(122-02-13) Confirming Suspicions
Confirming Suspicions
Summary: A party goes forth along the Roseroad to locate and investigate the bandit's fort reported to be out there.
Date: Date of play (13/02/2-15)
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)

Roseroad The Reach

Fri Feb 13, 122 ((Fri Feb 13 18:08:07 2015))

It is a summer evening. The weather is cool and stormy.

The Roseroad is a wide and well-travelled route, spanning a great distance. It stretches Northeast away from Oldtown, leading through meadows and light woods, and in the distance, the rocky hills that are the mild Westernmost edge of the Uplands. Keep going long enough and you will reach Highgarden, where you might continue all the way to King's Landing, or diverge to take the Ocean Road to Lannisport.

The Beacon Gate represents the Southern terminus of the road. It is Oldtown's largest city gate, made of grand white stone, and lit with torches day and night. It arches over the road, and while the enormous iron-banded wooden gates are almost always open, the gate is also always guarded, with murder-holes in the arch above.

Near to Oldtown the countryside is spread with farms and vineyards, and smallfolk and their livestock can fill the fields during the days. As one travels further from the city the farms become fewer, and clump together into little villages.

Contents: Eonn Owen Killian

Exits: [DRV] Dog Rose Vineyard [RF] Redwood Farm

[SW] Hightower Square

Rory comes out the Beacon Gate from Oldtown.

With the word of the banditry happening along the roseroad from the lowborn of Oldtown and the farmers in the vicinity, it was no doubt going to become a problem amongst the city if such a problem such as a presumed bandit fort in the woods stayed for any longer. And with that, it was foreseeable that lords and smallfolk alike would begin to plan a movement to search for the said fort.

A short way out from the Beacon Gate resides a cart with two horses ready to pull it, and half a dozen men stand out besides it. Farmers from the look of it. Old and dirty clothes and hats, with crude leather armor and some pitchforks and shovels. Hardly anything to defend themselves. With a wealthier type- no doubt a merchant, standing a bit farther away from them with a piece of paper in hand, it's rather clear it's the assembling spot for the volunteers that would be heading out to find the fort. And as such, the man quietly stands there, looking back and forth as he waits for some more people to arrive.

Killian is dressed in chain with a breastplate of antique style but sturdy manufacture. He is no horseman, and is on foot, armed with axe and bow. His crew are still trying to fix his ship after yesterday's attack and Captain Killian farwynd is in the mood to hit people with something sharp.

Lord Fossoway approaches on horseback, followed by eight men-at-arms wearing the red apple of house Fossoway on their badges. He doesn't bother with the man holding the sign-up sheet, and the sight of it causes his thick brow to shoot up. He is not a betting man, but if he were he would bet a tidy sum on most of those farmers incapable of signing actual names.

Eonn has come, on his big white mare who is as much plow-horse as destrier, though also at least as much destrier as she is plow-horse. There's a cat, a patch-coated one in ginger, white and black, sitting on the pommel of his saddle and looking pleased with itself. The man is eating an apple and seeming relaxed about this whole affair.

"What's all this then?" The Ginger Fox inquires as he wanders in from his usual spot sitting next to the town gates. A long pipe gestures towards the wagon as he approaches it and raps his knuckles against it, remarking, "Sturdy." His dark eyes move around for a moment and he spots the merchant. He approaches the man, raising his pipe to rest in his mouth as he looks the man up and down, before asking, "Whassis?"

A close look will show a long ship, worn nearly smooth embossed on the Farwynd heir's breast plate, but he bears no other house sign on his arms or armour. Killian himself has a faraway look about his gaze, as if he's not entirely seeing what is in front of him. Rory does get a second, rather quizzical look from him though.

The merchant-man taps his right foot against the ground as he stands there idly, taking in a sharp breath through his teeth before sighing a slow sigh, his eyes trailing back and forth as he looks along the paper he holds, "Right that'd be-.." he begin, before hearing movement coming from his left, he blinks and stares for a few seconds before his right hand motions a bit over, "How many's that? Four of ye'?" he asks out, glancing a bit at the new arrivals before looking back down to his paper, staring down at the paper again for a second before a lop-sided grin appears on his face, "Then we've reached th' quota." he says, before rolling the paper a bit, "Is that all of ya'? None else coming?" he asks, before blinking as Rory speaks up, "This? This is th' volunteering.. thing, for findin' that bandit fort them wives n' kids are talking about. I wouldn' have thought much of it if they didn't steal me cart coming in here." he says with a shrug. <re>

Owen shifts in his saddle. He has the look of a man who is increasingly losing patience. "Quotas? You should get back to selling goods." He scoffs before repeating to himself under his breath, "Quotas…" He looks back at one of his mounted men-at-arms, as if he can't believe this rinky-dink operation, before calling out, "Who has had rumor of this fort's location?"

