|Summary:||Some folks from various houses have some late-night celebration.|
|Date:||May 21, 2012|
|Related Logs:||After Tourney at the Twins and After the Jousts|
|Tourney Grounds — The Twins|
|Grass and horses! Lots of knights!|
|May 20, 289|
It's getting late on the campgrounds the nobles have set up tents on, but there sounds to be quite a lot of folks enjoying the evening after the excitement of the joust earlier in the day. Even Hardwicke, in the general Terrick/Mallister area, has rustled up a hint of a smile in celebration with the rest of the men. Who knows what number ale he's on. Probably a fun number. He probably hasn't paid for anything, either, considering his spot among the champions and what is sure to be a delicious ransom from Stevron Frey.
Tia is neither a Mallister nor a Terrick, but since there were no Flints involved and she's curious, she's been traveling from party to party. Which works well, given she comes along with her harp, her maid and her guard. The harp might be the most important thing - who doesn't like music at a party? She might have had a drink or two, but she's walking as straight as she was earlier, as she comes over towards the next party she's found - the one the Terricks and Mallisters are having of course. She pauses at the edges to judge the tone and the amount of fun already on the go.
Having gotten the part about paying his own ransom to the aforementioned Stevron Frey taken care of, Martyn has just now managed to get out to the celebration. Looking around a bit slowly as he makes his way to where the drinks can be gotten hold of. He's moving a bit slower than usual too, stopping every now and then to let out a bit of a deep breath.
The tone is a bit jocular, if not overly raucous. Hardwicke gulps down an ale pressed upon him by one of his guardsmen, breaking a swallow with a rare laugh. It turns into a cough and then a clearing of his throat as he spots Tiaryn nearby. Hoshit it's a lady.
Well, yes. It is. But one who is in the mood to add to the party, not detract from it. She catches the cough and the throat clearing, which has her move forward, inclining her head politely. "Ser Blayne, congratulations," she says simply. "I trust you are enjoying this party? And wonder if a bit of music might add to the fun?" She has a mischievous glint in her eyes and a smile on her face, as she watches to see the reaction she gets.
Though not of the Terricks, nor the Mallisters, the fellow coming across clad down in a green surcoat could be considered friendly, or a raiding party. Either was, the bald man doesn't really stand out in the celebrations does he? Either way, he meanders easily enough, passing and laughing as need be, until one of the Terrick guardsmen, or is it a Mallister, pours a mug and leaves it unattended. A slight nod there, and the mug is snatched up, as he moves further into the gathered camp. Marsden Streem, beer thief.
"Thank you, my lady," Hardwicke replies to Tiaryn with the sort of over-focused awkwardness that comes from a stiff man who's had several drinks already. "That would be — very kind of you. The music, I mean."
Martyn pauses for a few moments as he looks between the people present, looking between them for a few moments. Raising an eyebrow for a few moments as he notices Marsden's beer stealing, raising an eyebrow for a few moments, before he chuckles, shaking his head a bit. Turning around, he looks over towards Hardwicke and Tiaryn. "Ser Hardwicke, Lady Tiaryn. Enjoying the festivities, I'm sure?" Seems like he's brought something to drink from where he was before he came out to the festivities here.
Tia smiles at Hardwicke, not sure what he's expecting, but certainly willing to play some music. "Excellent, Ser. I will try not to bore the crowd, if that's okay. And if you promise not to tell," she adds, letting a bit of that mischief out in her voice. She then turns to Martyn and inclines her head. "Good eve, Ser Mallister. A good tilt, and my commiserations. I trust you are not too badly injured? I thought to play a song or two and see if I might coax something to drink out of Ser Blayne here, what do you think?" Wait, she never said that, did she? In any event, she takes the harp from the maid who is carrying it, finding herself a seat and getting ready to play.
Marsden seems not to notice if Martyn caught him pilfering a drink, nor does he seem to care. Instead he is looking back towards Hardwicke, and Lady Tiaryn, as he moves easily to find a place by a close by fire. Beer in hand, the half septon, has what he came for-or at least a cup of what he came for, there may be more in his future.
