The Northern Hosts, Bitterbridge

[Poach]

[Note: We've decided to use this as the 'introduction' to the RP. Officially there's still one hour before the designated start per UK time, but we decided to open this now so people can start picking up over the next hour or twelve, since we all live in varied time zones. RP awaaaaaaaaay!​]

[OOC: Pericles: If you want a 'one to one' with Lord Stark en route to Winterfell, just let me know and we can RP that in parallel with the main goings on.]

Bayard Stark arrives at White Harbour

Bayard landed in White Harbour after a long night's sailing that marked the conclusion of a perilous and hard journey, just as the sun broke the horizon. Tired and ragged, he stepped off the barely-floating fishing boat that had so nearly took him to his death on the open waves, tossing a gold dragon and murmuring a weary thanks to the daughter of the now-drowned fisherman that he had started the journey with. Deep bags under his eyes advertised his exhaustion, his unkempt hair betrayed his few days of rough travel, and his clothing and manner suggested highborn.

As he walked down the pier and stepped onto true dry land, his pace quickened and his stride became more determined, with people moving aside to let the young, but well dressed, man pass. Was he some sort of noble? Why wasn't he mounted? He quickly reached the main gate of the holdfast of House Manderly, where a yawning guard called out a challenge through the morning mist.

"Who would enter the New Castle of my Lord Manderly?" came the voice.

"Lord Bayard Stark, on urgent business! Open these gates at once!" came the shouted reply, thick with urgency. Bayard was even loudly slamming his fist on the gates when they were opened.

A flurry of activity later saw the Young Wolf being greeted by a recently-awoken Lord Manderly. Many questions were obviously on his mind: why the hell do you look so ragged? Why were you, the second son, introduced as 'Lord' Stark? What news from King's Landing? Bayard cut them all short.

"Lord Manderly, good morning." he said quickly, "My father and brother are dead, murdered by the King. The Vale, Riverlands and Stormlands rise in rebellion, as do we. Send Ravens to every major Holdfast in the North and summon my Bannermen and their armies to Winterfell," he tossed the attending Maester his Stark ring without breaking eye contact with Lord Manderly and waved the man off, "We march south as soon as the army is ready. I would request a horse."

Though the young Stark had just thrust upon Lord Manderly more than a mouthful of very sensational, very distressing news, it did not take long before the castle was abuzz with activity: the Manderly men had since dressed in their armour, guardsmen and scribes ran to and fro opening armouries, sending messengers out to White Harbour, preparing stores, and readying themselves for the march. It was not even mid-day before the first columns of Manderly men marched onto the northwards road towards Winterfell.

* * * *
[OOC: As promised Pericles, Lord Manderly can have a 1-to-1 between that section and the proceeding section if you want.]
* * * *
Lord Stark reaches his seat

By the time the column reached Winterfell, a growing armed camp was already springing up outside the walls, as all the Holdfasts closest to Winterfell arrived with their own contingents, compared to House Manderly being somewhat further away. Horns were blared, announcing their arrival, and Bayard rode hard through the city to the Holdfast, leaving Lord Manderly to tend to his troops prior to the planned War Council. First, Bayard must meet with his uncle.

Maric Stark was already awake and deeply involved with the mystery mobilisation. All the letter had said, the White Harbour Maester staying true to the literal word of Bayard's command, was "Lord Stark requires that all who owe him fealty march at once to Winterfell with all armed men at their disposal. The Banners are summoned."

"Bayard!" said Maric, offering the boy a hand, "What brings you from the Eyrie? Do you know your father's purpose?"

"My father is dead, as is my brother." sad Bayard bluntly, though with less of the confidence he displayed with Lord Manderly, "The Vale, Riverlands and Stormlands have risen against Aerys, we are to join them."

After a brief moment of silence, Maric spoke.

"Is that wise, Bayard? It is treason." he said.

"He murdered two Starks," said Bayard, the slightest tremble in his voice, "Father always spoke of family. Family is the most important, family is everything, your last loyalty is to your family. Half the Realm rises, Uncle! We must avenge our family."

