Alara stood waiting in the common room of the Dreadfort. She gazed at a tapestry of the Boltons: there stood King Rogar, his three sons and his dead wife. She knew little about the Boltons, only that they were powerful and had a reasonable amount of gold, that was enough for any mercenary to sign up. A Bolton soldier opened the doors to the throne room and beckoned for Alara to enter. She walked along the cold stone pathway to where the king sat with his kingsguard and another man she recognised stood beside him. It was one of the Bolton children out of the tapestry. She knelt down to show her respect.
“Your grace, I come to you from the Stormlands to offer you my service. I am the Nightingale. I come here to offer my sword for your gold.” Alara could have worded that better. She was never one for formality, she was a mercenary after all.
“Yes, I have heard the stories of the ‘Nightingale’. I’m curious, do you like to hunt? Young Nightingale?” Alara was confused by this question, curious why he would ask. She then quickly realised her bow was still swung around her back.
“Oh, I don’t often your grace… I usually keep to my sword.” Alara watched the King’s face form into a frown. He seemed to mutter to himself for a little while, then loudened his voice.
“A shame, I would have liked a hunter by my side. I have enough sellswords in my army, but I do not need nor want women in my army. It makes me look weak to rely on such weak creatures. Now leave my presence before I have Arnold here flay you alive!” Alara looked at the kingsguard, he had short brown hair and big green eyes. His nose was bent from a previous break. He wore a bronze longsword by his right side and a bloody knife by his left. I bet that’s the knife I am to be flayed with. She looked back at the King, I could easily take him, the guard might be a problem though. The soldiers outside too.
Alara bowed politely. “Thank you for your audience, your grace” She withdrew the throne room. The next in line to enter were two men who looked to be from the Stark army, the younger had a shield with the stark direwolf carved into it. Perhaps I should try the Starks next, or the Barrow’s. Alara climbed onto Molly, her black destrier. She was eager to leave this place. Molly was acting strange, not responding to Alara’s orders. Bolton guards walked towards her, their swords in hand. Alara kicked the destrier hard in the ribs, sending her into a gallop which nearly threw her from the saddle. She rode out the main gates and didn’t stop until the Dreadfort was out of view. The place gave her the creeps, even if she was not going to admit it Where should I go next?
[Go to Winterfell] [Go to Barrowton]
Sorry for such a short part, the next will be longer
Alara
Alara stood waiting in the common room of the Dreadfort. She gazed at a tapestry of the Boltons: there stood King Rogar, his three … moresons and his dead wife. She knew little about the Boltons, only that they were powerful and had a reasonable amount of gold, that was enough for any mercenary to sign up. A Bolton soldier opened the doors to the throne room and beckoned for Alara to enter. She walked along the cold stone pathway to where the king sat with his kingsguard and another man she recognised stood beside him. It was one of the Bolton children out of the tapestry. She knelt down to show her respect.
“Your grace, I come to you from the Stormlands to offer you my service. I am the Nightingale. I come here to offer my sword for your gold.” Alara could have worded that better. She was never one for formality, she was a mercenary after all.
“Yes, I have heard the stories of the ‘Nightingale’. I’m curious, do you like to hunt? You… [view original content]
Alara
Alara stood waiting in the common room of the Dreadfort. She gazed at a tapestry of the Boltons: there stood King Rogar, his three … moresons and his dead wife. She knew little about the Boltons, only that they were powerful and had a reasonable amount of gold, that was enough for any mercenary to sign up. A Bolton soldier opened the doors to the throne room and beckoned for Alara to enter. She walked along the cold stone pathway to where the king sat with his kingsguard and another man she recognised stood beside him. It was one of the Bolton children out of the tapestry. She knelt down to show her respect.
“Your grace, I come to you from the Stormlands to offer you my service. I am the Nightingale. I come here to offer my sword for your gold.” Alara could have worded that better. She was never one for formality, she was a mercenary after all.
“Yes, I have heard the stories of the ‘Nightingale’. I’m curious, do you like to hunt? You… [view original content]
Great to see Alara in the story! I'm glad she did not ended up working for this Bolton creep. Winterfell should be the better choice for her. At least I am reasonably certain that she won't be flayed alive by the Starks for offering her service.
Alara
Alara stood waiting in the common room of the Dreadfort. She gazed at a tapestry of the Boltons: there stood King Rogar, his three … moresons and his dead wife. She knew little about the Boltons, only that they were powerful and had a reasonable amount of gold, that was enough for any mercenary to sign up. A Bolton soldier opened the doors to the throne room and beckoned for Alara to enter. She walked along the cold stone pathway to where the king sat with his kingsguard and another man she recognised stood beside him. It was one of the Bolton children out of the tapestry. She knelt down to show her respect.
“Your grace, I come to you from the Stormlands to offer you my service. I am the Nightingale. I come here to offer my sword for your gold.” Alara could have worded that better. She was never one for formality, she was a mercenary after all.
“Yes, I have heard the stories of the ‘Nightingale’. I’m curious, do you like to hunt? You… [view original content]
Alara
Alara stood waiting in the common room of the Dreadfort. She gazed at a tapestry of the Boltons: there stood King Rogar, his three … moresons and his dead wife. She knew little about the Boltons, only that they were powerful and had a reasonable amount of gold, that was enough for any mercenary to sign up. A Bolton soldier opened the doors to the throne room and beckoned for Alara to enter. She walked along the cold stone pathway to where the king sat with his kingsguard and another man she recognised stood beside him. It was one of the Bolton children out of the tapestry. She knelt down to show her respect.
“Your grace, I come to you from the Stormlands to offer you my service. I am the Nightingale. I come here to offer my sword for your gold.” Alara could have worded that better. She was never one for formality, she was a mercenary after all.
“Yes, I have heard the stories of the ‘Nightingale’. I’m curious, do you like to hunt? You… [view original content]
[Go to Winterfell] I almost forgot to read this When you posted this I noticed it with my phone, but when I got home I had forgotten about it. Well, I was still fast enough that the vote wasn't closed :P
Alara
Alara stood waiting in the common room of the Dreadfort. She gazed at a tapestry of the Boltons: there stood King Rogar, his three … moresons and his dead wife. She knew little about the Boltons, only that they were powerful and had a reasonable amount of gold, that was enough for any mercenary to sign up. A Bolton soldier opened the doors to the throne room and beckoned for Alara to enter. She walked along the cold stone pathway to where the king sat with his kingsguard and another man she recognised stood beside him. It was one of the Bolton children out of the tapestry. She knelt down to show her respect.
