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Post by Gandalf on Jun 12, 2020 11:10:26 GMT -5
Damon rode back almost immediately, shielding his face from the fury of the winds.
"My lord, the whale of White Harbour approaches."
Ramsay snorted, and word travelled down the host. His father threatened to frown, contorting a little, but remained without any visible expression as he rode forwards to the front of the host with the rest of the northern lords. Manderly would see the slowly approaching host of the Lord of the North, the banners of the Flayed Man flapping furiously in the wet and cold, threatening to tear itself off.
"HALT!"
Called the Bastard of Bolton, taking position next to his father at the lead of the host. Slowly, the army ground to a stop. There they waited in the wet and cold for Lord Lamprey or one of his men to reveal themselves.
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Post by perry on Jun 12, 2020 11:43:01 GMT -5
Two knights of White Harbor approached, bloodied, with a torn banner gripped in one hand. “My lord Bolton.” One of the knights called out, his voice half drowned out by the winds. As they drew closer he spoke again. “I take it you know the battle did not go well.” The Knight said, trudging forward.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 12, 2020 12:12:02 GMT -5
"What of Lord Wyman? Is this all that is left?"
Roose's voice was slightly raised for once, only just loud enough to be audible over the wind and rain. Ramsay gripped at his sword hilt. The Freys had all died, and yet these two cravens had only just left the battlefield? They should be cut down for their cowardice alone, or placed in the vanguard to die as befits proper men.
"At least the Freys had the courage to die properly."
Growled Ramsay, voice muffled slightly by his helm.
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Post by perry on Jun 12, 2020 12:32:15 GMT -5
“Lord Wyman is gravely injured, he may die.” The knight replied solemnly, attempting not to address the vicious bastard that was Ramsay. “He may be dead already, cut down by a treacherous blade. We drove back Stannis’ cavalry on our flank, at cost, but the battle was already over by the time that was done.” A lie, but the man’s helm concealed the truth.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 12, 2020 12:41:55 GMT -5
"Where are the rest of you? Lord Wyman rode out with three hundred men at his back. Only two have returned."
Lord Bolton gave the Manderly knights a long look, ignoring his son's outburst. Ramsay seethed, his hand itching to take the Mer-Man's head.
"Tell us the position of Lord Stannis and the rest of your compatriots, and I will spare you any more trouble. You must be weary after a day of battle."
Roose's voice was calm and collected, even in the storm. It was rather ominous, even unsettling, and the monotonous cadence concealed any hint of foreknowledge.
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Post by perry on Jun 12, 2020 12:52:31 GMT -5
“Out where the fire burns.” The knight answered plainly. “Our forces are attempting to regroup after the devastation of the battle, along with some of the surviving Freys, though Aenys and likely Hosteen have perished.” The knight replied.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 12, 2020 13:06:56 GMT -5
Bolton fell silent. Ramsay grinned. They had seen a few dead on their way out of Winterfell. If the Freys and Manderlys had regrouped, they had not attempted to send any word until just now, when Bolton’s army was approaching the battlefield. And now they knew nothing about the battlefield itself, save that there was a signal fire plain for all to see. A fool could see that something was amiss.
”Bring the Manderly men with us. They will lead us to what remains of their force.”
Commanded Roose. Bolton mounted men came forward and escorted the knights to the front of the column. Ramsay drew his steel, holding the blade firmly in his grip as he unsteadily nudged his mount forwards.
”Lead us to your lord Lamprey, then. Damon, take five men and ride forward with the Mer-Men. If they try anything or draw steel, kill them.”
Damon nodded, with five of the Bastard’s Boys stepping forwards to accompany him and the Manderly knights. The Mer-Man banner would still be visible as they rode forwards, both to Bolton’s men and whoever waited for them through the wind and snow.
Ramsay grunted. Bolton’s army marched on.
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Post by oznerol on Jun 12, 2020 13:57:34 GMT -5
The army was disposed for battle, the lines arranged in neat formations, orderly, the Northerners grouped under their own lords, save for the Karstarks, now divided equally among all divisions. The Southerners occupied the flank. Stannis knew Bolton would have the sturdiest troops with him, including the men of the Barrowlands and the Rills, who according to his Northern allies were most fearsome, specially if joined with the men-at-arms of the Dreadfort, a threatening force. However, they were not facing a boy green as grass who peed his own breeches, but Stannis Baratheon himself, rightful king and the most experienced leader still living in the face of Westeros.
