaked Steffen hauling a sack over his shoulder. He rushed inside, beckoning irritably for Walter to shut the door behind him.
“Ser Steffen…” Walter began, surprised.
Steffen interrupted him, dumping the sack on the floor. “…We’re leaving,” he said simply. “Now.”
Walter looked nonplussed, and his confusion seemed to grow as Steffen began to start picking up bits and pieces around Walter’s suite and dumping them on his bed. Suddenly he paused and looked to Walter. “Well? Come on! Pack any things you’re bringing.”
Walter remained rooted to the spot. “Ser, where…”
Steffen interrupted him again with a raised hand and small sigh. “King’s Landing. Aellion Targaryen is an absolute fucking joke and I’ve had enough of pandering to his every ridiculous whim. ‘King’ Rhaegar doesn’t have dragons, Lord Rhaegar is dead, along with the remnants of my family…” he paused, something that might have been regret flickering through his eyes, “It’s through, we’re done here, we’re starting again in King’s Landing.”
Walter nodded after a moment, and began helping Steffen in picking up his things. “The Baratheons…” he began.
Steffen interrupted him for a third time, “…will be happy to let me tell them all I know of this disgraceful little shithole. I have committed no treason Walter. Now. Quickly. Our transport leaves in under an hour.”
The final remnants of Walter’s belongings were gathered together and slung into a sack similar to Steffen’s. They made their way quickly and quietly down to the docks, taking less well-lit passages where possible, hoods drawn firmly over their faces, with no badge or ornament displaying their houses. They arrived with ten minutes to spare, according to the huge clock in the tower above the customs building, and hurried over to a small Westerosi merchant galley loading on one of the peripheral jetties.
The captain on this galley, a man known as Gerrard, nodded to his men, raising his hand in acceptance as he saw the two hooded men hurrying through the moonlight. He started making commands for the casting off and the commencement of the journey as soon as the men made it aboard. They rushed up the gangplank, Steffen shaking Captain Gerrard’s hand with a thankful nod as he was ushered into the cabin.
The gangplank was kicked free, the anchor raised and the oars were dipped as the galley slowly left the docks of Braavos, on a course for the capital of Westeros.
Results:
Ser Steffen Lannister and Ser Walter Sarsfield flee Braavos for King’s Landing.