GoT game IC a secret meeting at Highheart

[drack]

Coincidentally a second letter arrived by means of a haggard liking messenger garbed in rags who refused any assistance fleeing before the letter had even reached your hands. As you read it though you couldn’t blame the poor man, for the letter in your hand could be called traitorous at best and at worst even holding it might earn one a fate leagues worse then death, all in tow simple lines.

“The king has failed us, weak as he’s become.
Join me on the first day of the new year at Highheart where we can discuss this properly.”

Lords and ladies, I fear you cannot be in two places at once, family members dedicated here cannot suddenly cross to kings landing half a continent away on a whim making it in time for the festivities and vice versa.



Highheart was... well there was no nice way to put it, it was a collapsing pile of rubble high on the hill. Dust fell from above and shattered stones littered the ground. Cobwebs and vines alike spun through the air as rats and the seven knows what else ran terrified back to their nests passing right underfoot their unexpected guests. It was the sort of place in which a peasant might appear nobly garbed, and where the robes of a highlord hurt the eyes as if they were a neon light in a dark corridor designed to catch a gaze and hold it too. Most strikingly, nobody had yet arrived.

[Dunkoro]

Lord Endar arrived early, because he wanted to scout out for a trap. It wasn't like he immediately believed good intentions of the one that had that letter sent, this could just as easily be a trick meant to lure the family to openly show their dissatisfaction of the king's rule.

Why exactly were they dissatisfied? It was obvious to anyone who knew them at least a little. The king was a position of power, but also of responsibility. If one was not suited for either, he was to be replaced with one that could fill that position. It didn't have to be himself or his sister, the Mountrys would support anyone strong enough to hold and manage the realm. If none were to be found, they would themselves try for it and if that was not an option either they would do whatever they could to establish independence of a rule they would not support. Of course, they could never manage to do any of this with the power of Reach alone, mighty as it may be.

And that's exactly why I need to be here today. To see whether we would have any allies in this endeavor.

He scouted the area looking for anyone or anything that would show any sign that this meeting was a ruse and if he found none he confidently walked into the Highheart, ready to fight his way out at any moment.

[drack]

dunk
The coast is seemingly clear with no real sign of a trap, and certainly not a competent one. You do manage to find a poorly hidden light horse in some nearby brush, but the rider's tracks seem to have been wiped away. With any hope that meant that whomever sent the letter was not so incompetent as to let him or herself be caught out in the open had you brought a small squadron of archers to make a pincushion of them.

[Dunkoro]

Endar then enters the tower itself and seeing that nobody else is present tries to find a place that allows for an easy escape and lets him have as wide a field of view as possible onto others that could be incoming.

[BelGareth]

The second messenger arrived later on in the day, after Lord Hame had eaten and his sons had gotten excited about the prospect of joining the tourney's and competing. They had headed outside to begin practice at once and so he received this messenger without them.

He unraveled the strange looking scroll, and eyed the raggedly dressed man who he had received it from.

Keeping one eye up in confusion, he read the scroll and his raised eyebrow turned into a look of confusion and doubt, which transformed into a grimace, anger shook through him, the message was not one he had wanted to see or hear, but he knew where it must go.

