Thomyr
The sky was dark and full of clouds, the sun was setting in the distance. Thomyr looked down at his bound hands, the rope was begi… morenning to chafe through his wrists. Jorald was tied to the horse that belonged to Charles Black, the crow with the dark steel sword. Thomyr was tied behind the other black crow’s horse. The two had been walking non-stop for the past three days, their meals consisted of one onion and dried tomato a day. Thomyr glared at Charles, who held the bag of ripe fruits and vegetables. Jorald spat.
“You crow’s have been feeding us shit for three fucking days, give us some real food!” Jorald found himself face first in the mud when Charles pushed his garron to a canter. Asshole. The young man laughed.
“Enough Charles, the horses are tired enough as it is. Let’s just get these wildlings back to Castle Black.” Ser Ulrich sounded tired and bored.
“They’re slowing us down Ulrich, we should just kill them already.… [view original content]
Thomyr
The sky was dark and full of clouds, the sun was setting in the distance. Thomyr looked down at his bound hands, the rope was begi… morenning to chafe through his wrists. Jorald was tied to the horse that belonged to Charles Black, the crow with the dark steel sword. Thomyr was tied behind the other black crow’s horse. The two had been walking non-stop for the past three days, their meals consisted of one onion and dried tomato a day. Thomyr glared at Charles, who held the bag of ripe fruits and vegetables. Jorald spat.
“You crow’s have been feeding us shit for three fucking days, give us some real food!” Jorald found himself face first in the mud when Charles pushed his garron to a canter. Asshole. The young man laughed.
“Enough Charles, the horses are tired enough as it is. Let’s just get these wildlings back to Castle Black.” Ser Ulrich sounded tired and bored.
“They’re slowing us down Ulrich, we should just kill them already.… [view original content]
“These black brothers are no better than the local thief. Nor will they do anything to find the bastard! Tanya, I don’t care if this thief steals all of our belongings, it’s just the Night’s Watch is doing nothing about it. Skaggs have been reported by the fisherman more than ever, and what do the Night’s Watch do? Nothing!” Tanya stood in their small kitchen washing the plates.
Jorge sat in his chair staring out the window with frustration. The night was dark and the sky was clear. The recent storm had caused a lot of chaos for the farmers, and had been the perfect distraction for thieves to steal Jorge’s only cow.
“Honey, I know you don’t have any love for the Night’s Watch. I don’t either. Though they are all we have got if we were to be attacked. You sent a raven to the Last Hearth and we have heard nothing yet. The men of the Watch may not be much, but they are honorable and will live up to their vows.” Tanya was quiet when she spoke, possibly trying not to wake the children. Jorge shook his head angrily.
“Don’t be so naive woman! The Night’s Watch don’t give a shit about us. I’ll tell you now and I’ll say it once, first chance these ‘black brothers’ get to leave the island will be the last time we ever see them.” Jorge looked over to his wife, whose face was red and teary. Shortly after Jorge had realised what he had said, he regretted it.
“Do you think you can do any better, Jorge?! You sit here moping about the job of the Night’s Watch but you won’t even have the courage to send a raven to Ol’Tower. To your family!” Tears were streaming down Tanya’s eyes. Jorge buried his head in his hands and sighed.
“Tanya… I am the son of a bastard. Yes, he was a bastard of an Oldstark and yes that gives me some noble blood. Yet I am nothing to them, I have nothing to give.” Tanya sniffed as she silently cried.
“Perhaps, but when Garn became lord he offered you a place at Ol’Tower. You call me naive, but it was really you who was too proud and ignorant. He is your cousin, he would have given us a life better than this.” Jorge clenched his hands, anger showing on his face.
“HE WOULD HAVE MADE US HIS SLAVES!” Jorge’s anger completely shocked Tanya. She dropped the iron plate she was holding, making a loud noise on the wooden floor. Kyra and Croll were quick to climb up the stairs and investigate. Croll was hugging onto Kyra’s leg.
“What’s going on up here?” Kyra asked, somewhat anxious and worried. Croll had left her side and grabbed Jorge, holding him tightly. The anger flushed out of the father as he slowly caressed his young boy’s hair.
“It’s nothing dear. Just go back to bed, your father and I were only talking.” Tanya gave a fake smile which Kyra could easily see through. That girl is too smart for her own good.
“I don’t want you two fighting here, ever. Croll is young and only a boy, he does not deserve to grow up knowing what I know. You two will make this work, for him.” Kyra spoke silently with a wisdom that Jorge had never seen in her. Croll sat on his lap and stared out the window, completely oblivious to what they were talking about.
“Look father, it’s the sun!” Jorge raised an eyebrow. It’s nearly midnight…
Tanya and Kyra had huddled close and stared out of the kitchen window. Jorge had put Croll down and done the same. In the distance was a orange light that brightened the fields. The sounds of scream and terror quickly followed as he watched. Kyra gasped.
“The Hub, it’s on fire…” She said as she covered her mouth with her hands. Tanya grabbed a bucket.
“I’ll get some water-” Jorge looked Tanya in the eye and shook his head.
“No.” Tanya raised an eyebrow, questioning the man’s authority over her.
“What do you mean ‘no’? Those are people out there Jorge!” Jorge shook his head and stared out the window with curiosity.
“Just wait, trust me.” Tanya hesitated, then submitted to her husband. She huffed and put down the bucket, walking back to the window.
Jorge continued to watch the screaming people who were desperately trying to put out the flames that were engulfing the Hub. Kyra shook her head.
“This is ridiculous, we have to help them!” Jorge shook his head as he stared out the window.
“Just wait, one more minute.” The girl kicked over the bucket in frustration. Where are you, you bastards. And then he saw it.
The merchants of the Hub began to scream and run from a sudden mass of figures in the distance. Those who did not make an escape fell to the might of these barbaric foes who opposed them. A quick and sharp shiver went down Jorge’s spine. Skaggs. He turned and knelt down in front of Croll.
“Croll, ride to the town hall and inform the Watch that they are needed at the Hub, we’re being attacked.” He looked over to Kyra, who was staring at him intently. “You go with him, make sure he gets there.” She nodded and the two quickly ran out the back door. Jorge looked over to his wife who was already pulling out a meat cleaver. She strapped it to her waist and walked over to the front door, opening it and letting in the cool chill.
“About time you were right. I’m in the mood for killing something.” Jorge grinned at Tanya, who was already out the door. Jorge followed her out, locking the door behind him.
The night was colder than most, and the wind was howling. The neighbouring farmers were also getting out of their homes to prepare themselves for a fight. Tanya had grabbed a pitchfork from the haystack outside their front door. Jorge walked around the side of the house where he would usually chop wood. The shed was connected to the house and was mostly made of stone. Jorge pulled open the wooden door and entered. The floor was mostly hay, as the chickens nested themselves amongst the insulating wood. Jorge walked over to his iron woodcutting axe, which was lodged into a small trunk that was used as a base for cutting wood. He pulled it free and placed in on his belt. Let’s go kill some Skaggs.
-
The farmers had rallied into a small mob, Jorge and Karne led the men and women. Karne wielded an iron harpoon which he had often used for fishing. Anger and cruelty showed itself on the broken man’s face.
“I will not hold back on these savages. They killed my brother, and I will kill as many of them as I can.” Dark bags had made their way under Karne’s eyes, making it obvious he had not slept well for the past few days.
“Let’s hope the Night’s Watch live up to their oath. The sword in the darkness will mean nothing if they don’t show.” Karne gave a mocking grin.
“The bastards won’t show. You and I know them too well to know what they are capable of.” Jorge shrugged, he wasn’t too sure if he knew them at all according to his wife.
The Skaggs ran rampant over the burning remains of what was once the Hub, a place for trade amongst the small folk and farmers of the land. The bodies of merchants and customers scattered the snow patched ground around the burning remains of the barn. Jorge raised his axe.
“Let’s go kill these fucking savages!” The men and women screamed with the thrill to fight. This had not been the first time they had to defend their lands against the Skaggs, but never before had there been so many of them.
Jorge ran towards the barbarians with a small army of small folk and farmers behind him. The Skaggs turned to them, slightly surprised yet somewhat happy to see them. The men and women of Skane had defended the coasts for many years since the new recruits of the Night’s Watch had ceased to live up to their expectations. The Skanish and Skagosi had played the game of life and death many times before. Though the Skaggs were known for their barbaric ways, the Skanish were a strong people who would not go down without a fight. This night would be a horrific fight.
The small mob of the Skanish clashed against the barbaric Skaggs, the sound of metal on metal filled the air. Jorge lodged his axe into the chest of a giant muscular man with a mohawk. The man laughed and pushed Jorge over, pulling the small axe out of his chest. Out of all the Skaggs I had to fight, I got the fucking big one. The man wielded a giant bronze mace his his right hand. He swung it down towards Jorge’s head, though Jorge quickly rolled out of the way and got back onto his feet. He charged at the giant of a man and tackled him to the ground. Jorge punched the man in the jaw, making his teeth break and his mouth bloody. Jorge went for a second punch, but his hand was caught by the giant’s and he was thrown off. The giant climbed on top of Jorge, placing his gigantic hands around Jorge’s muscled neck. Jorge’s airway was cut off and he ceased to breath, the blood from the man’s mouth dripped down on Jorge’s face. His vision began to go dark and he felt dizzy. The tension around his neck released. The giant fell off of him, but his arms still grasped his neck - though they were no longer connected to the man. Jorge looked up to see a young boy, perhaps a few years older than Croll, holding a bloody scythe. The boy grinned at Jorge and ran off, Jorge pulled himself up and looked around him. The war fought around him and it was clear the Skanish were losing. *Where is Tanya? *Jorge began to panic, as he could not find his wife among the small mass of people. He stood up and searched desperately, though there was no sign of her. A bronze sword swung down at Jorge’s arm, his opposer was a young man with a bald head and red face paint. Jorge jumped out of the way and grabbed the man by the back of his head. He pulled the boy’s head down towards his knee, leaving a bloody mess to drop on the ground. A sound of a woman’s scream caught Jorge’s attention next. Jorge turned to see his wife fighting two Skaggs, she was slowly being pushed towards the fire of the Hub. Jorge picked up the bronze blade and rushed through the mass crowds that consisted mostly of Skaggs. The two that opposed his wife were tall and skinny, their hair was long and black. Jorge ran and spear tackled one to the ground, inches away from the fire of the burning wood. The man managed to climb atop of Jorge and was trying to push his head into the flames. Jorge did all he could to resist, though in a short amount of time his strength would be overpowered by his opponent. Jorge took a risk and grabbed the man by his leather straps, flinging him into the fire. The man screamed as he wriggled around in the hot red flames. Jorge turned to see his wife planting her cleaver into the other man’s head. She grinned at Jorge, who smiled back at her with the thrill of battle. Jorge looked over to the remaining Skanish - consisting of the boy with the scythe, Karne and his wife - who had just broken down the doors to the flaming Hub. A storm of people began to flee out of the burning building, Jorge looked over to Tanya.
“Let’s go!” Jorged yelled, Tanya nodded and the two ran over to remaining Skanish fighters.
The mass crowd of small folk and merchants ran towards the main road, though were stopped by a blockade of Skaggs. Jorge and Tanya tried to run to their assistance, though were blocked off by more Skaggs. For every Skanish there was ten more Skagosi. Jorge grunted as he eyed off the five Skaggs that stood in front of him and his wife. If this is the end, then may the gods give us a good death. Jorge looked over to Tanya and nodded gently. The two gripped their weapons tightly and began to walk towards the Skaggs, though were stopped from a sound in the distance. Shouting and horses were heard coming from the roads, but when Jorge looked all he could see were hovering black dots in the distance. It’s about damn time! The Skaggs turned to their new opponents and charged towards them. The small folk and merchants began to scatter down the main road, away from the battle. Karne, his wife and the boy with the scythe had stayed to fight the Skaggs. Jorge grabbed Tanya and looked her in the eye.
“Go with them, make sure they get to safety.” The woman shook her head.
“I’m not leaving without you. If you die, so do I.” Jorge grunted, clearly frustrated. The Night’s Watch were a big enough number to take on the Skaggs, though whether they were enough to take on the barbarians had Jorge worried. He was not prepared to lead his wife to her death, his children could not live without her. Though to leave the battle would make him a coward, especially when he was most needed now.
I doubt a single man can do much of a difference in this fight. The Night's Watch should be capable enough to take them on without Jorge's help. That's not worth risking his life.
Jorge
“These black brothers are no better than the local thief. Nor will they do anything to find the bastard! Tanya, I don’t care if thi… mores thief steals all of our belongings, it’s just the Night’s Watch is doing nothing about it. Skaggs have been reported by the fisherman more than ever, and what do the Night’s Watch do? Nothing!” Tanya stood in their small kitchen washing the plates.
Jorge sat in his chair staring out the window with frustration. The night was dark and the sky was clear. The recent storm had caused a lot of chaos for the farmers, and had been the perfect distraction for thieves to steal Jorge’s only cow.
“Honey, I know you don’t have any love for the Night’s Watch. I don’t either. Though they are all we have got if we were to be attacked. You sent a raven to the Last Hearth and we have heard nothing yet. The men of the Watch may not be much, but they are honorable and will live up to their vows.” Tanya was quiet whe… [view original content]
You're right on that note. Though if he were to stay it would definitely boost his status and perhaps help him in the long run. Though there is also the possibility of him dying.
[Take Tanya and escape]
I doubt a single man can do much of a difference in this fight. The Night's Watch should be capable enough to take them on without Jorge's help. That's not worth risking his life.
Jorge
“These black brothers are no better than the local thief. Nor will they do anything to find the bastard! Tanya, I don’t care if thi… mores thief steals all of our belongings, it’s just the Night’s Watch is doing nothing about it. Skaggs have been reported by the fisherman more than ever, and what do the Night’s Watch do? Nothing!” Tanya stood in their small kitchen washing the plates.
Jorge sat in his chair staring out the window with frustration. The night was dark and the sky was clear. The recent storm had caused a lot of chaos for the farmers, and had been the perfect distraction for thieves to steal Jorge’s only cow.
“Honey, I know you don’t have any love for the Night’s Watch. I don’t either. Though they are all we have got if we were to be attacked. You sent a raven to the Last Hearth and we have heard nothing yet. The men of the Watch may not be much, but they are honorable and will live up to their vows.” Tanya was quiet whe… [view original content]
Jorge
“These black brothers are no better than the local thief. Nor will they do anything to find the bastard! Tanya, I don’t care if thi… mores thief steals all of our belongings, it’s just the Night’s Watch is doing nothing about it. Skaggs have been reported by the fisherman more than ever, and what do the Night’s Watch do? Nothing!” Tanya stood in their small kitchen washing the plates.
Jorge sat in his chair staring out the window with frustration. The night was dark and the sky was clear. The recent storm had caused a lot of chaos for the farmers, and had been the perfect distraction for thieves to steal Jorge’s only cow.
“Honey, I know you don’t have any love for the Night’s Watch. I don’t either. Though they are all we have got if we were to be attacked. You sent a raven to the Last Hearth and we have heard nothing yet. The men of the Watch may not be much, but they are honorable and will live up to their vows.” Tanya was quiet whe… [view original content]
Jorge
“These black brothers are no better than the local thief. Nor will they do anything to find the bastard! Tanya, I don’t care if thi… mores thief steals all of our belongings, it’s just the Night’s Watch is doing nothing about it. Skaggs have been reported by the fisherman more than ever, and what do the Night’s Watch do? Nothing!” Tanya stood in their small kitchen washing the plates.
Jorge sat in his chair staring out the window with frustration. The night was dark and the sky was clear. The recent storm had caused a lot of chaos for the farmers, and had been the perfect distraction for thieves to steal Jorge’s only cow.
“Honey, I know you don’t have any love for the Night’s Watch. I don’t either. Though they are all we have got if we were to be attacked. You sent a raven to the Last Hearth and we have heard nothing yet. The men of the Watch may not be much, but they are honorable and will live up to their vows.” Tanya was quiet whe… [view original content]
Jorge
“These black brothers are no better than the local thief. Nor will they do anything to find the bastard! Tanya, I don’t care if thi… mores thief steals all of our belongings, it’s just the Night’s Watch is doing nothing about it. Skaggs have been reported by the fisherman more than ever, and what do the Night’s Watch do? Nothing!” Tanya stood in their small kitchen washing the plates.
Jorge sat in his chair staring out the window with frustration. The night was dark and the sky was clear. The recent storm had caused a lot of chaos for the farmers, and had been the perfect distraction for thieves to steal Jorge’s only cow.
“Honey, I know you don’t have any love for the Night’s Watch. I don’t either. Though they are all we have got if we were to be attacked. You sent a raven to the Last Hearth and we have heard nothing yet. The men of the Watch may not be much, but they are honorable and will live up to their vows.” Tanya was quiet whe… [view original content]
Jorge
“These black brothers are no better than the local thief. Nor will they do anything to find the bastard! Tanya, I don’t care if thi… mores thief steals all of our belongings, it’s just the Night’s Watch is doing nothing about it. Skaggs have been reported by the fisherman more than ever, and what do the Night’s Watch do? Nothing!” Tanya stood in their small kitchen washing the plates.
Jorge sat in his chair staring out the window with frustration. The night was dark and the sky was clear. The recent storm had caused a lot of chaos for the farmers, and had been the perfect distraction for thieves to steal Jorge’s only cow.
“Honey, I know you don’t have any love for the Night’s Watch. I don’t either. Though they are all we have got if we were to be attacked. You sent a raven to the Last Hearth and we have heard nothing yet. The men of the Watch may not be much, but they are honorable and will live up to their vows.” Tanya was quiet whe… [view original content]
Jorge
“These black brothers are no better than the local thief. Nor will they do anything to find the bastard! Tanya, I don’t care if thi… mores thief steals all of our belongings, it’s just the Night’s Watch is doing nothing about it. Skaggs have been reported by the fisherman more than ever, and what do the Night’s Watch do? Nothing!” Tanya stood in their small kitchen washing the plates.
Jorge sat in his chair staring out the window with frustration. The night was dark and the sky was clear. The recent storm had caused a lot of chaos for the farmers, and had been the perfect distraction for thieves to steal Jorge’s only cow.
