Siege of Castle Ironmaple

[SatanicBanana24]

This moderate-sized castle, built of ivory marble, and founded on top a thin river. This river is known as the Maple river and splits Iron maple into two parts. The South is The main gate, with a small forum complete with taverns stables and armories. The North of Castle Ironmaple lies the inner stronghold, with a Grand hall, a throne, and small rooms. The walls surround castle Ironmaple like a square. At each angle looms four towers. Also in the north is the barracks and so forth. It is a fairly simple Castle that gets its income from the vineyards.
Castle Ironmaple is under siege by a ruthless force on both the North and South sides. There is only a two year ration.

And here we.....GO!  

[SatanicBanana24]

- Gael

Certain doom. That was the image Gael pictured as he gazed South from atop the ramparts. Three thousand Sundar soldiers, with their sundial having the shadow on dawn and long sword banners flapping in the wind, and that's just the South. North of Ironmaple camped at least two thousand Sundar men at arms. Gael imagined many different ways the hope deprived people of Ironmaple would die. One was that the Sundar's would decide to use the nearby forest to the South and build siege weapons, another was that some how a spy made their way into Ironmaple unnoticed and found a way to raise the gates guarding the canal that cuts Ironmaple in two. And last, that the rations would waste away. Either way, life in Ironmaple was dim.
Ser Gale Thorsten had donned a fine cow hide tunic that was too dark for people to realize that it was red, and Fine linen pants complete with basic leather boots. A sword hung on the left side of his waist. It was a basic recently made steal long sword, Gael went so far as to call it "Avenger".
The wind began to blow and howl as the sun rose from its slumber. The light brought no comfort to the Greyheart, for this light brought with it the clear vision of his doom. Gael brushed unwanted hair from his pale eyes and stared blankly into the horde of The rising blade. Soon the blade will set to dusk on all of their heads.
Gale made his way down the South West tower and out into the Minor Ironmaple, or the southern end of the fort. Surprisingly the simple folk did their best to go about their lives and pretend nothing was amiss. He envied them in a way, but Gael knew all to well how this would end. A couple eyes glued to him on his way to Major Ironmaple.
"They must resent me." Gael thought to himself. And he didn't blame them, but that was how the world worked.
Over the canal on one of two arched bridges and straight into the main hall.
The General was already sitting in the dead Lord of Ironmaple's throne. Gael bowed, then said. "General." Gael was wondering why the General was seated so early.
Ser Ian Pascal was a stout and stubborn man in his early forties, his wisdom on the battle field is legendary as well as his tolerance for disobedience. His head was balding and he wore broken blood vessels that scattered about his square nose.
"Such a proud man." Gael thought. And not as a complement.
"Ser Greyheart" Ian began, " Catching the worm I see." if it was a jest Ian did not find it funny nor Gael. "He's not fond of me" Gael thought. But then again Gael Thorsten was never fond of him.
"Tell me Greyheart, how fairs our enemies?"
"More come everyday." It was ill news, but true news.
Silence.
"I'm breaking my fast with the council." Ian began, "Will you join us?"
The invitation was more of a demand and not out of the kindness of his heart. Only a hand full of knights are in Ironmaple, and those knights make up a council, including Gael.
"I'm afraid I have work to do General, and besides I've already broken my fast"
Truthfully he did not have work nor had he broken his fast. Gael despised council meetings. Nothing but long drawn out conversations about what could be done to provide for Ironmaple and a bunch of knights boasting and thinking they are lords. That was the scary thought, when first Ironmaple was attacked and Ian fled with the remainder of his army into Ironmaple the throne was still soiled with blood, but recently Ian Pascal has made himself at home upon its seat. The look on Ian's face told all Gael needed to know of his frustration.
Gael excused himself and left for his private chambers to break his fast in peace.  

