|
|
Post by Maester Maurin on Dec 10, 2007 23:38:09 GMT -5
"Well... men of ambition have to seek the way, right?"- Marten smirks.
"Perhaps we can have a drink together? My mood could use some alcohol."
|
|
|
|
Post by loremaster on Dec 10, 2007 23:44:32 GMT -5
"I think I'd like that..."
|
|
|
|
Post by shacklock on Dec 12, 2007 17:44:53 GMT -5
Sargon heads back towards the Hand’s encampment, accompanied by Uler Dengerr. He goes to check on his brother and see if Lord Blackwood has come to a decision yet.
|
|
|
|
Post by Erik on Dec 12, 2007 18:50:42 GMT -5
Erik hears the chaos outside and gets up to look out the tent's flap.
"Shit." He says to Mortimer, "Looks like Boltons, attacking. Might be time we make our exit."
|
|
|
|
Post by Horas on Dec 12, 2007 19:11:31 GMT -5
A guard makes his way over to the tent flap. It is mostly unguarded now, with most soldiers having run over to join the fight.
"Coldiron," the man says. "The Hand finds you innocent. He says you're free to go."
|
|
|
|
Post by Erik on Dec 12, 2007 19:17:49 GMT -5
Erik shrugs, "About damn well time. I think I'll have a word with the man. You mind taking me to him?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Horas on Dec 12, 2007 19:28:17 GMT -5
"M'lord is injured," the guard says. "He will speak with you, but do not take too much of his time."
|
|
|
|
Post by Erik on Dec 12, 2007 19:30:01 GMT -5
"Of course. I will be quick. Lead the way."
He gestures for Mortimer to follow.
|
|
|
|
Post by swammeyjoe on Dec 12, 2007 19:38:52 GMT -5
Randal enters the tent where Horas is being kept, with a pair of men nearby.
"I will not take much time." He says to the guards.
Turning to Horas, he walks over so few can hear. "Well, that didn't go that bad. Is there anything you wish of me?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Horas on Dec 12, 2007 19:39:42 GMT -5
Erik is led to the Hand's tent. Signs of the fighting are everywhere -- dead men lie strewn across the ground, though some are already being moved. Armed men in Blackwood colors are everywhere, and a strong ring of tough-looking men surrounds Horas' personal tent.
The guards briefly discuss something under their breaths, then Erik is allowed in.
The Hand sits in one of the chairs, shirtless. A bloody crossbow bolt lays on the ground, and a grey haired maester administers to Horas' wound with poultices and sharp needles. Horas watches the maester's progress closely. His eyes flick upwards as Erik and Mortimer enter.
"Lord Coldiron, Master Pyke," Horas says as they come in, formal even despite the circumstances.
|
|
|
|
Post by Horas on Dec 12, 2007 19:41:56 GMT -5
"Marshal your forces, Lord Randal," Horas says. "Lord Lyas has slipped through our fingers, but we have the heir to the North. With luck, the North will not wish to fight another war for a man such as Bolton... but if that is not the case, armies will be necessary."
|
|
|
|
Post by Erik on Dec 12, 2007 19:43:16 GMT -5
Erik eyes Randal with contempt upon entering, before turning to Horas.
"I hope the wound isn't too bad," He tells the Hand, "Did you get Lyas, or any of his scum family?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Horas on Dec 12, 2007 19:47:28 GMT -5
"Lyas Bolton managed to slip away in the chaos," Horas says. "Several lesser Boltons have been captured, including his kinsman Morax. I assume my man informed you that you have won your trial?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Maester Maurin on Dec 12, 2007 19:48:39 GMT -5
Marten gets to the camp, and goes for Hand`s tent.
|
|
|
|
Post by Erik on Dec 12, 2007 19:49:40 GMT -5
"He did. You have my thanks." He looks around the tent, "But you did confiscate one of my favorite axes when I was arrested, along with a matching dagger. I would appreciate getting those back."
"Oh," He continues, after a brief pause, "Shall I let Felryn know that we are at war with the North?"
|
|
Hope you all are well and happy.