He waved the man off and detailed instructions for him to be taken to the Banefort, under guard of outriders, he knew what was going to happen, but he needed none of it.


~~~

In the light of the new-years moon, several figures moved throughout the woods nearby the fabled and old Highheart mound, the woods were dark and things other than shadows moved in them.

This night, it was men of the banefort.

Woodsmen who were skilled in the art of hiding and tracking but not as skilled as their leader, a women who managed to bend the shadow to her whim, they did not fear her, but they feared what she could do.

With only the slightest movement, she appeared behind the lead scout and whispered "Keep your men close by, and watch" as he nodded in the darkness, the silence of her retreat was eery to even the experienced woodsmen, who had been hunting all his life.

Elinor Banefort scaled the hill, and surveyed the top with the expert eyes of a skilled scout. Keeping to the shadows she waited and watched.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[drack]

Bel

The coast is seemingly clear with no real sign of a trap, and certainly not a competent one. You do manage to find a poorly hidden light horse in some nearby brush, but the rider's tracks seem to have been wiped away. With any hope that meant that whomever sent the letter was not so incompetent as to let him or herself be caught out in the open had you brought a small squadron of archers to make a pincushion of them. There is also a second horse to be found with a set of footsteps leading up to highheart.

dunko

You manage to find a pathway along a ledge on the far side of the building. It wouldn't be a suitable escape rout while under assault, but it would suffice if you had to leave unnoticed. You also find a spot with a view of the outside through a... window? No, it must just be a hole in the wall where a tree once hit it. A window would have a cleaner cut to it.

[Dunkoro]

Endar positioned himself near the 'window' and observed the surroundings waiting for any further developments.

[drack]

With that Lord Haverlay Whentley opened the second letter reading it aloud. Silence met the hall for but a moment before the children burst into laughter. "This-ha-ha-ha... this is a joke right?" Julis asks wolf gayly. Wolf however just smiles "We'll see..."


-------

Twenty shadows detached themselves from the woods, climbing steadily up the hill. As they reach the top one of them makes a gesture and the rest scatter to defensible positions about the hill. Meanwhile the one that remains enters the house. Noticing Endar a female voice demands rather then asks "Who are you? Did you send that letter?"

[Dunkoro]

Endar stood up to greet the newcomer, clearly not startled by amount of her guard.
I am Endar Mountry, it's a pleasure to meet you as well m'lady...
You can clearly see his annoyance at the fact that he has been verbally attacked by a women that didn't even bother to introduce herself.

No, I am not the one that has sent the letters and since it apparently wasn't you either I suppose we can safely assume others will come too.

[drack]

The cloaked figure relaxes slightly, lowering her cowl. She's a young woman, perhaps seventeen, though between the hard look in her eye and what few scars rest on her fave and neck you can tell she's fallen on hard times in the past. "I'm Mara... er, Mara Blackwood I suppose. A letter was sent to the little lord and... well... do you think it's some kind of joke? I mean they couldn't be serious right?"

[Dunkoro]

Endar clearly wasn't expecting a woman only a little younger than himself; definitely not such a beautiful one, but he 'almost' managed not to show how impressed he was with her appearance.

It is very good to meet you lady Blackwood. he bowed, this time not showing any sign of sarcasm or irritation.

I am not willing to make any assumptions. Such thigns are fickle and of no real value. I believe though that this could be sincere. Only time will tell.

If I could I would offer you some comfortable place to sit on, but there's only this rock right here... I'll try my best though. he said as he stood up, laid his own coat upon the stone and invited her with a gesture to sit.

[drack]

Laughing nervously she takes a seat as her eyes scan the house for threats. "Thanks... but, I mean, a king's just someone you pay taxes to, How can he fail anyone?"

[Dunkoro]

If a king would only be someone that one pays taxes to, what purpose would he wield? Position of the king is one of responsibility, one to all the people of the Seven Kingdoms. He's supposed to be the Great Administrator, the Final Arbiter, the Ultimate Leader... You can hear the capitalization of the words he uses, so clearly does he emphasise them.

And the current king is nothing more than a mere shadow of what the past kings were. He's nobody but a mere political figure with no real ability or even plans to rule the kingdoms. I know that what I'm now saying could very well in and of itself be considered treason, but I don't really care.
How could I truly betray someone who has never done anything to warrant my trust or that has places no trust in me?

[drack]