Eonn bends down to whisper something to his cat, asking if it knows if anybody else is coming. He continues to eat his apple, and does not reply to Owen.

"Oh," Rory responds to the merchant. He rolls something around in his head, turning to look at the collection of nobles before he looks back to the wealthy gentlemen with the quotas and such. He shrugs and says, "Reckon you folks need a guide, then. Don't want the nobles 'ere gettin' their fancy armors dirtier than they have to." He sucks softly on his pipe before he exhales a plume of sweet-smelling smoke. He begins to walk his way towards the front of the convoy and says, "Reckon we ought to start movin'. Dun want to give their watchmen too much of a head start, ey?" The ginger man doesn't come to a stop when he reaches the head of the convoy. In fact, he just keeps on moving down the road, tapping his pipe against his leg and letting the spent tobacco fall to the ground before he tucks it into his pack and loops his thumbs through the string of the bow that's hanging across his body.

The merchant furrows his brows a bit, pursing his lip as he gazes at Owen for a moment opening his mouth as if to argue before shutting it, glancing off towards the cart with a slight sigh as he murmurs something or another under his breath.

One of the farmers leans a bit into sight from behind the empty cart, "Oi' 'ave, m'lord." he says, stumbling a bit out. He's a plumper fellow, a bit young too. Looks more like a training dummy than a fighter. "They say they's a short way inb'tween some'uva th' villages north o' 'ere and th' city itself, but-" he begins, before his attention is caught by a bird that flies by, and then over towards the now waltzing off Rory.

He stares for a second, a bit surprised before he looks over to a tall and lanky farmer near the horse, "Oi, g'it 'em goin'." he says, and the lanky farmer looks around, "Wass'at? Th' pigs 'er out?" with a blink and a slight snort, before he seemingly realizes where he is, "…Oh." he says, before he spots the walking off Rory and then smacks the rear of one of the horses, prompting it to a neigh and then begin to pull forward, thus getting the other horse to as well, as it goes with the flow. The merchant waltz back over towards the Beacon Gate as the farm-fighters begin to move along behind Rory, the chubster speaks up again, "They's an hour n' a half walk from 'ere, they's say, inbetween th' villages and th' city." he says with a shrug.

"If any of you are decent at getting about quietly I want you to scout ahead." Owen announces as he pretty much

Eonn's horse starts to follow the others. It doesn't look like the rider did anything. Horses are like that.

"If any of you are decent at getting about quietly I want you to scout ahead." Owen announces as he pretty much takes over leadership of the group. "Those of you with pitchforks fall back and make a line." He urges his mount on, and his men-at-arms disperse into the crowd of peasants. "If they rush us you'll be able to stick them with your forks, and then we'll ride through them."

Killian laughs. His peculiar mix of Northern and Iron Islands accent is bound up in archaic vowels and rolled r's. Like the rest of him, it's like something out of another time. "Not in this armour, I fear." He moves along at a good pace, his long legs eating ground and the rings of the mail jingling a little.

Eonn gives Owen a wry look. His own armour is silent, though his horse is a heavy one and makes the sound of a heavy horse moving. Still, he doesn't volunteer.

"Could more 'n' likely take all by myself," Rory remarks, boldly. "Few dozen arrows and a chesty woman with a penchant for not fallin' out o' trees to keep me company? I'd be done by sundown…" he sort of trails off as Owen speaks up and he turns and begins walking backwards, calling out to him, "Don't need a scout when ye've got the finest eyes in Westeros leadin' you to 'em, hand in hand, m'lord."

"We'll see." Owen says to Rory. Despite the other man's cheerful disposition he doesn't smile.

Continuing on by with the others along, a few dozen minutes pass by with the farmers muttering to themselves here and there about some things or another, mainly about how they don't want to get completely beat the crap out of. Within the while as the group travels down along the road, the heavier farmer, who is already panting slightly, speaks up again from trailing behind the cart. "Wuh— We uh-, we's near th' area now.. A… H'wooh, A short while ahead now." he says as he somewhat struggles to keep up. The lanky farmer among their little group looks over, "Does'th this mean's we can go home now?", as he walks along, considerably more fit as it seems before a small farmer, almost tiny speaks up with a surprisingly low voice that certainly doesn't fit his compact look. "Naw's we ain't goin' home yet." he says, and thus making the lanky farmer go, "Oh." and simply carry on. Though they are indeed coming up where they need to be, a decent way inbetween the village and city.

