[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c7/39/dc/c739dc0fcfe25dde1863ff78c4bfd5ee.jpg[/img][/center]

The air felt... heavy, the young man thought, as he crawled through the underbrush. All around him, the morning fog clung like an oppressive sodden blanket, seeming to choke out any light and warmth the early morning sun sought to bring. Out there, somewhere in the thickets, rivulets, bracken, and other matter of underbrush, slunk the loathsome beasts that had continued to terrorize the Riverlands for decades. Laying on his gut, he notched the heavy barbed bolt into the groove, nestling it firmly against the release mechanism, siting the deadly menace downrange. The beast stood still, nose perked high as it sniffed out some far-off prey, before the oiled clink of metal resounded, followed by the dull thump and snarled tone of a death rattle, then silence. He sighed, exhaling the pent-up breath within, the heated vapor turning to almost a fog in the cool morning air. A small victory, he allowed himself to think, knowing that the dead beast was one of many that continued to haunt the land.

Lord Edmyn Tully broke his mind away from that far flung memory, the moment of reverie replaced with the present. His right hand absently stroked the fur of the beast he’d killed, still soft as the day it had died. The horse below him trotted along the well-maintained road, smoothly making its way on the final leg of a long winding journey to the Grand Birthday Tournament of Lord Robin Arryn. The weather was pleasant, warm yet not oppressive, a thankful lack of humidity that would help alleviate unnecessary perspiration. His clean-shaven face felt a gentle breeze coming off the ocean, a cool caress that brought a content smile. Exhaling softly, he tugged the reins of his horse gently, urging the creature onward with a bit of renewed excitement. 

His eyes scanned the numberless banners, both lords large and small, great and mighty, the small and nearly forgotten. Among them were the flowing gold and black of the Greyjoys, the white and blues of the Arryns, the green and brown of the Mudds, the Roses of House Tyrell, the Stag of House Baratheon, and on the banners went. With a tensing of his heels, Lord Edmyn beckoned his horse through wagons, oxen, horses, the throngs of people happily making their way to the ever-growing festivities. Closely followed by his retinue, the Riverlanders made their way further into the settlement, and onwards towards the tournament grounds. Tents and pavilions lined the central trampled dirt road, until Edmyn arrived at an empty area that had been reserved for his retinue. 

A perfect spot, near the end, and on the seaward side. Edmyn smiled, before wheeling his horse around once more, turning to head back towards the sea, and dismounted from his horse. His feet impacted the ground lightly, with a small swirl of dust kicking up, before making his way over to look intently at the sea. “It’s been too long since I last lay my eyes upon the endless waters of the Narrow Sea.” Letting out a content sigh, he set about helping his retinue set up their tents and campsite, cooking fires and pits, latrines, tethering lines, a site fit for fifty men and all the gear they could bring to last the duration of the festival. Such actions took the better part of the afternoon, afterwards, Lord Edmyn made his way to the sea, enjoying a refreshing swim to clean the toils of sweat from his body, and to clear his mind for the times to come. 
Camp now set, clean fresh clothes upon his back, Edmyn first made his way to the pavilion of his host and first cousin once removed, though often simplified to being uncle due to their age difference. Lord Robin Arryn, a venerable and respectable man, family in the grand scheme of things, though time and territorial disputes had soured their relationships. Hopefully, here and now, these two powerful families could forever bury their animosity and become friends and allies once more. Making his way over to the Arryn campsite, Lord Edmyn made his introductions to the guards, and the steward that was there who was currently overseeing the site. Lord Arryn was not there yet unfortunately, though he would be arriving soon, and he would be informed of Lord Edmyn’s request for an audience and the gifts that Lord Edmyn wished to give to Lord Arryn would be delivered. 

“Thank you for your time, kind Ser. I truly appreciate your help, and I look forward to meeting with Lord Arryn when he has arrived and is ready for guests. Send him my warmest regards and wishes, along with this personal gift from my family to his.” Edmyn finished, before handing to the Steward a beautiful and velvety smooth fur blanket, the silken strands glistening brightly in the late afternoon sun, the bold colors of white, brown, gray, and black contrasting to elicit a beautiful sight for all to see. “This blanket was collected from the great wolves that roam the Riverlands, large and fierce. May it keep Lord Arryn warm against the cold and coming winter, and may their strength and ferocity protect him against all those who would dare stand against House Arryn in anger. Seven bless you all, friends. I hope to enjoy a meal and a drink with you all in the company of Lord Robin Arryn.” Satisfied, Lord Edmyn bowed his head respectfully, before turning about face and heading into the greater festival grounds. 

Women and man danced and drank, music played loud and boisterously, the very air itself was alive, as Lord Edmyn meandered about the tournament grounds, greeting nobility and small folk alike, partaking in dancing, drinking, eating, and signing all in equal measure, simply enjoying the world for all it had to offer. The light breeze blew through his hair, and caressed his face, while the smells of food, salt, and life whirled all about, exhilarating to say the least. Soon, Lord Edmyn found himself enjoying a kabob, perfectly seared meat and vegetables paired delectably, a smile playing across his face as he listened to one of his knights telling the story of his adventures in the Stepstones, when he spotted a familiar sigil. Laughing aloud, before waving his free arm in the direction of this new face, Lord Edmyn called out in a hearty voice, “SAPPHIRE!!! Mychel Mudd, come hither my friend, join us in drink and food, about time I see another proper Riverlander here. These kabobs are phenomenal.” He chuckled again, smiling brightly at seeing one of his chief vassal’s kin here, a chance to see what Lady Catelyn was up to these days.