(122-12-07) Baaa-d Experiences
Baaa-d Experiences
Summary: Daevon does battle with his most difficult foe.
Date: Date of play (07/12/2015)
Related: None

Ser Daevon Targaryen, the Maiden's Knight, is attempting to round up some sheep and thus lead them to their doom. The poor sheep are having absolutely none of it though. After a few failed attempts he stares at the paddock, sighing with exasperation. "I'm so out of practice. I should have a dog for this." Desmond of course returns to see this. "I can't remember how to make them move the right way. You have any experience with sheep?"

Desmond throws back his head and laughs, shaking his head. "I am sorry, Your Grace, but I know about eating them and about skewering them. I know nothing about herding them." He kicks one of the sheep toward the Targaryen Prince unsuccessfully. "Let's tie them together, neck to neck, and then tie one to Mammoth. We can drag them along if they do not walk willingly." It's a terrible suggestion. "Or we could bring a boy. But I'd rather not deal with him."

"Okay," Daevon says. "That should work." And he sets about the whole process of sheep bondage, tying them into a train of sheep that'll likely be laughed at by anyone experienced in the business. It's only then that he spots the shepherd's crook, leaning against the stables. "Oh. Maybe should have used the sheep stick. At least they won't wander off this way."

Desmond just sits there atop Mammoth and laughs, and laughs, at the image of the Targaryen shepherd. "Kick them. Hit them harder!" He trots Mammoth in a circle, heading off one escaping sheep. The thing bleats angrily up at him. "No, no, no!" Desmond kicks at the sheep's side. "Back that way, you little shit!" He's practically helpless in the saddle, laughing so hard.

Daevon's trying. He's trying so hard. Few foes have defeated the maiden knight better than these sheep though. There's certainly shepherds watching on too at the chaos of it all. "Okay! I'm getting the stick." And with that warning, he goes to grab it. Now which end do you hit them with? He manages to get it done, eventually, but with much hilarity. "Okay. Done. Here, do you want the stick?" He offers it over. "Let's get going." He mounts up, and starts to lead the way.

"Far be it from me, my beloved Prince, to take your lance away from you. No, bear it in armor." Desmond wipes at his face as he sets off, still laughing. "Oh, I'll write an account of this. A song, mayhap." And he throws back his head in a booming baritone, there on the street. "Five sheep did he face/ The boldest of their race…" He trails off, frowning. "I need a better word for rhyming."

"No songs," Daevon's finding it hard to hold back the laughter though. "We really should hire a boy. Or find the dog. Or both." Daevon waves the stick threateningly at the sheep. This doesn't help in the slightest to get them moving. But at least they are all tied up now so unlikely to run off.

Desmond cannot take it anymore. As Daevon reaches out to wave the stick, the Northerner grabs it roughly from the other man's hand. "Like this, pup. Like this." And he uses the hook to snag the first sheep's neck, clumsily, and yank it back in the direction he wishes it to travel. "There." The big man rumbles a laugh as they ride down the road, literally dragging sheep behind. "Could use a dog," he admits. "But don't you think we could do without the boy, Your Grace?"

Daevon's stick is gone… he stares in disbelief at Desmond for a moment, as the man so effortlessly does what he could not. "I think at this rate the dog's not going to help me much. I think we could do without both. I'm sure all you need to do is whistle, and they'll obey your every command." That's how sheep work, right? Daevon does try whistling at the sheep to check. It doesn't work. But finally, an old, lazy sheep dog trots out from where it's been napping in the stables, and stares up at them, wagging its tail a few times.

"Yes, Your Grace. We whistle at them.." Desmond smiles crookedly and puts the shepherd's crook beneath his elbow as the dog comes up. "But look who we found. Eh? Good boy. Good boy." He doesn't scratch at the sheepdog, but seems inordinately pleased nonetheless. "Now we can be off, eh, Your Grace? Our party's complete." He begins to lead the sheep forward once again, on their long leash.

Jurian sticks his head out the window and throws a ceramic cup down on the paving stones, where it shatters noisily. It's not close to the sheep or sheep herders. "You make m…more noise than the Seven Hells!" he yells, voice a little thick, suggesting he might have been sleeping even though it's daytime.

Daevon turns, startled at the smashing sound. "Sorry." He calls back. "We're just leaving now." BAAAA! Goes the sheep. Where were they? Daevon offers a thin smile to Desmond. "Yes, let's be off before we anger anyone else."

"Fuck me," mumbles Desmond very softly, under his breath. He tilts his head up to peer at Jurian, but apparently decides that discretion is sometimes the better part of valor. He does not even try to apologize to his future employer. Instead, he lays his heels into his huge charger and they set off, riding for the Manse's gate, half-dragging the sheep behind him.

"Where in the name of the Seven are you even—oh, just get out!" Jurian insists will great ill-temper from his third-floor window.

Daevon decides it's best to do exactly as Jurian says, and so he rides off after Desmond and the bleating sheep.

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