|Summary:||Jarod and Einar exchange information and speculation. But mostly speculation.|
|Related Logs:||Invasion of the Iron Isles in general|
|Army Camp outside the Grey Gardens|
|Tents, and rocks. Lots of rocks.|
|Mon Mar 12, 289|
Afternoon on Harlaw Isle, gray and rather chill. The Iron Islands do not get the cheerier effects of the long summer. Ser Jarod Rivers is just riding back into camp from the rear of the line. He spent the morning out on one of those scouting runs meant to shore up what their thinly-stretched posts can't quite cover. He dismounts his brown charger, thumping to the ground as lightly as a man can in armor, and starts to lead the beast back into camp proper. Whistling as he goes. It's vaguely recognizable as a Riverlands marching tune though, to match the weather perhaps, it's slowed so it isn't particularly cheery.
Possibly the Flints of the North are more used to this sort of weather, possibly they just make sure they have cloaks that are up to it, either way, the weather doesn't seem to be bothering Einar too much as he makes his way, on foot, towards the pickets. Yes, it's that time again, just like it will be in four hours, and just like it was four hours ago. Spotting the incoming Terrick he gives the man a nod in greeting before asking "Anything moving out there Ser?" May as well get his information from any handy additional source as well after all.
Jarod deposits his horse in a hitching area near the center of the camp, where there's water and food for the courser, offering it a pat on the neck that's all of rough affection. The question makes him turn his head, and trail off his whistling. Einar's offered a polite nod in return. "M'lord." The question is answered with a shrug. "No reports of anything from the line in the last hours. They likely know we're watching our backsides closer, as it were, since we found those funny trails along the rear of our camp. I was hoping we'd hear something from within by now, on the offer to parlay, given how the rest of the Isle's falling. Still holed up, though, and quiet as that pile of rocks itself."
Einar listens silently to the news that’s imparted, only turning briefly to glance at the fortification once Jarod has finished. "You aren't the only one I feel Ser," he replies after a moment, "still though, we can afford to sit patiently far more than they can, especially if we're reinforced by those who've already been successful. We just have to bide our time and keep alert." Standard stuff yes, but he doesn't really know the other man well enough to have a better conversational point.
Jarod nods to Einar, sticking to the standard stuff, for his part. "Aye. We're decently supplied, and we hold the countryside, so we can bring in more on the beachhead if we need. Not so simple for them. Gets on the nerves, the waiting. Doesn't seem to me this's gone so poorly for us all told, though. Haven't taken many casualties, and we've got them hemmed in there. If the rest of the island's falling as that raven message claimed, it's just a matter of time. I'm hoping we'll have proper word back from Leviathan's Hold before this day's out. The rider we sent should be back by then." There's a pensive note in his tone about that all the same. Afternoon on Harlaw Isle, gray and rather chill. The Iron Islands do not get the cheerier effects of the long summer.
"I think," Einar starts, brow slightly furrowed in said thoughts, "that it'd ease a lot of minds if we had an answer for the whereabouts of Ser Harras. I must admit that I am leaning towards thinking he is elsewhere given we've seen neither sight nor sound of him, but then someone has to be keeping them in check in there or I'd have expected more night-time sallys forth to test the pickets." AS for the rider, yes, his return will be welcome. "I hope his news is as reported by the raven. The sooner this is done the better, and if we can do it by them surrendering and us not having to provide a full on assault than so much the better really."
"He may well've been called back to the Ten Towers, or even the Pyke itself," Jarod says, as of Ser Harras. "He's one of the finest warriors in the Iron Islands. You'd think they'd have wanted him where it'd get hottest. Besides, he was wounded when the squids retreated from Seagard. He may not be recovered from that yet. No damn clue. If anyone might treat with us in good order, he'd be the one we could best expect it from. Then again, if their stores're holding so far, no reason for them to come out, especially if they don't think they'd gain anything from it. They can make this real bloody for us if they don't surrender, even if the castle will fall in the end. And they die to bleed us here, less of us to throw at the Pyke."
"It would not surprise me greatly were he at either of those locations," Einar agrees, "but still, there's little use speculating endlessly I suppose, we're no close to knowing the truth." He turns to glance at the castle again, eyes scanning the rocky outcrops for a few moments, not sure if he caught a flash of movement or just a shift in the shadows of the clouds. Either way, nothing seems to come of it so he turns back having suddenly considers something else. "I'm not keeping you from anything am I Ser?"
"Little else to talk on but speculation. Save the weather, which is shit, so a more depressing topic," Jarod replies. His eyes follow Einar's when the rocky outcrop catches the younger man's attention. But nothing comes of it, and he just shrugs. Shaking his head. "Just trying to make the time pass, I suppose. Don't let me keep you. Wish I could've ridden to Leviathon's Hold myself. Couldn't really leave camp, though, sent one of my men instead. Waiting makes it feel like it's taking longer than it really is."
"I think a good few in camp would have been happy to make the ride, even if only for the change of scenery," Einar admits, including himself in that number. "Not that I hear there's much to see but rocks and rough ground, but a change is as good as a rest so they say." With the weather having been mentioned he instinctively shifts his cloak slightly on his shoulders before adding, "We," meaning the Flints, "have the pickets for a few hours yet. I'll ensure they know they look out for your man's return."
Jarod's grayish green cloak is already close cinched around his shoulders, though he shrugs it half out of habit when Einar shifts his. "Aye. Well. He'll come when he comes. I should go kill an hour or so where the Naylands're camped, I suppose. See what sort of services that septon they got puts on. Seems an entertaining fellow. I think he made a sex joke when I was talking with him, though I can't quite figure what it was. That's always promising in a holy man."
"I can't claim to have spoken to him," Einar replies, "nor been free when he's been leading a service, but what I have heard is good." Not that there's much talk about a septon in a section of the camp almost entirely comprised of followers of the Old Gods mind. "I'm sure he can be found though if you seek him out." Septons are like that, it's almost as if it's part of the job description or something.
Jarod does show a little surprise Einar would even think on being free or not for the septon's service, but he just shrugs and nods. "Haven't been free to watch him proper myself, either, though I've spoken to him a bit. Strikes me as a colorful sort, but I suppose you'd have to be, to choose to take your preaching to an army camp. Good with wounds, too. Fixed Ser Longbough up well enough after his little meet with squid steel, when we were camped closer to the beach."
Einar nods at that. "Aye, so I have heard, and the more with those skills the merrier really, although, Gods be willing, we hopefully won't need them much. Especially if the other castles are falling in accordance with that message." As for Jarod's surprise, well, he's used to that, it's a reaction his been on the receiving end of for years after all, so he says nothing. "If you do find him though, ask him to offer up his prayers to the Crone would you? That we may find a quick and effective way out of this stalemate."
"You could go and ask him yourself," Jarod notes with a shrug of one shoulder. "He's got a little homemade altar set up for men to bring their prays, if they've a mind. But, aye, I'll ask him. Once we know what the situation is at the other keeps, perhaps we can just do as they've done. See if the Crone's shown our fellows anything She hasn't us yet."
Einar notions with his head towards the outer lines. "I could, and indeed probably will, but not for several more hours yet. I have duties to attend to first." The shrine itself he's found, and indeed made use of, but he just hasn’t yet been there when said Septon has. "Or maybe she has Ser, and we just haven't seen yet," he counters with a smile, "but now I must really go see to the pickets. Good day to you Ser."
"Never had much luck talking with the Crone myself, so, aye, maybe," Jarod replies with a half grin himself. "Gods keep you, m'lord." And he's off, on that note.