[X] Crake
This is true, but at the same time there is probably a baseline template that all Seekers are derived from that each Flesh Smith altered to their whims. Otherwise I don't see how the Flesh Forge of Qohor could be described by DP as a "mass production" facility when compared to the Flesh Forges of Lys and Gogossos.

... I wonder what makes it a mass production facility. Is it cheaper?
Probably cheaper and faster, at the cost of less flexibility and limited types of products. Maybe somewhat similar to our Industrial Alchemy facilities, which require significant setup to produce large quantities of a substance, but which cannot produce anything else without major retooling.
 
Plots Beneath the Seer's Gaze

Twentieth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

Wishing the Lads farewell and good fortune in their raids and battles you leave the camp and, to Rina's obvious surprise, the Riverlands to appear instead before the polished limestone walls of the House of Mirrors. "Rumors and tales are a good place to start when dealing with intrigues, but little else can untangle those knots as the diviner's eye."

Thus it goes. You find that Lord Lychester did not in fact discover some heretofore unknown seam of silver on hills over which countless realms have stretched and battles fought, he had simply cut a deal with a Shaitan Lord in exchange for growing some arcane plant or plants in his lands. It is impossible to guess which among the myriad of options, but it must be one of considerable worth that would struggle in the realm of stone and thrives under the sun of this mortal world. House Lolliston's troubles prove just as arcane, as the Lychester blessing, a truth unlooked for behind Tom's lies, though you cannot see what may have caused save to know for certain that it was neither Lannisters nor fey, nor even devils of Mammon or otherwise.

However when looking into Lord Keath's strange doings in Braavos you hit an unexpected snare, neither assassin nor fey nor trading magnate is the target of his servants quarry, leaving you not only confused but wary. It is said one can find anything in the marketplaces of Braavos and with the new trade routes beyond the boundaries of the world that is truer than ever, but you cannot imagine what Harold Keath might seek if not vengeance, sorcery or wealth.

"What about... er... solicitors?" Rina asks unexpectedly, sounding the last word carefully in Low Valyrian as there is no true equivalent in the Common Tongue.

"Why would they be looking for a master at law?" Ser Richard asks. "Sue His Grace in a court over taking back the throne rightfully his?"

"No, not His Grace... It wasn't him that killed his son was it?" Rina asks, leaning forward across the report-filled table as she speaks.

The confidence proves well founded, the Keath men had been sent out to find and hire a solicitor versed in Braavosi law in order to bring Ser Benjicot before the bench for the unlawful killing of Harry Keath as soon as you conquer the Seven Kingdoms and join them to your realm. Even with the Inquisition and the Silver Eye looking into the matter it will take a day or two to find out if anyone has taken the case or what evidence they may have gathered, but forewarned of the possibility you can now move to protect the Lads from legal action.

"An odd way so show faith in our cause on Lord Keath's part for certain, but I will gladly take it over and assassination," you proclaim with a smile, though the words are no less true for it. You would much rather have lords taking their disputes to court than the field of battle, like for instance the Brackens and Blackwoods have done so many times and may be getting ready to do so again by youthful folly or malicious design.

Moving on you determine that House Roote would welcome a visit, though with some trepidation while Lord Theomar Smallwood would not refuse you the chance to say your piece at least, all answers you had expected as much as hoped for, but you cannot claim as much of the next.

"Hosteen Frey convinced Lucias Vypren to ease off on the shows of faith?" Ser Richard shakes his head. "I wasn't aware Freys could be much good at convincing, kin by marriage or no."

"Consider how many wives the Lord of the Twins had. He must have gotten them somehow," you jest.

The tone grows sober once more however when, digging a little deeper you discover that Ser Hosteen's task as new-made master at arms at Vypren keep had been to kill Lord Lucias so that his son might inherit, but the Frey knight had decided to try persuading the lord one more time before he started plotting murder and he met with unexpected success. A deep do be thankful to be sure, but your thoughts on lords killing each other have not grown any more charitable. Perhaps you aught to deliver a reward and a warning for House Frey at the same time. Then again no one died and it was not yet under your law. There is soemthing to be said for leaving sleeping dogs lie with so many other calls upon your time and attention.

Setting the thought aside for now you consider the last two lords, Lord Halmon Paege and Howard Wayn, both are willing to meet though the former far more so than the latter. Lord Halmon certainly has dreams about enriching his House if not the disposition to seize them.

Who do you visit first?

[] Write in

OOC: You may notice from the above that Lady Wayn became Lord Wayn, that has been changed since I had forgotten last night that I already introduced Lord Wayn by name in a Walder interlude here. Not yet edited.
It's cool to see Rina becoming further engaged in day to day affairs, rather than being the deadliest wallflower on the planet.