Eonn slows his horse to come alongside the panting farmer. He offers the man a hand, to let him mount behind, but says nothing.

Killian gives Eonn a hint of a smile and nod. He's a stoical sort today, his eyes watching the landscape for movement, particularly bowmen or scurrying scouts.

The hefty farmer looks over to Eonn, breathing a bit as he looks up at him before taking his hand, and grunting as he brings himself up onto the horse behind him, sighing a sigh of relief. When Killian looks about for movement and baddies, he doesn't see anything relatively nearby. Though, he does see a small cluster of four or so birds rise up and fly off, but in terms of movement aside from leaves reacting to the breeze, not much. "We's be there yet?" asks the tall farmer, "No." replies the small on that walks behind him, in his shadow. "Five more minutes, maybe." he says again with a shrug and a glance over his shoulder. "How much is five again?" asks the lanky one, before the small man sighs and looks over, "We'll be's there soon, alright?". "Alright." says the lanky one, dragging himself along in a rather unenthusiastic manner.

Eonn heaves the farmer onto his mare behind him, and continues along. He tosses the core of his apple off into the ditch and looks around contentedly, as if this is just some ride in the country.

Killian says quietly to Eonn, who he is walking near, "See the birds startle?" He does it without looking towards Eonn or the birds as he says it and with the minimum of mouth movements.

Eonn nods. "A fox," he replies to Killian quietly. "Or an ambush." As he says that word he elbows the farmer behind him and adds, "Quiet."

Owen stands up in his stirrups to get a look about. He searches the sky a moment before searching the forest floor for signs of previous traffic or heavy use on a trail. Any indication that a lot of men are routinely walking one way.

"…and she fit the whole thing in there. The whole thing! I dun think I've ever fallen in love so quickly. Or been so hungry, for that matter…" Rory muses to nobody in particular. He notes the movement of the birds and moves to slowly unsling the bow from his body. He begins to slow and his his free hand slowly creeps back and manages a loose grip on one of the arrows resting on the quiver hanging horizontally across the back of his belt.

Killian's voice is very low indeed, "If not here further in the trees, I'd think. In there place, I would." His body language is relaxed as he lopes along in armour a couple of hundred years behind the fashion, his eyes characteristically unfocused looking by virtue of looking everywhere. his own hands are convienient to weapons, but he's making no moves that would show to an observer he expects trouble.

There appear to be a rather large collection of a few dozen of different paths of movement that go along the road from the side, diagonally and even down the middle of it to the north and south. Near the cart that moves along, the lanky and short farmer converse a bit more, not really getting the entire memo of not making sound. "Are we's there yet?", "No.". The lanky farmer frowns, "Are we's there /yet/?" he asks now, literately a second or two after, "No- Wait, actually we are." he says, as he seemingly spots the rather obvious amount of outrageous tracks along the road. "These… Weren't 'ere before's." he says, as the lanky farmer brings the horses to stop by grasping onto the reigns.

"They weren't? But I thought's I saw them." say mister lanks. The short man shakes his head, "And you don't remember you have's a wife at home." The lanky farmer blinks, raising his brows as he glances back, "I have a /what/?!" he asks. Shortly after that, rather loud question, the quiet sound of a string being released and smacking against some wood is heard before a arrow thwips from the treeline from the groups left hand side, hitting into the eye and poking a bit out of the back of the head of one the cart horses, causing it to lurch forward and fall, nearly toppling the cart with it, as the other horse is pulling downwards a bit with the movement.

Eonn stops his mare, scowling, and backs her up a little. "Lazy fuckers," he mutters, probably meaning the farmers.

Killian rolls for the nearest cover and draws his bow. "I should warn you I'm better with a blade. Or Poultices. Or sails."

Eonn starts to push the plump farmer off the back of his mare, saying, "Go cut that horse out of her harness," in reference to the fallen horse's partner. "Which of these tracks is the old one?"

Oh look. Arrows. Owen's brows furrow slightly as he watches the cart nearly topple over with the farmers inside of it. He lifts his shield up, and uses it to cover himself on the side the arrow came from as he draws his sword from it's sheath. "Go take cover in the trees." He commands the farmers, having written them off as useless for combat.

The two farmers near the now downed horse look over, blinking for a second as they feeling the cart begin to shift slightly before they slide down and off onto their feets, glancing around quickly before the short one already seems to have taken Owens command into account, even before he said it as he heads into the opposite treeline near the road, the lanky one looks around, "Wha's happened to th ho-oooAH." he says, as he looks over and finally realizes that the horse is kinda- Well. No it's really dead and the guy's just an idiot. He fumbles around a bit, glancing up and down before he almost comically runs for the short man, "Wait fo' me!" he says as he dives over into a bush or another.

