He nodded his thanks to Ser Naton, acknowledging the gesture he made. The knight may have cloaked himself in boastfulness and braggadocio, but Thoren knew now that he knew the craft of battle.

Never the most proficient of horsemen, he leaned forward in his saddle, one hand nervously on the reins and one hand gripping his battleaxe, the pounding of the hoofbeats of the horses sending his heart pounding as well, racing to the rhythm of war as they rode in as orderly a charge as he could have managed given the circumstances. As the moved in, he was ready to lay it down.

OOC:

Charge Attack: 17
Base Damage: 5 (3 for the weapon + 2 for the charge)

15:23, Today: Thoren Blackfin rolled 17 using 8d6, keeping the 3 highest rolls with rolls of 3,5,6,1,5,2,6,1.  Charge Attack.

I think that's right

Berion might have been an expert rider, but that did one little good when one was blindsided by a flying mass of fur and fang.  As such he was almost immediately torn from the saddle and beset upon by one of the wolves.

Thankfully his squire Valen, who was trailing just behind him managed to put his horse's hoofs into the knight's attacker, buying the man just a moment's respite.  "Go!" he boomed to the others, waving a gloved fist towards the encircled tents before another wolf lept forth in an attempt to bring the knight down, only to be met with the business end of a spear.


Berion Knollwood rolled 5 using 3d6 with rolls of 1,1,3.  Agility.
Berion Knollwood rolled 20 using 4d6 with rolls of 6,6,2,6.  Fighting 1.
Berion Knollwood rolled 14 using 4d6 with rolls of 4,1,5,4.  Fighting 2.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:12, Sat 06 Nov 2021.

Jenny screamed to fright as the wolf snarled at her, but it went down and seemed to be dead. She tried to ignore the blood on her as she wrenched her stiletto free. "Lady Gwendolyn! Be careful!" she cried out when one of the wolves leapt for Gwendolyn. She hurried to the guardsman who was struggling with the wolf and tried to stab the creature and so free the guardsman.

05:54, Today: Jenny Goodbrother rolled 10 using 3d6 with rolls of 5,2,3.  Fighting (Small Blades).

In reply to Jenny Goodbrother (msg # 10):

Soon after the wolf went down, Darvil rode into the camp. He was lucky that he had remembered the layout of the camp and could get to them quickly.

"We need to get you all to safety! Come on!" Darvil said, before helping the guard with the wolf on him.

The Melee
The small group of outriding nobles were met with a flurry of tooth and claw. Ser Berion and Ser Adham’s squire, Daveth Darry, were torn from their saddles. Ser Adham wheeled about, laying about with longsword and giving his squire time to find his feet, while Ser Berion impaled his own assailant on the end of a hunting spear, before forcing another to keep its distance with a well timed jab.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
19:07, Today: The Many Faced God rolled 5 using 2d6 with rolls of 1,4.  Wolf - Maneuvered. [Misses]

---

Darvil and Valen punched through the ambush. Valen stood tall in his saddle, casting about, and saw a familiar tint of Blackfin colours through the camp before kicking his heels into the flank of his mount. Darvil proved the cannier, remembering the layout of the camp, he arrived well before Ser Berion’s squire, drawing the attention of one of wolves that had been entering Gwendolyn’s Pavilion, which lunged at him.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
19:02, Today: The Many Faced God rolled 8 using 3d6 with rolls of 1,1,6.  Wolves.
[Darvil is hit for One degree of success, but his mail absorbs the damage]

---

As more wolves converged on Ser Berion’s position, a hunting horn sounded from the direction of the woods, and Ser Thoren’s company swept over the edge of the camp like a raging tide, trampling wolves under hoof and lance like stray vermin. Ser Thoren’s own axe shattered a skull, leaving the blade with a slight nick, and slick with blood and brain matter. Blackfin and Tullison, Serbera, Kettleblack, and Heddle riding together atop war-trained mounts proved an overwhelming force.