Harold Keath might try to find a decent Braavosi solicitor, but we can unleash a genuine Valyrian Combat Litigator upon them. Poor guy won't know what hit him when Malarys is through with him.
 
It's cool to see Rina becoming further engaged in day to day affairs, rather than being the deadliest wallflower on the planet.

Harold Keath might try to find a decent Braavosi solicitor, but we can unleash a genuine Valyrian Combat Litigator upon them. Poor guy won't know what hit him when Malarys is through with him.
He has a legitimately good case though, I say we arrange things so Benjicot get declared guilty, but he get the right to pay for the revival of Harolds son, instead of being executed or taking the Black.

As Viserys noted, trying to resolve things in the court instead of by the sword is admirable, so stomping down on it, by giving anyone we like a level 15+ lawyer to get them off on a technicality, isn't a good plan
 
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[X] Crake

Votes for the vote god, Crake for the Crake throne!
So you think we should make Crake a throne out of himself, we need him to keep most of his parts, for participating in the quest, but I guess we could cut his legs off and make him a throne out of them, I don't think it's a very good idea though, but if Crake agrees to it, then go ahead.

[X] Crake
 
So you think we should make Crake a throne out of himself, we need him to keep most of his parts, for participating in the quest, but I guess we could cut his legs off and make him a throne out of them, I don't think it's a very good idea though, but if Crake agrees to it, then go ahead.

[X] Crake
I was thinking of a Cake Throne instead. It's not only tasty, but also doesn't involve the amputation of a friend's lower extremities.
 
Interlude DCXLI: The Weight of Silence and the Worth of Words
The Weight of Silence and the Worth of Words

Twenty Second Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

For as long as Soft Strider could remember before she chose to follow the Dragon south she had known that hers was a last shoot upon a dying tree, the Singers falling into silence as the mingled voices of a thousand realms of men filled the void. So it was and so it would ever be. Neither strength of arm, keenness of eye nor even the blooming magic could undo it. The most that they could hope was to pass on the embers they had been guarding. Then one day it had changed, between sunrise and sunset a fire in the south was revealed. Soft Strider had followed it and there she had found hope and more than that, knowledge of the wider world and its wonders, of things beyond even the borders of earth and sky.

Yet not all knowledge was sweet upon the tongue, nor all understanding pleasant to behold. That there had been an age before this one when men and Singers lived together beneath the pale limbs of the weirwoods she had known from tales, but never before reading that parchment in the Builder's hall had Soft Strider wondered how that age was born. Foolish of me, thought the Singer in the silence of her mind. All things are born in blood.

They passed under the archway of the barrow under the gaze of guards at once curious and wary without a word. What would they say to know that those they called 'Children of the Forest' and now counted little more than myth and tale had once cast down elder gods, the deed echoing defilement down the long ages, its remnants even now stirring below? The first Lady Dustin would never had disturbed the dead had the call of the Green Gods not inclined her to care little for the ways of her ancestors and less for their gods. Fools and defilers, wreckers of trees, such easy words to think, to whisper into the dreams of men.

Many a time had Soft Strider hoped that men would be less short-sighted, but now for the first time she was thankful that they did not remember old grudges.

"Are you alright?" the soft voice of the many-eyed watcher of beauty called from behind her.

"I am... no worse than I was a moment ago," the Singer replied, hand tightening around the spine of her bow, mentally shaking herself to make the words truer. A barrow of the unrestful dead was no place to ponder the evils of the past, the present had dark gifts aplenty in this place. At the quizzical look and tilting of stalk-eyes she added. "I was considering the evils that made this place and the tormented one below. Some belong to my kin."

For a long moment he floated in silence beside her down the dark hall, more comforting than the urgency with which men so often spoke. "They belong to those alike to you in form, perhaps alike to you in mind, I do not know for I have not met them, but however alike they may be they are not you any more than two notes in the same pitch sung apart can be counted one."

"Jorondr Dustin, we come to free you of your long binding, of the weight of your curse. Let bronze shine shine red with battle here in the depths one final time and in defeat or victory you will be freed," the bard Danar called out in the deepest part of the barrow, where the chill of death was deepest, where the dark fey said their master opened the way.

Stone grated on stone, stale air flowed into the chamber and below them steps there were now winding into the dark. "Come then into my halls and sup at my table..." words of that which men called the Old Tongue these were, but of an elder sort yet that Soft Strider's ear could barely pick out the words.

Soft Strider stepped out past Danar to scout the blackness. No matter who could be counted guilty of this horror it was time and past time that it be ended.

OOC: No battle in this one. I could not figure out a way to include it without harming the tone of the chapter. Soft Strider interludes are tricky.
 
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