From the left-hand tree-line, for those who could notice well enough, would find that they're being shot at by a… Bush? Well, it looks like a bush- Wait, the bush is moving. Holy crap is that a bush monster? Wait, it's turning around— Wait a second! That's no bush, it's a man wearing a bush on his.. back? He's raising his bow as his right hand slips back over his shoulder, slowly dragging out a arrow as he glances around carefully. Now that isn't something you see everyday. The wild bushmen of the reach. Needs a book. Still, the man himself isn't near any cover so it seems. Rather he's assembled near well, what he blends in with most. A bush. Though the man himself seems pretty confident that he isn't seen, at least for the time being.

"There he is," Rory mouths quietly to himself before he quickly slides an arrow from his quiver and notches it into place. He turns sharply and looses it in the direction of the assailant in an attempt to prevent the enemy archer from doing any further damage.

Owen spots that odd combination of man and bush. Buring his spurs into his mount's flank he urges his warhorse towards the bush in an attempt to ride the archer down. Just as his horse reaches four feet from the man Rory's arrow strikes the archer. Owen doesn't slow his mount. Sometimes arrow's aren't deadly. But an arrow combined with half a ton of horseflesh? Usually deadly.

Eonn raises his brows as his attention is drawn to that hidden archer. Now he scans about with greater suspicion, for more bush-monsters.

The bush archer has drawn his new arrow and quietly aligns it up alongside his bow and resting it against the draw-line, pulling it back, he takes in a breath so it seems before Rory's arrow finds itself stuck in his throat, prompting him to slide back and for his right hand to release hold of the draw-line, the arrow flying off and hitting a nearby branch as he falls onto his back and writhing around before stopping shortly after, the quiet and distant gargling audible a bit before stopping a few seconds afterwards. Rory, the slayer of violent bushmen. As Owen rides over, he'd quickly find himself patting over the bushman, his body reacting properly with the crunching of rib and his nose being pushed ridiculously out of place under a hoof. However, as he rides forwards, he'd find himself and his stead heading directly towards a bit of thread along the bottom of the tree-line. A trap.

Big warhorses don't stop on a copper penny. Owen spots the trip-wire, but there isn't a damned thing he can do to get his horse to stop before it's too late.

Killian peers from behind his tree, trying to figure out where the attacks are coming from.

Killian could see the feet of the perp from underneath the warhorse easily, from the western treeline. He could also see the bit of thread being snipped as pressure it applied to it by the warhorse's hoof, then sliding up and along as a considerably large ball of dung with makeshift wooden spikes falling as it was held up along a overhead branch now falls, heading straight towards Owens chest. If he wasn't on the horse, it'd probably be heading for his head.

Eonn turns his big mare to ride over to where the farmers have tried to hide, moving cautiously, slowly. It would seem like he's unconcerned except for the look on his face, which is tense and furious. "Which tracks are new?" he asks the men when he gets close to them.

Owen's eyes widen under his helm. He sees the spiked ball coming, but he can't stop it. It grazes the top of his horse's head, but otherwise leaves the beast unscathed. The spiked ball strikes him on the chest with a loud CRASH as it bashes against his armor. The momentum carries the Lord straight off of the back of his horse, and lands with a heavy crash of rattling armor. He does not move once he is on the ground.

Rory whistles sharply to Eonn as he approaches the farmer and holds his arms out with a 'really?' gestures before muttering, "Y'gon to ask the farmer which of the tracks is new and not the experienced forest guide?" He makes a few 'tut-tut' sounds before he takes a moment to examine the surroundings. He hears the clattering of armor and looks over at the fallen Lord, saying, "Someone check on 'im, yeh?" After that, he takes a few steps down one of the paths and kneels down, examining the few broken shoots of a nearby bush. He raps on a nearby tree and points down the trail, "This one."

Killian peers warily at the bushes, but moves sharpish enogh to check on the downed Fossaway with the look of a man much used to handling wounded. "Ye might look up in the trees while ye are peering about. Men hardly ever look up, so it's good for hiding."

The farmers look over from the opposite tree line and at the road for tracks, the lanky one fumbling over the short one and promptly pushing it, "Tha' one!" he asks, pointing at one that's not even close to the one Rory pointed at. It's a much more aged one, with rocks from the other paths already over it. The one Rory points from, however, seems to lead to the right side of the tree line, generally where the farmers are at. Following it, one could see, with a keen enough eye, a few steps into the forest, through a bit of trees before being obstructed by foliage and shade from the trees.