"Sit down, ser," Hardwicke orders Martyn good-naturedly. "Drink up." Who is this person? He blinks a bit at Tiaryn's explanation to the Mallister. "You don't need to play for your drink, Lady Tiaryn."
Tia flashes a grin at Hardwicke, though she does tilt her head slightly in the process, acknowledging his words. "Thank you, Ser, but if nothing else, it keeps me from overimbibing. Or so I can claim." And then she simply lets her fingers find her harpstrings, starting with the opening verse to a very popular drinking song. It's a fast paced and lively tune that starts off with the words, "Some friends and I in a public house was playing a game of chance one night when into the pub a fireman ran his face all a chalky white." She starts singing, but hopefully can fade out with the words and let the crowd take over singing, while she simply plays the harp.
<FS3> Tiaryn rolls Musician (harp): Great Success.
"Will do, Ser," Martyn replies with a bit of a chukle at Hardwicke's words, before he offers a bit of a grin to Tiaryn. "I'm sure you'll manage to get hold of something to drink, Lady Tiaryn." A brief pause and a momentary grimace, "And no, I'm not that badly hurt. Aside from my pride of course." A brief pause as he grins, "At least I didn't bounce around as much as my cousin." Leaning back a bit as he listens to the music now.
"Oi, who is playin' th' Ol' Dunn Cow?" Marsden asks, as he turns his head, looking back over to see who indeed is the lady with the harp. "Only heard that song, closer to the Neck.." the scarred man notes before he is draining down more ale, a little slipping past his lips, which is wiped on his arm. One brow raised up, as one boot idly starts to tap.
Hardwicke laughs aloud in surprise at Tiaryn's choice of song. The handful of Terrick guardsmen who are sharing the fire pick up the tune before their Captain, singing with enthusiasm, but even Hardwicke joins in for a few lines of the chorus as it comes and goes.
Tia concentrates on the music, singing only when the folks singing flag on the words, keeping the song flowing. Her gaze does go to the fellow asking about the singer, and she smiles in his direction but does not interrupt the music. She enjoys the musical solo in the middle quite well, playing with verve, and then shepherds the song through the last verse to a resounding chorus as a finale. And then she goes silent, before she glances around to see how the crowd is doing. "Would you have any songs you would particularly like to hear, Ser Blayne? Or anyone else?"
Kamron joins in at the end of the song, his voice raised loudly and boisterously with the final chorus, for all that half his face is sporting a massive bruise. Whether it's actual joviality or force is hard to tell, as he gathers up a mug of ale, stomping in time with the final chords, and then hoists his ale up, calling out, "To the Champion! Ser Hardwicke!" He seems to expect the men around him to take up the call, and being Terrick and Mallister men saluting their sole champion of they day, they probably do. For all his shouting, calling for cheers and drinks, and singing, the Mallister knight keeps his left arm tucked in close to his body, as immobile as possible.
<FS3> Kamron rolls Singing: Good Success.
Martyn raises an eyebrow at the choice of song, but it's just a few sips of beer before joining in in parts of the song. He also has noticed Hardwicke's laughing, but takes another sip from his beer now. Pausing for a few moments at the mention of song requests, before he shakes his head as he has no particular requests. Grinning a bit as Kamron appears. "To the Champion!" he echoes.
Marsden sniffs, and rubs at his nose for a moment. Though he is no member of House Mallister, nor Terrick, it seems that the Half Septon is enjoying himself none the less. There is a nod, when a jug is passed around, and he is topping himself off, half in and out of conversation. But, when requests are picked at, there's a look back towards Tiaryn. "You know Wild River Thyme?" And there Marsden falls silent once more as he catches Kamron's call out, where as before Kam's singing sounded damned near natural if not part of the performance.
The Terrick men certainly take up the call, toasting their Captain as he laughs and takes another swallow of his ale. One of the younger guardsmen suggests an even bawdier song than Tiaryn's first, which has Hardwicke smacking the boy upside the head. "Watch what you say to the lady," he tells him. "Lady Tiaryn, what are you drinking?"
