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Post by Gandalf on Jun 15, 2020 16:48:42 GMT -5
"Yes, Ned knew the dangers of going south, he told me to protect and prepare the White Harbor.. though I did not know he would die down there." Wyman said solemnly. "Yes, he is. And that alone should grant him pardon for leaving the Watch, perhaps he can serve as a representative of the Wildlings? I have heard rumors that they are living south of the Wall now. It would serve stability to know that the Warden will not put wildlings first, but we will need someone to speak for them if they are to stay south of the Wall." He eyed Stannis. "You look unwell, your grace. Victory seems no substitute for rest. I brought much in the way of food on my journey North, perhaps some of it will give your strength back."
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Winterfell
Jun 15, 2020 17:10:41 GMT -5
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Post by perry on Jun 15, 2020 17:10:41 GMT -5
Wyman nodded, his chins jiggling. When he left Lord Wyman ordered that his food would be distributed in part to the men of Stannis’ army. Meat pies, lemon cakes, ale, wine, pickled fish and more. It seemed the Lamprey Lord brought a veritable feast with him to Winterfell, the food was a welcome relief from the stale bread they had been living on while on campaign.
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Post by oznerol on Jun 15, 2020 18:15:47 GMT -5
Horns. Many horns. A host appeared in the horizon, numbering in the few thousands. Any fears are assuaged when the leading banner is glanced, a white wolf on a dark field. Most the other banners were crude tribal things, hardly recognizable for any among those in Winterfell. But, marching alongside the free folk came men in good mail and armor, including men-at-arms and knights, riding under the banner of ser Torrhen Whitehill, one time-squire of Lord Roose Bolton and now commanding nine hundred men of the Dreadfort that had surrendered to Jon Snow. Going ahead of the main host arrives Jon Snow, acompanied by Ghost -running by his horse's side- Tormund Giantsbane, the Harle twins, Lord Whitehill, Alysanne Mormont and Val, the wildling princess.
Lord Snow's Army:
900 Men of the Dreafort.
Commander: Lord Torrhen Whitehill.
-500 HI, 200 AR, 100 LI, 100 HC.
2,400 Wildlings.
-1440 LI, 960 AR.
Chieftains:
-Tormund Giantsbane.
-Gavin the Trader.
-Halleck.
-Howd.
-Ygon Oldfather.
-Harle the Huntsman.
-Harle the Handsome.
-The Great Walrus.
-Kyleg of the Wooden Ear.
-Blind Doss.
-Soren Shieldbreaker.
1 Giant.
-Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun.
1 Direwolf.
-Ghost.
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Winterfell
Jun 15, 2020 18:33:04 GMT -5
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Post by perry on Jun 15, 2020 18:33:04 GMT -5
From down river come a few dozen badges, carrying thousands of Manderly men. Proudly flying the Merman of House Manderly and the Direwolf of Stark, but also the banners of Woolfeild, Slate, Atwood, Wells, and others loyal to the Merman. They bring with them their own food supplies, more than are needed, and begin unloading the food stores and set up a temporary camp. Ser Wylis rides forward with a force of Manderly knights, Rickon, Ser Davos, Osha, and some of the Skagosi. A horn announces their arrival as they pull forward toward the gates. “You are home, Lord Rickon.” He says with a smile. “They have been expecting you.” He turned his head up toward the battlements. “Hail, open in the name of Lord Stark! I am Ser Wylis!”
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Post by pontifex on Jun 15, 2020 19:00:23 GMT -5
Ser Richard Morrigen, sufficiently recovered from his wounds, appeared at court. He was still not fully recovered, but he would not content himself to laying in bed all day. He was not denied access to Stannis, being one of his staunchest supporters. He wore bandages about his head, and still leaned on the arm of a squire. When he was brought into the royal presence, he bowed his head. "Your Grace" he said through gritted teeth. "I congratulate you on your victory."
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 15, 2020 20:08:05 GMT -5
When Lord Snow is spied from the ramparts, the blackened Ironwood gates fo Winterfell groan open to allow Ned Stark’s bastard and his wildling host into the castle. The Stormlanders and Northmen alike treat the wildlings with suspicion, gingerly taking them to be fed and housed within one of the sections of the castle. Lord Snow himself is taken into the Great Hall of Winterfell, where Stannis stands before Lord Eddard’s throne. Though dressed in courtly linens and wool rather than mail and plate, Lightbringer still hung from his hip, and his circlet of polished gold sat neatly on his weathered brow.
