That was my order to you - my request of you - as your lord, your cousin, your friend. He met his cousin's eyes with an unyielding stare, and simply shook his head. Ruadh could hear the sounds of all the wildlife who claimed the river as their home,
Their camp was right on the westernmost shore of the Blackwater Rush. The sound was awful to Ruadh and he quickly walked away from it. He could hear the blacksmiths at their work, steel ringing on steel. The cool morning air assaulted his senses alongside the smell of woodsmoke and cooking meat. He donned his boots quickly and left his tent.
He picked up his axe and placed it in its holder and grabbed his dagger and slammed it into his sheath. He then slipped on his leather greaves and tightened a belt around his waist. He then slipped on a sleeveless chain mail hauberk, followed by a new leather cuirass since his last one was ruined on the ride to meet Arryk. He grabbed his under tunic and donned it quickly. He stood, the cold morning air raising gooseflesh on his half-naked body. The Bloodshore shook his head, the depressing thoughts fading like the morning fog. The Bloodshore tried to have a perfect armor, and normally he did, but Yvette was a subject that turned his knees into water. Never a day went by without Ruadh thinking of what could have been. Ruadh had never forgiven himself for that night and it tore him up every day. The kinslayer is accursed in the eyes of Gods and Men.well fuck the Gods, my father will die by mine own hand.I'm so sorry Yvette. Ruadh always forced himself to adopt a diplomatic attitude when he was forced to deal with him, but he had never forgiven him and vowed he would take his life in exchange for Yvette's, Anger coursed through him, as it always did when he thought of his father. Ruadh thought, his fingers curling into fists. Until you made me murder her father, you fucking bastard. As a boy he liked to climb and explore the lands of Volmark, he loved to read and write poetry, and he loved to make friends, but he never wanted to wield a blade unless his father forced him. Ruadh Bloodshore was never a man of violence. Every day the party of his kinsmen marched towards Queen's Landing the Bloodshore slept less and less. You're acting like a child, there are no ghosts coming to kill you.
For some reason he thought he he had a twig snap just outside his tent and he could only envision ghostly figures with daggers approaching his tent coming to kill him, His heart was pounding and adrenaline was coursing through him. This war will be the death of me, Ruadh decided as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The Bloodshore sighed and released his grip on the axe covered his face with his hands, Ruadh could make out his possessions still lying were he had put them the night before. The tent was dark with slivers of morning light slipping through the tent flaps and illuminating only small sections of the tent. He sat up and scanned around his tent looking for something amiss. Ruadh Bloodshore woke quickly and instinctively gripped his axe that lay next to his bed roll. OOC: Any Ironborn in our camp are more than welcome to come visit me in the tent!
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