Darrick
Darrick Cross sat stumped over the counter, a tankard of mead in his hand. His golden reflection stared back at him as he looked … moreinto his tankard. Darrick was a young man, twenty-two, and his looks certainly made him admirable. His hair was short and scruffy, with a dark brown shade, and his beard was much the same. However his eyes showed a deep set blue that had attracted many women to him before. His only falter was a scar that ran down his right eye, which was the reason why he was drinking in a bar in the Reach, rather than fighting with his brother in Dorne. He sighed and downed the entire tankard, hoping that it would drown his sorrows and shame with it. Instead, it only built up his urge to urinate. Disappointed with the outcome, Darrick helped himself up and located the back door. As he started to head there he heard the sounds of sniggering men and a harassed woman. He turned, mildly curious, and saw a beautiful woman in … [view original content]
Darrick
Darrick Cross sat stumped over the counter, a tankard of mead in his hand. His golden reflection stared back at him as he looked … moreinto his tankard. Darrick was a young man, twenty-two, and his looks certainly made him admirable. His hair was short and scruffy, with a dark brown shade, and his beard was much the same. However his eyes showed a deep set blue that had attracted many women to him before. His only falter was a scar that ran down his right eye, which was the reason why he was drinking in a bar in the Reach, rather than fighting with his brother in Dorne. He sighed and downed the entire tankard, hoping that it would drown his sorrows and shame with it. Instead, it only built up his urge to urinate. Disappointed with the outcome, Darrick helped himself up and located the back door. As he started to head there he heard the sounds of sniggering men and a harassed woman. He turned, mildly curious, and saw a beautiful woman in … [view original content]
Both choices sound equally interesting for me in terms of possible storylines and I have no clear preference. However, I chose this one out of pragmatism. We already have a PoV in Dorne and he is already involved with the Cross Company. However, we have none in the Reach, so it could be interesting to have a PoV there.
Darrick
Darrick Cross sat stumped over the counter, a tankard of mead in his hand. His golden reflection stared back at him as he looked … moreinto his tankard. Darrick was a young man, twenty-two, and his looks certainly made him admirable. His hair was short and scruffy, with a dark brown shade, and his beard was much the same. However his eyes showed a deep set blue that had attracted many women to him before. His only falter was a scar that ran down his right eye, which was the reason why he was drinking in a bar in the Reach, rather than fighting with his brother in Dorne. He sighed and downed the entire tankard, hoping that it would drown his sorrows and shame with it. Instead, it only built up his urge to urinate. Disappointed with the outcome, Darrick helped himself up and located the back door. As he started to head there he heard the sounds of sniggering men and a harassed woman. He turned, mildly curious, and saw a beautiful woman in … [view original content]
It seems more promising to Darrick, as he rescued potential Lannister princess, and now he is given an offer to protect her in the way to Casterly Rock - it can open many possibilities to him, assuming that Rose should not leave him without any reward. Well, being a friend to Lannisters is way better that being theirs enemy ^^
Darrick
Darrick Cross sat stumped over the counter, a tankard of mead in his hand. His golden reflection stared back at him as he looked … moreinto his tankard. Darrick was a young man, twenty-two, and his looks certainly made him admirable. His hair was short and scruffy, with a dark brown shade, and his beard was much the same. However his eyes showed a deep set blue that had attracted many women to him before. His only falter was a scar that ran down his right eye, which was the reason why he was drinking in a bar in the Reach, rather than fighting with his brother in Dorne. He sighed and downed the entire tankard, hoping that it would drown his sorrows and shame with it. Instead, it only built up his urge to urinate. Disappointed with the outcome, Darrick helped himself up and located the back door. As he started to head there he heard the sounds of sniggering men and a harassed woman. He turned, mildly curious, and saw a beautiful woman in … [view original content]
Alright, well I'll close this vote. Darrick will choose to escort Rose to Casterly Rock.
You'll have to forgive me for not saying much on this decision as it's nearly 2 am and i'm tired as f*ck. I will say that this of course was an important decision and I think out of pragmatism you guys made a good choice. Next part I think is either Toregg or Jorge, which means I gotta close that bloody vote which I have to decide for!
Darrick
Darrick Cross sat stumped over the counter, a tankard of mead in his hand. His golden reflection stared back at him as he looked … moreinto his tankard. Darrick was a young man, twenty-two, and his looks certainly made him admirable. His hair was short and scruffy, with a dark brown shade, and his beard was much the same. However his eyes showed a deep set blue that had attracted many women to him before. His only falter was a scar that ran down his right eye, which was the reason why he was drinking in a bar in the Reach, rather than fighting with his brother in Dorne. He sighed and downed the entire tankard, hoping that it would drown his sorrows and shame with it. Instead, it only built up his urge to urinate. Disappointed with the outcome, Darrick helped himself up and located the back door. As he started to head there he heard the sounds of sniggering men and a harassed woman. He turned, mildly curious, and saw a beautiful woman in … [view original content]
The sea breeze had set a mild swell which lapped across the Skanish bay and gently rippled against the Shadowbeak. The vessel was smaller than the Night’s Watch’s war and merchant ships. The Shadowbeak was a transporter vessel for men joining the Watch from the isles and coasts of Westeros. Jorge stood with Ser Harold Flowers, the acting commander since Commander Warrek had fallen ill. Jorge inspected the crew on the Shadowbeak: The original crew plus all of the Night’s Watch from Skane, around a dozen men which Jorge recognised to be farmers and shepherds. Finally, there was Jorge’s family, huddled together at the starboard aft of the ship.
A middle aged man with a short crew cut and a large and tangled black beard joined Ser Harold and Jorge as they watched the ship prepare to leave the shore. Jorge had recalled Ser Harold saying that this man was Dracon Estermont, the captain of the vessel - though his crew had nicknamed him Blackbeard. The bulk of a man crossed his arms and turned his head to Ser Harold.
“Are we ready to go? This sea breeze will stir up the bay once the swell rolls in from the Shivering Sea.” Ser Harold looked at the men who all had finished their jobs aboard and seemed eager to leave. Fucking traitors, Jorge bitterly thought to himself as he bit his lip. Ser Harold nodded.
“To Eastwatch.” Dracon repeated Ser Harold’s voice in a louder booming tone, setting the crew into motion. As the young crew of the Shadowbeak scurried around the deck, Ser Harold gripped Jorge’s shoulder.
“I know it was a hard decision to make Jorge, but I’m glad you’re joining us. I promise you’ll be able to see your family often, this you can hold me to.” Jorge felt like he could have said many words, though instead he just nodded and left the man appeased.
Jorge left Ser Harold and descended down the steps to the lower deck where his family sat. He gently moved through the small huddled crowds until he reached his wife and children. He sat down beside them and gave an encouraging smile to his young son, Croll. Tanya linked her arm around Jorge’s and leaned into his shoulder. Jorge sighed gently, feeling regret and dismay.
“Ser Harold still believes I’m to take the black.” Tanya nodded.
“Let’s keep it that way, we don’t want our plan exposed.” Kyra had leaned in closer with Croll in her lap.
“So what exactly is our plan?” Tanya turned to see if anyone was watching, then turned back to her daughter.
“Your father will go to the Nightfort or wherever they take him to take his vows, and will escape there and make his way to Ol’Tower. By then, us three should have already detached from the main group heading to Darkhold and be on our way to Ol’Tower as well.” Kyra frowned.
“And what if father cannot escape?” Jorge turned to Kyra and gave her a warm smile.
“Everything will be alright my girl, we’ll all be safe at Ol’Tower soon enough.” Jorge himself could not trust the words that he was saying, he did not even know if the Oldstark’s would allow them refuge anymore.
As his family quietly whispered among themselves, Jorge had been inspecting the men that were going to join the Watch. He recognised a few sheep herders, farmers and dirt ploughers, though he did not see his neighbour Karne among the crowd. A familiar face Jorge did recognise over the rest was the boy with the scythe who saved his life during the battle against the Skagosi. He sat alone with his legs tucked into his chest, gently rocking himself back and forth. Jorge turned to Tanya and squeezed her hand before he stood up and walked to the boy. Once again carefully stepping through the bunched crowds, making an effort not to snap anyone's fingers, Jorge reached the boy and knelt down next to him. He extended his hand to the young man, who Jorge though to have been around twelve years of age. The young man took Jorge’s hand with a firm grip, surprising Jorge but making him grin.
“I’m Jorge. You saved my life when the Skaggs were burning down the Hub. I wanted to thank you.” The boy smiled and nodded in appreciation.
“My name is Lucan, and I was only trying to do my part.” Jorge returned the smile.
“Where are your family, Lucan?” Jorge felt like he already knew the answer, but one could only be hopeful in these circumstances. Lucan’s warm expression went dull, emotionless and expressionless.
“They’re dead.” He said the words like he was only coming to the understanding of it himself. Jorge nodded sadly.
“I’m sorry, my family and I are happy to watch over you if you need us to.” Lucan looked up at Jorge with thankful eyes, though Jorge could see the tears welling up.
“Thank you. Though your family won’t be with us at the Wall, it’ll only be us.” Jorge shivered at the thought of seeing a twelve year old boy being sent to the Wall with the murderers and rapists that resided there.
“Do you want to take the black?” Lucan shrugged.
“I just wanted to get away from Skane. My father had always told me that the Night’s Watch was an honourable place filled with honourable men who were tasked with the defence of the kingdom.” Jorge frowned. Naive father. Jorge turned to his family, he could see his wife staring at him.
Jorge felt a sudden urge to inform the boy of their plan to evade the Wall, he wanted to take the boy with him to Ol’Tower to experience a better life then the Wall would have to offer. Though Jorge ran the risks through his mind, if the boy did not want to go with them their was the risk that he could tell one of the black brothers and their plan would be ruined. Jorge sighed and turned to the boy, undecided on whether to tell the boy or not.
[Ask Lucan to accompany them to Ol’Tower] [Keep the plan concealed]
Hey guys, apologies for the short part. Jorge's next part will be at Eastwatch, and that should hopefully get a bit more interesting.
Jorge
The sea breeze had set a mild swell which lapped across the Skanish bay and gently rippled against the Shadowbeak. The vessel was s… moremaller than the Night’s Watch’s war and merchant ships. The Shadowbeak was a transporter vessel for men joining the Watch from the isles and coasts of Westeros. Jorge stood with Ser Harold Flowers, the acting commander since Commander Warrek had fallen ill. Jorge inspected the crew on the Shadowbeak: The original crew plus all of the Night’s Watch from Skane, around a dozen men which Jorge recognised to be farmers and shepherds. Finally, there was Jorge’s family, huddled together at the starboard aft of the ship.
A middle aged man with a short crew cut and a large and tangled black beard joined Ser Harold and Jorge as they watched the ship prepare to leave the shore. Jorge had recalled Ser Harold saying that this man was Dracon Estermont, the captain of the vessel - though his crew had nicknamed him Bl… [view original content]
Jorge
The sea breeze had set a mild swell which lapped across the Skanish bay and gently rippled against the Shadowbeak. The vessel was s… moremaller than the Night’s Watch’s war and merchant ships. The Shadowbeak was a transporter vessel for men joining the Watch from the isles and coasts of Westeros. Jorge stood with Ser Harold Flowers, the acting commander since Commander Warrek had fallen ill. Jorge inspected the crew on the Shadowbeak: The original crew plus all of the Night’s Watch from Skane, around a dozen men which Jorge recognised to be farmers and shepherds. Finally, there was Jorge’s family, huddled together at the starboard aft of the ship.
A middle aged man with a short crew cut and a large and tangled black beard joined Ser Harold and Jorge as they watched the ship prepare to leave the shore. Jorge had recalled Ser Harold saying that this man was Dracon Estermont, the captain of the vessel - though his crew had nicknamed him Bl… [view original content]
Jorge
The sea breeze had set a mild swell which lapped across the Skanish bay and gently rippled against the Shadowbeak. The vessel was s… moremaller than the Night’s Watch’s war and merchant ships. The Shadowbeak was a transporter vessel for men joining the Watch from the isles and coasts of Westeros. Jorge stood with Ser Harold Flowers, the acting commander since Commander Warrek had fallen ill. Jorge inspected the crew on the Shadowbeak: The original crew plus all of the Night’s Watch from Skane, around a dozen men which Jorge recognised to be farmers and shepherds. Finally, there was Jorge’s family, huddled together at the starboard aft of the ship.
A middle aged man with a short crew cut and a large and tangled black beard joined Ser Harold and Jorge as they watched the ship prepare to leave the shore. Jorge had recalled Ser Harold saying that this man was Dracon Estermont, the captain of the vessel - though his crew had nicknamed him Bl… [view original content]
It might be the nice thing to give Lucan the chance to escape, but I think the risk is far too high. While he himself stated that he only wanted to get away from Skane, he never stated that he does not want to serve the Watch. We don't know enough about him to deduce his opinion on this matter. At worst, he screws up the plan for Jorge and his family, so not telling him about this seems like the smart thing to do.
