Quick Fix Game 13: Winter is Coming

[Amanuensis]

Sign ups will close on Tuesday, February 23rd, at 5PM EST

Everyone on Westeros has heard tales of the Long Night; a period of darkness that lasted a generation, when demons emerged from the nothern tundra, mounted on undead steeds from which they commanded an army of shambling corpses. For the sake of preserving existence, the First Men, the Children of the Forest and the arctic-dwelling Giants forged an uneasy alliance to combat the unholy invaders. Despite their disparities, the three races fought valiantly, dealing a critical blow to the White Walkers, forcing them to retreat. Victorious but fearing a second assault, the Alliance for the Dawn erected a seven hundred foot tall wall of ice that stretched from one edge of the continent to the other, to be defended and maintained by a clan of First Men known as the Night’s Watch in case a Long Night should ever come again.

Millennia have passed and once again the Night’s Watch has received reports of men rising from the grave and spirits made of snow haunting the land beyond the Wall. Wary of another Long Night, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch has allowed wildling refugees through his gates to augment his diminished, and somewhat complacent, forces. Along with a company of soldiers ordered to serve at the Wall by a faraway king, the free folk now live and work among the Sworn Brothers, each faction looking upon one another with distrust and prejudice. Tense and afraid, a few disloyal souls have begun meeting in secret, conspiring to sabotage this fragile union to seize control of Castle Black and save their own skins.

In the famous words of House Stark, Winter is Coming. Do you have what it takes to win? To survive?
 

Overview

This is your standard quick fix elimination game, each Cycle lasting for a total of 24 hours.Unlike most elimination games, this one bears a slight catch. Depending on the number of players who sign up there will be a limited number of Cycles until the Others invade. The culminating battle’s results will be determined by what roles have survived and which faction has won, or if neither has proven victorious, how far each faction has come.

Personal Messages in this game are limited to one outgoing PM per player. Once a cycle you can start a single PM with another player (must include the GM) entitled “QF13C1 Metacognition and Gamma” (replace italics with the relevant  cycle number and player’s names). Once that cycle ends that PM may not be used any longer, freeing you up to contact someone else. There is no limit to how many PMs you can receive, nor is there a limit to how many times you can start a PM with a single player.

Roles and alignment will not be revealed immediately upon death, but announced one cycle later, as the Maester needs time to examine the corpse and crime scene. As a result, dead players will not receive a link to the dead doc until their role and alignment is revealed, just in case they might be revived by a Red Priest.

This game is role madness, therefore every player will have an ability to exploit for the benefit of their faction. There will also be a single Neutral role in this write up that may or may not be in the game depending on things.

So without further ado:
 

The Roles:

Ranger: You are an ordinary Ranger, trained to scout and patrol the Haunted Forest beyond the Wall. Trained in stealth, you are able to track another player every cycle to learn the identity of the player they target

Builder: You are an ordinary Builder, responsible for maintaining the structural integrity of the Wall and Castle Black. You can fortify a single player’s chamber, granting them immunity from any actions used on them that Cycle.

Steward: You are an ordinary Steward, tasked with a variety of day-to-day services that provide you access to every chamber within the castle, allowing you to rummage through another player’s belongings and discover their role once per cycle.

Oldtown Acolyte: Before being sent to the wall, you studied at the Citadel to become a Maester. While there, you learned much of the medical arts, and thus are a proficient healer. Due to your expertise, you can heal a player who is Fatally Wounded or afflicted with Greyscale once a cycle

Red Priest: You are a devout worshipper of R’hllor, blessed by his Lordship with the divine gift of resurrection. Only once during the game you can perform the Last Kiss on a player who died the previous cycle (during the limbo period where their role and alignment are not revealed) and bring them back to life.

Giant-blooded: Somewhere within your lineage an ancestor mated with a Giant. You try not to wonder the implications of such a feat, but do not question it, for it has made you an especially sturdy individual. You will survive any attempt on your life, receiving a Fatal Wound instead.

Gold Cloak: Once you were a noble warrior, enforcing the Crown’s Law in King’s Landing. Now you are a shadow of your former self, defending the Wall while selling your skills to protect your Sworn Brothers. Every cycle you can choose to defend another player at night. If they are attacked, you save them from death, receiving a Fatal Wound in their stead.

Skinchanger: Born with the gift to influence the minds of men, you can manipulate another to do your bidding - but only once, for they will become resistant to your intrusions forever after. Every cycle you can change another player’s vote or the target of their action. Once a player is controlled they are immune to any further attempts of you using this ability.

Greenseer: Graced with greensight, you enter another world in your dreams where you can speak with spirits both new and old. As the Greenseer, you can commune with the dead (begin the game with access to the Dead Doc). If you die, you will be able to send a 10 character message to player of your choice once every cycle.

Shadowbinder: During your time in Asshai you dabbled in mysticism, learning to summon an entity of darkness capable of assassinating those you deem unworthy of living. Every cycle you cast a  vote for a player to the Pyre and they die, you can bring your shadow to life and kill another player of your choosing.