“Your grace, I come to you from the Stormlands to offer you my service. I am the Nightingale. I come here to offer my sword for your gold.” Alara could have worded that better. She was never one for formality, she was a mercenary after all.
“Yes, I have heard the stories of the ‘Nightingale’. I’m curious, do you like to hunt? You… [view original content]
[Go to Winterfell] I almost forgot to read this When you posted this I noticed it with my phone, but when I got home I had forgotten about it. Well, I was still fast enough that the vote wasn't closed :P
The evening was cold and wet as droplets of rain attempted to scrub away the sins of the Dreadfort. Torv stood in the rain waiting for his master, Arnold Dint. He was a horrible man, he flayed the King’s enemies for his entertainment. That was what Arnold was doing now. Torv waited a solid fifteen minutes before his master came out of the main doors of the Dreadfort. His hands, face and coat were covered in blood.
“M’lord, I brought you water to clean yourself of the blood.” Torv realised how stupid that was as it was raining all around them.
“Saddle my horse and collect my gear boy. I need everything to be ready to depart by dawn.” Arnold walked right passed Torv as if he wasn’t there. Torv quickly dropped the bucket of water and ran to Arnold.
“Forgive me for asking m’lord, but where is it you are going? And shall I be accompanying you?” Torv was always one to speak his mind, it didn’t do him any good. Arnold turned and backhanded Torv, to which Torv fell into the mud.
“Know your place boy!” He began to walk again, then stopped and turned. “Obey me, and keep your damn mouth shut unless I command you to speak. If you speak again without my permission then I’ll cut out your tongue.” Arnold walked towards the barracks which lead to the dungeons. Torv pulled himself out of the mud and cleaned himself up. I’d best get to work then.
-
Torv slept in the stables with his master's’ horse. He was woken by a tap of the shoulder, he opened his eyes to see his master with his flaying knife in hand. Torv quickly scrambled backwards, away from him. His heart began to beat heavily in his chest, sweat starting down his face.
“It’s okay boy, I only need your help with something. Won't take too long.” Torv got up, curious of what he wanted.
“M’lord, if I might ask-” Arnold instantly turned around and stared Torv in the eyes. Arnold had giant green eyes, but they were intimidating when he looked at you in a particular way. Torv lowered his head, ashamed of disobeying his master. Arnold walked out the door and Torv followed. Everything outside lay wet from the rain that had come down during the night. Torv trudged through the thick mud, trying to keep up with his master. They ultimately ended up at the barracks, Arnold opened the door and beckoned for Torv to go in. He dried his feet on the mat at the door, his master walked in behind him, shutting the door silently as he did. Torv followed him down to the dungeon where there he found two men hanging by the wrists in chains, one was bloody as half his chest had been flayed.
“By the gods!” Torv said, perhaps too loud. He covered his mouth to stop any other words coming out. Arnold walked up to the half flayed man, pulling out his knife and pointing it at him.
“This young man is Edrick, squire of Harmond Hornhill who’s unconscious over there.” He stuck the point of his knife into Edrick and he screamed out with pain. Harmond did not move, he had scars all over his body but none were fresh. Torv felt safe enough to believe that this Harmond fellow was unharmed. For the moment. “Anyway, I’ve brought you here because this damn boy keeps squirming whenever I try to slice a piece off of him. I need you to hold him down while I do my work, afterall the King says it’s better to flay a man who is conscious rather than not.” He pointed his knife at Harmond as if indicating him as an example. Torv was shocked.
“M’lord, I-” Torv looked around, desperately looking for an excuse to get him out of there. He found nothing, though a hammer sat atop a haystack. Not that it meant anything to Torv.
“Oh, it won’t take long Torv, just hold him and I’ll be done before you know it.” Arnold smiled at Torv then turned and looked at Edrick’s chest. Torv looked at the two men, then at the hammer.I could knock the master out, but then what? There was a chance that Edrick would bleed out if Torv tried to move him too much. Harmond on the other hand was a big man, it would take Torv just as long to pull him out and get him on a horse as it would to be extremely careful with Edrick. I can only take one if I go through with this. Torv looked at the hammer one last time. I go through with this and I’ll be an outcast, they’ll hunt me down.
[Knockout Arnold and take Edrick] [Knockout Arnold and take Harmond] [Obey Arnold]
Torv
The evening was cold and wet as droplets of rain attempted to scrub away the sins of the Dreadfort. Torv stood in the rain waiting f… moreor his master, Arnold Dint. He was a horrible man, he flayed the King’s enemies for his entertainment. That was what Arnold was doing now. Torv waited a solid fifteen minutes before his master came out of the main doors of the Dreadfort. His hands, face and coat were covered in blood.
“M’lord, I brought you water to clean yourself of the blood.” Torv realised how stupid that was as it was raining all around them.
“Saddle my horse and collect my gear boy. I need everything to be ready to depart by dawn.” Arnold walked right passed Torv as if he wasn’t there. Torv quickly dropped the bucket of water and ran to Arnold.
“Forgive me for asking m’lord, but where is it you are going? And shall I be accompanying you?” Torv was always one to speak his mind, it didn’t do him any good. Arnold turned and bac… [view original content]
Torv
The evening was cold and wet as droplets of rain attempted to scrub away the sins of the Dreadfort. Torv stood in the rain waiting f… moreor his master, Arnold Dint. He was a horrible man, he flayed the King’s enemies for his entertainment. That was what Arnold was doing now. Torv waited a solid fifteen minutes before his master came out of the main doors of the Dreadfort. His hands, face and coat were covered in blood.
“M’lord, I brought you water to clean yourself of the blood.” Torv realised how stupid that was as it was raining all around them.
“Saddle my horse and collect my gear boy. I need everything to be ready to depart by dawn.” Arnold walked right passed Torv as if he wasn’t there. Torv quickly dropped the bucket of water and ran to Arnold.
“Forgive me for asking m’lord, but where is it you are going? And shall I be accompanying you?” Torv was always one to speak his mind, it didn’t do him any good. Arnold turned and bac… [view original content]
Torv
The evening was cold and wet as droplets of rain attempted to scrub away the sins of the Dreadfort. Torv stood in the rain waiting f… moreor his master, Arnold Dint. He was a horrible man, he flayed the King’s enemies for his entertainment. That was what Arnold was doing now. Torv waited a solid fifteen minutes before his master came out of the main doors of the Dreadfort. His hands, face and coat were covered in blood.
“M’lord, I brought you water to clean yourself of the blood.” Torv realised how stupid that was as it was raining all around them.
“Saddle my horse and collect my gear boy. I need everything to be ready to depart by dawn.” Arnold walked right passed Torv as if he wasn’t there. Torv quickly dropped the bucket of water and ran to Arnold.
