|In Thrall to the Pyke|
|Summary:||The Mallister boys plus the Terrick Rivers share some decent wine and talk on what was taken from the coasts, and what they might reclaim.|
|Related Logs:||Greyjoy Rebellion logs in general|
|The inhospitable coast and cliffs outside Castle Pyke.|
|Mon Apr 09, 289|
A siege isn't the most entertaining prospect for a knight, given that most of what they do is wait behind the lines until a breach or other point of contact opens up. Kamron Mallister spent the first part of his time in the siege lines recovering the wits after the ironborn tried to pit his head, but now he's been meandering through the larger camp, remembering himself to acquaintances and friends from the Rebellion. And so it is that he comes back to the Mallister camp with a skin of fine Stormlands wine (not so fine as Arbor wine, but fine none-the-less). Meandering through the camp, he knocks on the stand-poles of the tents occupied by the various Mallister knights, getting rather quickly around to Martyn's tent, "Anyone there? The wine service has arrived…"
It would seem that Martyn has just gotten back to his tent. Rumor has it that whenever he's had the time lately, he's been doing some training a bit back from the lines, working himself hard. It would seem that the wounds he took on Harlaw has had some effect on his mind and not just his body. Hearing Kamron's voice, he steps back outside the tent, pausing a few moments. "Wine… Sounds quite excellent about now. Where did you get it?" Sounding a bit curious.
Kamron hefts up the skin and holds it out to his cousin, "Ser Chandrick. The Spade Knight. One of the hedge knights with us at the Trident. Apparently he's gotten himself hired on with the Swanns, and he's over with the Stormlanders." As with most head injuries, the slurring and staggering that had afflicted Kamron seems to be entirely gone now. "Don't worry, I already shared some with him, so I know that not only is it good, but it's not poisoned."
Jarod was tucked away near the central command tent for the better part of the day. He's only just now headed back to where the Army of the Cape is pitched. He angles toward the area where Mallister tents are thick, stride long and easy, so he appears more-or-less recovered from his adventures in being stabbed by Ironborn in the Pyke's lower bailey. Perhaps on actual business - or perhaps just sniffing out wine - his path takes him toward Kamron and Martyn. "M'lords Mallister. How's the day keeping you so far?"
Taking the skin as it's handed to him, Martyn pauses a few moments as he listens to what's being said now, nodding a little bit, "I seem to remember him." Taking a sip from the skin, he lets out a bit of a sigh. "Excellent. I've missed good wine." Handing the skin back, he pauses as he studies his cousin. "How's your head?" And then Jarod greets them, and he offers a bit of a grin. "Busy, Ser Rivers. Like it's supposed to, I believe. How about you?"
Kamron reaches up to pat the side of his head with one hand, his grin crooked as he takes the skin back with the other hand, "Still attached, and on straight now, thanks to Brother Marsden." Taking a pull from the skin, he holds it out to Jarod, "From the Stormlands. Real wine, not like the honeyed piss they make here. Compliments of Ser Chandrick and House Swann. I presume that you've been finding things to keep yourself busy with besides my cousin's sparring and my own trying to hold my head together…"
Jarod grins as the wine is offered around. There's still a serious look behind his green eyes, but he perks at the prospect of wine. "Don't mind if I do." He takes a sip, savoring his first swallow. Then another longer swig before he passes it back to Kamron. "That's good shit, and no mistake. They make it strong in the Stormlands." Of which he approves. "I know I'm back in a camp of Good King Robert's now. Bad as things got during the Rebellion on marches, a man could usually find decent drink."
"That's the truth," Martyn replies to the part about King Robert, and the decent drinks. He then nods a bit when Kamron speaks about his head, "Good. You gave me a bit of a fright back then," he offers. "And a man has to prepare, right?" That to the part about the sparring.