Eonn shrugs to Rory. "They saw it," he says. He looks down the path, and adds, absently, "I have no bow." The cat on the pommel of his saddle seems to think all of this is for its entertainment. It watches Owen with its yellow eyes. Since Eonn's mare hasn't even broken a trot, the feline seems perfectly comfortable still.

"Fuck." Owen groans out. He doesn't get up yet, but he does shift on the ground. There is a sizable dent in his breastplate.

Killian starts carefully unstrapping Owen's breast plate, listening to his breathing. "Tis the cart for ye, I fear." He prods the ribs carefully when they are revealed, looking grim.

"My vote is that the lot of ye dismount, leave your horses to some of the farmers, and only wear as much armor as you need," Rory remarks, tightening the ragged leather bracer on his forearm and looking down the path as far as he can see.

"Fuck that." Owen dealers, wincing as his rib is prodded. "I'll have my men take me back to Oldtown."

Eonn shrugs at Rory's 'vote', but he dismounts anyway. He doesn't turn the mare over to the farmers, simply turns her, gives her a slap on the shoulder and says, "Go home." He leaves her reins up over her neck, not dangling where she might step on them or she might be easily grabbed. The big white mare looks at him with an expression of mild horsey skepticism, but she plods off back the way they came, the cat still riding along. A weird image for those they might meet along the road.

As Rory looks down the path, a good amount of it would obscure into darkness, though beyond looking at the path itself, through the foliage he can see a bit of light on the other side, a little speck it is but it shows the other side well enough for a otherwise completely dark path obscured by thick trees and bushes. When Owen's men are mentioned, a few of them move over to offer help. The farmers begin to step out, glancing around for some horses to take. The lanky one, though, doesn't step out. And seems to be instead nearby a tree that he's currently peeing on. "I's be there's inna' second!" he says. And he actually is there in a second, buttoning up his pants and securing his belt, "Okay whatt'ya say's?" he asks, watching what he can only describe as a cat riding a horse away with wide eyes silently. "Tha' cat just steal that horse."

Killian has no horse, "Tis probably not broken, but ye need to be wary of bouncing or moving quickly. An injury like this makes them prone to breaking and that can be a quick trip to the God's arms. If ye like I could come round with tea a poultice, assuming the rest of this raid goes better. It'll help ye breath and numb it a bit."

"I've my own maester." Owen says to Killian. "But thank you." His men approach to give them cover, and Owen slowly stands up. He puts his two fingers between his lips to whistle for his horse. The thing doesn't come.

Eonn ignores the farmers and moves along to follow Rory's gaze down the path. He glances at Owen for a moment and says, "Done?"

Rory adjusts his swordbelt and looks over to the downed lord before he asks around, "Probably a good idea to get movin'. I figure they're quite sure we're here." To be safe, the Fox's hand moves to once again loosely hold one of the arrows resting in his quiver.

Killian gives an easy going shrug and rises from his crouch to join Eonn and follow Rory, axe out and bow tucked away again. What care he if some Greenlander lord is foolish enough to choose Maester over Ironborn art when a wound is involved.

The horse is seemingly too busy eating some of the bush from the bush man it recently ran over. Some of the farmers look it over before the lanky one actually does something good for a change, he, while looking like a complete goof, begins to head over to offer… something. "But I didn' think this wass'a raid, I jus' though we was findin' it first before that." he says, glancing at everybody. As dumb as he is, he seems a bit informed before he falls in behind Eonn, a pitchfork in his hands.

"Well, we found it," says Eonn flatly. "And I'm tempted to put fire to it."

Owen whistles for his horse again. This time it comes. Two of his men dismount to help him up on his horse, and the Lord Fossoway rides away.

Rory chews on his fingernails for a moment as he looks down the path, thinking. a few quiet moments pass and he says, "Aye." Then a few more moments pass and he says, "Well, I'm not the decision maker 'ere. I'm not about to suggest anythin' that might get a noble killed."

The lanky farmer blinks, looking to Eonn, "But whos'th knows how many they's have!" he says with raised brows and a somewhat 'what the fuck' kind of look. He looks to Rory as he tilts his head to the side, "Buts'th the noble is gone'n—" he begins as he turns around, before looking to Killian and noticing the heraldic crest on his armor, "Ooooh." he says, blinking as he's silent for a second before he says, "Sorry." he says before he turns back, "But we still not really /find/ th' fort, but we jus' know where to look's!" he says. Maybe he's not completely dumb. The farmers glance at one another before nodding and looking back, falling in behind the rest of the men, "We's just here to find fort and go." says the lanky farmer again, squinting into the path to get a look at opposite end.

