The kindling caught alight from the second spark of flint, slowly drawing onto the small twigs and bark, then reaching the large sticks and small logs. Torv sat back, proud of his small fire. It was one of the few things Rolland had taught how to do with precision, and he nailed it nearly every time.
He turned his gaze to the company around him. Rose sat beside the fire, observing the delicate features of the obsidian arrow head, seemingly in entranced by its eccentric beauty. Jesse on the other hand sat by the lapping water’s edge, a sullen expression on his face, but fearful eyes as watchful as an owl.
Torv sighed, looking around for something to occupy his time. He was famished, they all were. They had lost their supplies before they beached, and the hunting had been scarce, they had only managed to secure a few berries and a small hare. Torv reached for the meat, already skinned and prepped for the fire. The raw pink flesh was wet and bloody in his hand, and unappetising. He threw it onto the fire without a second thought in mind, hungered by the thought that he hadn’t eaten meat since he left the Dreadfort. It felt so long ago.
The meat caught aflame in the hot burning coals, but Torv thought nothing of it, moving his gaze to the satchel between Rose and himself. Inside was the Weeping Stone, yet he didn’t need to open the bag just to figure it out. There was a strange entity to the stone, like it was alive. Torv had seen it in his dreams, seen it weep and heard it whisper. Though they were dreams, and Torv could barely remember them once he awoke.
Torv rest his head back against the lizard lion leather which he had been given by Rolland. The thought of Rolland bothered him, he felt so close to finding him, yet so far as well. The raft they had encountered, the arrows. It worried him, but not because he feared Rolland was in danger, but because he was starting to doubt Rolland was nearby. Maybe he truly is dead. Torv thought, but he dreaded the idea that such a man could be gone.
“Do you think we will find him?” Torv asked, staring at the night sky above him. The stars were so bright. Rose sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know, Torv.” She mumbled, putting down the arrow. Jesse let out an uneasy laugh.
“Perhaps he’ll find what’s left of us when whoever shot these arrows finds out another raft is at their shore.” He fretted, rubbing his hands in an attempt to create warmth. Rose rolled her eyes, picking up the arrow again. “Come warm yourself by the fire, Jesse. You’re not doing anyone a favour by freezing yourself.” Rose pleaded, but Jesse just spat.
“You’re all fools.” He muttered, unwillingly moving himself closer to the fire, until his eyes landed on the burning piece of meat. “What the fuck!” He yelled, quickly reaching into the fire, then just as speedily snatching his hand back. Rose lifted her eyes, noticing what Torv had done, while Torv glared at Jesse. “No need for that tongue.” He warned, but Jesse shook his head.
“Get the meat out of there, stone skull!” He ordered, and Rose quickly attended to it with the shaft of the arrow. The blackened meat was dragged from the coals, still lit from the remaining heat of the coals. She blew out the flames, and pulled the obsidian from the meat. Jesse shook his head.
“No way am I eating that. Especially now that your arrow has been in it.” Jesse exclaimed, and Rose shrugged, winking at Torv. “More for us then.” She smirked, but Torv just frowned, curling his legs to his chest.
-
The meat was tough, stringy and juiced with blood, but it did the job. Torv took his final bite, swallowing it with minimal chewing, feeling the lump force its way down his throat. He felt in need for a drink, but was out of luck. They had come too far down the river to have fresh water, and no one dared venture too far from the fire now that the sun had set.
The three of them silently sat around the fire, all of them staring into the flames with their different motives. Torv moved his hands towards the fire, feeling the warmth on his skin, it was a welcomed comfort to their so far uncomfortable journey. He let out a long and heavy sigh.
“What will you two do once we arrive at Barrowton?” Torv asked, and Jesse was the first to reply, strangely enough. “I will head to the Barrow Hall, and beg King Dustin for the Tallhart’s aid. Then I might be removed from exile, and be again with my family.” Jesse spoke with hopeful words, which Torv had to admire during these hard times. Rose shrugged.
“What will you do?” She asked, and Torv found himself genuinely dumbstruck. He hadn’t thought much about after delivering the Weeping Stone. It had been his and Rolland’s mission, but now with Rolland gone, he felt like it was all pointless. “I’ll find Roland.” He vowed, before turning his gaze to Jesse. “If we don’t find him tomorrow, we will continue our journey down river, and head for Barrowton.” Torv assured, but Jesse just gave him a weak nod.
“I suppose that is the next big thing, the crossing at the Saltspear.” Jesse mumbled, and Torv furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” He asked, but Jesse sighed and shook his head.
“The Ironborn.” Rose muttered, stabbing the tip of the arrow into the coals of the fire. “I hear they have seized Bear Island.” Rose rumoured, and Jesse nodded in conclusion. “That, as well as burning parts of the Wolfswood and even conquering the Stony Shore.” Jesse lamented, and Rose beared a heavy frown.
“Andal’s in the east, Ironborn in the west, wildlings in the north.” Rose mumbled, and Jesse clenched his fists, his expression bitter. “Damned invaders will get what’s coming to them.” He promised, but Torv felt unconvinced. How could they stop so many forces? He felt his gaze drifting back to the Weeping Stone.
“We should get some rest.” Rose suggested, turning her eyes to Torv, to which he nodded in return. Jesse scowled, turning his gaze away and finding himself a place to lie down. Torv sighed, drifting his eyes back to the night sky as he lied himself back down. I will find you, Rolland. He pledged to himself, before falling into a deep and restful slumber.
-
The crackling sounds of the dying fire pulled Torv from his rest, tiredly opening his eyes. Dawn was hidden behind the horizon in the east, but the sky was a dark red, darker than he had ever seen. Torv blinked a few times, listening to the crackling fire, and the sound of twigs breaking beneath footsteps. Torv rubbed his eyes, trying to force the sleep away, then opened them again.
He felt himself go stiff, freezing in place at what his eyes had fallen upon. A creature with liquid gold eyes, slitted like that of a cat, staring back at him with perhaps as much reflected fear as Torv was projecting. Its skin was a brown as dry soil, with splodges as dark as mud. It had large pointed ears, a hair like moss, with twigs and sticks woven through. In its clawed hand was an obsidian tipped spear.
Torv’s eyes quickly spotted two others of similar height, dressed in leaves and bark, armed in weapons of obsidian. One stood over Rose, a nocked bow in hand, while the other opened the satchel which contained the Weeping Stone. Torv felt a lump build in his throat, his hands tightening into fists. Both Rose and Jesse were still on the ground. Were they still asleep? Torv felt panic rush over him, he had to do something quick.
Ah, Children of the Forest, right? Is this the first time we see them in this story? Anyway, I think attacking them would be stupid, and screaming, well, I don't see what's that really gonna do. I mean, it would wake up Jesse and Rose, but I don't see that helping much. So, [Surrender]. I trust these Children don't want to hurt Torv and co. unless they have to, so let's not agitate them.
Torv
The kindling caught alight from the second spark of flint, slowly drawing onto the small twigs and bark, then reaching the large sti… morecks and small logs. Torv sat back, proud of his small fire. It was one of the few things Rolland had taught how to do with precision, and he nailed it nearly every time.
He turned his gaze to the company around him. Rose sat beside the fire, observing the delicate features of the obsidian arrow head, seemingly in entranced by its eccentric beauty. Jesse on the other hand sat by the lapping water’s edge, a sullen expression on his face, but fearful eyes as watchful as an owl.
Torv sighed, looking around for something to occupy his time. He was famished, they all were. They had lost their supplies before they beached, and the hunting had been scarce, they had only managed to secure a few berries and a small hare. Torv reached for the meat, already skinned and prepped for the fire. The raw pink flesh w… [view original content]
Ah, Children of the Forest, right? Is this the first time we see them in this story?
Correct! These are the Forest Children, and yes it is their first appearance, and this won't be the only place we see them either. They'll be popping up in a few other regions in the story too
Anyway, I think attacking them would be stupid, and screaming, well, I don't see what's that really gonna do. I mean, it would wake up Jesse and Rose, but I don't see that helping much.
Indeed, screaming does seem like a pointless option, but it's a very Torv option at that A bit of comedic humour in an otherwise bloodthirsty serious story
Ah, Children of the Forest, right? Is this the first time we see them in this story? Anyway, I think attacking them would be stupid, and scr… moreeaming, well, I don't see what's that really gonna do. I mean, it would wake up Jesse and Rose, but I don't see that helping much. So, [Surrender]. I trust these Children don't want to hurt Torv and co. unless they have to, so let's not agitate them.
Torv
The kindling caught alight from the second spark of flint, slowly drawing onto the small twigs and bark, then reaching the large sti… morecks and small logs. Torv sat back, proud of his small fire. It was one of the few things Rolland had taught how to do with precision, and he nailed it nearly every time.
He turned his gaze to the company around him. Rose sat beside the fire, observing the delicate features of the obsidian arrow head, seemingly in entranced by its eccentric beauty. Jesse on the other hand sat by the lapping water’s edge, a sullen expression on his face, but fearful eyes as watchful as an owl.
Torv sighed, looking around for something to occupy his time. He was famished, they all were. They had lost their supplies before they beached, and the hunting had been scarce, they had only managed to secure a few berries and a small hare. Torv reached for the meat, already skinned and prepped for the fire. The raw pink flesh w… [view original content]
Ay, the Children! I was already looking forward for seeing them. It appears they are already leaving parts of Westeros though, considering that Torv apparently has never seen one of them before.
[Surrender]
I do agree with Wildling on this. I trust the children enough to assume that they wouldn't just hurt him if he cooperates. Another problem is that they have him surrounded and who knows how many more there are which he just hasn't spotted yet. Screaming or attacking would provok a bloobath, while surrendering sounds like the best option he has to surviv, espcially considering that he is unarme and that Rose and Jesse are still sleeping.
Torv
The kindling caught alight from the second spark of flint, slowly drawing onto the small twigs and bark, then reaching the large sti… morecks and small logs. Torv sat back, proud of his small fire. It was one of the few things Rolland had taught how to do with precision, and he nailed it nearly every time.
He turned his gaze to the company around him. Rose sat beside the fire, observing the delicate features of the obsidian arrow head, seemingly in entranced by its eccentric beauty. Jesse on the other hand sat by the lapping water’s edge, a sullen expression on his face, but fearful eyes as watchful as an owl.
Torv sighed, looking around for something to occupy his time. He was famished, they all were. They had lost their supplies before they beached, and the hunting had been scarce, they had only managed to secure a few berries and a small hare. Torv reached for the meat, already skinned and prepped for the fire. The raw pink flesh w… [view original content]
Torv
The kindling caught alight from the second spark of flint, slowly drawing onto the small twigs and bark, then reaching the large sti… morecks and small logs. Torv sat back, proud of his small fire. It was one of the few things Rolland had taught how to do with precision, and he nailed it nearly every time.
He turned his gaze to the company around him. Rose sat beside the fire, observing the delicate features of the obsidian arrow head, seemingly in entranced by its eccentric beauty. Jesse on the other hand sat by the lapping water’s edge, a sullen expression on his face, but fearful eyes as watchful as an owl.
Torv sighed, looking around for something to occupy his time. He was famished, they all were. They had lost their supplies before they beached, and the hunting had been scarce, they had only managed to secure a few berries and a small hare. Torv reached for the meat, already skinned and prepped for the fire. The raw pink flesh w… [view original content]
Torv
The kindling caught alight from the second spark of flint, slowly drawing onto the small twigs and bark, then reaching the large sti… morecks and small logs. Torv sat back, proud of his small fire. It was one of the few things Rolland had taught how to do with precision, and he nailed it nearly every time.
He turned his gaze to the company around him. Rose sat beside the fire, observing the delicate features of the obsidian arrow head, seemingly in entranced by its eccentric beauty. Jesse on the other hand sat by the lapping water’s edge, a sullen expression on his face, but fearful eyes as watchful as an owl.
Torv sighed, looking around for something to occupy his time. He was famished, they all were. They had lost their supplies before they beached, and the hunting had been scarce, they had only managed to secure a few berries and a small hare. Torv reached for the meat, already skinned and prepped for the fire. The raw pink flesh w… [view original content]
Alright, well I'll bring this vote to a close. Torv will surrender to the creatures, which as Wildling has pointed out, are indeed the Children of the Forest. I also mentioned that the Children will be making their appearances in other sections of the story now and then, and will make some large impacts on some PoV's storylines. So there's that to look forward to, or fear Any rate, something else to look forward to is the new part, which goes to Steffon, and it's ready
So the last time we saw Steffon, he rode to Winterfell with the company of Gareth the sellsword, and Edmund the Beast. On arrival, Steffon was fed at the Great Hall, where he met Queen Helia, Prince Harmund, Wulfgar Snow, Haymitch Woodfoot and Teran Woodmill. After some small discussion, these members of the table learnt of Theon's recent ambitions to sail east to Andalos, of which all took their own way. Steffon then spoke with those remaining at the table about their shortage of men due to the Ironborn harassment. Suggested to either request aid from the Barrow kingdom, or Haymitch's uncle at the Night's Watch, you lot chose the honorable Night's Watch. This part resumes where the latter paused. Enjoy!
Torv
The kindling caught alight from the second spark of flint, slowly drawing onto the small twigs and bark, then reaching the large sti… morecks and small logs. Torv sat back, proud of his small fire. It was one of the few things Rolland had taught how to do with precision, and he nailed it nearly every time.
He turned his gaze to the company around him. Rose sat beside the fire, observing the delicate features of the obsidian arrow head, seemingly in entranced by its eccentric beauty. Jesse on the other hand sat by the lapping water’s edge, a sullen expression on his face, but fearful eyes as watchful as an owl.
