Page 220: The Grey Gardens
The Grey Gardens
Summary: Bumps in the night for the military folk on Harlaw Isle.
Date: 22/02/2012
Related Logs: The other 'Invasion of Harlaw Isle' logs
Aleister Anders Bruce Dominick Einar Fenrir Gedeon Jarod Keelin Kell Martyn Pariston Quellyan Horde 
Camp — Harlaw Isle
Armies and fog.
February 22, 289AL

Having finally settled his men into their new 'home' - oh, and how he misses the comforting safety of the stone barricades - Fenrir is pacing through their orderly lines of bedrolls, ensuring that men have at least a bit of boiled beef to chew on before bedding down for the night. The news of the Piper archers seems to have everyone in a good mood - no better morale-booster than reinforcements, after all. Still, it does tend to make for more work.

"Jory, Arlin, get me twenty men. I want to make certain those archers make it here alive." The two big men - two of Fenrir's section leaders - move off to gather the soldiers as the lean master-at-arms stares off into the darkness. "Where are you, you squid bastards?" he murmurs under his breath.

"I imagine they are either drinking sea water, or fucking their wives. That is what I would be doing." comes a voice slightly off to the left of the Northman Master at Arms. In the dark it would almost be coming from the shadows itself, but the livery of one Ser Quellyan Charlton, does add a bit natural night time camoflauge. A half grin remains on his features as his helmet remains held in the crook of his arm, and his shield on his back. "Though, I envy no man going out tonight.." the Blackrood continues. "It's a darkening time..and with our flames running low-a rider might founder his horse, or any other dreadful thing.." A sniff there before he is nodding towards the northman. "Pardon if I am prying, I was coming to see how you found ourselves in our little encampment.." despite how the rest of the camp may feel, Ser Quell is at least being cordial.

A frown sets on the knight's visage for a moment before he's shrugging. "I'd offer ale or wine, but that's scattered to the winds as well. We do-though have plenty of fish.." And then his free hand is moving to hitch on his belt. "Glad you all didn't drown with the horses- Really." a chuckle there-though there is no reason for it, or mirth. It just seems to settle the knight all the same. "Ser Quellyan, at your service…" added, finally.

It's not long until shift change on the Flint pickets, and Einar is making sure he has a hot drink inside him before he does his rounds to check on their status. He has is heavy cloak draped over his armour and his bow slung on his back as he stops by oe of the remaining fires to fill a goblet with hot water for tea. Truth be told he's tired. A day and night's worth of scoting ahead will do that to a man, and he's really not lookign forward to an interupted night's sleep to keep checking the pickets.

Keelin is on his feet, in armour, and a little bit antsy. With the light fading to darkness, he takes himself on a bit of a walk, checking the lines, checking on the Mallister men who are out there, and otherwise, trying his damndest to keep things sensible and focused on the task at hand. He pauses near to one sentry, speaking low to the man, whoever he reports in to, just checking on how things are, making sure that they're not spooking.

The news of the archers' arrival on the morrow also cheers Anders, and rubbing his hands together, he raises his head, looking down the shore, through the distance. The shore is nothing strange to the Flints— the water lapping and the chill of the evening. He twists around to check on his men, his Master at Arms taking the control there.. for which he's grateful. "Master Fenrir," Anders begins, "On the morrow, we'll send men to meet them. We need them." His gaze moves towards the knight that approaches, his expression.. darker for it, even for the words of welcome. Still, civility is the course of the day, "We're used to sea travel, Ser," he raises his voice, "and with horses.. so your concern is appreciated, but misplaced, if for the moment."

Since Ser Bruce and the present Nayland men made their way to the camp a few days prior, their routine has been filled with both training and watch picket. It was decided early it was best for them not to be idle much - breakfast, morning calisthenics, maintenance, lunch, a march or pike drill, dinner, a break and then more drilling before they're released. They finished supping about an hour ago, Guards Serjeant Turner having scrounged up a small supply of flour to bake fresh bread as well as the usual fish. Their break is over now; the men stand about helping eachother get their kit together for the evening's drill. Ser Bruce is donning his mail shirt, grumbling to himself about something. His squire, nephew and signaller, Amos, sits next to him, already armoured and with a vaguely amused smirk on his features. Upon poking his head through the neck hole, Bruce frowns. "What're you so cheerful about, whelp?"

Settled with the neat spattering of men wearing Groves colors, Dominick (not Lord, not Ser) is seated on a large stone with one knee propped up slightly higher than the other, crossbow rested across it. In the dim light of a nearby torch he meticulously checks over the weapon and its bolts.

"Ser Quellyan.. I'm sorta glad we didn't drown with the horses myself. Fenrir Viiding." Fenrir's tone is a bit dry, but he offers the other man an easy grin. "I'd truly love to think that they're home buggering their wives and drinking sea water, Ser.. but I don't reckon they're that stupid." He turns toward Anders as the Lord speaks, inclining his head gravely. "I was thinking the same, Lord." He smiles crookedly to Anders, sensing the other man's fatigue, and adds "Oi, why don't you let me handle the sentries for the first six hours, Lord? You get them 'til dawn. Fair?"

Scattered to the winds and sea, only a few soldiers of House Charlton managed to remain grouped together, a meager five knights and five squires, all of whom seem to be gathered around Aleister at this point. There's quiet conversation that seems to be happening, a shaking of heads and then the group is breaking off, making their way along the ground towards where the Flint's reside. Drawing closer towards the group, Aleister's eyes shift amongst the other men, a nod coming to be offered in the direction of those gathered, along with a quick, "Northerner. Cousin. Master Fenrir." Then, the Charlton Master at Arms falls quiet for a moment.

Having finished a meal recently, Martyn is standing by his tent, examining his blade a bit carefully for the moment. He's wearing his armour except helmet and his gauntlets as he moves one of his thumbs over the edge of the blade a bit slowly, testing the sharpness of the weapon for the moment. Nodding a bit to himself, he places the weapon back where he's keeping it and looks around rather carefully.

Jarod is in the section of the camp the Terricks have planted themselves in, conversing with a small circle of purple-and-gold-clad men-at-arms. That section of the camp is well away from where the Flints have taken up residence, though those close by would note the topic of their conversation also concerns the archers due on the morrow. A popular subject in the camp presently, no doubt.

That brings a grin upon Quellyan's face for the moment before he's chuckling. And there the knight is as jovial as usual. "Nor do I, Master Fenrir." Quellyan admits before he is nodding off into the dark for a moment. "But one can hope." A glance has him looking towards Lord Anders, before he bows his head respectively. "Lord.." and luckily, there's his cousin coming to join in the fray. A turn as he watches the full compliment of House Charlton-well those that have remained together in all of the chaos of the sea churn up. "My good cousin. A joy as ever to see you, we were just talking of buggering and sea water. Anything to lend?" a joke there, but it is gone for a moment. "They found Piper archers down the way. Should be here by dawn, I reckon." Good news, is good news.

With no hostile Ironborn attacking their lines during the day after their scattered landing on the beach, Kell is only slightly relieved but he knows that the night even more dangerous as day, especially for those who are not familiar with these lands which would be the bulk of the mainland army. The news of having found a friendly force does bring some joy to the knight though it is tempered by how far they had landed on the Harlaw Isle. The Hedge Knight remains armored while he is awake with a heavy dark cloak wrapped around his body to maintain warmth. In his hands is his blade again with a whetstone, slowly sharpening it to pass time while he remains silent in thought. There is also a hot cup of water at his side, a drink to also keep the knight warm. Kell is also situated within the Terrick section of the camp as well.

Ser Gedeon Rivers is one more figure settled in the camp, armor on, weapon cleaned and ready. He drifts quietly among the groups of men clustered here and there, listening to this or that snippet of conversation or, perhaps, simply working away a growing antsiness at being on a foggy island inhabited by their enemy.

"Lord Aleister.. Welcome." Fenrir smiles crookedly to the Charlton knight, then turns his attention back out to the darkness. He tucks his helm awkwardly beneath one arm, studying the darkness with an intensity that borders on obsessive. He glances aside at Anders. "Lord Einar reports just a few scattered Ironborn," he mutters to the other man - who surely already knows it - and adds "Just doesn't sit well with me. If it were me, I'd be hitting as soon as I could, wearing us down."

Anders approaches, now, with Aleister's arrival, and his hand reaches out to grasp his friend's in greeting. "Lord Aleister.. It's good to see you well, and ready. You are free and most heartily welcome with us, know that." His mood is lightened, and turning to look at Quellyan, he simply nods before he catches Fenrir's comment. "Scattered Ironborn.." A deep breath is pulled and released slowly, "They have to know that we've landed.."

"Nothing, uncle. Just happy we've found some of our comrades, is all." Amos replies, still grinning with a shrug. Bruce grumbles something incoherent, continuing to ready up his kit. He straps on his greaves and bracers, finally popping his helmet on his head and doing up the chinstrap. "Five minutes!" He yells out to the men milling around. Levy Serjeants begin to harp on the men to assume formation, by Quarter.

