Post by The Smith on Aug 30, 2008 15:56:37 GMT -5
Meraxes found Maidenpool’s beggars a curious sight. With their skin pulled back and their teeth missing, it was like the gods had peopled the street with other bastard children of whoever fathered Meraxes. He thought it amusing and revolting at once.
He closed the flap of his carriage window as they neared their destination. He stared at the man across from him, wondering how well he might play his part. Meraxes had grabbed him from some passing troupe of players and taught him all the right phrases and stances. He had the same auburn hair and plain features of any Walder Frey, and soon he’d have the infamy. Meraxes reminded him that these men would be killers, but even killers respect a noble with a straight back. It was an unspoken rule of feudalism…
When the carriage finally stopped, the impostor nimble stepped out with the grace Meraxes envied. The faces waiting for him were ugly, oh yes… ugly with greed and hunger and that pleased the true Frey.
“Gentlemen, this is an age of chaos… an age of suffering and despair. Kings marrying cripples, cripples ruling vast estates, vast estates turning to ash.” He began to move through the crowd of war torn veterans, looking each in the eye. “I have sought you out because you are known as men who have witnessed this terrifying age and seek reemployment by its arbiters. Some of you are deserters who would likely be hanged if your former commanders saw you… others enjoyed their duty too much…. Quite a few of you backed the wrong bird as it fell into the sea…”
They stared at him with something like wry humor, but they were smart enough to let him finish. “I am a Frey of the Crossing… a man with little in common with any of you. But because I am a Frey, I can promise you full bellies and enraged enemies…”
As he droned on, Meraxes mouthed the words from behind the curtain. Of course he had written the speech himself…
“If you will not fight for me, your idle chatter will at least serve to enchant others to our cause.” If the rider had played his mark properly, there should be a chest of dragons being revealed and opened at this point. “These are the daily bread of cretins and fiends…” What the hell? It’s ‘traitors and patriots’ alike, not ‘cretins and fiends’… Meraxes would have a long word with the puppet before he lengthened the strings again.
“Let it sway you as it will.”
Five minutes later, Meraxes heard the response… “Where do we march…?”
Results: Words of a small armed uprising leak out into the Riverlands.
He closed the flap of his carriage window as they neared their destination. He stared at the man across from him, wondering how well he might play his part. Meraxes had grabbed him from some passing troupe of players and taught him all the right phrases and stances. He had the same auburn hair and plain features of any Walder Frey, and soon he’d have the infamy. Meraxes reminded him that these men would be killers, but even killers respect a noble with a straight back. It was an unspoken rule of feudalism…
When the carriage finally stopped, the impostor nimble stepped out with the grace Meraxes envied. The faces waiting for him were ugly, oh yes… ugly with greed and hunger and that pleased the true Frey.
“Gentlemen, this is an age of chaos… an age of suffering and despair. Kings marrying cripples, cripples ruling vast estates, vast estates turning to ash.” He began to move through the crowd of war torn veterans, looking each in the eye. “I have sought you out because you are known as men who have witnessed this terrifying age and seek reemployment by its arbiters. Some of you are deserters who would likely be hanged if your former commanders saw you… others enjoyed their duty too much…. Quite a few of you backed the wrong bird as it fell into the sea…”
They stared at him with something like wry humor, but they were smart enough to let him finish. “I am a Frey of the Crossing… a man with little in common with any of you. But because I am a Frey, I can promise you full bellies and enraged enemies…”
As he droned on, Meraxes mouthed the words from behind the curtain. Of course he had written the speech himself…
“If you will not fight for me, your idle chatter will at least serve to enchant others to our cause.” If the rider had played his mark properly, there should be a chest of dragons being revealed and opened at this point. “These are the daily bread of cretins and fiends…” What the hell? It’s ‘traitors and patriots’ alike, not ‘cretins and fiends’… Meraxes would have a long word with the puppet before he lengthened the strings again.
“Let it sway you as it will.”
Five minutes later, Meraxes heard the response… “Where do we march…?”
Results: Words of a small armed uprising leak out into the Riverlands.