(121-05-04) New Arrivals
New Arrivals
Summary: As skirmishes with the Wildlings continue, the war camp receives some new arrivals.
Date: 04/05/2014
Related: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank. You have to use full URLs, like http://gobmush.wikidot.com/logtitle)

Afternoon in the main camp —— The banners of House Stark and several Houses sworn to the Dire Wolves of the North fly over as men and beasts move to and fro. All the typical sounds (and smells) of a battle encampment can be found here. A fire roars nearby as several men are gathered, lazing about. One of these is Lord Riderch Blackwood, sprawled out on the ground and munching on a boiled turnip.

Shouts are raised as some new arrivals have been noted. Not Wildlings, not more Ironborn under Sylas Volmark (who have been helpfully planted, er, elsewhere to avoid fights) but a dozen or so Riverlanders flanking a large wagon. They are led by a pink-cheeked, beardless boy who has seen sixteen or seventeen years at best. They are flying the red-and-black banner of House Blackwood, bearing its Weirwood and Ravens.

"I /told/ you, Alyn, if we had stayed on the main road we could have been here a day or two sooner!" The boy shouts towards one of his soldiers. "Hopefully we didn't miss anything."

Having been doing a walk around the camp, without his armor at the moment, the Lannister present here, Ludvik pauses at the new arrivals with the wagon, studying it a bit quietly as he does. Taking out a wine skin he was carrying with him, he takes a long sip of the liquid now.

Riding up on a white palfrey is a giant of a man, especially on horse-back. He is approaching from a different angle compared tothe supply wagon. In the tall man's wake are a couple more horses, a black destrier a bit larger then most and a chestnus rouncey loaded with gear chests of a knight. Dressed in traveling attire, mostly leathers, the man has no colors or banners, and seems to be alone. Not always smart for a single man with three horses to travel alone, but given his size and the longsword at his left hip how many would try?

Approaching the camp and overhearing Alyn's words Tironos states in a baritone voice, "Rushing into battle results in more death then victory. There will be time enough for you to prove your skills." as he dismounts and takes the reigns of the palfrey, giving him a pat on the side of the neck, "Who commands the camp?" Though anyone who was at the Maiden's Malee' as its come to be known might recognize Ser Tironos Tarly by height height if nothing else, as his armor is packed away.

The young Blackwood boy and his grumbling men get around the horse-drawn wagon as the grizzled driver spurs the vehicle into the camp — one would hope it's got some appreciated cargo. He himself dismounts from his horse as do his mounted bretheren at a relaxed pace. Not all of these horses look bred for war, one would note. He then looks over at the big Tarly Knight openmouthed. He might not have seen a man this big before. "I've fought before!" he says, a little indignant, or maybe a little too eager to prove himself. If one looks hard enough one would note that a couple of men are stifling smiles. "Lord Cregan Stark I'm assuming. We're just here because of my cousin. Lord Derfel sent us after the Raven arrived."

The cousin in question is a good number of yards away, enjoying the fire and maybe enjoying less of his turnip. Riderch glances up at Ludvik Lannister and sits up a little bit, picking up a bottle next to him. "Ho, Lion! Ten to one that this is better than what you've got in that skin." He offers, bemusedly. It seems hard to keep this man's spirits down.

Tironos dismounts and nods to the boy, "I'll report in then. As to your experience, I've not said you had it or not, simply offering a warning about tactics. When too eager to meet the enemy one tends to underestimate their skill, overestimates their own, or is so focus on the enemy before them they miss the enemy approaching from their flank. Simply put, lay your enemies low, just be mindful of what is going on around you and you are likely to not only survive many battles but win many as well." as he adds, "Where can I leave my horses safely within the camp, or am I to keep them by my tent?"

Coming to a stop as he hears Riderch's words, Ludvik is unable to hold back a grin in return. "I don't know, this is a fairly good vintage, after all," he remarks, taking another sip from it now. "What's in the bottle, though?"