Though the wolves had fought with a savage cunning, they showed none of the true steel of trained men at arms, and dissipated into the night like morning mist, many limping from injuries. The Direwolf threw a hateful look over one shoulder toward a battered Ser Lyonel Darry and followed its shattered forces into the night. The older knight hurled insults at its repeating back, before leaning on his Morningstar to catch his breath.


The Pavilion
The wolves attacking Gwendolyn’s pavilion tarried longer. One was diverted by the speedy arrival of Darvil Blackfin, but a second was not, and it leapt at Jenny Goodbrother. The Ironborn maid’s dagger slashed along its hide, but it was a weapon designed for piercing, and the wound was not deep. The wolf’s claws slashed at Jenny, rending her dress, though the fabric blunted the worst of the blow.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
19:02, Today: The Many Faced God rolled 16 using 3d6 with rolls of 5,6,5. For 2 degrees of success = 5 damage to Jenny, ruining her dress.

---

The surviving wolf of the first wave savaged the downed Blackfin guardsman, it jaws and claws shredding his leather jerkin, leaving it ragged and bloody, only to dodge another wild slash from Jenny, and a thrown pillow from one of the other handmaidens.

The remaining guardsmen struck at the wolves with axe and spear, driving both back from the tent, where the sight of Darvil Blackfin, sword drawn looming over their companion soon put all three to flight, just as Valen Vance arrived, having navigated the maze of tents in the dark, to add his own sword to the fight.

The Aftermath

As the howls of fleeing wolves receded into the night, the camp hung poised on the edge of chaos. Some among Thoren's hunters seemed poised to pursue their fleeing enemies, while retainers emerged from tents, shocked by both the severity of the violence, and its sudden resolution.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Moving out of the previous pseudo-combat rounds to allow characters to react, prioritise, and roleplay.

---

Giving a nod of appreciation to the other men at arms, Berion quickly mounted and made his way to the center of camp, his stomach twisting itself into knots.  However his concern was unnecessary, and upon seeing his sister safe and unharmed, he swiftly pulled the woman into a crushing hug before eventually releasing her after much protest.  "I'm glad to see that everyone is none too worse for the wear" he exclaimed, flashing Jenny with a rather amused (albeit slightly impressed) looking expression and almost imperceptible wink before turning his attention towards the others.

Clapping Valen on the shoulder, Berion gave his squire an approving look before rounding on the Dunstan heir and addressing the young man.  "Well then, it's safe to say that you were correct Lord Dunstan, as it appears we have a Warg on our hands.  And given that it was your decision to end the hunt early that ensured our timely arrival, I believe it's safe to say that all present owe your their lives.  Speaking on behalf of myself and my family, thank you, I am indebted to your sir."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:22, Sun 07 Nov 2021.

Jenny screamed again as the wolf clawed at her, but she didn't panic and kept trying to fight. She felt she now understood some of when her father talked of battle. Only when the wolves had fled did she stop. Now she was lady Jenny again, and she tried to cover herself up after the damage to her dress.

"Darvil!" she exclaimed, relieved. "You saved us!" They would survive after all. She moved to kiss Darvil on the cheek in gratitude.

She giggled a little, in spite of the situation, when Berion bear-hugged Lady Alyssa. She blushed as Berion winked at her, aware she had hardly been acting like a lady, and that her dress was ruined. "Thanks to the valor of the guardsmen, and Darvil, and yourself Ser Berion, we are indeed safe" she said gratefully.

She wiped her stiletto on the ruins of her dress and returned it to its sheath; a little more blood on her dress wouldn't matter now. "Lady Gwendolyn, are you hurt?" she asked. Assuming the answer was no, she would kneel by the fallen guardsman and do her best to treat his wounds.

"A warg?" she asked.

22:58, Today: Jenny Goodbrother rolled 8 using 4d6, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 3,1,4,1.  Healing (Treat Injury).

