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Post by Horas on May 28, 2009 1:15:24 GMT -5
"I was born north of the Wall, actually," Nute says, "Rangers killed most of my tribe when I was a babe and raised me at Castle Black. Can't say I resent it, though. Castle Black's cook was very good, and I learned a thing or two from the maester and the master at arms before I left."
Nute Rayder smiles. "I'm sure both of your homelands are places of great beauty and wonder, but never having been south of Mole's Town I'm afraid I can't really comment. Though maybe I'll see them soon, eh? Rumor has it we'll be marching south just like you Southrons."
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Post by Imry Willfyre on May 28, 2009 1:16:41 GMT -5
"We're quite a far bit from my homeland. It's a sea and a half away", he offered a smile but it failed rather quickly.
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Post by The Smith on May 28, 2009 1:18:38 GMT -5
The boy smirks at Kyma. "They call me Pol," he says. "You haven't heard it before, but you'll hear it again soon, that's fer sure." "Why is that Pol? Will you be famous one day?" Kyma sneered, "Or are you moving to the capital to become my neighbor." |
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Post by Horas on May 28, 2009 1:27:10 GMT -5
"I'm no wolfbrother, but I can smell an intriguing tale from a mile away," Nute says. "Tell you what, I'll trade you a cup of mead and a bowl of hot stew for your story."
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Pol puffs out his chest. "Both, maybe. I'm the best shot on," he hiccups, "on either side of the Wall, you know."
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Post by The Smith on May 28, 2009 1:29:22 GMT -5
Kyma raised an eyebrow at the boy, "Why would that make you famous? Any fool can fire a bow."
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Post by Imry Willfyre on May 28, 2009 1:29:41 GMT -5
"I'm no wolfbrother, but I can smell an intriguing tale from a mile away," Nute says. "Tell you what, I'll trade you a cup of mead and a bowl of hot stew for your story." "You are lucky, Nute, for I am in a melancholy mood and wish to remain so. You have a deal ser, I will tell you my story. But first... your mead and stew", he said, with a genuine smile now. |
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Post by Horas on May 28, 2009 1:35:09 GMT -5
Nute ladels the stew into a big wooden bowl, then pours a healthy helping of mead into a metal tankard. He hands both to the Braavosi and smiles. "That's good cooking and good mead, mind," he says, mock-serious, "It had better buy me a tale with plenty of dramatic moments and sword fights."
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Pol frowns. "Huh. I guess I hadn't thought of it like that. Maybe if I had a fearsome byname, or killed a bunch of knights? I could probably do that, I think."
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Post by Sam on May 28, 2009 1:36:42 GMT -5
"Gods know what we will find there, hopefully my home is still intact," Simon said grimly. He finished his soup and handed the bowl back to Nute before taking another swig. "I imagine someone else needs this more than I."
Ser Brandon Tarly comes upon the bonfire, to hear a young drunk man with a crooked helm boasting of his prowess to a princess. "I doubt that lad," he said with a contemptuous laugh. "I am Ser Brandon, your grace," he said softly to the princess, bowing his head respectfully.
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Post by The Smith on May 28, 2009 1:40:50 GMT -5
Pol frowns. "Huh. I guess I hadn't thought of it like that. Maybe if I had a fearsome byname, or killed a bunch of knights? I could probably do that, I think." Kyma nodded, and shook her head. "You are a simple boy, aren't you." She patted his cheek and walked away. She stopped when Ser Brynden spoke, she looked at him, "So?" |
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Post by Imry Willfyre on May 28, 2009 1:43:55 GMT -5
Imry laughed and accepted both the mead and stew. After sampling a bit of both and deeming them worthy Imry began his tale. "I was born in Braavos, as I said, the third son of a Myrrish shipping captain who had settled there five years before I was born. My parents lost all their wealth in a shipping accident so as soon as I could I left home to pursue my own fortune. During this period I was focusing on my bladework and doubling as a bravo. Somewhere along the line I got noticed by an important Braavosi officer who offered me a position with the Sealord. After proving my worth there, I was, on a whim, chosen by the Sealord to replace the recently deceased First Sword of Braavos. When this happened I became the most popular man in Braavos... even the Sealord was jealous. But all things end, and my life in Braavos ended with a drunken night in the Sealord's wife's chambers..." As he ended he almost immediately launched into the stew. It wasn't great but the broth was good and he was starving.
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Post by Sam on May 28, 2009 1:46:10 GMT -5
Bran shrugged, and laughed. "Sew buttons," he said, though he frowned when nobody else laughed. He shrugged again and unscrewed the top of his hip flask to take a swig, and then offered it to the princess. "Arbor Red doesn't travel quite so well, so all I've got is whiskey."
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Post by Horas on May 28, 2009 1:55:55 GMT -5
Nute takes Simon's bowl back, then raises his eyebrows. "Well that tale certainly satisfies," he says to Imry, "And now I see the crux of your problem. I would offer my aid, but I do not think one fat man's axe can hold off all the armies of Braavos. Not even this particular fat man's axe, which really is quite sharp."
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Post by The Smith on May 28, 2009 2:00:10 GMT -5
Kyma looked at Bran, and raised an eyebrow. Her look was indignant, but she just walked away.
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Post by Sam on May 28, 2009 2:04:34 GMT -5
Bran laughed again, and turned to the boy with a grin. "Not often one gets shot down by a princess, eh?"
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Post by Horas on May 28, 2009 2:06:50 GMT -5
Pol sways dangerously close to the fire, then laughs drunkenly. "Well maybe that's what happened to you, Ser Branford, but fer me, she's just playing hard to get. Bet you a dragonglass knife I'll get under her sleeping furs before you do."
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Hope you all are well and happy.