Eonn looks to the retreating Owen, smiles vaguely, then looks to Killian. The noble, it seems. "My lord," he says, dryly.

Killian laughs in amusement at the farmer's reaction, "No offence taken. My house seldom sails this far South… Perhaps a larger force would be better."

"Aye," Rory remarks quietly, his hand falling away from his quiver and his eyes turning to the horizon. "Best be getting back to town, then. Don't want to be caught out too late." He nods and scratches at his nose, moving back towards the wagon.

Eonn regards Killian thoughtfully. He sighs a bit. "Somebody ought to have a look," he says quietly. He starts towards the line of trees beside the path.

The farmers looking at each of the three men, before they look over to Rory and give a almost completely in sync nod, "Yea's, tha's probably our best option's." the lanky one says, "Oh uh- But's don't take my word! I don' like fightin' at all." he says as he blinks, glancing at everyone quietly, "And with th' foss'ways men gone en' all…" he says, trailing on a bit before he shrugs with pursed lips, "I jus' not want stay out in th' open for much longer."

Killian sighs as Eonn makes his point, "I will follow at more distance, since this armour is not quiet, but best we not get too close and best not keep these brave men from their super." he eyes Rory, "Ye've good eyes. Gather the arrows and take point." It's not as if the farmers do silent well.

Eonn simply slips among the trees and disappears, more or less.

With a nobleman's consent, Rory just offers a shrug before he begins walking down the path, his hand once again reaching to rest on an arrow.

The farmers look on quietly, visibly a bit worried, probably more-so for themselves than the others as they glance left and right and all around themselves to make sure they aren't about to be ambushed, watching as they delve on into the path.

Owen heads through the city gates to Oldtown.

Killian gives the quieter men plenty of space, but he does make a good effort at making as little sound as possible. He scans the trees with that peculiar gaze of his.

The path itself seems to be rather docile, though crowded with bushes twigs and the sort. It's not too hard to avoid making too much noise, and the occasional breeze helps with quietly blending in. There seems to be no movement at all, aside from the men themselves. And they're able to make easy and considerably quick movements over towards the otherside. As they continue inwards, it seems that they are coming closer and closer to a small clearing, with three visible dirt paths heading off in three different directions, north-east, east, and south-east. There doesn't look to be any bushmen around, anyhow. If one were to look back, the farmers were still there seemingly, just looking around slowly and carefully.

Eonn doesn't move along the path, but through the trees alongside it, hidden. He might well end up behind the others, picking his way carefully as he does, to be silent.

Killian trusts the others to do the tracking. he looks for trip wires, tree based traps and ambushes and the like.

Rory wonders further into the clearing, a definite hesitation in his step as he moves to begin examining each of the trails. He's starting with the simple things; stripped bark, matted-down grass, broken twigs, et cetera.

Upon examination, the grass doesn't seem to be matted down too much, though it does look to have been scythed, and recently. There don't even seem to be twigs at all in the clearing, oddly enough, though there is stripped bark her and there, all around the trees in the clearing, and a bit further than into the forest as well surrounding the clearing. There are seemingly no traps within the forest itself, but around it are tripwires lining almost the entirety around the clearing, and some hanging bells are seen here and there, as if they aren't meant to be hidden.

Eonn pauses a few trees back from the clearing, to peer in without showing himself.

As the group draws closer to the clearing, there would be complete silence, unnerving and absolute. And then, cutting through it all is the voice of a man, coming from above, it sounds Northen, but is mixed in with something else, "Good afternoon." The voice would say, resounding throughout the area, coming from a tree very close to Killian, "It appears you have arrived."

Up above, calmly rising to his feet from where he stands atop a branch, hand held against the tree trunk, is a man. A man dressed in black, cloaked, hooded and lightly armored, a white mask covering his features, a longsword sheathed at his side. "I was not expecting a Farwynd in my court." He'd say, looking down at Killian, apparently not fearing the possibility of being downed by an arrow.

Eonn turns his head to look towards the sound.

Noting the tripwires and bells, Rory's expression sours and he quirks his lips, muttering to himself, "This may not have been the best of ideas, Rory." The hand that rests next to his quiver begins to idly twirl one of the arrows as he eyes continue to scan his surroundings.

Then the voice is heard and Rory turns, his hand still in position as he eyes the masked figure in the tree.

From the sound of it, he hails from the North, near the wall perhaps, but it is tinged with another accent that is hard to place. Perhaps from North of the wall, or could he be faking it? His tone is deep.

Killian's Sea coloured eyes seem to look through the masked man, He addresses him in the Old Tongue of the North, the accent as strange and archaic as his usual one.