"The South is mighty, nephew, this may result on only m--"

"This is my will as Lord of Winterfell, Uncle!" came the loud reply, "We march, to death if need be! Vengeance shall be ours!"

Another brief pause.

"As you wish, Lord Stark." Maric conceded, though a hint of condescension was evident in the word 'Lord'.

* * * *

Maric and his sons discuss events

"Cousin Bayard is the Lord now?" came the incredulous question from one of the heavy seats next to the fire in one of Winterfell's better appointed chambers.

"So it would seem. Desmond and Kennet, both dead in King's Landing. The boy is next in line." said another voice from an opposing chair, recognisable as Maric's.

"I suppose he has a point, in all this, family honour and all that," came a third voice, from a man standing by a glass window, looking out on the ever growing camp of men in the fields surrounding the city, "The War Council tonight will gauge the support of the Northern Nobility for our Wolf Pup."

"The Pup," chuckled the first voice, "A fitting name for him, Yoren."

"A name neither of you shall use outside this room." said Maric sternly, "His shortcomings will no doubt be seen in this coming debacle, but he is our Lord, alas, and we owe him loyalty by vow and blood."

"Naturally, father," replied the first in an exasperated tone, "We're not so foolish as you'd paint us."

"Be sure to see to it, Caron." said Maric, drinking from a goblet of wine, "He will rely on us heavily during his early years on that imposing seat. We must be sure to both guide him well and endear him to us: too long has he been at that Eyrie, written off as unimportant, left to develop ties to Arryns and Baratheons instead of family. The North must not become some Southerling's puppet."

The discussions continued as the sun dipped below the horizon and jugs of wine steadily drained away...

* * * *

The War Council convenes

"Order! Order!" shouted Caron Stark, standing tall in full armour, an imposing greatsword slung over his back, slamming a mailed fist into a table twice in time with his shouts, "Lord Stark would speak."

"Thank you, cousin." said Bayard quietly as he stepped forwards, himself fully armoured, Ice proudly slung over his own back.

"Men of the North," he began, addressing a room full of the North's noblemen, from minor to great, "Lord Desmond Stark, my father and the man you served so loyally, has been murdered. Murdered by King Aerys himself, no less. My brother Kennet was murdered next to him, leaving me as the Heir to the North."

"Aerys demanded my head, and that of Robert Baratheon, but Jon Arryn refused. He raised his banners to war, marching to defeat Loyalists in Gulltown to see Robert home while I left via the Fingers to reach here. Robert raises his own banners to war, and House Tully of the Riverlands will support our cause. Three mighty Kingdoms, three mighty families, will fight Aerys' tyranny."

He paused for a moment, taking a small gulp. Now stood his test: what would all these hardened men do? He summoned as much confidence as he could and spoke more loudly.

"I intend to march our forces south and join them in overthrowing King Aerys. I will see Desmond Stark avenged and will see my sister freed from her kidnapper."

The fraction of a second pause between his own words ending and the response of the Lords of the North seemed to stretch on forever...

[Pontifex Maximus]

The Karstark banners had joined those of other houses perched atop the battlements of Winterfell as Lord Rickard and his son Eddard entered the cramped greathall of Winterfell. Rickard felt uncomfortable in the claustrophobic heat so rarely felt in the north. The Karstark men already stood out in a crowd – being large in stature and in height, and wearing pelts of various animals all of different and yet vaguely similar color pelts. Rickard’s greatsword swung perilously in its sheath, a menace to the dogs that bumped into it as they weaved between the people in the crowded hall. And something smelt of piss.

The pair elbowed their way between muttering knights and lords in order to get a better vantage point from which to hear their new lord speak. It was never a question of loyalty for the Karstarks. Rickard knew full well they would be marching to war to oust the king and bring him to justice. He only hoped the young wolf would have the sense needed to lead an army and grasp the concepts of battle. It is an easy thing to do, to lead an army to its doom out of rage and anger. Their enemies would be numerous and fierce.
Rickard listened intently to the words spoken by his new lord, and gave answer. “I will stand by you, for the sake of your murdered father and brother, my lord.” His deep voice rolled out “and request the honor of leading the vanguard.”

ooc: lost my first response to an untimely computer update.