Einar finishes brewing his drink then turns to Fenrir as he speaks. He thinks for a moment then shakes his head. "Thank you for the offer Master Viiding, but I'll see it though. I'll do a check once the shift changes and then get my head down for a bit." It's not as if his lads aren't doing the same anyway. "AYe, just a few scattered people. We couldn't get close enough to confirm of they were soldiers or just peasant though I'm afraid."

Shifting a glance in the direction of Quellyan, Aleister allows the smirk to drawn to his lips as his shoulders lift into the slightest of shrugs, "Not particularly, Cousin, with the exception of the fact that I dispise this game of waiting. Unknowingly." Looking to Fenrir, there's a slight bow of his head and a quick, "You're right, Master Fenrir, that would be preciously what I would do as well. Wear down one's foe, fast and hard." To Anders, there's an almost grin as he murmers, "Would be a shame if I wasn't, Northerner. I'd hate to have to go sit with some others." Then, his attention shifts to that of the men that are gathered around, regarding the group for a moment before he's looking back to those of the Flints, a nod coming to be offered in Einar's direction.

<COMBAT> Peasant 03 tries to attack but has no target!
<COMBAT> Chieftan tries to attack but has no target!
<COMBAT> Sentry passes.
<COMBAT> Peasant 04 tries to attack but has no target!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 04 tries to attack but has no target!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 02 tries to attack but has no target!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 01 attacks Sentry with Thrown Spear - Critical wound to Chest.
<COMBAT> Harlaw 01's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Peasant 05 tries to attack but has no target!
<COMBAT> Peasant 02 tries to attack but has no target!
<COMBAT> Peasant 01 tries to attack but has no target!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 05 tries to attack but has no target!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 03 attacks Sentry with Thrown Spear and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 03's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Quellyan passes.
<COMBAT> Pariston passes.
<COMBAT> Keelin has joined the combat as a soldier on team 1.
<COMBAT> Martyn passes.
<COMBAT> Kell passes.
<COMBAT> Jarod passes.
<COMBAT> Gedeon passes.
<COMBAT> Fenrir passes.
<COMBAT> Einar passes.
<COMBAT> Dominick passes.
<COMBAT> Bruce passes.
<COMBAT> Anders passes.
<COMBAT> Aleister passes.

The sentry posed to the western-most edge of the encampment leans on his spear, studying the spreading shadows of the ever-darkening twilight with as much scrutiny as a nerve-wracked man in an alien land can manage after three days. A deep breath drawn and let out as he surveys the rocky and inhospitable landscape. His solitude is broken sharply by the brief whistle of an approaching missile before the unfortunate Westerosi is wholly transfixed by the haft of a spear hurled out of the dark. A second flies past, as he topples backward, but his fall is interrupted: the bloody spearhead sinks into the sand at his back, propping the dying man up in a hideous parody of keeping his watch, as he croaks for help, hampered by the blood that wells up his throat and froths from his mouth.

Dominick's head snaps up at the sound of something thudding and stone scratching not too far off down the line. The heel of his hand taps the lock on the back of the crossbow, securing the bolt, and his green eyes squint towards the noise. Doesn't look out of the ordinary.

Having last seen Aleister in the height of fever, Einar smiles slightly as he notes the man recovered and standing before him. The nod is returned and he makes to say something before pausing and tilting his head to one side for a moment. Thinking he's heard soemthing he holds a hand up to the conversation, silently asking for quiet, before searching out the source of the noise with his eyes. THe sentry is spotted, but it takes a moment for two and two to me made into four. When it does though, he's off and running in that direction. "Here they come," he calls as he goes, swinging his bow into a more ready position and drawing a bolt from the quiver on his leg as he does so. His plan. Find a hummock, duck behind it, shoot anything that moves beyond the pickets.

Anders drops his hand after the clasp with the Master at Arms for the Charltons. "I should leave the two of you to talk of what they'd do?" There's a smile that quirks; feeling a little better, surrounded by true allies, and while things are.. hard, the armour is a little lighter for it. His own voice drops, however, and he adds, "For that, I thank you." It's a look out, again, and hearing noises, casts it off to the sounds of the island. The guards are still in place.. "This place is.."

Seemingly about to answer those that he's speaking with, Fenrir abruptly lifts his head. His eyes widen as he spots the sentry. "…Shit." Without offering any further explanation, the master-at-arms is moving in that direction alongside Einar. He doesn't raise a general outcry, not yet - he needs to be closer, to confirm what his eyes and instincts are telling him. But then the young noble cries out, and he might as well follow suit - perhaps the other man has seen something he has not. "Flints! On your feet!"

Moving and glancing about so, it's fine luck that has Gedeon watching as the sentry's posture shifts and then he… well, it's not slouching. Not really. It's… "Oh, hell," he murmurs, before saying more loudly, "To arms, men! To arms! The ironmen are on us from the west edge of camp!"

Quellyan smirks back a nod of his head in his cousin's direction. "As do I. I find if you're to play it. Having spirits in your belly makes it tolerably easier." a small part of a pause there, as he allows for his cousin to speak with the Lord Flint for a moment. "It's sort of like sailing, if you ask me…Though with less vomit and weeping." a nudge of his elbow, as he moves to slide his helm up, and on his head. "Are we running drills tonight?" An idle question, given before he is looking off towards the sentry. It really is the croaking that catches Quellyan's notice-and the rest has him turning to face the man full on, before he's moving. "Cousin!" Alarm, or perhaps should be the words on his lips.

Still the knight knows something is rotten in Denmark. "Seven hells..Form up-Form up!"

Pariston has been staying close to Einar, since that man has been his leader, since being out scouting. But then there is a sound and He turn his head to see the sentry. Noticing the dropped spear. Getting his bow ready as he follow along. Drawing an arrow from his quiver as he stands ready to shoot.

Dominick raises an eyebrow at the sudden commotion by the sentry's (still-standing) form, until the shouts start coming down the line. "Well shit," the engineer mutters, pulling his heavy booted foot off the rock and quickly standing up.

Jarod's head jerks quick around in the direction of a sound in the mist. The poor croaking made by the sentry as he's speared. "To arms, men! Something's stirring out there," he picks up on Gedeon's call sharp to the men in his little section of camp, sending one of the men-at-arms to roust those Terricks who're off duty presently. He moves nearer to Kell. "We've company looks like, Ser Drakmoor. Form up with the rest of our forces, western side."

Bruce is completely oblivious to anything that's going on outside - he's in his tent, afterall, and is just finishing putting on his equipment. The call of those in camp does catch him, finally, and his eyes go wide. He grabs his shield, slings it, his swordbelt already on and takes both his crossbow and quiver. "Stand to! Naylands, stand to!" He runs outside the tent with haste to organize his men, more concerned with them than what's outside, yet.

Keelin is heading out to the sentry, but as he turns to the west, he does catch that there is something not right, just as alarms go up all over camp. The Mallister Knight calls out, "To arms! They're at the western edge," echoing the calls of various others, and he heads swiftly to that direction to join in the fight. Okay, he has his sword drawn and he runs.

The motion of Kell's hand running the whetstone over one side of his blade to sharpen the edge stops as the knight's ears catches the eerie sound of some sort of cry and weapon clattering to the ground. At first, the Hedge Knight thought he was just hearing things and was on edge but when he sees that others in the large camp are beginning to react, "Damn, they're finally upon us. Was wondering how long it would take." Kell does give Jarod a nod as the whetstone is put away and he rises to his feet to move to defend the camp from the attackers, "Warrior bless our blades so we swing true, Ser Rivers. Time for justice to be done." With that, he is on the move to engage the incoming Ironborn, feet carrying towards the front.

Noticing the same thing as a number of the others, Martyn's steps takes him over to where he's kept the few remaining parts of his armor, kept nearby, and gets those things on him, before starting to draw his sword, and picking up the shield. "We waited for them, and here they come," he mutters, mostly to himself, before he makes his way over at a run to join the others defending the camp.

A simple chuckle comes to be offered to Anders, for it's then that Aleister hears something and his eyes shift in the direction of that sentry. While Fenrir begins to rally the Flints, Aleister is already turning to those Knight's that had accompanied him, along with Quellyan, so as to offer, "Ready yourselves, men. Form up and provide support to the Flints. Listen to Master Fenrir .." A nod is offered in the other Master at Arms direction, ".. for direction." Now, the large, two handed mace comes to be hefted upwards to rest against his shoulder as he looks to the distance before flitting his eyes in the direction of Quellyan, "It would seem that it's time, Cousin." This Charlton doesn't form up, though, for he's already beginning to take a few steps forward, perhaps quite intent of exacting some measure of personal revenge.

With the new hew and cry, Anders takes the moment to grab his helm, strap it on.. and second Fenrir's call to arms. Particularly as he now hears directionals. "From the west.. Up, form up, Flints! Einar!" Damn an excitable squire.. damn his cousin. "Back here and form!" The Young Lord Flint doesn't move beyond there, however.. and he moves to stand beside the small Charlton contingent. "This time, we'll fight side by side, truly."

Mindful that things might start flying through the air towards him at any moment, Dominick braces his crossbow and aims a bolt into the crowd of Ironborn, trying to cut into the strength of the wave that their own footsoliders are about to meet.

