Day 7, Late Afternoon: Tall tales for Ser Myles' wonder

[Loreia]

[Collaborated and approved by Reader. DP spent for ability substitution.]

Loreia's headache from the bickering and haranguing at the meeting for the formation of a new treaty between House Blackwood and House Bracken lingers even as she enters the great hall of Raventree. She speaks softly to her hound as he reacts on approach to the lord and lord regent of House Blackwood. "
You see those nice people, boy? Remember them?"
Perhaps the young lord could use a friend of a bestial sort of persuasion.

"
Hello, and afternoon, Ser Myles,"
she adds, bowing, "
An' you too, Lord Blackwood,"
bowing again. Badger sits in observance of the nonverbal language, eyes on the little lord.

"
Good afternoon, guardswoman. It's fitting that you brought your hound, as I'd wished to commend your mastery over animal cunning. But now that the beast is here, perhaps I should fetch it a bone, as a more material way of congratulatory praise."


The regent of House Blackwood appears a tad proud of the intended irony of his statement, which is not lost on the three present at this exchange. Lord Benjicot can't help but smile at the image his father conjures.

"
Thank you for coming at your earliest convenience. I see the weight of the troubles and revelations of the past week that continue to bind us are felt by more than we few of noble birth,"
he comments, keenly observant of the Shieldmaiden's stress.

"
Aye, they certainly are."
He had called for her earlier that day, but this in tandem with her duties requires a balancing act, and so she kept a mental schedule to arrive when time allowed after attending the forming of the treaty.

"
Ser Jorah told me ya wanted to speak to me, ser. He said ya want to hear a tale or two?"
I'm being asked to tell tales at a lord's bidding like a wandering minstrel? After sitting through the wide-awake nightmare of the proceedings of forming a treaty by five or six houses over an ancient feud?

"
Indeed, I was told you are fond of telling tales of your expedition north of the Wall. Few have seen so far North of the Wall and come so far South to tell of it. I wish to hear of these tales, and I brought this to my lord nephew's attention, if you have the time to spare."


Loreia's eyes close as she sighs inwardly, letting go of her frustration to grant patience to two lords who demand it, one of them a boy who needs it. "
Ser Jorah mayhaps misread me mood as I told 'im of th' journey. I'm not one to wander about taverns an' sing me own praises, but I got the time to tell it all, aye."


She notices the stalwart young lord doing his best to appear attentive, but it's become difficult for her to overlook the passive interest in peoples' eyes as they look toward her hound. "
You like dogs, m'lord? Don't worry, this 'un's not like to get any bigger'n he is now."
The young lord's head head almost jerks up at her when she speaks to him, and begins to regard Badger with increased interest. "
You can say hello, if ya want. Badger loves to meet new friends."


Badger lacks enthusiasm in the presence of her master as she is now, but his tale begins wagging at the mention of his name. Benjicot steps forward, drawn to the beast's friendly posture, and reaches out to pet him. After her first experience in the arena of nobility, where she will often be dragged into whether she likes it or not, Loreia took care to ensure her pet would be on good manners if ever an introduction between man and beast became a courtesy. Training the stubborn animal to sit and stay, rather than approach sniffing and slobbering, proved trying. However, there is little she cannot dissuade him from with a gentle voice - and ham - and on top of that, she would enlist the aid of her cunning and knowledgeable lord.

While unafraid, the lad is gentler with Badger than many his age would be. The boy is brave, but Loreia senses a noble spirit lurks within. He may be young, but there is more of Ser Jorah the Just about him than Ser Benjen Frey.

Aww, this is precious. Badger's mouth opens and his tongue lolls out over his fangs as he pants. He remains still, trained to understand the sort of behavior that is frowned upon by two-leggers and how they adore gentleness and restraint. He raises his chin as Benjicot scratches his neck and behind the ears, calmly petting the canine along its shoulders and collar. As he moves away, Badger sneaks in a couple licks at the boy's hand.

Myles smiles at the sight of his nephew's brief moment of joy. Perhaps it gives the boy some much needed energy in light of all that's been going on, enough to tide him over until all eyes are off of House Blackwood and royal banners have left their lands.

