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Post by Princess Melissa Gardener on Aug 10, 2017 20:37:31 GMT
He laughed. "I will follow your lead, my lady." When they started moving, Theon kept looking down at his feet to avoid breaking something expensive, like royal toes. He managed to enjoy himself with the princess though. After a while, when she was confident that Theon was not about to fall flat on his face, Melissa spoke up again. "Does your family hold feasts here often? The castle is certainly built for it." |
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Post by King Theon IV Hoare on Aug 10, 2017 20:46:36 GMT
"Nothing this grand." The prince spoke while occasionally looking down. "This may be the first time we've ever come close to full capacity. And I think most people assume we're exaggerating when we describe Harrenhal itself. No one likes a braggart and a liar. Though I hope to see your Highgarden too one day. I never saw the inner Reach when I lived in Oldtown."
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Post by Princess Melissa Gardener on Aug 10, 2017 20:53:13 GMT
"What a shame. Perhaps I can persuade my father to invite you for a visit," she suggested. "After all, you're good friends with my goodsister. That makes you almost family."
Melissa was a skilled dancer and able to let her feet do the work while she focused on the conversation.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 11, 2017 4:19:01 GMT
Lady Abigail Lannister entered the feast hall, striding past the first few tables in an elegant fashion. She wore a gold dress trimmed with crimson, respectable and yet somewhat suggestive. None of her father's guards were with her, however the towering Ser Dustin Crakehall was her escort today. Ignoring the tables of the westerners, Abi veered straight for the tables of the Ironborn and more raucous Riverlanders, deciding to show apprectiation and respect for the host nation. That and potentially overhear some things. Finding an empty seat at a table she sat, Ser Dustin taking the chair to her left. She gets some stares but her table seems mostly to ignore her. They're talking about drinking, mostly, and the occasional comment about her looks, but they seem to have been neutered or some such, as the remarks are barely out of bounds even by Western standards. A woman is across from her, and she finally speaks up. "My lady," she said, "are you sure you want to sit here? I've heard western girls who have a taste of the reaver' life often cannot get over the experience." A dozen others cheer at that. "Not that they could if they wanted to!" One added raucously. |
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 11, 2017 4:35:17 GMT
"I fear such a monument might not be as grand as Harrenhal." Perceon replied with a smile. "Perhaps we can build it in the Reach to ensure it is not overshadowed." He made no objection to Theon offering his sister a dance, simply smiling and sipping his wine. As he drinks, his cousin Florys walks over to him, dressed to the nines in emerald and silver and wearing a normal house's GDP in jewelry. She has a blonde woman with her, the princess Rhaena Targaryen, her emerald eyes shining as she followed her. "Cousin," she said, "you seem so lonely, and that makes me sad. I thought perhaps Princess Rhaena could keep you company? She doesn't speak our language very well, but she is quite a treat," she promised. "But a very handsome young man is pestering me for a dance and I don't wish to leave her alone. Would you please do me a favor and spend some time with her?" The dragon girl smiled with amusement at the introduction. She is a vision of fire in a long, sweeping red dress and rubies. |
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 11, 2017 5:08:56 GMT
After Alyssa leaves her husband for a bit, the party is slowing building a bit in intensity as the sun enters its last stages. As Geralt enjoys his meal, he sees Lord Swann approaching him it's a small group of other young lordlings, Torrhen Stark, Brandon Bolton, Ser Ezra Fowler, and his own brother in the Green Hand, Ser Vance Cuy, with him. The young warlord grins. "Enjoying yourself?" He asked. "Or has the night not grown long enough to be drunk in a socially acceptable manner?"
