Aftermath: A Song of Ice And Fire RPG

[Saintheart]

Aftermath

A Song of Ice and Fire RPG

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So, having concluded our review of the War of Five Kings and corrected most of the egregious faults in the chronicle of Archmaester Ebrose and the, to put it generously, contributions of Grandmaester Samwell, we are now better placed to evaluate the sorrow of what followed.

I am conscious the first question to be asked is also the most pointless: who is to blame?

It is a pointless question because the answer to this question is everyone and no one. One chooses one’s starting point and that in turn influences one’s idea of who is the first cause. We could select anyone from as early or earlier than Daenerys the Burner, and we could cast the net across the continent as wide as Prince Manfrey Martell to Aegon Targaryen VI, or Lord Snow as he was known. In all cases there is no first cause.

Except one, perhaps: the role and return of magic as a force in Westeros. I am always dumbstruck by my colleagues’ refusal to contemplate or acknowledge this as the primary cause of all of it. Dumbstruck given who ascended to rule of six kingdoms and why he changed the very name of his patriarchal right to The Raven Throne. Dumbstruck given how greenseers and wargs returned to the North and penetrated the South; dumbstruck given how many of my colleagues now have a Valyrian steel link in their chains.

Dumbstruck, given what that magic wrought.

Perhaps this refusal is borne out of a human impulse, the same impulse that drives people to find someone to blame: the impulse that knows, in its heart, that we are but small pieces in a world that is fundamentally indifferent to us, a world filled with forces that are greater than ourselves. These are questions for some of more our theoretical colleagues concerned with the nature of causality and being than I. For my purpose, I prefer the insight of a certain Master of Ships from early in Bran the Broken’s reign: raise a sail in your boat, turn the sail right, the wind will carry you many times faster than it otherwise would. But you’re a fool if you think you either control the wind or that the wind gives one rotten onion of a damn about you, or that the same wind won’t tear you limb from limb in the midst of a storm.

The War of Five Kings, the Burning, the reddening of the God’s Eye. All of these were winds.
The storm was still to come.
--Archmaester Mykkelen, “The Time Of The Mages: A History Of The Decades Following The End Of The War Of Five Kings And The Brief Reign of Daenerys The Burner”.



Lord Elkis Stoneshore of House Fever, Ser Aran Brazier, Squire Rodrik Drake, Arvin son of Rolf, Lily Stone

Afternoon, South bank of the Fever River,
Three days’ ride west of Crag Keep,
House Fever’s Lands, The North

“Just there, m’lord,” said the Mudlancer, pointing to where the Fever bent around a corner, half-concealing the shipwreck. It was about a quarter of a mile out and hidden in the bowing shapes of the giant willows that lay between here and the site, but from the top of this small, bare rise, Elkis could see it plainly enough. There was a chill breeze blowing in Elkis’s face from the north, and the sound of the Fever lapping at the shore was a gentle heartbeat in the distance.

From this distance the wreck on the riverbank might have been an Ironborn vessel. It was a large ship, albeit now half-draped on the shoreline like a bird with a broken back. Maybe fifty feet long, one far better suited to the waters of the Saltspear and the ocean than here, so far up near the Fever’s headwaters. But the ironmen had not sailed this far up the river for a decade and more, two winters now. That fact was the main reason Elkis had ridden out from the camp with a small party of men to see for himself.

Small party of men mostly. Blacktooth gave a low growl as Vyse, Lily Stone’s companion, padded closer to the shadowcat. But the big cat knew its business enough not to start a fight with even a young direwolf and turned away, switching its tail with annoyance. Vyse for his part trundled back over to Lily and sat on his haunches. Beyond her, Arvid, Aran, and Rodrik were all looking towards the wreck.

They hadn’t come out this way in search of shipwrecks. Two miles east, the rest of the Mudlancers were encamped, temporarily; rather than pushing the troops harder this day Elkis had taken Aran’s suggestion that they pull up and give the men a short rest before setting out properly tomorrow. They were getting towards the edge of House Fever’s holdings and they’d want all twenty men fresh before starting the hunt properly for the swine who’d raided five smallholds along the river in the past three weeks.

But two of the Mudlances’ pickets had seen the wreck and decided to report it to Elkis. And here they were.
“We’ve not gone any closer,” the Mudlancer continued. His dark eyes looked troubled. “Thought it awful strange for it to be there. No storm last night, no storm in the last week up this way from what I hear tell. Nothing that big’s tied up this way that could’ve broken its moorings and drifted west. Should we have the men break camp?”



Saga Stoneshore of House Fever, Septa Malena

Crag Keep,
House Fever Holdings, the North

Maester Ashford nodded to the guards standing at the far end of the hall, and they opened the double doors inward, allowing the delegation in. Crag Keep’s main hall was roomy; slate-floored, heavy stone walls, a wide dais with its lord’s table and its attendant seats and stools for the less important courtiers to rest their ankles. It was a sunny enough day, but even perched up on the crag overlooking its town, the noon heat had yet to penetrate the thick walls. The scent of the rosemary the servants rubbed on the table in the mornings drifted in the air.

A herald walked in ahead of the delegation, carrying a gonfalon which hung loosely from its support bar. The white drum of House Drummond on the flag shifted with the herald’s movement, marching on its blue background to an unheard cadence. Ten crisp steps into the hall, the herald turned and took three measured steps to his right, turning again to face the centre of the hall, revealing the delegation fully.

Saga, sitting at the centre of the lord’s table, felt rather than saw Maester Ashford steeple his hands before him, Septa Malena sitting alongside him. To her left, Saga’s mother-in-law, Minella, shifted in her seat, smoothing her grey dress and tracing a hand along her hairline. Elayne, Minella’s younger sister, had a gleam in her eye from her place off by the wall and raised her eyebrows before Saga had to break eye contact and look properly at the group. She bit her lip. This was the first petition of the day, but it was also the most significant one.

Lord Gerold Drummond had an unsmiling mouth, a thin red line drawn across the bottom of his face. The proud old man was in his sixties; his hairline had not so much retreated as routed. What remained on the battlefield of his scalp was grey-yellow hair parted down the middle, which only made his forehead look even longer than it already was. However, it also forced one to confront his green, blinkless eyes. No beard or moustache dared the lower reaches of his face, and his wrinkles gave him a look craggier than the promontory this keep stood on.

Not that this would exactly be any occasion for mockery. The man had brought ten men with him, sworn swords with hands on the hilts of an assortment of weapons, filing into the hall behind him. Argyle Snow, House Fever’s master-at-arms, had made sure that the Drummond men were outnumbered two-to-one by men from the Fangs of the Bogmouth. Their crowbills stood tall, pick heads peering down like vultures’ beaks all around the hall. Minella had said she wasn’t expecting trouble. Gerold Drummond was a proud man, and proud Northerners observed the law of hospitality like a tenet of faith after the Red Wedding – but the menace of the crowbills was easily matched by the ice in Drummond’s stare. The Lord had a couple of hangers-on with in his train – reedy-looking young men – but if they were all Drummond boys, they’d likely be just as stiff-backed as their patriarch.

“My lord Gerold,” said Minella. Her tone was even. “We are graced with your presence.”
Drummond gave a half-bow and his gaze swept over the room. No softening came to those green eyes. “Lady Minella. I had expected your husband to hold court. Or yourself.”
“My lord is not here,” Saga’s mother-in-law replied. “He is pursuing bandits to the west.”
“Bandits,” echoed Drummond, the lips receding back over gritted teeth for a moment. His gaze met Saga’s for the first time. “You must be his daughter. Unexpected to find you sitting for him. And with a septa on your council, no less,” he said, looking across at Malena.

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore

Elkis would be somewhat grateful for the interruption of Bandits. These southerners and there court. Bunch of fat men sitting around, asking who gets what fish, or what boat goes where. Even after he's found himself actually being somewhat decent when it comes to issues of statecraft, it's not unlike taking care of a tribe. You just have to remember you cant organize a raid and take what you want from the neighbors.

The Lord of Crag keep looks over the ship, hand resting on his tower shield, fastend tight to the side of his horse. He reaches into his horses saddle bag,taking out a piece of dried fish "Blacktooth!" He says, tossing the fish into his waiting cats mouth and smiling. He looks back to the Mudlancer "Most of been some sh*** sailor then. Maybe saw some lights on the rocks and thought it was a lighthouse? Or Saw some Mermaids bosom and drifted right in!" Elkis says with a laugh "Though, more seriously, it could be that Merrel boy. We ought to send in a scout"

He turns now to there resident warg, Lily. "Wolf-girl" says the lord "What say you use some of those abilities of your? I think Vyse could use a good run. Besides, Blacktooth could use this a a bonding opportunity no?"

[McStabbington]

Rodrik Drake

Rodrik Drake peered into the gathering gloom, holding his breath involuntarily. My first real battle. It was hard to believe that the moment had finally come, and now that it had, Rodrik was . . . unsettled. Giddy, partly. But doubt and hesitation twisted in his stomach. Rodrik looked at Ser Aran and Lord Stoneshore; neither seemed perturbed. He could only hope that his own trepidation was hidden in the twilight.

Still, Ser Aran and Lord Stoneshore's lessons were not completely forgotten, even now. In battle, the greatest enemy was the possibility of simply losing every thought in one's head. Far better to think small, and focus on narrow problems. He had read tales of the Ironborn. If these are a raiding party, then they will have probably turned over their boat, nor do they ever venture far from it. The Iron men were by all accounts savage fighters and looters, but not disciplined soldiers. If the numbers told against them, they were more apt to fight to the last man than to break completely, but what they wouldn't even think to do was form into a solid, cohesive formation or shield wall.

Lord Stoneshore's orders, and even more his tone, broke Rodrik from his reverie. It was hard to miss the enthusiasm in the Lord of the Crag's voice. He misses battle. Rodrik swallowed saliva that would not come to his mouth. "If those are iron men, on a boat that big they'll have thirty men at least," he estimated softly. "More than enough to deal with us until we bring the our men up, and they pass out from their drunken stupor. We must be cautious, to prevent them from knowing we are here, but if we do, we could net a rich prize. Taking the iron men's own boat would be a worthy feat."

[Wuff]

Septa Malena

Septa Malena inclines her head respectfully upon being mentioned, despite the bad taste it leaves in her mouth to do so. Imperceptibly, her fingers shift on her prayer wheel, tracing the shapes of each of The Seven with the most slight of movements. Something like fire dances in her fingers when she brushes it over The Warrior, and the coppery taste of metal fills her mouth momentarily. Of course, what had she expected from such a man as Lord Gerold Drummond? His armed men in this space - being seen to by his host, set her near seething, but all whirling emotion was kept inside, hidden behind the steely exterior of the Septa.

She could smell his distaste for her, practically like a bad stench in the room. One day, she thought, she would stand over him, fallen, on the battlefield, or crippled in his deathbed, and he would beg her for salvation through her God. This thought is followed by a casting of the eyes at each of his men in turn. It wouldn't be worth trying to read them. Malena knew that they would follow their Lord until their end. The Septa only hoped that his sentiment on her faith was not too similar to his reaction towards Saga. That would be unfair.

