Awaiting the Horselords (Open)
Jan 20, 2012 0:36:56 GMT
Post by Torin Lannister on Jan 20, 2012 0:36:56 GMT
((OOC: Posting by proxy for Drennan))
The men of Bears Rest had marched through the night and most of the day to arrive in time once the Raven had been received, their voices loud as they sang, ballads and songs of heroes and times gone by and while close to his 5th decade of life Drennan Breaoc marched with them, refusing his aides advice to ride part of the way. If it was good enough for his men it was good enough for him he kept saying, although now with the throbbing in his lower back he wondered if his pride would be his undoing one day. His voice carried with the others as he bellowed out the words to some bawdy song from his youth, something about a tavern girl and verses that found no place in noble courts.
The men cheered as the camp came into sight ahead of them, they were tired from the long relentless march but they'd be dammed if they were going to show, a sight which made the Bear chuckle to himself. As they closed the distance, the singing rose up again, tents quickly and efficiently being set-up, cooking fires quickly following and supplies and casks were brought out from the supply caravan that followed them. Many tended to their weapons and armour while others cooked while many simply dozed once their tasks had been done. Here and there laughter echoed round their small camp, barely numbering over 2000 men, a tenth of what waited back at the Rest should they fail here.
The old man grumbled he massaged his back with one large hand, a servant having found him as soon as he arrived, cowering in a corner of his camp while tents were erected. Nodding and waving his hand in dismissal he assured the boy he would be along shortly. Humming to himself he strode towards the Lannisters camp dressed now in a simple pair of loose leather pants and heavy coat, his boots and the lower part of his legs caked in drying and still wet mud from his journey. Ducking under the loose flaps of the entrance he gave a bow to those assembled, turning to each for a moment, eyes flicking over their faces and searching his tired mind for names, before grinning at Torin,
"Aerys balls lad, I came expecting an army and stumbled over this rabble. Is this it?"
The men of Bears Rest had marched through the night and most of the day to arrive in time once the Raven had been received, their voices loud as they sang, ballads and songs of heroes and times gone by and while close to his 5th decade of life Drennan Breaoc marched with them, refusing his aides advice to ride part of the way. If it was good enough for his men it was good enough for him he kept saying, although now with the throbbing in his lower back he wondered if his pride would be his undoing one day. His voice carried with the others as he bellowed out the words to some bawdy song from his youth, something about a tavern girl and verses that found no place in noble courts.
The men cheered as the camp came into sight ahead of them, they were tired from the long relentless march but they'd be dammed if they were going to show, a sight which made the Bear chuckle to himself. As they closed the distance, the singing rose up again, tents quickly and efficiently being set-up, cooking fires quickly following and supplies and casks were brought out from the supply caravan that followed them. Many tended to their weapons and armour while others cooked while many simply dozed once their tasks had been done. Here and there laughter echoed round their small camp, barely numbering over 2000 men, a tenth of what waited back at the Rest should they fail here.
The old man grumbled he massaged his back with one large hand, a servant having found him as soon as he arrived, cowering in a corner of his camp while tents were erected. Nodding and waving his hand in dismissal he assured the boy he would be along shortly. Humming to himself he strode towards the Lannisters camp dressed now in a simple pair of loose leather pants and heavy coat, his boots and the lower part of his legs caked in drying and still wet mud from his journey. Ducking under the loose flaps of the entrance he gave a bow to those assembled, turning to each for a moment, eyes flicking over their faces and searching his tired mind for names, before grinning at Torin,
"Aerys balls lad, I came expecting an army and stumbled over this rabble. Is this it?"