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Post by Prince Geralt Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 21:41:29 GMT
Theon spoke in a low, calm but serious voice. "You do realize I'm going to see her in a few hours. And tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And so on until you leave. And then months or years later, I will see her again, likely in the company of your father or brother. Because this..." He gestured at the gathered nobility watching. "...is far bigger than some love triangle. You've already received your apology. Now put the toy away, enjoy the games I left out for you to play, and let the adults get back to work. Because this bit of fun... is over." And then he turned away to return to his family, hands nowhere near his sword. "Don't you turn you back on me!" Geralt growled, livid as the Ironborn prince direspectfully violated the tenets of a duel by attempting to leave before the offended party had accepted his yield, while at the same time offering fresh insults. It also didn't sit well with him that the prince had yielded at the first sight of his own blood, rather than when his life was in actual peril. "You will not make a mockery of this, you honorless cur!" He reached out with his free shield arm, gripped Theon by the shoulder, and threw him onto his back in the grass, returning the point of his blade to his throat. "Then you, personally, will avert your gaze in her presence. If you have business with Oldtown you can send an emissary or you can deal with me. We are done here when I say we are done." The Ironborn he returns to turn their backs At the prince, shamed by his display. A duel was to end in death or yielding, not a surrender disguised as bravado. As he walks back, a sudden burning pain in his ribs begins, and a crackling sound can be heard, blood popping and spitting, and Theon feels a burning sensation unlike any he's ever imagined, spreading through his body. His uncle Erik screams, his battlefield voice rising above the din of disapproval. "Poison!" Within seconds the heir to Harrenhal is writhing and squirming on the ground. As Theon began to spasm and cough up blood, Geralt knew they were done whether he liked it or not. "Maester!" he shouted, looking back to the one he had brought who was standing near his second. His first instinct had been that he had sliced too deep and nicked a lung as he sliced along Theon's ribcage, still not accustomed the additional sharpness of Valyrian steel. Then the call of poison rang out and his features darkened at the implication. Lord Daeron had watched the fight unfold with a stony silence, staring at his prince. When the man collapsed and the call of poison rang out, the giant in plate shoves his way into the clearing and advances towards Prince Geralt, axe and shield in hand. "Surrender or declare yourself guilty." "You think I did this, you blithering idiot?" he asked, actually baffled by the accusation, and the giant Ironborn attempting to impugn his honor. "Open your eyes! Does it look like I needed poison to win this day? I'd sooner die than dishonor myself and the Reach in such a manner!" "Was the Dornish!" A voice called out, and the sudden shift in blame seems convenient, but is all the crowd needs to begin their riot. "Blacktyde! Protect your prince!" Erik Hoare growled. Some of the Ironborn leave, indifferent to the prince's plight, convinced he had dishonored them by his performance, others form a reluctant wall. Darryn Wyl is the first to suffer a form of mob justice, the young Dornish knight seeing where the wind is blowing and moving out, when a knife rams into his gut, and a skin of wine falls from his inside pocket. "Poison!" Someone else called, and he is fallen upon with brutality, never mind that he had arrived after the duel had even started. The crowd begins dissolving as dozens of soldiers begin arriving from everywhere to disperse them, and the crowd nearest the duellists forms up into its little factions, the noncombatants being sent to the center of the walls of shields and swords. Someone surreptitiously hands Melissa a blade, knowing now isn't the time for appearances to be the [rime determinant of who gets a means of protecting oneself. As the mob built to a fervor, Geralt realized this day was not going to be salvaged with words, and once more would be settled with steel. As violence broke out, his first thought was to the safety of the women and children, one of the former in particular. He took up his shield again, warily holding Vigilance out between himself and the giant Ironborn who had stepped forward, making his way back to stand shoulder to shoulder with Ser Garrett Costayne to form the first links in a battle line. "Knights of the Reach, form ranks!" he bellowed, slamming his sword against his shield. "Women and children, behind them!" |
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 12, 2017 22:03:36 GMT
Mychel Mallister slashes four men and a woman in his rampage to the dying Dornishman, blood flying around and panicking the crowd even more. As the Reach and Ironborn ranks form up, the other kingdoms, much fewer in number by party, all try to link shields themselves as peasants and freemen scramble this way and that, rocks flying through the air. Four huge Ironborn grab Prince Theon and take him into their ring of warriors, as King Harmund and Grayson bellow for order to be restored. As the chaos threatens to break, the two main hosts glare at each other suspiciously, their ranks at about a forty five degree angle to each other to accommodate the hundreds of others between them. The rest of the kingdoms are fast being forced out of the path of the rampaging mob as it seeks to scatter.
As the kings scramble to restore order and Prince Theon is carried by the giants towards the castle, the crowd scattering before the armored column, families and unarmed citizens brushed out of the way or slaughtered. Prince Geralt sees more soldiers rushing from the castle and city and ships to help disperse the fray, and within ten or fifteen minutes the Reachmen are alone with a hundred or so Ironborn near the original dueling site. Erik Hoare looks about at his line as King Grayson waves for the knights to stand down for the moment. His knuckles clench his axe handle until they're white but he waves it to his men. "Stand down," he said. "The kings will get to the bottom of this." He spat on the ground and turned to Lord Blacktyde. "Take a dozen men and alert the docks," he said. "No fucking ships sail off without our say so."