Of course, she would step into the conversation if absolutely required, but it would be unwise of her to be too intrusive at this moment for her to speak up, despite her desire to do so. Malena wishes to hear the petition anyway, at least, from his mouth. She's sure it would sound so much less appealing coming from him. It would have been wiser for him to have sent someone to ask in his stead. Unless, of course, he intended to be here as some sort of show of power, or to prove a point.

The ways of the north still baffled her to some extent, but still, she picks up a nearby quill and makes a few marks on her papers, gently scribing an introduction. The familiarity would hopefully be of use later. It is important to her that she memorises every detail about this Lord Gerold, so she decides to listen intently to whatever is said next.

[Nap Captain]

Lily Stone

'Wolf girl' was certainly better than Oathbreaker, Lily thought, as she nodded to Elkis's command. Ever since she had found herself in Cragkeep she had wondered how long it would be before her past caught up with her, yet instead she had faced little outright hostility. Though that Septa was another matter.

Kneeling beside Vyse, Lily ran her fingers through the wolf's fur. "Run with me?" Vyse's steady gaze was response enough: he was ready. "Keep clear of that cat, though."

Lily pushed Vyse forwards and watched as the wolf disappeared into the trees. She found herself a seat on the ground where she could rest her head against a nearby tree, and began to take slow, deep breaths, just as Bran had taught her all those years ago. She didn't want to push Vyse out: she hated doing that, and couldn't stomach to see the wolf's adoring eyes afterwards. No, today she would just watch through the wolf's eyes to see what dangers lay in wait.

Warg into Vyse.
Stealth (Speciality sneak) roll for Vyse [roll0]

[Saintheart]

Sun-Not-In-High-Sky, Sand-Near-Big-Water
Cold-Land

Vyse didn't wag his tail as he left. The Woman knew how he felt. He was still small, didn't stand higher than the meaty part of her leg, but the Woman knew how he felt. He smelled the Woman's intent and then felt strange as he sensed the Woman join her brain to his. No matter. Go. Hunt.

Vyse - that was what the Woman called him - went loping into the brush towards the big-fallen-tree-thing on the Sand-Near-Big-Water the Woman had told him to go to and See. Vyse knew the other animal - the big Cat - was nearby, but he restrained his impulse to lock his jaws on its neck and kept running. He didn't like the Cat. It growled and thought it was higher in the Pack than he, Vyse, was. Vyse was smarter than the Cat and knew the Woman was higher in the Pack, even if the Cat belonged to the Man whose wonderful smelly aromas told everyone he was the leader of the Pack.

He slowed as he closed on the big-fallen-tree-thing. There was a smell of water. Fresh water, but not the water his mind had left him with from birth. The smells in this part of the land he would never get used to. It was so much simpler to sort them back in the colder lands, near the Big White Long Flat Mountain. Vyse had liked the Long Flat Mountain. It had hummed and thrummed with a noise even the Woman couldn't feel. Something in the Long Flat Mountain had made Vyse feel like his belly was full and that he was part of a big Pack. But the Woman had become his Pack, and so he had followed the Woman, even if it still made him a little sad to not be able to hear or feel the Long Flat Mountain.

He sniffed the air again. There was another smell on the air. This smell he knew. It was a smell that only came from men when their pale, rubbery skins had been torn open and the red water leaked from them. The smell as they released their dung for the last time when all the red water had leaked out. Turning his other senses to the task, Vyse confirmed it. There were many dead of the men here. (Fifteen or twenty, some part of Lily's mind whispered) Some looked to still be on the big-fallen-tree-thing, though the majority were still on the shoreline. Not all the men were dressed the same, either; there looked to be two kinds of men here, some in animal skins, some in metal skins. There were long straight branches sticking out of many, and one or two long steel pieces left on the sand.

Vyse heard the Cat growl, knew almost without looking that it was stalking through the trees along the shoreline. Stupid Cat. It was only sensing what Vyse already knew: that there were other animals about. Not far away. A haul of bodes like this needed eating, and there would be animals here soon enough to do so. But there were no men nearby that Vyse could smell - aside from the dead that lay here.

But there was something else, too: a scent in the air, coming - Vyse could not comprehend how or why - from the big-fallen-tree thing. A smell that was very familiar and yet unfamiliar. A smell mixed with death. Somehow that smell made the direwolf more uneasy than anything it had felt so far.

[jolinaxas]

Saga Stoneshore (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1920657)

Saga sat at the table, trying her best to maintain an assertive, forward-leaning posture. Her dark dress, decorated with the gold hawk and red accents of her house, was of the finest velvet and cloth that White Harbor could offer, and that the daughters of her warden could suggest. She kept her long hair in a simpler style than was fashionable, never having had the patience or inclination for complicated braidwork.

Her agile mind raced through protocol and custom. Her time among the Manderleys, she considered, had been something of a mixed blessing where courtly manners were concerned, now that her years attending their petitions and feasts were being put to practical test. None could contest the love and fealty they bore to their Queen and her House, but they were always southron in manner. Would spending the meager house funds on "properly" entertaining this... well, rather threatening party be the best approach? Or would further assertion of her proper place, it having been questioned, show strength that they would respect?

Honey, then vinegar.

"I am. Saga Stoneshore of House Fever, heir to my Lord father Elkis. I regret that my long fostering has made this our first opportunity for acquaintance, Lord Drummond. Before you proceed with your petition, would you take refreshment?"

She indicated to the nearest steward or servant, who waited to hear Drummond's desire.

"As for Septa Malena, while we keep the Old Gods, I respect her education and bearing. Her counsel is much appreciated."

What she'd been able to acquaint herself with in her short time returned, at any rate. The cleric possessed a solid, wary disposition that Saga assumed must have come from treating with the various smallfolk beset by banditry. What was Saga going to do with this flea-bitten, meager territory?

[woodwalker]

Ser Aran

Aran watched the two animals pad off into the brush. After 10 years he had reached a relative truce with the big cat, and then a direwolf appeared. Well, he had lived to see stranger things than that.

Ironborn. Well maybe, but it would be an outlier to be sure. And it would have had to have slipped past the Crag and the town below unnoticed. Odd, it being here. But you're right, we need to make sure there's nothing else waiting for us in the bushes.

The animals could get close to the ship, but he wanted to take a loop around the outside and see if there was any tracks or anything leading away from the ship.

He nodded to the Mudlance. You did right to bring us here, soldier. You and your compatriot stay here with the Lord and keep an eye out. Rodrick? You're with me. We're going to have a quick look around. If we come across something I need you ready to ride hard and rouse the camp. I could use your help too, Arvid. You have the best eyes of us all.

He nodded his head with a smile to Elkis. With your leave of course, my lord.

[Saintheart]

Crag Keep,
House Fever Holdings, the North

For a long moment, Lord Drummond stared at Saga's servant. Then the old man turned his gaze back to her. "I think not. My business is pressing. If you would have me take bread and salt to oblige me as your guest, you misjudge me. House Drummond obeys the law of hospitality whether as host or visitor. Not to mention that you seem to have enough troops here to guarantee I do nothing more than a guest would," he added, glancing at the billmen around the hall with a curl of his lip. "Indeed, your troops are the reason I am here. Men wearing the sigil of your House sacked three farms on my lands, east of the Kingsroad, northwest of Moat Cailin. I have come here regarding this destruction."

And I think here's where we can start our first Intrigue contest!

To that end, just to get a complete picture of the process, I'd like to start with the optional Recognition test first (page 144 of the GOT core book). This allows us to set dispositions for Saga and Lord Drummond. Starting dispositions are set to Indifferent and are affected by the outcome it means a Formidable (12) Status test, taking a penalty to your result to the opponent's rank in Knowledge. A success improves or worsens the opponent's disposition by one step per degree of success.

So for Lord Drummond, with Status 4, that would mean he makes a roll of 4d6-4 (Saga's Knowledge rank is 4). So that result is ... [roll0]

Thus, a failure. Saga's disposition doesn't change based on Drummond's status as such. Now Saga does the same thing to see if she alters Drummond's disposition, and her roll would be 3d6-3 (Saga has a Status of 3, Drummond's Knowledge rank is 3).

If she rolls 12-16, she alters Drummond's disposition by 1 (either direction at her discretion.) Thanks to the -3 penalty, it's impossible to get a roll higher than 15, so we don't have to worry about any greater degrees of success, it's either she doesn't alter his disposition or only alters it by one. So ... over to Saga!

[jolinaxas]

Saga bit her lip as he spoke. She supposed that would teach her to be accommodating.

"Just looking to relieve any thirst from the road, Lord Drummond. But we'll forgo pleasantries as you request."

She beckoned to the Master-at-Arms, whispering for him to find a socially appropriate reason to take away half of the present guards, to match Drummond's escort. Not that a man of honor would ask after the reason, anyway.

"You'll have to excuse us, this is our usual posting for petitions in general."

As the guards left, she motioned for him to continue.


[roll0]

[Saintheart]

Crag Keep,
House Fever Holdings, the North

Drummond's eyebrows went up as the Fever men began to file out of the room, but he quickly turned his attention back to Saga. "It's quite simple. As I said, ten days ago three farms were raided by men wearing your house's colours. They were on the frontiers of my land - no doubt because they knew if I had men in that area they'd not be able to kill the farmers. Or rape the smallholders' wives. I suppose I should be happy they didn't kill any children. Although the Gods know what those children thought when they came out of the woods and found their fathers dead in their own doorways. This cannot stand."

So that 11 means Saga doesn't change Drummond's disposition either, which is set to Indifferent just as hers is.

So that brings us to actual Intrigue. This might take some doubleposting. For this, Saga needs to decide what her objective in the intrigue will be: friendship, deceit, information, service, or something else. In this intrigue, Drummond's objective seems to be a service of some kind: that House Fever and/or Saga compensates him for what he says has been done to his freeholders.

Either way, a roll for Initiative is the first step. This is a straight Status test: 4d6 for Drummond, 3d6 for Saga. I may as well roll that to start with:
[roll0]
[roll1]


EDIT: So this means Saga goes first. (If Malena wants to join in the intrigue, that'd likely need an Initiative roll of its own.)

Saga, then, has a number of potential actions, similar to a combat round in 3.5. Per page 149, these could include Assist, Consider, Fast Talk, Influence (which in turn depends on the technique you choose), Manipulate, Mollify, Quit, Read Target, Shield of Reputation, Switch to Combat (not a good idea), or Withdraw.

EDIT AGAIN: Malena is going in as well, but she'd have to go third since with her 2d6 she can't get in any faster. Thus, the initiative order:

Saga
Lord Drummond
Malena

[jolinaxas]

Listening to Drummond's concerns with honest interest, Saga clasped her hands together.

