|Not Dead Yet|
|Summary:||Rygar comes to give Martyn an update on the current state of affairs. Keelin and Rafferdy listen in, and then Jarod comes by to add his own two cents worth.|
|Related Logs:||Two Men Enter Event log, not yet posted, and all the Iron Isles logs.|
|The labrynthine fortress of Grey Garden sprawls atop a bare, rocky hillock commanding the south-eastern quarter of Harlaw Isle. The countryside is largely bare, with thin soil over weather-worn rock.|
|March 25, 289|
The Mallister pavilion is the center of a largely depopulated Riverlord camp on the outskirts of the Harlaw holdfast. While a significant force remains outside to keep watch over the wounded, and over the army's supplies, many of the fighting men are occupying the city, rooting out the myriad nooks and back alleys. Tellingly, the banners flying from the towers which flank the open central gates of the fortress have changed: the orange and green of Nayland flies in the frigid island winds.
Walking along the long bridge from that open gate, toward the camp and Mallister pavilion is Ser Rygar, still in armor.
Nobody's seen Martyn out and about since he was brought back after he took that huge beating. Which is because he hasn't been out and about. He hasn't even been awake too much of the time since then. Now he's awake, at least, but still inside the pavillion. Grimacing a bit as he's sitting up a bit further.
Once the fighting eased somewhat and he had the opportunity to withdraw with honour, Keelin made his way back to the Mallister camp, and is in fact standing guard at the door to Martyn's pavillion. Not his job? Perhaps not, but someone has to do it, and he'd rather it be someone of decent fighting skill. Just in case.
Within the wounded pavilion, Rafferdy is resting on a cot. He's shirtless, his chest wrapped in bandages. Staring at the ceiling, he looks bored, and fidgets some.
Rygar strides with his habitual purposeful gait past the camp sentries, and up to the great pavilion housing the noble wounded. He briefly regards KEelin, giving the other a curt greeting of, "Ser," before moving to step past the man and enter the pavilion.
Looking around for a few moments, Martyn grimaces a bit as he sees the others present, but otherwise keeps silent for now. He's bandaged quite a bit as well, and at least most of the blood has been cleaned from him.
Keelin inclines his head respectfully as the noble Knight comes through, stepping aside to stay out of his way. He's within hearing range of those within the tent, listening for anything they might need as much as anything else. His gaze flicks out to check the area around, making sure that his brief distraction by Rygar hasn't allowed something untoward to begin taking place.
Rafferdy turns his head, his expression lifting just a bit, "Cousin." His eyes flit back to the door, as if he's expecting someone to be with Rygar. When no one else enters, his eyes drop a little in disappointment, and he lays his head back down.
Rygar surveys those within the pavilion with a swift pass of his eyes, settling briefly on Rafferdy as the other Nayland greets him. "Cousin," he returns, before regarding Martyn. Business before family, it seems. "Ser Martyn. In your infirmity, Lord Ser Rickart has assumed command of the army. He bids me bring you word of the battle.
Martyn grimacing for a few moments as he hears the sounds, before he focuses on Rygar now. "Ser Rygar," he greets the man, his voice a bit weak at the moments. Nodding a bit at the mention of Lord Ser Rickart having assumed command. "How… how did the battle go?"
Rafferdy remains quiet, just listening to the other two men in the tent.
Rygar answers in the cold, professional manner in which he might recite the list of day's chores to his squire. "The Harlaw sally was turned back at only light loss to our forces. The Armsmen of Mallister and Charlton were broken of their formations in the initial assault and withdrew, but reformed and joined the general advance. Defenses in other quarters of the Grey Gardens were undermanned, massed no doubt for this sally, and our storming of the fortifications was accomplished with minimal casualties." A fresh breath is drawn. "The lower districts of the Grey Gardens are within our power, with many of the peasantry fleeing the city at our advance. The central keep remains in Harlaw hands, but now that the army is no longer under the command of a Mallister, we have been informed that Lord Harlaw may be willing to accept terms, with his defenses so breached."
Martyn nods a little bit as he hears that. "Good," he replies, after a few moments of pause. The mention of Lord Harlaw's possible willingness to accept terms make him nod once more, though. Looking about to say something, he pauses for a few moments, before he just repeats himself. "Good."
Rafferdy again just listens, much of the ending of the battle news to him as well.
