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Post by Ser Jayk Redwyne on Nov 5, 2008 16:40:35 GMT -5
Furman smiled, producing a bottle from a small bag at his waist. He scooped up two cups as the brothers sat down at a small wooden table, and poured generous measures. "So! How do you suggest I do my duty? I've always found wine much easier to work out than that tricky question. I never had the dedication to be a commander like you - was never considered a safe pair of hands. You know that I'm a decent sailor, but I'm not one to simply wait here, no news, no action."
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Post by The Flint on Nov 5, 2008 16:43:32 GMT -5
"Leading men into battle is no easy thing. Waiting is much easier than seeing men dying and the rigging on fire. If I can serve my Lord with the threat of action, that is good for me." Paxter said, sipping his wine.
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Post by Ser Jayk Redwyne on Nov 5, 2008 17:01:54 GMT -5
Grunting, Furman scoffed, "That's well enough if you're happy to sink into old age and death as unmissed as a winter's storm and as unremembered as a beggar!" He took a deep drink of the wine, smacking his lips. "I have high hopes of this year's crop. What real use are you here to our liege, anyway, besides preventing hot heads like me from running off with half the fleet?" He joked.
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Post by The Flint on Nov 5, 2008 18:00:08 GMT -5
"I am awaiting the pleasure of the Lord of the Port, who, when he sees fits, will order me against his enemies. I am protecting the Arbor and Oldtown from attack. That is what I have been ordered to do, and that is what I am doing."
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Post by Ser Jayk Redwyne on Nov 6, 2008 12:34:03 GMT -5
"Very commendable, brother." After several more minutes of conversation had passed, Furman tipped the rest of his glass back, wiped his mouth and announced, "I fear that I do not have your patience. You may disparage my efforts as mere 'shopping', but I have a man to see about some wine. Someone has to raise money for the war effort; duty and honour do not build ships, nor do they pay men, Paxter." He departed.
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Post by The Flint on Nov 6, 2008 15:57:16 GMT -5
Paxter sighed as the black sheep left, and drained his wine.
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Post by Aerys on Nov 9, 2008 15:51:17 GMT -5
Three Lyseni ships flying the rainbow flag of peace sail into Oldtown harbor. The commander sends a small party ashore to explain they are the representatives of Prince Daario of Lys. They request permission to enter Oldtown and meet with Lord Hightower.
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Post by The Flint on Nov 9, 2008 16:47:08 GMT -5
The ships are intercepted before they enter the Whispering Sound. The shore party is allowed to board a patrol ship, and taken to Oldtown. There it is explained that Lord Hightower is north at Horn Hill.
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Post by Aerys on Nov 9, 2008 16:53:15 GMT -5
The Lyseni party, led by Ambassador Velari, asks politely for permission and an escort to Horn Hill to meet with Lord Justin.
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Post by The Flint on Nov 9, 2008 17:02:30 GMT -5
They receive such an escort.
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Post by Sam on Nov 25, 2008 9:38:39 GMT -5
Ryam Flowers rides slowly through Oldtown until he comes to the harbor. Over his horse's back is a rolled up blanket, presumably for sleeping when an inn is not nearby, as well as rations and several pouches. A shortsord hangs from one hip, and he approaches the docks, seeking out a certain Captain named Temrius.
Several hours later, with his money-pouch slightly lighter, he watched the harbor dissapear into the background, as Temrius' ship slid into the Whispering Sound, and turned eastward.
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Post by Aerys on Nov 29, 2008 16:42:58 GMT -5
A trading ship from Lys, laden with the best Lyseni wine and captained by Tyrio Querini arrives in Oldtown Harbor.
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Post by Ser Kenneth Coyn on Dec 1, 2008 8:22:07 GMT -5
The ship is berthed in the harbor and a customs team arrives to inspect the ship.
"Name of vessel, last port and cargo," a man with a short nose and shorter stature says looking up from a small leather bound book.
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Post by Aerys on Dec 1, 2008 18:27:05 GMT -5
Tyrio Querini doffed his feathered hat at the customs officer.
" 'Star of Lys'. Sunspear. Wine." he said with a cheeky grin.
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Post by Sam on Dec 1, 2008 20:41:00 GMT -5
One of the guards that accompanied the customs inspector bristled when the foreigner mentioned the capital of Dorne, but held his tongue. Why would any self-respecting Reachman would drink imported wine was beyond him, but every now and then traders came to Oldtown with vintages that did not come from the Arbor.
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Hope you all are well and happy.