"We obviously gave no orders even barely resembling that sort of conduct. As my Lady mother by law inferred when she spoke of my Lord father's absence, we have pressing issues concering banditry as well. And attacks so close to our shared border mean our smallfolk in the area may be next. Perhaps they'll even be in your colors, though obviously not actually -your- men."

She waited a few moments to let her suggestion sink in.

"And because it is a mutual concern, we are happy to assist you in whatever ways we can in finding these men and submitting them to the Queen's justice. Now, as to the appearance of the bandits - I take it that one of the poor living victims of these men described her raper? Did they mention any other features? Weapons used, what they may have called each other. That sort of thing."


So my objective is convincing him that we didn't do it, obviously. Or at least that we shouldn't be the primary suspects.
I'm going to Shield of Reputation to try to bump his opinion of me, this is against base Will and I can only do it once.
[roll0]

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore



[roll0]



Elkis makes an..odd noise with his mouth. A Chip mixed with a growl, and Blacktooth responds in kind. The Large cat nods, and runs into the forest alongside the Direwolf. "Let's hope they start to get along, eh?"

Hearing the young squire, Elkis turns to regard him "Don't know. I've fought worse odds I think. 30 to...Eight? Nine? Eh, same idea." Elkis shrugs though, knowing a glorious charge against bandits is not always the wisest decision. he had done that already once before anyway "Would be better to get more men though. Lets wait for Lily to return before we make our move"

Elkis turns to Aran "Don't want to warn them to early, so keep your distance. You've got my perission to go ahead though."

[Bowerbird]

Arvid, Son of Vigdis (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1921554)

Arvid brings up the rear, his small pack of warhounds preferring to keep their distance from the larger animals favoured by Elkis and Lily. They all showed a kind of deference to Vyse, recognising a superiority in him without having needed to test him, Asgeir still bears the scars from the time he tried to test Blacktooth, and the others well remember her fierceness. He eschews the traditional restraints used by so many Southerners, preferring instead to give his pack freedom of movement, and trusting in their training.
When Lily sits down by a tree, letting her eyes roll over white, his lips quirk into a wistful smile under his beard, reminded of his time spent in the Haunted Forest with his mother, guarding her body while the pack hunted. "I could use your help too, Arvid. You have the best eyes of us all." Regarding Aran with a snort, he tousles his hunting hound Lis' fur, "Maybe not all of us, but ja we'll come." With a few quick commands he arranges his fighting dogs, one on either side and one behind, while Lis ranges ahead. "Let us see what we can see." He stalks off after his hound without waiting on Elkis' response, trusting that he would not disapprove, hearing permission given to the knight only adds to his confidence.
Gonna roll some dice for stuff:
Stealth for Lis: [roll0]
Moving stealthily ahead of the pack.
Awareness (Notice) for Lis: [roll1]
Awareness (Notice) for Arvid: [roll2]
Looking for signs or tracks leading to or away from the shipwreck.

[woodwalker]

Ser Aran

I'm right behind you.

Aran dismounts and hands the reigns off to one of the Mudlances.

Rodrick, you hop down, too. I want you to stay a bit behind us; keep us close enough to see and hear, but far enough back to avoid danger. Keep that courser close and as quiet as you can.

He readies his hammer and moves to follow Arvid.


Stealth = [roll0]
Awareness = [roll1]

[Nap Captain]

Lily Stone

Come Vyse Lily called withdrawing to her own mind, All my kills are yours, she added thanking the wolf for his aid.

Lily woke in her own body to see another group heading into the woods. She frowned slightly, annoyed that they would be stumbling in blind. Did they not trust her? Approaching Elkis, she tried to keep her words low so that only the lord and his trusted cohort could hear: she did not want all of the Mudlances to know what she was. She still had a traditional Westerosi approach to magic. "There are dead men down there, fifteen or twenty. Some kind of battle on the shore. I don't know if the victors are still here, so we should beware. And there's something, something I can't quite place yet, but we should treat the wreck with care. There is a scent of death there."

Also, props for that Vyse post Saintheart - excellent writing

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore

Sends off the men as Lily returns to herself. He's seen what it looks like when a Warg returns to there body a few times now, and so he is already looking towards her by the time she returns. he listens to her words, curious, and slightly confused. "Dead men that smell..dead? Well, I think it would be odd if they didn't smell like death. When the others come back, we should go in and see for ourselves."

[Saintheart]

Crag Keep, House Fever Holdings
The North

The Shield of Reputation works. Drummond's Disposition Rating rises to Amiable as against Saga. It remains Dislike as against Malena.

Some of the steel came out of Drummond's face. He seemed to take a longer look at the young woman standing for the whole of House Fever. "You've absorbed the courtesy and manner of House Manderly, my lady. Most encouraging. I suppose it may be that you had no personal knowledge of what took place on your lands. Sometimes men will do things that are not in keeping with their liege lord's desires. But the evidence here seems compelling. I spoke with two farmers' wives, and they said almost the same thing: that they were attacked by men in the livery of House Fever. Men with black beards. They were armed with longswords. They mentioned a great hammer made of bone as well. If this surprises you, I regret it, but it does not make it any less true." The man's face hardened, and he appeared to be building up to anger, his pride fuelling him. His voice became a growl. "And I've no desire to cajole or have to press my case with you. I am of House Drummond, in the North as long as the Starks. We do not tell untruths. If you will not accept my truth about what happens on my own lands, perhaps I shall press the matter in other ways!"

Drummond goes for Intimidation. This will be a Total 6d roll, best of 5, against Intrigue Defence of 11.
[roll0]

EDIT: So that's a 21 against an Intrigue Defence of 11. Intimidate does Will rank damage, thus 3. The degree of success is three: it exceeded it by 10. So the Composure damage done is 3 x 3 = 9 Composure. Saga's DR, being Indifference, knocks 4 off that result, thus, Drummond does Saga Composure damage of 5.

Saga's Composure is now 4/9, if it goes to 0 she'll accede to Drummond's demands (absent Destiny Points or the like).

[McStabbington]

Rodrik Drake

Not the men. Lady Stone had said the men were on the shore, but the smell had come from the boat. But it would do no good to gainsay the Lord now, only make him look lesser in the eyes of the Mudlances. Rodrik swung down from Flash. The amiable old spotted bay held steady as always.

Once down, Rodrik took the reins in his left, and drew his sword in his right. His shield remained across his back Rodrik didnt like it; a horseman should always stay to the left of his horse. Horses were skittish prey animals, and even a trained war horse could panic when faced with raw instinct. But Rodrik wasn't about to go into battle unarmed, and Flash was fourteen, a veteran of a dozen battles under his father, and even against the Others. He looked back at Flash for a sign of animus; Flash looked back at him placidly. He took it for encouragement.

"Mychel, Jack, good work." Rodrik knew it wasn't strictly-speaking his place to talk to the Lancers, but Ragged Mychel and Black Jack had done well, and Rodrik thought it was always good to let the men have a compliment when they had performed admirably. Rodrik was sure it was the kind of thing Jaehaerys would have done if he'd been here. "We'll check it out, but hopefully, they just got drunk and killed each other. If they did, you both saved us a day. We strip the bodies, be back to camp in two hours, and then start back tomorrow. It'll be good to go home. No promises, but I'll remind Lord Stoneshore when we get back. You definitely earned your pay this week." With that, he turned and followed Ser Aran.

[Saintheart]

Aran, Rodrik, Arvid

Afternoon, South bank of the Fever River,
Three days’ ride west of Crag Keep,
House Fever’s Lands, The North

"Thank you, m'lord," said Black Jack in Rodrik's wake, and the young squire caught the appreciative grin on Ragged Mychel's face as he turned away. "Good fortune."

Then they were on their way, down the rise and into the stands of willow trees gathered like mourners around the shipwreck's vicinity. The branches creaked from moment to moment, the breeze moving the great hairlike fronds like a congregation shaking heads in unison. And always, the constant noise of waves lapping at the shoreline.

Aran kept them clear of the wreck for the time being, using it as the centre of a loose arc around the site. There wasn't a lot of undergrowth this close to the water, which made the search somewhat easier, but at least to start with they didn't turn up much bar the odd bit of rabbit dung. And though he tried to keep them quiet, Arvid's hounds were too excited about the prospect of a late afternoon stretch-of-legs and were making a racket, yelping from time to time, crashing against branches as they nipped one another, and generally being the sort of dog whose adorability alone kept them from an early death.

They were on the western side of the wreck when one of the dogs suddenly dipped its head and snuffled at the ground. Aran noticed it, too, at almost the same moment. The tracks had been made by a good number of men - difficult to tell how many without particular training - but a reasonable number of them, leading southwest, with the wreck as their apparent source.

Aran peered closer: two of the sets of footprints were denting heavier into the ground than the others, and the prints were each side of a deeper groove that had been ripped into the ground. Two men, then, possibly dragging something. Or someone. Someone wounded, perhaps?
Or some prisoner, a part of him speculated for no reason he could put his finger on.

He was about to say something when he heard the growling.

Arvid's dogs were all on alert, and their heads were pointed further west. They added their own growling to it. The three men could clearly see shapes moving in the woods off to the west: four-legged shapes, and a decent number of them -- too many to immediately count, especially obscured through the woods. Likely wolves, a solid pack of them.

Elkis Stoneshore, Lily Stone

A few minutes after Aran and the rest left, Vyse came trotting back from out of the woods. He gave the customary and polite lick to Lily's face as he returned, then settled back down next to the girl with his snout resting over his paws.

Blacktooth wasn't with him.

The shadowcat came bounding back a minute later, running out of the woods as fast as his four legs would carry him, snarling. He ran hard right up to Elkis and then turned, peering back down towards the woods.

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore

Elkis sends the men off without much issue, waiting with Lily until the animals arrive. While they wait though, he does dismount from his horse, simply looking to stretch his own legs for a bit. He had been riding for too long that day. His break is cut short though when he sees the Direwolf return...without Blacktooth. . His lip curls in disappointment as BlackTooth comes in a whole minute behind.That look in his cats eye though...it wasn't a good sign. He gives his cat a nod, before reaching for his tower shield and spear. He looks toward the woods "Seems Blacktooth saw something. Maybe Vyse missed something?"



[roll0]

[Nap Captain]

Lily Stone

Lily knew the beasts of the wilds: and the cat's response confirmed to her that what Vyse had sensed had arrived. "Carrion," she muttered, "There were animals circling: they've come to have their fill. If we want to find anything useful we may need to get down there right now and be prepared to fend them off." There was no customary my lord: Lily was removed from those things by her time in the Raven Coterie. "The horses may be a liability, if there are beasts circling and that much dead flesh: perhaps a few of your men could stay with them, whilst we head down to secure the area?"

Regardless of Elkis's decision, Lily had no intention of waiting around. If there were creatures here, then she was best placed to see them off. With Vyse's help.

Gathering her weapons from her horse's pack, she swung her bow and quiver across her back and led her wolf swiftly into the trees.