“Honey, I know you don’t have any love for the Night’s Watch. I don’t either. Though they are all we have got if we were to be attacked. You sent a raven to the Last Hearth and we have heard nothing yet. The men of the Watch may not be much, but they are honorable and will live up to their vows.” Tanya was quiet whe… [view original content]
Jorge
“These black brothers are no better than the local thief. Nor will they do anything to find the bastard! Tanya, I don’t care if thi… mores thief steals all of our belongings, it’s just the Night’s Watch is doing nothing about it. Skaggs have been reported by the fisherman more than ever, and what do the Night’s Watch do? Nothing!” Tanya stood in their small kitchen washing the plates.
Jorge sat in his chair staring out the window with frustration. The night was dark and the sky was clear. The recent storm had caused a lot of chaos for the farmers, and had been the perfect distraction for thieves to steal Jorge’s only cow.
“Honey, I know you don’t have any love for the Night’s Watch. I don’t either. Though they are all we have got if we were to be attacked. You sent a raven to the Last Hearth and we have heard nothing yet. The men of the Watch may not be much, but they are honorable and will live up to their vows.” Tanya was quiet whe… [view original content]
The night was dark and the clouds were a dark gray. Jared sat at the bow of the Seahorse with Tanner, staring at the clouds. The Storm God has rose victorious, for now… Tanner sat on the deck massaging his right hand. Tanner was a crazy fellow, always seeing the light side to a dark situation. He had been friends with Jared ever since they were young lads on a small fishing trip. Since then they had been as close as brothers. Jared looked down to the young man, who had a clean shave. Jared caressed his moustache which he had proudly been growing for the past few months.
“You’ll be alright with that hand?” Tanner looked up and grinned.
“Aye, I’ll be fine. After all, a man is given two hands to do his work. If he has none, he had better hope a woman can look after him.” The young man laughed hysterically, revealing the madness he deeply loved to show to the world. Jared grinned.
“If only you were so lucky. What shall we call you now? Two finger Tan?” Tanner rolled his eyes, to him only his jokes were amusing.
“I have a finger and a thumb, Prince Pyke. I’d have thought they would give the Hoare’s boy a basic education before sending him off with thirty killers to murder a Harlaw.” Tanner winked coyly at Jared, who glared at him in return.
“Piss off Tanner.” Jared grinned as he spoke. Tanner raised an eyebrow.
“Piss of what, Prince Pyke? Oh if you insist, but I will need your assistance with pulling my cock out…” The two immature men laughed, Jared stood himself up.
“You cheeky fingerless freak. I’m going to talk to the Pirate.” Tanner nodded, picking up his axe and pulling out a cloth.
Jared walked aft of the ship, stepping over those who were sleeping under the dark sky. Athen Greyjoy had perched himself on the portside railings, along with Ezra Nightwood and the Goodbrother - Kober. Kober was lord of House Goodbrother, and father to his lover. Jared had felt very uneasy whenever talking to him. Jared continued to walk aft until he reached the wheel, where Korb the Pirate and Andiron Quarter-Iron stood. Andiron was an older man and a heavy drinker. His hair was long and gray, his beard was gray with light tints of brown from spilt ale. He had a strong build, certainly one of the strongest on the vessel. Andiron had claimed that he was a descendent of the Greyiron’s, and had named himself Quarter-Iron as his ‘proof’. Andiron’s eyes were as gray as the iron chainmail he wore, and over that he wore a sleeveless leather coat. A large iron battle axe was sheathed on his back. Korb the Pirate was a different man entirely, holding a reputation as one of the most vicious and cunning pirates in the Iron Islands. He wore an eyepatch which displayed the Greyjoy’s coat-of-arms: The Kraken. His hair was black with gray strands, and receding quickly in his young age of forty. His beard was well-kept compared to other Ironmen, and he wore an iron scimitar by his waist. The two chatted quietly as the crew slept, clearly staring at the lights of Harlaw. Jared cleared his throat to interrupt.
“Ah, Prince Pyke. How can I be of service?” Korb said, wearing an unreadable smile. Andiron’s face was stern and serious as he stared off into the distance.
“Korb, I need to have a word.” Jared looked at Andiron then back at Korb. “Alone.” Andiron nodded and left. Korb crossed his arms, his face was riddled with curiosity.
“So what’s this all about, Prince Pyke?” Jared hated the title the Ironmen had given him, but he had adopted it as he was told to by his father when he was noticed by him.
“I’ve been watching how your crew are interacting with the Goodbrother’s men. Put an end to it.” Jared spoke with cold and harsh words, he was not opening up any opportunity to be triphled with. Korb grinned, his one eye showed mockery and distaste.
“Sorry bastard, but I take orders from no one.” The smaller pirate leant against the aft mast, grinning at Jared. Jared fingered the sharp edge of his axe that sat by his hip.
“Is that so, pirate? You seem proud to show off that Kraken wherever you go.” Jared stared the small man in the eyes. Korb’s grin turned to a mocking smile.
“Is that what you think, bastard? That I answer to the Greyjoys? The fucking Greyjoys! No, the slimy cunts answer to me. They’re in my debt you ignorant bastard.” Anger had made its way to Korb’s eyes.
Jared slowly walked towards Korb, backing him into the dark shadow of the aft mast. Jared had unsheathed his axe and held it close to his leg, trying to avoid any attention. Once Korb was backed up against the mast, Jared covered his mouth and put his axe to the small man’s throat.
“I’d slit your throat right now if you weren’t of value to my father. Call your men off, start obeying some fucking orders and lose the fucking attitude.” Korb’s one good eye glared at Jared. Jared looked around, observing the well-maintained structure of the ship. “I would like to buy your vessel one day, though I am undecided whether I will use gold or iron…” Jared sheathed his axe and released the man, leaving him somewhat shocked. Jared turned and descended the steps that had led him to the wheel.
Andiron Quarter-Iron stood in Jared’s way as he descended the stairs. His arms were crossed and his face was stern and cold, not that it was unusual of Andiron. The past couple of sober days had hit Andiron hard, and fish had not been taking the bait while they were on this voyage. The crew had been stuck with salted goat and some foreign wine that Korb had gained from his last raid at the Summer Isles. The Quarter-Iron’s gray eyes watched Jared with fascination and intimidation.
“You have a lot of nerve fucking with the captain. A click of his fingers and his boys will be fighting against the Goodbrother’s boys and the Drowned God will have us all.” Jared had realised he had mistaken the man’s intimidation for worry. Jared gave a mocking smile.
“Then these boys will become men.” Jared walked passed Andiron, leaving him gasping for words.
Tanner had sat himself on the prow of the vessel, he giggled like a madman. The man better not fall in. Drowned God know’s as well as I do that he can’t swim. Jared looked over to the portside railing. Athen and Ezra still talked, both quiet and subtle. Jared had grown curious of this ‘debt’ that Korb had rattled on about, he was convinced Athen may have answers. On the starboard side was the Goodbrother staring out to the western shores of Westeros. He seemed calm, and Jared was convinced that if he were a Hoare that this would be the perfect time to talk to the Goodbrother about a marriage for him and Arika. Jared felt uneasy, thoughts of Arika started flooding his mind. He loved her with all of his heart, the thought of losing her if he were not to be legitimised would surely break him. Jared looked back to Tanner, who was now acting as if he was a bird. At least that was what Jared hoped he was doing. The sky was dark, though the light of the moon was setting in the west. The sun would rise soon. I could go talk to the Goodbrother, request if he could calm down his men. Though this talk of Korb and the Greyjoy’s has me worried, what is he up to? Jared looked at Tanner, who was untying his bandage to his hand. He should be the least of my worries right now, but he’ll do something stupid. Jared looked at his options, he would only have enough time to talk to one if he wanted good information. After the sun would rise everyone would be awake, and he may not get another chance to talk to them in private again.
[Check on Tanner] [Talk with Kober Goodbrother] [Talk with Athen Greyjoy]
Jared
The night was dark and the clouds were a dark gray. Jared sat at the bow of the Seahorse with Tanner, staring at the clouds. The St… moreorm God has rose victorious, for now… Tanner sat on the deck massaging his right hand. Tanner was a crazy fellow, always seeing the light side to a dark situation. He had been friends with Jared ever since they were young lads on a small fishing trip. Since then they had been as close as brothers. Jared looked down to the young man, who had a clean shave. Jared caressed his moustache which he had proudly been growing for the past few months.
“You’ll be alright with that hand?” Tanner looked up and grinned.
“Aye, I’ll be fine. After all, a man is given two hands to do his work. If he has none, he had better hope a woman can look after him.” The young man laughed hysterically, revealing the madness he deeply loved to show to the world. Jared grinned.
“If only you were so lucky. What shall we call y… [view original content]
Jared
The night was dark and the clouds were a dark gray. Jared sat at the bow of the Seahorse with Tanner, staring at the clouds. The St… moreorm God has rose victorious, for now… Tanner sat on the deck massaging his right hand. Tanner was a crazy fellow, always seeing the light side to a dark situation. He had been friends with Jared ever since they were young lads on a small fishing trip. Since then they had been as close as brothers. Jared looked down to the young man, who had a clean shave. Jared caressed his moustache which he had proudly been growing for the past few months.
“You’ll be alright with that hand?” Tanner looked up and grinned.
“Aye, I’ll be fine. After all, a man is given two hands to do his work. If he has none, he had better hope a woman can look after him.” The young man laughed hysterically, revealing the madness he deeply loved to show to the world. Jared grinned.
“If only you were so lucky. What shall we call y… [view original content]
Jared
The night was dark and the clouds were a dark gray. Jared sat at the bow of the Seahorse with Tanner, staring at the clouds. The St… moreorm God has rose victorious, for now… Tanner sat on the deck massaging his right hand. Tanner was a crazy fellow, always seeing the light side to a dark situation. He had been friends with Jared ever since they were young lads on a small fishing trip. Since then they had been as close as brothers. Jared looked down to the young man, who had a clean shave. Jared caressed his moustache which he had proudly been growing for the past few months.
“You’ll be alright with that hand?” Tanner looked up and grinned.
“Aye, I’ll be fine. After all, a man is given two hands to do his work. If he has none, he had better hope a woman can look after him.” The young man laughed hysterically, revealing the madness he deeply loved to show to the world. Jared grinned.
“If only you were so lucky. What shall we call y… [view original content]
Jared
The night was dark and the clouds were a dark gray. Jared sat at the bow of the Seahorse with Tanner, staring at the clouds. The St… moreorm God has rose victorious, for now… Tanner sat on the deck massaging his right hand. Tanner was a crazy fellow, always seeing the light side to a dark situation. He had been friends with Jared ever since they were young lads on a small fishing trip. Since then they had been as close as brothers. Jared looked down to the young man, who had a clean shave. Jared caressed his moustache which he had proudly been growing for the past few months.
“You’ll be alright with that hand?” Tanner looked up and grinned.
“Aye, I’ll be fine. After all, a man is given two hands to do his work. If he has none, he had better hope a woman can look after him.” The young man laughed hysterically, revealing the madness he deeply loved to show to the world. Jared grinned.
“If only you were so lucky. What shall we call y… [view original content]
Jared
The night was dark and the clouds were a dark gray. Jared sat at the bow of the Seahorse with Tanner, staring at the clouds. The St… moreorm God has rose victorious, for now… Tanner sat on the deck massaging his right hand. Tanner was a crazy fellow, always seeing the light side to a dark situation. He had been friends with Jared ever since they were young lads on a small fishing trip. Since then they had been as close as brothers. Jared looked down to the young man, who had a clean shave. Jared caressed his moustache which he had proudly been growing for the past few months.
“You’ll be alright with that hand?” Tanner looked up and grinned.
“Aye, I’ll be fine. After all, a man is given two hands to do his work. If he has none, he had better hope a woman can look after him.” The young man laughed hysterically, revealing the madness he deeply loved to show to the world. Jared grinned.
“If only you were so lucky. What shall we call y… [view original content]
Jared
The night was dark and the clouds were a dark gray. Jared sat at the bow of the Seahorse with Tanner, staring at the clouds. The St… moreorm God has rose victorious, for now… Tanner sat on the deck massaging his right hand. Tanner was a crazy fellow, always seeing the light side to a dark situation. He had been friends with Jared ever since they were young lads on a small fishing trip. Since then they had been as close as brothers. Jared looked down to the young man, who had a clean shave. Jared caressed his moustache which he had proudly been growing for the past few months.
“You’ll be alright with that hand?” Tanner looked up and grinned.
“Aye, I’ll be fine. After all, a man is given two hands to do his work. If he has none, he had better hope a woman can look after him.” The young man laughed hysterically, revealing the madness he deeply loved to show to the world. Jared grinned.
“If only you were so lucky. What shall we call y… [view original content]
Jared
The night was dark and the clouds were a dark gray. Jared sat at the bow of the Seahorse with Tanner, staring at the clouds. The St… moreorm God has rose victorious, for now… Tanner sat on the deck massaging his right hand. Tanner was a crazy fellow, always seeing the light side to a dark situation. He had been friends with Jared ever since they were young lads on a small fishing trip. Since then they had been as close as brothers. Jared looked down to the young man, who had a clean shave. Jared caressed his moustache which he had proudly been growing for the past few months.
“You’ll be alright with that hand?” Tanner looked up and grinned.
“Aye, I’ll be fine. After all, a man is given two hands to do his work. If he has none, he had better hope a woman can look after him.” The young man laughed hysterically, revealing the madness he deeply loved to show to the world. Jared grinned.
“If only you were so lucky. What shall we call y… [view original content]
Jared
The night was dark and the clouds were a dark gray. Jared sat at the bow of the Seahorse with Tanner, staring at the clouds. The St… moreorm God has rose victorious, for now… Tanner sat on the deck massaging his right hand. Tanner was a crazy fellow, always seeing the light side to a dark situation. He had been friends with Jared ever since they were young lads on a small fishing trip. Since then they had been as close as brothers. Jared looked down to the young man, who had a clean shave. Jared caressed his moustache which he had proudly been growing for the past few months.
“You’ll be alright with that hand?” Tanner looked up and grinned.
“Aye, I’ll be fine. After all, a man is given two hands to do his work. If he has none, he had better hope a woman can look after him.” The young man laughed hysterically, revealing the madness he deeply loved to show to the world. Jared grinned.
“If only you were so lucky. What shall we call y… [view original content]
Jared
The night was dark and the clouds were a dark gray. Jared sat at the bow of the Seahorse with Tanner, staring at the clouds. The St… moreorm God has rose victorious, for now… Tanner sat on the deck massaging his right hand. Tanner was a crazy fellow, always seeing the light side to a dark situation. He had been friends with Jared ever since they were young lads on a small fishing trip. Since then they had been as close as brothers. Jared looked down to the young man, who had a clean shave. Jared caressed his moustache which he had proudly been growing for the past few months.
“You’ll be alright with that hand?” Tanner looked up and grinned.
“Aye, I’ll be fine. After all, a man is given two hands to do his work. If he has none, he had better hope a woman can look after him.” The young man laughed hysterically, revealing the madness he deeply loved to show to the world. Jared grinned.
“If only you were so lucky. What shall we call y… [view original content]
The cool winds of the quickly ending autumn rushed through the tent and awoke Kaiden from his deep sleep. The young man shivered instantly once the icy breeze pierced his flesh and sent his blood rushing. The back of Kaiden’s head was bloody and lazily bandaged. Kaiden placed his hand on the wound though winced as soon as he made contact with it. Don’t these damn wildlings have a maester? Kaiden lay on his side on a makeshift wooden bed. The tent he rested in was lined with hides and furs, though the flap of the door was not properly sealed - hence not insulating the small tent. Kaiden slowly pulled himself up, his whole body was in agony though his head was the worst. Kaiden propped himself into a sitting position on the side of the bed, letting his feet dangle on the soft fur of a snow bear’s carcass - which was placed down as a rug. Confusion began to cloud Kaiden’s mind, he looked down to his barefeet and then back up to the entrance of the tent. Where am I? And where are my boots? A strong frozen gust made its way into the tent. Kaiden began to get goosebumps, though whether it was from the cold or sudden fear, he did not know. Kaiden pulled his feet up and tried to warm them with his hands, which he now realised were gloveless. A sound of chatter had appeared outside the tent, quickly drawing closer and closer. Kaiden listened intently, hoping to hear the voice of Odin or another black brother. Instead, he heard something better. Kaiden lied back down and shut his eyes, trying to appear as if he was sleeping.
More cold air entered the tent as the flap was opened. The soft and beautiful tones of talking women entered Kaiden’s frozen ears, he could not help but to shiver. The voices had gone quiet, though a sudden heat had rested itself against Kaiden’s body. Kaiden opened his eyes to see a beautiful nude woman sitting next to him. Her body was warm and gave Kaiden a sense of safety, two other bare-breasted women stood over him. The three swarmed him, climbing on top of him and placing their breasts all over him. Kaiden began to think back to his oath. Oh fuck the oath, this may be the best day of my life. Kaiden began to participate in the intimate relationship that was forming between the four of them. The cold had dissipated with the arrival of the three beautiful women, whose hair bared resemblance of blonde. As the four were getting comfortable, another gust of wind entered the tent and made Kaiden shudder.
“Alright you bitches, play time is over. Go back to the Mutt.” The girls giggled and left Kaiden drooling for more action. What was left in their stead was a small fat man with feet as black as charcoal. Next to him stood a woman with a familiar face, it was the girl who had captured him - Anya. Kaiden propped himself upright, trying to cover the hard log that had risen in the previous presence. The small man looked to Anya with lustful eyes, “Anya, my beautiful wife. Would you go and tell the zealots to light the fires?” Anya’s head slightly nodded and she quickly left the tent.
The small man sat down on a box right next to the entrance of the tent. He cleared his throat and looked Kaiden in the eyes. Kaiden could not stop staring at the man’s feet. “I am Krumm the Blackfoot, chieftain of the Hornfoots. Who the fuck are you?” The calm and lustful tone had disappeared once Anya had. Kaiden gulped, he was in enemy territory which would not hesitate to kill him.
“My name is Kaiden.” He whispered, trying not to offend his host. The small man mockingly laughed, his beard was magnificent and brown.