[SatanicBanana24]

Gael-

A simple meal of fresh bread, an apple, and a bottle of ale. Not that Gael was a drinker. Drinking lead to unfortunate actions, his brother was a drunk, and a fool.
Gael was in the mood for a drink, it comes with the whole idea of certain death.
In his privet chambers Gael sat at a wooden desk facing a window that he had opened which over looked the guard barracks. This is where he ate his meal. In here also was a rather small bed, curtsy of Ser Ian. The only thing worth looking at in this droll single windowed room was the armor stand. It held together The Greyheart's famous armor. Grey plate mail, plain....uninteresting. The way Gael liked it. The only thing he didn't like was despite his best efforts to be unnoticed, his decision of simple has become something...different. Almost a fashion.
In his right hand Gael held a pen, and on the table beside his meal was a parchment. Already half way full. This parchment held the names of people of interest. The Greyheart took it upon himself to record the lives of Ironmaple.
he took light sip of ale and read softly.
"Ser Ian Pascal, Geaneral of Ironmaple and in charge of of its council at the death of its Lord, blue of eyes and black of hair. Ser Doldiant Stone, Knight of Eros and member of council, green of eyes and golden head. Ser Hunter Conrad Knight of Ironmaple, brown of eyes and chestnut head."
Gael couldn't decide whether Ser Hunter had a light hue of brown or blonde.
He took another bite of bread and apple, then washed it down with some ale.
He continued.
"Ser Loghan Trant knight of Ironmaple, brown of eyes and black of hair. Ser-"
A sharp knock on his door halted Gael, he set down the pen and rose still facing the window. "Come in."
The door opened. It was Ser Doldiant Stone. Doldiant was the youngest of the council, at only nineteen. He was the spitting image of a gallant Prince, Gael meet his father and wondered where Doldiant received his looks.
"Greyheart. You didn't break fast with the council." his tone was questionable. So brash and full of spunk was Doldiant, everything Gael was not.
"I'm sure they filled their bellies just fine without me." Gael replied. He turned to face the green boy.
Silence. It seems to be the best thing to do these days.
" Ian was upset."
" Let him be. I care not."
" You have a role to play, as do we all."
" That is true, but my role is not the one Ian wants of me." Gael donned his sword belt and strapped his sword on.
" Some of the council men have been wondering where your allegiance lies."
Gael swapped up his apple and strode past. unresponsive. Greyheart was tired of the council and its dealings, they grow fatter while the people eat less and less each day. He left Doldiant in his room and took a walk to the river Maple, such a slow moving river it was. He ate the rest of his apple staring into his reflection. Ser Stone had interrupted Gael's work. He dare not go back for fear of being confronted of his absence. To Gael's right was a boy of at least ten scrounging up coins on the cobble stone surrounding the river.
He walked to stand beside him after throwing the apple core into the water.
"Boy." he stated in his usual tone. The kid stared wide eye at him, he was almost frozen.
"What is the purpose of coin, get off your knees." Gael demanded.
the boy did just that, "I....its my gold, I didn't uh...steal it."
Gael smirked. Such innocence. His smirk faded, and soon his life will be forfeit.
"Perhaps you should steal, but not worthless coin. Leave it here."
the boy was shocked, stunned even. "Ser?..."
Gael grew bored of the boy and walked away. It was his way of entertaining himself.  

[SatanicBanana24]