Torv sighed, looking around for something to occupy his time. He was famished, they all were. They had lost their supplies before they beached, and the hunting had been scarce, they had only managed to secure a few berries and a small hare. Torv reached for the meat, already skinned and prepped for the fire. The raw pink flesh w… [view original content]
Downing his mug of ale, Steffon turned his eyes to Haymitch Woodfoot, staring him in his pleading eyes. “Very well.” Steffon granted. “You will ride to Westwatch and give plea to your uncle. He’ll only accept the word from you.” Haymitch’s eyes widened in a pleasant surprise, and he nodded almost immediately.
“I will.” He assured, rising from his chair. “I shall ride for Westwatch in the morrow then. If you would excuse me, I should get some rest before then.” Steffon nodded, excusing the man. I should too, he thought, his long ride from the Dreadfort to Winterfell. He was tired, beyond a doubt. Teran Woodmill too stood up, an impatient look on his black eyes.
“I too must rest.” He informed, and likewise Steffon granted the man leave from the hall. After the room fell silent, Steffon turned his eyes to the last remaining man at the table. Wulfgar poured himself a fourth cup of ale, a sullen expression on his face.
“To think that boy will become king someday.” Wulfgar mumbled, drowning his sorrows in another cup of ale. He shook his head in disbelief, a weak smile on his face. “Might as well submit to these Andal’s, I have no doubt they’d be kinder rulers then that little shit.” Wulfgar spat, and Steffon frowned.
“I take it you fought beside Bael, before he passed?” Steffon asked, and Wulfgar nodded grimly. “During the war between us and the Barrow’s. Another war with no resolution, and the loss of Theon’s eldest. I watched him fall in battle, and there was nothing I could do.” Wulfgar muttered. Steffon knew exactly where the man was coming from.
“I’m going to give you a chance to fight in a war that will have a resolution.” Steffon announced, and he vaguely was granted Wulfgar sorrowed attention. Steffon continued. “Theon wanted me to take Harmund into battle, have him fight by my side and learn what it means to be a true warrior. Though the battles ahead of me are not the fighting that makes a true warrior, but a savage. I want a man with experience, which I can trust will follow my orders and watch over his men in battle. That man is you.” Wulfgar raised an eyebrow, putting down his cup and a mixture of astonishment and disbelief. His jaw gaped over.
“I… Uh. Thank you.” Wulfgar awkwardly managed, and Steffon gave him a nod, standing from his chair. He excused himself, leaving the table and exiting the hall, Steffon made his way back to his quarters. He longed to rest, his legs ached and his eyes were heavy.
-
His hand felt heavy on the door knob, and with a lazily twist the oak wood door swung open. Steffon stumbled into the room, shutting the door behind him and leaning against the oak. A rush of thoughts had coursed through his mind. Thoughts of his passed wife, thoughts of Brodin, and Nalia. He lifted his hand to wipe the tears away, but his legs gave way beneath him before he ever could.
Crumbling down to the stone floor, Steffon fell into a melancholic state. He felt his body starting to shake, tears streaming quicker from his eyes, he wept. He did so for several minutes, until he noticed the bright grey eyes staring at him, standing at the window. The figure was small, perhaps standing just on four feet, and it had big noticeable eyes in the darkness.
Steffon pulled himself together, reaching to the knob of the door and pulling it open, letting the light of the corridor flood in. The figure in the corner of the room was unveiled, it was a boy, no older than five or six years. Steffon let out a sigh of relief, pulling himself up.
“What are you doing here, boy?” Steffon grunted, shutting the door again. His voice was harsh, perhaps a little too harsh for a boy of a young age. He got no reply. Steffon reached for the candle stick on the table adjacent to him, yet he was buggered if he remembered where he left the flint. However all of that became irrelevant when another light sparked up in the room.
Steffon turned his gaze to the young boy, clutching his lantern to his chest as he stared at Steffon with a fearful gaze. Steffon could only frown, he was tired, and perhaps a little drunk. He walked over to the boy, yet the child took steps back as he did, so Steffon resulted in kneeling down before him.
“Who are you, child?” Steffon asked, in perhaps the kindest tone he had used in a while. He noticed it gave the boy confidence, and something else. The boy grinned, standing tall as if he was about to speak some rehearsed lines. “I am Tristram Stark, fourth son of King Theon, and…” He dribbled off sentence, clearly forgetting the rest. Steffon chuckled.
“Well, Tristram. What are you doing in my room, especially at this hour of the night?” Tristram’s cheeks blushed in embarrassment, he lowered his eyes. “I… I’m hiding.” Tristram revealed, awkwardly playing with is feet. “I come here when I’m sad.” He added, and Steffon found himself frowning again. He readjusted his stance, taking a seat on the cold floor.
“What is bothering you, little Prince?” Steffon asked with a nonchalant tone, not that Tristram picked up on it, but Steffon longed to sleep. Tristram shuffled around awkwardly, until he brought himself into a sitting position on the floor, placing his lantern before his crossed legs.
“Father, mother, my brothers.” He blurted quickly, and Steffon smiled, shaking his head. “You’re going to have to be more elaborative than that.” Steffon chuckled, but the boy looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, like he did not know what he meant. Steffon explained what ‘elaborate’ meant.
“Oh. Well…” Tristram scratched his head awkwardly, it was clear he did not talk about this often. “I’m scared. Scared for father, and for mother, and I’m scared of my older brother, Harmund.” Steffon felt himself felt gloomy in reference to Theon. Though he had to find the will to be strong, for the boy.
“Your father is a strong man, he is safe from harm.” Steffon tried to convince, but it was clear Harmund wasn’t easily persuaded. Steffon sighed. “What of your brothers, how do they cope?” Tristram shrugged, warming his little hands on the glass of the lantern.
“Harmund is always so bossy, he even hit me when I didn’t do as he said.” Tristram mumbled, and Steffon raised an eyebrow. “He hit you?” Tristram nodded, lifting his shirt and revealing the large bruise on his stomach. Steffon felt himself disgusted more and more with Harmund. “How did you mother react to this?” Steffon asked, perhaps with a too much bitterness in his tone. Tristram frowned.
“She likes him more. She doesn’t even care for little Ivan anymore, I have to do that, while my older brother Edrick is always reading books.” Steffon found himself gritting his teeth. “Would you like me to talk to your mother?” Steffon asked, though he imagined he would be doing so regardless. Tristram shrugged, moving his eyes to the candle flame.
“I don’t think it will do much good.” Tristram sighed. Before Steffon could find something to say, the door behind him twisted open, and in came a female entered with a panicked expression. However it seemed to calm in relief when her eyes landed on the boy.
“Trist! Thank the gods you’re here.” She praised, quickly walking over to Tristram and tugged at his arm. “Come now, it’s long past time you went to bed.” She ordered, and Tristram hesitantly got up. Steffon found himself intervening. “Hold on, who are you?” He asked, and the girl awkwardly smiled.
“I’m Martena Rivers.” She announced, her cheeks blushing. Steffon looked her over, she was tall and with a slim figure, and her hair fell in long red waves. Her eyes were a bright, icy blue, and Steffon couldn’t help but feel like he recognised her. He shrugged the thought off, making further inquisitions. “And who are you to him.” Steffon nodded to Tristram, and Martena smiled.
“I’m handmaiden to Queen Helia, and I’m watching over the little wolves for her.” She explained, tugging at Tristram’s arm again. “Come now, it’s time for bed. Say your farewell to General Steffon.” She commanded, but Trist instead tried to free himself. She sighed, giving Steffon an apologetic look. She then turned and lifted Tristram off his feet with ease, carrying him to the door.
“Apologies for the bother, General. I will make sure it won’t happen again.” She assured with stern words, and Steffon raised his eyebrow. Perhaps he was too tired, perhaps he was simply becoming paranoid, but something felt off with this girl.
[Accompany Martena and Tristram] Letting one of Theon's sons go alone with a women who seems suspicious to him does not seem like the best route to go with here. I figure it is better to be safe than sorry here Martena sounds familiar, I am nowhere near completely caught up on the story so if Martena is someone very obvious, my bad
Steffon
Downing his mug of ale, Steffon turned his eyes to Haymitch Woodfoot, staring him in his pleading eyes. “Very well.” Steffon gran… moreted. “You will ride to Westwatch and give plea to your uncle. He’ll only accept the word from you.” Haymitch’s eyes widened in a pleasant surprise, and he nodded almost immediately.
“I will.” He assured, rising from his chair. “I shall ride for Westwatch in the morrow then. If you would excuse me, I should get some rest before then.” Steffon nodded, excusing the man. I should too, he thought, his long ride from the Dreadfort to Winterfell. He was tired, beyond a doubt. Teran Woodmill too stood up, an impatient look on his black eyes.
“I too must rest.” He informed, and likewise Steffon granted the man leave from the hall. After the room fell silent, Steffon turned his eyes to the last remaining man at the table. Wulfgar poured himself a fourth cup of ale, a sullen expression on his face.
“To thin… [view original content]
[Accompany Martena and Tristram] Letting one of Theon's sons go alone with a women who seems suspicious to him does not seem like the best r… moreoute to go with here. I figure it is better to be safe than sorry here Martena sounds familiar, I am nowhere near completely caught up on the story so if Martena is someone very obvious, my bad
Well, that is good to know that I did not make a complete fool of myself with my answer Stigz, it is safe to say that I just realized something though. I sure do use this emoji alot Is there anyway for me to find out how to use other ones? I have looked around and still have not found any luck on how to use other ones.
Martena sounds familiar, I am nowhere near completely caught up on the story so if Martena is someone very obvious, my bad
Haha no worries! This is Martena's first part, so she's new to everyone
The first Steffon part in such a long time, it's great to see him back as well He has always been a PoV I liked a lot and I look forward for what's in store for him. I suppose I can look forward for it, yes? Ah, but anyways, this was a nice part in general and having Steffon in it was the icing on the cake.
[Accompany Martena and Tristram]
I am curious about Martena, a lot actually. The last name Rivers seems to imply a connection to the nympho witch Elena, but Martena seems to look different, in terms of hair colour at least. Though similar facial features could explain why Steffon faintly recognizes her. Maybe I could be right there. In any way, this only makes me distrust Martena and like CM3434 said, I also believe it is not a good thing to let the heir to the Kingdom of the North go alone with that woman. If she is truly related to Elena, then we know that something is off with her and maybe Steffon can prevent something bad from happening.
Steffon
Downing his mug of ale, Steffon turned his eyes to Haymitch Woodfoot, staring him in his pleading eyes. “Very well.” Steffon gran… moreted. “You will ride to Westwatch and give plea to your uncle. He’ll only accept the word from you.” Haymitch’s eyes widened in a pleasant surprise, and he nodded almost immediately.
“I will.” He assured, rising from his chair. “I shall ride for Westwatch in the morrow then. If you would excuse me, I should get some rest before then.” Steffon nodded, excusing the man. I should too, he thought, his long ride from the Dreadfort to Winterfell. He was tired, beyond a doubt. Teran Woodmill too stood up, an impatient look on his black eyes.
“I too must rest.” He informed, and likewise Steffon granted the man leave from the hall. After the room fell silent, Steffon turned his eyes to the last remaining man at the table. Wulfgar poured himself a fourth cup of ale, a sullen expression on his face.
“To thin… [view original content]
Well, that is good to know that I did not make a complete fool of myself with my answer Stigz, it is safe to say that I just realized somet… morehing though. I sure do use this emoji alot Is there anyway for me to find out how to use other ones? I have looked around and still have not found any luck on how to use other ones.
The first Steffon part in such a long time, it's great to see him back as well He has always been a PoV I liked a lot and I look forward for what's in store for him. I suppose I can look forward for it, yes? Ah, but anyways, this was a nice part in general and having Steffon in it was the icing on the cake.
Yes, there are still quite a few tragic parts in Steffon's life time which are yet to unravel, so you can indeed look forward
In any way, this only makes me distrust Martena and like CM3434 said, I also believe it is not a good thing to let the heir to the Kingdom of the North go alone with that woman.
I might just touch up on this. I'm pretty sure it was mentioned, but Tristram is the fourthborn son of Theon, third living son. So he's not the heir, but I understand what you mean
The first Steffon part in such a long time, it's great to see him back as well He has always been a PoV I liked a lot and I look forward fo… morer what's in store for him. I suppose I can look forward for it, yes? Ah, but anyways, this was a nice part in general and having Steffon in it was the icing on the cake.
[Accompany Martena and Tristram]
I am curious about Martena, a lot actually. The last name Rivers seems to imply a connection to the nympho witch Elena, but Martena seems to look different, in terms of hair colour at least. Though similar facial features could explain why Steffon faintly recognizes her. Maybe I could be right there. In any way, this only makes me distrust Martena and like CM3434 said, I also believe it is not a good thing to let the heir to the Kingdom of the North go alone with that woman. If she is truly related to Elena, then we know that something is off with her and maybe Steffon can prevent something bad from happening.
[Accompany Martena and Tristram] Poor Steffon must be so damn tired at this point But anyway, as the fellas above said, we can't trust this woman with the Prince, not until we know a bit more about her anyway.
Steffon
Downing his mug of ale, Steffon turned his eyes to Haymitch Woodfoot, staring him in his pleading eyes. “Very well.” Steffon gran… moreted. “You will ride to Westwatch and give plea to your uncle. He’ll only accept the word from you.” Haymitch’s eyes widened in a pleasant surprise, and he nodded almost immediately.