<COMBAT> Harlaw 02 attacks Dominick with Thrown Axe - ARMOR on Neck stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 02's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Chieftan attacks Bruce with Thrown Spear - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Chieftan's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Sentry passes.
<COMBAT> Peasant 05 attacks Quellyan with Hunting Bow and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Peasant 03 attacks Keelin with Thrown Spear and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Peasant 03's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Peasant 02 attacks Jarod with Thrown Spear - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Peasant 02's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Harlaw 03 attacks Einar with Thrown Axe - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 03's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Harlaw 01 attacks Aleister with Thrown Axe - ARMOR on Neck stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 01's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Peasant 04 attacks Pariston with Thrown Spear and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Peasant 04's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Peasant 01 attacks Kell with Thrown Spear but MISSES!
<COMBAT> Peasant 01's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Harlaw 05 attacks Gedeon with Thrown Spear - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Harlaw 05's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Harlaw 04 attacks Fenrir with Thrown Axe and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 04's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Quellyan passes.
<COMBAT> Pariston takes careful aim at Peasant 03.
<COMBAT> Martyn passes.
<COMBAT> Kell passes.
<COMBAT> Keelin passes.
<COMBAT> Jarod passes.
<COMBAT> Gedeon passes.
<COMBAT> Fenrir passes.
<COMBAT> Einar attacks Peasant 03 with Crossbow - Light wound to Left Arm.
<COMBAT> Einar's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Dominick attacks Harlaw 01 with Crossbow and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Dominick's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Bruce passes.
<COMBAT> Anders passes.
<COMBAT> Aleister passes.

<COMBAT> Peasant 03 has been KO'd!

"For Grey Garden and the Reaper!" comes the rough shout from the western countryside, answered with a wordless, surging shout, intended to inspire panic in their enemies and up spring a nhumber of ironborn, hurling axes and spear at the invaders. A raiding party, rather than the assault lines seen on the mainland, only about half of the Ironborn carry shields.

"Form the shield-wall! Form lines!" Fenrir reaches over his shoulder to draw his axe and shield, his eyes narrowing as he studies the darkness. The Flints are well-trained, and they're responding quickly, hurrying toward the sound of alarums being raised; the master-at-arms halts alongside Einar, becoming the focal point around which his men fall in.

Out of the darkness, another wave of spears and axes comes lashing toward the encampment. Spotting one that hurtles directly at him, Fenrir raises his shield and knocks it aside. "Shields up, boys! Shields!" Around him, Flint men-at-arms are rushing forward and forming a hasty battle-line to repel the raiders. He casts a quick, alert glance around himself, noting Anders' position and that of the Charltons. "Steady, lads. For the Finger!

Although many among the incloming hail of hurled bolts strike against the bodies of the Westerosi warriors, the castle forged steel turns aside the worst of the violence, and while some among the charging chivalry are bloodied, none have fallen to the Harlaws.

The warriors in maile shirts haul forward their shields and draw weapons, striking thier sword pommels and axe hafts against shield rims in a rolling rumble as the charging Rivermen draw closer. the unarmored churls run for distance, hurling a second wave of spears as they flee.

Dominick has a Harlaw right in his sights. Aim…aim…steady, when*clonk*a GOD DAMN AXE comes flying through the air and clangs off the scantily-armored side of his neck. His hand raises and his bolt goes off target, flying uselessly into the darkness and dirt. "Fuck!." Feeling bent metal scratching up his skin just above his collarbone, he coughs as he quickly starts loading a new bolt.

Einar notes the fall of his target with grim satisfaction and is about to up and move back towards better cover when the line forms around him. Staying where he is, he uses the cover of the others to reload. The axe that that thumbs haft-first into his chest is certainly distracting, but it doesn;t fully wind hi, just give him oause for a second or two. Once he's reloaded though he scans the opposing lines for a likely source though, figuring there are good an option to hit back at as any.

As Bruce is rallying the Nayland levies and Guardsmen together, he has his back to the entrance of the camp. A stupid mistake, and one that costs him when the Ironborn Chieftain throws a spear which catches him right in the back of his mail shirt. Ser Bruce goes down with a crash, his crossbow falling to the ground and the string snapping on the weapon. His squire Amos runs to help him get up, and the dazed Ser Bruce shakes his off - the mail shirt has saved him from serious injury, though blood trickles down. Seeing his ranged weapon is useless, he shifts his shield off of his back. "Naylands, on me!" He draws his sword, raising it in the air and forms with the rest of the men. The Guards and Mire levies, shields up, move to engage the enemy.

It's time, and Anders steps forward, flanking his own men.. his weapon out and ready. He raises his shield and calls out, "Men of steel! Men of Flint!". The men call out their response first to their Master at Arms, and seconds it to the call from their Young Lord. Aleister is searched for quickly, and found.. a broad smile coming to his face. "Ready, my Lord Charlton?"

Gedeon draws his sword as the raiding party makes itself know and beings throwing the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune (or, at least, spears and axes and the like). He charges towards the men, head down, body turned in hopes of avoiding the flying weaponry. He's not so lucky, however, and a spear gouges into his chest, causing the bastard knight to grunt and stagger back before continuing forward, towards the man who struck him.

Already moving forward, Aleister catches sight of a spear that lances towards him at the last moment and it's only with a slight shift of his body that he's able to take the tip of the weapon along the armor that protects his neck. Still, it's a jarring thing, the impact and clatter of the spear that then falls to the ground and it takes only a moment for him to spot one fo the men that threw it. A low growl begins to sound and as his mace is lifted from his shoulder, he's calling out in the direction of Anders, "Indeed, Northerner! Let us stain the ground red with their blood!". Then, as he approaches the first of the men, he's taking a viscious swing at the head of one of the Ironborn.

Pariston aims on his target, but the man goes down before he can shoot. Then noticing the spear heading for him, Pariston moves to the side. Getting ready to fire at a new target.

Jarod has formed up in short order with the Terrick men-at-arms, to hold their place on the western side of camp. They know their business by now, between the siege and breaking of the same at Seagard. Shields are raised to meet the oncoming rush of spears. Ser Rivers fights two hands on sword, however, so he's lacking in one, and he's little room to dodge. A spear glances off his breastplate, but it pierces little under the armor. "For the Roost men!" he hollers.

"Aye, let's!" comes Anders' rejoinder. As they begin their run down, however, he simply can't find it to take a swing at anyone but one who begins their swing at his Flint Master at Arms. While Fenrir is more than capable of taking care of himself, well.. Anders has to protect his man's back..

Sharp flying objects are usually not a good thing when you're on the receiving end and for Kell it is no different. Whether it is by luck or pure reaction, the Hedge Knight sees a spear flying at him and flinches at the last second. However, he didn't exactly dodge it, the Ironborn that threw the spear had bad aim and the spear flew inaccurately, falling harmlessly to the side. Adrenaline pumping through his veins now, Kell maintains a fast run as his eyes fixes on the Ironborn that had been intent on impaling him and as he draws near while he yells out angrily, "Come back here you cravens! Stand and fight you salt fairies!"

Keelin's run throws off the fellow attacking him this turn, as the spear sent his way goes wide. A slight grin crosses the sworn knight's face, not that it's visible really, and Keelin continues in, sword raised to attack the first Ironborn that finds his pitiful soul in Kee's sights. Into Battle! "Mallister!"

There's a laugh as the Blackrood moves with his Cousin and kin. A howling laugh that comes with the whizzing of an arrow on by. The feel of battle in the veins and the ringing of steel. With shield up and sword drawn, Quellyan charges into the fray, his good cousin aiming high, and the knight moves to catch the man charging in on the flank. "Come at me your Bastard. Come at me! Hollyholt!" seems to be the cry with the laughter in his lungs. As sword swings low, and the shield is brought in to bear.

Okay, the attack has come now. That means it's time to move in against those enemies, and Martyn gets ready for it. Moving for one of those nearest ones, he doesn't make a cry at the moment, just prepares to strike at the enemy. After all, the others are doing the crying out loud part well enough now.

<COMBAT> Harlaw 04 attacks Fenrir with Sword & Shield but Fenrir DODGES!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 05 attacks Gedeon with Bludgeon & Shield but Gedeon DODGES!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 01 attacks Aleister with Sword & Shield - ARMOR on Head stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Chieftan attacks Quellyan with Polearm - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Sentry passes.
<COMBAT> Peasant 02 attacks Kell with Thrown Spear and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Peasant 02's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Peasant 01 attacks Kell with Thrown Spear - Moderate wound to Chest.
<COMBAT> Peasant 01's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Harlaw 02 attacks Martyn with Bludgeon & Shield and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Peasant 05 attacks Jarod with Thrown Spear - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Peasant 05's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Peasant 04 attacks Jarod with Thrown Spear - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Peasant 04's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Harlaw 03 attacks Keelin with Spear & Shield - Light wound to Right Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Quellyan attacks Chieftan with Sword & Shield - ARMOR on Left Arm stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Pariston attacks Peasant 04 with Hunting Bow - Light wound to Chest.
<COMBAT> Martyn attacks Harlaw 02 with Sword & Shield - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Kell attacks Peasant 01 with Greatsword but Peasant 01 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Keelin attacks Harlaw 03 with Greatsword but Harlaw 03 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Jarod attacks Peasant 02 with Greatsword - Serious wound to Chest.
<COMBAT> Gedeon attacks Harlaw 05 with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Fenrir attacks Harlaw 04 with Bludgeon & Shield but Harlaw 04 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Einar reloads.
<COMBAT> Dominick reloads.
<COMBAT> Bruce attacks Chieftan with Sword & Shield - Light wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Anders attacks Harlaw 04 with Sword & Shield and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Aleister attacks Harlaw 01 with Polearm - Critical wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).

