Christina
Lord Mallsrek Skagerlly
Vivayn encampment, outside Castle Barrmount, Iron Plains

Striding through the camp Mallsrek took the scene in, tents jutted from the ground and fires crackled at regular intervals. The men seemed to be absorbing the situation as it arrived, but he could feel the palpable sense of restlessness waver through the air emanating from his fellow countrymen. Of course they felt this way, they were only at peace when in the thick of combat wreaking havoc as they were born and trained to do.

His ears pricked up as he heard a commotion from behind him. Turning round to face the danger head on he spied a nimble man in the attire of a messenger pelting through the camp, swerving between soldiers and equipment until he paused in front of Mallsrek breathless. Allowing the man a few seconds to catch his breath, the messenger spoke quickly and purposefully, "'M'lord I ave pressing news. Yur fath'r as arrived and would like your presence immediately." He stood there awaiting an answer.

Mallsrek took a moment to compose himself, it was the first he had heard that his father had left their homestead. What was the urgent need for the patriarch to ride out and join the war effort? Answering back bluntly to the messenger, "Very well I will go find my father. Your orders are to increase the number of sentries and patrols. This incident cannot happen again. If anything moves, I want to hear about it. Beware if this happens again or it will be your head on the table." He watched the messenger scurry off to carry out his orders, smiling to himself as he knew his orders would be followed to the letter. Having a fearsome reputation always had its positives.

He glanced at his entourage, and picking the two biggest soldiers in his hearthguard, he bellowed, "You two with me, we'll go see what my father wants." Turning to the rest of them, he announced, "The rest of you to your duties, this siege won't end by itself."

Gripping his belt, Mallsrek braced himself and proceeded to pace hurriedly through the ranks, flanked by his two chosen men until he spotted the red and white flag of his homestead and below that the figure of his liege. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the reunion of his half family and he grimaced seeing them here. They were a bane on the existence of this house that if he had his way with, would disappear in the dark of night without a thought. Ignoring them he strode up to his father, bowing his head slightly in respect as he paused in front of him.

"Welcome father, I hope that your journey was pleasant, but I can assure you that it was useless. As you can see the situation is well under control here. Morale is high and the men are ready to intervene if given the word."
Shirley
**Lady Kelsafyr Skagerlly**
**The Vivayn Encampment outside Castle Barrmount, the Iron Plaines**

Kelsafyr rested her hands on Shaydrin's forearms and gave him an affectionate squeeze as he took a step back from her, still craving some sort of contact, she continued to fuss over him. She swept a hand through his mousy brown hair, combing it through her fingers as their mother often used to do. He still needed to look presentable, even in times of peril. A contented breath parted her lips as she looked to him, her eyes filled with adoration and love. She had missed him dearly, her heart ached whenever they were apart. She felt hollow without his presence. With a half smile, she responded to his rigid greeting with a much warmer disposition.

"It's been painful to be apart from you. I've been worried sick."

She paused, spying the arrival of Mallsrek. She turned her head ever so slightly in order to keep his figure in eyeshot at all times, before a thought came to her. Once he was within earshot, but far enough away it wasn't obvious she was intending for him to overhear, she uttered;

"Father was concerned about Mallsreks performance, weren't you, father? Nobody can truly inspire the men or in-still fear in the enemy like Lord Radgore Skagerlly. Things do look to be a little bit.. Dishevelled, don't you think?" Kelsafyr inquired, posing the question to her father while also planting her own ideologies into that small, small mind of his. Her words were gentle and soft, as sickly sweet as honey fresh from the comb. A satisfied smile curled onto her features, one that Shaydrin was very familiar with. He could very much tell she was up to something, but to an untrained eye, she was merely smiling because she was reunited with her nearest and dearest.

-

"Why, you should have seen the roads as we rode here. Bodies riddled with plague strewn all over the place, improperly disposed of with the others. For a moment, I was quite fearful I might catch something. Mallsrek's orders, I imagine. They seem far too half-arsed to be yours."