“Are all crow’s so craven? We don’t get many crow’s up this far north… How does it feel to be in the real North, boy?” The man had a harsh and cruel voice. He glared at Kaiden, growing impatient.
“I-” Kaiden was lost for words, he had never encountered many wildlings. When he had the last time there was a lot of brothers and he did not need to fight. Krumm shook his head, his expression seemed aggravated and disappointed.
“Well crow, I had hoped for more. The first crow to come this far north since that Nightrunner fuck Toregg had wished to call a truce between our factions.” His face was red with anger, he spat on the ground with disgust and then looked back at Kaiden. “Tell me, where are your other crows hiding?” A sudden rush of panic came of Kaiden, in the end he felt he had no choice but to tell the intimidating man.
“I came north with three others. Two of them were sent back with some wildling prisoners, and the other is with a band of wildlings. I managed to escape them, and now I’m here.” Krumm began to laugh, growing louder and louder as he did.
“Wildlings eh? We are the free folk, not some fucking wild cunts. Though, if that’s what you think of us then that is how we will treat you. Boys, take him outside.” Krumm stood up and left the tent. Kaiden watched as the small man left and was replaced by two bigger and bulkier men. They picked him up and carried him outside, Kaiden desperately fought to free himself but it was no use.
A light rain showered down outside the tent, the sky was cloudy and had blocked the sun. The ground was wet and muddy, Kaiden’s bare feet began to freeze as he was dragged through it. His two captors followed Krumm, who talked as he approached a gathering of a dozen or more wildlings.
“You see, Kaiden, we Hornfoots also offer a mercy to those who stumble onto our lands by mistake. The Nightrunners give freedom or death, but we do things a little differently. You see, we do not need footwear, those who do are weak.” He held up his hand, causing his men to stop. “Shackle him.” The men nodded and pulled out iron chains which they placed around his ankles and wrists. Kaiden looked up at Krumm, fear and panic started to cloud his thoughts.
“Let me go you fucking cunt!” Krumm laughed, seeming somewhat amused by Kaiden’s attempt to fight back.
“I think there is something strong in you, Kaiden. I really do hope you join us.” Once his wildling lackeys were done shackling Kaiden, he continued to walk towards the crowd. “As I was saying, we Hornfoots are different to most clans. Those who join us must be like us, must feel the eternal heat and no longer require the need for footwear. If you will join us, you will walk the path of fire.” Kaiden was afraid for where this was going.
The four stopped in front of a crowd of men and women huddled around something. The wildlings formed a rectangular shape, once they saw Kaiden coming they all glanced at him. Krumm clapped his hands and those who were at the end of the rectangular formation quickly moved out of the way. Krumm entered the huddle, Kaiden being led in quickly after. As they entered, Kaiden stared at what the wildlings were huddling around. What he saw made him panic even more, he desperately tried to break free of the strength that held him, though it was no use. In front of him lay a ten metre path of hot burning coals that sizzled in the light rain. The men placed Kaiden by Krumm’s side, holding him down to ensure that he did not have try to attack the chieftain. Krumm cleared his throat.
“Hornfoots! Today we have been gifted with a crow from the Wall. I have given him the right to choose what path he will take. He will join us, or be sacrificed to the Others.” Krumm turned and looked Kaiden in the eye. “So what do you choose, crow.” The question was more a demand than a question.
Kaiden gulped and looked out to the hot burning coals, if he were to join then he would have to walk across it to the end. It was either that or to be sacrificed, which Kaiden was fearful of. I don’t want to die, perhaps me doing this will give me my life back. Kaiden straightened his posture and looked the small man in the eye, trying to appear as brave as he could.
“I will join you.” Krumm grinned.
“Then you will walk.” He looked up to his tall wildling lackeys. “Boys, give the crow some assistance.” Before Kaiden knew what was happening, he was picked up and slowly walked to the burning walkway. Fear had embodied itself into Kaiden’s throat, his heart began to race.
“LET ME GO! PLEASE STOP!” Kaiden screamed until he was hovering over the fire, instant heat began to touch the soles of his feet. Gods help me.
The men dropped him and Kaiden landed on his feet, the sudden warmth turned into a burning heat that would not disappear. Kaiden started to scream as the hot coals burned through the skin on his feet and into his flesh. Kaiden felt the urge to run and before he could decide to follow it, his body had already decided for him. Though his body had forgotten about the shackles around his ankles. Kaiden fell into the fiery hell beneath him, sending a gust of flames into the air as his body hit the ground. The clothing on Kaiden began to burn, releasing a black smoke in the air. His hair released a singed smell as it ignited in the small flames. Kaiden’s skin began to melt against the hot coals that pressed against him, he screamed. Kaiden rolled and squirmed side to side, trying to lever his body off of the hot fires beneath him. The wildling crowd that huddled in close quickly pulled Kaiden out of the fire and into the mud, shock riddled on their faces. Kaiden stared into the sky, the rain burning against his crisped flesh which he could not tell if it hurt anymore. Bubbling hot skin slowly slid off of Kaiden’s body, exposing flesh and blood. A crowd surrounded Kaiden as they once did the fire, fear crawling over their faces. The last thing Kaiden saw was Anya entering the crowd and placing a cold fur blanket - covered with snow - over Kaiden’s body. The excruciating pain that came with it caused Kaiden to lose sight of his vision. Darkness clouded around his eyes until he could see no more.
No decision this time.
End of Chapter 1
So that's chapter 1 over. Thanks for the support in this beginning of a new story and I look forward to coming back to it! As of tomorrow or so I will be starting chapter 3 of The Invasion, once that chapter is done I will come back here. Here is the link to my other story > https://www.telltalegames.com/community/discussion/99062/interactive-got-fan-fiction-the-invasion?new=1 > once again, thank you all for the support and I will see you next time on The Northern Chill!
The council meetings had always bored her, though her father had made it customary for every Bolton to attend. Rila sat on the far left side of the table that the council usually held their meetings, next to her was Jory Bolton - her brother - and beside him was Shayne Bolton in his ‘Captain of the Household Guard’ armor. Shayne was her eldest brother, at the age of thirty three, though Rila had doubts that he was truly her full brother. His hair was curly and short, it’s colour was blond and was now starting to recede. His sideburns linked with his blond mustache, above that were his piercing brown eyes - which bothered her the most. There was no doubt that Rila still respected Shayne as family, though she could not convince herself to believe he was truly a Bolton but perhaps a legitamised bastard. Rila looked to her brother, Jory, whose hair was coal black and eyes were matching. Rila sighed and tapped at the cold stone table with her fingers. Their father was late, which was unusual. Rila looked around the room, eying each of the members of the council. There was Jeck, the newly appointed head of the kingsguard - that currently was not legitimate - who sat opposite her. Next to him was Donnor Frost, her father’s ward. She considered the ward to be rather handsome in some aspects, his lean athletic build and bright blue eyes had always hit her charm, though his shy personality made it hard to talk with him. Finally, sitting beside Donnor was the King’s steward: Freak. Freak was a hideous sight, compared to others like Sigil and Maggot. He was a hunched creature, it’s face covered in warts and zits. There was no doubt he was madder than all of the men and women under service of Nestar Bolton, but for some reason her father had found use for him as a steward. Footsteps descending down the stairwell pulled Rila from her distracted state of mind, and to no surprise it was her father. He walked to his chair at the end of the table without saying a word, though Rila could tell he was angry. Bright red scratch marks on Nestar’s pale white face had shown themselves to the council, leaving quiet discussion between guards. All was silent when Nestar cleared his throat.
“Are we ready to begin?” Nestar looked the members of the council, receiving nods as he did. He turned his attention to his steward. “Freak, the letter if you will.” The creature bobbed his head cheerfully, his wide eyes seemingly full of joy.
He stood from his chair, making him seem smaller than before, and pulled a letter from his satchel - handing it faithfully to his King. Rila observed Jory’s eyes gleam with joy as he saw his father unroll the unsealed letter. A response for his ignorance. Rila thought to herself, she had been the only one to object to Jory sending a raven to Winterfell - though as always, her opinions were never considered. She wondered why she still bothered to attend these council meetings, but her father insisted.
“To Nestar Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort.” Her father began.
“This shall be our only warning, you are to surrender daughter at once. I shall consider arranging peace terms once she is safely in the hands of Stark bannermen. If you fail to comply, you will be pursued and destroyed. I would warn you now that we are aware of your nephew’s presence in the Rills, we will take him hostage if we are forced to.
Make the right decision, Lord Nestar.
Ian Morland, General of the Stark army.”
Nestar gently placed the letter down on the table for all eyes to see, Rila could see the anger build up in her father’s face. Rila observed the expressions on the rest of the council’s faces. Jeck’s face was as stern and cold as had always been. Donnor had frowned, keeping his eyes to the stony surface of the table. Freak’s face was full of crazy joy as always, Jory’s somewhere similar. Finally, Shayne seemed to be one of the few that were affected by this news.
“Father, we need to get Martyn from the Ryswell’s before it’s too late.” Nestar shook his head, reclining into his chair as he did.
“If the Stark’s are sending an army, then there is no doubt they will have scouts and spies within close vicinity to us. The moment we set foot out of our gates they will likely send a raven to Winterfell to inform the ‘Sweet wolf’ of our intentions.” Shayne sighed impatiently. Donnor was next to speak up.
“Can we send a raven? During the pitch of the night, it will be difficult for scouts and spies alike to see.” Nestar seemed to ponder on the suggestion for a while, though Jory smirked as he heard it.
“That’s if the Ryswell’s are still loyal to us. No doubt the Stark’s would have arranged terms with them by now.” There seemed to be a hint of amusement in her brother’s voice. The council sat in silence for a moment that felt longer than it was, Rila spoke up.
“We have a hostage of our own. Lady Judith is the daughter of the Sweet Wolf-” It was Shayne to interrupt her this time.
“Are you suggesting that we give the Stark’s what they want? A hostage swap? If so then we have already lost this war.” Jeck seemed to nod in agreement. Rila shook her head.
“I was not suggesting we trade hostages. Afterall, if this letter is on date then we are the only one’s with the hostage. I say we bleed our lady mother, put fear into the Starks.” Shayne slammed his fist down onto the table.
“That will put Martyn at risk, we cannot affort that!” Rila raised an eyebrow, questioning him.
“Why not? Did we not send the boy to ward with the Ryswell’s because he was a coward? Afraid of his own blood. I highly doubt he has changed.” The speed that Shayne shot up from his chair and pulled out his mace was enough for Rila to unsheath her dirk to protect herself. Though nothing could prepare her for the wrath of her father.
“Enough! I am growing tired of your damned bickering. Rila is right on the fact that Martyn is a coward, and of no use to us. Though a Bolton is a Bolton, our blood, our flesh. I will not sit here and watch as the Winter King’s try to murder him! If you have nothing of use to say than leave now, for we are not here to argue amongst ourselves.” Shayne’s expression remained angry, his face reddened, though he sheathed his mace and sat back down.
Rila looked at the rest of the council, still unaware that her dirk was still in hand. The council stared at her with that same look of disgust that they always did, well nearly all of them. Freak still sat completely oblivious to everything that had happened. Rila did not care what Jeck or Donnor or her brothers thought of her, but the way her father stared her down gave her the chills. She sheathed her dirk to her belt and grunted, then quickly took to her leave.
-
An hour had passed since the meeting and Rila had found herself down in the depths of the Dreadfort examining the work of Skinner and Leech. Two dried out corpses hung chained to the ceiling, Leech had bludgeoned his share - leaving a rotten bag of meat and bones to hang. Skinner on the other hand had taken some art to his work, crafting a cape out of his flayed masterpiece. The sight of it made Rila smile, she wished to join him though the gate to the Hall of the Flayed was barred and locked. Only the male Bolton’s and torturers held the key. So here Rila sat and stared through the iron barred window. Sticky wet footsteps approached her general direction, Rila turned and looked upon Skinner’s greatest work of art: Sigil. The creature stood before her, a shackled chain around its ankle which kept it close to its urine smelling bed - made entirely of rotten hay. He stood slightly hunched, his partly flayed arms droopy. He wore a ripped rag shirt with ragged pants. His feet were bloody and scarred, one hand was flayed and the other was badly scarred. The cartilage on his nose and ears had been removed, leaving him a hideous sight. The only thing that made him better than Freak was that this one had kept its sanity, despite what it had been through.
“M’lady.” The voice was croaky and raspy, the stench of his breath revolting.
“Sigil, you’re looking as good as always.” Sigil rolled his bloodshot pink eyes.
“Spare me the humour princess, we both know that’s not the reason you’re down here. What do you need?” Rila smirked, Sigil always knew her rationals, even when she did not.
“Father, he despises me. I aspire to be a true Bolton, but he expects me to be a lady. Presumably he’ll marry me off to some noble house once he becomes the Red King.” The croaky chuckle coming from the creature in front of her made her smile, though when it turned to a coughing fit she sighed.
“Your father is a wise man, Rila. You’d do well to remember that. Everything he does, he does with reason.” Sigil said, taking long breaths in between each sentence. Rila rolled her eyes.
“That’s kind words, coming from a traitor.” Sigil looked her in the eyes, though whether he was angry or upset, she could not tell.
“Watch it girl, I know a great many secrets that you would wish to die with me. Now enough of this smalltalk, you’re here to tell me something or you wouldn’t have lingered so long. Spit it out or leave me to my misery.” Rila looked the ghoulish looking creature in it’s pink eyes, it was a wonder it could still see.
“Father plans to save your son from the Starks, he who dobbed you in for your treason. Shayne sees him as an honorable figure, but we know better don’t we. He’s only a coward trying to save his own hide.” The creature sighed and sat himself down.
“One of the great miseries of my life. Thank you for telling me this, girl. Leave me now, I must rest…” Rila watched the creature she once called her uncle slowly drift off into his misery. Perhaps this night will be his last. Who knows?
Rila spun on her heel and made her way up the long stairwell to her chambers in the Dreadfort, she observed the flayed skins hung on the walls as she climbed the long and large stone steps. Most of the flaying had been done on traitorous scum like her uncle, who had sold out helped in the plotting to murder Rila’s mother. It had bothered Rila little, she had barely known the woman.
Rila entered the hallway that led to her bedchambers. The hallway went across a bridge and into a separate compartment of the Fort, which could only be accessed from this hall. The bridge had reinforced window shutters, so archers could be placed her in a time of siege. For the most part, the shutters were closed unless on special occasion, which for the most part never happened. Rila opened the wooden reinforced door which stood as the entrance to her chambers, inside was the smell of fresh air. The rest of the Dreadfort had a foul stench of decay and rot, though Rila had done well to air out the tower she lived in. The layout of her chamber was simple, her bathing was in a separate room left of the main door, her kitchen - for when she dined alone - was near the balcony and her bed was just opposite that in a half opened room. Rila headed straight to her bathing chamber, to where she washed the oils from her face in the metal basin. Above the basin was a wooden framed mirror, she took a look at herself. I am a true Bolton, my characteristics follow that of my father and uncle. And their fathers before them.
Rila had a wicked beauty to her, it was easy to see in her appearance. Her coal black hair fell down below her shoulders, wavy and unbound. Her eyes were pale, like dirty snow. An old scar still remained on her left cheek and around the outer of her left eye, though it was mostly faded now. Her skin was pale white, not bothered with that of freckles or zits. She gently smiled, now feeling comfortable. Rila turned and left the bathing chamber, entering her dining and living room. She unsheathed her dirk and placed it on her bedside table, to where she began to undress. Around the Dreadfort, she wore boiled leather with a hauberk concealed under it. When in her chambers, she liked to lounge in her light red - verging pink - gown. She threw her light armour down on the cool stone floor and put on her gown. Feeling more comfortable, she sat herself down on her bed, then lay down. These were one of the few times she felt at true ease, where nothing could bother her. Though the sound of tears and sobs sounding from her closet proved that to be wrong. Her face flushed red, feeling angry again she got up and grabbed her dirk. She approached her closet and pulled the door open. Inside sat a sobbing girl, holding her legs close to her chest. Her hair was brown, messy and full of grit and grime. Her hair covered her missing left ear, which had been cut off. Around her neck was a steel chain, locked to the ceiling of the wardrobe. Rila quickly unlocked the the padlock and grabbed the chain, backing away. When she stood as far as the chain could go, she looked at the crying girl. She would have only been thirteen, ten years younger than Rila. She wore a dirty handmaid dress. Rila forced herself to wear a fake smile.
“Come on out, little one. It’s okay.” The girl lifted her head from her sobbing, suspiciously eying Rila with caution. Fear stalked the young girl’s eyes. “Come on, it’s alright.” The girl slowly crawled out of the darkness, into the light towards Rila. Tears were streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry m’lady, I just… Please, let me go.” Rila smirked.
“It’s alright youngling, come here. Come to me.” The girl came forth obediently, continuing to cry. Once she was in range, Rila kicked the girl in the side of her head, knocking her to the ground. “What did I tell you about crying Wench!” The girl rolled a metre or two away, so Rila grabbed the chain had pulled her in.
“I’m… Sor-” The girl gasped, choking on the tight chain around her neck.
Rila walked her out onto the balcony and lifted her head by her messy hair. She smashed her head against the stone railing and proceeded to kick her in the ribs.
“Never ever cry in my presence Wench!” Rila yelled, as her final kick knocked the girl unconscious
First of all, it is great that this story is back It was a great part as well, even though I naturally dislike Rila a lot. She's absolutely bonkers. Can't wait for the next parts! By the way, have you gotten my characters?
Chapter 2: Blood, sweat and tears.
