Dormund
Lord Eddon and Tobas accompanied Dormund into the Dreadfort. The wall’s were stained with dry blood which had not been cleaned fo… morer centuries, the stench of death filled the halls. Dormund waved to the guards, who opened the doors to the throne room. Tobas and Lord Eddon followed Dormund to the throne where King Rogar stood, anger and sadness haunting his eyes. Beneath him lay the body of Edwyn Bolton, the heir of the Dreadfort. Dormund and his company knelt down once they were in front of the king. Rogar remained silent, King Theon stood on the other end of the room with his generals. Dormund lifted his head, next to the throne was Carver and Ryden. Dormund smiled, glad to see Ryden was back to his health.
“Is something funny, Dormund? Think killing off your brother, and making yourself the heir of my castle is funny? Rise you fools!” Dormund and the others rose. Rogar was a tall man, but now Dormund stood at his father’s level.… [view original content]
Wyllam: Stay and defend Gulltown, or leave for war
This choice wasn’t really that important, the only thing it did cause was to make Jarden a PoV. And of course now Wyllam will not see if his family is alive as Jarden has taken his place (maybe it is for the best).
Dormund: Let him go, Execute him, or Flay him alive.
Once again, not really an IMPORTANT choice but definitely a work on Dormund’s character development. Dormund had always tried to live up to his father’s expectations, but had also tried to be good himself. So this was really a choice of whether to take on the Bolton side of things, or to find his true inner-self.
Nalia: Join the Ranged Formation, or Stay in the Infantry
Really, if Nalia hadn’t joined then there wouldn’t have been any focus on the Ranged Formation. Though this probably would have meant she could have avoided Rechar altogether.
Torv: Tell Lord Reed, or Say nothing.
This choice wasn’t that important, as he is going to Barrowton anyway. Though now we sort of know a bit more about Rolland, and have overall gained some respect for him. If Torv had gone with Emma then he ultimately would have fallen in love with her and tried to go out with her.
Alara: Stand down or Teach Rechar and his men a lesson
Probably the biggest game changer in the story. If Alara had beaten up Rechar and his boys, Alara and her squad would have become the victims to Rechar’s wrath. Ultimately, Nalia and Raven would have been safe and Alara and the squad would have died.
Davios: Go North or Warn the Arryns.
This was another decision that should not be taken lightly. As we know, Davios decided to go North and fight in the Battle of the Weeping Water. Now he heads back to Andalos, injured but overall okay. If he had decided to warn the Arryns, his story would have become a plot for revenge. He would have supported the war against the Royces and tried to avenge his father from the very man who took his life. Unfortunately Davios probably won’t get this chance again.
Dormund: Bring Ryden back to the Dreadfort, or leave him at Frost Keep.
Not many thought this decision was important, but it had its hidden values. If we had left Ryden behind then he would not have died in the end. Oh well.
Jarden: Take Paytan, Take Drevyn, or Take Marsh
Really depended on what you guys liked. An annoying bowman, a cheerful spearman or a cold and serious swordsman. Does not really play a big role in the end game.
Ted: Join the king in his conquest, Stay at Storm’s End, or rally his bannermen
This decision was more to introduce a new story or introduce important characters. Glory would have awaited him at the conquest, but now he goes to rally the Caron’s and other banners.
Torv: Chase after the thief, or Stay and help Rolland
Helping Rolland would have ensured his survival, though they would have lost the Stone. The Stone would have gone to the Vale, where the Arryn’s would have destroyed it. Rolland’s current status is unknown.
Nalia: Stay with Raven, Find Athena and Kailan, or Find Brodin and Steffon.
Mainly just saying who she felt was more important to her at the time. If she had stayed with Raven then their bond would have grown.
Dormund: Save Tobas or Save Edwyn
Now from the last part, you guys may have seen this was now a really important decision. Edwyn and Tobas’ are supposedly the only to legitimate children of Rogar, but considering Dormund was next in line for becoming the heir, this caused a problem for Rogar. Saving Edwyn would have ensured Tobas’ death, though Rogar would be pissed he would not have caused the slaughter he did in the final part.
Davios: Continue fighting or Call a retreat
Davios would have likely died in battle if he continued fighting, though you would learn that he killed Lord Eddon. Now instead they are both alive! For now…
Samira: Kill the guard, escape out the window, moan loudly.
Not really important, just a decision to decide how Samira worked. You guys chose well.
Torv: Go to Barrowton or Go to the Vale
Mainly would have changed Torv’s story entirely. Currently he is taking the Stone to Barrowton to give to the King. If he had rode to the Vale with Rose then the Stone would have been destroyed as said before.
Hey guys, exams are coming up this term and this story is going to be put on hold for maybe a week or so. Check out my other story > https://www.telltalegames.com/community/discussion/comment/2262377#Comment_2262377 > which I am currently putting all work into at the moment. Once that chapter is done I will kick off where we left here and vice versa until school is over. Then I will focus on them both!
Light droplets landed on the pale face of Steffon’s daughter. Nalia’s corpse had been placed on a raised wooden platform, in between the cold bodies of Brodin and Raven. Steffon stood beside his daughter, clenching onto her hand tightly. Her hand was cold and limp, lifeless. Tears streamed down Steffon’s face, building up on his chin and dripping down on his daughter’s hand. Steffon’s hair was saturated from the rain that had persisted all night long, attempting to wash away the sins that had occurred in the past hours. Steffon had stood next to Nalia for near an hour now, not letting go of her hand. Brodin’s bloody corpse lay next to his daughter, though Steffon payed no attention to the man that was once his brother. Nalia had been Steffon’s life, his achievements and pride, and now that had been taken away from him. Adjacent to Steffon stood a tall girl with short dark brown hair - almost black - and scars all over her body. Her skin was pale and her eyes did not match, one was red and the other was brown. She looked up to him with teary eyes. Steffon payed no attention to Athena. She had lost her friends but Steffon had lost his brother and daughter, nothing could amount to being worse than that. The wooden platforms stretched on for miles, holding the corpses of dead Stark and Bolton soldiers. Mercenaries who had fallen in battle were taken into the forest to be buried. A soft but firm hand gripped onto Steffon’s shoulder, making him drop his daughter’s hand and reach for his sword. He turned to see Theon, his king, standing with a sorrowful expression. His eyes were concerned yet upset, though he shed no tears.
“Steffon, it is time to light the fires.” Theon looked over to Athena. The girl nodded, trying to hold in her tears, and left the platform.
Steffon took one last look at his daughter. The wound on her body was exposed for all to see, though Athena had placed a bouquet of flowers over it. Nalia’s right hand held the bouquet, her left rested in Steffon’s hands. Her once long and wavy auburn hair was now damp and brown from the consistent downfall. Her pastel green eyes were open and staring into the cloudy sky above them. Steffon placed his daughter’s hand over the bouquet of wildflowers. He walked to the edge of the wooden platform, to where his daughter’s head rested. He placed his rough hand over her face, sliding down and shutting her eyes. He looked to King Theon, whose eyes were burdened with sadness. Behind him was a large crowd of mourning Stark and Bolton soldiers, and behind them was the cursed Dreadfort. King Rogar and his eldest sons had not come down to mourn for their dead. Because it is them who killed my daughter. Though Tobas Bolton, Theon’s ward, had been down for as long as Theon. Steffon had his heart set on revenge against the Boltons. Though there was no proof, he knew inside that it was them who had caused this. All of this. Theon and Steffon descended the platform together, joining the large crowd that looked up to their king in a time of hardship. Theon wore his steel greatsword on his back - Ice - as he stared out to the crowd of men and women who patiently waited for him to speak. Theon looked down to Tobas Bolton, who was holding an ironwood torch. The flame was blue, it flickered in the rain that poured down on the Stark’s and Bolton’s alike. Tobas walked onto the wooden platform and passed Theon the torch. Steffon glared at the young man as he held the pommel of his sword. Tobas quickly disappeared back into the crowd and Theon began his speech.
“Stark’s. Bolton’s. Mercenaries of Westeros. For too long have we bickered among ourselves, fighting our small wars against each other and ignoring the real enemy - the Andals. Today, we have proven that we are not to be defined as savage barbaric men who fight among each other. Today, we have become brothers and sisters, bound in blood and a hunger for glory. We are the First Men, we stand united as one. These Andals have killed our people, attempted to take our lands! We have held them off, but they will come back. That is why I have decided to take this war to their lands, to their people!” A loud cheer erupted from the Stark soldiers that were among the large crowd. Theon continued, “They have left half of their boats. We will rebuild what was damaged, sail over to their lands and plunder all that they own. We will show them not to mess with the First Men! The only men of Westeros!” Theon raised his torch and was supported with a large cheer.
Theon turned and walked to a wooden platform that held the corpse of a young Stark boy. He lit the platform on fire, setting off a chain reaction of Stark’s and Bolton’s coming out from the crowd and setting fire to their loved ones. Theon turned to Steffon and passed him the torch, Steffon glanced at Theon then grabbed it. He walked over to the corpse’s of his daughter and brother. Beside him, Athena was kneeling next to Kailan’s platform. She had dropped her torch and had buried her head in her hands. Steffon focused his attention to the corpse of his brother. He walked over to the platform and lit it, watching as it quickly arose in blue flames. Steffon walked over to Nalia, her faces was calm and placid. A tear began to jerk in Steffon’s eyes, his hands began to shake. I can’t let you go, you were too young. In the corner of Steffon’s eye, he could see King Theon observing his actions. Steffon straightened his posture and took one last look at his daughter. He placed the torch against the dry grass that sat under the platform. The wooden quickly arose into a body of flames. Nalia’s hair was auburn once again, the heat had re-entered her body. Steffon turned to Theon, who now stood next to him.
“I understand you need time to mourn, but I wish to speak with you.” Theon left as quickly as his words entered Steffon’s ears. He stood and watched as his daughter burned. Athena still knelt next to Kailan’s platform, her weeping could be heard from the Dreadfort. Theon had made his way into the crowd and stood next to Tobas Bolton, the two conversed which made Steffon worry. He should not be speaking with Bolton filth. Steffon took one last glance at Nalia, then looked at Athena. She needs someone.
