[IC] The Age of Blades [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]

[Mr Irony]

Sitting at the gates quietly deep in thought because of Harrighfield situation before the open gates. A greedy man trying to size the lands of the Weades for his own. With no shred of honor or loyalty, how could this man fall so low and forgot honor. As deep in thought as Rolland had been though he wasn't immune to what was coming. Feeling the gap in the winds long before the guards hollered as they spotted figures on the approach. The cold northern winds never lied, warriors the smell alone told him who they were. His whale hunting days still left his senses keen.

"Captain a group appro...." Rolland held his hand up to the guard. Staring at the men, his slightly spooked at the sight of them but with a quick jolt of the reigns he regained firm control of his mount. Studying men, sizing them up as a precaution. Forgetting that Gidja had come along, lost in his focus until the woman had sounded out an alarm more or less without an approval. But before he could react it sounded out and would reach the lord regent shortly. He'd make sure to reprimand the woman later for sounding out an order even if it had been inadvertently sounded.

He didn't make a sound to Joakim sounded out, as the young lord was approaching quick enough to find out for himself. Gripping Ice Fang with his right hand poised to strike if needed as he rode out with Joakim to meet the company of men. Even with the nodded he remained on ends about letting this group of brigands in. If it was Joakim's will though he'd have no choice in obeying, no matter how much it would tax him.

Riding back threw the gates, standing his mount to the left watching the foreigners go threw and later the caravan. Exhaling a sigh he had hopped for little excitement but with strange men and the caravan. Dismounting from his horse,ignoring the man that she had just spoken with for the moment. "Gidja a moment." Standing with the woman at her watch. Staying quiet to show he had been miffed about the incident earlier.

"Don't sound of an alarm or voice out your thoughts so loudly next time." Taking a breath as the winds whipped, standing without so much as a shiver or sign of being cold. "To do so could cause panic and chaos, we have enough on our plates right now. And with more coming it would do best to keep quiet. It is what the command chain is for." Starring off into the distance as he spoke but his words came out like the crack of a whip. "Tomorrow you'll have guard at the Northern gate." Knowing full well it was the most lonely and boring of places, one he reserved for punishment.

"Don't disappoint me again or I'll have to reconsider another for my right hand." He had considered the woman for the position of his lieutenant and second in command for a good while since his last had been killed in a bear hunt not two months prior. Tapping her shoulder in reassurance before taking his leave to check on the caravan.

Looking over the people he could do nothing but sigh at the people. Most if not all of them weren't used to the cold, exhaling a sigh as he looked at all of them. His eye was taken by a young woman and what seemed to be her child. And from the looks of it that had nothing besides the clothes on their back. Taken back from the woman's green eyes he couldn't help to interject.

"Here." Offering his thick white bearskin cloak to keep them a little warmer. "What are you and your son doing so far from your homes in the south?"

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Jovan stayed up all night yet again, perhaps it was the fact he couldn't close his eyes anymore but he didn't waste the time by any means. Spending the night hours by candle light writing his latest book. A new book on tactics and warfare, it probably wouldn't get far though with most lords and vassals keeping to the old traditional ways of fighting relying in brute strength. Oh how he yearned to make a mockery of these current fools but the fighting was done so he'd have to wait for yet another opportunity to show them how war was truly waged. Plus to whip up a few inventions he'd put to paper but like his book, the old and bloody way of war would prevail.

Looking over he noticed Ayca stirring in the bed, he got up gripping his cane tightly to pull himself up. Walking to the door, looking out as the morning hours approached waving to an attendant to come. "Please make ready our horses." Nodding the lady had left to prepare for their departure but before he closed the door. Firstly was the his cousin Amber had been de-throned in the midst of the night and the second was the Harrighfields were preparing for war against the Weades. First the wolf, then the bear. The news was grim enough for him to wake his paramour early. Tapping at her thigh with his cane, "Ayca wake up. We have to go and quick."

Ayca rubbing her eyes as she woke up. "Wha...." Knowing Jovan better than most she could tell in his eyes it was an urgent matter, one that he would press himself more than he should. Nodding as she got up quickly to dress and pack their things and depart. Within the hour they'd been ready, handing the madam another small sack of coin for her troubles before they had departed. The rumors flying about his cousin had fled were already the talk of the town, the other half was about the forces marching on the north. Despite the pain circulating threw his being he knew that time was of the essence.

With their journey further north it had grown increasingly colder to the points where the winds were nipping at them, Jovan however with his illness didn't mind it as much as Ayca had every strap of winter clothing on they'd brought with them. From the winds were lashing out a blizzard was coming and it wasn't close behind them, but as fortune would behold they were getting closer to their destination. The last sign indicating as much. With the approach over the last hill they could see Wintershouse on the horizon. "Finally some heat. Lets go." Ayca sounded out, Jovan couldn't help himself to let a slight laugh as the duo press their horses on.

