The Far Reach Fete

[The Flint]

Lords and Knights are encouraged to set up Pavilions in this area where their friends and relatives may meet them. Long tables of food and drink are laid out for all to enjoy.

[The Flint]

A massive tent of Grey silk trimmed with White and Black Sable, is set up in the middle of the fair grounds. A high flag pole flies the banner of the Hightower, and beneath it the white weasel of House Varner.

[Fel]

Ser Marq Tyrell, never one to miss a good feast, arrives at the fete. He seems to be wobbling slightly on his horse, and there is a winesack in his hand.

"I have arrived!" he slurs loudly to no one in particular, "for this joyous occasion! May little Lord Hightower and little Lady Varner make the most profitable of unions to both their houses!"

[The Flint]

Two orderlies assist him down from his horse.

"Ser might wish to inspect the food table," says the servant with a pleasant air, "There are many diffferent delights to be sampled." He gestures the way while the other servant prepares to stable the horse in an area put up for that purpose.

[Fel]

"The food table," Marq agreed, dusting himself off and making a poor attempt at looking presentable, "yes, ser would like to inspect it, and a good Arbor Red aswell, that would be closely inspected, I believe."

Marq made his way to the table, careful not to fall over.

[The Flint]

"You'll find a great variety of vintages at the wine table hosted by the Redwyne family Ser." The bowing scraping servant said, before scampering off to assist another patron.

[Fel]

Marq twirls about on the balls of his feet upon hearing the servant's words and redirects himself from the food table to the wine table.

"The food will keep," he slurred.

[Imry Willfyre]

Lord Dondarrion early with several retainers and fellow nobles.

[The Flint]

Lord Dondarrion is shown a place marked out for the Stormlords to place their tents and pavilions, and than is encouraged to mingle with the other guests.

[Ollie]

A small girl bobbing on the balls of her feet leaned in close to Ser Marq. Her dresses were fine silk and cotton, and bore no particular device, but were elegant burgundy, black, blue, and white.

"I like the cider. It's so sweet, I can hardly taste the alcohol! I just drink and drink and drink and drink and drink, and before I know it I'm in my room and there's a bloody dagger in my hand and the stable boy just won't move!" he said with a giggle at what must have been a jest.

[The Flint]

As a mummer's stage show begins to distract the lowborn and easily amused, the Hightower tent opens, and highborn lords are encouraged to enter. Lord Justin Hightower sits on a chair beside his young betrothed. They smile graciously at those who enter. Lady Anne Varner, always the concerned mother, hovers nearby, as do Ser Jacques and Ser Tristan, the Hightower's sworn swords.

[Fel]

Marq peered drunkenly at the girl beside him. "You are the image of a maiden I once knew," he said thickly, apparently not having heard what she said to him. "Would you care to dance?" he asked, despite the lack of music.

[Ollie]

An enthusiastic grin painted itself across her lips. "Um... Only of course!" she pipped, grabbing his hand and leading him to an open space laughing, and doing her damnedest to twirl her much taller, much more male partner.

[Fel]

Marq was easily twirled, it took all his effort to merely stay on his feet, but he soon found himself crashing down to the ground anyway.

"Rhae, I apologise, I am two left feet this evening," he mumbled, slumped down in the grass.

[Imry Willfyre]

Lord Dondarrion and his company enter the party sporting smiles and present Lord Hightower with a number of betrothal gifts.