Post by Horas on Nov 12, 2008 20:26:44 GMT -5
Ryam Flowers rode through the Mander, and was surprised that a larger force of soldiers, considering that it was for all intents and purposes a war zone, did not molest his small party of four men. They had ridden north from Horn Hill, on unassuming older horses and garbed in the clothing of smallfolk, without any knightly or lordly trappings. Three of the four men carried swords, the fourth carried a bow, and all four had at least one dagger hidden on him.
After half a fortnight of seemingly aimless riding, the quartet came upon what their leader desired. Two men were riding down the road that led to Greycopse, from the north. A light wood surrounded the area and the men, who were marked clearly as Tyrell messengers by their green and gold livery, almost got past the group of Reachmen before Ryam’s men noticed them. Ryam’s men started riding hard after them, and the man with the bow, a grizzled old sellsword named Timm, drew his weapon and knocked an arrow, guiding his horse solely with his knees.
He aimed carefully and released, his arrow flying true and spearing the back leg of the lead messenger’s horse the beast sent head over heels and fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Its rider was thrown from his mount’s back, and he thudded into a tree trunk with a sickening crunch that made it painfully obvious that his bones had been shattered.
The second messenger was luckier, and kept riding hard although by then Ryam had caught up with him. The squire lashed out with his sword, slicing a red line across the neck of the messenger’s horse. He swore and struck again, this time his blade missed completely, and he only barely remained in his horse’s saddle. The messenger he was chasing looked back, to see if Ryam had fallen and in that instant he rode into an outstretched tree branch, which threw him bodily from his horse to the ground.
He lay there gasping for air, as Ryam stepped above him, covering the man in his shadow. “Sorry, mate, but I’ll be needin’ your uniform,” he said, pointing his sword at the messenger’s throat. The man quickly undressed, though he did it quite awkwardly as he lay on his back on the ground, until he was down to his smallclothes. “Thanks for that, mate. I didn’t want to get blood on them, see,” the Reachman added, as he cut the messenger’s throat.
Ryam quickly exchanged his own clothes for the messenger’s, and saw Timm walking towards him, wearing the clothes of the second messenger. “We look the righ’ pair of fools, we do,” he said to Ryam. “Aye,” the squire agreed,” but we’ve got to get inside Greycopse and this is the best way to do it.”
They both re-mounted their horses, and began to ride toward Greycopse, which was but a few leagues distant. When the small keep rose up above the horizon, sitting atop the hill where it had been placed, the two men who did not have Tyrell uniforms made a small camp in the woods about five miles from the keep, while Ryam and Timm continued onward.
The majority of the Mander’s soldiers had been called to the banners of their liege lords, which were assembling at Highgarden, about fifty miles north of Greycopse. Since Greycopse was a fairly small keep, most of its soldiers would have been called away, Ryam guessed. When they got close to the keep, he saw to his glee a small column of soldiers, about 500 men, filing out of the and turning northward, towards Highgarden.
Several hours later, the pair of men rode up to the gates of Greycopse, where sentries stood on top of the wooden walls. The guardsmen challenged them when they drew close, and Ryam presented a letter that he pulled from his back, sealed with green wax, into which a flower was imprinted.
“We’re here from Highgarden, I’m Danwell Flowers, and this here is Pate of Southshield,” he said in the accent of the south Mander. “Lord Tyrell sent us to call your lord’s troops to Highgarden, but it seems that you’ve beaten us to the punch.”
The guard squinted at the seal on the letter, and then called for his captain, who could read. The captain came and examined the seal and then opened it when he deemed it satisfactory. His lips moved silently as he read the written words, which corroborated Ryam’s story. It had been expertly forged by Horn Hill’s maester, who had then used a borrowed Tyrell seal that Master Flea had provided.
The guard captain grunted his ascent, and looked back up at the mounted men. “Well our troops ‘ave left, as you can see, so do you have any other business in Greycopse?” he asked.
“No, although we have been riding for several days, and I wonder if we might take some time to rest, and if we might trouble your stable master to take care of our horses?” he asked. The guard captain nodded to him, and waved them through the gates, which creaked open to admit them.