Coming up to the southern gates. Presenting his ring to the guard, which was his official seal. "Jovan Athos, coming to pay my respects to my secondary father." From rumor and hear say the guard posted knew who he was, plus with the ring it was undoubtedly sure. "Go ahead Sir, they've gathered in the hall for a feast." With a courtesy nod Jovan and Ayca pressed threw onto the main keep.

After Ayca had helped Jovan down, the two walked threw the halls closer to the feasting hall. "Remember northern folk are much different than us. So please be careful in your wording." Nodding after he had spoke and since she was a child of south she'd heed his words since she never officially meet a person from the northern part of the kingdom.

Jovan made his way slowly into hall where everyone was being feasted. He had to wonder why they were feasting, war was coming and Joakim was in charge still but when he turned to corner he seen Gregar. Indeed it was news for a feast. Also he caught sight of Amber, Tomas and Joakim too. Strange the gods would have them all here but it was welcomed.

Jovan in his approach didn't say a word as he came up to Gregar with Ayca. Instead letting his silence speak for him until he had come close enough. "My lord, my lady." Bowing first to Gregar, then to Amber. "Do you have room for one more at your table. Your old friend is tired would like a seat."

Ayca bowed before them, Jovan didn't though. Knowing well enough he command enough respect here and apart from his illness that it wasn't required. Looking to his cousin Amber, he wanted to know what had happened at her keep. But he knew better than to ask such a question in front of the nobility of the north around him.

[Bonjour xx]

Alethea took the cloak that the guard - a woman, the North was very different and surprising indeed - had offered her and proceeded to wrap it around Baego's thin, shivering shoulders. The young lad seemed to have momentarily forgotten his discomfort at the biting cold, his eyes wide in awe and fascination as he watched the lady guard move away from their caravan. Alethea's lips quirked into a slight smile at the boy's reactions. She ruffled his hair to divert his attention back to her. Baego grinned up at her and then instead of wrapping himself up warmer in the stranger's cloak, Baego started to examine it. Alethea doubted that the young Southern-born lad had ever seen a wolf in real life so understood his excitement over the cloak. Being a boy he was probably hoping to actually find bloodstains on it.

Athelea's eye followed the guards' movements outside the caravan as the group of travelers slowly made their way to the Wintershouse. She hadn't wanted to attract any attention - though she knew that her aesthetic beauty would do enough of that anyway, even if she did cover up as best she could. The fact that she had, although inadvertently, gained the attention of one of the guards much irked the skilled thief. Her plan had been to lie low in the northern capital, stash young Baego away and keep him safe - the lad's curiosity often led him to wander about - and wait until her employer contacted her with further information about her next heist.

Alethea was fussing around Baego - she had survived many cold days and nights but the lad was from the south and had likely never experienced weather as extreme as this - when a man's voice addressed her. Turning to face the stranger, Alethea was surprised to find she was being offered a white bearskin. Whereas the cloak now wrapped around Baego would indeed fetch a few golden coins, the one currently being presented to the thief could have fetched a fortune. Two expensive cloaks offered to Baego and herself? Clearly the stereotypes of stiff and morose northerners was wrong. Alethea felt the familiar tingle in her fingers when confronted with something exciting to steal, but she dismissed the thought as soon as it had passed. The handsome man before her looked important - maybe the commander of the other guards? Stealing from him would be an incredibly foolish thing indeed.

The decision whether or not to accept the offered source of warmth was taken from Alethea by Baego standing up and accepting the cloak. He smiled at the stranger in thanks before turning to the young woman and wrapping it around her person, just as she had earlier done for him. Alethea's lips curled slightly, the lad really was a sweet one. Then Baego proceeded to save her from answering the stranger as well - for which Alethea was greatly relieved. She hadn't made a plan for being questioned as she hadn't expected the blizzard to lead them right into the path of the castle's guards. Her usual behaviour concerning guards were to avoid them at all costs, blending into the shadows and never been seen.

"Ma and I thought we good get work up here, sir. There's none to be had down south right now."

Alethea was impressed with Baego's quick response, but then again she had always known the lad was very clever. He was a great lover of words and one day hope to be a great wordsmith and playwright. No doubt the boy's mind was already forming a backstory for the two of them - now apparently mother and son. Alethea just hoped Baego's imagination kept their the lies they would be telling believable.

[Partisan]

Gregar looked around with a bored look on his face, after the black knight and then the warlord things got rather quiet for him. He merely sat and watched, drinking wine in the meantime. That is, until Jovan entered the hall. He went unnoticed at first, but as Gregar looked over to the right he noticed him approaching, slowly due to illnes, but steadily. Slowly Gregar rose, not willing to believe it, but it was him. Jovan Athos, son of the duke of the Falkhalls. Not only was it good to see a friend, Jovan also held an esteemed position. While he wasn't exactly the heir, he had close ties with one of the few remaining houses they could form an alliance with. Gregar slowly walked down the steps that led to the throne, and walked closer to Jovan before embracing him.

