(123-01-20) O Frabjous Day! Callooh! Callay!
O Frabjous Day! Callooh! Callay!
Summary: Ser Malcolm's Nameday Party.
Date: Date of play (20/01/123)
Related: None

There is most of a deer roasting over a fire, as well as a cauldron of paella, fish chowder, muscles, oysters, and clams. There is a table with wooden cups and bread (both flat and round), and bottles of that clear northern liquor. Barrels of good water, ale, and cider have been rolled out. There are open tents for shade and smaller closed one for guests spending the night. It seems the Targaryens are pitching in on security with the Starks, from the colours on display. Malcom is fresh from the sea, hair still damp, and shruggin on a loose linen shirt, having already laced on his breeches.
Daevon pages: Did you get my security page? (And I wish I could do party, only I'm needing to sleep again. WIll likely be there later though
<OOC> Bryn needs just a few before posing in. I'll be posing ASAP!

Siyu walks onto the beach, why not, it's a nice public place, a good public scene, a place to be happy right? At any rate the young merchant is dressed in riding leathers, simple tanned, but well made, un flattering leathers. Though upon the gorget there is a bit of gold embroidery, the only sign of finery. He brings with him four caravan guards, though tough of them are hauling a barrel. "Greetings and salutations to you Ser. I bring a gift for the party. A barrel of beer. I am sure it will be put to good use upon your name day." it looks like a whole tun.

Miranda's a bit hesitant to come, but Malcolm she knows somewhat. "Seven blessings for your name day," the young septa says brightly, approaching once he's dressed. "I came to, ah, bless the food if it's asked for. The feast looks lovely."
Long distance to Daevon: Malcolm posed your security in.
Daevon pages: Lookouts. Boat out at sea. Guards on horseback. People away from bonfire. Ugh brain a bit fuzzy. Daevon thinks party possibly dangerous drunk nobles not in armour at beach outside city.

Malcolm waves at siyu, friendly enough. "That is kind of you, Siyu." He bows to Miranda, correct and polite, "Your blessings are welcome. I serve the Starks, but I worship the Seven." He blushes a little, "I could put my doublet on if you would be more comfortable.
You paged Daevon with 'That is logical. Mal brought a few stark guards for close security, but it wouldn't occur to him he would need more.'

Miranda gives Siyu a slight uneasy nod. Recognition but not familiarity. "It's all right, Ser Malcolm, it's your name-day. As long as you're dressed, I am comfortable," she says with a little laugh. "I'm not one of those old women who thinks a man is indecent unless he has himself covered head to toe."

Siyu bows his head and he motions his guards to set the cask down in the sand, taking the bung and the hammer, he'll tap the cask, good fresh lager. "Well I am sure the drink will flow." he says and again motions the guards to serve themselves. He'll stand, by himself a bit, but he keeps his caravan guards close, "Very good Ser, very good. Again I wish you well…" he looks to Miranda and offers a faint little bow of his head, just respectful, "Septa."

Malcolm waves at the food, "We are informal here, all are welcome an they be peaceful. May I get you anything? The paella is very smicey, but most of the other things are simpler." He flashes Siyu a sunny smile, "Last year by midnight the beach was littered with bodies. There is no such thing as too many provisions.

Miranda frowns in concern, her eyebrows knitting. "Littered with bodies? Of the… inebriated?"

Siyu nods his head, "Well hopefully they made it past the tide line, or those of the Iron Islands would have new devotees…" he says with an awkward joke. His mismatched eyes flash and he takes in the number of people here. "Still I suppose that means said party was a success, yes."

Malcolm blushes a little, "Best to stay away from the Northern drink. They take their partying seriously."

Miranda looks around. She finds it and marks it with a nod. "Good advise, Ser. I don't really drink anyhow, but I will enjoy the lovely sea food."

Siyu gets his tankard of beer and he settles down on a chair, for the most part he will be quiet, smiles and nods, but he is more focused on the ships in the harbor.

