Post by The Smith on Nov 10, 2008 19:12:18 GMT -5
The keep lay quiet in the cold twilight before the dawn, save for a few bored and tired guards patrolling the ramparts half-heartedly in an effort to stay awake. Only the keenest eye could have spotted the dark-clad figure slowly & methodically making its way up the side of the Tower of Joy, wedging its fingers and feet into toeholds and cracks in the ancient masonry as it did so. The progress was slow, careful and steady and fearless. The figure was slight in build but its calloused fingers held a strength, which belied that as they gripped like claws into the tiny gaps between the mighty stones. The ascent had begun shortly after dusk fell and it had taken many hours to ascend to its position near the peak but the form showed no sign of fatigue as it cautiously approached it’s goal; a window high above the courtyard below. It carefully gripped the sides of the sill and levered itself high enough to peer into the room. It was lush and well furnished, as befit the lord’s quarters, and a large double bed lay flush against the wall, the drapes concealing the sleeping forms within, though not the loud snores of it’s male occupant. After a few moments of stillness, the figure determined that it had not disturbed those within and with a slight grunt of effort; it raised itself onto the ledge and hopped lightly onto the carpeted floor. A steely hiss sounded as an oily blade appeared in the individual’s hand as they glided across to the bed, circling around to the sleeping figure on the left hand side. A gloved hand gently parted the drapes and gazed for a moment on the unconscious form of Lady Harlaw. The lord lay snoring to her right but she slept quietly and peacefully. The assassin placed a hand across her mouth and at the same time eased his dagger into her heart with a practised thrust. Her eyes flew open but the poison on the blade was swift and she made barely a sound as she sagged back onto the bed, blood beginning to pool from her chest. The killer calmly walked around the bed to the right hand side, cleaning his blade and taking the time to reapply the poison to it as he watched the lord continue to snore, unaware of his impending doom. He repeated his motion again, though this time he held down more firmly and thrust deeper, cautious of the man’s evident strength and bulk. However, the lord died as easily as the lady, though his eyes blazed hate and fear at the shrouded murderer before the light went out of them completely. The assassin padded across the floor to the door to the quarters and listened intently. He could hear no telltale sound of guards outside so he opened the door a crack and paused again. Nothing. He eased the door open enough to leave and closed it quietly behind him. He took a shred of parchment from his pocket and studied the map upon it for a moment before heading down the corridor towards the nursery. As expected, a guard stood outside, stifling a yawn as he rocked on his heels. Hidden in the shadows, the assassin quietly drew a narrow pipe from inside his robe and gently placed a feathered dart dipped in poison into one end before raising it to his lips and firing it into the neck of the guard, who raised his hand to touch it but collapsed as the nerve poison took hold and crumpled to the ground. The killer swiftly crossed the space between them and sliced open his throat with the dagger. He eased open the door of the nursery and raised the pipe again, this time aiming it at the slumbering nurse seated on the stool inside. Once she was dispatched like the guard, the murderer gazed into the cot at the sleeping babe within and heartlessly ended its life as professionally as it had the parents. His work now complete, the assassin discarded his robe and equipment into a nearby wardrobe, revealing very undistinguished rough clothing underneath. He left the quarters as silently as he had entered and made his way to the servant’s quarters to mingle in with those farmers and labourers who rose early to work the fields nearby. Those who saw him suspected nothing, thinking him a new arrival or itinerant worker brought in and he left easily enough before daybreak for the fields. Once clear of the keep, he broke away from the others to their surprise and trotted off towards where his horse had been tethered, calmly mounting it and riding off before the alarm could be raised. None of those who had seen him could remember anything remarkable or distinguishing about the slim man.
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A few days later, a large force was spotted approaching Starfall, flying the hooded hawk of House Fowler, although small contingents of yellow lemons on purple and the red scorpions on black were scattered amongst them. Lord Fowler approached the castle under a parlay flag to speak with the defenders. After some delay, the guard commander came to meet with them.
Lord Fowler nodded in greeting as he neared them “With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” he asked politely. “I’m Alvyn Pyke, guard captain of Starfall. Who the hell are you?” he barked back angrily. Robb Waters growled at the man but Wencel shot him a look, which silenced him. “I am Lord Wencel Fowler” he replied, politely enough “And I want you to open your gates and offer us hospitality for the evening”. He nodded across to a youth of no more than 12 years. “I was meeting with the new lord Qorgyle when word reached me of the dastardly attack on Starfall. I came as soon as I could to secure the area in case this was a prelude to invasion”. Alvyn snorted in disbelief “Do you expect me to believe you had naught to do with this?” he gestured angrily “A thousand men just ‘happen’ to arrive a few days after our lord is murdered” he gripped his swordhilt. “Be careful of your accusations Pyke” Wencel replied coldly “I will not be slandered by the likes of you, especially when we come to defend our dornish brethren against further aggression. Where do your loyalties lie, Pyke?” he spat out the last word. “Know this, I come here with the authority of Lord Horas Martell, ruler of Dorne to protect and secure Starfall and its environs against possible ironborn assault. You will obey the orders of your liege lord or I will have no choice but to assume you are in collusion with your cousins to the north and take the necessary action to deal with you” he glared at the man who looked around uneasily and licked his lips. He knew that the force arrayed behind him would sweep over the walls like a wave against his unprepared men. He snarled, “I name you murderer of Lord Harlaw and I demand satisfaction!” he slapped his hand on the pommel of his sword. “If I win, you admit before all that you ordered my lord’s death and leave in peace and if you win, you will be allowed entry. Let your gods decide which of us is telling the truth!” he cried, this last desperate gamble all that was left to him. Lord Fowler looked at him for a moment, then at the keep and finally glanced back to his men, some of who had heard the challenge and watched expectantly. He knew that to refuse would make it that much harder to order them to their deaths to take the keep. He nodded once. “Very well. I had not intended this, but if you will not surrender the keep peaceably then so be it” he replied and rode his horse calmly towards the castle.