"Magic." comes Riderch's languid response as his grin widens. "I think there are juniper berries involved." He pops the cork and the smell of said berries wafts with a honey-like aroma. "Mmm. Maybe I'll cancel that wager, but you owe it to yourself to try." As he says this to Ludvik, he spies something in the distance towards the camp's edge and scrambles stiffly to his feet. He's been a little banged up.

"Meanwhile, the Blackwood boy and his little cluster of men seems a bit more abashed and shrugs at the man's offer of advice before answering the question — He gestures in the vague direction of where the horses are being kept, before the little group finishes dismounting and walking their horses slowly towards the interior. "Long journey, eh?"

Tironos nods to the boy even as they look to the wagons and starts to lead his horses through the camp towards the location indicated as the holding area for the horses silently at a casual pace as he idly scans the camp to get an idea of the state of the troops and morale, at least what he can personally see of it.

Ludvik chuckles, "Ah, it sure smells quite good," he replies as he watches Riderch getting to his feet. "What?" he asks, just in case now, looking around as well for the moment.

"Share and share alike. What'd be the point of war if we couldn't sit on our arses drinking ourselves silly in the meantime?" Riderch responds to the Lannister knight a little hesitantly as he suddenly calls out, "HO! Over here!" He's waving his arms and the little cluster of Blackwood men /and/ Tir could both easily notice.

Meanwhile, the boy looks over to one of his men! "Well that didn't take long." He nods to Tir. "Hopefully we'll get answers."

Tironos' mocha eyes move to the shout, and it takes a bit to recognize the man without armor this time and nods respectfully. He continues on to the holding area for the horses, leaves his horses there, giving a warning about Honor, and making sure his gear is kept safely to the side till he finds out where he is setting up his tent. It is then the tallest of the Tarlys heads over to Riderch, offering another respectful nod as he approaches."

There's a brief chuckle offered to Riderch at those words, "Good words for both war and peace, my friend," he remarks. Pausing for a few moments as he hears the call to the Blackwood men, looking towards them. "Friends of yours?" he remarks. A brief nod to the Tarly as well now.

"Mmmm. I appreciate your way of doing things." Riderch's words are offered to Ludvik cheerily as he shoots a glance over at the Western Lord before extending a hand out. "In a manner of speaking. I wonder how they all fell in together."

Clearing his throat, he at least recognizes Tironos for (more or less) who he is. "Nice to see you on your feet, Ser!" To the Reachman. And his kinsman is acknowledged. "Robin? Did my father send you?" There's a slight edge of disbelief in his tone.

Tironos smiles softly and says, "Good to be back on my feet. I figured given it took hours of denting my armor or Valyrian Steel to take me down at the melee, I thought I might as well see how many Wildlings I can take on at the same time. After all between the three I faced at the melee, I should be able to take, what four or five of them compared to what the melee offered?" chuckling softly. There is purely good-natured merriment in his tone, without a hint of bragging or arrogance.

Ludvik chuckles a little as he hears Riderch's words, nodding a little bit now. "The time-honored way we do things at Casterly Rock," he remarks, before he offers a nod to both the Tarly and the Blackwoods. "Well met," he offers to them, before taking another sip from his wineskin now.

"I'm beginning to think that's how we do things at Raventree too. Or will." Riderch's voice is bemused as he gestures the new arrivals over with an over-the-top, sweeping wave.

As Tironos closes in, he notes — "don't say that too loud, Ser. She's here and she still has that sword." He mock-warns, before continuing, "These Wildlings aren't exactly well-equipped field champions, but they know what they're doing, and they're bloody fierce enough. I think the archers are the worst."

Finally, the Blackwood boy and one of his soldiers makes way to the campfire, bearing a couple large sacks they pilfered from the wagon. The others are storing their supplies. "Cousin!" The beardless boy exclaims. "So your father was not too happy to hear about this when the Raven arrived. Until he saw Lord Stark's name."