“I will.” He assured, rising from his chair. “I shall ride for Westwatch in the morrow then. If you would excuse me, I should get some rest before then.” Steffon nodded, excusing the man. I should too, he thought, his long ride from the Dreadfort to Winterfell. He was tired, beyond a doubt. Teran Woodmill too stood up, an impatient look on his black eyes.
“I too must rest.” He informed, and likewise Steffon granted the man leave from the hall. After the room fell silent, Steffon turned his eyes to the last remaining man at the table. Wulfgar poured himself a fourth cup of ale, a sullen expression on his face.
“To thin… [view original content]
Hehe, no one has rarer emojis than me
In all seriousness though, the Whatever's On Your Mind Megathread in the Telltale Talk has a detailed list of all those that are available in its main post. There are quite a number of interesting ones
Actually, for a quick reference, here are all of them, just copy/paste them or hover your mouse above them to see how you can create them
Well as you know, there's the : D which makes
There's a couple of other good ones which I'll present to you now: : p -> => = ) -> => : ) -> => : # -> => >: ) ->
That's about all the ones I know, I'm afraid
Well, that is good to know that I did not make a complete fool of myself with my answer Stigz, it is safe to say that I just realized somet… morehing though. I sure do use this emoji alot Is there anyway for me to find out how to use other ones? I have looked around and still have not found any luck on how to use other ones.
Steffon
Downing his mug of ale, Steffon turned his eyes to Haymitch Woodfoot, staring him in his pleading eyes. “Very well.” Steffon gran… moreted. “You will ride to Westwatch and give plea to your uncle. He’ll only accept the word from you.” Haymitch’s eyes widened in a pleasant surprise, and he nodded almost immediately.
“I will.” He assured, rising from his chair. “I shall ride for Westwatch in the morrow then. If you would excuse me, I should get some rest before then.” Steffon nodded, excusing the man. I should too, he thought, his long ride from the Dreadfort to Winterfell. He was tired, beyond a doubt. Teran Woodmill too stood up, an impatient look on his black eyes.
“I too must rest.” He informed, and likewise Steffon granted the man leave from the hall. After the room fell silent, Steffon turned his eyes to the last remaining man at the table. Wulfgar poured himself a fourth cup of ale, a sullen expression on his face.
“To thin… [view original content]
Right well I'll close the vote. Steffon will accompany Martena and Tristram. Gee, look at all your paranoid souls, now wanting to stalk loyal Stark handmaiden's Poor Steffon, he's going to be wrecked without all this sleep, same as Samira now that I think about it
Anyway, I've got the next part written, and it's a Warmond part. Now the last time we saw Warmond was in his very first part, where he was attending the Merman council. There they learned that the Gardener's were building an army, but for what purpose, they did not know. King Waldemar had his fourthborn son, Walter, tasked on a mission to investigate further into this matter. Waldemar also received word from his second daughter, Wylla, with some plans she wished to execute. Warmond would have the Western Military Fleet (led by Wyvern Vyrwel, Wyman Manderly's bastard) accompany her. Waldina the "Siren" claimed she wished to join Wyvern, after having some strange feelings. However before any matters could be further discussed, the young Wave interrupted the council to inform of them of the death of Wyona, Waldemar's eldest daughter.
Steffon
Downing his mug of ale, Steffon turned his eyes to Haymitch Woodfoot, staring him in his pleading eyes. “Very well.” Steffon gran… moreted. “You will ride to Westwatch and give plea to your uncle. He’ll only accept the word from you.” Haymitch’s eyes widened in a pleasant surprise, and he nodded almost immediately.
“I will.” He assured, rising from his chair. “I shall ride for Westwatch in the morrow then. If you would excuse me, I should get some rest before then.” Steffon nodded, excusing the man. I should too, he thought, his long ride from the Dreadfort to Winterfell. He was tired, beyond a doubt. Teran Woodmill too stood up, an impatient look on his black eyes.
“I too must rest.” He informed, and likewise Steffon granted the man leave from the hall. After the room fell silent, Steffon turned his eyes to the last remaining man at the table. Wulfgar poured himself a fourth cup of ale, a sullen expression on his face.
“To thin… [view original content]
Waves lapped onto the pebble coast with a weak swell to back it. The skies were dark and grey with cloud, and it was clear that the weather would soon deteriorate. The Manderly banners started to flap harder as the wind strengthened, and it was clear many of the attendants were eager to leave. Little respect, Warmond thought to himself, but he could not blame them. Wyona had been like a second mother for all the Manderly’s, and her passing meant little to the people of the kingdom as it did to the actual Manderly’s. Regardless, the vassals and nobles of House Manderly came to honour her name, and they could only thank them for that.
Warmond was able to spot out a few of his grandfather’s closest bannermen, but he had little time to speak to any. The Misty’s were perhaps one of the strongest houses sworn to the Manderly’s, holding the Misty Isles which sheltered them from the west. The Misty’s were overlords to the four isles, House Serry and House Grimm being sworn to them.
Warmond let out a sigh, releasing his wife’s hand as he crossed his arms. Princess Dia turned her eyes onto him, caringly curious as he liked to put it. She placed a hand on his arm, looking up to him. “Will you be alright?” She asked, her eyes beaming up to him. Warmond nodded, staring at old Wyona’s lifeless body, resting on a stone mound. She was the most beautiful Warmond had ever seen her, with her hair braided a wearing a tiara of shells. It only made him see how much she struggled more, and made him regret that he seldom tried to help her.
“I will be fine.” He replied, and it was the truth. The only thing he would regret is that he could not bring himself to mourn for her. Regardless, Warmond put on a small smile as he turned his gaze to his beautiful wife. Only being a few years younger than him, Dia maintained her beauty and youth just as well as Warmond did, and as far as Warmond knew she had no Merling blood in her. “I promise.” He tried to assure, but he knew she was ignorant enough to believe him. Yet she respected his decision to not pursue it any further, and simply nodded.
Warmond’s eyes drifted over to his uncle, Lord Wendel. He stood with his wife, Lady Mira, and her father, Lord Misty. Mira herself was a beauty, of which Wendel prided himself with. She had bright copper coloured hair, with a big voluminous side braid. Their two children, Wade and Wave, stood with them. However Wave was clearly in distress, tears were streaming down her cheeks, and in her hands she was tightly clutching onto the pearls that once belonged to Aunt Wyona.
Dia’s eyes followed Warmond’s gaze, and almost as expected, her heart immediately went out to the girl. She turned her eyes back to Warmond, who simply nodded in response, not that she needed to ask. Watching Dia approach her nephew, Warmond felt some warmth spark in him. He loved that woman with everything he was, and their marriage could not have been possible were in not for his mother’s final wish.
“Warmond?” A familiar voice gently called, and Warmond turned his eyes to where he heard the voice. Warmond’s eyes widened when he saw the short and plump Lady of Blackwood, his sister. “Wynne?” He asked, surprised to see her, and her beautiful smile widened on her face. The two almost immediately embraced without another word.
“Is Lord Blackwood here?” Warmond asked, somewhat astonished that they had travelled all the way from the Riverland’s to attend Wyona’s funeral. Wynne nodded, still maintaining her warm smile. “He speaks with Grandfather.” She explained, and Warmond nodded in response.
“It’s been so long, Wynne. I fear you’ve caught me by surprise. How have you been, how are the children?” He babbled, and Wynne gently shrugged. “They are well, all growing healthily and learning who they are. As am I.” Wynne admitted, clasping her hands. “What about you? How is the young Waldemar, and Willow?”
“The ‘young’ Waldemar isn’t all that young anymore, but he fares well. Taking much after his father, which I don’t know whether to fear or admire. As for Willow, well I haven’t seen him for a few years now. He’s being mentored by the Dayne’s at Starfall.” Warmond noticed Wynne being somewhat taken aback by this news.
“The Dayne’s? That’s a fair distance.” She observed, and Warmond shrugged. “They offered as terms to our engagement, and when Willow came of age he wished to go. I’m sure I’ll see him soon enough.” Wynne let out a small frown, turning her eyes to the old Wyona. “Just don’t leave it too long.” She begged, taking Warmond’s hand. “Family is precious, and without them what are we?” Warmond nodded to her, in an attempt to appease her.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He told her, to which she responded with a small smile. The sight of the Water Maiden’s and Ocean Priest’s took their attention, and it was an indicator that the service was beginning. It did not take long until the crowd quietened down, and the Maiden’s and Priest’s took their positions.
“It is time.” An Ocean Priest announced, and was followed by one of the Water Maiden’s. “If any would wish to speak in honour of Princess Wyona, please come forward.” She called, and for a moment there was silence. Finally, there was movement in the crowd, as all made way for the Strong Merman.
Wyman took his heavy steps towards the corpse of his sister, a sorrow expression haunted his face. He placed a hand on her own, before turning his gaze to the crowd. “My sister.” He started, as if he was trying to find the words to continue.
“Not many of you were fortunate to know her, but my words go to those who would listen. Wyona possessed the kindest soul in this kingdom, perhaps in all of the land. She cared for all that came her way, and for such a compassionate woman, she was cursed with a sickness which haunted her all her life. She did not deserve such a cruelty, but she fought on. She fought not only for her family or her kingdom, but for herself. She did not give up, and despite all her suffering and pain, she found her passions in life. Let her life’s demonstrations be an inspiration to us all, for it is that sort of dedication that our kingdom is built off.” Wyman came to his conclusion, holding the edge of his sadness, before disappearing back into the crowd. After long, Lady Waldina Lowther came forward.
“Wyona.” Waldina sighed, clasping her hands. “Such a beautiful soul that was taken away from us too soon. You were an inspiration to us all, and you helped many of us find our paths. Were it not for you, I might have never found my true gifts, or found confidence for myself. You were a mother to us all, and while you are gone now, you shall never be forgotten.” Waldina vowed, before returning back into the crowd. For a while, no one else came forward. Warmond felt uneasy, he knew if he knew this was his last chance to say a proper farewell, and if he did not say anything he would always regret it.
“If that is all-” One of the Ocean Priest’s began, but Warmond instantly cut him off. “I have something to say.” Warmond interrupted, pushing through the crowd. He took his place beside his aunt, taking her full beautification into account now. This would be the last memory he would have of her, and now he had foolishly come forward to speak his respects, yet he had nothing to say.
He turned back to the crowd of people, all of them looked to him with eager and curious eyes. He spotted his grandfather at the front of the crowd, a seemingly proud look in his eyes. Warmond nodded to him, before finding the words to begin.
“For most of you, Wyona became Aunt Wyona without much regard. It was her role, and she filled it well. She raised nearly all of us Manderly’s, and was a second mother to you all. She took to raising me, even if she was ill, she took on the burden to raise me as a child rather than the heir to the kingdom. That was perhaps one of the best highlights to my childhood, having a friend to relate to when I was not under the constant stress from my mother’s own sickness, and my father’s passing. She was the one who was there for me, and while she not only nurtured me into part of the man I am today, she was the closest and best friend I could ever ask for. Yet I left her, I left to pursue my life, and I regret not being there for her more. I took her for granted, and now that she is gone I feel I have lost a part of myself. I…” Warmond found himself struggling, to his surprise. He fought hard to overcome the lump in his throat. “Goodbye, Wyona.” He finished, feeling unpleased with the outcome of his speech. Yet he did not do it for the crowd, he wanted to believe he did it for Wyona, but he did it for himself.
Warmond felt a fellow Ocean Priest take his shoulder. Warmond nodded, taking a step aside. “If that is all, I would call those that would guide Wyona to the sea.” Warmond remained by Wyona’s side, and as expected he spotted the Strong Merman, Wyman, returning from the crowd. His younger brothers, Walter and Wendel, followed after him.
Each took a corner of the sea green casket that she rested in. Without a word, the four entered the lapping waves of the Sunset Sea until they were waist deep, and the crowd were out of eardrop, watching from afar. They lowered the coffin in the water, letting it gently float for a moment, however the stones in the box would bring her down in the swell.
With a swift, guided motion, the four of them gave the box a push. Bumping across the swell with waves crashing over, Warmond could have sworn he saw movement from inside the coffin. “Are you lot also seeing that?” Wendel pointed out, somewhat relieving Warmond’s mind. Wyman’s squinted his eyes, before they widened. “She’s alive!” He mumbled to himself, before he started pushing through the water trying to get to the casket.
“Wyman, wait!” Warmond called after him, but the Strong Merman did not slow. Warmond chased after him, now swimming in the chest deep water. Has he gone mad? Warmond cursed, trying to catch up the giant. He looked ahead to see the coffin had flipped in the waves.
Wyman came to a stop at the coffin, bashing his fist against the wooden frame. Warmond caught up to him, exhausted from the sprint. Flipping the coffin back over, Wyman found it to be empty, to which his eyes widened in astonishment. Almost instantly he ducked his head under the water, and Warmond did the same.
Searching the seabed, they saw no sign of her amongst the weeds and sand. However, the sudden glint in their eyes caught their attention, and in the distance was a reflective fish tail at the end of an old woman’s body, drifting off in the current. The two surfaced after watching for nearly a minute. They could say nothing, but their eyes said it all.
-
The council was quieter than it had ever been, and no one dared speak until Waldemar was ready. Warmond’s thoughts drifted to what he had seen in the water, and whether it was truly what he had seen. It had to have been. While the two hadn’t said a word since, Warmond was positive that Wyman had seen it too.
Warmond pulled his thoughts away from the funeral, and into the present. Not many attended the council today. Waldemar sat at the head of the table as always, and Wyman sat opposite of Warmond. Walter and Waldina attended, but there was no sign of Wendel, or Wyman’s daughter, Wylda.
“The importance of family.” Waldemar stated bluntly, resting a hand on the old table. “Let it be something we never forget.” He advised, and the longing silence and gentle nods only indicated agreement. He turns his eyes to Walter. “You’re sure that the Gardener’s are building an army?” He asked, and Walter nodded.
