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Post by The Forgotten God on Sept 4, 2015 21:37:27 GMT -5
A short but wide river, the Antler extends from the deep wilderness to the Shivering Sea, a sort of unofficial border between the dense forests of the far North, and the endless tundra and ice fields of the Lands of Always Winter. The few tribes that live so far north are untamed by king or wildling, subsisting on seals and bear and caribou, and also their own enemies' flesh. The majority have been slain by the Others or their servants, but some scattered clans remain in the delta connecting the river to the sea.
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Post by Malthazar Nazaryl on Sept 5, 2015 13:03:07 GMT -5
Ilvar points out landmarks to anyone who cares, and tells rather grotesque tales of his childhood.
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Post by Ser Titus Grafton on Sept 5, 2015 13:55:26 GMT -5
Titus was at least happy to see a landmark that appeared on a map. Beyond that he was freezing, wet and tired. The tales of the wildling were at least interesting, from time to time, but he didn't often respond.
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Post by Malthazar Nazaryl on Sept 5, 2015 14:23:57 GMT -5
After finishing the not at all amusing tale of him mother's passing at the hands of his father, "...and thus was the term 'trophy wife' invented." He paused to rest his moose.
"Grafton, what is Gulltown like? I envision the birds as great predators, preying on children and cattle alike, to deserve such a namesake." It was clear, after the mammoths and giants and direwolves, that Ilvar was quite earnest in his presumptions.
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Post by Ser Titus Grafton on Sept 5, 2015 15:30:45 GMT -5
Titus smirked. "That'd have been an interesting childhood to be certain, but no, the birds are just birds. Where the name came from, I couldn't say for sure, but I suppose it's just named after all the gulls, though it has no more spectacular specimens than any other city by the sea. It was nice in my youth, there was always some mischief to get in to, though I've heard it's fallen on hard times since my father's rebellion failed. Fallen into lawlessness, violence and disorder by the sound of it. Should things go as I hope they go, and we both survive this shit, you ought to visit a true city," he laughed. "I'd give anything to see you ride that moose through a narrow market street."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Sept 5, 2015 21:30:55 GMT -5
As the scouts arrive at the river, they report back to the main host that there is a mass of dead many thousands strong, unfazed by blizzard or lack of food. There's still some cannibal tribesmen in the delta too, and two scouts are unaccounted for.
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Post by Amelia Royce on Sept 6, 2015 12:33:16 GMT -5
Benjen asks what the surrounding landscape is like and if it will lend itself to an assault by his host.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Sept 6, 2015 12:44:16 GMT -5
The river is wide and strong, and the ground is frozen. A frontal assault is about the only real choice, as the river is too huge to ford at any point for fifty miles in any direction.
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Post by Malthazar Nazaryl on Sept 6, 2015 19:35:45 GMT -5
Titus smirked. "That'd have been an interesting childhood to be certain, but no, the birds are just birds. Where the name came from, I couldn't say for sure, but I suppose it's just named after all the gulls, though it has no more spectacular specimens than any other city by the sea. It was nice in my youth, there was always some mischief to get in to, though I've heard it's fallen on hard times since my father's rebellion failed. Fallen into lawlessness, violence and disorder by the sound of it. Should things go as I hope they go, and we both survive this shit, you ought to visit a true city," he laughed. "I'd give anything to see you ride that moose through a narrow market street." "I should like to see a proper city. Not Hardhome, but a proper place of learning and life. And one less apt to stoning strangers on sight." Ilvar lead his mount to water. "Your father's rebellion? Well, that sounds an intriguing story. Did he desire freedom from something, or was it a master of ambition?"
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Post by Ser Titus Grafton on Sept 6, 2015 20:16:19 GMT -5
Titus paused. He'd wondered the same himself, though he didn't think he would ever know for certain. "It's hard for me to say," he said finally. "I was imprisoned by a pirate for nearly four years. When I was captured I was the heir to Gulltown. Nothing seemed amiss. I was a friend of Benjen Stark, my father was ruling ably as he always had. The port was growing and times were good, but for the troubles in the Mountains of the Moon. It was that trouble which was what ended up getting me imprisoned. For four years I toiled as a slave, being beaten and tortured and worked near to death. I heard the rumors and the news of the world from the pirates, on occasion, but it's hard to tell the truth of things from those sorts of mouths. When finally I was freed, my father was dead, the city was gone to me and my inheritance was spent. From what I hear it was over ambition on my father's part, pushed on by the whispering of lions in his ear, but I hear that tale from the very men who defeated him, so the truth of it I do not know. My father was an ambitious man, there can be no doubt, rich and bold, but I never saw him as rebellious or disloyal. But then again, he was my father." He paused a moment. "It matters little at this point anyway," he said as his eyes scanned the trees across the river.
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Kurts
Prince
Posts: 3,760
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Post by Kurts on Sept 7, 2015 14:15:34 GMT -5
Killion and his army marched beside the rest of the greenland forces, an uneasy alliance forged from necessity. He was anxious this far from the smell of salt on the air, but trudged onward, need for revenge warming his blood even in the biting cold.
"Want to burn something down, think now is the time." he remarked to Benjen as his eyes went to Riley. "Otherwise send some longbows forward and we'll pepper them with flaming arrows until they come to us."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Sept 7, 2015 15:28:21 GMT -5
The cold winds blow as the scouts begin to return. The dead south of the river have formed a formation about fifteen thousand strong, little hint of Others or death knights available. The wide river and its tributaries are slowly freezing over, but patches of treacherous ice are everywhere. The marshy ground in the summer has become a sort of frozen bog in the early winter, and the sky is nearly always black with nightfall as the world tilts to form five or six hour days.
Word spreads that the scouts found Robyn Stark, and the full might of the kingdoms of Westeros is ready to be unleashed upon the dead men of the north and their mysterious leaders. Lines of spearmen and archers are assembling, and the few cavalry who can keep their horses healthy in the cold have massed as well. The red sorceress smiles to Killion. "My specialty." She waves her hand and the trio can see inside the thick cold wood, scanning over numberless dead faces, until Killion sees the awful half mermaid the Seer. "The only living thing in the army," she said. "Just her."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Sept 7, 2015 15:57:39 GMT -5
Benjen waved to the lines of bowmen, commanding them to fire flaming arrows down at the undead. "We need to watch the ice - let them come to us. They might be dead but they can't afford to have their whole army burnt."
He turned to Riley. "What can you do about her?"
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Post by The Forgotten God on Sept 7, 2015 16:28:23 GMT -5
"Watch as you all cut her to shreds?" she said. "I don't trust the Others' absence here. They've got magic beyond raising the dead I suspect."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Sept 7, 2015 16:44:11 GMT -5
"Well keep your eyes open," Benjen said to her. He looked markedly relived that Robyn had been found. "Ready yourselves, men!"
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