Jorge
The sea breeze had set a mild swell which lapped across the Skanish bay and gently rippled against the Shadowbeak. The vessel was s… moremaller than the Night’s Watch’s war and merchant ships. The Shadowbeak was a transporter vessel for men joining the Watch from the isles and coasts of Westeros. Jorge stood with Ser Harold Flowers, the acting commander since Commander Warrek had fallen ill. Jorge inspected the crew on the Shadowbeak: The original crew plus all of the Night’s Watch from Skane, around a dozen men which Jorge recognised to be farmers and shepherds. Finally, there was Jorge’s family, huddled together at the starboard aft of the ship.
A middle aged man with a short crew cut and a large and tangled black beard joined Ser Harold and Jorge as they watched the ship prepare to leave the shore. Jorge had recalled Ser Harold saying that this man was Dracon Estermont, the captain of the vessel - though his crew had nicknamed him Bl… [view original content]
Jorge
The sea breeze had set a mild swell which lapped across the Skanish bay and gently rippled against the Shadowbeak. The vessel was s… moremaller than the Night’s Watch’s war and merchant ships. The Shadowbeak was a transporter vessel for men joining the Watch from the isles and coasts of Westeros. Jorge stood with Ser Harold Flowers, the acting commander since Commander Warrek had fallen ill. Jorge inspected the crew on the Shadowbeak: The original crew plus all of the Night’s Watch from Skane, around a dozen men which Jorge recognised to be farmers and shepherds. Finally, there was Jorge’s family, huddled together at the starboard aft of the ship.
A middle aged man with a short crew cut and a large and tangled black beard joined Ser Harold and Jorge as they watched the ship prepare to leave the shore. Jorge had recalled Ser Harold saying that this man was Dracon Estermont, the captain of the vessel - though his crew had nicknamed him Bl… [view original content]
Jorge
The sea breeze had set a mild swell which lapped across the Skanish bay and gently rippled against the Shadowbeak. The vessel was s… moremaller than the Night’s Watch’s war and merchant ships. The Shadowbeak was a transporter vessel for men joining the Watch from the isles and coasts of Westeros. Jorge stood with Ser Harold Flowers, the acting commander since Commander Warrek had fallen ill. Jorge inspected the crew on the Shadowbeak: The original crew plus all of the Night’s Watch from Skane, around a dozen men which Jorge recognised to be farmers and shepherds. Finally, there was Jorge’s family, huddled together at the starboard aft of the ship.
A middle aged man with a short crew cut and a large and tangled black beard joined Ser Harold and Jorge as they watched the ship prepare to leave the shore. Jorge had recalled Ser Harold saying that this man was Dracon Estermont, the captain of the vessel - though his crew had nicknamed him Bl… [view original content]
Wow, so we're back to a solid number of voters which certainly makes me happy. This vote was clear to see the outcome, Jorge will keep the plan concealed.
I think what needs to be known about this is that Jorge has had a longing to see his son, Kaiden, since he left Skane for a different life. When fighting at the Hub, Jorge saw a spark in Lucan which reminded him of Kaiden when he was a child. So that is why he has insisted to adopt this fatherly role and take him with them, as he does not wish for the boy to suffer the same fate of being sent to the Wall as his son did. Anyway, keeping the plan a secret is a good idea too. We have no ideas of Lucan's plans so best just to stick to their own. Anyway, next part I've been working on is Toregg which likely won't have a vote. So there is a possibility that there will be another part coming out today as well but that's only me hoping I have enough time. Apologies I did not release a part yesterday, I was so caught up in making characters for a new story that I completely forgot about my own! Anyway, Toregg's part should be out reasonably soon.
Jorge
The sea breeze had set a mild swell which lapped across the Skanish bay and gently rippled against the Shadowbeak. The vessel was s… moremaller than the Night’s Watch’s war and merchant ships. The Shadowbeak was a transporter vessel for men joining the Watch from the isles and coasts of Westeros. Jorge stood with Ser Harold Flowers, the acting commander since Commander Warrek had fallen ill. Jorge inspected the crew on the Shadowbeak: The original crew plus all of the Night’s Watch from Skane, around a dozen men which Jorge recognised to be farmers and shepherds. Finally, there was Jorge’s family, huddled together at the starboard aft of the ship.
A middle aged man with a short crew cut and a large and tangled black beard joined Ser Harold and Jorge as they watched the ship prepare to leave the shore. Jorge had recalled Ser Harold saying that this man was Dracon Estermont, the captain of the vessel - though his crew had nicknamed him Bl… [view original content]
Metal talked with metal in the cry of swordplay, all dancing around Toregg has quickly tried to make his decision. Toregg started to run at the two crows that had singled Amathe from the rest of the fight, showing her little restraint. Toregg met one of the crow’s head on, piercing him through the back with Thorn before the man knew what had happened. The second crow noticed that the odds were against him, though before he could escape Amathe had struck him down with her axe. Toregg exchanged glances with Amathe, though then came to realisation that Thorald was still pinned to the ground. Toregg quickly spun around, though it was too late. The teenager had been skewered through the heart, his lifeless body lay beneath the crow who opposed him. Toregg advanced towards the crow, swinging Thorn over his head and down towards the crow. The brother of the Night’s Watch parried the blow and returned with a lunge heading for Toregg’s head. Toregg dodge the incoming blade and swung Thorn at the opponent’s hand as he lunged his sword passed. The sword and man’s forearm fell to the muddy ground, along with an agonising scream. Toregg plunged Thorn into the crow’s chest, and watched as the crow’s life sapped out of his eyes and his corpse fell to the ground. Toregg turned to check on Amathe, who was butchering a struggling crow apart with her hatchet. Toregg turned back to the lifeless corpse of Thorald, kneeling down beside the teenager that was one a close friend of Torwynd. He gently sighed and grabbed the boy’s hands and placed them over his wound, then respectfully shut his eyes from their cruel world. Toregg stood up, ready to fend an attack, and searched around for any danger. To his surprise, the Nightrunners were pushing back the crow’s. Some were starting to retreat back up the hills as the Nightrunners started chasing them down. Toregg turned back to Amathe, who was now by Toregg’s side staring at Thorald.
“The damned boy chased after me when he noticed that I had taken three. He managed to separate the best of the fucking three and get himself killed. Poor kid.” Toregg nodded, slightly saddened by still keeping his head held high.
“He was my son’s friend.” Amathe let out a sad sigh.
“You should go check on your family, the fight is as good as over.” Toregg shook his head, glad that he had sent Horegg to send them away.
“They’d all be at the ice cells by now.” Toregg noticed Amathe raise any eyebrow.
“Toregg, I saw Ygwyn and Torwynd outside of your home just a moment ago, fighting crows.” It was now Toregg who raised his eyebrows, slightly confused and starting to worry. He walked past Amathe, starting back for his home.
“Toregg, is everything alright?” Toregg ignored her and quickened his pace.
The bodies of his fallen brothers and sisters in arms, as well as a few crows, scattered the muddy lands they called their home. Toregg ran over the corpses until he made it home, and sure enough his wife and son were there, sitting next to each other. Toregg quickly approached them, outrage on his face but truly he was just glad to see them safe.
“I told you to leave for the ice cells!” Ygwyn looked up at Toregg with confusion haunting her expression.
“You never told us this?” Now Torwynd also looked confused, and hungover. Toregg kicked one of the dead crow’s corpses that lay beside his family.
“I sent Horegg to tell you. Where the fuck is that damn boy?” Toregg entered the tent, starting to worry but hiding it with his anger. Disappointment filled him when he entered his home and saw no sign of Horegg. Ygwyn and Torwynd came inside.
“Horegg never came to us, we never knew.” Toregg turned to Ygwyn and grabbed her by her arms, fear could be seen in his eyes.
“We have to find him.” Ygwyn nodded, almost frightenedly. Torwynd started heading for the door though Toregg stopped him.
“Not you. Just get some fucking rest, I swear all my children are fucking idiots.” Immediately after Toregg had heard the words that came out of his mouth he instantly regretted saying them.
Toregg and Ygwyn walked outside, Amathe was waiting for them, clearly worried. Ygwyn walked to her and explained that Horegg was missing, while Toregg was starting to take a route that led to the back of the mead hall. Toregg hesitantly checked each of the corpses that were Nightrunner, fearful that one would be his son. The search lasted for ten minutes, until Toregg heard his name yelled - or rather screamed - by a terrified woman that he identified to be his wife. Toregg turned the direction of where he had heard the sound and started to run, his sheathed Thorn bounced against his leg. Toregg found his Ygwyn and Amathe in tears, holding a body in their arms. Toregg knelt down beside them, taking the corpse of his son into his arms. He tried to look at his son’s face, though the tears welling up in his eyes had obscured his vision. He turned and looked down to the arrow that had pierced Horegg through the belly, Toregg felt the tears rolling down from his eyes and falling down to the earth. He held his youngest boy close, Ygwyn had wrapped her arms around them both had started to weep. Toregg felt the lifeless corpse of his son rest against him, the dead weight not holding back. Toregg sadness soon turned to a fury anger and a lust for revenge. I will kill these fucking crows. These brothers I once respected, these fucking black cunts. I will kill them all! Toregg let out a large frightening shout of agony, that filled the air and haunted the forest.
No decision this time.
Hey guys, sorry for such a short part. Hope you enjoyed it for the small amount that it was. Anyway, next part will be introducing the final new character that I'm adding in this chapter (I think ). His name is Thorn Blackwood.
Toregg
Metal talked with metal in the cry of swordplay, all dancing around Toregg has quickly tried to make his decision. Toregg started … moreto run at the two crows that had singled Amathe from the rest of the fight, showing her little restraint. Toregg met one of the crow’s head on, piercing him through the back with Thorn before the man knew what had happened. The second crow noticed that the odds were against him, though before he could escape Amathe had struck him down with her axe. Toregg exchanged glances with Amathe, though then came to realisation that Thorald was still pinned to the ground. Toregg quickly spun around, though it was too late. The teenager had been skewered through the heart, his lifeless body lay beneath the crow who opposed him. Toregg advanced towards the crow, swinging Thorn over his head and down towards the crow. The brother of the Night’s Watch parried the blow and returned with a lunge heading for Toregg’s head.… [view original content]
Toregg
Metal talked with metal in the cry of swordplay, all dancing around Toregg has quickly tried to make his decision. Toregg started … moreto run at the two crows that had singled Amathe from the rest of the fight, showing her little restraint. Toregg met one of the crow’s head on, piercing him through the back with Thorn before the man knew what had happened. The second crow noticed that the odds were against him, though before he could escape Amathe had struck him down with her axe. Toregg exchanged glances with Amathe, though then came to realisation that Thorald was still pinned to the ground. Toregg quickly spun around, though it was too late. The teenager had been skewered through the heart, his lifeless body lay beneath the crow who opposed him. Toregg advanced towards the crow, swinging Thorn over his head and down towards the crow. The brother of the Night’s Watch parried the blow and returned with a lunge heading for Toregg’s head.… [view original content]
The Blue Fork flowed on an inward tide, brown trout could be seen swimming along with the tide. Thorn stood on the thick dead log that had sunken into the marshy terrain a century ago, in his hands he held a thin wooden rod with a line that floated in the Blue Fork. The day had been calm, the sky was mostly clear, apart from the clouds that blocked out the sun. It was a rare occurrence for an autumn day, though Thorn did not complain. He stood on the old log with patience, his arm steady and his eyes focussed on the buoy that floated above the small ripples of the Blue Fork. He waited for movement of the buoy, to feel a nibble through his rod, then he would pull in his catch. Behind Thorn stood his bastard cousin, Brock, who remained by Thorn’s side with a wooden bucket in hand. Brock would have joined Thorn with his own rod, if his line had not been severed and cut on a submerged log. The two remained quiet, they would speak after their catch, which Thorn could feel was soon as he had felt what he thought to be nibbles at his bait.
Thorn took his eyes of the buoy for a moment, staring into the pure flowing blue water by the edge of his boot, the water was rising and would soon sink their platform. Thorn ignored this, and stared at his reflection. He barely recognised the man who stared back at him. Curly black long hair which was slicked back, dark stubble sideburns. Dark brown eyes with specks of red, like rubies. The boy who had grown up in the Reach was certainly not the man who stared at Thorn through the running water. Thorn found himself startled as Brock Rivers shook his shoulder.
“Thorn, what in Seven hells are you doing? The buoy has sunk!” Thorn quickly looked, half confused and half panicked, and surely enough Brock was right.
Thorn then felt a tug at his rod. He clamped the stick between his thighs and started pulling in the fine line, minding not to slice it into his hands as he did it. The confused trout on the end of the line fought hard for it’s caught meal, rising to the surface of the water and getting the hook snagged into it’s gill. Thorn grinned and quickly pulled in the line, lifting the trout from it’s watery environment. The fish would be considered an ordinary sight to any regular fishermen, but Thorn admired the golden scales and brown spots which covered the trout. Thorn quickly placed the trout in the bucket it with the three others he and Brock and taken turns to catch. As Thorn unhooked the jumping fish he could feel his leather boot starting to submerge into the rising tide. Thorn ushered Brock to move to the dry land, which was only mildly drier than the marshy ground they stood above. Brock had pierced his dagger into the trout’s head, which was one of the things that Thorn hated about fishing. The two quickly scurried off the log which was starting to move beneath their feet and headed to their small camp. Brock placed the four trout on the large flat rock they had found and started to fillet them, while Thorn took the bucket and rods to the horses.
