The Salty Whore

[Sam]

A somewhat run-down inn, located near the River Gate, which often caters to the few Ironborn that find themselves in the capital.

[Sam]

Ser Gruffydd and Maron Harlaw take up residence in the inn with their guards, waiting for the tournament to begin. The other Ironborn are under strict orders not to cause trouble.

[Imry Willfyre]

A small group of Stormlanders enter the inn. They settle down by the hearth and order a few rounds of drinks. Two of them start arm-wrestling, and the drunken raucous begins.

[House Celtigar]

Ser Othor enters the room, scowling as he adjusts to the gloom inside the tavern compared to that outside. He stomps up to the bar and orders and quickly downs his first ale, belching loudly before ordering another. New drink in hand, he observes those seated around the bar to see if he can spot anyone who owes him money.

With a childish squeal and thud of a toddler's bare feet on the dirty floorboards a dark haired wild child crashes into Othor's leg and grabs ahold. Looking up she grins showing missing milk teeth and cries "Dada!". With a slow building growl, Othor puts down his mug and pulls a fearsome face, reaching down for the child slowly. With a quick roar he snatches her up and she bursts into laughter as he pretends to throw her across the bar.
"How's my little wharf-rat!" he chuckles as he shifts her onto one hip and regains his ale. "Is your mum around?"
"She's wiv Uncle Ollo, da!" she replies quickly. "Ah, well I'll have to wait my turn then" he replies and then pulls out a copper from behind her ear to squeals of delight and gives it to her.

[House Dustin]

A man-at-arms wearing Dustin colors enters the inn and looks about for one in Harlaw livery.

[Sam]

None of the Ironborn wear livery, but nonetheless they are relatively easy to recognize, as they congregate in a group off to one side of the establishment, drinking and dicing amongst themselves. A man with extensive scarring on his face, reminiscent of a gruesome smile carved onto his visage, looks the man at arms over.

"What'd you want?" he asked gruffly.

[House Dustin]

The man-at-arms nods. "I was asked by my lord to deliver this message unto the ranking representative of House Harlaw."

(OOC: They're missing out. If I had a scythe in my arms, I'd be wearing the badge all over.

[Sam]

Andrik the Smiler jerked his thumb at a boy of fifteen, who was dicing and swearing with the rest of the Ironborn, to such a degree that he was almost indistinguishable from the rest of them, save for the peach fuzz on his face in place of the scraggly beards that the rest of them wore. "OY, Maron," he said loudly, and the youth looked up, swearing again as his lapse in concentration caused him to throw poorly.

"What's this then?" he asked. "I hope it's worth the loss I just took," he added with a laugh.

[House Dustin]

The Dustin man smiled good-naturedly, "Apologies." The Dustin man-at-arms introduced himself. "I'm Willet of the Barrows. My lord Mors Dustin asked that I carry this message to a Harlaw if any should attend the festivities here."

[Sam]

"My father is Thane of Harlaw," Maron said in confirmation. "What's the message?"

[House Dustin]

"I don't rightly know, milord, but here it is." He handed him a small letter bearing the seal of House Dustin.