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Post by Jory Farice on Oct 24, 2012 20:02:30 GMT -5
"I was brought here by chance and forced to stay by Lord Podrick Baelish," Jory found the idea of serving one so young a bit amusing and smiled, "but he is a good lad, I hope we become friends." Jory drank again. "And what brings you here?" He turns and watches the two men fighting for a second, laughs, and turns his attention back.
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Post by Lord Tybolt Lannister on Oct 24, 2012 20:39:28 GMT -5
She didnt even look at the men fighting, too used to such scenes from working in the tavern day in and day out. "A Lord? You know a Lord? I knew a Lord onth!" She giggled and clapped her hands. "I've alwayth lived in the thity. Alwayth."
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Post by Jory Farice on Oct 24, 2012 20:41:39 GMT -5
"I'm sure, living here, you're bound to know plenty of lord." Jory drank again. "Not all are too nice though."
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Post by Lord Tybolt Lannister on Oct 24, 2012 20:49:00 GMT -5
"No, uthually they don't come here, tho." She shook her head disappointedly. "Why thouldn't a lord be nice? Knighth and richeth and cathelth..."
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Post by Daentyn Toyne on Oct 24, 2012 20:56:13 GMT -5
From outside, the tavern smelled of modesty, carrying wafts of bacon on its breath. 'Perfect,' Daentyn thought, tapping his pocket for no other reason than to hear the clink of coins aplenty. There were other taverns dotting King's Landing, places more suitable for one of his status, but none set to to his tastes so much as this, the Blushing Dragon. Inhaling the mass of flavored air about him, Daentyn entered the place.
Once inside, he stopped at a table near the main server's area and sat, observing the quarrelsome barmen and conversing serving maids. In silence he waited for one, drinking in the aura of King's Landing at its most human.
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Post by Jory Farice on Oct 24, 2012 20:56:14 GMT -5
"Some abuse that power, such is how it goes. I don't know what kind of lord mine is yet, but so far he has been kind." Jory picked up a remaining piece of bacon, the grease had begun to solidify and looked like a white mush, Jory ate it regardless.
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Post by Lord Tybolt Lannister on Oct 24, 2012 21:11:14 GMT -5
"That'th..." She noticed the other man come in and looked around to see if anyone would serve him. When she realized no one else was around, she got up in a huff. "Thorry, lookth like I'm the only one doing any work." She poured the last of the water from her jug into his cup and went to greet the other newcomer, resuming her jaunty walk with her red braids bouncing.
"Hullo, what can I get for you?" She batted her eyelashes at him. She could hear the coin in his pocket when he walked and when he sat down. She turned the charm on high.
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Post by Jory Farice on Oct 24, 2012 21:16:42 GMT -5
Jory laughed, "Only interested in coin, not conversation, what a shame." He downed his water, finished off the bacon, and left.
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Post by Daentyn Toyne on Oct 24, 2012 21:24:54 GMT -5
Daentyn smiled his usual half-hearted smile at the girl. "I'll take some Dornish red, actually. And perhaps a horn for yourself, should you feel it appropriate." He knew there were precious few comforts available in King's Landing for a man of his disposition, and a horn of wine was one of them; he found few taverns had goblets available, and that was only for the better. And the serving girl was so delightful, she almost broke his sour mood.
"I wouldn't mind a song, truly. Are there any singers hereabouts at this hour?" Wine, a song. . . Such simple pleasantries would doubtless make his trip to the Great Hall easier to bear on the morrow.
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Post by Lord Tybolt Lannister on Oct 24, 2012 21:33:21 GMT -5
She simpered prettily, winking and turning on her heel to retrieve the wine. She only brought the one, not caring for such strong stuff as Dornish Red. "Anything elth I can get you?" she lisped, leaning over to display her rounded body. "We have thingerth at night...during the day we aren't as buthy as all that. Thorry." She did look sorry, indeed.
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Post by The Darkness on Oct 24, 2012 21:40:20 GMT -5
The Men fighting seem to be of house Dayne and house Bracken, it seems the Bracken man takes common silverwear and cuts the Dayne making him fall to the ground. The bracken leaning over him with the knife. However the Dayne faking being stabbed took a pointed broken stick reaching up and sticking the blade deep within the chest of the Riverlander. He falls forward the Dagger in his land landing right in the back of Megga the Waitress. The Riverlander was dead, both sides draw swords and attack each other. Panic falls out as the battle happens.
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Post by Daentyn Toyne on Oct 24, 2012 21:42:42 GMT -5
"It's nothing." He grasped the drink with one hand and took a long draught, enjoying the sourness, the sweet undertones, and above all, the feeling of losing himself; at least, the part of himself that still clung to the memories of his sister.
"Perhaps I'll stop by tonight. Tomorrow will be a busy day for me, and I need all the comforts I can get. Thank you for the wine." Digging in his pocket, he produced three groats and a single stag, placing them on the table for the serving girl. "Does that cover it? I know the price rises and falls like the tides here."
As the barfight grows, Daentyn reaches around for his spear, ready to strike at any man's approach. He was nothing if not accustomed to scenarios such as this.
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Post by Lord Tybolt Lannister on Oct 24, 2012 21:50:38 GMT -5
The serving girl gasped as she felt the blade slip into her body. She reached for the coin on the table, then collapsed onto it, the dagger hilt at the center of a red stain. She gasped on the table, blood bubbling from her lips. "Help meeee," she groaned.
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Post by Daentyn Toyne on Oct 24, 2012 22:04:17 GMT -5
"Damn!" Lifting the girl to cradle her in his arms like a child, Daentyn moved to a corner where the brawl had not yet spread. Quickly he went to work; he removed the knife, which had made it through several layers of skin and possibly punctured a lung. Blood began to rush faster from the wound, and in a fury, he ripped two long strips of cloth from her gown. The first he compressed into a neat square and placed over the cut. Applying pressure, he used the second, a much longer strand, to wrap about her chest and hold the other in place. All the time, he kept a steady pressure on the spot with his palm.
"Speak, girl. What is your name?" He laid her against the wall, almost certain of her impending death. He used his free hand to dab the blood from her lips. Calmly, he continued. "Do you have a family?" 'Without a maester, she is doomed. . .'
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Post by Lord Tybolt Lannister on Oct 24, 2012 22:33:32 GMT -5
The blood flowed freely from the wound, and dripped from her mouth. "M-megga, if you please, ser. It doesn't hurt as much now..." She could tell that she was dying, and she smiled sadly.
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