Tiaryn arches a brow at the suggestion from the guardsman, chuckling softly, though she does not admit if she knows the song or not. "I had a lovely mug of ale back that way," she says, gesturing off towards a couple of other camps, but not saying exactly where she was. "There are quite a few celebrations this evening, it's quite nice." She glances over at Martyn, but as he declines to suggest a song, she then takes up a song that she thinks might match the one the half septon has requested. "This one?" she asks him, letting the melody speak for itself. After a moment, she even sings along, "Will ye go, lassie, will ye go? And we'll all go together To pull wild river thyme, All around the blooming heather. Will ye go, lassie, go?" Her guard simply stands watchful, though he's got an amused expression on his face, and her maid finds a spot right next to Tia.
The Merry Mallister drains a good portion of his newly-claimed mug of ale following his toast, drifting in toward the heart of the celebration, where Martyn and Hardwicke have set themselves up, and Tiaryn and Marsden have joined in. He nods to each of the men, bowing his head slightly to Tiaryn, and then begins to stomp time with the newest song, "I didn't get the chance to tell you earlier, Ser Hardwicke, and I'm sure you've heard it half a hundred times already today, but that was some damned fine jousting you did today." Laughter touches his lips, "Much better than my own or that of my cousin."
"Yes, far better than both of us," Martyn offers, with a bit of a grin. "Until I saw you bring him down, I was thinking he was stuck in the saddle or something." Leaning back and listening to the music now, while he continues sipping his drink. Humming a bit along with the song, a bit quietly.
There's a glance back to Tiaryn, as she starts singing, and he simply nods. His voice doesn't join in with the others, instead he merely hums into his cup, as more ale is washed down. At least no one can say Marsden is ruining the evening with his caterwauling. Just stealing ale from the hard working men of Seagard and the Roost. Well stealing is perhaps too strong, but certainly borrowing? Yes-that fits.
As the talk steps up, Marsden is looking back to Kamron and Ser Hardwicke. "Oh yeah, you are the knight that knocked around Ser Stevron aren't you?" A teasing bit there in his voice as the Tordane sworn eyes Hardwicke for a moment. "Got an arm of rock." a compliment from the bald man at least. That's worth ale, yes?
There's something just the tiniest bit smug about Hardwicke's grin. "That I am," he replies, lifting his mug of ale. "My thanks, Ser Kamron. You'd think the Freys glued themselves to their saddles."
Tia finishes the song, and then is more than willing to take a bit of a break, and drink a mug of ale, if Hardwicke is providing one. Or someone? The harp is set down as she listens to the conversation quietly, rather than interrupting the men folk at their discussion of jousting prowess.
Kamron nods at Martyn's words and Hardwicke's addition, "Wouldn't have been surprised. Suppose a hard enough hit'll knock loose any glue or ropes." He shifts his mug into his left hand to clap his right hand against his thigh in appreciation of the song Tiaryn finishes, then collects the mug in his right hand again, "I bet the Strongboar will claim he loosened Ser Stevron for you, even if it didn't help Martyn." He frowns in thought a moment, "That reminds me… someone was supposed to remind me to drink with Ser Lyle. He seems a jolly one."
And there his mug is raised back in salute, before Marsden is pushing himself up from the fire, and moving to come closer to the conversation. "Well, if you're to take a clue from Lord Walder as to what glue they'd use for their saddles, I imagine it wouldn't dry too fast." a toothy grin given, that stretches his scar a little. And back into the ale. Eyes slide over towards Kamron for a moment, a snort. "Westermen like to brag on many things-dare say knights as well. Though Ser Blayne here." a nod in Hardwicke's direction. "He deserves it."
As he notices Hardwicke's grin in Marsden's direction, Martyn offers a bit of a chuckle to Kamron. "See, told you he could smile," he offers a bit quietly, before he adds, "And if the Strongboar will claim he loosened Ser Stevron, so do I." It's offered rather lightly, before he looks over towards Tiaryn. "As always, well played, Lady Tiaryn," he offers with a bit of a smile. Looking back to Kamron for a few moments, "So, cousin. How hard was your fall? Still able to do the melee?"
