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Post by Laena Pyre on Oct 2, 2019 21:46:00 GMT 1
Laena sat in her tent, waiting for her cousin's arrival, passing the time by reading a copy of Red Sands by Maester Gareth. The book (in)famously claimed that Lord Lyonel Tyrell's assassination was organised by Lord Qorgyle. Given that the murder was done through a trap in his house, by the very creatures on his coat of arms, Laena found the only argument *against* that claim to hold any weight was that it was *too* obvious. Certainly, Lord Qorgyle's assistance against the Dornish rebels was easily dismissed as being a necessary sacrifice to accomplish a big win.
Interesting as the book was, her main purpose in bringing a copy with her was to (hopefully) get her young cousin's mind considering how many Reachmen hated the Dornish, how high up that hatred went (given that their Lord Paramount was Lord Lyonel's son), and how justified it often was (given that the murder was an undeniable breach of guestright, arguably their most sacred tradition). Young men often had too much in the way of trust, or belief in things like 'justice' and 'fairness' and other things Laena had learned were fictions early on. Better that seeds be planted now to tear down such dangerous edifices than have him wander through life blindfolded in such dangerous times as these.
She had her tent set up similarly to how it was before - she sits on a subtly raised chair, making her seem taller than her relatively slight stature would normally present, while there is a guest chair opposite her, which is slightly smaller than normal, to emphasise the effect. Between them slightly to one side is a small table with a small selection of refreshments. What is new is that she'd been able to exchange the central pole of her tent with an inverted 'V', letting her sit beneath the middle of the tent, framed by the posts, giving her a commanding position over the entire tent.
Her attire, too, is slowly developing over time. Not soft and delicate like a typical lady's dress, it is instead fairly harsh, emphasising her (fairly modest) curves while maintaining perfect modesty, while making heavy use of reds and blacks, the colours of House Targaryen, which she technically has every right to wear, but few half-bloods do in tense times like these. Combined with the charisma her confidence brings, and she is sure she will make quite the impression on her young cousin, which will hopefully silence any doubts he may have over discussing such an unpleasant topic with 'a lady'.
She needs to make sure that he understands from the off that she is not 'a lady'
She is a dragon.
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Oct 2, 2019 22:20:51 GMT 1
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.
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Post by Laena Pyre on Oct 3, 2019 19:49:49 GMT 1
As he entered, Laena put the book aside onto a side table, casually laying it spine towards him so he could read the title. "Brave Ser Robyn." His title slides effortlessly off her tongue as she greets him with an enigmatic smile. Rather than rise and curtsey, she merely lowers her head in a graceful nod and gestures towards the guest seat. "Please, take a seat, and help yourself to any refreshments you wish, to help you recover from your ride." She meets his eyes unflinchingly with her own.
When he sits down, after she carefully assesses his movement to the chair, she asks "Are you fully healed from your heroics by now?" Maybe just a question of his health mixed with some flattery, but her eyes are alert and assessing as he responds, and her tone wasn't quite casual. She doesn't correct his belief that they'd not properly met before - they had, but he was still barely not a babe, and it was for a relatively short time before her legitimisation and move to Highgarden. And really, who could look at a babe and a man, and honestly call them the same person? The body and mind both are completely different.
So far, she preferred this body and mind to the last one.
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Oct 3, 2019 21:07:07 GMT 1
'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,"
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Post by Laena Pyre on Oct 3, 2019 21:47:33 GMT 1
She raises an eyebrow slightly when he declines refreshments. "I recommend you learn to enjoy luxuries when you have the opportunity. If not here and now, then later. Life will kick you in the unmentionables often enough without prompting; there's no reason to deny the few honourable pleasures you can wrestle for yourself in compensation." Rather than trying to push him into changing his mind, her tone conveys one passing on a life lesson sorely earned.
When he describes his lack of injury, her head tilts slightly, and the enigmatic smile returns. "How fascinating." She leans back in her chair, and steeples her fingers. "To get to the heart of the matter as to why I asked to meet with you, your mother asked me to look into the matter of the attack on the Blackbars. With the first priority being to determine their true motivation, and from that, deduce if there is likely to be subsequent attacks on you, or House Starkwood as a whole.
"You may find that strange, but be assured, I have resources and abilities beyond that which the mainline of the house can muster." Her claim, bold as it is, is stated in a cool, calm voice, no doubt or hesitation. "Naturally, should anyone *aside* from your mother ask, you know nothing of this, and even with her, be very aware of your surroundings. If there *is* a threat to House Starkwood, they have likely already begun seeding spies in the house. And even if there isn't, likely others have regardless. Should careless words land in the wrong ear, you could kill me as certainly as whoever actually wields the blade." She gives him a firm stare to make sure he understands the gravity of the situation.
When she's satisfied, she pulls her steeple closer to her chin. "So, what I would like you to do is to start from the beginning, and go over the events of the ambush in as much detail as you can remember. Take your time, and if you're unsure about something, say so. From what I have heard, you did a remarkable job in keeping a level head and deciding to accomplish a lesser goal which was achievable than to attempt a greater one and likely accomplish nothing. A good understanding of your limitations will serve you well in the days to come. So, there is no need to impress me with exaggerations or false modesty. What I need is the truth, as best as you can recall."
