ToG

[Murometz]

Kat, Rheyna, Odrin

The riders slowed.

Kat strained her ears in their direction. She could hear some garbled speech, but discerning the words proved difficult with the whistling wind.

A few riders seemed to glance toward the upturned wagon. Its shadowed form appeared as an ugly, misshapen silhouette in the moonlight, less than a half mile away from the road.

A moment of silence. Somewhere a night-jar peeped.

Then the riders began to move again, and the trio could exhale.


One of them was about to whisper something, when they noticed that two rear riders suddenly stopped again, and appeared  to be discussing something (hard to tell).

Then the two slowly turned their mounts from the road onto the grassy clearing, and began to slowly approach the wagon.

The other four riders kept their pace, albeit a slow one, and would soon be away from earshot.

[Scrasamax]

There was something about weakness and mercy that peasants and commoners and miscreants from low houses continually confused with each other. As much as Korley wanted p leave the drunk be he had indeed delivered several dire insults and had called him out in front of a large number of people. There were things to be considered, even of he was a bastard and carried the name Hill he still carried the Golden Lion. The thing about disrespect was that if it was tolerated it would breed like rats.

Korley waited long enough for the drunken Gargalen to retreave his weapon. The drunk carried on his song, and tiring of the delaying Korley stuck him through the back with his sword. 

[Mourngrymn]

Rufus straightened quickly spinning in a circle, surprisingly not loosening his grip on his hefty weapon.

"Thieves, assassins! Sir Korley to guard we are under attack from those rotting wolf breeds."

Staggering forward in front of Korley as if to protect him, Rufus eyed the other patrons in the inn with maliciousness. "Together we shall fight through their rabble and show dem bastard snow bloods that Real knights show no fear."

Slamming his mighty morning star down on the table next to him it breaks clean through, shattering it like kindled glass, then falling to a knee. Using his weapon as a crutch he attempts to stand up but slips in the pool at his feet.

"d**n but if I not be bleedin like a stuck whore on payday. If I shall fall tell yer father I was on me way to see him in King's landing per summons." He looks from his kneeling position at Sir Korley and snickers.

"A hand Lannister, I do believe that assassin be gettin away."

[Dossta]

Odrin did not curse, for it went against his training.  Instead, he gave a silent prayer of thanks that the odds were now more even.

Trusting that their sharp ears would pick up his words, Odrin whispered hoarsely, "You two.  Get behind the cart as quietly as you can.  I'll talk with our 'guests'.  If they come around the cart to look for you anyway, be ready to strike them down, grab a horse and escape.  I'll catch up on the other."

With that, Odrin lowered himself to the ground near Ashreaver, propping himself in a sitting position with his pack behind his head.  Sliding his eyelids mostly closed, Odrin pretended to doze while listening to the hoofbeats draw closer.

[EchoMirage]

Maester Belomas and Velaquo Silkblood

Velaquo inhaled the harbor air, thick with sewage, spices, fish and human sweat.
Civilization.
"Where I will be looking for my fortune? I figure - there is a war here, and from the wholesale destruction, one not expertly led. Vacant posts in armies and noble houses alike."

He looked around, eying the the scarce city guard, sparsely manned walls; even noble retinues were thick with beardless youngsters.
"I figure - I am a general, you a man of learning. A combination unheard in Westeros, from what I know. Noble houses warring over the land's bones and what meat is left on them - there must be some willing to pay solid coin for our services. I shall lead men and duel where blood is called for..."
He pondered.
"From what you told me, you understand the learning of moving forces, cog-wheels and mechanics. How would you like to be Belomas Siegebreaker, a siege engineer? The castles of Westeros seem to have solid walls, but nothing a trebuchet can't break. We shall earn gold and glory in this war, and once you have that, it's an easy thing to find your lady lost. And with the rate at which nobles are dying in this land, it might need new ones."

He spat in his hand, and reached out: "Are you in?"

