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Post by Horas on May 30, 2009 1:33:48 GMT -5
If the army of the Ever-Night was a living, breathing organism, the Wildling Encampment would be the unwanted tumor growing out of its side.
True to the name the southrons call them, the Wildlings possess little in the way of discipline, and what sentries there are stand lax and informal. The wildlings dice and drink, and their wild bonfires keep the rest of the army well up into the wee hours of the night. Nearly half of the wildling contigent consists of women, and their reputation for wantoness (deserved or not) attracts a good number of the less savory sort of soldier from the main southron host.
The only wildling removed from the revelry seems to be Rask himself, the Free Folk's nominal leader. His hide tent is situated in the middle of the encampment. No human guards stand watch there, but the great snow bear that rests at the entrance is more than enough to deters most sneaks from entering uninvited.
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Post by Princess Ariel Targaryen on Jun 1, 2009 22:24:00 GMT -5
A woman in a thick cloak and shawl slipped through the sentry positions as if they were blind, not that she thought they'd stop her in any case. She stopped a random woman who didn't appear to be doing much, and smiled at her.
"Hey. You have any idea where I could find old Toothy Nute? Had a something for him."
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Post by Horas on Jun 1, 2009 22:27:17 GMT -5
The wildling woman snorts in a very unladylike fashion, then hawks a gob of spit to the side. She points wordlessly to a campfire near the middle of the encampment, where Toothy Nute dices with a boy and a young woman.
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Post by Princess Ariel Targaryen on Jun 1, 2009 22:31:27 GMT -5
Ariel watched the trio briefly, long enough to see the basics of the game being played, then in between their bets moved next to them, pulled back her hood and spoke. "Mind if I jump in, or is this a closed game?" she asked, placing a small bet down and hoping she hadn't screwed up the etiquette. Then again, if she had, the man would probably laugh his ass off rather than be offended, so she wasn't too worried.
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Post by Horas on Jun 1, 2009 22:38:12 GMT -5
Nute looks up and his face splits in a sharp-toothed grin. "Princess Ariel! A sight for sore eyes. You are welcome to play, so long as you do not mind losing overly much to old Toothy Nute."
The young woman, clad in the armor of a night's watchman, but with strips of colorful cloth interwoven in the chain links, scowls. "One day I will find out how you cheat and I will cut your balls off, Nute," she grimaces. Judging by the large stack of coins in front of Nute, he is winning the game handily.
Nute chuckles to himself, then passes the dice to Ariel. "So what brings your lovely visage to our humble fire, Princess?" Nute asks.
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Post by Princess Ariel Targaryen on Jun 1, 2009 22:51:53 GMT -5
Ariel rolled the dice with a strong hand, then winced at the results and passed the dice. "The gods mean to make me pay for otherwise good luck tonight." She looked at Nute.
"Her Grace's advisors have, apparently, decided that my refusal to kneel makes me a threat, and have gotten her permission to make a move. Accordingly, I've gone looking for a place where everyone's knees are frozen as stiff as mine and nobody gives a damn who's on the throne. Know anywhere around like that?" She grinned. "Bonus if they might have some coin to buy overpriced fresh eggs."
She turned an eye to the woman and grinned. "Sounds like a waste of a good pair."
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Post by Horas on Jun 1, 2009 23:00:40 GMT -5
Nute chuckles. "I think I might know such a place, Princess."
The other woman scoops up the dice next and rolls; better than Ariel's, though not incredible. "Depends," she says, "We ain't a big fan of haughty nobles with sticks up their asses. Everyone here answers only to themself, but if you don't help out with chores and the like you'll find yourself with a knife in the back quicker than you can blink."
The young man, no older than fifteen, picks up the dice and rolls them in one motion. "Keep it down, Kess, will ya," he murmurs. From his expression he is nursing a fierce hangover. "Prob'ly good to mind Rask, too. He's not the type of man you wanna get mad."
Nute rolls, then smiles and scoops up a pile of coins in the center of the table. "Do you have a tent?"
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Post by Princess Ariel Targaryen on Jun 1, 2009 23:09:08 GMT -5
Ariel chuckled. "Well before I was a princess, I was a step up from a scullery maid, Kess. I don't mind hard work in the slightest."
She looked to Nute and shook her head. "Tonight I'm short one. Might get mine packed and moved over to our side soon, depending on how thick the spies are around the Ironborn."
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Post by Horas on Jun 1, 2009 23:16:16 GMT -5
Kess snorts, as if not quite believing Ariel's words. "You know how to fight, Princess Scullery Maid?"
Nute nods. "Well, you can use one of ours until then. The wights were as hard on us as anyone else. One thing we are not short on is spare tents." The last player, the boy, gets up and stumbles off, muttering something about a long nap. Nute's humor returns, and he quirks a grin. "Forgive poor Pol. He drank himself sick last night, and then a king trod on his head as he was running away. His morning has not been much better than his night."
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Post by Princess Ariel Targaryen on Jun 1, 2009 23:31:03 GMT -5
Ariel smiled at Kess and lifted up her cloak, revealing the long twin dirks scabbarded at her sides. "Not a warrior, especially, but I can take care of myself when I have to. Like when the bastards got through to the healers' tents." Her lips tightened, then she turned to Rask with a laugh. "Well, I'll try not to kick him tonight, then. Plenty of tents are a good thing, for certes; whatever I get can't be more cramped than mine was. Big tent with near a dozen women piled in it, plus all my baggage."
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Post by Horas on Jun 1, 2009 23:36:31 GMT -5
Nute grins again. "Welcome aboard, then."
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Post by Sam on Jun 2, 2009 14:41:20 GMT -5
Fifty armed men march up to the Wildling camp, led Lord Simon Tarly himself with Heartsbane hanging from his shoulder. They begin to spread out, moving through the small number of wildlings searching for a woman with the distinctive silver-gold hair of the Targaryens, while Lord Simon makes his way toward the largest wildling tent, hoping to find the leader there.
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Post by Horas on Jun 2, 2009 14:46:30 GMT -5
The wildlings may be permissive of strangers walking through their midst, but they do not look kindly on companies of armed strangers trooping through. Sixty-some wildlings move hands to their weapons.
One woman calls out, "Who the fuck are you and what do you want?"
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Post by Sam on Jun 2, 2009 14:49:36 GMT -5
"We're looking for a fugitive and a traitor to her grace the queen's sovereignty. My men tracked her to this camp, from the main army, so unless she's hiding in the woods, she's going to be here," Simon said gruffly. "Sheltering a fugitive will not turn out well for you, so you'd best give her up so that justice can be mete."
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Post by Princess Ariel Targaryen on Jun 2, 2009 14:53:03 GMT -5
Ariel, hood well-drawn against the cold like most of the rest of the wildlings, kept her mouth shut and avoided drawing attention to her presence. Her right hand was on one blade, but she avoided revealing the other. While not everyone would make a connection between twin-blades and the Princess, there was no sense in taking unnecessary chances with that.
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Hope you all are well and happy.