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore

Elkis for his part didn't seems to mind the lack of 'my lord'. He was never used to it in the first place. He readys his weapons, already beginning to follow behind " You heard the lass! Keep the Horses safe" He rolls his neck as he orders Blacktooth to follow him "Its been a while since I've had to fight a beast or two. Should be good fun I hope. Keep ye bow ready, don't need to be caught unaware Wolf-Girl"

[Saintheart]

Afternoon, South bank of the Fever River,
Three days’ ride west of Crag Keep,
House Fever’s Lands, The North

Black Jack took a step after Elkis. "M'lord -- if it's wolves, then we should come --"
Mychel put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Leave it be, lad. You'll only get in their way. As you command, Lord Elkis."

Elkis and Lily jogged down the hill and into the woods, their companions a step or two ahead of them. It wasn't particularly dark under the trees, but the gathering clouds above were starting to turn the sky towards slate. The wrecked ship was visible through the trees off to their right, visible in the gloom. A little further and they'd be at the ship in moments. But off ahead of them there came another sound: a wolf, howling in the near distance.

And this is where it might get a bit complicated. If this turns into a fight I'll bend time a little bit and have the party all join up within about a round or two, but I'm not sure what Aran and his group are going to do: stand, try and hide, attack, or retreat (and whether they'd retreat towards the ship or in some other direction). Everyone's on foot at the moment, so it's over to you guys about what's going to happen next. Thank God there's no horses to take into account!

[Wuff]

Septa Malena

It had perhaps been a mistake to allow the young Saga to take the brunt of the Lord’s angry ranting, the Septa thought in hindsight, feeling the girl deflate just a little next to her. She’d do better next time and step in earlier.

Clearly this situation needed some urgent action though. Drummond’s words had taken a severe toll on the atmosphere of the room it seemed. One might be mistaken in thinking that a hand or two had gone to a weapon, but the men of the Keep were more disciplined than that. Malena knew that the words had angered her. What sort of old braggard storms into another noble’s keep and goes so far as to threaten their sitting daughter? Malena’s revulsion of the ways of the north rises to the surface and threatens to overbrim into her own yelling.

Septa Malena turned to Saga, askance in her eyes, but turned back before giving any chance to answer. Every second was vital here in turning the tides against their rude visitor right now, and Malena planned to bring the waves crashing down upon his head right now.

She closed her eyes for a moment, drawing on the font of force within her, brushing her mind against the power she held in her soul, and allowing to seep into her body as a whole, shifting herself mentally. When she opens her eyes again, they shimmer in a way impossible to perceive consciously, alight with the force and the passion of her devotion to her God. As the high of drawing upon her inner reserves rolls over her, a pleasurable shiver raises goosebumps along her covered arms and down the back of her neck.

”Lord Drummond, please.” The Septa motions for a seat to be shifted over as she rises. Her prayer wheel is laid out before her, spinning slightly from the way she had set it down, until the figure of The Father is pointed directly towards the now quite imposing woman.

”You may not know me well, or know my reasoning, and you do not need to trust me, but understand this - I am no common Septa. I am here to perform a sacred duty, but it is not one assigned by the common clergy. I am here, Lord Drummond, to do my best by these lands and all of the people within, and around these lands. I am not here to raise a flock or to tackle the Weirwoods, rather the opposite.” She pauses once more, her gaze darting over all in the room to weigh up their reactions, before falling, with a forceful weight, to meet Drummond’s.

I could crush this man if I so chose, make him cower like the cur he is before me and the Lady Saga as he should... But, not today.

She motions for a serving boy to bring some drink, and to make it fast, basking in the confidence endowed by her power.

”There is no need for us to be enemies in this matter. There is injustice afoot, and thus it is the duty of both our Houses to resolve this issue. You must take vengeance for your slain and tortured smallfolk, and House Fever will make the savages who performed this treachery rue the day they took our colours, even if they truly are our men. I give you my oath for that as your host - even if you deny to be our guest - I will not allow those that have trespassed against you in this situation to go unpunished. I swear that not just on my honour as a Woman, but as my honour as a Servant and Septa of The Seven.” Her delicate hand curls into a fist, which she presses into her breast, still staring Drummond straight in the eyes. Whether she has blinked yet or not is hard to tell.

”I will hunt these men myself if the need arises, and deliver down the wrath of the Divine unto them, if no one else takes a stand to resolve this.” A smile tugs at her lips slightly, although she is entirely serious, and something in her stance might show that.

”I implore that you work with me to bring this about, rather than against me. Our two houses could have a very healthy relationship if we play this correctly, Lord Drummond. You have come all this way to see the Lady Saga, your time is valuable. Let us both try to make the most of this awful situation, and rise above the behaviour of the lawless brutes who would drive a divide between us.”

It takes a moment for her to catch her breath, at which point she places a hand on her seat, her hand shaking out of sight with the rush, as if she were some common addict.

The Septa then settles back more into a passive stance, waiting for a response.


[roll7d6]
Malena will Charm or Convince him, whatever you consider to match her words more. I would prefer Charm mechanically. She is using her will, 7, and using her bonus from Reading him to offset the dice loss from her disturbing habit.

And yes, the nun is a junkie.

[Saintheart]

Crag Keep, House Fever Holdings
The North

So, a 29 roll, which is over Drummond's 11 Intrigue defence by 18, i.e. four degrees of success. That makes the Composure damage inflicted 7 x 4 = 28 since for Charm Malena can sub the Persuasion damage for Will as I understand it. His DR cuts that by 6, but that leaves Composure damage of 22, which blows him down completely with a Composure of 9, i.e. Drummond is defeated. For what it's worth, his disposition towards Malena rises to Indifferent, and I'll rule it rises to Friendly in the case of Saga ... for future dispositions.

Drummond took a long time to blink.

"I--" The lord shook his head, then refocused his attention back on Malena and, at length, Saga, drawing himself straight, clearing his throat. "I apologise for my harsh words, my lady. This banditry has been at work upon my mind, alas. I may have misspoken myself. Even if you do not follow the Old Gods, Septa, that is a mighty oath you have now made, in the sight of gods and men. I hope you keep to it. And lady Saga, for the time being I will take your word that you and your men had nothing to do with this trespass on our lands. I no more wish bad blood between our houses than you. I will return to my holdings and investigate this matter further. But if it is as you say, then it seems some enemy is targeting you as much as I. Have you any idea as to who might have done this?"

So that's our first Intrigue.

From what I understand, more complex intrigues are a little longer than this - one normally has to win a few exchanges, i.e. Victory Points have to be achieved. But this will do for starters. We're not in intrigue mode right now unless you guys had intended to try and resist Drummond's attempt to find out more information.

[jolinaxas]

Saga Stoneshore (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1920657)

Saga was quite impressed with the hardened Septa's invocations. A look down at her shaking hand made Saga wonder if she were pained, in dire need of drink, or otherwise ill. Still, she'd performed more than admirably.

"I affirm the Septa's oath with my own, so may the Old Gods and New witness it."

On the servant's way back from delivering Septa's drink, she also asked for mead, a glance towards Drummond offering him a second chance at refreshment in light of his change of heart without being pushy about it.

"Some of our men are black of hair and beard, but so are many. But the bone weaponry you speak of is something of a tradition among one of our regiments, the Bonehammers. But none of our men fight with longswords - at least not in a primary fashion. What this seems to tell me is that someone is familiar enough with the ways of our warriors, but not thorough or careful enough to impersonate us properly. Longswords are no small expense compared to pikes and modified farming tools, so they are well supported, either by previous banditry or some benefactor."

She beckoned to the Master-at-Arms.

"I will have the Bonehammers questioned. Not accused, but perhaps a uniform or weapon has been lost in battle, scavenged from a fallen brother, or stolen from stores. They should otherwise have a fair and reasonably proven account of their activities for whenever you report these attacks took place."

[Wuff]

Septa Malena

Taking a sip of her drink, not much caring whatever the liquid is, the Septa allows herself to relax, calming her nerves and slowing her raised heartbeat. It takes her until both Saga and the pacified lord have spoken their parts before she fully recovers.

”It would be very foolish to violate an oath I had made on my honour. The only power I have, as a woman in these lands, is all derived from it.” The smile the Septa gives is far more amiable and warm than the one she had previously worn.

That’s what Malena sees as the truth, and in more ways than most in the room would anticipate. Whatever the heiress at her side knows of her powers, it might be best to not inform her how oaths of this severity could turn on her.

”The House does have some enemies, and there is an abundance of cretins who see us as a weak target. This newest tactic is perhaps just another way to leverage money from us. I may ask around about Sellswords or other odd folk that have been hanging around lately... But first.”

The Septa fiddles with a brooch which is pinned onto her, before tugging it from her robes. She leaves her place, and walks over to the guest, offering it to him.

”I used this while I was new to here, but I’ve become some kind of familiar with those that live in our lands now. Take this as a gesture of goodwill and an invitation to return in better circumstances. The quality is not great but it will serve its function.” She turns her hand, palm upward to reveal a slightly battered sigil which represents House Fever.

She pauses, as if thinking. ”Sometime, it would be nice to visit you, possibly. If we are to continue this business it would help if I had a way of showing our shared interests, without sounding too crude.”

She hopes he gives her something as battered and used by him as her offering was by her.

[Bowerbird]

Arvid glances back at Rodrik, keeping his voice quiet, but calm, "Don't run, boy, they'll give chase and they're a mite faster than you." He looks around the growling woods warily, drawing his battle-axe, "Wolves tend to stay away from groups of men, if they're here there's likely carrion in that boat, and we're between them and their meal. How hard they fight will depend on how hungry they are." He looks back to Aran, "Like as not, we're in for a fight. Hopefully they're not too desperate." He does his best to consolidate and calm the pack, hunkering down among the dogs in a fighting stance.

[woodwalker]

Aran nods at Arvid's advice. He had been considering sending Rodrick back for help, but that was sound advice the man gave.

He regrets slightly bringing the boy along at all, but then if he held him back every time he wouldn't learn anything. Besides, he was getting better with that sword.

Lets all group together, give everyone just enough room to fight if needed. Hopefully we can scare them off.

He takes a hold of the hammer in his right hand and grabs his horn from his side. From it he blows a long clear note as loud as he can and readies himself for a fight.

[Saintheart]

Afternoon, South bank of the Fever River,
Three days’ ride west of Crag Keep,
House Fever’s Lands, The North

Lily Stone, Elkis

A sudden noise cut through the woods, a noise loud enough to be heard clearly by the rough lord and the young woman making their way towards the shipwreck: the clear clarion of Aran's war horn, blown once, coming from the west. Vyse and Blacktooth's heads both snapped around as they heard it, pointing the direction clearly.

