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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 20:08:31 GMT -5
"You probably could!" the strange Dornish warrior laughs. "If I ever get to head that far, we shall hunt them all day and night, I assure you."
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Post by Lord Dudley Mudd on Oct 7, 2012 20:12:23 GMT -5
"Well it was good meeting you and I wish you well in the tournament." Lars says truely, and bows to the man before going back to launching arrows at the targets.
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Post by The Eagle on Oct 7, 2012 20:17:46 GMT -5
"Sounds rather enjoyable, and useful. People plotting to cease the throne always have busywork for us less smart folk to do. Enjoy the rest of the day!"
Jory abruptly strode off the field, heading towards the camps.
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Post by Lord Robert Dondarrion on Oct 7, 2012 22:11:03 GMT -5
Godfrey lays there out like the rock his is.
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Post by Ser Gerold Sand on Oct 7, 2012 23:33:09 GMT -5
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Ser Gerold and his squires enter the training ground. Ser Gerold is in full plate though his squires follow more traditional dornish customs and clad in chain mail. They take turns sparring each other whilst Gerold keeps an eye open for more skilled opponents.
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Post by Lyonel on Oct 8, 2012 4:28:10 GMT -5
Godfrey lays there out like the rock his is. Something that could have been a smile crept on Ivan's face. He got up, grabbed his sword laying on the ground and left the yard. |
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Post by Lord Robert Dondarrion on Oct 8, 2012 11:03:32 GMT -5
Godfrey wakes finally and looks around and something of a deep anger grows within him. He stands and kicks over a training rack of swords and lances and leaves in a fit of rage.
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 11, 2012 10:52:38 GMT -5
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It was evening but that didn't stop Benjen from making his way to the training yard. He wore his blacks and studded leather, his specially crafted blunted longsword at his hip. Brushing a hand through messy hair he looked around to see if anyone was there for a good fight.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 11, 2012 11:02:40 GMT -5
No one is really in the training yard; the lures of a good party too strong for most to resist. He hears light singing coming from the fourth floor where most of House Lannister resides, gorgeous tones fro mthe balcony, and a woman flinging daggers at a target way off in a corner. Other than that it is all minor guards and such who lack the coin to spend on drinks. None of them are northmen; King Terrence paid them in advance.
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 11, 2012 11:05:12 GMT -5
Benjen didn't really want to look at women right now, but one throwing daggers was preferable to two insane sisters. He slowly walked up to her, watching the woman as she threw her weapons.
"Impressive," He said as he strode up to her.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 11, 2012 11:07:16 GMT -5
He doesn't recognize her, but she pays no attention to him, continuing to throw knife after knife at the target. Finally she runs out, having done a fine job of striking the target. She looks at him levelly. In the dim light it's hard to pick out much, but she is athletic and has a much more impressive upper half than either of the dancer-thin Targaryen sisters. "I get that a lot. No, I don't want a drink, and no, I don't care to see how well you handle your sword."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 11, 2012 11:16:17 GMT -5
"Thank the gods; here I was afraid I'd have to ask," Benjen said, noting the areas she had hit on the target. "The name's Benjen Stark, and yours?"
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 11, 2012 11:18:07 GMT -5
"Kiele Morrigen. So, you're the bachelor prince." She regards him a moment, then heads over to collect her knives and put them back into her pack to throw again.
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 11, 2012 11:21:38 GMT -5
"The very one; out here, enjoying not being surrounded by too many frisky young maidens," Benjen replied, eyes cast up at the fort. "Or their fathers."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 11, 2012 11:31:08 GMT -5
Kiele Morrigen just goes back to her throwing. "I am having a spot of difficulty welling up too much sympathy for you. Thus far, in three and a half days, I have received nineteen marriage proposals, one from a thirteen year old, eight from wandering knights who mistook me for a high-priced Myrish courtesan, and ten from various lords across the realm, the eldest of which is...sixty-one."
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