”Snow. I see you left your post, and brought guests.”
Greeted the King, curtly, the usual grim expression etched deeply into his skull.
—-
Horns sounded, and the gates to Winterfell opened. Rickon and his entourage were brought into the Great Hall, where all the northern lords who had bent the knee or marched to Winterfell were assembled to greet their new liege lord. Stannis stood among them, below Lord Eddard’s empty throne. The King’s frown lifted a little when he spied Ser Davos, and he took a step forward towards his Hand and his new Lord of Winterfell.
”Welcome, Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and of the North.”
Stannis stepped forward, looking down at the child. Baratheon was not a friendly man, even to children, but his voice and tone were perhaps a touch softer than usual. He looked up, addressing his Hand, faintly amused that Seaworth had gone from a dead man to waltzing into Winterfell with the rightful Lord of the North.
”Ser Davos. It seems fortune favours you, Onion Lord. Last I heard you were hanging from Lord Manderly’s walls.”
—
Morrigen finds the King in the Godswood of Winterfell, wind whipping at his cloak. Snow fell, but more gently than before. A crow was perched on the branch of the Weirwood, the red eyed trees watching intently.
”Ser Morrigen. You fought well at Winterfell. Your brother feared you dead, and I that we had lost a good warrior.”
Richard had led the charge valiantly against the Freys, and had played a great part in their victory.
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Winterfell
Jun 15, 2020 20:49:33 GMT -5
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Post by perry on Jun 15, 2020 20:49:33 GMT -5
Wyman stood among the prominent lords of the North. His wounds having healed as unsightly scars by this point, luckily the wound upon his neck was largely hidden by the rolls of fat. It seemed recovery had not dampened the Lord’s appetite, for he look as large as ever, wrapped in his finest teal doublet. He carried with him a thick and sturdy cane, the end topped with a merman, and banded in silver, even a simple walking stick had to be ostentatious for a Manderly.
Ser Wylis entered beside Rickon, Davos, Osha, and the band of Mermen knights. Once again Ser Wylis wore a fine doublet, stained with only a tiny bit of some dipping sauce that he had enjoyed this morning. The knight was rotund and sloppy, but dressed in armor with a sword by his side he looked intimidating in his own way. The great walrus’ eyes lit up as they aligned with his father’s. Wyman could not contain himself and waddled toward his son, using his cane to quicken the pace. Ser Wylis stepped aside from the main procession and the two rotund men embraced. To an onlooker it was quite an odd site, Wylis was a large man in his own right, but Manderly had to be half again as wide and probably twice the weight.
“I feared you for dead father. Leona was worried, and the girls.”
Wylis said, Wyman laughed heartily in reply.
“Oh, Leona and the girls! They were sweet to worry. Truth be told the stranger came close, but I could not leave before I saw this, my boy.” Wyman’s eyes turned toward Rickon near the king. “So that is him, Wylis. He’s grown so much, yet he is still so small.” He said, a great big smile hidden beneath his graying blonde beard.
“Yes, he is but a boy, father. But a Stark, your plan worked.” He thought a moment. “Speaking of young boys, Leona has given me a son, we named him Wendel.”
Lord Lamprey’s smile looked like it would nearly split his face. “A boy! Oh, splendid. He’ll be brave like Wendel, you just wait and see, son.”
