Post by The Stranger on Apr 14, 2008 14:27:56 GMT -5
The island of Skagos was silent. Mag loved this time of day in his homeland; just when the sun would appear over the highest mountains, the golden rays of light mixing beautifully with the reflection of the sea on stone. He was riding Burk to his father's lair at Driftwood Hall. Ryk was beside him, riding his own murrakai, though Mag had forgotten what they called him. Mag only had room for one beast in his life; and that was Burk.
Burk was a rather large and shaggy murrakai. Murrakai are generally bigger than horses, both stouter and taller. They have a short, sharp, curved horn sprouting from above their eyes, and their thick coats are the color of the grey stone that the Skagosi love so deeply. Their teeth are sharp, and they graze like horses and cattle but also eat meat when available. Their temperament is closely related to that of a dog; they are very interactive, and are loyal to a fault. They know their names, and can be taught to perform many tasks. The Skagosi love them as fierce as they love their own family. Murrakai live much longer than the average horse or dog-- they average around forty to fifty years of natural life, about the same as the Skagosi people themselves. Many children are given a newborn murrakai as a friend and as a war comrade, and many times they become lifelong friends, their bond as deep and strong than the endless caves that the Skagosi dwell in.
Mag and Ryk entered the forest that Driftwood Hall was hidden in. Mag knew the way, as he had lived there growing up. He had not taken up his residence as the Magnar of Deepdown until he had married the last living Crowl, his wife, Lhyema. That had been around five or six years ago, but he wasn't sure. He ignored the hidden archers and stone throwers hiding in the trees of the forest, knowing that they would not move. Ryk made no mention of them, but he knew they were there. Ryk was an excellent scout, and had perhaps the best vision out of any man on the island. The Bloodhawk, he was called.
They finally arrived at the strong structure that was Driftwood Hall. No guards challenged their entrance; they had no doubt known of their coming the second the two had ridden into the forest. Mag bypassed the ancient and sacred throne room, knowing his father would be waiting in his personal lair. Turning to Ryk, he said, "Friend, you may wish to wait outside until my return. My father summoned us both for war talks, but will wish to speak to us separately. I know his methods." Ryk nodded, whistling, and a hawk came flapping in out of the sky, flying low and furious through the dark halls of the castle-cave. It landed on Ryk's shoulder, fierce and proud looking. Mag shoved open the old stone door and entered the room, Burk lumbering behind him as always. It was a normal sight to the Skagosi.
Torches lit the inside of the room, and Gariss was bent over, studying a large, sprawled out piece of parchment. He merely nodded when Mag entered and called him over. Mag saw that it was a map of the north mainland; he had been given it by Lord Umber a decade ago when he had left Last Hearth. A few small rocks had been strategically placed throughout the map, marking places of interest to Gariss. The legendary Magnar pointed to a particular spot on the map. Karhold, it said. The ancestral seat of House Karstark. "This is the place I wish to conquer. Tell me, in your own words, the best way to do that." He placed his hands behind his back and waited for his son to figure out the puzzle.
Mag noticed the dense forest and the coastal villages marked on the map. After a moment, he knew. "Father and Magnar, I think I have a good strategy. The castle sits many miles away from most of its villages. Their towns and people make villages on the coast, as we know, Father and Magnar. We raped their women and took their treasure in these villages not a decade past. I know you do not forget a victory. If we split our forces into three divisions, under myself, you, and Ryk, we can easily take these three villages with little or no damage," he said, marking them by placing rock over top their names, "and then move inland and take the next three. All six are evenly spaced apart; we will be giving our warriors practice, taking goods and treasures, and most importantly, killing all the men that the castle could call up as levies. That is how these mainlanders do things, their villagers are not warriors like the men of Skagos. Also the Stark wolf pup led many warriors to death on the Milkwater, these Karstarks will not find it easy to call back more warriors to death." He looked at his father for a response but Gariss was expressionless. Continuing, Mag said, "This way, when a few survivors make it back to the castle, they will tell the same story: five hundred savages raided our town and took our women. The castle will no doubt think us a single band of five hundred; not fifteen hundred men. They also know us to be raiders, but never stone castle conquerers. They will not be frightened, Father and Magnar, in the castle; they will call up no more of their "levies", for they will think us gone after we have raided their villages, as has been the case for the last hundred times we have raped their women and took their treasure. But no, Father and Magnar, instead we will stalk through this forest, towards the castle. It will be lightly defended, mark my words, Father and Magnar. We will storm it at night, silently, the Skagosi way. We will climb their stone walls that are nothing compared to our cliffs and walls. We will murder them in their sleep, and win glory for our people. It is a good plan, Father and Magnar," Mag said, ending his talk, which had been very long for a Skagosi.
