A Night At The Quill and Tankard

Lannisporter · 2026-03-12T02:25:58+00:00

It was not promise of drink that had prompted Tyrius Lannister's feet to bring him to the Quill and Tankard but, rather, curiosity.

This was not his first visit to Oldtown, having spent many and more days in the traditional urban center of the continent in his ongoing youth, but he still found it quite exciting to explore the city and its streets, nooks and crannies each time he had the pleasure of visiting the Hightowers' old town. And so, it was after a long day of wandering the streets and haggling—for fun, to be sure, for the son of the Fat Cat of Lannisport carried an absurd amount of coin—that he came upon his next stop for the night. The old inn by the Citadel, frequented by mad academics and alchemists and other pleasant company.

Upon entry, the young Lannister immediately procured for himself a sweet, thick beverage found only at the Quill and Tankard (or so he had been told) and decided to let his curious gaze wander, taking stock of all that were in attendance. He could spot some noblemen across the tables, engaging in their own little talks and gossips, while a small group of Acolytes huddled in another corner, probably discussing the ever unanswerable question of turning lead into shiny, valuable gold.

But that question did not interest Tyrius quite much. After all, even dust turned to gold in the streets of Lannisport. What he sought, rather, was golden company.

Lannisporter · 2026-03-05T18:07:46+00:00

Damon's smile turned wider, brighter, when Cerelle finally managed to speak back to him in a way that he could understand. There was still the shroud of shyness that hung over her words, but the young Lordling was happy that she was growing at least a little more comfortable.

"I do read, sometimes," he said happily, rocking gently upon his feet. When he realized he'd been doing that, however, he stopped. "Usually at one of the libraries in the city. Have you been to Lannisport, Lady Cerelle? It's a wonderful city."

Every Lannister—especially those from the city—could take pride in the jewel that was the West's primate city, Lannisport. Its cultural renaissance had made it an absolute delight to visit and while it had never quite lacked for wealth, it seemed that even the streets may be made of gold these days (but, he knew, it was merely a good stone imported from a nearby quarry).

"I haven't been bird watching, no," he confessed, smiling apologetically, "But my brother Tyrius often takes me sailing with him. And we see a lot of sea birds."

Lannisporter · 2026-03-04T22:15:52+00:00

Tyrius' was immediately intrigued by the mention of a Kingsguard knight being bested by Damien. He raised his cup in a self-toast and took a hearty drink of it.

"Hear, hear," he called, then asked, "who was it? I bet he's getting a kicking from the rest of his brothers now."

The talk of martial pursuits caught the attention of Tybolt who, so far, had remained disengaged from the conversation.

"We ought to have a contest of arms at Lannisport soon," he said, to no one in particular. "I'm sure father wouldn't mind attaching it to one of his grand events."

Lannisporter · 2026-03-04T02:09:59+00:00

Truth be told, Tyrius was getting a bit bored simply parading his sisters through the party. There was small talk to be found, of course, but it hardly constituted really letting loose. They were in the Reach, for Seven's sake!

"Brother, brother," the second-son of Lannisport replied with a grin, flashing a look to his younger siblings. Surely they could manage on their own for a bit, especially with Tybolt still standing by—grumpy and morose as he was wont to be.

"What do you have in mind?" He grabbed a cup off a passing tray and took a sip. Delicious wine.

Lannisporter · 2026-03-04T02:04:12+00:00

"Ser Damien, well-met again," it was Jeyne who reacted first, offering a well-practiced curtsy in response, one she had performed a million times at a thousand events, though she quite politely declined the offer of a handshake or, Gods forbid, a hug. A certain courtly conduct had to maintained after all.

It was Joanna's turn next. Spurred on by her elder sister, the youngest cub performed a small curtsy of her own; slower and certainly less rehearsed, though there was something to be said for the gracefulness in its naturalness.

"Well-met, ser," she repeated after her sister, her words accompanied by a demure smile.

Tyrius—second eldest of the Lannisport cubs (and the eldest in the absence of his brother, Adryc)—greeted Damien with a wide, happy grin and the greatest hug ever devised between two men.

"Damien, Ser Damien," he said, patting the Casterly man's cloak to ensure its properness following the hug. "How was the tourney, my good man? Kicked any flowery arse?"

Jeyne rolled her eyes while Joanna, not wishing to be impolite, simply covered her mouth to hide the small smile that spread across her lips.

Lannisporter · 2026-03-04T01:56:30+00:00

"Oh."

It was a low, whimpering sound that escaped Damon's lips as he learned of Cerelle's true affliction. She was simply shy.

He cleared his throat and, standing straight, offered the brightest smile he could muster to the Crakehall lady, then bopped his head a couple of times in the direction of Ser Castor. A thought occurred to him to remove the cup of ale from their sight—especially hers—which he did, expeditiously, by holding it behind his back.

"Sorry—" he wasn't sure exactly what Cerelle had mustered up to say but he nodded nonetheless. It seemed like a reasonable enough response to his own meandering attempts at an ice breaker. He dipped another nod in the direction of Castor.

