(121-11-26) Assault on Weirwood
Assault on Weirwood
Summary: Lord Andolin fights off burlars.
Date: Date of play (26/11/121)
Related: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-07-29-cloth-and-cakes http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-07-30-disturbance-at-a-party http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-07-30-discovery-in-starry-street

It is the dead of night, the house is quiet, with only the on duty guards awake.

Well, maybe not the only ones awake. After spending so long on the road and with all the stresses recently, Andy's not had the easiest time sleeping. He's at least pulled on clothes to come downstairs - loose fitting breeches and a shirt - and got some wine and ventured out to check on the horses, as it's quiet and calming. Now, he's heading back inside the house, much to the side-eyeing of the house guards.

A dark cloaked figure can be seen fiddling with window shutters, out of vieew of the guards, but visible to an alert pair of eyes returning from the stables. The sash goes, just as Andy looks that way, and the second story man opens the shutters and slides in, a confederate prepares to follow him.

It's almost more out of the corner of his eye that he notices it - a brief flitter on the edge of his vision that he probably passes off as a bird, maybe a raven. But then something makes him look again, and he goes very still for a heartbeat. "Someone's—" he says, first under his breath, and then he kicks himself into gear. "Second floor, someone's coming in," he says quickly to the guard nearest him, not even bothering to look at the man before kicking himself into heading up the stairs as quick as his leg can allow. His weapons and such are, most inconveniently, stored in his room.

One guard stays to bar the door, the other follows, boots rather heavier on the flags than one might like. He hisses at Andy to take his bow and quiver, so he might stand in front with his sword, being properly armoured and Andy being barely dressed.

The door to one of the second floor spare rooms is just starting to crack open.

Andolin does indeed make quick work of nabbing his bow and quiver - the short bow, not the long field one — and is perfectly okay with the armored guard taking point, considering he's not a fan of people poking holes in him. The second floor door is keenly paid attention to, every muscle going taut.

A head peeps out quickly and seeing the guard, throws a knife fast at him. It6 sticks in the thin opening on the guard's left shoulder.

Maybe the knifer didn't see the skinny kid in riding clothes standing behind the guard, or maybe he discounted him. Either way, the second that guard reels from getting stuck with the knife, Andolin's features go to utter steel, and he lifts up the bow and, in a single motion, looses the arrow. And in that second that head peeps out, that arrow finds purchase through the invader's eye, and as he slides bleeding to the floor the Stark is moving swiftly to the guard. "Are you okay?"

The intruder slides to the floor. His friend makes a soft sound of horror and can be heard scrambling back the way he came. The guard is clutching his shoulder and edging towards the door held ajar by the suddenly dead burglar, "Fine shooting, my Lord. Best to secure the house before we fuss wi'it."

"Agreed," the young Stark murmurs, low, and he's quick to follow the guard toward the door, another arrow nocked.

The guard knockls the door all the way open with his sword. The second man is beautifully framed in the window. He turns to throw a knife.

The knife glances along the guard's sword arm.

Andolin brings up his bow again, but this time the guy in the window is expecting it and is a little too quick; the arrow sticks in the frame where the guy's body was a moment before. He says nothing, just pulls out another.

The intruder drops away, leaving his dead friend and his knife behind. Odds are, he is still running for the compound wall.

Andolin follows him right to the window, features expressionless, and he draws up the bow and lets loose. It's dark out, and a moving target— and yet the arrow sticks him true. When the guy crumples, he actually curses. "Damn, I didn't mean to kill him." He jerks a look back to the guard, starts to say something — and then sees him bleeding, and so shuts up and promptly follows the guy completely gracelessly out the window. Once that would've been an easy drop for him, but as it is he lands completely gracelessly and is forced to stumble to his feet, cursing and bitching about the world, and limps to see if the guy still breathes enough to question him.

The arrow is neatly centered along his spine. A pool of blood is spreading fast. The man is still weakly trying to pull himself towards the wall with his fading strength, his legs dragging behind him limply. The man is clearly dying, but might speak yet.

And, the Stark stalks — well, limps — right over, and, though he's not a cruel person, he's not particularly kind when it comes to people breaking into his house. "It's over," he snaps, nocking another arrow and stepping in front of the guy, half-drawing it where he can see it. "Why were you breaking in here?"

The Burglar simply gives up. One can see it in his eyes, the slump of his shoulders. "No coin is worth this. Make it quick, Lad. A man paid us to come kill a man locked in your cellars. It was meant to be a simple in and out, not… not this."

There's a slight shift, a creak of the leather wrappings around the bow. His brows knit, though the bow doesn't lower. "Who sent you? A name."

The Dying Man shakes his head. "No name, and he wore a hood. I got a look as he turned to leave, though. Light hit him just right. Tall he was, and pale, with a face like a horse. Hair on the back of his head looked pale too, but I can't swear to it. Please, I can tell I'm done. Don't make me linger in some dark cell. Finish itr quick like you done for Rob."

Andolin listens, and the point to the arrow wavers. Just barely. It wobbles, and then he takes a breath and it steadies. "Thank you," he says, flat, and then, quieter, "May your gods watch over you," as the string goes taut again, and it's loosed at virtually point blank. Against a defenseless target, this close, with as good of an archer as he is… they don't miss.

Thud. And the light fades from his remaining eye. It is at this point the guards arrive, "What would you like done, M'Lord?"

Andolin looks troubled, but as the guards approach his expression steels again. "Make sure Ser Malcolm and Lord Carolis know of this, and increase the guards, especially at night. If you need help on rotations, let us know." He lifts a hand and starts to run it through his hair, and then notices a smudge of blood on it from god knows where. It's not his. He pulls it away with an odd expression on his face. "The man that sent him was hooded, face like a horse he said. He thinks he had pale hair and was tall. Don't let any man that looks like that near the house, and we'll get some people out looking for him."

The guards hurry to set up the extra security The wounded one goes to get patched up.

Andolin picks up the arrows left and looks troubled, but he leaves the guards to take care of the body. He has a couple messages to write before he sleeps; it'll probably be a long night.

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