Chapter 3: Taking back what is ours
Steffon
Light droplets landed on the pale face of Steffon’s daughter. Nalia’s corpse had been plac… moreed on a raised wooden platform, in between the cold bodies of Brodin and Raven. Steffon stood beside his daughter, clenching onto her hand tightly. Her hand was cold and limp, lifeless. Tears streamed down Steffon’s face, building up on his chin and dripping down on his daughter’s hand. Steffon’s hair was saturated from the rain that had persisted all night long, attempting to wash away the sins that had occurred in the past hours. Steffon had stood next to Nalia for near an hour now, not letting go of her hand. Brodin’s bloody corpse lay next to his daughter, though Steffon payed no attention to the man that was once his brother. Nalia had been Steffon’s life, his achievements and pride, and now that had been taken away from him. Adjacent to Steffon stood a tall girl with short dark brown hair - almost b… [view original content]
Chapter 3: Taking back what is ours
Steffon
Light droplets landed on the pale face of Steffon’s daughter. Nalia’s corpse had been plac… moreed on a raised wooden platform, in between the cold bodies of Brodin and Raven. Steffon stood beside his daughter, clenching onto her hand tightly. Her hand was cold and limp, lifeless. Tears streamed down Steffon’s face, building up on his chin and dripping down on his daughter’s hand. Steffon’s hair was saturated from the rain that had persisted all night long, attempting to wash away the sins that had occurred in the past hours. Steffon had stood next to Nalia for near an hour now, not letting go of her hand. Brodin’s bloody corpse lay next to his daughter, though Steffon payed no attention to the man that was once his brother. Nalia had been Steffon’s life, his achievements and pride, and now that had been taken away from him. Adjacent to Steffon stood a tall girl with short dark brown hair - almost b… [view original content]
Chapter 3: Taking back what is ours
Steffon
Light droplets landed on the pale face of Steffon’s daughter. Nalia’s corpse had been plac… moreed on a raised wooden platform, in between the cold bodies of Brodin and Raven. Steffon stood beside his daughter, clenching onto her hand tightly. Her hand was cold and limp, lifeless. Tears streamed down Steffon’s face, building up on his chin and dripping down on his daughter’s hand. Steffon’s hair was saturated from the rain that had persisted all night long, attempting to wash away the sins that had occurred in the past hours. Steffon had stood next to Nalia for near an hour now, not letting go of her hand. Brodin’s bloody corpse lay next to his daughter, though Steffon payed no attention to the man that was once his brother. Nalia had been Steffon’s life, his achievements and pride, and now that had been taken away from him. Adjacent to Steffon stood a tall girl with short dark brown hair - almost b… [view original content]
Chapter 3: Taking back what is ours
Steffon
Light droplets landed on the pale face of Steffon’s daughter. Nalia’s corpse had been plac… moreed on a raised wooden platform, in between the cold bodies of Brodin and Raven. Steffon stood beside his daughter, clenching onto her hand tightly. Her hand was cold and limp, lifeless. Tears streamed down Steffon’s face, building up on his chin and dripping down on his daughter’s hand. Steffon’s hair was saturated from the rain that had persisted all night long, attempting to wash away the sins that had occurred in the past hours. Steffon had stood next to Nalia for near an hour now, not letting go of her hand. Brodin’s bloody corpse lay next to his daughter, though Steffon payed no attention to the man that was once his brother. Nalia had been Steffon’s life, his achievements and pride, and now that had been taken away from him. Adjacent to Steffon stood a tall girl with short dark brown hair - almost b… [view original content]
Chapter 3: Taking back what is ours
Steffon
Light droplets landed on the pale face of Steffon’s daughter. Nalia’s corpse had been plac… moreed on a raised wooden platform, in between the cold bodies of Brodin and Raven. Steffon stood beside his daughter, clenching onto her hand tightly. Her hand was cold and limp, lifeless. Tears streamed down Steffon’s face, building up on his chin and dripping down on his daughter’s hand. Steffon’s hair was saturated from the rain that had persisted all night long, attempting to wash away the sins that had occurred in the past hours. Steffon had stood next to Nalia for near an hour now, not letting go of her hand. Brodin’s bloody corpse lay next to his daughter, though Steffon payed no attention to the man that was once his brother. Nalia had been Steffon’s life, his achievements and pride, and now that had been taken away from him. Adjacent to Steffon stood a tall girl with short dark brown hair - almost b… [view original content]
Chapter 3: Taking back what is ours
Steffon
Light droplets landed on the pale face of Steffon’s daughter. Nalia’s corpse had been plac… moreed on a raised wooden platform, in between the cold bodies of Brodin and Raven. Steffon stood beside his daughter, clenching onto her hand tightly. Her hand was cold and limp, lifeless. Tears streamed down Steffon’s face, building up on his chin and dripping down on his daughter’s hand. Steffon’s hair was saturated from the rain that had persisted all night long, attempting to wash away the sins that had occurred in the past hours. Steffon had stood next to Nalia for near an hour now, not letting go of her hand. Brodin’s bloody corpse lay next to his daughter, though Steffon payed no attention to the man that was once his brother. Nalia had been Steffon’s life, his achievements and pride, and now that had been taken away from him. Adjacent to Steffon stood a tall girl with short dark brown hair - almost b… [view original content]
Chapter 3: Taking back what is ours
Steffon
Light droplets landed on the pale face of Steffon’s daughter. Nalia’s corpse had been plac… moreed on a raised wooden platform, in between the cold bodies of Brodin and Raven. Steffon stood beside his daughter, clenching onto her hand tightly. Her hand was cold and limp, lifeless. Tears streamed down Steffon’s face, building up on his chin and dripping down on his daughter’s hand. Steffon’s hair was saturated from the rain that had persisted all night long, attempting to wash away the sins that had occurred in the past hours. Steffon had stood next to Nalia for near an hour now, not letting go of her hand. Brodin’s bloody corpse lay next to his daughter, though Steffon payed no attention to the man that was once his brother. Nalia had been Steffon’s life, his achievements and pride, and now that had been taken away from him. Adjacent to Steffon stood a tall girl with short dark brown hair - almost b… [view original content]
Chapter 3: Taking back what is ours
Steffon
Light droplets landed on the pale face of Steffon’s daughter. Nalia’s corpse had been plac… moreed on a raised wooden platform, in between the cold bodies of Brodin and Raven. Steffon stood beside his daughter, clenching onto her hand tightly. Her hand was cold and limp, lifeless. Tears streamed down Steffon’s face, building up on his chin and dripping down on his daughter’s hand. Steffon’s hair was saturated from the rain that had persisted all night long, attempting to wash away the sins that had occurred in the past hours. Steffon had stood next to Nalia for near an hour now, not letting go of her hand. Brodin’s bloody corpse lay next to his daughter, though Steffon payed no attention to the man that was once his brother. Nalia had been Steffon’s life, his achievements and pride, and now that had been taken away from him. Adjacent to Steffon stood a tall girl with short dark brown hair - almost b… [view original content]
Hey guys, vote closed. Steffon will choose to go to King Theon. I haven't started the next part yet and I will do so probably tomorrow just because I have a lot of study that needs to be done.
The griffin’s throat was long and natural ridge. The terrain was jagged but overall the land was green and full of life. Ted rode his courser, a fresh gift from the king. The courser was a beautiful breed, lighter than a destrier but overall faster and nearly as strong. A true courier horse. Ted looked up to his left to see a gatehouse with a few Connington guards. To his right were two round towers, filled with Connington soldiers. Ahead of Ted stood the main gate to Griffin’s Roost, the closest banners of Storm’s End. Let’s hope they don’t know much of the Estermont’s… Ted looked down to his new uniform. He wore bronze shoulder pads and wielded his bronze longsword on his hip. Under his armor was a pale green tunic with a dark green sea-turtle for all to see. Ted sighed, thinking back to his time at the Wall. It had been three years since his framing back on Estermont, the reputation he had gained. There was no doubt the black brothers were still searching for him, Ted only hoped King Qarlton would hold his word and send a fake head to the Watch. Ted looked up, his eyes revealed three Connington riders heading in his direction. Ted pulled his courser to a halt and rested his hand on the pommel of his blade. The three men grew bigger and bigger as they got closer. The man in the middle wore plated bronze armor with House Connington’s tabard on his chest. His hair was short and red, as red as blood. The three soldiers quickly surrounded Ted with their weapons drawn. One of the soldiers raised an eyebrow as he looked Ted in the eye, then at his tunic.
“Blue, it’s an Estermont.” The guard said quietly, somewhat embarrassed. The red haired man rode to the soldiers side, his cheeks were flushed red.
“Oh I- Forgive us my lord, we have had trouble with some damn bandits. I am Robart Connington, only son and heir to Griffin’s Roost. It is a pleasure to be acquainted with you, Lord…” Ted shook his head, desperately wanting to avoid any questions about him.
“I am no lord. King Qarlton has placed me in charge of rallying the banners for war, you will take me to your father.” Ted gulped, somewhat surprised with the authority he was exchanging to the three men that could easily kill him. Ted started to grip the hilt of his sword. Robart raised an eyebrow, though nodded quickly.
“Rallier eh? Well I guess someone had to get the job, come on.” Robart and his men turned their destriers and headed back for the main gate. Ted raised his eyebrows feeling shocked. For a moment he thought he had authority, though he was blinded. Ted sighed and shook his head. He pushed his courser into a gallop, catching up with the men that rode to the main gate.
-
The Great Hall of Griffin’s Roost was truly a sight. Though the castle was smaller in comparison to others, it could easily hold its own weight and more. The walls were decorated with faded tapestries and arched windows that displayed myriad diamond-shaped panes of red and white glass. At the end of the hall was a seat carved in the shape of a griffin. The seat was gilded with fine gold which reflected red and white lights around the hall from the tinted windows. In the seat sat a burly man with long red hair, some parts platted to keep it neat. His beard was a magnificent sight, platted and well-kept. It stretched down to his upper chest, and it was easy to tell it was of great importance to him. Ted was led by Robart to his father’s seat, his two companions followed him closely. Robart joined his father by his seat, the two soldiers stood by Ted’s side. The burly bearded man stood from his seat and clasped his hands together, he wore a giant grin.
“Welcome to my great hall! I am Gryff Connington, the lord of Griffin’s Roost. I presume you are from Estermont, or favor them greatly?” Gryff wore a giant grin, though through that Ted could see what the man was trying to do. I won’t fall into his game. Ted bowed.
“I come from Storm’s End, in service to King Qarlton. I have been ordered by his grace to rally his banners. You are needed for the conquer of Massey’s Hook.” Ted stared the bulky man dead in the eyes, watching as his cockiness turned to shock.
“The Massey? So he want’s to put this war to an end. Very well, I will rally my soldiers and ride to Storm’s End.” Gryff turned to his seat and sat back down. He looked at Ted, then to his son - Robart. “I must consult with my son. Please, take a look around.” Ted nodded and turned to the soldiers next to him.
“I guess that means your job is over.” The two men laughed, somewhat mockingly.
“Far from it. I know who you are, I recognised you the moment I saw you. Teddy Estermont, the man who murdered his uncle. How does it feel to be a kinslayer?” Ted’s face grew red with anger, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. Calm down Ted, they’re not worth it. Ted pushed through the wall of guards, leaving them laugh and bicker to themselves.
Ted clenched his fists, trying to release the anger that he had now grasped onto. He walked over to a tapestry of Gryff’s family. In the painting stood Gryff holding onto his double-sided war axe and a young Robart hugging onto his mother’s leg. The sight made Ted chuckle. Before Ted turned away, he noticed a familiar figure in the tapestry. A man in black holding a greatsword. His hair was short and a light red, his beard was nothing too important. Ted tried to think of where he recognised the man. The sword, the hair. The black… Ron! A sudden shiver coursed its way up and down Ted’s spine. Ron Connington was the lord commander of the Night’s Watch. Ted began to worry that perhaps Gryff might have heard of the deserter. Perhaps this was all a trap. Ted began to panic, his breathing began to get heavier and heavier. Footsteps started behind him, slowly growing closer and closer. Ted quickly spun around and unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Gryff Connington. Ted’s hands began to shake, causing him to drop the sword. Gryff sighed and walked up to Ted, placing his hand on the young man’s shoulder.