Loreia perks up at the sight as well, finding her motivation for telling a story. She begins her tale by describing the cold, the most prevalent and dangerous natural enemy, speaking in a way that involves Lord Blackwood as an audience member. "
I understood why Lord Yoren Longshore wish't avoid a needless long trek, with as little time spent wandrin'. It got colder an' colder as we sailed further north on the Sunset Sea. When we finally came ashore at the Milkwater, I felt it more than ever. Colder than any winter I've known. At one point, strong winds caught us in the open, an' we walked close together for warmth.

She eyes the young lad when she adds, "
They say even further north, as far north as you can go, are bare lands with no green, covered in ice an' snow they call th' lands of 'Always Winter.'"


"
I dunno about that, but gods be good we did not go that far. Lord Yoren found us a guide to show us to a land the people there called Thenn."


"
On the walk there, we 'ad to circle 'round a bear, same size as any other, but white as snow. Later, we stopped an' turned to avoid blunderin' into a pack of wolves. One of th' men even says he caught sight of the leader of th' pack, a direwolf th' size o' two o' their kind put together. Might've been full of it, but we were wary all the same. Things tend to walk straight outta legend the further north ya go."
Depends on the things, really. Everyone knows the white walkers have been dead and gone long enough that people aren't sure they really existed, but the long memory of Northerners provides fuel for their stories of wights and Others to frighten children and spin tales around a fire.

Her bearing takes a turn from mystery and wonder to somber mood, wary of filling Lord Benjicot's head with silly tales of gargantuan beings far removed from sight and mind from his ancestral keep in the Riverlands, lest they take her for a fool and a craven. "
We were in for more surprises at Thenn. The Longshore heir already spoke the Old Tongue to get us a guide, an' 'e spoke it again to trade with the wildling tribes of Thenn, to trade with 'em for grains an' trinkets. And between them an' th' folks we met along the way, he sent some wildlings south to where we came ashore, to sail back with his men."


She speaks of this as though it were a grave offense. To her, it seemed Yoren had no wish for secrecy that he had the people he "
saved"
return with his men to live on Longshore land...
[partial offense, and partially troubled, not that she intends to let on to Lord Blackwood]

Near the end of her story, she describes the rest of their journey in passing: the plants collected, the shaggy garrons they caught, the savage raiding party of Thenns and how she took down the raiding captain in single combat during a skirmish("
well, single-and-a-half,"
she adds, winking and nodding sideways at her furry friend), and the coastal fortress called Hardhome, the end of their march. From there, they took ferries provided by Ibben to sail back to the Riverlands. Longshoremen and Coldbrooks went their own ways from there.

"
We stuck with each other through the thick of it to survive, an' with th' lord to lead us, we found success. We lost not one man."


The normally inscrutable Ser Myles raises an eyebrow and shakes his head at the mention of taking Wildlings South, but does not give voice to his specific concerns.

"
Whatever his faith, Old Gods, New or lord Yoren's foreign import, let no man say your title from Prince Daemon is ill-deserved. To come through such trials without bearing bodies home is a credit to you, whatever the wisdom of the voyage."


"
Thank you, m'lord. People wished for me to find failure, as they still do, an' then Lord Yoren came to me with an offer. As for wisdom...we each came away with something of use to our houses."


[url=King's Peace - a tale for Ser Myles][/url]: 4d6 18

[Awaiting reply]

[Reader]

"
And what could a sworn sword of House Coldbrook hope to find of use to her house beyond the wall?"


"
I have heard much and more of what Lord Yoren sought and gained, much of it thanks to your hand."


Ser Myles' tone was one of an interested maester than than hectoring Septon.

"
Yet I feel I know little and less of what you came away with."


"
I have no desire to sound churlish for your is a grand tale, and no listener could judge himself short-changed."


Ser Myles was oddly fond of mercantile metaphors for an anointed knight.

"
Grand as it is, Ijudge it but half a tale, or the trip was wiser for one than for the other, if one bears all the risk another reaps all the benefit."

[Loreia]

What could a woman hope to find, he means. He's right, though. She has not told all.