Mara looks somewhat confused and disoriented by all the big words, but she seems to get the gist all the same. "So kings don't just sit on thrones and get to do whatever they want? i mean even if they do they're not really hurting you any..."

[Dunkoro]

It appears sitting on their thrones and doing whatever they like is ALL they do nowadays, that much is true. But it does not need to be that way. It should not be that way... Being king is not the supreme gratification and easy life. It's the ultimate responsibility. But, really, where are my manners? I probably bore you with all that talk of politics.

How was your way here? I don't suppose such a fine lady as yourself has much opportunity to travel in these dangerous times.

[drack]

"Wha'd ya mean? The times are no more dangerous then any other. If anything the roads are safer for me now that my father's found me."

Sense motive DC 15: there's clearly more to the story of her father finding her then that. She's hiding something.

Shrugging she looks up through some collapsed thatch in the roof at the stars above. "I'm not even far from my new home, only a half a weeks ride." Somehow, if anything, this seems to dismay her rather then reassure her.

[Deadlykire]

Kire read both letters from the messenger. Afterwards, he burnt the one about high heart. "I will not let my family get caught up in such things. Dorne is cruel enough without risking the wrath of a tyrant," he mused to himself. After all, his mother and father had just been burnt alive from some other family's accusations that they had been providing troops to such a group. Now was not the time to risk confirming such rumors. He knew his family was innocent, but being found at such a meeting or anyone finding proof that the Tekras knew of such a meeting would only seek to confirm the lies.

[Dunkoro]

Ouch, this is embarassing. Apparently I've deleted Lord Endar's Sheet... I'll have to redo that. He'd probably not have great many ranks in sense motive, so I'll assume a bonus of +1. [roll0]
As for the comment to make my sheets private; the Mountrys are not afraid of showing of their abilities or of someone learning about what they're capable of. So there's that.

It's a shame really that I did not have an opportunity to meet you or the rest of your family so far. We're living so close to each other...
How about after this is done I'd invite you and anyone of your family that would care to visit to to visit Ashford? It might not be as glorious as Oldtown, but it's much closer...

[Raunchel]

A shape approaches the top of the hill on foot, having left her horse at a short distance. It wouldn't be much good for an escape anyways. She is dressed in simple brown clothes, and carries a castle-forged sword on her side. She smiles a little when she imagines her half-sister Visenya in her place, the girl would only have scowled at all the stealth. And of course the wearing of man's clothes, and having her hair cut short. No, that would be hilarious.

She hears voices from the ruins and continues with utmost care, ready to run at the first hint of danger. She walks in, her hands open but ready to draw her sword. "A good evening to you all."

[Dunkoro]

Endar immediately responded, clearly enjoying the fact that he's surrounded by ladies of the state Kard is going to be so envious...;
And to you too, m'lady. If I may introduce myself, I'm Endar Mountry, pleased to meet you.

Are you per chance the one that has called us here?

[Raunchel]

Marith smiles: "Marith Storm, it is a great honour to meet you. I was going to ask you the same question, so I assume that none of you was responsible for any letter?"

[Dunkoro]

It's good to meet you Marith.
I was responsible for quite a few letters in my time... But no, neither of us knows anything about the identity of the sender of these particular letters.

Even if this all turns out to have been some kind of stupid joke, I'm still grateful, because I got an opportunity to meet the two of you.

[drack]

Hastening up off the rock to greet the newcomer Mara added "Yes, what he said. I'm Mara Blackwood." Somehow it sounded a bit more natural the second time. "I've never been good with words or letters, but..."

*ckack* *ckack* ... *ckack*

Someone was coming up the hill, a wooden cane in hand which seemed to clack against every odd stone it hit, and every time it hit one the person holding it seemed to jump as if those were bolts clicking at their heels instead of the sound of their own cane.
Slowly an elderly face came into view, and a rather famous one at that. Grand Measter Chivenson, a man rarely seen outside of his duties. "Only three of you ay? Perhaps more will come, but we've no time to loiter in waiting. I planned this meeting to coincide with the king's celebration to keep his people out of this, but pawns can take a piece as easily as a knight. So, I'm eager to hear your thoughts, what do you all think of our king?" Somehow the old man seems eager, energetic, perhaps a bit anxious, but more as if he had taken a powerful stimulant then anything else. He'd certainly never looked so alert when attending to his duties.

[Dunkoro]

Welcome.
Before I commit to any statement, how do we know we can trust you? How do we know you were not sent by the king in order to get treacherous statements out of us?