Garrett leaned into Geralt's shoulder. "Go to your wife in the rear," he said, "your face will just bring anger now. The kings will know you didn't do it, best not to rile anything further."
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Post by Prince Geralt Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 22:30:23 GMT
"If there is to be a fight, my place is at the front," Geralt replied, firmly, but not unkindly. "It will not be said that when Reach blood was shed, Prince Geralt Gardener was in the back with the women and children. If they wish to accuse me, this will be my trial by combat."
Though he held his ground, at his father's command to stand down, Geralt sheathed his sword, looking across a field that had already been watered with Ironborn blood once today.
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Post by Princess Melissa Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 22:34:47 GMT
Melissa stood by her father, watching and waitng. She was relieved that Geralt had not been harmed but she felt a little concern for Prince Theon too.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 12, 2017 22:44:53 GMT
As the two lines stare at each other, Erik and Grayson ride out towards the middle and share a short word. Erik turns to his Ironborn. 'Back to your homes, lads. My father'll find the coward that made this damned poison." Jeers come out, primarily implying that either the man who had the poison was right there, or more likely the woman who had applied it was in the back ranks. "I said scram ye fuckers!" He called louder, until they began dispersing.
Grayson looked immensely and understably furious. "We need a place to stay that is outside this cursed castle," he said to his children as he gathered them up, including Alyssa and Alex, "Harmund is a wily bastard but this has the stink of something more to it."
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Post by King Perceon IV Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 22:48:13 GMT
Perceon sheathed his sword when Geralt did, glad he had not needed to put it to use to rescue his brother, or defend himself from an assuredly superior opponent. "We should stay somewhere defensible." He commented to his father. "The Hoares may be satisfied Geralt did not do it, but the commonfolk will take more convincing." He looked to his brother, as if soliciting input on where said defensible location might be found, clearly not having a good idea what one might look like himself.
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Post by Prince Willem Lannister on Aug 12, 2017 22:50:23 GMT
Willem had drawn both the swords he always carried with him, in case the fight was on, although he was unsure of what side he should take should matters have turned bloody. Jaymes Reyne had done the same. The Golden Prince was an easily recognisable sight in his golden plate armor and lion topped helm. He remained breifly atop of his white stallion, before dismounting and making his way over to the injured Dornish knight.
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Post by Princess Melissa Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 22:50:50 GMT
"But where else could we stay, Father? The inns will be full to bursting at the moment. I suppose you could pay some people in one of the better inns to give up their rooms, I suppose...But it has to be somewhere that befits our dignity. I wonder...how about the Hallowed Heart?" Melissa suggested.
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Post by Prince Geralt Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 22:52:25 GMT
Before the crowd dispersed, Geralt stepped forward, throwing down his gauntlet, not to demand satisfaction but to make a point.
"I swear on my honor I had nothing to do with this vile act," he said, drawing Vigilance and running the length of its blade along his palm, until his blood was dripping in the grass, a blood oath that served a dual purpose. He held up his bleeding hand to the crowd and Ironborn royals, waiting for any of the symptoms that had befallen Theon to assail him, hoping to prove at the very least that his blade had not been poisoned...of it it had that it had not been his doing.
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Post by Mychel Mallister on Aug 12, 2017 22:55:01 GMT
Mychel tries to lift the poor dornish bastard onto his shoulder before getting back to the lines of soldiers forming up. He also tries to flag down a Maester not currently helping the Prince if there are any more present.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 12, 2017 22:55:44 GMT
His blood drops impressively on the ground. He feels fine, otherwise. Holding a shield will suck for a few days though.
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Post by Prince Willem Lannister on Aug 12, 2017 22:58:20 GMT
Mychel tries to lift the poor dornish bastard onto his shoulder before getting back to the lines of soldiers forming up. He also tries to flag down a Maester not currently helping the Prince if there are any more present. Willem moved across to the Mallister trying to lift the injured Dornishman. "Here. Let me help." he offered. |
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Post by Prince Geralt Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 23:01:09 GMT
Satisfied and relieved, Geralt exhaled a sigh of relief and returned the blade to its sheath.
"I have no desire to stay in an Ironborn keep, in an Ironborn city, or on Ironborn lands," he said, taking up the gauntlet as he turned to look for his wife in the crowd. "Let them get their own house in order."
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Post by King Perceon IV Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 23:03:38 GMT
"We cannot leave altogether Geralt." Perceon pointed out. "That would only serve to make you look guilty, or afraid."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 12, 2017 23:07:53 GMT
Michel and Willem manage to get the dying Dornishman to a maester, as he gasps over and over for his mother. It doesn't look likely he'll make it, but the maesters hank them anyway.
