The Man in Lantern's Light
Twelfth Day of the Seventh Month 293 AC
If nothing else you must grant the warrior that he is swift and decisive in the face of unexpected threats. No sooner had you allowed your glamour to fall away that he is ready to fight, though not with the sword at his side. Something glinting silver falls from his sleeve... a dagger... no, a dart, and you would wager a poisoned one, too. A clever way to even the odds against otherworldly beings usually so much stronger than men for all it will not avail him against you.
"I mean no harm," you present your palms to show that you are unarmed, though the gesture seems to mean little to the man before you, and little wonder if he has fought sorcerers before. Still, he does not attack and so you continue: "I believe there is much we must speak of, many lies and plots to bring to the light of day."
"Pretty words for someone holding a man's mind in thrall," the Lantern Bearer scoffs. "I can see it in the poor bastard's eyes."
"Indeed he is so bound for a heinous crime against his oaths and even guest right itself," you reply bluntly, guessing that this is more likely to win you favor than any cunning deflection. "You have before you one who tried to poison his lawful lord in a slow and torturous manner. I know of no place in this wide world where a healer turned poisoner is not among the most despised of men. Yet he has been granted a reprieve and a chance to win back his honor in the Night's Watch."
"Ain't that a fine thing now... and what's that wrapped around his neck so? A right and lawful beasty, is it?"
How had he...? The answer comes to you in a flash, remembering that Garin can see the unseen briefly not through sorcery but sheer sharpness of eye. Though given your friend's advantages that says quite a lot about the skills of the warrior.
"I am not a 'beasty'," Dany replies, shrugging off her own glamour. "Daenerys Targaryen, I would say at your service, but I would not wish to say the words to someone who I might soon have to fight in deadly earnest.
"A name to call you by would be appreciated," you add, matching your sister's dry tone. "If of course you intend to take up the offer to have a civilized conversation over charging into fruitless battle." Moving to one of the large stones that litter the shoreline you take a seat, gesturing for him to do likewise.
"Name's Tobyn, an' I can guess who you are," the man replies, with no indication that he has any mind to bow. His rolling Reach accent does grow more pronounced with what you suspect is strain.
"I would rather have this meeting based on something more solid than guesswork," you answer. "I am Viserys Targaryen, and rather than a string of titles which you may or may not care for, I will call myself an enemy of the Deep Ones which I have heard your order too moves against."
"That's an easy thing to say and a hard thing to prove, all the more so standing next to a man whose mind you slaved like they do." The words are sharp, but you would not begrudge them. All things told the clean animosity of a principled man is far from the worst thing you have borne.
"Aught I then have used whips and hot irons to break him into doing his damn job?" you challenge.
"Let him talk for himself then and we'll see," the Lantern Bearer answers.
Trick or honest request you wonder. Though reasonably certain you can handle the former, you decide to err on the side of caution: "Answer this man's questions honestly," you command Warreck.
"That don't mean nothing," Tobyn spits. "You could have given him an order to treat any such command as an instruction to cough up whatever lies you please." The point is well made, you must admit. A skilled mind not only a quick one... he would have to be to have stayed alive treating nobles thus in the Reach of all places.
"Very well," you say as you dismiss the enchantment, tensing for a rescue gambit, but none comes. The Lantern Bearer asks his questions quickly and efficiently, obviously one used to getting the most out of witnesses and captured pensioners both.
As the interrogation winds down the man's expression darkens more and more until at last he curses long and colorfully, including but not limited to implying a great deal of variance in Warreck's family line and suggesting that he commit the sorts of acts that would carry on the supposed family tradition. "Lord's intrigues..." Tobyn hisses between clenched teeth, the scars at the corner of his mouth pulled tight in a grimace. "I fucking hate 'em."
"Well, you are in one either way," Dany points out. "No reason you can't come out of it better than you were."
The warrior gives a short bitter laugh as he finally takes a seat, the dart slipping back into his pocket. "Heard that one before I have. Never from a baby dragon, though." Turning back to you he asks, "What do you want to know and what are you offering?"
"Besides the knowledge that you have been used as a catspaw which will hopefully keep you from being manipulated in the future?" you find yourself more amused than frustrated by the man's gall, though a none-too-kindly part of you wonders if he would react the same were you to stand before you wearing the form of a wyrm and not a man.
"I already have that, don't I?" he shrugs.
What do you reply?
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OOC: This is what it looks like to be talking to someone with no social ranks at all outside of intimidate and sense motive. Still, it's a testament to Viserys and Dany's abilities that things did not degenerate into a fight. 
