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Post by Father on Dec 8, 2018 19:01:50 GMT 1
Almost two dozen biers are laid out in front of the likeliness of the warrior, the proper place for knights having fallen in battle to lay in repose, the silent sisters have washed and dressed each body so that respects may be paid. Some such as Ser Donnel seems peaceful, clad in polished armor, hands lying upon the chest clasping his sword. The remains of others such as Ser Bryce Goldstag are covered entirely, draped in the colors of their house and with freshly painted shields placed upon them. Lord Jon Blackbriar stands vigil for his brother throughout the night, the sorrow is palpable on his face, Prince Baelor attempts to honor each knight in equal measure, he does not leave the sept before rays of light comes with the dawn as if to welcome the fallen into the heavens, the four kingsguard taking turns to stand by his side, many other knights and lords of great and small renown pays their respects, most say a prayer for each fallen man before retiring for the night, many a lady lights candles, Lady Alena Flowers seems to think that lighting a candle and offering a long prayer for her beloved Lord Karl to each of the seven is the best she can do, or maybe she just want to appear as such. Lady Shiera is dignified and stone faced as she looks upon her dead fool of a husband, she places a hand upon Delia's shoulder and her daughter buries her head into Shiera's shoulder, a casual observer might think that she stays strong for her daughter, a cynic could suggest that she does not mourn Ser Donnel in the slightest. |
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Post by Daeron Wildfyre on Dec 8, 2018 19:12:40 GMT 1
None of the knights on the biers could be counted among Daeron's close friends, but some, such as Ser Donnel he respected highly. He takes his turn to offer up prayers to the Seven to accept this worthy knight before giving brief condolences to his family members. He was a man of actions, not words, and too much spoken at a vigil was almost as bad as a snub.
He then makes his rounds to visit Lord Karl and even the briefest of prayers to some of the Merryweather knights, except for Ser Bryce whom he passes over altogether. Even in death he couldn't bring himself to honor that one.
He does not linger. This vigil was for family members, not well-meaning outsiders.
+1 disposition to Prince Baelor for being chivalrous and respectful
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Post by Balon Blackbriar on Dec 9, 2018 23:12:18 GMT 1
Balon was dressed in black when he came to honor his father. The tournament had started off so well between the two of them only to be driven apart by their actions and politics. Despite Shiera's low opinion of Donnel, Balon had remained convinced that when the time came and war broke out, Donnel would side with the Blackfyre faction. However that time would never come to pass as Donnel's life was lost defending the innocent. Regardless of one's feelings about Lord Eldon his kin didn't deserve to be torn apart by the mob. It was knights like Donnel and Titus that'd saved them but at great personal cost. The details had remained unclear but it appeared Donnel had sacrificed himself to help save Titus. Even at the end all he could think of was his family. You noble bastard.
Earlier in the day Balon had courted Lady Laena and if anyone would've been happy to hear about it, it would've been Donnel. He could just imagine that stupid smile on his face, congratulating him and making jokes about their eventual wedding night. But again, that'd never come to pass. There'd be no grandpa Donnel bouncing his grandchildren on his knee, regaling them with tales of battle and tournaments. There'd be no Donnel playing with his grandsons in the training yard pretending their wooden swords struck like a charging destrier. All of that was gone because of one septon and his borderline insane zealotry.
Now Balon had to speak of Donnel in the past-tense and it broke his heart to do so. He walked up to his body and leaned in to whisper, "Laena would be lucky to have a good-father like you." he paused before adding, "I love you dad." The last part he was barely able to say aloud without breaking down.
Hell hath no fury like a Blackbrair scorned.
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Post by Eoric Applehouse on Dec 13, 2018 0:48:12 GMT 1
There was Honour in Duty... and there was Donnel Blackbriar.
He'd first met him twenty years ago, under the scorching fucking sun of fucking Dorne when Eoric himself was nothing more than a jumped up squire, a little shit thinking he was stacked high enough to count as a knight. Already then the man seemed weathered and whilst battle-hardened, there was still honour. Despite the shit and mud and blood and fucking sand Donnel Blackbriar somehow managed to stay strong and true through it all. Eoric admired him then and admired him now, even in death.
