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Post by Daeron Wildfyre on Mar 5, 2021 0:17:44 GMT 1
Despite the absolute brutal beating that he suffered at the hands of the Roughneck, Daeron found himself surprised by the civilized setting in which he was being held captive. He honestly expected something closer to being chained to a post in the ground, or at the very least his hands and feet being bound. Instead he had been put up in a tent along with other "high-value" captives who could be expected to pay a sizeable ransom. They were guarded for sure, but not by elite members of the Ironhand's sellswords, mostly squires and those too infirm to actually engage in the battle, but who could still swing a sword. Scanning the room, he momentarily began to plan his escape.
"If I'm quick enough I could definitely get a sword off that one's belt, probably cut down one or two before anybody else could even raise a blade." Then looking at his own heavily bandaged body and his (probably) broken arm he reconsidered. "That is if I was even in good enough shape to raise a blade myself."
Slumping down in his bed, brief plans of escape given up on he contents himself to wait for one such as Bittersteel, Redtusk, or Snake Eater to barge through the tent flaps and escort him back to Stone Hedge for a more proper recovery. That or for a maester to come around and dose him with enough Milk of the Poppy that he wouldn't care who won the battle, just as he had with the rest of the prisoners. More than anything at this point he was bored. He wanted to be out helping his comrades fight, but that arrow had flown and now he had to content himself listening to the din of battle and the moans of dying men.
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Mar 5, 2021 20:36:33 GMT 1
Robyn removed his helm as he made his way through the camp, looking down to see the metal wolf covered in blood. Not his own, thankfully, but the more he thought of it the sicker the pit in his stomach began to feel. It made his eyes go blurry and his jaw clench, and while he hadnt eaten anything since yesterday he couldnt bring himself to eat a bite, not now. After building a wall of dead Bracken soldiers, Robyn's apatite had significantly diminished.
He trudged through the mud, passing the tents and the sound of wounded men screaming in pain as maesters did their work. Water. Water or wine, gods Robyn just needed a drink. His head was pounding and the bruises he was developing were causing his legs to buckle beneath him. His hand caught the side of a water trough, and without thinking, Robyn dropped his helm an dunked his head inside.
It did little to stop the pain but he found peace in the water. With his head submerged the pounding stopped, the sounds of metal and mourning subsided and were replaced with the gurgle of water rushing into his ears.
He was safe. He wasnt dead. He would see home soon.
Those thoughts repeated in his mind before someone tapped him on the shoulder. Robyn removed his now soaked head to see an angry man, yelling something about contamination that Robyn didnt understand. His eyes were looking past the man, into a tent that Robyn knew were where captured combatants of high status were kept.
'Might as well see if there is anyone I recognize,' he thought to himself as he leaned down, picking up his helm and brushing past the man with a smirk, "It's all yours, sorry for hogging it,"
He entered, slicking back his wet curls as he scanned the tent. His eyes narrowed in on a man with silver-golden hair and intense violet eyes, and a quizzical expression solidified on his face as his brain searched for a name, "Didnt expect to see a Great Bastard among the defeated," Robyn's lips lifted into a friendly smile as he approached, red stained helm beneath his arm, "Good to know you arent as uncontestable as your reputation suggests."
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Post by Daeron Wildfyre on Mar 10, 2021 20:28:42 GMT 1
Smug little bastard. A few blows from the Roughneck and his mouth wouldn't run so quick either.
Wildfyre's eyes blazed at the boy and his quips, but given that he was a broken man and a captive and this whelp was neither, he forced a smile.
"We are mortal, though just barely, but it is good to know that our reputations precedes us.
Speaking of reputations, I'm afraid that I'm not familiar with yours. Are you a squire for one of the knights in the field?"
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Mar 10, 2021 23:45:34 GMT 1
Speaking of reputations, I'm afraid that I'm not familiar with yours. Are you a squire for one of the knights in the field?" Robyn's eye twitched slightly as Daeron asked, letting out a subtle scoff at the word 'squire'. He remained smiling, "A squire? No, I've earned my spurs, ser, and have done more with them than most Knights of the Reach could dream of," he turned from Daeron for a moment, looking at one of the squires standing guard, "Would you bring me a wineskin?" Robyn's head swiveled back to the Great Bastard, pointing at him, "And two? Two goblets," he gave a smile to the squire, before the boy rushed off to retrieve the drink and cups. "I assumed you would be drinking; the last time I met a Great Bastard, she served me wine. And while she probably had finer stuff than whatever he can find, she suggested to enjoy luxuries when you have the opportunity," Robyn sat, the boy rushing back with the refreshments as Robyn took them, pouring a glass for Daeron, extending it towards him, "My name is Ser Robyn Starkwood, and you are?" his eyes were warm and welcoming. While they were on opposite sides of the war, and while Daeron was currently a prisoner, he could tell that Robyn held no malicious intent.
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Post by Daeron Wildfyre on Mar 11, 2021 3:42:30 GMT 1
He cocks an eyebrow at the boy, but accepts the wine nonetheless and take a long pull from it. The alcohol helped to numb the excruciating pain of multiple broken bones and wash the dust of battle out of his mouth.