“You may think your past his hidden, Ted, though it is not. We all know who you are, a part of us believe you did not kill your lord uncle either. I for one do not, I don’t see the rationale behind it. I only see a boy who is traumatically stressed as a result.” Ted’s breathing began to slow as he listened to the calm and soothing words of his host.
“Your uncle favored you, had big dreams for you and your family. I know this because he wanted me to take you as a squire, teach you leadership. I saw it as an opportunity to harden up my own boy, giving him a ‘brother’ to spar with. Though that all changed when your uncle died and your cousin took his place.” Gryff stared at the tapestry as he spoke, though he looked down at Ted now. “If you wish to stay at Griffin’s Roost for the night, I will have the spare chambers heated for you. If not, I will dispatch a small garrison of men to escort you back to the main roads - never know where these bandits will strike.” Ted looked up to the tall and bulky man who wore a sad smile.
“Thank you, my lord. Though his majesty would wish for me to have his banners at Storm’s End before the week is at an end. I should not waste time.” The burly man began to chuckle aloud.
“So be it, but if I can persuade you to stay then I may be able to help lighten your load. I have talked to Robart and he has agreed to take his garrison to the rest of the Houses in the Stormlands. All that remains are the Marchlands, which I doubt will come to our side. Though I will send the men if you wish it.” Ted looked the man in the eye, raising an eyebrow as he did.
“Why are you doing this for me?” Gryff grinned, he stared at the tapestry. His wife had beautiful black hair and green eyes. Ted raised his eyebrows.
“Because we’re family. Come to me if you change your mind.” Gryff released Ted from his grip and retreated to his chambers.
Ted stared at the woman in the tapestry. The woman he had forgotten about. Jasmyn Estermont was Ted’s aunt. She was the only daughter of Ted’s grandfather, and she had been married to Gryff at a young age. She drowned when Ted was only ten years old. She was practically a second mother to him, one of the few who truly cared about him. Ted began to feel too comfortable. It was an unusual feeling, he had been on the run for a year and now he felt safe. I need to get out of here. Ted turned for the door out of the Great Hall, but a sudden pang of guilt hit him. It felt wrong to walk out from the only relative that seemed to care about him, though Ted knew he could give nothing in return.
[Stay at Griffin’s Roost] [Leave for the Marches]
Hey guys, sorry it's been a while since the last update. I think the story is going to be slowed a little as study is catching up. Sorry if this of an inconvenience...
Ted
The griffin’s throat was long and natural ridge. The terrain was jagged but overall the land was green and full of life. Ted rode his… more courser, a fresh gift from the king. The courser was a beautiful breed, lighter than a destrier but overall faster and nearly as strong. A true courier horse. Ted looked up to his left to see a gatehouse with a few Connington guards. To his right were two round towers, filled with Connington soldiers. Ahead of Ted stood the main gate to Griffin’s Roost, the closest banners of Storm’s End. Let’s hope they don’t know much of the Estermont’s… Ted looked down to his new uniform. He wore bronze shoulder pads and wielded his bronze longsword on his hip. Under his armor was a pale green tunic with a dark green sea-turtle for all to see. Ted sighed, thinking back to his time at the Wall. It had been three years since his framing back on Estermont, the reputation he had gained. There was no doubt the black brothe… [view original content]
I am a bit conflicted about this. On the one hand, the king place him in charge of this mission. I would also love to see some Caron's. On the other hand, this is Ted's family and staying there for one night can't be too bad. Also, since Gryff would send Robart to the Marches, I guess I'm going to see the Caron's either way.
Ted
The griffin’s throat was long and natural ridge. The terrain was jagged but overall the land was green and full of life. Ted rode his… more courser, a fresh gift from the king. The courser was a beautiful breed, lighter than a destrier but overall faster and nearly as strong. A true courier horse. Ted looked up to his left to see a gatehouse with a few Connington guards. To his right were two round towers, filled with Connington soldiers. Ahead of Ted stood the main gate to Griffin’s Roost, the closest banners of Storm’s End. Let’s hope they don’t know much of the Estermont’s… Ted looked down to his new uniform. He wore bronze shoulder pads and wielded his bronze longsword on his hip. Under his armor was a pale green tunic with a dark green sea-turtle for all to see. Ted sighed, thinking back to his time at the Wall. It had been three years since his framing back on Estermont, the reputation he had gained. There was no doubt the black brothe… [view original content]
[Stay at Griffin’s Roost]
I am a bit conflicted about this. On the one hand, the king place him in charge of this mission. I would also l… moreove to see some Caron's. On the other hand, this is Ted's family and staying there for one night can't be too bad. Also, since Gryff would send Robart to the Marches, I guess I'm going to see the Caron's either way.
Ted
The griffin’s throat was long and natural ridge. The terrain was jagged but overall the land was green and full of life. Ted rode his… more courser, a fresh gift from the king. The courser was a beautiful breed, lighter than a destrier but overall faster and nearly as strong. A true courier horse. Ted looked up to his left to see a gatehouse with a few Connington guards. To his right were two round towers, filled with Connington soldiers. Ahead of Ted stood the main gate to Griffin’s Roost, the closest banners of Storm’s End. Let’s hope they don’t know much of the Estermont’s… Ted looked down to his new uniform. He wore bronze shoulder pads and wielded his bronze longsword on his hip. Under his armor was a pale green tunic with a dark green sea-turtle for all to see. Ted sighed, thinking back to his time at the Wall. It had been three years since his framing back on Estermont, the reputation he had gained. There was no doubt the black brothe… [view original content]
Ted
The griffin’s throat was long and natural ridge. The terrain was jagged but overall the land was green and full of life. Ted rode his… more courser, a fresh gift from the king. The courser was a beautiful breed, lighter than a destrier but overall faster and nearly as strong. A true courier horse. Ted looked up to his left to see a gatehouse with a few Connington guards. To his right were two round towers, filled with Connington soldiers. Ahead of Ted stood the main gate to Griffin’s Roost, the closest banners of Storm’s End. Let’s hope they don’t know much of the Estermont’s… Ted looked down to his new uniform. He wore bronze shoulder pads and wielded his bronze longsword on his hip. Under his armor was a pale green tunic with a dark green sea-turtle for all to see. Ted sighed, thinking back to his time at the Wall. It had been three years since his framing back on Estermont, the reputation he had gained. There was no doubt the black brothe… [view original content]
A large mass of small folk surrounded the entrance to the Great Barrow, all eagerly listening for any news of their great king. Samira stood among the crowd, slowly making her way back to the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ Samira listened to the sounds of quiet bickering as a loud man with a booming voice spoke to the people. The man had a great beard which was a dark blonde, his hair fell down to his shoulders.
“Hear me now, for I will only say this once! King Dustin and his lady are dead, murdered by someone in this very city.” The people slowly began to quiet down, Samira listened to the sudden gasps. “We are closing Barrowton’s gates until the killer is found. Gods watch over you all.” The final comment sent Samira into a small panic. I need to get out of here, quickly.
Samira desperately fought her way through the large crowds until she reached the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ The building was likely the best in all of Barrowton, though scummy compared to the rest of the North. Samira entered the tavern’s old wooden door, which creaked when it was opened quickly. Inside were many of the regular drinkers and gamblers of Barrowton, which Samira knew all by name. She knew all who could do her harm, and all who were easy to manipulate. Samira walked over to the bar counter, where a tavern wench stood cleaning a horned mug. The old crone looked up at Samira, rolled her eyes, then spat on the mug as she cleaned it.
“We don’t serve highborns, go back to where you came from princess.” The woman made little eye contact. Samira looked down at her dressing, she still wore her dark yellow dress. Samira huffed, appearing agitated that she had not thought this plan through well-enough. She quickly decided to use her cover to her advantage.
“Aye m’lady. Me ol’ father ‘as asked me to seek accommodation. He’s weary and tired after a long day’s ride, he would pay generously for a room m’lady.” The crone looked up at Samira, a glint was in her eye.
“How much?” Samira reached into her satchel and pulled out a bag of coins. She placed them on the counter and watched as the tavern wench grinned.
“Very well, your highness. What room would you like?” Samira stared at the keys. Room twenty-four belonged to Samira, and her key was hanging on the wall.
“Twenty-four.” The woman smiled and quickly retrieved the key. She passed it to Samira and grinned to her.
“Let me know if you need anything, love.” Samira gave a fake smile and proceeded to the stairs.
The stairs were as creaky as the door, except no matter how slowly you ascended the stairs would still creak. Samira climbed to the top floor and walked down the aisle. She stayed cautious, checking corners to make sure no one was watching her. She could find no one. Samira continued to her room, where only the door stood in her way. She grabbed her key and inserted it into the keyhole. The door clunked, but did not open. Samira tried again, but with no luck. That damn crone must have given me the wrong key. Bugger this. Samira unsheathed her dagger and placed it to the padlock that sat against the door. She tightened her fist and smashed it down onto the pommel of the dagger, breaking the padlock open. Samira’s hand was a bloody mess as a consequence. Samira entered and closed the door shut behind her, locking it with the door chain. The room was dark, outside the sun was setting. Samira slowly navigated herself through the dark until she reached the window. She released the hatch to the window’s shutters and let in some light. Samira sat down on her bed and began to strip off her clothing. When she was only now in undergear and still had one dagger attached to her thigh, she heard a knock on the door. Shit. Samira unsheathed her dagger and slowly walked to the door. There was no window to check the alleyway like there was in Andalos, Samira would have to open the door. She placed her hand on the cool bronze knob and twisted it. She opened the door, and there stood a woman in leather gear and short black hair. Next to her was a young wounded man.
“Excuse me, I am sorry to interrupt you this late though we need a place to stay for the night. I-” The woman looked at Samira, who was mostly nude. She covered her eyes, seeming somewhat ashamed or embarrassed. Samira laughed.
“Of course, give me a moment to slip into something more comfortable…” The woman nodded and Samira quickly shut the door. I need to pack.
Samira quickly rushed over to her desk, letters and ink was cluttered all over it. Samira quickly placed it all into her satchel. Her daggers still sat on her bed, and her black dress as well. Her casual dress hung in the wardrobe. Samira quickly decided it would be a smart idea to keep her daggers hidden, and to wear her casual dress. She walked over to the bed and adjusted the other dagger back around her thigh. She quickly walked over to the wardrobe and threw her formal Dustin handmaiden dress into it, grabbing her other dress as she closed it. She quickly slipped it on and did one last check of the room, it was clean of any evidence. She took in a breath and walked over to the door. She unhooked the chain and opened the door. The two entered, both seeming tired and cold. They sat themselves on her bed and deeply breathed. The girl looked at Samira with a thankful smile.