[Velasco]

A raven flies north, informing Lord Stark of Winterfell that his father-in-law Hoster Tully of Riverrun is assembling the Riverlander levies and grants him leave to pass through the Riverlands with his own men.

[Pericles of Athens]

When word arrived Ser Meric rushed to his lord's chambers. The great whale of a Lord tumbled out of bed eyes tired and irritated from lack of sleep, "Locke?" he managed to force out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "There had best be a good reason for awakening me at this hour.."

"Its Lord Bayard, he has need..." Locke was unable to finish as Wyman forced his way past him and down the hall toward Lord Stark, he could certainly explain all the madness.

----


As Baymar spoke it seemed at first Wyman was about to burst, then his fat fingers clenched up into meaty fists, then all of a sudden the life was drained from him and he looked far older and more tired than he had just a moment ago. When he finished the lord finally spoke his numerous chins jiggling with barely contained emotion, "And you will have your horse Lord Stark, but not only that. You will have the White Harbor as well." The fat lord turned his head from side to side taking stock of those around him and finally thundering, "Well? You heard Lord Stark, get to it! Ser Bartimus find my brother, someone must lead our forces back to Winterfell." And with that they were off, servants taking stock of supplies and preparing the horses, guards arming themselves with gaudy Manderly tridents, and waking the rest of the nobles within the keep.

----

The Greatjon was in the godswood nestled against the great Weirwood tree of the Wolf's Den, carefully running a whetstone over his blade - the Merman's Trident. The blade was long as he was tall, its grip was Manderly sliver and the blade itself a strange swirling vortex of light ocean blue and dark forest green - the colors of House Manderly - and its pommel carved from rich leviathan ivory, though oddly enough it was carved into the shape of the screeching Giant of his Lady mother's House instead of the proud Manderly Merman. As he ran the whetstone over it again and again the blade began to look wistful almost, even though it didn't come from some ancient forge in long forgotten Valyria and it hadn't been passed down from father to son for half a hundred centuries - in fact he could recall the day it was forged like it was yesterday, though back then Donal the smithy had two arms instead of one - he cared for the blade like it was more than a tool for killing, and why shouldn't he? It had been the only blade he ever carried since his sixteenth name day, it had tasted the blood of many and more men, and it was a tenderly crafted piece of blue-green steel despite its youth.

He spent much of his time in the Wolf's Den as of late, after all he was the Knight-Warden, but he also spent a great deal of time in the godswood among the Weirwood trees of his new gods, it was funny that he still considered them even after all these years - as he held his faith with old gods near as long as he ever held faith with the Seven. The Weirwood he leaned against was huge and gnarled, the tree had grown to bursting to the point where the face looked fat and almost angry as its sappy tears dribbled down from its bloodshot eyes. The old gods were his gods now he knew, they had been for some time, and they had provided him with more than the Seven ever did, they gave him Alys. But from time to time he couldn't help but feel a stranger here in this place, like the faces were watching him restlessly and whispering through their bonewhite branches.

His peace was interrupted by Ser Bartimus, Ser No-Knight most called him, an insult perhaps though he wore the distinction with pride. The Greatjon looked up for a seond quizzically before returning to his blade, "Bartimus, what bring you out here at this hour?"

"The Lord Stark has need of you, your lord brother as well. Come now, time is short." He retorted quite a bit more bluntly than usual.

That got his attention it would seem, as he finally lifted his eyes from the piece of steel in his grip, "Lord Stark? He went south, does his daughter no longer need saving? Why would he be here?"

"Dark wings and dark words m'lord." Bartimus stated and the wind seemed to eerily echo him through the leaves of the Weirwood 'dark wings....dark words' they whispered, 'dark wings....dark words'.