Robyn Starkwood? That name does ring a bell, this must be the boy who saved Lady Falyse.
"Well met Ser Robyn, tales of your exploits have made it to Kingsbridge." He raises his goblet in salute. "Without your level-head and bravery Lady Falyse would have likely suffered a gruesome fate along with the rest of her family." Whatever he thought of Lady Falyse's political leanings, nobody deserves such a barbarous attack.
"As for me, I am Ser Daeron Wildfyre, a sworn brother of the Kingsbridge Companions, a name that I'm sure is familiar with at least a few at Starkwood. As for my latest exploits I am currently functioning as an honored guest in the camp of House Blackwood and their allies."
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Mar 11, 2021 4:36:36 GMT 1
Robyn pours his own drink, raising it as Daeron did, "I pray that I meet those responsible again, so I may enact retribution for their heinous deeds," he drinks a long gulp after the proclamation, letting the words settle in solemn silence. He meant it, and the blood that covered his armor was proof of his capacity for such slaughter he intended for them.
A look of recognition flashed in his eyes as he nodded, "And we are pleased to have you, Ser Wildfyre," he chuckled as he spoke, before he tapped the edge of the glass as he thought back, searching for where he recognized that name, "Now, correct me if I am wrong, but were you the one who defended Lady Laena's honor after it was challenged by that pig Simon Tarly?" Robyn leaned in as he smiled a slightly devilish grin, "I heard you gave him a proper beating and silenced that flapping mouth of his; an honor I wish I had claim to. Is that true?"
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Post by Daeron Wildfyre on Mar 12, 2021 3:34:19 GMT 1
A sly smile splits his face open, showing exactly how proud he is of that moment.
"Aye. That wet-brained lout had no right to insult my sister and I had hoped that such a thrashing would teach him a lesson. However, I wouldn't go challenging him for every minor offense, though he is an honorless drunk, he is a craven and dangerous fighter who shouldn't be underestimated." He finishes his goblet and sets the empty glass in front of the squire that Ser Robyn had summoned, letting him know that he would like a refill.
"It's a shame; however, that House Blackwood welcomed such a blackguard into their service. His rape of the Bracken girls shows that he learned no lessons from his defeat and his presence in the Riverlands has only made this little war more brutal than it needed to be.
If only he had the balls to show himself on the field of battle..."
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Mar 12, 2021 19:38:54 GMT 1
Robyn would refill Daeron's cup, scowling as he shakes his head, "He is an honorless drunkard, and whatever respect I had for him was completely lost when I heard those poor girls' testimony," He extended the cup back to his compatriot, before picking his own back up, "The lack of action took by House Blackwood is what angers me most. Tarly scion or not, such actions should be staunchly punished, I said as much at the trial. When he fled, I had half a mind to chase after him,"
He smiled as he brought the cup to his lips, "Though, if I did, I wouldnt have been able to sack the Warrior's Seat, or beat Otho Bracken at the following battle," He drank, thinking back to the encounter. Since he hadnt mentioned it, Robyn wondered if Daeron knew just how much he had accomplished here in the Riverlands. And, while he didnt make it obvious, a subtle brag never hurt.
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Post by Daeron Wildfyre on Mar 13, 2021 3:39:41 GMT 1
Daeron cocks an eyebrow at the mention of a trial? Trial? I hadn't heard that he faced a trial. Clearly this boy didn't face him though."Who faced him in his trial by combat? I could see Ser Roland or Ser Dennis being willing to challenge him, but I have a hard time seeing Ser Roland losing to him. Ser Dennis is also a skilled knight with a wicked blade, but he lacks the strength of Ser Roland and the savagery of Ser Simon.
No matter though, if the gods are good he will get what's coming to him. Perhaps you'll be able to challenge him back in the Reach."
Guest of Honor-Vainglorious: 6d6k4 16 Success, Daeron can keep his mouth shut about being the one to assault Otho "Ser Otho is a brute of a man to be sure, even if he was in recovery from an attempted assassination attempt, Bloodraven's doing I'm sure. That being said, I doubt that anybody would miss him. I certainly hold no love for the man, especially after he murdered my fellow Companion at Highgarden."He gives Ser Robyn a warning gaze. "Despite my animus towards the Brute of Bracken, do not expect me to laud your victories. Likewise, I do not expect you to celebrate my successes here in the Riverlands either. We are still enemies, honorable and respectful as we may be."
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Mar 14, 2021 19:37:31 GMT 1
Robyn shakes his head slightly, "There was a hearing, when the girls gave their testimony of the events. And I called for a trial, as did many others, though," he sighs as he drinks once more, "I dont recall the trial actually occurring. If I remember correctly, my Uncle volunteered to stand for the girls, but as I said, House Blackwood did very little to punish him,"
At Daeron's warning expression, a slight snort left his mouth before growing into a full laugh. Loud and full of mirth, his shoulders bounced as he tried to reign it in, "Enemies? Is that truly how you feel?" Robyn smiled as he tilted his head, leaning in closer, "Will we remain enemies when we return to the Reach? When you go to Kingsbridge, and I to Starkwood, will you only think of me with animosity?" He raised an eyebrow before drinking once more, leaning back and emptying the cup. His eyes met Daeron's, "I will harbor no such feelings, in fact, I was hoping to make a friend. Is that out of the question?"