“Ofcourse I've room for an old friend, nay, brother of mine.” Gregar smiled with a genuine smile before helping Jovan towards the table where Amber and the other higher up nobles were seated. Ayca would be granted a seat there as well, much to the annoyance of other nobles who felt that a woman such as.. her.. should not be granted that honour. Never the less Gregar took a seat with them, glad that he could finally get off that throne. “How is your life, Jovan? It's been long since I had heard from you, you'll have to excuse me for that. I was away for battle in name of king Etwine, as is my duty. I haven't had a chance to read any letters sent by you or your friend.” He looked over at Ayca, a typical Southerner in appearance, but then again so was Jovan. Never the less, she appealled to Gregar as most Southern women did. Gregar had an eye for beauty, but made no distinctions. He could see something attractive in every single woman in the world as far as he was concerned. For her, it was her hair. Curls like hers were rare in the north. “Tell me of your father and brothers. Have they all found suitable wives yet?” He grinned as he said that. Ofcourse they had. The Athosi were very.. specific in who married who, to preserve the bloodline. Their marriages had been set in stone when they were born. Jovan only managed to get free from it when he stepped down from his position, losing the title of heir. Lucky bastard.

---

Gidja was relatively annoyed by Rolland. If she hadn't raised her voice, then Joakim wouldn't have known of these men approaching. Such matters were important to Joakim, she knew. Why was Rolland made captain again? Surely it was because his blood was blue, and not because he was a terrific captain of the guard. She grumbled.. nobody wanted to be on North gate watch, and now she had to do it. She collected herself again and watched over the horizon, spotting moving figures.. again? It seemed like a larger band than before, with banners flying too. They came from the south but at a slow pace. Looking closer, she noticed the banners weren't from any Forkish or Ironhill lords. She'd have recognised those. Rather, they were with 3 banners. The Rotten Crows, the Black Hands and the Hillmen of Morrin. All three were mercenary companies, however they were also part of the larger companies around. No doubt they had heard of the war, now that rumours were spreading far and wide. Perhaps they came to seek employment by Gregar, in exchange for gold or plundering rights in certain cities.

Deciding against shouting, for fear of Rolland taking a whip to her back, she ran back to the keep into the grand hall, where she'd alert Gregar. However it seemed God willed it that she ran into Joakim first. And Joakim was as good as Gregar for dealing with these men. “Lord Joakim, three mercenary companies approach the castle, no doubt here to offer allegiance in exchange for plunder or gold, milord. Shall I let them in?” Joakim was on his way from his chambers to find Brier, as they had to catch up sometimes and he'd rather do it sooner than later. However this matter seemed more urgent, so he nodded at Gidja and followed her outside.

As he walked, he called out to several guards in the hall. “With me, please.” he'd say, while gesturing with his hands for them to follow him. One of these men would be Rolland, a man that Joakim liked ever since he had arrived in the castle. Joakim knew some other of Rollands' family, all good men and women, simple but tough. No doubt some people inside the grand hall would have noticed Joakim leaving together with a set of six guards, as well as the captain of the guard and Gidja, a woman who bore arms like a man. Whether this would cause any distractions remained to be seen.

Joakim approached the palisade gates, a large wooden gate that was opened pretty much all through day, and only closed at night to keep out unwanted people. By now the companies had all arrived at the gates, banners flying and men grumbling about the cold. As Joakim approached three men on horseback broke free from the masses, the masses easily numbering 200 men if not more. The first of three was a rough looking man, clad in leather and mail, wearing no helmet at all. His blonde hair was slicked back and he had a thin beard, and he wore a longsword on his left side.

The second man was a man that looked.. old. He had grey hair that hung in strings in front of his eyes, weary but attentative. He wore a plate cuirass but little else, and had a large two handed sword on his back, that he could no doubt handle very well. He was muscled and looked strong, though he lacked any muscled definition, most likely due to age.

The last man was dressed in furs, and had a small handaxe on his side and a fur covered shield on his back. The man was no doubt leader of the Hillmen, a savage tribe turned mercenary after they realised they could not fight the expanding Borhilonians, and rather chose to work for them, plunder and kill in their name. As such they were unaccountable by law, and could do what they did best. Although Joakim doubted these men were true hillmen, as they were formed a hundred years ago. Remnants of these people were what stood in front of him - would be traditionalists, who in reality were little more than murderers and thieves.. they did what they were good at, though.

“Welcome to the Wintershouse. I assume you've heard of the war that is coming to our lands?” Joakim tried to be nice and friendly, as best as he could. The man looked at him, unamused, and simply looked to Rolland, Gidja and then the guardsmen that were with him. “Aye. We're here to offer our swords and axes.” the old man said, dismounting his horse and walking to the keep, past Joakim and the rest. “Where's the Oakheart?” the blonde man said as he followed the old man. Joakim looked at Rolland and beckoned him to stay. “Make sure their men stay in line.” He, Gidja and the other guardsmen that they had taken would have to see to the men. In case anything happened, there were soldiers nearby keeping an eye as well, although they were too far away to immediatly be able to help.

