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Forsythe
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sly13Two months before the tourney...
Barth Blacksword breathed in the fresh air, next to him his little brother Brandon, The Wolf Lord as they called him, to him it was still just Branny, his shit little brother running around hugging to his their mothers leg and watching him train. Now here they were, his brother a famed fighter in the south, respected among the North, and having three loving children he wasn't the little boy who watched warriors return from Dorne exhausted and worn.
They had been out in the Wolfswood hunting together having snuck out when their men weren't able to catch them, both brother's missing the days when they could run and do as they pleased. The crisp wind biting across them as they took shelter under a large ironwood tree in the wood, Brandon producing a flask taking a long drink before passing it to the man next to him as they both sat in the snow wrapped in heavy furs, distant howls of wolves in the distance.
"You are leaving for that big tourney in the south, aye Branny?" Barth asked laying his spear down as he looked out towards the deeper parts of the wood. "Taking all the lads to give them southern knights a good trashing? Remind'em we don't need a sept to turn men into warriors that can knock'em from a horse and bury a blade in their belly." Barthogan smiled turning back towards his brother looking over the younger Stark as he shook his head laughing.
"You act is if I was once some great warrior down their unseating the greatest knights in the seven kingdoms, I'm good Barth... But I'm older now. It's the boys time... This will be Mathias's first big tourney, your boy wants to do you proud." He added looking at Barth who took another long drink.
"I know he does... I love him so much... But I don't want him caught up in our struggles... Gods I wanted to go to the wall but then Jonnel couldn't knock a girl up... So here I sit, now I'm passing Winterfell on to you... Just to keep it out of the hands of our blackheart brother and his inclination to take wed us to the fucking dragons. Our father was a fucking fool to lead our boys south to fight for them, no blonde wench is worth the lives of northern men, the tears of our women, and suffering of the north." He spoke bitter it seemed over a lifetime of losing out on what he wanted. "You, little brother better take damn good care of our home. You killed a dire wolf, walk around wearing it's pelt like a badge of honor Wolf Lord. I don't say it often enough... But you are the right man to take Winterfell, the Lords up here adore you, no one foreign or northern has a bad word to say about Brandon Stark the Wolf Lord you just finally make that old wolf happy." He sighed turning back towards Winterfell thinking on the crypts bellow.
Brandon sighed. "You have years to go before I take this place old man, now... You want to catch that deer or we going back to tell my wife two of us can't find any dinner the forest?" They both laughed, bow and spear in hand they trudged onward into the snow.
One month before the tourney...
Brandon has finished gathering up the horses and wagons ice, beer, furs, and more to bring southward. For company merchants, warriors, and more who wished to test their metal in the south against these knights. Barth meanwhile prepared his men, reports from Skagos were scarce as always but the true concern was that there was silence after stories of the different houses there being united. As the Blacksword prepared his men to ride eastward their host seek aid from the Karstarks to try and get news on what was coming. Winter was at it's end and it meant soon it was time to prepare for another Winter, the smallfolk back in the fields and harder to gather up it's why he had gathered the force now rather than trying to recall them all later.
His children, his wife, and his nephew as well as many others from the Houses of the North young men and women eager to see the sights and hear the music of the new spring in the verdant south. In lands of wine and honey they were no doubt thinking of trysts and trouble they could get themselves into Ashe was testing his bow string as gave Beylee pointers on how to draw it back, Mathias and Gryffith sat side by side discussing battle tactics and other knights they might see at the tourney.
Edric meanwhile walked the wall, he had sent letters and at the last family gathering his pleas fell on deaf ears, he would never be lord of Winterfell as long as Barthogan was alive. But with Brandon away and the word of the south begging urges to rebel he had sent letters and lined pockets. His sons were already down south to talk and walk among his potential allies. Cregard and Torrhen would bring his words and offers to Blackfyre, when Barthogan fell the North would belong to the patient.
His sons had orders to secure themselves good marriages he had held back giving them to northern houses where sense of duty and honor might betray following him to war. In the south he had little concern of that, of course House Mormont and Bolton would more than likely back Brandon, The Wolf Lord, the avenger of Lord Cregan of Winterfell few of the houses in the North trusted the old and tired man and even fewer wanted his sons, his fangs to the position after him. Edric didn't care it was his, Winterfell... All of it was to be his, he would fulfill what his father had no stomach for make the north a real power in the seven kingdoms. He was more willing to bring the wall down, to burn the fields, and salt the earth than to let his brother's make a fool of him he who had carried Rickon home, who had studied hard in both north and south, he who had the ambition to be more than a Warden... They were fools and he never could stand a fool.
The Tourney.
