(121-01-22) Travails of Ser Daffodil
The Travails of Ser Daffodil
Summary: More chaos and madness in the Quill & Tankard
Date: Date of play (22/01/121)
Related: None

'''Quill and Tankard'''

The common room of the Quill and Tankard. Rivermen and seamen, smiths and singers, priests and princes, and the novices and acolytes of the Citadel - all come for a taste of the fearsomely strong apple cider that makes this inn so beloved by Oldtown's people There is a pleasant buzz of chatter, cups and tankards being filled and refilled, and general laughter.

A roaring fire in the hearth allows for a merry glow and a comfortable warmth from Oldtown's breezy, misty cobblestone streets. Benches and tables offer places to sit, and there is a deliciously toothsome smell in the air of food from the back.

Garvin comes strolling up Hightower from the south, leading a small dog on a jeweled leash and humming to himself. The dog pulls and growls when he comes to the bridge to the tavern, but he pays no mind, giving the leash a light tug and heading across. The dog (which would be a spaniel on a world that had a nation called 'Spain') has no choice but to follow, and soon, both are inside the Quill & Tankard. He's made no attempt to disguise himself tonight, decked out in his colorful finery and topped by a ridiculous, wide-brimmed hat with long plumes.
It is a summer evening. The weather is warm and drizzling.

Derrioth is sitting at one of the table near the bar, across from the stairway leading upwards to the taverns rooms, along with his large, mastiff (which is a rottweiler but gashly told me to call it a mastiff.), who has his front paws up upon the table and he'd be panting, staring at Derrioths tankard. Whenever the mastiff tries to make a move upon the mead within the tankard, he'd simply have his head lightly pushed back by Derrioths right hand. Although many of the other tables are mostly full, if not full, Derrioths table seems to be deserted exempt for himself and his dog.

Ariston is the next one through the tavern door, unaccompanied by servants of any kind. His posture rates somewhere between the upright propriety of a nobleman and the relaxed confidence of a fighting man, but something in the way he notes each face in the pub would tend to undermine that sense of confidence. Nevertheless, he does not break strideeven on seeing that absurd hatbut makes straight for the bar, where he orders himself a cider.

A boy would pass by the lit window of the pub, his head being seemingly focused upon the ground - the boy dragging his feet slugishly like he is waiting for something to pass. The view of the boy would vanish after a few seconds as he is overshadowed by the large Ariston. Before the creaking of the pub door is audible. The door opens slowly, following behind Ariston who seemingly is not with the boy by how his body-language is set. This young man would shuffle over to the right-portion of the tavern, sitting at one of the tables.. looking at his lap.

Kai silently makes his way down the staircase, relaxed, hand lightly rested upon the pommel of his falchion as he reaches the bottom of the staircase, slowly looking around with his usual blank expression. He makes his way over to the bar, standing besides Ariston, he orders himself some apple cider, smiling slightly at the bartender who he is most familiar with at this point.

Once inside, the dog perks up at the scent of food, tugging its master further inside. Garvin allows this to a point, but slows their progress so he can take the time to look around and find just the right place to sit. A table near the fire looks attractive, so that's where he heads, tugging the dog along with him. "Come along, Ser Daffodil. Barmaid! Your best mead, and keep it flowing."

The armored sellsword would go to take a sip of his mead before stopping, slowly looking over to Garvin, faintly remembering him from one time within the tankard before, he'd look down to his dog, chuckling as he mutters to himself, "Ser Daffodil…". Derrioths Mastiff would take a similar interest in the small dog, dropping down from the table and casually advancing over, watching the other dog with playful curiosity.

The boy whom sits by himself in the corner at a table taps his fingers lightly on the table, still looking at his lap. The boy reaches towards his waistline with his other hand which is not tapping the table profusely, he draws his quite large sword from his quiver - setting it upon the table casually with a thud. He'd be tired of the weight of the sword draping his right side.

Ariston opts not to sit but instead to rest one elbow on the countertop, body perpendicular to the bar. It's a much better position from which to see the other drunks. He pays for his drink as it arrives and lifts it in a vague gesture of thanks for the barkeep.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kai=Throwing Vs Derrioth=Alertness
< Kai: Success Derrioth: Success
< Net Result: DRAW

Kai nods his head as his mug of apple cider is slid before him, and lifts the mug to his lips almost immediatly, nodding towards the barkeep in thanks, he then turns, taking a good old walk over towards Derrioth's table and then pegs the full mug at the sellsword, a slight smile worn on his face.

Garvin takes a seat at the table, then pulls one out for Ser Daffodil as well. The dog leaps into the chair, then turns three times. Or rather, two and a half, as the approaching mastiff catches his attention. It may be small, but it's not afraid of the much larger beast, standing with small, clipped tail held stiffly, as it leans forward to sniff in the mastiff's direction. No growling or jumping about though, it's well-trained.

Derrioth lets out a shrill sigh, raising his left hand to grab onto his hood and bring it over his head, at the same time his right hand reaches around and grasps onto the handle of his longsword before drawing the sword and in a similar motion, allowing his movements to flow pleasantly, he'd cut said tankard thrown at his in half, the two halves parting mid-air and falling upon the ground, the other falling upon the table. He'd scoff, bringing himself to his feet as he turns looking to Kai, "You're persistent." he states, "Hunter," the mastiff who'd be looking over to the small dog, in a same calm manner without barking nor jumping, would immediately look up, over to Derrioth, then to Kai, "Get him." he'd say, the dog would let out a bark before breaking into a sprint towards Kai, growling all the while. Derrioth, as the dog does this, would bring himself to sit up from his seat upon the chair, bringing back his hood with his left hand, raising his right brow with a frown.

"What in the hell?" Ariston demands when tankards start flying and dogs become enraged. Once the dog gets into the mix, Ariston looks fairly disgustedly at the bartender. "This is the sort of thing you let go on in here?" he demands. "If those two are your regulars, you're going to lose any respectable patrons." He heads for the door. "And I'll expect that cider to be replaced—/if/ I ever return!" And he's off.

"Wha'…?" the boy quietly murmurs before looking up from his lap towards the commotion before grasping his sword by the blade, inserting it into his scabbard. The boy raises himself up from his chair quickly, having it fall backwards… making an audible wooden flop sound as it hits the floor. He slowly steps towards the door of which he entered, turning over his shoulder to look at the event again - shaking his head, leaving abruptly.

<FS3> Kai rolls Throwing: Success.

Kai exhales slowly, and with a sharp flick of his left wrist, a throwing knife slides from his sleeve and appears in his hand, he flicks it around, holding the blade in his fingers and then throws the knife deftly towards the dog. The mastiff yelps as the blade runs along the upper side of it's left front leg, causing it to jump to the left, growling at the man now as it becomes more wary. Kai turns to face Derrioth now, exhaling slowly.

Peri is slipping into the pub, her fingertipsprimping her hair. She seems quiet, getting in, her weight stretching out as she settles in, eyes going to Kai and Derrioth, grunting faintly.

"Wot, again?" Garvin complains, scowling in the direction of the two men hurling objects about. "Daff, stay. Sit." Reluctantly, the dog plants its well-groomed backside, though it lets out a woof as it watches the men and the other dog warily. When actual weapons come out, Garvin's hand moves to the hilt of his rapier, but he doesn't draw it. He does shrug off his cloak though, just in case.

"Like, /seriously/ you are the most persistent man I've fought in years." Derrioth says, reaching across his shoulder to his back as he brings around a large, iron heater shield baring on the front the symbolism of a rampant unicorn, by the looks of it. Derrioth raises his right brow, "Like really, I was just sitting there." he complains, growling as he raises his shield after properly grabbing hold of it, tapping to the of his blade against the side of the shield, "Well come on then, if you want to start a fight then lets go." he taunts, muttering to himself afterwards, "Man, Vivian will have me by the balls on this one.". The mastiff would walk over to Peri, limping rather as it lifts its injured left leg from the floor, as the dog does this, Derrioth himself would be slowly and cautiously walking over towards Kai, a annoyed expression on his face rather than a angry one, which is new for a fight between the two.

"No thanks." Kai says simply as he begins to walk off, a yawn coming to his lips, "I just felt like throwing something at you." he says, his gaze turned away from the man, although from the rather scary-looking smile on his face, it is difficult to imagine he actually thinks he will be leaving.

<FS3> Peri rolls Healing: Success.