<COMBAT> Peasant 02 has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Quellyan has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Quellyan spends a luck point to keep fighting!

The ironborn warriors punctuate their rattling of weapons on sheild rims with the chieftan's shout of, "Reap!" and in an instant the melee is joined. The unarmored, shieldless peasantry flee westward through the rocks and gullies, away from the steel of Westerosi knights and armsmen, while th warriors linger another few moments, seeking a measure of blood before they follow suit.

As the two lines clash, Fenrir roars over the sound of battle, "Men of iron, men of Flint! Kill them all!" One of the Ironborn comes at him in the rush, his sword hacking toward Fenrir's neck; the master-at-arms deftly swings his roundshield out, catching the weapon on the rim and taking it out wide. His own riposte misses the other man's shield-arm as well, however, and the two are locked toe-to-toe for now. "//Drive it home, soldiers!"

Pariston stays at a distance, with his bow. Letting go and seeing the arrow soaring towards his target, but it only makes a light wound to the man. So again he readies his bow to fire. Eyes, keeping to be looking around. Preparing to send another arrow flying.

The wound his friend has given the Ironborn pulls a cheer from Anders, and a barked laugh rises. "There you go, Aleister! Give the mongrel whore-sons a taste." Even while Fenrir begins his dance of death with his opponent, even a jab can't get into the Harlaw's defense. He misses, but that's probably due to the movement and dodge as the Ironborn tries not to die at the Flint Master at Arm's sword.

Coming upon his opponent properly, Gedeon hears all the various cries going up for each man's place. "Oldstones!" he calls and then, with a flash of a grin, "and Stonebridge!" the Harlaw man swings at him, but this time Gedeon's ready and leans out of the way. His own blade evens the score, returns the cut Gedeon took to the chest from his spear with a slice the Harlaw man takes across the same spot.

Reloaded and ready to find a new target for his bolts, Einar ducks briefly behind the Flint line, looking left and right for both an opening and target. Spotting something that might be of use, he moves a pace or so closer to Fenrir and takes aim through a slight gap in the line that's formed due to the close combat. "Bow coming into line on your left," he calls to the MAster at Arms, so the man doesn't step into his line of fire. A moment to make sure of the aim, a momen to breath, and then another bolt is loosed towards the enemy.

The Nayland pikemen stay back to hold the line and protect the camp, largely. However, their Guardsmen surge forward and charge as a coherent front, in an obviously well practiced manoever. Unfortunately for them, the broken ground and gravestones begin to seperate them, though in small groups they still stand together. They meet the Chieftain and those around him with a crash of shields, swords striking out. Ser Bruce goes directly for the Chieftain himself, unaware that this same man was the one who struck him with a spear. The Stonebridge Captain's sword finds his enemy's neck, but barely does more than a scratch, stopped by the man's mail coif. He leans back, steadying himself with his shield out and goes for another quick strike of his sword tip at the man.

As the second wave of spears fly at Kell, he isn't as lucky as the first time though there are two times as many spears flying at him this time. The first one flies wide but it also helps bracket the Hedge Knight as the second one slices into his chest at an angle just as he reaches the first Ironborn that was attacking him, causing him to curse loudly. It isn't imbedded in his body so the Hedge Knight fights on but the hit and the sharp pain causes his first cut to miss. With a growl, Kell tightens his grip on his longsword and cuts again at the Ironborn he has engaged with.

And Like that, the man does come, as Sword meets the armored arm of the chieftain he is knocked back down with the blow. Thankfully the armor doesn't break, but it does dent, and he will feel it in his ribs come morning. Gritting his teeth, the knight finds his way back up. His shield slamming out to protect any blow coming in. And as the Naylanders come about him, Quell continues to strike low, using the shield to his benefit. "Big Ol' bear.." the blackrood rumbles out.

Althought the Ironborn that he's engaging manages to land a blow against his head, the helm that Aleister has worn managed to absorb the impact of the blow. Fortunately (or unfortunately for the Ironborn), the Charlton Master at Arms manages to land his viscious blow and it comes with a quick, "Give my regards to Lord Volmark!" But, something in the corner of his vision catches his attention and as Quellyan is knocked to the ground, he's calling out, "Hold on, Quell!" Eyes shift back to the Harlaw man and this time, Aleister is lashing out with another viscious blow, still aiming for the other man's head.

Dominick pushes forward with a clump of crossbowmen, the sword strapped to his back clangingon his armor as he lowers the bow just long enough to sprint into closer range. The noise of metal on metal sets the engineer's teeth on edge, his focus down the line of his bolt towards the enemy.

The sword of the Harlaw finds Keelin's arm, as the man nimbly dodges away from Kee's greatsword swing. The joy of surprise is certainly gone for the reavers, as well as the Westerosi. Kee cusses under his breath as he feels that little sting, but his eyes narrow and he continues into the fray, sword slashing at the Harlaw in front of him, yet again.

Going head to head with the Harlaw man that he was trying to get to, Martyn seems to follow the 'strike your enemy before he can strike you' tactic as he swings his sword straight for the man's chest, forcing his opponent to miss with his own try now. "Do me a favor," he growls in the direction of the Ironborn man as he swings again, this time for the man's head. "And just die!"

Jarod is fighting alongside Kell, the two-handed strength behind his longsword now coming in rather handy. A sharp forward thrust sinks into the chest of one of the Ironborn, and Jarod has to move back quickly to unstick his blade as the man falls. "They're breaking! Focus on those still pressing our line!" he calls to the hedge knight, shifting as the peasants run to focus on the squid men-at-arms. He ends up fighting near Gedeon, as it happens.

<COMBAT> Harlaw 01 attacks Aleister with Sword & Shield and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Peasant 05 passes.
<COMBAT> Peasant 04 passes.
<COMBAT> Peasant 01 passes.
<COMBAT> Harlaw 05 attacks Gedeon with Bludgeon & Shield but Gedeon DODGES!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 04 attacks Fenrir with Sword & Shield - ARMOR on Right Arm stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 03 attacks Keelin with Spear & Shield - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Chieftan attacks Bruce with Polearm - Serious wound to Abdomen.
<COMBAT> Harlaw 02 attacks Martyn with Bludgeon & Shield but Martyn DODGES!
<COMBAT> Quellyan attacks Chieftan with Sword & Shield but Chieftan DODGES!
<COMBAT> Pariston attacks Harlaw 05 with Hunting Bow and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Martyn attacks Harlaw 02 with Sword & Shield - Critical wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Kell attacks Peasant 01 with Greatsword - Serious wound to Right Arm.
<COMBAT> Keelin attacks Harlaw 03 with Greatsword but Harlaw 03 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Jarod attacks Harlaw 05 with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Right Arm.
<COMBAT> Gedeon attacks Harlaw 05 with Greatsword - Serious wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Fenrir attacks Harlaw 04 with Bludgeon & Shield - NEAR MISS!
<COMBAT> Einar attacks Harlaw 04 with Crossbow - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Einar's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Dominick attacks Chieftan with Crossbow - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Dominick's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Bruce attacks Chieftan with Sword & Shield - Light wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Anders attacks Harlaw 04 with Sword & Shield but Harlaw 04 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Aleister attacks Harlaw 01 with Polearm - Serious wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).

<COMBAT> Chieftan has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Harlaw 05 has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Peasant 01 has been KO'd!

Fenrir hears Einar's words, and he dodges to the right as the other man steps up. "Drive it home, you sons of the North! Break them!" He smashes his shield's rim toward the nose of his opponent, simultaneously hacking his axe in a sideways chop toward the man's temple. Simultaneously, the other man's sword glances off Fenrir's vambrace with a screech of metal. Fenrir's blows both miss as the man staggers backward, a crossbow bolt buried into his chest. "Well shot, Einar!"

The Harlaw man moves to strike Gedeon again, and again the blond bastard dodges before loosing his own blade, the sword that once belonged to his father. It strikes true and deep, cutting into the ironer across the chest again. His blood runs and the Hawlaw crumples to the ground.

While numbers had been difficult to determine in the opening moments of the ambush (Indeed, the more cautious among the camp might have thought such a charge foolhardy), as the Westerosi come to close quarters it becomes clear that the weight of numbers is with them, as is the advantage in quality. As their chieftan takes a blade and bolt in answer for his own axe-blow, and falls, the remainder of the Ironborn flee the field, less panicked than simply outmatched.

Einar mutters to himself a moment as the Ironman attacking Fenrir refuses to go down. "Stepping back to reload," he says, load enough for those within a pace or two to hear. He'll be back once he can fire again but htere's not point presenting a basically defenseless target. HE briefly ponders switching to his sword, but then notices the lins starting to break. Range, definately still a need for range right now.