Malcolm's stormcoast lilt is pronounced and not particularly elevated. "I'm not much of a drinker myself, wine being the enemy of the sword, but for my Nameday and My Lords's, I make an exception." He draws himself a tankard of cider and one of clear water for the septa, then sets up a trencher for her with samples of everything to try. He himself fills his trencher with the dangerous paella: saffron rice with various types of fish and shellfish, with wicked little spicy sausages. "Have you been in Oldtown long?" He pops a scallop in his mouth with a look of bliss.

The large trading vessels are visible closer in to the port. Out here, it is mostly fishing vessels, the occarional yacht, and various tall ships maneuvering towards port or away from it.

Siyu lifts up his tankard of course to Malcom, "Very Good then Ser. Enjoy a brief bit of relaxation, it would take quite a blackguard to cause offense for you on this day." he says he glances towards the trading vessels, part of the fleet that was so gloriously declared a few weeks again. In particular, he's focusing upon two off to the side. Strange flags of a foreign country proudly displayed along with the other colors. He rocks his beer slightly, and looks over towards the trencher of food, "Ah, good local dishes, they appear to be filling."

Malcolm touches tankards, "Well, the venison and the soup are recipes from home and the Paella is done more in the style of Southern Essos. The rest, yes. I do like the fruits of the sea."

Siyu laughs slighty, "Good to try different things, blendings of food and culture will always be appreciated, and enjoyed. One should never be stuck in their ways when it comes to food…" he lets the tankards touch and drinks of the beer once more. "Hm, is home th North for you now?" he asks

Malcolm drinks, "It will be when Winter comes, but the stormlands are where my family are. It'll be hard being away from the sea when the time comes." He stares out to sea as a man would generally look at a lover. it is at this point he spots the odd flags, "What are those vessels, I wonder?"

Parties like this are Bryn's usual style. Likely because they're usually aimed at adults, and other than food they don't provide much entertainment to those Bryn's age. This, however, is not only a party for someone he likes, but a beach party! And other than dragons and fire, there's few things Bryn enjoys more than a beach. As he approaches, he smiles to spots Siyu and Malcolm. He waves to both energetically.

Siyu sips his beer, smiling a bit, "Ah ha, a man of the sea, well as long as you do not mind ice, there are still places to visit the sea in the north. But it is true…the Starks hold Winterfell correct? In the middle. It is quite far…" he considers. "I will give you a hint though…dried squid. Contains almost all of the flavors of the sea. If you dry it and preserve it, then boil it for a broth, it will bring back the memories of the sea, even years later…" he sips his beer again, "Ah those. They are my flags. The flags of the Eternal Empire. Yi Ti. I have negotiated to buy two ships of the new fleet, at least in terms of cargo and support…" he says ad looks incredibly nervous. "Quite a large venture, but I think it's important." he turns his head, "oh the boy. Greetings Bryn!" he will offer his own wave back.

Malcolm waves to the lad, "Welcome. Come eat, Bryn!" He sighs, "Aye, but winterfell is landlocked. They have fine hotsprings, but for the smell of salt and the rumble of waves it is a long ride indeed." he studies the man, "You are from a salt kissed place too, I am guessing? I will try your trick then, when the snows grow high…. Congratulations on your ships then."

Bryn eagerly steps up to serve himself some food. "Thanks! Sorry I'm late, I had chores." Even as he serves himself, he looks around almost searchingly. Possibly watching out for Keli. Not seeing her, however, his attentions soon returns to Siyu and Malcolm.

Siyu nods, "Yi Ti's primary cities are all along the coast. There is a great and huge interior of course, the jungles all the way up to the plains where the strange horsemen ride. But, ah I digress, yes I am near the sea, I traded upon the land, but we always followed the coast…" he sips his beer. "Yes, though, ahem, please save that until they return." he says with a hint of nervousness. He hmms at Bryn, "no problem small one, chores are important after all."

Malcolm laughs, "You are one of the first, Bryn. Help yourself to what pleases you." He listens with some curiousity to the description of Yi Ti and with a wry smile of understanding, tips a libation from his cup for the safety of the departing ships.