The two steeds stood close together and nibbled at the wet grass by their hooves. Thorn made himself known, then placed the gear onto their horses. The two coursers were sisters, named Rose and Pepper. Rose was Thorn’s steed, a light brown courser with a brown mane. Pepper on the other hand belonged to Brock, which was entirely black except for her dark brown eyes. Thorn sighed and stroked Rose’s mane, the name held a deep meaning to him. Thorn had barely noticed Brock approach Thorn with the fillets in hand.
“This was a good catch today, Mercer will be impressed.” Thorn shrugged, looking at the eight fillets. Mercer was the castle’s cook.
“They’ll feed the family, sure enough.” Brock frowned, perhaps it was more irritation appearing in his expression.
“What is wrong cousin? This is hardly a way a man should behave on his eighteenth birthday!” Thorn sighed, the number meant little meaning to him.
“It’s nothing Brock, we should get back home.” Thorn turned to mount his steed, though he felt Brock’s bloody hand grab his shoulder. Thorn turned to his cousin, whose eyes were serious but sympathetic.
“Tell me, Thorn.” Thorn stared at the seventeen year old bastard who he could call his only true friend. His hair was also long and wavy, though his hair was brown and his eyes blue. Thorn hesitated, though then submitted to his cousin.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about my family lately. My ‘traitorous father’ and how that affects me in this house. How my mother killed herself when my father passed. Rose…” Thorn’s words drifted off in the light wind coming in from the north. Brock sighed and placed the fillets in his satchel.
“You cannot change who your father was, or what your parents have chosen to do. Believe me, I’m a bastard and I should know. As for Rose, I’m still yet to understand why you left. You could have become a prince, though you came back here, to this shithole.” Thorn mounted his horse, Brock did so as well.
“I needed to find my family, my purpose.” Brock chuckled and spurred Pepper into a walk, Thorn joined him.
“As a nephew to Lord Bronn Blackwood, I can say you have as much a purpose as I do. We are at the bottom of the food chain in our house, with only you being just above me because of your name.” Thorn smirked and recited their houses words.
“Death whispers.” Brock grinned.
“Yet doesn’t act quick enough.” The two young men joined in laughter, and started their ride back to Raventree Hall.
-
The sun was starting to set in the east when they approached Raventree Hall. The ancient castle stood tall and strong, Blackwood soldiers patrolled the towers on their starting night shift. Raventree Hall itself was tall rather than large. Two large square towers stood side by side of the main gate, and a square tower was found at each angle in the large stone walls. As extra protection, the castle was surrounded with a deep moat, lined with stone.
The main gates rose as Thorn and Brock approached from their long ride. The two were eager to unload their gear and relax, it felt like their chat on the way back to Raventree was more energy consuming than their ride. Nonetheless, the men were both tired physically and mentally, and were glad to finally be back in the walls of Raventree Hall. As they rode through the gates and entered the muddy courtyard, they were surprised to see a large group of smallfolk and nobles alike, crowding around the stairs that led to main door of the actual hall. The two curiously dismounted their horses, to which some stable boys quickly took their horses to the stables. Ignoring that all their gear was still tied onto their horses, the two young men found themselves joining the crowd. Pushing their way through so they could get a better view, Thorn spotted his uncle, Lord Jon Blackwood. Thorn made his way to the front of the crowd, where he saw a man in a brown cloak in the mud. Lord Jon held his valyrian steel blade, Dark Matter, and stood over the man.
“God’s show mercy.” A smallfolk woman said under her breath. “He’ll find none here.” A man, which Thorn presumed to be the woman’s brother or husband, muttered in reply. Everyone hushed as Lord Jon spoke, Thorn could see the anger built up in the man’s face, the rage in his eyes.
“You refuse to give us your name, you refuse to talk at all. You have betrayed the Rivermen with your final crime.” Curiosity flooded Thorn’s mind. What could this man have possibly done to outrage Lord Jon so much? Brock, who had found his way beside Thorn, seemed to be asking the same thing with his expression.
Thorn could see the lord’s sons, Alec and Tyros, standing behind him - his only daughter Helyn was nowhere to be seen. Lord Jon motioned for the man to be brought to his knees. Two Blackwood soldiers picked up the man, facing him towards Lord Jon. Thorn could see the fear building up in the peasant’s face.
“Please m’lord, I beg of you, have mercy! I will go to the Wall, please! Let me go to the Wall!” The man pleaded, bending down and kissing the Lord’s boots. The soldiers pulled the man pack up, Lord Jon spoke with an angered tone.
“In the name of Bernarr of House Justman, King of the Trident, Rivers and Hills. I, Jon Blackwood, Lord of Raventree Hall, sentence you to death. Would you speak any final words?” The man laughed like a madman, fear in his eyes and tears streaming down his face.
“The Seven are true, the Blackwood’s will fall!” Lord Jon nodded to his men, who rested the man’s head on a wooden block. Lord Jon shot a glance at Thorn, then swung Dark Matter over his head and decapitated the man in one blow. Thorn did not flinch, though he felt nervous from his uncle looking at him. The head of the decapitated man rolled to Thorn’s feet, staring into a dark void that no one else could see.
Shortly after the crowd started to break apart, the Blackwood soldiers dragged the body away, one apologising to Thorn and removing the head from his presence. Thorn watched as Lord Jon and his son’s climbed the stairs to the main doors, entering and disappearing from Thorn’s view. Brock turned to Thorn and sighed.
“We should have camped out at Oldstones, father is going to be pissed.” Thorn contained his urge to chuckle and rested his hand on Brock’s shoulder.
“Just don’t piss him off and we’ll be fine. Come on, let’s go find out what’s happened, no doubt dinner will be served shortly.” The two headed for the stone stairs that led to the cavernous timber keep, the sun had set behind the tall stone walls.
-
Eating that night had been reasonably silent, except for the instruments playing in the background. The sound of lutes, flutes, drums and harps attempted to ease the tension that filled the air, though showed little result. Thorn sat in between Brock and Alec Blackwood, heir to Raventree Hall. Alec was a shy boy, unfit to rule in his father’s opinion. Around the table sat Lord Jon’s family and his trusted associates. At the head of the table was the angered and silent Lord Jon. On his left sat his closest advisor and sentinel, Cryus Black, a northmen. On his right was his new wife, Lady Clarissa Vance. Next to Cryus was Tyros Blackwood, a boy of eight, and Alec Blackwood, a boy of thirteen. Next to Clarissa was Helyn Blackwood, an age of fourteen, and Lord Jon’s sixteen year old squire, Hughes Terrick. The rest of the hall was filled with noblemen, jesters and the orchestra.
The nobles silently talked among themselves, though Lord Jon’s table had been reasonably silent. Cryus Black whispered in Lord Jon’s ear, Lady Clarissa and Helyn remained silent. Silent whispers were passed from side to side of the table. Thorn was yet to know what had happened earlier in the day, so he nudged Alec’s shoulder to ask. The boy turned with a confused and worried face, Thorn gave a weak smile.
“What happened today?” As Alec was about to answer, Lord Jon’s fist slammed the table with a loud thud. The entire hall went silent.
“They poisoned the weirwood Cryus! The birth ground of Raventree, the very soul of our religion. I will not let this go unpassed!” Thorn raised his eyebrows in shock, he could hear Brock gasp. Opposite of Thorn, Helyn got up from her chair and ran for the stairs which led up to her chambers.
“I understand that my lord, but we cannot simply assume it was the Bracken’s that poisoned the weirwood. We have been at peace for two generations, why would they choose to break that treaty now?” Cryus said, trying desperately to explain this to Thorn’s thick headed uncle.
“He does have a point father.” Thorn winced when he heard Brock speak, he had told him not to. Nothing could prepare the hall for his father’s wrath then.
“Shut your mouth bastard! You sit at my table at my goodwill, I will not hear your mockery in my hall, at my fucking table!” Thorn shook his head, irritated with his bastard cousin. Thorn was taken off guard when Lord Jon mentioned his name.
“Have something to contribute, nephew?” Thorn turned to Lord Jon, who must have mistaken Thorn’s disapproval of Brock for his own. Thorn turned his focus to the stairs, where Helyn had now entered her chambers. He sighed and turned back to his uncle.
“No uncle, apologies.” He nodded, still angry though seemingly settling down. He turned to Cryus with saddened eyes.
“Empty the hall.” Cryus nodded and turned to the guards, motioning some gesture with his hand. Soon enough, the guards were ushering the nobles and entertainers out of the exit points, until it was just their table remaining.
Thorn flickered his gaze up to Helyn, who seemingly had come out of her room and beckoned for Thorn to come to her. He sighed, knowing that she needed his support but worried that he could further anger his uncle if he left the table. Though with the news he had heard, he knew that if someone did not go to her she would likely have an anxiety attack, and all of the hells in Westeros would go loose in Raventree Hall. Thorn turned to his uncle, wondering whether he should ask.
[Ask to be excused and go to Helyn] [Remain seated and don’t ask]
Thorn
The Blue Fork flowed on an inward tide, brown trout could be seen swimming along with the tide. Thorn stood on the thick dead log t… morehat had sunken into the marshy terrain a century ago, in his hands he held a thin wooden rod with a line that floated in the Blue Fork. The day had been calm, the sky was mostly clear, apart from the clouds that blocked out the sun. It was a rare occurrence for an autumn day, though Thorn did not complain. He stood on the old log with patience, his arm steady and his eyes focussed on the buoy that floated above the small ripples of the Blue Fork. He waited for movement of the buoy, to feel a nibble through his rod, then he would pull in his catch. Behind Thorn stood his bastard cousin, Brock, who remained by Thorn’s side with a wooden bucket in hand. Brock would have joined Thorn with his own rod, if his line had not been severed and cut on a submerged log. The two remained quiet, they would speak after t… [view original content]
[Remain seated and don’t ask] One of the harder choices, I'll go with staying at the table though. It seems Lord take it very serious, but also the trouble with Helyn looks important. I don't know how it goes, but in my opinion obeying Jon is better option here.
Thorn
The Blue Fork flowed on an inward tide, brown trout could be seen swimming along with the tide. Thorn stood on the thick dead log t… morehat had sunken into the marshy terrain a century ago, in his hands he held a thin wooden rod with a line that floated in the Blue Fork. The day had been calm, the sky was mostly clear, apart from the clouds that blocked out the sun. It was a rare occurrence for an autumn day, though Thorn did not complain. He stood on the old log with patience, his arm steady and his eyes focussed on the buoy that floated above the small ripples of the Blue Fork. He waited for movement of the buoy, to feel a nibble through his rod, then he would pull in his catch. Behind Thorn stood his bastard cousin, Brock, who remained by Thorn’s side with a wooden bucket in hand. Brock would have joined Thorn with his own rod, if his line had not been severed and cut on a submerged log. The two remained quiet, they would speak after t… [view original content]
Thorn
The Blue Fork flowed on an inward tide, brown trout could be seen swimming along with the tide. Thorn stood on the thick dead log t… morehat had sunken into the marshy terrain a century ago, in his hands he held a thin wooden rod with a line that floated in the Blue Fork. The day had been calm, the sky was mostly clear, apart from the clouds that blocked out the sun. It was a rare occurrence for an autumn day, though Thorn did not complain. He stood on the old log with patience, his arm steady and his eyes focussed on the buoy that floated above the small ripples of the Blue Fork. He waited for movement of the buoy, to feel a nibble through his rod, then he would pull in his catch. Behind Thorn stood his bastard cousin, Brock, who remained by Thorn’s side with a wooden bucket in hand. Brock would have joined Thorn with his own rod, if his line had not been severed and cut on a submerged log. The two remained quiet, they would speak after t… [view original content]
It seems the lord is a bit on the edge right now, and understandably so. We already saw him snapping at Brock for a very weak reason, so I guess if Thorn asks to leave now, he could easily get even more pissed. Also, Thorn and Brock talked about this earlier, about how they are at the bottom of the house's hierarchy. The last thing Thorn should do right now is to give off the impression that he does not take this matter seriously enough to at least remain seated. I guess there might be a chance to talk to Helyn later.