Unfortunately for Ser Bruce, his defensive posture doesn't help him any. His strike finds the Chieftain's abdomen again, but to make the strike he's lowered his shield some. Just the critical amount, it turns out, when the chieftain's battle axe swings just above the rim of his shield. Bruce's last minute twitch doesn't help, and the axe comes crashing into his stomach in a terrible blow that both splits links and knocks the wind out of him. He goes tumbling back, head over heels.

Pariston moves as his last shot misses his target. But nothing he can do about it. Just moviing along a bit, trying to find an opening to fire away his next shot. Moving the side of Einar. His bow raised and loaded with an arrow. Making sure no one will be standing in the way before letting go of another shot.

By the time Kell hears the words from Ser Rivers, the Hedge Knight's blade is already whistling through the air and this time the sharp steel finds purchase in salted flesh as the Ironborn Peasant takes a rather grevious cut in the arm, leaving a bloody mess. The longsword managed to cut through the flesh of the peasant's arm so Kell doesn't delay as he answers Jarod, "Understood, Ser Rivers!" Turning around instead of giving chase to the fleeing peasants, Kell runs after Jarod to join the fight with the Harlaw reavers who seem intent on retreating as well. Instead of running and swinging this time, the Hedge Knight seems to have a plan, if the Ironborn survives the attacks from his brothers in arm, Kell would attempt to tackle one of the fleeing Harlaw man to take prisoner. They could use some intel on the enemy positions since this did not seem like a well planned attack to push them back into the sea. "Gonna try to take this one alive!" He calls out as a warning, so the others don't accidently cut him instead.

This time Aleister dodges to the left of the sword that whistles in his direction, but it would seem he's intent on batting the head clean off the Ironborn before him, for once again his mace strikes the man and yet .. the bastard doesn't fall. This draws a low growl from the man's lips and a muttered, "Just. Fucking. Die." The two handed mace comes to be drawn back, though this time it just comes to be swung in the general direction of the opposing man's upper body.

Anders simply can't seem to connect; and with a strike of the sword, the Ironborn seems to dodge easily.. though perhaps his dodging both the Young Lord and the Flint's Master at Arms has placed him directly in the path of Lord Einar's bolt.. and the piece of wood buries itself into the Harlaw's chest. "Bastard.. catch him." Now this is when one grabs an Ironborn to get plans. It's all in timing.. and in a grab play, he makes a run for the bastard with the Flint bolt.. time to subdue.

"I'm fine Aleister!" Quell hollers out, once the Chieftain has been brought low, by a bolt. A shake of his head, before he's turning a looking towards His cousin. "Thank whoever shot that bastard.." the knight mutters. There's a slight glance to Bruce, but he does not linger on as he is moving to aid his cousin now. His try? run em through. The back if the bugger runs..Less tricky armor there.

Dominick spots the chieftan attacking Bruce just as the Ironborn's polearm slices into the Nayland-sworn knight. He drops to one knee in the dirt, firing upwards and straight into the enemy man's chestplate during the precious second of opening. The crash of the Chieftan falling barely concerns him as he scoots back on his knee closer to the bleeding Bruce, quickly starting to reload again. "Ser! Can you hear me?"

Martyn was aiming for the head of his opponent, that's true. But as he has to duck out of the way of an incoming attack at the same time, he ends up driving his sword into the abdomen of the enemy. Moving in to try once more, he shakes his head, "Impressive of you," he mutters. "But now, Ironborn Scum, you die!" And swings again.

Keelin manages to not get hit this time, ducking out of the way, but it also means that his return strike missed as well. And now the bloody Ironborn are .. He roars a challenge and throws himself at the Harlaw, intent on tackling him to the ground. "Cowards!" he calls out, though realizing that they might be a tad overwhelmed, he still lets his frustration be known.

<COMBAT> Harlaw 04 passes.
<COMBAT> Harlaw 03 passes.
<COMBAT> Harlaw 01 passes.
<COMBAT> Harlaw 02 passes.
<COMBAT> Quellyan attacks Harlaw 01 with Sword & Shield - Serious wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Pariston attacks Harlaw 01 with Hunting Bow - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Martyn attacks Harlaw 02 with Sword & Shield but Harlaw 02 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Kell subdues Harlaw 03!
<COMBAT> Keelin attempts to subdue Harlaw 03 but finds them already subdued.
<COMBAT> Jarod attacks Harlaw 03 with Greatsword but Harlaw 03 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Gedeon attacks Harlaw 03 with Greatsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Fenrir attacks Harlaw 04 with Bludgeon & Shield but Harlaw 04 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Einar reloads.
<COMBAT> Dominick reloads.
<COMBAT> Bruce passes.
<COMBAT> Anders tries to subdue Harlaw 04 but fails.
<COMBAT> Aleister attacks Harlaw 01 with Polearm - Serious wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).

The Nayland Guards are alarmed at the sight of their commander going down, their attack wavering for a moment or two. Guardsman Serjeant Stefan Turner, though, their second in command, rallies them with a loud scream, "On with it, Naylands! MIRE!" Bruce's squire, Amos, is sticking to his job as he's been told - that of signaller. He blows the pursue blast into the horn, and the Guards take off behind the retreating Ironborn.

Bruce, for his part, is down for more than a moment before he's able to breath again. The first thing he does when he gets his wind back is lean up and cough up blood. "Aye.. aye.." His eyes are watery and he does not look like he's all there. He pushes himself up to a crouch, using his shield on the ground to force himself there.

Perhaps it is because the Harlaw did not see Kell coming but the Hedge Knight was able to subdue the Ironborn successfully with a blindsided tackle. The bulk of his weight, with chainmail on is enough to knock the reaver down off of his feet and now the knight is attempt to keep the man pinned down, unable to fight. "YIELD, saltbreath and we won't kill you! Yield!" Kell growls out a loud warning to the Harlaw while they struggle for dominance and position, knowing that soon the others will be nearby to assist in capturing this particular Ironborn.

The tackled 'Saltbreath' seems none too inclined to trust to Westerosi mercy, for some reason and tries to shove Kell by the face off of him, to enable a dash for freedom, but the Harlaw warrior is rapidly becoming surrounded.

As the Harlaws break and run, Fenrir drives his axe toward his fleeing opponent - and catches only air. The man disappears after the others, successfully escaping the wrath of both the Flint Master-at-arms and their heir. "Hold! Do not go after them!" He raises his axe to try to draw the attention of the other Flints, casting a look around to survey their status. "Well done, lads!"

"On your left again," Einar states for Fenrir's benifit. With the bolt ready to go, he spots Anders in his line of fire and quickly sweeps his bow around looking for another target. Spotting the struggle at the Terrick lines he doesn't interfer but instead aims for another Ironborn that he sees trying to slip away. It's not the clearest of shots, and the light realy isn;t woth him, but it's certainly still worth expending a bolt.

"They're running away," Dominick informs Bruce, mildly. "Them, I mean, not us. Rest yourself, you're bleeding everywhere and I'm no chiurgeon." He lifts the crossbow again, looking down the field, but lowers it slightly at the sight of all their men around one. Oh well, there's still one running. Archer free for all.

Perhaps the Harlaw man was busy moving away from Gedeon as he swings at him, or perhaps Kell is just very quick. Either way, Gedeon's blade runs wide, but the ironborn is tackled to the ground. Breathing roughly, he points the tip of his blade towards the Harlaw man's throat. "I should heed the ser's advice."

When it's apparent that the Ironborn are quickly getting away, more familiar with the terrain, the Nayland Guard are called to a halt. They begin to edge back where they came from, cautiously so as not to cut off their archers' arcs.

It appears, House Charlton is not taking any prisoners tonight, given the sudden and ferocious attack that both cousins give to the fleeing Harlaw man. There's a grunt, as the mace comes down to catch the bastard's head, and his own sword comes out, dancing on the man's neck with brutual ease. There's a bit of a laugh as he holds in his charge, before he's looking back to his Cousin. "Nice hit.." Quell offers, before his sword fist is held out, for a punch of knuckles. There's a bit of panting from the Blacrood before he's looking over. "that was easy.."

Jarod steps back some once Kell has the Ironman on the ground, though only to reposition himself. Greatsword still hefted and pointed in the direction of the hedge knight's would-be prisoner. Taking part in the surrounding. "You'll live if you surrender and not be treated harshly. Upon our honor," he says to the squid.

Keelin misses his target, due to the fact that someone else tackled him first. Great minds and all that. Or something. Anyway, Kee manages not to hurt himself with the tackle and then he gets to his feet, turning to watch and ready to attack if he needs to.

Swinging for the retreating enemy, Martyn frowns as the Harlaw man dodges his blow. "Come back here and fight, you coward! Don't go running home to your mother now." He shakes his head a bit.

<COMBAT> Martyn passes.
<COMBAT> Kell continues to subdue Harlaw 03.
<COMBAT> Keelin passes.
<COMBAT> Jarod passes.
<COMBAT> Gedeon passes.
<COMBAT> Fenrir passes.
<COMBAT> Einar attacks Harlaw 02 with Crossbow - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Einar's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Dominick attacks Harlaw 02 with Crossbow - Moderate wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Dominick's weapon clicks empty.
<COMBAT> Bruce passes.
<COMBAT> Anders passes.
<COMBAT> Aleister passes.