Kamron chortles at Jarod's words about wine and good Kings, nodding his head, "A mark of a good King. Your knights never have to worry for wine." There's a moment's pause, "I wonder if the Redwynes have a couple of cogs whose sole job it is to bring wine across." He waves off Martyn's worries, "I can't say I've had worse, but you certainly can. We'll both have plenty of scars to show off to the girls back home." Not the 'ladies,' certainly, because that suggests someone marriageable. And indeed, a new pink scar runs across the top of Kamron's right eyebrow, just longer than the eyebrow itself. "So you've been spreading around King Robert's men too, Jarod? Has Ser Gedeon been with you?"
"Saw Ser Gedeon a bit at the hospital tent when I was getting my side looked after," Jarod replies. "He seemed in decent shape. Better than I was just then, though I don't think I'm in any danger of bursting now." He grins, knocking a fist against his side. Albeit not too hard. Mending or not, he must still be sporting some stitching from his encounter with an Ironborn polearm. "Aye. Went over and had a look at that squid prisoner I captured in the bailey. Wanted to have a few words to him myself, once our Lord Royce's men were done with him."
"He was talking a bit with one of the Naylands yesterday, or some day like that. You know the one that was here with the King and his men? Ser Rutger?" Martyn offers at the part about Gedeon, before he shrugs a bit as he listens to the others for a few moments. "Probably, yes," he mentions to the part about the scars. "And we all know the ladi… the girls like those, right?"
Kamron nods to Jarod, "Find out anything useful? Either you or Lord Royce?" Martyn's words draw another laugh, "The ladies will hate them. The girls will love them." He waggles a finger as he takes a swig of the wine, then holds out the skin for either of the other two to take, "That's an important difference." That out of the way, he grimaces slightly at Martyn, "Ser Gedeon talking to a Nayland? No good can come of that…"
Jarod grins, idly thumbing the favor he wears upon his wrist as girls are mentioned. "They do at that. The knight I squired for, Ser Vernon, used to say a scar's a roadmap up a girl's skirt. Man of infinite wisdom, Ser Vernon. I should see if I can track him down, come to it. He took to wandering as a hedge knight after the Rebellion, but I can't imagine he'd miss this show." Kamron's question prompts are more serious answer, though. "Aye. Lord Royce's men worked him over good, though I'm not sure he told them anything they didn't know before. Greyjoys have enough men to make the taking of the Pyke bloody for us. All the Grejoy pretender princes are inside organizing the defense, so they seem to be aiming to make seven hells of a last stand, even if they will fall in the end. For my part, I was interested in seeing if the man knew what'd become of those prisoners Maron Greyjoy'd taken from the Roost. Some of our people were taken as thralls or slaves when the squids retreated from our shore. Women mostly." His grin's settled into a frown as he thinks on that. The bit about Ser Gedeon draws a soft "Huh" from him, but no other reaction yet.
Martyn shrugs, "It sounded civil enough while I was there," he offers, before he nods a little bit at Jarod's words, "Did you find out anything interesting?" he asks, before he looks back to Kamron, and takes the skin as it's offered, taking a long swig from it, then hands it back again. "I don't think good old Ser Mychal is around here. Last time I heard he had lost a hand…" Grimacing for a few moments, as he moves one hand to his forehead for a few moments, wiping at it.
The discussion about old masters causes Kamron to grimace slightly, "I'm a bit sorry that old Efram Bracken didn't make it through the Rebellion. He would have loved this—except for serving under Lord Blackwood." The talk of the lost Roosters, however, sobers the man, and he looks to the nearest trebuchet, "I assume they're why we haven't just started obliterating the rear-most towers and working our way outward. If we focus fire on anything but the curtain wall, we might kill our own." A grimace flashes across his features, "That could get ugly when we crack the walls. If the cowardly fucking reavers put them out front, we won't be able to charge." He looks up to the citadel, "If they're even in there…"
Jarod shakes his head. "I don't figure Lord Royce's worried much about killing Greyjoy slaves. Can't afford to be, really." Which makes him frown, but it's not really something he can call wrong. "I do believe a fair few of them are inside, though. The squid I took described a few folk I knew well enough I can't doubt it. Maron Greyjoy himself's taken one of our old retainer as a salt wife. Served as a food taste for my half-brother, the Young Lord Jacsen. I promised him I'd look for her when we reached the Pyke. Found her, I suppose." His frown deepens. "Least she seems to be alive. If smallfolk were taken from Seagard in the same fashion, the squids we've captured may know where they're being kept."