Garvin's narrowed eyes move between the two men, but his dog has other ideas. It drops off the chair, then pads across the room, under tables and past legs, until it reaches the mastiff. Ser Daffodil sniffs a few times at the wound, keeping an eye on the other dog's reaction, then tries a tentative lick (which is how dogs treat one another's wounds and such). Garvin hasn't noticed, too busy making sure he doesn't need to draw his own weapon and fight his way out of the tavern.

Peri eyes Kai in an annoyed fashion. Garvin is watched for a moment as she bends down, tending to the dog's injuries, quietly. She seems to actually be pretty good at keeping the animal calm, she gently pushes the other dog - Ser Daffodil, cooing, settling to stitch the injury gently. She Takes a powder from her bag, putting it on the wound quietly, her fingers taking out a small roll of gauze. She seems intend to gently wrap the wound.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Derrioth=Blades Vs Kai=Blades
< Derrioth: Good Success Kai: Success
< Net Result: Derrioth wins - Marginal Victory

The armored sellsword scoffs, rushing forward as he lowers his sword before rushing forward, sliding as he swiftly comes near to Kai, raising his shield in a defensive manner as he brings his longsword around, upwards in a diagonal movement towards Kai's chest, speaking all the while, calmly the entire time except when he begins to swing, "I'll take the initiative then, I owe you one for hurting my dog." he declares as the sword quickly glides through the air towards Kai.

Kai slowly exhales as he reaches around to the grip of his falchion, fingers wrapping around as he sharply twists around, drawing his blade upwards, but not completely out of it's sheathe, Derrioth's longsword clashes with his falchion, heading upwards towards his fingers, but he steps to his right, as he is now facing the man, and with a sharp flick of his wrists, pushes Derrioth's blade back, which barely gives him enough time to take a step or two back, and draw his sword, although he doesn't get the time to take his correct stance as he continues moving back, listening intently should someone else desire to join the fight, or impede his progress towards the door, which he continues walking backwards towards, apparently not overly interested in fighting in the bar for a long amount of time.

"Very well, time to depart," says Lord Garvin, reaching for the leash…and not finding it, because his dog is halfway across the room. "Ser Daff?" he says, brows drawn together in confusion, as he looks around. But the dog is low to the ground, hidden behind tables and chairs and patrons and the barmaid bringing his mead, so Garvin stands and calls, "Daffodil! To me!" With a small whine, the spaniel noses the mastiff's side, then turns and scampers back to his master. Garvin retrieves the end of the leash, along with his cloak, and starts making his way toward the exit, keeping one eye on the combatants.

Peri eyes Garvin "May I tag along handsome man?" she asks, curiously towards the lord. She seems content though. Her smile shows as she gets settled in,

Derrioth grunts drawing back as he brings his sword around and slides his blade into it's Scabbard, bringing his sheild around and slinging it upon his back again, "Whatever, I can't afford to fight now." he states before quickly rushing over to his Mastiff and dropping to one knee, he'd reach out as if prepared to tend to the dog, only to find it already cared for. He'd raise his right brow, despite also looking concerned before looking up to Peri, "Did you.. tend to my friend?" he asks, as if somewhat surprised.

Kai turns around at this, quickly sheathing his sword with a smile, "Oh well." he says, before heading towards the door, and out, jogging over the bridge and leaving the area before any guards may come.

Garvin is led right to Peri's table, though it's the mastiff Ser Daffodil wants to see. Garvin eyes the dogs for a moment, then shrugs and looks to Peri with a smile. "Tag along to where, dear lady?" he asks, then tenses when Derrioth approaches. He lets out a relaxed breath though when the man stoops by the larger dog out of concern. "That was ill-done, harming your fine dog. I don't know that I'd have sheathed my sword until the man's blood flowed."

Peri leans to watch Garvin blinking at Derrioth "Yes, we aren't friends but he's a dog. A good dog." she rubs the Mastiff, standing up slowly. She takes the packet out to tuck a few into Derrioth's hand "rub these on the wound when you change the bandages and watch for infection." she offers, softly "Let him rest somewhere comfortable and keep him from running if you can." she offers Garvin a smile and puckers her lips up as if she's going to kiss the poor little rich man.

Derrioth stares at the two for a moment as he's spoken to before developing a faint grin, "Thanks, I owe you one I guess. If you need any help for anything I'm Derrioth, a sellsword in service to Vivian Brax." he says as he receives the packets, inspecting them beforehand, whether out of curiosity or caution is unknown though. "Knowing him he'll just hog my bed as he heals up, he already saved me once I don't want this to happen." he says in a friendly manner though frowning afterwards, staring at the dog as he reaches over and scratches behind his ears, muttering to himself- if not the dog, but involuntarily loud enough for the others to hear, "Why does this always have to happen with him?"

Garvin's dog leaps up into a chair to be closer to eye-level with the mastiff, sniffing again, while Garvin just smiles vacantly at Peri, completely unaware that any kissing might occur. To Derrioth, he says, "It sounds as if you need a larger bed. Has this happened before? That ruffian slashing your dog, I mean?" He scowls toward the door Kai let through. "Someone should teach that creature some manners."

Peri rubs the dog's ears, gently again. "Well, I could go beat him soundly and make him my thrall." she mumbles sort of glaring out the door. Garvin's dog is offered a petting, socially. she doesn't seem to mind animals.

"Not the dog, but he's been coming at me ever since we first fought… But I don't want to dwell on it that much." Derrioth says, gritting his teeth in frustration, "I'd like it if you two stay out of this… He treats it all as a game, and besides…" He'd pause for a moment, bringing himself to his feet as he draws his hood over his head again with his left hand, staring intensely out the doorway before crossing his arms across his chest, speaking as he stares, his expression a serious one, still somewhat concerned, but angry as well, "It's even /more/ personal now." he growls, looking over to his mastiff, allowing his expression to become more passive as he snaps his fingers with his right hand, this mastiff looking up, "Hunter, time to go." he says, seemingly addressing the dog before walking over to the doorway, the dog walking over along with him. Derrioth would look back, grinning to Peri faintly, "Stop by Vivian Braxs mansion, I /do/ owe you now after all." he says with a nod, sending a nod to Garvin as well before turning back to the doorway and heading out, hastily, clearly upset about the entire situation having gone down.

Garvin nods to Derrioth then, putting his smile back on, and his smaller dog gives a quick, departing yip as well. Garvin leans a bit closer to Peri, lowering his voice. "Men of arms can be so peculiar at times. I doubt I'll ever understand all the fighting they do with one another."

Peri considers "Next time you see him, ask him about the thrashing I gave him." she suggests to Derrioth, "You don't owe me shit except your friendship stranger." she offers, chuckling a little bit "Now then, I think you might need a drink and perhaps a bit of food in you, my good lord." she whispers, cheerfully, her smile showing as she offers Garvin her full attention and her sweetest smile.

Garvin's eyes brighten. "My mead!" he says, looking over toward the table he vacated, but the barmaid has already taken it away, assuming he was leaving. So he calls for another bottle and helps himself to a seat at Peri's table. "Food I've had tonight, though I'm certain Ser Daff wouldn't turn down a hauch. Perhaps I should have named him Ser Piggy." Still grinning, he gives the dog's head an affectionate rubbing and is rewarding with a lick or two.

Peri offers her hand to Garvin's, politely "Well then. Lets get you some fresh whatever you are up for, and get me something to nibble on and see about getting some food on the table."

Garvin is sitting at a table with Peri and…a small blond spaniel, which is perched upon a chair and looking almost as haughty as Lord Pansy himself. The barmaid brings a leather-wrapped bottle of mead, then waits to hear what Peri wants to eat, while Garvin prattles on. "I came here to drink away my many, many troubles, and that's precisely what I plan to do. It's so tragic! I was looking through my wardrobe and realized they'd neglected to pack half my winter clothes. Whatever will I do when the season changes?"

Peri eyes Garvin "I'm sure someone with finances of your caliber will buy new clothing, likely silks." she offers, honestly, her weight settling in. "I have a wardrobe but I'm told many westerosi would be offended by the clothings I have." she admits, blush showing. She looks comfortable, leaning on the table as she settles.

Isador enters the Quill somewhat nonplussed not noticing Peri the very moment she enters. She lingers at the bar and orders a cup of mead.