Pariston sees his arrow hitting it's target in the chest. Moving a bit to stay close by. Seeing some running away. Though he stays quiet. Trying to ready to fire again. And it is another light hit to his new target.

Anders watches around him, now, allowing for the others to do what they will. Instead, he takes a step back and lowers his sword and shield, finished. Now, he can see some of the damage of the battlefield, and the worst wounded, other than their guard, is.. Ser Bruce. Looking about for a maester, or at least something that vaguely resembles on, he catches Jarod's words and smirks mirthlessly as he passes, his concern for the Nayland knight. "Maester.. medic! Here!"

"Stop… struggling…" Kell growls as he continues to counter the Harlaw's maneuvers to escape from his grasp. Luckily, the Hedge Knight is use to scraps and dirty fighting so an added knee to the midsection of the Ironborn is delivered to knock the air out of the reaver's lungs, not to do much harm like a blade would. "Yield! You are surrounded, your friends have fled or are dead! Yield and you will live!"

As two blows from the Charlton's catch the Ironborn in the neck, Aleister is simply giving a shake of his head as the man manages to escape past them. Eyes then flit to Quellyan, the smirk returning to his lips as he gives a a low chuckle, "Slippery fucking bastards, Cousin. He's as good as dead, though I would have prefered his head to place upon a pike this 'eve. Suppose I will have to wait another day for such a thing." Now, his eyes shift about, seeking the Flints and Anders and Fenrir in particular as he calls out, "Northerner! How fare .." Oh, wait, Anders is calling for a Maester. It takes a moment to catch to whom such a thing is being called for and there's a momentary look to Bruce before he's looking back to Quellyan, so as to murmer, "Better a Nayland then a Charlton. Would you not agree, Cousin?"

Bruce is able to stop his head from swimming, though he's got to put his sword and shield down in front of him and lean forward to do so. He breathes deep for a few moments before snapping to, and realizing that yes, he is rather grievously injured. The Stonebridge Captain reaches for a side pouch on his belt, his hands shaking. He begins to withdraw something wrapped in oilskin, the size of a fist. "Help me… help me out of the armour." Again, he leans forward, plucking his helmet off and hopefully making it easier for someone to pull his mail shirt off of his head. He's not talking to anyone in particular.

The pinned warrior's effort to escape the clutches of the invaders is stymied, and with a growing number of swordpoints levelled at his face, the Harlaw man exhales, and lets his head slump against the thin earth below him. "We've seen your fucking honor, Riverman," he grunts, resigned. His struggles cease, and the man makes no effort to prevent eing deprives of his spear and belt knife. By his arms, the young warrior would be among the poorest of the armored warriors.

Dominick fires his readied bolt at the fleeing Harlaw, just barely able to make out the sprayed mist of blood that pops from the retreater's neck. That'll water the grass for a bit. He glances at the group working on the last living enemy and then turns his attention back to Bruce. "Yeah, sure." Good thing there's direction else he might've just contemplated the shape of the blood drops for a while. He sets his weapon down where he can grab it in a hurry and braces his knee, quickly helping Bruce get the mail off.

"If his head remains on his shoulders. But I bet his ink shan't last long enough for him to make it home. If you want, you an I can go skipping out tomorrow to collect it. " said with a grin from behind his helmet. There's a turn of his head back out to the dark as his sword remains in his hand. Though given the question, Quellyan does turn his head for a brief moment and frown upon seeing Ser Bruce.

"Aye, Coz." he adds briefly. "Though, that man, I do like. I hope he lives.." Though if Bruce doesn't, he'll have one hell of a wake.

"Wounded to the maesters! Lord Einar! Double the pickets for the rest of the night. Jory, have half the men stand down for now; the other half stays in kit, 'case these lads want to come back and play." Fenrir laughs as he slides his axe back into its shoulder-holster, turning to look for Anders. But he sees that his Lord is off trying to get a maester for.. Bruce. Oh. Shit. The Flint Master-at-Arms moves toward the Nayland knight as well, his gaze half on him, half on the darkness outside the camp. "Oi, Bruce," he murmurs as he takes a knee beside him. "Hope your wife likes scars, mate," he offers in a jocular tone.

Anders begins to put his sword and shield aside when Dominick does so, and as the man begins to take the knight's armour off, he moves it aside to a safe location. With nothing more, truly, that he can do (he knows nothing of first aid), Anders looks to his Master at Arms, "He'll be okay.." he hopes. "Maester!" is called again.

As the one he was fighting is out of range, Martyn lowers his shield and his sword a bit carefully, letting out a deep breath as he looks around. First looking to the one it seems they've captured, eyeing the man rather carefully for the moment, before he looks over at Bruce, grimacing as he sees how the man is at the moment.

"We, /Rivermen/, aren't the ones that killed your holy man. Reaver. Your people have done much worse to those who lived at the Roost so don't you try to guilt me with shit from your mouth." Kell answers back with some venom in his words, "But you will live as our captive, boy, be glad because you can die rather easily, despite what they try to teach you here on the Isles." With the Ironborn finally disarmed, the Hedge Knight slowly rises to his feet but he also keeps a hold on the reaver's arm, roughly pulling the man to his feet as well. "We need rope, to tie up this prisoner! And he is /not/ to be killed!" The knight calls out, as if to ensure that those in the area hears so no mistakes are made with the excuse of ignorance.

"And we have seen yours," Gedeon replies to the Harlaw man. "Atrocities committed on both sides, we are none of us innocents." He removes his blade enough that the Ironborn can rise and hand off his weapons, though he keeps it out and ready, should the fellow decide to bolt.

Keelin is just as happy to see the fellow surrender. Given that, he takes a breath, and then turns to look around to see what else is going. It certainly seems the fight is done, at first glance. He nods to Kell, glances to see that there's enough folks here to hold the one prisoner, and gives Gedeon a nod as well. Looks like they've got that well in hand, and he's not got rope. So, he turns to find Martyn to make sure that all's well. Never mind he probably should have stuck with the Mallister in the first place.

"If she don't, I'd already been in trouble." Sputters Bruce, coughing violently for a moment. He settles down, leaning pack and uncorking a very small wooden vile, whose off white, granular contents he pours all over the wound. He grunts in pain, wincing, but finishes the job. Whatever the poultice was, it was obviously not very pleasant. After he applies a piece of clean, white cloth from the oil skin, then begins to wrap a more coarse looking one around it. He has to stop once or twice to catch his breath, or spit thick red mucus on the ground.

"Fetch some rope to tie his hands," Jarod calls to a handy Terrick man-at-arms. A bit behind Kell, but it gets the job done, and he jogs off to do just that. He looks to Kell, tensing slight as the whole killing holy man thing is mentioned. "Hold your counsel with this one, Ser," he says tersely. "Tell him nothing. Our honor shall be proven - or not - upon the field. Ser Drakmoor, he is your prisoner. Keep him under your personal guard until we sort out the holding of him. Are you all right, Ser? You require a healer?" He takes that moment to stock of the condition of the men around him, while he's at it. Wincing as he sees the cluster around Bruce.

Wow, gross. Dominick's eye squints slightly at the blood and reddish gobbets of whatever coming from Bruce, and he clears his throat. "You have a maester here at your service?" He asks, partly to Bruce and partly to the unfamiliar other faces now clustered around. His attention flickers away once or twice, to the north at the corner of his eye.

"You ugly bastard, I think I'm in love," quips Fenrir to Bruce as he watches the man tend his own wounds. He looks up to Anders and nods slightly, offering the Young Lord a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine, Lord Anders. Look at all these scars. This man here's going to live forever, at this rate. Every scar makes him tougher." He forces a laugh, then raises his voice to add to Anders. "Maester!" A brief pause, as he looks down to Bruce. "While I got you on your backside, mate.. You want me to tell your little princes to double their pickets?" His attention is briefly diverted by a glow in the distance; likely an Ironborn camp, but a ways off, and so he dismisses it.

There's a squint from Quellyan, as he looks out into the distance, the faint glow catching his attention, though from the North as opposed to the south. There's an intake of breath, before he is nudging his cousin. "I don't think the sun lingers this long in this country, does it?" The Blackrood hesitates before turning his shield being brought up. "More?"

"Halfsepton. Marsden Streem. With the levies. Talk to Serjeant Turner." Is Bruce's answer to those around. He seems unwilling to say anything else, evidently requiring most of his focus on what he's doing and his eyes never look at any of those around him, so as to indicate who exactly he's speaking to. Those sleepy blue eyes shift up to the glow momentarily, but lower back down almost right away.

Gedeon wipes his sword clean, but as it seems the Harlaw men is well seen to and rope is on the way, he directs his attention around the camp, to take in the whole of what the battle's done. His gaze moves along the horizon and stops on a glow some ten miles out. He takes a few steps closer, peering out at the blaze. "Oi!" he calls. "There's a fire! Looks like a town ablaze! I think we've friends nearby!"

Pariston still has his eyes to look around the place. Not speaking much, following to check on Einar first, and then going along with Anders and Fenrir, looking to Bruce. But he stays out of it for now, eyes noticing something to the north. "Fire. Over there!" He offers, pointing in that direction. Hearing others saying the same.