[drack]

Irritant at the thought he replies "Well I suppose not having to see him every day, you wouldn't, but I have to put up with his regal highness day in and day out." The way he said regal highness was less then flattering. "Why just the other month he burned the lord and lady of Drone alive saying that he'd 'Smelled Treachery'. Do you think I like having to serve such a man day in and day out?"

[Raunchel]

"I heard some things about his court, so I can understand you all too well. There might be few of us here now, but that is all it takes. Many are tired of his tyranny, and they will come when the time is there. He is unworthy of his throne, and action has to be taken, or his madness will consume the whole realm.", Marith says, "And some lack the courage to come here, or to send someone, but they will either stand aside, or will join the side that shows strength."

[Dunkoro]

Oh what the hell, it's not like I wasn't committed already by coming here at all...
Yeah, I too despise our king and wish he would be replaced by someone more suitable. Who that person might be is up for debate I guess.
What would you have us do though? Prepare for organized rebellion? How could even the power of our three realms fare against the might of the four others and the king's land itself?

[Raunchel]

"There are several ways to do it. First of all we can trust on not all of the realms just coming storming in for such a war. I can easily see several other houses joining in on a rebellion, even if they wouldn't dare to come here. And even then, those who won't rise won't necessarily be the first to come marching, they would rather wait. And I at least am opposed to immediate action, we need to work the others."

[Dunkoro]

I'm not much of a diplomat myself, but my sister could probably sway some that could be so.
Now she has an excellent opportunity to, being in the capital and all, but I have no way to send a message to her covertly...

[drack]

...but then... Mara began nervously. "Who would be king?"

[Dunkoro]

Well, clearly one best suited to the task.
Also, why necessarily king? Why not a queen? I for one believe my sister would makes for an excellent rules and is easily one that could hold the realms together.
Of course, we could also let go with any king and instead have each realm become independent.

[Raunchel]

"Both are possible. My dear sister would also make a fine queen, which is exactly the problem. The best would be to split the kingdoms, but to swear vows of alliance to stop wars. It would prevent new mad kings. Or we would need a good, strong claimant to the throne, someone with a right by blood."

[Dunkoro]

Why are people so keen on blood right? If the current king has failed us, why would someone related to him in some way be the best successor? I'd rather not have anyone that has any blood bond with the Targeryens as my ruler.

But this is all a debate for a different time and different occasion, probably after we convinced some other families to join our cause, if that's all-right with you. How should we communicate though? Wouldn't it be easier if we made some formal alliances as to not make the multitude of contact between us not seem suspicious?

[drack]

As the old Measter stares in bewilderment that his suicidal plan had actually worked without someone showing up to rat them out or bring an army onto their heads, Mara Blackwood hopelessly flounders to keep up. "Why would we want to stop wars without a king? Why would we have any say as to who was king? Wasn't that some secret rite of measters or something? Why was it our responsibility to do anything about the king? Wasn't he doing a good job as king already? Even Endar had told her that was all kings do these days." Her mind was abuzz with a hundred questions, but she wasn't going to ask them, that would make her look naive and uneducated. They might even notice... She had better say something. What were they talking about now? Each house seemed to advocate a new king from their nation. "I think Wolf should be king."

[Dunkoro]

Yeah, everyone will have someone of theirs to have as a new pretender to the throne. This won't lead us anywhere.

[Legionary]

Red Keep, Tower of the Hand
Early December

The haggard man's letter makes it's way into the office of Lord Vardis Bolton by poxy of one of his bodyguards. It's already past midnight but luckily for the mysterious messenger the weary Hand of King spent most of his sleepless nights toiling over his desk. Running though the kingdoms’ administrative duties by candle light was a thankless task, but there seemed to be few people left these days that truly appreciated just how much effort was necessary to keep the seven kingdoms afloat, especially with the current king at the helm.

Vardis' cold eyes narrowed as he read the parchment, first once then a second time to let the words truly sink in. A dissatisfied snort is the extent of emotion that the stoic man shows before he discards the note atop a pile paper work. He returns to his desk to continue his analysis of the realm's finances, with now yet another problem for the Hand of the King to solve.

