|
|
Post by Sam on Dec 8, 2009 23:21:57 GMT -5
A tall squire with a missing front tooth comes to the table with an old man who is coughing loudly. "Marcus Buckler, of Bronzegate, this is Ser Grafton," he says pointing to the old man who just coughs flem everywhere. "Aye, if that old man is a Grafton, then I'm the Lord of Highgarden," the steward said with a chuckle. "Where's your real knight, son?" |
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 9, 2009 0:50:16 GMT -5
"Ser Renwulf of Thistlemarch is my-er-our knight." Yon said, smiling. "Did you get all three of us?" He asked the steward.
Joren shrugged at the inquiring squire's comment.
"Ain't got no deigns for mummery. This here's an arm built for swordin', not jugglin'."
|
|
|
|
Post by Horas on Dec 9, 2009 0:59:01 GMT -5
"I just meant 'cause you all look the same and all, not for juggling," Demp says. "You ever fought in one of these tourneys before? I hear it's pretty exciting. 'Course I've fought in loads and loads, so it's no big deal for me."
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 9, 2009 1:36:20 GMT -5
Eled shoved Joren.
"Your arm ain't good with no sword, Joren! You dinnae even know what handed you were until Coul told you!" "'Sides, my hands might not be for holdin' a sword as good as you, but they're awful good at cuttin' coin purses!"
Joren laughed. "You mean like when Septa Hilain caught you ransacking her sewing bag? You hafta be joking! This guy says he's a good fighter then." He ended, looking at the boasting boy. "Go on then, have you ever killed anybody?"
Yon looked at the steward apologetically.
"All three of us are signing up for all events." He said.
|
|
|
|
Post by Horas on Dec 9, 2009 1:42:18 GMT -5
"Oh, yeah. I've killed loads and loads of people," Demp says, trying for nonchalance. "I came here by myself, all the way from King's Landing, and everybody knows the Kingswood is swarming with bandits. Bears, too."
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 9, 2009 1:48:52 GMT -5
"I killed a chicken once!" Eled said, eyes wide. "It was the boy one, with the spurs onnis feet!" He swiped at the air. "An' me an the cook, we chased 'im down, course I were the one'at caught'im, cuz I'm fast." He pointed to his feet. "Took me less than a second to do it too! Then we scooped him up, and I let cook chop'is head off while I held him!" He smiled.
"Dang'rous beast. Kept kickin' and fightin', but we bested him." He said proudly.
|
|
|
|
Post by Horas on Dec 9, 2009 1:54:06 GMT -5
"Oh," Demp says, "That's pretty neat. I guess. We had chickens at the Godshouse, but only for the eggs."
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 9, 2009 1:59:55 GMT -5
"I'll bet you ain't never killed no body." Joren said, eyeing Demp suspiciously. "How come you ain't got no scars then? Every murderer or knight I ever met had scars. Even I've got a scar." He then proceeded to pull his pants down and show everyone the scar he got from the 'Evil Switch of the Great Sorceress Milda (also called Milda the Midwife who was occasionally nice but usually mean)".
|
|
|
|
Post by Ser Kenneth Coyn on Dec 9, 2009 8:55:09 GMT -5
"Aye, if that old man is a Grafton, then I'm the Lord of Highgarden," the steward said with a chuckle. "Where's your real knight, son?" The Squire turns red in the face, "Grafton is his first name he's Ser Grafton the Buckler Master of Arms has been in service to four generations of Bucklers. He's from Three Pines and first served during the Basilisk Invasion when he was but 10 years old." The old man tries to say something but all he can muster is a wet cough. Though he manages to get most of the mucus on his own tunic. Finally the old man whispers something to the boy who leans in close to hear it. "Ser Grafton says 'you better appologize or he'll be forced to kick your ass.'" The Knight who had to be over 80 years old nods to prove that is in fact what he said. |
|
|
|
Post by Sam on Dec 9, 2009 10:40:20 GMT -5
The steward chuckles, and puts down the boy's name
|
|
|
|
Post by Ser Kenneth Coyn on Dec 9, 2009 11:32:55 GMT -5
"I am not doing the archery, thats for pussies and poor folk," the young Buckler said making sure that the steward left that event unmarked for him.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sam on Dec 12, 2009 14:03:19 GMT -5
Steffon sat up in the royal box that had been erected amid the stands under the walls of Storm’s End, as the Squire’s Tournament that he held for the King’s entertainment commenced. The archery competition was first, and almost two score boys lined up to take shots at their respective targets. There were many knights present, mostly knights of the stormlands, sworn to this lord or that lord who was attending court, and Lord Steffon had provided ample refreshments in the form of ten lambs roasting over a fire thirty yards away from the tournament site.
There was a line of men waiting to be served, and when each stepped up the cooks sliced them off a portion. There was also a large keg of ale near the firepit with a tap built in so that men could go and refill their tankards with ease. The squires each drew back their bows when the signal was given, and released their arrows at the targets. Half of them missed altogether, while most of those that did hit struck the edges of the targets and glanced off. Only four boys’ arrows actually sank into the targets and remained there. The targets were moved further back, although all four remaining contestants struck their targets this time as well. They were moved backward again, and again, and again, until only one boy was left.
The winner was a skinny young boy whose shaggy brown hair hung down into his eyes although surprisingly enough that hadn’t had any negative effect on his shooting. He also wore an iron skullcap that was obviously too large for his head. He seemed a little surprised to be the last archer standing, but immediately embraced the cheers of the small crowd that had gathered to watch the event.
He was ushered up to the royal box where Steffon sat beside the King, and Lord Baratheon stepped down onto the grass and drew his sword, placing it on the boy’s shoulder, gently compelling the boy to his knees.. He cast a glance over at his steward, and then looked back down at the boy. “Rise, Ser Demp Rivers. Your winnings,” Steffon said, handing the boy a pouch of gold.
“I have need of a skilled marksman such as yourself, Ser, if you would like a place in my household,” he added as the former squire rose from his knees.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Smith on Dec 14, 2009 15:47:52 GMT -5
Demp smiled, "Aye I would. It would be an honor, my lord."
|
|
|
|
Post by Sam on Dec 14, 2009 15:52:25 GMT -5
"I could never quite master the bow but I'll not deny that it is a powerful weapon with many uses. Quarters will be made for you in the Knights' barracks and your pay will start at eighteen Stags a month, though will increase in certain circumstances," Steffon replied.
"Welcome to the service of Storm's End," he added with a small smile.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Smith on Dec 14, 2009 16:05:48 GMT -5
The man bowed, "Is there nothing else?"
|
|
Hope you all are well and happy.