Tironos nods respectfully to the lannister knight, he then nods to Riderch and asks, "Any solid information you can tell me about the Wildlings? I've not been in actual battle before, and knowledge of the enemy is never a bad thing when it comes to facing them. Not to mention it tends to yield superior tactics as well."

"Tactics? Mostly kill or be killed in such a battle as this. Chaotic stuff, really." Ludvik remarks, shrugging a little to himself as he does, and taking another sip to drain the wineskin now.

"Tactics involved taking a score of horse and hammering through their line. At least that's what happened in the first engagement." Riderch notes, rubbing his shoulder in memory. It's almost a glower. He of course helps himself to the honey wine in the bottle next to him as he fills a silver-plated horn, before passing the bottle around to all takers.

"And Father's /never/ happy, Cousin." Riderch says, sighing a little bit but there is no surprise there.

"Indeed not — but he holds the North in high esteem. And I dare say you should as well. You know it is." This last bit is returned to Riderch by the beardless boy. "Come on, Alyn. Let's get this wagon unloaded! I'll see you in the next muster, Cousin, Lords!" The lead Blackwood acknolwedges the presence of a Lannister as well. He's hard to miss.

The Riverlanders march off and Riderch smiles as they go, left with Tironos and Ludvik, dusting himself off."The Wildlings are — somehow they made it this far south. Someone /wanted/ them to. We captured one but he's not talking, and I'd be surprised if they know anything other than 'run south, kill', which is how they've been driven."

Tironos looks to Ludvik and says, "I studied for two years and earned my link in matters of war. There are always tactical options, one simply needs to know enough reliable information about enemy methods. I believe I even picked up a few things about our own Ser Riderch's methods during the tourney, unfortunately I lack the skill to take advantage of them. Though I was always better at the mental pursuits of war over the physical." Now that he mentions it, he actually has an iron link tied to his belt to the left of the buckle, though its actually tied on not hanging from the belt. A black iron link is similarly tied to the right side of the buckle, and a pale steel link is tied securely to the sheath of his longsword. He then nods to Riderch and says, "i wouldn't mind trying to get something out of them, but then I'm not well versed in extracting information so i doubt I'd get anything others haven't unless they'd say anything to avoid seeing a tall man." chuckling softly.

Ludvik just shrugs a little. "I'm sure we will remember your studying when some unpredictable move of one of the Wildlings have broken through your armor," he remarks. "For civilized people, the information about the methods might help, but these are not civlized people. At least not in our sense of the word." A brief shrug, before he adds, "Anyway, I have some things I need to take care of." Turning to head back towards his tent now.

"I studied under Donal Fenn who knocked me on my arse until I learned not to stand in the same spot for too long." Riderch says bemusedly as he shrugs down a little bit of his honey wine. Which is really probably all you would have noticed in our little spar. Which, by the way, I owe you a rematch of. Wasn't sporting beating on you while that girl did. I /will/ say you held off two opponents damn nicely." The Riverlander offers to Tironos with a cheery demeanor. If he's sore over his tourney loss, he's not showing it.

"Let us be fair, Ser. There's use to be had in that. The Wildlings aren't giants from another world. They're still men. I think what this comes down to is — 'What works on a battlefield?'"

Tironos counters saying, "Tactics always exist, the unexpected is simply a test of one's ability to adapt to the unfolding battle." but leaves it at that as the Lannister departs. He offers a respectful nod to Ludvik then looks to Riderch once more. Nodding respectfully he says, "You honor me Ser Riderch. We may well have a rematch at some point. As to myself I only studied the ways of war with the Maesters, but they said I was naturally gifted in it. As to Wildlings I'm aware they are men as much as we, even if 'uncivilized'. However they still are prone to the same personalities, fears, and the rest we are capable of. True they think differently, but I'd guess being more responsive and alert might help counter the more unpredictable methods they might employ, perhaps I might still pick up a few reliable stories from the men before we go into battle."

Ludvik doesn't look back as he heads off, disappearing into his tent after a few moments of pause, to take care of whatever he was planning to take care of.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License