Thorn
The Blue Fork flowed on an inward tide, brown trout could be seen swimming along with the tide. Thorn stood on the thick dead log t… morehat had sunken into the marshy terrain a century ago, in his hands he held a thin wooden rod with a line that floated in the Blue Fork. The day had been calm, the sky was mostly clear, apart from the clouds that blocked out the sun. It was a rare occurrence for an autumn day, though Thorn did not complain. He stood on the old log with patience, his arm steady and his eyes focussed on the buoy that floated above the small ripples of the Blue Fork. He waited for movement of the buoy, to feel a nibble through his rod, then he would pull in his catch. Behind Thorn stood his bastard cousin, Brock, who remained by Thorn’s side with a wooden bucket in hand. Brock would have joined Thorn with his own rod, if his line had not been severed and cut on a submerged log. The two remained quiet, they would speak after t… [view original content]
Thorn
The Blue Fork flowed on an inward tide, brown trout could be seen swimming along with the tide. Thorn stood on the thick dead log t… morehat had sunken into the marshy terrain a century ago, in his hands he held a thin wooden rod with a line that floated in the Blue Fork. The day had been calm, the sky was mostly clear, apart from the clouds that blocked out the sun. It was a rare occurrence for an autumn day, though Thorn did not complain. He stood on the old log with patience, his arm steady and his eyes focussed on the buoy that floated above the small ripples of the Blue Fork. He waited for movement of the buoy, to feel a nibble through his rod, then he would pull in his catch. Behind Thorn stood his bastard cousin, Brock, who remained by Thorn’s side with a wooden bucket in hand. Brock would have joined Thorn with his own rod, if his line had not been severed and cut on a submerged log. The two remained quiet, they would speak after t… [view original content]
The black massing slowly approached Eastwatch, riding from Greenguard on their tiny garrons. Prestan sat by his window with watchful eyes, trying to spot Commander Henri Redwyne, a young man at the age of fourteen. Prestan searched for a few minutes, though found only Stephas Swyft, the corrupted Master-at-arms of Greenguard, and officer of the young Commander Henri. Prestan turned to Peter Grassfield, his squire. The man stood firm, awaiting command. Prestan shook his head with disappointment, then sat at his desk.
“Bring me a drink, Peter.” The man nodded.
“Would it be ale or red wine you prefer?” Prestan sighed and shook his head.
“Bring me rum, the bottle will do.” Prestan noticed Peter raise his eyebrows, though without question he descended down the stone steps of the Commander’s tower.
Prestan grunted and rested his head among all the scrolls of paper that clattered his desk, making them fall to the ground. He wondered if he had made the right choice about sending his men to Skane, and especially asking for help from Greenguard. He had named Sebastion, a ranger under his command, as the new Commander of Skane when he had called for Commander Warrek to return. He was unsure what to do with Commander Warrek once he and his men returned, though he was happy to know Ser Harold Flowers would soon be back along with some extra recruits. All the gods know we are in dire need of more men. Peter Grassfield returned with Prestan’s bottle of rum and a tankard to drink it with.
“Thank you, Peter. Go down and have the men open the gates for the Greenguard’s, we would not want to keep them waiting.” Peter nodded and descended down the stairs again.
Prestan cracked open the spiced rum, which had been bought from the Arbor. As he poured the rum into the tankard and then instantly downed the cold refreshing spirit, he stood and looked out his window. The men of Greenguard were arriving at the gates as they were being opened, Prestan put his tankard back on his desk and descended down the stone steps to the courtyard.
-
Stephas Swyft had dismounted his steed and waited for Prestan, while the rest of his men rested in the courtyard. Prestan did not disappoint, unlike Commander Henri who was nowhere to be seen. Stephas smirked when he saw Prestan, extending his hand. Prestan firmly gripped the man’s hand.
“You look like shit, Prestan.” Stephas spoke with a friendly voice, though Prestan could see past the fake tone.
“Appreciated. Is Commander Redwyne not here?” Stephas looked Prestan in the eyes, searching for something that he could not find. He later shook his head.
“No, he thought it was wise that he should stay in command of Greenguard, so he let me take his men to Eastwatch.” Prestan nodded. More like he was advised that you take all of his men. Prestan sighed.
“Well, it saddens me that I could not speak with him.” Stephas shrugged, and looked at his men.
“Not much of a way to greet the men you requested aid from. Have your men take our gear to my men’s rooms, I will meet you in your tower shortly.” Prestan felt a trickle of sweat run down his neck, but he stood firm.
“Actually, we’re low on accommodation. You and your men will be staying in the fishermen’s village.” Prestan had of course lied, but there was a reason he did not want Stephas and his men behind Eastwatch’s walls. Stephas turned, now with a hint of anger in his eyes.
“If that’s the case, you’d have your men leave their dorms so that mine could be well rested.” Stephas stood a head taller than Prestan, and used that to his advantage when getting in Prestan’s face. Prestan looked the man in his eyes will all seriousness.
“Watch who you order around. I will listen to Commander Henri, I won’t take commands from you.” Prestan could see the men of Greenguard starting to stand, noticing the rivalry between Stephas and Prestan. Some of the men of Eastwatch had rallied to Prestan’s side. Stephas backed off.
“So be it.” He turned to his men, who were already being led out the eastern gate to the fishing village.
Prestan had his men at the village relocate the fishermen somewhere safer, he did not intend for them to be victims to Stephas’ riled men. As Prestan watched Stephas mount his garron and accompany his men, Peter Grassfield joined Prestan’s side.
“At this rate we would tear each other apart. What’re we to do?” Prestan watched as the men disappeared out of the eastern gate.
“We must show our authority. Stephas has treated me like shit for years, now his jealousy of my election as Commander has made me his rival. I won’t let him think he has a hand over me.” Peter shook his head.
“Your pride will be the end of us.” Prestan turned to Peter, feeling the anger well up inside of him. He calmed himself down, remembering Peter was one of the few allies he currently had. “Either way, we can’t sit here and do nothing, he and his men will be pissed. What would your orders be?” Prestan watched as the eastern gates were lowered.
He knew if they doubled the guard that Stephas would take it as an act of treachery, yet he worried for the safety of his men if they left Eastwatch accessible to the Greenguard’s. He turned to Peter with his answer.
[Double the guard and lockdown Eastwatch] [Do nothing until Stephas makes a move]
Prestan
The black massing slowly approached Eastwatch, riding from Greenguard on their tiny garrons. Prestan sat by his window with watch… moreful eyes, trying to spot Commander Henri Redwyne, a young man at the age of fourteen. Prestan searched for a few minutes, though found only Stephas Swyft, the corrupted Master-at-arms of Greenguard, and officer of the young Commander Henri. Prestan turned to Peter Grassfield, his squire. The man stood firm, awaiting command. Prestan shook his head with disappointment, then sat at his desk.
“Bring me a drink, Peter.” The man nodded.
“Would it be ale or red wine you prefer?” Prestan sighed and shook his head.
“Bring me rum, the bottle will do.” Prestan noticed Peter raise his eyebrows, though without question he descended down the stone steps of the Commander’s tower.
Prestan grunted and rested his head among all the scrolls of paper that clattered his desk, making them fall to the ground. He wo… [view original content]
Prestan
The black massing slowly approached Eastwatch, riding from Greenguard on their tiny garrons. Prestan sat by his window with watch… moreful eyes, trying to spot Commander Henri Redwyne, a young man at the age of fourteen. Prestan searched for a few minutes, though found only Stephas Swyft, the corrupted Master-at-arms of Greenguard, and officer of the young Commander Henri. Prestan turned to Peter Grassfield, his squire. The man stood firm, awaiting command. Prestan shook his head with disappointment, then sat at his desk.
“Bring me a drink, Peter.” The man nodded.
“Would it be ale or red wine you prefer?” Prestan sighed and shook his head.
“Bring me rum, the bottle will do.” Prestan noticed Peter raise his eyebrows, though without question he descended down the stone steps of the Commander’s tower.
Prestan grunted and rested his head among all the scrolls of paper that clattered his desk, making them fall to the ground. He wo… [view original content]
If he only reacts once Stephas makes his move, things will already be too late. Regardless of wether or not Stephas is even planning to do something, it's better to be safe than sorry. Also, that way Prestan can show strength. He and Stephas don't get along either way, so at least he can play it safe with this.
Prestan
The black massing slowly approached Eastwatch, riding from Greenguard on their tiny garrons. Prestan sat by his window with watch… moreful eyes, trying to spot Commander Henri Redwyne, a young man at the age of fourteen. Prestan searched for a few minutes, though found only Stephas Swyft, the corrupted Master-at-arms of Greenguard, and officer of the young Commander Henri. Prestan turned to Peter Grassfield, his squire. The man stood firm, awaiting command. Prestan shook his head with disappointment, then sat at his desk.
“Bring me a drink, Peter.” The man nodded.
“Would it be ale or red wine you prefer?” Prestan sighed and shook his head.
“Bring me rum, the bottle will do.” Prestan noticed Peter raise his eyebrows, though without question he descended down the stone steps of the Commander’s tower.
Prestan grunted and rested his head among all the scrolls of paper that clattered his desk, making them fall to the ground. He wo… [view original content]
Better be safe. It's fine if only Stephas will take him as traitor, denying it is not worth of risk a life of his men. Peter Grassfield is right here, why should we take that risk in defence of Prestan's pride?
Prestan
The black massing slowly approached Eastwatch, riding from Greenguard on their tiny garrons. Prestan sat by his window with watch… moreful eyes, trying to spot Commander Henri Redwyne, a young man at the age of fourteen. Prestan searched for a few minutes, though found only Stephas Swyft, the corrupted Master-at-arms of Greenguard, and officer of the young Commander Henri. Prestan turned to Peter Grassfield, his squire. The man stood firm, awaiting command. Prestan shook his head with disappointment, then sat at his desk.
“Bring me a drink, Peter.” The man nodded.
“Would it be ale or red wine you prefer?” Prestan sighed and shook his head.
“Bring me rum, the bottle will do.” Prestan noticed Peter raise his eyebrows, though without question he descended down the stone steps of the Commander’s tower.
Prestan grunted and rested his head among all the scrolls of paper that clattered his desk, making them fall to the ground. He wo… [view original content]
Prestan
The black massing slowly approached Eastwatch, riding from Greenguard on their tiny garrons. Prestan sat by his window with watch… moreful eyes, trying to spot Commander Henri Redwyne, a young man at the age of fourteen. Prestan searched for a few minutes, though found only Stephas Swyft, the corrupted Master-at-arms of Greenguard, and officer of the young Commander Henri. Prestan turned to Peter Grassfield, his squire. The man stood firm, awaiting command. Prestan shook his head with disappointment, then sat at his desk.
“Bring me a drink, Peter.” The man nodded.
“Would it be ale or red wine you prefer?” Prestan sighed and shook his head.
“Bring me rum, the bottle will do.” Prestan noticed Peter raise his eyebrows, though without question he descended down the stone steps of the Commander’s tower.
Prestan grunted and rested his head among all the scrolls of paper that clattered his desk, making them fall to the ground. He wo… [view original content]
Prestan
The black massing slowly approached Eastwatch, riding from Greenguard on their tiny garrons. Prestan sat by his window with watch… moreful eyes, trying to spot Commander Henri Redwyne, a young man at the age of fourteen. Prestan searched for a few minutes, though found only Stephas Swyft, the corrupted Master-at-arms of Greenguard, and officer of the young Commander Henri. Prestan turned to Peter Grassfield, his squire. The man stood firm, awaiting command. Prestan shook his head with disappointment, then sat at his desk.
“Bring me a drink, Peter.” The man nodded.
“Would it be ale or red wine you prefer?” Prestan sighed and shook his head.
“Bring me rum, the bottle will do.” Prestan noticed Peter raise his eyebrows, though without question he descended down the stone steps of the Commander’s tower.
Prestan grunted and rested his head among all the scrolls of paper that clattered his desk, making them fall to the ground. He wo… [view original content]
Thorn
The Blue Fork flowed on an inward tide, brown trout could be seen swimming along with the tide. Thorn stood on the thick dead log t… morehat had sunken into the marshy terrain a century ago, in his hands he held a thin wooden rod with a line that floated in the Blue Fork. The day had been calm, the sky was mostly clear, apart from the clouds that blocked out the sun. It was a rare occurrence for an autumn day, though Thorn did not complain. He stood on the old log with patience, his arm steady and his eyes focussed on the buoy that floated above the small ripples of the Blue Fork. He waited for movement of the buoy, to feel a nibble through his rod, then he would pull in his catch. Behind Thorn stood his bastard cousin, Brock, who remained by Thorn’s side with a wooden bucket in hand. Brock would have joined Thorn with his own rod, if his line had not been severed and cut on a submerged log. The two remained quiet, they would speak after t… [view original content]
Well, I'll close this vote. Thorn will remain seated and not ask to leave the table.
This was probably the best choice for Thorn in the long run, though Helyn won't be in a good position. There will only be one more Thorn part in this chapter, and a total of about twelve more parts left in this chapter. Then I'll be heading back to The Invasion to pick that up. It's been a great journey, and honestly I don't want to leave this story for the time it takes to write The Invasion, but I've still got these final parts to enjoy! Thank you for being a great participation to this story, and I'll try to keep the final moments for some of these characters as entertaining as I can!
Thorn
The Blue Fork flowed on an inward tide, brown trout could be seen swimming along with the tide. Thorn stood on the thick dead log t… morehat had sunken into the marshy terrain a century ago, in his hands he held a thin wooden rod with a line that floated in the Blue Fork. The day had been calm, the sky was mostly clear, apart from the clouds that blocked out the sun. It was a rare occurrence for an autumn day, though Thorn did not complain. He stood on the old log with patience, his arm steady and his eyes focussed on the buoy that floated above the small ripples of the Blue Fork. He waited for movement of the buoy, to feel a nibble through his rod, then he would pull in his catch. Behind Thorn stood his bastard cousin, Brock, who remained by Thorn’s side with a wooden bucket in hand. Brock would have joined Thorn with his own rod, if his line had not been severed and cut on a submerged log. The two remained quiet, they would speak after t… [view original content]
Right, well it's pretty clear you guys don't want to do anything and wait for Steph... Hold up lemme get my glasses. Right, vote is closed with a clear answer. Prestan will double the guard and lockdown Eastwatch.