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Post by oznerol on Jun 16, 2020 3:48:44 GMT -5
When Lord Snow is spied from the ramparts, the blackened Ironwood gates fo Winterfell groan open to allow Ned Stark’s bastard and his wildling host into the castle. The Stormlanders and Northmen alike treat the wildlings with suspicion, gingerly taking them to be fed and housed within one of the sections of the castle. Lord Snow himself is taken into the Great Hall of Winterfell, where Stannis stands before Lord Eddard’s throne. Though dressed in courtly linens and wool rather than mail and plate, Lightbringer still hung from his hip, and his circlet of polished gold sat neatly on his weathered brow. ”Snow. I see you left your post, and brought guests.”Greeted the King, curtly, the usual grim expression etched deeply into his skull. —- Horns sounded, and the gates to Winterfell opened. Rickon and his entourage were brought into the Great Hall, where all the northern lords who had bent the knee or marched to Winterfell were assembled to greet their new liege lord. Stannis stood among them, below Lord Eddard’s empty throne. The King’s frown lifted a little when he spied Ser Davos, and he took a step forward towards his Hand and his new Lord of Winterfell. ”Welcome, Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and of the North.”Stannis stepped forward, looking down at the child. Baratheon was not a friendly man, even to children, but his voice and tone were perhaps a touch softer than usual. He looked up, addressing his Hand, faintly amused that Seaworth had gone from a dead man to waltzing into Winterfell with the rightful Lord of the North. ”Ser Davos. It seems fortune favours you, Onion Lord. Last I heard you were hanging from Lord Manderly’s walls.”He walked into the hall at good pace, followed by the fearsome and silent Ghost. Behind him trail Val, Mormont, Whitehill, Tormund and others of note. "My post is no longer mine"Said the Lord Commander. Somber. His long face obscured by some sentiment of grief. "There was a letter, sealed in pink, written by a mad man, Ramsay or someone pretending to be him, where he said that you were dead, your sword taken and your army scattered. I claimed to ride South with my brethren and the Free Folk to take Winterfell back and end the Bolton's rule. But I was stabbed, multiple times. One of them through the heart"The following lines were uttered without feelings, masked behind a face of feigned indiference and detachment. "I died. Melisandre brought me back, she and your god, the Lord of Light. I haven't felt cold ever since"His gaze is fixed on Stannis, his fiery crown and shinning sword, that according to the Jade Compendium that Aemon had left him was no real Lightbringer, but mere glamor.
"My watch ended. And thus, I'm no longer Lord Commander, neither honor bound to serve him. I came with a host to seize this castle, but it's no longer needed. At least I could capture the Dreadfort and Roose Bolton is no more: I cut his head in the godswood, swinging the sword myself"He makes a pause. "And, now, I'm here, because it seems that my kin is still alive"-- Rickon looks slightly scared by the very tall man, but being at home makes wonders with his confidence. His ruddy cheeks were blossoming in the heated interior and the heavy furs he was wearing were cumbersome. He looked more of a little wolf than an actual kid, despite his mop of copper hair. "I'm home! And... you're Stannis? You're a king or something, Davos told me that. You're Robert's brother. He wasn't too good..."Davos kneels before his kind, humble, like a peasant before his lord. "My king, I brought you Stark. It almost costed me my head and freezing what was left of my fingers, but it was worth it"
He looks back to Stannis. "Reports of my death were... ehh... grossly exaggerated, sire. But I managed to avoid kicking the bucket yet again, Your Grace. I was glad to hear about your victory"Then, a voice from some point in the room at Baratheon's right. "Rickon?!"The lad turned to face whoever had spoken and his eyes lighten up, he runs to embrace a man wearing grey standing next to a window and acompanied by a colorful lot. "Jon!"The kid starts sobbing, he hadn't seen any of his kind for months and months. Snow hugs him and raises Rickon from the floor, flailing him around, chuckling, while the kid laughs in between sobs. Then, he places him back on the floor and messes with his copper hair. "I thought you were at the Wall...""Well, but I'm here now, with you. But you better go and pay some atention to King Stannis, we have plenty of time"Jon looked back at the Baratheon, whom he know had little patience for anything and pushed Rickon a little towards the king. Stark walks, begrudgingly, back to where the king stood, looking pouty. Davos looked at Jon with curiousity. How was he no longer a man of the Watch? He would have to ask Stannis, later on.
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LD
Veteran 
Posts: 35
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Post by LD on Jun 16, 2020 4:06:47 GMT -5
With news of Moat Cailin being reclaimed and Bolton being overthrown, Lady Maege Mormont would arrive alongside her daughters, her bodyguard and other Northmen, alongside Galbart Glover at the gates of Winterfell, requesting entry. According to rumors, Rickon Stark has returned as Lord of Winterfell - convenient and inconvienient at the same time.
Her eyes were thoughtful, when she passed by the guardsman, proud upon her horse despite her old age.