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore

The Lord wanders through the forest, allowing Lily to lead. She knew it better, after all, she had seen the trail through the eyes of a wolf. He keeps his weapons ready in case of any wolves seeking to ambush them. His head snaps to attention along with Blacktooth's "That sounds like that Horn Arvid had. Here I thought he was picking up a hobby" He moves with his cat in that direction

[McStabbington]

Rodrik Drake

Rodrik did not answer the kennel master. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the approaching shapes from the wilderness, and the growling. It was only when he tried to move sidelong, and felt a tugging in his left hand, that he realized he was still leading a horse that, faithful steed though he might have been, was none too keen on exposing a flank to the oncoming wolf pack.

Rodrik quickly consulted his options. If they attack, the best thing that happens is Flash runs off, and I have to chase him a mile in the wilderness. Worst case, the wolves find him before I do. The thought of his steed filling wolf bellies, far more than the older men's words, steeled him, and he sprung into action. He backed Flash up underneath one of the willows, an action the old bay was more than happy to take, and then tied the reins quickly to a drooping branch. The knot was only a few quick loops and a knot, but it would keep the horse from bolting. With his left hand free, he ran it along the horse's back as he dropped back to the saddlebag, and pulled from it his helm. Polished black steel, the ridge helm had an aventail welded on to cover the mouth and neck. Not much use in a joust, but here in a fight with wolves, it would stop teeth sure enough. He donned the helm, snapped the chinstrap tight, and pulled down the mail of the aventail to protect his face. Then he unslung his shield and stood between Flash and the wolves.

"Pull back and stand near the head of the horse, Arvid. Flash's hooves will protect our flanks."

[Saintheart]

Arvid, Rodrik, Aran

Afternoon, South bank of the Fever River,
Three days’ ride west of Crag Keep,
House Fever’s Lands, The North (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQS4o_bYA_M)

The beasts came out of the trees. Slowly, with not a little caution - but confident nonetheless. Rodrik counted five. Six. More than could be easily counted. Shape after shape, all haggard, all with teeth bared. Desperate beasts, certainly. Wolves didn't normally approach in force unless some cunning part of their brains was confident they could overwhelm the enemy ... or because hunger and ferocity had overridden all cunning and need to take down weak opponents first.

They came padding across a clearing in the swamp, moving effortlessly over a great boulder in their path, slowly spreading out before the three men and Arvid's three hounds. Eight. Nine. Ten.

They were certainly outnumbered. It had to be a full wolf pack, though there was at least one mercy: no direwolves among them, and certainly not the semi-legendary Great Wolf that was said to have once been the companion of a Stark and who was said to still lead a great pack somewhere in the South.

https://images2.imgbox.com/31/84/Di8U0inN_o.jpg


Hounds: 14
Wolves: 11
Arvid: 11
Rodrik: 10
Aran: 4

The scale of the map is 1 square to 1 yard.

As said, Lily, Elkis, Blacktooth and Vyse will be arriving next round - I will put them in the initiative count when they do.

[Saintheart]

Saga and Malena

Crag Keep, House Fever Holdings
The North

Drummond took the offered brooch, and then moved to take one of the drinks. "As you say. I should prefer to remain a while with my men, though, and accompany yourself and your Master At Arms when you conduct these inquiries. My people will not appreciate it were I to leave this matter unresolved before I depart."

[jolinaxas]

Saga nodded.

"Perfectly reasonable. Stabling and lodging fit for your needs and station are yours as long as is required for your satisfaction. Let me know if any other specific arrangements needs be made."

She took a long drink.

"I don't believe they are a part of my Lord father's retinue at the moment. Argyle, where are the Bonehammers currently assigned?"

If they were to take a while to be summoned, perhaps she could attend to other petitions in the meantime, lest this affair swallow up the entirety of the day.

[Bowerbird]

Arvid spits to one side, the condition of these animals didn't give him much hope they'd be easily intimidated. Whistling to his hounds, he commands them to stay arrayed in front of the group, ready to intercept the oncoming beasts as he hefts his battleaxe and with a thunk embeds it in a nearby log, already drawing the hunting bow from one shoulder. He briefly scans the approaching pack for signs of a more dominant wolf, before knocking an arrow and firing.
Still learning how the system works, but I'm going with:
Free Action: Command the Hounds, this is mostly to reinforce the command to stay back with the group he gave previously.
Free Action: Drop Battleaxe, in a way he can easily grab it when the wolves get close.
Free Action: Draw Hunting Bow
Lesser Action: Pick a target and Aim
Lesser Action: Fire

If possible I'd like to roll Awareness to see if he can pick out a lead wolf, if he does he'll fire on them, if he doesn't or he can't he'll fire on the closest one he can see.

Awareness (Notice): [roll0] Nearest wolf it is!
Marksmanship: [roll1]
Damage (if applicable): [roll2]

Hopefully I'm doing this right, let me know if not.

[McStabbington]

Rodrik Drake

Rodrik sidled slightly to his left, drifting further beneath the cover of the tree. His shield was firmly out in front of him, and his sword he carried cocked, ready to drive forward from the shoulder with a stab rather than hack with an overhand cut. Under the trees, the sword could easily get tangled up in the branches, making this an exercise in control. But with his shield, the tree stump, and Flash's hooves anchoring the left side, the wolves could only effectively encircle from one direction, giving the far more experienced warrior Aran the chance to use his sword to good effect.

They're just wolves. Kill one or two of them, and their morale would break. Rodrik knew his steel was better than their teeth. He just had to make sure to kill rather than to wound the animals. If he left them wounded, he feared they would be set upon by their packmates in the condition they were in, or even if their pack cared, those wounds would fester, leaving a lingering death he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.


Free action to move one square N on the map.
Ready action. First wolf that comes at him gets stuck with the pointy end.

[woodwalker]

Aran gives another blow on his horn, hoping to warn away the wolves, but it seems this fight is coming. He spreads out a little bit from Rodrick. He needs the room to swing his hammer.


Free Action: Move one block south
Ready attack with hammer

[Saintheart]

Afternoon, South bank of the Fever River,
Three days’ ride west of Crag Keep,
House Fever’s Lands, The North

The wolves swarmed in, roughly half of the pack turning to make their way north and under the treeline. The remainder came bounding in towards the men’s party, though not close enough to attack. The leading two got within striking range of Arvid’s hounds.

One missed.

The other’s jaws caught on the hound’s face and dug in, drawing blood and an answering snarl from Arvid’s companion. The wolf held on, starting to wrestle with the war hound …

… until Arvid put an arrow right through the wolf’s neck, and it collapsed to the earth, lifeless.

More movement through the trees … and so emerged Elkis, Lily, and their two animal companions.

https://images2.imgbox.com/c3/29/t48Ca9iy_o.jpg

In game terms, I’ve played with the Wolf stats in one respect: their bites are deemed as Grab weapons, i.e. if I exceed a target’s passive Athletics score, the beast locks on, gets a +2 to the Bite damage, keeps the target from moving, and the target takes a -5 to Combat Defence.

The Hounds I deem took the Wait action, i.e. their next test roll gets a +2d6 (subject to max dice rolls).
Hound 3 got hit and is at 4/9.

Bowerbird, your rolling is right on – 9 damage is enough to put a wolf down. Having dropped the battleaxe – in L4 for future reference – just remember if you move you’ll have to come back to that square to pick it up again.

As said, Elkis and Lily have now arrived on the scene. So the new Initiative Count is:

Blacktooth: 24
Elkis: 21
Vyse: 16
Hounds: 14
Wolves: 11
Arvid: 11
Rodrik: 10
Lily: 7
Aran: 4


Rodrik and Aran still have readied actions which might or might not be relevant this round when the Wolves get their turn.

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore
Combat Defense: 16 Health: 9

Elkis storms out from the woods, spear in hand and shield ready. Blacktooth growls at the wolves surrounding the first group who had been scouting. He batters his spear on his shield, shouting like an animal at the canines. "Wolves! Bah! These aren't wolves1 There pups, if I see anyone of ye dying here, I'll give ya skull to a bonehammer!" he shouts, before charging at one of the wolves!

Blacktooth, for her part, charges into two separate wolves. Her teeth and claws each aiming to a separate wolf, ready to shred them to pieces.


Elkis goes to charge Wolf 8!
[roll0]

For 8 damage (+2 from charging)Times Degree's of success

Blacktooth goes to charge Wolves 1 and 2!
[roll1] Vs Wolf 1 for 6 damage (+2 from charging) times degrees of success
[roll2] Vs Wolf 2 for 7 damage (+2 from Charging) times degrees of success

[McStabbington]

Rodrik Drake

The world narrowed to the field of vision through Rodrik's helm. Inside his aventail, Rodrik could feel his breath coming fast; he forced him apprehension down. He had thought that the wolves would circle; instead they seemed to have all ducked right. In response, Rodrik pushed towards the wolves.


Free action to move one square south.

Ready action, waiting to strike any animal that attacks

[Saintheart]

Saga and Malena

Crag Keep, House Fever Holdings
The North

Argyle Snow straightened from his at-ease position by the wall as Saga spoke. He was a big man - nowhere near as big as Denys Dustin, Fever's technical liege lord, who was seven feet tall and in the prime of his youth - but his size and his frame told the world why he held authority over the sometimes-motley bunch that made up most of House Fever's forces.

https://orig00.deviantart.net/18b5/f/2018/053/c/6/viking_portrait_by_artofreza-dc3y84j.jpg

As if the man's frame and power wasn't strong enough, his story also commanded apprehension if not fear: Argyle was a Karstark bastard, whose family had perished at Last Hearth when the dead broke the Wall and marched on Winterfell. He was a sour, authoritarian who respected the Wildling way of battle and who was one of the best trainers of men Saga had met - including in the somewhat more cosmopolitan surrounds of White Harbour.

"The Bonehammers are on maneuver in the hills," said Argyle; he was referring to the small mountain range which occupied this area of House Fever's dominions; the Crag was their last offshoot before they reached the river. "I can send a runner to find their commanders, but it'll be tomorrow before they're back in any case."
"Then I believe we will take up your offer of lodgings for the night, and the guest right that comes with it. Until tomorrow. I would be present when you begin your inquiries with your unit's commanders," said Lord Drummond. Maester Ashford beckoned to a servant and whispered in his ear a moment; that servant stepped back over to Drummond, bowed, and escorted the lord and his entourage out of the hall.

Argyle Snow ambled up to the council table. "Bit of an uppity one, that," said the master at arms.
"He was not inaccurate when he said his family is contemporary with the Starks," said Maester Ashford, folding his hands before him. "There are some accounts in the Citadel in which a Drummond is recorded as the herald of Brandon the Builder. That is where their drum sigil originates from. They certainly go back to the time of the First Men when they crossed into the North - the Drummonds still bury their lords in barrows, as the Dustins once did. The family have been bannermen to the Starks for as long as any in the North, even if we - like them - are bound to the will of House Dustin." The Maester glanced to see whether Saga was ready for the next petition, and signalled the doormen to allow entrance.

