|When Ironborn Talk|
|Summary:||Maron Greyjoy and Nares meet. Tactics and such are discussed. Offers are made.|
|Related Logs:||Any Roost invasion ones, sort of.|
|The Green, Terrick's Roost|
|The Green is a large field of deep green grass, nearly flat, that runs along the base of the towers. The road into town runs along the far edge, hemming it in neatly to a confined area where beyond a line of trees serves as a subtle windbreak. This area is most often used for drilling or practice for the guards but also serves as home for festivals, tournements, and another other gathering that might require the space for a large number of the local residents. A well-trodden path winds around the side of the wall and moves towards the coastline.|
|Mon Jan 02, 289|
The occupation of Terrick's Roost has so far been a tremendous success. With light casualties taken in taking the town, the Ironborn have lost nearly as many men to knife fights over pretty peasant girls as they did to the swords of the Riverlords. Drink flows freely, and the parties of Drumms and Stonehouses sent out to ravage the countryside return every day with more animals and plunder. It is a good time to be a reaver.
Maron Greyjoy has been a highly visible presence since his arrival on the day of the invasion, carousing about town from his headquarters at the Rockcliff, laughing and merrymaking as the siege goes on. At present, the second son of King Balon is overseeing the construction efforts on a few small catapults, arranged facing the castle.
While Nares has had a faint itching to be at Seagard with the main Harlaw force, the general feeling in the Roost has been more than enough to keep him happily here. Somehow, the same ale he'd had before the invasion, tasted just that much better afterwards and the looted spirits had more than adequately dulled the pain in his ribs. With them getting better by the day though he'd decided to take a stroll up towards the keep. He's been around town and to the boats in the past few days, but not to the tower itself, not since the gate was spiked. He's heard the defenders managed to sort that of course, and is a little disappointed, but the generally triumphant atmosphere has kept his spirits well buoyed. Approaching the green he spots the royal party and heads over, straightening his armour just a little as he does so.
"Oh, don't you worry over munitions," Maron is laughing in response to a question from his carpenters. "The Riverlords were kind enough to leave us a nice fitting pile of stones to throw back at them." With a merry grin, the Greyjoy looks aside to one of his bodyguards, and instructs, "Tell the lads to start dismantling the Sept. Break up the statues, first." In turning to speak so, his eye catches on Nares and the prince asks a question of the man beside him, motioning toward Nares. The answer provokes a, "For true? Fuck me, you there-" his voice is raised toward the clean shaven Nares, "Babyface! Come over here, will you?" he calls, gesturing for Nares to approach.
Nares smiles a little as the minor problem of introductions is thrown overboard in one swoop. Given he was heading that way though it's no real imposition on him, but he does quicken hi space ever so slightly to a more purposeful walk. He takes another quick look up at the tower walls as he covers the distances then turns back to Maron as he stops just short of the Greyjoy. "My Lord Prince," he offers as a greeting, tone light, "I must say this place is looking a whole lot better than it did a week ago."
Maron turns to face the approaching Nares, taking a couple steps away from the catapults to meet the fellow, an easy smile bringing out the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. "It does at that!" he laughs at the appearance of the Roost. "So you're the crazy bastard that slipped in and cut down the watch bells, eh? Good piece of work that, I swear on all my ancestors, the look on these Rivermen's faces when they saw us coming made me laugh out loud." A hand is offered for a clasp, which- Nares might note- makes the Greyjoy's bodyguards tense and settle hands to weapons, but apparently their lord's friendly habits are familiar enough that none speak up.
Nares accepts the offered hand gladly, but keeps his free one well away from the hilt of either of his weapons to ease any fears that the bodyguards might have. "Thank you, I just wish we could have held the gate for longer though," he replies, even though he's heard it was damn close in the end. "Still, much as I'd have loved to have seen their expressions as you landed, I have the expressions as they realised we were in the courtyard too to console me." He's smiling easily now as he reaches towards the back of his belt, being careful to use his left hand, and thus not ending up near the saxe's hilt. "I figured these might be of use to you," he says as he pulls a roll of parchment and offer it, "sketch plan of the castle and defences. I couldn't make one while I was in there in case they found it, but that's as accurate as I can be."
Maron laughs sharply aloud at the mention of their expressions inside the courtyard. At the wish of holding the gate a bit longer, the jovial Greyjoy waves off the words, "Bah, don't think on it any further. Holding the gate open were a long throw, we knew it. Was worth a try though, weren't it?" An easy chuckle stirs his throat as eyes narrow to study the offered sketches. "Ha!" the prince crows merrily, "Egil! You were asking which part of the castle to shoot at? THIS bit right here-" Maron proceeds to tap an angle in the curtain walls as noted on Nares' diagram. "THAT is what I meant by 'the pointy part'."
Nares will happily take that as an answer on the subject and simply adds, "I believe 'shit' was the guards first," a fraction of a second's pause, "and last word on the subject." He's smile broadens again as he things back. Damn it was fun. Just like old times one might say. Glancing over to the man Egil he takes a moment to look over the catapults as well. "They're impressive machines, never really seen them up close, spent too much time at sea, but fuck I wouldn't want to be in the receiving end."