Rory just stands quietly, ready to stick the masked man with an arrow if need be.

On closer inspection, the man's white mask would be painted in the image of a wolf, bright-grey eyes shining out from through the eye sockets. His left sleeve would appear to hang loose, hinting that the man is perhaps missing an arm. The man would stare down at Killian for a few moments, before he would slowly reply in the Old Tongue, voice slow, and firm, and then he'd slowly look past Killian, towards the farmers in the background. "Killian Farwynd shall be taken prisoner. Every-" He'd suddenly pause, mid-speech, wincing heavily and stumbling to the side a little, almost falling from the tree. Perhaps he is injured? Either way, he would slowly exhale and begin speaking again, "Those who remain, will die."

"Well, those terms don't exactly suit our needs at the current time, so I think you'd be reconsider before I help you out of that tree, aye?" Rory remarks, still standing fairly exposed, but his eyes moving to scan his surroundings.

Eonn stays quite still, where he is.

Killian looks the codger over and looks about to say something when Rory speaks. He sighs and says something in Old Tongue again. From his lips the tone is something between poetry and religious scripture. Then he yells at Rory, "Run, you fool!"

Back at the end inwhich the men had come from, the sound of a few screams are heard before the rustling of bushes and the snapping of twigs ring out. Three of the farmers are now running into the forest, with three seemingly left missing. The sound of some shrubbery shifting is heard around Rory, with a nearby bush notably gone, and lost into the nearby foliage so it seems. From a few trees away, Eonn can hear the shifting of branches and leaves as well from behind himself.

Eonn turns his head to look towards the sound, narrowing his eyes.

Kai stares down at Killian as the man speaks once more in the Old Tongue, but calmly looks away as the screams resound throughout the area. "I will not ask again." He would state, in response to the screams, before looking back down at Killian and speaking a few more words, very slowly.

Rory doesn't take kindly to folks killing off smallfolk. Especially not uppity folks hiding behind masks. "Fuck off," Rory says bluntly before he quickly notches an arrow and sends it sailing towards the man in the tree. Without waiting to see if it hits it mark, he shouts, "Run!" and books it towards the path out of the forest.

Killian runs, because he knows outnumbered when he sees it.

Whizzing through the air, a arrow slams into the trunk of a tree a inch off from Rory's head, two bushes are seen rustling when Eonn looks back towards the sound, like sharks making their way through water towards their targets. From where the farmers ran from, the farmers continue to run before one is hit in the back with an arrow and topples to the ground, hitting it with a thud while the other two, the short and lanky one, trip the wires and head into the clearing, screaming in fright. Two bells ring a bit as the short one trips on the wire, and the lanky one just forces his way through and into the clearing, where he promptly looks back to the short one before tripping on air and hitting the ground with a thud, narrowly avoiding getting hit between the eyes with an arrow.

The masked man's shoulder buckles backwards as an arrow slams into it, his left shoulder. His body jerking to the side with the force from the blow. He'd manage to squat down on the branch, avoiding falling down, and hisses through his teeth, before suddenly his right hand jerks out from behind the tree, and the sound of something like a string snapping is heard, and then the havoc truly begins. The masked man would remain squatted, giving his wrist a shake, a throwing knife sliding down into his palm.

Eonn turns, slowly, to look at the bushes approaching him. He shakes his head in a regretful sort of way and smiles a wise and wan sort of smile. He whispers, just enough to carry, "Valar morghulis."

Rory continues to run towards the trail, but is going to have a job of it, having ended up nearly in the center of the clearing. He takes a breath and looses another arrow towards the supposed 'leader' of the gang with the throwing knife.

As the bushmen stalk their way over and around towards Eonn, they split apart and move separate ways around him, one heading off towards Rory, and the other moving to follow after where Killian would generally be moving, twigs and branches snapping along the way. Either he was a bit louder than he thought or they've got other plans. A bowman that had attacked one of the farmers fires off a arrow over towards Killian as he begins to seemingly run by.

Eonn turns to watch the bushes go around him, and then begins to walk back the way he came, angling his progress a bit so he'll intercept Killian's path.

As Rory fires off another shot off at the man with the wolf mask, he'd find the man already flying through the air towards the next tree, but perhaps due to the man's reflexes and skill, the arrow is seen slamming into the man's side, skimming along his flesh and cutting open his side before slamming into the tree behind him. The masked fellow would grit his teeth as he lands, grasping at his side for a moment with his free hand, before he'd launch himself forward again, following after Killian from above, angling himself behind trees to avoid getting shot at.

