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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 19:49:39 GMT -5
"And I say junior spymaster. Who probably wishes to join the...more exclusive club of us professionals. I'll tell you a secret," he leans in conspiratorially, "kings and lords think we spend all day plotting to kill our counterparts. We usually invite each other over for drinks. Our little game has rules, after all, or else no one would survive it." He puts a chain on, then, three dozen linnks clanking from it, including a few of Valyrian steel. He then produces a fake nose from within his robe, places it on, and changes his accent to a faint Stormlander. "Maester Haviland of Harvest Hall, at your service. Six years at the Citadel, sponsored by Archmaester Rollin himself. Often gone on long trips to the Free Cities in pursuit of knowledge on the lost art of creating Valyrian steel." He shrugs as he removes the simple disguise. "Add some hair dye, of course. But really, a fake gray beard and a chain and that's all anyone expects from a maester."
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Post by Lord Lyonel Vikary on Oct 7, 2012 20:27:26 GMT -5
Lord Rycherd Tyrell dismounted from his horse, saddle sore from the journey from Highgarden. He turned to his sisters who were riding close by and helped them both down from their horses.
His servants had already set up three green and gold striped tents quite close to Mason's Keep and the Lannister tents, the largest one of course reserved for the Lord of Highgarden. Rycherd escorted his sisters to the smallest of the tents and saw that they were comfortable before returning to his own.
Rycherd ran a critical eye over the preparations that had been made before issuing orders for where he wanted guards to be posted. He then spoke to his squires and gave them instructions to unpack his armor and other gear in his tent. A messenger was quickly dispatched to his brothers, Jon and Godfrey summoning them to his tent within the hour. Another messenger was sent find King Kyle and inform him of the arrival of the Tyrell entourage.
The preparations finally completed to his satisfaction, Lord Rycherd finally retired to his tent to change his travel stained clothing and refresh himself.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 20:34:26 GMT -5
A messenger arrives, informing Lord Tyrell he is welcome to join the Royal family for a dinner at his convenience. He may pick the day if he needs to recover from his long rest.
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Post by Lord Lyonel Vikary on Oct 7, 2012 21:58:32 GMT -5
The Lord of Highgarden tells the messenger that his preference would be to dine with the Royal Family as soon as possible. The King only needs to nominate the time and place.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 22:16:36 GMT -5
He is invited to dine that very evening at the keep dining hall.
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 7, 2012 22:27:02 GMT -5
"And I say junior spymaster. Who probably wishes to join the...more exclusive club of us professionals. I'll tell you a secret," he leans in conspiratorially, "kings and lords think we spend all day plotting to kill our counterparts. We usually invite each other over for drinks. Our little game has rules, after all, or else no one would survive it." He puts a chain on, then, three dozen linnks clanking from it, including a few of Valyrian steel. He then produces a fake nose from within his robe, places it on, and changes his accent to a faint Stormlander. "Maester Haviland of Harvest Hall, at your service. Six years at the Citadel, sponsored by Archmaester Rollin himself. Often gone on long trips to the Free Cities in pursuit of knowledge on the lost art of creating Valyrian steel." He shrugs as he removes the simple disguise. "Add some hair dye, of course. But really, a fake gray beard and a chain and that's all anyone expects from a maester." She laughed at the fake nose and the beard. "It looks like a dead rat living on your chin. Exactly like a real Maester." She settled back in the chair. "So what are you proposing? You are proposing something, aren't you?" |
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 22:35:07 GMT -5
"No. I just wanted to put a face to a name that until now could have been as fake as mine." he shrugged. "What do you have that I could want?"
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 7, 2012 22:40:22 GMT -5
Arania thought a moment, annoyed that he could possibly have suspected that she was anything other than what she claimed. She thought better of that almost immediately. If she could fool people the way he had, well, that would be a very useful skill. "I have my contacts. I'm sure you have half the same ones, perhaps you are the other half. But I am only eighteen, and I have a eye or two in every major area in the Goldlands."
"I'd like to count myself among the professionals one day," she decided, then and there.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 22:48:22 GMT -5
"Well that didn't take long to decide. Unfortunately, you are not in my kingdom. I can't recruit you like I have in the North. Sad, that. Your letters are some of the few worth reading. If I just up and carted you away to learn what i can teach, well, your master of whispers might be less happy with me than he already is." He takes another drink of wine and stares at her, his eyes moving slowly over her.
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Post by The Eagle on Oct 7, 2012 23:00:26 GMT -5
Jory walked lightly among the camp, his footfalls not making a sound. Occasionally he stopped at a tent, listened to the conversation for a minute, and silently moved on.
Remember who you are. The Eagle waits before it strikes. The Eagle observes.
He inhaled deeply, feeling all the words and secrets of people around him pouring into his mind.
The Eagle sees all.
He smiled and continued.
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 7, 2012 23:14:40 GMT -5
"Oh," she said disappointedly. She didn't notice him look her over, as her eyes were riveted on the contents of her cup. He was right, of course. But anything someone could teach her, she could also learn herself from books. She was convinced of that fact. "Perhaps I should go to him, then. Or perhaps he would turn me away as a silly girl." Her face twisted into a scowl, which she quickly corrected, not wishing to appear petulant before such a man. "No matter. I'm sure I will do well enough with or without help."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 23:22:09 GMT -5
"Well, his methods are considerably different than mine. Also, your father probably would never allow it. Your Master of whispers doesn't have the same pull in the Goldlands that I do in the North." He sounded a bit sad.
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 7, 2012 23:29:01 GMT -5
She thought of her father, and how much he wanted to see her married. "No, he wouldn't allow it. He has something much more traditional in mind for me."
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Post by The Eagle on Oct 7, 2012 23:29:03 GMT -5
Jory's ears perked up. Master of Whisperers? Did he hear that right? Perhaps the people who said that might have something to do for him. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time he'd done a job for spies, and he was getting desperate at this point. Another day without work and his fingers would be falling off. His feet rapidly tiptoed back to the tent where it originated from as he began to listen in carefully.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 23:31:37 GMT -5
ooc: Eagle, this guy has a intrigue score that I literally use a smiley face icon for as a stat and about 30 assassins. I strongly recommend rolling stealth or something before trying to eavesdrop on this guy...
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