Bryn looks up to Siyu curiously, "What's it like being in the jungle? I've read it's hot, which doesn't sound so bad." He sits down, now, starting to eat. His chosen drink is just water.

Siyu nods his head to Malcolm, "Yi Ti is quite…quite different then Westros, or even the rest of Essos, the jungles are like that of the southern continent, except for the horrible death that lies in it of course. Still it is a place you have to see to believe." he chuckles and raises his glass too. "Oh Bryn, well the tamed versus the untamed. The farmers of Yi Ti have tamed and terraced the jungles and the flowing rivers near the city. There is plenty of land for every farmer and prince…" he considers, "But the wild jungle…imagine…imagine trees as tall as the tower. Huge leaves, hundreds of thousands. Blocking the light of the sun. The air is hot, even though the sunlight cannot penetrate, but it drips with moisture, as if the water of the air cannot escape, it coats you. Every inch is covered in green. In vines, plants, fruits. It encompasses everything. A wall of life."

Malcolm looks confused, "Southern continent?" For all his travels, he has never much thought of what lies beyond the free cities to the East and the Summer Isles to the South. "So like a foest only hotter and wetter?"

Bryn's eyes widen at the description. "That sounds beautiful. Well, except the wetness. Like being wet when I'm swimming, but not in the air." He grins, then, "But that much life sounds amazing. There must be plenty of useful herbs too."

Siyu nods his head, "Sothoryos, the land of jungles, poisons, and half men." he says with a nod. "A blighted place of death." he nods sagely. "Pretty much I suppose, except you must cut a path for every step you take. The jungle fills every void with vines and plants. You cannot simply walk between the trees." he ohs, "And you must be careful for snakes…wild boar…driver ants…biting beetles…" he goes over a litany of terrible sounding creatures, "Tigers…and, if you believe the rumors, basilisks." he ohs at Bryn, "Yes quite, it is a reason to explore, not just for the abundance of fruit and game, but for the valuable herbs that only grow in the deepness of the jungles. Still it takes a skilled man to navigate it."

Malcolm chews a sausage, "Like the Basilisk Isles?"

Bryn grins, the talk of terrible creatures apparently making it exciting. "I hope I get to see jungle someday. And desert. And everything else that isn't like it is around here. I want to see a lot, before I get assigned as a Maester somewhere."

Siyu gives a brief nod of his head, "Yes the same. Though the Basilisk is legendary in Yi Ti. A lizard as big as a boar, whose fangs and claws and poisons, a single nick will cause the wound to turn black and kill in a day, but the true power is in their eyes, supposedly able to turn a man to stone." he looks to Bryn and laughs, "Learn languages, travel. A healer is always needed on any ship he travels. You can visit a lot of places as a competent healer."

There is most of a deer roasting over a fire, as well as a cauldron of paella, fish chowder, muscles, oysters, and clams, Blanchet being on hand to tend the food. There is a table with wooden cups and bread (both flat and round), and bottles of that clear northern liquor. Barrels of good water, ale, beer (a gift from Siyu), and cider have been rolled out. There are open tents for shade and smaller closed one for guests spending the night. It seems the Targaryens are pitching in on security with the Starks, from the colours on display. Malcolm is fresh from the sea, hair still damp, his loose linen shirt clinging wetly to his well muscled chest as he eats his paella and drinks his cider by the fire with the others.

You say, "I suppose if dragons exist, balisks make sense. are they related to Dragons do you think?""

Speaking of poisons and healing, Camillo appears to be walking from the road toward the beach, although he's a little way off from the mass of the party. He is reminiscent of nothing so much as those stray dogs that cautiously roam the beach for scraps early in the morning. Even as he gets closer to the party, he does not make any move to plunge toward its center. He stays on the outskirts, just as he did a year ago.

Bryn shakes his head, "I don't think so, not from the descriptions I read. They're both reptiles, but it sounds like basilisks are closer relatives of lizard lions. But I've never seen one. Just seen descriptions in old books."

