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[CrimsonMoon]

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! !!Private RP!! !
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The patrol that trudged through the tundra was far too large to be a normal Raven patrol. It had to be over two hundred men strong, carts being slid across the hard packed ice.

The huge war horses seemed battle hardened and it was as if the South may have begun paying attention to the wildling threat!


A young man rode a large appaloosa warhorse at the head of the column, his black hair flapping over his storm grey eyes. His cheeks and the tip of his nose pink from the chill... His sharp eyes scanned the empty tundra... It felt strange being so far from the ocean...

[Needmorefood]

Little did they know they were being observed from afar. A large wood was coming up, stretching far across their field of vision. Within, hundreds of barbaric people waited, crouching behind rocks and under snow drifts, while a few hid high amongst the trees. Wildlings. One male wielding an axe licked his lips in anticipation, grinning wickedly at the approaching forces. "They don't look like em Crows, eh? Still, lots of good loot on 'em. Good thing you say them, eh Wulfa?" He questioned, looking up into one of the trees. A female flame in grey leather and strange steel crouched silently on the branches high up, completely concealed from view. She glanced down at the male with a bored expression before looking back towards the large group of warriors approaching, her one good eye taking them in. She quickly moved through the trees, not making a sound and barely even disrupting the branches of the trees as she stalked forward. The male sighed but signaled the rest of the wildlings to hunker down and hide better. Soon everyone one of them disappeared.

When the large group of soldiers finally reached the snowy woods, it was eerily silent. The horses' ears were back, and not a sound echoed through the thick branches. The whole woods seemed tense with potential danger, choking even, and a few of the men looked around nervously. There was no sound of animals. No sound of wind. Everything seemed to be holding still with baited breath. Waiting.

[CrimsonMoon]

The young man at the head of the column suddenly signals for a halt, roaring in a young but commanding tone:
" Ironborn, we do not sow."

As if this had been a command the warriors had been waiting for, many drew weapons so large and powerful that they seemed alien to such pathetic people as the Wildlings. For the first time, men who sported full bodies of armor slammed steel helmets upon their heads and weilded great sword with enough force to slice a horse in twane had invaded Wildling land...

If the Wildlings had number... Their opponent had skill, ferocity and supplies which they could not hope to achieve...

[Needmorefood]

Even at the powerful and frightening command, the eerie silence remained unbroken, and the uneasy feeling only grew stronger. Where were the supposed fiends from beyond the Wall? Nothing stirred in these woods but the winds of malice and mystery. However, up ahead a small camp could be seen, with a lone occupant sitting by the fire. From the looks of it, it appeared to be an old woman warming her hands. Why would she be out here all alone? She clearly showed no fear of the approaching forces, being so ignorant and undisturbed as to camp while they approached.

[CrimsonMoon]

The column remained bristled and ready for battle. The young Greyjoy heir at the head of the column draws what looked to be a huge trident. He urges the large horse toward the campsite and calls in an accented voice yet to be heard by Wildlings,"... Dear Woman, what are you doing out here alone?"

[Needmorefood]

The woman kept warming her hands for a while before turning her head to regard them, he look unimpressed before she called back in a shaky yet surprisingly strong voice. "Campin'! Wot are you doin' out 'ere, with enough boys ta make an army sh*t it's underclothes? And come 'ere closer so's I don't 'ave to yell! My throat ain't wot it used to be!" She called back before turning her attention back to the fire, scooting closer to keep warm.

[CrimsonMoon]

The young man smiles, gently waving away the warning shouted by his companions as the large warhorse plods to the camp site,"... Excuse me, miss, but you seem to have a few more tents then you actually need, where are you companions? A question for a question.."

[Needmorefood]

The old woman only raised an eyebrow at him and smiled cheekily at the young boy. "I already answer your first question. It's time you answered mine, boy." She responded with a cackling laugh, rubbing her hands together and pulling her furs tighter around her as the wind picked up a little.

[CrimsonMoon]

He pauses, glancing around the silent forest, looking back at the column of bristling men before dismounting and settling across the fir from her, pushing his black hair from his face and gazing at her with murderously sharp grey eyes,"... We're here to find Wildligs," he answers softly," Bad wildlings.."