[Silveressa]

With a nod of understanding and barely audible "certainly," Katrina took her beloved by the hand and gently led them around the side of the wagon out of sight, kneeling down, loosening her short sword and reading her bow for a first strike should one of the riders make an unexpected appearance.

Chain mail by the sounds of the clinking, an arrow through the crotch or throat area should get around that defense readily enough. Her thoughts churned in silence as she recalled similar situations in the past, although such encounters often took place from further distances, and more favorable elevations...

[Scrasamax]

Korley swore, "Someone fetch a healer and bloody be quick about it."

The only thing here that's been assassinated are your wits, Gargalen."

[Murometz]

 Korley and Rufus
 
And with that, most of the uncaring soldiers and knights went back to their business of drinking and murmuring. A few looked up at Korley to be sure, but looked away when his eyes met theirs, and a few pitiful glances toward the kneeling Gargalen, who was bleeding out on the floor.

One man got up, a beardless youth with a sun-baked face, the blazing sun of Dorne on his breastplate.

"Ser Rufus? Ye may yet live, but we need to staunch that wound. Some help here!" he pleaded, while glancing at Korley sideways with a scowl. A few other knights helped the youth get the heavy Gargalen onto a table, cleared of mugs and plates. One man forced something into Gargalen's mouth, and told him to bite down on it. Another began removing the brute's armor and a third began pouring strong spirits on the gushing wound.

The men worked on Gargalen. Gargalen moaned, screamed, ranted and raved.

Meanwhile, the barkeep, eyes furtive, brow sweating, placed a mug of ale, and a bowl of olives in front of Korley Lannister, and backed away again, like a lion-tamer from an open cage, with a hungry lion inside.

[Scrasamax]

Korley put several coins on the bar, more than enough to cover the pitiful drink and old olives. It his estimation it was enough that the keep should think more of it's profits than of the time the wenches would spend cleaning blood off of the floor. @!#$ing low houses, and men who can't hold their drink. He gave the work on the table a glance, and sighed.

[Kassy]

For my knives to be effective I need to be facing them directly.. A knife through the eye was usually enough, the darkness didn't bother her. In fact, she preferred working under nights blanket.

Her heart had beating quickly, the thump, thump, loud in her ears. She hoped this wouldn't end in a confrontation, she was a thief and not a fighter. Whilst she was skilled with her set of knives, she had never killed a human being before. The thought of taking another's life didn't sit well with her. Even if she were to be presented with good reason, afterwards she would no doubt regret it. Nothing was more sacred than life itself.

Checking that she they were both concealed enough she pulld her first throwing knife and tilted her head toward Odrin ready to take action if need be.

[Mourngrymn]

"Alas me boys, but that shaded lackey got me good eh?" Silence followed as he goes limp on the inns table, large enough for six men to sit astride on either side, he filled it from head to toe. A short blart of a snort was the only way the knights knew he was alive and not dead. Coming to briefly, he grabs a hold of a passing wenches bottom and grins.

"Save some of that for me lass, worse than this has happened to ol' Rufus now." Letting his arm go limp it falls by his side without effort yet still showing strength.

Smiling as if nothing were wrong be breaks out into his song again, yet not as deep as before.

"The keyhole in the door,
My boys, the keyhole in the door
As if I had been using it
On the keyhole in the door.

Be warned by this, young sailormen
And listen unto me,
What I caught then, no fishermen
Have ever caught at sea
Beware the pox, the hidden rocks,
That lie in wait ashore,
It's safer far to bend your spar
In the keyhole in the door."

He pushes away the hand that poured the strong liquid on his wound with his other.

"Don't waste any good spirits on me lads, better to drink it than pour it on de floor. I can't lift a flagon with the Smith should you pour it all out."

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Rufus passes out from the pain of fingers digging into his wound.

[valadaar]

Inwardly, Maester Belomas grimaced at the gesture.  While building siege-engines might be somewhat out of his experience, the mathematics were simple enough, and it would beat grovelling in front of his peers.  Only a moment passed before he grabbed the mercenary's hand in response.