He was dumb though. Really fucking dumb. But perhaps thats the price one pays...
Gyldenhaal would not be the same without him - Donnel and his sons had been the only real trace of proper knighthood in that shit-hole, with Lord Jon needing guidance whenever to take a piss standing or sitting.
Eoric held vigil for most of the night. Him and Donnel had disagreed on many things but he had an immense respect for the old fool.
Or used to have... damn.
When Balon bursts through he keeps his distance. He had sent men to find him but the worthless bastards wouldn't find a whore in Dorne even if they where getting their pricks sucked. He kept his distance and made sure not to listen to whatever the man had to say. Some things should stay between a man and the gods.
Eventually he steps closer and speaks. "He was a good man." he clears his throat "He'll be missed, the bastard."
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Post by Mikel of Harroway on Dec 13, 2018 5:38:43 GMT 1
Mikel kept busy most of the day and when he wasn't his priority was being nearby the Starkwood pavilions or its members who were leaving their encampment. Eventually things quieted down and Mikel checked in on Harold who had managed to clean the plate and scour the mail of any blood however the padding he wore beneath would always bear the stains despite Harold's best efforts.
Fortunately he had another set of padding of the same colors but in a different pattern. Once he was armored Harold helped him to arm and then Mikel made his way to the Sept to stand his second vigil of the tourney. It had been a long and difficult day. His body had been beaten and he had lost not an insignificant amount of blood. The adrenaline from the battle against he mob and his duel with Ser Simon had worn off quite some time ago. He was exhausted, hurt, and felt weak. If only vigils were held on the night after death and not the night of it. But this wasn't about him. He was here for Ser Donnel, yet there were other men worth standing vigil for laying nearby. And some worth dumping in a field to be forgotten.
As Mikel picked a spot near Ser Donnel's body he saw Lord Jon, Ser Donnel's brother, and offered him condolences before finding a spot nearby and making it his own. He hoped that nobody would bother him while he let himself get lost in his thoughts which revolved around the mess of the day. |
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Post by Laena Pyre on Dec 13, 2018 14:14:08 GMT 1
[Note: the reactions of other PCs have been contributed via PM, to avoid spamming this thread with just my interactions.]
Laena had arrived with Mikel, primarily for purposes of praying for Ser Donnel, and that Ser Titus survived. For the others, she did the minimum required to avoid giving offence.
Then her eyes met Balon's, and the naked pain within them. A glance told her that he'd find no comfort within his family. But this was a public location. She wasn't too concerned about most viewers, but one in particular did worry her. Wisdom told her to do nothing, and apologise to him later.
But that would be spectacularly cold.
Right now, he needed something only she could provide. And one way or another, word would spread soon enough.
Still, no reason for it to be even sooner. She went to Mikel, just as he was preparing for his vigil. "Ser Mikel? Do you trust me?" She asks quietly, before holding up a finger to correct herself. "Do you trust me to not act against what I see as the house's best interests?"
The question took him by surprise and if he were going to be honest he could not say that he completely trusted her. In fact, if he were to say yes, he imagined she might berate him for having heard nothing she's tried to teach him. Mikel imagined his brief pause was telling and gave his best honest answer. "I believe that it would be unlikely for you to act against the House."
Laena cocks her head slightly and gives a small, brief smile. "Good answer." with a definite thread of approval and maybe even pride in her voice. "Then I'd like for you to keep quiet about what you're about to see, and trust that there is a reason both for the act, and for the silence."
Mikel nods his agreement. Maintaining his composure, he silently regrets his current condition as he wonders what might happen next.
With Mikel's spot near Ser Donnel, it was barely a few steps before she was offering a few words of consolation to Ser Jon, and the rest of the Blackbriars.
And then she was standing in front of Ser Balon.
*Could* she turn her back on him? Certainly. Resisting emotional appeals (and making them herself) were some of her earliest lessons. But that was not who she wanted to be, particularly should he succeed at winning her hand.
