Undergoing updates for the next generation.

[hider=House Bolton]
[center] [h2] House Bolton [/h2] [/center]
[center] [h3] Our Blades are Sharp [/h3] [/center]
[center] [img]http://awoiaf.westeros.org/images/thumb/7/76/Bolton.png/250px-Bolton.png[/img] [/center]
Region: The North
Liege: The Starks
Holding: The Dreadfort

Recent History: The house of Bolton was very powerful approaching the long night. A tactical assassination left them with the entire paramountcy of the North. With the coming of the long night, Daenerys Targaryen pressed her claim on Westeros, and House Bolton was eager to change to the winning side. The Boltons had hoped to establish a peace agreement with the new queen, thus firmly cementing their place as Lords Paramount of the North with the backing of royalty, but then unexpected events led to their downfall. As it turns out, the supposed bastard son of Ned Stark, Lord Commander on the Wall, was actually the son of Rhaegar Targaryen. He renounced his rightful place on the wall, and forsook his vows by marrying the queen and having children. He got to Daenerys first, and told them an obviously false story of the alleged Bolton treachery. She broke the peace agreement with the Boltons and sent an army led by King Jon to sack Winterfell and the Dreadfort, driving the line largely into the ground.

Family Members: 
[hider=William]
Name: William Bolton

Age: 64

Appearance: Had the years been kinder, or had he been younger, William perhaps might have had some resemblance to his ancestor, the late Roose. However, time and stress have a way of withering a face into nought but a shadow of what it once was. Crow's feet threaten to tear his face in two, and his hair has begun its inevitable retreat from his forehead. Flecks of white had begun to invade what once was black, both on the top of his head, and in his beard, which had grown long and unruly. Everything about the man gave the impression of defeat, of one bent under a force he cannot control.

Role: Lord of the Dreadfort

Prized Possessions: The ancestral blade of Bolton, a set of plate armor he once wore to battle, and an old longsword made to look like it was covered in eyes.

Skills: Despite his senses being dulled from what it used to be, William retains a strong sense of his own mind. His eyes are still as sharp as they have been, eagerly drinking in any room he enters and hunting down the last dark corners. While his sharp tongue does not tend to lash out as much as it used to, it is still present, and resurfaces itself in his fits of anger or drunkenness. He can still hold a sword, and knows how to swing it, and while he will never be remembered as a great warrior, his contemporaries would do well to watch themselves around his blade.

Biography: William is the last of the line of Boltons, claiming blood from Ramsay and Roose before him. When the Starks returned to Winterfell, led by Jon, Ramsay stayed behind to make an insane final stand where he met his end. Jeyne, under the custody of the Starks, gave birth in her prison chambers to William, who miraculously survived the dark unclean environment. Of course, nobody in the North had any desire to ward this child, borne of their enemies. So reluctantly, he was allowed to stay a ward of Winterfell, where a close eye could be kept on him. Eventually, his skill with both blade and administration, coupled with the overextension of Stark power, meant that although reluctant, they were effectively forced to hand the Dreadfort back into Bolton control.

William was once an ambitious man, but that ambition was never meant to last forever. In his late thirties, it had dribbled away, as he worked tirelessly on plot after plot, and that left nothing for his later years. All he wants in life anymore is a rest, an escape from the world around him. Life has been cruel since the beginning, and has shown no sign of letting up yet. He finds himself more and more frequently spending his evenings sitting in his chair by the fire, letting his mind lead him this way and that, waking up hours later only to find that the night has passed him by.

Notes:
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[hider=Arak]
Name: Arak Bolton

Age: 25

Appearance: The first thing one may notice about Arak is his arms. One is strong and functional, while the other is weak, limp, and hangs loosely at his side. That arm is fitted with a series of ropes and hooks that may be used to hold a shield. Beyond that, he is full faced, bulky with muscle from his long years of intense training, and is incredibly darkly tanned for a Northman due to his tendency to prefer the sunny outside. However, the Boltons have left him with one gift of blood. His irises are the milky pale of his father, William Bolton.

Role: Lord of Ethering

Equipment: A trusty old spear, a mighty shield from his Cowhide service, and a worn copy of "Memoirs in the Web".

Skills: Arak is nearly unparalleled in fighting, in lockstep formation with his Cowhide Shields or on horseback with his father's woodland lancers. He is also skilled in administration, and at his age, as already had years of experience both governing a castle and his father's many institutions. What's more, his sense of honor and duty are unshakable, and he is known around the Dreadfort and beyond to be incorruptible. However, intrigue does not come easy to him, and he is quick to trust the word of people he has never met. What's more, his relationship with his father is strained at best, threatening to tear apart the realm of the Boltons.

Biography: How unfortunate it must be to be born Arak Bolton, the heir of the both feared and ridiculed Dreadfort. He was born late, to a nigh-deathly sick mother and a father mad with fear. The court called him fortunate, born in the last golden years of a possible male Bolton heir. How bittersweet he had felt, when his child finally came, but was cursed with a shriveled arm. Still, though, like it or not, he was all his father had.