The three men slowly walked up the hill that led to the keeps' walls, and the keep itself. One of them turned around and beckoned for some to follow him, a personal guard of sorts. From the mercenary ranks some men broke free, making their way to join their leaders with steady pace. About twenty guards came, in total. Joakim couldn't object - he'd ask for a guard of his own if he were visiting foreign lords too. Except he might ask permission to bring them. Never the less he didn't say much, simply following them and overtaking them, after which he'd lead them to the grand hall. Opening the doors, he'd announce himself and the people behind him. “Lord Oakheart, mercenary commanders who have come to offer blades and axes.” he'd say loudly, so that Gregar would pay mind to these men.

Gregar heard the call and rose to his feet, excusing himself in the meantime to Amber, Jovan and Ayca, as well as Arryn who was at the table still. He returned to his throne and sat down while the guards of these men marched in and stood in two lines clearing the way for the company leaders. The musicians continued playing their song, quietly but audible. Hushed voices spoke of mercenaries, of Hillmen, Rotten Crows and Black Hands, who had painted Black Hands on their armor, 'touched by disease'. Slowly the three leaders approached, not bowing or anything of the like, simply standing there. A strange thing to do, but understandable for men like these, battle hardened and with a lack of respect for anything remotely resembling a hierarchy outside of their own companies. “Aye, we have blades, we have axes,” the old man said, seemingly the pack leader. The blonde one continued, however, with a smug smile on his face. “.. have you need of them, Oakheart?” The Hillman leader was particularily quiet, looking around the room and taking in all the people that were there, almost as if he was looking for something. His gaze landed on Amber Rossric and held still for a moment, then continued until he noticed a black knight. He paid no mind to the 10 or so guardsmen inside, and neither the fully armored knights and nobles that had come to attend the feast.

“That depends on your offer,” Gregar spoke to the man in a loud and clear voice, a voice that demanded respect but at the same time was respectful towards these men. “you can say what you wish here, I hold no secrets for my court.” The old man grinned and moved the helmet under his arm a bit, to make himself comfortable. “In exchange for 250 blades, axes and bows, we demand plundering rights in the grand cities of Redfield and Osshearth. Along with our share of the spoils, ofcourse.. we can have another 1000 men here before the next week.” 1250 men was a sizeable mercenary party to hire, and could significantly boost their numbers unexpectedly, forcing Harrighfield to perhaps rethink his strategies.

“Aye, that's a fair offer indeed. But while I am lord here, I do not hold this court on my own.” With this he indicated that those who wished to speak on the matter were free to speak about the mercenaries, including Jovan, Amber and some others. Those of lower stature, such as Arryn or Gavin would be forced to keep their mouths shut, at least for now until the matter had been decided. Anyone with important information, or perhaps a person with big enough influence, would be able to speak on the matter and convince Gregar of one or the other. Something about these men seemed off, however..

[AtomicNut]

Ash tapped his foot somewhat. He was still there, standing tall, waiting for his cue to answer to Gregar. And then, the doors opened to receive three people of mercenary companies. Ash knew those three well- they were not the sort of people you usually trusted to do something, for very specific reasons. While their names sounded eerie and impressive, truth to be told those companies usually had to fight for the scraps of bigger ones, just like the former company of the whoreson, The Black Company. Ladykiller, the blonde commander; Hamstring, the old geezer and Weasel, the crude-looking leader of the Hillmen. They all liked to try and be shrewd and cunning, but truth to be told, they were usually outsmarted by bigger thinkers. The three of them surely had heard of the war... but they were smart enough to not try and fight for the Whitelands. They were up to something.

Ash could feel the stares of some. Some were condemning gazes, some rivalry ones, and some were plainly stares in awe, from the most impresionable of the file and rank that had accompanied those three. So he had been recognized. He had to be deceptive if he were to pass a message about their true nature. Truth to be told, Gregar's offer for knighthood was well worth telling the true rotten nature of them.

But how? Gregar asked people to speak up. But obviously he couldn't say they all were liars and cheaters from the get go. So he tried something... different. He raised his voice.

"Pardon me, m'lord, but I, Ash the Knightslayer, of the Black Company, can attest the truthfulness of these men. I swear upon my mother's life that these men are to be trusted."

Of course, for all people who had been and listened to Ash tale, they'd have realized what this meant... for Ash was visiting his mother's gravestone earlier. He did a final small nod to the duke, and waited for the resolution. Perhaps his blade would be needed.

[RPforthatPR]

Amber eyed the mercenaries. They were rugged, scruffy looking men. It was curious they should offer themselves for the coming war... And at a good price. She'd see what happened if they were lulled into a sense of false security. Who had sent them, and what were they doing here? Their true motivation couldn't be just coin. She placed a hand on her new sword's hilt.

