|Summary:||Ser Martyn Mallister and Marsden Streem talk about what they would or would not have done differently.|
|Related Logs:||Here Be Sea Dragons , Unposted event log|
|Harlaw Island - Camp of the Cape|
|It's all fog, gravestones and men milling about. You know, a war camp|
|Feb 21, 289AL|
It is early afternoon in the camp of the Cape. Various men have seen drills, been taken to and from the fronts, and have seen their share of picket time. And the man currently swathed in a dark brown is not immune from that either. Those who have seen the halfsepton, can easily state that the brother has been in maile, and has been out on drills, and even was out last night.
A small makeshift table has been presented in the camp, and a cloth with a crude seven pointed star has been draped over. A sort of 'altar' for the camp, though there is no tent overhang to protect it. On top, holding it down from a seabreeze from taking it away would be the man's helm as his shield and spear are propped near by. The septon himself, Marsden Streem-currently perched close to a nearby gravestone, not on it, as he had so casually done when he had been here before. Right now, it seems that Marsden is tucking into the daily ration of bread and fish with as much vigor as someone who probably doesn't see much food anyway.
Making his way through the camp a bit slowly, Martyn looks around carefully. Looking a bit lost in thought, as he makes his way around. Pausing as he sees the altar-like table, he looks around once more, then back to the table, and also to the man nearby.
One could never say that Marsden is a picky eater, let alone a quiet one. There's a slurp down of hot fish before he's belching slightly. And then the "bowl" he is using is set down. Nimble fingers go digging in and a small bit of bone is plucked free and flicked away with ease. Kissing his teeth, the septon brings the bowl back up and continues to eat, only pausing to bring his bald pate up. There is a hesitance in his chew, as if noticing the man looking to the makeshift altar, or looking to him. Coughing once, a bare hand moves to wipe the fish grease from his lips before he's gesturing-a wave.
"Hello." a half grin is given with his scarred smile. "Something, I can do you for Ser?" Bloody safe guess that Martyn is a knight-the majority of men here were. Discounting the levies and militias about. No religious lingua franca yet. But, the day is incredibly young.
Martyn blinks a little as he hears the man's question, offering him a bit of a nod and a smile. "Hmm? Oh, no, not really. At least I don't think so." He offers a bit of a nod as he studies the man a bit carefully, before he introduces himself, "Ser Martyn Mallister.".
"You don't think so, or you don't know so?" A grin there on the bald man's face before he's motioning him closer. "Come and sit with me, if you've the time. Not much activity round here I am afraid, but there were plenty willing to bare their souls last night, I can tell you." And with that he Sets his food down, before he is rising up. Brushing down his robes. " Erm. Marsden Streem at your service, brother." Though he's know knight- clearly. Still he is somewhat informal, and offers no title for himself. "had something to eat? Th' fish is good." Despite all the complaints there have been against it. "Good and clean. A little salty, but I like my fish that way." a beat. "Do you, Ser Mallister?"
"You know, that's a good question," Martyn replies, to that first question. "One I wish I knew the answer to, really." He then moves to seat himself, nodding a bit at the question about if he had something to eat. "Had some a little while ago. Tasted rather good, I'd say. And salty is good too, that's true."
"It's my job to ponder those questions, brother. After all, if I'm not looking out for you-then who is?" A chuckle there before he's nodding. "I was wondering if any of your House was comin' really. Almost came to see if you all needed the hand, but with your departed Lord. I figured it'd be soon." A shake of his head. "But, Father judge him fairly, I am sure he's at good peaceful rest now, and his home free of ironblood." but at a great cost.
The halfsepton offers a grin there for a moment, as he continues to eat and chew. 'Bread's still chewable, so there's that. Not bad tack yet.." And he nods off in the direction of the Nayland tents. "I'm with Ser Bruce and his lot. The Nayland's chaplain.." hence the altar-though it seems he's acting on behalf of the scattered and collected these days. "What you make of all this, Ser, if a humble brother may ask?"
Martyn is unable to hold back a grin at that first statement. "Well, good to know that someone is, at least," he replies. He then nods a bit at the part about them coming there. "He wouldn't want us not to come," he replies a bit quietly. "After all, we've been part of the fight against the Ironborn since forever, right." He then pauses, nodding a bit, "Let's hope he is resting peacefully, I don't know many people deserving it more." He then looks to the Nayland tents for a few moments then back to the man. "I wasn't aware that they brought a Septon," he offers a bit thoughtfully, before he shrugs a little bit at the question. "Well, it doesn't seem like they had a group out here, wherever here is. If so, they'd probably attacked now, right?" Not a mention of the actual death of the priest yet, though. "And how about you? What do you make of it?"