****

Lord Wyman had stayed behind in White Harbor, much to his own regret he was too large to mount a horse and a litter would only slow them down. In his place rode his brother Jon Manderly, the Greatjon, his red hair and beard flowing lightly in the breeze. After some time riding he finally spoke in his deep tone, "I'm sorry bout your brother, boy. He was a good man and a good friend of mine."

(If you didn't realize, this is my post for the one on one)

****

The mass of the Greatjon was imposing, all red hair, burly muscle, and heavy northern furs, and he stood there taller then most every other lord assembled. When the boy finished speaking he chuckled thunderously at the pup's intent, "And you will not be alone! I will stand beside you Bayard. For the sake of our murdered liege, our butchered heir, and our kidnapped lady." he bellowed, resting his hand on the hilt of his blade, "The Mad King's days are numbered now that winter itself is riding south for him!"

[Oznerol]

Roose's eerie eyes scan the hall carefully. He was calm as water, an average height man, slender, clothed in red leather, wearing a pink cloak lined with ermine and decorated with red drops, fastened by a brooch in the shape of a flayed man. He caressed his sword pommel. It was clearly a shame that Aerys had decided to kill in such an unforgiving manner the old Wolf and his wild son, more so that he was foolish enough to think the old decrepit hawk would let the Mad King kill his wards. Should have killed first and ask latter. Clearly he knows nothing about kin, affection and emotions and all that stuff. Rhaegar was a fool too for leaving his father rule so long, he better had him killed before he is slain instead, and Targaryen didn't seen to care a lot about kin-slaying in the past.
The moon pale eyes scan again the heated hall. The boisterous lord-lings were the firsts to declare their loyalty. It was his turn it seemed. A long march South to suffer the disgusting presence of a filthy Umber like Mors or the annoyance of crossing the muddy Neck. Roose hoped he would get something in reward for his loyalty, but he know he would receive none, duty was expected. Such he spoke:

"My Lord Stark"

His low voice was difficult to hear. His thin lips barely moved.

"The Dreadfort will march to battle, our sword are yours. The Mad King days are counted, my liege"

He glanced the Manderlys and remembered something. Later, he thought. His fingers, covered by his red gloves, caress the sword pommel again.

[Narf]

The Neck:
In a valley shaded with rhododendrons, close to the snow line, where a stream milky with meltwater splashed and where doves and linnets flew among the immense pines, lay a cave, half-hidden by the crag above and the stiff heavy leaves that clustered below. A Lizard-Lion yawned lazidly hafl ashore by the stream below and the stream of water whispered its content. This idyllic place was in view from the cave, a beauty that was like a secret kept by and for the cronnogmen alone. In the cave sat a pair of boys with closed eyes, they sat among cages, some pots, skin rudimentary weapons and basic survival equipment. The purpose of this place was for Ravens to have a place to deliver their messages. The woods were full of sound: the stream between the rocks, the wind among the needles of the pine branches, the chitter of insects and the cries of small arboreal mammals, as well as the birdsong; and from time to time a stronger gust of wind would make one of the branches of a cedar or a fir move against another and groan like a cello.

There was a narrow path beside the stream, which led from a village--little more than a cluster of frogcatcher and fawn-hunter dwellings. The importence here were the skinboats that would hurry to Greywater Watch whenever a Raven arrived with a message.

A bit from the cave where the boys were in half slumber were a shrine to the old gods, a place where faded-green silken flags streamed out in the perpetual winds, It was here that an exhausted black raven flew by, with news that would set the entire neck abuzz. The peace was over.

Some days later after much work, confusion, stress and hurry Lord Howland Reed sat from his horse and looked over the many banners of his 'Kingdom'. Old Secret Armouries had been dug forth from bog and pine, armour unused for ages had been polished and the few smiths in the Neck had been working through light and dark to make last minute repairs. Horses had been let our of the grassing on floating crannogs and stood on solid ground for once. And every Lord in The Neck had arrived sparing no resources or effort to be impressive for the march north that was so rare. Howland Reed held a speech ending with: "Lets March!". And they did a many coloured host moved like a snake through the landscape north. Many banners for such a small host, many colours, many different styles of attire, some were decorated with feathers, other skin from lizard-lions, yet other looked much like northerners. It was a diverse people but they were walking now as one.