“That is what I’ve been told, father.” Walter confirmed, and Waldemar nodded with a frown. “Very well, I will go speak with that old king.” Warmond’s eyes widened. “Grandfather, I wouldn’t advise it.” Warmond tried to persuade, but the old man was having none of it. “What do you fear, Warmond? That they will kill me? Take me captive?” Waldemar challenged, and Warmond nodded.
“At the very least allow me to accompany you.” Warmond pleaded, but Warmond chuckled and shook his head. “No, I want you to take Dia and go visit Willow. After today, the importance of that should be clear. Besides, your eldest son will prove to be a worthy travelling companion. It’s about time I have words with that boy.” Warmond found himself at a loss, and gave the old man a nod.
“Do you wish for me to still ride for Highgarden then?” Walter asked, and Waldemar shook his head. “No, I want you to join Wyvern with your best men and sail north. Disembark at Fair Isle and tell your sister, Wylla, that I’ve agreed to her proposition.” He commanded, and Walter simply nodded. Waldemar then turned his gaze to Waldina.
“You should return to your family, Waldina.” He prompted, but the Siren shook her head. “I’m joining Wyvern on his journey north. He will need me there. End of discussion, father.” Waldina strongly defended her claim, and all Waldemar could do was frown and give her a disapproving look. Though he knew he could not persuade her to do otherwise.
“Very well.” He mumbled, reclining back in his chair. “You are all dismissed.” He stated, and Walter was the first to leave, followed by Waldina. Wyman stood, but turned to Waldemar. “Father, with your permission I’d like to ride north to the Fingers with an army.” Wyman revealed, and Waldemar raised his eyebrow, until it appeared as if he realised why.
“You wish to support the Witch.” Waldemar noticed, and Wyman nodded. “I want to support Ursula, and the Royce’s.” He corrected, only leading to Waldemar letting out a heavy sigh. “If a war is coming here, I would want you here. Though I understand your reasons, and I will leave it to the heir of our kingdom to decide.” Waldemar stated, and Warmond looked at his grandfather, before turning to his uncle. His turquoise eyes pleaded for Warmond’s approval. Warmond thought carefully about what he would say.
That was a really, really nice part! I must say, this Manderly culture there is pretty fascinating, especially as it is so different from all the other things we have seen, as evidenced by this funeral. I liked it a lot, well done!
[Approve]
Hm... hmmmm... I think this choice is going to have some massive consequences and I really don't know if they will be for the better or the worse. It's more of a suspicion that this could be a good thing, even less than an outright feeling, but I would at the very least like to see what this is going to lead to. Manderly's fighting side by side with the First Men against the Andals that should certainly hold some nice potential
Warmond
Waves lapped onto the pebble coast with a weak swell to back it. The skies were dark and grey with cloud, and it was clear that t… morehe weather would soon deteriorate. The Manderly banners started to flap harder as the wind strengthened, and it was clear many of the attendants were eager to leave. Little respect, Warmond thought to himself, but he could not blame them. Wyona had been like a second mother for all the Manderly’s, and her passing meant little to the people of the kingdom as it did to the actual Manderly’s. Regardless, the vassals and nobles of House Manderly came to honour her name, and they could only thank them for that.
Warmond was able to spot out a few of his grandfather’s closest bannermen, but he had little time to speak to any. The Misty’s were perhaps one of the strongest houses sworn to the Manderly’s, holding the Misty Isles which sheltered them from the west. The Misty’s were overlords to the four isles, Ho… [view original content]
Warmond
Waves lapped onto the pebble coast with a weak swell to back it. The skies were dark and grey with cloud, and it was clear that t… morehe weather would soon deteriorate. The Manderly banners started to flap harder as the wind strengthened, and it was clear many of the attendants were eager to leave. Little respect, Warmond thought to himself, but he could not blame them. Wyona had been like a second mother for all the Manderly’s, and her passing meant little to the people of the kingdom as it did to the actual Manderly’s. Regardless, the vassals and nobles of House Manderly came to honour her name, and they could only thank them for that.
Warmond was able to spot out a few of his grandfather’s closest bannermen, but he had little time to speak to any. The Misty’s were perhaps one of the strongest houses sworn to the Manderly’s, holding the Misty Isles which sheltered them from the west. The Misty’s were overlords to the four isles, Ho… [view original content]
Warmond
Waves lapped onto the pebble coast with a weak swell to back it. The skies were dark and grey with cloud, and it was clear that t… morehe weather would soon deteriorate. The Manderly banners started to flap harder as the wind strengthened, and it was clear many of the attendants were eager to leave. Little respect, Warmond thought to himself, but he could not blame them. Wyona had been like a second mother for all the Manderly’s, and her passing meant little to the people of the kingdom as it did to the actual Manderly’s. Regardless, the vassals and nobles of House Manderly came to honour her name, and they could only thank them for that.
Warmond was able to spot out a few of his grandfather’s closest bannermen, but he had little time to speak to any. The Misty’s were perhaps one of the strongest houses sworn to the Manderly’s, holding the Misty Isles which sheltered them from the west. The Misty’s were overlords to the four isles, Ho… [view original content]
I'm far from catching up, but as I created the Manderlys and this story part was discussed more or less as I hoped even before I left last year I say [Approve]
Warmond
Waves lapped onto the pebble coast with a weak swell to back it. The skies were dark and grey with cloud, and it was clear that t… morehe weather would soon deteriorate. The Manderly banners started to flap harder as the wind strengthened, and it was clear many of the attendants were eager to leave. Little respect, Warmond thought to himself, but he could not blame them. Wyona had been like a second mother for all the Manderly’s, and her passing meant little to the people of the kingdom as it did to the actual Manderly’s. Regardless, the vassals and nobles of House Manderly came to honour her name, and they could only thank them for that.
Warmond was able to spot out a few of his grandfather’s closest bannermen, but he had little time to speak to any. The Misty’s were perhaps one of the strongest houses sworn to the Manderly’s, holding the Misty Isles which sheltered them from the west. The Misty’s were overlords to the four isles, Ho… [view original content]
Warmond
Waves lapped onto the pebble coast with a weak swell to back it. The skies were dark and grey with cloud, and it was clear that t… morehe weather would soon deteriorate. The Manderly banners started to flap harder as the wind strengthened, and it was clear many of the attendants were eager to leave. Little respect, Warmond thought to himself, but he could not blame them. Wyona had been like a second mother for all the Manderly’s, and her passing meant little to the people of the kingdom as it did to the actual Manderly’s. Regardless, the vassals and nobles of House Manderly came to honour her name, and they could only thank them for that.
Warmond was able to spot out a few of his grandfather’s closest bannermen, but he had little time to speak to any. The Misty’s were perhaps one of the strongest houses sworn to the Manderly’s, holding the Misty Isles which sheltered them from the west. The Misty’s were overlords to the four isles, Ho… [view original content]
I'm far from catching up, but as I created the Manderlys and this story part was discussed more or less as I hoped even before I left last year I say [Approve]
Also, well done Stigz
This is a story that Liquid suggested to me. I have finally caught up! I like the story a lot, it is very interesting. You are doing a great job, Stigz! I plan to submit characters and participate in this story, from now on. I already have a few different characters in mind, that I want to submit soon. Anyways, for the choice, I will say......... [Approve]
Warmond
Waves lapped onto the pebble coast with a weak swell to back it. The skies were dark and grey with cloud, and it was clear that t… morehe weather would soon deteriorate. The Manderly banners started to flap harder as the wind strengthened, and it was clear many of the attendants were eager to leave. Little respect, Warmond thought to himself, but he could not blame them. Wyona had been like a second mother for all the Manderly’s, and her passing meant little to the people of the kingdom as it did to the actual Manderly’s. Regardless, the vassals and nobles of House Manderly came to honour her name, and they could only thank them for that.
Warmond was able to spot out a few of his grandfather’s closest bannermen, but he had little time to speak to any. The Misty’s were perhaps one of the strongest houses sworn to the Manderly’s, holding the Misty Isles which sheltered them from the west. The Misty’s were overlords to the four isles, Ho… [view original content]
Well hello hello, Tales! I'm very happy to see you're enjoying the story so far, and would love to welcome you to the community! I'm very eager to have you a part of the team, and look forward to the future discussions and submissions!
This is a story that Liquid suggested to me. I have finally caught up! I like the story a lot, it is very interesting. You are doing a great… more job, Stigz! I plan to submit characters and participate in this story, from now on. I already have a few different characters in mind, that I want to submit soon. Anyways, for the choice, I will say......... [Approve]
Right, well it looks like I can bring this vote to a close. Warmond will approve of Wyman's request to assist the Royce's and Ursula Upcliff. This will certainly lead to quite the interesting story arc for Wyman, and we will see that through the PoV's stationed at the Vale very soon.
For now I have the new part ready, and it introduces a new PoV. Wylla Farman. Wylla has been mentioned by the Manderly's a couple of times, but she is the daughter of King Waldemar, and Lady of Fair Isle. So without further ado, allow me to present to you Lady Wylla! Enjoy
I'd also like to announce that I am now officially back at school for a new starting of the year (yay ). While I don't think this will slow my writing down anymore than how slow it has been over the past few weeks, I may not be posting as often as I have been since the last couple of days. I'll still try to pump out a couple of parts a week, and some more on the weekends, but I'll be a bit busier now. I'm also heading off on a study/perspectives camp as of tomorrow, so I won't be active until Friday.
Warmond
Waves lapped onto the pebble coast with a weak swell to back it. The skies were dark and grey with cloud, and it was clear that t… morehe weather would soon deteriorate. The Manderly banners started to flap harder as the wind strengthened, and it was clear many of the attendants were eager to leave. Little respect, Warmond thought to himself, but he could not blame them. Wyona had been like a second mother for all the Manderly’s, and her passing meant little to the people of the kingdom as it did to the actual Manderly’s. Regardless, the vassals and nobles of House Manderly came to honour her name, and they could only thank them for that.
Warmond was able to spot out a few of his grandfather’s closest bannermen, but he had little time to speak to any. The Misty’s were perhaps one of the strongest houses sworn to the Manderly’s, holding the Misty Isles which sheltered them from the west. The Misty’s were overlords to the four isles, Ho… [view original content]
It was nearing midday, and the rising sun had reached its peak in the cloudless sky. Wylla stared out the council windows at the beautiful weather, feeling a little miserable that she was trapped in a room to discuss politics and strategies. However, it was her duty nonetheless, and she took pride and strength in her position.
Wylla turned her gaze to the other members of the table. There were six in total, if she included herself. Wylla sat at the head of the table, naturally belonging to the Lord of Faircastle, however as her husband was absent more often than not, Wylla had seized near all power on Fair Isle. She respected her husband, but did not hold high hopes for him, she did however have high ambitions for her eldest and only son.
Ryman Farman sat at the other end of the table, a bored expression on his face. He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, letting his arm take the weight of his head. In his other hand he lazily fiddled a gold coin in between his fingers. A fine talent, but not a useful one. Wylla observed, letting out a sigh.
They waited the regular fifteen minutes for Lord Frenken, as they would at every council meeting, and Wylla had just come to accept that her husband would not attend. The other members of the council were at times harder to convince, however, and hence they waited. Wylla moved her gaze around the table, eying each member at the table.
Closest to Wylla, and arguably the most loyal of those at the table, sat Admiral Maxim Westerling. The second son of the previous Lord Westerling, the man had always taken an interest to the sea and sailing, so his position fitted him well. He was an honourable man, and Wylla trusted him enough to command the Farman Fleet, and he respected her enough to not overstep his boundaries.
Beside him sat Lord Allie Vines, a vassal of the Kingdom of the Arbor, and sworn to the Redwyne kings. Lord Allie sat at the council meeting as a representative for the Redwyne’s. Next to him sat Lord Howett Clifton, who made it quite clear he was more loyal to her husband than her. He had been close friends with Frenken from a younger age, and it was clear to Wylla that he had always been the stronger of the two, perhaps he had even thought he was fit to rule in Faircastle. The thought had crossed Wylla’s mind, but she believed him to have too much trust and loyalty to Frenken to make such a drastic move. Regardless, the council waited for Frenken for Howett’s sake.
The final member on the table was perhaps the most interesting to Wylla. Eddin Pyke, the bastard of a Greyiron. He had converted from the Drowned God to the Faith of the Seas, which had surprised many when he washed ashore of Fair Isle. While it was unclear why he made such a decision, Wylla had her theories to him one day wishing to rule over the Iron Islands, and he knew he would need allies to one day take on such a task.
“Shall we begin?” Wylla finally asked, tapping her tough stubby fingers on the stone tabletop. She received a confident nod from the Admiral, as well as a nod from Lord Allie. Eddin reclined back in his stone chair, and Ryman was kind enough to give her his attention. Lord Howett was clearly disappointed once again, but let out a heavy sigh and nodded. When will he learn? She thought spitefully, but decided not to act harshly on it.
“Do not fret yourself, Lord Howett. My dear husband has no doubt confined himself to his quarters, attending to his book I presume.” Wylla spoke nonchalantly, and Howett simply shrugged the matter off, an impatient look in his eyes.
“Let’s just get this over with.” He muttered, and Wylla nodded, turning her gaze to the Admiral. “Maxim, how did our trade vessels fend when exiting Ironman’s Bay?” She inquired, to which the Admiral’s lips twitched into a small smile.
“Silently, my lady. There were no disturbances.” He proudly admitted, and Wylla replicated his smile. Eddin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “As I already said, my kin are off raiding the Northern shores. Few remain to protect their own shores.” The bastard hinted, and Wylla’s smile died down. She turned her gaze to Lord Allie.
