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Post by Imry Willfyre on May 2, 2011 20:43:18 GMT -5
Just at the edge of Cape Wrath lies the lands of House Lonmouth and those who do them tenure. The lands can rarely be plainly navigated; they are sometimes wet and marshy, and sometimes mountainous, as in the case of the rock upon which the family's castle is seated. A dense forest spreads from the base of the mountain to the end of their lands. A small town is situated in a valley not far from the castle, and a tower held by the Lonmouth's bannermen watches the extent of their borders. For the Stormlands it is a comparably busy region, with a basic guild system established in the early rule of the Lord Raymund and a bustling market established some hundred years before that.
The Lonmouth family is a proud kin group, and their close proximity to Storm's End found them loyalists upon the invasion of Aegon IX, but they inevitably bent the knee to the new regime in exchange for continued recognition of their lands, customs, and titles. The current Lord is the aging Raymund Lonmouth.
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Post by Imry Willfyre on May 2, 2011 21:26:31 GMT -5
Ser Martin, his squire in tow, arrive outside the family's chief blacksmith ready to place an order of some importance; the King's nameday tourney. Ser Martin is some bit shorter than six feet and dressed in riding leathers and a riding cloak of pale yellow. Malcolm wears a skull brooch and the same pale yellow cloak overtop a doublet of dulled black, his frame large than that of his elder cousin despite the prominent age gap.
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Post by The Smith on May 2, 2011 21:36:16 GMT -5
The blacksmith bows deep, and rubs at the burns across his face, "Aye my lord?"
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Post by Imry Willfyre on May 2, 2011 21:42:25 GMT -5
The boy behind Martin studied the blacksmith's burns without social grace, as the latter spoke, "We have need for a few repairs in sight of the king's nameday tourney. It is my helm and shield which will need repairs, but also..." He turned to Malcolm, "this boy needs a new suit of armor. This is his first proper tourney, and my father wishes him represent the Lonmouths well despite his... imperfect origins."
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Post by The Smith on May 2, 2011 22:02:35 GMT -5
The blacksmith eyed the boy curiously, "Aye my lord." He wiped at his lips.
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Post by Imry Willfyre on May 2, 2011 22:16:23 GMT -5
"Take the boy's measurements and use these designs", Martin unfurled a roll of parchment with some well drawn, if basic, designs, including a breastplate with a laughing skull. "We will be back in a week's time to pick up the armor."
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Post by The Smith on May 3, 2011 6:29:47 GMT -5
The black smith nodded, and then turned to study the boy. "No problem your lordship, it is simpley done."
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Post by Imry Willfyre on May 3, 2011 6:36:30 GMT -5
"Much appreciated", Martin said as he dipped his head slightly in thanks.
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Post by The Smith on May 3, 2011 14:54:20 GMT -5
The smith said, "No my lord it is I who will appreciate this difficult, and rewarding task."
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Post by Imry Willfyre on May 3, 2011 15:31:02 GMT -5
Martin nodded, and the two drew their leave.
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Post by Imry Willfyre on May 4, 2011 14:21:11 GMT -5
/////////
Martin arrives back at the blacksmith, this time by himself, to pick up the goods.
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Post by The Smith on May 4, 2011 15:09:45 GMT -5
The Blacksmith walks around and smiles, "Hey me lord, it is a pleasure to see you again of course."
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Post by Imry Willfyre on May 4, 2011 15:14:29 GMT -5
"Good morning Smith, can you inform me of the progress on the armor?"
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Post by The Smith on May 4, 2011 15:25:08 GMT -5
"It is finished. As promised." The man replied.
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Post by Imry Willfyre on May 4, 2011 16:47:04 GMT -5
"Much thanks smith, here are an extra few silvers for the urgency", he said as he handed over the coins.
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Hope you all are well and happy.