Gwen slid about the pavilion, attempting to keep any claws on the other side of one of the armored guardsmen. She maintained some quiet so as not to attract any attention, but when Jenny was assaulted, Gwen let an exclamation slip. "Jenny!"

She reached out toward the woman, though couldn't really do much to help except to stay out of the way of those trained at arms. The Blackfin heiress managed to do so, and finally breathed a sigh of relief once the wolves were forced to flight.

She quickly turned toward Jenny to make sure she was uninjured, but the ironborn woman seemed to have taken everything in stride. Gwen nodded at the question of her own safety. "I am well, Jenny. Well struck and well fought."

She looked around at all those around. "And like to you all. This assault could have ended far worse but for the courage and strength everyone displayed."

The young Tullison Heir gave a wide grin at Berion's words. His excitement was clear , the thrill of battles won ringing clearly in his words.

"Far from it Ser. Who can say one man here owes another, when we have shared common cause to save the lives of those we hold dear."

He looked briefly to his side, where his huntsmaster Ser Mathers had emerged from the shadows without a sound, and seemed to give Dunstan a slight shrug in response to some unasked question. Dunstan frowned and turned back to Berion.

"I am not experienced in the way of wargs and their sorceries, Ser Berion, but I am glad that we have emerged unscathed. If such a beast were here tonight, then I hope that it has found a true death."

His gaze slid past Berion to Lady Gwendolyn, and he dipped his head courteously, opening his mouth to begin some courteous remark, before glimpsing Jenny, whose thoroughly ruined dress had been made only less seemly in the tending of the badly wounded man-at-arms. Dunstan's cheek's reddened as his mouth froze in a wide "O" and he hurriedly glanced away from Gwendolyn's pavilion, his voice becoming thin and strained as he fixed his gaze on a handful of crows that circled nearby.

"I wish you and yours good health Lady Gwendolyn, but I must see to the disposition of my mother and sister for their return to Castle Lychester." And with a glance to Ser Mathers he made an abrupt departure. The older huntsmaster shrugged, giving a barely audible chuckle, and followed Dunstan back toward his family's pavilion.

Jenny's skilled aid is enough to stabilise the Man at arms for now, though with deep lacerations to his hands and face, his recovery will be long, and he will bear deep scars for many years to come. He groans and swears and mutters desperate thanks as his ruined jerkin is cut from him. He seems fit enough to be strapped to a horse for the journey back to the castle at least.

Throughout the camp the mood seems to be shifting generally in that direction as well, as Lyman's smallfolk begin to decamp, gather scattered horses, and tend the wounded. Amidst this chaos Lord Lychester can be glimpsed giving a bevy of orders to his smallfolk, his own sobbing daughter held protectively under one arm.

Gwen smiled at Dunstan and nodded at his well-wishes. "Thank you, Lord Dunstan. We will prepare for the return journey as well."

The Blackfin heiress moved closer to Jenny when she was done with her work. "Jenny, stand tall and let me have a look at you." While Gwen's face was generally difficult to decipher, concern was plain on her features. She'd heard more than a few stories of men who'd returned from battle only to later discover injury.

Thoren approached Gwen's side soon afterwards, stopping a few paces away to quickly clean the blood and viscera that had affixed itself to the blade of his axe on the grass. It would need more attention later, but this was enough for propriety, or would have to do. He buckled it back at his back before walking over to where she stood.

"I see you're safe, Gwen, thank the Seven. Is..." he trailed off for a moment, momentarily curious about Jenny's appearance and whether she might be hurt, but quickly realizing the other woman was well. Thoren had momentarily looked concerned, a look that quickly faded into the stony façade of his face, his icy blue eyes seeming to dispel any warmth his expression might try to hold.

"There's more danger afoot here than I expected. I should not have strayed so far from your side. Did we lose any?"

"I'm relieved to hear it" Jenny said when Gwendolyn confirmed she wasn't hurt. "Thank you, Lady Gwnedolyn!". That made Jenny feel a little better, and like she had done the right thing. Jenny thought of Gwendolyn like a sister.