~~~~~

Outskirts of Kingswood Forest
Mid December

The giant easily peeled back the hide of his prize, his unnerving experience with the removal of flesh a grim trademark of his heritage. So fixated on the task at hand the hulking man fails to notice the noblewoman waiting rather patiently behind him. With her patience running thin she feints a cough to alert the man to her presence. Immediately the grizzled behemoth turns to face the soul foolish enough to interrupt him, his bloody carving knife clutched tightly in his massive gnarled paw. However upon laying eyes upon the young lady before him, his frightening disposition quickly lifts.

"Lyra!" The giant excitedly exclaims in his deep baritone voice as he moves in to embrace the Lady Bolton. Somewhat taken off guard by the gesture, she awkwardly remains upright in his enormous arms in a futile attempt to appear proper. When he releases her from his mighty grasp, she takes a step back to reveal her exquisite pale blue dress now covered in sweat and gore. Despite the second hand blood that is now smeared across her pretty face, Lyra never breaks her disconcerting smile.

"I see you remain quite the huntsman," she noted ever so politely as her eyes drifted to the half skinned boar carcass next to him. She may have been harder to read than one of her father dry annual budgets, however ironically the brute could read his kin with uncanny precision. "I take it that you didn't ride from Kings Landing just for pleasantries with your old uncle," sighed Letho as his cheerful disposition somewhat faded. "More knife work, I presume?"