Rila
The council meetings had always bored her, though her father had made it customary for every B… moreolton to attend. Rila sat on the far left side of the table that the council usually held their meetings, next to her was Jory Bolton - her brother - and beside him was Shayne Bolton in his ‘Captain of the Household Guard’ armor. Shayne was her eldest brother, at the age of thirty three, though Rila had doubts that he was truly her full brother. His hair was curly and short, it’s colour was blond and was now starting to recede. His sideburns linked with his blond mustache, above that were his piercing brown eyes - which bothered her the most. There was no doubt that Rila still respected Shayne as family, though she could not convince herself to believe he was truly a Bolton but perhaps a legitamised bastard. Rila looked to her brother, Jory, whose hair was coal black and eyes were matching. Rila sighed an… [view original content]
The cold winds beyond the Wall helped her soar through the sky, her feathered wings were a reddish brown. She looked down onto the dark pine needles and leaves that lived on the great oaks and ironwood trees, all of this made up the Haunted Forest. She pulled her wings in close and dived down to the treeline, so she was only half a metre above it. An endless plain of dark green and white showed itself to her eyes, her bright yellow eyes. She stretched out her wings and glided in the wind that pushed against her, elevating her higher into the sky. She looked passed the greenery and down to the snow patched ground below it. She looked for miles, spotting small rodents and elk. The occasional snow bear and rare hunting direwolf. Past that she saw the village of the Nightrunners, and beyond that the Hornfoots. What else she saw seemed to be irrelevant, apart for one unusual thing… She flew closer to the location, staying cautious and edged. She found herself over a makeshift camp, filled with black crows. She watched as the little black crows huddled around their fires, freezing their arses off. Good. She thought, feeling somewhat amused. She flew down to a branch on a sentinel tree, where she perched herself there to spy. She observed a cave, and outside that some dead horses - turned to mulch and crushed bone from the hail storm that had passed through a week earlier. Perhaps these crows will meet the same fate.
“No, I do not think so my little bird.” The sound of another voice frightened her, causing her to take to the wind and fly to safety. The laughter appeared shortly after, as soft as a whisper, as cold as snow. Growing louder and louder, until Freya disconnected.
Freya opened her eyes, taking in a long deep breath in attempt to calm herself.
“Talon.” She whispered, feeling a sense of regret.
Freya shook her head and stood herself up, she was somewhat surprised to notice her brother - Movar the Grim - sitting on a snow capped branch that had been broken off in the hail storm. Movar did not smile, he had not been name ‘Grim’ without reason. Instead he sat on the branch, his arms crossed, in his thick furry pelts. On one side of his waste, he had a steel hatchet. The other side, a steel war axe. Freya noted that he was still carrying an entire arsenal of weapons - daggers, throwing knives, a wooden spear. His face was stern and cold, and above his left eye lay the scars of a claw mark he had gotten when hunting a wolf.
“Enjoy the flight?” His voice was deep and calm, surprisingly pleasant as well. Freya shrugged, shaking her head.
“I found the crows’ camp, but there was something else… Something different… I will have to speak with Elder Thorrand about it.” Freya noticed Movar frown, like he had expected as much.
“You will not be joining us then?” Freya shrugged, still feeling odd about Talon.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine brother. Who is leading the raid?” Movar grunted.
“Grognak Ironside.” Freya raised her eyebrows, undecided on whether she was shocked or surprised.
“The Chieftain? What could be so important?” Movar shrugged, clearly as confused as she was.
“I don’t know, and I don’t like it either. Let’s get back to the village, I’m growing cold sitting on the frozen wood.” Freya allowed herself to smile, only for him.
The two made their way toward the Nightrunner village, mostly consisting of tents and a few small cottages. Freya looked at her brother, the man who had taken care of her since their mother died. Movar was a tall man, standing over six feet, and very muscular. His long dark brown hair and his beard which falls to his chest gives him a true barbaric appearance, and adds to the typical widling look. Though truly, Movar is the most articulate and caring man Freya has ever known - though in the battlefield he is a completely different person. Though he hides this under his grim personal nature, there is one weakness Movar cannot hide - his weakness for attractive women. His rough charm and brutish appearance have been known to win over the hearts of some of the women in the village, though little have ever reached his taste. Freya on the other hand requires more than just good looks to win her over. It is hard to gain her trust, and even harder to be granted her friendship. Though if one were so lucky earn these privileges, they would be rewarded with undying loyalty.
As the two walked through the thick snow, entering their village, Freya felt her connection with Talon grow stronger. She could feel she was close, and safe for that matter. She sighed in relief. Walking in between the rows of tall tents that were the homes to Nightrunners, Movar stopped and stared out to something. When Freya found where his focus was, she couldn’t help but grunt.
“Don’t waste your time on her brother, Christa Frostleaf would rather live in make-believe land and marry a southerner.” Movar frowned and shook his head.
“Let us see who will be laughing when I bring her back to my tent tonight.” Freya rolled her eyes.
“Let me remind you that we share a tent, and I won’t be happy if I find you fucking another woman in my bed again.” Movar chuckled to himself, but Freya was dead serious. He straightened his expression and left her, walking towards Christa Frostleaf and her friend Eva.
Christa was a strange girl in the eyes of Freya. No one knew where she came from, just was found on the shores near Hardhome and brought back to be raised in the Nightrunner village. She was the same age as Freya - twenty three - but there was no doubt that they were nothing alike, and they did not get along. Freya prayed to the gods and the children of the forest that she would never have to call that southron bitch her sister. Despite all that, there was no denying she was beautiful. Her long black hair was often covered in her thick furry hood, though when uncovered it fell below her shoulders. Her eyes were a dark blue, matching that of the sea. As for her skin, it was pale and clean of any scars or dirt. She was raised and taught by some of the best fighters, so she knew how to protect herself, but she still acted like a southron lady. Freya found it took a lot of effort to not let it bother her.
Freya sighed and made her way into her tent, a tall teepee looking structure made out of elk hide. Inside there were two beds, one single - belonging to Movar - and the other a double which was Freya’s. She sat down on the fur blanket that was over her bed. She pulled off her white fur gloves and placed them on her wooden makeshift bedside table. She opened the drawer and pulled out the handheld mirror that her brother had given her when he had come back from a raid south of the Wall. The mirror was cracked, though she could still see through it well enough. She peered through the reflective glass and looked at herself. Her long wavy hair fell down below her shoulders, standing out on the thick white fur pelt clothing she wore - which she had fashioned from a snow bear she had hunted. Her pretty face was pale and lightly freckled. Her eyes a very light shade of brown, appearing yellow in some lights and giving her the name of Hawkeye. Freya watched as her face grew red with anger, she pulled the mirror away and put it back in the drawer, slamming it with frustration. Her beauty made her underestimated by most, frustrating her. The naive treated her like they did Frostleaf, which angered her even more. Despite that, the underestimation could be used to her advantage.
She grabbed her gloves and left the tent, fastening her bronze dagger to her belt. She had obtained the weapon from a Thenn she had slayed in battle, and had taken the weapon as a valuable trophy. On her back was her bow, a true masterpiece. The bow was finely crafted out of sentinel wood, from that of a sentinel tree. Recurved, it had a strong draw back and fires quick. Freya stepped out of the tent, feeling the cold wind breeze past her face. It had affected her less when warged into Talon, though she knew she could not warg forever - as much as she wished she could. Freya pulled on her thick white fur gloves and made her way to the Elder’s cottage. On the way, she heard what seemed to sound like Horegg’s voice. Freya decided to investigate, she did not see the boy as a friend but Movar had, which made him of some importance. Freya found the fourteen year old boy sitting next to the old crow that had recently joined them, the two were talking about something but had stopped when they noticed her.
“Hey Freya.” Horegg said, with a smile that seemed to warm her soul. Freya did not show it though, not in front of a crow.
“Come here Horegg, we do not lower ourselves to the standards of a crow.” Horegg’s face grew confused, then seemingly defensive.
“We were only talking, weren’t we Odin.” The one-eyed crow nodded in agreeance, but Freya was not taking chances.
“And what was it you were talking about?” Horegg looked to Odin, then back to Freya.
“Well, he said he knew father. He was telling me about his days back at the Wall, with the Night’s Watch. Odin thinks I would be a valuable asset to the Watch.” Freya shook her head, feeling the anger build up inside of her.
“The Night’s Watch hate us, they will come for us until there are none of us left. Go home Horegg, and stay there.” Horegg’s face grew red with anger.
“I’m nearly a man! I may do as I bloody well please. We are the Free Folk! You have no power over me!” Horegg stood up, his hands clenched into a fist. The boy’s breath intake and outtake was increasing rapidly.
“And if you stick with this crow, you will lose your freedom and become a slave of the Wall. Do the right thing and go home.” For a moment, Freya thought that the young adolescent was going to jump at her, but he quickly raced off instead.
Freya turned her attention to the crow who called himself ‘Odin,’ he was staring right at her with his one pale brown eye. His gray mustache connected with his mutton chops on the side of his head. His hair was long and worn out, he wore an eyepatch over his other eye.
“I better not find you going near that boy again, crow. You won’t like it if I do.” The old man frowned.
“We were only talking, my lady. Nothing more, nothing less.” Freya grunted and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t play stupid with me crow. I know what you’re doing, if you want to kill the Ancient Crow than you go up to him and challenge him. Know that you’ll have all of his allies beating your arse to the ground before you lift a finger.” The old man smirked.
“Noted.” Freya did not like the man, but she did respect his lack of fear.
Freya climbed the icy stone steps to Elder Thorrand’s cottage. Making sure to not humiliate herself by slipping, she opened the thatch door and entered. Inside, the old man sat by his fire, he wore his heavy dark brown - verging black - mammoth pelt suit. His necklace made of the separate spinal vertebrae from a wooly mammoth. Opposite of him sat Chieftain Grognak Ironside, the man who had never been defeated in battle - nor scarred by any blade. He spoke with a deep and rough voice, though when he noticed Elder Thorrand looking at Freya he went quiet. The elder spoke up in his absence.
“Freya Hawkeye, take by the fire. The chief and I were just concluding our conversation.” Grognak stood and nodded.
“Thank you, Thorrand.” Grognak turned and took his leave, looking at Freya the entire time.
Once he was gone, Freya sat herself in the seat that Grognak had just left. The seat was wooden, but covered in warm thick pelts, which made it comfortable. The old bald man studied her with his silver eyes, a scar ran down his left eye down to his cheek. His wrinkled had seemed to increase since their last talk.
“I see you still carry the bow I gifted you with.” Freya had left the bow next to the doorway, she turned and check to see it was still there. When satisfied, she turned back and gave the old man a warm smile.
“I use it every day, it was a well thought gift.” The old man gave a weak but happy smile.
“You honour me. What can I do for you?” Freya waited a moment, gathering her thoughts. Then begun to tell him of her warging experience. How she had heard the voice when she flew close to the crow camp.
“It was the first time I had ever been afraid when warging. Well, ever since my first warg with the bear at least.” The old man pondered on the words, remaining silent for a few minutes before enlightening her on his opinion.
“All of this sounds very similar to a warg I trained many years before your birth. He was truly gifted, warging into many animals all at once. It tore his mind apart, or ‘widened his view’ as he put it. It drove him mad, and before I could advise him to stop warging with so many animals, he disappeared without a trace.” Thorrand’s expression was sad, but he quickly straightened up when Freya spoke.
“Are you saying I’m going mad?” Thorrand shook his head.
“No, but I would say that spending so much time through the eyes of your hawk is not doing you any good. Try giving it a rest, perhaps these voices will fade.” Freya could not believe what she was hearing, the one best thing in her life was being pulled away from her. She shook her head.
“Thank you, Elder, for your guidance.” The Elder nodded, keeping a warm smile.
“Stay safe, Freya Hawkeye.” Freya stood and walked to the door, slinging her bow onto her back. She turned and looked at the old man, whose eyes were reflecting the flames of the fire.
Freya exited the door to the Elder’s cottage feeling disappointed and confused. Am I really going insane? Just from warging with one bird? The thought frightened her. Freya sighed irritably and made her way back home, walking the same route as she had came through earlier. She stopped by the small tent of the old crow, and was pleasantly surprised to see him no longer there. She walked in closer to check if he was asleep, though when she checked inside there was nothing. She turned around, noticing a fresh set of footprints leading away in the freshly fallen snow. What is he up to? Freya frowned, she did not trust the crow but she knew he had thrown away his vows to be free. One day she might have to respect him in raiding, or be his shield sister in battle. She thought about tracking him down, finding out where he was lurking. Though she could also spend some time with her brother, get a drink and talk about her meeting with the Elder.
Yes, and I love them a lot. I would have to say that Freya is one of my more favorable characters. Speaking of which, I just released the next part which I hope you will like :P XD
First of all, it is great that this story is back It was a great part as well, even though I naturally dislike Rila a lot. She's absolutely bonkers. Can't wait for the next parts! By the way, have you gotten my characters?
A strong gale pushed against the old stone forts from the east. The wind howled as it coursed its way through the towers and open buildings, causing objects to fall or be picked up with the wind. It was in the courtyard, on the elevating platform, that Prestan Blacktyde stood with an iron longsword in his hands. He stared down to the man below him, he was held down by two black brothers, his head moved irritably on a wooden block. Prestan looked at the man shamefully, this had been the second traitor in the past month. How many more executions before it will get into their thick heads? Prestan wondered, growing tired of having to execute men he had once called his brothers. Prestan sighed, clearly irritated and miserable.
“Travis Codd, son of Lord Marak Codd. Here in sights of the gods, and brothers of the Watch, I sentence you to die. If you have any final words, you may speak them now.” The big man looked up to Prestan, then down to the crowd in front of him.
“That storm was only the warning to some worse to come. If you shits are too naive to notice, than let you suffer in the hands of the Storm God.” The fat bald man lowered his head, showing his fat around his neck. The cut had to be clean, or the men would lose respect for him.
Prestan took a deep breath, tightening his grip on his iron longsword. He gave one final look to the pale fat man with a wide mouth and pop eyes, then swung his sword over his head and delivered a clean blow through the man’s neck. The head fell cleanly to the muddy ground below, and the decapitated body rolled off the block. Prestan watched as most of the Northmen brothers nodded in respect, others muttered under their breath or simply walked away. Prestan cleaned the blood from his sword on the black cloak of the traitor, then sheathed it. Peter Grassfield, his personal steward, came up to meet him.
Peter was a friendly and humorous man, being part of the reason Prestan had chosen him for his steward. Peter was thirty eight, and had served his oath for eight years. He was a bald man with a chestnut brown beard. His eyes were a very dark brown, verging on black, and he carried a war axe with him. His usual cheery expression had been replaced with some saddened and grim.
“Commander, a raven flew in from Skane. I have left the letter on your desk.” Prestan thought to himself grimly. Another one? I already told Ser Harold that I cannot give him anymore men.
“Thank you, Pete. Please inform Maester Dovan that I wish to see him in my quarters.” The steward nodded, turning and leaving.
Prestan sighed and descended down the steps as two stewards dealt with the headless body. He took a glimpse at the Wall, it stood glimmering in the short moment of sunlight, before clouds covered and obscured the light. The Wall stood completely unaffected from the elements, not even the hottest days affected the block of ice that separated modern civilisation from primal civilisation - or at least that was how Prestan saw it. He crossed the courtyard and entered the Commander’s Tower, the fattest tower in all of Eastwatch. The layout of Eastwatch was simple, and it was also one of the few castles that were permitted to be walled in the off chance of a wildling attack. Eastwatch had a dozen watchtowers built into the outer and inner walls, and one large fat tower which covered both walls and was the Commander’s Quarters. The Maester’s Tower was north west of the Commander’s Tower, and the rest of the Black Brothers resided in the main keep - which was located in the centre of the castle. Those who did not reside there were branches of stewards, such as the fishers and sailors, black brothers on Watch and local Northern fishermen - these men could be found in the small quartermaster village directly east of Eastwatch.
Prestan entered the Commander’s Tower and climbed the steps to his quarter’s. The bottom floor belonged to Peter Grassfield, whereas Prestan lived higher up in the tower. Prestan’s desk and office were on the middle floor. He sat himself behind his desk, which was covered in letters and decrees. He sighed irritably and reclined in his uncomfortable wooden chair. The work seemed almost overwhelming, but as Commander of Eastwatch, it was his role to make the hard decisions which no one else could. Before he was elected he had captained Bladewake, a vessel he had brought to the Watch when his father had banished him from Blacktyde. His ironborn crew had abandoned him once he decided to bring his vessel with him, meaning he had to hire a crew from the Arbor to help him get to the Wall. It had been many years since he had controlled the helm of Bladewake, and he presumed many more years would come until he ever would.
Prestan sat himself up straight and picked up the sealed letter from Skane. The seal bared no sigil, which seemed odd because all ravens he recieved from Skane bared the sigil of the Night’s Watch. This is not from Ser Harold. Prestan thought as he broke the seal and unrolled the paper.
To the Commander of Eastwatch.
I am nothing but a man who wishes to farm his lands in peace, and we all know well enough that peace is hard to come by these rough days. The Skanish have supplied the men of the Night’s Watch with crops and fresh soil in payment for protection. The too few men of the Watch are oft drunk and not doing their job. The Skagosi are seeing this and are growing more confident with larger numbers than the Watch can overcome. Only a week ago they attempted to raid our supplies, we fought and bled and died before the Watch showed, and they would not have if it were not for my boy. A boy shy of seven years. This is unacceptable, innocent men, women and children are dying and we need your help. The Watch pledge to be the shield that guards the realms of men. Guard us.
Jorge.
Prestan placed the letter down, staring blindly at the desk. The raids at Skane had been becoming more and more of an issue. Prestan wished he could send more men to their aid, but they had under three hundred men left at Eastwatch, and the brothers were needed in other places. Prestan intended to send a raven to the Lord Commander requesting they have more men, though with the recent deserters he had been caught up with he just hadn’t found the time. Prestan cleared the desk of the messy unread papers. Opening a drawer he pulled out his ink and quill, and a sheet of paper. He began writing to the sound of the howling wind, at one point he stopped because he thought the tower was shaking. Prestan rolled that paper and sealed it with red wax, the sigil of the crow displayed nicely on the seal. Footsteps entered the tower as soon as he placed down the letter. Prestan gazed at the stairwell, and soon enough Maester Dovan rose from the stairwell with Peter Grassfield.
“Commander, Maester. Is there anything else you need from me, Commander?” Prestan shook his head, appreciative of the Peter’s quick haste.
“No, that will be all Peter. Go reward yourself with Ale and chowder at the Mess Hall.” Peter nodded graciously.
“Thank you, Commander.” Prestan watched as Peter descended down the steps, and waited until he was sure he was gone. He looked to Maester Dovan, his curly gray hair was neck length.