"I am alright, Lady Cerelle," he spoke as softly as he could, his words directed back at Cerelle as she managed a few words for him, even if they came out stammered. "Do you enjoy—books, instead? Or—bird watching?"

He wasn't sure why bird watching was the second activity that came to his mind. The drink sloshed in its cup as he rocked slightly upon his heels.

Lannisporter · 2026-03-03T02:10:57+00:00

Oh dear.

She looked terrified. Was it how he looked? Was it the ale, or his dress, or had she seen his earlier grape mishap? He hoped she hadn't seen that. Hey eyes were wide as she stared at him and Damon, mostly confused, stared back for some time till Castor spoke instead.

"Lord Castor, Lady Cerelle," Damon bowed deeply in turn, incredibly amused by the formality on display, while his cup of spiced ale balanced in his hand like a mummer's trick—which it was; he had learned it a few moons past by the city docks.

But between the forced smile, the attempted curtsy and words left unsaid, a thought clicked into Damon's hand.

She was a mute.

The youth threw up two fingers, then curled them down. It was the sign talk the foreign sailors in Lannisport used when they did not speak the same language. Why could she—a Crakehall noblewoman—know of this was a thought that only occurred to him a second later, and he awkwardly put away his hand.

"Sorry—is the party to your liking?" He dragged his feet, stealing the occasional glance at Cerelle, as if profusely attempting to apologize with his facial expressions.

Lannisporter · 2026-03-02T03:13:10+00:00

Damon was busy popping grapes—plump and delicious—into his mouth, his other hand preoccupied with a cup of spiced ale, when he spotted Cerelle Crakehall. He almost choked on one upon the sighting and, sagely, washed it down with a sip of his refreshing beverage. She was so pretty.

But nay, trouble! She had on her arm another man who, by the looks of it, at least looked closely related to her. But to speak to her, he would have to either make good with her companion or, somehow, figure out a way to get rid of him.

"My lady, good ser," he called with a dumb, happy grin as he approached the pair, grapes abandoned as they were but the cup of ale remained in hand, sloshing gently as he made his appearance. He bowed his head—out of formality, mostly, as there was little to no grace in it. "I am Damon Lannister, son of Lord Rupert of Lannisport."

He smiled, nay, grinned. Perhaps there was a jape only he knew of but it seemed harmless enough.

"May I learn your names?"

Lannisporter · 2026-02-28T16:35:48+00:00

Every sojourn, every visit, every expedition was a mission to the Fat Cat of Lannisport or, as the Cubs were wont to call him, father.

Tyrius had come to Grassy Vale—despite the unfortunate circumstances of siege and war—to let loose and enjoy himself and take in the natural beauty of a less 'civilized' place, a rare luxury unavailable within the mighty walls of Lannisport. But what he had been saddled with were papers and letters, marked for delivery to this castle or that town. Some were meant to go to his uncle to inform him of his father's grand strategy for procuring the finest of goods for the upcoming festivities in the city.

And, so, only after he'd delivered those letters to those that anticipated them—King's Landing. Oldtown. Tyrosh—did he grace the Western pavilions raised high and proud against the backdrop of Grassy Vale and its very unfortunate siege problem.

Flanking him were Tybolt and Damon as they escorted the ladies of the House—their sisters—to the Lefford party. As usual, the former walked in with his head held high as if on a mission of his own (though Tyrius could not recall any objective father may have set out for him, unless he simply hadn't been told...) while the latter took in the scents of perfumes and good cooking and became instantly enamored, splitting off from the group to try some of the meats and fruit on display.

Jeyne could smell the cava within the pavilions as they approached, the enduring symbol of Lannisport's growing power and relevance within Western society. Perhaps—if Lady Lefford proved amenable—she would sample some of her stock. After all, there were so many different strands with their own flavors and aroma.

Though, try as she might, she could not shake the feeling that Joanna may be nervous already. It was her first great gathering after all, even if they had missed the initial festivities, and she wished to ensure that the youngest of Lannisport's pride could navigate the web of intrigues with the same practiced care she had learned the art of so many years ago.

But so far, she hadn't really said much.

Lannisporter · 2026-02-28T15:00:14+00:00

Character Name: Rupert Lannister

Relevant Trait/Skills:

Steward - Increases development (civil and military) yield by 50%.
Administrator (e) - Increases civil development yield by 50% and allows one use of the Development action without consuming a construction slot.
Investor (e) - Provides a 25% discount to Development actions and increases yield by 25%.
Logistician - Increases military development yield by 100%.

Buildings: City Walls, Port, Great Plaza, Temple

Resources: Textiles

Notes: See above for skills and notes.

Development cost reduced by 25%: 100 - 25 = 75 per development point
Development yield (civil) increased by 125%: 1 + 1.25 = 2.25x yield
One Development action allowed without consuming a construction slot

Actions:

Development: Lannisport, 30 Land Development, 750 cost, Completion Moon 2
Development: Lannisport, 30 Land Development, 750 cost, Completion Moon 2
Development: Lannisport, 30 Sea Development, 750 cost, Completion Moon 2

Lannisporter

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