The bastard was a particularly negative influence on his early years. His sister was warm with him, even as she was cold with others, and despite all expectations, even William broke his snippy character to bond with his proud-ish son. However, the sharp tone of the bastard's voice haunted him through the halls of the Dreadfort, pointing out his arm, his fear of dishonor, and his trusting nature. Eventually, his father became so sick of her presence that he had guards exile her. While she was gone, her influence stayed with Arak, and on some lonely nights, he can still hear her voice shouting at him from across the Narrow Sea.

Despite appearances from William, Arak knew that the physical weakness was a sore spot between the two. Even enemies of the Boltons had to concede that the Cowhide Shields were a most prestigious band of lockstep warriors, and both soldier and lord were to be feared on the battlefield. Arak wanted to prove his worth to his family, and demanded a post as captain, which was reluctantly granted to him. Arak's mind was well suited to the battlefield, and was a natural in combat and strategy. Under his command, the Cowhide was able to smash many raids from the newly-settled yet still violent wildling tribes. 

His lord father took notice of the rapid growth of his son, and saw fit to grant him a new title. That night, William had dragged Arak by the arm up to his study, and with the old Bolton knife, hastily carved a border cutting the little castle of Ethering from the rest of the Bolton domain. From now on, that was his domain, and it was his responsibility to keep the rebellious lesser Lord Overton in check. To this day, Arak remains loyal to that cause, knowing full well that at any moment, the ambitious and shrewd Witoff "the Good" would make eyes too large at the grand Bolton castles, and lead a rebellion that would shatter the little peace they had made.

Notes:
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[hider=Cathay]
Name: Cathay Bolton

Age: 28

Appearance: Cathay is about 5'9", and ridiculously spindly for her height. She has long, curly hair that never untangles itself, annoying both her and her handmaiden. She dresses always in neutral colors and a blank style, and thus is sometimes mistaken for a servant herself. Most of the time, she goes along with it.

Role: Diplomat of the Dreadfort

Equipment: Nothing practical. Mostly papers covered in poetic scrawls, small stones of little value, and a small vial of Pentoshi seawater on string around her neck.

Skills: Cathay has no military training like her parents and brother, but her skills lie in other areas. Intrigue is her specialty most of all. She is an excellent listener, able to focus for long periods of time, and an even better secret keeper. She, as her interests suggest, is also a good actor, consequently a good liar as well.

Biography: Cathay was a fortunate turn of events for the Boltons. When William had reached thirty years, he became afraid that there would be no Bolton heir. Visenya did not show signs of pregnancy, and her time was to be up in but ten years. So he went out, drank himself into a stupor, and chose the least unimpressive whore he could find to father a bastard, a spare born before the heir. However, when Cathay was born, there was much rejoicing, as she was the preservation of the Bolton line.

However, this set her at odds with the bastard, that jealous whore's-daughter who was the bane of her existence since the beginning. Cathay wasn't even mad when Arak was born, but the bastard saw his birth as a personal insult upon herself. She was there when the bastard was exiled. William had been arguing with her on the ramparts, and in a fit of rage, he pushed the bastard off the turrets and into the biting snow. Without stopping, he ordered the nearest Cowhides to take her somewhere far away, perhaps King's Landing, anywhere he wouldn't be able to see her face. To this day, Cathay refuses to say the bastard's name.

In those few moments of her youth where she may escape the courtly life, she would go down to the villages and watch excitedly as the visiting actor's troupes would perform their craft. As she got older, she realized that the acts they would put up were poor at best, and said as much to her brother. Arak had looked up at her, and said plainly that if they were so bad, she could make a better one. So began an interest that turned into a hobby. In her spare time, Cathay wanders the castle and its surrounding town, seeking inspiration for a play that would dazzle the crowds of the entire kingdom.

Cathay is a woman of endlessly high spirit and devotion to family. She still works tirelessly to keep the Bolton family relevant and powerful, and keeps a close eye with her many spies on the other great families in the North, knowing that one day, they will find a fault with her family that can only be repaired with blood. When that day comes, she will be ready for them. 

Notes:
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[hider=The Exiled One]
Name: Twenta Snow

Age: 33

Appearance: Out of all the living members in her family, and perhaps those before, Twenta is by far the easiest on the eyes. She is tall and graceful, with smooth features and a fluidity in everything she does. However, despite all that, there is something about her that sets those around on edge. Be it her heritage, a pair of eyes that are pale where they should be dark, or something less obvious, she seems to tell the people around her without words that it would be best to place fear before attraction.

Role: Advisor to Aelyx in the East

Equipment: Twenta is well equipped for life in the court. She possesses a dazzling array of dresses from various cultures in Westeros and Essos, as well as sets of perfumes and concealers, as befitting of a lady of the court. However, there is always a vial of poison hidden somewhere in the folds of each of those dresses, to be used at her extreme displeasure. 

Skills: Skills she has many. Twenta is good with words, spinning them around and around until whoever she is speaking with has become utterly convinced by her false promises. What's more, she was blessed with an intellect not easily paralleled, and is familiar with not only philosophy but that revolutionary new form of mathematics coming out of Ghis, al-jaber.

Biography: 

Notes:
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