[Phase 2.5] Survivor [Laena & Robyn]

Robyn wasn't one for fancy dress. He wasn't plain, by any means, his facial features sharp, giving him an excellent jawline perfectly accented by the curly and often ruffled hair, only making the two's natural shape heightened. But when it came to apparel, he wasn't really interested in anything other than light armor, especially if he was going to be travelling. Recent events have only hardened that bias in his mind; if it weren't for the armor he was wearing on the return trip from his brother's wedding instead of the suggested nobleman's clothes, he wouldn't be standing here to wear anything. The leather is beautifully dyed a deep forest green, accented with sliver studs that catch light with a slight sparkle. 

He hoped his cousin would respect his decision though, as he was travelling, to keep his sword on him at all times. Not that he had any intention of using it in the near future, but he saw no reason why he would remove it either. Again, he is still freshly recovering from his survival, and the thought that enemies are around the nearest bend was not something that was so far fetched in his mind. Someone tried to kill him. He didn't know who, but they are certainly in for some reckoning if he got his way. 

Robyn had heard briefly of his cousin, not as much as her reputation carried, but certainly enough to know that he needed to be as noble and proper as he can, this wasn't just any random interaction; from what Robyn knows of her, those don't happen. 

As he entered the tent, Robyn was instantly aware of the aura shift. This was... certainly something. He took a brief moment to look quickly around the space, taking it all in one bit at a time before making eye contact with Laena, a soft smile crossing his face, his boyish charm certainly present despite his large stature, "Lady Leana, how wonderful it is to finally meet you," he gave a small bow, easily interpreted as an old habit of respect or an attempt to acknowledge formality and keep up the social graces he has hardly had time to partake in. 

'Brave Ser Robyn,' the phrase catches him off guard, causing Robyn's expression beams for a moment, before taking control of himself. Cannot let flattery affect him as much as it does, he cannot show any weakness. Robyn looks at the drinks with a curious glance, nodding out of thanks, "The offer is greatly appreciated, but I am not quite accustomed to the taste of such fine refreshments, I hope you understand," His eyes glance back at hers before turning away, moving to sit down in the chair opposite of her.

He takes his seat with a deft grace, causing but a small creak in its decorative creation. He leans back, attempting to come across as relaxed but focused, not wanting to appear as on the edge of his nerve. He didn't remember her, not that encounter for sure. She is a stranger to him, a distant whisper of a person, but he couldn't shake the thought that the whisper was laced with poison, and was deadly to those who heard.

Robyn shrugs slightly, a coy expression crossing his face, "There wasn't much to heal from, I managed to come out relatively unscathed," He realizes the nature of his statement as it comes out, and his face immediately drops to one of deep thought, "I only wish the same could have been said with the rest of the Blackbars." He turns back to her, continuing to change his expression to a gentle smile, "Thank you for your concern, yes, I am doing better now,"

Robyn nods at the advice, not immediately concerned with drinking. Its not that he isn't heading the advice, he is, he just wasn't so sure as to how this encounter would go. He has a strange feeling that he will need his whit's about him, and he hasn't actually consumed alcohol in awhile. Too many slips of the sword when he was younger taught him that if he was ever going to drink, he better not do anything that has a risk of life. 

At the mention of his mother, Robyn sits up further in his chair. And suddenly his face dropped, causing his half dornish tone to drop a few hues. He hadn't quite considered the fact that, since he survived, stole the man's horse and protected Lady Falyse, his family could be targeted. He knew that his actions would draw attention to himself; of course it would. He is a half dornish hero, where despite his birthright, he had accomplished something many men much older and knightly than he would struggle to do, and he was proud of that fact. He knew that he would have a target on his back by a lot of anti blood supporters. But to think that he had inadvertently caused a target on his families back.... that caused his blood to run cold.

And his hand to pour himself a drink.

"I... Well," Robyn began, before stopping to take a large gulp of the wine he chose, his face tensing slightly and gasp, shaking off the first taste no worse than a hardened drinker. "We were riding back from... Whitewalls, passing on the road that was... it was beyond boring. Riding always takes forever and all that seems to happen is Lord Blackbar would recount what species of tree each was, or other facts he found interesting enough to share. We didn't have any scounts, my lord saw no reason to. Someone screamed, something about an ambush and we barely had times to pull up our shields before..." He drank again, shuddering slightly before staring back into Laena's eyes, his expressions going from somber to sober, intense eyes a fierce surprise to come out from his previous glances. "Arrows. Nearly 4 dozen arrows came crashing down onto us. I have never seen so much immediate blood. Screams from the wagon, I saw two of the handmaids fall over, Ser Zachary instantly hit with two arrows, busy protecting Lady Falyse and Lady Zia. Lord Vardis rallies everyone to prepare for the charge. I rush to his side before another volley slams down into us, my horse taking too many arrows. I managed to leap from it before realizing all our horses were dead, and there were three knight on horseback, charging with some heraldry..." he breaks the stare for a second before turning back, "A green hand of some kind. I wish I would have known what it was. I don't. I would recognize it but I don't know its house name." he lets out a disappointed sigh before he shrugs, finishing off the glass of wine, starting to pour himself another glass while speaking, not wanting to look at anything but the wine while he recounted the events, "My lord screamed to the men to protect the women, and charged at one of the men on horseback, the one who looked to be leading the charge. I followed him, knowing that if he didn't have help... he would die.." He stopped, letting the wine settle before setting down the bottle and picking up the glass, standing up to look around the room, not wanting to look at Laena to tell the rest. It wasn't that he didn't think she could handle it, it was that he didn't know if he could. She was much more... intimidating than he was, and it felt like if he were to break, a dragon would strike. His glance was hard to catch, and his expression harder to read, though there is a slight twinge of pain and loss in his tone, "It was a continuous massacre. Arrows, horsemen charging, arrows again while you are staring up at mountains on horseback. I saw at least 6 men go down in a matter of the first few seconds. My lord was one of them. And suddenly it was just me and this... murderer on horseback. I lost it, snapped, dropped my sword and latched onto him, throwing him from the horse." He said it quite matter of factly. Not in a way to show off, he didn't want to draw too much attention to the fact he was bragging, but certainly in a nonchalant sort of way. The wine met his lips again, before pulling away, raising it slightly to stare deeply into the color of it against the lighting. "Blood. I remember feeling pain and seeing that deep red. I picked up my sword  and hopped on the horse to chase after one of the knights went riding past me to get Lady Falyse. Another rein of arrows before men came rushing in, all of our men dead and slaughtered. I swung my sword as hard as I could against one of the knights before rushing past him, cutting down a bandit that was holding Lady Falyse. She looked to her mother, who told her to go, and gave me a stare that will haunt me for... well, certainly tonight," he sips again, turning back to Lady Laena, a partial smile on his face, one that feels like he is trying to convince someone that he is alright, even if it is himself. "We rode fast, we rode hard, we made it to Bittenbridge. I recounted the story far too many times, growing less and less patient, wanting to get back. Eventually a party was formed, we rode out safely but slowly, and got back to see just the worst things... not many I want to share," He sits back down, a lot more naturally relaxed in his sit