This should have a very interesting outcome, as his old rival will likely take this as a threat.
Prestan
The black massing slowly approached Eastwatch, riding from Greenguard on their tiny garrons. Prestan sat by his window with watch… moreful eyes, trying to spot Commander Henri Redwyne, a young man at the age of fourteen. Prestan searched for a few minutes, though found only Stephas Swyft, the corrupted Master-at-arms of Greenguard, and officer of the young Commander Henri. Prestan turned to Peter Grassfield, his squire. The man stood firm, awaiting command. Prestan shook his head with disappointment, then sat at his desk.
“Bring me a drink, Peter.” The man nodded.
“Would it be ale or red wine you prefer?” Prestan sighed and shook his head.
“Bring me rum, the bottle will do.” Prestan noticed Peter raise his eyebrows, though without question he descended down the stone steps of the Commander’s tower.
Prestan grunted and rested his head among all the scrolls of paper that clattered his desk, making them fall to the ground. He wo… [view original content]
The swell of the Sunset sea was a couple of metres high, setting a repetitive rocking motion which had put some of the crew off ease. Tristifer and Allise Oldstark had left Ol’Tower in a great hurry, given a handful of guards that would escort them to Oldtown. Tristifer sat by the captain of the escort guard, Rickard Royce - the brother to Lord Royce in the Fingers. The men had been silent for the most part, trying to keep the meals they had eaten earlier down in their bellies. Finally, Rickard broke the silence with a grunt.
“Well, I don’t believe you did it. You’re the most honourable man of this house, respected so much that even your lord father gave you his sword. I served by Lord Garn’s side since I was a young man, as was he. I trust his judgement over Lord Garett’s.” The thought of Tristifer’s father’s death sent a chill down his spine. They had received a raven from Rechard informing them he had passed the night they had left Ol’Tower.
“Your judgement is well place, Captain Rickard. I respected the Night’s Watch, I honoured my vows. Yet the Lord Commander named me a deserter after supposedly signing me a declarant pardon.” Tristifer gripped the hilt of Wolfsbane, that rested in his lap. “Others take that wicked man.” Captain Rickard nodded in agreeance.
“He may be wicked, though he is the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. His word there is law, and no doubt he has men scouring the North trying to find you. Let us hope that your brother can keep his mouth shut about this escort.” The two men sat in silence once again, Captain Rickard apparently was trying to find things to say. “In any matter, I think that the armour of House Oldstark better suits you than the black rags of the Night’s Watch.” Tristifer looked down at his new attire.
He wore dark grey leather padded armour, and a lighter grey cloth shirt underneath it. He wore dark grey leather gloves which matched his padded armour, though his leather boots were a dark brown. Captain Rickard wore much the same, except his arms were plated entirely in steel armour, and his upper chest as well. He also wore an steel sallet helm, and wielded two battle axes. Tristifer shrugged.
“You get used to it when you take the black.” Captain Rickard chuckled.
“Guess there’s nothing else to get used to. Tell me, did you ever meet my nephew. Yohan Royce? I believe he is Commander at Stonedoor.” Tristifer nodded.
“I served at the Nightfort, but I talked to him on a few occasions. He seemed to be an honourable man.” Rickard grinned.
“He was a little shit if I might be honest. Back in my time at the Fingers, with my brother becoming Lord of Runestone, his son was being trained as the heir. Bloody Yohan caused a great deal of havoc, though if what you say is true it would sound like the Watch has sorted him out.” Tristifer could not help but smile, it was the way with most noble men, finding their calling to serve.
Tristifer stood up and gripped the captain’s shoulder, the man nodded and Tristifer left him to be alone. Trisitfer was heading below deck, though he stopped to peer over the side of the vessel. He saw off to the east some separated bits of land which he believed to be the Iron Islands. Gods watch over us. Tristifer thought to himself, as he turned and descended down into the hull.
The hull of the ship was mostly full of containers, barrels and the stench of brought up bile. Rechard, Tristifer’s younger brother, had put Tristifer and Allise on the first ship travelling to the Reach. That ship was a merchant vessel, commandeered by a Costayne of the Three Towers. He was a silent man, whom only focussed on the task at hand. Tristifer descended the steps, avoiding a puddle of puke that awaited him at the bottom. Behind the staircase was the living quarters for the crew, which was simply a large room full of hummocks. Tristifer entered the quarters, finding the rest of his escort guard sitting and betting on a board game. The two men playing against each other were Mal and Alon Wars. Jaffer, a ginger, watched the game. Tristifer walked passed them, to where Ollie, Chad and Marthew rested in their hummocks as sick as dogs. Tristifer frowned, looking around for his sister but not being able to spot her. He turned to Chad, who was the only man awake, he stared at the ceiling.
“Chad, do you know where Allise is?” The man turned to Tristifer, his face pale. He lifted his hand and pointed back to where Tristifer had came.
“Captain’s quarters, my lord.” Tristifer turned with confusion, though decided not to question the unwell guard.
“Thank you, Chad.” Tristifer turned and left the men, exiting the living quarters and stopping at the door of the captain’s quarters.
Tristifer naturally felt his hand move itself to the hilt of Wolfsbane. His other hand gripped the knob of the door and twisted it, letting the door swing open. Tristifer stood over the bulkhead and entered the room. The quarters were dull, some dim lanterns sat in the corner though the windows were covered. Tristifer could see Allise’s shadow displayed on the wall, though what she was doing utterly shocked him. My sister wouldn’t… Tristifer quickly walked over to the back turned chair, to find his sister searching through the captain’s draws. Tristifer sighed in relief, Allise turned to him with fearful eyes.
“Tristifer! I- uh.” Tristifer chuckled, resting his hand on his sister’s shoulder.
“Believe me, this is much better than what I thought.” Tristifer turned the arm chair around, so that the arm of the chair was not coincidentally at Allise’s mouth in her shadow. “What are you doing in here anyway?” Allise shrugged.
“I saw Captain Costayne sleeping with this box under his arm the other day, and again last night. I was curious what was in it.” Tristifer raised an eyebrow.
“Why were you watching the man sleep…? And you know better than to raid another man’s property.” Allise’s gaze dropped to the ground.
“Apologies brother, it won’t happen again.” Tristifer nodded and weakly smiled.
“I know.” The two remained idle for a moment, then Tristifer heard shouts from the upper deck. What in the Seven? Tristifer turned to Allise, who looked as confused as he.
The two quickly rearranged the draws and items in the captain’s quarters as how they used to be, and left the captain’s quarters. When they shut the door behind them, they saw Ollie and Marthew climbing the steps with their longswords in hand. Chad followed behind them, staggering and using his sword to balance himself. Tristifer stopped him and turned to Allise.
“Stay down here and take care of Chad, I’ll be right back.” Allise shook her head.
“I can fight Tristifer.” Tristifer stopped, halfway up the steps, and turned back to her.
“Just do as I say!” He made sure to watch as she and Chad headed back into the living quarters, then Tristifer climbed to the upper deck.
The once blue sky and turned to a grey mess of clouds, thunder striking down in the distance. The sea state had turned rough, though there was something much worse of concern. The crew of the vessel had reached for their spears and scimitars, and Tristifer’s escort guard all had their weapons in hand. In the distance, a vessel with sails displaying House Hoare charged towards their ship. Tristifer could see it was going to ram.
“Brace for impact lads!” Tristifer barely identified the voice to be the captain’s, he had been flung back by the force of the ramming ship.
Tristifer watched as the Ironborn jumped from their ship onto Tristifer’s vessel, knocking down the crew that were close. The escort guard managed to make a wall that stood between the Ironborn and Tristifer, though Tristifer noticed one of the Ironmen cutting down the sick and weary Marthew and charging at Tristifer. Tristifer unsheathed Wolfsbane, the blue valyrian steel glowing. The Ironborn struck his iron sword at Tristifer, which he parried - and to his surprise completely shattered the iron to pieces. This had also caught the Ironborn off guard, which gave Tristifer the chance to lunge Wolfsbane through the man’s chest. Tristifer pulled the blade out, turning to his fallen guard Marthew, who was still barely alive. Tristifer noticed that Ollie was starting to drag him to the stairs below the deck, though another Ironborn was running towards them with a large one-sided axe. Tristifer ran to Ollie’s defense and deflected the blow, the wooden shaft of the axe snapped at the retaliating force. Tristifer took the leg from underneath the Ironborn and stabbed him through the throat. Ollie had managed to drag Marthew down below, giving Tristifer the chance to advance. He saw the the Ironborn vessel had disconnected from their own, though was being held by two grappling hooks. One had already been severed, though the aft was still in tact. Tristifer started making his way aft of the ship, cutting down any Ironborn that got in his way. Tristifer was nearly halfway to the rope when he heard the feminine scream behind him. He turned and saw his sister fighting with one of the Ironborn. Dammit Allise! As he was about to head to his sister’s rescue, he saw that more Ironborn were pulling their ship in from the rope that was still connected to the ship. Soon they would be overwhelmed if that rope was not cut in time, though Tristifer did not know if his sister could really handle herself.
Tristifer
The swell of the Sunset sea was a couple of metres high, setting a repetitive rocking motion which had put some of the crew off… more ease. Tristifer and Allise Oldstark had left Ol’Tower in a great hurry, given a handful of guards that would escort them to Oldtown. Tristifer sat by the captain of the escort guard, Rickard Royce - the brother to Lord Royce in the Fingers. The men had been silent for the most part, trying to keep the meals they had eaten earlier down in their bellies. Finally, Rickard broke the silence with a grunt.
“Well, I don’t believe you did it. You’re the most honourable man of this house, respected so much that even your lord father gave you his sword. I served by Lord Garn’s side since I was a young man, as was he. I trust his judgement over Lord Garett’s.” The thought of Tristifer’s father’s death sent a chill down his spine. They had received a raven from Rechard informing them he had passed the night they … [view original content]
It is his sister's life on the line here. If something happens to her, then Tristifer is going to blame himself forever. I doubt Allise is much of a match for an Ironborn raider, which means that she really needs the help. Maybe someone else can cut the line, or maybe he manages to do both in time, but his sister should be his priority.
Tristifer
The swell of the Sunset sea was a couple of metres high, setting a repetitive rocking motion which had put some of the crew off… more ease. Tristifer and Allise Oldstark had left Ol’Tower in a great hurry, given a handful of guards that would escort them to Oldtown. Tristifer sat by the captain of the escort guard, Rickard Royce - the brother to Lord Royce in the Fingers. The men had been silent for the most part, trying to keep the meals they had eaten earlier down in their bellies. Finally, Rickard broke the silence with a grunt.
“Well, I don’t believe you did it. You’re the most honourable man of this house, respected so much that even your lord father gave you his sword. I served by Lord Garn’s side since I was a young man, as was he. I trust his judgement over Lord Garett’s.” The thought of Tristifer’s father’s death sent a chill down his spine. They had received a raven from Rechard informing them he had passed the night they … [view original content]
Tristifer
The swell of the Sunset sea was a couple of metres high, setting a repetitive rocking motion which had put some of the crew off… more ease. Tristifer and Allise Oldstark had left Ol’Tower in a great hurry, given a handful of guards that would escort them to Oldtown. Tristifer sat by the captain of the escort guard, Rickard Royce - the brother to Lord Royce in the Fingers. The men had been silent for the most part, trying to keep the meals they had eaten earlier down in their bellies. Finally, Rickard broke the silence with a grunt.
“Well, I don’t believe you did it. You’re the most honourable man of this house, respected so much that even your lord father gave you his sword. I served by Lord Garn’s side since I was a young man, as was he. I trust his judgement over Lord Garett’s.” The thought of Tristifer’s father’s death sent a chill down his spine. They had received a raven from Rechard informing them he had passed the night they … [view original content]
Tristifer
The swell of the Sunset sea was a couple of metres high, setting a repetitive rocking motion which had put some of the crew off… more ease. Tristifer and Allise Oldstark had left Ol’Tower in a great hurry, given a handful of guards that would escort them to Oldtown. Tristifer sat by the captain of the escort guard, Rickard Royce - the brother to Lord Royce in the Fingers. The men had been silent for the most part, trying to keep the meals they had eaten earlier down in their bellies. Finally, Rickard broke the silence with a grunt.
“Well, I don’t believe you did it. You’re the most honourable man of this house, respected so much that even your lord father gave you his sword. I served by Lord Garn’s side since I was a young man, as was he. I trust his judgement over Lord Garett’s.” The thought of Tristifer’s father’s death sent a chill down his spine. They had received a raven from Rechard informing them he had passed the night they … [view original content]
Comments
[Escort Rose to Casterly Rock]
[Travel to Dorne to take leadership of Cross Company Sellswords] I don't know, I'd like him to get back to his brother.
[Escort Rose to Casterly Rock]
Both choices sound equally interesting for me in terms of possible storylines and I have no clear preference. However, I chose this one out of pragmatism. We already have a PoV in Dorne and he is already involved with the Cross Company. However, we have none in the Reach, so it could be interesting to have a PoV there.