"And for my father's good health, I would see them recruited," added Amber, following Ash's remark. Doubtless they'd not even heard of his name, let alone his passing.

[Mr Irony]

Rolland couldn't help but to give a quick smile to the boy's quick retort to his question. Perhaps too quick since she looked to be relived at the fact, one to be watched but for now he'd let it slide now. Since he'd been taken back by the woman's beauty, Rolland couldn't help to smile towards the two. "Well if its work you won't have much luck unless you would lower yourself to something you exceptionally beautiful mother would have to degrade herself to doing." Referring of course to the ladies of pleasure at the brothel in town, something within him stirred to help the two. Exhaling a breath, looking to the son and then the mother. "There is one other option." Scratching at his goatee.

"If you are truly that desperate for work I might be able to get you work in the keep. Nothing glorious but you'd be warm and fed. Pay would be dismal but being on close staff with the lords and ladies as a serving woman or a kitchen scullion." Reaching to his leather pants placing a small pouch of coin into the woman's hand. "It's not much but should get you out of the cold until the morrow. If you truly seek employment come to keep tomorrow." His hand clasping over hers to ensure that she took the coppers he had on hand.

Entranced until another guard came along. "Captain news from the north gate. Hurry." Exhaling a sigh, "Miss this where I leave you. Remember my words." quickly mounted his horse to catch up with the other guards.

Coming up besides Joakim with his horse in a trot, staring out into the crowd of men now gathered around them. Keeping close to the young lord even before the command had been ushered. The leaders were bold to come with a force, it seemed like an attack force more than an envoy to negotiate for terms of service. Rolland didn't trust them though. Keeping watch over the large group, steering his mount next to Gidja. "Go and have the archers line up against the walls, but do so quietly. Go around the keep to avoid suspicion." The seriousness in his eyes was obvious, he'd rather be prepared against them just encase. "Do this for me and I'll give you a rank." Speaking quietly to avoid the soldiers from noticing.

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Though it wasn't noticeable Jovan had appreciated the help Gregar had given him up to the table of nobles, nodding to Ayca to follow behind them. Groaning as he sat down, finally able to sit comfortably for a while at least. Taking a deep breath before he spoke to answer his dear friends questions, Ayca on the other hand wasted no time in eating as they had made all haste to come to Wintershouse. "You were busy no need to trouble yourself on my account. I am the same, feeling old brother." Leaning his cane against the chair, watching over the others studying their appearance. "On the account of my father and brothers, why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer to. However my father suffers from gout currently, the rich mans disease."

Though just as suddenly the mercenaries came threw the hall, the three leaders offering their weapons for the Weades. While that was true of the mercenary code but he could tell before they trio had entered that something wasn't right. He could just in the way that they spoke. From how they could get so many more men so fast to wanting the spoils o f certain cities and how he stared at Amber. Exhaling a breath watching Ayca eat. Finding inspiration in the simplest things, musing a small laugh. "Thank you." Tapping her thigh.

Ayca looked him oddly at Jovan as she took a sip of northern wine. Clearing his throat. "Gregar if I may speak freely?" Looking over towards his friend, then back to the three captains. How he'd relish the moment mocking them.

"I commend you gentleman for coming to us, but I am troubled by certain things. First off being that you can field such an army so quickly. Second being that you specifically wanted to plunder Redfield and Osshearth. Odd since there are greater cities about. Third, what if my brother here is merely content on defending and not attacking. Your spoils are gone, so would you be content with pay without spoils? Lastly is the stare you gave to my cousin Lady Rossric, which by rumor you know what had happened. Which is suspicious in its own right since you stared at her. Which makes me think that you had something to do with her exile. Gentleman I'm not stupid, so it is best to come out with your act. A fox is much more cunning than a lumbering oaf with an axe. " Leaving out the stare to this black knight, since he couldn't assess that situation without proper knowledge. Jovan held back since he didn't want to cause too much of a scene before Gregar. If it had been his home, he would've killed them with words alone and then have them arrested for being such idiots.

[Partisan]

The Battle of Wintershouse Keep

- 9th of December, 1204, Etwine's rule, Year of Massacres.

Gregar smiled at the mercenaries in front of them, slowly sitting up before leaning forward and leaning his arms on his knees. The old man had started grinning, showing ugly black teeth. “I think I can't hire you.” Gregar spoke calmly, looking the man in his eyes, whose grin dissapeared and whose stare turned into a deadly shower of daggers. “We know, Oakheart.” The message was cryptic and unclear, almost as if it was meant for Gregar only. Gregar understood, though, and lost his smile quickly. Time seemed to stop for a moment.