“Will you take a seat, Maester?” The old man nodded and sat opposite of him.
“How can I be of assistance, Commander Blacktyde?” Prestan sighed, not knowing where to start.
“I need your counsel. I have received ravens from both Skane and hidden allies in Hardhome.” The maester nodded.
“Dark wings, dark words.” Prestan frowned.
“Unfortunately. Hardhome has been getting more attention from Braavosi traders. Reports go on to say that a ship comes in once a week, delivering cargo from wine and spices to poisons and weapons.” Prestan watched Dovan’s head bob up and down continuously.
“And what of the Skanish?” Prestan sighed.
“Increased reports of Skagosi raids, not enough brothers to hold the line. It’s likely we will lose Skane if we do not send aid. Only issue is we only have enough men to spare to go to either Hardhome or Skane. That is where I stuck. If the wildlings are preparing an assault on the Wall then we need to know about it, but if we lose Skane than one of our main sources for income will be lost - and hundreds of innocents will die.” The old maester gave Prestan a pitiful look, only adding onto the stress.
“You are burdened with a heavy decision, Commander. To do the right thing or to do the just thing. If the Watch falls to the Wildlings, there will be no brothers to protect the Skanish. Yet if the Skanish fall to the Skagosi, there will be no one to protect and a loss of income which we dearly need. My advice? The Umbers. They are the Stark’s bannermen and will no doubt be held up with the threats of war, but if we could call for their aid before the fighting begins then there is a slight chance they could help us.” Prestan did not like his options.
“A slight chance.” Prestan said quietly, feeling the doom weigh upon him.
“Or we could call on Greenguard, they have over a thousand men to spare.” The Maester said with some thought, Prestan shook his head.
“Commander Redwyne is a green boy. Stubborn and relying heavily on the counsel of his officers. Your gods know as well as mine that his officers are corrupted. We will get no men from them.” The Maester shrugged.
“Perhaps the boy commander will have grown his own legs by now. Either way, we will have as much of a chance with him as we will with Lord Donovan Umber.” Prestan sighed, admittedly the Maester was right. Though he did not trust the men at Greenguard, they were filled with more dishonorable men than honorable. Though isn’t most of the Watch?
“Thank you, Dovan. Your counsel has been of great assistance.” The Maester nodded in thanks.
“Of course, Commander. Would there be anything else you require of me?” Prestan had nearly forgotten about the letter, he picked it up and handed it to Dovan.
“For the Lord Commander.” The Maester nodded, then turned and left. Prestan watched as the old man scurried towards the stairwell then descended the stone steps. When he was gone, Prestan rested his head on the desk, using his arms to cushion his head.
To do the right thing, or the just thing. Which is which? Prestan thought as he played with his neck-length black wavy hair.
Choice 1: [Send remaining men to Hardhome] [Send remaining men to Skane]
Choice 2: [Request aid from the Umbers] [Request aid from Greenguard]
Freya
The cold winds beyond the Wall helped her soar through the sky, her feathered wings were a reddish brown. She looked down onto the … moredark pine needles and leaves that lived on the great oaks and ironwood trees, all of this made up the Haunted Forest. She pulled her wings in close and dived down to the treeline, so she was only half a metre above it. An endless plain of dark green and white showed itself to her eyes, her bright yellow eyes. She stretched out her wings and glided in the wind that pushed against her, elevating her higher into the sky. She looked passed the greenery and down to the snow patched ground below it. She looked for miles, spotting small rodents and elk. The occasional snow bear and rare hunting direwolf. Past that she saw the village of the Nightrunners, and beyond that the Hornfoots. What else she saw seemed to be irrelevant, apart for one unusual thing… She flew closer to the location, staying cautious and edg… [view original content]
Choice 1: [Send remaining men to Skane]
Choice 2: [Request aid from Greenguard]
Those choices are definitely worth justification. First one: Night's Watch needs supplies, and Skagos is the only place where they can have supplies provided. Also, we can't afford losing Hardhome, so i hope there will be choice where we can send people from Skane to Hardhome (as it's not that far away). Second - of course, Umbers would be better choice, but I looked on it from different perspective: there's a tense situation between Starks and Boltons now, so Starks will need they bannermen i suppose. When we ask them, we are taking away their powerful ally. I think most of us want Starks to win that battle, so requesting Greenguard may not be the best option for the Watch, but it'll be definitely better for the Kingdom. Okay, that's all, but on the other hand - I really can't wait for the Haunted Forest part - firstly, because there's my character here (he's only in this fanfic by far), and secondly: you left us with terrible cliffhanger about this Stranger, so I'm really looking forward to his story going on.
Prestan
A strong gale pushed against the old stone forts from the east. The wind howled as it coursed its way through the towers and open… more buildings, causing objects to fall or be picked up with the wind. It was in the courtyard, on the elevating platform, that Prestan Blacktyde stood with an iron longsword in his hands. He stared down to the man below him, he was held down by two black brothers, his head moved irritably on a wooden block. Prestan looked at the man shamefully, this had been the second traitor in the past month. How many more executions before it will get into their thick heads? Prestan wondered, growing tired of having to execute men he had once called his brothers. Prestan sighed, clearly irritated and miserable.
“Travis Codd, son of Lord Marak Codd. Here in sights of the gods, and brothers of the Watch, I sentence you to die. If you have any final words, you may speak them now.” The big man looked up to Prestan, then d… [view original content]
Freya I loved that part and she was just as I imagined her while writing. And I am very excited for future parts of her. I'm curious about this voice she heard. I guess that might have been the Stranger, although it is just an assumption.
As for this choice, I think finding Odin sounds more exciting. While I loved the interaction between Freya and Movar, I think folloing Odin could be a bit more interesting. Also, I am curious. I just hope he won't be dangerous for her
Freya
The cold winds beyond the Wall helped her soar through the sky, her feathered wings were a reddish brown. She looked down onto the … moredark pine needles and leaves that lived on the great oaks and ironwood trees, all of this made up the Haunted Forest. She pulled her wings in close and dived down to the treeline, so she was only half a metre above it. An endless plain of dark green and white showed itself to her eyes, her bright yellow eyes. She stretched out her wings and glided in the wind that pushed against her, elevating her higher into the sky. She looked passed the greenery and down to the snow patched ground below it. She looked for miles, spotting small rodents and elk. The occasional snow bear and rare hunting direwolf. Past that she saw the village of the Nightrunners, and beyond that the Hornfoots. What else she saw seemed to be irrelevant, apart for one unusual thing… She flew closer to the location, staying cautious and edg… [view original content]
MicroAce basically summed up exactly what I was thinking. The Umbers could be much needed allies for the Starks if the Bolton situation escalates into a full-scale war. And with people like Rila on the Bolton side, the situation is likely to escalate sooner or later. For the first choice, we know the people in Skane thanks to Jorge's PoV, which I have enjoyed a lot, and keeping them safe comes first for me. There is also the thing with their supplies, which makes Skane invaluable for the Watch.
Prestan
A strong gale pushed against the old stone forts from the east. The wind howled as it coursed its way through the towers and open… more buildings, causing objects to fall or be picked up with the wind. It was in the courtyard, on the elevating platform, that Prestan Blacktyde stood with an iron longsword in his hands. He stared down to the man below him, he was held down by two black brothers, his head moved irritably on a wooden block. Prestan looked at the man shamefully, this had been the second traitor in the past month. How many more executions before it will get into their thick heads? Prestan wondered, growing tired of having to execute men he had once called his brothers. Prestan sighed, clearly irritated and miserable.
“Travis Codd, son of Lord Marak Codd. Here in sights of the gods, and brothers of the Watch, I sentence you to die. If you have any final words, you may speak them now.” The big man looked up to Prestan, then d… [view original content]
Freya
The cold winds beyond the Wall helped her soar through the sky, her feathered wings were a reddish brown. She looked down onto the … moredark pine needles and leaves that lived on the great oaks and ironwood trees, all of this made up the Haunted Forest. She pulled her wings in close and dived down to the treeline, so she was only half a metre above it. An endless plain of dark green and white showed itself to her eyes, her bright yellow eyes. She stretched out her wings and glided in the wind that pushed against her, elevating her higher into the sky. She looked passed the greenery and down to the snow patched ground below it. She looked for miles, spotting small rodents and elk. The occasional snow bear and rare hunting direwolf. Past that she saw the village of the Nightrunners, and beyond that the Hornfoots. What else she saw seemed to be irrelevant, apart for one unusual thing… She flew closer to the location, staying cautious and edg… [view original content]
Prestan
A strong gale pushed against the old stone forts from the east. The wind howled as it coursed its way through the towers and open… more buildings, causing objects to fall or be picked up with the wind. It was in the courtyard, on the elevating platform, that Prestan Blacktyde stood with an iron longsword in his hands. He stared down to the man below him, he was held down by two black brothers, his head moved irritably on a wooden block. Prestan looked at the man shamefully, this had been the second traitor in the past month. How many more executions before it will get into their thick heads? Prestan wondered, growing tired of having to execute men he had once called his brothers. Prestan sighed, clearly irritated and miserable.
“Travis Codd, son of Lord Marak Codd. Here in sights of the gods, and brothers of the Watch, I sentence you to die. If you have any final words, you may speak them now.” The big man looked up to Prestan, then d… [view original content]
Freya
The cold winds beyond the Wall helped her soar through the sky, her feathered wings were a reddish brown. She looked down onto the … moredark pine needles and leaves that lived on the great oaks and ironwood trees, all of this made up the Haunted Forest. She pulled her wings in close and dived down to the treeline, so she was only half a metre above it. An endless plain of dark green and white showed itself to her eyes, her bright yellow eyes. She stretched out her wings and glided in the wind that pushed against her, elevating her higher into the sky. She looked passed the greenery and down to the snow patched ground below it. She looked for miles, spotting small rodents and elk. The occasional snow bear and rare hunting direwolf. Past that she saw the village of the Nightrunners, and beyond that the Hornfoots. What else she saw seemed to be irrelevant, apart for one unusual thing… She flew closer to the location, staying cautious and edg… [view original content]
Prestan
A strong gale pushed against the old stone forts from the east. The wind howled as it coursed its way through the towers and open… more buildings, causing objects to fall or be picked up with the wind. It was in the courtyard, on the elevating platform, that Prestan Blacktyde stood with an iron longsword in his hands. He stared down to the man below him, he was held down by two black brothers, his head moved irritably on a wooden block. Prestan looked at the man shamefully, this had been the second traitor in the past month. How many more executions before it will get into their thick heads? Prestan wondered, growing tired of having to execute men he had once called his brothers. Prestan sighed, clearly irritated and miserable.
“Travis Codd, son of Lord Marak Codd. Here in sights of the gods, and brothers of the Watch, I sentence you to die. If you have any final words, you may speak them now.” The big man looked up to Prestan, then d… [view original content]
Comments
[Save Charles]
Alright, think it is a closed vote. Thomyr will choose to save Charles.
Whether this was a good idea or not, I guess you'll just have to wait and find out. Next part focuses on Jorge
Oh god I hate these Netflix and chill jokes
Jorge
“These black brothers are no better than the local thief. Nor will they do anything to find the bastard! Tanya, I don’t care if this thief steals all of our belongings, it’s just the Night’s Watch is doing nothing about it. Skaggs have been reported by the fisherman more than ever, and what do the Night’s Watch do? Nothing!” Tanya stood in their small kitchen washing the plates.
Jorge sat in his chair staring out the window with frustration. The night was dark and the sky was clear. The recent storm had caused a lot of chaos for the farmers, and had been the perfect distraction for thieves to steal Jorge’s only cow.
“Honey, I know you don’t have any love for the Night’s Watch. I don’t either. Though they are all we have got if we were to be attacked. You sent a raven to the Last Hearth and we have heard nothing yet. The men of the Watch may not be much, but they are honorable and will live up to their vows.” Tanya was quiet when she spoke, possibly trying not to wake the children. Jorge shook his head angrily.
“Don’t be so naive woman! The Night’s Watch don’t give a shit about us. I’ll tell you now and I’ll say it once, first chance these ‘black brothers’ get to leave the island will be the last time we ever see them.” Jorge looked over to his wife, whose face was red and teary. Shortly after Jorge had realised what he had said, he regretted it.
“Do you think you can do any better, Jorge?! You sit here moping about the job of the Night’s Watch but you won’t even have the courage to send a raven to Ol’Tower. To your family!” Tears were streaming down Tanya’s eyes. Jorge buried his head in his hands and sighed.
“Tanya… I am the son of a bastard. Yes, he was a bastard of an Oldstark and yes that gives me some noble blood. Yet I am nothing to them, I have nothing to give.” Tanya sniffed as she silently cried.
“Perhaps, but when Garn became lord he offered you a place at Ol’Tower. You call me naive, but it was really you who was too proud and ignorant. He is your cousin, he would have given us a life better than this.” Jorge clenched his hands, anger showing on his face.
“HE WOULD HAVE MADE US HIS SLAVES!” Jorge’s anger completely shocked Tanya. She dropped the iron plate she was holding, making a loud noise on the wooden floor. Kyra and Croll were quick to climb up the stairs and investigate. Croll was hugging onto Kyra’s leg.
“What’s going on up here?” Kyra asked, somewhat anxious and worried. Croll had left her side and grabbed Jorge, holding him tightly. The anger flushed out of the father as he slowly caressed his young boy’s hair.
“It’s nothing dear. Just go back to bed, your father and I were only talking.” Tanya gave a fake smile which Kyra could easily see through. That girl is too smart for her own good.
“I don’t want you two fighting here, ever. Croll is young and only a boy, he does not deserve to grow up knowing what I know. You two will make this work, for him.” Kyra spoke silently with a wisdom that Jorge had never seen in her. Croll sat on his lap and stared out the window, completely oblivious to what they were talking about.
“Look father, it’s the sun!” Jorge raised an eyebrow. It’s nearly midnight…
Tanya and Kyra had huddled close and stared out of the kitchen window. Jorge had put Croll down and done the same. In the distance was a orange light that brightened the fields. The sounds of scream and terror quickly followed as he watched. Kyra gasped.
“The Hub, it’s on fire…” She said as she covered her mouth with her hands. Tanya grabbed a bucket.
“I’ll get some water-” Jorge looked Tanya in the eye and shook his head.
“No.” Tanya raised an eyebrow, questioning the man’s authority over her.
“What do you mean ‘no’? Those are people out there Jorge!” Jorge shook his head and stared out the window with curiosity.
“Just wait, trust me.” Tanya hesitated, then submitted to her husband. She huffed and put down the bucket, walking back to the window.
Jorge continued to watch the screaming people who were desperately trying to put out the flames that were engulfing the Hub. Kyra shook her head.
“This is ridiculous, we have to help them!” Jorge shook his head as he stared out the window.
“Just wait, one more minute.” The girl kicked over the bucket in frustration. Where are you, you bastards. And then he saw it.
The merchants of the Hub began to scream and run from a sudden mass of figures in the distance. Those who did not make an escape fell to the might of these barbaric foes who opposed them. A quick and sharp shiver went down Jorge’s spine. Skaggs. He turned and knelt down in front of Croll.
“Croll, ride to the town hall and inform the Watch that they are needed at the Hub, we’re being attacked.” He looked over to Kyra, who was staring at him intently. “You go with him, make sure he gets there.” She nodded and the two quickly ran out the back door. Jorge looked over to his wife who was already pulling out a meat cleaver. She strapped it to her waist and walked over to the front door, opening it and letting in the cool chill.
“About time you were right. I’m in the mood for killing something.” Jorge grinned at Tanya, who was already out the door. Jorge followed her out, locking the door behind him.
The night was colder than most, and the wind was howling. The neighbouring farmers were also getting out of their homes to prepare themselves for a fight. Tanya had grabbed a pitchfork from the haystack outside their front door. Jorge walked around the side of the house where he would usually chop wood. The shed was connected to the house and was mostly made of stone. Jorge pulled open the wooden door and entered. The floor was mostly hay, as the chickens nested themselves amongst the insulating wood. Jorge walked over to his iron woodcutting axe, which was lodged into a small trunk that was used as a base for cutting wood. He pulled it free and placed in on his belt. Let’s go kill some Skaggs.
-
The farmers had rallied into a small mob, Jorge and Karne led the men and women. Karne wielded an iron harpoon which he had often used for fishing. Anger and cruelty showed itself on the broken man’s face.
“I will not hold back on these savages. They killed my brother, and I will kill as many of them as I can.” Dark bags had made their way under Karne’s eyes, making it obvious he had not slept well for the past few days.
“Let’s hope the Night’s Watch live up to their oath. The sword in the darkness will mean nothing if they don’t show.” Karne gave a mocking grin.
“The bastards won’t show. You and I know them too well to know what they are capable of.” Jorge shrugged, he wasn’t too sure if he knew them at all according to his wife.
The Skaggs ran rampant over the burning remains of what was once the Hub, a place for trade amongst the small folk and farmers of the land. The bodies of merchants and customers scattered the snow patched ground around the burning remains of the barn. Jorge raised his axe.
“Let’s go kill these fucking savages!” The men and women screamed with the thrill to fight. This had not been the first time they had to defend their lands against the Skaggs, but never before had there been so many of them.
Jorge ran towards the barbarians with a small army of small folk and farmers behind him. The Skaggs turned to them, slightly surprised yet somewhat happy to see them. The men and women of Skane had defended the coasts for many years since the new recruits of the Night’s Watch had ceased to live up to their expectations. The Skanish and Skagosi had played the game of life and death many times before. Though the Skaggs were known for their barbaric ways, the Skanish were a strong people who would not go down without a fight. This night would be a horrific fight.