"Lord Rickart invites you to send those advisors you deem suitable to him, as the surrender is negotiated, Ser," Rygar adds, relaying the last of his uncle's dictates before adding an inquiry of his own. "Further, Ser, I must inquire what words passed between yourself and Lord Harlaw during your contest, prior to the calls of treachery."
Keelin's expression turns to a bit of a frown, though he doesn't say anything from his position outside the door. He might be excused for thinking the Mallister's got a bad rap on this one, but well, it is what it is. He shifts his position a little bit, nodding to a couple other guards as they wander by, patrolling. He keeps an ear peeled to the inside of the pavillion, while he continues to watch the surroundings.
Martyn winces a bit as he hears that part of it. Nodding a bit to the part about the advisors. "I don't think it was much being said…" Grimacing as he tries to remember. "He offered me the chance to surrender and take the army away. That was a bit earlier in the…" He trails off, before he adds, "Before the last time I fell… We discussed his smallfolk, and if the Greyjoy Lord is King or not…"
"Did you yield, Ser?" Rygar prompts bluntly, after hearing out the minor details of the exchange in silence.
As he hears that, Martyn shakes his head a little bit. "I was ready to die out there, Ser Rygar," he offers. "But then… You know…"
"But then, your second elected to intercede, violating the duel," Rygar completes what Martyn had left unspoken. "It is possible the Ironborn sally was planned regardless of the outcome. Or perhaps, Lord Harlaw had so little faith in your honor that he prepared it in expectation of betrayal, but in either case, your chosen second has blighted your honor, Ser. I trust suitable steps shall be taken?"
Martyn just nods as he listens to what's being said now. "How many men died, Ser?" he asks, after a few moments of pause now.
"In the initial sally, perhaps a dozen dead," Rygar answers, as best he can. "We shall not know how many were lost in taking the city for some time yet, but the number is not expected to be more than three dozen, killed and wounded."
Nothing out of the ordinary in the sparsely populated Riverlander camp, at least not that Keelin can see. He's listening to the conversation within, but not obviously so. He does take a moment to look inside, at the question about how many are dead and/or wounded.
Martyn nods a bit as he hears that, going quiet once more at the moment.
"If there is nothing further, Ser, I shall leave you. Consider whom to send unto Lord Rickart, and how best to redress the stain on your good name," Rygar bids with a short, sharp bow of the head and shoulders.
Martyn nods a little bit as he hears that. "I will…" he offers, after a few moments, before he adds, "Thank you." Leaning back a bit more heavily for now.
Rygar turns crisply on a heel and withdraws from the pavillion, continuing on about some piece of camp business.
Hearing the impending exit, Keelin makes sure he's out of the way of the outgoing knight, courteously. He pauses to look inside to see if everyone is still okay, or perhaps if Martyn is wanting some friendly company for a bit.
Remaining quiet and thoughtful for a long while, Martyn grimaces a bit as he watches Rygar's exit. When the man is out there, he lets out a deep breath, grimacing as he looks around the the tent a bit carefully for now.
Keelin quirks a brow at Lord Mallister and then says, "Need anything, M'lord?" He stays at his position though for the moment, as he watches the man. It's an interesting situation he's in, that's for sure. Keelin does pause to look back out, not forgetting what he's about, even as he splits his attention two ways.
"Something to drink would be good," Martyn replies a bit quietly, before he offers a bit of a weak smile, "Things went well, all things considered, I take it?"
Keelin pauses a moment, and then his deep voice can be heard rumbling out in a louder tone. "Hey, Tom. C'mon here and take over guard duty for a bit. Lord Mallister has need of me." Just like that, the poor slob caught wandering past finds himself on guard duty. He is at least armed and ready, so it's not too big a change. Then Keelin steps in, finding the drinks that are available for the wounded, and bringing one over to Martyn, so he can help the man drink.
Waiting a bit as he sees Keelin enter, Martyn nods a little bit quietly as he waits for the man to bring the drink over. Reaching for it a bit slowly, he offers a bit of a nod, "Thank you…" Taking a deep breath before he starts to take a sip, a bit slowly. Taking that long sip, he lets out a bit of a sigh.
Rafferdy is still laying in his cot, listening to Rygar's summary of things. He turns his head again to see who enters, and when he sees it's Keelin, he sighs, and looks back at the ceiling once more.