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Post by King Perceon IV Gardener on Aug 11, 2017 6:32:27 GMT
"I fear such a monument might not be as grand as Harrenhal." Perceon replied with a smile. "Perhaps we can build it in the Reach to ensure it is not overshadowed." He made no objection to Theon offering his sister a dance, simply smiling and sipping his wine. As he drinks, his cousin Florys walks over to him, dressed to the nines in emerald and silver and wearing a normal house's GDP in jewelry. She has a blonde woman with her, the princess Rhaena Targaryen, her emerald eyes shining as she followed her. "Cousin," she said, "you seem so lonely, and that makes me sad. I thought perhaps Princess Rhaena could keep you company? She doesn't speak our language very well, but she is quite a treat," she promised. "But a very handsome young man is pestering me for a dance and I don't wish to leave her alone. Would you please do me a favor and spend some time with her?" The dragon girl smiled with amusement at the introduction. She is a vision of fire in a long, sweeping red dress and rubies. "Florys!" Perceon exclaimed, a slight rose tint to his cheeks, the largely empty glass in his hand being his third or fourth drink in the 40 minutes or so he had been seated. He thought it was his third but he wasnt sure if he had lost track of one when he was in conversation with Melissa and Theon. "I have neglected you whilst we have been here. I do hope you will forgive me. I forgive you for making me look a pauper in comparison to how you have dressed for the evening. But enough of my blathering, I'm sure you'd sooner dance. Fear not, I shall keep your friend safe, even if it means I have to call Geralt to her aid." Perceon clearly though what he was saying rather amusing, as he grinned at his cousin when he finished his speech. He didn't linger in self indulgence long however, remembering he had been tasked with entertaining the Targaryen. He smiled at Rhaena, not so drunk he wasn't suspicious she might speak his tongue better than she was letting on, and opted to speak to her as the adult she was, keeping the hand gestures to a minimum. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Princess." He informed her, smiling happily. "I must confess I am thrilled to finally meet a Targaryen. Your family's reputation for greatness precedes you, as I'm sure you've heard many times. Would I be boring you too much to ask of your dragons?" |
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Post by Prince Willem Lannister on Aug 11, 2017 6:43:08 GMT
She smiled and looked round "He is very pretty" looked over to the heir to the west, "I will be back" She kissed his cheek sweetly and went round to talk to the very very handsome Lannister Heir. "your grace, I do not believe we have met, I am Alyssa Hightower" His manners impeccable, Prince Willem placed his cup on the table and rose from his chair in respect to the Lady of Oldtown. "No we have not." he said. "Charmed." |
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Post by Lady Alyssa Hightower on Aug 11, 2017 7:54:56 GMT
He didn't seem terribly charmed. "It's a pleasure to meet you also. A shame the King could not be present. Are you enjoying your time here?"
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Post by Prince Willem Lannister on Aug 11, 2017 8:00:04 GMT
"Well enough so far, my lady." Willem replied. "Of course the real action has not begun yet."
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Post by Lady Alyssa Hightower on Aug 11, 2017 8:01:51 GMT
"No, quite. Will you be participating?" She asked him, thinking his demeanour a tad frost at the moment and hoping to warm him, "I should think we'd all enjoy seeing you in action" he was so very handsome though...
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Post by Prince Willem Lannister on Aug 11, 2017 8:13:15 GMT
"I intend to ride." replied Willem. "How successful I will be remains to be seen. There are many talented knights competing." With a smile, the golden prince picked up his cup and sipped sparingly from it.
"But I thank you for the compliment. At the very least I hope to acquit myself well against whoever I come up against in the lists. For the honor of my House and my father's realm."
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Post by Lady Alyssa Hightower on Aug 11, 2017 8:21:21 GMT
"You may face my husband, I believe he is for the joust also" she said, looking round briefly at Geralt.
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Post by Prince Willem Lannister on Aug 11, 2017 8:37:14 GMT
Willem's own eyes followed her gaze.
"I had no doubt that your husband would enter. So yes, our meeting is a distinct possibility. You may look forward to seeing me in action, but I also have no doubt you will be praying for my defeat if I meet your husband in the lists."
His face broke into a wry smile. "But I would expect nothing less from a loyal wife. Particularly one who is so recently married."