Gregar quickly raced to get up when the old man stepped forward and reached for the sword on his back. Gregars sword came out of the sheath and so did the old mans. Screams were heard as ladies and servants yelled and headed for the giant doors while guardsmen and knights, noblemen and their sons unsheathed their blades. “FOR THE OAKHEART!” one knight yelled as a sword cleaved through the air and hit his throat. All that remained after his battlecry were gurgling sounds and a mercenary, kicking the mans body over to die in his own blood. Never the less all the other knights repeated his warcry, strengthened by the fury their comrades' death had no doubt caused. A fury matched only by the mercenaries bloodlust as they saw coin and riches in their future.

The Hillman Weasel was rushing for Amber, someone he'd deem a valuable price, although it would be unsure if she was the target of an aimed attack or he simply liked to take her concubine. He swung his axe wildly in the direction of those near her, including Jovan who had insulted the mercenaries with no end and touched their honour - or whatever remnant of honour they had. Jovan, being the cripple he was, would be forced to decide.. take an axe to the side of his body, to offer someone the chance to kill the man, or jump out of harms way and take a chance that Amber could deal with this savage marauder. Ladykiller, the blonde mercenary, had instead opted to run down a hallway while drawing his longsword, no doubt going off to look for a suitable high value lady to kill or kidnap, no doubt to ask for a ransom. Joakim, an able fighter who was standing near the hallway had noticed him escaping the fights, and chose to chase after him to stop him. Without realizing it, Ladykiller was headed for mothers' room and last Joakim had heard Brier was there too. He couldn't afford to lose the both of them, not so soon after their arrival.

Gregar watched as the mercenaries started putting men and women to the blade, his own knights stopping them in the act and engaging in combat to afford those civilians who couldn't fight, ladies and young boys and girls the time to escape, though many did meet the blade. As he refocused on the old man, he was barely in time to parry the mans blade with his own, crashing into him with his hip to offset him and push him off the steps that lead to the throne. Giving the old man no time to recollect himself he'd immediatly swing his sword up and down again, stepping towards the old man to cleave his head in two - an attack the man skillfully dodged and at the same time, he launched an upwards aimed slash with his sword aimed to take out Gregar with one strike and cleaving him open from bottom to top. And with Gregars sword still on the ground from his last step, he could barely twist his body outside of the old mans range, forcing him to miss.

---

Outside, Gidja had lined up some archers on the walls, a mere 50 of them. Meanwhile, other soldiers had started standing with Rolland, asking him who these men were and what they wanted. No doubt Kaz's men were wondering what was going on as they were stuck between the mercenaries and Gregars' men. But as a man ran outside from the keep, waving a red rag of cloth, the mercenaries all got up and headed for the gate. Not realizing what was happening, Gidja would grab a bow from a nearby weapon stand and look to Rolland, waiting for commands. As soon as she'd see him drawing his blade and marching to meet the mercenaries with his force of barely fourty men, she'd order the fifty archers to start firing - they'd need to draw the battle out so the soldiers that were in the inn, in their tents or in the barracks could get to them and support them. If they managed that, they'd outnumber them... for the comming ten minutes, though, it would be a battle in which Rolland would begin with a losing side.

The first mercenaries that would come through the gate were a set of approximately 20 medium armored knights, couching their lances in their sides and aiming for the heads of the soldiers in front of them. If Rolland didn't act fast, he could be dealt a blow that would not be recoverable.

---

Inside the keep Joakim was chasing after the blonde mercenary, following him swiftly and with agile steps, though he remained a knight in manners and didn't hesitate to throw over a table if it made him faster - everything was allowed to stop this man from reaching the rooms he was headed for. As he got closer and closer to the blonde man, it seemed he got noticed and the man actually threw over a table in Joakim's way, who couldn't dodge it and it sent him tumbling. Although the man continued on his way and Joakim wasn't in danger, Brier was. As he stumbled to get back on his feet he yelled down the corridor. “BRIER! Get in a room and lock the door! We're under attack!” He barely got up again as he continued the chase down the corridor to stop this man.

Gregar, in the main hall, was still busy fighting the old man while combat around him ensued, leading to many innocents dying as well. A quick glance was all Gregar could afford, as he looked over at Brier, Jovan and Arryn to see how they were holding up. He had no doubts that Ash would do alright, though he'd question the ways in which Ash was fighting.. if he was fighting to begin with. Nothing stopped the black knight from seeing this as a bad omen and leaving the castle. Kaz.. was a wildcard. Gregar just hoped he'd kill the mercenaries and die in the process, just in case Kaz would see this as if it were a trap by Gregar. He dove left as the old man struck out again, and the old mans blade struck against a stone pillar. Now was the chance. Gregar grabbed the mans' blade lightly, to not cut himself, and swung his sword at the mans' hand. He'd either have to let go to avoid losing his hand, or risk pulling the sword back just in time.