"Bit of a sour spot, m'Lord," Keelin says easily, his calm demeanor not stressed by events. His armour's been fixed by now, so there's not even any sign of the dent that got put into it. "Ser Kamron did well during the fighting," he adds, quietly. "And aye, things went well. The ironborn poured out of that labyrinth and got spanked until they turned tail and ran back. Then we chased 'em." He catches the movement from where Rafferdy is, and glances that way, offering a nod of his head there as well. "M'lord Nayland, would you like something to drink?"
Martyn nods a little bit, with a bit of grimace. "He probably did," he offers with a nod at the mention of Kamron. Looking over to Rafferdy now. "Lord Nayland." He doesn't offer much more at the moment, studying the man a bit carefully now.
Rafferdy sighs once more, and he gives a light shrug, though winces a bit from his chest wound when he does so. "Depends on how strong what you have is. If it's just water, I'll pass."
Keelin shrugs a bit at that. "All that's in here is water, though I hear that some of the men out there have found ale in the grey gardens. They haven't brought any over here for the wounded though, unfortunately. So I'm afraid all that is here is water. Might help anyway, and once you get out of here, there's ale - some, anyway." He glances back over to Martyn, aware he's just added to the man's problem, but not apologizing for it.
"Water… Helps…" Martyn offers a bit quietly, nodding a little bit at what's being said. Looking over at the other nobleman's wound for a few moments. "How bad is it?" he asks, a bit quietly.
Rafferdy nods a little, "I'm fine then, thanks." Glancing at Martyn, he shakes his head, "They said I'll live. So, I guess it's not bad."
Keelin nods his head, not about to argue with the lord. "As you wish," he says simply. "Glad that it's not too bad." Then he turns back to Martyn, his attention mostly on the Mallister Lord he owes his allegiance to, anyway. "Did you need more, m'Lord? Or anything else?" He doesn't offer any further information, just stands with his hands at his sides.
"Glad to hear that," Martyn offers to Rafferdy, before he looks to Keelin. "Just trying to figure out what and how long I've missed… Maybe that will help me figure out a few other things…" Sounding a bit irritated at himself or something like that now.
Jarod had moved into the walls with the Terrick forces, who're doing their part for the push of the Army of the Cape into the Grey Garden. He emerges now, though, striding across the bridge and toward the tents of the encampment. His destination, judging by his path, is the Mallister pavilion.
Rafferdy nods back at the other two men, and he scratches his head. "Do either of you know if my brother Rowan is alright?"
Keelin blinks as he looks over at Rafferdy. He thinks on what he's seen and heard. "I've not heard that Squire Rowan was injured," he says after a moment. "Though I can't be sure, since I was busy fighting myself, then getting my look over by the maester, and then here." The guard, poor Tom, at the door to the pavillion for the Wounded, is only there cause Keelin made him.
Martyn nods a little bit as he listens for now, not saying much about the fighting, since well, he was knocked out as it happens. So he just listens now. "How many…" he finaly says, going quiet again.
"Oh, hullo." Jarod stops when he comes upon Tom the guard, offering the man a cheery grin. Though his gaze is quizzical. "Are…err…folks allowed in? Wanted to see how some of the lads were getting on. You expecting trouble here? We still got men out on the pickets, though I suppose the lines're thinner out here now that we're further in."
Rafferdy sees Jarod, and he pushes himself up onto his elbows from his position on his back with a grunt and wince of pain. His shirt is off, and his chest is heavily bandaged. "Ser Jarod, thank goodness. PLEASE tell me you have something stronger than water you can share?" He grits his teeth a moment, then follows up with, "How is Rowan?"
Tom just blinks and gestures towards the tent. "Go on in, Ser," he says to Jarod. "Ser Keelin asked me to stay here and guard, just in case. I think he was worried about lord Mallister." The last is said more quietly, as though sharing a confidence. "He went in to help the Lord with something, hasn't come out yet."
Keelin blinks at Martyn and then he says. "Couple score, m'Lord, if you're asking how many dead or wounded, as per Lord Ser Rygar." A pause, and then he says, "And as for how long, not too long, though you did get quite the bleeding, before you got back to safety. Luckily, Squire Percival didn't drop you." He glances over at Rafferdy, but doesn't say anything more there.
"The time, yes. Feels like I've been out of it here for a week or something…" Martyn replies, with a bit of a grimace, before he shrugs, instantly wincing, at the mention of Percival. "I don't know. Was beaten up so much that being dropped probably wouldn't have been noticed…" He hasn't noticed Jarod being near.