[Needmorefood]

The woman only raises an eyebrow at him before chuckling and shaking her head. "Bad wildlings... we're all bad, you know. Every man is bad the moment they was born. I bet you've had your fair share o' bad thoughts, eh? Walking around yer fancy southern lands. Oh, aye..." She said with a wink at the boy. "Ah c'n tell you're not from around 'ere. Not enough cold in you. You should 'ear back to your lovely south, boy, a'fore the North gobbles you up like a shadow cat does a young'n." She cackled. "To answer your question, me companions 'ave gone off huntin'. Need more supplies. Surely you understand that, eh?" She asked with a grin. "So what is a southern boy like you doin' with a big group like this lookin' for bad wildlings?"

[CrimsonMoon]

He smiles bitterly," Ironborn are like the Wildlings of the South, miss.." He looks at her and rubs his hands together,"... I taught them to use their heads... And I made the Ironborn... Good... But not good enough by Souyhern standards-" he gazes at the old woman," The Starks asked for our assistance..."

[Needmorefood]

The woman scowled. "Starks, eh? They ask you to help thin us down, I'll bet. Make sure they won't get attacked from behind while they're fightin' that war of theirs, eh?" She guessed with a chuckle. "They're afraid o' us, they is. Afraid we'll come back and over take that precious wall o' theirs." She mused with a shrug. "Well, your turn for a question, eh?"

[CrimsonMoon]

He smiles faintly, as if he hadn't smiled for a long while,"... Who is hiding from us right now?" He asks softly and clasps his hands

[Needmorefood]

The old woman snorts and eyes the boy with somewhat disappointed eyes. "C'mon now, boy. That's a waste of a question, eh? C'mon, let's see if'n you know the answer, eh?" She asked with a tilt of her head and a raised eyebrow, a smirk on her wrinkly face "should be easy."

[CrimsonMoon]

"... So i have to kill you any way?" He asks softly, seeming somewhat disappointed. He closes his eyes, gripping the trident by his side slightly tighter

[Needmorefood]

The wildling woman's laughs and shakes her head. "Feel free to try, but it seems your forces 'ave gotten a bit thinner, eh?" She asked slyly, pointing to where his forces gather. And she was right.

Whilst they had been speaking, wildlings had snuck out of the woodwork, silently killing off the rear members of the boy's group. They had practically killed half his men, and they were now surrounded with well armed wildlings.

The woman shrugged once more, rubbing her hands again. "Feel free to fight. You'll kill us, aye. But well kill all of you while most of us will still live. Oh, you've got better tools, agreed, but we've got numbers. So decide, boy. We don't 'ave to 'ave a right slaughter. Not yet." She said nonchalantly as another figure appeared and stood next to the old woman. It was a girl clad in grey leather and strange steel, with a gauntlet wielding twin blades on her left arm, and a huge wicked blade in her right. A snow bear pelt covered her head, and an eyepatch covered her left eye. Her remaining icy blue one regarded the boy observantly. Blood splattered her gear, though she had not a cut on her

[CrimsonMoon]

"..." The boy's smile became bitter,"... Leave my men be... They are but pawns but you may take me... Leave my men be." He frowns and closes his eyes," Leave them be damn you."

[Needmorefood]

The woman grinned and the armed one raised an eyebrow, impressed and interested. "Call them off once we get the boy nice and captured." The old one said. The young wildling nodded and unhooked some rope from her hip and walking around the boy, tying his hands behind his back swiftly and kicking his sword towards other wildlings that approached, similarly splattered in blood. Two males then grabbed the boy as the hooded one stepped back. The old woman stood with surprising strength and, putting two fingers to her mouth, whistled loud enough to echo in the woods. Then their small group set off, moving away from the boy's large group. The group of warriors remained surrounded as they went. The hooded one glanced back at the small group containing the Ironborn boy before walking off into the woods and vanishing into the treeline

[CrimsonMoon]

There were roars in a foreign language pf outrage. The boy answers, yelling back hoarsely in his language. He bared his teeth in a grin and the Ironborn soldiers seemed to quiet....

The boy gazes back at the old woman and murmurs,"... Go to the coast," closing his eyes

[Needmorefood]

The old woman raises an eyebrow at him but says nothing as they finally exit the field of vision of his troops. They walk for a bit longer before the woman makes a signal with her hand and they abruptly veer off course, making their way to the left instead of straight like they had been. Wildlings in the back cover their tracks, and a few break off to make false trails. "What's your name, boy?" The old one asks finally after about an hour of silent trekking