“Forgive me for asking m’lord, but where is it you are going? And shall I be accompanying you?” Torv was always one to speak his mind, it didn’t do him any good. Arnold turned and bac… [view original content]
[Knockout Arnold and take Edrick]
God damnit, the Dreadfort is a really, really messed up place. Screw the Bolton's!
The drawings are nice indeed, I always enjoy such things
Torv
The evening was cold and wet as droplets of rain attempted to scrub away the sins of the Dreadfort. Torv stood in the rain waiting f… moreor his master, Arnold Dint. He was a horrible man, he flayed the King’s enemies for his entertainment. That was what Arnold was doing now. Torv waited a solid fifteen minutes before his master came out of the main doors of the Dreadfort. His hands, face and coat were covered in blood.
“M’lord, I brought you water to clean yourself of the blood.” Torv realised how stupid that was as it was raining all around them.
“Saddle my horse and collect my gear boy. I need everything to be ready to depart by dawn.” Arnold walked right passed Torv as if he wasn’t there. Torv quickly dropped the bucket of water and ran to Arnold.
“Forgive me for asking m’lord, but where is it you are going? And shall I be accompanying you?” Torv was always one to speak his mind, it didn’t do him any good. Arnold turned and bac… [view original content]
[Knockout Arnold and take Harmond] Edrick is badly injured , Harmond is knocked out , Edrick is gonna need to be caried but harmond if he wakes up on the other hand .
Right, well the votes were high this time and we even got a draw. I have decided to stick with the first high amount of votes which means that Torv will knock out Arnold and take Edrick. Sorry to those who voted for Harmond
The ‘Friendship’ had been sailing for many hours now, it was dark and getting cold as the sea breeze rolled in. Harlan was still steaming over the blood he found on the upper deck. Davios was fortunate that knocking out the three men had wiped all their recollection of the previous night. Harlan once again stood on the upper deck, showing the crew he had a good pair of lungs. Piggy, Small Mykal and Orodos stood in front of Harlan, they were intensely bruised from the fight the night before but overall were okay. Harlan was lead to believe they had gotten drunk and fought each other, which was good for Davios. There were eight soldiers on the ‘Friendship.’ This included Davios and Jorio, the three men who attacked Jorio; which were Piggy, Small Mykal and Orodos. There was a Valyrian couple who went by the names of Vysela and ‘The Cobra’. Finally, there was Hughie Arryn, a cocky fellow who believed his nobility gave him rights over everyone on the ship, though Harlan was quick enough to show who was really in charge around here. Harlan finally concluded his speech by running out of breath and collapsing. The crew ran to his aid and the rest of the soldiers scrambled off. The Valyrian’s sat at the bow of the ship, conversing in their own tongue. Jorio read his big book, the three who attacked Jorio sniggered and chatted about something that only their kind would lower themselves to talk about. Davios walked over to Hughie, he didn’t like him but he figured he had enough enemies on this ship and he didn’t need anymore. Hughie stood staring into the waves and swell of the Narrow Sea, he turned once he noticed Davios standing next to him. Hughie glanced up at the tall blond soldier.
“May I help you?” Hughie sounded somewhat miserable. He didn’t have any friends on the ship, or any at all to Davios’ knowledge of him. Davios noticed his attention fade away into the wind, he once again stared into the waves. “I guess you’re curious why I, a member of the great House Arryn, is sailing to Westeros as a scummy soldier rather than a lord or knight. Well I’ll tell you why. My father disapproves of the ‘invasion’ as he puts it. He believes it to be foolish and he despises my uncle to be so attached to the cause. I always wished to convince my father otherwise and to lead his army across the Narrow Sea, as his son and heir, but that eventually evolved into him disowning me. Now here I am, stuck with a bunch of thieves, rapists and murderers.” He stopped and sighed, then glanced up at Davios, “So which are you?”
“None of that you have stated. I come to Westeros for another purpose, to avenge my father. I received a raven from Marvion Corbray, the master-at-arms at Heart’s Home. He claimed my father had been murdered by the savages who call themselves the First Men.” Davios gave a quick glare towards the young man standing next to him, his eyes were filled with fascination as well as shock. He straightened himself up, quickly realising his childlike behaviour.
“Who was your father?” Hughie’s voice was croaky, as a result of him trying to deepen his voice. Davios hesitated but gave in.
“Randal Tallman” Davios had told no one of his rationale for coming to Westeros, until now.
“Tallman? Those are the bannerman of the Corbray’s if I am not correct? The Corbray’s are my families bannerman.” His voice began to sound cocky again, as if he was going to inflict his authority upon Davios.
“You are not my liege lord, Hughie Arryn. I will respect you for your skills on the battlefield, but not for your family lineage. Do not try to order me around. The last man who did ended unconscious and receiving an unpleasant lecture from a very unhappy Braavosi.” Hughie’s eyes widened, “I’m going to bed, goodnight Hughie.” The highborn was left staring into the darkness as Davios departed down the stairs into the hull. Jorio sat on his bunk reading the same giant book he’d been reading this whole voyage. Davios removed his sword from his belt and fell into his bunk, darkness crept around his vision as he fell into a deep slumber.
-
The sounds of feet moving around the hull awoke Davios this time. He didn’t hear any screams so he stayed still and listened. After a few minutes he heard nothing and began to rest his eyes, as he was just falling back to sleep a sudden scream echoed through the hull. Davios darted up to see everyone surrounding the bunk of Hughie Arryn.
“Somebody help him!” Jorio screamed, his voice trembling and full of fear. Davios approached the crowd, Piggy turned to Davios and vomited right in front of his feet. Davios dodged the orangey yellow fluid that came out of the plump man and entered the crowd. Hughie lay in his bed, screaming in agony with a dagger lodged into his left eye.
“Pull it out! Get it out!” Hughie’s arms were tied to the end of his bunk, restricting any movement. Davios stood frozen. Who could have done a thing like this? He then clicked into action.
“Jorio, grab some bandages and get over here!” Jorio was frozen stiff, his face shocked and frightened. “JORIO!” He broke out of the trance, running for a bandage. Davios sat on the side of Hughie’s bunk, listening to his grunts and sudden screams. Davios didn’t know what to do, this had never been a situation he had encountered. “Hughie, I want you to stay still. I’m going to get rid of it.” Hughie continued to squirm. Jorio ran back with a handful of bandages, he sat by the other side of his bunk. Davios glanced at Jorio to which he replied with a nod. Davios grabbed the handle of the dagger and yanked it out, Jorio quickly wrapping the bandage around his head. Davios turned to see the Valyrian girl, Vysela, crying into her lover's arm. Small Mykal and Orodos were frozen with fear, and Piggy was barfing out bile. Davios turned and looked at the dagger. Valyrian steel. Harlan and his crew came rushing down into the hull, he looked at Hughie and then at Davios, who was still holding the dagger, anger boiling in his eyes. “Wait, I know how this looks-” Harlan’s fist closing into Davios’ vision was the last thing Davios saw before darkness surrounded him.