“We truly appreciate this. We will be out of your hair by sunrise, I swear.” Samira shook her head and smiled.
“There is no need for that, I was just about to leave.” The girl nodded.
“Well, at least allow me to introduce ourselves. I am Emma Snow, and this here is Edrick.” The boy groaned in reply. Samira did a small curtsy.
“Aya Flint.” Emma raised an eyebrow.
“Wow, a Flint is staying somewhere like this?” Samira nodded, somewhat nervously.
“Aye. Since what happened in the Great Barrow, I no longer felt safe staying there.” Emma now looked confused, her deep blue eyes stared into Samira’s bluey green eyes with wonder and worry.
“What has happened?” Samira continued her act, appearing as saddened and full of grief. She sat herself at her desk. She began to tear up, making the act seem as realistic as possible.
“Oh… It was horrible. I was handmaiden to the queen, yesterday was my first day. When I entered to replace her sheets, I found her dead. When I went to report this to the guard, they said they had found the king with multiple stabbing wounds. It has now been confirmed they are both dead…” Samira trailed off, sobbing loudly and convincingly.
Emma rushed to her and embraced her, Samira could tell she was upset. Why would this bastard have any feelings for the king? Edrick grunted and a loud knock on the door was heard. Samira freed herself of Emma.
“Would you please excuse me?” Emma nodded, tears filled her eyes. She sat next to Edrick and nursed his wound. Samira cleared her expression, wiping her eyes of the tears, and walked to the door.
She opened the door to see the small old man holding a sack over his shoulder. The Courier. He was hunched and pale, wrinkles were everywhere on his face. His clothes were tattered and his hands trembled. He smiled at Samira.
“Sorry for disturbing you, my dear. I found this on the ground and wondered if it belonged to you.” He held up a gold coin, though his hand trembled so much that he dropped it. “Oh dear, could you help me with this?” Samira nodded, bending over and picking up the coin.
The old man quickly pulled her door shut so they were alone in the empty corridor. He ditched his posture and stood straight. He grabbed Samira and pulled her to the end of the corridor, next to the only window. Samira was ready to beat the man down for it, though she decided not to.
“You have a lot of nerve doing what you did girl. That nerve is going to get you killed.” The man’s expression held anger. Samira sighed.
“I have it all under control, old man. You should stick to collecting letters. If you will excuse me…” Samira began to walk back to her room, though her arm was locked into a tight grip. She turned at looked at the Courier.
“There is a traitor in our midst, girl. Your little charade in the North is over now.” Samira raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?” The man quietly laughed in a mocking tone.
“The guards are coming for you as we speak. You plan to leave, though the North will not be any safer than Barrowton.” Samira ripped her arm loose of the man’s grip. She knew she had no time for questions.
“Then where do I go? If what you say is true then my cover is blown.” The man smiled.
“One cover. I see only two options for you right now. You can go to the Vale, seek refuge with the Arryn’s - though they are in the middle of waging war with the First Men. Or, you could go south to the Reach. The Gardener's seem to accept Andal’s, and I have a few contacts there who would take you into their protection. The choice is yours girl.” The man started to search through his bag. Samira paced from side to side of the corridor.
“What would you do?” The man silently pulled out a letter and passed it to Samira. He smiled.
“I wouldn’t get caught.” With that, the old man returned to his lazy limp and exited the corridor. Samira looked at the letter, the seal was of King Noriphos. I will read this later, for now I need to grab my things and go… But where?
[Go to the Vale and seek refuge] [Go to the Vale and leave for Andalos] [Go to the Reach]
The Reach is far away and she has to travel through the Riverlands and part of the Stormlands to get there, which might be too dangerous for an Andal spy. While the Arryn's are currently waging war against the First Men, we know that they are going to win this war, so that sounds a lot better than the uncertain safety she might be able to find in the Reach. Leaving for Andalos would be another opportunity, but I think staying in the Vale will be the more interesting choice.
Samira
A large mass of small folk surrounded the entrance to the Great Barrow, all eagerly listening for any news of their great king. Sa… moremira stood among the crowd, slowly making her way back to the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ Samira listened to the sounds of quiet bickering as a loud man with a booming voice spoke to the people. The man had a great beard which was a dark blonde, his hair fell down to his shoulders.
“Hear me now, for I will only say this once! King Dustin and his lady are dead, murdered by someone in this very city.” The people slowly began to quiet down, Samira listened to the sudden gasps. “We are closing Barrowton’s gates until the killer is found. Gods watch over you all.” The final comment sent Samira into a small panic. I need to get out of here, quickly.
Samira desperately fought her way through the large crowds until she reached the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ The building was likely the best in all of Barrowton, though … [view original content]
Samira
A large mass of small folk surrounded the entrance to the Great Barrow, all eagerly listening for any news of their great king. Sa… moremira stood among the crowd, slowly making her way back to the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ Samira listened to the sounds of quiet bickering as a loud man with a booming voice spoke to the people. The man had a great beard which was a dark blonde, his hair fell down to his shoulders.
“Hear me now, for I will only say this once! King Dustin and his lady are dead, murdered by someone in this very city.” The people slowly began to quiet down, Samira listened to the sudden gasps. “We are closing Barrowton’s gates until the killer is found. Gods watch over you all.” The final comment sent Samira into a small panic. I need to get out of here, quickly.
Samira desperately fought her way through the large crowds until she reached the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ The building was likely the best in all of Barrowton, though … [view original content]
Samira
A large mass of small folk surrounded the entrance to the Great Barrow, all eagerly listening for any news of their great king. Sa… moremira stood among the crowd, slowly making her way back to the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ Samira listened to the sounds of quiet bickering as a loud man with a booming voice spoke to the people. The man had a great beard which was a dark blonde, his hair fell down to his shoulders.
“Hear me now, for I will only say this once! King Dustin and his lady are dead, murdered by someone in this very city.” The people slowly began to quiet down, Samira listened to the sudden gasps. “We are closing Barrowton’s gates until the killer is found. Gods watch over you all.” The final comment sent Samira into a small panic. I need to get out of here, quickly.
Samira desperately fought her way through the large crowds until she reached the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ The building was likely the best in all of Barrowton, though … [view original content]
Samira
A large mass of small folk surrounded the entrance to the Great Barrow, all eagerly listening for any news of their great king. Sa… moremira stood among the crowd, slowly making her way back to the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ Samira listened to the sounds of quiet bickering as a loud man with a booming voice spoke to the people. The man had a great beard which was a dark blonde, his hair fell down to his shoulders.
“Hear me now, for I will only say this once! King Dustin and his lady are dead, murdered by someone in this very city.” The people slowly began to quiet down, Samira listened to the sudden gasps. “We are closing Barrowton’s gates until the killer is found. Gods watch over you all.” The final comment sent Samira into a small panic. I need to get out of here, quickly.
Samira desperately fought her way through the large crowds until she reached the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ The building was likely the best in all of Barrowton, though … [view original content]
Samira
A large mass of small folk surrounded the entrance to the Great Barrow, all eagerly listening for any news of their great king. Sa… moremira stood among the crowd, slowly making her way back to the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ Samira listened to the sounds of quiet bickering as a loud man with a booming voice spoke to the people. The man had a great beard which was a dark blonde, his hair fell down to his shoulders.
“Hear me now, for I will only say this once! King Dustin and his lady are dead, murdered by someone in this very city.” The people slowly began to quiet down, Samira listened to the sudden gasps. “We are closing Barrowton’s gates until the killer is found. Gods watch over you all.” The final comment sent Samira into a small panic. I need to get out of here, quickly.
Samira desperately fought her way through the large crowds until she reached the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ The building was likely the best in all of Barrowton, though … [view original content]
Samira
A large mass of small folk surrounded the entrance to the Great Barrow, all eagerly listening for any news of their great king. Sa… moremira stood among the crowd, slowly making her way back to the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ Samira listened to the sounds of quiet bickering as a loud man with a booming voice spoke to the people. The man had a great beard which was a dark blonde, his hair fell down to his shoulders.
“Hear me now, for I will only say this once! King Dustin and his lady are dead, murdered by someone in this very city.” The people slowly began to quiet down, Samira listened to the sudden gasps. “We are closing Barrowton’s gates until the killer is found. Gods watch over you all.” The final comment sent Samira into a small panic. I need to get out of here, quickly.
Samira desperately fought her way through the large crowds until she reached the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ The building was likely the best in all of Barrowton, though … [view original content]
Vote closed. Samira will go to the Vale to seek refuge.
It's a bit of a shame that this was the highly voted choice as going to the Reach would have started up a whole new storyline with new characters. If she had chosen to have gone to the Reach she would have joined an Andal agency in the Reach and would have done small operations to help in the final take down of the Gardeners.
Vote closed. Samira will go to the Vale to seek refuge.
It's a bit of a shame that this was the highly voted choice as going to the Reach… more would have started up a whole new storyline with new characters. If she had chosen to have gone to the Reach she would have joined an Andal agency in the Reach and would have done small operations to help in the final take down of the Gardeners.
The bars on his cell were cold and tarnished. Wyllam had been placed in a cell which was isolated to others, though still in earshot of them. Wyllam sat on his wooden bench, which had been his bed for the past few days, and contemplated on what was to happen to him and the people of Gulltown. The past few days had been quiet, the only company Wyllam had was Garvy: the jailor. Garvy was a brute of a man, standing around seven feet tall. His light blonde hair fell over his eyes, making him hard to identify. He had a blonde stubble and wore ragged clothing. Despite his looks, the man was rather intelligent - though shy and unconfident. Today he sat outside of Wyllam’s cell though he did not speak a word, which was not uncommon though usually the two would spark a conversation. Wyllam had sat in silence for hours, thoughts of the slaughter back at Gulltown and where Ursula currently was haunted his mind and lost him sleep. He looked up at the simple-looking man.
“You’re quiet. What do you know?” The man looked at Wyllam for a moment, then focussed his eyes to the floor. His expression seemed saddened, or embarrassed. He stayed silent which slowly frustrated Wyllam. “Answer me Garvy!” Garvy looked up, though his eyes were obscured by his long scruffy hair.
“I’m not supposed to talk about it.” Wyllam stood up and walk to the bars of his cell, standing in front of the shy jailor. Even as Wyllam stood, he was only just taller than the sitting jailor.
“Tell me Garvy.” Wyllam stared at the thick mess of hair that stood between his eyes and Garvy’s. The man sighed and submitted.
“King Qyle has dispatched some of his most ruthless soldiers to ride on Strongsong.” Wyllam raised an eyebrow.
“I was told my house was destroyed... That Strongsong was in ruins!” A fury came over Wyllam, filling him with anger and confusion.
“Not destroyed, but wounded nonetheless. His grace saw to it that there navy would prove to be an issue, so he attempted to burn it down. Though there was a mess up in the raven so the soldiers initially thought he meant to lay siege on Strongsong. Their navy lies fully intact…” Wyllam gripped the iron bar that locked him in this tight space. We need to escape, yet there is no way out.