[Escort Rose to Casterly Rock]
It seems more promising to Darrick, as he rescued potential Lannister princess, and now he is given an offer to protect her in the way to Casterly Rock - it can open many possibilities to him, assuming that Rose should not leave him without any reward. Well, being a friend to Lannisters is way better that being theirs enemy ^^
Alright, well I'll close this vote. Darrick will choose to escort Rose to Casterly Rock.
You'll have to forgive me for not saying much on this decision as it's nearly 2 am and i'm tired as f*ck. I will say that this of course was an important decision and I think out of pragmatism you guys made a good choice. Next part I think is either Toregg or Jorge, which means I gotta close that bloody vote which I have to decide for!
Jorge
The sea breeze had set a mild swell which lapped across the Skanish bay and gently rippled against the Shadowbeak. The vessel was smaller than the Night’s Watch’s war and merchant ships. The Shadowbeak was a transporter vessel for men joining the Watch from the isles and coasts of Westeros. Jorge stood with Ser Harold Flowers, the acting commander since Commander Warrek had fallen ill. Jorge inspected the crew on the Shadowbeak: The original crew plus all of the Night’s Watch from Skane, around a dozen men which Jorge recognised to be farmers and shepherds. Finally, there was Jorge’s family, huddled together at the starboard aft of the ship.
A middle aged man with a short crew cut and a large and tangled black beard joined Ser Harold and Jorge as they watched the ship prepare to leave the shore. Jorge had recalled Ser Harold saying that this man was Dracon Estermont, the captain of the vessel - though his crew had nicknamed him Blackbeard. The bulk of a man crossed his arms and turned his head to Ser Harold.
“Are we ready to go? This sea breeze will stir up the bay once the swell rolls in from the Shivering Sea.” Ser Harold looked at the men who all had finished their jobs aboard and seemed eager to leave. Fucking traitors, Jorge bitterly thought to himself as he bit his lip. Ser Harold nodded.
“To Eastwatch.” Dracon repeated Ser Harold’s voice in a louder booming tone, setting the crew into motion. As the young crew of the Shadowbeak scurried around the deck, Ser Harold gripped Jorge’s shoulder.
“I know it was a hard decision to make Jorge, but I’m glad you’re joining us. I promise you’ll be able to see your family often, this you can hold me to.” Jorge felt like he could have said many words, though instead he just nodded and left the man appeased.
Jorge left Ser Harold and descended down the steps to the lower deck where his family sat. He gently moved through the small huddled crowds until he reached his wife and children. He sat down beside them and gave an encouraging smile to his young son, Croll. Tanya linked her arm around Jorge’s and leaned into his shoulder. Jorge sighed gently, feeling regret and dismay.
“Ser Harold still believes I’m to take the black.” Tanya nodded.
“Let’s keep it that way, we don’t want our plan exposed.” Kyra had leaned in closer with Croll in her lap.
“So what exactly is our plan?” Tanya turned to see if anyone was watching, then turned back to her daughter.
“Your father will go to the Nightfort or wherever they take him to take his vows, and will escape there and make his way to Ol’Tower. By then, us three should have already detached from the main group heading to Darkhold and be on our way to Ol’Tower as well.” Kyra frowned.
“And what if father cannot escape?” Jorge turned to Kyra and gave her a warm smile.
“Everything will be alright my girl, we’ll all be safe at Ol’Tower soon enough.” Jorge himself could not trust the words that he was saying, he did not even know if the Oldstark’s would allow them refuge anymore.
As his family quietly whispered among themselves, Jorge had been inspecting the men that were going to join the Watch. He recognised a few sheep herders, farmers and dirt ploughers, though he did not see his neighbour Karne among the crowd. A familiar face Jorge did recognise over the rest was the boy with the scythe who saved his life during the battle against the Skagosi. He sat alone with his legs tucked into his chest, gently rocking himself back and forth. Jorge turned to Tanya and squeezed her hand before he stood up and walked to the boy. Once again carefully stepping through the bunched crowds, making an effort not to snap anyone's fingers, Jorge reached the boy and knelt down next to him. He extended his hand to the young man, who Jorge though to have been around twelve years of age. The young man took Jorge’s hand with a firm grip, surprising Jorge but making him grin.
“I’m Jorge. You saved my life when the Skaggs were burning down the Hub. I wanted to thank you.” The boy smiled and nodded in appreciation.
“My name is Lucan, and I was only trying to do my part.” Jorge returned the smile.
“Where are your family, Lucan?” Jorge felt like he already knew the answer, but one could only be hopeful in these circumstances. Lucan’s warm expression went dull, emotionless and expressionless.
“They’re dead.” He said the words like he was only coming to the understanding of it himself. Jorge nodded sadly.
“I’m sorry, my family and I are happy to watch over you if you need us to.” Lucan looked up at Jorge with thankful eyes, though Jorge could see the tears welling up.
“Thank you. Though your family won’t be with us at the Wall, it’ll only be us.” Jorge shivered at the thought of seeing a twelve year old boy being sent to the Wall with the murderers and rapists that resided there.
“Do you want to take the black?” Lucan shrugged.
“I just wanted to get away from Skane. My father had always told me that the Night’s Watch was an honourable place filled with honourable men who were tasked with the defence of the kingdom.” Jorge frowned. Naive father. Jorge turned to his family, he could see his wife staring at him.
Jorge felt a sudden urge to inform the boy of their plan to evade the Wall, he wanted to take the boy with him to Ol’Tower to experience a better life then the Wall would have to offer. Though Jorge ran the risks through his mind, if the boy did not want to go with them their was the risk that he could tell one of the black brothers and their plan would be ruined. Jorge sighed and turned to the boy, undecided on whether to tell the boy or not.
[Ask Lucan to accompany them to Ol’Tower] [Keep the plan concealed]
Hey guys, apologies for the short part. Jorge's next part will be at Eastwatch, and that should hopefully get a bit more interesting.
[Keep the plan concealed]
[Keep the plan concealed]
[Keep the plan concealed]
[Keep the plan concealed]
It might be the nice thing to give Lucan the chance to escape, but I think the risk is far too high. While he himself stated that he only wanted to get away from Skane, he never stated that he does not want to serve the Watch. We don't know enough about him to deduce his opinion on this matter. At worst, he screws up the plan for Jorge and his family, so not telling him about this seems like the smart thing to do.
[Keep the plan concealed] No extra risks... Because it's super risky already.
[Keep the plan concealed] Ok ,catched up evrything, thanks for not ending the vote ;D
Wow, so we're back to a solid number of voters which certainly makes me happy. This vote was clear to see the outcome, Jorge will keep the plan concealed.
I think what needs to be known about this is that Jorge has had a longing to see his son, Kaiden, since he left Skane for a different life. When fighting at the Hub, Jorge saw a spark in Lucan which reminded him of Kaiden when he was a child. So that is why he has insisted to adopt this fatherly role and take him with them, as he does not wish for the boy to suffer the same fate of being sent to the Wall as his son did. Anyway, keeping the plan a secret is a good idea too. We have no ideas of Lucan's plans so best just to stick to their own. Anyway, next part I've been working on is Toregg which likely won't have a vote. So there is a possibility that there will be another part coming out today as well but that's only me hoping I have enough time. Apologies I did not release a part yesterday, I was so caught up in making characters for a new story that I completely forgot about my own! Anyway, Toregg's part should be out reasonably soon.
Toregg
Metal talked with metal in the cry of swordplay, all dancing around Toregg has quickly tried to make his decision. Toregg started to run at the two crows that had singled Amathe from the rest of the fight, showing her little restraint. Toregg met one of the crow’s head on, piercing him through the back with Thorn before the man knew what had happened. The second crow noticed that the odds were against him, though before he could escape Amathe had struck him down with her axe. Toregg exchanged glances with Amathe, though then came to realisation that Thorald was still pinned to the ground. Toregg quickly spun around, though it was too late. The teenager had been skewered through the heart, his lifeless body lay beneath the crow who opposed him. Toregg advanced towards the crow, swinging Thorn over his head and down towards the crow. The brother of the Night’s Watch parried the blow and returned with a lunge heading for Toregg’s head. Toregg dodge the incoming blade and swung Thorn at the opponent’s hand as he lunged his sword passed. The sword and man’s forearm fell to the muddy ground, along with an agonising scream. Toregg plunged Thorn into the crow’s chest, and watched as the crow’s life sapped out of his eyes and his corpse fell to the ground. Toregg turned to check on Amathe, who was butchering a struggling crow apart with her hatchet. Toregg turned back to the lifeless corpse of Thorald, kneeling down beside the teenager that was one a close friend of Torwynd. He gently sighed and grabbed the boy’s hands and placed them over his wound, then respectfully shut his eyes from their cruel world. Toregg stood up, ready to fend an attack, and searched around for any danger. To his surprise, the Nightrunners were pushing back the crow’s. Some were starting to retreat back up the hills as the Nightrunners started chasing them down. Toregg turned back to Amathe, who was now by Toregg’s side staring at Thorald.
“The damned boy chased after me when he noticed that I had taken three. He managed to separate the best of the fucking three and get himself killed. Poor kid.” Toregg nodded, slightly saddened by still keeping his head held high.
“He was my son’s friend.” Amathe let out a sad sigh.
“You should go check on your family, the fight is as good as over.” Toregg shook his head, glad that he had sent Horegg to send them away.
“They’d all be at the ice cells by now.” Toregg noticed Amathe raise any eyebrow.
“Toregg, I saw Ygwyn and Torwynd outside of your home just a moment ago, fighting crows.” It was now Toregg who raised his eyebrows, slightly confused and starting to worry. He walked past Amathe, starting back for his home.
“Toregg, is everything alright?” Toregg ignored her and quickened his pace.
The bodies of his fallen brothers and sisters in arms, as well as a few crows, scattered the muddy lands they called their home. Toregg ran over the corpses until he made it home, and sure enough his wife and son were there, sitting next to each other. Toregg quickly approached them, outrage on his face but truly he was just glad to see them safe.
“I told you to leave for the ice cells!” Ygwyn looked up at Toregg with confusion haunting her expression.
“You never told us this?” Now Torwynd also looked confused, and hungover. Toregg kicked one of the dead crow’s corpses that lay beside his family.
“I sent Horegg to tell you. Where the fuck is that damn boy?” Toregg entered the tent, starting to worry but hiding it with his anger. Disappointment filled him when he entered his home and saw no sign of Horegg. Ygwyn and Torwynd came inside.
“Horegg never came to us, we never knew.” Toregg turned to Ygwyn and grabbed her by her arms, fear could be seen in his eyes.
“We have to find him.” Ygwyn nodded, almost frightenedly. Torwynd started heading for the door though Toregg stopped him.
“Not you. Just get some fucking rest, I swear all my children are fucking idiots.” Immediately after Toregg had heard the words that came out of his mouth he instantly regretted saying them.
Toregg and Ygwyn walked outside, Amathe was waiting for them, clearly worried. Ygwyn walked to her and explained that Horegg was missing, while Toregg was starting to take a route that led to the back of the mead hall. Toregg hesitantly checked each of the corpses that were Nightrunner, fearful that one would be his son. The search lasted for ten minutes, until Toregg heard his name yelled - or rather screamed - by a terrified woman that he identified to be his wife. Toregg turned the direction of where he had heard the sound and started to run, his sheathed Thorn bounced against his leg. Toregg found his Ygwyn and Amathe in tears, holding a body in their arms. Toregg knelt down beside them, taking the corpse of his son into his arms. He tried to look at his son’s face, though the tears welling up in his eyes had obscured his vision. He turned and looked down to the arrow that had pierced Horegg through the belly, Toregg felt the tears rolling down from his eyes and falling down to the earth. He held his youngest boy close, Ygwyn had wrapped her arms around them both had started to weep. Toregg felt the lifeless corpse of his son rest against him, the dead weight not holding back. Toregg sadness soon turned to a fury anger and a lust for revenge. I will kill these fucking crows. These brothers I once respected, these fucking black cunts. I will kill them all! Toregg let out a large frightening shout of agony, that filled the air and haunted the forest.
No decision this time.
Hey guys, sorry for such a short part. Hope you enjoyed it for the small amount that it was. Anyway, next part will be introducing the final new character that I'm adding in this chapter (I think
). His name is Thorn Blackwood.
Well I'm glad Amathe survived, but damn... poor Thorald and Horegg.
Toregg words at the end gave me shiver , awesome part !
Thorn
The Blue Fork flowed on an inward tide, brown trout could be seen swimming along with the tide. Thorn stood on the thick dead log that had sunken into the marshy terrain a century ago, in his hands he held a thin wooden rod with a line that floated in the Blue Fork. The day had been calm, the sky was mostly clear, apart from the clouds that blocked out the sun. It was a rare occurrence for an autumn day, though Thorn did not complain. He stood on the old log with patience, his arm steady and his eyes focussed on the buoy that floated above the small ripples of the Blue Fork. He waited for movement of the buoy, to feel a nibble through his rod, then he would pull in his catch. Behind Thorn stood his bastard cousin, Brock, who remained by Thorn’s side with a wooden bucket in hand. Brock would have joined Thorn with his own rod, if his line had not been severed and cut on a submerged log. The two remained quiet, they would speak after their catch, which Thorn could feel was soon as he had felt what he thought to be nibbles at his bait.