Anders winces at the wound, and reaches over to help the Nayland knight wrap his wound. An extra pair of hands, guided as he knows nothing of first aid. "You'll be okay…" which is more of his own mantra. At a call from the 'field' about the prisoner not to injured, he scowls.. and says nothing, instead getting back to the task at hand. "Aye.. Halfstepton Marsden Streem," Anders repeats, and then calls loudly, "Marsden Streem!!" He rises to his feet again and calls again, "Marsden Streem!" As he rises, he does see the fire.. and he wants to hope, but..

Kell gives Jarod an understanding nod about holding his counsel since it would certainly be wasted on the Ironborn who won't listen, and it also would give the reaver more information than necessary. "No healer is needed, there are others who are probably more hurt than me, Ser Rivers, but thank you. I will ensure the Ironborn's safety until an agreement is made on what to do with him." The bright glow in the darkening shift from day to night also catches Kell's attention but he only gives it a glance before keeping an eye on the Ironborn while they wait for the rope to be fetched.

Still watching Bruce and the people dealing with the man for a few moments, Martyn then looks around again, offering a nod to Keelin as he sees the man. "You okay?" he asks, a bit quietly, before he looks off into the distance as he notices something. Fire. "Fire, yes. Seems to be a distan…" Trailing off as he hears Gedeon's words, looking a bit more carefully in that direction now.

Given that Anders is already yelling quite nicely, Dominick nods to Bruce and picks up his crossbow again. "Best lungs on the field looking out for you, Ser." He settles back on one knee, pulling another bolt from his stash and loading up his bow, ears attuned to the calls of fire.

Jarod squints off toward the glow in the distance, muttering "Fuck" under his breath. More at Gedeon's words than the sight itself, which he can make out precious little of. "More dragons, perhaps." It's noted dry and with black humor. "What the fuck now…?" The last is sort of muttered under his breath to himself. It's probably a rhetorical question rather than one to which he expects an answer.

"Too much work, Cousin. The man shall fall soon enough and his blood shall stain this ground as a sign to his masters." That's all that Aleister has to offer on that note and with another look in the direction of Bruce, his shoulders then lifting into a shrug, "Can't speak to the man's worth. But he's a Nayland, Coz." His eyes then shift about and when they catch sight of Kell and the captured Ironborn, the Charlton Knight is hefting his mace to rest against one shoulder. Then, he's simply angling over so as to make his way towards the pair, approaching from behind the prisoner, eyes resting upon the back of the man. For the moment, everything else is ignored.

Fenrir listens to Bruce intently, then gives a grave nod. "I'll see to it." As Anders hurries off to find the Halfsepton, Fenrir also moves in the direction of the Nayland ranks. "Oi! Serjeant Turner!" He grabs the man's attention, flashing a weary, lopsided grin. "Your Captain says to double your pickets for the night. Keep them sharp, aye?" He doesn't wait beyond the other man's nod, turning and making his way back to his own lines. "Alright, Flints. Half of you go bed down. Rest up. Well done, lads."

"That's a huge fire," Keelin says, as his gaze goes to where everyone is looking. "seems someone is making a huge signal." Which has obviously worked, since they're seeing it. "I guess it could be friends," he adds softly. Or signal fires? "I'm good, just a scratch," he tells Martyn. "You? Everything okay?"

Bruce doesn't have anything else to say, personally, though he does nod at Anders in acknowledgement of the Northern Lord's help. Serjeant Turner, for his part, is out at the far end of the field with the Nayland Guards. He turns when called, flashes a thumbs up to Fenrir and goes back to watching out.

Watching the fire in the distance a little longer, Gedeon presses a hand to his chest where it's still bleeding, though sluggishly, now. "Can't see why the Ironmen would burn down their own village," he says to Keelin. "My hope is it's some other Riverlanders looking for their own."

The pain is now beginning to bite at Kell as the adrenaline from the pitch defensive battle is slowly leaving the bloodstream and as he waits for the rope to come from one of the Terrick's men, he scans the area with his eyes idly, breathing beginning to slow slightly. He does note the approach of the Charlton Lord and at first the Hedge Knight was about to dip his head in respectful greeting. However, something about the Lord's approach is odd and battle senses are telling him that Aleister isn't just approaching to give greetings and inspect the prisoner from behind. Taking a step to the Ironborn's back, basically putting himself and the Charlton Lord, Kell greets Aleister, "My Lord, I am glad to see you are unharmed." But very wary and ready to come to the reaver's defense if necessary.

Now that Fenrir has delivered Turner's instructions and gone back to tending his own formations, the Flints are quick to fall back into their portion of the campsite. Half the men are bedding down, ready to get some rest; the other half are settling down in full kit, tending to their armor, and keeping themselves alert - ready for the Ironborn to return, or for flaming dragons, or whatever else may come.

Quellyan continues to watch the fires with some bit of fascination before he is turning to head over to where his cousin and the Hedge Knight have found themselves. There's a glance to Kell, before he's seeking to clean his blade. Whatever the conversation he was having before is lost as he lets his eyes settled on the caught squid. "Mayhaps we can question him vigorously.." whatever that means, seems to be Quellyan's only comment regarding Kell's catch. "Good fishing, Ser." he adds with a dip of his head.

Dominick locks the bolt into his crossbow, settling back on his heel. He keeps an eye on Bruce while the others contemplate the glow, one brow lightly arched at the horizon.

As Kell comes to interpose himself between the Ironborn and Aleister, the Charlton Knight is offering but a slight incline of his head before offering, almost idly, "Out of my way, Ser. As a higher ranking knight of this army, I will determine the fate of this prisoner." And judging from the fact that Aleister's free hand is pulling a blade from the sheath at his waist, the Charlton clearly doesn't want the man to live. "You can, of course, speak with me when this is all said and done."

"I'm fine," Martyn replies to Keelin, nodding a little bit, "That one I was fighting was much better at running away than the actual fighting. But then again, that's to be expected from…" He pauses for a few moments, looking around a bit. "From most of the people living out here, I guess." A brief pause as he looks around again. "If the rest of the Islands are like this one, I can understand why they make their way over to our shores. Can't understand why they want to return here, though."

"M'lord, if you will hear me a moment, please," Jarod says to Aleister, though he doesn't try to dive in front of the Ironman. And he makes a 'stay' motion for Kell. "I talked with Ser Bruce earlier and was told that squids who yielded would be shown mercy. He likely knows something of the Harlaws' movements. And our own. He spoke of…knowing something of Riverman honor. If I might ask that we question him, at least?"

Once he's done wrapping his wound as best as he can, Ser Bruce rests on the ground for a few moments more. Then he's up, slipping his busted mail shirt over his chest and replacing his helmet on his head. While the Stonebridge Captain his wobbly on his feet, he is able to stand. His sword goes away and his shield is slung on his back. He looks over to Kell, the Ironman, Aleister and Jarod with detached interest, breathing rather painfully if his expression can be trusted.

As the blade is pulled free, it is obvious to Kell what the Charlton Lord intends with the Ironborn prisoner so the Hedge Knight doesn't move aside just yet. "My Lord, I must respectfully decline. The prisoner's life is to be spared, word was given. There is no honor in killing a man who has yielded and surrendered." Kell does not make a move to press the Charlton Lord though, only remaining where he is, acting as a shield for the Ironborn prisoner for the time being. The words spoken though remain respectful and Jarod's motion isn't missed, neither is Quellyan's words but for now the Hedge Knight is focused on Aleister.

Dominick rises smoothly to his feet, though his crossbow stays in hand rather than being slung away. Bolt kept pointed at the soft ground, he watches the clump of men around the captured Ironborn without moving any closer.

"Coz.." Quellyan offers with a slight look given to the other Terrick Man, his blade staying down, but in hand. As he will support his cousin, ultimately, but as shield is slung over his shoulder, he reaches to place a hand on the other Charlton. "My Lord..If the Harlaw has information, we need it. Our scouts now have only found Pipers..It would do us good to find Squids.. Stay your hand, till we have information. If he doesn't cooperate-then kill him, or we can kill him later." A look is pressed to Kell and Jarod, as if this compromise could work..

Keelin is another common born knight, though as Martyn goes to check on things, Kee moves back just a little towards the scene with the prisoner. Keelin doesn't move in to interrupt, just to watch at the moment. At least this time, he'll see what all the gossip is about personally, and not have to rely on heresay.

Jarod puts up his blade, for his part. There's no sign about him he's going to come to blows with the Charlton knights over this. "He is the senior knight here, Ser Kell. He has the right to do…what he will." Not that he sounds pleased about it. A look is shot to Quellyan. Gratitude probably, though it doesn't really register on his feature.

Without so much as looking in the direction of Jarod, Aleister offers, "You have been heard, Ser Rivers, but there is little that he will have to offer that we can not find out in another fashion." Quellyan's hand upon his shoulder draws Aleister's attention, at least long enough for him to offer, "There is little he can say that we can trust." Then, it's back to Kell, a quick smirk playing across his lips, "There is no honor amongst the Ironborn and we will not afford them the right of yielding for their life. You have two choices before you, Ser. Step aside or strike a Lord." A single step forward is taken, his voice dropping just a touch, "Choose carefully."