Marsden chuckles as he moves to turn over his bowl, showing that indeed the contents have been added to his stomach and thus his little vanishing trick done. "Oh, I don't know, brother. I am sure the Seven are watching too. Surely they are, because we didn't go down in a bloody heap of smoldering wood, and horse flesh." And then he falls silent for a bit, allowing the knight to say his pleasure-though quick to add in a jibe at his own expense. "I wasn't either." And clearly, Marsden doesn't seem to be much of a septon, if arms and armor could be counted against.
"You'd think so, but if a bloke is tending the dead. He would do it with another brother, or by hisself. I know I saw to many a cairn in my younger days, quite alone." and he falls quiet. And there's a slight shrug. "Honestly?" a beat. "I don't know. I know those bastards have no trouble killing septons, or shit…But we are to be the better ones aren't we?" a rub of his chin. "Mind you I didn't make the call, but If'n I was a Lord, I don't know what I would have changed, save maybe ask to capture…But you bloody can't call it." And then he's quiet. "They're northmen, and queer folk. Praying to trees, so maybe they don't see what you an I would see with another priest." After a long sigh he's shaking his head. "I feel that it's a damned to hell if you do, utterly fucked on an island if you don't." And he watches Martyn for a moment. "What would you have done?"
Listening carefully to the other man, Martyn pauses a bit, "You wasn't either?" He then shrugs a little bit at the rest. "What I would have done?" A brief pause and a grimace, "Not sure about that, really. We couldn't have left him alone, he would have told someone. But then again, I'm not sure if I'd have had him killed, because, like you said, we are supposed to be the better ones." He grimaces for a few moments, "Trouble is, when I think about it, I might have done the same thing. And I don't know how that realization makes me feel."
"It's a damned pickle the Northman finds himself in, an given the grumblings down 'ere." a motion to the camp with his hand. "It's one that folks feel right in pickin' a side on. Well, I know, if it were me them ironborn had caught. I'd be dead soon enough." A scratch at his throat for a moment "But, they would've caught me. And we know that for a fact." A shrug there. "I woulda tried to catch him..but that's my station talking. I should show mercy and compassion, like the Mother and Maiden both. And I am no Father to judge. Instinct dictates I be the Warrior, but eh. No fucking foresight like the crone." A laugh there for a second, before he's winking back to Martyn "Bit of a joke, brother." meaning that he wasn't either.
"That's normal..That feeling." Marsden offers as his hands rest on his knees. "But, I tell you. We just changed the course of how this whole hell is going to go down here on Harlaw." he adds. "Because they'll remember we killed a priest-if they've found out about it yet. An while he was seeing to the dead. That's a curseable offense." And then he turns to spit-ward away evil. "I jus' hope I'm not the one to treat with them- or the one who has to explain it to Lord Blackwood, why they are so fucking pissed."
Martyn nods a bit, "It will be harder," he replies, before he goes quiet for a few moments. "Ah, but what's that quote again…" He offers a bit of a grimace, "What's done is done, and what's won is wone. What's lost is lost and gone forever…"
"A way to look at it, yes." admits Marsden, as he shifts in his beach turf seat. And then there's a slight look before he's grinning. 'Either way, one thing we are certain. At some point in our life, the stranger will call and we will have to answer." And with that he's wiping his hands. 'What are you looking forward to, for when you return, Ser Martyn?" The halfsepton is all questions today.
"And here someone once told me that I shouldn't talk with Strangers," Martyn remarks, with a bit of a shrug. He then pauses a few moments as he hears that other question. "What I'm looking forward to? Speaking with my family again, mostly."
"Hopefully your mother." Marsden adds with a grin. "You got a large family." not meaning the House Mallister of course. "Wife, children?" Perhaps it's just this bit of normalcy that the halfsepton is offering in the middle of the tension is what everyone needs. Just a brief respite before hell crashes in on them, like waves. "I am not prodding, am I brother?"
"No, not a large family, at least not the closest part," Martyn replies. "That's just my parents, my sister and me. But then there's the bigger family around there, of course." He offers a bit of a smile, "No, not really prodding," he replies.
"Of course." Marsden replies with a grin. "Well, good. I pray you find your way back to them. I pray we all do." The brother adds, before he is rising up from his seat. There's a look to his things, but he highly doubts they'll be stolen in the short time he will be gone. "I need to drown the god so to speak." a grin there. "But, I am glad you sat down with me, brother. Should you need it..Or any of the rites befitting.." Meaning to say, Marsden here for the knight. As a man of the cloth should be.
"Thank you," Martyn replies, offering a smile as he gets to his feet again. "I'll keep it in mind."