Thorn took his eyes of the buoy for a moment, staring into the pure flowing blue water by the edge of his boot, the water was rising and would soon sink their platform. Thorn ignored this, and stared at his reflection. He barely recognised the man who stared back at him. Curly black long hair which was slicked back, dark stubble sideburns. Dark brown eyes with specks of red, like rubies. The boy who had grown up in the Reach was certainly not the man who stared at Thorn through the running water. Thorn found himself startled as Brock Rivers shook his shoulder.
“Thorn, what in Seven hells are you doing? The buoy has sunk!” Thorn quickly looked, half confused and half panicked, and surely enough Brock was right.
Thorn then felt a tug at his rod. He clamped the stick between his thighs and started pulling in the fine line, minding not to slice it into his hands as he did it. The confused trout on the end of the line fought hard for it’s caught meal, rising to the surface of the water and getting the hook snagged into it’s gill. Thorn grinned and quickly pulled in the line, lifting the trout from it’s watery environment. The fish would be considered an ordinary sight to any regular fishermen, but Thorn admired the golden scales and brown spots which covered the trout. Thorn quickly placed the trout in the bucket it with the three others he and Brock and taken turns to catch. As Thorn unhooked the jumping fish he could feel his leather boot starting to submerge into the rising tide. Thorn ushered Brock to move to the dry land, which was only mildly drier than the marshy ground they stood above. Brock had pierced his dagger into the trout’s head, which was one of the things that Thorn hated about fishing. The two quickly scurried off the log which was starting to move beneath their feet and headed to their small camp. Brock placed the four trout on the large flat rock they had found and started to fillet them, while Thorn took the bucket and rods to the horses.
The two steeds stood close together and nibbled at the wet grass by their hooves. Thorn made himself known, then placed the gear onto their horses. The two coursers were sisters, named Rose and Pepper. Rose was Thorn’s steed, a light brown courser with a brown mane. Pepper on the other hand belonged to Brock, which was entirely black except for her dark brown eyes. Thorn sighed and stroked Rose’s mane, the name held a deep meaning to him. Thorn had barely noticed Brock approach Thorn with the fillets in hand.
“This was a good catch today, Mercer will be impressed.” Thorn shrugged, looking at the eight fillets. Mercer was the castle’s cook.
“They’ll feed the family, sure enough.” Brock frowned, perhaps it was more irritation appearing in his expression.
“What is wrong cousin? This is hardly a way a man should behave on his eighteenth birthday!” Thorn sighed, the number meant little meaning to him.
“It’s nothing Brock, we should get back home.” Thorn turned to mount his steed, though he felt Brock’s bloody hand grab his shoulder. Thorn turned to his cousin, whose eyes were serious but sympathetic.
“Tell me, Thorn.” Thorn stared at the seventeen year old bastard who he could call his only true friend. His hair was also long and wavy, though his hair was brown and his eyes blue. Thorn hesitated, though then submitted to his cousin.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about my family lately. My ‘traitorous father’ and how that affects me in this house. How my mother killed herself when my father passed. Rose…” Thorn’s words drifted off in the light wind coming in from the north. Brock sighed and placed the fillets in his satchel.
“You cannot change who your father was, or what your parents have chosen to do. Believe me, I’m a bastard and I should know. As for Rose, I’m still yet to understand why you left. You could have become a prince, though you came back here, to this shithole.” Thorn mounted his horse, Brock did so as well.
“I needed to find my family, my purpose.” Brock chuckled and spurred Pepper into a walk, Thorn joined him.
“As a nephew to Lord Bronn Blackwood, I can say you have as much a purpose as I do. We are at the bottom of the food chain in our house, with only you being just above me because of your name.” Thorn smirked and recited their houses words.
“Death whispers.” Brock grinned.
“Yet doesn’t act quick enough.” The two young men joined in laughter, and started their ride back to Raventree Hall.
-
The sun was starting to set in the east when they approached Raventree Hall. The ancient castle stood tall and strong, Blackwood soldiers patrolled the towers on their starting night shift. Raventree Hall itself was tall rather than large. Two large square towers stood side by side of the main gate, and a square tower was found at each angle in the large stone walls. As extra protection, the castle was surrounded with a deep moat, lined with stone.
The main gates rose as Thorn and Brock approached from their long ride. The two were eager to unload their gear and relax, it felt like their chat on the way back to Raventree was more energy consuming than their ride. Nonetheless, the men were both tired physically and mentally, and were glad to finally be back in the walls of Raventree Hall. As they rode through the gates and entered the muddy courtyard, they were surprised to see a large group of smallfolk and nobles alike, crowding around the stairs that led to main door of the actual hall. The two curiously dismounted their horses, to which some stable boys quickly took their horses to the stables. Ignoring that all their gear was still tied onto their horses, the two young men found themselves joining the crowd. Pushing their way through so they could get a better view, Thorn spotted his uncle, Lord Jon Blackwood. Thorn made his way to the front of the crowd, where he saw a man in a brown cloak in the mud. Lord Jon held his valyrian steel blade, Dark Matter, and stood over the man.
“God’s show mercy.” A smallfolk woman said under her breath. “He’ll find none here.” A man, which Thorn presumed to be the woman’s brother or husband, muttered in reply. Everyone hushed as Lord Jon spoke, Thorn could see the anger built up in the man’s face, the rage in his eyes.
“You refuse to give us your name, you refuse to talk at all. You have betrayed the Rivermen with your final crime.” Curiosity flooded Thorn’s mind. What could this man have possibly done to outrage Lord Jon so much? Brock, who had found his way beside Thorn, seemed to be asking the same thing with his expression.
Thorn could see the lord’s sons, Alec and Tyros, standing behind him - his only daughter Helyn was nowhere to be seen. Lord Jon motioned for the man to be brought to his knees. Two Blackwood soldiers picked up the man, facing him towards Lord Jon. Thorn could see the fear building up in the peasant’s face.
“Please m’lord, I beg of you, have mercy! I will go to the Wall, please! Let me go to the Wall!” The man pleaded, bending down and kissing the Lord’s boots. The soldiers pulled the man pack up, Lord Jon spoke with an angered tone.
“In the name of Bernarr of House Justman, King of the Trident, Rivers and Hills. I, Jon Blackwood, Lord of Raventree Hall, sentence you to death. Would you speak any final words?” The man laughed like a madman, fear in his eyes and tears streaming down his face.
“The Seven are true, the Blackwood’s will fall!” Lord Jon nodded to his men, who rested the man’s head on a wooden block. Lord Jon shot a glance at Thorn, then swung Dark Matter over his head and decapitated the man in one blow. Thorn did not flinch, though he felt nervous from his uncle looking at him. The head of the decapitated man rolled to Thorn’s feet, staring into a dark void that no one else could see.
Shortly after the crowd started to break apart, the Blackwood soldiers dragged the body away, one apologising to Thorn and removing the head from his presence. Thorn watched as Lord Jon and his son’s climbed the stairs to the main doors, entering and disappearing from Thorn’s view. Brock turned to Thorn and sighed.
“We should have camped out at Oldstones, father is going to be pissed.” Thorn contained his urge to chuckle and rested his hand on Brock’s shoulder.
“Just don’t piss him off and we’ll be fine. Come on, let’s go find out what’s happened, no doubt dinner will be served shortly.” The two headed for the stone stairs that led to the cavernous timber keep, the sun had set behind the tall stone walls.
-
Eating that night had been reasonably silent, except for the instruments playing in the background. The sound of lutes, flutes, drums and harps attempted to ease the tension that filled the air, though showed little result. Thorn sat in between Brock and Alec Blackwood, heir to Raventree Hall. Alec was a shy boy, unfit to rule in his father’s opinion. Around the table sat Lord Jon’s family and his trusted associates. At the head of the table was the angered and silent Lord Jon. On his left sat his closest advisor and sentinel, Cryus Black, a northmen. On his right was his new wife, Lady Clarissa Vance. Next to Cryus was Tyros Blackwood, a boy of eight, and Alec Blackwood, a boy of thirteen. Next to Clarissa was Helyn Blackwood, an age of fourteen, and Lord Jon’s sixteen year old squire, Hughes Terrick. The rest of the hall was filled with noblemen, jesters and the orchestra.
The nobles silently talked among themselves, though Lord Jon’s table had been reasonably silent. Cryus Black whispered in Lord Jon’s ear, Lady Clarissa and Helyn remained silent. Silent whispers were passed from side to side of the table. Thorn was yet to know what had happened earlier in the day, so he nudged Alec’s shoulder to ask. The boy turned with a confused and worried face, Thorn gave a weak smile.
“What happened today?” As Alec was about to answer, Lord Jon’s fist slammed the table with a loud thud. The entire hall went silent.
“They poisoned the weirwood Cryus! The birth ground of Raventree, the very soul of our religion. I will not let this go unpassed!” Thorn raised his eyebrows in shock, he could hear Brock gasp. Opposite of Thorn, Helyn got up from her chair and ran for the stairs which led up to her chambers.
“I understand that my lord, but we cannot simply assume it was the Bracken’s that poisoned the weirwood. We have been at peace for two generations, why would they choose to break that treaty now?” Cryus said, trying desperately to explain this to Thorn’s thick headed uncle.
“He does have a point father.” Thorn winced when he heard Brock speak, he had told him not to. Nothing could prepare the hall for his father’s wrath then.
“Shut your mouth bastard! You sit at my table at my goodwill, I will not hear your mockery in my hall, at my fucking table!” Thorn shook his head, irritated with his bastard cousin. Thorn was taken off guard when Lord Jon mentioned his name.
“Have something to contribute, nephew?” Thorn turned to Lord Jon, who must have mistaken Thorn’s disapproval of Brock for his own. Thorn turned his focus to the stairs, where Helyn had now entered her chambers. He sighed and turned back to his uncle.
“No uncle, apologies.” He nodded, still angry though seemingly settling down. He turned to Cryus with saddened eyes.
“Empty the hall.” Cryus nodded and turned to the guards, motioning some gesture with his hand. Soon enough, the guards were ushering the nobles and entertainers out of the exit points, until it was just their table remaining.
Thorn flickered his gaze up to Helyn, who seemingly had come out of her room and beckoned for Thorn to come to her. He sighed, knowing that she needed his support but worried that he could further anger his uncle if he left the table. Though with the news he had heard, he knew that if someone did not go to her she would likely have an anxiety attack, and all of the hells in Westeros would go loose in Raventree Hall. Thorn turned to his uncle, wondering whether he should ask.
[Ask to be excused and go to Helyn] [Remain seated and don’t ask]
[Ask to be excused and go to Helyn] I guess it could piss off the Lord, but sounds like she really needs help.
[Remain seated and don’t ask] One of the harder choices, I'll go with staying at the table though. It seems Lord take it very serious, but also the trouble with Helyn looks important. I don't know how it goes, but in my opinion obeying Jon is better option here.
[Remain seated and don’t ask]
[Remain seated and don’t ask]
It seems the lord is a bit on the edge right now, and understandably so. We already saw him snapping at Brock for a very weak reason, so I guess if Thorn asks to leave now, he could easily get even more pissed. Also, Thorn and Brock talked about this earlier, about how they are at the bottom of the house's hierarchy. The last thing Thorn should do right now is to give off the impression that he does not take this matter seriously enough to at least remain seated. I guess there might be a chance to talk to Helyn later.
[Ask to be excused and go to Helyn]
Prestan
The black massing slowly approached Eastwatch, riding from Greenguard on their tiny garrons. Prestan sat by his window with watchful eyes, trying to spot Commander Henri Redwyne, a young man at the age of fourteen. Prestan searched for a few minutes, though found only Stephas Swyft, the corrupted Master-at-arms of Greenguard, and officer of the young Commander Henri. Prestan turned to Peter Grassfield, his squire. The man stood firm, awaiting command. Prestan shook his head with disappointment, then sat at his desk.
“Bring me a drink, Peter.” The man nodded.
“Would it be ale or red wine you prefer?” Prestan sighed and shook his head.
“Bring me rum, the bottle will do.” Prestan noticed Peter raise his eyebrows, though without question he descended down the stone steps of the Commander’s tower.
Prestan grunted and rested his head among all the scrolls of paper that clattered his desk, making them fall to the ground. He wondered if he had made the right choice about sending his men to Skane, and especially asking for help from Greenguard. He had named Sebastion, a ranger under his command, as the new Commander of Skane when he had called for Commander Warrek to return. He was unsure what to do with Commander Warrek once he and his men returned, though he was happy to know Ser Harold Flowers would soon be back along with some extra recruits. All the gods know we are in dire need of more men. Peter Grassfield returned with Prestan’s bottle of rum and a tankard to drink it with.
“Thank you, Peter. Go down and have the men open the gates for the Greenguard’s, we would not want to keep them waiting.” Peter nodded and descended down the stairs again.