Wyllam turned and walked to his iron barred window, which sat on the highest point of his wall. He climbed up to it and looked outside. Darkness. Endless clouds unleashing their tears onto the wet soil below. In the darkness men worked, placing wooden spikes and preparing for a defense. I guess they heard what happened at Gulltown. Footsteps descended down the stone stairs which led to Wyllam’s cell, he turned and watched as Garvy bowed in respect.
“Ser Jaime, your presence warms the halls. Is there anything I may do for you?” The knight wore steel plated armor and displayed a white tabard of three black ravens holding hearts.
“Yes jailor, my father would have an audience with the prisoner. Release him.” Garvy nodded and pulled his keys from his belt. He spent a few minutes searching for the right one, then opened the iron door to Wyllam’s cell. The knight entered with two guards behind him. He looked to one of his guards.
“Shackle his hands.” The man nodded and suddenly two guards approached Wyllam with iron chains and placed them on his wrists. “I am Ser Jaime Corbray, son of his majesty: Qyle Corbray. You will accompany us to the throne room.” Wyllam silently chuckled.
“Not like I have a choice.” The knight quickly turned and ascended the stairs, the guards pushing Wyllam onwards.
Garvy gave a quick glance to Wyllam which looked worried and concerned. Wyllam kept his head high and his mind clear. He was a different man since the fight in Gulltown, hardened and somewhat fearless of minorities. The stone stairs ascended ten metres and then opened up to a corridor. The stone corridor walls were covered in banners of the Corbray’s sigil. The occasional window had tinted white panes of glass with a red heart shaped pane in the centre. In front of their path stood a wooden door with three black steel ravens nailed into it. The door opened as Ser Jaime approached, and closed as everyone entered. The room was full of life and different scents. Incense filled the room, making Wyllam feel sick at the scent of it. At the end of the room was a stone seat draped in the Corbray’s banners. On the seat sat a man with a crown atop of his head. His hair was a medium length and brown. His eyes were as blue as the sky and his beard was well-kept and graying. He wore a formal white tunic with his coat-of-arms in the centre. On his lap lay a valyrian steel sword with a heart-shaped pommel. Ser Jaime knelt in his presence.
“His glorious majesty, king of Heart’s Home and the Fingers: King Qyle.” The king stood after his introduction.
“Welcome.” The king stood holding his longsword with both his hands. His tone was placid and calm.
“What do you want with me, Qyle?” In an instant Wyllam received a blow to the face by one of the guards.
“That’s King Qyle to you filth.” Wyllam’s cheek began to throb in sync with his heart beat. He stood himself up and looked at the guard.
“He is not my king.” Anger coursed through the guard’s eyes. He unsheathed his sword.
“Enough. Leave us.” He turned to his knights. “All of you.” Qyle’s voice was calm and mystique. The room quickly emptied, all the remained was Qyle, Ser Jaime and Marvion.
“What’s wrong Qyle? Something you don’t want them to hear?” The King had sat himself back down, Ser Jaime stood by his side. Marvion leant on a column adjacent to Wyllam.
“Nothing they need to hear. I have invited you here with an offer, if you are interested.” His voice was beginning to irritate Wyllam.
“I’m listening.” The king smiled and continued.
“We Andal’s are the future of the Vale, of Westeros. The First Men are simply a slight interruption to something that is inevitable. The Belmore’s currently sit neutral, though I am not too naive to believe that they will stay that way. Your family holds a powerful navy, powerful enough to destroy everything I have built. That is something I could use for my benefits. Which is where you come in, Wyllam. I will give the Belmore’s all the wealth they require to rebuild, if you would only kneel. Give me their navy and I will give you wealth and much more.” The king reclined in his seat and stared at Wyllam with wonder.
“If I were to refuse… What then?” The king grinned and gave his valyrian blade to Ser Jaime. He took the blade and approached Wyllam, stopping only two or three metres away.
“Then you will die, along with your family and their people. Either way that navy will not be a problem for me, destroyed or not. The question is, how much do you care for Andru Shett’s people? Their lives rely off of your decision.” Wyllam was not surprised, though to him Andru Shett’s people were damned either way.
Wyllam looked Qyle in his sky-blue eyes. This man wants Robar’s secrets and battle plans more than he wants my father’s navy. My loyalty lies with the First Men, with Robar. I die for him or throw away my honour.
Wyllam
The bars on his cell were cold and tarnished. Wyllam had been placed in a cell which was isolated to others, though still in earsh… moreot of them. Wyllam sat on his wooden bench, which had been his bed for the past few days, and contemplated on what was to happen to him and the people of Gulltown. The past few days had been quiet, the only company Wyllam had was Garvy: the jailor. Garvy was a brute of a man, standing around seven feet tall. His light blonde hair fell over his eyes, making him hard to identify. He had a blonde stubble and wore ragged clothing. Despite his looks, the man was rather intelligent - though shy and unconfident. Today he sat outside of Wyllam’s cell though he did not speak a word, which was not uncommon though usually the two would spark a conversation. Wyllam had sat in silence for hours, thoughts of the slaughter back at Gulltown and where Ursula currently was haunted his mind and lost him sleep. He looked up … [view original content]
Wyllam
The bars on his cell were cold and tarnished. Wyllam had been placed in a cell which was isolated to others, though still in earsh… moreot of them. Wyllam sat on his wooden bench, which had been his bed for the past few days, and contemplated on what was to happen to him and the people of Gulltown. The past few days had been quiet, the only company Wyllam had was Garvy: the jailor. Garvy was a brute of a man, standing around seven feet tall. His light blonde hair fell over his eyes, making him hard to identify. He had a blonde stubble and wore ragged clothing. Despite his looks, the man was rather intelligent - though shy and unconfident. Today he sat outside of Wyllam’s cell though he did not speak a word, which was not uncommon though usually the two would spark a conversation. Wyllam had sat in silence for hours, thoughts of the slaughter back at Gulltown and where Ursula currently was haunted his mind and lost him sleep. He looked up … [view original content]
Wyllam
The bars on his cell were cold and tarnished. Wyllam had been placed in a cell which was isolated to others, though still in earsh… moreot of them. Wyllam sat on his wooden bench, which had been his bed for the past few days, and contemplated on what was to happen to him and the people of Gulltown. The past few days had been quiet, the only company Wyllam had was Garvy: the jailor. Garvy was a brute of a man, standing around seven feet tall. His light blonde hair fell over his eyes, making him hard to identify. He had a blonde stubble and wore ragged clothing. Despite his looks, the man was rather intelligent - though shy and unconfident. Today he sat outside of Wyllam’s cell though he did not speak a word, which was not uncommon though usually the two would spark a conversation. Wyllam had sat in silence for hours, thoughts of the slaughter back at Gulltown and where Ursula currently was haunted his mind and lost him sleep. He looked up … [view original content]
Wyllam
The bars on his cell were cold and tarnished. Wyllam had been placed in a cell which was isolated to others, though still in earsh… moreot of them. Wyllam sat on his wooden bench, which had been his bed for the past few days, and contemplated on what was to happen to him and the people of Gulltown. The past few days had been quiet, the only company Wyllam had was Garvy: the jailor. Garvy was a brute of a man, standing around seven feet tall. His light blonde hair fell over his eyes, making him hard to identify. He had a blonde stubble and wore ragged clothing. Despite his looks, the man was rather intelligent - though shy and unconfident. Today he sat outside of Wyllam’s cell though he did not speak a word, which was not uncommon though usually the two would spark a conversation. Wyllam had sat in silence for hours, thoughts of the slaughter back at Gulltown and where Ursula currently was haunted his mind and lost him sleep. He looked up … [view original content]
Wyllam
The bars on his cell were cold and tarnished. Wyllam had been placed in a cell which was isolated to others, though still in earsh… moreot of them. Wyllam sat on his wooden bench, which had been his bed for the past few days, and contemplated on what was to happen to him and the people of Gulltown. The past few days had been quiet, the only company Wyllam had was Garvy: the jailor. Garvy was a brute of a man, standing around seven feet tall. His light blonde hair fell over his eyes, making him hard to identify. He had a blonde stubble and wore ragged clothing. Despite his looks, the man was rather intelligent - though shy and unconfident. Today he sat outside of Wyllam’s cell though he did not speak a word, which was not uncommon though usually the two would spark a conversation. Wyllam had sat in silence for hours, thoughts of the slaughter back at Gulltown and where Ursula currently was haunted his mind and lost him sleep. He looked up … [view original content]
Wyllam
The bars on his cell were cold and tarnished. Wyllam had been placed in a cell which was isolated to others, though still in earsh… moreot of them. Wyllam sat on his wooden bench, which had been his bed for the past few days, and contemplated on what was to happen to him and the people of Gulltown. The past few days had been quiet, the only company Wyllam had was Garvy: the jailor. Garvy was a brute of a man, standing around seven feet tall. His light blonde hair fell over his eyes, making him hard to identify. He had a blonde stubble and wore ragged clothing. Despite his looks, the man was rather intelligent - though shy and unconfident. Today he sat outside of Wyllam’s cell though he did not speak a word, which was not uncommon though usually the two would spark a conversation. Wyllam had sat in silence for hours, thoughts of the slaughter back at Gulltown and where Ursula currently was haunted his mind and lost him sleep. He looked up … [view original content]
Wyllam
The bars on his cell were cold and tarnished. Wyllam had been placed in a cell which was isolated to others, though still in earsh… moreot of them. Wyllam sat on his wooden bench, which had been his bed for the past few days, and contemplated on what was to happen to him and the people of Gulltown. The past few days had been quiet, the only company Wyllam had was Garvy: the jailor. Garvy was a brute of a man, standing around seven feet tall. His light blonde hair fell over his eyes, making him hard to identify. He had a blonde stubble and wore ragged clothing. Despite his looks, the man was rather intelligent - though shy and unconfident. Today he sat outside of Wyllam’s cell though he did not speak a word, which was not uncommon though usually the two would spark a conversation. Wyllam had sat in silence for hours, thoughts of the slaughter back at Gulltown and where Ursula currently was haunted his mind and lost him sleep. He looked up … [view original content]
Comments
Why all Boltons must be sick bastards ;_;
Chapter 2: Important choices
Wyllam: Stay and defend Gulltown, or leave for war
This choice wasn’t really that important, the only thing it did cause was to make Jarden a PoV. And of course now Wyllam will not see if his family is alive as Jarden has taken his place (maybe it is for the best).
Dormund: Let him go, Execute him, or Flay him alive.
Once again, not really an IMPORTANT choice but definitely a work on Dormund’s character development. Dormund had always tried to live up to his father’s expectations, but had also tried to be good himself. So this was really a choice of whether to take on the Bolton side of things, or to find his true inner-self.
Nalia: Join the Ranged Formation, or Stay in the Infantry
Really, if Nalia hadn’t joined then there wouldn’t have been any focus on the Ranged Formation. Though this probably would have meant she could have avoided Rechar altogether.