Martyn nods a little bit as he hears that, looking a little lost in thought. "We'll have to see about what to do about that…" he offers, after a few moments. Otherwise keeping silent for now.
Kamron nods at Martyn, looking back to Jarod, "Lord Royce can't worry about it, but we can, Jarod." He looks over to Martyn again, frowning slightly, "What do you think, coz… have the Terrick men tell us and our men the descriptions of as many of the missing as they know? Maybe we'll find at least a few of them and see them home again safely." For all the grins and smirks that usually grace the Mallister's face, he's all seriousnewss now.
Keelin's been out moving, getting some exercise and what have you. He is just now returning to the Mallister encampment, a hand on his full maile armour, as he looks at the repair job that's been done to the chest area on it. Silent save for the slight jingling of the chain maile in his hands, he is heading to his own tent, though he comes to a stop as he spies the folks who are already there.
Jarod perks again at Kamron's words, and he makes a little half-bow to the Mallister men. "Thank you, my lords. Aye, I'll write you out names and faces of those we think're held here, best I can piece it together. We'd be most grateful. I'm not sure how much can be done for those taken by the Greyjoys, but I mean to try. Best I can. Lord Jerold'd expect no less."
"That would probably be doable," Martyn replies to Kamron's words, offering a very brief smile. He pauses as he hears some kind of sound, and looks around and notices Keelin. "Back on your feet, I see," he calls out to the man, a bit lightly.
Kamron shrugs at Jarod's words, "It's the least we can do. I don't know how much assistance Seagard can give the Roost with rebuilding, the least we can do is try to help you bring your people home." As Keelin approaches, Kam hefts up a wineskin, "Good Stormlands vintage if you want a taste."
Keelin pauses as he's addressed by both Mallisters, and then his mouth quirks in a smile. He offers a polite nod to the trio, as he comes over, a hand held out for the wineskin first. "Good vintage?" he asks, just checking, cause there've been some … not so good vintages passed around previously. "And aye, I'm on my feet and ready to go. Though I hope the Seven take pity on this bit of armour. Not so sure how much longer we'll be able to put it back together." That's half serious, and half self mocking, but the man shrugs, settling it over an arm for now, in favour of a good drink.
"Stormlands wine," Jarod replies to Keelin, as for the vintage. This, to him, is something that recommends it. "Not quite Reach wine, perhaps, but the men of Good King Robert's homeland know how to drink." To the pair of Mallister lords, "Seagard has ever-been a fine liege lord and friend to Lord Jerold's house, Sers. We only hope we've served you well in kind, and your aid in these lean times'll be repaid well as we can, when we can."
Martyn nods a little bit as he listens. Pausing for a few moments as he hears Keelin speak about the armor. "I see…" he offers after a few moments of pause, before he looks back to the others for a few moments, then to Keelin once more. "Maybe we'll have to do something about that…" Looking a bit lost in thought.
Kamron nods at the talk of the wine, "Not Arbor-quality, but not the bee-piss the reavers make." He reaches out to clap Jarod lightly on the shoulder, "I haven't heard any complaints." Looking over to Martyn and Keelin, he adds, "I'm sure we can find you a squid with a breastplate about your size. There've got to be smiths in the camp who can make the necessary fine adjustments."
Keelin blinks, giving Martyn and Kamron a look. The wineskin is taken, and a hearty gulp of wine enjoyed, before he passes it back to its owner. "Thanks," he says. "That hit the spot." And then he chuckles softly as he says, "Aye, might be a thought that. I think there's a target painted on this bit that only the squids can see. And what is it that we're helping the Roost with?" Since he missed the beginning of the conversation and all. "Is it something I'll need to be cussing out our men to make sure they follow orders for?"