“You may tell King Redwyne that he may resume trade with the Riverland houses. I will set a temporary blockade along the bay, and pick out some of my finest vessels to escort any Redwyne ship that comes this way.” She promised, and Allie gave a gracious nod. “You have our thanks, my Lady.” He gestured in return, but Howett was far from appeased.
“Your ships?” He challenged, putting emphasis on his words. Wylla raised an eyebrow, moving her attention to him. “Are you challenging my authority, Lord Clifton?” Wylla wondered, and Howett hesitantly shook his head. “No, my Lady. Though being that Lord Frenken is indeed Lord of this house, I believe he should have a say.” Howett persisted, but Wylla just let out a frustrated sigh.
“Lord Howett, if it has not been made apparent to you that my husband shows little interest to his role on the council already, than I fear that your dim-witted senses are failing your position…” Wylla warned, and instantly Howett raised his eyebrows in a worried shock.
“My lady, I didn’t mean to offend, but-” He started, but Wylla instantly objected. “Lord Howett, you will think carefully on your words before you speak them. I think many will find that my authority runs strongly both in this council, and in this House. Will there be any further problems?” She provoked him, and he bitterly shook his head. “No, my Lady.” He muttered, lowering his eyes.
“Good.” Wylla announced, noticing her son’s expression. Eddin Pyke impatiently tapped his fingers on the table, glaring at Howett. Wylla smirked, resting her arms on the table. “Is there a problem, Eddin?” She asked, and Eddin shook his head.
“No problem.” He answered, turning his gaze to Wylla and resting his hand. “Just slowly growing impatient.” He added, and Wylla nodded. “Tell me, what will you do once you get to the Iron Islands? You have provided me well with information, what can I offer you in return?” She pressured, and Eddin grinned.
“Nothing.” He sneered. “You sea folk hate the Ironborn, and I hate most of them. I will return home to raise an army, and take the Salt Throne.” He revealed, and Maxim sent him a hesitant glare. “And then what?” He pressed, and the bastard smirked.
“Such little trust. I converted to your faith, did I not? I’ve been true to my word since then, as her ladyship has seen with the Ironborn raids in the North, and the safety of her ships travel.” He claimed, nodding to Wylla. Howett, however, seemed unconvinced.
“How can we trust the word of Ironborn scum?” He spat, clenching his fists. “And a bastard at that.” He muttered. Eddin simply grinned in response. “You can’t.” He admitted, chuckling to himself, and only further angering Lord Clifton. The Admiral turned his gaze to Wylla, a worried look in his eyes.
“What’s stopping him from running to King Harrag, and informing him of our plans?” Maxim begged the question, and Eddin answered it. “Nothing, but I can assure you I have as little love for Harrag Hoare as the lot of you, if not less.” The Admiral scowled at the bastard.
“We would be vulnerable, my Lady.” The Admiral added, but Wylla shook her head. “We would not be alone. I have faith that my father, Waldemar, will agree with my plans. In which case, Wyvern will arrive with the Western Military Fleet in a matter of days. We will be far from vulnerable.” Wylla reassured, but the Admiral still seemed unconvinced. Wylla rose from her seat.
“My utmost faith is installed in my father, and I have not a doubt in my mind that he will agree with my terms. With the combination of the Farman Fleet and Western Military Fleet, we will leave only wreckage and destruction of the Iron Fleet. We will secure Bear Island, and offer it back to the Stark’s. If they will refuse to our terms, then we will make it an outpost for the Farman and Western Military Fleet, and a trading hub for the merchant ships of the Western and Redwyne Fleet.” She promised, giving a nod to Lord Allie as she included their arrangement. The table remained silent for a moment, until Ryman surprisingly spoke up.
“Is it a wise decision to get involved with Bear Island?” He attempted to argue, but instantly shook his head. “Sorry mother, you’re right. I won’t say a word again.” He muttered quietly, but Lord Clifton shook his head.
“I agree with Ryman, this is a bold move. If this Ironborn bastard is right, then the entire Iron Fleet is at the Northern shores. I have no doubt that the combination of Manderly and Farman ships will overcome the Ironmen, but at what cost?” He asked, supporting Ryman’s claim. Lord Allie piped up in time of reassurance.
“While I cannot promise anything, I can speak with the King when I return to the Arbor. Perhaps he could lend part of his fleet? Of course, I cannot promise this, and begging such a question might stretch the relations.” Allie spoke unsurely, but he brought up a fair thought. The Redwyne Fleet would be a welcomed addition, and an assured successful victory, Wylla thought. The Admiral shook his head.
“I have faith in our fleet, and the Western Military Fleet. We can fare well on our own, besides I understand that King Redwyne has a growing worry for the Andal’s in the east. It will only be a matter of time until they come this far west.” The Admiral prophesised, but Wylla was a little less convinced. Not if my father has a say about it. Howett snorted, crossing his arms.
“I say if the Redwyne’s want to have any part Northern trade, they should help fight for it first. I’m sure Ryman agrees with me.” Howett betted, and received a small nod from the heir to Faircastle. “Besides, the less casualties we suffer, the better we can fend for our own if the Andal’s do indeed come this far west.” Howett conjectured, and Lord Allie sighed, turning his gaze to Lady Wylla.
“The decision is yours, my Lady. What shall I tell his Grace when I see him?”
Another interesting new PoV! Really liked this one and the whole situation you're building up there. Since it is so early into the storyline, I don't think there's much for me to speculate about it, but I look forward for what you're going to do with this set-up
[Ask for their aid]
I have thought about this for a bit now and I ultimately can't see the negatives. Considering that the Ironborn are a threat to some of the Northern characters, such as Steffon, my sympathies lie with the Farman's and Manderly's here, as I am certainly against the Ironborn. The Redwyne fleet can help and I don't think they'll be of much use elsewhere. The worst that can happen is that the king refuses, but frankly, it's worth asking at least.
Wylla
It was nearing midday, and the rising sun had reached its peak in the cloudless sky. Wylla stared out the council windows at the be… moreautiful weather, feeling a little miserable that she was trapped in a room to discuss politics and strategies. However, it was her duty nonetheless, and she took pride and strength in her position.
Wylla turned her gaze to the other members of the table. There were six in total, if she included herself. Wylla sat at the head of the table, naturally belonging to the Lord of Faircastle, however as her husband was absent more often than not, Wylla had seized near all power on Fair Isle. She respected her husband, but did not hold high hopes for him, she did however have high ambitions for her eldest and only son.
Ryman Farman sat at the other end of the table, a bored expression on his face. He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, letting his arm take the weight of his head. In his other hand… [view original content]
Wylla
It was nearing midday, and the rising sun had reached its peak in the cloudless sky. Wylla stared out the council windows at the be… moreautiful weather, feeling a little miserable that she was trapped in a room to discuss politics and strategies. However, it was her duty nonetheless, and she took pride and strength in her position.
Wylla turned her gaze to the other members of the table. There were six in total, if she included herself. Wylla sat at the head of the table, naturally belonging to the Lord of Faircastle, however as her husband was absent more often than not, Wylla had seized near all power on Fair Isle. She respected her husband, but did not hold high hopes for him, she did however have high ambitions for her eldest and only son.
Ryman Farman sat at the other end of the table, a bored expression on his face. He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, letting his arm take the weight of his head. In his other hand… [view original content]
I agree that it may be best if they have more forces. You can never have too many. Also, since she has been helping protect the trade of the Redwyne's, the least they can do is help her with part of their fleet, when she needs it.
Wylla
It was nearing midday, and the rising sun had reached its peak in the cloudless sky. Wylla stared out the council windows at the be… moreautiful weather, feeling a little miserable that she was trapped in a room to discuss politics and strategies. However, it was her duty nonetheless, and she took pride and strength in her position.
Wylla turned her gaze to the other members of the table. There were six in total, if she included herself. Wylla sat at the head of the table, naturally belonging to the Lord of Faircastle, however as her husband was absent more often than not, Wylla had seized near all power on Fair Isle. She respected her husband, but did not hold high hopes for him, she did however have high ambitions for her eldest and only son.
Ryman Farman sat at the other end of the table, a bored expression on his face. He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, letting his arm take the weight of his head. In his other hand… [view original content]
Wylla
It was nearing midday, and the rising sun had reached its peak in the cloudless sky. Wylla stared out the council windows at the be… moreautiful weather, feeling a little miserable that she was trapped in a room to discuss politics and strategies. However, it was her duty nonetheless, and she took pride and strength in her position.
Wylla turned her gaze to the other members of the table. There were six in total, if she included herself. Wylla sat at the head of the table, naturally belonging to the Lord of Faircastle, however as her husband was absent more often than not, Wylla had seized near all power on Fair Isle. She respected her husband, but did not hold high hopes for him, she did however have high ambitions for her eldest and only son.
Ryman Farman sat at the other end of the table, a bored expression on his face. He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, letting his arm take the weight of his head. In his other hand… [view original content]
Wylla
It was nearing midday, and the rising sun had reached its peak in the cloudless sky. Wylla stared out the council windows at the be… moreautiful weather, feeling a little miserable that she was trapped in a room to discuss politics and strategies. However, it was her duty nonetheless, and she took pride and strength in her position.
Wylla turned her gaze to the other members of the table. There were six in total, if she included herself. Wylla sat at the head of the table, naturally belonging to the Lord of Faircastle, however as her husband was absent more often than not, Wylla had seized near all power on Fair Isle. She respected her husband, but did not hold high hopes for him, she did however have high ambitions for her eldest and only son.
Ryman Farman sat at the other end of the table, a bored expression on his face. He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, letting his arm take the weight of his head. In his other hand… [view original content]
Wylla
It was nearing midday, and the rising sun had reached its peak in the cloudless sky. Wylla stared out the council windows at the be… moreautiful weather, feeling a little miserable that she was trapped in a room to discuss politics and strategies. However, it was her duty nonetheless, and she took pride and strength in her position.
Wylla turned her gaze to the other members of the table. There were six in total, if she included herself. Wylla sat at the head of the table, naturally belonging to the Lord of Faircastle, however as her husband was absent more often than not, Wylla had seized near all power on Fair Isle. She respected her husband, but did not hold high hopes for him, she did however have high ambitions for her eldest and only son.
Ryman Farman sat at the other end of the table, a bored expression on his face. He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, letting his arm take the weight of his head. In his other hand… [view original content]
Comments
Torv
The kindling caught alight from the second spark of flint, slowly drawing onto the small twigs and bark, then reaching the large sticks and small logs. Torv sat back, proud of his small fire. It was one of the few things Rolland had taught how to do with precision, and he nailed it nearly every time.
He turned his gaze to the company around him. Rose sat beside the fire, observing the delicate features of the obsidian arrow head, seemingly in entranced by its eccentric beauty. Jesse on the other hand sat by the lapping water’s edge, a sullen expression on his face, but fearful eyes as watchful as an owl.
Torv sighed, looking around for something to occupy his time. He was famished, they all were. They had lost their supplies before they beached, and the hunting had been scarce, they had only managed to secure a few berries and a small hare. Torv reached for the meat, already skinned and prepped for the fire. The raw pink flesh was wet and bloody in his hand, and unappetising. He threw it onto the fire without a second thought in mind, hungered by the thought that he hadn’t eaten meat since he left the Dreadfort. It felt so long ago.
The meat caught aflame in the hot burning coals, but Torv thought nothing of it, moving his gaze to the satchel between Rose and himself. Inside was the Weeping Stone, yet he didn’t need to open the bag just to figure it out. There was a strange entity to the stone, like it was alive. Torv had seen it in his dreams, seen it weep and heard it whisper. Though they were dreams, and Torv could barely remember them once he awoke.
Torv rest his head back against the lizard lion leather which he had been given by Rolland. The thought of Rolland bothered him, he felt so close to finding him, yet so far as well. The raft they had encountered, the arrows. It worried him, but not because he feared Rolland was in danger, but because he was starting to doubt Rolland was nearby. Maybe he truly is dead. Torv thought, but he dreaded the idea that such a man could be gone.
“Do you think we will find him?” Torv asked, staring at the night sky above him. The stars were so bright. Rose sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know, Torv.” She mumbled, putting down the arrow. Jesse let out an uneasy laugh.
“Perhaps he’ll find what’s left of us when whoever shot these arrows finds out another raft is at their shore.” He fretted, rubbing his hands in an attempt to create warmth. Rose rolled her eyes, picking up the arrow again. “Come warm yourself by the fire, Jesse. You’re not doing anyone a favour by freezing yourself.” Rose pleaded, but Jesse just spat.
“You’re all fools.” He muttered, unwillingly moving himself closer to the fire, until his eyes landed on the burning piece of meat. “What the fuck!” He yelled, quickly reaching into the fire, then just as speedily snatching his hand back. Rose lifted her eyes, noticing what Torv had done, while Torv glared at Jesse. “No need for that tongue.” He warned, but Jesse shook his head.
“Get the meat out of there, stone skull!” He ordered, and Rose quickly attended to it with the shaft of the arrow. The blackened meat was dragged from the coals, still lit from the remaining heat of the coals. She blew out the flames, and pulled the obsidian from the meat. Jesse shook his head.
“No way am I eating that. Especially now that your arrow has been in it.” Jesse exclaimed, and Rose shrugged, winking at Torv. “More for us then.” She smirked, but Torv just frowned, curling his legs to his chest.
-
The meat was tough, stringy and juiced with blood, but it did the job. Torv took his final bite, swallowing it with minimal chewing, feeling the lump force its way down his throat. He felt in need for a drink, but was out of luck. They had come too far down the river to have fresh water, and no one dared venture too far from the fire now that the sun had set.