Torv: Tell Lord Reed, or Say nothing.
This choice wasn’t that important, as he is going to Barrowton anyway. Though now we sort of know a bit more about Rolland, and have overall gained some respect for him. If Torv had gone with Emma then he ultimately would have fallen in love with her and tried to go out with her.
Alara: Stand down or Teach Rechar and his men a lesson
Probably the biggest game changer in the story. If Alara had beaten up Rechar and his boys, Alara and her squad would have become the victims to Rechar’s wrath. Ultimately, Nalia and Raven would have been safe and Alara and the squad would have died.
Davios: Go North or Warn the Arryns.
This was another decision that should not be taken lightly. As we know, Davios decided to go North and fight in the Battle of the Weeping Water. Now he heads back to Andalos, injured but overall okay. If he had decided to warn the Arryns, his story would have become a plot for revenge. He would have supported the war against the Royces and tried to avenge his father from the very man who took his life. Unfortunately Davios probably won’t get this chance again.
Dormund: Bring Ryden back to the Dreadfort, or leave him at Frost Keep.
Not many thought this decision was important, but it had its hidden values. If we had left Ryden behind then he would not have died in the end. Oh well.
Jarden: Take Paytan, Take Drevyn, or Take Marsh
Really depended on what you guys liked. An annoying bowman, a cheerful spearman or a cold and serious swordsman. Does not really play a big role in the end game.
Ted: Join the king in his conquest, Stay at Storm’s End, or rally his bannermen
This decision was more to introduce a new story or introduce important characters. Glory would have awaited him at the conquest, but now he goes to rally the Caron’s and other banners.
Torv: Chase after the thief, or Stay and help Rolland
Helping Rolland would have ensured his survival, though they would have lost the Stone. The Stone would have gone to the Vale, where the Arryn’s would have destroyed it. Rolland’s current status is unknown.
Nalia: Stay with Raven, Find Athena and Kailan, or Find Brodin and Steffon.
Mainly just saying who she felt was more important to her at the time. If she had stayed with Raven then their bond would have grown.
Dormund: Save Tobas or Save Edwyn
Now from the last part, you guys may have seen this was now a really important decision. Edwyn and Tobas’ are supposedly the only to legitimate children of Rogar, but considering Dormund was next in line for becoming the heir, this caused a problem for Rogar. Saving Edwyn would have ensured Tobas’ death, though Rogar would be pissed he would not have caused the slaughter he did in the final part.
Davios: Continue fighting or Call a retreat
Davios would have likely died in battle if he continued fighting, though you would learn that he killed Lord Eddon. Now instead they are both alive!
For now… 
Samira: Kill the guard, escape out the window, moan loudly.
Not really important, just a decision to decide how Samira worked. You guys chose well.
Torv: Go to Barrowton or Go to the Vale
Mainly would have changed Torv’s story entirely. Currently he is taking the Stone to Barrowton to give to the King. If he had rode to the Vale with Rose then the Stone would have been destroyed as said before.
Hey guys, exams are coming up this term and this story is going to be put on hold for maybe a week or so. Check out my other story > https://www.telltalegames.com/community/discussion/comment/2262377#Comment_2262377 > which I am currently putting all work into at the moment. Once that chapter is done I will kick off where we left here and vice versa until school is over. Then I will focus on them both!
Chapter 3: Taking back what is ours
Steffon
Light droplets landed on the pale face of Steffon’s daughter. Nalia’s corpse had been placed on a raised wooden platform, in between the cold bodies of Brodin and Raven. Steffon stood beside his daughter, clenching onto her hand tightly. Her hand was cold and limp, lifeless. Tears streamed down Steffon’s face, building up on his chin and dripping down on his daughter’s hand. Steffon’s hair was saturated from the rain that had persisted all night long, attempting to wash away the sins that had occurred in the past hours. Steffon had stood next to Nalia for near an hour now, not letting go of her hand. Brodin’s bloody corpse lay next to his daughter, though Steffon payed no attention to the man that was once his brother. Nalia had been Steffon’s life, his achievements and pride, and now that had been taken away from him. Adjacent to Steffon stood a tall girl with short dark brown hair - almost black - and scars all over her body. Her skin was pale and her eyes did not match, one was red and the other was brown. She looked up to him with teary eyes. Steffon payed no attention to Athena. She had lost her friends but Steffon had lost his brother and daughter, nothing could amount to being worse than that. The wooden platforms stretched on for miles, holding the corpses of dead Stark and Bolton soldiers. Mercenaries who had fallen in battle were taken into the forest to be buried. A soft but firm hand gripped onto Steffon’s shoulder, making him drop his daughter’s hand and reach for his sword. He turned to see Theon, his king, standing with a sorrowful expression. His eyes were concerned yet upset, though he shed no tears.
“Steffon, it is time to light the fires.” Theon looked over to Athena. The girl nodded, trying to hold in her tears, and left the platform.
Steffon took one last look at his daughter. The wound on her body was exposed for all to see, though Athena had placed a bouquet of flowers over it. Nalia’s right hand held the bouquet, her left rested in Steffon’s hands. Her once long and wavy auburn hair was now damp and brown from the consistent downfall. Her pastel green eyes were open and staring into the cloudy sky above them. Steffon placed his daughter’s hand over the bouquet of wildflowers. He walked to the edge of the wooden platform, to where his daughter’s head rested. He placed his rough hand over her face, sliding down and shutting her eyes. He looked to King Theon, whose eyes were burdened with sadness. Behind him was a large crowd of mourning Stark and Bolton soldiers, and behind them was the cursed Dreadfort. King Rogar and his eldest sons had not come down to mourn for their dead. Because it is them who killed my daughter. Though Tobas Bolton, Theon’s ward, had been down for as long as Theon. Steffon had his heart set on revenge against the Boltons. Though there was no proof, he knew inside that it was them who had caused this. All of this. Theon and Steffon descended the platform together, joining the large crowd that looked up to their king in a time of hardship. Theon wore his steel greatsword on his back - Ice - as he stared out to the crowd of men and women who patiently waited for him to speak. Theon looked down to Tobas Bolton, who was holding an ironwood torch. The flame was blue, it flickered in the rain that poured down on the Stark’s and Bolton’s alike. Tobas walked onto the wooden platform and passed Theon the torch. Steffon glared at the young man as he held the pommel of his sword. Tobas quickly disappeared back into the crowd and Theon began his speech.
“Stark’s. Bolton’s. Mercenaries of Westeros. For too long have we bickered among ourselves, fighting our small wars against each other and ignoring the real enemy - the Andals. Today, we have proven that we are not to be defined as savage barbaric men who fight among each other. Today, we have become brothers and sisters, bound in blood and a hunger for glory. We are the First Men, we stand united as one. These Andals have killed our people, attempted to take our lands! We have held them off, but they will come back. That is why I have decided to take this war to their lands, to their people!” A loud cheer erupted from the Stark soldiers that were among the large crowd. Theon continued, “They have left half of their boats. We will rebuild what was damaged, sail over to their lands and plunder all that they own. We will show them not to mess with the First Men! The only men of Westeros!” Theon raised his torch and was supported with a large cheer.
Theon turned and walked to a wooden platform that held the corpse of a young Stark boy. He lit the platform on fire, setting off a chain reaction of Stark’s and Bolton’s coming out from the crowd and setting fire to their loved ones. Theon turned to Steffon and passed him the torch, Steffon glanced at Theon then grabbed it. He walked over to the corpse’s of his daughter and brother. Beside him, Athena was kneeling next to Kailan’s platform. She had dropped her torch and had buried her head in her hands. Steffon focused his attention to the corpse of his brother. He walked over to the platform and lit it, watching as it quickly arose in blue flames. Steffon walked over to Nalia, her faces was calm and placid. A tear began to jerk in Steffon’s eyes, his hands began to shake. I can’t let you go, you were too young. In the corner of Steffon’s eye, he could see King Theon observing his actions. Steffon straightened his posture and took one last look at his daughter. He placed the torch against the dry grass that sat under the platform. The wooden quickly arose into a body of flames. Nalia’s hair was auburn once again, the heat had re-entered her body. Steffon turned to Theon, who now stood next to him.
“I understand you need time to mourn, but I wish to speak with you.” Theon left as quickly as his words entered Steffon’s ears. He stood and watched as his daughter burned. Athena still knelt next to Kailan’s platform, her weeping could be heard from the Dreadfort. Theon had made his way into the crowd and stood next to Tobas Bolton, the two conversed which made Steffon worry. He should not be speaking with Bolton filth. Steffon took one last glance at Nalia, then looked at Athena. She needs someone.
[Help Athena] [Go to King Theon]
[Go to King Theon]
[Go to King Theon]
Damn that was sad
As much as I'd like to console Athena here, the king wishes to speak to him and he shouldn't make him wait.
[Go to King Theon]
[Go to King Theon]
[Help Athena]
[Go to King Theon] Good, and sad, part.
[Go to King Theon]
[Go to King Theon]
Hey guys, vote closed. Steffon will choose to go to King Theon. I haven't started the next part yet and I will do so probably tomorrow just because I have a lot of study that needs to be done.
Ted
The griffin’s throat was long and natural ridge. The terrain was jagged but overall the land was green and full of life. Ted rode his courser, a fresh gift from the king. The courser was a beautiful breed, lighter than a destrier but overall faster and nearly as strong. A true courier horse. Ted looked up to his left to see a gatehouse with a few Connington guards. To his right were two round towers, filled with Connington soldiers. Ahead of Ted stood the main gate to Griffin’s Roost, the closest banners of Storm’s End. Let’s hope they don’t know much of the Estermont’s… Ted looked down to his new uniform. He wore bronze shoulder pads and wielded his bronze longsword on his hip. Under his armor was a pale green tunic with a dark green sea-turtle for all to see. Ted sighed, thinking back to his time at the Wall. It had been three years since his framing back on Estermont, the reputation he had gained. There was no doubt the black brothers were still searching for him, Ted only hoped King Qarlton would hold his word and send a fake head to the Watch. Ted looked up, his eyes revealed three Connington riders heading in his direction. Ted pulled his courser to a halt and rested his hand on the pommel of his blade. The three men grew bigger and bigger as they got closer. The man in the middle wore plated bronze armor with House Connington’s tabard on his chest. His hair was short and red, as red as blood. The three soldiers quickly surrounded Ted with their weapons drawn. One of the soldiers raised an eyebrow as he looked Ted in the eye, then at his tunic.
“Blue, it’s an Estermont.” The guard said quietly, somewhat embarrassed. The red haired man rode to the soldiers side, his cheeks were flushed red.
“Oh I- Forgive us my lord, we have had trouble with some damn bandits. I am Robart Connington, only son and heir to Griffin’s Roost. It is a pleasure to be acquainted with you, Lord…” Ted shook his head, desperately wanting to avoid any questions about him.
“I am no lord. King Qarlton has placed me in charge of rallying the banners for war, you will take me to your father.” Ted gulped, somewhat surprised with the authority he was exchanging to the three men that could easily kill him. Ted started to grip the hilt of his sword. Robart raised an eyebrow, though nodded quickly.