The small mob of the Skanish clashed against the barbaric Skaggs, the sound of metal on metal filled the air. Jorge lodged his axe into the chest of a giant muscular man with a mohawk. The man laughed and pushed Jorge over, pulling the small axe out of his chest. Out of all the Skaggs I had to fight, I got the fucking big one. The man wielded a giant bronze mace his his right hand. He swung it down towards Jorge’s head, though Jorge quickly rolled out of the way and got back onto his feet. He charged at the giant of a man and tackled him to the ground. Jorge punched the man in the jaw, making his teeth break and his mouth bloody. Jorge went for a second punch, but his hand was caught by the giant’s and he was thrown off. The giant climbed on top of Jorge, placing his gigantic hands around Jorge’s muscled neck. Jorge’s airway was cut off and he ceased to breath, the blood from the man’s mouth dripped down on Jorge’s face. His vision began to go dark and he felt dizzy. The tension around his neck released. The giant fell off of him, but his arms still grasped his neck - though they were no longer connected to the man. Jorge looked up to see a young boy, perhaps a few years older than Croll, holding a bloody scythe. The boy grinned at Jorge and ran off, Jorge pulled himself up and looked around him. The war fought around him and it was clear the Skanish were losing. *Where is Tanya? *Jorge began to panic, as he could not find his wife among the small mass of people. He stood up and searched desperately, though there was no sign of her. A bronze sword swung down at Jorge’s arm, his opposer was a young man with a bald head and red face paint. Jorge jumped out of the way and grabbed the man by the back of his head. He pulled the boy’s head down towards his knee, leaving a bloody mess to drop on the ground. A sound of a woman’s scream caught Jorge’s attention next. Jorge turned to see his wife fighting two Skaggs, she was slowly being pushed towards the fire of the Hub. Jorge picked up the bronze blade and rushed through the mass crowds that consisted mostly of Skaggs. The two that opposed his wife were tall and skinny, their hair was long and black. Jorge ran and spear tackled one to the ground, inches away from the fire of the burning wood. The man managed to climb atop of Jorge and was trying to push his head into the flames. Jorge did all he could to resist, though in a short amount of time his strength would be overpowered by his opponent. Jorge took a risk and grabbed the man by his leather straps, flinging him into the fire. The man screamed as he wriggled around in the hot red flames. Jorge turned to see his wife planting her cleaver into the other man’s head. She grinned at Jorge, who smiled back at her with the thrill of battle. Jorge looked over to the remaining Skanish - consisting of the boy with the scythe, Karne and his wife - who had just broken down the doors to the flaming Hub. A storm of people began to flee out of the burning building, Jorge looked over to Tanya.
“Let’s go!” Jorged yelled, Tanya nodded and the two ran over to remaining Skanish fighters.
The mass crowd of small folk and merchants ran towards the main road, though were stopped by a blockade of Skaggs. Jorge and Tanya tried to run to their assistance, though were blocked off by more Skaggs. For every Skanish there was ten more Skagosi. Jorge grunted as he eyed off the five Skaggs that stood in front of him and his wife. If this is the end, then may the gods give us a good death. Jorge looked over to Tanya and nodded gently. The two gripped their weapons tightly and began to walk towards the Skaggs, though were stopped from a sound in the distance. Shouting and horses were heard coming from the roads, but when Jorge looked all he could see were hovering black dots in the distance. It’s about damn time! The Skaggs turned to their new opponents and charged towards them. The small folk and merchants began to scatter down the main road, away from the battle. Karne, his wife and the boy with the scythe had stayed to fight the Skaggs. Jorge grabbed Tanya and looked her in the eye.
“Go with them, make sure they get to safety.” The woman shook her head.
“I’m not leaving without you. If you die, so do I.” Jorge grunted, clearly frustrated. The Night’s Watch were a big enough number to take on the Skaggs, though whether they were enough to take on the barbarians had Jorge worried. He was not prepared to lead his wife to her death, his children could not live without her. Though to leave the battle would make him a coward, especially when he was most needed now.
[Take Tanya and escape] [Stay and fight]
[Take Tanya and escape]
I doubt a single man can do much of a difference in this fight. The Night's Watch should be capable enough to take them on without Jorge's help. That's not worth risking his life.
You're right on that note. Though if he were to stay it would definitely boost his status and perhaps help him in the long run. Though there is also the possibility of him dying.
[Stay and fight]
[Take Tanya and escape]
[Stay and fight]
[Take Tanya and escape] I agree with Liquid... Better not risk his life since he has kids and all.
[Take Tanya and escape]
[Take Tanya and escape]
[Take Tanya and escape]
Though this won't help Jorge in the long run, it was definitely the more ethical option at the time.
Next part goes back to the the Hoare bastard - Jared - at the Iron Islands.
Jared
The night was dark and the clouds were a dark gray. Jared sat at the bow of the Seahorse with Tanner, staring at the clouds. The Storm God has rose victorious, for now… Tanner sat on the deck massaging his right hand. Tanner was a crazy fellow, always seeing the light side to a dark situation. He had been friends with Jared ever since they were young lads on a small fishing trip. Since then they had been as close as brothers. Jared looked down to the young man, who had a clean shave. Jared caressed his moustache which he had proudly been growing for the past few months.
“You’ll be alright with that hand?” Tanner looked up and grinned.
“Aye, I’ll be fine. After all, a man is given two hands to do his work. If he has none, he had better hope a woman can look after him.” The young man laughed hysterically, revealing the madness he deeply loved to show to the world. Jared grinned.
“If only you were so lucky. What shall we call you now? Two finger Tan?” Tanner rolled his eyes, to him only his jokes were amusing.
“I have a finger and a thumb, Prince Pyke. I’d have thought they would give the Hoare’s boy a basic education before sending him off with thirty killers to murder a Harlaw.” Tanner winked coyly at Jared, who glared at him in return.
“Piss off Tanner.” Jared grinned as he spoke. Tanner raised an eyebrow.
“Piss of what, Prince Pyke? Oh if you insist, but I will need your assistance with pulling my cock out…” The two immature men laughed, Jared stood himself up.
“You cheeky fingerless freak. I’m going to talk to the Pirate.” Tanner nodded, picking up his axe and pulling out a cloth.
Jared walked aft of the ship, stepping over those who were sleeping under the dark sky. Athen Greyjoy had perched himself on the portside railings, along with Ezra Nightwood and the Goodbrother - Kober. Kober was lord of House Goodbrother, and father to his lover. Jared had felt very uneasy whenever talking to him. Jared continued to walk aft until he reached the wheel, where Korb the Pirate and Andiron Quarter-Iron stood. Andiron was an older man and a heavy drinker. His hair was long and gray, his beard was gray with light tints of brown from spilt ale. He had a strong build, certainly one of the strongest on the vessel. Andiron had claimed that he was a descendent of the Greyiron’s, and had named himself Quarter-Iron as his ‘proof’. Andiron’s eyes were as gray as the iron chainmail he wore, and over that he wore a sleeveless leather coat. A large iron battle axe was sheathed on his back. Korb the Pirate was a different man entirely, holding a reputation as one of the most vicious and cunning pirates in the Iron Islands. He wore an eyepatch which displayed the Greyjoy’s coat-of-arms: The Kraken. His hair was black with gray strands, and receding quickly in his young age of forty. His beard was well-kept compared to other Ironmen, and he wore an iron scimitar by his waist. The two chatted quietly as the crew slept, clearly staring at the lights of Harlaw. Jared cleared his throat to interrupt.
“Ah, Prince Pyke. How can I be of service?” Korb said, wearing an unreadable smile. Andiron’s face was stern and serious as he stared off into the distance.
“Korb, I need to have a word.” Jared looked at Andiron then back at Korb. “Alone.” Andiron nodded and left. Korb crossed his arms, his face was riddled with curiosity.
“So what’s this all about, Prince Pyke?” Jared hated the title the Ironmen had given him, but he had adopted it as he was told to by his father when he was noticed by him.
“I’ve been watching how your crew are interacting with the Goodbrother’s men. Put an end to it.” Jared spoke with cold and harsh words, he was not opening up any opportunity to be triphled with. Korb grinned, his one eye showed mockery and distaste.
“Sorry bastard, but I take orders from no one.” The smaller pirate leant against the aft mast, grinning at Jared. Jared fingered the sharp edge of his axe that sat by his hip.
“Is that so, pirate? You seem proud to show off that Kraken wherever you go.” Jared stared the small man in the eyes. Korb’s grin turned to a mocking smile.
“Is that what you think, bastard? That I answer to the Greyjoys? The fucking Greyjoys! No, the slimy cunts answer to me. They’re in my debt you ignorant bastard.” Anger had made its way to Korb’s eyes.
Jared slowly walked towards Korb, backing him into the dark shadow of the aft mast. Jared had unsheathed his axe and held it close to his leg, trying to avoid any attention. Once Korb was backed up against the mast, Jared covered his mouth and put his axe to the small man’s throat.
“I’d slit your throat right now if you weren’t of value to my father. Call your men off, start obeying some fucking orders and lose the fucking attitude.” Korb’s one good eye glared at Jared. Jared looked around, observing the well-maintained structure of the ship. “I would like to buy your vessel one day, though I am undecided whether I will use gold or iron…” Jared sheathed his axe and released the man, leaving him somewhat shocked. Jared turned and descended the steps that had led him to the wheel.
Andiron Quarter-Iron stood in Jared’s way as he descended the stairs. His arms were crossed and his face was stern and cold, not that it was unusual of Andiron. The past couple of sober days had hit Andiron hard, and fish had not been taking the bait while they were on this voyage. The crew had been stuck with salted goat and some foreign wine that Korb had gained from his last raid at the Summer Isles. The Quarter-Iron’s gray eyes watched Jared with fascination and intimidation.
“You have a lot of nerve fucking with the captain. A click of his fingers and his boys will be fighting against the Goodbrother’s boys and the Drowned God will have us all.” Jared had realised he had mistaken the man’s intimidation for worry. Jared gave a mocking smile.
“Then these boys will become men.” Jared walked passed Andiron, leaving him gasping for words.
Tanner had sat himself on the prow of the vessel, he giggled like a madman. The man better not fall in. Drowned God know’s as well as I do that he can’t swim. Jared looked over to the portside railing. Athen and Ezra still talked, both quiet and subtle. Jared had grown curious of this ‘debt’ that Korb had rattled on about, he was convinced Athen may have answers. On the starboard side was the Goodbrother staring out to the western shores of Westeros. He seemed calm, and Jared was convinced that if he were a Hoare that this would be the perfect time to talk to the Goodbrother about a marriage for him and Arika. Jared felt uneasy, thoughts of Arika started flooding his mind. He loved her with all of his heart, the thought of losing her if he were not to be legitimised would surely break him. Jared looked back to Tanner, who was now acting as if he was a bird. At least that was what Jared hoped he was doing. The sky was dark, though the light of the moon was setting in the west. The sun would rise soon. I could go talk to the Goodbrother, request if he could calm down his men. Though this talk of Korb and the Greyjoy’s has me worried, what is he up to? Jared looked at Tanner, who was untying his bandage to his hand. He should be the least of my worries right now, but he’ll do something stupid. Jared looked at his options, he would only have enough time to talk to one if he wanted good information. After the sun would rise everyone would be awake, and he may not get another chance to talk to them in private again.
[Check on Tanner] [Talk with Kober Goodbrother] [Talk with Athen Greyjoy]
Amathe
[Talk with Kober Goodbrother]
[Talk with Kober Goodbrother]
[Talk with Kober Goodbrother]
[Talk with Athen Greyjoy]
[Talk with Kober Goodbrother]
[Talk with Kober Goodbrother]
[Talk with Kober Goodbrother]
[Talk with Kober Goodbrother]
[Talk with Kober Goodbrother]
Vote closed! Jared will decide to talk with Kober Goodbrother.
Next part is the finale of Chapter 1
Kaiden
The cool winds of the quickly ending autumn rushed through the tent and awoke Kaiden from his deep sleep. The young man shivered instantly once the icy breeze pierced his flesh and sent his blood rushing. The back of Kaiden’s head was bloody and lazily bandaged. Kaiden placed his hand on the wound though winced as soon as he made contact with it. Don’t these damn wildlings have a maester? Kaiden lay on his side on a makeshift wooden bed. The tent he rested in was lined with hides and furs, though the flap of the door was not properly sealed - hence not insulating the small tent. Kaiden slowly pulled himself up, his whole body was in agony though his head was the worst. Kaiden propped himself into a sitting position on the side of the bed, letting his feet dangle on the soft fur of a snow bear’s carcass - which was placed down as a rug. Confusion began to cloud Kaiden’s mind, he looked down to his barefeet and then back up to the entrance of the tent. Where am I? And where are my boots? A strong frozen gust made its way into the tent. Kaiden began to get goosebumps, though whether it was from the cold or sudden fear, he did not know. Kaiden pulled his feet up and tried to warm them with his hands, which he now realised were gloveless. A sound of chatter had appeared outside the tent, quickly drawing closer and closer. Kaiden listened intently, hoping to hear the voice of Odin or another black brother. Instead, he heard something better. Kaiden lied back down and shut his eyes, trying to appear as if he was sleeping.
More cold air entered the tent as the flap was opened. The soft and beautiful tones of talking women entered Kaiden’s frozen ears, he could not help but to shiver. The voices had gone quiet, though a sudden heat had rested itself against Kaiden’s body. Kaiden opened his eyes to see a beautiful nude woman sitting next to him. Her body was warm and gave Kaiden a sense of safety, two other bare-breasted women stood over him. The three swarmed him, climbing on top of him and placing their breasts all over him. Kaiden began to think back to his oath. Oh fuck the oath, this may be the best day of my life. Kaiden began to participate in the intimate relationship that was forming between the four of them. The cold had dissipated with the arrival of the three beautiful women, whose hair bared resemblance of blonde. As the four were getting comfortable, another gust of wind entered the tent and made Kaiden shudder.
“Alright you bitches, play time is over. Go back to the Mutt.” The girls giggled and left Kaiden drooling for more action. What was left in their stead was a small fat man with feet as black as charcoal. Next to him stood a woman with a familiar face, it was the girl who had captured him - Anya. Kaiden propped himself upright, trying to cover the hard log that had risen in the previous presence. The small man looked to Anya with lustful eyes, “Anya, my beautiful wife. Would you go and tell the zealots to light the fires?” Anya’s head slightly nodded and she quickly left the tent.
The small man sat down on a box right next to the entrance of the tent. He cleared his throat and looked Kaiden in the eyes. Kaiden could not stop staring at the man’s feet. “I am Krumm the Blackfoot, chieftain of the Hornfoots. Who the fuck are you?” The calm and lustful tone had disappeared once Anya had. Kaiden gulped, he was in enemy territory which would not hesitate to kill him.
“My name is Kaiden.” He whispered, trying not to offend his host. The small man mockingly laughed, his beard was magnificent and brown.
“Are all crow’s so craven? We don’t get many crow’s up this far north… How does it feel to be in the real North, boy?” The man had a harsh and cruel voice. He glared at Kaiden, growing impatient.
“I-” Kaiden was lost for words, he had never encountered many wildlings. When he had the last time there was a lot of brothers and he did not need to fight. Krumm shook his head, his expression seemed aggravated and disappointed.
“Well crow, I had hoped for more. The first crow to come this far north since that Nightrunner fuck Toregg had wished to call a truce between our factions.” His face was red with anger, he spat on the ground with disgust and then looked back at Kaiden. “Tell me, where are your other crows hiding?” A sudden rush of panic came of Kaiden, in the end he felt he had no choice but to tell the intimidating man.
“I came north with three others. Two of them were sent back with some wildling prisoners, and the other is with a band of wildlings. I managed to escape them, and now I’m here.” Krumm began to laugh, growing louder and louder as he did.
“Wildlings eh? We are the free folk, not some fucking wild cunts. Though, if that’s what you think of us then that is how we will treat you. Boys, take him outside.” Krumm stood up and left the tent. Kaiden watched as the small man left and was replaced by two bigger and bulkier men. They picked him up and carried him outside, Kaiden desperately fought to free himself but it was no use.
A light rain showered down outside the tent, the sky was cloudy and had blocked the sun. The ground was wet and muddy, Kaiden’s bare feet began to freeze as he was dragged through it. His two captors followed Krumm, who talked as he approached a gathering of a dozen or more wildlings.
“You see, Kaiden, we Hornfoots also offer a mercy to those who stumble onto our lands by mistake. The Nightrunners give freedom or death, but we do things a little differently. You see, we do not need footwear, those who do are weak.” He held up his hand, causing his men to stop. “Shackle him.” The men nodded and pulled out iron chains which they placed around his ankles and wrists. Kaiden looked up at Krumm, fear and panic started to cloud his thoughts.
“Let me go you fucking cunt!” Krumm laughed, seeming somewhat amused by Kaiden’s attempt to fight back.
“I think there is something strong in you, Kaiden. I really do hope you join us.” Once his wildling lackeys were done shackling Kaiden, he continued to walk towards the crowd. “As I was saying, we Hornfoots are different to most clans. Those who join us must be like us, must feel the eternal heat and no longer require the need for footwear. If you will join us, you will walk the path of fire.” Kaiden was afraid for where this was going.
The four stopped in front of a crowd of men and women huddled around something. The wildlings formed a rectangular shape, once they saw Kaiden coming they all glanced at him. Krumm clapped his hands and those who were at the end of the rectangular formation quickly moved out of the way. Krumm entered the huddle, Kaiden being led in quickly after. As they entered, Kaiden stared at what the wildlings were huddling around. What he saw made him panic even more, he desperately tried to break free of the strength that held him, though it was no use. In front of him lay a ten metre path of hot burning coals that sizzled in the light rain. The men placed Kaiden by Krumm’s side, holding him down to ensure that he did not have try to attack the chieftain. Krumm cleared his throat.
“Hornfoots! Today we have been gifted with a crow from the Wall. I have given him the right to choose what path he will take. He will join us, or be sacrificed to the Others.” Krumm turned and looked Kaiden in the eye. “So what do you choose, crow.” The question was more a demand than a question.
Kaiden gulped and looked out to the hot burning coals, if he were to join then he would have to walk across it to the end. It was either that or to be sacrificed, which Kaiden was fearful of. I don’t want to die, perhaps me doing this will give me my life back. Kaiden straightened his posture and looked the small man in the eye, trying to appear as brave as he could.
“I will join you.” Krumm grinned.
“Then you will walk.” He looked up to his tall wildling lackeys. “Boys, give the crow some assistance.” Before Kaiden knew what was happening, he was picked up and slowly walked to the burning walkway. Fear had embodied itself into Kaiden’s throat, his heart began to race.
“LET ME GO! PLEASE STOP!” Kaiden screamed until he was hovering over the fire, instant heat began to touch the soles of his feet. Gods help me.