Greyheart-

Fulk "Steel palm" was an exceptional blacksmith. It was him who made Gael's new sword after his was lost in battle. A huge man with a huge gut and gargantuan appetite. If anyone was a friend to the Greyheart it would be Fulk.
He was arranging his crap metal into barrels when Gael arrived. They said nothing as Gael watched and waited for Fulk to acknowledge him. They were both very awkward. Gael unsheathed his sword.
"Such a fine weapon." Gael began. "It's evenly weighted and think on the handle."
Fulk spat at the dirt. "How's it work in battle?'" his voice was rough and deep.
Gael studded the blade. "I wouldn't know. Its still a virgin."
"My paps once said a blade is the soul of its wielder." he chuckled.
"Aye, if that is true. Then your hammer must be fat and ugly." Gael replied.
The smith gave him a stern look.
Silence.
Fulk slapped his gut. "Ha! I'm no more fat then you are dull."
Gael smiled.
"What did you want friend?" the Blacksmith asked continuing his sorting.
Gael sheathed Avenger. "The weapon count. How many in stcok?"
"Forty spears, twenty-three blades, and...."
Silence. Gael found that strange for once.
"And what?...."
The Smith turned back to Gael. "That's it, no more."
"That's it?"
"The rest of my work is spread across the vineyards, or in the hands of Grigori Sundar."
Greyheart couldn't believe the low amount, untrained warriors with steel blades isn't a challenge, but with rounded up sticks and rocks, its even worse.
"Fulk, meet me at Big Bessy. I've need of you." Gael left it at that. He never was one for words.
It was getting later now, afternoon was here. Gael made his was west of minor Maple to Big Bessy, a rather large tavern. At the door he could smell the stench of vomit wafting out. He scrounged up his face and let the smell soak in. This was the best place to talk secretly. It was like a normal day at Big Bessy, like there wasn't a care in the world. He found a table and sat.
Soon Fulk found his way to him.
"Were the people of Ironmaple not told of our siege?" Gael went on as Fulk sat, a tankard of beer in his hand.
"They believe there is hope." The blacksmith gorged himself in liquid. It dripped on his beard.
"Hope? you and I both know hope the last thing they should feel. Besides what gives them this idea?"
"Talk of an army com'n from the North to our aid...."
"An army?....how do you know of this? and who would spread such lies?"
"Not every lie is a bad one." Fulk drank again.
Silence.
The Tavern was beginning to fill, night had fallen. Gael's stomach faught angrily to be noticed. He would notice it latter.
"Tell me Fulk, who told you this?"
he smiled. "Your not the only knight who comes to chat, I've got them com'n left and right. The General for information on our weapon stock, and that blonde boys' been hassling me for a knew blade."
Ian knew about our low weapon stock? Perhaps Gael should reconsider council meetings. And Doldiant wants a shinny new toy.
"You need to relax Greyheart, take a woman to bed." Fulk stood. Empty Tankard in hand. "I'll get more for the both of us-"
"Don't bother." Gael rose too. "I have to go."
Another quick getaway. Gael left for supper in his privet chambers.  

[vampiress10000]

Danni-

Her stomach growled yet again as she passed the tavern. Under the stench of vomit there was the delicious scent of meat and bread. If only she had a bit more coin. She may be too young to buy ale, but they wouldn’t turn away good money if she wanted to buy some food. If the cooks were male she may be able to get one to give her some bread. Even so, how would she get into the kitchen? Danni decided the tavern was a lost cause and turned to walk back toward her house. A tall man walked out of the tavern. His hair was black and shaggy and he dressed in simple dark clothes so she took him for a peasant like her, yet the sword at his hip said otherwise. This must have been the infamous Greyheart. Everyone was talking about the knights of the council and about how Ser Thorston wasn’t including himself with the other knights. Not in front of them of course, but when one person overhears another they begin spreading rumors. Let them talk; it keeps their mind off of the Sundar’s host she thought to herself. Surely he must have some coin on him. Her thumb brushed over her right fingertips. Danni tried to push the thought away, but it was already in her head and her stomach grumbled its agreement. The knight was most likely heading back to the castle; Danni could head him off if she used the alleyways. Surely he wouldn’t miss a little bit of coin he hadn’t spent in the tavern. Even if he did, the worst he would do is put her in jail with a bed and a meal a day. That was almost worth doing a bad job.
Danni overlapped Ser Thorston and waited for the moment when he wouldn’t see her spring from the alley. She took off at full speed and clipped his arm as she went by. She threw a loud apology over her shoulder as she ran past, claiming that her parents were going to punish her if she wasn’t home soon. Their eyes locked for a moment and chills went down her spine. Oh Gods, he knew! He knew what just happened and he was going to take her to prison. Danni waited for the alarmed shout as she ran, but it never came. Greyheart never yelled for her to stop, or called after her. Could it have been in her head? Did he even notice? Either way, she could breathe a sigh of relief and feed herself, for the night at least. She stopped on the next street to examine her prize. A silver and a few coppers, enough to buy a decent meal. She removed the silver from the bag and rubbed her thumb over it. The metal reddened when she did it. She’d nicked her thumb while cutting the strings of the pouch. Damn, way to make yourself noticeable Danni. You’re bound to be the only red-haired girl with a cut on her left thumb!
“Oh well, life’s too short for ‘what ifs’ right dad?” she mumbled to herself as she made her way back toward the tavern to spend her stolen wealth.  