Siyu shakesh ish ea,d "I have no idea of course…" he says with a shrug, "I am not a student of such thing,s then again I do not tend to go too far into the jungles either"

There are a few Stark guards doing close security, and Tragaryen guards at a more discreet distance. Ser Malcolm gives a friendly wave and calls, "Camillo! Come eat and drink! It is a party! No need to lurk!" He eyes Bryn, "what's a lizard lion?" He nods, "You've had a busy life as it is without adding jungle exploring and vivisection."

Camillo seems startled to be called on before he even caught sight of Ser Malcolm, forcing him to respond to visual stimulus and the social problems of joining in on a party all at once. But he is rarely one to disappoint others when given direct instruction. So he approaches, dipping his head. "Ser Malcolm." He pauses to think what one should say. "Congratulations on your Nameday." Is 'congratulations' even right? He looks vaguely uncertain.

Bryn answers Malcolm, between mouthfuls, "They are reptiles, mostly from the Neck. If you've ever seen the House Reed sigil, that's what they look like. The stories say they look like logs floating in the water until they attack. And they have teeth like daggers." He waves to Camillo as the man approaches.

Siyu nods his head slightly to Malcom, "Certainly, I do not need to add complications, and who knows when I shall return to Yi Ti again…mostly I am just using stories…" he laughs a bit, "Oh…hello Camillo." he offers an incline of his head. He nods, "Sounds very dangerous." he tells Bryn and sips his beer again. Motioning to one of his guards to get him another.

Malcolm gives Camillo a sunny smile, so likely Congratulations was right, "Come, have a drink! Ware the stuff in the bottles. It'll knock a man flat afore he knows he's in trouble. Also, the paella's quite spicy, but the rest is more to westeroi tastes." Mal has been shovelling the paella down delightedly from the looks of his trencher, and has been at the cider. "Really? I did ride through there four times now, but it's an unwholesome path, so I stayed on the kingsroad. I hadn't realized they had anything so exotic. I'll remember to stay in Inns. That'd be a nasty surprise for a sleeping man…. Stories are certainly safer than Balisks, Siyu."

The sky is the colour of a salmon's belly and the sun is sinking behind the jetty.

Camillo nods at Bryn. "Hello," he replies softly to Siyu as well. He eyes the dangerous stuff in bottles, and this food that's on offer, and ultimately after some indecision makes the effort to get himself a drink, at least. He's only just caught the tail end of this talk of dangerous creatures, but he nods at the wisdom of staying in an inn while traveling.

Bryn looks back to Malcolm, and comments, "There's some around here too. I went along once, when Eonn joined Lord Cregan in a search for some of his missing men. The wheelhouse was in a swamp, and some lizard lions were eating the horses. Lord Cregan cut one of their heads off, and it kept biting. It was spooky."

Siyu leans back in his chair, "Indeed, stories are very very good to be telling. And being a merchant here is much safer…" though there is a very large tic in his cheek that begins to form as he speaks, "Westros is a very generous continent…"

You say, "Camillo, you know Bryn, I'm guessing, but do you know Siyu? He's a trader from TiTi by way of Braavos. Siyu, Camillo works for the Hightowers." His eyebrows go up, "I wonder if they are related to Questing Beats…. Snakes are like that. They keep biting and can kill after death." he eyes Siyu, "Is all well?""

"I have met him," Camillo confirms to Malcolm. He looks between the three. "Ser Malcolm, are you…planning to conquer some dangerous creature?" he asks. And meanwhile dips into the cider he's gotten himself.

Bryn grins up to Siyu, "I think everywhere's dangerous, it just doesn't seem as dangerous to the people who live there. When you know what the dangers are, you learn to protect yourself, and that makes things seem safe." He looks to Camillo, and says, "We were just talking about jungles, and that's how we started talking about basilisks, and then lizard lions."

Siyu waves a hand, "Yes of course all is well, why would it not be…" he drinks deeply, and lets out a breath. Glancing at Bryn, "Yes, well, every place has its own unique dangers."