Survivor - Knowledge (Education): 5d6k4 9 Hopefully it's an easy thing. If not, at least it shouldn't be a crit fail.

[Wouldn't it be Status (Breeding) to recognise Heraldry? Not that it matters, if I got the answer.]

When he pales, and shakily pours himself a drink, Laena gives another enigmatic smile, pleased he is giving the matter sufficient weight.

As he gives his account, her face is serious and attentive, listening carefully and committing it to memory. When he is done, she gives him a few moments to regain his composure as she stands and heads to her writing desk. As she quickly sketches something on a piece of paper, without sitting down, she speaks again seemingly without her gaze straying from the paper. "I have two questions, to start. Firstly, you said this happened near Bitterbridge. Was it on the Roseroad? Secondly, ... I suppose this question is actually two, so secondly: did any of the enemy seriously try and kill you, save in self-defence? And if not, were any other fighters present treated the same way?"

"I'm not writing, I'm drawing. Well, sketching. Fortunately, the coat of arms I have in mind is simple...There!" She turns around and walks back to her chair, offering him the paper before she sits. On the paper is an open green hand (well, it has the word 'green' in it, at least), fingers pointing up, palm visible. Between the hand and the edge of the shield shape is the word 'white'. "I can't remember off-hand if it is a left or right hand, so don't discount it based on that, but is that the sigil you saw?"

"You know what I find most interesting about your telling of the attack? You 'hopped on the horse to chase after one of the knights who went riding past you to get Lady Falyse'." She pauses a second to let that sink in. "One of the knights went *past* you to attack the women. Now, you may not have been the most threatening man on your side, at least to start, but you were armed and clearly trained, yet he *ignored you*, in favour of people who were absolutely no threat, and, from what you were saying, who had no real opportunity to flee.

"Let us do a little theorising. Let us say that they managed to finish their massacre, and you were still relatively unharmed. Would you stay and die against three capable knights? I would presume not. You would do as you actually did - hurry off to the Caswells, to let them know of the attack, and hope that they can chase them down. Except, consider this: the Roseroad is well-travelled at the worst of times, and at that time, many different lords would be using it to travel home from Whitewalls, many of whom were likely to be more suspicious and diligent than Lord Blackbar, and *would* have scouts out. This means that there *has* to have been a spy to let the attackers know when to set up their ambush, else they'd risk being spotted by some other lord's scouts.

"And then you survive the ambush, alone, barely injured. Half-Dornish. When the bodies are found, they are in a state perfectly suited to provoke an emotional response. Oh, and what's that? It was done in the very same woods as your birth house owns - if not quite in their land? Well, isn't that ... a coincidence." Her smile is cold. "Someone from House Hightower, their procession likely not that far behind the Blackbars, puts great pressure on the Caswells to bring to justice *anyone* responsible for near wiping out one of their vassal houses, and it won't take much in the way of whispers to convince him of your complicity - a false witness here, some coin found there... However much he hates them, defying them directly is ... unwise. And House Starkwood lacks the political clout to do much about it, especially with House Hightower baying for blood.

"So, you hang.

"That a man from a crown-loyalist house would conspire to wipe out one of their vassals would likely serve to push the Hightower Regent candidates into the revolutionary camp as well, most likely. Later, once House Hightower is firmly on the revolutionary side, evidence will be found exonerating you. And a masterful plan is complete. House Blackbar is near-exterminated, led by a child lord who's no threat. Houses Caswell and Starkwood are at each other's throats, with the former stained by their rash action, killing an innocent young man, and the latter more isolated than ever. Three crown-loyalist houses are significantly weakened. And House Hightower is firmly on the side of the revolutionaries." Throughout, her voice is cold and methodical.

When she's finished, her voice warms back to its normal tone, and she shrugs. "That's just a theory, of course. But I definitely consider it plausible that you saved your own life along with hers when you saved Lady Falyse."

Survivor - Intimidation (Base, optional +1B bonus): 4d6+1 14 1d6 3 So, that's a 14 without the +1B and a 16 with it.