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Post by Prince Geralt Gardener on Aug 11, 2017 9:19:37 GMT
After Alyssa leaves her husband for a bit, the party is slowing building a bit in intensity as the sun enters its last stages. As Geralt enjoys his meal, he sees Lord Swann approaching him it's a small group of other young lordlings, Torrhen Stark, Brandon Bolton, Ser Ezra Fowler, and his own brother in the Green Hand, Ser Vance Cuy, with him. The young warlord grins. "Enjoying yourself?" He asked. "Or has the night not grown long enough to be drunk in a socially acceptable manner?" "How could I not, at such a gathering of noble knights and peerless warriors," Geralt replied, raising his class to each in greeting, before clasping Ser Vance Cuy on the shoulder with fraternal familiarity. "Socially acceptable be damned! After all the barrels of good wine the Ironborn have stolen from the Reach over the ages, it is practically my duty to claim a few back." |
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Post by Lady Abigail Lannister on Aug 11, 2017 11:04:33 GMT
She gets some stares but her table seems mostly to ignore her. They're talking about drinking, mostly, and the occasional comment about her looks, but they seem to have been neutered or some such, as the remarks are barely out of bounds even by Western standards. A woman is across from her, and she finally speaks up. "My lady," she said, "are you sure you want to sit here? I've heard western girls who have a taste of the reaver' life often cannot get over the experience." A dozen others cheer at that. "Not that they could if they wanted to!" One added raucously. Abigail had been ignoring the comments, having known of course that such would likely be incoming. The talk of her looks of course was flattering, even though it was coming from the rough and ugly Ironborn. A compliment was a compliment. When the woman spoke up Abi smiled at her, taking a sip from her wine. Ser Dustin meanwhile bit into the large leg of lamb in his hand, happily ignoring the little brat at his side. "I am very sure that I wish to sit here, thank you," Abigail responded. "After all, what better way to thank the host nation than with a beautiful girl's presence?" She gave a small giggle at that before pursing her lips. "Though I am unsure of what you mean with your comment." |
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 11, 2017 11:21:16 GMT
As he drinks, his cousin Florys walks over to him, dressed to the nines in emerald and silver and wearing a normal house's GDP in jewelry. She has a blonde woman with her, the princess Rhaena Targaryen, her emerald eyes shining as she followed her. "Cousin," she said, "you seem so lonely, and that makes me sad. I thought perhaps Princess Rhaena could keep you company? She doesn't speak our language very well, but she is quite a treat," she promised. "But a very handsome young man is pestering me for a dance and I don't wish to leave her alone. Would you please do me a favor and spend some time with her?" The dragon girl smiled with amusement at the introduction. She is a vision of fire in a long, sweeping red dress and rubies. "Florys!" Perceon exclaimed, a slight rose tint to his cheeks, the largely empty glass in his hand being his third or fourth drink in the 40 minutes or so he had been seated. He thought it was his third but he wasnt sure if he had lost track of one when he was in conversation with Melissa and Theon. "I have neglected you whilst we have been here. I do hope you will forgive me. I forgive you for making me look a pauper in comparison to how you have dressed for the evening. But enough of my blathering, I'm sure you'd sooner dance. Fear not, I shall keep your friend safe, even if it means I have to call Geralt to her aid." Perceon clearly though what he was saying rather amusing, as he grinned at his cousin when he finished his speech. He didn't linger in self indulgence long however, remembering he had been tasked with entertaining the Targaryen. He smiled at Rhaena, not so drunk he wasn't suspicious she might speak his tongue better than she was letting on, and opted to speak to her as the adult she was, keeping the hand gestures to a minimum. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Princess." He informed her, smiling happily. "I must confess I am thrilled to finally meet a Targaryen. Your family's reputation for greatness precedes you, as I'm sure you've heard many times. Would I be boring you too much to ask of your dragons?" "Is it greatness we are known for?" She asked in simple but apparently fluent Westerosi, only a few pauses to ensure her diction was correct. "I have heard madness is more our calling card," she smiled politely, apparently joking. "I know of House Gardener," she added, "tales of knights and ships and the kingdom where the sun finally rests for the day." he probably could have waited more than fifteen seconds before asking about the dragons, but she is used to the prattle and too professional to show any sign of offense. "What would you ask of them?" She replied. |
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 11, 2017 11:29:20 GMT