"True, true," Garvin says, pouring two goblets of mead and offering one to Peri. "I suppose I will simply have to visit the marketplace, come Winter. Such a chore!" He sighs, the poor, suffering nobleman, then takes a long sip of his mead. This seems to cheer him, and he brings the goblet down so Ser Daffodil can lap at it a bit as well.

Peri looks amused at the man "I see, I mostly wear beatten leather hand me downs from men on the ship for coming ashore. I've not even boots." she laughs out softly, reaching to pet the little dog in Garvin's lap. Her expression is moderately amused for now. "Your days must be so hard, but do you not take pride in being so terribly fashionable?" she asks, waving to Isador "Ah! Isador~" she coos out, waving "How does the day find you?"

Maera pushes the door open to the Quill and Tankard, and comes inside with little fanfare. A single Mormont man-at-arms accompanies her into the tavern. The area surrounding her nose that encircles her eyes are bruised, and her lip is still split, but this doesn't seem to be slowing her down any. She'll give those who stare a cold look as she walks towards her usual table at the hearth.

Isador turns and joins Peri at her table, "Ever had one of those days?" she asks. A quick curtsey is levelled at the Lord. Her back is turned to Maera when she enters - she does not have to glance to know who is behind her but does not bother acknowledging her. "How does the day or evening as it were fidn you both?"

Eonn comes in a few moments after Maera, with Bryn's hand in his. He follows the lady Mormont to her table.

Bryn looks around as he steps in with Eonn. He waves to Garvin as he spots the Tyrell, but he follows along with Eonn towards Maera's table.

Garvin looks up at all the newcomers with a smile, raising his goblet. "Well met!" he says cheerfully. "Sit and have a drink or two with us. Or a dozen. Why, Bryn! There you are, boy, I'd wondered what became of you. I see you made it safely away the other night. Come, have a seat here beside Ser Daffodil." That name apparently refers to his spaniel, which sits not on his lap, but on a chair of his own, because that's what Lord Pansy's dogs do. The barmaid soon brings another bottle of mead, along with the food Peri wanted and a small plate of bacon for Ser Daff, who begins eating with surprising daintiness.

Maera lifts her hand to call the serving maid over, but lowers it when Garvin invites them over. She stands up from her table to take a seat at Garvin's, and offers Bryn a subtle little smile when the boy draws near, but greets Garvin first, "My Lord. I was suprised. I figured you'd be over to my manse the next day to learn how to use your fists." She glances to Peri, "Has Blacktyde recovered?" It isn't a smug question, but one with legitimate concern behind it.

Eonn releases Bryn's hand and says, "Perhaps my lord will get you better than stew." He winks at the lad.

Peri wiggles her fingers at Isador "Every day is one of those days." she offers, jokingly. She takes her time, sipping her own mead. as she takes time to eat her heavily spiced crab cakes - apparently one of the specials. A orange sauce and slices are served wit it. "You bloodied his skull." she offers to Maera, considering "Even if he is hurting, we both know he won't admit it. Be careful or you'll get him hot and bothered for you." she offers with a grin. She eyes Bryn, taking a fork of crab cake to offer to the boy "Try a bite?" she asks. The cakes are hearty and rich. "It is good, I think the other special was a salmon done 'Essosi' style. It is more of a spicey Dornish style, in my opinion though." she jests, smiling softly.

Bryn grins, nodding to Eonn, and he turns to head over towards Garvin's table as well. Then he nods quickly and says, "I made it out fine. Been in lots of tavern fights, my mum owned a tavern. Know how to keep from getting hit." He grins as he spots the dog, reaching to pet it as he sits down. He accepts the offered bite with a quick nod, smiling, "It's good."

Isador has had a day of ingratitude and strife and whilst she is not so trite as to share a room, a battlefield, a city with the Lady Mormont - sharing a table is simply too much. Almost as soon as the Lady sits down with her entourage Isador stands. Perhaps the only expression that crosses her face is that of an immense measure of hurt betrayal for nanosecond that her eyes settle on Maera. She rises and abruptly leaves the Inn - her drink left behind.

Garvin nods quickly, draining his goblet and reaching to refill it. "Yes, yes, you must eat," he says to Bryn, as the dog gives the boy's hand a quick lick, before going back to his bacon, "so you can grow up to be big and strong. That's what my lady mother said to me, and fool that I am, I refused to listen, and look how I turned out." He grins then, adding a wink, before turning to Maera. "Oh, I intend to call upon you soon, my Lady, soon. I've been ever so busy though, with all the unpacking and sorting and discovering all the things that had been left behind. Would you believe not one of my little wooden soldiers with the jade shields managed to make the journey down from Highgarden?" He pouts a bit, and noticing that Ser Daffodil has finished his bacon, he spills a little mean onto the plate. Not much, just a wee bit for the dog to lap at.

Eonn grins at Garvin and Bryn, clearly amused. He looks to Maera. "You probably need something cold," he says.

"That." Maera says to Peri, "I most certainly do not want." She offers Garvin a nod at his words, "I look forward to it." She pays Isador no mind and doesn't even bother blinking an eye when the redhaired woman rises and departs. Her attention turns to Bryn, "it is settled, then?"
<Public> Millicent flings some shoes from her balcony.

Bryn nods quickly to Maera and says, "Yep. Tomorrow I'll be a Novice at the Citadel," he says with a grin. "Maester Thane is coming tomorrow morning to get me, and help me tell Lady Banefort."

Peri watches Bryn "Well, some of us do jobs so others do not have to, big bear woman." she jokes glancing at Maera, her fingers propping her head up as she works on her food "Now then, handsome Garvin, tell me, as you are fashionable, if I wanted to look presentable but not sweat from the heat, where would I buy a gown in this city and what color would you recommend."

Eonn shrugs slightly, and then moves a few steps to stand behind Maera, in his usual body-guard sort of position.

Ser Daffodil, having filled his tummy with bacon and a little mead, decides it's time to explore, so he hops off the chair and under the table, long fur brushing against ankles and shins, as he sniffs about for any dropped bits of food, long leash trailing behind. Garvin turns to examine Peri for a long moment. "Well, I am no expert in lady's gowns, but for colors, I would suggest earth tones. Browns and creams, perhaps some green as well. Accent in gold, for your eyes. Silks for the heat, light and airy, and samite, of course. As to where to buy such things, I'm afraid I'm at a loss. I've not explored much of the city yet, but…I say! Bryn, you know the city rather well, do you not?" He glances up at the lurking Eonn, then offers the man a smile. "Will you not drink with us as well? There are plenty of chairs around this table."

At the mention of Lady's gowns, Maera's eyes glaze over slightly. She looks to Bryn instead, and at Garvin's mention of not knowing where to buy silk and samite, her lips curve up into a wry smile, "Why would the buy know where something that he can't afford is?"

Eonn gives Maera a questioning look.

Peri eyes Maera "Because a clever child knows how to please people." she offers, chuckling "I normally just wear jewelry on the boat and maybe a strip of leather." she admits, stretching out, her long frame stretching, she takes a sip of the mead, offering an amused smile "Riker says Nudity in public is immoral or wrong or something. I wasn't paying attention."

Bryn answers Garvin's question, "Hightower Square. It's where all the rich people buy cloth and clothes. There's gotta be a merchant there who'll help." He glances up to Maera and says, "I know the city. And I really know where rich people and nobles shop."
<Public> Millicent snuggles Bryn.

Maera's head turns to give Eonn a look that seems to say 'what?' before she looks back to the table to give Bryn a little nod. Still, she only seems half-invested in the conversation. Distracted, even. Her eyes flick upwards briefly before turning downwards, her eyes scrunching slightly in thought.

Eonn indicates what he means to Maera with a jerk of his head, towards Garvin's table. But likely she misses it in her distraction. So he stands there. A cat managed to sneak in with him, though, a grey tabby one, and it twines about his ankles.

Garvin grins to Bryn then, giving a nod, before turning back to Peri. "There, Hightower Square, that's where we'll find your gowns and slippers and all those sort of things. You really should have a good pair of riding boots as well, for when you go hunting. Do you have a good palfrey? I brought mine down from Highgarden, quite a spirited ambler." Meanwhile, down by Eonn's ankles, Ser Daffodil has sniffed out the tabby, lowering his head and giving a meaningful growl.

The cat crouches and hisses at the little spaniel. Eonn belongs to catkind!