Stoneman: In your youth you contracted Greyscale but were cured before it could spread further than your hand. Though you conceal your deformity within a sterile gauntlet or glove, the disease still thrives beneath it, ready to infect another once every cycle.

Warg: Whether you hail from the North or from beyond the Wall, you came to Castle Black with a loyal companion, whose bond to you transcends that of ordinary mortals. As a Warg your fate is tied with a ferocious predator. If you are called to the pyre, you can command your beast to kill one player of those who voted for you. If you are attacked in the night, your beast will track down your murderer and attempt to avenge you, dealing a Fatal Wound.

Faceless Man: In the Free City of Braavos, you stripped yourself of your identity and became a servant of the Many-Faced God. It is your duty to bring the gift of death to all of Westeros. You have no interest in the conflict between the Faithful and the Traitorous men of the wall. Your only goal is to ensure the White Walkers succeed in overrunning the Wall and invading Westeros. You can choose to assassinate a single player every cycle disguised as another.

Conditions and Order of Actions

Fatal Wound: You have survived an attack. Unless healed by an Oldtown Acolyte you will die to your wounds next cycle.
Greyscale: You have contracted a terrible disease. Unless healed by an Oldtown Acolyte you will die two cycles from being  infected.

Builder + Skinchanger > Ranger + Steward + Red Priest + Oldtown Acolyte > Lynch + Stoneman + Shadowbinder + Traitor Kill + Faceless Man

Write ups:

 

Chapter One: Let It Be Written
Chapter Two: As High As Honor
Chapter Three: Fire and Blood
Chapter Four: Death Before Disgrace
Chapter Five: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken
Epilogue: A Taste of Glory

Edited November 5, 2016 by Alvron

[Amanuensis]

Player List:

1. TheMightyLopen: To B. Determined
2. Kynedath: Gaera Skor'Gaera
3. Curious Anamaximder: Maximum Starkness
4. Alvron: Joss Stilwood
5. Mailliw73: Maddox Magguns
6. Elbereth: Elba Flowers
7. IrulelikeSTINK: Reek, Reek, it rhymes with Geek
8. Mark IV: Maxicos the Cutter
9. Sart: Oswin Snow
10. Paranoid King: Baldo Buggins
11. Kipper: Kipper Pyke
12. JerleShannara: Noah Stone
13. ThatTinyStrawMan: He is a Stick
14. OrlokTsubodai: Orr Locke
15. Clanky: Caln Sand
16. DeathClutch19: Artemis Lannister
17. LUNA: Good Question

 

Questions & Answers:

 

Q: Can a builder protect themselves?

A: Yes

 

Q: Will the thread be told if someone has a fatal wound or Greyscale?

A: Neither Fatal Wounds or Greyscale will be announced in the write up when inflicted / afflicted. However if a player dies of one or the other it will be clarified

 

Q: The people who are afflicted with fatal wounds or greyscale will be informed of their condition, right?

A: Yes, if you receive a Fatal Wound or contract Greyscale you will be notified in a PM. It is then up to you to seek help.

 

Q: And, will we know when the cycles are stopping? Or is it a secret? 

A: It will be included in every write up, not necessarily spelled out as "Game ends on Cycle 12" for example, but will be discernible via the daily RP.

 

Q: Will dead people be given the alignments of players that are still alive?

A: No. Because of the Greenseer role, dead players will receive no extra information other than what they share with each other.

 

Q: If a ranger follows a faceless man, does the facelessness affect the result?

A: If a Ranger follows the Faceless Man, they will see him visiting whatever player he takes the face of and not the player they kill.

 

Q: Is there a special win condition for the faceless man, or does he just kill for the fun of it? 

A: The Faceless Man's win condition is for everyone else to die to the White Walkers (in other words ensure that neither the Loyalists or Traitors win).

 

 

Pregame Hot Fixes & Clarifications

 

• Cycles will be referred to as Chapters for this game.

 

• The Shadowbinder kill is no longer guaranteed. Action immunity granted by a Builder and the protection from a Gold Cloak will now negate the attack. Players with the passive ability Giant-Blooded will now survive accordingly.

 

• In order for a Builder's fortification to be effective their target must not leave their chambers, therefore any action their target attempts to make that Chapter will be canceled (votes still count).

 

• If a player is inactive (does not post, send a PM or use an action) during a Chapter without just reasoning (explaining to the thread in blue text why they will not be active) they will receive a Fatal Wound at the start of the next cycle. Unlike other Fatal Wounds this one will be announced in the thread.

 

• If a player with a Fatal Wound is healed once by an Oldtown Acolyte, they will not die the following cycle, however they will remain in a Wounded status. While Wounded a player will die the next time they receive a Fatal Wound, unless healed a second time (in which case they will be informed that they have been Fully Healed). If a player is healed by multiple Oldtown Acolytes simultaneously they will immediately returned to the Fully Healed status.

Edited February 23, 2016 by Adavantos

[TheMightyLopen]

I'll join!

 

Edit: Yes, I'm first on the player list! Woot! I'll think of a character and a name for them later.