Maron looks at the catapults after his chuckle subsides, and nods. "Oh, that they are. Smallish examples, but they'll serve. Throw some stones over the wall, hit the walls with a few more. Do some damage, maybe get lucky and squish somebody," the Greyjoy shrugs idly. "Expect we'll starve them out before we need to batter down the walls, but never hurts to fuck with the heads of folk when they're scared, does it?" he prompts with a ready smile and knowing wink.
"They're scared all right," Nares confirms, nodding to the explanation given, "just a shame we can't spike the well, that'd have the buggers out." He rests his hands back on his swordbelt, one either side of the buckle, "We just going to be throwing rocks? Or do we get to play inventive? There's some flammable material there in the courtyard, especially the stables. It'd keep 'em frightfully busy should they need to up something like that out as well as watch us from the walls."
"Well, hope was to take the castle all at once," Maron nods to Nares' thought of poisoning the well. "Besides, once we roust the bastards out, we'll need to hold the damned place, won't we? Would rather not find m'self on the INside of a castle with a poisoned well, eh?" he quips with another sharp laugh. "Maybe if they piss me off bad enough, we'll try fire. In the meantime, I'm wagering keeping up the executions every dawn ought to do the trick. You eyeballed these Terricks for awhile, Asvard, what you think?"
Nares thinks on the question for a moment before shrugging slightly, "They're mostly fat and lazy rivermen, but there are a few good swords in there." By which he means, there's a few he'd love to have a swing at. "The Lady of the castle is the type to have stores and provisions organised well enough, but the common folk and most of the guard force will be struggling with the enormity of the situation. I wouldn’t be too surprised if small skuffles break out in there, but I heard a few of the more experiences knights survived so they'll probably stop it from spreading." As for the executions specifically, "They care for their little folk, it will hurt them and cause unrest. There is at least one Banefort in there though, who'll be telling tales about how terrible it would be if we were to win, that will shore their resolve somewhat I fear."
Maron smiles, turns and spits. "A Banefort? Ahh, you've got to love the Baneforts, aye?" A shake of his head as he crosses his arms, and considers the castle. "Seen a few ravens coming and going. Soon enough they'll realize just how deep a pit they've dug for theirselves. Damn shame we couldn’t bait any of their knights out to recover the dead bird-" he notes, with a motion of his head toward where Revyn Terrick decomposes on the road leading to the front gate. A grin aside at Nares, "You figure any of them swords inside are the type to answer a challenge?"
"I must admit to having a soft spot for the Baneforts," Nares states with a smile, "they've always been kind enough to provide ale, food and women whenever I've visited." He laughs there, for a moment, and takes in the corpse on the road with a nod. "Only sword in there I got near to challenging backed down like a sack of shit at the faintest suggestion of it. The Lord might, or the new Captain of the Guard, assuming he survived the fight, the Young Lord won't."
Maron breaks out into a contagious bout of laughter as Nares sums up the great contributions of the Baneforts. "Well fucking said, Asvald," he commends, exhaling the last of his laugh and itching at his nose. "You ever feel like hollering a challenge at the walls, just give me the word, man. If you can lure out another of their swords and kill him, I'll gift you one of my own ships."
Now there's a tempting offer and one which Nares considers for at least half a second. "I'll give it a couple of days but then I'll happily see if any of them has a spine. Give them a few more executions to soften them up and we might make some headway. Besides, I doubt they'd appreciate seeing my face again, it might give that edge." That and it'll give his ribs just that little longer to heal. He doesn't want to be constricted by bandages in such a fight unless he really has to be. "If you have a list of the confirmed kills in the fight, I'll see which of the survivors is most likely to come and play."
"Was just thinking the same thing," Maron nods with a wicked grin at Nares' talk of them seeing him again. "Only man of note what died was the Lord's brother. Master at Arms. We took some Westerlands knight as well, likely one of that Banefort's retinue. Can use that for some leverage if you like," the Greyjoy adds as an afterthought. "Far as we can tell all the rest of the Terricks and their spineless swords are inside the walls. Hell, if you want to cut a throat if they don't answer you, take your pick of the townsfolk, just avoid the pretty ones or some lad or another will get pissed at you."
"What's that you say, an opportunity to fuck with the Baneforts? Too kind. He nods at the regrettably small list of dead notables, but that at least gives him a good list to pick from. "I'll find you later with a name," he replies, still grinning, "I'll take a look at your Westerland man too, see if I can place him, although you're probably right that he's with the Baneforts." He looks up at the walls again, almost hoping that one of the watchers above does see and recognise him.
Maron nods again, "Have the fella in the tavern cellar, when you come by later for a flagon or three, I'll leave word with my men there that you're to be let down to see him. Have fun," the Greyjoy invites before regarding the castle and exhaling. "Need your advice on another pretty heavy strategic consideration," Maron begins, giving Nares a grave look. "There any ladies in there worth more than a sidelong look?"
"I'd take the Banefort, and her sister, had she not ridden out a few days before you arrived, but then there's nothing quite like living up to a reputation," Nares answers. "The Mallister is too whiney for my tastes, they Lady of the keep too old. The young Camden though, maybe, lots of fight in her if you know what I mean." He winks back to the Greyjoy at that one, "nothing really of note in the small folk I'm afraid, unless they got any of the decent whores inside from the tavern."