The Search for the Wildlings

[Flex]

Euric salutes the crow with a smile.

[Horas]

The raven alights, then lands atop Euric's shoulder. It pecks at the side of his helm with curiosity. This close, Dayne can tell that some sort of parchment has been tied around its leg.

[Flex]

Euric retrieves the parchment and reads it, petting the raven afterward.

[Horas]

The message is written large, in an unsteady hand, as if by a child. It appears to have been scribed with a piece of charcoal. What do you want?

The raven preens as Euric strokes its feathers.

[Flex]

"We want to talk, that is all." Euric told the crow, his tone friendly. He felt a little strange speaking to an animal but then again he was dealing with wildlings.

[The Smith]

A man leans over to his friend, "Thats it, I am going back to farming. This shit right here is some crazy ass bull shit."

[Horas]

The raven caws again, then flies off in one direction. Euric can see that it has landed on a tree in the distance.

[Flex]

"Let's go." Euric says, driving the men on towards the tree.

[Horas]

The crow leads by short flights into the depths of the tangled dark of the Wolfswood. Eventually it leads Euric into a gulley, more clear of trees than the surrounding woods.

Rask sits on a tree stump farther away. The raven lands on his shoulder, and Rask waits.

[Flex]

"Greetings, leader of the free folk." Euric exclaims, riding a little closer to Rask. "It seems you are hiding."

[The Smith]

The reachmen knock arrows, and draw swords. Several kick their horses forward.

[Horas]

"My name is Rask," Rask says. "I lead but a few. And aye, I fled to the wood when I saw four hundred angry men with swords making for my camp."

Rask takes a hunk of lightly salted black bread from his pack and sets it down on a nearby stump. "Bread, salt," He says. "This is my hall for the moment, and you are what passes for a guest."

[Flex]

Euric waved his men back. "Halt, we're here on friendly terms for now." He studies the bread for a moment, then goes to retrieve it. "No doubt, Rask. You are aware that you are suspected of murdering Lord Tarly?"

[The Smith]

Several men pull up but two Reachmen lower lances and aim for Rask in a mad charge.

[Horas]

Rask grunts, then rises to his feet. "Your men have poor manners in greeting their host." He holds his trident forward, ready to kill any man who attacks him should Euric not be able to stop them.