She raises one finger from her steeple as she seems to realise something. "Oh, and do not concern yourself with sparing my 'delicate sensibilities'. If you have not already realised, We are a different breed than the typical lady you would meet at Bandallon."
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Oct 3, 2019 22:57:22 GMT 1
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
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Post by Father on Oct 5, 2019 12:51:41 GMT 1
Laena can do a knowledge (education) if she likes.
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Post by Laena Pyre on Oct 5, 2019 13:11:13 GMT 1
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Post by Father on Oct 5, 2019 13:22:28 GMT 1
Probably isn't any other house than the Gardener's who used a green hand as their sigil?
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Post by Laena Pyre on Oct 5, 2019 17:14:48 GMT 1
[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?"
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Oct 5, 2019 20:29:25 GMT 1
Robyn lets out a slight sigh, watching her rise from her seat and over to the desk. “I do believe that it was the... yes the Rosehood.” His speech got slightly entangled together before he shakes his head, letting out a soft chuckle, attempting to get his wits about him before focusing back in at the topic at hand, “Sorry, yes. The Roseroad. As to your second question, I’m not quite sure. Most people didn’t pay attention to me, though I can understand why, I wasn’t really a threat on paper,” he took his drink and finished it, setting down the glass to let himself breathe, “They mostly focused on Lord Blackbar and Ser Zachary, but if I would have stood still for long enough, I imagine I would have been the next one to go down.” He crosses his hands in front of his chest, leaning further back in the chair, “I cannot speak for the others, unfortunately. Too much going on to notice.” He smiles before bringing up his question, “What are you writing?”
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Post by Laena Pyre on Oct 6, 2019 10:05:37 GMT 1
"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."
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Oct 6, 2019 11:00:21 GMT 1
Would you mind rolling an intimidation check for me? I think it might play into the story and where he goes from here
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Post by Laena Pyre on Oct 6, 2019 11:19:53 GMT 1
No problem. Given how it's Laena's 'terrain', and she deliberately set things up to make herself seem more intimidating than her small, slight figure would usually be, I separately rolled a +1B bonus, if you feel it appropriate.
Survivor - Intimidation (Base, optional +1B bonus): 4d6+1 14 1d6 3 So, that's a 14 without the +1B and a 16 with it.
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Oct 6, 2019 16:40:13 GMT 1
Robyn took the drawing in his hand, looking it over before nodding once, a firm shake of his head, "This is definitely what they were carrying. I think it was a little bit more beat up than this, certainly not as clean a shield as it could have been. That upkeep is so important, especially if you don't want your shield to break away." He let out a soft giggle before tossing the piece of paper on the tray that carried the drinks, "That has to be the sigil though, Im certain of it."
When she started talking, Robyn initially got attentive, staring at Laena with a look of minor confusion, attempting to decipher what she was saying to him. He stays quiet, against his discomfort, as her words slowly sink into him. He couldn't look at her anymore, that much is for certain, the walls and the tall, looming nature of the tent she had set up only extenuating the overwhelming aura of strength she possessed.
This is what power is. This is what it means to be able to kill without the use of violence. To be able to take the events of the world and twist them to a morbid, unrecognizable mess of lies and plots unheard of before their creation, and the lack of credibility. She really was in her domain, and he walked in, foolishly drank too much wine, and now is trapped, stuck between his fear and his will, both clashing together in his body and his face. Both of which find themselves slightly contorted, his immediate response to cross his arms infront of his chest, wrapping his hands around to his back as he stares at her feet, biting his lip as his leg bounces slightly.
The worst part, for him, is that he has no way to prove that that isn't the case. It wasn't, the Seven his witness, but his word against someone of a higher influence over him would definitely be able to twist that lie into a truth, and if her predictions of the events are true, than he doesn't have much in the way of protection to negate this. Even the nature of his knighting was suspicious, though he wouldn't tell her that; no point in giving more fuel to that dragon fire. But when Redtusk, a supposed fire supporter and one of the most well renown knights of the realm knighted him at the last rights of the Blackbar house.... even he couldn't dispute the connection.
Robyn let out a deep sigh, his hands coming up to his face before dropping down the sides, stretching out his skin before they slide off, coming to a clasped and closed fist beneath his chin, shaking his head, "The most frightening part of that, my lady, is that I was there. I was in the middle of that hell, and barely made it out with my life, let alone that of Lady Falyse's. I had already made my peace with death, and was willing to die just as my lord had... But at this moment, there isn't anything that I can think of that would discredit your statement." he sits up, hunching forward to support himself on his elbows, "The only possible discredit would be that I love Lady Falyse, and would gladly bring a reckoning to any who would wish her ill or any who would seek to harm her." He lets one of his hands ruffle through his hair, gripping it tightly before managing to build the courage to look at her in the eye, "You believe me, don't you? That I would never have hurt the Blackbars, or wished them any ill will?"
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