Why was it that time always seemed to slow down when you were in combat.. it always made it seem as if combat, war.. death, were all beautiful and heroic things. Just as he would swing his sword at the old mans hand, to the right of him a man he knew, Theryn of Burghouse, got cut down. He shared many summers with this man at the beaches of the Falkhalls' duke, sent there by his father to squire for the Athosi together with Theryn, who squired for a famous son of the Athosi duke. It seemed all that training with him hadn't paid off after all, his throat cut by a simple savage hillman who moved on to the next target. He wondered if they'd done this if they had known every man in this hall. Would they still cut down Theryn if they'd known that his wife was with child? Would they still have cut him down if they had known his child wasn't truly his, but he accepted it anyway, keeping the boy as one of his own?

The answer was no, likely not. But Gregar would cut them down all the same, even if he had known them for years, centuries, eons. Justice had to be swift and merciless, because if it wasn't then it was unnessecary and late - two traits justice could not have. These men would die for their attack on men who had let them in in good faith. Blood to be answered with blood. “NO MERCY!” he'd yell right before his sword would hit. It seemed the old man had tried to pull back his sword, but his old age had disallowed him to do so. He'd pay the price of betrayal later, as Gregar kicked him in the chest after he fell to his knees grasping the stump he had left with his last hand. If the man hadn't bled to death, Gregar would execute him himself for treason. Swiftly moving Gregar moved to the next target, aiding a fellow knight who seemed to be in trouble. Amber and the rest would have to fend for themselves.

[GhostReaper]

Jessica looked at Amber tilting her head some as she heard her to look watch Gavin. She couldn't help but laugh a bit "M'lady? Gavin is Joakim's personal steward, and acting head steward" she added looking at her as she smiled "He is pleasant, cheerful, and very dedicated to his work. Personally I'm somewhat up set tonight is his last night as acting head, he as been good to us, able to balance personal and professional. Evan the cooks like him, and that is saying something." She smiled bowing her head "He is thoughtful about his actions, Take me for example. I was assigned to you because I'm more observant then most and since some people may be targeting you he wanted some one who notices subtle things to better keep you safe." Jessica wasn't lying in the least seeing as this is what she was told and had no real reason to question it. "So anything else you need M'lady"

Walking through the halls it was time for Gavin to return to the main hall and resume his duties of directing his busy little bees as swarmed around the Castle. Before he had even reached it though a man walked up to him, leaning in he whispered to him as Gavin nodded and kept walking. More guest it seems he thought making his way to the main hall. He knew of these mercenary companies, and he loathed them. They were not to be trusted, they didn't care what the job was, they would do it. Even Telth had some ethics, as many as a paid killer can have, but still he had a code to live by. These men didn't care as long as they got paid. Returning to the hall Gavin saw some new arrivals. He didn't know the man as he asked a servant who had been there longer, Jovan apparently. He had never met the man but knew of him as he smiled and nodded. It seemed he was already being taken care of, and since Gavin had no need to watch the man he left it be.

His young lord Joakim came into the hall with the mercenary leader. Watching he moved back and out of site. The ladykiller, was a man he personally didn't like and there was history between them as he would prefer not to be made by a man such as that. Staying out of site from all eyes he closed his own. He didn't trust them, and at this time Gavin would not be needed. Opening his eyes he had returned to Telth, He looked over as Jessica walked up "Scary..." she said pausing as she looked at Telth. She was a chilled a bit as she had never seen that look "Run and hide little girl" he said to her as she nodded moving into the kitchens freaked out a bit. Though It seemed that Telth was right, things started to get heated up as he walked out of the shadows once he saw metal clinking together as sword met sword.

Coming out he saw Joakim chasing after Ladykiller, but something more pressing took his attention. The hillsman was charging at Amber, soon a throwing dagger was flying the air heading for the man. Telth didn't even think, it was simple reaction. Years of training making such actions second nature to him. That dagger was of course on the money, and would plunge into his neck, if he noticed it however he would have to back of and since he was charging the way he was it would make him stumble some. Though Telth didn't have time to see the outcome, that was all the help he could provide with out blowing his cover as he took off running after his young lord.

Telth ran through the halls as he saw the over turned tables, easily moving past such he was faster then most and was soon he saw Joakim who had been stumbled by one of the falling tables. "Excuse me young lord" he said as he quickly flew past him. Despite his speed he often moved silently and he was soon approaching the blonde man, some one that he couldn't exactly let live. Telth threw out the second throwing knife of his at the back of that man. Telth wasn't one to announce him self as he attacked, quickly drawing those twin daggers he flipped the one in his left hand to hold it backwards lashing out. The knife wouldn't kill him, he had to aim between any armor he might of had on so it would stagger him though. Using that he slid down using his left blade to slice the back of his knee.

[AtomicNut]

Ash barely had time to react when all subtlety was thrown out because some comment out of Gregar's "brother". Ash didn't know who he was, but he probably was high ranked, had a frail health, and above all, he didn't read the situation at all. Yet Ash knew well, the situation was beyond mere words. People were already drawing blades and killing eachother, and the Oakheart was rallying the troops against the ambush. There was no turning back, and he had to pick a side.