Davios
The ‘Friendship’ had been sailing for many hours now, it was dark and getting cold as the sea breeze rolled in. Harlan was still s… moreteaming over the blood he found on the upper deck. Davios was fortunate that knocking out the three men had wiped all their recollection of the previous night. Harlan once again stood on the upper deck, showing the crew he had a good pair of lungs. Piggy, Small Mykal and Orodos stood in front of Harlan, they were intensely bruised from the fight the night before but overall were okay. Harlan was lead to believe they had gotten drunk and fought each other, which was good for Davios. There were eight soldiers on the ‘Friendship.’ This included Davios and Jorio, the three men who attacked Jorio; which were Piggy, Small Mykal and Orodos. There was a Valyrian couple who went by the names of Vysela and ‘The Cobra’. Finally, there was Hughie Arryn, a cocky fellow who believed his nobility gave him rights over ev… [view original content]
Dormund descended the stairs from the maindoor of the Dreadfort with Ryden Frost, of the kingsguard, by his side. Ryden was a little smaller than Dormund, though was by far bigger in muscle. He had angular features to his face and deep blue eyes, of which House Frost is known for their consistent blue eyes. Though none of this mattered to Dormund, Ryden was only here because he is loyal to the King and he is a good swordsman.
“If I were a madman with a knife and two stark prisoners, where would I be?” Ryden said to himself as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Dormund raised an eyebrow at him, he did not realise his father’s kingsguard did not think so highly of each other.
“Father’s last words to Arnold were saying that he may do as he wished with them. Knowing him I’d say he’s in a dark room making a new coat out of their skin.” Dormund smiled at the thought. Ryden on the other hand just looked disgusted, though he did well to hide it. “We’ll start with his home, question the maiden there. Perhaps his squire Torv is there, we can question him too.” Dormund started walking for Arnold’s house, Ryden following him with his left hand on the pommel of his sword.
-
“So should we knock or just enter, my prince?” Ryden wasn’t one for making jokes, he was a loyal kingsguard who was too full of obedience and honour to even bother with humour. Dormund put on the most serious face he could.
“You are joking? I am the prince of the Dreadfort, I must have pure and utter respect for the men and women who live under our rule.” Ryden stared him in the eye, trying to find the trick that Dormund was playing. With that, Dormund kicked down the door and entered, he successfully got a laugh out of Ryden. Dormund pulled out his dagger and ordered Ryden to secure the building. Dormund would use a sword but his true talent lay in archery, he only found a sword at his waist would slow him down. Ryden started with the upper level while Dormund searched the lower. The place looks deserted. The place was a mess, old blood was stained the walls and overall the place smelt of manure. Dormund left the house feeling pretty sure that it was empty of life, he was stumped on ideas for where Arnold might be. I still haven’t searched the stables. As Dormund began to walk towards the makeshift barn, Ryden ran out of the house.
“My prince! I have found fresh blood in one of the upper rooms. Looks as if a body was dragged out the window, some drawers are raided too.” Dormund looked at Ryden curiously, then continued to the stables. He opened the tall front door to see fresh blood on a haystack in the corner and Arnold’s horse missing. There were no tracks leading out of the stable but it had been raining consistently over night so the tracks could have been washed away. Dormund left the stables confused, there was only one more place he could think to go. The barracks. Ryden walked to him, a bloody hammer in hand. Dormund looked Ryden in the eye, then inspected the hammer. What the hell is going on here?
“Come on Ryden, let’s go to the barracks.” Dormund walked through the mud that was still wet from the rain last night. The barracks used to be occupied by the kingsguard but when the invasion began the king felt it would be safer to have his guard closer to him at all times. Dormund walked up to the door and turned the handle. Locked. “Ryden could you-” Ryden had charged through the door before Dormund could finish his sentence. Dormund smiled, he had known Ryden all his life. He was a year older than him but they had always gotten along and worked well as a team. The first thing they saw were the blood stains on the ground that made it evident that a body had been dragged in or out of here. Dormund followed the blood down to the dungeon, a fly smacked into him. Dormund stopped once he saw why there were so many flies, Ryden put his sword away once he saw what Dormund saw.
“By the gods, who would have done this?” The body of Arnold Dint lay on the ground with a dint in the side of his head where the hammer had gone in. Flies lay their maggots into the flesh wound of Arnold and the bits of flayed skin sat on the ground. To the corner a large man stood with his arms chained to the wall. Dormund walked up to him, pulling his dagger from his belt. He stuck the dagger at the man’s throat.
“What happened here! Where is the other prisoner?” Dormund only recieved a chuckle by the man he tried to interrogate.
“You really think that little knife of yours scares me, Bolton? I’ve seen things that you’ve never dreamed of.” He gave a mocking smile, though Dormund was not mocked. The Starks had the loyalty that few Bolton’s possessed, that had always been the bad link of the chain for the Bolton’s.
“Fortunate for you to come to the Dreadfort then, we might just add to those dreams of yours.” Dormund looked at Ryden, “Cut him down and bind his wrists, we’ll take him to my father.”
-
The King sat on his throne, Edwyn and Tobas stood talking to him, though Tobas sounded to be arguing more than talking.
“You want me to be his ward! Yet you give Edwyn the right to march by your side just because he is the first born? What of Dormund, shall he ride with you aswell?!” Tobas’ face was full of anger, he stormed off once he saw Dormund enter.
The prisoner, Harmond, had encountered some bruises on the way to the throneroom. His stomach and ribs were blackening from being kicked when he tried to escape. Despite him being the enemy, Dormund felt some sympathy and honor for him. He had clearly been left behind and yet he somehow stayed strong. The Starks are really something.
“Father, we have found one of the prisoners but he says nothing of the other prisoner’s whereabouts. And also-” Dormund was interrupted by the King raising his hand, indicating for silence.
“Ryden, bring me the prisoner and fetch Arnold. If he will not submit to a beating then I will have the truth cut out of him!” Rogar smiled and Harmond surprisingly chuckled as he was brought in front of the King. Ryden looked at Dormund, then at the King.
“Your grace, brother Arnold Dint was murdered and we have no idea who may have done it.” Rogar looked unsettled, saddened almost. Dormund could have sworn he heard the King mutter something.