Malcolm laughs, "Not at the moment. Right now I want to see how much cider I can get inside my skin. We were just discussing dangerous beasts as Bryn said." He gets up to pour himself another cup, what with that being his goal, "I do plan to go to the tourney at High Garden. They say it is a lovely place and well worth seeing." He narrows his eyes, "You didn't used to wear armour and have visible guards and now you look troubled, Siyu."

Camillo lifts his eyebrows at Bryn, but nods. "I have not been to any jungles," he puts in. He looks like he might say something about the tourney, but then it doesn't seem very appropriate with this talk of guards and troubles for Siyu.

Bryn looks to Malcolm, "You're going to? I'm going with Prince Daevon. We have to talk to Lord Tyrell." He quiets, then, as well, looking to Siyu with a bit of concern at Malcolm's observation, though continues to finish off his food.

Siyu leans back a bit and sips his beer, he blinks very lightly at Malcolm, "What of it. Leathers are the style of Westros, all the silk is more an Essos sort of thing. And, well, I worry about pickpockets…" he waves it off, but it's a weak lie. perfectly believable of course, but weak. "At any rate it's of no concern." He stands up and stretches, "Hmm, still I suppose I should go back to business. It is always happening, and I must deal with the final preparations for my own cargo in the fleet. Hardwood and Wine from the Summer Isles will sell well in Braavos." he says with a faint laugh.

Malcolm murmurs something to Camillo, then heads back to his trencher, sipping his cider. He nods to Bryn, "You know I can't bear to miss a tourney." He clasps the lad's shoulder before having another scallop. He eyes Siyu with sceptacism he doesn't bother to hide. he does tip another libation out, by way of wishing Siyu luck. "They certainly should! Fair winds to you!"

Camillo blinks at whatever Malcolm said to him, probably more in bewilderment than surprise, and drinks from his cider.

Bryn blinks, but then smiles up to Malcolm, nodding. He looks back to Siyu, and waves again, "Good luck!" His education hasn't included much, yet, about trade. So, the well wishing seems to be all he can think to say.

Malcolm waits quietly until he's gone, "I wonder what that was about."

Camillo shakes his head a little. "He is always strange," he opines. "Perhaps all people from that place are so."

Bryn comments, "I should have noticed the differences." He looks to Malcolm, and says, "When I first met him, he was afraid of Westeros politics. He had heard bad things. That getting involved in politics would mean his death. So I just thought it was that. But he did have some trouble with the boys at the Citadel, some of them anyway. I taught them a lesson, but maybe they're still blaming him."

Malcolm shakes his head, "That looks like fear of a specific threat to me. There's also the riot. Can an angry mob tell Yi Ti from Dornish? My worry is it's this new power in the Undercity everyone is talking about."

Camillo simply shrugs, drinking down cider rather than offering further opinions.

Bryn blinks, "Oh, maybe. But I heard they're pretty reasonable. I mean, they changed some of the bad rules. That's what I heard. I hope he's not in danger."

You say, "He's a foriegner with money, and they are criminals. Still, what can be done if he will not speak up?" He takes a long drink of his cider. "How go things in citadel and Hightower?""

Camillo tries to think of any news that would be appropriate to tell, but of course most of the interesting things that happen in a servant's day have to do with other people's problems and sensitive information. So he settles on: "Well as usual, Ser Malcolm."

Bryn says, "Good. I got two more links, just last week. Still a long way to go before it's a chain, but it's a start." He pulls the links out from under his shirt to show Malcolm. "Other than that, kind of boring. It's not as interesting as it was when everybody was trying to solve the puzzle."

Malcolm seems to have guessed at least some of this as he looks amused and gives Camillo's shoulder a friendly thump. The paella being eaten, he sets aside the trencher for later and slides off the log so he might use it as a back rest. The stars are out, as is the moon. "Congratulations, Bryn! That was ravens and smithing, right?" He laughs, "Well, it can't always be high adventure up at the Citadel."