The North:
The snow lay skin deep and even. Sister Winter, with her long white tresses and pale translucent skin of blue and white, had blown her gentle summer kiss across the land including Winterfell, coating every rock, tree, roof and spire with her beauty. Howland was glad it was summer, for even for all its beauty, it was as cold as the stare a father give boys courting his daughter. Tugging his Lion-lizardcloak closer around himself the lord rode closer his destination. At the end of the road, the Majestic and Ancient Building of Winterfell stood in its glory with its white regal robe across its shoulders. The trees in the landscape, and the connected buildings, clad in white bowed in submission. Flowing streams now passed through glimmering subways of white beneath arches of snow, dripping from the roof so high in the air, from the glittering Ice-taps water dripped as every second went by.

The lake in the valley floor, swimming pool to those bold enough to brave its chilly spring fed waters, was covered in thick ice sprinkled with snow. When the huge gates was in front of the Lord of the Neck he halted his horse with a quick tug. Hes eyes was inspecting the surroundings, he looked to a banner-man beside him, Lord Fenn and gave orders for him and the rest of the men set up camp as the Lords that had arrived before him had done. These lands were so alien compared to what he was used to that he could not help but to be on guard, even though he would trust its inhabitants with his life he did not trust the north. The dark-haired thin lipped Howland Reed smirked to the rider at his side, it was his silent friend Kif, he liked the silence, And best of all Kif understood his silent demeanour. they both wear dark linens and leather armor made of black lizard-lion skin, and the bow Howland have slung across his back is there more of habit than for any potential use. They didn't know what kind of welcome they'd get, it had been more than fifteen years since any lord of the Marsh People Had visited the Firstmen of the north. He considered entering to speak with Stark, but decided against it, this seemed a time of troubles and hed have much on his mind, Everything he was supposed to know would be explained at the War Council in a few Days.

The War Council:
The inside of the building was inspected just as much as the outside. Many Lords pushed forward to get into the meeting hall first, Howland didn't contest them they were all larger and it was not in his demeanour to do so. The patient man had kept his eyes silently on the battlements, the furniture inside, the wood work, the garments the servants, Lords and soldiers was wearing, his calm eyes shooting to and fro. When he was finally able to gain entrance to the meeting hall, he walked in, being a slender man walking with fluid movements, all motion he made seemed natural for him. In a fluid motion at courteous length(and as close as the larger lords would allow without contest) from the new Lord of Winterfell did Howland Reed bow for his lord. Not that the chance of it being noticed was large, it was not much meant to. It was just a sign of homage and respect as much to show the three men he had brought with him that the Lord of The Neck Acknowledged the rule of the north as it was a gesture to the new Lord Himself. After that he waited and listened to The Young Lord. As The young Lord finished exlaining the situation in short. And lords started to bellow their support Howland stood up aswell observing it to be the appropiate thing to do. He spoke with a clear and calm voice, he had a solemn air about him as he spoke. "I am sorry to hear of the terrible events surrounding your family. When you march south. We from The Neck march with you. Fight for all that you hold dear, die if that be fitter, then life's not so full of fear, nor is death so bitter. Our Banners ride with you." He spoke gravely. It was meant to be a way of saying shortly that his family died for what they believed in. And that nobody in the room should be afraid to do the same in this righteous course.

[Poach]

"Then ready the armies!" said Bayard proudly, glad the support seemed universal, "We march on the South!"

To the side of Bayard, Maric silently mused that Bayard was enjoying such support from the offset despite the dubious undertakings he was proposing: perhaps it was loyalty to the memory of Desmond.

*** *** ***

Later in the evening after the hall had empited, the High Lords were invited back for a closed planning session, allowing the Great Houses of the North to plan the campaign and disposition of the armies.

"I plan to stage from Lord Harroway's Town." said Bayard, pointing to the town on the large map laid before them. Discussions with Maric, Yoren and Caron in-between meetings had yielded this as a sensible place to go first, controlling an important river crossing near enemy territory.