The Twin Fang's were present, Torrhen and Cregard had been southward awhile. Cregard had been sitting quietly reading a book on southern knighthoods and their importance to the Seven he'd never pretend to understand the faith here but he could try and at least not mess up around them. His father wanted them to be closer with the south, he'd thought of talking with some of the noble women but honestly he was never the biggest flirt. Better to make your intentions plain and get right to what you wanted to be doing, not dancing and singing for years and weeks on end. Better to warm a bed with your love each night than leave him alone and yearning or her distressed and worrying it was a small wonder Cregard had not taken a bride he'd not found anyone he could handle his direct approach.
Torrhen meanwhile was requesting wine and food as the pair sat in the feasting tent, Torrhen eyed the noble women he needed someone he could really cut loose with not some shriveling maiden scared of a rough and tumble northern lord. He fought like he loved rough, tumble, and smooth. He loved the chase and dance of two people trying to see how they might maneuver and tease one another it was a glorious thing to be part of here and now? This would be an event for the ages perhaps he'd finally meet his match definitely looked better than hairy wenches from bear island or the those boney Boltons up north. Though his father would never approve maybe he could finally try a Dornish girl wouldn't that be a treat?
The Fangs sat together of course, the twins were never to far apart they didn't like it they seemed to naturally work together one tall and strong and the other lean and fast in a fight they were not to be trifled with though they never came to blows with each other. They had both sworn never to end up like Edric had with his brothers.
Beylee squealed as jumped off the wagon running through the crowds enamored with the place, as Brandon and his kin rode up ahead of the wagons full of items from up north the most prized of all good pure ice perfect for the hot weather and carefully moved and now needing to be stored. Of course beer and furs from the north as well, many a fine folk would pay good money for the furs of the northern animals to see them through cold nights. The horn resounded as they announced the arrival of the heir of Winterfell, following that announcements for each of Lords or their boys who had come with him southward to see this great tourney and fight in it.
As Beylee darted back to her father's side and took his hand and Ashe slipped out of his saddle already heading towards the jousting grounds eager to see how many shitheads knights he'd have to remind that they weren't anything special. Gryffith rolled his eyes at his brothers departure and Mathias tried to stop Ashe, both followed Brandon as he headed further in off to pay respects to the hosts and thank them for the invitation. The wagons moved to deliver their goods and sell wares as the northerners had arrived in decent number a suprise to be sure but many followed Brandon Stark for he was good man and a honorable one too.
Barth Blacksword breathed in the fresh air, next to him his little brother Brandon, The Wolf Lord as they called him, to him it was still just Branny, his shit little brother running around hugging to his their mothers leg and watching him train. Now here they were, his brother a famed fighter in the south, respected among the North, and having three loving children he wasn't the little boy who watched warriors return from Dorne exhausted and worn.
They had been out in the Wolfswood hunting together having snuck out when their men weren't able to catch them, both brother's missing the days when they could run and do as they pleased. The crisp wind biting across them as they took shelter under a large ironwood tree in the wood, Brandon producing a flask taking a long drink before passing it to the man next to him as they both sat in the snow wrapped in heavy furs, distant howls of wolves in the distance.
"You are leaving for that big tourney in the south, aye Branny?" Barth asked laying his spear down as he looked out towards the deeper parts of the wood. "Taking all the lads to give them southern knights a good trashing? Remind'em we don't need a sept to turn men into warriors that can knock'em from a horse and bury a blade in their belly." Barthogan smiled turning back towards his brother looking over the younger Stark as he shook his head laughing.
"You act is if I was once some great warrior down their unseating the greatest knights in the seven kingdoms, I'm good Barth... But I'm older now. It's the boys time... This will be Mathias's first big tourney, your boy wants to do you proud." He added looking at Barth who took another long drink.
"I know he does... I love him so much... But I don't want him caught up in our struggles... Gods I wanted to go to the wall but then Jonnel couldn't knock a girl up... So here I sit, now I'm passing Winterfell on to you... Just to keep it out of the hands of our blackheart brother and his inclination to take wed us to the fucking dragons. Our father was a fucking fool to lead our boys south to fight for them, no blonde wench is worth the lives of northern men, the tears of our women, and suffering of the north." He spoke bitter it seemed over a lifetime of losing out on what he wanted. "You, little brother better take damn good care of our home. You killed a dire wolf, walk around wearing it's pelt like a badge of honor Wolf Lord. I don't say it often enough... But you are the right man to take Winterfell, the Lords up here adore you, no one foreign or northern has a bad word to say about Brandon Stark the Wolf Lord you just finally make that old wolf happy." He sighed turning back towards Winterfell thinking on the crypts bellow.