After Alyssa leaves her husband for a bit, the party is slowing building a bit in intensity as the sun enters its last stages. As Geralt enjoys his meal, he sees Lord Swann approaching him it's a small group of other young lordlings, Torrhen Stark, Brandon Bolton, Ser Ezra Fowler, and his own brother in the Green Hand, Ser Vance Cuy, with him. The young warlord grins. "Enjoying yourself?" He asked. "Or has the night not grown long enough to be drunk in a socially acceptable manner?" "How could I not, at such a gathering of noble knights and peerless warriors," Geralt replied, raising his class to each in greeting, before clasping Ser Vance Cuy on the shoulder with fraternal familiarity. "Socially acceptable be damned! After all the barrels of good wine the Ironborn have stolen from the Reach over the ages, it is practically my duty to claim a few back." Emmitt Selmy (my mistake earlier) laughed in agreement. "A better way of putting it I've not heard!" He agreed in his boisterous voice. Prince Torrhen smiled and held up a leather cup filled with dice. "I had Stokk get a barrel," assuming Stokk was the giant he had come with, he was most assuredly getting the entire barrel, "so let's get a table and play." He shook Geralt's hand. "Torrhen Stark, a pleasure," he said. See Victor laughed. "I told you he was good for some fun," he said. "And he'll make his house even richer by nightfall, mark my words!" The gathering band finds a table, scaring off anyone sitting there, and the giant brings in a barrel of wine and sets it nearby as the dice are passed around. "Green Hands go first," Torrhen said. "Best pray for a seven." |
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 11, 2017 11:32:04 GMT
She gets some stares but her table seems mostly to ignore her. They're talking about drinking, mostly, and the occasional comment about her looks, but they seem to have been neutered or some such, as the remarks are barely out of bounds even by Western standards. A woman is across from her, and she finally speaks up. "My lady," she said, "are you sure you want to sit here? I've heard western girls who have a taste of the reaver' life often cannot get over the experience." A dozen others cheer at that. "Not that they could if they wanted to!" One added raucously. Abigail had been ignoring the comments, having known of course that such would likely be incoming. The talk of her looks of course was flattering, even though it was coming from the rough and ugly Ironborn. A compliment was a compliment. When the woman spoke up Abi smiled at her, taking a sip from her wine. Ser Dustin meanwhile bit into the large leg of lamb in his hand, happily ignoring the little brat at his side. "I am very sure that I wish to sit here, thank you," Abigail responded. "After all, what better way to thank the host nation than with a beautiful girl's presence?" She gave a small giggle at that before pursing her lips. "Though I am unsure of what you mean with your comment." "Best to remain that way," she said with a chuckle taken up by her neighbors. A thin but athletic man with a scar on his right hand walks up behind her, keeping a few paces away. His sword clanks at his side, a dark, finely polished blade whose Valyria steel is obvious from a distance. "Care to dance, then?" He asked. "My lady, you outshine the brightest star here, as the sun displaces the night sky." |
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Post by Lady Abigail Lannister on Aug 11, 2017 11:42:53 GMT
"But I pride myself on knowing things I shouldn't," Abi said to the woman, a shocked and mock insulted expression on her face. When the scarred man made his offer she pretended to think it over, having already planned to accept. The man was clearly somebody, especially with that blade at his side, and making connections was always a good thing.
"Well, if I must," Abigail said after a moment, getting up and extending her hand. SER Dustin grunted something with his mouthful and shot the Ironborn man a grin. "Long as you don't make her do a Dornish dance, all is well."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 11, 2017 11:49:28 GMT
"But I've heard she's Dornish, so any dance she makes is a Dornish dance," the man replied easily. His voice was rough from years of shouting orders, but his words were quite well chosen. He took her hand and kissed it, just a half second longer than would be proper, and he led her to the dance floor to join the hundreds already moving. "I find it shocking your bodyguard had the nerve to assume you know how to Dornish dance," he said. "You should have him flogged." He is surprisingly graceful on the floor. "I am Haradras Harlow," he said, "it is a pleasure, my lady Abigail."
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Post by Lord Reynard Serrett on Aug 11, 2017 13:01:34 GMT
Reynard arrives a bit late at the Feast, he had made a quick stop at the House of Good Fortune to have a little chat with Shin and ask her opinions on his attire for the night. He had a fine piece of velvet that followed the usual outfit of the Westerlander Lord. He had one intention for this feast, meeting a dragon. Not a real dragon, of course, a Targaryen. As many children do, Rey was raised hearing tales of the Tyrants of old Valyria and how they rode the magnificent creatures that were Dragons, he had promised that one day he'd meet one of the heirs of that magnificent Empire in flesh.
With thirsty eyes, he scanned the room for any Targaryens that might be present. Again, like in his first meeting with Shin and her Eastern fellows, he felt like a child, excitedly waiting for a gift on his name day. This tourney had been proving to be much better than he had expected.