Peri takes something out for Eonn, offering it back to him. A packet of cat mint. "For your .. companions." she gestures at Eonn's feet. She pauses "Did you enjoy the Roe?" addressed to Bryn more than Eonn. She watches Garvin "Oh heavens. I do not. I've never been high enough in status to own a palfrey or even ride a horse, to be honest." she admits. "I never owned anything of my own until I became a salt wife and then, it was because I'm useful and clever." she offers, voice cheery. "Horses in Essos are for free men or the Dothraki, not silly concubines or slaves like me." she offers, adjusting the pretty mermaid pin in her hair.

Ser Daffodil lowers his tail and lets out a low woof, not backing off from the cat.

Eonn leans to accept the packet from Peri. He sniffs it. "I did," he says. "I am, mm, fond of fish." He furrows his brows a bit at the catmint packet, and sniffs it again. Maybe he'll start rubbing it on his face soon.

The cat hisses more stridently, ears laid back.

Bryn ducks to peek under the table at the sounds, then looks back up to Garvin, "Your dog's making a mistake, shouldn't ever mess with city cats." Then he looks back to Peri and says, "I liked it too."

Garvin's eyes widen at Peri's admission, then blink owlishly once or twice. "Oh. Well, then we won't worry about riding boots, shall we? You probably don't want to go hunting anyway, if you can't ride a horse." He frowns then, looking to the empty chair beside him. "Daffodil! To me, up!" The dog continues to growl for a moment longer, then backs off and eventually jumps back into the chair, looking huffy, but the lord just pats him on the head. "Cats and dogs, dogs and cats," he says, shaking his head. "They're like those two large men who were in here earlier, perpetually at one another's throats, and for no apparent reason."

"My regrets, my lord," says Eonn. "The cats follow me." He shrugs. He looks a bit forlorn, standing there behind Maera.

Riker, the captain of the homely whore now enters. Dressed in dirty black leathers with his usual wicked grin. There is a bandage wrapped tightly around his head and it holds his matty haiir back to his face. But he seems in high spirits. The stupid man now stomps forward to the group. The usual scowl at Maera given along with some confusion. "You…." He looks at Peri now and back to the Mormont. "She told me a most interesting story the otherr night." Seeing how he has a bit of amnesia or was just black out drunk it seems to be a case of placing the pieces together from all partys involved. Looking at Eonn the confusion grows as he does not remember him, still and Garvin gets most the same. In the fray he pry never noticed him hiding. The rest he has surely not met it would seem as he looks back at MAera, uickly flipping a chair backwards to straddle it he says as he looks at her nose, "I'd no idea you could be any uglier…" Scowling turns to a grin and he adds, "You really bust my head up like this? Tell it true."

Peri chuckles a bit "I enjoy fishing if you should like to try that. I would be terrible at hunting. If you teach me to ride a horse, I may be inclined to accompany you." she offers, politely. That plastic politeness concubines are taught to have. She blinks at Riker, offering him a crab cake and her lips. "My handsome husband, does your head hurt less on this evening?" she offers Riker sweetly, undoing her top button one handedly.

Maera opens her mouth and turns her head slightly to say something to Eonn, but she doesn't get the chance to speak what she means to say to the man for there is Riker. A bruise from being headbutted in the nose has formed under her eyes, making her look almost raccoon-like. "Ugly? This is warpaint." Despite herself, she smiles faintly. "I suppose I did."

Garvin scowls when Riker makes his entrance. "Dogs and cats," he mutters under his breath, refilling his goblet, then tossing a signal toward a serving wench for another bottle. Once more, he looks up to Eonn. "Is my mead not to your liking, Ser? Perhaps you'd rather another red from the Arbor."

Eonn sighs, looking at Maera. He moves from behind her and sits down across the table from Garvin. "I am sure, My Lord, that your mead is a delight. May I?" He indicates the flask, taking up an empty cup.

Mikhal Bolton strides into the Tavern and into the coldest darkest corner again - following his set pattern of somehow making it colder and darker. Introverted the large man opens a book and sits to read it without acknowledging anyone. Few would dare approach the monster of a man so it is mutually beneficial for the majority of the Taverns patrons. His book is entitled Table Etiquette - he slurps his stew as he reads it.

Riker takes that kiss from the woman and denies the crabcake, calling instead for drink. He will scowl right back at Garvin till it is brought and he pours for himself as he listens to Maera. A grin at her /warpaint/ and squinting an eye at her appreciation for herself. That moment of tension hangs thick before he laughs and pours for her too. "Aye, well, I was in my cups. But I'll own it. Thers' a reason we don't take ya' as salt wives." He pours one for Peri now too and swallow his drink quickly, then doubling up. He is still looking at Maera now and shaking his head. "I must be gettin' fuckin' old." Now he seems a bit displeased with himself but that is fairly short lived.

Peri eyes Garvin, leaning to whisper in his ear. She is dainty looking and delicate. Her fingers very gently squeeze Garvin's arm "Do remember that Lord Blacktyde is by his religion's rites my husband and that I think very fondly of you and that if he asks me not to contact you we'll be unable to shop and discuss pretty items." oh and there are those sweet fluttery doe eyes. "Hello Lord northerner." she coos up at Mikhal, before pausing to Maera "I warned you." she jokes, reaching to lean against poor Riker, taking a moment to empty the Riker poured glass down.

Ser Daffodil sniffs the air in Riker's direction, then -wuffs- and turns to follow Mikhal with his eyes. Otherwise, he just sits there, like a good dog. Garvin is too busy gulping down mead and listening to Peri's whispered words. He looks at Riker again, then whispers back to her, "Your husband struck a trueborn lady, more than once. And he hasn't even bought you any lovely gowns or slippers or a palfrey. What sort of husband makes his lady go about naked?"

Peri whispers: Maera started the violence between them, but Riker is difficult and arrogant. My advice is to not side with either of them.

<FS3> Maera rolls Alertness: Great Success.

A moment later, he's turning to Eonn with a brilliant grin. "Of a certainty! When Lord Pansy pays, everyone drinks!" He takes a great, long drink himself, then lets out a satisified sigh. No burping, because that would be too far beneath his dignity.

Eonn smiles at Garvin, a look of some relief. He seems rather tired, now. He pours himself a cup of the mead, and drinks deeply.

"Blacktyde only headbutted me once." Maera points out, obviously having heard Garvin's words. "After I assaulted him. Technically, he did not hit me beyond that. Just threw men and furniture at me." She'll nod her thanks to the Captain at the poured drink, and pick it up to take a swallow. She offers Garvin a smile to offen the blow of her words, "We do things differently outside of the Reach." She glances to Riker briefly before pointing her cup at him, "Were we on my Island I'd be putting my sword into his belly right now."

Mikhal turns and acknowledges the Salt wife with a humorless nod his dead volcanic blue eyes rather chilling to behold. But perhaps bearable for someone who has lived amongst killers for so long. He probably picks up on various snippets of the covnersation - but brawls did not concern him.

Riker overhears Garvin and looking at Maera he says, "You's a noble?!?" He may have known but never registered or never knew. He can't remember. But he does give pause and smiles, "Wait, I did that!" He laughs incredibly too loud now pointing at her face. Yep, now he know and still cares not. He just laughs at her telling of it and says, "And were we on my ship I'd a.." He glances at the Tyrell and to Peri grinning before finishing, "Well, you can guess." He laughs and pours another round for those that would have their drink stronger than mead.

Garvin frowns a bit, quickly reaching over to places his hands over Bryn's ears. "Some of us would rather not know what would happen on your ship, if you please," he says, all prissy-like. His little dog gives a small huff as well, as Garvin releases the boy once more and grabs his goblet for another long drink. Prissy as his words may be, his voice is starting to slur just a little. He turns to Bryn then. "So what's this about you pledging yourself to the Citadel? I thought you wanted to become a knight and win all the tournaments?"

Eonn looks to Bryn, curious. He drinks more mead.

Peri eyes Maera and Riker "It is assumed that it would never be so easy for either of you to get ahold of each other in the wild. So let us drink and be merry on Lord Garvin Tyrell's table." she offers, voice soft, eying Eonn and raising her flagon at him politely. She leans, to press her lips to Riker's neck gently, nibbling him "If you two keep fighting, I will get naked and take you both jogging." she warns, grinning lopsidedly.

Bryn wrinkles his nose, reaching up to push the hands away from his ears. To Garvin he says, "He didn't even say anything. If that bothers you, don't ever go to the Thieves' Market."

