House Avalon

[The Flint]

"You didn't say who was cleverer. Ain't no arguing that the Crow was the cleverer.er. villain. Question was whether 'e was worse or better than Andry."

[Tallahar]

"Well all the Cleverer,er who are all smart and that are the worst. Thats why even dooesn't mind old Tyrell he's to stupid to make up a decent plan."

[The Flint]

"What the bleeding 'ell are you muttering about?" The man said, as he slide his ale mug down the bar for another fill. "You said who was worse. Worse meaning like... more evil like. You ain't say who was smarter, or who caused more trouble."

[Tallahar]

"And all that is linked to the bein the worse and the most evil. But of course your just an idiot and your small mind can't see that. You probably hid during the Battle for the Field and Fire and the Stormland attack on the Gates."

[The Flint]

"I am a stormlander." The man grunted, "and I fought with Andry at the Field of Fire. Are you calling me a coward?" the man growls.

[Tallahar]

"I bet you were one of the men that stayed at the back of the army. But I followed my Lord and we took on the men and we opened that damn Gate."

[The Flint]

The man growled, took his ale flagon, and brought it across the side of Ser Maric's face, with a crack of steel and bone.

Instantly, four rough looking men leapt up, and snatched the enraged Stormlands Veteran.

"C'mon you, no one raises trouble in the Avalon." grunted one, as the four men, each with a hold of one of the Stormlander's limbs, dragged him towards a backdoor, using the top of his head to open the heavy oak door.

[Fel]

A tall, thin man stood up with elaborate flourish. "My friends," he said to Ser Maric and the Stormlander, not seeming to notice that the former's face had just been smashed in and the latter was being wrestled out of the inn, "I am afraid to relay that you are both mistaken!"

"Who was the worst man to take up arms against the kingdom? Who's evil knew no bounds? None other than the Rotten Apple, who slew noble King Callen while unarmed, in captivity! After the king shared bread and wine with him at his own table! The Gods do not forget such depravity easily, and so it was the kingslayer Aaron Fossoway met his end at edge of a Bolton blade, tricked by the same treachoury that was his nature."

[The Flint]

"Same Boltons who done tried to start a civil war over some stupid whore's lying stories?" cried another drunken man, in a Reach accent. "Piss on all Boltons anywhere."

[Fel]

The tall man laughed. "A civil war on the Iron Islands, my good man. We should be so lucky if those barbarians all killed each other off!"

[The Flint]

"Where were you during this mummery? As she happens, I was at the trial at the time, back when I was wearing a lion's colors for Randal Lannister. Man got himself thrown out of a window for siding with them stupid Northern mutts. Woulda been a war bigger than a bunch of dumb reavers, you mark my words."

[Tallahar]

Maric spit blood and was about to kill the Stormland man when he was taken held by four men. As another called about Aaron, "I'm a good damn Reachman are you insulting me?"

[The Flint]

Four additional brutes rise from a corner table, very visible weapons in their belts.

"There ain't no fighting in the Avalon. Anyone starts trouble will find himself traveling all the way to Asshai before he finds a whore who'll lay down with him." says a very large looking man with a nose which has been broken two or three times before to no ill effect. "Keep it civil, or you'll wish you had."

[Tallahar]

Maric only shrugs, "I got hit in the head with a mug."

[The Flint]

There is the very muffled sounds of screaming from the alleyway where the assailant was dragged to.

"That's been taken care of. Have yourself another drink, and no fighting. You wanna fight, take it out side."