There's a faint nod in his Cousin's direction. But, Quellyan does hold there for a moment, and there's a look to Kell and Ser Rivers. He will not abandon his kin, or his Lord. However he did try. "Yield to him, please." a bit of bark to the Blackrood's voice, but that is all.

Bruce shakes his head at the events unfolding. He takes very slow, measured steps until he's standing a few yards from Aleister and Kell, a comfortable distance for observation. "He's yielded." He notes, to no one in particular and in a low voice.

The blaze is still blazing, but Gedeon's interest in it wanes, and he looks back to camp, noticing the growing cluster of men around the Harlaw man. One brow lifting, he, too, drifts in that direction to hear what's caused this sudden cluster.

"Then they will know our quality, m'lord," Jarod remarks grimly, regarding Aleister long. "We shall all know our own quality better." There's a look of true surprise in his eyes, though he might meant to hide it. He's got an emotive sort of face. But he steps back. He's not going to come between a Riverlander and an Ironman. "Ser Kell." He says just that man's name, though he takes a step back as he does. Bruce's words are heard, and for a moment he looks away from the little confrontation to the Nayland man.

The compromised offered is a possibility though it will have to be discussed and not one that is done here in the middle of what was a battlefield. Kell does turn his attention to Jarod and shake his head, "He may be a Lord and senior knight, Ser Rivers, but word was given to the Ironborn that he is to be spared for now. I keep my word, as a knight, and as a man. There is no honor is killing him now." And finally, Kell turns his attention back to Aleister, "They have no honor, my Lord, but we are not them. If we show them that we have no honor, we show that we are no better than they are. I gave him my word that he will be spared if he yielded, and he yielded. I will not strike you M'Lord, but I will keep him alive as I am able to."

Martyn frowns as he looks to the scene around the prisoner, making his way a bit over in that direction. "As much as I hate to admit it, Lord Aleister," he offers, words spoken a bit quietly. "I would like to hear what he has to say, even though, as you say, we cannot really put any trust in it." He looks around for a few moments. "It can make a few things around here a bit easier later on. Which is why Ser Rivers is right in his observation there, abnout showing our quality to them." A brief pause, before he adds, "Trust me on that."

Dominick doesn't put a dog in the fight amongst knights and lords, though the commoner engineer keeps an intent eye on what's going on. His attention flickers from face to face as opinions come bidden and unbidden.

"Sets a poor example for the rest of our men, as well, my lord," Ser Gedeon pipes up, tossing his two cents as he gathers the gist of what's happening. "Ser Kell gave his word, will you not honor that, at least?"

There's a faint sniff of errant contempt from Aleister as he simply gives a slight shake of his head, "Your opinions on this matter have been heard, Sers, and my decision remains the same. I am a Lord and senior knight and it's my command that the prisoner dies. You are welcome to disagree with my decision, but you will abide to it." Although he speaks to the group, his attention remains upon Kell and he does take a single step forward, "Recompense will be provided for your lost captive, Ser, so as to appease your sense of honor. Now .. get out of my way."

Keelin drifts over with Martyn, merely listening and watching, but there if the Mallister Lord and Knight needs him. He does add softly after a moment, "It does only the Ironborn good if we fight amongst ourselves."

"We cannot start fighting amongst ourselves, Ser Drakmoor," Jarod says with a small nod to Keelin, looking away from Bruce and back to the hedge knight. "The lord will have his way." He looks tempted to say more, but he just sets his jaw.

Bruce removes his shield from his back oncemore as he gets a bit woozy on his feet. He plants the bottom of the large tower shield in the ground and leans on it, eyes darting from actor to actor. The Ironborn, curiously enough, doesn't even get a second glance.

"I may be a Hedge Knight, M'Lord, but my honor cannot be bought. I care not for recompense, " It seems like Kell isn't like other Hedge Knights where money will easily sway him and when he gives his word, he is willing to put his life on the line. Eyes do not move from Aleister as the Lord could strike at anytime but he does answer Jarod, "We should not but we also should not throw honor away or this invasion is meaningless." Looks like the Hedge Knight will not be budging from where he stands, no matter the consequences.

Martyn studies Aleister carefully for a few moments, expression unreadable as he watches the man, taking a few deep breaths. "So be it," he offers, offering the man a momentary nod. Looking between the others, he takes a few moments to study each and every one of them for a few moments. "Now, if anyone needs me any more tonight, I will be in my tent." Turning and starting to head in that direction, he pauses for a few moments as he passes where Bruce is, offering the man a nod. "Get better, Ser," he offers, before he makes his way off again, muttering something under his breath as he disappears into said tent.

The smirk deepens upon Aleister's lips at Kell's response and the Charlton Master at Arms simply dips a slight nod of his head in the other Knight's direction, "You risk much in ignoring the order of a Lord and Commander within the army, Ser, but you may at least consider your honor and hands unstained." A turn of his head to the side affords him the pleasure of the other Charlton Knights, to whom he's commanding, "Men, restrain the Knight and move him from my sight." The other Charlton's simply nod their head, perhaps not looking overly pleased at such a thing, but they move to comply with his order at least.

Gedeon glances from Kell to Jarod, and a corner of his mouth lifts wryly. "You're a good man, Ser Rivers," he says mildly before shaking his head at Aleister Charlton. "Never saw so many lords terrified of harmless, unarmed men in the whole of my life."

The confrontation is inevitable as Kell had a feeling that the Charlton would have his way, one way or another, and as the men of Charlton's color steps in to move the hedge knight out of the way, there is some resistance but not to the point where he will be attacking the men or the Lord. "There was a time when honor meant something, M'Lord. It saddens me to see that the time is no more." Kell's words remain somewhat respectful though his tone has obvious disdain and frustration as he is forcefully escorted aside and once there, he gives the Ironborn one last look that is apologetic in a way before shaking off the Charlton men. "I'll have no part in this." He growls out at his 'escorts' and begins to march back to the Terrick section of the camp, a dark scowl worn on his face.

Jarod does not move as the Charltons go to restrain Kell, shaking his head at Gedeon's words as he holds his non-moving ground. "Our quality is shown upon the field," he says. Seemingly speaking to the Ironman, of all people.

"While we all respect your commitment, Ser Kell, honour is not what brought us here. Defending our lands and retribution on the Ironborn did." Bruce croaks out. "Whatever you may think, we're in the same force and he's your better." The speaking seems to have taken some energy out of him. He wheezes, leaning against his shield. "Thank you, m'lord." He manages to add to Martyn.

Looking first in the direction of Gedeon, Aleister doesn't try to conceal the smirk that remains upon his lips, nor the scorn that holds to his words, "Fear is not what drives me, Ser Rivers, so be careful of the assumptions that you make." To Kell and the others, he's offering, "There is a time and place for honor and this field is not it. Do not grow soft. Do not forget the atrocities that these very men have wrecked upon our lands." Bruce's comment draws a quick nod, one that's followed by, "They will pay for the path that they have chosen." And with that said, he's simply moving to the prisoner, his blade coming up to slit the Ironborn's throat without hesitation.

Jarod watches silently as Aleister slits the throat of the Ironman prisoner. Posture tense. He does not move.

"Fear, pettiness, wrath, choose your pick of reasons, my lord," Gedeon replies as the ironborn falls, his throat slit, his tone courteous even if the words are not. "The simple fact of the matter is that you have struck down a man, bound and unarmed, who has surrendered to the army in which you serve. You may call it vengeance if you like. I say honor is most needed when is it least convenient. You have had your way, as your rank allow. But we witness and remember, the rest of us. And we have long memories and lords or see value in our advice."

Bruce's face is beginning to take a pallor. Judging by his unchanging expression as he watches Aleister execute the Ironborn warrior, it's more likely from his wound than the sight. As he pushes up from his shield to stand fully erect, he gets lightheaded again. "Oh." His breathing is becoming a bit more shallow, and he coughs again, now turning around for the camp.

With his deed at hand done, Aleister lowers the blade as the body falls so that it can be wiped upon his leg before being returned to the sheath and it's then that his attention shifts to Gedeon, "Yes, Yes. You have all made your point quite clear that you did not like my decision. You are entitled to such a thing, just as I am entitled to not caring that you all disagree." Lifting a hand, he's giving an idle, almost dismissive wave as he turns away from the group, "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Sers, for you may not get the chance again."

Jarod blinks at Gedeon. Flicker of surprise registering on his features. His brain takes a moment to orient itself around…however it's orienting itself. He then turns to watch Aleister go, still without a word.

"Indeed you are, my lord. Indeed you are. For now." Gedeon offers a nod as Aleister dismisses him, and then he turns towards Ser Bruce as the other man crumples a little. "May I see you back to camp, Ser?" he asks of the wounded knight, leaving Jarod to process as he may.

"May I walk with you, Sers?" Jarod asks of Bruce and Gedeon. There's a nick in his breastplate but he doesn't look wounded. Just drained. He can process on the move, apparently.

Bruce nods weakly at Gedeon and Jard, offering both the Oldstones Knight and Terrick Captain a small smile. He doesn't say anything, though, but his steps are slow and it's like that he wants to conserve rather than from a desire to be rude.