Killian runs. He's very fit and not a stranger to woods. His marksmanship is significantly dicier and if they want to catch him better stick to his axe.

Rory ignores the approaching bushman for the moment and plants his feets, taking a breath and firing another arrow quickly down range towards the masked man, in an attempt to at least slow him down. He then moves to slide his arming sword from its sheath, eyeing the approaching attacker.

The bushes don't seem to necessarily mind Eonn shifting his trajectory to try and cut them off from Killian at first, though after a bit they do seem definitely annoyed. However, they seem to make a point as to not engage in direct combat with him. One of the bushmen encroaching on Rory visibly abandon their bow and reach over to their side and pull out a hand axe, before quickly moving to try hack at him a bit.

The arrow slams into the masked man's thigh, embedding itself roughly inside, causing the wolf-masked man to fall mid-stride. His teeth would grit under his mask, but with the adrenaline pumping, he'd manage to grasp onto a branch mid-fall, before swinging his legs forward with enough force to swing himself up, and then he'd fall down onto a firmer branch. He'd grit his teeth, before twisting behind the trunk of the tree and exhaling slowly, right hand shaking violently through the pain.

Eonn doesn't hurry. He just walks. He watches the living bushes as he goes, and stays, for the most part, hidden from Rory and Killian's view. What glimpses they may catch of him, well, they're probably too distracted to pay much mind. He does not really seem to be trying to cut the bush-men off from Killian, but simply to join the Ironman in due time.

Killian tries to use trees and such to his advantage as he runs, knowing it's hard to shoot at something running through trees.

Rory is far from a noble-trained swordsman…but he's mad…and he's quick. As the man swings at him with the axe, Rory just barely manages to skirt out of the way. Managing to recover his footing, the Fox swings wildly at his enemy with the shortsword, just hoping to cut off something important.

And something important Rory does cut off, the nope of the mans neck as he would move along with the attack of his axe. He hits the ground with a thud and is out of the fight, bleeding profusely as he lies there. The bushmen continue to wrap around Eonn before ones stops and raises his bow, he already has an arrow knocked before it fires it off towards him, while the other continues his or her advance. A few bushmen that had attacked the farmers come up and ready their bows as Killian begins to near the tree line where they had once come, the bodies of three farmers visible. with either slit throats or an arrow through their head. One close enough to be charged at, if decided.

Killian trusts his armour to help and puts on a burst of speed, swinging at one with his axe, hoping Ironborn reputation and t5he sight his real fury will make the archer hesitate.

Rory watches as the axe-wielder falls and slides his bloody blade back into its sheath before he begins moving after Killian again, his bow readied once again. He draws back another arrow and sends it down range to one of Killian's attackers before he starts running after the nobleman.

The masked man silently leans back against the trunk of his tree, idly watching the three leave. He'd release a sigh, before slowly placing a hand on the arrow, before attempting to snap the arrow head so that he can pull it out easier. It snaps, but not cleanly, and the masked-man's eyes bulge as the arrowhead is forced deeper into his flesh from the force of the wood snapping. He'd slam his head back up against the trunk, remaining silent despite the pain.

The bushman looks a bit more surprised at the charge than he does necessarily seem frightened, and the large cleaving of his neck shows that he did in fact hesitate under the pressure as the man falls onto his back. Another archer raises his bow at the tree-line, drawing back the line and about to fire before an arrow from Rory finds itself imbedded in his or her throat, prompting them to fall off to the side, gurgling a bit. The two pursuing bushmen seemingly halt, surveying the damages taken before turning and then heading off in the opposite direction, seemingly in opposite directions around the clearing, again avoiding Eonn as one moves to aid the masked man.

Killian eyes Rory, panting, "Ready to run in the clear? I figure better than staying here…" He takes a deep breath and keeps running.

Rory offers a breathy grin to the nobleman and gives him a pat on the shoulder, saying, "Come along, then." The guide steps out onto the Roseroad and takes a quick survey of their surroundings now that they seemingly have a moment of respite.

Eonn still hasn't come out of the trees. He's just gone, to most appearances.

All seems silent now, no bushmen or masked men for that matter. It seems rather docile now on the rose road, despite the three dead farmers still there from the earlier bush-ambush. Taking all things into consideration now, both sides did take considerable losses. Though this may lean a bit more towards a win for the evil bushmen of the roseroad?

Kai, the masked man, closes his eyes as he remains up in the tree, releasing a slow exhale of breath. "Search the area." He'd say, not bothering to mask his Essosi accent now, or perhaps simply not having the energy. Someone would hear, he was sure. Actually, there doesn't seem to be anyone in his immediate vicinity, but he continues regardless, "Begin the second phase."

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