The men dropped him and Kaiden landed on his feet, the sudden warmth turned into a burning heat that would not disappear. Kaiden started to scream as the hot coals burned through the skin on his feet and into his flesh. Kaiden felt the urge to run and before he could decide to follow it, his body had already decided for him. Though his body had forgotten about the shackles around his ankles. Kaiden fell into the fiery hell beneath him, sending a gust of flames into the air as his body hit the ground. The clothing on Kaiden began to burn, releasing a black smoke in the air. His hair released a singed smell as it ignited in the small flames. Kaiden’s skin began to melt against the hot coals that pressed against him, he screamed. Kaiden rolled and squirmed side to side, trying to lever his body off of the hot fires beneath him. The wildling crowd that huddled in close quickly pulled Kaiden out of the fire and into the mud, shock riddled on their faces. Kaiden stared into the sky, the rain burning against his crisped flesh which he could not tell if it hurt anymore. Bubbling hot skin slowly slid off of Kaiden’s body, exposing flesh and blood. A crowd surrounded Kaiden as they once did the fire, fear crawling over their faces. The last thing Kaiden saw was Anya entering the crowd and placing a cold fur blanket - covered with snow - over Kaiden’s body. The excruciating pain that came with it caused Kaiden to lose sight of his vision. Darkness clouded around his eyes until he could see no more.
No decision this time.
End of Chapter 1
So that's chapter 1 over. Thanks for the support in this beginning of a new story and I look forward to coming back to it! As of tomorrow or so I will be starting chapter 3 of The Invasion, once that chapter is done I will come back here. Here is the link to my other story > https://www.telltalegames.com/community/discussion/99062/interactive-got-fan-fiction-the-invasion?new=1 > once again, thank you all for the support and I will see you next time on The Northern Chill!
Chapter 2: Blood, sweat and tears.
Rila
The council meetings had always bored her, though her father had made it customary for every Bolton to attend. Rila sat on the far left side of the table that the council usually held their meetings, next to her was Jory Bolton - her brother - and beside him was Shayne Bolton in his ‘Captain of the Household Guard’ armor. Shayne was her eldest brother, at the age of thirty three, though Rila had doubts that he was truly her full brother. His hair was curly and short, it’s colour was blond and was now starting to recede. His sideburns linked with his blond mustache, above that were his piercing brown eyes - which bothered her the most. There was no doubt that Rila still respected Shayne as family, though she could not convince herself to believe he was truly a Bolton but perhaps a legitamised bastard. Rila looked to her brother, Jory, whose hair was coal black and eyes were matching. Rila sighed and tapped at the cold stone table with her fingers. Their father was late, which was unusual. Rila looked around the room, eying each of the members of the council. There was Jeck, the newly appointed head of the kingsguard - that currently was not legitimate - who sat opposite her. Next to him was Donnor Frost, her father’s ward. She considered the ward to be rather handsome in some aspects, his lean athletic build and bright blue eyes had always hit her charm, though his shy personality made it hard to talk with him. Finally, sitting beside Donnor was the King’s steward: Freak. Freak was a hideous sight, compared to others like Sigil and Maggot. He was a hunched creature, it’s face covered in warts and zits. There was no doubt he was madder than all of the men and women under service of Nestar Bolton, but for some reason her father had found use for him as a steward. Footsteps descending down the stairwell pulled Rila from her distracted state of mind, and to no surprise it was her father. He walked to his chair at the end of the table without saying a word, though Rila could tell he was angry. Bright red scratch marks on Nestar’s pale white face had shown themselves to the council, leaving quiet discussion between guards. All was silent when Nestar cleared his throat.
“Are we ready to begin?” Nestar looked the members of the council, receiving nods as he did. He turned his attention to his steward. “Freak, the letter if you will.” The creature bobbed his head cheerfully, his wide eyes seemingly full of joy.
He stood from his chair, making him seem smaller than before, and pulled a letter from his satchel - handing it faithfully to his King. Rila observed Jory’s eyes gleam with joy as he saw his father unroll the unsealed letter. A response for his ignorance. Rila thought to herself, she had been the only one to object to Jory sending a raven to Winterfell - though as always, her opinions were never considered. She wondered why she still bothered to attend these council meetings, but her father insisted.
“To Nestar Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort.” Her father began.
“This shall be our only warning, you are to surrender daughter at once. I shall consider arranging peace terms once she is safely in the hands of Stark bannermen. If you fail to comply, you will be pursued and destroyed. I would warn you now that we are aware of your nephew’s presence in the Rills, we will take him hostage if we are forced to.
Make the right decision, Lord Nestar.
Ian Morland, General of the Stark army.”
Nestar gently placed the letter down on the table for all eyes to see, Rila could see the anger build up in her father’s face. Rila observed the expressions on the rest of the council’s faces. Jeck’s face was as stern and cold as had always been. Donnor had frowned, keeping his eyes to the stony surface of the table. Freak’s face was full of crazy joy as always, Jory’s somewhere similar. Finally, Shayne seemed to be one of the few that were affected by this news.
“Father, we need to get Martyn from the Ryswell’s before it’s too late.” Nestar shook his head, reclining into his chair as he did.
“If the Stark’s are sending an army, then there is no doubt they will have scouts and spies within close vicinity to us. The moment we set foot out of our gates they will likely send a raven to Winterfell to inform the ‘Sweet wolf’ of our intentions.” Shayne sighed impatiently. Donnor was next to speak up.
“Can we send a raven? During the pitch of the night, it will be difficult for scouts and spies alike to see.” Nestar seemed to ponder on the suggestion for a while, though Jory smirked as he heard it.
“That’s if the Ryswell’s are still loyal to us. No doubt the Stark’s would have arranged terms with them by now.” There seemed to be a hint of amusement in her brother’s voice. The council sat in silence for a moment that felt longer than it was, Rila spoke up.
“We have a hostage of our own. Lady Judith is the daughter of the Sweet Wolf-” It was Shayne to interrupt her this time.
“Are you suggesting that we give the Stark’s what they want? A hostage swap? If so then we have already lost this war.” Jeck seemed to nod in agreement. Rila shook her head.
“I was not suggesting we trade hostages. Afterall, if this letter is on date then we are the only one’s with the hostage. I say we bleed our lady mother, put fear into the Starks.” Shayne slammed his fist down onto the table.
“That will put Martyn at risk, we cannot affort that!” Rila raised an eyebrow, questioning him.
“Why not? Did we not send the boy to ward with the Ryswell’s because he was a coward? Afraid of his own blood. I highly doubt he has changed.” The speed that Shayne shot up from his chair and pulled out his mace was enough for Rila to unsheath her dirk to protect herself. Though nothing could prepare her for the wrath of her father.
“Enough! I am growing tired of your damned bickering. Rila is right on the fact that Martyn is a coward, and of no use to us. Though a Bolton is a Bolton, our blood, our flesh. I will not sit here and watch as the Winter King’s try to murder him! If you have nothing of use to say than leave now, for we are not here to argue amongst ourselves.” Shayne’s expression remained angry, his face reddened, though he sheathed his mace and sat back down.
Rila looked at the rest of the council, still unaware that her dirk was still in hand. The council stared at her with that same look of disgust that they always did, well nearly all of them. Freak still sat completely oblivious to everything that had happened. Rila did not care what Jeck or Donnor or her brothers thought of her, but the way her father stared her down gave her the chills. She sheathed her dirk to her belt and grunted, then quickly took to her leave.
-
An hour had passed since the meeting and Rila had found herself down in the depths of the Dreadfort examining the work of Skinner and Leech. Two dried out corpses hung chained to the ceiling, Leech had bludgeoned his share - leaving a rotten bag of meat and bones to hang. Skinner on the other hand had taken some art to his work, crafting a cape out of his flayed masterpiece. The sight of it made Rila smile, she wished to join him though the gate to the Hall of the Flayed was barred and locked. Only the male Bolton’s and torturers held the key. So here Rila sat and stared through the iron barred window. Sticky wet footsteps approached her general direction, Rila turned and looked upon Skinner’s greatest work of art: Sigil. The creature stood before her, a shackled chain around its ankle which kept it close to its urine smelling bed - made entirely of rotten hay. He stood slightly hunched, his partly flayed arms droopy. He wore a ripped rag shirt with ragged pants. His feet were bloody and scarred, one hand was flayed and the other was badly scarred. The cartilage on his nose and ears had been removed, leaving him a hideous sight. The only thing that made him better than Freak was that this one had kept its sanity, despite what it had been through.
“M’lady.” The voice was croaky and raspy, the stench of his breath revolting.
“Sigil, you’re looking as good as always.” Sigil rolled his bloodshot pink eyes.
“Spare me the humour princess, we both know that’s not the reason you’re down here. What do you need?” Rila smirked, Sigil always knew her rationals, even when she did not.
“Father, he despises me. I aspire to be a true Bolton, but he expects me to be a lady. Presumably he’ll marry me off to some noble house once he becomes the Red King.” The croaky chuckle coming from the creature in front of her made her smile, though when it turned to a coughing fit she sighed.
“Your father is a wise man, Rila. You’d do well to remember that. Everything he does, he does with reason.” Sigil said, taking long breaths in between each sentence. Rila rolled her eyes.
“That’s kind words, coming from a traitor.” Sigil looked her in the eyes, though whether he was angry or upset, she could not tell.
“Watch it girl, I know a great many secrets that you would wish to die with me. Now enough of this smalltalk, you’re here to tell me something or you wouldn’t have lingered so long. Spit it out or leave me to my misery.” Rila looked the ghoulish looking creature in it’s pink eyes, it was a wonder it could still see.
“Father plans to save your son from the Starks, he who dobbed you in for your treason. Shayne sees him as an honorable figure, but we know better don’t we. He’s only a coward trying to save his own hide.” The creature sighed and sat himself down.
“One of the great miseries of my life. Thank you for telling me this, girl. Leave me now, I must rest…” Rila watched the creature she once called her uncle slowly drift off into his misery. Perhaps this night will be his last. Who knows?
Rila spun on her heel and made her way up the long stairwell to her chambers in the Dreadfort, she observed the flayed skins hung on the walls as she climbed the long and large stone steps. Most of the flaying had been done on traitorous scum like her uncle, who had sold out helped in the plotting to murder Rila’s mother. It had bothered Rila little, she had barely known the woman.
Rila entered the hallway that led to her bedchambers. The hallway went across a bridge and into a separate compartment of the Fort, which could only be accessed from this hall. The bridge had reinforced window shutters, so archers could be placed her in a time of siege. For the most part, the shutters were closed unless on special occasion, which for the most part never happened. Rila opened the wooden reinforced door which stood as the entrance to her chambers, inside was the smell of fresh air. The rest of the Dreadfort had a foul stench of decay and rot, though Rila had done well to air out the tower she lived in. The layout of her chamber was simple, her bathing was in a separate room left of the main door, her kitchen - for when she dined alone - was near the balcony and her bed was just opposite that in a half opened room. Rila headed straight to her bathing chamber, to where she washed the oils from her face in the metal basin. Above the basin was a wooden framed mirror, she took a look at herself. I am a true Bolton, my characteristics follow that of my father and uncle. And their fathers before them.
Rila had a wicked beauty to her, it was easy to see in her appearance. Her coal black hair fell down below her shoulders, wavy and unbound. Her eyes were pale, like dirty snow. An old scar still remained on her left cheek and around the outer of her left eye, though it was mostly faded now. Her skin was pale white, not bothered with that of freckles or zits. She gently smiled, now feeling comfortable. Rila turned and left the bathing chamber, entering her dining and living room. She unsheathed her dirk and placed it on her bedside table, to where she began to undress. Around the Dreadfort, she wore boiled leather with a hauberk concealed under it. When in her chambers, she liked to lounge in her light red - verging pink - gown. She threw her light armour down on the cool stone floor and put on her gown. Feeling more comfortable, she sat herself down on her bed, then lay down. These were one of the few times she felt at true ease, where nothing could bother her. Though the sound of tears and sobs sounding from her closet proved that to be wrong. Her face flushed red, feeling angry again she got up and grabbed her dirk. She approached her closet and pulled the door open. Inside sat a sobbing girl, holding her legs close to her chest. Her hair was brown, messy and full of grit and grime. Her hair covered her missing left ear, which had been cut off. Around her neck was a steel chain, locked to the ceiling of the wardrobe. Rila quickly unlocked the the padlock and grabbed the chain, backing away. When she stood as far as the chain could go, she looked at the crying girl. She would have only been thirteen, ten years younger than Rila. She wore a dirty handmaid dress. Rila forced herself to wear a fake smile.
“Come on out, little one. It’s okay.” The girl lifted her head from her sobbing, suspiciously eying Rila with caution. Fear stalked the young girl’s eyes. “Come on, it’s alright.” The girl slowly crawled out of the darkness, into the light towards Rila. Tears were streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry m’lady, I just… Please, let me go.” Rila smirked.
“It’s alright youngling, come here. Come to me.” The girl came forth obediently, continuing to cry. Once she was in range, Rila kicked the girl in the side of her head, knocking her to the ground. “What did I tell you about crying Wench!” The girl rolled a metre or two away, so Rila grabbed the chain had pulled her in.
“I’m… Sor-” The girl gasped, choking on the tight chain around her neck.
Rila walked her out onto the balcony and lifted her head by her messy hair. She smashed her head against the stone railing and proceeded to kick her in the ribs.
“Never ever cry in my presence Wench!” Rila yelled, as her final kick knocked the girl unconscious
No decision.
First of all, it is great that this story is back
It was a great part as well, even though I naturally dislike Rila a lot. She's absolutely bonkers. Can't wait for the next parts! By the way, have you gotten my characters?
Freya
The cold winds beyond the Wall helped her soar through the sky, her feathered wings were a reddish brown. She looked down onto the dark pine needles and leaves that lived on the great oaks and ironwood trees, all of this made up the Haunted Forest. She pulled her wings in close and dived down to the treeline, so she was only half a metre above it. An endless plain of dark green and white showed itself to her eyes, her bright yellow eyes. She stretched out her wings and glided in the wind that pushed against her, elevating her higher into the sky. She looked passed the greenery and down to the snow patched ground below it. She looked for miles, spotting small rodents and elk. The occasional snow bear and rare hunting direwolf. Past that she saw the village of the Nightrunners, and beyond that the Hornfoots. What else she saw seemed to be irrelevant, apart for one unusual thing… She flew closer to the location, staying cautious and edged. She found herself over a makeshift camp, filled with black crows. She watched as the little black crows huddled around their fires, freezing their arses off. Good. She thought, feeling somewhat amused. She flew down to a branch on a sentinel tree, where she perched herself there to spy. She observed a cave, and outside that some dead horses - turned to mulch and crushed bone from the hail storm that had passed through a week earlier. Perhaps these crows will meet the same fate.
“No, I do not think so my little bird.” The sound of another voice frightened her, causing her to take to the wind and fly to safety. The laughter appeared shortly after, as soft as a whisper, as cold as snow. Growing louder and louder, until Freya disconnected.
Freya opened her eyes, taking in a long deep breath in attempt to calm herself.
“Talon.” She whispered, feeling a sense of regret.
Freya shook her head and stood herself up, she was somewhat surprised to notice her brother - Movar the Grim - sitting on a snow capped branch that had been broken off in the hail storm. Movar did not smile, he had not been name ‘Grim’ without reason. Instead he sat on the branch, his arms crossed, in his thick furry pelts. On one side of his waste, he had a steel hatchet. The other side, a steel war axe. Freya noted that he was still carrying an entire arsenal of weapons - daggers, throwing knives, a wooden spear. His face was stern and cold, and above his left eye lay the scars of a claw mark he had gotten when hunting a wolf.
“Enjoy the flight?” His voice was deep and calm, surprisingly pleasant as well. Freya shrugged, shaking her head.
“I found the crows’ camp, but there was something else… Something different… I will have to speak with Elder Thorrand about it.” Freya noticed Movar frown, like he had expected as much.
“You will not be joining us then?” Freya shrugged, still feeling odd about Talon.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine brother. Who is leading the raid?” Movar grunted.
“Grognak Ironside.” Freya raised her eyebrows, undecided on whether she was shocked or surprised.
“The Chieftain? What could be so important?” Movar shrugged, clearly as confused as she was.
“I don’t know, and I don’t like it either. Let’s get back to the village, I’m growing cold sitting on the frozen wood.” Freya allowed herself to smile, only for him.
The two made their way toward the Nightrunner village, mostly consisting of tents and a few small cottages. Freya looked at her brother, the man who had taken care of her since their mother died. Movar was a tall man, standing over six feet, and very muscular. His long dark brown hair and his beard which falls to his chest gives him a true barbaric appearance, and adds to the typical widling look. Though truly, Movar is the most articulate and caring man Freya has ever known - though in the battlefield he is a completely different person. Though he hides this under his grim personal nature, there is one weakness Movar cannot hide - his weakness for attractive women. His rough charm and brutish appearance have been known to win over the hearts of some of the women in the village, though little have ever reached his taste. Freya on the other hand requires more than just good looks to win her over. It is hard to gain her trust, and even harder to be granted her friendship. Though if one were so lucky earn these privileges, they would be rewarded with undying loyalty.
As the two walked through the thick snow, entering their village, Freya felt her connection with Talon grow stronger. She could feel she was close, and safe for that matter. She sighed in relief. Walking in between the rows of tall tents that were the homes to Nightrunners, Movar stopped and stared out to something. When Freya found where his focus was, she couldn’t help but grunt.
“Don’t waste your time on her brother, Christa Frostleaf would rather live in make-believe land and marry a southerner.” Movar frowned and shook his head.
“Let us see who will be laughing when I bring her back to my tent tonight.” Freya rolled her eyes.
“Let me remind you that we share a tent, and I won’t be happy if I find you fucking another woman in my bed again.” Movar chuckled to himself, but Freya was dead serious. He straightened his expression and left her, walking towards Christa Frostleaf and her friend Eva.