“Nevermind then. Edwyn, you shall carry this out. Hold the man down Ryden.” A certain fire burned in the King’s eyes. He then turned is focus onto Dormund while Edwyn started his work, Harmond began to scream. “I was orignally going to have you ward for the Barrow King, but now as my Arnold is dead I need a new man to rally the banners. I am giving this task to you. You will also track down this prisoner who escaped, I have heard reports that two men on horse back left during the midst of the night.” The King moved his attention back to Harmond, who’s chest was bleeding and his skin was falling to the ground. The amusement on Edwyn’s face sickened Dormund, not because of his enjoyment of flaying but because the soldier deserved a better death. Dormund turned to walk away until he heard Harmond scream once again. Dormund was convinced Harmond didn’t know anything, any man would have spoken up by now. He deserves better.
[Leave Harmond to be flayed] [End his misery with your bow]
Dormund
Dormund descended the stairs from the maindoor of the Dreadfort with Ryden Frost, of the kingsguard, by his side. Ryden was a lit… moretle smaller than Dormund, though was by far bigger in muscle. He had angular features to his face and deep blue eyes, of which House Frost is known for their consistent blue eyes. Though none of this mattered to Dormund, Ryden was only here because he is loyal to the King and he is a good swordsman.
“If I were a madman with a knife and two stark prisoners, where would I be?” Ryden said to himself as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Dormund raised an eyebrow at him, he did not realise his father’s kingsguard did not think so highly of each other.
“Father’s last words to Arnold were saying that he may do as he wished with them. Knowing him I’d say he’s in a dark room making a new coat out of their skin.” Dormund smiled at the thought. Ryden on the other hand just looked disgusted, though he d… [view original content]
Dormund
Dormund descended the stairs from the maindoor of the Dreadfort with Ryden Frost, of the kingsguard, by his side. Ryden was a lit… moretle smaller than Dormund, though was by far bigger in muscle. He had angular features to his face and deep blue eyes, of which House Frost is known for their consistent blue eyes. Though none of this mattered to Dormund, Ryden was only here because he is loyal to the King and he is a good swordsman.
“If I were a madman with a knife and two stark prisoners, where would I be?” Ryden said to himself as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Dormund raised an eyebrow at him, he did not realise his father’s kingsguard did not think so highly of each other.
“Father’s last words to Arnold were saying that he may do as he wished with them. Knowing him I’d say he’s in a dark room making a new coat out of their skin.” Dormund smiled at the thought. Ryden on the other hand just looked disgusted, though he d… [view original content]
Damn it, poor Harmond. I haven't thought he would die that early, but he deserves at least a painless death. And Dormund is a Bolton after all, I think he can get away with mercy killing a prisoner.
Dormund
Dormund descended the stairs from the maindoor of the Dreadfort with Ryden Frost, of the kingsguard, by his side. Ryden was a lit… moretle smaller than Dormund, though was by far bigger in muscle. He had angular features to his face and deep blue eyes, of which House Frost is known for their consistent blue eyes. Though none of this mattered to Dormund, Ryden was only here because he is loyal to the King and he is a good swordsman.
“If I were a madman with a knife and two stark prisoners, where would I be?” Ryden said to himself as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Dormund raised an eyebrow at him, he did not realise his father’s kingsguard did not think so highly of each other.
“Father’s last words to Arnold were saying that he may do as he wished with them. Knowing him I’d say he’s in a dark room making a new coat out of their skin.” Dormund smiled at the thought. Ryden on the other hand just looked disgusted, though he d… [view original content]
Dormund
Dormund descended the stairs from the maindoor of the Dreadfort with Ryden Frost, of the kingsguard, by his side. Ryden was a lit… moretle smaller than Dormund, though was by far bigger in muscle. He had angular features to his face and deep blue eyes, of which House Frost is known for their consistent blue eyes. Though none of this mattered to Dormund, Ryden was only here because he is loyal to the King and he is a good swordsman.
“If I were a madman with a knife and two stark prisoners, where would I be?” Ryden said to himself as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Dormund raised an eyebrow at him, he did not realise his father’s kingsguard did not think so highly of each other.
“Father’s last words to Arnold were saying that he may do as he wished with them. Knowing him I’d say he’s in a dark room making a new coat out of their skin.” Dormund smiled at the thought. Ryden on the other hand just looked disgusted, though he d… [view original content]
Dormund
Dormund descended the stairs from the maindoor of the Dreadfort with Ryden Frost, of the kingsguard, by his side. Ryden was a lit… moretle smaller than Dormund, though was by far bigger in muscle. He had angular features to his face and deep blue eyes, of which House Frost is known for their consistent blue eyes. Though none of this mattered to Dormund, Ryden was only here because he is loyal to the King and he is a good swordsman.
“If I were a madman with a knife and two stark prisoners, where would I be?” Ryden said to himself as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Dormund raised an eyebrow at him, he did not realise his father’s kingsguard did not think so highly of each other.
“Father’s last words to Arnold were saying that he may do as he wished with them. Knowing him I’d say he’s in a dark room making a new coat out of their skin.” Dormund smiled at the thought. Ryden on the other hand just looked disgusted, though he d… [view original content]
Dormund
Dormund descended the stairs from the maindoor of the Dreadfort with Ryden Frost, of the kingsguard, by his side. Ryden was a lit… moretle smaller than Dormund, though was by far bigger in muscle. He had angular features to his face and deep blue eyes, of which House Frost is known for their consistent blue eyes. Though none of this mattered to Dormund, Ryden was only here because he is loyal to the King and he is a good swordsman.
“If I were a madman with a knife and two stark prisoners, where would I be?” Ryden said to himself as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Dormund raised an eyebrow at him, he did not realise his father’s kingsguard did not think so highly of each other.
“Father’s last words to Arnold were saying that he may do as he wished with them. Knowing him I’d say he’s in a dark room making a new coat out of their skin.” Dormund smiled at the thought. Ryden on the other hand just looked disgusted, though he d… [view original content]
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Alara
Alara stood waiting in the common room of the Dreadfort. She gazed at a tapestry of the Boltons: there stood King Rogar, his three sons and his dead wife. She knew little about the Boltons, only that they were powerful and had a reasonable amount of gold, that was enough for any mercenary to sign up. A Bolton soldier opened the doors to the throne room and beckoned for Alara to enter. She walked along the cold stone pathway to where the king sat with his kingsguard and another man she recognised stood beside him. It was one of the Bolton children out of the tapestry. She knelt down to show her respect.
“Your grace, I come to you from the Stormlands to offer you my service. I am the Nightingale. I come here to offer my sword for your gold.” Alara could have worded that better. She was never one for formality, she was a mercenary after all.