When she was sent out by her King, Robb Stark, much has happened while she had taken refugee within Greywater Watch until the time seemed ripe to kill what was left of those, who had betrayed the North. Perhaps they took too long, for surprisingly Stannis Baratheon had declared to join their side. Even more it was urgent to discuss matters discrete, for there was much to do...
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Post by Royal Joker on Jun 16, 2020 4:46:51 GMT -5
Asha Greyjoy, freed from her shackles after the battle against the Boltons, had erected her own quarters in the winter town with what remained of her crew. Her ankle was slowly healing and she found it easier to walk, though still with difficulty. While she would have preferred quarters inside Winterfell, the animosity between the Ironborn and the Northmen had been clear enough that she had promptly claimed lodgings as far away from the Wolves as possible. Besides, she could not abandon her crew. Nor Theon, whom she had insisted would be under her charge.
With the aid of Qarl the Maid, Asha limps into Winterfell in the hope of getting an audience with Stannis Baratheon.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 16, 2020 8:48:45 GMT -5
Stannis eyes narrowed at Jon, trying to perceive the imperceptible. For a long moment, he was deathly silent, jaw clenched so hard it might shatter. The Queen's men looked at Jon with a mixture of fear and reverence at his tale, whispering among themselves whether such a thing was truly possible. R'hllor's power was undeniable, even to their King. Baratheon's stern words cut above the noise.
"You are many things, Snow, but you are no liar and no oathbreaker."
The King's brow furrowed further, if such a thing were truly possible.
"Bolton should have been brought here, to face my justice. But death was no more than he deserved. His host was smashed in three days of battle, Winterfell paid for in blood and steel. The Bastard died too. Death was too quick for him."
It was done in the way of the Starks, the King supposed. The Northmen might take comfort at that, strange as they were.
"You did your duty to the watch and now your kin and king, Lord Snow. Your brother Rickon is soon to arrive, to be named as Lord of Winterfell."
The Dreadfort was now left empty, presumably left to Bolton's widow. Something would have to be done about that, in due time. And the horde of wildlings that sat inside the walls.
---
"I am Stannis Baratheon, rightful King of Westeros, Robert's trueborn heir. I am your liege lord, Lord Stark. You must do me homage."
The King replied, unchanged in his rigid manner despite talking to a child. He looked to Ser Davos, the shadow of a smile dancing over his tight lipped gaze.
"Lord Davos. Rise. You did well to fetch the boy. Lord Manderly could have found none better for the task."
It was no flattery, which Stannis had little time for. Every word of praise from the King was hard won, Seaworth knew first hand he did not suffer fools.
---
Asha is brought into Winterfell, which for the time being has become the King's winter quarters. Farring and Horpe take the Ironborn Princess to see Baratheon, who waits for them in Lord Eddard's chambers.
"Greyjoy."
Greeted the King, who was preparing letters with a maester.
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Post by oznerol on Jun 16, 2020 9:33:43 GMT -5
Stannis eyes narrowed at Jon, trying to perceive the imperceptible. For a long moment, he was deathly silent, jaw clenched so hard it might shatter. The Queen's men looked at Jon with a mixture of fear and reverence at his tale, whispering among themselves whether such a thing was truly possible. R'hllor's power was undeniable, even to their King. Baratheon's stern words cut above the noise. "You are many things, Snow, but you are no liar and no oathbreaker."The King's brow furrowed further, if such a thing were truly possible. "Bolton should have been brought here, to face my justice. But death was no more than he deserved. His host was smashed in three days of battle, Winterfell paid for in blood and steel. The Bastard died too. Death was too quick for him."It was done in the way of the Starks, the King supposed. The Northmen might take comfort at that, strange as they were. "You did your duty to the watch and now your kin and king, Lord Snow. Your brother Rickon is soon to arrive, to be named as Lord of Winterfell."The Dreadfort was now left empty, presumably left to Bolton's widow. Something would have to be done about that, in due time. And the horde of wildlings that sat inside the walls. --- "I am Stannis Baratheon, rightful King of Westeros, Robert's trueborn heir. I am your liege lord, Lord Stark. You must do me homage."The King replied, unchanged in his rigid manner despite talking to a child. He looked to Ser Davos, the shadow of a smile dancing over his tight lipped gaze. "Lord Davos. Rise. You did well to fetch the boy. Lord Manderly could have found none better for the task." It was no flattery, which Stannis had little time for. Every word of praise from the King was hard won, Seaworth knew first hand he did not suffer fools. Said Jon, hands resting on the sword's hilt. "I left his widow, who has no guilt whatsoever, as Lady of the Dreadfort. She's expecting"Snow knew Walda would be a sought match among any nobleman in Stannis' court and the very Northmen that now were sworn again to House Stark. "I'm thankful. I shall provide for my brother, if you so want, I believe that after many months he will be eager to see familiar faces and kin"He said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I'm not Robb, Brandon, Arya or Sansa, just his bastard brother, but I'm all he has"--- "You honor me, sire"Said Davos, head bow. "I only did my best to serve you, as any Hand would"
He owed life and fortunes to Stannis entirely, his fate was interwined with the king's.