"From there we control the road to the North and hold a position to strike in an arc running from the Reach to the Crownlands." he said, "We have mustered some 52,000 men in total at Winterfell. What are your thoughts, my Lords?"

Bayard, Maric, Caron and Yoren represented the Stark presence, with all four falling silent to hear what the rest would think. Yoren sat upright in a chair, studying the map, while Maric stood just behind the shoulder of Bayard, being a much taller man than his nephew, and indeed taller than most, though rather slim. Caron was leant forwards, both fists on the table, looking at the Northern Lords, with Bayard standing still, his eyes still on the map as he awaited suggestive waves and points from whoever came forth with their ideas first.

[Narf]

Reed reacts first, walks over to the desk with fluid and calm movements that spell patience, throws a scroll on his liege's table, wrapped in a thin line of Lion-Lizard skin, his eyes with a dark seriousness, his complexion grave. He rolls it out with steady hands. "The Neck always have plans in case of an attack. While your offensive strategy is sound we need to look to our homes aswell. To that we have plans that will be able to protect The North from the South. It requires a minimum of five hundred men in The Neck, And with your permission five hundred men manning Moat Cailin. Some masons there would be a great help as some rebuilding efforts would go a long way.." On the scroll was intricate plans of defence, of The Neck.. Looking to the larger map on the table he continues "The town you suggest is a good place to venture to, if the Tully and his vassals would meet us there we'd stand strong." He takes a step back leaving the scroll on the table.

[Pontifex Maximus]

Rickard Karstark narrowed his eyes to get a better view, his large black beard swaying back and forth with the effort craning his neck. Couldn't someone bring in some more damned torches?

"Some fifty two thousands make an unwieldy host, difficult to feed and the disease will be a terrible affliction. Better to split them, says I. What do we know of Lannister's loyalties? Should he declare for the king he could cut a nasty swathe in our flank." Lord Karstark gestured vaguely to the western border of the Riverlands.

[Oznerol]

Lord Roose's pale eyes look the Lords there gathered and then fixes them on Lord Karstark.

"Indeed, Lord Karstark, such an army would be impossible to maintain on the field. More so if the Riverlands are ravaged, spoiled and torn by war, which is highly likely"

He looks the map once and then looked Lord Stark into his eyes. Pale moons glancing the young lord.

"The western flank would be weak and exposed. However it is said that Lord Lannister left the court abruptly, maybe he had a fall out with the King? Anyway, we need to know what are Lord Baratheon and Lord Arryn doing"

[Pericles of Athens]

The Greatjon overlooked the map, "We wont be able to march as a single host, that's plain enough to see.. We'll split the host in two. Have the separate halves march toward Lord Harroway's Town, if that be our goal, and reunite there." He motioned over the map from Winterfell south to Lord Harroway's Town, laying a massive hand down on the Riverlands proper, "We can only hope these flopping trouts can keep themselves off the hook until the wolves arrive to pull them out of the fire!" He bellowed pushing himself back from the map confidently, one thing could be said for certain, the Greatjon didn't lack for confidence.

[Velasco]

The Greatjon overlooked the map, "We wont be able to march as a single host, that's plain enough to see.. We'll split the host in two. Have the separate halves march toward Lord Harroway's Town, if that be our goal, and reunite there." He motioned over the map from Winterfell south to Lord Harroway's Town, laying a massive hand down on the Riverlands proper, "We can only hope these flopping trouts can keep themselves off the hook until the wolves arrive to pull them out of the fire!" He bellowed pushing himself back from the map confidently, one thing could be said for certain, the Greatjon didn't lack for confidence.

From across the room the young Lady Stark's eyes narrowed menacingly at the man, but she held her peace for now.

[Narf]

Reed nods. Sound contributions.

[Poach]

"All sound advice," said Bayard thoughtfully, "Very well, we must split our forces and take account of varying needs."

He began to move various Wolfs-head pieces to parts of the map.

"Lord Reed, you and your forces will assume responsibility for the homelands. I understand you have around 2,800 men to your command." A wolf figurine was placed in the Neck.