Loreia locks eyes with Ser Myles, trying to draw from something she could use to front for her purpose. What better mortar of masonry could she use to wall it up from a Blackwood or Bracken than anger, or - dare she think it - hate? "
Gold. The coin Lord Yoren promised me house, but besides that, m'lord? Fame. I've been north of the Wall, saved others from freezin' to death while I was up there, an' I killed a Thenn captain. I wanted to show the people who spit at the dirt around me in the melee at Riverrun that I'm no fluke. For that, I wouldn't have minded freezin' off a finger or two. I wouldn't have minded goin' toe-to-toe with a giant, neither."


"
Beyond that, an' what the Longshore heir wanted, there's nothing of use to House Coldbrook I could dream of."


[One might note that she hasn't mentioned the giants to anyone besides a handful of people from her house. Just to let you know the weight behind the mention of giants attributed by how she perceived that encounter with beings of legend and myth. She still remains dodgy about claiming to have met giants, though.]

[Reader]

Giants did not seem to interest Ser Myles whereas others would find the topic intriguing or worthy of ridicule.

"
Fame you had already I should think and men are apt to dismiss stories from beyond the wall as tall tales, if you'll forgive the attempt at humour."


"
Dreams are curious things - I suspect I must dream, but can never remember them upon waking. My family always chided me that my dreams must be of numbers and accounts too dull to remember on waking."


"
Alysanne and our young Lord Blackwood used to liven the morning table with their fabulous dreams of great beasts and great deeds when I called on my dear brother."


He smiles sadly at the thought.

"
Perhaps it is a kindness not to dream, or not to remember them if it means unrealistic dreams can never be dashed?"

[Loreia]

The Northern stoic in her provides a convenient out for remaining silent, until Ser Myles prods with a question. "
What ya dream of weighs on that, m'lord. Ya might be 'appy to dash dreams tha' frighten, or t' forget 'em. We all 'ave somethin' to fear, an' 'ave seen things we'd like to forget.

[Reader]

"
Perhaps better to be a simple beast then. Do horses dream of warm stables and fine hay? A loyal hound of juicy meat and meadows to play in?"


He shrugs.

"
Knowing the minds of men is perhaps hard enough, before we stretch our thoughts to the dreams of animals, or their absence. Mayhap a maester or a septon could answer, but I doubt they would find much agreement with one another, nor with me."


Myles hurls a stick for Badger to chase.

[Loreia]

She has little more to add to this discussion beyond a curt "
aye"
, before the regent suggests his ideas differ from the learned folk in their ivory tower to the south, or the holy men in their hallowed churches. "
Nor with you, m'lord? What d'you mean?"


[Possible intrigue...]

[Reader]

[OOC: quick intrigue resolution if desired, so we'll crunch a bunch of rolls then RP impact.

Initiative: [url=Status (repuation)][/url]: 5d6+2 18
Composure: 9
ID: 12]

[Loreia]

[It's a date. First rolls in a while, yay!]

[url=Status (Tall Tales)][/url]: 3d6 4
Got the bad roll out of the way first, but I realized his ability is higher, couldn't hope to beat him on a tie.

Goal: Information
ID 8
Composure 12

[Reader]

Round 1
Initiative: Status (repuation): 5d6+2 18
Composure: 9
ID: 12
[url=Read target][/url]: 5d6k4 18
Goal: ???

Round 2 onwards
[url=Persuade (Charm)][/url]: 10#6d6k5 20 12 15 18 16 17 21 25 15 18
4 Damage per DoS

[Loreia]

Round 1
[url=Breeding(Free) - Tall Tales][/url]: 3d6 13
Bonus dice for intrigue, +1B
Action: [url=Persuasion (Convince) - Tall Tales, Round 1][/url]: 3d6k2 12
4 Dmg (could have chosen to be smart, but this shows us how unprepared/unsuited she is to play the game)

Round 2
Me: ID 8, Composure 4, Frustration 1
Action: Withdraw
[url=Withdraw - Tall Tales, Round 2][/url]: 6d6k4 20

Round 3
Me: ID 20, Comp 4, Frustration 1

Moving to Yield

[Reader]

[OOC: PM major spoilers from this yield, so it's being handled via PM]

There was little and less truth behind some rumours, but that did not mean they told the listener nothing of the rumour-monger or their target.

Stranger still, the dispelling of some rumours could lead to unexpected truths...

Ser Myles was a probing conversationalist, but compassionate when the occasion called for it, and he and Loreia talked for sometime as they walked in Raventree Hall's damaged old godswood.

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