Hardwicke is absolutely making sure Tiaryn gets a drink. Absolutely. "Maybe you ought to find him and drag him over here," he suggests to Kamron on the subject of the Strongboar.
Hah. They made Hardwicke laugh. Not just smile. Too bad nobody will believe them. Tia accepts her drink and raises it in silent toast to the champion of the day before taking a small sip. "Thank you, Lord Martyn," she says lightly. "It's the least I can do, given all the effort provided by you gracious knights and lords today." She gives the newest arrival a glance, inclining her head towards Streem. "Septon," she greets him lightly. Then she can be totally distracted with the conversation turning to the melee and whether various knights were too injured in the joust to be able to participate. Which means her thoughtful gaze goes over to Kamron.
Kamron shrugs his right shoulder at Marsden's words, "I don't mind a bit of bragging, so long as it's in good humor, Brother Marsden." Yup, he remembers the half-septon, despite the Pyke concussion. Chortling at Martyn, he looks over to Hardwicke, "No one would ever believe us if we told them." He shrugs at Hardwicke's suggestion, drains off some more of his ale, and then answers Martyn's question for him, "Hard enough that I blacked out for a moment, and I'm not liable to look very pretty for a week or so, coz." Gesturing to his left shoulder with his mug, he adds, "Not sure about my left arm yet, but if there's even the slightest chance that I can make it through the melee, I'll be there. Jousting was really just a bit of a warm-up."
Oh no, they paid too close attention to Hardwicke's good humor. It slips into a scowl as he notices the attention he's getting, and gulps down another swallow of ale.
"Show me a man who brags on himself that is honest, and I'll show you a donkey that shits gold." Marsden replies before he looks back over towards Tiaryn with a bob of his head. "Lady." answering to Septon easy enough. A cough, and the Half septon takes tim to clear his throat, with more ale. Afterall that's what it is there for. And now he will take his time to steal a jug so as top himself again..an Hardwicke's cup, whether he wants it or not.
"Okay. Only got a bit beaten up myself, so I'm sure I'll be able to join in, I'm sure." Martyn offers a bit of a grin to Kamron. "Some would say that you'd look even more ugly than usual," he remarks, although his expresion doesn't seem to be certain that he's one of those. Hardwicke's scowling gets a bit of a grin, "No need for that now, Ser Hardwicke. We've already seen you know how to smile," he offers with a grin. Taking another sip from his mug now.
Tia settles in for sipping at her ale, quietly, enjoying the chance to listen, and perhaps learn. She does grin at Martyn's comment to Hardwicke, mischief flashing on her face once more. There's a calm enjoyment obvious in her demeanor that says she's at least somewhat comfortable with the situation. After a bit she sets her ale down, and then picks up the harp again. "One more song before I depart and leave you all to your well deserved celebration?" she suggests.
"We'll have as many songs as you'll honor us with, Lady Tiaryn," Hardwicke says, lifting his mug for her and ignoring the very assumption that he was smiling in public. LIES.
Kamron laughs at Martyn's teasing words, "Only the jealous ones, coz." Marsden's words in turn cause him to shake his head, "Show me a man who's -always- honest, and I'll show you that same donkey, no matter how hard some of us try. Everyone slips sometimes, even if only to themselves." He nods to Hardwicke's 'request' of Tiaryn, "Another song or three would be wonderful, Lady Tiaryn. You play magnificently." A grin twists his bruised lips, "It seems almost a shame for us drinking men," he hoists his mug and finishes it off, "to sing along."
"I never claimed a man is always honest. But he is specially dishonest where it concerns himself." Marsden quips, once glasses are full. Only then he looks back towards Tiaryn. After all it is not his victory that they are celebrating. The night belongs to Hardwicke, Marsden is only tagging along for the booze.
Music and ale, how can one go wrong. Still given Hardwicke's salute, Tiaryn takes up her harp, settling it on her lap. "Oh no, you all must sing along, please do," she encourages. She starts to play, but sings along this time. "I've been a wild rover for many a year," she starts, which brings a roar of cheers from the men around who can hear, and that brings a chuckle to Tia, before she can continue. "And I spent all my money on whiskey and beer. And now I'm returning with gold in great store, and I never will play the wild rover no more."
