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Post by Horas on Jun 2, 2009 14:54:58 GMT -5
"Guess who don't give a wipe of shit about your lizard queen's sovereignty." The woman smiles, then gestures at herself with her knife. "How 'bout you run off now before I cut a hole in that pretty little face of yours?"
Just then, Rask emerges from his tent, swinging himself up on the back of his bear. "What is the meaning of this?" he growls, looking at Simon.
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Post by Sam on Jun 2, 2009 14:59:38 GMT -5
The chivalric code that had been ingrained into Simon's mind at an early age was the only thing that kept his sword sheathed, but when the larger man rode up on a bear, the Lord of Horn Hill turned to face him without surprise, "Where is the traitor and fugitive Ariel Targaryen? My men tracked here here and whether you bow to her grace or not is irrelevant; south of the Wall you are in her domain and her laws are to be obeyed."
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Post by Horas on Jun 2, 2009 15:03:32 GMT -5
Rask scowls, then spits off to the side. "I've seen her before. What do you want with her?"
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Post by Sam on Jun 2, 2009 15:04:14 GMT -5
"The queen wishes to speak with her," Simon said simply. "I merely enforce the queen's will."
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Post by Horas on Jun 2, 2009 15:08:42 GMT -5
Rask stares at Simon for a moment. The bear growls, low and menacing. "She came into my camp last night. Left this morning." He spits. "I didn't ask where."
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Post by Sam on Jun 2, 2009 15:17:28 GMT -5
"You and your, er, men fought valiantly with us in battle and I do not wish to alienate the allies of the Queen, but I cannot return to the castle without searching your camp. I care not a whit about the men here, but if you could instruct your women to remove their cloaks and hoods, for but a few minutes so that we can ensure none are the Lady Ariel in disguise, we will be gone and trouble you no longer," Simon said. He did not like the look of this camp, and doubted that the wildlings would acquiesce but he waited for Rask's response anyway.
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Post by Horas on Jun 2, 2009 15:23:02 GMT -5
The wildlings move forward, letting their numbers be felt. With mismatched weapons and armor, they look a rag-tag group, but each man and woman is a veteran of half a hundred battles against the Others.
Rask shakes his head slowly. "You take another step into my camp and I will kill you, southron. If your queen has business with me, she can damn well ask me herself."
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Post by Sam on Jun 2, 2009 16:01:10 GMT -5
Simon stood silently, his eyes scanning over the crowd of haphazardly armed men and women, searching for any hint that the one he sought was hiding among them. Nearly everyone was hooded and cloaked, and most were too far away for Simon to see the color of their eyes, but he caught a flash of violet out of the corner of one eye, and his head snapped to the left, but he could not find what he thought he had seen. Still, instinct told him he was not in the wrong place, so he sighed softly. "So be it. Kill them all," he said in a sorrowful voice, sliding Heartsbane quickly from its sheathe, and charging at the Wildlings, his fifty men close on his heels.
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Post by Dyther Morrigen on Jun 2, 2009 17:39:40 GMT -5
Dyther, fresh from Mole Town, watches the scene from afar. The Master of Laws was quite clearly a sadist.
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Post by The Smith on Jun 3, 2009 0:27:43 GMT -5
"Long" Jess Dunn uses his 50 mounted cavalry to interdict the Northmen. This allows the Westmen to reach the wildlings first.
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Post by Ollie on Jun 3, 2009 0:43:26 GMT -5
Ser Rolfe barks commands to his men (most of which who bear the burning tree of House Marbrand) as they charge into the field. The westermen quickly form a defensive line between the wildling camp and the attacking southron men, intending to keep the two parties from clashing again. The Spicer gazed around with eyes wide in bewilderment, until he was sure that no immediate bloodshed would crop up again.
"What in the all the sixteen seas is going on here?" Ser Rolfe shouted at the collected wildings, the beginnings of an incredulous, but good natured smile forming on his face. "Who is in charge here anyhow?" He sounded practically jovial, unable to maintain his alarm for much longer.
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Post by Horas on Jun 3, 2009 0:49:15 GMT -5
Rask, bleeding out of half a dozen wounds, staggers towards Spicer. The men and women of his camp move respectfully aside for the old warrior.
Rask grimaces. The expression on his face is one of grief, but he still holds his trident fiercely. "Do you come to finish the job or stop the madness, southron?" Rask asks.
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Post by Ollie on Jun 3, 2009 0:55:07 GMT -5
Rolfe eyes the odd looking trident with a mixture of apprehension and respect before turning his gaze down to the wildling.
"Finish?" he says with a laugh. "Finish? What? No! No, no, not at all. I just wanted to stop all this..." his voice drops off unintentionally, as he waves his hand behind him and gestures toward the battlefield. "How did this all happen?"
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Post by Horas on Jun 3, 2009 0:59:02 GMT -5
"Your knight with the red huntsman on his chest came by looking for some silver haired princess. I told him I'd seen her and she'd gone. Warned him not to come any closer. He decided to try and kill us all."
Rask spits. "Didn't get the job done."
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Post by Aerys on Jun 3, 2009 1:14:03 GMT -5
Shortly after Ser Maekar Velaryon, under a flag of truce, rides in, asking to meet with the wildling leader. Ser Maekar explains that he has been sent by Aegon Targaryen.
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Hope you all are well and happy.