"No. Not exactly..."

~~~~~

The Ruins of High Heart
First Day of New Years

Eleven. Eleven horsemen. You did not have to be Westeros' greatest ranger to notice their approach, especially from the vantage point of High Heart. The dull thud of hooves, the clanking of armour, rattling of chainmail, the snorts of horses beneath eerily silent masters. The cover of night concealed their identities as they slowly ascended the hill up to designated meeting point.

Upon reaching the ruin upon the crescent of High Heart, the apparent leader of the newly arrived party dismounted alongside four of his travelling companions. Upon entering the small cottage it is clear that this man need no introduction. Despite being clad head to toe in plate armour, Letho Bolton was instantly recognisable. His heavy armour was adorned with unsettling engravings of bones that altogether gave of the impression that the hulking man was one giant skeleton. His weapon remained sheathed. Wolf's Bane, the legendary ancestral Bolton blade. A Valyrian steel greatsword from the era of the Red Kings of the North, the leather on its hilt crafted from the hide of an ancient Stark King.

The Bolton honour guardsmen that flanked him had likewise kept their weapons in their scabbards, perhaps as sign of good faith. They scanned the room in ghostly silence, whilst their master removed his great helm.

"So this is it then? Senile old men? Women? Hmm," Letho pondered aloud. "Perhaps that would explain why you were STUPID enough to extend an open invitation to the HAND OF THE KING to your treasonous plot!" His powerful voice echoes throughout the room, nearing a shout with the words that he places emphasis on.

"It were up to me I would have had you all flayed where you stand for such incompetence, let alone treason. However, that is not up to me," sighed the armoured giant, clearly disappointed. "Luckily for you my brother has his own designs, and our intentions may align more than you expect..."

[drack]

At the sight of the riders a long lean dagger slips free of Mara's sleeve into her hand, and as the men approach the cottage the shadows that had accompanied her dispersed, forming a wide ring about the heavy guard, weapons ready. Mara and her shadows however made no move.

Grand Measter Chivenson, clearly shaking as the big man yelled at him, weakly replied. "I thought he might side with us... I mean he and I are kind of in the same boat right?"

[Dunkoro]

While I share your sentiments about sending the letter with the date and place of the meeting to apparently every single major person in the realms, I am quite taken aback by being called old and senile...
Nonetheless, you have a point, we should not linger here any longer than necessary lest someone who would really be quite happy to expose our treachery happen to come here. Where could we go though?

[Legionary]

The six Bolton honour guardsmen waiting outside respond instantaneously as Mara's men appear from the shadows, lowering their lances and turning to face their unexpected adversaries. This in turn alarms the men inside the cottage, whom quickly draw their blades on those gathered inside. Letho too follows in suit, almost casually though as if he is in no real fear for his life. For few tense seconds there is complete silence, the calm before a storm of steel and bloodshed. "Ha. Ha ha," eventually chuckles Letho condescendingly, breaking the silence. "Quite bold for a little girl..."

"...also quite foolish," smiles the giant menacingly as his eyes fixate on Mara and the tiny blade in her hand. He had tried his best to remember the girl's name but Letho was terrible at identifying the lesser nobility. His brother Vardis could recall the most intricate details of any family in Westeros, whilst Letho on the other hand took a month before he could even remember names of King Aerys’ children. "Definitely a Riverlander," he thought to himself in vain. Before he can continue Endar interjects causing the hulking knight to turn to face the young man, his weapon still firm in his hand.

"What makes you think you are free to leave? You stand before the Boltons freely admitting of your treachery and guilt. Loyal Boltons who are bound by blood and oath to House Targygern, the rightful rulers of Westeros, the very people you plot ill against," Letho begins to raise his voice again as he speaks, clearly irritated. "I should be in Kings Landing this very moment, celebrating the birth of my niece's Targygern son," he continues as if to further drive the point home. There is a brief pause before the behemoth speaks again as he calms himself.

"I think you fail to comprehend our current predicament," his voice softening but sombre in tone. "All my brother is offering you and your people is a chance. A chance to convince me that slaying everyone on this forsaken hill is not in our best interests. So go ahead. Convince me as if your life depended on it..."

[Dunkoro]

Do you really think you could stop us from leaving? It appears to me you and your people are at a disadvantage here.
So, how about we offer you the change to abandon the mad king?

I really need to stat out Endar, it appears we will have a fight pretty soon here...

[Raunchel]

Marith smiles: "My dear friend here is correct, so I propose that you drop your weapons to the ground, unless you want to go down with them. I of course would have nothing against you dying, but well, it would make a bit of a mess of this fine place. We wouldn't want to leave it behind in a worse state than we found it, right?", her hand drops to her thin sword, ready to strike. Oh how much she would enjoy the death of this man.

[drack]

Mara frowned, a look that somehow made her look more the ruddy street rat then a proper lady, but somehow this makes it all the more convincing when she takes on a half mocking tone that seems to resonate of the unspoken threat of the street where law or honor would spare you. Where men fought to the death over basic commodities or on simple whims. "Look tiny, you don't look stupid so I'll tell you what. Ya' sit down and talk real civil-like about this whole thing or I'll guy-ya like a pig. Now, you got anything to drink?"

[Legionary]

"Hmp. That wasn't very convincing," sighed Letho, ignoring the multiple demands for him to lay down his arms. "For lords and ladies of such position I was expecting more than just hollow threats."

"If they even were actual lords and ladies," thought the giant to himself as he slowly began to recall where he had recognised Mara "Blackwater" from before. Letho was an unpleasant fellow at best of times but a least he was an honest one. As for this young girl, well he wasn't too sure.

"I like feisty women, but frankly the misplaced pride is unbecoming," smiled Letho to Marith. Everyone in the room, the Boltons included, seemed so sure of themselves. Yet unless a diplomatic solution could be found fast, every soul unfortunate enough to have stepped foot on the hallowed grounds of High Heart tonight was damned.

"As for abandoning the Mad King? The fool has lost the last real allies he had long before tonight." As he utters the king's name, Letho spits in disgust as a clear sign of disapproval. "But that does not change the fact that our loyalties are to the House Targygern and a united realm. So I ask you for the last time. Who stands before me? Usurpers and separatists? Self-serving traitors that have no claim to the throne, preying on the momentary weakness of an honourable House? Or loyal servants to the realm? Loyal servants that understand that perhaps it is in everyone’s best interests if our current monarch were succumbed to a unfortunate accident so that his level headed and universally beloved son could take the throne?" Letho wasn't exactly a master of subtly, but at least there was no confusion as to the point he was making.