"A man is as honest as he cares to be," is Hardwicke's brisk opinion. "Just different in how much he cares." He lifts his cup yet again for Tiaryn's latest choice of song, and joins in — albeit quietly.
Martyn smiles, "We're all appreciating every song you would like to play for us, Lady Tiaryn." Draining the last of his drink, he smiles as he hears what song it is, singing along as best he can.
The song starts, and two lines in, Kamron's belting out the lyrics with gusto, especially the chorus, "And it's No, Nay, never,
The song starts, and two lines in, Kamron's belting out the lyrics with gusto, especially the chorus, "And it's No, Nay, never, No, nay never no more Will I play the wild rover, No never no more…" Wherever in the seven hells the Mallister lordling heard a song about being a wild rover is up for debate, although it's probably not so strange a story as how a Flint nee Camden -Lady- discovered the tune.
Marsden turns his head, looking back over towards Kamron for a moment as his brow edges up, and he's snickering back down into his beer, before he is looking to Ser Blayne. "It always amazes me." the septon quips. "What noble ears find and retain." Given the fact that it seems Lady Flint is playing pub songs…"Though the knights? That don't surprise me nearly as much."
"And we'll be kind and never mention it again where the other ladies might hear and disapprove of it," Hardwicke replies to Marsden, clearly throwing his loyalty behind Tiaryn and her willingness to play good drinking songs.
Ah, the story as to how Tiaryn has learned such songs is probably not so entertaining as one might think. But it is a story she's not sharing, rather leaving the mystery to stand. "No, nay never. No nay never no more will I play the wild rover. No never no more!" She gets to the end of the song, through four verses, and then adds a little crescendo at the end, before the harp goes silent at just the right moment. With that done, she passes the harp back to her maid, and gets to her feet, taking a moment to right herself as her knee complains a bit. "Thank you, Ser Blayne. You are most kind." Wait, is that in his reputation or does that go against the grumpy rules? She picks her cup of ale up, toasting to the camp, and says, "A hearty congratulations to all, but especially our Champion, Ser Hardwicke Blayne!" The remainder of her ale is finished and then she bows her head to the men. "And with that, I bid you all good night. Do enjoy the rest of your party."
Singing along until the end, Martyn raises his mug again, empty as it is, at the toast. Pausing as Tiaryn prepares to leave. "Enjoy the rest of the evening, Lady Tiaryn," he offers softly. Turning to look between the other men for a few moments, then back to the leaving lady again.
Kamron quiets down a little for each verse, although he brings himself back up to full volume for the chorus, and once more switches his mug over to his left hand to clap against his thigh with his right when the harp sting at the end of the song ends. The mug is transferred back to raise up high with a, "Ser Hardwicke Blayne!" And then he's looking for a refill, pausing to nod to Tiaryn, "Thank you for the entertainment, Lady Tiaryn. Most ably played and well chosen to boot."
Marsden grins back towards Ser Hardwicke. "Why would I tell anyone? An who would believe me?" the half septon asks before he's laughing loud enough there. A nod and raise of his glass is given to Lady Tiaryn, before the disgraced holy man is filtering back into the crowd of Terrick guardsmen, and likely off on his way back to the Tordane pavilions.
"The ladies always talk." Hardwicke ducks his head for yet another round of congratulations for himself. "Many thanks for your troubles, Lady Tiaryn."
Tiaryn smiles and inclines her head. Trouble? What trouble? But with that, she's gone away to the next party down the line.
Kamron waves off Tiaryn and Marsden with his refilled mug of ale before looking back to Martyn and Hardwicke, "What'd you both think of the Freys snubbing Ser Harras? He certainly seemed like one morose reaver out there on his lonesome." For all his party-fueled interest in the topic, he's a bit careful not to actually say what he thinks of the situation, at least not for now.
"What'd he expect?" Hardwicke says in a low rumble. "Ironborn thinking he can come back over like the past year didn't happen. He got better than he deserved, being ignored."