"Lord Karstark, I shall be honoured if you take half our remaining forces forward with the Greatjon and make haste to Lord Harroway's Town." A wolf figure was whisked down towards the delta of the Trident, stopping next to Lord Harroway's Town.

"Lord Bolton and I shall take up the other army and follow behind." A second Wolf figure went to Lord Harroway's Town.

Maric Stark stepped forwards and spoke next.

"I would urge all Lords to make arrangements for militias to be formed behind us, turning command to Lord Reed to bolster our forces guarding the homeland. Giving Lord Reed command of a further few thousand men will greatly bolster both our defences and our ability to use them as a reserve, should somewhere vital like the Twins be menaced from the south. A strong garrison there would deter a Lannister invasion, if they side with the King." A finger was placed lightly at the Twins as he spoke, with the other hand waving gently over the North as a whole.

"Those of you in the advance force must make efforts to establish contact with our companions in the Vale and Riverlands as you advance: the Valesmen host may well be using the same roads to the south as we, requiring coordination, while our allies in the Riverlands will know more than we about the status of the Stormlander's own hosts." The finger moved lightly to the Bloody Gate as he spoke.

​Bayard nodded as Maric spoke. Good strategic direction, indeed.

[OOC:

Everyone build land militias, edict building, 10,000 Dragons

I tried to give everyone a job they mentioned in RP, I hope it's acceptable. Let me know if you're unhappy, as I don't want anyone left out of something they want involved in. Unfortunately there's not enough men to go round to let everyone have their own army.]

[Oznerol]

"All sound advice," said Bayard thoughtfully, "Very well, we must split our forces and take account of varying needs."

He began to move various Wolfs-head pieces to parts of the map.

"Lord Reed, you and your forces will assume responsibility for the homelands. I understand you have around 2,800 men to your command." A wolf figurine was placed in the Neck.

"Lord Karstark, I shall be honoured if you take half our remaining forces forward with the Greatjon and make haste to Lord Harroway's Town." A wolf figure was whisked down towards the delta of the Trident, stopping next to Lord Harroway's Town.

"Lord Bolton and I shall take up the other army and follow behind." A second Wolf figure went to Lord Harroway's Town.

Maric Stark stepped forwards and spoke next.

"I would urge all Lords to make arrangements for militias to be formed behind us, turning command to Lord Reed to bolster our forces guarding the homeland. Giving Lord Reed command of a further few thousand men will greatly bolster both our defences and our ability to use them as a reserve, should somewhere vital like the Twins be menaced from the south. A strong garrison there would deter a Lannister invasion, if they side with the King." A finger was placed lightly at the Twins as he spoke, with the other hand waving gently over the North as a whole.

"Those of you in the advance force must make efforts to establish contact with our companions in the Vale and Riverlands as you advance: the Valesmen host may well be using the same roads to the south as we, requiring coordination, while our allies in the Riverlands will know more than we about the status of the Stormlander's own hosts." The finger moved lightly to the Bloody Gate as he spoke.

​Bayard nodded as Maric spoke. Good strategic direction, indeed.

[OOC:

Everyone build land militias, edict building, 10,000 Dragons

I tried to give everyone a job they mentioned in RP, I hope it's acceptable. Let me know if you're unhappy, as I don't want anyone left out of something they want involved in. Unfortunately there's not enough men to go round to let everyone have their own army.]

OOC: Damn it, I didn't remember the edicts, and I'm penniless! Shall I cancel the building of the town watch and build the edict instead? And when that is built those forces spawn at home, doesn't it? So the combined host could reinforce our defenses greatly.

Lord Roose watched as Bayard pointed several points in the map following his explanations. His pale eyes focused on the young Lord. At least the cub had granted him an honorable position, on the main host, none less would have been admissible for the Dreadfort Lord, and thanks the Gods he hadn't to endure some disgusting Lords and lordlings. Laconic as always Roose spoke:

"The plan is sound. We need as much information as possible we cannot be blind and march to the unknown. We know what Lord Baratheon plans?"