"Yes. Now, where to start? "

[Murometz]

Odrin, Rheyna, Kat

The two riders approached.

“What did I tell you, Dagmer?” a shrill voice broke through the whistling of the wind.
The one who spoke was slight and thin.

The one called Dagmer said nothing but finally slowed his mount in front of the “resting” Odrin.

This one was of a “size” Odrin noted, a head taller than the other one, and considerably wider.

“What have we here?” the shrill thin one continued, and actually tossed a pebble at Odrin, to make sure the reclining man was awake and listening.

Both men were encased in leather and chain and breastplates of mail besides. Both had swords, though they were still sheathed. Both bore the mark of a golden kraken on black, on their breastplates. The squid sigils on metal seemed to glisten, as if the tentacles were moving and reaching, searching for prey to grasp. A trick of the moonlight.

“He’s a big one, Dagmer”, the thin man spoke again, his shrill voice beginning to grate on Odrin's nerves already, “and with a big axe” he added, stating the obvious, eyeing Ashreaver with greedy, rheumy eyes.

“Who are you? From where do you hail?" The one called Dagmer stated plainly, his stone-like face betraying no emotion.

"All alone, are we?" Shrill added annoyingly

[Murometz]

Velaquo and Belomas

Two hours later the mismatched companions entered the Lazy Stag, and looked about. Same smells as in the harbor, Velaquo noted, scrunching his nose in disdain.

The two were half-starved after eating little but tack and salt pork aboard the Shy Maiden.

They got a table and ordered more food than necessary. Lamprey pies, and roasted venison, and turnips, and onions, and two different kinds of cheeses, and crispy sausages besides.

Half-way through the meal, a sheepish looking man approached, more than a commoner it seemed, less than a knight.

"Er--Maester" he addressed Belomas. "I have a rash...down there. I--not sure, can you--" He paused to re-gather his thoughts.

"Can you look?" He was properly embarassed at least. "I'm afraid, Maester. My brother said it will turn purple and fall off. Well, its already purple."


Velaquo snorted, and perhaps was about to say something, but then froze, and glared intently across the packed taproom of the Lazy Stag.

He recognized a man, sitting quietly in the opposite corner, cloaked in shadow, sipping from a goblet, and occasionally smiling at a serving wench, who worked the tables near him. It was Quills, erstwhile paymaster and book-keeper of the Bloody Silks Company.

[Dossta]

"Just a road-weary traveller, sirrahs, a long way from home.  My horse dropped dead of fatigue, not far from here.  This seemed like a likely place to stop." 

Odrin stretched exaggeratedly, showing off his bulk, then looked up at the two.  "Have you any news of the road ahead?  You must forgive me my ignorance, but I am a stranger here.  Whom are you sworn to?"

[Silveressa]

Katrina listened to the exchange of words intently, crouching comfortably in the darkness, quietly relieved they had yet to be noticed by the new comers.

She gave Rheyna a brief smile of reassurance, her eyes glinting in the moonlight. Reaching out she gave her hand a gentle squeeze, were violence to erupt they would have the element of surprise at least; and the addition of horse would make the remainder of their journey far more bearable.

[Murometz]

Kat, Rheyna, Odrin

The two riders paused to consider Odrin's words. Perhaps they had seen the rotting horse and---

"He asked you from where you ha--" Shrill began to reprimand Odrin, but the one called Dagmer interrupted.

"We are Ironborn of the Iron Isles, sworn to Asha Greyjoy and we have taken Moat Caillin and Torren's Square besides, and we'll take the rest of the your North as well, while your wolves are busy fighting lions!"

Dagmer grinned impressed with himself, and seemed to expect Odrin to be as well.

"But you are no peasant, with an axe like that. Who are you?"

Before Odrin could answer (or not answer) Shrill piped in again.

"We're looking for Salt-Wives, know where we can find any? Killing northmen makes me want to wet my rod, and we've heard whispers on the road, whispers of young girls." Shrill grinned and squinted, looking about, then looked back at Odrin to gauge the big man's reaction.