So she took a step forward, and hugged him.
In public.
It was a chaste hug, clearly providing emotional support, rather than romantic intent. But even that likely more than expected from a Starkwood towards a man with his politics. She stretches up on tiptoes and whispers a few words of comfort into his ear, and after that, lets him dictate the length of their embrace. After which, she waits for her return escort to finish his prayers, and leaves, all without meeting Mikel's gaze again.
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Post by Balon Blackbriar on Dec 14, 2018 20:24:59 GMT 1
When Balon bursts through he keeps his distance. He had sent men to find him but the worthless bastards wouldn't find a whore in Dorne even if they were getting their pricks sucked. He kept his distance and made sure not to listen to whatever the man had to say. Some things should stay between a man and the gods. Eventually he steps closer and speaks. "He was a good man." he clears his throat "He'll be missed, the bastard."Balon had whispered his words to Donnel and backed away to stand with his family in silent vigil. There were few people at Gyldenhaal more foul mouthed than him but Eoric was one of them. On a normal day he'd chastise Eoric for calling Donnel a bastard but today was an exception. Donnel was a bastard; a stupid, noble, bastard that sacrificed himself for his son. He nodded his head to Eoric, "Thank you." As he stood next to his family he saw another figure enter the room, a woman who his affection for had grown after ever encounter they'd had. Someone he'd hoped to speak to Donnel about. Lady Laena. They locked eyes and that was all that was needed for Laena to know how Balon felt. Right now, he needed something only she could provide. And one way or another, word would spread soon enough....And then she was standing in front of Ser Balon. *Could* she turn her back on him? Certainly. Resisting emotional appeals (and making them herself) were some of her earliest lessons. But that was not who she wanted to be, particularly should he succeed at winning her hand. So she took a step forward, and hugged him. In public. It was a chaste hug, clearly providing emotional support, rather than romantic intent. But even that likely more than expected from a Starkwood towards a man with his politics. She stretches up on tiptoes and whispers a few words of comfort into his ear, and after that, lets him dictate the length of their embrace. After which, she waits for her return escort to finish his prayers, and leaves, all without meeting Mikel's gaze again. If Shiera was telling the truth and Laena was a liar and manipulator, she was a master. To Balon her face was one of genuine compassion and kindness. Her hug was welcome and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her by her lower back as she stood on her tiptoes. He whispered something into her ear and squeezed her tight before letting her go. There was a small smile on his face. His eyes thanking her for giving him something he desperately needed. Shiera and Delia had known of Balon's intentions and after today more people would start to wonder. |
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Post by Parmen Redwyne on Dec 29, 2018 5:14:47 GMT 1
Parmen arrived exhausted, injured and immensely frustrated. How many more tragedies could take place at this cursed tournament? He exchanged a nod and a quiet word with his brother Garth. The White Knight was serving his shift as the Prince prayed over the fallen. He seems a true knight, despite whatever the rumors say.
He spent a moment at each briar and offered a quiet prayer for each knight, although his stop before Ser Bryce Goldstag was so short it was hard to tell if he actually stopped at all. He spent longer besides the biers of Ser Owen and other Longtable knights. One of these spaces could have been for cousin Zachery if the mob had formed only a day or two earlier.
He spent most of his time besides the bier of Ser Donnel. He murmured a few words of consolation to Lord Jon but the man seemed lost in his grief. Not surprising, the mad Septon that Lord Blackbriar had fed and sheltered was responsible for all of the carnage and had almost cost the lord a brother and a nephew.
Parmen remembered his time serving as Ser Donnel's officer in the mock battle and their conversations before and after. He had developed a deep respect for the old knight. Now Donnel, like Lord Bryce, had been taken away. At least Ser Donnel had had a chance to die as he lived, with sword in hand and defending his son and his values.
I once thanked you Ser, for riding in and helping to quell the last riot. You told me that it was unnecessary to thank you because it was a knight's duty to protect the weak. So I won't thank you for sacrificing your life. Instead I'm thanking you for reminding me of my duty and trying to show all of us what it takes to live or die with honor. You will be remembered.