"Homenaje? How do I do... that? I don't remember, sorry..."The kid looked confused, with just five years of age he did not know what Stannis even mean. To spare Rickon further trouble, Jon stepped forward and bows. He unsheathed the sword and bent one knee before Stannis. "In the name of my infant brother and my house I pay homage to Stannis, of House Baratheon, king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord Protector of the Realm. I swear to provide him counsel and assistance in times of war and peace alike"He looks back at Stannis with grey eyes that were pretty much those of Ned.
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Winterfell
Jun 16, 2020 10:00:17 GMT -5
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Post by pontifex on Jun 16, 2020 10:00:17 GMT -5
See Richard smiled. "It will take more than a shivering Frey spearman to quench my fire, your Grace. I am yours to command once more. Some of these northern lords would do well to follow my example, loyal from the start!" Always a boasting man, but at least he had deeds to attest to his boasts unlike some men.
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Post by Royal Joker on Jun 16, 2020 10:11:01 GMT -5
Asha is brought into Winterfell, which for the time being has become the King's winter quarters. Farring and Horpe take the Ironborn Princess to see Baratheon, who waits for them in Lord Eddard's chambers. "Greyjoy."Greeted the King, who was preparing letters with a maester.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 16, 2020 10:35:22 GMT -5
The King nodded grimly, considering Walda's circumstances. Snow and Manderly were men of honour, but their loyalties lay with Stark only. He needed his own men in the north, to ensure that they would not desert him after the considerable blood he had spilt to return a Stark to Winterfell.
"You and Lord Wyman shall govern in Lord Rickon's stead. I name you my Warden of the North, Snow. You will lead the defence of the North from my enemies. Including those Beyond the Wall."
Stannis knew that Jon alone understood the threat the dead posed. Wildlings were simple folk, barbarous, but they were of the realms of men. They were his subjects, now.
"You know I must march south, to win my throne. It is my duty. But I will return."
---
"I accept your homage in Lord Rickon's stead. Rise, Snow."
The King looked around himself, to those northern lords present.
"Manderly was the first to swear fealty to his liege, as I understand it. I name his heir Wylis as Lord of the Hornwood, for the castle belonged last to his kinswoman before Ramsay Snow raped and killed her."
Baratheon raised his voice further, to be heard amongst the clamour.
"Now he is dead, and his father too. House Bolton has paid for its crimes, and a Stark sits again in Winterfell. But my enemies still hold my throne. Lannister and Frey who killed your Lord Eddard and his son Robb still remain in the south. I will march south and make them answer for their crimes. I will give you justice and vengeance. March south with me, and the Red Wedding will be avenged, on my oath as your king."
Though the North was won, Stannis would need many more swords to win back his throne. Perhaps more than would ever be found in the North. But he would march on King's Landing, or die trying.
--
"You and your brother have served me well, Morrigen. I mean to marry one of my men to Lady Walda of the Dreadfort, to hold it until her child comes of age, raise its men to fight for me."
Stannis stated, matter -of-factly. Morrigen was loyal, brave, and not fanatical enough to offend the Northmen as Farring or Horpe would be. An ideal choice.
--
"I do not treat with traitors, madmen, or pirates. Your uncle is all three."
The King gave the maester a nod, and he scuttled off to the rookery.
"I mean to make you the Lady of Pyke and the Iron Islands, if you would bend the knee. I can unmake your marriage to the fat whale your uncle found for you too, if you so wish."
Apparently a seal had stood in for Asha, or some such Ironborn nonsense. They were stranger even than the Northmen.
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