“Rallier eh? Well I guess someone had to get the job, come on.” Robart and his men turned their destriers and headed back for the main gate. Ted raised his eyebrows feeling shocked. For a moment he thought he had authority, though he was blinded. Ted sighed and shook his head. He pushed his courser into a gallop, catching up with the men that rode to the main gate.
-
The Great Hall of Griffin’s Roost was truly a sight. Though the castle was smaller in comparison to others, it could easily hold its own weight and more. The walls were decorated with faded tapestries and arched windows that displayed myriad diamond-shaped panes of red and white glass. At the end of the hall was a seat carved in the shape of a griffin. The seat was gilded with fine gold which reflected red and white lights around the hall from the tinted windows. In the seat sat a burly man with long red hair, some parts platted to keep it neat. His beard was a magnificent sight, platted and well-kept. It stretched down to his upper chest, and it was easy to tell it was of great importance to him. Ted was led by Robart to his father’s seat, his two companions followed him closely. Robart joined his father by his seat, the two soldiers stood by Ted’s side. The burly bearded man stood from his seat and clasped his hands together, he wore a giant grin.
“Welcome to my great hall! I am Gryff Connington, the lord of Griffin’s Roost. I presume you are from Estermont, or favor them greatly?” Gryff wore a giant grin, though through that Ted could see what the man was trying to do. I won’t fall into his game. Ted bowed.
“I come from Storm’s End, in service to King Qarlton. I have been ordered by his grace to rally his banners. You are needed for the conquer of Massey’s Hook.” Ted stared the bulky man dead in the eyes, watching as his cockiness turned to shock.
“The Massey? So he want’s to put this war to an end. Very well, I will rally my soldiers and ride to Storm’s End.” Gryff turned to his seat and sat back down. He looked at Ted, then to his son - Robart. “I must consult with my son. Please, take a look around.” Ted nodded and turned to the soldiers next to him.
“I guess that means your job is over.” The two men laughed, somewhat mockingly.
“Far from it. I know who you are, I recognised you the moment I saw you. Teddy Estermont, the man who murdered his uncle. How does it feel to be a kinslayer?” Ted’s face grew red with anger, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. Calm down Ted, they’re not worth it. Ted pushed through the wall of guards, leaving them laugh and bicker to themselves.
Ted clenched his fists, trying to release the anger that he had now grasped onto. He walked over to a tapestry of Gryff’s family. In the painting stood Gryff holding onto his double-sided war axe and a young Robart hugging onto his mother’s leg. The sight made Ted chuckle. Before Ted turned away, he noticed a familiar figure in the tapestry. A man in black holding a greatsword. His hair was short and a light red, his beard was nothing too important. Ted tried to think of where he recognised the man. The sword, the hair. The black… Ron! A sudden shiver coursed its way up and down Ted’s spine. Ron Connington was the lord commander of the Night’s Watch. Ted began to worry that perhaps Gryff might have heard of the deserter. Perhaps this was all a trap. Ted began to panic, his breathing began to get heavier and heavier. Footsteps started behind him, slowly growing closer and closer. Ted quickly spun around and unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Gryff Connington. Ted’s hands began to shake, causing him to drop the sword. Gryff sighed and walked up to Ted, placing his hand on the young man’s shoulder.
“You may think your past his hidden, Ted, though it is not. We all know who you are, a part of us believe you did not kill your lord uncle either. I for one do not, I don’t see the rationale behind it. I only see a boy who is traumatically stressed as a result.” Ted’s breathing began to slow as he listened to the calm and soothing words of his host.
“Your uncle favored you, had big dreams for you and your family. I know this because he wanted me to take you as a squire, teach you leadership. I saw it as an opportunity to harden up my own boy, giving him a ‘brother’ to spar with. Though that all changed when your uncle died and your cousin took his place.” Gryff stared at the tapestry as he spoke, though he looked down at Ted now. “If you wish to stay at Griffin’s Roost for the night, I will have the spare chambers heated for you. If not, I will dispatch a small garrison of men to escort you back to the main roads - never know where these bandits will strike.” Ted looked up to the tall and bulky man who wore a sad smile.
“Thank you, my lord. Though his majesty would wish for me to have his banners at Storm’s End before the week is at an end. I should not waste time.” The burly man began to chuckle aloud.
“So be it, but if I can persuade you to stay then I may be able to help lighten your load. I have talked to Robart and he has agreed to take his garrison to the rest of the Houses in the Stormlands. All that remains are the Marchlands, which I doubt will come to our side. Though I will send the men if you wish it.” Ted looked the man in the eye, raising an eyebrow as he did.
“Why are you doing this for me?” Gryff grinned, he stared at the tapestry. His wife had beautiful black hair and green eyes. Ted raised his eyebrows.
“Because we’re family. Come to me if you change your mind.” Gryff released Ted from his grip and retreated to his chambers.
Ted stared at the woman in the tapestry. The woman he had forgotten about. Jasmyn Estermont was Ted’s aunt. She was the only daughter of Ted’s grandfather, and she had been married to Gryff at a young age. She drowned when Ted was only ten years old. She was practically a second mother to him, one of the few who truly cared about him. Ted began to feel too comfortable. It was an unusual feeling, he had been on the run for a year and now he felt safe. I need to get out of here. Ted turned for the door out of the Great Hall, but a sudden pang of guilt hit him. It felt wrong to walk out from the only relative that seemed to care about him, though Ted knew he could give nothing in return.
[Stay at Griffin’s Roost] [Leave for the Marches]
Hey guys, sorry it's been a while since the last update. I think the story is going to be slowed a little as study is catching up. Sorry if this of an inconvenience...
[Stay at Griffin’s Roost] PS. If you don't have time to write, don't force it. Take your time, i'm sure that everyone will wait as long as it needed.
[Stay at Griffin’s Roost]
I am a bit conflicted about this. On the one hand, the king place him in charge of this mission. I would also love to see some Caron's. On the other hand, this is Ted's family and staying there for one night can't be too bad. Also, since Gryff would send Robart to the Marches, I guess I'm going to see the Caron's either way.
I am introducing a Caron PoV the next upcoming parts.
[Stay at Griffin’s Roost]
[Stay at Griffin’s Roost]
Vote closed. Ted will stay at Griffin's Roost.
Next part focuses on Samira
Samira
A large mass of small folk surrounded the entrance to the Great Barrow, all eagerly listening for any news of their great king. Samira stood among the crowd, slowly making her way back to the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ Samira listened to the sounds of quiet bickering as a loud man with a booming voice spoke to the people. The man had a great beard which was a dark blonde, his hair fell down to his shoulders.
“Hear me now, for I will only say this once! King Dustin and his lady are dead, murdered by someone in this very city.” The people slowly began to quiet down, Samira listened to the sudden gasps. “We are closing Barrowton’s gates until the killer is found. Gods watch over you all.” The final comment sent Samira into a small panic. I need to get out of here, quickly.
Samira desperately fought her way through the large crowds until she reached the ‘Sober man’s tavern.’ The building was likely the best in all of Barrowton, though scummy compared to the rest of the North. Samira entered the tavern’s old wooden door, which creaked when it was opened quickly. Inside were many of the regular drinkers and gamblers of Barrowton, which Samira knew all by name. She knew all who could do her harm, and all who were easy to manipulate. Samira walked over to the bar counter, where a tavern wench stood cleaning a horned mug. The old crone looked up at Samira, rolled her eyes, then spat on the mug as she cleaned it.
“We don’t serve highborns, go back to where you came from princess.” The woman made little eye contact. Samira looked down at her dressing, she still wore her dark yellow dress. Samira huffed, appearing agitated that she had not thought this plan through well-enough. She quickly decided to use her cover to her advantage.
“Aye m’lady. Me ol’ father ‘as asked me to seek accommodation. He’s weary and tired after a long day’s ride, he would pay generously for a room m’lady.” The crone looked up at Samira, a glint was in her eye.
“How much?” Samira reached into her satchel and pulled out a bag of coins. She placed them on the counter and watched as the tavern wench grinned.
“Very well, your highness. What room would you like?” Samira stared at the keys. Room twenty-four belonged to Samira, and her key was hanging on the wall.
“Twenty-four.” The woman smiled and quickly retrieved the key. She passed it to Samira and grinned to her.
“Let me know if you need anything, love.” Samira gave a fake smile and proceeded to the stairs.
The stairs were as creaky as the door, except no matter how slowly you ascended the stairs would still creak. Samira climbed to the top floor and walked down the aisle. She stayed cautious, checking corners to make sure no one was watching her. She could find no one. Samira continued to her room, where only the door stood in her way. She grabbed her key and inserted it into the keyhole. The door clunked, but did not open. Samira tried again, but with no luck. That damn crone must have given me the wrong key. Bugger this. Samira unsheathed her dagger and placed it to the padlock that sat against the door. She tightened her fist and smashed it down onto the pommel of the dagger, breaking the padlock open. Samira’s hand was a bloody mess as a consequence. Samira entered and closed the door shut behind her, locking it with the door chain. The room was dark, outside the sun was setting. Samira slowly navigated herself through the dark until she reached the window. She released the hatch to the window’s shutters and let in some light. Samira sat down on her bed and began to strip off her clothing. When she was only now in undergear and still had one dagger attached to her thigh, she heard a knock on the door. Shit. Samira unsheathed her dagger and slowly walked to the door. There was no window to check the alleyway like there was in Andalos, Samira would have to open the door. She placed her hand on the cool bronze knob and twisted it. She opened the door, and there stood a woman in leather gear and short black hair. Next to her was a young wounded man.
“Excuse me, I am sorry to interrupt you this late though we need a place to stay for the night. I-” The woman looked at Samira, who was mostly nude. She covered her eyes, seeming somewhat ashamed or embarrassed. Samira laughed.
“Of course, give me a moment to slip into something more comfortable…” The woman nodded and Samira quickly shut the door. I need to pack.
Samira quickly rushed over to her desk, letters and ink was cluttered all over it. Samira quickly placed it all into her satchel. Her daggers still sat on her bed, and her black dress as well. Her casual dress hung in the wardrobe. Samira quickly decided it would be a smart idea to keep her daggers hidden, and to wear her casual dress. She walked over to the bed and adjusted the other dagger back around her thigh. She quickly walked over to the wardrobe and threw her formal Dustin handmaiden dress into it, grabbing her other dress as she closed it. She quickly slipped it on and did one last check of the room, it was clean of any evidence. She took in a breath and walked over to the door. She unhooked the chain and opened the door. The two entered, both seeming tired and cold. They sat themselves on her bed and deeply breathed. The girl looked at Samira with a thankful smile.
“We truly appreciate this. We will be out of your hair by sunrise, I swear.” Samira shook her head and smiled.
“There is no need for that, I was just about to leave.” The girl nodded.
“Well, at least allow me to introduce ourselves. I am Emma Snow, and this here is Edrick.” The boy groaned in reply. Samira did a small curtsy.