Jenny sighed with relief as she finished treating the guardsman. "His fate is in the hands of God now, but I believe he will survive" she said as she put away her Maester's kit.

Her blush deepened when Dunstan looked away. Oh no, what kind of impression am I giving? "B-but, Lady Gwendolyn..." Jenny protested, afraid of putting on a further show, but she rose to her feet and let Gwendloyn look her over. "Hello, Ser Thoren" she said awkwardly. "Thank you for your assistance and your gallantry. It was a most frightening situation"

His expression one of amusement, Berion bowed his head deeply towards Dunstan as the Tullison heir made good his escape.  Following in the man's footsteps, Berion made his way to where Lord Lychester was comforting his daughter.  "Lord Lychester, Lady Iris, I'm pleased to see you both are safe.  I just wanted to check on Ser Adham now that someone a touch more skilled than I has had a chance to see to him."

Locking eyes with Iris, Berion smiled warmly, his expression tinged with a knowing sympathy.  She was a young woman unaccustomed to the sort of violent display that had just unfolded, and so her reaction was perfectly understandable.  Giving her a knowing nod, the knight turned his attention to her father as he added "That shadowcat was the largest of its kind that I've ever seen, and yet despite his wounds Adham stood fast.  You raised a fine young man sir."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:23, Fri 12 Nov 2021.

"Your concern is commendable," Lord Lyman lauded Berion, though his tone was somewhat cooler than his son's had been to the Knight of the Knollwood. He barked an order to a passing porter, and seemed to consider matters in order enough to take on the role of host.

"Adham is receiving a field dressing, and I am sure will be well-recovered, at least enough that he can meet his obligations," he paused, coughing, "as a host, you understand." Lyman continued. "He tells me of your own bravery within the hunting grounds, and that your huntsmaster is soon to arrive with as great a prize as any seen in a generation within the Lorrentine Ranges. I am glad to hear that I will not feast my son's wedding on fowl and wolf alone," he laughed.

Carefully, he disentangled his daughter from beneath his shielding arm, "Iris, please go and see to the Lady Moirane and our other guests. I would have us decamp swiftly and return to the Castle, and I am sure your companion, Lady Yve would be well reassured by your presence."

Turning back to Ser Berion, Lyman seemed to collect himself as his daughter departed, "I tasked my son to extract a promise from you and yours Ser Berion, but your adventure seems to have interrupted the effort, nevertheless, it makes the undertaking all the more important, with my other guests arriving this evening or on the morrow, and blood already spilt."

Iris smiled demurely in response to Berion's sympathetic look, and betrayed a single crease of consternation at her father's sudden dismissal of her.

Her own dress was untarnished, and her hair had been polished to a beaten gold before being set in pins and tresses far too study for mere wolves to set awry. She shifted easily away from her father so that she stood facing both Lyman and Berion, and held her head bowed in deference, though her lashes blinked slowly over large doe eyes. "As you wish father," she curtsied, dabbing one eye neatly with a kerchief, before discarding it to the hands of a handmaid who swept in unbidden to take it from her. She curtsied politely to Ser Berion too and withdrew, her gaze lingering half a speculative moment too long before she turned to depart. Her two ladies in waiting peeled off neatly to follow her, leaving Lyman to share words with Berion, in relative privacy. Berion heard the unclear echo of chatter from one of the handmaids, and a giggle of laughter from the other.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:01, Fri 12 Nov 2021.

Resisting the urge to smile broadly at Iris, Berion managed to keep a more neutral expression plastered to his face as he responded to Lord Lyman.  "I'm glad to hear that sir.  And of course, it is the least we could do to thank you for your generous hospitality."  At the mention of Adham's task, Berion's expression became quizzical as he added "Unexpected violence often has that effect I'm afraid.  Though if I might ask, what promise was that?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:56, Fri 12 Nov 2021.