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Post by Ashara Starkwood on Dec 29, 2018 15:37:33 GMT 1
You fucking idiot.
Ashara stood well in the back, lost in the crowd. She was here for just one person, and that person couldn't see her anyway.
You got yourself killed saving a few innocents. Now your brother and your nephew are on the chopping block and peace between our houses is almost assuredly impossible now, no matter how cuddly Laena gets with your blackhearted son. You saved a few lives, but the cost in lives will no doubt be much much higher. This is why the evil men like Peake and Bittersteel win - the good ones get themselves killed over unfortunate but trivial things. Sacrifice yourself to win a battle, at best, but lose the war.
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Post by Alliser on Dec 30, 2018 4:59:35 GMT 1
Lord Alliser breezes into the vigil. Gods be good, why does this keep happening. He is brought up short by the press of humanity seeking to move amongst the dead, each seeking someone for their own reasons. He sees the Longtable knights located in one sector, he moves towards them first as was proper. I wonder if I had joined instead of staying in camp if a few of these knights might still be alive?. The greying head shakes his head, you would have gotten yourself killed you old fool. Delena is right. If it is foolish to join a melee it would be doubly so to join a riot. still a nagging sense of doubt plagued him as he continued past Ser Owen. Gods know your brother is a foul piece of work. But your sisters heart is blacker then any deeds the pig might dream up. I have little doubt she is the one behind Lord Karls death. It is the only thing that would have satisfied her. He reaches down and pats the cold hands of the dead knight, Indeed, I imagine you are the only Noble one in that tree, so it is fitting your died the death of a Florian. For it is fools that seek to be honorable when all it will grant them is death. Oh to be sure, I imagine your brother will attempt to immortalize you in song, but singers only sing if it makes their pockets heavy with gold. After your brother loses interest in spreading the tales? How many men will request to hear how you heroically died defending the fat Lord? Not many, I suppose. He gives a wry smile, at least not the ones that would paint you a hero rather then villain.
Departing from Lord Owen he gives a slight nod and a murmured apology to Lady Kyra and Lord Eldon about the loss of their brother. "It is a shame that the instigator still draws breath. It will make all of us less secure until justice is served." He bows his head to the two surviving Merryweather's, then makes his way to the Blackbriar contingent. He stops above Ser Donnel, having to wait for the crush of people to clear away before he can make his way up to the old knight. "He wouldnt give any information, he said that he had searched through all of highgarden! If he has done so, the only one remaining is himself!" Ser Donnels logic is as blunt as a sledgehammer, but he presents it with eagerness. "So you wish for me to know whether ser Raymun hunted with Ser Garth hightower? I suppose I could do so! But I am uncertain what that would prove, they may hunt together without any other backthought? Would it not better to ensure that the kid will not be threatened? Ensure a few knights loyal to him stays around? Until the murder is apprehended?"
So eager, so helpful. He wanted to do what was right, and damn the consequences. Even if it meant sharing his inner thoughts with a reviled lord such as myself. He could take a measure of a man, but was too willing to trust. Where better to offer black thoughts and foul deeds then in the quiet of the trees? Alliser stood in contemplation over the dead knight, and yet in the end you sacrificed your life, presumably so that your son could live. So that the foul Lord Eldon could live. I do not doubt you would have done the same if they had taken up against my camp instead of Lord Merryweathers, yet here you lie now. A Pawn in a game you did not know you were being played in. It does credit to your character that you were not simply a creature of your wife, but now you have left behind a son who is more likely to draw your brothers house into the ruin of rebellion then to remain passive on the side, like your brother would prefer. Alliser looks up into Lady Sheira's eyes, and sees the proper redness of mourning. He moves to the family left standing, "I am sorry for your loss, I did not know him well, but from what I have met of him and my son in laws report, he was a good man. The Reach is a darker place without him." Alliser then turns to leave. There is much to do, with little and less time to do it in.
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