"We outfitted a good part of the Roost levies with gear we'd filched from squid dead," Jarod says, with little shame. "It does the job, but you can't find quality fit for a knight unless you down a lordling. Or perhaps a chieftain." He winks at Keelin. "Something to try for." As for the question he replies, "Had a few words with that squid prisoner I bagged in the lower bailey. Lord Royce's men worked him and the others they captured over, too, to get information about how the Greyjoys're arranged inside and the like. I was more interested in where they're keeping their thralls, though. Good many folk were taken as slaves for the Pyke when the Greyjoys fled the Roost. Managed to find out some of them are still here, in service to the Pretender Prince Maron, and whatever other foul jobs the Ironborn can find for them."
Martyn nods a bit at Kamron's words. "I was thinking about something like that, yes." Nodding a little bit as he listens to the others now. "Now, if we're picking our targets, I wouldn't mind being the one to bring down the Harlaw Knight. That sword of his seems rather nice." It's spoken quite lightly, although there's something in his expression as he speaks. Looking around for a few moments now.
Kamron nods to Keelin, letting Jarod and Martyn get in their says first, then adding, "We'll be passing out descriptions of those taken. If you can read, you can help those who can't. If you can't, I'll read them to you, and you can help get the men familiar with the names and descriptions. We want them to be able to free any people from the Roost that they find." The talk of targets comes up again, and he smirks, although there is actually little amusement to the expression. Instead it's a combination between an arrogant smile and a feral snarl, "I want Rodrik. I've no quarrel with Ser Harras besides my usual hate of the reavers. But it's Rodrik I want. His head on a spike outside Seagard."
Keelin listens as the nobles take dibs on their targets, a slight chuckle rumbling through his chest. "Now see, what hope has anyone not up there with you lot of nobles to get any such luck?" he asks, though the thought is in his mind now, truthfully. Loot the reavers, get a breastplate - Hey, it could work. You never know. "And that sounds to me like a very good idea. I'll do all the cussing needed with that purpose," he says. There's a definite nod to his head, but he's not picking his least favourite Reaver or at least, if he is, he's not telling anyone about it.
"I'm but a lucky bastard, Ser Dorsey," Jarod says with a grin. "Though if I get a shot at Maron Greyjoy, I'm bloody well going to take it. I owe it to Lord Jerold to try and lay him low with my own hands. I care little about his pillage, but I'd like to deliver his head back to Four Eagles Tower." @emit "I'm but a lucky bastard, Ser Dorsey," Jarod says with a grin. "Though if I get a shot at Maron Greyjoy, I'm bloody well going to take it. I owe it to Lord Jerold to try and lay him low with my own hands. I care little about his pillage, but I'd like to deliver his head back to Four Eagles Tower." He inclines his head deep to Kamron and Martyn again. "I know not how much opportunity I'll have to search for those thralls from the Roost as the Pyke's falling. But any aid'd be appreciated."
Martyn headshakes a little bit at Kamron's words. "Place the pike somewhere out of sight then, cousin. We need to get more trade to our docks, and not to have them chased away by the Ugly Face of Pyke on a pike…" It's often a bit lightly, before he looks around to the others. "I should go back inside," gesturing to his tent. "At least get myself a bit more clean now. Thanks for the wine, and the company." And with that, he's turning to head back inside the tent.
Kamron shrugs his shoulders, "I bet that I never even see either of the Greyjoys when we finally storm the place. But if the Seven allow it… I plan to make the best of the opportunity." He chortles at Martyn, shaking his head, "Maybe I'll take it back to Talon Point then, coz. It'll draw the seagulls away from the fishing boats." He nods to Jarod, "Only the gods know who'll find what, but the more people looking for them, the more likely it is that we find at least a few of them."
Keelin rolls his eyes at the way the conversation goes, going quiet now, as he listens to the others. Jarod does get a grin though, for his comment about being lucky. After a bit, Kee says, "Well, perhaps it'll be my turn to be lucky." He leaves it there, as the conversation moves along to the folks they're going to be looking for as they can.
"Warrior willing," Jarod agrees simply with Kamron, as to only the gods knowing. He doffs a last short bow to the departing Martyn, and Kamron while he's at it. "Anyhow, I should be getting back to our men. Seven's mercy and good look all around, Sers."