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Post by Lord Maekar Tyrell on Aug 23, 2015 17:54:47 GMT -5
Maekar groaned inwardly at the cost of the tents,"I provided proper winter tents for men, which cost more than one pretty coin."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Aug 23, 2015 17:56:20 GMT -5
"You've invested in your men's lives, Lord Maekar," Benjen assured the man. He cocked his head with a bemused expression. "I am surprised a Tyrell rules at Highgarden, if you don't mind me saying. I do not doubt however that Lady Arania trusts you. She isn't a stupid woman."
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Post by Lord Maekar Tyrell on Aug 23, 2015 18:05:03 GMT -5
He croaked a laugh out,"You need men to fight a war, and my men are loyal to me, willing to die for someone should be repaid with some kindness." He coughed slightly at the cold air,"To be honest, so am I. But I proved capable in bringing stability to the region, and I have a level head when it comes to politics, not withstanding my meeting with Greyjoy."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Aug 23, 2015 18:15:31 GMT -5
"Yes, I recall that," Benjen said, thinking on something for a moment before letting it go. "No matter - you seem the man for the job. I will let you wash and have some rest." He looked up at the Wall. "There are a lot of patrols to send out today. The work never ends."
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Post by Lord Maekar Tyrell on Aug 23, 2015 18:18:52 GMT -5
"The magic that happened there, was that your companions doing?" He followed the man's gaze to the massive structure,"Being in charge is like trying to stop a ship from sinking. No matter how much you pour out, your still knee deep in it." He shrugged,"I wouldn't have it any other way though."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Aug 23, 2015 18:23:50 GMT -5
"It was not," Benjen put simply. "I will see you later, Lord Maekar." He nodded and returned to issuing orders to various men.
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Post by Lord Maekar Tyrell on Aug 23, 2015 18:43:48 GMT -5
Maekar walked off back to his camp.
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Post by Malthazar Nazaryl on Aug 24, 2015 6:30:06 GMT -5
Ilvar wanders around with his pale robes and red teeth, studying the architecture, typically accompanied by one or two of his birds, whom he coos to.
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Post by Ser Titus Grafton on Aug 24, 2015 16:44:37 GMT -5
Titus arrives at Castle Black, cold, weary, tired and hungry. He'd set out from White Harbor with the intention of taking the black and the name of Wyl Buckets as his lot in life until death might finally grant him her sweet mercy. Along the road he started hearing rumors, at first sounding far fetched and ridiculous, but the more of the King's Road he covered, the more he started to believe them. Once he'd made the gift it began to appear obvious, as he began encountering knights and free riders ranging for food and getting more and more of their troublesome news. Upon making Castle Black, he found the worst rumors had been perhaps understated. So there he stood, cold and wet, without so much as a sword dumbfounded in the mud.
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Post by Amelia Royce on Aug 24, 2015 16:46:24 GMT -5
A guard notices him and makes his way up to Titus. "Can I help you, traveler?" He asked, leaning on his spear.
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Post by Ser Titus Grafton on Aug 24, 2015 16:50:07 GMT -5
Titus regarded him carefully. "Mayhaps," he said quietly. "I set out to take the black, take the vow and all that comes with it. From what I've heard on the trip it sounds I may be too late. I'll fight though, for a sword and a hot meal."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Aug 24, 2015 16:53:18 GMT -5
The guard nodded as he scratched his thick beard. "The dead and traitor brothers killed all the true Night's Watch. Prince Benjen Stark's in charge here. What's yer name?"
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Post by Ser Titus Grafton on Aug 24, 2015 16:55:23 GMT -5
"Wyl Buckets," Titus replied without a second thought, "from Saltpans."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Aug 24, 2015 16:59:39 GMT -5
"Saltpans, huh," The man replied. "Had a cousin lived In Saltpans. Died in the war though, in Dorne. Name's Harris," He said, extending his hand. "You a sellsword?"
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Post by Ser Titus Grafton on Aug 24, 2015 17:04:57 GMT -5
"Shame that," Titus replied, though his mind was on food. "If I were a sellsword, I'd be a poor one coming to knock on the door to Castle Black," he said, stone faced. "I was a sailor. Sailed for years under Albreth Manderly. Good Captain, he was." Titus wondered what had become of his uncle, he'd heard nothing of him. Most likely dead, he imagined. "I came north because there was nothing left for me down south."
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