The Rogue, the Dragon, and the Bears
Sixteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 292 AC
"As to that I fear that I have been remiss in introducing myself," you begin, allowing yourself a small smile. Better to have rumors begin to spread now than later when you might be embroiled in other matters. Better to test the waters. As your cloak of fey-spun shadow manifests its true nature you take careful note of those Black Brothers including Cotter with eyes and wits sharp enough to catch it in the torch-lit hall. "Viserys Targaryen, King in the Stepstones," you offer with an easy nod.
Where before there had still been a few in the small hall listening with half-an-ear and keeping to their own conversations, their dice and their drink, or else nursing a sore head, now the insuring storm of whispers puts a swift end to that. Indeed the boy who had led you in managed to spill his drink all over his front.
"Quiet ye yapping, sons of whores!" Cotter more growls than shouts, but the men still listen swiftly indeed. Then he turns to you. "So what's that to us?" After a moment he adds almost as an afterthought, "Yer Grace."
Instead of chastising him for it you allow your smile to grow more comradely. "No need for that. There are no kings here on the Wall, and no lords either save the Lord Commander which I certainly am
not." That gets a few laughs and one half-drunken toast from the man you belatedly realize is wearing a stained maester's robe under his chain shirt.
Once they are settled you carry on. "As the Wall has ever served to protect the Seven Kingdoms, so too has it fallen to the lords and then
kings of these realms to support these Watch. The Fat Man in King's Landing may have a different notion as to whom that king should be, but I see no reason for that to keep me from the task, should it?" You punctuate the question by tossing a fat coin purse jingling with coin to Cotter who catches it deftly. "For
maps and tales," you add, your tone so broad you might as well be in a mummer's play.
Lost 200 Gold
However your meaning as well as your generosity gets across as well as you could have liked, causing the entire hall to burst into rancorous applause complete with banging on the tables, and only slightly marred by the wine-sodden maester trying for a toast only to collapse back
over his seat.
"Thank ye
kindly," the commander says, bouncing the little pouch in his hand, likely considering how much of it he can keep for himself now that so many of his men had seen it. Though you can't say you truly dislike men of Cotter's ilk, you know them far too well to trust them farther than self-interest accounts for. "To tell the truth, we've been having problems of a more," he pauses a moment to take a long swing of his wine, "
witchy sort, and seeing as..."
"Seeing as I already named myself as such and my brother is known as a sorcerer, you figured we all are," Dany interjects.
"Aye that," Cotter agrees easily.
"Well, you are right two out of three times, and Ser Richard here is very good at killing things, including things you'd think would need a wizard to handle," Dany answers, causing the knight to throw her a look that is two parts appreciation and one part disgruntlement likely for having drawn attention to him in the company of what he considers possible foes.
"Well seeing as yer going north with the finest map in the keep... fuck, I'll even send a ranging to lead you wherever ye need to go..." the Ironborn fort Commander trails off.
"Has anyone told you you're shit at that?" you offer genially to the amusement of the other black brothers and as you had guessed even the man himself.
"Hey now," he counters with the most implausible wounded innocence you had ever witnessed. "I was playing courtly-like." Then he settles to business. "Got some crab men from up near the ruins of Hardhome who aren't crab men no more, but worship bear and don't even have the decency to bow down and kiss Lord Commander Mormont's ass. Heard tales from some of the rest of their kin then they've got a wizard of some sort that 'makes 'em strong like bears'. Would not put much stock into it myself, 'cept fer Rick here swearing himself blind that he saw it happenin'" He motions to the boy who had lead you in.
The lad swallows painfully and recounts the little he had seen while hiding up a tree from a group of what the Black Brothers had charmingly named 'bear-fuckers.' He had seen them rolling around naked and bloody with the remains of Rick's less swift comrades in bear pelts for a bit then they were great big bears.
You get the feeling the story would not have counted for much besides a black mark against him if it hadn't been for the fact that three enormous bears had still been sitting around the tree hours later when a larger force of rangers had come upon the scene and chased them off with flaming arrows. The consensus was that whatever was happening it certainly was not natural for three bull-bears to stand around a tree occasionally shaking it to scare its occupant. And for obvious reasons no one wanted to fight giant man-smart bears.
Do you offer to help Cotter with his bear problem?
[] Yes
[] No
OOC: Just to be clear, even if you say no he is still giving you a map and any knowledge he has, and even ranging if you ask for it. This is just him seeing a chance to get rid of something he would rather not send his own men at blind. 