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Post by Prince Geralt Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 23:09:27 GMT
"Or prudent for not wishing to be butchered in my sleep or give the Ironborn time to raise forces against us," Geralt replied, holding up his bloody palm. "As far as I am concerned this proves my innocence and any man that wants to call me a coward for ensuring my wife is out of danger in hostile lands can do so at swordpoint."
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Post by King Perceon IV Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 23:12:52 GMT
Perceon looked to their father. "Perhaps Geralt is right about taking himself and Lady Alyssa home where they will be safe. But surely Melissa and I should stay? Without a representative of our House here the other houses will be free to conspire against us, and we shall not have the benefit of making friends of our own."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 12, 2017 23:18:13 GMT
"But where else could we stay, Father? The inns will be full to bursting at the moment. I suppose you could pay some people in one of the better inns to give up their rooms, I suppose...But it has to be somewhere that befits our dignity. I wonder...how about the Hallowed Heart?" Melissa suggested. "The Hallowed Heart?" The king asked. "What do you know of that tavern?" Ser Damon spoke up. "It's frequented by them lady knights," he said. Grayson looked annoyed. "We'll find other quarters," he grumbled. "We'll see if there's a ship for rent in the harbor." He turned to Geralt. "If you wish to leave with your wife, then I've no cause for you to stay. Prince Erik saw you bloody yourself with your own weapon and those disgusting songs are not fit for your lady's ears, either." |
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Post by King Perceon IV Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 23:19:50 GMT
"In a ship we will be surrounded by ironborn." Perceon pointed out. "Might it not be safer to stay outside the city?"
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Post by Princess Melissa Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 23:22:22 GMT
Melissa scowled at Ser Damon's betrayal and vowed later vengeance. "I don't want to stay on a ship," she said firmly. "Ships are for travel, they are not inns. Staying in one sounds dreadfully dull. If I stay, I stay in an inn."
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Post by Prince Geralt Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 23:23:41 GMT
"If the Starks can set up a camp, surely the Reach can as well," Geralt suggested, as presumably the large party had needed to set up camp multiple times during their journey from Highgarden and had the equipment to do so on the journey back. "I would concerned for your safety just as much on a ship in Ironborn waters as on firm ground on Ironborn lands, if not more so."
Geralt looked to his sister as if she had just sprouted an extra head.
"This is a grave matter of life of death sister, a matter the royal family's safety in foreign lands," he said, baffled by her response. "Forgive me, but you potential boredom regarding your accommodations is the least of our concerns at the moment."
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Post by King Perceon IV Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 23:27:00 GMT
"I will do things I do not care for for the benefit of my family." Perceon retorted. "But I will stay wherever pleases you. I was merely offering an opinion."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 12, 2017 23:28:09 GMT
Grayson looked aggravated. "Everywhere for two hundred miles is surrounded by Ironborn," he said. "This is to calm tensions until we find out who did this. And Melissa you will stay where I bloody well tell you or I'll send you back to Highgarden this damned instant."
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Post by King Perceon IV Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 23:31:32 GMT
"And how ought we to go about figuring out who sought to malign Geralt's reputation?" Perceon inquired. "The Reach is not short of potential enemies."
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Post by Prince Geralt Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 23:32:18 GMT
"Whether I remain or not, my advice would be to make camp, a fortified one if you must," Geralt contended. "Better surrounded by Ironborn while on dry land with the best knights on the continent at your back than crammed into a floating coffin."
"And I would venture a guess the goal was to kill the prince, rather than malign my reputation. The question is whether the attempt came from within or without."
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Post by Princess Melissa Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 23:32:28 GMT
"I agree with geralt. I cannot think a ship is our safest option, when we did not come with our own ships amd loyal captains," Melissa pointed out, still fuming at her father's irrational fear of the Steel Mermaids but choosing not to pursue thst argument as yet. "We will be safer on dry land, I think."
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Post by Prince Willem Lannister on Aug 12, 2017 23:38:31 GMT
Michel and Willem manage to get the dying Dornishman to a maester, as he gasps over and over for his mother. It doesn't look likely he'll make it, but the maesters hank them anyway. Willem pressed some gold coins, stamped with the Lannister lion into the maesters' hands. "Do what you can to save him. Whatever it takes and whatever the expense. I would hope that someone would do the same for me, were I unfortunate to be in his position. If he dies, send me word." |
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 12, 2017 23:39:12 GMT
"Ser Garrett, rally the men," he said. "I want a camp with a double ring of stakes pitched by nightfall. A circle will do, two entrances manned by four guards each." The knight saluted him and set about it. He turned to Perceon.
"We'll have informants working overtime, but it seems to be an assassination attempt," he agreed. "Let's not spout off unfounded assumptions yet; that will merely start rumors which will grow past our ability to contain."
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Post by King Perceon IV Gardener on Aug 12, 2017 23:45:01 GMT
"I shall keep my opinions to myself then." Perceon replied, compliantly.
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Post by Prince Geralt Gardener on Aug 13, 2017 0:20:01 GMT
Geralt nodded and went to find his wife, to ensure she was safe and unharmed.
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