"Shieldwall! Archers on the ready! Polearms at the front!"
Wilde, Farring and several other knights among the king's men rode back and forth, organizing the battle line, yelling. The Northern Lords took position, their own lords and clansleaders yelling like old whores, cursing profusely and trying to arrange their troops as good as the Stormlanders and those from the Narrow Sea were. Banners were raised high, colorful splashes of color amidst the steel and leathern profile of the infantrymen. Soldiers of foot wore liveries with their lords' heraldic devices, including plenty of sewn fiery hearts, chained giants, roaring bears, mailed fists, irontrees and plenty more. The clansmen had no such need for such finery, clads in crude furs and leathern, wielding axes and sharpened sticks, very few swords and polearms. They moved swiftly in the snow, unlike the king's men, dragged down by heavy plate, mail hauberks and padded gambesons.
"Bring me both Greyjoys"
Said Stannis, who sat atop his horse, clad again in full armor, the visor raised and the circlet atop his great war helm. Soon thereafter, Asha was brought before the king -with no shackles- by her Mormont guardian, the she-bear wearing plate, boiled leader and mail, like many others of her ilk, purported to be shapeshifters. Theon, who had been quite useful, came with his sister. The king turned his severe frow to face them both, the sole remaining offspring born from the loins of Balon Greyjoy, so-called king on the Iron Islands.
"Asha, come hither. You said you wanted to fight, didn't you?"
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Post by perry on Jun 12, 2020 14:06:22 GMT -5
The pair of knights led the Bolton men forward toward the lake that sat unassuming beneath ice and snow. As the small group was swallowed up by the snow, they began traveling hard to the left toward the larger body of Mermen. Eventually coming upon the group of knights, dressed in the teal and white of Manderly, but also the blue and gray of Frey, faces obscured beneath plate.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 12, 2020 14:32:59 GMT -5
Damon and his men halted in the snow, seeing a group of knights arrayed up just ahead.
“You with the Mer-Man and Frey? Come with us, to Lord Bolton! We are advancing on Stannis!”
Yelled Damon, over the inclement weather. His horse was a little skittish, and he was wary of moving close to the armed men.
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Post by perry on Jun 12, 2020 14:43:21 GMT -5
The assembled knights were preparing their mounts or rounding about the perimeter. “How are they to hear us over the weather?” The talkative knight questioned, tightening his reigns on the horses. “We need to make the report to Wyman, assuming he still lives.”
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 12, 2020 15:09:35 GMT -5
“You said yer Lord was dead, Mer-Man. Dead, or soon to be. What need do I have reporting to a dead man?”
Grinned Damon, hand on the hilt of his blade. Freys and Northmen did not mix, he knew that much. Not since the wedding.
“Hey, Mer-Men, Freys! Lord Bolton marches to Stannis!”
Another man bellowed, as loud as he could. Damon’s horse reared. He drew his sword, holding steel towards the Manderly knight.
“I figure that if you don’t tell them to follow us, I make Lord Bolton a gift of your head. We ain’t got no time to be dithering here waiting for Lord Lamprey.”
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Post by perry on Jun 12, 2020 15:57:04 GMT -5
The Manderly knight raised one armored hand . “There is no reason to threaten, we’ve as much reason to battle Bolton as any other man assembled here.” He assured. “The Onion Knight’s blood is on our hands.” The shout had attracted attention at least, six men dressed in Frey colors and five men in Mermen dress. Their horses trudging through the snow, toward the Bastard’s men. Others began moving toward their horses, seemingly preparing to head out or ready to deal with an attack.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 12, 2020 16:20:23 GMT -5
"Bring yer sorry arses up to our lines. Who leads this bunch?"
Asked Damon. He knew the Freys by sight, but did not recognise any among those that trudged forward. His own horse slowly moved back in the direction from which they came.
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Post by perry on Jun 12, 2020 16:40:39 GMT -5
As Damon began to trot his horse around the talkative Merman made an attempt to knock Damon from his perch. The second made to twist his horse around and block the path they’d cut through the snow to get here. The “Freys” and Mermen pushed forward starting into a gallop to cover the small distance left between them, ready to enter the fray.
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