Martyn waves in Marsden's direction as he heads off, then looks back to Tiaryn as she takes her leave. Keeping silent for a long time, before he looks back to the others still here, and hurries to get hold of another mug of drink. "Not the smartest move he's ever made, that's for sure."
"He's lucky if he'll make it out of the Twins alive," Hardwicke mutters.
Martyn nods a bit as he hears that. "And if he gets out of here, getting somewhere so he can get home is the next big challenge…" Offered a bit quietly, as he takes another sip of his beer.
"Best of luck to him," Hardwicke snarks before finishing off his ale.
Martyn chuckles as he hears that, "Of course," he replies, a bit thoughtfully.
"But who cares about him?" Hardwicke declares as one of the Terricks thrusts another full cup of ale into his hand. "We've better things to celebrate."
Martyn laughs as he hears that, "Truest words that have been spoken in a while, Ser Hardwicke." Raising his own mug a bit, before taking a sip of it.
"Ser Stevron Frey," Hardwicke muses, a bit incredulous. "I've never had opportunity for such a ransom sum."
Kamron listens without comment to the discussion he sparked about Harras' presence, "He'll leave the Twins safely. I'm sure he's gotten bread and salt from the Freys." But he chuckles again, nodding his head, "It'll be quite the boon for the Roost — and for you too, Ser Hardwicke."
Nodding a little bit as he listens to the part about Ser Stevron, Martyn takes another sip of his beer a bit thoughtfully. "You've deserved it, Ser Hardwicke."
"For the Roost," Hardwicke emphasizes in reply to Kamron. "That's where it's needed." Then, after a moment of hesitation, he adds, "And perhaps my children." He smiles very faintly at Martyn's compliment."
Kamron nods at Hardwicke, grinning crookedly at his addition, "Well of course. It's only to be expected that the hero of the hour will do something nice for his wife and child with some of the rewards." Laughter bubbles up around the edges of his words, "Just don't gouge him too badly, ser, or his kinsman are likely to demand all the more from Martyn and I."
Martyn is unable to hold back a smile as Hardwicke speaks about his children. "How many do you have?" he asks, after a few moments of pause, before he nods a little bit at what's being said. And taking another sip from his mug.
Hardwicke hesitates for the briefest of moments before he says, "Just the one on the way. But my wife's intent on a whole host of them." He glances at Kamron. "I'll ask for a respectable sum, but I'm certainly not going to ignore how much it's worth and how much the Freys can afford."
Kamron shakes his head at Hardwicke's words, "A jest, Ser Hardwicke. We'll pay what we must, in bruises and coin, and so will Ser Stevron." Another slosh of ale goes down the younger Mallister's gullet, and his words are certainly starting to get a little sloppy now, "And now you get to see if you're chained down to home, or if you still get to run 'round hitting people with a stick with a babe at home."
Martyn nods a little as he hears that, "Congratulations with the one on the way. I'm sure you're going to be a very good father," he offers, before he nods a bit more, glancing out into the area nearby now, a bit thoughtfully.
"I've done little travel my life as it is," Hardwicke says, unworried. "My place is home at the Roost. That won't change." He tips his glass once more to Martyn for more congratulations.
Kamron takes a swig of his ale, nodding his head, "Congratulations for the win and the babe, Ser Hardwicke." He chuckles, "And now, I think I'm going to see a man about a horse, and then the Strongboar about a drink." He raises up his mug, drains it down, sets it down, and is off.
"You must forgive Ser Kamron," Martyn offers a bit lightly. "He seems to think everything is going to weigh him down like chains." It's offered with a bit of a chuckle, as he nods a bit at Kamron's words. "Good luck," he offers.
"A pretty enough woman, and you'd be lucky to get chained up," Hardwicke says. He stands as well, pausing a moment to gather his balance. "And now," he says a bit slurrily, "I am going to go find my beautiful wife."
Martyn nods a little bit, "Good point," he offers, before he adds, "Take care." Draining his own beer, a bit thoughtfully.
And off Hardwicke goes. Hopefully he hasn't had too much to drink.