That time, she said it very clearly with the intention of Mallsrek hearing it. She rubbed a hand up and down Shaydrin's arm, before turning her body to face both her brother and her father.
Tammy
Lord Radgore Skagerlly 
Vivayn Encampment outside Castle Barrmount, the Iron Plaines 

Lord Radgore stood surveying the scene as the messengers brought the brood forth. He looked like a colossus standing sentinel, guarding. Though he moved much too impatiently for a statue or a guardian, always shifting his weight from tree trunk leg to tree trunk leg, tapping the top of war sword strapped firmly across his belt, and stomping his riding boots into the snow. His murky black eyes snapped side to side, eyeing all camp workers, attendants, stablehands, soldiers and knights suspiciously. He recognised many banners streaming through the cold gusts: the kneeling jester of House Cantler, with a dagger brandished at the rear, on a shining tangerine and muddy clay field; the pugnacious winter wolverine of House Redval, teeth bared on white and grey; the gleaming anvil of House Reyne, shining within a forge of dark embers and illuminated gold; the narrow-sighted horn mole of House Godraut; the ice sculpture of House Clodamyr, on a blue and blonde field; and finally the barrel of ale and dry shrubbery of House Delpsy, quartered. Radgore knew all of them and cared for them not, but he fucking despised the Delpsys, all most as much as the Barrmounts.

When Shaydrin paced towards his kin, he looked as if he'd just come back from his trail of entering adulthood when he tested his grit for the Frozen Gods. Radgore remembered the day he returned to the Weeping Pit; his face was covered in muck, sweat and dry blood, his clothes were torn and raggedy, barely still attached to his form, and he had a limp that left him unable to walk for weeks, yet still he refused assistance to ascend the dais in the Hallowed Hall of their ancient castle, to present himself to his Lord Father as a new man. Radgore had counted on him not surviving the excursion, being a scrawny and nimble lad of sixteen that was dwarfed by nearly every single one of his siblings. He expected the wolves to take him in the night, as a boy. Yet he stood before him, on all his own power, as a man. Lord Radgore was legitimately proud of his son that day. When he looked upon his visage, he looked much the same; he looked fucking awful, and like he hadn't slept in months. 

"What, no love for your old man?" Radgore smirked as his twin son and daughter embrace, after months of being apart. "You look like shit," Was the first proper thing he said to Shaydrin after they had finished their reunion. "I suppose it's hard holding down the fort, ain't it lad?" He put his bear paw across his sixth-born son's shoulder, "But my boy does it so," The Lord of the Weeping Pit gave a jovial laugh. "You know what needs ta be done if these lackies won't fall in line," He told Shaydrin, holding up a finger assertively.

Lord Radgore's pep talk with one of his favourite children that he'd given to him over a hundred times was soon interrupted by the shrill voice of another one of his children from across the grounds, behind him. Radgore's countenance went from the cheerful disposition of a father schooling his boy, to a miserable alcoholic sod in one instant. He jerked his gigantic body around to find Arko, his third born son there standing there miserably, announcing he'd defied their liege's orders. "Don't give me that talk, boy," Radgore stomped over thunderously to him, "You use respect when addressing your Lord and your father, especially when they're both one in the fockin' same," He talked down to Arko, chiding him. "But I suppose that's why you'll never be anything more than a soldier. Only ever thinkin' about the chain of command and nothin' more."

As he was busy berating Arko, his first born son and heir Mallsrek made his appearance, strolling fiercely before his father and bowing. Mallsrek had always been the best in that regard, always devoted to his Lord Father first and foremost. But when he made his introduction, he too was similar in Arko's approach, denouncing the relevancy of his and Kelsafyr's arrival. "Don't you start as well, Mallsrek," Radgore warned. Then as per usual, Mallsrek and Kelsafyr got into it and she discredited Mallsrek's efforts in representing the Skagerlly name and fancied them as insufficient in instilling the fear and terror into the subjects of war that were necessary in ensuring their victory. "Enough!" Lord Radgore bellowed, preventing another argument from beginning. "If I have to hear one more of my children tell me I am wrong, I'll chop me own fockin' bollocks off so no more of you whelps can spurt out and contradict me," He looked at all of them with stern, hard-boiled eyes. "Keep thinking you know everything, all of you. See how far it fockin' gets you," The mammoth of a man pushed and budged past all camp workers and attendants who were unfortunate enough to be in his path, knocking them out the way. He stopped before a tent with the Skagerlly banner set above it, undulating violently. He pried open the flap. 

"All of you in here. Now!"