Gariss looked from Mag back to the map, and then, a rare occasion, smiled. "It is a good plan." Turning, he brought forth a stone plate with cold fish and bread on it. "Sit, eat. I will tell you the tale of my first great win." Mag sat, surprised and eager. Gariss rarely shared his battle tactics or stories. His first great victory had been against a host of 3,000 wildlings from their city of Hardhome, with only his 500 warriors from Driftwood Hall on his side. Unbelievably, the Skagosi had decimated the wildling force, losing only a dozen men of their own. Gariss said, "It is the tale of the use of the ambushing tactic. We Skagosi are perfect for it." Hesitating, he then added, "I must prepare you, my son, for the future. A father does not live forever." With that, Gariss began. Mag laid down on the stone floor, listening, his head resting on Burk's shaggy belly, who was sleeping.
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Gariss told him the tale, highlighting different things he wanted Mag to pay attention to and learn. As he rose to leave, the Magnar of Driftwood Hall asked him to send Ryk in. When he did, Gariss said, "Fellow, Magnar, come and gaze upon this map. It is your duty to assist me in the strategy." Ryk eagerly nodded and peered over the parchment. He saw the targets marked by the stones, and Gariss explained to him the strategy that had sounded well to himself and Mag.
"Ryk," Gariss said, "It is your right as a fellow Magnar to lead the host. But will you allow the overall command in my rule? It would do me great honor." Ryk waved the old man's worries away and asked him what he wanted. "I want you, Magnar Ryk, to scout through this whole forest," he said, pointing at the map, "after we have taken the coastal villages. What little strength lies in those woods can easily be removed if you scout them well. Will you lead our host in the front, Magnar?" Ryk nodded, obviously proud of the opportunity to put his leadership at work. It had taken a good man to allow Gariss to have the overall command, for even though he was a legend on the island, all Magnar's had equal claim to lead an invasion. Ryk's humble refusal just showed his better leadership skills, by refusing the overall leadership. It all made sense to Ryk.
As he rose to leave, Gariss bade him to stay. "Magnar, my son can wait a while longer. For now I wish you to sit, and I want to tell you the tales of my first days of war, when I led the van for your father, who was the overall commander. Scouting ahead is an invaluable tool to every invasion, and I would like you to improve upon it. Even a Magnar cannot live forever."
The tale lasted for two hours, and outside the room Mag slept with Burk. When it was over, Ryk felt even more confident about his abilities. "Magnar Ryk, I thank you for your wise decisions made today, your leadership abilities are showing through immensely. May our gods who watch us always bless us with victory."
Ryk bowed and left the room, hardly containing his eagerness to land on the shores of the mainland, raping and killing.
Results:
OOC: Stranger, can this be in the secret scenario folder? I have outlined my battle plans and where I am going to strike, etc. We are going to strike at Karhold, Winterfell is much too far inland and besides, Karhold and Winterfell and Lord Stark are all the same thing to the Skagosi, save maybe Mag, who has actually been to all of these places.
Mag improves battle generalship from noteworthy to expert.
Mag improves ambushing from apprentice to noteworthy.
Ryk improves scouting from expert to expert (improved).
Ryk improves leadership from apprentice to noteworthy.
Burk was a rather large and shaggy murrakai. Murrakai are generally bigger than horses, both stouter and taller. They have a short, sharp, curved horn sprouting from above their eyes, and their thick coats are the color of the grey stone that the Skagosi love so deeply. Their teeth are sharp, and they graze like horses and cattle but also eat meat when available. Their temperament is closely related to that of a dog; they are very interactive, and are loyal to a fault. They know their names, and can be taught to perform many tasks. The Skagosi love them as fierce as they love their own family. Murrakai live much longer than the average horse or dog-- they average around forty to fifty years of natural life, about the same as the Skagosi people themselves. Many children are given a newborn murrakai as a friend and as a war comrade, and many times they become lifelong friends, their bond as deep and strong than the endless caves that the Skagosi dwell in.
Mag and Ryk entered the forest that Driftwood Hall was hidden in. Mag knew the way, as he had lived there growing up. He had not taken up his residence as the Magnar of Deepdown until he had married the last living Crowl, his wife, Lhyema. That had been around five or six years ago, but he wasn't sure. He ignored the hidden archers and stone throwers hiding in the trees of the forest, knowing that they would not move. Ryk made no mention of them, but he knew they were there. Ryk was an excellent scout, and had perhaps the best vision out of any man on the island. The Bloodhawk, he was called.
They finally arrived at the strong structure that was Driftwood Hall. No guards challenged their entrance; they had no doubt known of their coming the second the two had ridden into the forest. Mag bypassed the ancient and sacred throne room, knowing his father would be waiting in his personal lair. Turning to Ryk, he said, "Friend, you may wish to wait outside until my return. My father summoned us both for war talks, but will wish to speak to us separately. I know his methods." Ryk nodded, whistling, and a hawk came flapping in out of the sky, flying low and furious through the dark halls of the castle-cave. It landed on Ryk's shoulder, fierce and proud looking. Mag shoved open the old stone door and entered the room, Burk lumbering behind him as always. It was a normal sight to the Skagosi.
Torches lit the inside of the room, and Gariss was bent over, studying a large, sprawled out piece of parchment. He merely nodded when Mag entered and called him over. Mag saw that it was a map of the north mainland; he had been given it by Lord Umber a decade ago when he had left Last Hearth. A few small rocks had been strategically placed throughout the map, marking places of interest to Gariss. The legendary Magnar pointed to a particular spot on the map. Karhold, it said. The ancestral seat of House Karstark. "This is the place I wish to conquer. Tell me, in your own words, the best way to do that." He placed his hands behind his back and waited for his son to figure out the puzzle.
