Duel of Flame, Trials of Ice
Twenty-Ninth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
Amrelath makes no pretense of humanity as he descends into the arena a second time, the shadow of his wings turning the light of the sun red for as blood a moment. Yet gasps of fright are not all he is greeted with. Some of your subjects manifestly think that any dragon who is on their side is worth cheering for, even if his presence turns their blood to ice. He does not speak, waiting for the call of the horns, waiting to judge the measure of his foes.
As battle is joined. the Green Man Oddric tries to bind him with coiling vines as he had done the scholarium mages. The vines grow thick and tall, coiling around limbs and binding wings, then the ancient dragon roars, the sound shaking the very stones of the arena, as vines crack and shatter. Beholding this the druid is struck by the sheer weight of dragon awe and turns to flee, his shadowcat moving to follow, but the bard calls out a
battle song in the tongue of the First Men and so the weight of fear is lifted.
"Come down here and fight!" Alysane shouts up at the wyrm, her voice a roar to almost match the dragon's.
"Why would I bother?" Amrelath hisses, smoke and fire spilling from the edges of his jaw. His claws rend the air, his tail lashes and with each a gash or wound
appears upon she she-bear's fur. His jaws snap closed and her right leg breaks under her and she falls bleeding into the sands.
An eagle manifests trying to pick at his great burning eyes, but he carelessly plucks it from the air and flings to down, the conjured being already falling to mist... an arrow clatters harmlessly against the scales of his belly, leaving Walter cursing.
Thrice more Amrelath repeats his arcane attack, beginning with the singer to make absolutely sure no one would manage to wound him again.
For their part, the Northerners endure with utter stubbornness and do not ask for quarter until the last of them, Wyl, lies bleeding on the sands.
***
You find Alysane in about as poor a mood as you had feared after the dreadfully uneven battle, though thankfully he is not one to let her resentment spill over too much. She accepts the suggestion that you send a message to her uncle Jeor and from there to her mother on Bear Island, though you can see her worry for how Jeor will react to news of his son's capture clear upon her face. She sighs: "May the Old Gods forgive for saying this about my own cousin, but I almost wish he chooses the sword over the Black. I do not think his father would bear the sight of him at the Wall."
"He could assign him to Eastwatch or the Shadow Tower, even the Nighfort now that it has been reclaimed," you point out, sharing her concerns for the Lord Commander. The man has enough burdens to bear without the grief of his honorless fool of a son added to them.
Alysane shakes her head. "He'd feel it's his responsibility to keep Jorah beneath his eye to make sure he does not break his vows and die a traitor twice over."
That does sound like the Old Bear. You sigh. "Well that is out of all our hands now. There is no magic I know to turn back the clock and persuade Jorah from his folly. The best we can all do is ensure that justice is done, one way or another..."
***
Maester Aemon is prompt as ever in replying to the brazier's call, he reports that he will have an answer from Bear Island in the morning while also sharing some more news of the doings of the Watch and the foes they have faced.
A thing of rattling chains and dead air had been disturbed from its slumber in the depths of the fortress by the sounds of hammers clanging and stones being set aright. Between the sunrod's light and dragonsteel in the right hands, the thing had been slain by the rangers on watch, without losing any of their number, though it had been to the credit of a surprising ally. A wildling shaman garbed in green and wearing a belt festooned with holy symbols had approached the Wall and offered healing in the name of the Old Gods that very night. The word 'Bloodraven' hangs unspoken in the whispered conversation between you and the ancient Maester.
Another step towards making the Watch set its sight upon the greater foe...
In the specter's lair the corpses of dozens, perhaps hundreds of victims taken over the centuries had been unearthed, mostly dry bones bound in rusted chains, but one of them was bearing an ancient
talisman meant to ward against curses and fell magics and a still green
loop of vines worn around the wrist from which might spring leaves like daggers. Though they had not proven lucky for its last bearer, Jeor was quick to claim them both for the Watch. After some deliberation, the wildling Vynar who had both healed the fallen and discovered the virtues of the enchantments was given leave to pass though the Wall so long as he swore not to break the peace of the North. Given that you suspect Bloodraven's hand upon him you doubt anyone would
catch him breaking the peace.
***
Thirtieth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
The morning brings news just as you had expected. Maege Mormont wishes Jorah delivered to Bear Island as quickly as can be, 'by sorcery, by dragoon or any other means'. House Mormont had borne the weight of one of their own fleeing from justice for far too long. She would, however, prefer if you did not show yourself openly in delivering him. 'A mage in the service of Viserys Targaryen' would be easier to explain away than a claimant to the Iron Throne being given guest right on Bear Island.
Still Alysane directly acknowledges House Mormont's debt for capturing Jorah, adding that that is a matter for you or your envoy to discuss with her mother.
Who do you send to Bear Island and how do you greet Maege Mormont?
[] Write in
OOC: With the duel being as short as it was and the discussion with Alysane also relatively straightforward I took the opportunity to roll for events at the Wall. It was an interesting set of rolls. The Wraith the Black Brothers fought was the Thing that Came in the Night. I rolled for it waking up when you sent Valaena and company there but it did not stir, on the other hand the sheer number of people returning with the reclamation effort woke its hunger.