The day wore on with relatively trivial affairs: a pig here, a request for supplies to repair a roof from the last rainstorm there. The last prompted Argyle to speak up after that petition had gone, again to Maester Ashford: "How long before the next winter again?"
"That is only conclusively told when a white raven arrives from the Citadel," said Maester Ashford.
"I know that, old horse," said Argyle. "How about a guess?"
"My estimate would be between a year and a half and two years away. We seem to have resumed a normalised summer-winter cycle, at least for now."
"Won't be long before we have to start stocking up against it, then."
"True, but neither would I expect the winter to be overlong. Based off the previous one, that should perhaps run about one year as well. Unless something else happens."

The maester and master-at-arms broke off their conversation as the last petitioner of the day came through. It was mid-afternoon. Maester Ashford consulted the scroll before him. "You would be Gyle?"
"Yes, milord." The balding, heavyset man in front of them was fairly clearly a farmer, and looked like he'd tried to clean himself up before coming here today. He held a straw hat before him like a shield.
"I am not a lord," said Ashford patiently. "My Lady Saga sits in place of Lord Elkis. And the matter you petition my lady regarding is...?"
"Er, well, milord, sorry, milady -- it 'tisn't a petition, 'tis more to tell milady what's happening near my farm. I've a holding twelve mile from here, up in the hill pastures. 'Tis m'neighbours, Cris and his wife Fyona. Men've been comin' and goin' fr'm their place, Southerners I think. They've not b'n much f'r company before then, what with their three children. 'Tis strange b'cause th' visitors started comin' an' goin' 'round th' time Cris put in a new crop."
Ashford glanced at Saga to see if he could interpose a question first. "What crop?"
"Don' know th' name," said Gyle. "They look like toadstools, but the shape's a bit wrong and 'tis grey. Cris has a big patch of it."
The maester sucked in a breath, laying his hands flat on the table. He leaned over to murmur in Saga's ear. "My Lady, if I am right, the crop this man is speaking of is Greycap. Dried and powdered, the fungus becomes a potent poison."

[jolinaxas]

"Tomorrow, then. If you require anything at all, Lord Drummond, simply let us know."

She switched to weak ale as the day went on, not wanting her senses dulled.

"Better to have leftover stocks than empty bellies. Within reason. Remind me, at some point, I need to take a look at our incoming accounts."

She shrugged off Gyle's insignificant breach of etiquette with a welcome but weary smile. As the maester leaned in, she noticeably tensed.

"Does a potion or antidote against this exist? I assume with your familiarity with it, you would recall such a thing, or have the information at hand. This farmer may have just saved a great many lives."

She raised her voice back to an attempt at lordly bearing.

"Southron folk, you say? In their dress and actions, or did they carry banners?"

[Saintheart]

Saga and Malena

Crag Keep, House Fever Holdings
The North

"In their dress, milady," said Gyle, before the Maester had a chance to respond to Saga's question. "They'd the pale look of ironmen, but their clothes looked like the things Dornishmen'd wear."
"How would you know what Dornishmen wear?" asked Ashford.
"From th' war against the bloodriders." Gyle's eyes revealed the memories. "'Twas near fifteen years, but there w's Dornishmen among th' troops who went to hold Moat Cailin back then. I was there wi' me bow and two brothers. One of 'em didn't come back. When th' Dornishmen weren't armoured for battle they wore clothes like that."
Maester Ashford leaned towards Saga. "That may have been a little before your time here, my Lady. This man is speaking of Bran the Broken's War, before the reddening of the God's Eye. About a year into the conflict, one of Daenerys the Burner's Dothraki khalasars came rampaging up the Neck. The crannogmen out of Greywatch Watch bled them and delayed them long enough for the Dustins to assemble a force at Moat Cailin. A force of Dornish spears were at White Harbour three weeks before, sent by Bran the Broken, and they arrived at Moat Cailin in time to reinforce the garrison there and turn the bloodriders back. But as for your other query, about greycap? No, there is no known antidote - which is why apart from the Strangler or Tears of Lys, it is one of the more preferred poisons."

[jolinaxas]

"And it's deadly, I take it? Forgive me, the Manderleys weren't anxious to have me tutored in poisons for reasons I don't blame them for. How much time did I waste learning to sew, though..."

She turned from the Maester back towards the farmer.

"This sort of vigilance is commendable, Gyle. We will sort this out, and I'm sorry this took all this time away from your home life. Do you suppose they're due back again soon? You mentioned their comings and goings."

Uprooting the crop and perhaps arresting the neighbors was like to get her an unwelcome serving of the mushrooms. If these apparent Dornishmen would meet, she would see what their tale was.

[Bowerbird]

Noticing the wolves coming up behind their position, Arvid curses, turning his attention that way, trusting in his pack to protect the other side. He gives the command for them to attack as he draws for another shot.

Turns out I did damage wrong last time, apparently it's not rolled, it's a static number multiplied by degrees of success, so expect this to be less impactful.
Lesser: Aim (+1B to Marksmanship)
Lesser: Fire
Marksmanship: [roll0]
Damage: 2 x Degrees of Success

[Saintheart]

Saga and Malena

Crag Keep, House Fever Holdings
The North

Maester Ashford smiled. "There is nothing to forgive, my lady. Knowledge of such base things is one reason why maesters study at the Citadel for years. I am bound in service to Crag Keep and its master. Or mistress. Greycap is deadly in the sense there is no antidote. That said, someone with a strong mind and an equally strong constitution could survive it - although even then that is generally with the assistance of certain ... preparations that help the body withstand the poison's onslaught. Untreated, Greycap delivers death in a matter of days for even the strongest men. Treatment helps the body fight the poison until it runs its course, but even then it is still a matter of the individual's will to live."

When it was Gyle's turn to speak, the farmer scratched his head. "They've come at th' full moon for the last three months or so, milady. I can't say as whether they've come more recent than that. Next full of the moon'd be in about five days' time I think."

[Wuff]

Septa Malena

"Alack, it is a shame I have to dedicate some time to studying here, or else I would visit and take a look at them myself..." Septa Malena purses her lips and creases her brow in thought. Eventually, she shakes her head a little, her eyes going back down to the tome she had been studying in between petitions. She presses her finger to the page, tilts her head, then closes it.

"Perhaps it would be a good idea to ask this... Cris to come visit us at some point? I think it is a good idea to be generally aware of the comings and goings of those within the lands of House Fever, and their business here." The Septa looks tired. This stuff isn't really her domain. She would much rather be in prayer or in study right now, but it would be rude to turn these sorts of duties aside. Besides, with business so simple and plain as this, disregarding the early visitor and the current issue, it wasn't as she didn't have time to do so.

"How far is the ride there?" An idle curiosity drives the Septa to ask, though she's not sure if the trip would be entirely worth it. What could she really discover at the scene that she couldn't here?

Idly, she spins the prayer wheel. When it lands unevenly, she shifts in her seat. Perhaps she should perform a reading tonight? It wouldn't be a bad decision, considering all that is ahead, but there is a reluctance in calling on The Seven too often. She may try to finesse one of the Lord Drummond's possessions from him in some unobtrusive and polite way, but anything else right now feels wasteful. She considers further, paying little attention to the world around her.

Trying to divine some truth from the man before them would be useless. He had little to offer them, most likely, and it would be such a drain. Still... The temptation was there.

[woodwalker]

Ser Aran

Aran waits for his moment, and when a wolf finally comes into range, swings his hammer for its head, hoping to put it down as quickly as possible.


Lesser Action: Moves towards nearest wolf unless one attacks him directly (if this is needed, if not I'll take a second attack)
Readied Lesser Action: Warhammer attack.

First time doing this, so let me know where I'm screwing up. I have a base Fighting skill of 3. I also have a 1B in Bludgeons. So I think I roll 4d6 and take the best 3.

[roll0]

So my result is 3+4+3 = 10.
Wolf's defense is 9 assuming we're using the normal wolf stats, so thats a successful attack with a single degree of success.
Damage is my Athletics(2) + 1 for strength. End result, 3 points of damage.

[jolinaxas]

"Very good. We'll likely be by to speak with him. You will stay silent."

As the good Septa inquired about the farmer's exact location, Saga took out some silver coins, both to buy assurance of the farmer's silence and to ensure that the smallfolk would see that their watchful eyes would be rewarded.

"I think it better that we meet them. Depending on their aims, they may not wish an audience, and may avoid one dilligently."

[Nap Captain]

Lily Stone

Lily burst from the trees to the sound of men fighting and jaws gnashing. It didn't take long to work out what was happening, and with a curt "Vyse!" the pair advanced.

"They're wild and hungry, but we will show them we are masters of this pack," she announced, before brandishing her speak and yelling to get the pack's attention. Vyse for his part is a grey blur striking out of nowhere to take down these normal wolves and show them who's the pack leader.

Lily - going for animal handling as she tries to intimidate these wolves: [roll0]

Vyse: Claws vs Wolf 1 [roll1] 7 Damage (+2 from charging)
Bite vs Wolf 1 [roll2] 5 Damage (+2 from charging)

[Saintheart]

Afternoon, South bank of the Fever River,
Three days’ ride west of Crag Keep,
House Fever’s Lands, The North

The wolves' approach on the group was interrupted.

Blacktooth sprang from the treelines and leapt across the clearing. In a moment he'd torn out one wolf's throat and crushed the other's head with a single swipe of a massive paw. Elkis came in his wake, running with spear and tower shield in his hands, delivering a single thrust that spitted another wolf where it stood. Lily followed a moment later. Vyse was a grey blur as the direwolf bounded across the field and pounced on one of its smaller cousins, which gave a single squawk before the direwolf had broken its spine and had its head in its jaws. Arvid drew on another wolf and sent another shaft into its neck, and that was enough; the other wolves broke and ran, fleeing west, away from the fierce group of men and women and beasts who now stood together.

One of the wolves, panicked, tried to run straight through the group. It met a single, arcing strike from Aran's hammer and was blasted five feet through the air with an audible crack, landing lifeless next to Rodrik. The young squire hadn't even had to swing.

Arvid's hounds immediately gathered around their injured companion. The hound was bleeding from the neck and whining, lying down in pain; they were licking at its wounds.

Even as they did, hoofbeats could be heard through the trees from the southeast - along with Black Jack's deep basso, shouting "My lord! We come!". They must have responded to Aran's horn.

Sorry that took me a while to come up with, guys, and it was a bit shorter than perhaps anticipated - I think I underestimated how easy wolves are to hit compared with other campaigns I've run.

I'm still new at awarding XP and whatnot, but I'd let's add the colossal figure of ... 1 XP each for this encounter. No Glory I'm sorry to say, turns out there isn't much glory in killing a bunch of angry wolves.


---

Crag Keep, House Fever Holdings
The North

"Tis about a day's walk, septa," said Gyle, gratefully bowing at the gift of silver coins from Saga. "I caught a lift in a neighbour's wagon. I suppose by riding one could be back there by just after nightfall."

Either way, he departed, and Maester Ashford called the day's petitions to an end. The double doors were closed.