Prestan cracked open the spiced rum, which had been bought from the Arbor. As he poured the rum into the tankard and then instantly downed the cold refreshing spirit, he stood and looked out his window. The men of Greenguard were arriving at the gates as they were being opened, Prestan put his tankard back on his desk and descended down the stone steps to the courtyard.
-
Stephas Swyft had dismounted his steed and waited for Prestan, while the rest of his men rested in the courtyard. Prestan did not disappoint, unlike Commander Henri who was nowhere to be seen. Stephas smirked when he saw Prestan, extending his hand. Prestan firmly gripped the man’s hand.
“You look like shit, Prestan.” Stephas spoke with a friendly voice, though Prestan could see past the fake tone.
“Appreciated. Is Commander Redwyne not here?” Stephas looked Prestan in the eyes, searching for something that he could not find. He later shook his head.
“No, he thought it was wise that he should stay in command of Greenguard, so he let me take his men to Eastwatch.” Prestan nodded. More like he was advised that you take all of his men. Prestan sighed.
“Well, it saddens me that I could not speak with him.” Stephas shrugged, and looked at his men.
“Not much of a way to greet the men you requested aid from. Have your men take our gear to my men’s rooms, I will meet you in your tower shortly.” Prestan felt a trickle of sweat run down his neck, but he stood firm.
“Actually, we’re low on accommodation. You and your men will be staying in the fishermen’s village.” Prestan had of course lied, but there was a reason he did not want Stephas and his men behind Eastwatch’s walls. Stephas turned, now with a hint of anger in his eyes.
“If that’s the case, you’d have your men leave their dorms so that mine could be well rested.” Stephas stood a head taller than Prestan, and used that to his advantage when getting in Prestan’s face. Prestan looked the man in his eyes will all seriousness.
“Watch who you order around. I will listen to Commander Henri, I won’t take commands from you.” Prestan could see the men of Greenguard starting to stand, noticing the rivalry between Stephas and Prestan. Some of the men of Eastwatch had rallied to Prestan’s side. Stephas backed off.
“So be it.” He turned to his men, who were already being led out the eastern gate to the fishing village.
Prestan had his men at the village relocate the fishermen somewhere safer, he did not intend for them to be victims to Stephas’ riled men. As Prestan watched Stephas mount his garron and accompany his men, Peter Grassfield joined Prestan’s side.
“At this rate we would tear each other apart. What’re we to do?” Prestan watched as the men disappeared out of the eastern gate.
“We must show our authority. Stephas has treated me like shit for years, now his jealousy of my election as Commander has made me his rival. I won’t let him think he has a hand over me.” Peter shook his head.
“Your pride will be the end of us.” Prestan turned to Peter, feeling the anger well up inside of him. He calmed himself down, remembering Peter was one of the few allies he currently had. “Either way, we can’t sit here and do nothing, he and his men will be pissed. What would your orders be?” Prestan watched as the eastern gates were lowered.
He knew if they doubled the guard that Stephas would take it as an act of treachery, yet he worried for the safety of his men if they left Eastwatch accessible to the Greenguard’s. He turned to Peter with his answer.
[Double the guard and lockdown Eastwatch] [Do nothing until Stephas makes a move]
Mathea! Glad to see you back and well!
Glad to be back as well :-)
[Double the guard and lockdown Eastwatch]
[Double the guard and lockdown Eastwatch]
[Double the guard and lockdown Eastwatch]
If he only reacts once Stephas makes his move, things will already be too late. Regardless of wether or not Stephas is even planning to do something, it's better to be safe than sorry. Also, that way Prestan can show strength. He and Stephas don't get along either way, so at least he can play it safe with this.
[Double the guard and lockdown Eastwatch]
Better be safe. It's fine if only Stephas will take him as traitor, denying it is not worth of risk a life of his men. Peter Grassfield is right here, why should we take that risk in defence of Prestan's pride?
[Double the guard and lockdown Eastwatch]
edit: damn double post!
[Double the guard and lockdown Eastwatch]
[Remain seated and don’t ask]
Well, I'll close this vote. Thorn will remain seated and not ask to leave the table.
This was probably the best choice for Thorn in the long run, though Helyn won't be in a good position. There will only be one more Thorn part in this chapter, and a total of about twelve more parts left in this chapter. Then I'll be heading back to The Invasion to pick that up. It's been a great journey, and honestly I don't want to leave this story for the time it takes to write The Invasion, but I've still got these final parts to enjoy! Thank you for being a great participation to this story, and I'll try to keep the final moments for some of these characters as entertaining as I can!
Right, well it's pretty clear you guys don't want to do anything and wait for Steph... Hold up lemme get my glasses. Right, vote is closed with a clear answer. Prestan will double the guard and lockdown Eastwatch.
This should have a very interesting outcome, as his old rival will likely take this as a threat.
Tristifer
The swell of the Sunset sea was a couple of metres high, setting a repetitive rocking motion which had put some of the crew off ease. Tristifer and Allise Oldstark had left Ol’Tower in a great hurry, given a handful of guards that would escort them to Oldtown. Tristifer sat by the captain of the escort guard, Rickard Royce - the brother to Lord Royce in the Fingers. The men had been silent for the most part, trying to keep the meals they had eaten earlier down in their bellies. Finally, Rickard broke the silence with a grunt.
“Well, I don’t believe you did it. You’re the most honourable man of this house, respected so much that even your lord father gave you his sword. I served by Lord Garn’s side since I was a young man, as was he. I trust his judgement over Lord Garett’s.” The thought of Tristifer’s father’s death sent a chill down his spine. They had received a raven from Rechard informing them he had passed the night they had left Ol’Tower.
“Your judgement is well place, Captain Rickard. I respected the Night’s Watch, I honoured my vows. Yet the Lord Commander named me a deserter after supposedly signing me a declarant pardon.” Tristifer gripped the hilt of Wolfsbane, that rested in his lap. “Others take that wicked man.” Captain Rickard nodded in agreeance.
“He may be wicked, though he is the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. His word there is law, and no doubt he has men scouring the North trying to find you. Let us hope that your brother can keep his mouth shut about this escort.” The two men sat in silence once again, Captain Rickard apparently was trying to find things to say. “In any matter, I think that the armour of House Oldstark better suits you than the black rags of the Night’s Watch.” Tristifer looked down at his new attire.
He wore dark grey leather padded armour, and a lighter grey cloth shirt underneath it. He wore dark grey leather gloves which matched his padded armour, though his leather boots were a dark brown. Captain Rickard wore much the same, except his arms were plated entirely in steel armour, and his upper chest as well. He also wore an steel sallet helm, and wielded two battle axes. Tristifer shrugged.
“You get used to it when you take the black.” Captain Rickard chuckled.
“Guess there’s nothing else to get used to. Tell me, did you ever meet my nephew. Yohan Royce? I believe he is Commander at Stonedoor.” Tristifer nodded.
“I served at the Nightfort, but I talked to him on a few occasions. He seemed to be an honourable man.” Rickard grinned.
“He was a little shit if I might be honest. Back in my time at the Fingers, with my brother becoming Lord of Runestone, his son was being trained as the heir. Bloody Yohan caused a great deal of havoc, though if what you say is true it would sound like the Watch has sorted him out.” Tristifer could not help but smile, it was the way with most noble men, finding their calling to serve.
Tristifer stood up and gripped the captain’s shoulder, the man nodded and Tristifer left him to be alone. Trisitfer was heading below deck, though he stopped to peer over the side of the vessel. He saw off to the east some separated bits of land which he believed to be the Iron Islands. Gods watch over us. Tristifer thought to himself, as he turned and descended down into the hull.
The hull of the ship was mostly full of containers, barrels and the stench of brought up bile. Rechard, Tristifer’s younger brother, had put Tristifer and Allise on the first ship travelling to the Reach. That ship was a merchant vessel, commandeered by a Costayne of the Three Towers. He was a silent man, whom only focussed on the task at hand. Tristifer descended the steps, avoiding a puddle of puke that awaited him at the bottom. Behind the staircase was the living quarters for the crew, which was simply a large room full of hummocks. Tristifer entered the quarters, finding the rest of his escort guard sitting and betting on a board game. The two men playing against each other were Mal and Alon Wars. Jaffer, a ginger, watched the game. Tristifer walked passed them, to where Ollie, Chad and Marthew rested in their hummocks as sick as dogs. Tristifer frowned, looking around for his sister but not being able to spot her. He turned to Chad, who was the only man awake, he stared at the ceiling.
“Chad, do you know where Allise is?” The man turned to Tristifer, his face pale. He lifted his hand and pointed back to where Tristifer had came.
“Captain’s quarters, my lord.” Tristifer turned with confusion, though decided not to question the unwell guard.
“Thank you, Chad.” Tristifer turned and left the men, exiting the living quarters and stopping at the door of the captain’s quarters.
Tristifer naturally felt his hand move itself to the hilt of Wolfsbane. His other hand gripped the knob of the door and twisted it, letting the door swing open. Tristifer stood over the bulkhead and entered the room. The quarters were dull, some dim lanterns sat in the corner though the windows were covered. Tristifer could see Allise’s shadow displayed on the wall, though what she was doing utterly shocked him. My sister wouldn’t… Tristifer quickly walked over to the back turned chair, to find his sister searching through the captain’s draws. Tristifer sighed in relief, Allise turned to him with fearful eyes.
“Tristifer! I- uh.” Tristifer chuckled, resting his hand on his sister’s shoulder.
“Believe me, this is much better than what I thought.” Tristifer turned the arm chair around, so that the arm of the chair was not coincidentally at Allise’s mouth in her shadow. “What are you doing in here anyway?” Allise shrugged.
“I saw Captain Costayne sleeping with this box under his arm the other day, and again last night. I was curious what was in it.” Tristifer raised an eyebrow.
“Why were you watching the man sleep…? And you know better than to raid another man’s property.” Allise’s gaze dropped to the ground.
“Apologies brother, it won’t happen again.” Tristifer nodded and weakly smiled.
“I know.” The two remained idle for a moment, then Tristifer heard shouts from the upper deck. What in the Seven? Tristifer turned to Allise, who looked as confused as he.
The two quickly rearranged the draws and items in the captain’s quarters as how they used to be, and left the captain’s quarters. When they shut the door behind them, they saw Ollie and Marthew climbing the steps with their longswords in hand. Chad followed behind them, staggering and using his sword to balance himself. Tristifer stopped him and turned to Allise.
“Stay down here and take care of Chad, I’ll be right back.” Allise shook her head.
“I can fight Tristifer.” Tristifer stopped, halfway up the steps, and turned back to her.
“Just do as I say!” He made sure to watch as she and Chad headed back into the living quarters, then Tristifer climbed to the upper deck.
The once blue sky and turned to a grey mess of clouds, thunder striking down in the distance. The sea state had turned rough, though there was something much worse of concern. The crew of the vessel had reached for their spears and scimitars, and Tristifer’s escort guard all had their weapons in hand. In the distance, a vessel with sails displaying House Hoare charged towards their ship. Tristifer could see it was going to ram.
“Brace for impact lads!” Tristifer barely identified the voice to be the captain’s, he had been flung back by the force of the ramming ship.
Tristifer watched as the Ironborn jumped from their ship onto Tristifer’s vessel, knocking down the crew that were close. The escort guard managed to make a wall that stood between the Ironborn and Tristifer, though Tristifer noticed one of the Ironmen cutting down the sick and weary Marthew and charging at Tristifer. Tristifer unsheathed Wolfsbane, the blue valyrian steel glowing. The Ironborn struck his iron sword at Tristifer, which he parried - and to his surprise completely shattered the iron to pieces. This had also caught the Ironborn off guard, which gave Tristifer the chance to lunge Wolfsbane through the man’s chest. Tristifer pulled the blade out, turning to his fallen guard Marthew, who was still barely alive. Tristifer noticed that Ollie was starting to drag him to the stairs below the deck, though another Ironborn was running towards them with a large one-sided axe. Tristifer ran to Ollie’s defense and deflected the blow, the wooden shaft of the axe snapped at the retaliating force. Tristifer took the leg from underneath the Ironborn and stabbed him through the throat. Ollie had managed to drag Marthew down below, giving Tristifer the chance to advance. He saw the the Ironborn vessel had disconnected from their own, though was being held by two grappling hooks. One had already been severed, though the aft was still in tact. Tristifer started making his way aft of the ship, cutting down any Ironborn that got in his way. Tristifer was nearly halfway to the rope when he heard the feminine scream behind him. He turned and saw his sister fighting with one of the Ironborn. Dammit Allise! As he was about to head to his sister’s rescue, he saw that more Ironborn were pulling their ship in from the rope that was still connected to the ship. Soon they would be overwhelmed if that rope was not cut in time, though Tristifer did not know if his sister could really handle herself.
[Sever the line] [Run to Allise’s aid]
[Run to Allise’s aid]
[Run to Allise’s aid]
It is his sister's life on the line here. If something happens to her, then Tristifer is going to blame himself forever. I doubt Allise is much of a match for an Ironborn raider, which means that she really needs the help. Maybe someone else can cut the line, or maybe he manages to do both in time, but his sister should be his priority.
[Run to Allise’s aid]
[Run to Allise’s aid] I'm going to agree with everyone else on this, saving his sister comes first.