Mikhal not having been really addressed keeps reading his book about all the rules he is presently breaking. Without amending his conduct.

Eonn's grey tabby cat hops onto his lap, and from there, onto the table.

"That." Maera says to Riker with some certainty, "Would not happen." She holds out her cup to be refilled by Riker before taking another swig. She glances to Garvin, "Bryn, as it has been noted, has a quick mind. He is suited to the Citadel, I think.

Garvin's eyes bug wide again at Bryn. "Thieves' Market? Whyever would anyone go to a place with such a name? I wouldn't even know what to purchase in a market for thieves. Not that I'd be likely to take any coin with me, because…well, thieves!" He shakes his head at the illogic of it all. When the cat appears on the table, Daffodil lets out a single, loud bark, as if to alert the world that table etiquette rules are being violated! Garvin glances at the offending feline with a wrinkle to his nose, then nods to Maera. "Perhaps, if that is what he truly wants for his life. Is it, Bryn?"

Peri eyes Garvin "Because sometimes you want to buy five pounds of something like moon tea without the maesters' chiding you." she offers, grinning lopsidedly "Or a child needs a knife and doesn't want scolded." she offers, weight curling against Riker, "If you sat in the chair like a civillized man I could warm my bottom a lot easier." she chides faintly.

Bryn nods quickly again to Garvin, "It is. Well, for now. Even if I change my mind before I want to take my vows and want to do something else, I'll learn a lot there. But I like learning stuff."

The Captain's eyes squint and his cheeks puff up at the man as he covers the otherrs ears. Purposefully waiting till they are uncovered he says, "Fuck. I stopped 'idin't I? Anyway, If'n ya ain't wantin him ta' hear keep him outta the damn tavern'." He pffts and helps himself to more drink. Hands tracing overr Peri as she gets grabby. "You tryin' ta' get me ta stop wit' them's threats?" Laughing continues now as he keeps on emptying the cup. At the she bear he says, "Don't ever be to sure. I seen more en the likes of you cowered." The words are not insulting but come more from someone who has certainly seen some oddities. the conversation mostly swirls around him though and talk of the citadel does not help him in jumping in. He goes on breaking the rules as well with a sideways glance at the dog beffore snatching one of those crabcakes to toss to the canine. Eventually he will flash a begrudgingly look to Peri and move the chair around to offer a better seat to her. He was just getting comfortable!

Mikhal keeps reading.

"And how exactly do you know the likes of me?" Maera asks the ironborn with a skeptical turn of her head. She has another casual swallow of the drink before sitting the cup down on the table and rising. "I think." She says, "I will call it an early night."

Garvin nods to Bryn then, apparently satisfied with the response. "Follow your heart, and you won't go wrong. All the songs say so." He spares a glance toward Riker, a small frown on his lips. Daffy seems happier with the Captain though, snatching the crabcake midair in his teeth, then laying it gently upon his plate to nibble. Garvin looks to Peri then, brows drawn together. "What is moon tea, and why would a child be scolded for wanting a knife? How else would a child be expected to eat, if not with a knife?" When Maera rises, Garvin is on his feet at once, sweeping off his absurd hat for a flourishing bow. "It has been a pleasure to see you again, my Lady. You must call on me at Hightower, I'm certain my sister would be honored to meet you."

Eonn stops brooding over his mead long enough to look up at Maera.

Peri climbs comfortably into Riker's lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders "Goodnight Lady Mormont. May nothing terrifying find you in the dark." she curls herself, looking much smaller than she is, tucking her feet in her own chair, "You can learn a lot by watching people, My ladyy." she presses her nose to Riker's cheek. "Moontea prevents … unwanted pregnancies and surprises. Children are often not allowed to have weaponry because they can be vicious." she offers to Garvin cheerfully, watching Mikhal

Maera looks back to Eonn, and gives him a faint smile, "You may remain if you'd like, Eonn."

Eonn cants his head a little to one side, looking at Maera thoughtfully. He nods.

Riker looks her up and down. "Well, ya' aint the first wench with fists." He grins at her and he is of noble birth afterrall so not being able to play the ignorance card anymore he stands ever so briefly and adds, "But travel safe. Next time I catch ya' don't be to drunk. Ya' might end up sailin." He sits back downa making room for Peri again and finishes his drink. Sideways glances at the others and clearly more comfortable around heads of house who fight and curse rather then mild mannered and soft spoke folks, male or not.

Eonn watches Maera go. He looks rather sad about it. He refill his mead cup.

Garvin settles back in his chair, dropping his hat in another nearby, rather than putting it back on his head. He shakes out his curls and grabs his goblet. "Drink up!" he shouts to Eonn, leaning over the table to clank his goblet. "You have your lady's permission, what more could you ask for?" Grinning, he drains the mead, then refills again. "Good woman!" he calls to the barmaid. "Another, and another! The night is young, and I am still conscious!" He glances down to Bryn. "You've not taken your vows yet, you know. Drink!"

<FS3> Peri rolls Charm: Good Success.

Just as Mikhal finishes his stew several serious looking men surround him led by a scruffy but dangerous looking sort. Of higher quality than your ordinary thugs these men could be said to be - with fair quality swords. Not hardened veterans like Mikhal but good fighters. "Black Mikhal is your name is it not Knave!" says the leader.

Mikhal continues reading and drinking his mead ignoring the man as though he had not spoken.

Peri eyes Mikhal and then Garvin "Riker if I can come up with the coins on my own, may I have permission to buy myself a pair of shoes or slippers?" she asks, wiggling in the iron man's lap, intentionally popping another button on her jacket open with a subtle flex. She seems to be in a good enough mood. "I'll cook that venison meal you enjoy with the vegetables." oho yes there is jiggling.

With the evening hours comes the awakening of Rona Vielo. She's donned her boldly colored Braavosi garb, complete with trousers and a thin sword hanging at her hip. With her hair piled up into a loose bun, it is out of the way, and reveals her long, slender neck, where the high collar of her vest doesn't cover it. She makes her way down the stairs, hand resting on the pommel of her sword to tilt it up, so it doesn't whack the steps on her way down.

Eonn returns his attention to Garvin, and smiles. "Of course, My Lord," he says. "And thank you. I ought forget whatever it is that troubles her tonight." He shakes his head.

Garvin looks toward the door Lady Mormont left through, then back to Eonn. "Is something troubling her Ladyship?" he asks softly. But then there's a ruckus brewing at the bar, and Garvin's attention is drawn that direction, a frown spoiling his happy mood. "What's all this then? Does no one ever come to this tavern to, I don't know, drink?"

Eonn follows Garvin's gaze. He, too, frowns.

Peri makes a face at Eonn "Her troubles are sleeping. Can you help me carry him up to a bed?" she asks, voice soft. "I came to get drunk, my pretty lordship." she offers, sighing softly at something and standing up. She pays the barmaid. and since Eonn is frowning she attempts awkwardly to heft Riker onto her back - intending to tuck him in.

"I said! Are you Black Mikhal!!" demands the leader. His associates prepare for violence.

A long time passes before Mikhal closes his book (on Table Etiquette) and stands to his full height of somewhere in the middle of six and seven feet only marginally dwarfing the leader who is the largest of the group. "I am Ser Mikhal Bolton former Kings Justice also known as Black Mikhal by the masses. Accused of being this "Lord of Tears" by the criminal underclass. What do you want?" He isn't interested in who they are.

Eonn looks to Peri and says, "Maybe. In a moment, woman." He sighs, tiredly, and stands up himself. He's shorter than Mikhal by an inch or so, and considerably thinner.

Rona cannot help a chuckle of amusement, seeing Peri hauling Riker off to bed. "This is not something that one sees every day." But like so many others, her attention is drawn to the bar, where trouble seems to be starting. Her eyes dart about, reflexively noting the positions of tables, chairs, patrons, escape routes, and so on. She meanders toward Garvin's table, keeping one eye on Mikhal and his confrontation. She gives Garvin an exaggerated bow, "Lord Pansy! It is good to see you again. Ah, and my benefactor as well." She smiles prettily to Eonn.

Garvin lets out a gasp, reaching to place a hand on Peri's arm, hoping to stop her. "Perhaps you shouldn't draw attention by lugging your beloved around just yet," he says softly. Like Eonn, he gets to his feet, though he gives Rona a small bow. "It is good to see you as well." He glances to Bryn, but the boy's already demonstrated he's smart enough to know what to do when people start fighting in a most uncivilized manner. Daffy wuffs softly, then hops off his chair and moves under the table, sitting at Bryn's feet, prodding the boy's knee with a wet nose.