~~~~~

Rowan keeps his distance behind several Crannogmen commandos as they silently took up their positions a top the hill. They were almost supernatural in their movements, like wraiths bound to the shadows they moved unseen towards their targets. Even the brown wolf that follows his "pack" stalks his prey in complete quiet. The Letho's forsaken bastard had spent his early life as poacher, and as a result was no stranger to the hunt or art of stealth. However this small band of Crannogmen rangers, courtsy of the ever loyal House Reed, operated on another level. "Bog devils", "frogeaters" and "mudmen". All common names for the reclusive folk who dwelled in the swamps of the Neck. With cloaks of leaves and solemn faces painted in green and brown camouflage, they looked more like the personified wrath of the woodlands than mere mortals.

Upon reaching the crescent the leader of the Crannogmen signal his men to halt with a raised closed fist. Laid clearly before him was the ruined cottage and outside the six Bolton honour guardsmen surrounded by no less than twenty adversaries. Odds beyond perhaps beyond the armoured bodyguards and a lone band of swamp dwelling rangers. Luckily for the Boltons, this band of Crannogmen rangers was not alone...

The lead ranger pursed his lips let out the whistle of bird, so uncanny that it would be nearly impossible to detect the mimicry. Even the surrounded Bolton honour guardsmen seem oblivious a top their mighty steeds. For a moment there is dead silence. However it was soon broken from the opposite side of the hill by the hoot of an "owl". Then two more "birds" join in from both the left and right flanks. It seemed that there were more plenty Crannogmen in High Heart and that by sounds of it they had the entire place encircled.

With their all kinsmen poised for an ambush, the Crannogmen draw their arrows and nock their longbows. A vicious poison drips from their barbed arrow heads, a ghastly trademark of these merciless killers taken straight form the swamps of the North. Even the slightest scratch from a weapon coated in this deadly venom could result in an agonising death, a man's life draining from him from both ends in pools of red and brown. The rangers line up their targets, Mara's men confidently unaware that every single one of them now has poison laced arrow trained upon them. All the Crannogmen wait for now is an order...


Just a heads up that I'll not pulling these extra reinforcement out of my *ss. I had my troop numbers and composition PMed to the DM before anyone even posted in the IC thread. Boltons don't fight fair :smallcool:

[Dunkoro]

We got a misunderstanding here then. I can't really speak for everyone present, but my loyalties lie with the realm and its' well-being.
The only reason I'm here is because I believe that the current ruler corrupts the Kingdoms and leads them into downfall. I'm open to any and all suggestions as to how this should be resolved.

[drack]

"I don't know." Mara replies unconvinced. "Had the king ever failed anyone?" Somehow she kept coming back to the fact that he was a king. Sure they were killed and replaced, but they certainly couldn't fail anyone... "Everyone keeps going on about how bad our king is but..." She cuts short at the sound of birds, raising her dagger in the air. Immediately the ring of soldiars drop their arrows, each drawing a new one to their bows, waiting... Mara might not understand politics as well as some, but she knew enough to spot a potential ambush, or rather she had sworn to herself never to be caught off guard again, not like that time...

-------------------

A low whistle, perhaps a bird or a bug, maybe some animal. Then another and another. It was not uncommon for so many animal sounds in a forest, in fact the forest still sounded quiet to her, but then an ominous sound somewheres between a whistle and a hum had spread through the woodlands. Arrows were raining from the sky and she swore she heard thunder. Feeling sleepy she vaguely remembered something tackling her to the ground.

-------------------

"Never again. Never again...." she thought silently to herself. Still, she couldn't see anyone, she couldn't confirm there was any threat, there was only that instinctual echo in the back of her head "Never againnnnn."