Ryam Flowers improves toward Master Swordsman
Ryam Flowers improves toward Master Espionage
Ryam Flowers successfully gains entry into Greycopse
After half a fortnight of seemingly aimless riding, the quartet came upon what their leader desired. Two men were riding down the road that led to Greycopse, from the north. A light wood surrounded the area and the men, who were marked clearly as Tyrell messengers by their green and gold livery, almost got past the group of Reachmen before Ryam’s men noticed them. Ryam’s men started riding hard after them, and the man with the bow, a grizzled old sellsword named Timm, drew his weapon and knocked an arrow, guiding his horse solely with his knees.
He aimed carefully and released, his arrow flying true and spearing the back leg of the lead messenger’s horse the beast sent head over heels and fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Its rider was thrown from his mount’s back, and he thudded into a tree trunk with a sickening crunch that made it painfully obvious that his bones had been shattered.
The second messenger was luckier, and kept riding hard although by then Ryam had caught up with him. The squire lashed out with his sword, slicing a red line across the neck of the messenger’s horse. He swore and struck again, this time his blade missed completely, and he only barely remained in his horse’s saddle. The messenger he was chasing looked back, to see if Ryam had fallen and in that instant he rode into an outstretched tree branch, which threw him bodily from his horse to the ground.
He lay there gasping for air, as Ryam stepped above him, covering the man in his shadow. “Sorry, mate, but I’ll be needin’ your uniform,” he said, pointing his sword at the messenger’s throat. The man quickly undressed, though he did it quite awkwardly as he lay on his back on the ground, until he was down to his smallclothes. “Thanks for that, mate. I didn’t want to get blood on them, see,” the Reachman added, as he cut the messenger’s throat.
Ryam quickly exchanged his own clothes for the messenger’s, and saw Timm walking towards him, wearing the clothes of the second messenger. “We look the righ’ pair of fools, we do,” he said to Ryam. “Aye,” the squire agreed,” but we’ve got to get inside Greycopse and this is the best way to do it.”
They both re-mounted their horses, and began to ride toward Greycopse, which was but a few leagues distant. When the small keep rose up above the horizon, sitting atop the hill where it had been placed, the two men who did not have Tyrell uniforms made a small camp in the woods about five miles from the keep, while Ryam and Timm continued onward.
The majority of the Mander’s soldiers had been called to the banners of their liege lords, which were assembling at Highgarden, about fifty miles north of Greycopse. Since Greycopse was a fairly small keep, most of its soldiers would have been called away, Ryam guessed. When they got close to the keep, he saw to his glee a small column of soldiers, about 500 men, filing out of the and turning northward, towards Highgarden.
Several hours later, the pair of men rode up to the gates of Greycopse, where sentries stood on top of the wooden walls. The guardsmen challenged them when they drew close, and Ryam presented a letter that he pulled from his back, sealed with green wax, into which a flower was imprinted.
“We’re here from Highgarden, I’m Danwell Flowers, and this here is Pate of Southshield,” he said in the accent of the south Mander. “Lord Tyrell sent us to call your lord’s troops to Highgarden, but it seems that you’ve beaten us to the punch.”
The guard squinted at the seal on the letter, and then called for his captain, who could read. The captain came and examined the seal and then opened it when he deemed it satisfactory. His lips moved silently as he read the written words, which corroborated Ryam’s story. It had been expertly forged by Horn Hill’s maester, who had then used a borrowed Tyrell seal that Master Flea had provided.
The guard captain grunted his ascent, and looked back up at the mounted men. “Well our troops ‘ave left, as you can see, so do you have any other business in Greycopse?” he asked.
“No, although we have been riding for several days, and I wonder if we might take some time to rest, and if we might trouble your stable master to take care of our horses?” he asked. The guard captain nodded to him, and waved them through the gates, which creaked open to admit them.
Ryam Flowers improves toward Master Swordsman
Ryam Flowers improves toward Master Espionage
Ryam Flowers successfully gains entry into Greycopse