text || un: IAMNEDSTARK

[learned_to_die]

IT APPEARS THAT THIS IS SOME VERSION OF COMMUNICATION, AKIN TO MESSAGES RECEIVED VIA RAVEN. I CANNOT YET UNDERSTAND HOW SUCH THINGS ARE POSSIBLE, NOR CAN I UNDERSTAND HOW I AM EXPECTED TO SO ACCURATELY PRESS MY FINGERS TO SUCH PAINFULLY SMALL LETTERS ON THIS THING CALLED A "KEY BOARD."

[Ned is part of the Old Dads club; he has accidentally turned on his caps lock and has absolutely no idea how to turn it off, nor does he have any social precedent for understanding how hostile this makes him look.]

I AM TOLD THAT I AM IN A CITY CALLED WYVER, A NAME AS FOREIGN TO ME AS THE REST OF THIS IS. THE LOCALS HERE ARE NOT INCREDIBLY FORTHCOMING WITH ASSISTANCE OR INFORMATION, AND AS SUCH, ANYTHING THAT YOU MIGHT OFFER WOULD BE GREATLY APPRECIATED.

THANK YOU FOR WHATEVER YOU MIGHT PROVIDE.

-- EDDARD STARK, LORD OF WINTERFELL, WARDEN OF THE NORTH, HAND OF THE KING