In a short while they were within the training yard of Starfall keep and Alvyn Pyke stood opposite him, an evil grin on his face as he swiped his sword from side to side. “I’m gonna cut you up good you dornish pig! You’re goin’ to wish you’d hidden behind your men”. Wencel looked on calmly and took his spear from Robb Waters. He was dressed in lightweight studded leather armour and looked very vulnerable next to the brutish iron islander. “Let’s get this over with,” he said with a smile as he advanced into the ring. Pyke snarled and charged forward, hacking down with his sword in an attempt to slice through the spear shaft but Wencel dodged to the left and slammed the butt into his knee as he passed, with an audible crack over the man’s howl of pain. He backed away, expecting the backhanded swipe of Pyke, and jabbed almost gently at his opponent’s torso the tip of the spear entering the abdomen of his foe, but not enough to be fatal. Wencel toyed with the man for a few more minutes, until his adversary was cut and bleeding from a dozen thrusts before finally knocking him from his feet. “I’ll see you in hell!” Alvyn Pyke cursed, his eyes full of pain and fear. “Not for a while” Wencel replied with a smile as he slowly drove the point of his spear into the man’s throat and through into the ground.
He straightened and said loudly “I claim Starfall for Lord Horas Martell, from the invaders who have despoiled it these many long years. Never again!” he shouted as the dornish watchers cheered and those who had other ideas wisely stayed silent.
Results:
Lord Wencel Fowler improves to Expert Intrigue
Lord Wencel Fowler improves to Expert Spear-fighting
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A few days later, a large force was spotted approaching Starfall, flying the hooded hawk of House Fowler, although small contingents of yellow lemons on purple and the red scorpions on black were scattered amongst them. Lord Fowler approached the castle under a parlay flag to speak with the defenders. After some delay, the guard commander came to meet with them.
Lord Fowler nodded in greeting as he neared them “With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” he asked politely. “I’m Alvyn Pyke, guard captain of Starfall. Who the hell are you?” he barked back angrily. Robb Waters growled at the man but Wencel shot him a look, which silenced him. “I am Lord Wencel Fowler” he replied, politely enough “And I want you to open your gates and offer us hospitality for the evening”. He nodded across to a youth of no more than 12 years. “I was meeting with the new lord Qorgyle when word reached me of the dastardly attack on Starfall. I came as soon as I could to secure the area in case this was a prelude to invasion”. Alvyn snorted in disbelief “Do you expect me to believe you had naught to do with this?” he gestured angrily “A thousand men just ‘happen’ to arrive a few days after our lord is murdered” he gripped his swordhilt. “Be careful of your accusations Pyke” Wencel replied coldly “I will not be slandered by the likes of you, especially when we come to defend our dornish brethren against further aggression. Where do your loyalties lie, Pyke?” he spat out the last word. “Know this, I come here with the authority of Lord Horas Martell, ruler of Dorne to protect and secure Starfall and its environs against possible ironborn assault. You will obey the orders of your liege lord or I will have no choice but to assume you are in collusion with your cousins to the north and take the necessary action to deal with you” he glared at the man who looked around uneasily and licked his lips. He knew that the force arrayed behind him would sweep over the walls like a wave against his unprepared men. He snarled, “I name you murderer of Lord Harlaw and I demand satisfaction!” he slapped his hand on the pommel of his sword. “If I win, you admit before all that you ordered my lord’s death and leave in peace and if you win, you will be allowed entry. Let your gods decide which of us is telling the truth!” he cried, this last desperate gamble all that was left to him. Lord Fowler looked at him for a moment, then at the keep and finally glanced back to his men, some of who had heard the challenge and watched expectantly. He knew that to refuse would make it that much harder to order them to their deaths to take the keep. He nodded once. “Very well. I had not intended this, but if you will not surrender the keep peaceably then so be it” he replied and rode his horse calmly towards the castle.
In a short while they were within the training yard of Starfall keep and Alvyn Pyke stood opposite him, an evil grin on his face as he swiped his sword from side to side. “I’m gonna cut you up good you dornish pig! You’re goin’ to wish you’d hidden behind your men”. Wencel looked on calmly and took his spear from Robb Waters. He was dressed in lightweight studded leather armour and looked very vulnerable next to the brutish iron islander. “Let’s get this over with,” he said with a smile as he advanced into the ring. Pyke snarled and charged forward, hacking down with his sword in an attempt to slice through the spear shaft but Wencel dodged to the left and slammed the butt into his knee as he passed, with an audible crack over the man’s howl of pain. He backed away, expecting the backhanded swipe of Pyke, and jabbed almost gently at his opponent’s torso the tip of the spear entering the abdomen of his foe, but not enough to be fatal. Wencel toyed with the man for a few more minutes, until his adversary was cut and bleeding from a dozen thrusts before finally knocking him from his feet. “I’ll see you in hell!” Alvyn Pyke cursed, his eyes full of pain and fear. “Not for a while” Wencel replied with a smile as he slowly drove the point of his spear into the man’s throat and through into the ground.
He straightened and said loudly “I claim Starfall for Lord Horas Martell, from the invaders who have despoiled it these many long years. Never again!” he shouted as the dornish watchers cheered and those who had other ideas wisely stayed silent.
Results:
Lord Wencel Fowler improves to Expert Intrigue
Lord Wencel Fowler improves to Expert Spear-fighting