“Yes, I have heard the stories of the ‘Nightingale’. I’m curious, do you like to hunt? Young Nightingale?” Alara was confused by this question, curious why he would ask. She then quickly realised her bow was still swung around her back.
“Oh, I don’t often your grace… I usually keep to my sword.” Alara watched the King’s face form into a frown. He seemed to mutter to himself for a little while, then loudened his voice.
“A shame, I would have liked a hunter by my side. I have enough sellswords in my army, but I do not need nor want women in my army. It makes me look weak to rely on such weak creatures. Now leave my presence before I have Arnold here flay you alive!” Alara looked at the kingsguard, he had short brown hair and big green eyes. His nose was bent from a previous break. He wore a bronze longsword by his right side and a bloody knife by his left. I bet that’s the knife I am to be flayed with. She looked back at the King, I could easily take him, the guard might be a problem though. The soldiers outside too.
Alara bowed politely. “Thank you for your audience, your grace” She withdrew the throne room. The next in line to enter were two men who looked to be from the Stark army, the younger had a shield with the stark direwolf carved into it. Perhaps I should try the Starks next, or the Barrow’s. Alara climbed onto Molly, her black destrier. She was eager to leave this place. Molly was acting strange, not responding to Alara’s orders. Bolton guards walked towards her, their swords in hand. Alara kicked the destrier hard in the ribs, sending her into a gallop which nearly threw her from the saddle. She rode out the main gates and didn’t stop until the Dreadfort was out of view. The place gave her the creeps, even if she was not going to admit it Where should I go next?
[Go to Winterfell] [Go to Barrowton]
Sorry for such a short part, the next will be longer
[Go to Winterfell]
[Go to Winterfell]
[Go to Winterfell]
Great to see Alara in the story! I'm glad she did not ended up working for this Bolton creep. Winterfell should be the better choice for her. At least I am reasonably certain that she won't be flayed alive by the Starks for offering her service.
[Go to Barrowton]
[Go to Winterfell] I almost forgot to read this
When you posted this I noticed it with my phone, but when I got home I had forgotten about it. Well, I was still fast enough that the vote wasn't closed :P
[Go to Winterfell]
Haha no worries, I usually try to give vote 24 hours unless I'm sure everyone has voted :P
Vote is closed! Alara with go to Winterfell
Allow me to present Davios Tallman, the Andal Invader!
Torv
The evening was cold and wet as droplets of rain attempted to scrub away the sins of the Dreadfort. Torv stood in the rain waiting for his master, Arnold Dint. He was a horrible man, he flayed the King’s enemies for his entertainment. That was what Arnold was doing now. Torv waited a solid fifteen minutes before his master came out of the main doors of the Dreadfort. His hands, face and coat were covered in blood.
“M’lord, I brought you water to clean yourself of the blood.” Torv realised how stupid that was as it was raining all around them.
“Saddle my horse and collect my gear boy. I need everything to be ready to depart by dawn.” Arnold walked right passed Torv as if he wasn’t there. Torv quickly dropped the bucket of water and ran to Arnold.
“Forgive me for asking m’lord, but where is it you are going? And shall I be accompanying you?” Torv was always one to speak his mind, it didn’t do him any good. Arnold turned and backhanded Torv, to which Torv fell into the mud.
“Know your place boy!” He began to walk again, then stopped and turned. “Obey me, and keep your damn mouth shut unless I command you to speak. If you speak again without my permission then I’ll cut out your tongue.” Arnold walked towards the barracks which lead to the dungeons. Torv pulled himself out of the mud and cleaned himself up. I’d best get to work then.
-
Torv slept in the stables with his master's’ horse. He was woken by a tap of the shoulder, he opened his eyes to see his master with his flaying knife in hand. Torv quickly scrambled backwards, away from him. His heart began to beat heavily in his chest, sweat starting down his face.
“It’s okay boy, I only need your help with something. Won't take too long.” Torv got up, curious of what he wanted.
“M’lord, if I might ask-” Arnold instantly turned around and stared Torv in the eyes. Arnold had giant green eyes, but they were intimidating when he looked at you in a particular way. Torv lowered his head, ashamed of disobeying his master. Arnold walked out the door and Torv followed. Everything outside lay wet from the rain that had come down during the night. Torv trudged through the thick mud, trying to keep up with his master. They ultimately ended up at the barracks, Arnold opened the door and beckoned for Torv to go in. He dried his feet on the mat at the door, his master walked in behind him, shutting the door silently as he did. Torv followed him down to the dungeon where there he found two men hanging by the wrists in chains, one was bloody as half his chest had been flayed.
“By the gods!” Torv said, perhaps too loud. He covered his mouth to stop any other words coming out. Arnold walked up to the half flayed man, pulling out his knife and pointing it at him.
“This young man is Edrick, squire of Harmond Hornhill who’s unconscious over there.” He stuck the point of his knife into Edrick and he screamed out with pain. Harmond did not move, he had scars all over his body but none were fresh. Torv felt safe enough to believe that this Harmond fellow was unharmed. For the moment. “Anyway, I’ve brought you here because this damn boy keeps squirming whenever I try to slice a piece off of him. I need you to hold him down while I do my work, afterall the King says it’s better to flay a man who is conscious rather than not.” He pointed his knife at Harmond as if indicating him as an example. Torv was shocked.
“M’lord, I-” Torv looked around, desperately looking for an excuse to get him out of there. He found nothing, though a hammer sat atop a haystack. Not that it meant anything to Torv.
“Oh, it won’t take long Torv, just hold him and I’ll be done before you know it.” Arnold smiled at Torv then turned and looked at Edrick’s chest. Torv looked at the two men, then at the hammer.I could knock the master out, but then what? There was a chance that Edrick would bleed out if Torv tried to move him too much. Harmond on the other hand was a big man, it would take Torv just as long to pull him out and get him on a horse as it would to be extremely careful with Edrick. I can only take one if I go through with this. Torv looked at the hammer one last time. I go through with this and I’ll be an outcast, they’ll hunt me down.
[Knockout Arnold and take Edrick] [Knockout Arnold and take Harmond] [Obey Arnold]
Here's Torv!
[Knockout Arnold and take Edrick]
[Knockout Arnold and take Edrick] Mmm... Perfect example of how has the Dreadfort earned its name. Anyway, hopefully Torv gets away with it.
PS. The drawings are nice
[Obey Arnold] I would rather not be enemy of Dreadfort, well at least not without army behind me, than I would, gladly.
[Knockout Arnold and take Edrick]
God damnit, the Dreadfort is a really, really messed up place. Screw the Bolton's!