Camillo as usual has no idea how to respond to friendly thumps. He smiles uncertainly. "It…must be hard to study if there is much excitement," he ventures.

Bryn nods quickly to Malcolm, smiling. "Right!" He shrugs to Camillo, "Maybe. It's still more fun. And it's all thinking excitement anyway. It's kind of like a tournament, except for thinking. Or, it was, anyway. Everybody fighting to get the truth. The plague was different, that was bad excitement. Don't want anything like that again."

Malcolm must have caught a hint of Camillo's discomfort at what is for him normal comaderie, "Have another drink, Cam, and relax. You aren't on trial here…. We definately don't want another plague, but I can't fault a lad for enjoying an academic scavanger hunt."

Camillo lifts his eyebrows. "I…no," he agrees, and moves to get more cider in his cup.

Bryn nods quickly, "It was fun. Especially when we figured it out." He's food finished a while ago, he finishes his drink and then hops to his feet. "I'm going to go swimming." This is likely sparked by seeing some other people enjoying a late swim. He strips down and runs to dive into the water.

Malcolm grins, "Have a nice swim, Bryn!" And then he's up to fill his own cup, with not quite his usual grace, but twice the control.

Camillo steps back with his mug so he won't be blocking Malcolm from the booze. "But it was troublesome at the sept," he can't help wanting to acknowledge. "And the Hightower."

Malcolm laughs warmly, "Aye, and so are those foot paintings that keep turning up. He's mature for his age, but he's still very young. He spends most his waking time in study. At his age, I was chasing cats and balancing on rooftops. It's not fair to expect him to see it as a man grown would," he proclaims from his towering age of just turned twenty one." He throws an arm around camillo's shoulder and takes a long drink. "Did you not long for adventure at that age? I was already dreaming of Braavos and a knighthood." He has dried off by now and his skin is warm through the thin shirt.

"I don't fault the boy," Camillo says, as awkward about physical contact as ever. Mostly he just stands still. So probably he doesn't mind? But it can be difficult to tell. "That is why I said nothing. I…wanted adventure, then, too, but it was foolish." He glances aside. "And…one day he will grow up. And will have more power. I wonder if he will know by then that sometimes adventures come with a cost for those who are not the heroes."

Malcolm is not usually a drinker and it is hard to tell by firelight just how flushed he is. He doesn't seem to notice Camillo's discomfort, which suggests the celebration has dulled his usual sharpness, or perhaps he's just trying to be social. He cocks his head, "What sort of adventures?" He nods and sighs, and takes a swig, "The scars come soon enough I find. Let's hope he may go in innocence a little longer, but is wise when he has more power in his hands."

Camillo bows his head to agree solemnly with solemn hope. He drinks from his cup. "When I was…a boy, I thought a lot about what knights and…nobility must be like. Sometimes they stopped at the inn next door or hired extra horses from our stable and… They were very different from the rest of us. They had bright-colored clothing and…armor etched with details and…they always had money to hand. They ate fine food and meat without a thought any day of the year, and they told stories. And the things they did seemed to matter."

Malcolm nods, "Only it's not so simple when you grow up and need to feed a war horse and replace the broken gear and keep enough coin on hand to randsom the beastie back if you fall off him….Dae… Ser Daevon's like that, a knight from stories."

Camillo smiles a bit uncomfortably. "No one is really like that," he says, apparently not buying the idea that Daevon could possibly be a candidate for that ideal. "But some of you look like it, to us."

Malcolm laughs and butts his head playfully against Camillo's, calf clumsy, "Maybe not, but he's close. Me, I'm just an upjumped country bastard who is good at hitting people with things."

Camillo tucks his bearded chin down a little. The beard's starting to get shaggy again. "You say things like that," he says. "But I think you are the truest knight." He looks at Malcolm's face, then puts a palm on his chest, a rarity in a man who usually keeps his hands to himself. But not so unusual for friends at drink. "You've had much to drink, Ser Malcolm," he says softly. "Let us sit you down."

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