The three of them silently sat around the fire, all of them staring into the flames with their different motives. Torv moved his hands towards the fire, feeling the warmth on his skin, it was a welcomed comfort to their so far uncomfortable journey. He let out a long and heavy sigh.
“What will you two do once we arrive at Barrowton?” Torv asked, and Jesse was the first to reply, strangely enough. “I will head to the Barrow Hall, and beg King Dustin for the Tallhart’s aid. Then I might be removed from exile, and be again with my family.” Jesse spoke with hopeful words, which Torv had to admire during these hard times. Rose shrugged.
“What will you do?” She asked, and Torv found himself genuinely dumbstruck. He hadn’t thought much about after delivering the Weeping Stone. It had been his and Rolland’s mission, but now with Rolland gone, he felt like it was all pointless. “I’ll find Roland.” He vowed, before turning his gaze to Jesse. “If we don’t find him tomorrow, we will continue our journey down river, and head for Barrowton.” Torv assured, but Jesse just gave him a weak nod.
“I suppose that is the next big thing, the crossing at the Saltspear.” Jesse mumbled, and Torv furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” He asked, but Jesse sighed and shook his head.
“The Ironborn.” Rose muttered, stabbing the tip of the arrow into the coals of the fire. “I hear they have seized Bear Island.” Rose rumoured, and Jesse nodded in conclusion. “That, as well as burning parts of the Wolfswood and even conquering the Stony Shore.” Jesse lamented, and Rose beared a heavy frown.
“Andal’s in the east, Ironborn in the west, wildlings in the north.” Rose mumbled, and Jesse clenched his fists, his expression bitter. “Damned invaders will get what’s coming to them.” He promised, but Torv felt unconvinced. How could they stop so many forces? He felt his gaze drifting back to the Weeping Stone.
“We should get some rest.” Rose suggested, turning her eyes to Torv, to which he nodded in return. Jesse scowled, turning his gaze away and finding himself a place to lie down. Torv sighed, drifting his eyes back to the night sky as he lied himself back down. I will find you, Rolland. He pledged to himself, before falling into a deep and restful slumber.
-
The crackling sounds of the dying fire pulled Torv from his rest, tiredly opening his eyes. Dawn was hidden behind the horizon in the east, but the sky was a dark red, darker than he had ever seen. Torv blinked a few times, listening to the crackling fire, and the sound of twigs breaking beneath footsteps. Torv rubbed his eyes, trying to force the sleep away, then opened them again.
He felt himself go stiff, freezing in place at what his eyes had fallen upon. A creature with liquid gold eyes, slitted like that of a cat, staring back at him with perhaps as much reflected fear as Torv was projecting. Its skin was a brown as dry soil, with splodges as dark as mud. It had large pointed ears, a hair like moss, with twigs and sticks woven through. In its clawed hand was an obsidian tipped spear.
Torv’s eyes quickly spotted two others of similar height, dressed in leaves and bark, armed in weapons of obsidian. One stood over Rose, a nocked bow in hand, while the other opened the satchel which contained the Weeping Stone. Torv felt a lump build in his throat, his hands tightening into fists. Both Rose and Jesse were still on the ground. Were they still asleep? Torv felt panic rush over him, he had to do something quick.
[Attack the creature] [Surrender] [Scream]
Ah, Children of the Forest, right? Is this the first time we see them in this story? Anyway, I think attacking them would be stupid, and screaming, well, I don't see what's that really gonna do. I mean, it would wake up Jesse and Rose, but I don't see that helping much. So, [Surrender]. I trust these Children don't want to hurt Torv and co. unless they have to, so let's not agitate them.
Correct! These are the Forest Children, and yes it is their first appearance, and this won't be the only place we see them either. They'll be popping up in a few other regions in the story too
Indeed, screaming does seem like a pointless option, but it's a very Torv option at that
A bit of comedic humour in an otherwise bloodthirsty serious story 
[Surrender]
Ay, the Children! I was already looking forward for seeing them. It appears they are already leaving parts of Westeros though, considering that Torv apparently has never seen one of them before.
[Surrender]
I do agree with Wildling on this. I trust the children enough to assume that they wouldn't just hurt him if he cooperates. Another problem is that they have him surrounded and who knows how many more there are which he just hasn't spotted yet. Screaming or attacking would provok a bloobath, while surrendering sounds like the best option he has to surviv, espcially considering that he is unarme and that Rose and Jesse are still sleeping.
[Surrender]
scream
[Surrender]
Alright, well I'll bring this vote to a close. Torv will surrender to the creatures, which as Wildling has pointed out, are indeed the Children of the Forest. I also mentioned that the Children will be making their appearances in other sections of the story now and then, and will make some large impacts on some PoV's storylines. So there's that to look forward to, or fear
Any rate, something else to look forward to is the new part, which goes to Steffon, and it's ready 
So the last time we saw Steffon, he rode to Winterfell with the company of Gareth the sellsword, and Edmund the Beast. On arrival, Steffon was fed at the Great Hall, where he met Queen Helia, Prince Harmund, Wulfgar Snow, Haymitch Woodfoot and Teran Woodmill. After some small discussion, these members of the table learnt of Theon's recent ambitions to sail east to Andalos, of which all took their own way. Steffon then spoke with those remaining at the table about their shortage of men due to the Ironborn harassment. Suggested to either request aid from the Barrow kingdom, or Haymitch's uncle at the Night's Watch, you lot chose the honorable Night's Watch. This part resumes where the latter paused. Enjoy!
Steffon
Downing his mug of ale, Steffon turned his eyes to Haymitch Woodfoot, staring him in his pleading eyes. “Very well.” Steffon granted. “You will ride to Westwatch and give plea to your uncle. He’ll only accept the word from you.” Haymitch’s eyes widened in a pleasant surprise, and he nodded almost immediately.
“I will.” He assured, rising from his chair. “I shall ride for Westwatch in the morrow then. If you would excuse me, I should get some rest before then.” Steffon nodded, excusing the man. I should too, he thought, his long ride from the Dreadfort to Winterfell. He was tired, beyond a doubt. Teran Woodmill too stood up, an impatient look on his black eyes.
“I too must rest.” He informed, and likewise Steffon granted the man leave from the hall. After the room fell silent, Steffon turned his eyes to the last remaining man at the table. Wulfgar poured himself a fourth cup of ale, a sullen expression on his face.
“To think that boy will become king someday.” Wulfgar mumbled, drowning his sorrows in another cup of ale. He shook his head in disbelief, a weak smile on his face. “Might as well submit to these Andal’s, I have no doubt they’d be kinder rulers then that little shit.” Wulfgar spat, and Steffon frowned.
“I take it you fought beside Bael, before he passed?” Steffon asked, and Wulfgar nodded grimly. “During the war between us and the Barrow’s. Another war with no resolution, and the loss of Theon’s eldest. I watched him fall in battle, and there was nothing I could do.” Wulfgar muttered. Steffon knew exactly where the man was coming from.
“I’m going to give you a chance to fight in a war that will have a resolution.” Steffon announced, and he vaguely was granted Wulfgar sorrowed attention. Steffon continued. “Theon wanted me to take Harmund into battle, have him fight by my side and learn what it means to be a true warrior. Though the battles ahead of me are not the fighting that makes a true warrior, but a savage. I want a man with experience, which I can trust will follow my orders and watch over his men in battle. That man is you.” Wulfgar raised an eyebrow, putting down his cup and a mixture of astonishment and disbelief. His jaw gaped over.
“I… Uh. Thank you.” Wulfgar awkwardly managed, and Steffon gave him a nod, standing from his chair. He excused himself, leaving the table and exiting the hall, Steffon made his way back to his quarters. He longed to rest, his legs ached and his eyes were heavy.
-
His hand felt heavy on the door knob, and with a lazily twist the oak wood door swung open. Steffon stumbled into the room, shutting the door behind him and leaning against the oak. A rush of thoughts had coursed through his mind. Thoughts of his passed wife, thoughts of Brodin, and Nalia. He lifted his hand to wipe the tears away, but his legs gave way beneath him before he ever could.
Crumbling down to the stone floor, Steffon fell into a melancholic state. He felt his body starting to shake, tears streaming quicker from his eyes, he wept. He did so for several minutes, until he noticed the bright grey eyes staring at him, standing at the window. The figure was small, perhaps standing just on four feet, and it had big noticeable eyes in the darkness.
Steffon pulled himself together, reaching to the knob of the door and pulling it open, letting the light of the corridor flood in. The figure in the corner of the room was unveiled, it was a boy, no older than five or six years. Steffon let out a sigh of relief, pulling himself up.
“What are you doing here, boy?” Steffon grunted, shutting the door again. His voice was harsh, perhaps a little too harsh for a boy of a young age. He got no reply. Steffon reached for the candle stick on the table adjacent to him, yet he was buggered if he remembered where he left the flint. However all of that became irrelevant when another light sparked up in the room.
Steffon turned his gaze to the young boy, clutching his lantern to his chest as he stared at Steffon with a fearful gaze. Steffon could only frown, he was tired, and perhaps a little drunk. He walked over to the boy, yet the child took steps back as he did, so Steffon resulted in kneeling down before him.
“Who are you, child?” Steffon asked, in perhaps the kindest tone he had used in a while. He noticed it gave the boy confidence, and something else. The boy grinned, standing tall as if he was about to speak some rehearsed lines. “I am Tristram Stark, fourth son of King Theon, and…” He dribbled off sentence, clearly forgetting the rest. Steffon chuckled.
“Well, Tristram. What are you doing in my room, especially at this hour of the night?” Tristram’s cheeks blushed in embarrassment, he lowered his eyes. “I… I’m hiding.” Tristram revealed, awkwardly playing with is feet. “I come here when I’m sad.” He added, and Steffon found himself frowning again. He readjusted his stance, taking a seat on the cold floor.
“What is bothering you, little Prince?” Steffon asked with a nonchalant tone, not that Tristram picked up on it, but Steffon longed to sleep. Tristram shuffled around awkwardly, until he brought himself into a sitting position on the floor, placing his lantern before his crossed legs.
“Father, mother, my brothers.” He blurted quickly, and Steffon smiled, shaking his head. “You’re going to have to be more elaborative than that.” Steffon chuckled, but the boy looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, like he did not know what he meant. Steffon explained what ‘elaborate’ meant.
“Oh. Well…” Tristram scratched his head awkwardly, it was clear he did not talk about this often. “I’m scared. Scared for father, and for mother, and I’m scared of my older brother, Harmund.” Steffon felt himself felt gloomy in reference to Theon. Though he had to find the will to be strong, for the boy.
“Your father is a strong man, he is safe from harm.” Steffon tried to convince, but it was clear Harmund wasn’t easily persuaded. Steffon sighed. “What of your brothers, how do they cope?” Tristram shrugged, warming his little hands on the glass of the lantern.
“Harmund is always so bossy, he even hit me when I didn’t do as he said.” Tristram mumbled, and Steffon raised an eyebrow. “He hit you?” Tristram nodded, lifting his shirt and revealing the large bruise on his stomach. Steffon felt himself disgusted more and more with Harmund. “How did you mother react to this?” Steffon asked, perhaps with a too much bitterness in his tone. Tristram frowned.
“She likes him more. She doesn’t even care for little Ivan anymore, I have to do that, while my older brother Edrick is always reading books.” Steffon found himself gritting his teeth. “Would you like me to talk to your mother?” Steffon asked, though he imagined he would be doing so regardless. Tristram shrugged, moving his eyes to the candle flame.
“I don’t think it will do much good.” Tristram sighed. Before Steffon could find something to say, the door behind him twisted open, and in came a female entered with a panicked expression. However it seemed to calm in relief when her eyes landed on the boy.
“Trist! Thank the gods you’re here.” She praised, quickly walking over to Tristram and tugged at his arm. “Come now, it’s long past time you went to bed.” She ordered, and Tristram hesitantly got up. Steffon found himself intervening. “Hold on, who are you?” He asked, and the girl awkwardly smiled.
“I’m Martena Rivers.” She announced, her cheeks blushing. Steffon looked her over, she was tall and with a slim figure, and her hair fell in long red waves. Her eyes were a bright, icy blue, and Steffon couldn’t help but feel like he recognised her. He shrugged the thought off, making further inquisitions. “And who are you to him.” Steffon nodded to Tristram, and Martena smiled.
“I’m handmaiden to Queen Helia, and I’m watching over the little wolves for her.” She explained, tugging at Tristram’s arm again. “Come now, it’s time for bed. Say your farewell to General Steffon.” She commanded, but Trist instead tried to free himself. She sighed, giving Steffon an apologetic look. She then turned and lifted Tristram off his feet with ease, carrying him to the door.
“Apologies for the bother, General. I will make sure it won’t happen again.” She assured with stern words, and Steffon raised his eyebrow. Perhaps he was too tired, perhaps he was simply becoming paranoid, but something felt off with this girl.
[Get some rest] [Accompany Martena and Tristram]
[Accompany Martena and Tristram] Letting one of Theon's sons go alone with a women who seems suspicious to him does not seem like the best route to go with here. I figure it is better to be safe than sorry here
Martena sounds familiar, I am nowhere near completely caught up on the story so if Martena is someone very obvious, my bad 
Haha no worries! This is Martena's first part, so she's new to everyone
Well, that is good to know that I did not make a complete fool of myself with my answer
Stigz, it is safe to say that I just realized something though. I sure do use this emoji alot 
Is there anyway for me to find out how to use other ones? I have looked around and still have not found any luck on how to use other ones.