I hate fighting for free. He scoffed as he quickly drew his sword and scanned the surroundings. Hamstring had attacked Gregar, no doubt wanting to sever his tendons of arms and legs, Ladykiller was already running upstairs, impeded somewhat by Gregar's brother. And the Hillman Weasel had the sights on the ill man and the other woman whom he guessed was a noblewoman of sorts.

My, Weasel, aiming for women and cripples? You never change. Ash muttered to himself as he reached after the man. You're distracted, with your back at me. You're also important. You're mine. The Knightslayer launched himself, but not with the sword. He used his leg to deliver a hard blow to the back of the knee of the Hillman.

No matter the armor, joints are always weak points. Bend thy knee! Ash thought to himself as he used all his sword arm might in a decapitating stroke aimed at Weasel's head from behind. Swift, brutal, and dreadful. Just like during the war.

---

Brier looked twice at the upcoming man. And Joakim. Who yelled her to get in a room. Ruckus from downstairs confirmed that indeed, this place was under attack. Looking at Mir, she quickly proceed to shut herself in a room. Normally, she would be scared. But after the Blackwood incident, she hadn't caught a break exactly.

I must move on Brier shook her head. Times for lamentations were over. She drew her dagger and awaited for the ruckus to subside to open the door. She could help Mir and Greg. But first, she needed to talk to them to get a few ingredients.

[RPforthatPR]

The knife missed the man who charged at Amber. She picked up the sword and axe Tomas had thrown at her, and she charged him. She parried the first blow he made towards her hip, and countered with her axe. This left a gash in his right arm and he yelled, stumbling back. He swung his sword at her, cutting a lock of hair off her and slicing her leather chestplate. A large gash in the material exposed her heart, protected only by chainmail and cloth.

She backed out of the way. The man came back charging and she quickly kicked him in the groin and brought her axe to his neck. Another mercenary was already upon her, so she kicked the man out of the way, not bothering to pull the axe out, and started fighting another.

-----

Tomas looked down at the scene, and started walking down the stairs, limping. He grabbed his new sword and put it to the test, slicing a mercenary's throat open. Another one shot a bow at him and it caught him in the stomach, he fell to one knee and avoided another one. He saw one of the guards cut the bowman down and started limping towards Amber.

"Tomas, protect Arryn!"

She was unarmed and still in the hall. Tomas went towards her, clutching at the arrow in his stomach and using his sword as a crutch.

"Arryn, come with me," he just said, gesturing to the door.

----

Amber turned around. Another mercenary was there. He was a tall brute, almost as tall as Kaz, with a long salt and pepper beard. His face was pockmarked and scarred, and his pupils were small as if he'd had too much pipe-weed. Attached to his arm was a prosthetic hand, made of steel, clutching a sword. Then, it clicked. This was the Jorvik Steelfist in those tales.

The man roared and started laughing uncontrollably, and started running towards her, holding his mace awkwardly behind him. This strange way of attacking put Amber off balance and his mace hit her in the ribs. A loud crack echoed in her head and she fell to the ground, the sword slipping out of her hand. She grunted as pain swelled her entire torso.

He brought his mace again. She moved her head to avoid it, and his mace smashed the cobble beneath them. Through squinting eyes she saw Tomas leap on the man. The two crossed blades, but Tomas sword got stuck in the man's leg armour and he fell over. Jorvik lifted his mace and brought it down on her brother. He tried to parry, but the blade only slowed down the mace marginally and snapped, along with Tomas' hand.

Amber noticed her wrist had been cut during the battle, and her entire arm was covered in blood and sweat. She saw the mace come down again on her brother. She closed her eyes.

She pictured Horvik. Killing everyone in the forklands. Killing her mother.

She got up, she winced at the pain but she walked on, and pulled her axe out of the neck of the mercenary she'd killed. She dragged it across the stone, and despite the little strength left in her, lifted it above her head and brought it down on the man.

The mace went spinning out of his "hand", which caught Amber's axe. With a twist, she bent one of the fingers out of the way, and another slash ripped his arm open. Jorvik stumbled back, and picked up his sword with his good hand.

"You'll pay for that, cunt," he said, before charging back at her.

-----

Dannos hesitated for a second. Then he ran.

He didn't care about forfeiting his position anymore. He'd be dead or worse if the boy died. He ran past a few guards running in the opposite direction, and nearly knocked a farmer down with full force. He heard Gidja yell at him to get back there, but her words fell on deaf ears.

He cut down a mercenary who tried to oppose him and walked up to the keep. Grabbing his bow, he saw the man Joakim was chasing, and took aim. If the arrow missed, it could easily hit Joakim or the wall. He couldn't risk it, but he had to.

He paused. He let everything around him only be a blur, the shouting, the fighting. He was one with himself, and only concentrating on his target. He simply nocked the arrow and let it loose.

It slammed into the wall behind Ladykiller. He nocked another one.