Apologies also for the time this took to get in. So on this I'm happy to hear suggestions on anything Malena and/or Saga might be wanting to do right now. Could do the stewardship rolls for the month or roll for an event if you like. If not, we can move on to the next stage - Elkis and the gang are three days out from Crag Keep, so we can carry on with split scenes.

[Bowerbird]

Rolled to see which dog is injured, came up Kai
The battle seemingly over, Arvid moves with his hounds, gently pushing them aside to check on Kai's wounds before anything else. With more care and skill than a Southerner might expect from a wildling, he calmly bandages the dog's wounds, speaking reassurances all the while. Only once his dog is seen to does he stand and survey his surroundings, "Thank you, Elkis, and good job lass. I'd feared they were too maddened with hunger to see sense." As he talks he moves to the wolves he'd shot, checking if his arrows could be recovered. "We found tracks over there, leading away from the ship. Did your scouting come up with anything, Lily?"
Healing roll for Kai the Warhound: [roll0]

[jolinaxas]

Saga Stoneshore (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1920657)

Saga noticeably relaxed as the doors closed.

"That situation with Lord Drummond was a near thing. I feel like you impressed him greatly, Septa Malena. I trust the arrangements are being made, Master Snow? I'll consider our approach to this... Dornishman issue and report what is needed. If there's nothing else?"

Finishing the day's third cup of mead, she stood and left to seek the peace of considering inventories. Numbers were much more orderly than flesh and blood, be they lords or smallfolk. As she considered the larder's contents, she noted to the kitchens that they were entertaining Drummond and his retinue. Some consultation with the Maester, and she was likely to take up most of the short time she had before dinner, and much of the night afterwards.


So... house fortunes are... -5 for law, +3 Maester, +1 Fishery, +4 Cunning from Head for Numbers
I roll 6d6, keep 4
[roll0] [roll1] [roll2] [roll3] [roll4] [roll5]
and add 3.
I'll actually keep the 3 instead of one of the 4s, making us a Blessing at 20.
I'll increase wealth by 1 (increased to 4 by marketplace and head for numbers)
and increase law by 1


She considered a local map.

"Moving some of this traffic from carts to the river means we don't need to patrol this road as heavily, freeing up some men. And I can rent the cart elsewhere, and..."

[Nap Captain]

Lily Stone

Lily knew without checking that Vyse was unharmed, but still nodded to him: wolves shared their victories as a pack.

Responding to Arvid's question: "A battle, and men dead on both sides. This was why the wolves came here. I don't know if the victors remain, so we should be watchful. There is something else about the ship I can't quite place. Caution would be wise."

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore

Elkis brushes the head of Blacktooth, making sure to pet her just below her chin, some blood dripping down onto his hands "That's a good girl! You did well in showing these scavengers what a real predator does." He wipes off his spear on the side of his boot and looks up to the Mudlancers "Took you bloody long enough! I'd say we took care of these wolves pretty well! Mind slinging the corpses on the back of your horses, want to take them back to camp for some good eatin." The Lord says with a wide smile, in an..oddly jolly tone.

"It's only natural Arvid. It'd be wrong to let my people die on my watch. Wolf-girl! You say the ship is odd? Then let us check" He says, starting to make his way to the boat

[McStabbington]

Rodrik Drake

Rodrik looked down at the dead wolf at his feet. When it had come at Ser Aran, Rodrik's fear had made it seem like large and powerful. Now that it lay at his feet, the side of its head caved in, it was only now that he saw how drawn the wolf was. He had been fleeing.

He shook his head, and cleared away the sadness. Drawn or not, they had made their choice and attacked. Ser Aran had done no more than his duty. Rodrik sheathed his sword. "Well struck, Ser Aran."

Rodrik made to approach the kennel master, but then Elkis made for the boat. Rodrik changed his approach fractionally, and fell in behind him. "Right behind you, Lord Stoneshore."

[woodwalker]

Ser Aran

Aran turned from the wolf towards Elkis.

Just in time, my lord.

He surveys the scene, and listens to Lily's report.

Lord, I'd suggest we move the camp here. Clearly something is amiss, and I'd rather not be caught to miles from the men if we need them again. They should have room to set up down where we first saw the boat; close enough to help, not so close as to mess up those tracks. I don't know if we have time to follow them today AND check out the boat, but I'd like to have a chance to follow them in the morning.

[Bowerbird]

Arvid regards Vyse and Lily for a moment, "We could send Vyse? The night wouldn't bother him, and Lily can tell us if there's urgent need of us on the trail. We can go pick the bones clean while they follow these tracks."

[Nap Captain]

Lily Stone

Lily watched the others argue, waiting for a chance to speak. It wasn't her way to command, but to advise.

"Vyse has seen the ship already: there is nothing else he can tell us. We could follow these tracks together instead, if you wished us to split from you, Lord Stoneshore?" Lily can see the merit in following them whilst the trail is warm, but the mystery of the ship calls to her more greatly.

[woodwalker]

Ser Aran

I'd be wary of splitting up again if we don't have to. There's a lot of unknowns here, and sending anyone off by themselves, even a direwolf, would be risky. We got caught separated once and almost paid a price, I'd rather not do that again.

[McStabbington]

Rodrik Drake

"Ser Aran has the right of it, I believe, my lord." Rodrik was uncomfortably aware that his voice, soft-spoken at the best of times, would likely only be further muffled under the helm and aventail, so he endeavored to speak with what his father used to refer to as his "outdoor voice". Rodrik hoped that his voice didn't crack, as it had only recently started to deepen.

"There might well be good steel on these men, that we can take back to the Crag to use or sell. But stripping the bodies will take at least an hour, more if there's something in the boat itself. By that time, it'll be too dark to follow a path through the brush, what with wolves about and our horses stumbling blindly. We're apt to lose one of them to a deadfall. Instead, we should search the boat, and once we find it safe, split our work among making camp while we send Mychel and Jack back for the rest of the men. We can have a merry fire waiting for them when they arrive, and start out in the morning."

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore

Elkis looks around as he is counseled by his retinue. He nods, looking back to the boat. "It would be better to explore the ship first I think. once that is done, we can move onto following the trail. Blackjack, You should go back to camp and tell them to move here, Mychel can stay and assist us in case the boat is an ambush." With that, Elkis continues to make his way to the boat "Besides, there may be clues to who might have owned this ship. Also, I always wanted a ship. Seems fate placed on right on my lap."

[Bowerbird]

Arvid shrugs, "If you think that's best. I just worry that the trail will grow too cold to follow if wait. They look to have dragged something or someone from the wreck, probably something valuable. However if we leave the wreck, the scavengers will pick it clean before us."

[McStabbington]

Rodrik Drake

Rodrik shrugged at the kennelmaster's suggestion. "It can't be helped, Arvid. If they are dragging something, and us on horseback and with hounds, the hunt tomorrow will be short one. The only thing that would lengthen it would be for us to lose a horse stumbling blindly in the dark."

With that, he turned back to follow Elkis into the ship's hold.

[Saintheart]

Afternoon, South bank of the Fever River,
Three days’ ride west of Crag Keep,
House Fever’s Lands, The North

They could still hear Black Jack's horse galloping through the trees as Elkis and his retinue arrived at the site of the shipwreck, through the nodding, weeping willows.

She was indeed a fifty-footer, a longboat similar to the kind the Ironborn used. But she didn't have any Ironborn sigils on her; her sail -- what was left of it -- didn't seem to have any sign of the Greyjoy kraken or the resurgent green-and-black of the Blacktydes or the white scythe of the Harlaws. Indeed her sail, hanging loose from the leaning mainmast, didn't have any sigil on her at all. The ship must have hit a sandbank at some speed; her keel was broken and she lay draped on the shoreline with her rudder still in the water. There was some damage to the front left quarter of the ship's structure - maybe some sort of ram had hit her, forced her onto the bank - but either way, she was beyond repair now. She'd foundered and the back quarter of the ship was below the waterline.

The battle here must have been a fierce one. Arrows stood like fields of wheat in the bodies lying on the shore. There had been hand-to-hand fighting, an array of weapons, both bludgeoning and edged and an axe buried in one skull of a man now unrecognisable in the gore of his ruined head. One could - perhaps - work out there were two factions. The ones who'd died from blade and bludgeon looked to have been on the shoreline. They looked to be northerners on first inspection, but the clothing at least on initial inspection didn't reveal house or affiliation: no sigils, and no expensive armour, either, mostly (shattered) leather or cheap padded types of armour. No expensive boots on first looks. There didn't seem to be many weapons left over either, but it seemed these ones had been mainly armed with bows.

The others, though.

The men who'd died next to the vessel seemed to be protecting it. And whilst they wore no sigils either, the look of their gear sent chills through Elkis and Arvid.

Because up until perhaps a few years ago, it was the same sort of gear the two men might have worn themselves. The dead garbed in furs, twine-bound leggings, heavy gear, and their pale faces had unkempt beards. Wildlings. One couldn't be sure, but the look and way these men had dressed marked them by their region well enough. These men were most likely from the hard mountain areas around the Skirling Pass, northwest of the Shadow Tower, south of the Milkwater.

They'd been outnumbered a good two to one, it seemed, and they'd been overwhelmed, but they'd killed a good number before being overrun.

Black Jack had dismounted and approached the wreck. The ship had wallowed on its starboard side and he was able to get a handhold on the nearest bulwark, and pulled himself up and over. His head and shoulders were visible as he looked around. Vyse, trotting forward, had the decorum not to sniff at the corpses lying on the ground but moved gracefully down towards the shoreline. He stopped. And sniffed at the air.

A sudden, intense wave of sadness poured over Lily. A sadness of a people who had lost a great ruler.

"My lord!" called Black Jack, walking back up the ship's prow. His footfalls echoed, hollow, too loud, on the deck. The world had become silent. The man's knuckles were white where his hands gripped the bulwark and he looked over at the men. "You'd best see this."

Elkis and his retinue came around the ship's prow, where the ship's angle of wallow made it more visible. But it was apparent. Down the far end of the ship, just above the water's edge, there were more wildling bodies, impaled on arrows.

And amongst them, a white, furred shape. Half a dozen arrows protruded from it, and even from here the great red streaks across the pure white fur were apparent. The direwolf's corpse lay there, red eyes open and sightless in death. One ear was cut in half from a long-ago injury.

Vyse raised his nose to the sky and howled; a long, pitiful cry that contained all the mournfulness of a funeral procession.

Every man and woman standing before the clearing knew the creature Vyse keened for. Direwolves were slowly returning to the North, especially beyond the Wall, but there still remained only one direwolf who had been born snow white and smaller than most of its kin. Only one direwolf who had been born south of the Wall, went North with his master, and now returned to the South once more to die.
It was the body of the direwolf named Ghost, lifelong companion to a condemned criminal named Jon Snow, twice sentenced to the Wall.
The once King in the North.

[woodwalker]

Ser Aran

Aran knelt before the great wolf. Vyse's howling sent a chill down his spine, and in some ways he felt the same.