[SatanicBanana24]

Ser Gael Thorsten-

Interestingly enough, Gael found himself unable to stop her. His eyes met hers, and her hair. Like fire was her head, as well in her eyes. A wild fire flickered in those eyes...
And for what? so that it might extinguish? so that wild fire could dwindle and eventually turn to smoke and waft away in the breeze?
Gael allowed what coin he had to be swiped of his person, he had little use of it. His meals were free, his clothes, his baths, everything was free. But for the rest it was not so. His legs began to twitch to remind him of his destination, or to be a nuisance. Either way Gael found himself walking back to his room, index finger to his lips. He dinned on a small meal, he then realized he was eating less and less each day. If he wanted to keep his strength he should nourish his body.
But for what? what could strength do? nothing....not here, not when the walls of Ironmaple squeeze tighter and tighter ever day. Not when the people, those who wanted nothing to do with war have to starve whilst the knights, who conjure grand visions of lordship, stuff their faces.
Gael removed all of his clothes and laid over the covers. It was cold, but not so bad that he should cower under his bed sheets. An ebony token was clenched in his left hand as his right preoccupied itself with his usual tick against his lips.
His whole life Gael was in the shadows, always watching, waiting. For what? Gael could not answer that. His father had watched as his two true born sons grew, as Rade became the son he always wanted, Gael fell into a different position. He was the younger, he was the weak one, he never cared for battle strategies. Gael never wanted to rule, he never wanted to be what he was. A lords son. What honor comes with being the one who takes from the poor? the one person who taxes, who takes the livelihood of others and expects them to give their lives in his name? Gael loved once. he recalled as the ebony token appeared from his fist. He fell in love with a peasant girl, to other she was nothing. A fisherman's daughter. But to Gael she was everything....
Love has strange effects on those it infects, and just like a sickness Gael was struck suddenly. His member began to stiffen at the thought of her hair, of her scent.....of her body. Gael's face hardened. he would not give into self pity again, he knew how the world worked. It was dark and cruel, why should love be any different? why can't the world just leave him alone? Gael felt the sudden urge to pray. He gathered two candles and his goblet half filled with wine. He set each candle on each side of the goblet on his small desk facing the window which was currently closed to keep out the chill.
Gael knelt before the goblet of red wine, naked as his name day, and lit the candles. The god of mysticism wasn't one to answer, Edur worked in ways not even the other Gods could comprehend.
"Tell me." Gael began in a whisper. "What is my purpose here? I have no influence, I am looked at as a joke by Ian and his ilk as well as the common folk."
Silence. Gael still held his ebony token. He gazed upon it.
"I am worthless, my life is meaningless. I can offer nothing to this world let alone Ironmaple. Please.....I...."
Silence. It began to rain outside.
"Tell me...."
Gael heard his fathers words at the back of his mind, the words spoken to him as a child.
'What are you good for?'
Gael looked at his window, the wind began to pick up. He returned to his prayer.
"What can I do? what should I do? I just want to be left alone....what am I good for?..."
And in the form of a flash of light and the sound of a wicked whip, Gael found the answer.  

[SatanicBanana24]

Greyheart-

Another morning upon the ramparts. Gael decided to don his plate mail. Heavy and uncomfortable, yet strong and durable. His body was used to its weight. A strange new face appeared in Gael's peripheral vision. A woman, most likely in her late twenties covered in wool wrappings. Her hair was a light brown, it swayed in the coming breeze. It is known that the common folk are forbidden to wonder the walls. Gael saw no harm in it however and decided to approach her. She had a cold complexion, Gael realized then she must have been in her forties. Silence followed, she noticed him and said nothing.
"You must be cold." Gael heard himself say. The wind was rather chilly in the morning, and after last nights storm the air was unusually cold.
The woman smiled, "I'll be fine."
Silence.
"I couldn't help but notice that such a fair maiden was so close, I had to take a peek." Gael meant it as a jest, it came out as something awkward.
"Perhaps once, but no longer. Aren't you going to arrest me? I thought civilians weren't allowed on the ramparts?" Her voice was soft and yet it held respect. Much like his own, but without the respect. No one cared for what the Greyheart had to say. Yet he wagered they would listen to her.
"Haven't you heard? I don't care for rules." That made her smile. And suddenly her face was less cold.
"You remind me of my son." She began, "Not in features, but spirit. he would learn much from you Greyheart."
"I'm afraid I wouldn't be the best teacher." Gael extended his hand. "Mayhaps you could join me for a walk?"
She leaned against the edge of the ramparts.
"No, you can just leave me here. I'll be fine."
"I'ts not that I don't care, but others do. If anyone finds you up here you'll get your wish. I doubt you want to be made an example of, Ian and his ilk are getting more and more extravagant each day."
" You, Ser Greyheart, are a true knight. But I must decline, and ask that you leave me to my fate."
Gael bowed and walked away. Her mind was fixed, he would not bother. If she wanted Ian to get a hold of her she could deal with it.
A sudden wisp of cloth flapping in the wind behind him, it stole his breath away. He dared not look back. His head slowly turned and the rest of his body followed. His armor never felt as heavy as it had then.
the woman was gone.
He found himself itching his legs towards the river and its cobble stoned pathways. The image of that woman on the ramparts was stuck to the back of his mind, Ian would no doubt hear of this sooner or later. He would be furious. It wasn't until Gael thought of his absent coin purse, and of the girl with wild fire hair, that he forgot of that image. Gael gazed around.
"Where could she be? not very many places to hide."
Another trip to the blacksmith and Gael found his answer...or at least some of it.
"I knew her father." Fulk stated, "An old drinkin' buddy o' mine, heard he was dead now. Poor girl, I'd take her in as one o' my own but she don't know me all to well. And I doubt I'd make a good parent, ain't made a good son neither."
"But you do know where she could be?"
"Not really...that ones' been a free spirit all her life...I think her name is...Dal...Danni...yeah that's it."
"Danni..." Gael took a deep breath, thanked Fulk and left him to his business.
Gael figured finding this wild fire was in vain, she would run into him no doubt. Gael wondered back to the strong hold, It was time he got to know the knights of the council.  