Peri sets down Riker "I don't quite trust you people around my husband." she admits, body language tightening as she watches Garvin. She seems agitated by waiting and trusting strangers. Her eyes close as she adjusts her jacket, taking her plate from the table, ready to help Mikhal if necessary. with the plate.

"I won't hurt him," Eonn tells Peri. "At least, not while he's asleep." He doesn't even look at Riker.

"Your Head Executioner!!!" screams the man. He reaches for a sword and at the same time Mikhal reaches for Malevolence. The Publican screams, "No swords in my Tavern!! I'll have your bleeding heads!!!" This stops the men who look at eachother and bizzarely they take their hands away from their swords and start to space out for a fist fight.
Bryn has partially disconnected.

Peri holds up her hand "If you lie, I'll cut your tongue out. When he's awake it is not my problem, yes?" she admits.

Eonn sighs. "You don't need to threaten me," he says to Peri. His tone indicates that he doesn't like it, either. Then he suddenly raises his voice, "Take it outside, the lot of you! I am trying to drink!" He sounds genuinely annoyed. Last night he thought it was funny.

Garvin's hand falls to the handle of his rapier, though he doesn't draw it. "Indeed! I'm not nearly intoxicated enough to sit idly by while you kill one another." He glances again to be sure Bryn is all right, then down to Riker, frowning to Peri. "I assure you, I prefer him this way and wouldn't do anything to disrupt his peaceful sleep."

Rona isn't so quick to touch her blade, simply watching for now. "My lord," she advises Garvin, "This is not your fight. I would not recommend getting involved. There may be consequences that you cannot presently see."

Bryn's eyes are wide as he watches the confrontation over by Mikhal. He does scoot his chair back a bit, so he'll be able to slip under the table after the dog, but he doesn't quite yet. There's curiosity on his face too, and he watches for the moment.

As accomodating as the combatants were to the publican's directive their blood is hot - all except Mikhal who looks as serene as when he was reading his book. With a blindingly poswerful right hook the not unpracticed leader takes a swing at Mikhal. What happens next presses the boundaries of awful - and makes the removal of swords from the battle redundant.

Mikhal catches the mans right arm in his punch with both hands. Slamming his foot down on the leader's inner calf a horrible crunch is heard and the tip of a bone can be seen along with alot of blood. Mikhal then brings the man's forearm down on his thigh like he was snalling a branch. Both bones break with another crunch. Instantly the man is down - and if not seeking treatment at the citadel in the next few hours maybe even dead. Mikhal takes a step back and looks over his remaining six mortified opponents.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," says Eonn, angrily. "Get out!" He's addressing the men facing Mikhal, probably.

Peri eyes Rona and Garvin taking her net off of her lower back, under her scale, in a typical iron-style she takes the weights to swing the net and slap on the floor lightly. "Get. Now. Or we call the watch and humiliate you." she puffs out, body language growing hard and unfriendly.

Garvin gives Rona a quick nod, though his hand doesn't leave his weapon. Mikhal's actions cause the little Tyrell lord's jaw to drop, a shudder running up his spine. His drink-flushed face drains of all color, and for a moment, it looks like he might not keep his legs under him. The moment passes though, and he squares his shoulders, shouting, "You ruffians are breaking the King's peace! Out with the lot of you, before I call alert the city watch!" Like Eonn, he's probably addressing Mikhal's opponents, rather than Mikhal himself. Probably. Under the table, Daffodil gives a small whine and lays his head on Bryn's knee, either seeking or trying to provide comfort.

Rona wrinkles her nose, and sighs, taking a few lazy steps toward the confrontation. "Now I am disgusted. This is, for the time being, my home. It is also where I drink to relax. Do as they say, and leave, or I shall be considering this a personal affront."

Bryn's eyes manage to widen further as Mikhal so easily dispatches his opponent. After another moment, as others move to join the confrontation, he finally slips under the table, though he still can probably see at least some of what happens from there..

The other men pause before running out the door. All except for one - a relative of the man who breaks the rules by drawing a poniard. Mikhal casually picks up a chair and in a grotesque move no civilised fight would contemplate slams it into the mans eye socket. There is an obvious fracture and what is left of the man's eye runs down his face. He drops the poniard. Mikhal catches him by the throat and says quietly, "Your life is worth nothing to me. I wonder how much it is worth to you?" After a few moments silence event though the man is semi comatose Mikhal seems to have empowered him with enough fear to stagger out out of the bar.

The leader is left screaming on the floor until Mikhal retrieves the boot off his good leg and shoves it into his mouth so it is muffled.

Then he goes back to reading his book.

Eonn stands there, and swears quietly.

Garvin remains tense, even after the men have turned tail. Slowly, he lowers his gaze to the pathetic creature writhing on the floor. Color returns to his cheeks, but it's rather green, and after chewing his lip for a long moment, he kneels to look under the table at Bryn. "I don't suppose I could convince you to run to the Citadel and bring back a Maester for that poor man. There's a dragon in it for you, and this as well." He pulls a jewelled dagger from his belt and offers it, so the kid won't have to run through the streets unarmed on such a night.

Eonn sighs. He turns and sits down at the table where he rose from a few moments ago. He lets his head fall to the wood with a little thud.

Bryn misses the guy getting his eye poked out, but he can see the man screaming on the floor pretty clearly. After a moment, he glances back to Garvin and nods quickly, taking the dagger and turning to run to the door obediently.

Peri takes her time to pick her husband up again, taking him quietly up to the bed using the chaos as a cover. She doesn't seem comfortable leaving him lay out in 'public' Riker is taken and tucked in before she returns, fanning herself with her hands, unbothered by the drama and blood. She seems to return to the table. She takes the mead, pouring everyone's glasses full, including one for Rona.

Rona keeps an eye on Mikhal, pondering for a moment. She shifts her glance to the men on the floor, arching an unsympathetic eyebrow. With a sigh, she moves back to Garvin's side. "That was horrible. But the fools should have seen it was a fight they could not win." Noting the drink set out for her, she gives Peri a bright smile and a grateful nod.

Garvin nods to Rona as he stands again. "Indeed, they were fools, and they deserved a good thrashing. But I don't believe it a kindness to let that man suffer so. If you'll all pardon me for a few minutes, I'm going to see about getting a room. When Bryn returns with the Maester, would one of you direct him upstairs?" He notices Peri has refilled his goblet, he quickly drains it, which helps restore his color, then goes off to look for the innkeeper.

Eonn bangs his head very softly on the table, grinding his teeth.

Mikhal finishes reading his book and steps over the bleeding, muffled, screaming man. Polite for once the unfeeling man greets all who he knows (Peri). With a nod. Turning he regards Rona with a raised brow as expressive as ever, "And a beautiful female Bravo in town - you must be none other than Rona Vielo?" He asks - although given his display before Mikhal is most likely has been sizing up Rona's martial prowerse and being impressed rather than her sex appeal.

Eonn sits up, rather suddenly. He looks at Mikhal.

Rona pulls out a chair, but doesn't sit just yet, as her attention is captured at the mention of her name. Offering Mikhal a warm smile, she speaks with accented tongue, "Just so, I am Rona Vielo. You know of me. This is good. Now you must tell me who you are."

At a glance Mikhal sizes Eonn up - "Lady Maera's silent wall. I'm willing to bet a dozen crowns you are a whole lot more than you seem. Fight too unclean and theatrical for you?"

To Rona, "I am Ser Mikhal Bolton originally of The Dreadfort Boltons lately of Kings Landing where I was Kings justice. But I was 'promoted'. Now I travel about solving problems. Most of which do not exist. It gives me alot of free time to read - and fight the relatives of people I have executed." Pointing to the sword on his back, "And this is 'Malevolence'. Who is your friend there?" he says pointing to her rapier.

"Just thrown the fuckers out the door next time," says Eonn, with weary ill-temper. He downs another glass of Garvin's mead, in a few swallows.
<Public> Maera has reconnected.

Peri moves to stand up, pressing her lips to Mikhal's knuckles "Pardon, I need to go tend to my husband and get some rest. It is my shift to work the nets tomorrow." she coos out, her weight moving to go to bed with Riker more than likely.