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Post by Lady Abigail Lannister on Aug 11, 2017 13:11:47 GMT
"But I've heard she's Dornish, so any dance she makes is a Dornish dance," the man replied easily. His voice was rough from years of shouting orders, but his words were quite well chosen. He took her hand and kissed it, just a half second longer than would be proper, and he led her to the dance floor to join the hundreds already moving. "I find it shocking your bodyguard had the nerve to assume you know how to Dornish dance," he said. "You should have him flogged." He is surprisingly graceful on the floor. "I am Haradras Harlow," he said, "it is a pleasure, my lady Abigail." "My heritage does not determine the origin of which dance I am performing, surely?" Abigail asked as she let Haradras lead her on the dance floor. She knew all the decent court dances of course and so she moved elegantly. "As for Ser Duncan, he is somewhat of a lout but he is also a decent warrior. My father claims that that excuses his raucous behaviour." She looked up at Harlaw with a knowing expression. "Something that the Ironborn are surely familiar with?" |
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 11, 2017 13:15:56 GMT
Other than the prince and his triplets, there are roughly twenty other Tatgaryens, cousins and nieces and nephews, all easily identifiable by their cloaks and strange hair. Reynard sees eight women and more than a dozen men about, all sitting relatively close to each other save one princess who is near the Reachmen.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 11, 2017 13:23:14 GMT
"But I've heard she's Dornish, so any dance she makes is a Dornish dance," the man replied easily. His voice was rough from years of shouting orders, but his words were quite well chosen. He took her hand and kissed it, just a half second longer than would be proper, and he led her to the dance floor to join the hundreds already moving. "I find it shocking your bodyguard had the nerve to assume you know how to Dornish dance," he said. "You should have him flogged." He is surprisingly graceful on the floor. "I am Haradras Harlow," he said, "it is a pleasure, my lady Abigail." "My heritage does not determine the origin of which dance I am performing, surely?" Abigail asked as she let Haradras lead her on the dance floor. She knew all the decent court dances of course and so she moved elegantly. "As for Ser Duncan, he is somewhat of a lout but he is also a decent warrior. My father claims that that excuses his raucous behaviour." She looked up at Harlaw with a knowing expression. "Something that the Ironborn are surely familiar with?" The pair glide fairly effortlessly across the floor. The Ironborn captain clearly has studied this before. "Everyone is familiar with it," he said. "The true warrior/gentleman is nearly as rare as true love or real heroes," he said. "The Ironborn value strength and its ability to win freedom. Manners such as these serve only to keep the old ways continuing," he claimed, "although the benefits at times cannot be denied. Why did you come sit with my men?" He asked her. "To see if they'd harass you in full view of all the kingdoms? Or is here something else you crave?" |
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Post by Lord Reynard Serrett on Aug 11, 2017 13:25:31 GMT
Other than the prince and his triplets, there are roughly twenty other Targaryens, cousins and nieces and nephews, all easily identifiable by their cloaks and strange hair. Reynard sees eight women and more than a dozen men about, all sitting relatively close to each other save one princess who is near the Reachmen. Well, that had been easier than he had expected. He picked the most intellectual looking ones, he searched for certain characteristics: skinny, spectacles, fine clothing... So, someone that looked like him, he usually got along with people like him. Out of that group, he chose at random. Reynard picked two goblets of wine from a passing servant, put on his best smile and approached. "Beautiful evening, isn't it?" He said to his interlocutor. |
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Post by Naomi Harlaw on Aug 11, 2017 13:26:08 GMT
"How could I not, at such a gathering of noble knights and peerless warriors," Geralt replied, raising his class to each in greeting, before clasping Ser Vance Cuy on the shoulder with fraternal familiarity. "Socially acceptable be damned! After all the barrels of good wine the Ironborn have stolen from the Reach over the ages, it is practically my duty to claim a few back." Emmitt Selma (my mistake earlier) laughed in agreement. "A better way of putting it I've not heard!" He agreed in his boisterous voice. Prince Torrhen smiled and held up a leather cup filled with dice. "I had Stokk get a barrel," assuming Stokk was the giant he had come with, he was most assuredly getting the entire barrel, "so let's get a table and play." He shook Geralt's hand. "Torrhen Stark, a pleasure," he said. See Victor laughed. "I told you he was good for some fun," he said. "And he'll make his house even richer by nightfall, mark my words!" The gathering band finds a table, scaring off anyone sitting there, and the giant brings in a barrel of wine and sets it nearby as the dice are passed around. "Green Hands go first," Torrhen said. "Best pray for a seven." Tossing a few coins on the table,"Is there room for one more", The Ironborn Captain asked, looking at the group. |
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 11, 2017 13:42:05 GMT
The woman Reynard found is tall, as tall as him, and slender, with a pair of Myrish glasses. She looks at the cup and then takes it. "Very beautiful," she agreed in unaccented Westerosi. "You're not going to ask about dragons, are you?'
//
The princes and knights all look at Naomi strangely. "You're going to need a lot more coin than that," Emmitt said.
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Post by Naomi Harlaw on Aug 11, 2017 13:46:03 GMT
Tossing in a small heavier bag of coins on the table,"How's this?", Naomi asked. "I plan to add to that with your coins." Her girlish grin was almost innocent.
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Post by Lord Reynard Serrett on Aug 11, 2017 14:02:41 GMT
The woman Reynard found is tall, as tall as him, and slender, with a pair of Myrish glasses. She looks at the cup and then takes it. "Very beautiful," she agreed in unaccented Westerosi. "You're not going to ask about dragons, are you?' "Dragons? Would that be some kind of Pentoshi cheese?" Reynard japed, trying to escape the trap he had laid for himself. Of course, everyone would be bothering the Targaryens about their dragons."I came here simply to complement a fair Lady in her exquisite choice of attire." |
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