The drawings are nice indeed, I always enjoy such things
I'm working on Alara currently.
[Obey Arnold] Whether he likes it or not this is his Lord, it's his duty to obey nothing good will come from disobeying. God this is gonna suck.
I like him he looks cool. I really like his attire as well.
[Knockout Arnold and take Harmond] Edrick is badly injured , Harmond is knocked out , Edrick is gonna need to be caried but harmond if he wakes up on the other hand .
[Knockout Arnold and take Harmond]
[Knockout Arnold and take Harmond] Amazing ! Gonna submit one character
Emma is a good character, she is the first to be submitted from the Barrow lands
Thank you ! Glad you enjoy it
,That's a Very Good story
Right, well the votes were high this time and we even got a draw. I have decided to stick with the first high amount of votes which means that Torv will knock out Arnold and take Edrick. Sorry to those who voted for Harmond
Davios
The ‘Friendship’ had been sailing for many hours now, it was dark and getting cold as the sea breeze rolled in. Harlan was still steaming over the blood he found on the upper deck. Davios was fortunate that knocking out the three men had wiped all their recollection of the previous night. Harlan once again stood on the upper deck, showing the crew he had a good pair of lungs. Piggy, Small Mykal and Orodos stood in front of Harlan, they were intensely bruised from the fight the night before but overall were okay. Harlan was lead to believe they had gotten drunk and fought each other, which was good for Davios. There were eight soldiers on the ‘Friendship.’ This included Davios and Jorio, the three men who attacked Jorio; which were Piggy, Small Mykal and Orodos. There was a Valyrian couple who went by the names of Vysela and ‘The Cobra’. Finally, there was Hughie Arryn, a cocky fellow who believed his nobility gave him rights over everyone on the ship, though Harlan was quick enough to show who was really in charge around here. Harlan finally concluded his speech by running out of breath and collapsing. The crew ran to his aid and the rest of the soldiers scrambled off. The Valyrian’s sat at the bow of the ship, conversing in their own tongue. Jorio read his big book, the three who attacked Jorio sniggered and chatted about something that only their kind would lower themselves to talk about. Davios walked over to Hughie, he didn’t like him but he figured he had enough enemies on this ship and he didn’t need anymore. Hughie stood staring into the waves and swell of the Narrow Sea, he turned once he noticed Davios standing next to him. Hughie glanced up at the tall blond soldier.
“May I help you?” Hughie sounded somewhat miserable. He didn’t have any friends on the ship, or any at all to Davios’ knowledge of him. Davios noticed his attention fade away into the wind, he once again stared into the waves. “I guess you’re curious why I, a member of the great House Arryn, is sailing to Westeros as a scummy soldier rather than a lord or knight. Well I’ll tell you why. My father disapproves of the ‘invasion’ as he puts it. He believes it to be foolish and he despises my uncle to be so attached to the cause. I always wished to convince my father otherwise and to lead his army across the Narrow Sea, as his son and heir, but that eventually evolved into him disowning me. Now here I am, stuck with a bunch of thieves, rapists and murderers.” He stopped and sighed, then glanced up at Davios, “So which are you?”
“None of that you have stated. I come to Westeros for another purpose, to avenge my father. I received a raven from Marvion Corbray, the master-at-arms at Heart’s Home. He claimed my father had been murdered by the savages who call themselves the First Men.” Davios gave a quick glare towards the young man standing next to him, his eyes were filled with fascination as well as shock. He straightened himself up, quickly realising his childlike behaviour.
“Who was your father?” Hughie’s voice was croaky, as a result of him trying to deepen his voice. Davios hesitated but gave in.
“Randal Tallman” Davios had told no one of his rationale for coming to Westeros, until now.
“Tallman? Those are the bannerman of the Corbray’s if I am not correct? The Corbray’s are my families bannerman.” His voice began to sound cocky again, as if he was going to inflict his authority upon Davios.
“You are not my liege lord, Hughie Arryn. I will respect you for your skills on the battlefield, but not for your family lineage. Do not try to order me around. The last man who did ended unconscious and receiving an unpleasant lecture from a very unhappy Braavosi.” Hughie’s eyes widened, “I’m going to bed, goodnight Hughie.” The highborn was left staring into the darkness as Davios departed down the stairs into the hull. Jorio sat on his bunk reading the same giant book he’d been reading this whole voyage. Davios removed his sword from his belt and fell into his bunk, darkness crept around his vision as he fell into a deep slumber.
-
The sounds of feet moving around the hull awoke Davios this time. He didn’t hear any screams so he stayed still and listened. After a few minutes he heard nothing and began to rest his eyes, as he was just falling back to sleep a sudden scream echoed through the hull. Davios darted up to see everyone surrounding the bunk of Hughie Arryn.
“Somebody help him!” Jorio screamed, his voice trembling and full of fear. Davios approached the crowd, Piggy turned to Davios and vomited right in front of his feet. Davios dodged the orangey yellow fluid that came out of the plump man and entered the crowd. Hughie lay in his bed, screaming in agony with a dagger lodged into his left eye.
“Pull it out! Get it out!” Hughie’s arms were tied to the end of his bunk, restricting any movement. Davios stood frozen. Who could have done a thing like this? He then clicked into action.
“Jorio, grab some bandages and get over here!” Jorio was frozen stiff, his face shocked and frightened. “JORIO!” He broke out of the trance, running for a bandage. Davios sat on the side of Hughie’s bunk, listening to his grunts and sudden screams. Davios didn’t know what to do, this had never been a situation he had encountered. “Hughie, I want you to stay still. I’m going to get rid of it.” Hughie continued to squirm. Jorio ran back with a handful of bandages, he sat by the other side of his bunk. Davios glanced at Jorio to which he replied with a nod. Davios grabbed the handle of the dagger and yanked it out, Jorio quickly wrapping the bandage around his head. Davios turned to see the Valyrian girl, Vysela, crying into her lover's arm. Small Mykal and Orodos were frozen with fear, and Piggy was barfing out bile. Davios turned and looked at the dagger. Valyrian steel. Harlan and his crew came rushing down into the hull, he looked at Hughie and then at Davios, who was still holding the dagger, anger boiling in his eyes. “Wait, I know how this looks-” Harlan’s fist closing into Davios’ vision was the last thing Davios saw before darkness surrounded him.
No decision this time.
Here's Alara.
Good part! Can't wait for Davios to arrive at Westeros
Harmond Hornhill, drawn by @alikir34!