"Gallantry," he said, testing the word. A ghost of a smile deigned to appear on his face, and he passed a fond look to Jenny. For all that she appeared no different than any other young woman from the riverlands, she appeared to still have the steel and spirit of the Ironborn.

"I think you'll want to look to Ser Berion for gallantry. I mostly yell at other people while trying not to fall off my horse."

In reply to Berion Knollwood (msg # 24):

By all accounts, Lord Lyman had missed any exchange between Ser Berion and his daughter, his manner was direct and he met Berion's gaze with his own, "Your valour has been amply demonstrated, but now I fear I must impose upon you in the matter of restraint." Lyman informed Berion.

"You may rightly expect that there will be several of my guests who are sworn to the Lady Agnes Blackwood," he continued, "I do not ask you to bury all old rivalries and grudges, as I do not cast judgement on  them, I ask merely that you postpone them for the duration of my son's wedding."

Nodding his assent, Berion listened as the older man made his request.  His concerns were quite valid, as the bad blood between the Blackwoods and the Brackens had dominated politics in the Riverlands for as long as anyone could remember.  Still, for whatever Berion might think of whatever Blackwood toadie that Lady Agnes had sent, the truth of the matter was that he was a guest of the Lychesters, and thus, bound by the ancient custom of guest rights.  And nobody in their right mind would ever conceive of breaking the laws of gods and men, lest they invite the wrath of the gods (old and new) upon their house.

"Lord Lyman, we have shared bread and salt and you have opened your home to me" the knight replied simply, as if that settled the matter.  His expression solemn, Berion bowed his head before adding "That is to say, yes, of course, you have my word."

Berion Knollwood rolled 13 using 3d6+2 with rolls of 6,4,1.  Status (Reputation)

"Excellent," Lyman responded, nodding in apparent relief. "I take you at your word Ser Berion, for I have been given ample reason to trust it, and I know you are a man of stature and influence within Lord Lothar's domains."

He glanced up toward the sky, nodding as the rain and wind relented, and a few stray motes of afternoon sun pierced through. "I will send men for Lady Gwendolyn's huntsmaster, and to ensure your prize holds prime position for my son's wedding feast. Should there be any injured among your party, my maester shall tend them upon our return to Castle Lychester. Alas, the old man is poorly suited to travel by horse.." He nodded thoughtfully, then barked another series of orders in brisk staccatto at a serving boy who was dawdling at the edges of the camp.

Gwen looked over Jenny with an appraising eye and engaged in basic conversation to make sure Jenny’s mind was well enough. While Gwen wasn’t particularly skilled at the healing arts, she did have a keen eye and intellect.

After determining that her friend seemed well enough to travel, Gwen frowned at the torn dress. “You have two choices. Certainly we can find suitable clothing to cover what has been made bare. Or you can wear that shredded dress like a badge of honor. I suspect some menfolk would find your exploits with the blade and ability to withstand assault by tooth and claw rather attractive. Others will find it improper.”

Gwen shrugged. “Personally, I would cover up. But I am not you, and you are not me. The Blackfin heiress tipped an empty palm toward Jenny to suggest a response was appropriate.

Jenny giggled at Ser Thoren's words. "You showed up to save us maidens and had blood all over your axe, it's gallant enough. My ancestors are not great horsemen either"

Jenny was bruised and scratched but not really hurt, and she smiled at Gwendolyn's concern for her and chatted happily. She looked down shyly when Gwen mentioned her clothing. "I should find something to wear. I fear I spoiled everything with the way I acted" Jenny admitted.

As the immediate risk of harm diminished, Lord Lychester set about returning his guests to Castle Lychester before the insight of night, knowing that stout stone walls was the only site defence against such beasts.

(6xp for all characters present, but no glory)

In reply to Jenny Goodbrother (msg # 14):


Darvil sheepishly smiled as Jenny kissed his cheek. He pulled her into a bear hug as well, laughing softly. "Aye, we are, though I wouldnt exactly put it all on myself," he teased. "The others deserve more credit than I do, truth be told - but I'm glad we're all safe."