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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Mar 13, 2015 16:59:21 GMT -5
"Aye, there was," Quentyn replies, before taking a long drink and continuing, "And it will be too soon if I ever see that fucking thing, or any other, again. I suppose it was, I don't know, majestic, in its way. But what that monster could do...flying above the city, burning homes, people. I'm not scared of much, but that? Be a fool not to be."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Mar 13, 2015 17:37:15 GMT -5
"Indeed. I think those peasants had it right all them years ago; kill the damn things and solve problems the old way, the way men do." He shivers a bit. "Word's been coming in from the Islands, too, you know. King Euric's built some sort of shipyard that makes any other look like a hobby."
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Mar 13, 2015 18:32:45 GMT -5
"Oh, has he now? That's good to hear. Well. Maybe not for you."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Mar 13, 2015 18:36:40 GMT -5
The innkeep chuckles. "Well, maybe not. Guess we'll see, but I suspect an armada like that has a purpose bigger than a bit of reaving." Not, on reflection, that that was necessarily any better.
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Mar 13, 2015 18:44:36 GMT -5
"Well, we need to keep up with our neighbors. Can't very well expect us to pretend the Redwynes don't have a fleet to be reckoned with." Not that the Iron Fleet wasn't itself a force to be reckoned with, already.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Mar 13, 2015 18:47:53 GMT -5
"Indeed. Hoping that trade doesn't slow down. Been a good few years for profit." He fills up two whiskies and offers one.
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Mar 13, 2015 18:51:07 GMT -5
Quentyn takes the drink. "To fair winds and following seas," he says, clinking it with the bartender's before downing it.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Mar 13, 2015 18:52:54 GMT -5
The innkeep slams it. "To not being robbed and serving drinks and swapping stories 'til I die a natural death."
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Mar 13, 2015 19:03:12 GMT -5
Quentyn smiles at that. "Not the worst goals." He finishes off his beer and stands up. "Which way to this Joanna Lannister? I should get some business done."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Mar 13, 2015 19:12:27 GMT -5
"Big house on top of the hill. Cannot miss it. I promise." The man nods and continues his work.
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Mar 13, 2015 19:13:45 GMT -5
"Thank you." Quentyn tells the man. He leaves an extra coin on the bar before going on his way.
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Kurts
Prince
Posts: 3,760
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Post by Kurts on Mar 14, 2015 19:15:52 GMT -5
A grey corsair makes its way in to port, flying a flag of peace under the sigil of House Volmark. The banner flaps in the breeze, making it look as if the leviathan painted upon it is alive and swimming through the grey sea. The ram of the ship has been carved in the same likeness, the open jaws of the beast in ash hardened oak, ready to devour each merchant galley it touches.
The Leviathan's Bite, hull not yet full after the sacking of Mantarys, had stopped in the disputed lands to fill its hold with plunder. "Goods" taken from Lysene ships were being unloaded, with many of the crew including the captain were in fine spirits after acquiring new salt wives shipped fresh from the Pleasure Gardens.
The captain, Lord Dagur Volmark, oversaw the transfer with a watchful eye. He was clad in chainmail which had been blackened by by the briny sea air, with an oak and iron buckler shield upon his back and more axes hanging from his chest and belt than any man had business carrying. He scratched his long unkempt beard absent-mindedly as his eyes noted the Cleftjaw sigil flying over a nearby galleon, a wry smile crossing his features, which sent some caked salt tumbling from the wrinkles on his brow. There was a time when two Ironborn ships would have sent those in this city running and screaming.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Mar 14, 2015 20:19:35 GMT -5
The port authorities allow the ship to dock, and Dagur finds himself among the vast riches of Lannisport.
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Kurts
Prince
Posts: 3,760
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Post by Kurts on Mar 15, 2015 15:27:43 GMT -5
The greenlanders held no interest to Dagur, who leaned lazily against Cleftjaw's ship, tossing and catching one of his axes as he passed the time.
As usual, he left the bartering and selling of their plunder to his quartermaster, preferring an arrow to the knee to haggling over the gold price.
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Mar 20, 2015 16:56:53 GMT -5
Quentyn returned to his ship around dusk.
"Volmark?" He said, upon seeing Dagur, "Seems I wasn't the only one in need of some time in port. How's the sea treated you?"
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