The first Steffon part in such a long time, it's great to see him back as well
He has always been a PoV I liked a lot and I look forward for what's in store for him. I suppose I can look forward for it, yes? Ah, but anyways, this was a nice part in general and having Steffon in it was the icing on the cake.
[Accompany Martena and Tristram]
I am curious about Martena, a lot actually. The last name Rivers seems to imply a connection to the nympho witch Elena, but Martena seems to look different, in terms of hair colour at least. Though similar facial features could explain why Steffon faintly recognizes her. Maybe I could be right there. In any way, this only makes me distrust Martena and like CM3434 said, I also believe it is not a good thing to let the heir to the Kingdom of the North go alone with that woman. If she is truly related to Elena, then we know that something is off with her and maybe Steffon can prevent something bad from happening.
Well as you know, there's the : D which makes
There's a couple of other good ones which I'll present to you now: : p ->
=> = ) -> 
=> : ) -> 
=> : # -> 
=> >: ) -> 
That's about all the ones I know, I'm afraid
Yes, there are still quite a few tragic parts in Steffon's life time which are yet to unravel, so you can indeed look forward
I might just touch up on this. I'm pretty sure it was mentioned, but Tristram is the fourthborn son of Theon, third living son. So he's not the heir, but I understand what you mean
[Accompany Martena and Tristram] Poor Steffon must be so damn tired at this point
But anyway, as the fellas above said, we can't trust this woman with the Prince, not until we know a bit more about her anyway.
Hehe, no one has rarer emojis than me
In all seriousness though, the Whatever's On Your Mind Megathread in the Telltale Talk has a detailed list of all those that are available in its main post. There are quite a number of interesting ones
Actually, for a quick reference, here are all of them, just copy/paste them or hover your mouse above them to see how you can create them
Stigz,Liquid, it is safe to say you guys have helped immensely! Now I will be able to display my emotions in a wide variety of ways.
I will say that I don't even know which situation I will use most of them but I will make it work
Thanks!
[Accompany Martena and Tristram]
Accompany Martena and Tristram
Right well I'll close the vote. Steffon will accompany Martena and Tristram. Gee, look at all your paranoid souls, now wanting to stalk loyal Stark handmaiden's
Poor Steffon, he's going to be wrecked without all this sleep, same as Samira now that I think about it 
Anyway, I've got the next part written, and it's a Warmond part. Now the last time we saw Warmond was in his very first part, where he was attending the Merman council. There they learned that the Gardener's were building an army, but for what purpose, they did not know. King Waldemar had his fourthborn son, Walter, tasked on a mission to investigate further into this matter. Waldemar also received word from his second daughter, Wylla, with some plans she wished to execute. Warmond would have the Western Military Fleet (led by Wyvern Vyrwel, Wyman Manderly's bastard) accompany her. Waldina the "Siren" claimed she wished to join Wyvern, after having some strange feelings. However before any matters could be further discussed, the young Wave interrupted the council to inform of them of the death of Wyona, Waldemar's eldest daughter.
This part starts off at the funeral, enjoy!
Warmond
Waves lapped onto the pebble coast with a weak swell to back it. The skies were dark and grey with cloud, and it was clear that the weather would soon deteriorate. The Manderly banners started to flap harder as the wind strengthened, and it was clear many of the attendants were eager to leave. Little respect, Warmond thought to himself, but he could not blame them. Wyona had been like a second mother for all the Manderly’s, and her passing meant little to the people of the kingdom as it did to the actual Manderly’s. Regardless, the vassals and nobles of House Manderly came to honour her name, and they could only thank them for that.
Warmond was able to spot out a few of his grandfather’s closest bannermen, but he had little time to speak to any. The Misty’s were perhaps one of the strongest houses sworn to the Manderly’s, holding the Misty Isles which sheltered them from the west. The Misty’s were overlords to the four isles, House Serry and House Grimm being sworn to them.
Warmond let out a sigh, releasing his wife’s hand as he crossed his arms. Princess Dia turned her eyes onto him, caringly curious as he liked to put it. She placed a hand on his arm, looking up to him. “Will you be alright?” She asked, her eyes beaming up to him. Warmond nodded, staring at old Wyona’s lifeless body, resting on a stone mound. She was the most beautiful Warmond had ever seen her, with her hair braided a wearing a tiara of shells. It only made him see how much she struggled more, and made him regret that he seldom tried to help her.
“I will be fine.” He replied, and it was the truth. The only thing he would regret is that he could not bring himself to mourn for her. Regardless, Warmond put on a small smile as he turned his gaze to his beautiful wife. Only being a few years younger than him, Dia maintained her beauty and youth just as well as Warmond did, and as far as Warmond knew she had no Merling blood in her. “I promise.” He tried to assure, but he knew she was ignorant enough to believe him. Yet she respected his decision to not pursue it any further, and simply nodded.
Warmond’s eyes drifted over to his uncle, Lord Wendel. He stood with his wife, Lady Mira, and her father, Lord Misty. Mira herself was a beauty, of which Wendel prided himself with. She had bright copper coloured hair, with a big voluminous side braid. Their two children, Wade and Wave, stood with them. However Wave was clearly in distress, tears were streaming down her cheeks, and in her hands she was tightly clutching onto the pearls that once belonged to Aunt Wyona.
Dia’s eyes followed Warmond’s gaze, and almost as expected, her heart immediately went out to the girl. She turned her eyes back to Warmond, who simply nodded in response, not that she needed to ask. Watching Dia approach her nephew, Warmond felt some warmth spark in him. He loved that woman with everything he was, and their marriage could not have been possible were in not for his mother’s final wish.
“Warmond?” A familiar voice gently called, and Warmond turned his eyes to where he heard the voice. Warmond’s eyes widened when he saw the short and plump Lady of Blackwood, his sister. “Wynne?” He asked, surprised to see her, and her beautiful smile widened on her face. The two almost immediately embraced without another word.
“Is Lord Blackwood here?” Warmond asked, somewhat astonished that they had travelled all the way from the Riverland’s to attend Wyona’s funeral. Wynne nodded, still maintaining her warm smile. “He speaks with Grandfather.” She explained, and Warmond nodded in response.
“It’s been so long, Wynne. I fear you’ve caught me by surprise. How have you been, how are the children?” He babbled, and Wynne gently shrugged. “They are well, all growing healthily and learning who they are. As am I.” Wynne admitted, clasping her hands. “What about you? How is the young Waldemar, and Willow?”
“The ‘young’ Waldemar isn’t all that young anymore, but he fares well. Taking much after his father, which I don’t know whether to fear or admire. As for Willow, well I haven’t seen him for a few years now. He’s being mentored by the Dayne’s at Starfall.” Warmond noticed Wynne being somewhat taken aback by this news.
“The Dayne’s? That’s a fair distance.” She observed, and Warmond shrugged. “They offered as terms to our engagement, and when Willow came of age he wished to go. I’m sure I’ll see him soon enough.” Wynne let out a small frown, turning her eyes to the old Wyona. “Just don’t leave it too long.” She begged, taking Warmond’s hand. “Family is precious, and without them what are we?” Warmond nodded to her, in an attempt to appease her.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He told her, to which she responded with a small smile. The sight of the Water Maiden’s and Ocean Priest’s took their attention, and it was an indicator that the service was beginning. It did not take long until the crowd quietened down, and the Maiden’s and Priest’s took their positions.
“It is time.” An Ocean Priest announced, and was followed by one of the Water Maiden’s. “If any would wish to speak in honour of Princess Wyona, please come forward.” She called, and for a moment there was silence. Finally, there was movement in the crowd, as all made way for the Strong Merman.
Wyman took his heavy steps towards the corpse of his sister, a sorrow expression haunted his face. He placed a hand on her own, before turning his gaze to the crowd. “My sister.” He started, as if he was trying to find the words to continue.
“Not many of you were fortunate to know her, but my words go to those who would listen. Wyona possessed the kindest soul in this kingdom, perhaps in all of the land. She cared for all that came her way, and for such a compassionate woman, she was cursed with a sickness which haunted her all her life. She did not deserve such a cruelty, but she fought on. She fought not only for her family or her kingdom, but for herself. She did not give up, and despite all her suffering and pain, she found her passions in life. Let her life’s demonstrations be an inspiration to us all, for it is that sort of dedication that our kingdom is built off.” Wyman came to his conclusion, holding the edge of his sadness, before disappearing back into the crowd. After long, Lady Waldina Lowther came forward.
“Wyona.” Waldina sighed, clasping her hands. “Such a beautiful soul that was taken away from us too soon. You were an inspiration to us all, and you helped many of us find our paths. Were it not for you, I might have never found my true gifts, or found confidence for myself. You were a mother to us all, and while you are gone now, you shall never be forgotten.” Waldina vowed, before returning back into the crowd. For a while, no one else came forward. Warmond felt uneasy, he knew if he knew this was his last chance to say a proper farewell, and if he did not say anything he would always regret it.
“If that is all-” One of the Ocean Priest’s began, but Warmond instantly cut him off. “I have something to say.” Warmond interrupted, pushing through the crowd. He took his place beside his aunt, taking her full beautification into account now. This would be the last memory he would have of her, and now he had foolishly come forward to speak his respects, yet he had nothing to say.
He turned back to the crowd of people, all of them looked to him with eager and curious eyes. He spotted his grandfather at the front of the crowd, a seemingly proud look in his eyes. Warmond nodded to him, before finding the words to begin.
“For most of you, Wyona became Aunt Wyona without much regard. It was her role, and she filled it well. She raised nearly all of us Manderly’s, and was a second mother to you all. She took to raising me, even if she was ill, she took on the burden to raise me as a child rather than the heir to the kingdom. That was perhaps one of the best highlights to my childhood, having a friend to relate to when I was not under the constant stress from my mother’s own sickness, and my father’s passing. She was the one who was there for me, and while she not only nurtured me into part of the man I am today, she was the closest and best friend I could ever ask for. Yet I left her, I left to pursue my life, and I regret not being there for her more. I took her for granted, and now that she is gone I feel I have lost a part of myself. I…” Warmond found himself struggling, to his surprise. He fought hard to overcome the lump in his throat. “Goodbye, Wyona.” He finished, feeling unpleased with the outcome of his speech. Yet he did not do it for the crowd, he wanted to believe he did it for Wyona, but he did it for himself.
Warmond felt a fellow Ocean Priest take his shoulder. Warmond nodded, taking a step aside. “If that is all, I would call those that would guide Wyona to the sea.” Warmond remained by Wyona’s side, and as expected he spotted the Strong Merman, Wyman, returning from the crowd. His younger brothers, Walter and Wendel, followed after him.
Each took a corner of the sea green casket that she rested in. Without a word, the four entered the lapping waves of the Sunset Sea until they were waist deep, and the crowd were out of eardrop, watching from afar. They lowered the coffin in the water, letting it gently float for a moment, however the stones in the box would bring her down in the swell.
With a swift, guided motion, the four of them gave the box a push. Bumping across the swell with waves crashing over, Warmond could have sworn he saw movement from inside the coffin. “Are you lot also seeing that?” Wendel pointed out, somewhat relieving Warmond’s mind. Wyman’s squinted his eyes, before they widened. “She’s alive!” He mumbled to himself, before he started pushing through the water trying to get to the casket.
“Wyman, wait!” Warmond called after him, but the Strong Merman did not slow. Warmond chased after him, now swimming in the chest deep water. Has he gone mad? Warmond cursed, trying to catch up the giant. He looked ahead to see the coffin had flipped in the waves.
Wyman came to a stop at the coffin, bashing his fist against the wooden frame. Warmond caught up to him, exhausted from the sprint. Flipping the coffin back over, Wyman found it to be empty, to which his eyes widened in astonishment. Almost instantly he ducked his head under the water, and Warmond did the same.
Searching the seabed, they saw no sign of her amongst the weeds and sand. However, the sudden glint in their eyes caught their attention, and in the distance was a reflective fish tail at the end of an old woman’s body, drifting off in the current. The two surfaced after watching for nearly a minute. They could say nothing, but their eyes said it all.
-
The council was quieter than it had ever been, and no one dared speak until Waldemar was ready. Warmond’s thoughts drifted to what he had seen in the water, and whether it was truly what he had seen. It had to have been. While the two hadn’t said a word since, Warmond was positive that Wyman had seen it too.
Warmond pulled his thoughts away from the funeral, and into the present. Not many attended the council today. Waldemar sat at the head of the table as always, and Wyman sat opposite of Warmond. Walter and Waldina attended, but there was no sign of Wendel, or Wyman’s daughter, Wylda.
“The importance of family.” Waldemar stated bluntly, resting a hand on the old table. “Let it be something we never forget.” He advised, and the longing silence and gentle nods only indicated agreement. He turns his eyes to Walter. “You’re sure that the Gardener’s are building an army?” He asked, and Walter nodded.
“That is what I’ve been told, father.” Walter confirmed, and Waldemar nodded with a frown. “Very well, I will go speak with that old king.” Warmond’s eyes widened. “Grandfather, I wouldn’t advise it.” Warmond tried to persuade, but the old man was having none of it. “What do you fear, Warmond? That they will kill me? Take me captive?” Waldemar challenged, and Warmond nodded.
“At the very least allow me to accompany you.” Warmond pleaded, but Warmond chuckled and shook his head. “No, I want you to take Dia and go visit Willow. After today, the importance of that should be clear. Besides, your eldest son will prove to be a worthy travelling companion. It’s about time I have words with that boy.” Warmond found himself at a loss, and gave the old man a nod.