Dormund
Dormund descended the stairs from the maindoor of the Dreadfort with Ryden Frost, of the kingsguard, by his side. Ryden was a little smaller than Dormund, though was by far bigger in muscle. He had angular features to his face and deep blue eyes, of which House Frost is known for their consistent blue eyes. Though none of this mattered to Dormund, Ryden was only here because he is loyal to the King and he is a good swordsman.
“If I were a madman with a knife and two stark prisoners, where would I be?” Ryden said to himself as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Dormund raised an eyebrow at him, he did not realise his father’s kingsguard did not think so highly of each other.
“Father’s last words to Arnold were saying that he may do as he wished with them. Knowing him I’d say he’s in a dark room making a new coat out of their skin.” Dormund smiled at the thought. Ryden on the other hand just looked disgusted, though he did well to hide it. “We’ll start with his home, question the maiden there. Perhaps his squire Torv is there, we can question him too.” Dormund started walking for Arnold’s house, Ryden following him with his left hand on the pommel of his sword.
-
“So should we knock or just enter, my prince?” Ryden wasn’t one for making jokes, he was a loyal kingsguard who was too full of obedience and honour to even bother with humour. Dormund put on the most serious face he could.
“You are joking? I am the prince of the Dreadfort, I must have pure and utter respect for the men and women who live under our rule.” Ryden stared him in the eye, trying to find the trick that Dormund was playing. With that, Dormund kicked down the door and entered, he successfully got a laugh out of Ryden. Dormund pulled out his dagger and ordered Ryden to secure the building. Dormund would use a sword but his true talent lay in archery, he only found a sword at his waist would slow him down. Ryden started with the upper level while Dormund searched the lower. The place looks deserted. The place was a mess, old blood was stained the walls and overall the place smelt of manure. Dormund left the house feeling pretty sure that it was empty of life, he was stumped on ideas for where Arnold might be. I still haven’t searched the stables. As Dormund began to walk towards the makeshift barn, Ryden ran out of the house.
“My prince! I have found fresh blood in one of the upper rooms. Looks as if a body was dragged out the window, some drawers are raided too.” Dormund looked at Ryden curiously, then continued to the stables. He opened the tall front door to see fresh blood on a haystack in the corner and Arnold’s horse missing. There were no tracks leading out of the stable but it had been raining consistently over night so the tracks could have been washed away. Dormund left the stables confused, there was only one more place he could think to go. The barracks. Ryden walked to him, a bloody hammer in hand. Dormund looked Ryden in the eye, then inspected the hammer. What the hell is going on here?
“Come on Ryden, let’s go to the barracks.” Dormund walked through the mud that was still wet from the rain last night. The barracks used to be occupied by the kingsguard but when the invasion began the king felt it would be safer to have his guard closer to him at all times. Dormund walked up to the door and turned the handle. Locked. “Ryden could you-” Ryden had charged through the door before Dormund could finish his sentence. Dormund smiled, he had known Ryden all his life. He was a year older than him but they had always gotten along and worked well as a team. The first thing they saw were the blood stains on the ground that made it evident that a body had been dragged in or out of here. Dormund followed the blood down to the dungeon, a fly smacked into him. Dormund stopped once he saw why there were so many flies, Ryden put his sword away once he saw what Dormund saw.
“By the gods, who would have done this?” The body of Arnold Dint lay on the ground with a dint in the side of his head where the hammer had gone in. Flies lay their maggots into the flesh wound of Arnold and the bits of flayed skin sat on the ground. To the corner a large man stood with his arms chained to the wall. Dormund walked up to him, pulling his dagger from his belt. He stuck the dagger at the man’s throat.
“What happened here! Where is the other prisoner?” Dormund only recieved a chuckle by the man he tried to interrogate.
“You really think that little knife of yours scares me, Bolton? I’ve seen things that you’ve never dreamed of.” He gave a mocking smile, though Dormund was not mocked. The Starks had the loyalty that few Bolton’s possessed, that had always been the bad link of the chain for the Bolton’s.
“Fortunate for you to come to the Dreadfort then, we might just add to those dreams of yours.” Dormund looked at Ryden, “Cut him down and bind his wrists, we’ll take him to my father.”
-
The King sat on his throne, Edwyn and Tobas stood talking to him, though Tobas sounded to be arguing more than talking.
“You want me to be his ward! Yet you give Edwyn the right to march by your side just because he is the first born? What of Dormund, shall he ride with you aswell?!” Tobas’ face was full of anger, he stormed off once he saw Dormund enter.
The prisoner, Harmond, had encountered some bruises on the way to the throneroom. His stomach and ribs were blackening from being kicked when he tried to escape. Despite him being the enemy, Dormund felt some sympathy and honor for him. He had clearly been left behind and yet he somehow stayed strong. The Starks are really something.
“Father, we have found one of the prisoners but he says nothing of the other prisoner’s whereabouts. And also-” Dormund was interrupted by the King raising his hand, indicating for silence.
“Ryden, bring me the prisoner and fetch Arnold. If he will not submit to a beating then I will have the truth cut out of him!” Rogar smiled and Harmond surprisingly chuckled as he was brought in front of the King. Ryden looked at Dormund, then at the King.
“Your grace, brother Arnold Dint was murdered and we have no idea who may have done it.” Rogar looked unsettled, saddened almost. Dormund could have sworn he heard the King mutter something.
“Nevermind then. Edwyn, you shall carry this out. Hold the man down Ryden.” A certain fire burned in the King’s eyes. He then turned is focus onto Dormund while Edwyn started his work, Harmond began to scream. “I was orignally going to have you ward for the Barrow King, but now as my Arnold is dead I need a new man to rally the banners. I am giving this task to you. You will also track down this prisoner who escaped, I have heard reports that two men on horse back left during the midst of the night.” The King moved his attention back to Harmond, who’s chest was bleeding and his skin was falling to the ground. The amusement on Edwyn’s face sickened Dormund, not because of his enjoyment of flaying but because the soldier deserved a better death. Dormund turned to walk away until he heard Harmond scream once again. Dormund was convinced Harmond didn’t know anything, any man would have spoken up by now. He deserves better.
[Leave Harmond to be flayed] [End his misery with your bow]
Harmond & Edrick, drawn by @alikir34!
[Leave Harmond to be flayed]
That's awesome! Great drawing, she looks exactly as imagined
[Leave Harmond to be flayed] The Bolton way
[End his misery with your bow]
Damn it, poor Harmond. I haven't thought he would die that early, but he deserves at least a painless death. And Dormund is a Bolton after all, I think he can get away with mercy killing a prisoner.
[End his misery with your bow]
[Leave Harmond to be flayed]
[End his misery with your bow]
[End his misery with your bow]
[Leave Harmond to be flayed] Made another character