(122-04-06) A Messenger from the Karstarks
Players:
Dalt..Daena..Malcolm..Siyu..

The afternoon heat still comes up from the paving stones, though the sun is beginning to set. The Supper crowd it starting to drift in after work or practice, hoping for shade and something to quench a man's thirst after a hard day. Scattered amoung these are a core of all day drinkers, common to taverns of this sort, men who's best days are long behind with the red cheeks and noses of men trying to hard to forget how they got all those scars and aches.

Ser Malcolm strides in, with his flamboyant hair and his practice leathers, dusty from a hard practice at the tourney grounds. His big floofy destrier is tied up outside with an arrary of wooden practice weapons strapped on. Despite his rather outlandish appearance, the regulars don't goive him a second glance. Apparently the Twilight storm is a familiar sight and his growing reputation disinclines people to make trouble.

Siyu ahs a little and comes to get some beer and some food. He might cause a stri. The odd man from Yi Ti. Huang skin, round face, almond eyes. not to mention the pretty face, wide hips, and long hair. He is…well, he is most certainly foreign. He finds a place to sit and order food and drink however. Ale or cider. He glances at Malcolm. If everyone was as he in this place perhaps he will go unnoticed!

Dalt is drinking… Is that a lemon in his drink? Somehow he has a lemon in his drink. He is eating some stew substance, dipping bread in it repeatedly. He sort of sits quietly, alone in a corner table, watching the room. Being a new guy in town, he doesn't really have the friends yet. His shield with a Condor sigil is leaned against the table.

Ser Malcolm strides in, with his flamboyant hair and his practice leathers, dusty from a hard practice at the tourney grounds. His big floofy destrier is tied up outside with an array of wooden practice weapons strapped on. Despite his rather outlandish appearance, the regulars don't give him a second glance. Apparently the Twilight storm is a familiar sight and his growing reputation disinclines people to make trouble.

Siyu ahs a little and comes to get some beer and some food. He might cause a stir. The odd man from Yi Ti. Huang skin, round face, almond eyes. not to mention the pretty face, wide hips, and long hair. He is…well, he is most certainly foreign. He finds a place to sit and order food and drink however. Ale or cider. He glances at Malcolm. If everyone was as he in this place perhaps he will go unnoticed!

Dalt is drinking… Is that a lemon in his drink? Somehow he has a lemon in his drink. He is eating some stew substance, dipping bread in it repeatedly. He sort of sits quietly, alone in a corner table, watching the room. Being a new guy in town, he doesn't really have the friends yet. His shield with a Condor sigil is leaned against the table.

Indeed, the tough men drinking here do notice the oddly dressed foreigner and there are a lot of looks and murmurs aimed in Siyu's direction, though no open hostility, at least not yet. Men want a drink and something substantial in their stomachs before picking a fight at the end of a long dusty day. The man with the Condor Sigil blends rather well with the professional guards and humbler knights that are particularly fond of this place, and so he is ignored by most but the server.

Ser Malcolm runs a hand through his striped locks and looks about to see if there are any familiar faces.

Right behind him stumbles in an exhausted looking man at arms with colour for a minor coastal house of the east Coast just South of the Gift. He looks road weary and two steps from dropping. He's a bandaged arm in a sling, and his hair looks like it was rough cut on that side with a not particularly sharp knife.

Siyu takes a deep breath and smiles, leaning back, ya no armor no weapons on him, he's just going exploring bars. Dressed in linens like a smith, smell faintly of jasmine and vanilla. He takes his ale and drinks it down though. Not going to cause trouble of none comes for him. Might in fact run from it…probably will in fact.

A Dornishman, likely a guard, sticks his nose into the tavern a moment to look around. He turns and shakes his head to someone outside. He mutters something but his barely-heard words are cut off by another voice, a female voice. "You worry too much. I'll be fine." she drawls in a Dornish accent. "They'll keep their hands off or they'll lose them. You know that." He shakes his head again in defeat and steps aside to allow a Dornish woman to enter. She is dark of hair, tall and lean, her robes too are dark. She steps one step to the left of the door and surveys the potential battlefield.

Dalt sits back a bit as he watches the various people come in, and finishes his stew. It's an interesting crowd this evening. The part-Dornishman has another sip of whatever that drink is with the lemon, and puts it on the table, his arm outstretched holding it. So far no one has bothered him.

Malcolm had turned to study the injured Northerner, and so is positioned to see the guard and the arrival of the Noble woman. The peculiarly quaffed knight sketches a deep and elegant bow to the Lady, eyes lowered respectfully.

The exhausted Northerner staggers deeper into the bar, clumsily bumping Dalt's table as he half trips over the shield.

Siyu blinks. Noble Dornish lady? Ya no, he slinks back against the wall, trying hard not to be seen. Hide in the shadows as best he can

Dalt stands up suddenly. He leaves the drink on the table, and moves, rather quickly, to attend to the injured northerner. He had apparently misinterpreted his injury. "Here, ser. Have a seat with me here. I thought for a second it was a practice injury. You look much worse for the wear, though." He pulls out one of the seats, to help the northerner down. "Can we get this man some water, please? And perhaps some stew. I'll pay for his meal. Do you have any cloth we can use as a bandage?" He starts to look the man over, to check his injuries. "Let's take a look here…"

"Wine." the lady says, raising her voice to be heard. "Get the man some wine. I will pay." comes her offer. Daena steps towards the injured man and the man assisting him. "What is his ill? Someone could be sent for a maester."