"There were too many to throw them out," Rona says to Eonn. "He won because he intimidated. Grappling one man is an opening for five others." Resting her hands on her hips, she looks Mikhal up and down. "Though perhaps you need not have gone that far." She shrugs. "But my sword. You of Rona Vielo, but you do not know Maiden's Kiss? There is no sharper blade in all the world."

Eonn laughs humourlessly. "No," he says flatly. "He would have won anyway."

"I could have done that perhaps," Mikhal says to Eonn, "But just as they are I am cruel - broken - imperfect. These are men with histories and crimes that you could not know. The law as it stands would not punish them appropriately. Fortunately they gave me the chance to do so. With recklessness. Had you known as I know you would have done the same. Worse perhaps if they'd threatened your patron."

His observation of the exchange between Rona and Eonn yields, "Victory is never garaunteed. An outnumbered man can lose and I have done so in the past… before I lost everything. Now I seem to win alot more often."

"And Valaryian…" he says in relation to Rona's blade, "I bet there is a story there."

Eonn smiles dryly. He says, "No. I would not. I know other things." He looks to Rona. "Nothing is guaranteed. This does not relieve one of one's choices." He pours himself another cup from Garvin's mead.

A pair of the tavern's stronger workers manage to lug the foolish unfortunate upstairs, and soon, Garvin returns with a small cask stamped with the Arbor's seal under his arm. He thumps it onto the table, then reaches for his dagger to knock out the bung, only to realize he's given it away. He frowns then, looking to Eonn for assistance. "I thought we could use something a bit stronger than mead now," he comments, gaze moving up and down Mikhal. "We are not acquainted, Ser Bolton. I am Lord Garvin Tyrell. That was…quite a display. Your reputation is well-earned." There's respect in his tone, along with a healthy wariness. His little dog is still under the table, though when he hears his master's voice, he creeps a bit closer to the man's boots.

Eonn stands up again, returning for the moment to his habit of silence, to pull the bung from Gavin's cask with his battered old dagger.

Rona lifts her chin proudly. "That there is, Ser Mikhal. It is the tale of my great-great grandfather, Padren Tarvosi. He was challenged to a duel by the great knight, Ser Draegar Targaryen — wielder of the Valyrian steel blade, Heartfire. Ser Draegar was in love with my ancestor's bride-to-be, and wished to claim her hand with his victory. Padren agreed, but on the condition that if he won, Heartfire would become his. Both men were confident of their triumph, and agreed to the terms. Both were masters of the blade, and the duel seemed to last forever. Some say they fought for days. All that is certain is that as the sun set on their duel, each man cut, exhausted, and possibly breathing their last breaths, Padren's blade found Ser Draegar's heart. There he left it, and as the knight fell, he claimed Heartfire. Even before he saw a healer for his wounds, he took the sword to the most skilled swordsmith in Braavos, who reforged it into the greatest Braavosi blade ever crafted — Maiden's Kiss, whose cut is so fine and sharp that it feels as soft and gentle as the caress of a woman's lips." She positively glows with pride as she recounts the tale.

"Do not worry Lord Garvin - I live off a very special diet. And appreciate to a certain extent erudite hedonists of your ilk. Those were bad men. The only thing that worried me was the potential explosion of your fight with that man Grumm the other afternoon. If it came down to a struggle between him and me. Well that would be very interesting and not in a good sense," Mikhal clarifies. He merely looks at Eonn strangely as though he is noticing something. Seeing strength in the man's silence.

Rona's tale is listened to with a measure of academic interest. "You have a right to be proud then Rona. Your tale sounds like the beginning of an epic."

Garvin nods his thanks to Eonn, then grabs an empty goblet and carefully tips the cask, spilling at least as much into the cup as onto the floor, before tipping the cask back again and nodding to it. "Drink all you wish, everyone," he says somewhat grimly, then takes a hearty gulp. He listens to Rona with increasing fascination, and when she finishes, he's silent for a long moment. Finally, "Now that is a tale I would hear set to music, worthy of the feast hall of Hightower's lord, and my own lord father as well. I wish my own blade had such a tale behind it." Garvin gives Mikhal a nod then, frowning. "A most uncouth fellow, that great auroch. I was happy to see the back of him, I don't mind telling you. I felt sorry for the poor woman whose babe he'd snatched away, just to have a look at it. Men like that belong in chains, if chains strong enough could be forged."

Eonn isn't so keen to spill. He's careful to fill his cup without splashing, though he fills it more fully than one ought to, with strong wine. "I do not object to the fight," he says after taking a deep drink, "But to its location. Last night was enough for a while, I think." He grimaces a bit. And then drinks more, taking the sourness off his face. It's nice wine.

"It is an epic," Rona agrees. "One that has been continued with every wielder of Maiden's Kiss, from Padren Tarvosi, down to my father, Furio Vielo. Now it is my turn to write a chapter, yes?" She smirks at Garvin, winking, "Perhaps then it should be made into a song."

Mikhal looks at Eonn, "You are good at what I do but you do not belong here I suspect on this bloody field? Nor do I… it is but unhappy circumtances that have brought me here. But I have my reasons for being as I am and others have come to respect them over time. But usually by then I am gone."

"Slavery created the beast Lord Garvin. The man was a slave. And his overrelation to me over the course of the conversation confirmed my suspicions of his origin. He has no appreciation of refinement. But perhaps that would destroy him. For the moment even if he insults nobles - he hunts pirates and slavers… or so I have heard. Let him do his damage to those ignominious industries before you pass judgement."

With respect to Rona, "I strongyl suspect whereever it goes it will be far from dull. I look forward to hearing your tale and watching it as it evolves." Even though there is sincerity in his tone the overall lack of emotion undercuts it. Mikhal is very dead inside - perhaps that is his strenth.

Garvin nods to Mikhal's words. "There will always be uses for such creatures, I suppose," he says, sipping again. All the mead earlier, and now the wine, and he's beginning to sway just a bit on his feet. So he decides not to be on his feet anymore, sitting a bit ungracefully on the chair again and taking another sip. "I too hope I am near enough to see your epic unfold," he says to Rona. "It will make a grand song indeed, I'm certain." He blinks a few times, looking across to Eonn, as his dog jumps back into its chair and curls up, nose-to-tail. "You need to be more cheerful, Lord. The violence is passed, and now's the time for frivolity. Here, refill your goblet, and if you would be so kind, mine as well." He drains it, then pushes it across the table in Eonn's direction.

Rona smiles appreciative to Mikhal and Garvin, but her attention is so easily pulled to Eonn. She sits on the edge of the table by him, leaning toward him curiously. "What song is this, my benefactor? You must tell me."

Eonn pours more wine, filling each cup that Garvin, or indeed, anybody else, sends his way. He smiles at Rona, a bit crookedly. He's in his cups, it seems. He has been making an effort the last couple of rounds of drinks. "The same song. The only epic, lovely blade."

"I know what I am Lord Garvin and happiness plays no part in it. Nor passion to disappoint our Bravo. I am a vortex - a hole into which things disappear but never come out. I was never a good Bolton…" Perhaps it is the wine Eonn is pumping down them. "I became King's justice after my wife and children were murdered in front of my very eyes and I returned the favor to all who were involved. Vendetta over no Mistress Bravo?" Mikhal asks. "But once you win - something like that haunts you for life. And your revenge is not complete until all like your families killers have tasetd you."

Garvin's expression takes on a distant, goofily dreamy look, as he cups the goblet in both hands, swirling the wine about. "I love epics," he says, words becoming a bit more slurred. "The heroes always win, at least until the end. And then they die. Heroically, of course. But before that, they perform such deeds as to be worthy of…well, epics, I suppose. Which is why we have epics at all." He blinks a few times, brows drawn together as he tries to untangle the little logic-knot he's created in his muddled mind. Finally, he gives it up and takes a long sip, that goofy grin returning. "I say, did I mention that I love epics? My very favorite songs to hear." Mikhal's words, though, cause him to slowly frown, and even more slowly, he swings his head around to look at the man. "You have had a hard life, Lord King's Justice, and an unpleasant one, from the sound of it. Have some more wine and try to put such things from your mind. They are unhappy thoughts, and we should have only happiness here now. Here. I say, what is that you have been reading?" He squints and strains, but can't make out the book's title. In the chair beside him, the dog softly snores.