Dagger still upraised she continued as if it were the most natural thing in the world to hold your arm up as you talk. "...is he really that bad?"

[drack]

(double post for subscribers)

Slowly a figure loomed in the distance, a raggedy young weed of a boy on a horse. As he comes close he half-steps, half-falls from his horse, rolling on the hill a moment before dashing forward to present a letter to... He pauses, confused as to weather he should give it to the shadows or the heavy guard. "Um-" The word comes out harsh and dry as if he hasn't spoken in some time. Clearing his throat and starting anew he asks "Um, who do I give this to?"

Whomever ends up opening the parcel

The parcel contains parchment, six fish bones, and a note.

"war is eternal, send me a letter of your proposal and reasoning with your fishbone. I am only loyal to the righteous."
knowledge nature DC 20

The bones belong to the tropical snapper, a fish found in waters between drone and the summer islands.

[Raunchel]

Marith opens the parcel, and is quite surprised by the conents. "Now this is surprising, would you know what this means, maester?"

[drack]

"Well... Um...Uh..." Grand Measter Chivenson replies as he tries and fails to hide the fear in his eye as he surveys the heavy guard whose sword was a little too close for comfort. "Well... uh... Lets see. This bone if from a fish found in the seas between drone and the southern islands so it's likely that this came from one of those places, that or someone wants us to think it does. I sent no invitation to the summer islands and there are six bones, maybe there is meant to be one for each house in attendance since the sender wouldn't need one? ...but then what of the Riverlands? Perhaps the sender expected that not all nations would arrive? In any case they seem to be requesting a proposal from us rather then attending in person."

[Legionary]

One of the armoured Bolton warriors grabs the scrawny boy before he can exit the cottage, gripping the lad by the back his neck through his thick gauntlets. The movement catches the kid off guard, but is not sudden enough to startle the jumpy crowd before him. Upon first impressions the boy seemed to be just some two bit peasant hired as messenger. If that was the case, then he was a most unfortunate individual considering what he just walked into thought Letho.

For now Letho seems to ignore the parcel, instead his colds eyes are locked on Mara. There's something about the girl that has sparked the curiosity of the giant Bolton, and for the moment he seems to lose interest in all the other conspirators present. "Who are you lass?" inquires Letho slowly as he takes a step closer to the girl, his greatsword pointed at her the entire time. "It seems that I recognize every bastard on this forsaken hill expect for you..." His voice is unusually paced and deliberate, as he tries to put a name to this strangely familiar face.

"I recognize this southern excuse of a knight. Endar of House Mountry. Still, a smart enough lad to give diplomacy a chance," continues Letho, nodding in the young lord's direction. "A good choice mind you. This isn't the King's Landing tournament. This isn't a game for boys. This the underbelly. We don't fight fair here and we don't fight clean. You sure you want you want to get your pretty hands dirty?"

"And I recognize this spineless man of faith. Our very own Grand Maester in the flesh. In the flesh for now anyway," snarled the man flayer in a deliberate jab at the nervous priest. The Northerners were proud followers of the old gods and whilst Letho was far from a pious man, he was always quick to dismiss the faith of the Seven at any chance he got.

"And I recognize this upstart harlot. Well sort of. Actually your name escapes me as well, but I have seen you in the company of Baratheons and that is enough for me." Letho exposes what teeth he has left in an unpleasant smile, knowing that his horrifying affection was more unsettling than any threat he could muster against Marith.

"However you, you lass. I don't recognize who you are. I don't recognize who your patron is. And the fact that you are clearly not nobility and the fact that you seem somewhat familiar has peaked my interest." Letho stops just short of swinging distance from Mara. "So. Who are you?"

[drack]

"It is no great surprise that you don't know of me mi'lord. I'm Mara Blackwood, not only of a lesser house, but it was only recently that my long father found me and my six siblings, taking us back into the family. Still the blade remains raised, though she pays it no more mind then she did before, smiling at the big man. Now, if you would answer my question...?