Roose heard that the stag was wild, hot-headed and boisterous. He hoped he would not charge mindlessly to stomp against the walls of King's Landing. He didn't expect a much better strategy still, the stag was surely infuriated as a cuckold would for the kidnap of Lyanna.

[Poach]

[Velasoc: I don't think the marriage has happened yet, has it? Didn't it happen after the Stark army marched south?]
[Oz: If you could find 10,000 it'd be good. I'd like to give Narf at least a reasonably-sized force to do things with ]

"We do not," said Maric, "He arrived at his home faster than Lord Stark did here. He will be in the field already, his fortunes a mystery to us."

"It is my hope House Tully, much closer to the place of action and having already taken to battle by the time we make the long march south, will know of the fortunes of Robert and will inform us when we reach the southernmost Riverlands." said Bayard, "I pray he remains in the field by the time we reach him: we may have a numbers advantage over the loyalists but we are scattered and far apart."

[Oznerol]

[Velasoc: I don't think the marriage has happened yet, has it? Didn't it happen after the Stark army marched south?]
[Oz: If you could find 10,000 it'd be good. I'd like to give Narf at least a reasonably-sized force to do things with ]

"We do not," said Maric, "He arrived at his home faster than Lord Stark did here. He will be in the field already, his fortunes a mystery to us."

"It is my hope House Tully, much closer to the place of action and having already taken to battle by the time we make the long march south, will know of the fortunes of Robert and will inform us when we reach the southernmost Riverlands." said Bayard, "I pray he remains in the field by the time we reach him: we may have a numbers advantage over the loyalists but we are scattered and far apart."

ooc: I've cancelled the City Watch quarters, Narf will need 1500 points more than 400 light troops permanently stationed at the Dreadfort. And I think that...Yes, he was married after the travel North and his march down to the Riverlands.

"Then we shall hastily march south to counter their numbers. Maybe Lord Arryn and Lord Tully will hold their ground effectively until then"

Lord Roose however glanced the Rock on the map. Lannisters were a greater menace as they could flank the Northern host or menace their homeland. Then, the Iron Islands.

"We know something about Lord Greyjoy? I do not remember any declaration of loyalty nor open rebellion"

[Velasco]

(OOC: I assumed it already happened otherwise there's no reason for me to be fighting tooth and nail for this cause. Plus Catelyn is older than Lysa, who is already married to Jon....makes sense that Catelyn wed Stark on the way north.)

[Poach]

"The Kraken's motivations are a mystery to all," said Maric with a half-sigh, half-chuckle, "He may declare loyalty, which I doubt. He may join us, which I doubt. He may sit still, which I hope. He may decide to go reaving or declare the Iron King reborn, you all know they're a strange bunch."

"He lacks the numbers to truly menace us," said Bayard, "Our holdfasts have high walls and our lands are vast. The Ironborn may trouble our shorelines for a time if they decide as such, but the rebellion will be decided in the south."

[Oznerol]

"The Kraken's motivations are a mystery to all," said Maric with a half-sigh, half-chuckle, "He may declare loyalty, which I doubt. He may join us, which I doubt. He may sit still, which I hope. He may decide to go reaving or declare the Iron King reborn, you all know they're a strange bunch."

"He lacks the numbers to truly menace us," said Bayard, "Our holdfasts have high walls and our lands are vast. The Ironborn may trouble our shorelines for a time if they decide as such, but the rebellion will be decided in the south."

"The Greyjoy should know that their strength lays in the seas, good sailors and raiders, but still they would be utterly crushed in our forests and hills. A small annoyance"

Points the North.

"Of all our fellow Lords my wife's kinsmen are those more exposed. Ryswell's and Dustin's lordships comprise the western shores, and they are closer to the islands. I doubt they could harm the eastern shores. However we don't even know if Greyjoy will actually move from Pyke, which is likely. Still caution is welcomed in times of war"

Gestures towards the Rills, the Barrowlands and Blazewater Bay and the Stony Shore.

The cub surely doesn't want to be the "Stark-who-lost-the-North" to an Ironborn or a Westerlander.