The Northerner looks rather relieved to not have yet another fight ahead of him. He gives Ser Dalt a rather embarrassed smile, "I've been riding hard for…I forget how long. Everything's a bit of a blur since I crossed the border into the Reach….." He has indeed reopened the wound on his arm, and up close there are half healed burn scars near his hairline on the injured side, likely the reason for the peculiar asymmetrical hair cut.

Seeing the Lady is distracted, Ser Malcolm straightens, "Shall I go, Lady Yronwood? I am happy to be of service."

A server stars to bring wine, thinks better of the vinegary swill and has the bartender pour from a better class of cask. The wounded Northerner drinks it gratefully. I was sent to bring word, but they hit us again as we rode south and I was lucky to escape with my life…."

Siyu just listens for the most part, doesn't offer. This is business of the Westrosi after all.

Dalt checks over the man's arm. "Burns? I take it these are invaders? Or perhaps bandits? Did they use fire arrows?" He looks around, "Where are your companions? Were they laid low during the ride?" He says, "Well, your injuries were sewn properly - though I'm not much good at sewing injuries - I tend to make them worse when I put a needle in them. I think we'd need a Maester for that. I can clean and dress the wound, though." He sees the server, "Take the wine from her, would you? Let's see if we can't at least give you temporary relief."

Daena turns a moment to look to the tall man with the odd hair. "You are a knight, ser, perhaps it would be best if you heard what this man has to say? Ah, and Lady Yronwood would be my mother, though the Martells would rather claim her. I am only Lady Daena. Still, send someone else to summon a sawbones if need be." A look back at the wounded man. "What's this? Bandits? Where did you ride from?"

Malcolm Ser Malcolm bows again and obeys the Lady, standing with a characteristic stillness. "My apologies, Lady Daena. you were so impressive in the saddle that you made a strong impression. I do believe you are right that my starks would be interested in hearing this, though My Lord Carolis is away in the North just now."

The northerner winces at the probing of his wonds, "We came upon them burning another village and did our best to fight them off. I was burned trying to pull a woman from a burning fisher hut. It is nothing. I was the only one well enough to ride on, so here I am, though this city is a confusing maze and I am not sure where to go or who to report to exactly." He drinks the water gratefully, followed by the wine. When he has his breath again, "We're not sure who they are. They don't look like Ibbanese though. Wild men they are, dressed in fur and leather with teeth filed to points They were taking the living and dead both with them back to their ships. We gave them enough of a fight that they left half behind. We'd no means of following and who knows where they will strike next. I'm from up Karhold way and serve the Karstarks."

Dalt hmms… Once the server brings him a damp cloth, Dalt begins to clean the wounds a bit. He awaits for them to bring a cloth fit to be a bandage, as he works, kneeling next to the man's seat as he works on the wound. "Well, this is a warrior's pub. It's as good a place as any. Knights, and war-like lords will frequent this place, as will fools like me who will want to ride forth to assist. You're a long way from home, though, if you come from the north. Surely there was help closer than Oldtown?"

The man says, "My Lord has sent to Winterfell, but Lord Stark and his bother were said to be here…."

Ser Malcolm breaks in then, "Lord Carolis road North some weeks ago as there was word come of possible trouble. He's been touring holdings. I will have a raven sent to inform him once I get a raven telling me where he is apt to be when the bird arrives. I fear Lord Stark's exact location is not known to me."

"Where was this, then?" Daena asks. "Surely not so far in the North? It must have been somewhere in the Reach… after all, you are as far from Karhold as you can possibly be and still be in the Seven Kingdoms. You would have ridden to White Harbor or The Twins or even King's Landing than here if the raiders has been in the far north."

Dalt tightens the bandage a bit, trying to keep the wound straight. "Well, I think I can keep the wound straight until a Maester can re-sew some of the points. That should keep it from scarring too badly. The burns are a little looser to cover. Wash them with cool water when you can. Some types of wine, I've heard can help clean the burns, but I can't recall which. I know some of the stronger spirits are usable as well." He works on finishing the wrapping. "Surely someone in Lord Stark's House is here. Will the Starks be needing assistance? It's my duty to assist if it's needed."

The Northerner shakes his head, "My Lord sent ravens, but Lord Stark appreciates a first hand account, and I was amoung those on coastal watch when the first survivors straggled in after the first burning. I don't know how many were attacked since my Lord sent me South. I was injured just North of the Neck. Some of the Local Lord's men came in the aftermath and bound up my wounds. I road relays all the way south from there only resting when I started to fall."

Ser Malcolm answers Ser Dalt, "Lord Andolin Stark is in residence and I think the Lady Hellan, though she keeps much to herself and is often visiting her kinswoman. They can be found at Weirood Manse. You can't miss it. It's the Oldest Manse in Old Town and the style is unique.

"The Hightowers will want to know if there are raiders or bandits in the Reach so they can pass this disturbing news on to Highgarden." the Yronwood lady says with confidence. "I would expect that the Redwynes and even the Daynes at Starfall would want to know these sorts of things in case these raiders came Dorne's way." She still hasn't quite realized that he actually is talking about having ridden across the entire continent to deliver a first-hand account to Lord Stark.

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