[vampiress10000]

Danni-

The morning was crisp as Danni made her way to the forge. The blacksmith had been close to her father and she found his presence similar to his. Every once in a while they’d break their fast together and she’d listen to the big man tell her stories about her father. Her right thumb rubbed against her fingers, spreading the excess oil that hadn’t yet dried over her fingertips. The door was cool; the forge hadn’t been started yet, but she heard talking from inside. She heard Fulk’s deep booming voice and one she didn’t recognize.
“But you do know where she could be?” The other man asked; a strange tone of urgency below the calm steadiness of his voice.
“Not really...that one’s been a free spirit all her life...I think her name is...Dal...Danni...yeah that's it.” Why was he talking about her? She crept over to a window and lifted herself up for a look at who he was talking to.

Danni dropped back down before he had the chance to catch her. Ser Thorsten was looking for her. He must have decided he wanted his coin back. The Greyheart bid Fulk farewell and headed for the door. Danni pulled her cloaks hood over her hair and turned away before he could spot her. When he’d left she slipped into the forge to hear the tale from the blacksmith.
“It’s been too long since last we talked.” A smile bloomed to cover the nerves. At first he looked shocked to see her, and then he relaxed and returned the smile.
“Aye, it has! Look a’ how much you grew.” He ruffled her hair with a large hand and chuckled. “Mind telling me what you did to make the Greyheart come look for you?”
“I took a few coins, not like he couldn’t spare them.” She rubbed her fingertips with her thumb.
“I’m with you on that point, but I’d turn myself in before they start offering rewards if I were you.”
“Yeah, we’ll see. But for now, I’m starving. Have you already broken your fast?”  

[vampiress10000]

Danni-

Danni had decided a few hours ago to repay the Greyheart, though how to do it eluded her. Cutting more purses was out of the question because of her already injured thumb. An injured finger was the same as a dull knife, more of a inconvenience than an asset. If she knew more about smithing she could earn it helping Fulk around the forge. Begging doesn't do much good on streets already choked with beggars, most being children to evoke pity. She thought about sharing her bed to get the coin back, but it didn't seem right to give a knight coins earned by whoring. Her uninjured thumb slid against her fingers as she thought. What could she possibly do? Well, if Ser Thorsten wanted his coin back he could come up with a way for her to repay him. Why did she want to repay him in the first place? He lived in the strong hold. He probably got everything for free anyway. The thought of life inside the strong hold piqued her curiosity. How did the Greyheart live? More modestly than the other knights, Danni was sure, but how modest? She had to find out.
For the sake of some sort of camouflage, she covered her red hair with her cloak. Before she left her home she tucked her fathers dagger into the back of her breeches. Danni had never been in the stronghold before, but her father had. He'd drawn a general outlay of it to show her where he had been allowed to go and different hallways that led to places that were off limits. She'd need this later when she was snooping around.
Pulling the hood over her head a bit tighter, she set out in the direction of the stronghold