I saw him a few times in the battles. He ripped the throat out of a walker not 10 feet from me at Winterfell. He was never around as much as you'd expect, but when he was there...well, you couldn't miss him.

He stroked the matted fur once, then stood up.

I doubt Lord...er...Jon Snow would have sent him down here alone. And I don't think he would have just left him here if he had any other choice. Unless he, too, is among the dead, I think we might just find Snow at the end of our path on the morrow.

Aran began searching through the dead for an all too familiar face. He wasn't sure if he'd be happier with finding the man's body or not.


Searching the dead for Jon Snow
Awareness roll
[roll0]

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore

Elkis walks on the shore, examining each of the bodies. These were not the type of men he expected. "Wildlings...What...what were they doing here?". He kneels down, attempting to pull one of the arrows out from the ground to examine the tip. There might be clues from the quality of the ammunition. Hew moves to look over the body of an attacker if he can find one..but not before Black Jack Hails him from the ship.

Even in his older age, Elkis was rather acrobatic. He climbs his way up the side of the ship and vaults over the railing. The smell of death hits his senses hard, but the Wildling doesn't move away. It's the least shocking thing here. He blinks, at a loss for words as he takes a step forward. The white wolf. The lord stands still, looking about the ship as he thinks on what would be best...

"Black jack...Hide the Wolf. No one here can know yet. Not before we take this news to Winterfell. Dont desecrate the corpse just..keep it wrapped in something. We have to follow the tracks. If we dont find him, then we go back to the keep and prepare to ride to Send a message to Winterfell." he moves off the boat, not looking to waste anymore time. "Arvid, Lily! The tracks, can you follow them?"

[Bowerbird]

Arvid picks carefully through the bodies, his hounds well trained enough to be left to their own devices away from the ship, but still within sight. On seeing Ghost's body, he's still for a moment, lost in recollections from the wars, his wolves, his mother. Elkis' voice brings him back to the present, "Aye, we can follow them. If you want us quiet I might have to leave most of the pack behind, though." He looks over at Lily, "Would you be coming yourself, or riding the wolf? Might be you can bring word back faster if you use your powers." He cracks his knuckles, "Best not delay, I don't want to think about what the Queen'll be like if we lose her brother on our land." he goes over to the hounds, calls Lis to him and tells the rest to stay, "The pack should follow you, Elkis, just keep them away from that damn cat." He shouts back to the wreck, preparing to trek into the darkening woods after the tracks.

[Saintheart]

Afternoon, South bank of the Fever River,
Three days’ ride west of Crag Keep,
House Fever’s Lands, The North

Aran's search of the bodies for a familiar face didn't take terribly long. And neither was it productive - for better or worse. It wasn't as though there were a lot of portraits of the man variously known as the Once and Future King, Dragonbitch's Bane, Freedom's Dagger, the Lord of Winter, King Beyond The Wall, Oathbreaker Twice Over, and in some insane, outlandish stories, as Aegon Targaryen, Sixth Of His Name, One True King Of Westeros. That said, Aran didn't need a portrait. Most men who'd stood at Winterfell against the dead knew his face.

And that face was not here. If they were right and Jon Snow had been on this longboat along with Ghost, he - or his body - were not amongst the dead on the shore.

As he searched, though, he was also able to listen to the conversation of the others.

And his political instincts - whilst not advanced as perhaps Saga Stoneshore's - were twanging. If indeed Jon Snow was here, below the Wall, then his presence was a keg of Wildfire whether he was alive or dead. It was well-known that Sansa Stark was unwell with a lingering illness, and had no children. For that reason alone the North was hanging on her last breath. Bran the Broken was rightful heir to the throne of the North, but Sansa had deliberately seceded from the reign of the Iron Throne, and had said in the act of doing so that the Northerners would never again bend the knee to a ruler of the South. If he pressed his claim, open war would be the immediate result.

But the problem was no less precarious if Bran simply refused the throne in Winterfell. The War of Five Kings had whittled the Stark house down to Ned Stark's three legitimate children and his bastard. And if Aran remembered it right, the Stark ancestral line had been unbroken, it was a tree with few branches and a thin trunk; it hadn't produced many male siblings who'd gone on to establish lines of their own with the name of Stark. That, in turn, meant that there were houses all over the North who might claim the throne in Winterfell on the basis of a marriage: Lockes, Norreys - even the Manderlys had supplied a wife or two over the centuries. The irony being that the most logical choice of successor house - the Karstarks - had been obliterated in the war against the dead. At least they didn't have to concern themselves with a Bolton as King in the North.

Jon Snow certainly had been King in the North, but he wasn't necessarily a solution to the problem. He'd been exiled to the Wall twice, which meant he was an oathbreaker and could not inherit of his own right. Worse still that he was known to have deserted the Wall on his second exile and taken up with the wildlings, maybe becoming their king. He was a liberator or traitor depending on which part of Westeros one travelled in and what they'd thought of Daenerys Stormborn. He'd bent the knee and the North to her. And though the wildlings had proven their kinship and friendship at Winterfell and King's Landing, there were still some Northern lords who saw them equivocally ... and saw Jon Snow as the leader of a hostile nation standing above the Wall. A nation that had a solid contingent of people within the North: people like Elkis and Arvid. People who likely wouldn't take too well to the person or persons responsible for killing the one man who was arguably their leader, spiritual or otheriwse.

But the fact remained: any lord who fancied his house's chances of putting his son or daughter on the throne in Winterfell needed Jon exiled back above the Wall or dead, preferably the latter. Whether he lived or died, civil war likely followed in his trail.

If - if - they managed to find Jon Snow, then they might all need to think carefully before they decided what to do with him.

And all of it put to the side one crucial question: if Jon Snow was indeed south of the Wall, why would he have been on an unmarked longboat sailing up the Saltspear and then up the Fever?

"A-aye, my lord," said Black Jack. The young man turned and wiped his eyes.

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore

Elkis makes his way off the ship with purpose, looking to Arvid "Blacktooth knows who her friends are. Bring your best Hunting dogs, they might be able to follow the scent of the Crow King. Or at least his captors. Just do it quickly."

He calls back up to the boat "And Black jack. No one, can know. Not even the other Mudlances. If they ask, tell them it was a Wildling boat that got into a scuffle with some Bandit Wreckers. It's best we limit who knows about this to narrow down whose responsible"

[Nap Captain]

Lily Stone

Lily found it uncomfortable, how many knew of her powers now. When she had grown up they had been strange fancies, or things to keep hidden, but to hear them discussed so matter-of-factly reminded her that this was an age of magic, and she could not keep all her secrets anymore.

She found herself reluctant to follow Arvid's idea, though it was sounded and she trusted him of course. But looking at Vyse, and feeling the pain rolling off him, she was loathe to enter that cavern of despair.

"I would suggest we start out: there's no point learning where Snow is if we are too far away to reach him. If someone can make sure I do not fall from my horse, then I will see whether Vyse and I can find him."

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore

Elkis nods to Lily at her suggestions "Your body wont be harmed on our watch. We'd best be hurrying though. The more time we dawdle the greater the risk to Snow is. Blacktooth!" he calls, picking up one of the wildlings weapons, one that had some blood on it "You can help track it down. A Shadowcat's nose is good for finding blood."

[McStabbington]

Rodrik Drake

Rodrik crouched down near the carcass of the slain wolf. Gently, he touched the dead animal, and ruffled its fur, before touching his brow. Then he hunkered back on his haunches, surveying the situation. Absent-mindedly, he pulled first one gauntlet off, then the other, before pushing his aventail up, unhooking the chin strap on his ridge helm, and pulling it off. He mopped his brow and raked a hand through his close-cropped hair to get it to lie down, as it had a habit of sticking up after being smeared beneath the helm.

Yet his focus was not on his appearance, nor even on the legend from the new age of heroes, whose body lay close by. Instead, he focused his attention on the bodies of the men that had evidently swarmed the ship and made an end of the rest of the Free Folk. This doesn't make any sense.

Rodrik had listened intently to Ser Aran, and to the maester's lessons. No one could claim that Rodrik was not diligent and dutiful, the same way that Jaehaerys had been during his years of minority. But duty was one thing when it came to caring for Ser Aran's horse, or polishing his gear. Another thing entirely to read the tea leaves of his first battle, and attempt to put together what had happened from the gore and muck that surrounded him. Still, he could not dismiss what he thought he saw . . .



Two Notice Rolls. First Notice roll is to search the gear of the fallen attackers, to see if there is any kind of identification.

Second Notice roll is to get a general sense of what happened during the course of the battle, how the fortunes of either side ebbed and flowed over the course of the fight, that sort of thing. DM's discretion about how specific or vague to be given that Rodrik has no first-hand understanding of battle strategy, only what he's seen on paper.

Roll 1 (fallen attacker search):[roll0]
Roll 2 (ebb and flow of battle search): [roll1]

[woodwalker]

Ser Aran

Aran watched the boy as he looked over the battlefield. He was so young, but already was showing signs of the knighthood he desired. Smart, if a bit brash, and could fight nearly as well as Aran already. Could he have stomached a scene like this at fourteen? He was nearly ten years older than the boy before he was blooded. He'd have to remember to talk to him later and see if he was really as ok as he seemed.

He turned toward Elkis again.

My Lord, we should discuss our courses of action if we do find...Jon Snow.

He struggled again not giving him a title. Calling him Lord would be bad form, but King would be treason.

I see three scenarios here. Four, actually. The first is probably the best. Snow was never with this group, and we never find him. If thats the case then this all blows over. The other options are finding him alive with a group of the Free Folk, finding him a captive of...who knows.

The fourth is finding him dead at their hands.

He thought for a moment.

My concern is, more than any others, the second and third scenarios. If Snow is alive and south of the wall, he is a traitor. But more than that he is a liability. He could make a claim to the throne of Winterfell if the Queen were to fall. Or perhaps even before. Others are lying in wait to take that throne, even if they never speak of it. If Queen Sansa passes without naming an heir the Kingdom will be a mess as it is, adding Snow to the mix could cause it all to go up in flames.

So I guess, my Lord, the question is: if we are so unlucky as to find Jon Snow alive and at our mercy, what in the seven hells do we do with him?

[Shadowflick]

Elkis Stoneshore

Elkis leaves Blacktooth to her duties, turning to Ser Aran, his fist balled as he walks towards him "Jon Snow was always an Honrable man. If he was coming down south, he'd have a good reason to. If he is really down here, that means something bad is happening in the north. They were probably comin here because they know wildlings live here, and we could take him ourselves wherever he was goin. Now, I dont need the southorn lords crawlin at my gates For lord Snow's decisions. SO, we are going to find Jon Snow. Rescue him, and then bring him to his Sister in Winterfell...after we hear why he is down here. What we cant do, is let him die on our lands. If it comes down to pickin who comes after Snasa though? Jon Snow has my vote already. Let the Southoners whine as much as they need, but I stand by the man who saved my Life and the lives of my people.



[roll0]