Rona puts her hand dramatically to her bosom, grinning at Eonn "Be still my heart. You must tell me more, stranger. But do feel free to continue calling me 'lovely blade' while you do so." She hooks her booted foot onto a chair, dragging it over to rest her feet on so she can continue to sit comfortably on the table. Mikhal's comment about a vendetta earns an frown of confusion. But it doesn't last long, as she is still fixating on this song business. She sips her drink, looking expectantly at Eonn.

"Your revenge will never be complete," says Eonn to Mikhal, not unkindly. Not at all. "You are just trying to die." He swallows more wine, half a cup at a go, then grins at Rona. "What, what, you want me to sing to you? You think I will do that?" He laughs, good-humouredly.

Rona laughs merrily, shaking her head. "No, I suppose you will not. But, another time. I will ply you with more drink until you do sing for me, stranger." She hops down from the table, straightening her vest. "The night calls to me. Good evening, my lords, dear stranger." With a flourishing bow, she makes her way out into the dark streets.

Garvin's blurry eyes suddenly spark, and a wide grins spreads across his face. "Yes, sing!" he insists, sitting up a bit straighter. "You must sing for us, Eonn. I would greatly like to hear it. You have such broad shoulders and a wide chest, I'm certain your lungs must be up to the challenge." Despite his distraction, he manages to register Rona's departure, though distantly. His befuddled attention is too fixated on this new lark, however, for him to do much more than blink and offer a weak sort of wave as she goes. As he leans his elbows on the table and rests his chin upon his clasped hands, several errant curls fall across his face, but instead of shaking them away, he simply gazes through them at Eonn.

"No process is ever perfected - the revenge never is meant to end and I am meant to eventually die - like all things there can be no victory," Mikhael says, "I can prop this statement up across many books that I have read."

Eonn gives Mikhal a look. It's an inch away from an eye-roll, that sort of unimpressed look, and a bit sloppy. He refills his cup and laughs a bit, saying to Garvin, "I only know the one song. You might not like it."

Garvin cocks his head to once side, perhaps a bit farther than he intended, his neck apparently not as strong as usual. The motion causes even more of his hair to cover his face, and he blinks several times, then tries to blow it away. "Pff! Why is that, m'lord? Pffff!" He gives up and just lets his locks hang there, slowly blinking, then straining to see Mikhal without actually turning his head. "What books are those, Lord Bolton? In the books I've read, the just always prevail, and justice is done."

"'Table etiquette'" Mikhal says. "cannot quite read it witout it getting stupider. Alot like the social protocol manuals that have existed for a long time and are present now. Would you care to take a look at it? I can make hide nor hair of it."

Eonn makes a low growly sound and drinks some more.

Garvin sits up again, shaking the hair away from his eyes and blinking again. "I'm not certain I am able to focus well enough to read just now. Table etiquette? What trouble could you be having with such a subject?" But then Eonn is clearing his throat to sing, and Garvin's face lights again, as his eyes are drawn back to the man. "Sing a bawdy song!" he suddenly requests, face flushed. "My Leash always drags me from the tavern when those begin, but he's not here tonight! I would hear one from start to finish." On the other chair, the dog's ear twitches a bit, but he doesn't wake.

Eonn wasn't clearing his throat, just grumbling about the boring book, and now he blinks at Garvin. "I only know one song," he repeats. "Ss. Not bawdy." He smiles.

Garvin's shoulders slump then, disappointment clear on his face, as he pouts out his lower lip. "You don't know any bawdy songs at all? Not even the one about the Septon and the miller's daughters? Such naughty girls they were, or so I'm told. I've never been allowed to hear more than the opening verses. But Ser Leash assures me it is truly naughty indeed, and my dear brother roars with laughter whenever I mention it."

"Only one," says Eonn, with drunken sympathy. "Not bawdy at all. But I could maybe find out, the others. Bugger Ser Leash."

Garvin ponders for a few moments, his eyes growing distant. Then more distant. And then his head falls forward until his chin hits his chest, and he jerks upright again. "What?" He reaches for the goblet, taking another drink, because clearly what he needs now is more alcohol. "If you don't know any bawdy songs, how about something else? Will you dance, perhaps? I like dancing, it's so…gallant."

"Can't dance without music," says Eonn, amiably. "You'll have to settle for the one song." He drinks more from his wine-cup, then leans back in his chair. And so he starts to sing. It's in High Valyrian, a sweet, slow tune, sounds like a love-song.

Garvin lets out a wistful sigh, his expression growing dreamy again, as he leans forward once more, chin supported by his laced fingers. Of course, he knows High Valyrian, so he's enjoying every moment. And oh, it's a love song, what could be better?

Eonn sings: «When the warm winds of the spring come, it is hard to believe that soon you will be dead forever. But you have dreamed of falling since you were the smallest child. That dream is a bird on your shoulder who whispers, 'goodbye.' What is moving will be still. What is raised will collapse. What is gathered will disperse. All of your dreams fullfilled.» He smiles as he sings it, sweet and dreamy.

Garvin leans a bit to the left, supported only by his left hand, so his right can reach again for the goblet. His starry eyes don't leave Eonn, however, as he brings the wine to his lips and slowly sips. Another small sigh escapes him. He understands the words, but he isn't truly hearing their meaning, too lost in the romantic rhythm.

Eonn continues: «Last night I dreamed that I dug my own grave. I climbed down inside and waited, at peace. In the ground the air is warm and sweet, and that bird flew down to nest in my hair and bones. What is moving will be still. What is raised will collapse. What is gathered will disperse. All of your dreams fulfilled.» It's such a pretty song, and he sings it rather well. But it's short. He stops there.

It's a long moment before Garvin realizes the song has ended, and then he sits up again, brows drawn together. "But wait, when do you exchange that first kiss with your lady love?" he asks, clearly confused. "You must have skipped a verse! How can you go to your grave without a kiss?"

Eonn laughs. "I don't," he says, "But some people do." He leans forward across the table.

Garvin blinks a few times, clearly confused, as Eonn leans closer. "I shouldn't wish to go to my grave without knowing true love's kiss," he murmurs. "My lord father promises that one day he shall arrange a marriage for me." This thought seems to make him sad, his lips forming a pouty frown, though he doesn't seem to know why he's sad about being wed.

"You may not wish it," says Eonn, "Yet you may get it. Do you think the marriage your father arranges shall contain true love's kiss?" His pretty, cold, sapphire eyes have a wise sort of mirth in them.

Garvin frowns again, looking into Eonn's eyes, though his own are swimming with too much wine. "Isn't that the way of things?" he asks. "A marriage is arranged, and so you fall in love with your bride-to-be. And then on your wedding night, you must do…things."

Eonn smiles at that, "Have you not done, mm, things?" he asks. "Being in love is not really required."

Garvin wrinkles his nose, brows drawing together in confusion. "How could I do things when I'm not married?" he asks, truly perplexed.

Eonn laughs. He leans back in his chair again. "Ahh, boy," he says. "Same as you do them when you are married. Where do you think bastards come from?"

Garvin falls back in his chair as well, looking completely baffled. "I had not thought of it. I supposed bastards just…happen? Perhaps some lord steals a kiss from a maiden who is not his wife, and the poor maid becomes with child." He crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly defensive. "I am not a child. I know that babies are not found amid the dew of a flowerbed at sunrise."

"They don't exactly come from kisses, either, My Lord," says Eonn, obviously trying not to laugh any more. His smile is still there. It's friendly, but he does think this is very funny.

Garvin huffs a bit. "Well, I know there's kissing," he says, face flushing darkly. "As well as the other thing. But why would a lord do the other thing with a woman who is not his wife? It sounds like such an unsavory chore."

"Many people quite like it," says Eonn happily. He refills his wine glass. "Think about it for a bit."

Garvin leans forward and reaches for his goblet, but finds it empty. Frowning still, he struggles to focus on Eonn. "But it sounds so…messy. A duty that must be suffered, surely, but messy and…unclean. What's to like about it?"

Eonn blinks at this. "It is. Delicious. What, you never do it with your hand?"

Garvin's eyes widen enormously. "With my -hand-?" He holds up his right hand, but finds it still holds the goblet. Instead of putting it down, he looks to his left hand instead. All the while, his wine-soaked brain strives to remember the embarrassing lessons his maester tried to give him, complete with sketchy diagrams and anatomical terms in High Valyrian. The right parts don't magically appear in his palm, so he looks at Eonn again in confusion. "I think perhaps Maester Joyn forgot a lesson or two."

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