Brandon sighed. "You have years to go before I take this place old man, now... You want to catch that deer or we going back to tell my wife two of us can't find any dinner the forest?" They both laughed, bow and spear in hand they trudged onward into the snow.
One month before the tourney...
Brandon has finished gathering up the horses and wagons ice, beer, furs, and more to bring southward. For company merchants, warriors, and more who wished to test their metal in the south against these knights. Barth meanwhile prepared his men, reports from Skagos were scarce as always but the true concern was that there was silence after stories of the different houses there being united. As the Blacksword prepared his men to ride eastward their host seek aid from the Karstarks to try and get news on what was coming. Winter was at it's end and it meant soon it was time to prepare for another Winter, the smallfolk back in the fields and harder to gather up it's why he had gathered the force now rather than trying to recall them all later.
His children, his wife, and his nephew as well as many others from the Houses of the North young men and women eager to see the sights and hear the music of the new spring in the verdant south. In lands of wine and honey they were no doubt thinking of trysts and trouble they could get themselves into Ashe was testing his bow string as gave Beylee pointers on how to draw it back, Mathias and Gryffith sat side by side discussing battle tactics and other knights they might see at the tourney.
Edric meanwhile walked the wall, he had sent letters and at the last family gathering his pleas fell on deaf ears, he would never be lord of Winterfell as long as Barthogan was alive. But with Brandon away and the word of the south begging urges to rebel he had sent letters and lined pockets. His sons were already down south to talk and walk among his potential allies. Cregard and Torrhen would bring his words and offers to Blackfyre, when Barthogan fell the North would belong to the patient.
His sons had orders to secure themselves good marriages he had held back giving them to northern houses where sense of duty and honor might betray following him to war. In the south he had little concern of that, of course House Mormont and Bolton would more than likely back Brandon, The Wolf Lord, the avenger of Lord Cregan of Winterfell few of the houses in the North trusted the old and tired man and even fewer wanted his sons, his fangs to the position after him. Edric didn't care it was his, Winterfell... All of it was to be his, he would fulfill what his father had no stomach for make the north a real power in the seven kingdoms. He was more willing to bring the wall down, to burn the fields, and salt the earth than to let his brother's make a fool of him he who had carried Rickon home, who had studied hard in both north and south, he who had the ambition to be more than a Warden... They were fools and he never could stand a fool.
The Tourney.
The Twin Fang's were present, Torrhen and Cregard had been southward awhile. Cregard had been sitting quietly reading a book on southern knighthoods and their importance to the Seven he'd never pretend to understand the faith here but he could try and at least not mess up around them. His father wanted them to be closer with the south, he'd thought of talking with some of the noble women but honestly he was never the biggest flirt. Better to make your intentions plain and get right to what you wanted to be doing, not dancing and singing for years and weeks on end. Better to warm a bed with your love each night than leave him alone and yearning or her distressed and worrying it was a small wonder Cregard had not taken a bride he'd not found anyone he could handle his direct approach.
Torrhen meanwhile was requesting wine and food as the pair sat in the feasting tent, Torrhen eyed the noble women he needed someone he could really cut loose with not some shriveling maiden scared of a rough and tumble northern lord. He fought like he loved rough, tumble, and smooth. He loved the chase and dance of two people trying to see how they might maneuver and tease one another it was a glorious thing to be part of here and now? This would be an event for the ages perhaps he'd finally meet his match definitely looked better than hairy wenches from bear island or the those boney Boltons up north. Though his father would never approve maybe he could finally try a Dornish girl wouldn't that be a treat?
The Fangs sat together of course, the twins were never to far apart they didn't like it they seemed to naturally work together one tall and strong and the other lean and fast in a fight they were not to be trifled with though they never came to blows with each other. They had both sworn never to end up like Edric had with his brothers.
Beylee squealed as jumped off the wagon running through the crowds enamored with the place, as Brandon and his kin rode up ahead of the wagons full of items from up north the most prized of all good pure ice perfect for the hot weather and carefully moved and now needing to be stored. Of course beer and furs from the north as well, many a fine folk would pay good money for the furs of the northern animals to see them through cold nights. The horn resounded as they announced the arrival of the heir of Winterfell, following that announcements for each of Lords or their boys who had come with him southward to see this great tourney and fight in it.
As Beylee darted back to her father's side and took his hand and Ashe slipped out of his saddle already heading towards the jousting grounds eager to see how many shitheads knights he'd have to remind that they weren't anything special. Gryffith rolled his eyes at his brothers departure and Mathias tried to stop Ashe, both followed Brandon as he headed further in off to pay respects to the hosts and thank them for the invitation. The wagons moved to deliver their goods and sell wares as the northerners had arrived in decent number a suprise to be sure but many followed Brandon Stark for he was good man and a honorable one too.