"Worried for Lord Mallister?" Jarod repeats it as a question, but he doesn't hang about to hear further information from Tom. Venturing into the tent. Martyn, prone as he is, is offered a bow and respectful, "M'Lord." It's a quick one, though, his attention going to Rafferdy. The Nayland earns a quick grin. And a pat at the skin at his side. "Just might. It's not very good. We've not broken into the richer areas yet. But some lads found mead in one of the houses that's…" He pauses, trying to properly describe the vintage. "…err, it's mead." It's not a glowing review, but he doesn't complain. "Rowan's just fine, thank the Seven. He'll be by in a bit to look in on you. They need all the men they can to stand watch at our front inside while the city walls are further secured."
Rafferdy nods, and he sighs, laying back down. "I'm glad to hear it. About Rowan AND the drink." He gives a little smile, and then closes his eyes. The milk of the poppy still keeping him rather drowsy and a little loopy.
Tom isn't perturbed, just letting the knight continue in. Keelin nods as Jarod arrives. "Heard a rumour some lads found some ale somewhere as well, but I've not seen it myself. And I'll be heading back out there, myself in a bit," he adds though for the most part, he's quiet. He does think a bit, counting under his breath. "Maybe a day, Lord Mallister," he says, after a moment. "Nowhere near a week."
"I wish it was a week, maybe things would stop hurting then," Martyn replies, before he offers a bit of a nod in Jarod's direction. "Ser Rivers. I trust you are well?" Looking between the others for the moment. "Let's hope it's all taken care of soon." Sounding a bit weary now.
"I'll save you some, Lordling Nayland," Jarod offers, raising his mead-skin to semi-toast Rafferdy. And then sipping, just a little. He grimaces, but he swallows just the same. Then offers the skin to Keelin. "I figure there'll be squid ale aplenty in there. I prefer good River wine, myself, but little chance of that. Man makes due as he can. I am well, M'Lord." That to Martyn, with an inclination of his head. "Came by to see if you were still in one piece. How're you faring?"
Keelin's expression brightens a bit, as he reaches to accept the meadskin from Jarod, taking an experimental swallow of the stuff. It brings a look of almost-horror to his face. "Hell of a thing, that," he manages after a moment. "YOu sure they drink this and don't use it to clean their armour?" Well, it's a thought. Though after a moment, he does acknowledge that it's probably mead. He passes the skin back to Jarod though. "Thank you for that. It's a good wake up, I'll give it that." And then a sympathetic glance back over at Martyn. "Aye, I'll wager you'll be feeling far better in a week than right now."
"Well, my body only hurts when I'm awake," Martyn replies with a bit of a weak grin. "The next time you guys think I'm about to accept such a challenge, please kick me, okay?" He doesn't say anything about how his mind is feeling, though. Looking between the others again, "Let's hope I'm back on my feet soon."
"I haven't gone blind yet," Jarod replies chipperly to Keelin. That's his endorsement of the brew, apparently. Though he doesn't take another swallow from the skin just yet. A wry "Heh" to Martyn. "If I'm within kicking distance I shall, m'Lord. Can't say I'd have done the same in your place. We were lucky, though. They charged us after Ser Kamron got you off the field with what must've been near all our force. Lord Rickart Nayland seems to figure it's just a matter of time before we take the Garden now."
"Lord Rygar was here earlier, giving an update," Keelin offers, though he does grin at Jarod's chipper comment about still having his vision. "You sure the eyesight isn't fading out, bit by bit?" he asks, teasingly, before he goes back to the topic. "He said as much, and that Lord Martyn should send what advisors he deemed reasonable over, so their counsel could be taken into account. Also that the estimate currently was about two score or so dead and wounded on our side." He leaves it at that, not getting into all the details. Though he could, if pressed. Martyn does get a nod of his head. "Next time, choose a champion and stipulate the terms are to a knock down or something," he suggests lightly.
"But how can I ask someone else to take a risk I wasn't willing to take myself?" Martyn replies, with a bit of a sigh. "It's just not the right way to do it. So let us simply hope there's no next time…" He grimaces a bit, before he looks between the two of them. "Now only to find someone reasonable to send…" It's offered with a bit of a sigh.