Christa was a strange girl in the eyes of Freya. No one knew where she came from, just was found on the shores near Hardhome and brought back to be raised in the Nightrunner village. She was the same age as Freya - twenty three - but there was no doubt that they were nothing alike, and they did not get along. Freya prayed to the gods and the children of the forest that she would never have to call that southron bitch her sister. Despite all that, there was no denying she was beautiful. Her long black hair was often covered in her thick furry hood, though when uncovered it fell below her shoulders. Her eyes were a dark blue, matching that of the sea. As for her skin, it was pale and clean of any scars or dirt. She was raised and taught by some of the best fighters, so she knew how to protect herself, but she still acted like a southron lady. Freya found it took a lot of effort to not let it bother her.
Freya sighed and made her way into her tent, a tall teepee looking structure made out of elk hide. Inside there were two beds, one single - belonging to Movar - and the other a double which was Freya’s. She sat down on the fur blanket that was over her bed. She pulled off her white fur gloves and placed them on her wooden makeshift bedside table. She opened the drawer and pulled out the handheld mirror that her brother had given her when he had come back from a raid south of the Wall. The mirror was cracked, though she could still see through it well enough. She peered through the reflective glass and looked at herself. Her long wavy hair fell down below her shoulders, standing out on the thick white fur pelt clothing she wore - which she had fashioned from a snow bear she had hunted. Her pretty face was pale and lightly freckled. Her eyes a very light shade of brown, appearing yellow in some lights and giving her the name of Hawkeye. Freya watched as her face grew red with anger, she pulled the mirror away and put it back in the drawer, slamming it with frustration. Her beauty made her underestimated by most, frustrating her. The naive treated her like they did Frostleaf, which angered her even more. Despite that, the underestimation could be used to her advantage.
She grabbed her gloves and left the tent, fastening her bronze dagger to her belt. She had obtained the weapon from a Thenn she had slayed in battle, and had taken the weapon as a valuable trophy. On her back was her bow, a true masterpiece. The bow was finely crafted out of sentinel wood, from that of a sentinel tree. Recurved, it had a strong draw back and fires quick. Freya stepped out of the tent, feeling the cold wind breeze past her face. It had affected her less when warged into Talon, though she knew she could not warg forever - as much as she wished she could. Freya pulled on her thick white fur gloves and made her way to the Elder’s cottage. On the way, she heard what seemed to sound like Horegg’s voice. Freya decided to investigate, she did not see the boy as a friend but Movar had, which made him of some importance. Freya found the fourteen year old boy sitting next to the old crow that had recently joined them, the two were talking about something but had stopped when they noticed her.
“Hey Freya.” Horegg said, with a smile that seemed to warm her soul. Freya did not show it though, not in front of a crow.
“Come here Horegg, we do not lower ourselves to the standards of a crow.” Horegg’s face grew confused, then seemingly defensive.
“We were only talking, weren’t we Odin.” The one-eyed crow nodded in agreeance, but Freya was not taking chances.
“And what was it you were talking about?” Horegg looked to Odin, then back to Freya.
“Well, he said he knew father. He was telling me about his days back at the Wall, with the Night’s Watch. Odin thinks I would be a valuable asset to the Watch.” Freya shook her head, feeling the anger build up inside of her.
“The Night’s Watch hate us, they will come for us until there are none of us left. Go home Horegg, and stay there.” Horegg’s face grew red with anger.
“I’m nearly a man! I may do as I bloody well please. We are the Free Folk! You have no power over me!” Horegg stood up, his hands clenched into a fist. The boy’s breath intake and outtake was increasing rapidly.
“And if you stick with this crow, you will lose your freedom and become a slave of the Wall. Do the right thing and go home.” For a moment, Freya thought that the young adolescent was going to jump at her, but he quickly raced off instead.
Freya turned her attention to the crow who called himself ‘Odin,’ he was staring right at her with his one pale brown eye. His gray mustache connected with his mutton chops on the side of his head. His hair was long and worn out, he wore an eyepatch over his other eye.
“I better not find you going near that boy again, crow. You won’t like it if I do.” The old man frowned.
“We were only talking, my lady. Nothing more, nothing less.” Freya grunted and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t play stupid with me crow. I know what you’re doing, if you want to kill the Ancient Crow than you go up to him and challenge him. Know that you’ll have all of his allies beating your arse to the ground before you lift a finger.” The old man smirked.
“Noted.” Freya did not like the man, but she did respect his lack of fear.
Freya climbed the icy stone steps to Elder Thorrand’s cottage. Making sure to not humiliate herself by slipping, she opened the thatch door and entered. Inside, the old man sat by his fire, he wore his heavy dark brown - verging black - mammoth pelt suit. His necklace made of the separate spinal vertebrae from a wooly mammoth. Opposite of him sat Chieftain Grognak Ironside, the man who had never been defeated in battle - nor scarred by any blade. He spoke with a deep and rough voice, though when he noticed Elder Thorrand looking at Freya he went quiet. The elder spoke up in his absence.
“Freya Hawkeye, take by the fire. The chief and I were just concluding our conversation.” Grognak stood and nodded.
“Thank you, Thorrand.” Grognak turned and took his leave, looking at Freya the entire time.
Once he was gone, Freya sat herself in the seat that Grognak had just left. The seat was wooden, but covered in warm thick pelts, which made it comfortable. The old bald man studied her with his silver eyes, a scar ran down his left eye down to his cheek. His wrinkled had seemed to increase since their last talk.
“I see you still carry the bow I gifted you with.” Freya had left the bow next to the doorway, she turned and check to see it was still there. When satisfied, she turned back and gave the old man a warm smile.
“I use it every day, it was a well thought gift.” The old man gave a weak but happy smile.
“You honour me. What can I do for you?” Freya waited a moment, gathering her thoughts. Then begun to tell him of her warging experience. How she had heard the voice when she flew close to the crow camp.
“It was the first time I had ever been afraid when warging. Well, ever since my first warg with the bear at least.” The old man pondered on the words, remaining silent for a few minutes before enlightening her on his opinion.
“All of this sounds very similar to a warg I trained many years before your birth. He was truly gifted, warging into many animals all at once. It tore his mind apart, or ‘widened his view’ as he put it. It drove him mad, and before I could advise him to stop warging with so many animals, he disappeared without a trace.” Thorrand’s expression was sad, but he quickly straightened up when Freya spoke.
“Are you saying I’m going mad?” Thorrand shook his head.
“No, but I would say that spending so much time through the eyes of your hawk is not doing you any good. Try giving it a rest, perhaps these voices will fade.” Freya could not believe what she was hearing, the one best thing in her life was being pulled away from her. She shook her head.
“Thank you, Elder, for your guidance.” The Elder nodded, keeping a warm smile.
“Stay safe, Freya Hawkeye.” Freya stood and walked to the door, slinging her bow onto her back. She turned and looked at the old man, whose eyes were reflecting the flames of the fire.
Freya exited the door to the Elder’s cottage feeling disappointed and confused. Am I really going insane? Just from warging with one bird? The thought frightened her. Freya sighed irritably and made her way back home, walking the same route as she had came through earlier. She stopped by the small tent of the old crow, and was pleasantly surprised to see him no longer there. She walked in closer to check if he was asleep, though when she checked inside there was nothing. She turned around, noticing a fresh set of footprints leading away in the freshly fallen snow. What is he up to? Freya frowned, she did not trust the crow but she knew he had thrown away his vows to be free. One day she might have to respect him in raiding, or be his shield sister in battle. She thought about tracking him down, finding out where he was lurking. Though she could also spend some time with her brother, get a drink and talk about her meeting with the Elder.
[Find Odin] [Seek out Movar]
Yes, and I love them a lot. I would have to say that Freya is one of my more favorable characters. Speaking of which, I just released the next part which I hope you will like :P XD
Prestan
A strong gale pushed against the old stone forts from the east. The wind howled as it coursed its way through the towers and open buildings, causing objects to fall or be picked up with the wind. It was in the courtyard, on the elevating platform, that Prestan Blacktyde stood with an iron longsword in his hands. He stared down to the man below him, he was held down by two black brothers, his head moved irritably on a wooden block. Prestan looked at the man shamefully, this had been the second traitor in the past month. How many more executions before it will get into their thick heads? Prestan wondered, growing tired of having to execute men he had once called his brothers. Prestan sighed, clearly irritated and miserable.
“Travis Codd, son of Lord Marak Codd. Here in sights of the gods, and brothers of the Watch, I sentence you to die. If you have any final words, you may speak them now.” The big man looked up to Prestan, then down to the crowd in front of him.
“That storm was only the warning to some worse to come. If you shits are too naive to notice, than let you suffer in the hands of the Storm God.” The fat bald man lowered his head, showing his fat around his neck. The cut had to be clean, or the men would lose respect for him.
Prestan took a deep breath, tightening his grip on his iron longsword. He gave one final look to the pale fat man with a wide mouth and pop eyes, then swung his sword over his head and delivered a clean blow through the man’s neck. The head fell cleanly to the muddy ground below, and the decapitated body rolled off the block. Prestan watched as most of the Northmen brothers nodded in respect, others muttered under their breath or simply walked away. Prestan cleaned the blood from his sword on the black cloak of the traitor, then sheathed it. Peter Grassfield, his personal steward, came up to meet him.
Peter was a friendly and humorous man, being part of the reason Prestan had chosen him for his steward. Peter was thirty eight, and had served his oath for eight years. He was a bald man with a chestnut brown beard. His eyes were a very dark brown, verging on black, and he carried a war axe with him. His usual cheery expression had been replaced with some saddened and grim.
“Commander, a raven flew in from Skane. I have left the letter on your desk.” Prestan thought to himself grimly. Another one? I already told Ser Harold that I cannot give him anymore men.
“Thank you, Pete. Please inform Maester Dovan that I wish to see him in my quarters.” The steward nodded, turning and leaving.
Prestan sighed and descended down the steps as two stewards dealt with the headless body. He took a glimpse at the Wall, it stood glimmering in the short moment of sunlight, before clouds covered and obscured the light. The Wall stood completely unaffected from the elements, not even the hottest days affected the block of ice that separated modern civilisation from primal civilisation - or at least that was how Prestan saw it. He crossed the courtyard and entered the Commander’s Tower, the fattest tower in all of Eastwatch. The layout of Eastwatch was simple, and it was also one of the few castles that were permitted to be walled in the off chance of a wildling attack. Eastwatch had a dozen watchtowers built into the outer and inner walls, and one large fat tower which covered both walls and was the Commander’s Quarters. The Maester’s Tower was north west of the Commander’s Tower, and the rest of the Black Brothers resided in the main keep - which was located in the centre of the castle. Those who did not reside there were branches of stewards, such as the fishers and sailors, black brothers on Watch and local Northern fishermen - these men could be found in the small quartermaster village directly east of Eastwatch.
Prestan entered the Commander’s Tower and climbed the steps to his quarter’s. The bottom floor belonged to Peter Grassfield, whereas Prestan lived higher up in the tower. Prestan’s desk and office were on the middle floor. He sat himself behind his desk, which was covered in letters and decrees. He sighed irritably and reclined in his uncomfortable wooden chair. The work seemed almost overwhelming, but as Commander of Eastwatch, it was his role to make the hard decisions which no one else could. Before he was elected he had captained Bladewake, a vessel he had brought to the Watch when his father had banished him from Blacktyde. His ironborn crew had abandoned him once he decided to bring his vessel with him, meaning he had to hire a crew from the Arbor to help him get to the Wall. It had been many years since he had controlled the helm of Bladewake, and he presumed many more years would come until he ever would.
Prestan sat himself up straight and picked up the sealed letter from Skane. The seal bared no sigil, which seemed odd because all ravens he recieved from Skane bared the sigil of the Night’s Watch. This is not from Ser Harold. Prestan thought as he broke the seal and unrolled the paper.
To the Commander of Eastwatch.
I am nothing but a man who wishes to farm his lands in peace, and we all know well enough that peace is hard to come by these rough days. The Skanish have supplied the men of the Night’s Watch with crops and fresh soil in payment for protection. The too few men of the Watch are oft drunk and not doing their job. The Skagosi are seeing this and are growing more confident with larger numbers than the Watch can overcome. Only a week ago they attempted to raid our supplies, we fought and bled and died before the Watch showed, and they would not have if it were not for my boy. A boy shy of seven years. This is unacceptable, innocent men, women and children are dying and we need your help. The Watch pledge to be the shield that guards the realms of men. Guard us.
Jorge.
Prestan placed the letter down, staring blindly at the desk. The raids at Skane had been becoming more and more of an issue. Prestan wished he could send more men to their aid, but they had under three hundred men left at Eastwatch, and the brothers were needed in other places. Prestan intended to send a raven to the Lord Commander requesting they have more men, though with the recent deserters he had been caught up with he just hadn’t found the time. Prestan cleared the desk of the messy unread papers. Opening a drawer he pulled out his ink and quill, and a sheet of paper. He began writing to the sound of the howling wind, at one point he stopped because he thought the tower was shaking. Prestan rolled that paper and sealed it with red wax, the sigil of the crow displayed nicely on the seal. Footsteps entered the tower as soon as he placed down the letter. Prestan gazed at the stairwell, and soon enough Maester Dovan rose from the stairwell with Peter Grassfield.
“Commander, Maester. Is there anything else you need from me, Commander?” Prestan shook his head, appreciative of the Peter’s quick haste.
“No, that will be all Peter. Go reward yourself with Ale and chowder at the Mess Hall.” Peter nodded graciously.
“Thank you, Commander.” Prestan watched as Peter descended down the steps, and waited until he was sure he was gone. He looked to Maester Dovan, his curly gray hair was neck length.
“Will you take a seat, Maester?” The old man nodded and sat opposite of him.
“How can I be of assistance, Commander Blacktyde?” Prestan sighed, not knowing where to start.
“I need your counsel. I have received ravens from both Skane and hidden allies in Hardhome.” The maester nodded.
“Dark wings, dark words.” Prestan frowned.
“Unfortunately. Hardhome has been getting more attention from Braavosi traders. Reports go on to say that a ship comes in once a week, delivering cargo from wine and spices to poisons and weapons.” Prestan watched Dovan’s head bob up and down continuously.
“And what of the Skanish?” Prestan sighed.
“Increased reports of Skagosi raids, not enough brothers to hold the line. It’s likely we will lose Skane if we do not send aid. Only issue is we only have enough men to spare to go to either Hardhome or Skane. That is where I stuck. If the wildlings are preparing an assault on the Wall then we need to know about it, but if we lose Skane than one of our main sources for income will be lost - and hundreds of innocents will die.” The old maester gave Prestan a pitiful look, only adding onto the stress.
“You are burdened with a heavy decision, Commander. To do the right thing or to do the just thing. If the Watch falls to the Wildlings, there will be no brothers to protect the Skanish. Yet if the Skanish fall to the Skagosi, there will be no one to protect and a loss of income which we dearly need. My advice? The Umbers. They are the Stark’s bannermen and will no doubt be held up with the threats of war, but if we could call for their aid before the fighting begins then there is a slight chance they could help us.” Prestan did not like his options.
“A slight chance.” Prestan said quietly, feeling the doom weigh upon him.
“Or we could call on Greenguard, they have over a thousand men to spare.” The Maester said with some thought, Prestan shook his head.
“Commander Redwyne is a green boy. Stubborn and relying heavily on the counsel of his officers. Your gods know as well as mine that his officers are corrupted. We will get no men from them.” The Maester shrugged.
“Perhaps the boy commander will have grown his own legs by now. Either way, we will have as much of a chance with him as we will with Lord Donovan Umber.” Prestan sighed, admittedly the Maester was right. Though he did not trust the men at Greenguard, they were filled with more dishonorable men than honorable. Though isn’t most of the Watch?
“Thank you, Dovan. Your counsel has been of great assistance.” The Maester nodded in thanks.
“Of course, Commander. Would there be anything else you require of me?” Prestan had nearly forgotten about the letter, he picked it up and handed it to Dovan.
“For the Lord Commander.” The Maester nodded, then turned and left. Prestan watched as the old man scurried towards the stairwell then descended the stone steps. When he was gone, Prestan rested his head on the desk, using his arms to cushion his head.
To do the right thing, or the just thing. Which is which? Prestan thought as he played with his neck-length black wavy hair.
Choice 1: [Send remaining men to Hardhome] [Send remaining men to Skane]
Choice 2: [Request aid from the Umbers] [Request aid from Greenguard]
[Find Odin]
Choice 1: [Send remaining men to Skane]
Choice 2: [Request aid from Greenguard]
Those choices are definitely worth justification. First one: Night's Watch needs supplies, and Skagos is the only place where they can have supplies provided. Also, we can't afford losing Hardhome, so i hope there will be choice where we can send people from Skane to Hardhome (as it's not that far away). Second - of course, Umbers would be better choice, but I looked on it from different perspective: there's a tense situation between Starks and Boltons now, so Starks will need they bannermen i suppose. When we ask them, we are taking away their powerful ally. I think most of us want Starks to win that battle, so requesting Greenguard may not be the best option for the Watch, but it'll be definitely better for the Kingdom. Okay, that's all, but on the other hand - I really can't wait for the Haunted Forest part - firstly, because there's my character here (he's only in this fanfic by far), and secondly: you left us with terrible cliffhanger about this Stranger, so I'm really looking forward to his story going on.
[Find Odin]
Freya
I loved that part and she was just as I imagined her while writing. And I am very excited for future parts of her. I'm curious about this voice she heard. I guess that might have been the Stranger, although it is just an assumption.
As for this choice, I think finding Odin sounds more exciting. While I loved the interaction between Freya and Movar, I think folloing Odin could be a bit more interesting. Also, I am curious. I just hope he won't be dangerous for her
[Send remaining men to Skane]
[Request aid from Greenguard]
MicroAce basically summed up exactly what I was thinking. The Umbers could be much needed allies for the Starks if the Bolton situation escalates into a full-scale war. And with people like Rila on the Bolton side, the situation is likely to escalate sooner or later. For the first choice, we know the people in Skane thanks to Jorge's PoV, which I have enjoyed a lot, and keeping them safe comes first for me. There is also the thing with their supplies, which makes Skane invaluable for the Watch.
[Find Odin]
[Send remaining men to Skane]
[Request aid from the Umbers]
[Find Odin]
[Send remaining men to Skane] [Request aid from Greenguard]