“Aya Flint.” Emma raised an eyebrow.
“Wow, a Flint is staying somewhere like this?” Samira nodded, somewhat nervously.
“Aye. Since what happened in the Great Barrow, I no longer felt safe staying there.” Emma now looked confused, her deep blue eyes stared into Samira’s bluey green eyes with wonder and worry.
“What has happened?” Samira continued her act, appearing as saddened and full of grief. She sat herself at her desk. She began to tear up, making the act seem as realistic as possible.
“Oh… It was horrible. I was handmaiden to the queen, yesterday was my first day. When I entered to replace her sheets, I found her dead. When I went to report this to the guard, they said they had found the king with multiple stabbing wounds. It has now been confirmed they are both dead…” Samira trailed off, sobbing loudly and convincingly.
Emma rushed to her and embraced her, Samira could tell she was upset. Why would this bastard have any feelings for the king? Edrick grunted and a loud knock on the door was heard. Samira freed herself of Emma.
“Would you please excuse me?” Emma nodded, tears filled her eyes. She sat next to Edrick and nursed his wound. Samira cleared her expression, wiping her eyes of the tears, and walked to the door.
She opened the door to see the small old man holding a sack over his shoulder. The Courier. He was hunched and pale, wrinkles were everywhere on his face. His clothes were tattered and his hands trembled. He smiled at Samira.
“Sorry for disturbing you, my dear. I found this on the ground and wondered if it belonged to you.” He held up a gold coin, though his hand trembled so much that he dropped it. “Oh dear, could you help me with this?” Samira nodded, bending over and picking up the coin.
The old man quickly pulled her door shut so they were alone in the empty corridor. He ditched his posture and stood straight. He grabbed Samira and pulled her to the end of the corridor, next to the only window. Samira was ready to beat the man down for it, though she decided not to.
“You have a lot of nerve doing what you did girl. That nerve is going to get you killed.” The man’s expression held anger. Samira sighed.
“I have it all under control, old man. You should stick to collecting letters. If you will excuse me…” Samira began to walk back to her room, though her arm was locked into a tight grip. She turned at looked at the Courier.
“There is a traitor in our midst, girl. Your little charade in the North is over now.” Samira raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?” The man quietly laughed in a mocking tone.
“The guards are coming for you as we speak. You plan to leave, though the North will not be any safer than Barrowton.” Samira ripped her arm loose of the man’s grip. She knew she had no time for questions.
“Then where do I go? If what you say is true then my cover is blown.” The man smiled.
“One cover. I see only two options for you right now. You can go to the Vale, seek refuge with the Arryn’s - though they are in the middle of waging war with the First Men. Or, you could go south to the Reach. The Gardener's seem to accept Andal’s, and I have a few contacts there who would take you into their protection. The choice is yours girl.” The man started to search through his bag. Samira paced from side to side of the corridor.
“What would you do?” The man silently pulled out a letter and passed it to Samira. He smiled.
“I wouldn’t get caught.” With that, the old man returned to his lazy limp and exited the corridor. Samira looked at the letter, the seal was of King Noriphos. I will read this later, for now I need to grab my things and go… But where?
[Go to the Vale and seek refuge] [Go to the Vale and leave for Andalos] [Go to the Reach]
[Go to the Vale and seek refuge]
The Reach is far away and she has to travel through the Riverlands and part of the Stormlands to get there, which might be too dangerous for an Andal spy. While the Arryn's are currently waging war against the First Men, we know that they are going to win this war, so that sounds a lot better than the uncertain safety she might be able to find in the Reach. Leaving for Andalos would be another opportunity, but I think staying in the Vale will be the more interesting choice.
[Go to the Reach]
[Go to the Vale and seek refuge] I like Samira
[Go to the Vale and seek refuge]
Good part, i liked it :-)
[Go to the Vale and seek refuge]
[Go to the Vale and seek refuge]
Vote closed. Samira will go to the Vale to seek refuge.
It's a bit of a shame that this was the highly voted choice as going to the Reach would have started up a whole new storyline with new characters. If she had chosen to have gone to the Reach she would have joined an Andal agency in the Reach and would have done small operations to help in the final take down of the Gardeners.
What do you mean by take down of the Gardeners? In canon they survive all the way to Aegon's conquer, right?
Attempt* I should have added. The three Gardner's are currently in rule, so I will work with that soon enough.
Ah, okay
Wyllam
The bars on his cell were cold and tarnished. Wyllam had been placed in a cell which was isolated to others, though still in earshot of them. Wyllam sat on his wooden bench, which had been his bed for the past few days, and contemplated on what was to happen to him and the people of Gulltown. The past few days had been quiet, the only company Wyllam had was Garvy: the jailor. Garvy was a brute of a man, standing around seven feet tall. His light blonde hair fell over his eyes, making him hard to identify. He had a blonde stubble and wore ragged clothing. Despite his looks, the man was rather intelligent - though shy and unconfident. Today he sat outside of Wyllam’s cell though he did not speak a word, which was not uncommon though usually the two would spark a conversation. Wyllam had sat in silence for hours, thoughts of the slaughter back at Gulltown and where Ursula currently was haunted his mind and lost him sleep. He looked up at the simple-looking man.
“You’re quiet. What do you know?” The man looked at Wyllam for a moment, then focussed his eyes to the floor. His expression seemed saddened, or embarrassed. He stayed silent which slowly frustrated Wyllam. “Answer me Garvy!” Garvy looked up, though his eyes were obscured by his long scruffy hair.
“I’m not supposed to talk about it.” Wyllam stood up and walk to the bars of his cell, standing in front of the shy jailor. Even as Wyllam stood, he was only just taller than the sitting jailor.
“Tell me Garvy.” Wyllam stared at the thick mess of hair that stood between his eyes and Garvy’s. The man sighed and submitted.
“King Qyle has dispatched some of his most ruthless soldiers to ride on Strongsong.” Wyllam raised an eyebrow.
“I was told my house was destroyed... That Strongsong was in ruins!” A fury came over Wyllam, filling him with anger and confusion.
“Not destroyed, but wounded nonetheless. His grace saw to it that there navy would prove to be an issue, so he attempted to burn it down. Though there was a mess up in the raven so the soldiers initially thought he meant to lay siege on Strongsong. Their navy lies fully intact…” Wyllam gripped the iron bar that locked him in this tight space. We need to escape, yet there is no way out.
Wyllam turned and walked to his iron barred window, which sat on the highest point of his wall. He climbed up to it and looked outside. Darkness. Endless clouds unleashing their tears onto the wet soil below. In the darkness men worked, placing wooden spikes and preparing for a defense. I guess they heard what happened at Gulltown. Footsteps descended down the stone stairs which led to Wyllam’s cell, he turned and watched as Garvy bowed in respect.
“Ser Jaime, your presence warms the halls. Is there anything I may do for you?” The knight wore steel plated armor and displayed a white tabard of three black ravens holding hearts.
“Yes jailor, my father would have an audience with the prisoner. Release him.” Garvy nodded and pulled his keys from his belt. He spent a few minutes searching for the right one, then opened the iron door to Wyllam’s cell. The knight entered with two guards behind him. He looked to one of his guards.
“Shackle his hands.” The man nodded and suddenly two guards approached Wyllam with iron chains and placed them on his wrists. “I am Ser Jaime Corbray, son of his majesty: Qyle Corbray. You will accompany us to the throne room.” Wyllam silently chuckled.
“Not like I have a choice.” The knight quickly turned and ascended the stairs, the guards pushing Wyllam onwards.
Garvy gave a quick glance to Wyllam which looked worried and concerned. Wyllam kept his head high and his mind clear. He was a different man since the fight in Gulltown, hardened and somewhat fearless of minorities. The stone stairs ascended ten metres and then opened up to a corridor. The stone corridor walls were covered in banners of the Corbray’s sigil. The occasional window had tinted white panes of glass with a red heart shaped pane in the centre. In front of their path stood a wooden door with three black steel ravens nailed into it. The door opened as Ser Jaime approached, and closed as everyone entered. The room was full of life and different scents. Incense filled the room, making Wyllam feel sick at the scent of it. At the end of the room was a stone seat draped in the Corbray’s banners. On the seat sat a man with a crown atop of his head. His hair was a medium length and brown. His eyes were as blue as the sky and his beard was well-kept and graying. He wore a formal white tunic with his coat-of-arms in the centre. On his lap lay a valyrian steel sword with a heart-shaped pommel. Ser Jaime knelt in his presence.
“His glorious majesty, king of Heart’s Home and the Fingers: King Qyle.” The king stood after his introduction.
“Welcome.” The king stood holding his longsword with both his hands. His tone was placid and calm.
“What do you want with me, Qyle?” In an instant Wyllam received a blow to the face by one of the guards.
“That’s King Qyle to you filth.” Wyllam’s cheek began to throb in sync with his heart beat. He stood himself up and looked at the guard.
“He is not my king.” Anger coursed through the guard’s eyes. He unsheathed his sword.
“Enough. Leave us.” He turned to his knights. “All of you.” Qyle’s voice was calm and mystique. The room quickly emptied, all the remained was Qyle, Ser Jaime and Marvion.
“What’s wrong Qyle? Something you don’t want them to hear?” The King had sat himself back down, Ser Jaime stood by his side. Marvion leant on a column adjacent to Wyllam.
“Nothing they need to hear. I have invited you here with an offer, if you are interested.” His voice was beginning to irritate Wyllam.
“I’m listening.” The king smiled and continued.
“We Andal’s are the future of the Vale, of Westeros. The First Men are simply a slight interruption to something that is inevitable. The Belmore’s currently sit neutral, though I am not too naive to believe that they will stay that way. Your family holds a powerful navy, powerful enough to destroy everything I have built. That is something I could use for my benefits. Which is where you come in, Wyllam. I will give the Belmore’s all the wealth they require to rebuild, if you would only kneel. Give me their navy and I will give you wealth and much more.” The king reclined in his seat and stared at Wyllam with wonder.
“If I were to refuse… What then?” The king grinned and gave his valyrian blade to Ser Jaime. He took the blade and approached Wyllam, stopping only two or three metres away.
“Then you will die, along with your family and their people. Either way that navy will not be a problem for me, destroyed or not. The question is, how much do you care for Andru Shett’s people? Their lives rely off of your decision.” Wyllam was not surprised, though to him Andru Shett’s people were damned either way.
Wyllam looked Qyle in his sky-blue eyes. This man wants Robar’s secrets and battle plans more than he wants my father’s navy. My loyalty lies with the First Men, with Robar. I die for him or throw away my honour.
[Accept Qyle’s offer] [Deny him]
[Deny him]
[Accept Qyle’s offer]
[Accept Qyle’s offer]
[Accept Qyle’s offer]
[Accept Qyle’s offer]
Yeah... let's not die because of this, okay? Honour can be restored, but death is a pretty final thing.
[Accept Qyle’s offer]
[Accept Qyle's offer]
Vote closed. Wyllam will accept Qyle's offer.
Next part will focus on Davios