"More wounded than dead," Jarod said. "I wish we had healers to tend as well as they can on the mainland. The good halfsepton and whatever maesters the lords brought're stretched thin. We'll manage, though." On a more jovial note, he waves his fingers in front of his eyes, Squinting at them. And, finally, nodding. "Aye. Still seems intact. If I ever go blind on liquor, it'll be better than this swill."
Keelin chuckles and nods to Jarod. "Probably a good thing that. Though if the good stuff drives you blind, there's more at hand than first seems." He then looks over at Martyn. "Makes me glad you can't send me, m'lord. Though you could send Lord Kamron, I suppose. As a representative of the family. Other than that, well, who do you think knows what they're talking about?"
Martyn looks a bit pained at the mention of the liquor at the moment, but then again, he generally looks pained at the moment. The mention of the halfsepton makes his expression more thoughtful. "Perhaps I need to have a talk with the halfsepton one of these days," he comments, before he sighs a bit at Keelin's words, "Problem is that I think the Harlaw would see that as some kind of provocation…" Looking a bit thoughtful now.
"Lord Kamron's a steadfast fighter, M'Lord. The Terrick men'd support him, as bannerhouse to the Mallisters," Jarod says, for his part. "He may take some knocks from the others in the army, given how things went in the duel. But I doubt you'd find a man more loyal to you." As for liquor, he offers his meadskin to Martyn. "Won't make you blind, Ser Martyn. I can vouch for it."
"Well. They might at that," Keelin acknowledges, a little tightly. "I forgot, Ser Jarod, that Lord Rygar also said that the Harlaws are maybe willing to talk surrender without a Mallister running the army. So Lord Martyn does have a good point. Though so do you, and I'm sure I owe Lord Kamron a keg of ale at the least." He's quite on side with that one.
"That's quite true," Martyn replies as he hears the mention of Kamron's loyalty, expression as neutral as he can for now. Pausing a bit as he takes the meadskin offered, motions a bit slow, almost rusty, and takes a sip. He nods a bit at Keelin's words as well, nodding a bit as he hands back the meadskin to Jarod, after a momentary grimace.
"If Lord Nayland can gain the surrender of the Garden without more bloodshed, that's my preference, Ser," Jarod says to Martyn. "Might've been best to begin with to summon Lord Piper from Leviathan's Hall to negotiate, rather than accepting single combat. Too late for that. Anyhow. Seems to me would be best Lord Rickart remained in command, at least until the city's taken. Say what you will of the man - and many things can be said - but he's a fine battle commander. Won the field at Alderbrook when we took back the Roost, and won the field yesterday."
Keelin inclines his head, going quiet now and just listening. He does watch as Jarod hands over some mead, making a note to look for some such when he gets back over to the front lines. He glances towards the door where Tom is stationed, and then shrugs a bit, wincing only briefly as he tugs at the bruise he got in the last bit of fighting.
Martyn nods a little bit, "I have strong faith in Lord Rickart's ability to command in battle," he replies, with a bit of a nod, although he doesn't say much more at the moment.
Jarod eyes Martyn carefully, just nodding at his words. "As I said, Ser, Terricks are your loyal bannermen. As you lead, we'll follow. Lord Rickart might be what's best for the army as a whole, is my own counsel.
Keelin takes a breath, and then he inclines his head. "Your pardon, Lord Martyn, but I think perhaps I should head back out now. Unless there's something else you need?" he asks. He gives Jarod a nod, approving of the Rivers Knight, no matter how many sisters he might or might not have.
"Thank you," Martyn offers to Jarod with a bit of a nod. "At the moment, Lord Rickart is the best one for the army." He then nods a little bit at Keelin, "Nothing else at the moment. Take care out there," he offers after a few moments of pause.
Jarod offers Keelin a quick, parting grin and nod in return. "Warrior keep you, Ser Keelin. I should get getting back to my men soon as well, M'Lord. I'll tell the lads you're awake and breathing and all." He adds, "You can keep the mead if you like."
Martyn shakes his head a little bit as he hears the part about the mead. "I think it's best that you keep it, Ser Rivers," he offers with a bit of a half-smile. "Those doing the healing here might decide to give me a hard time about it." A bit of a pained chuckle, before he adds, "Be safe, Ser. And if you see my cousin around, any of you, please let him know I need to talk with him?"
"All right, Ser. I'll drink a toast to you special," Jarod says as he takes back his meadskin, without much resistance. "Be well, Ser Martyn. Seven keep you." With another bow, this one a little more sweeping, he's off.