Mag noticed the dense forest and the coastal villages marked on the map. After a moment, he knew. "Father and Magnar, I think I have a good strategy. The castle sits many miles away from most of its villages. Their towns and people make villages on the coast, as we know, Father and Magnar. We raped their women and took their treasure in these villages not a decade past. I know you do not forget a victory. If we split our forces into three divisions, under myself, you, and Ryk, we can easily take these three villages with little or no damage," he said, marking them by placing rock over top their names, "and then move inland and take the next three. All six are evenly spaced apart; we will be giving our warriors practice, taking goods and treasures, and most importantly, killing all the men that the castle could call up as levies. That is how these mainlanders do things, their villagers are not warriors like the men of Skagos. Also the Stark wolf pup led many warriors to death on the Milkwater, these Karstarks will not find it easy to call back more warriors to death." He looked at his father for a response but Gariss was expressionless. Continuing, Mag said, "This way, when a few survivors make it back to the castle, they will tell the same story: five hundred savages raided our town and took our women. The castle will no doubt think us a single band of five hundred; not fifteen hundred men. They also know us to be raiders, but never stone castle conquerers. They will not be frightened, Father and Magnar, in the castle; they will call up no more of their "levies", for they will think us gone after we have raided their villages, as has been the case for the last hundred times we have raped their women and took their treasure. But no, Father and Magnar, instead we will stalk through this forest, towards the castle. It will be lightly defended, mark my words, Father and Magnar. We will storm it at night, silently, the Skagosi way. We will climb their stone walls that are nothing compared to our cliffs and walls. We will murder them in their sleep, and win glory for our people. It is a good plan, Father and Magnar," Mag said, ending his talk, which had been very long for a Skagosi.
Gariss looked from Mag back to the map, and then, a rare occasion, smiled. "It is a good plan." Turning, he brought forth a stone plate with cold fish and bread on it. "Sit, eat. I will tell you the tale of my first great win." Mag sat, surprised and eager. Gariss rarely shared his battle tactics or stories. His first great victory had been against a host of 3,000 wildlings from their city of Hardhome, with only his 500 warriors from Driftwood Hall on his side. Unbelievably, the Skagosi had decimated the wildling force, losing only a dozen men of their own. Gariss said, "It is the tale of the use of the ambushing tactic. We Skagosi are perfect for it." Hesitating, he then added, "I must prepare you, my son, for the future. A father does not live forever." With that, Gariss began. Mag laid down on the stone floor, listening, his head resting on Burk's shaggy belly, who was sleeping.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gariss told him the tale, highlighting different things he wanted Mag to pay attention to and learn. As he rose to leave, the Magnar of Driftwood Hall asked him to send Ryk in. When he did, Gariss said, "Fellow, Magnar, come and gaze upon this map. It is your duty to assist me in the strategy." Ryk eagerly nodded and peered over the parchment. He saw the targets marked by the stones, and Gariss explained to him the strategy that had sounded well to himself and Mag.
"Ryk," Gariss said, "It is your right as a fellow Magnar to lead the host. But will you allow the overall command in my rule? It would do me great honor." Ryk waved the old man's worries away and asked him what he wanted. "I want you, Magnar Ryk, to scout through this whole forest," he said, pointing at the map, "after we have taken the coastal villages. What little strength lies in those woods can easily be removed if you scout them well. Will you lead our host in the front, Magnar?" Ryk nodded, obviously proud of the opportunity to put his leadership at work. It had taken a good man to allow Gariss to have the overall command, for even though he was a legend on the island, all Magnar's had equal claim to lead an invasion. Ryk's humble refusal just showed his better leadership skills, by refusing the overall leadership. It all made sense to Ryk.
As he rose to leave, Gariss bade him to stay. "Magnar, my son can wait a while longer. For now I wish you to sit, and I want to tell you the tales of my first days of war, when I led the van for your father, who was the overall commander. Scouting ahead is an invaluable tool to every invasion, and I would like you to improve upon it. Even a Magnar cannot live forever."
The tale lasted for two hours, and outside the room Mag slept with Burk. When it was over, Ryk felt even more confident about his abilities. "Magnar Ryk, I thank you for your wise decisions made today, your leadership abilities are showing through immensely. May our gods who watch us always bless us with victory."
Ryk bowed and left the room, hardly containing his eagerness to land on the shores of the mainland, raping and killing.
Results:
OOC: Stranger, can this be in the secret scenario folder? I have outlined my battle plans and where I am going to strike, etc. We are going to strike at Karhold, Winterfell is much too far inland and besides, Karhold and Winterfell and Lord Stark are all the same thing to the Skagosi, save maybe Mag, who has actually been to all of these places.
Mag improves battle generalship from noteworthy to expert.
Mag improves ambushing from apprentice to noteworthy.
Ryk improves scouting from expert to expert (improved).
Ryk improves leadership from apprentice to noteworthy.