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Post by Daeron Wildfyre on Mar 15, 2021 0:11:17 GMT 1
"Uncle?" Daeron racked his brain for the names of Lord Ulbert's brothers, but nothing came to mind other than that they were some nobodies in King's Landing. "Are other Starkwoods here in the Riverlands?"
Daeron did not share in Robyn's mirth or optimism.
"When we return home I have no plans to be your enemy any more than any other member of House Starkwood is my enemy, although I have no plans to needlessly challenge the knight who unhorsed the Longthorn.
However if you think this battle is the end of hostilities then you are mistaken. This pocket war is more than just Blackwoods and Brackens competing to dominate the Riverlands, it's a proxy to a greater conflict that could engulf the entire kingdom if it's not averted.
Were we to meet on a different battlefield in the future would you set down your weapon and embrace me as a friend or would we cross blades?"
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Mar 15, 2021 1:56:56 GMT 1
"Uncle?" Daeron racked his brain for the names of Lord Ulbert's brothers, but nothing came to mind other than that they were some nobodies in King's Landing. "Are other Starkwoods here in the Riverlands?" "No other Starkwoods; though, I consider Ser Mikel my brother and a Starkwood, even if not by blood. My Uncle, Ser Davos Dayne, a worthy and tested commander in his own right."Slowly, Robyn's smile fades at Daeron's words. He stays quiet for a moment after, before scoffing, shaking his head, "What kind of friend would I be if I put down my blade? What glory lies in that?" His eyes squint, "And what conflict do you speak of?"
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Post by Daeron Wildfyre on Mar 15, 2021 3:45:28 GMT 1
He closes his eyes and taps his finger, a habit that he had learned to imitate from his sister.
"Hmmm... his is a name that I recognize, but I can't say that I've encountered the man personally. I might have seen the sword and star of House Dayne at Whitewalls, perhaps at the Tactician's Tourney."
He simply sighs and shakes his head.
"Is there glory to be found in battle? Certainly. Riches too. As knights combat is our calling, but this first taste of real war has also shown me that it's not a tourney melee on a mass scale. In the weeks I've been here, I've seen hundreds of men die at Mudgrave and Blackbuckle, nearly been assassinated in my own tent, and even in the last hour maimed a friend of mine. Did Ser Dennis find any glory here? Did I win any glory for crippling a former ally?"
He then takes another long swig of wine.
"War is coming Ser. What might have been avoidable before the Black Tourney has become a near-inevitable collision between two factions."
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Post by Robyn Redwolf on Mar 30, 2021 17:47:56 GMT 1
For the first time in a long time, Robyn was silent. His mind was racing between the realities that he had seen and the future he had imagined for himself beyond this excursion. He stayed attentive, listening to every word that Wildfyre spoke with cautious disbelief, but he didnt look at him. Robyn's eyes stared at the ground, his thumb flicking the rim of his goblet.
After a long pause, Robyn turned back to Wildfyre, a droplet of water that was building on the brim of his nose losing its hold before falling to the ground in a silent plop, "Ser Dennis is a good man, and your victory over him was hard fought and well earned. But I ask you: were you not the one holding the blade that crippled him?" He raised a hand in defense, "I mean no disrespect, but such an end only came to be because you willed it so.
"Maiming, carnage, death; all are possible outcomes of swinging a sword. But that doesnt mean they are the only options," Robyn gripped the hilt of his sword as he spoke, "I stayed my sword against Ser Steffon Whent, and while he is not as formidable a foe as Ser Dennis, he probably sought an aggressive end with each of his swings.
"Just because your opponent wants you dead doesnt mean you have to show them the same curtesy," His face hardened as he sighed, "Though, I could preach that till my mouth goes dry and still have blood on my hands," he shook his head as visions of all the men he slaughtered came rushing back to him. He took a drink to wash the taste out of his mouth.
"This... War, you speak of, does it stem from Blackfyre and those who view him as King? Are those the factions you mean?"
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Post by Daeron Wildfyre on Apr 1, 2021 3:52:39 GMT 1
He shakes his head at Ser Robyn's naivete.
"Young Ser," he said as if he was more than a handful of years older than Robyn, "that is what distinguishes war from a melee in a tourney. In a tourney accidents can certainly happen, after all it is men fighting with real weapons, but to maim or kill your opponent is not the goal.
In war however, the only goal is victory," he growls.
"When Ser Dennis and I were crossing swords neither of us were holding back. Had I pulled my blows it is likely that I would be the one maimed for a knight with a Valyrian blade is not one to be trifled with."
He gave his words a moment to sink into the young knight, hopefully Ser Robyn would learn a valuable lesson about the seriousness of war.
"But yes, the supporters of Daeron and Daemon are hurtling towards a larger conflict, one that will engulf the entire realm in war and make this bloodletting between Bracken and Blackwood seem like a provincial squabble."
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