“Do you wish for me to still ride for Highgarden then?” Walter asked, and Waldemar shook his head. “No, I want you to join Wyvern with your best men and sail north. Disembark at Fair Isle and tell your sister, Wylla, that I’ve agreed to her proposition.” He commanded, and Walter simply nodded. Waldemar then turned his gaze to Waldina.
“You should return to your family, Waldina.” He prompted, but the Siren shook her head. “I’m joining Wyvern on his journey north. He will need me there. End of discussion, father.” Waldina strongly defended her claim, and all Waldemar could do was frown and give her a disapproving look. Though he knew he could not persuade her to do otherwise.
“Very well.” He mumbled, reclining back in his chair. “You are all dismissed.” He stated, and Walter was the first to leave, followed by Waldina. Wyman stood, but turned to Waldemar. “Father, with your permission I’d like to ride north to the Fingers with an army.” Wyman revealed, and Waldemar raised his eyebrow, until it appeared as if he realised why.
“You wish to support the Witch.” Waldemar noticed, and Wyman nodded. “I want to support Ursula, and the Royce’s.” He corrected, only leading to Waldemar letting out a heavy sigh. “If a war is coming here, I would want you here. Though I understand your reasons, and I will leave it to the heir of our kingdom to decide.” Waldemar stated, and Warmond looked at his grandfather, before turning to his uncle. His turquoise eyes pleaded for Warmond’s approval. Warmond thought carefully about what he would say.
[Approve] [Disapprove]
That was a really, really nice part! I must say, this Manderly culture there is pretty fascinating, especially as it is so different from all the other things we have seen, as evidenced by this funeral. I liked it a lot, well done!
[Approve]
Hm... hmmmm... I think this choice is going to have some massive consequences and I really don't know if they will be for the better or the worse. It's more of a suspicion that this could be a good thing, even less than an outright feeling, but I would at the very least like to see what this is going to lead to. Manderly's fighting side by side with the First Men against the Andals that should certainly hold some nice potential
[Approve] I really couldn't say if this is a wise move for the Manderlys or not, but I see great potential in it story-wise.
Also, looks like I need to hurry with the Daynes, if Warmond will indeed travel to Starfall
[Approve]
Disapprove
I'm far from catching up, but as I created the Manderlys and this story part was discussed more or less as I hoped even before I left last year I say [Approve]
Also, well done Stigz
[Approve] As Liquid and Wildling said, this choice has great potential so I definitely see this as the choice to go with.
I've updated the doc link for you, it will be easier to catch up there rather than search the pages for each part
This is a story that Liquid suggested to me. I have finally caught up! I like the story a lot, it is very interesting. You are doing a great job, Stigz! I plan to submit characters and participate in this story, from now on. I already have a few different characters in mind, that I want to submit soon. Anyways, for the choice, I will say......... [Approve]
Well hello hello, Tales! I'm very happy to see you're enjoying the story so far, and would love to welcome you to the community!
I'm very eager to have you a part of the team, and look forward to the future discussions and submissions! 
Right, well it looks like I can bring this vote to a close. Warmond will approve of Wyman's request to assist the Royce's and Ursula Upcliff. This will certainly lead to quite the interesting story arc for Wyman, and we will see that through the PoV's stationed at the Vale very soon.
For now I have the new part ready, and it introduces a new PoV. Wylla Farman. Wylla has been mentioned by the Manderly's a couple of times, but she is the daughter of King Waldemar, and Lady of Fair Isle. So without further ado, allow me to present to you Lady Wylla! Enjoy
I'd also like to announce that I am now officially back at school for a new starting of the year (yay
). While I don't think this will slow my writing down anymore than how slow it has been over the past few weeks, I may not be posting as often as I have been since the last couple of days. I'll still try to pump out a couple of parts a week, and some more on the weekends, but I'll be a bit busier now. I'm also heading off on a study/perspectives camp as of tomorrow, so I won't be active until Friday.
Wylla
It was nearing midday, and the rising sun had reached its peak in the cloudless sky. Wylla stared out the council windows at the beautiful weather, feeling a little miserable that she was trapped in a room to discuss politics and strategies. However, it was her duty nonetheless, and she took pride and strength in her position.
Wylla turned her gaze to the other members of the table. There were six in total, if she included herself. Wylla sat at the head of the table, naturally belonging to the Lord of Faircastle, however as her husband was absent more often than not, Wylla had seized near all power on Fair Isle. She respected her husband, but did not hold high hopes for him, she did however have high ambitions for her eldest and only son.
Ryman Farman sat at the other end of the table, a bored expression on his face. He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, letting his arm take the weight of his head. In his other hand he lazily fiddled a gold coin in between his fingers. A fine talent, but not a useful one. Wylla observed, letting out a sigh.
They waited the regular fifteen minutes for Lord Frenken, as they would at every council meeting, and Wylla had just come to accept that her husband would not attend. The other members of the council were at times harder to convince, however, and hence they waited. Wylla moved her gaze around the table, eying each member at the table.
Closest to Wylla, and arguably the most loyal of those at the table, sat Admiral Maxim Westerling. The second son of the previous Lord Westerling, the man had always taken an interest to the sea and sailing, so his position fitted him well. He was an honourable man, and Wylla trusted him enough to command the Farman Fleet, and he respected her enough to not overstep his boundaries.
Beside him sat Lord Allie Vines, a vassal of the Kingdom of the Arbor, and sworn to the Redwyne kings. Lord Allie sat at the council meeting as a representative for the Redwyne’s. Next to him sat Lord Howett Clifton, who made it quite clear he was more loyal to her husband than her. He had been close friends with Frenken from a younger age, and it was clear to Wylla that he had always been the stronger of the two, perhaps he had even thought he was fit to rule in Faircastle. The thought had crossed Wylla’s mind, but she believed him to have too much trust and loyalty to Frenken to make such a drastic move. Regardless, the council waited for Frenken for Howett’s sake.
The final member on the table was perhaps the most interesting to Wylla. Eddin Pyke, the bastard of a Greyiron. He had converted from the Drowned God to the Faith of the Seas, which had surprised many when he washed ashore of Fair Isle. While it was unclear why he made such a decision, Wylla had her theories to him one day wishing to rule over the Iron Islands, and he knew he would need allies to one day take on such a task.
“Shall we begin?” Wylla finally asked, tapping her tough stubby fingers on the stone tabletop. She received a confident nod from the Admiral, as well as a nod from Lord Allie. Eddin reclined back in his stone chair, and Ryman was kind enough to give her his attention. Lord Howett was clearly disappointed once again, but let out a heavy sigh and nodded. When will he learn? She thought spitefully, but decided not to act harshly on it.
“Do not fret yourself, Lord Howett. My dear husband has no doubt confined himself to his quarters, attending to his book I presume.” Wylla spoke nonchalantly, and Howett simply shrugged the matter off, an impatient look in his eyes.
“Let’s just get this over with.” He muttered, and Wylla nodded, turning her gaze to the Admiral. “Maxim, how did our trade vessels fend when exiting Ironman’s Bay?” She inquired, to which the Admiral’s lips twitched into a small smile.
“Silently, my lady. There were no disturbances.” He proudly admitted, and Wylla replicated his smile. Eddin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “As I already said, my kin are off raiding the Northern shores. Few remain to protect their own shores.” The bastard hinted, and Wylla’s smile died down. She turned her gaze to Lord Allie.
“You may tell King Redwyne that he may resume trade with the Riverland houses. I will set a temporary blockade along the bay, and pick out some of my finest vessels to escort any Redwyne ship that comes this way.” She promised, and Allie gave a gracious nod. “You have our thanks, my Lady.” He gestured in return, but Howett was far from appeased.
“Your ships?” He challenged, putting emphasis on his words. Wylla raised an eyebrow, moving her attention to him. “Are you challenging my authority, Lord Clifton?” Wylla wondered, and Howett hesitantly shook his head. “No, my Lady. Though being that Lord Frenken is indeed Lord of this house, I believe he should have a say.” Howett persisted, but Wylla just let out a frustrated sigh.
“Lord Howett, if it has not been made apparent to you that my husband shows little interest to his role on the council already, than I fear that your dim-witted senses are failing your position…” Wylla warned, and instantly Howett raised his eyebrows in a worried shock.
“My lady, I didn’t mean to offend, but-” He started, but Wylla instantly objected. “Lord Howett, you will think carefully on your words before you speak them. I think many will find that my authority runs strongly both in this council, and in this House. Will there be any further problems?” She provoked him, and he bitterly shook his head. “No, my Lady.” He muttered, lowering his eyes.
“Good.” Wylla announced, noticing her son’s expression. Eddin Pyke impatiently tapped his fingers on the table, glaring at Howett. Wylla smirked, resting her arms on the table. “Is there a problem, Eddin?” She asked, and Eddin shook his head.
“No problem.” He answered, turning his gaze to Wylla and resting his hand. “Just slowly growing impatient.” He added, and Wylla nodded. “Tell me, what will you do once you get to the Iron Islands? You have provided me well with information, what can I offer you in return?” She pressured, and Eddin grinned.
“Nothing.” He sneered. “You sea folk hate the Ironborn, and I hate most of them. I will return home to raise an army, and take the Salt Throne.” He revealed, and Maxim sent him a hesitant glare. “And then what?” He pressed, and the bastard smirked.
“Such little trust. I converted to your faith, did I not? I’ve been true to my word since then, as her ladyship has seen with the Ironborn raids in the North, and the safety of her ships travel.” He claimed, nodding to Wylla. Howett, however, seemed unconvinced.
“How can we trust the word of Ironborn scum?” He spat, clenching his fists. “And a bastard at that.” He muttered. Eddin simply grinned in response. “You can’t.” He admitted, chuckling to himself, and only further angering Lord Clifton. The Admiral turned his gaze to Wylla, a worried look in his eyes.
“What’s stopping him from running to King Harrag, and informing him of our plans?” Maxim begged the question, and Eddin answered it. “Nothing, but I can assure you I have as little love for Harrag Hoare as the lot of you, if not less.” The Admiral scowled at the bastard.
“We would be vulnerable, my Lady.” The Admiral added, but Wylla shook her head. “We would not be alone. I have faith that my father, Waldemar, will agree with my plans. In which case, Wyvern will arrive with the Western Military Fleet in a matter of days. We will be far from vulnerable.” Wylla reassured, but the Admiral still seemed unconvinced. Wylla rose from her seat.
“My utmost faith is installed in my father, and I have not a doubt in my mind that he will agree with my terms. With the combination of the Farman Fleet and Western Military Fleet, we will leave only wreckage and destruction of the Iron Fleet. We will secure Bear Island, and offer it back to the Stark’s. If they will refuse to our terms, then we will make it an outpost for the Farman and Western Military Fleet, and a trading hub for the merchant ships of the Western and Redwyne Fleet.” She promised, giving a nod to Lord Allie as she included their arrangement. The table remained silent for a moment, until Ryman surprisingly spoke up.
“Is it a wise decision to get involved with Bear Island?” He attempted to argue, but instantly shook his head. “Sorry mother, you’re right. I won’t say a word again.” He muttered quietly, but Lord Clifton shook his head.
“I agree with Ryman, this is a bold move. If this Ironborn bastard is right, then the entire Iron Fleet is at the Northern shores. I have no doubt that the combination of Manderly and Farman ships will overcome the Ironmen, but at what cost?” He asked, supporting Ryman’s claim. Lord Allie piped up in time of reassurance.
“While I cannot promise anything, I can speak with the King when I return to the Arbor. Perhaps he could lend part of his fleet? Of course, I cannot promise this, and begging such a question might stretch the relations.” Allie spoke unsurely, but he brought up a fair thought. The Redwyne Fleet would be a welcomed addition, and an assured successful victory, Wylla thought. The Admiral shook his head.
“I have faith in our fleet, and the Western Military Fleet. We can fare well on our own, besides I understand that King Redwyne has a growing worry for the Andal’s in the east. It will only be a matter of time until they come this far west.” The Admiral prophesised, but Wylla was a little less convinced. Not if my father has a say about it. Howett snorted, crossing his arms.
“I say if the Redwyne’s want to have any part Northern trade, they should help fight for it first. I’m sure Ryman agrees with me.” Howett betted, and received a small nod from the heir to Faircastle. “Besides, the less casualties we suffer, the better we can fend for our own if the Andal’s do indeed come this far west.” Howett conjectured, and Lord Allie sighed, turning his gaze to Lady Wylla.
“The decision is yours, my Lady. What shall I tell his Grace when I see him?”
[Ask for their aid] [Make do without]
Another interesting new PoV! Really liked this one and the whole situation you're building up there. Since it is so early into the storyline, I don't think there's much for me to speculate about it, but I look forward for what you're going to do with this set-up
[Ask for their aid]
I have thought about this for a bit now and I ultimately can't see the negatives. Considering that the Ironborn are a threat to some of the Northern characters, such as Steffon, my sympathies lie with the Farman's and Manderly's here, as I am certainly against the Ironborn. The Redwyne fleet can help and I don't think they'll be of much use elsewhere. The worst that can happen is that the king refuses, but frankly, it's worth asking at least.
[Ask for their aid]
I say if the Redwyne’s want to have any part Northern trade, they should help fight for it first.
Indeed, this little Northern campaign is good for trade if successful for all involved. Rather have too many forces than too few.
[Ask for their aid]
I agree that it may be best if they have more forces. You can never have too many. Also, since she has been helping protect the trade of the Redwyne's, the least they can do is help her with part of their fleet, when she needs it.
By the way, I sent you a pm.
[Ask for their aid]
[Ask for their aid]
[Ask for their aid]
Gaining part of the Redwyne fleet would be absolutely huge and pretty much guarantee victory so it is definitely worth asking!