[valadaar]

 Belomas looked up at the - tradesman perhaps? - with an appraising eye.  He nearly missed Velaquo's reaction, but carried on with the new comer.

"Please, let me finish here and then afterwards we can discuss this matter.  I may be able to help.."

He had seen this before - would have been hard not to in court - and it rarely ended well. He was more interested in Velaquo's reaction.

[Dossta]

Odrin pointedly ignored the smaller man, focussing his attention instead on Dagmar.

"What you do in the north, Iron Man, is your business.  Wolves, lions, salt-women -- they are no concern of mine.  For I am Odrin, of the free city of Novros."

Odrin rose to his full height then, looking the mounted men nearly in the eye.  Then, with deliberate calmness, he rested a hand on Ashreaver where she lay beside him.

"And the only wife I claim is my axe."

[Murometz]

Kat, Rheyna, Odrin

Shrill looked surprised (truth be told, his eyes went wide with a wee bit o’fear in them) as he watched Odrin rise to his full height, but Dagmer remained calm.

Shrill backed up his horse as it snorted; Dagmer’s hand went for his sword.

“Norvos”, Dagmer spat the name as if tasted sour.

Shrill hesitated only a few moments longer than Dagmer, before he ripped his sword free of its scabbard.

“Kill him, Dagmer!” Shrill shrilled, “Make that axe a widow!”

There was little left to say after that.


(ooc: Odrin gets first attack)

[Silveressa]

“Kill him, Dagmer! Make-”

The rest of his sentence was ignored by Kat, as she took a half step from behind the wagon, determination replacing any feelings of fear or hesitation, raising her bow to unleash the first arrow towards Shrill's open mouth; confident Odrin could more then handle a single combatant on his own.
 

"Perhaps this will shut your cock hole." The words left her lips as the arrow sprang forth from the bow with a barely audible twang, the razored tip glinting in the moonlight as it sped towards the iron mans face

[Kassy]

Peaking around the other side of the wagon, blade between her fingers Rheyna quickly made an attempt to assess the situation.

A split second later she sent the first of her knives at Dagmars leg. Intending to wound, rather than kill, thus making the work easier for her companion, and her saviour.

[Dossta]

So much for that.

He needed to take control of the situation, fast, before the other riders noticed them.  Spinning Ashreaver into his hands, he began a very familiar dance -- this time focused on unhorsing Dagmar.  A sidestep here, good.  Turn to dodge the stallion's flashing hooves.  A pause.  Then he spun her up in a graceful arc, sending his axe whistling towards the iron man's face.

[EchoMirage]

Velaquo washed the opulent meal down with ale, and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.
Absent-mindedly, he stabbed the long knife he had been using to carve up a leg of pork into the table, an inch from the bothersome patron's crotch.
"The Maester's not seeing patients today."

With the friendliest of smiles, he sat at Quills' table, and offered a seat to Belomas.
The paymaster's suprise was twofold - his captain was alive and kicking, escaped from impossible odds, unrelenting in his vigor; the second was a shock. For, when a paymaster deems his captain and comrades dead, isn't he the master of all the pay? All the shiny coins to do as he say?

"Belomas, I am delighted to introduce you to my right hand, the most trustworthy man of all, a paragon of honesty, merchant's skill and loyalty - Yanek 'Shavecoins' Quills."
The paymaster nodded - he had some uncertainty whether he indeed possessed these attributes, but Velaquo's tone suggested being a paragon of honesty would be a wise thing to do.

"Bless the Fates for your appearance, friend - you have lifted my spirit. Praytell, how has our company fared since that fateful day, a month ago?"

[valadaar]

Belomas took the proffered seat, and in a quiet aside to Velaquo, "Our partnership will be a short one if you presume to speak for me. I'll not meddle in your affairs so long as you respect mine."

He may be unemployed, but he was no base servant.

He then listened to hear the fate of Velaquo's company.