Edited February 17, 2016 by TheMightyLopen

[Kynedath]

Gaera Skor'Gaera. A man from a far off island. Oddly tall and well-built. Has been here for 2 years. Only talks when directly spoken to (not actually my playing style, just for shoots and giggles(it's an inside joke)). Carries two long daggers and a hand-and-a-half sword.

 

Now, this may sound like blasphemy, but I have never actually read or seen Game of Thrones (I assume that this is game of thrones from the name westeros) so I have no idea what any of these references are. Nor any of the correct vernacular needed for literally any RP or mention of the plot.

 

What do you mean by visit for the ranger?

 

Can a builder protect themselves?

 

Will the thread be told if someone has a fatal wound or Greyscale?

 

What is your preference for the spelling of grey? (I'll assume for now that it is grey and not gray due to your usage)

Edited February 17, 2016 by Kynedath

[Curious Anamaximder]

Good job on the fast game!   I'll play as Maximum Starkness. 

[Amanuensis]

I'll join!

 

Edit: Yes, I'm first on the player list! Woot! I'll think of a character and a name for them later.

 

To B. Determined it is

 

 

Gaera Skor'Gaera. A man from a far off island. Oddly tall and well-built. Has been here for 2 years. Only talks when directly spoken to (not actually my playing style, just for shoots and giggles(it's an inside joke)). Carries two long daggers and a hand-and-a-half sword.

 

Now, this may sound like blasphemy, but I have never actually read or seen Game of Thrones (I assume that this is game of thrones from the name westeros) so I have no idea what any of these references are. Nor any of the correct vernacular needed for literally any RP or mention of the plot.

 

No worries. Given your character is from a far off island, I would just use his ignorance as a reason for why you know next-to-nothing about the setting. I would definitely recommend you at least watch the show (though the books are so much better, just slow coming) when you get the chance, though. Great series

 

 

What do you mean by visit for the ranger?

 

Can a builder protect themselves?

 

Will the thread be told if someone has a fatal wound or Greyscale?

 

What is your preference for the spelling of grey? (I'll assume for now that it is grey and not gray due to your usage)

 

Whoever that player targets. I will change the wording to clarify that.

 

Yes, a Builder can protect themselves.

 

Neither Fatal Wounds or Greyscale will be announced in the write up when inflicted / afflicted. However if a player dies of one or the other it will be clarified.

 

Personally, gray. But the books say Greyscale

 

Good job on the fast game!    I'll play as Maximum Starkness. 

 

Thanks it was mostly prewritten, just had to adjust it from an MR to a QF and alter a couple small things

Edited February 17, 2016 by Adavantos

[Alvron]

Joss Stilwood, former squire to Gregor Clegane has arrived at Castle Black.  Joss refuses to talk about why he was sent to the Wall but it is commonly believed that he still takes orders from The Mountain as well as Cersei Lannister.

Edited February 17, 2016 by Alvron

[Mailliw73]

Maddox Magguns is in!

[Elbereth]

I'll be signing up! This looks like fun.

Character name to come when I have a playstyle to go with it. No idea at the moment, but possibly Elba from MR10?

At least now I have motivation to finally read the rest of the books. I've had Clash of Kings on my shelves for ages.

[STINK]

Well as I was basically told to play... (Naturally its the only reason)

I'll join!

[Mark IV]

Okay, well, I think I'll be playing this game. Similar to Kyne, I'm not really familiar with GoT. So, ummm, please do excuse any discord between my RP and the Westeros landscape.

Maxicos The Cutter, an expert swordsman who loves risks will be joining. Err.... I mean he's already been there on the Wall for a long time, and will continue to be there. I'll just be looking through his eyes.

Also, a few questions:

The people who are afflicted with fatal wounds or greyscale will be informed of their condition, right?

And, will we know when the cycles are stopping? Or is it a secret?

Edited February 18, 2016 by Mark IV

[Amanuensis]

The people who are afflicted with fatal wounds or greyscale will be informed of their condition, right?

And, will we know when the cycles are stopping? Or is it a secret?

 

Yes, if you receive a Fatal Wound or contract Greyscale you will be notified in a PM. It is then up to you to seek help.

 

It will be included in every write up, not necessarily spelled out as "Game ends on Cycle 12" for example, but will be discernible via the daily RP.

[Kynedath]

Whoever that player targets. I will change the wording to clarify that.

 

Yes, a Builder can protect themselves.

 

Neither Fatal Wounds or Greyscale will be announced in the write up when inflicted / afflicted. However if a player dies of one or the other it will be clarified.

 

Personally, gray. But the books say Greyscale

 

Yes, if you receive a Fatal Wound or contract Greyscale you will be notified in a PM. It is then up to you to seek help.

 

It will be included in every write up, not necessarily spelled out as "Game ends on Cycle 12" for example, but will be discernible via the daily RP.

 

Isn't this what the Questions and Clarifications section is for?

[Sart]

Oswin Snow was a mean drunk, who killed a man in a fit of anger. He was sent to Castle Black, where he desperately tries to get more alcohol and ignore the coming threat.

[Paranoid King]

Baldo Buggins, a burglar for hire, is signing up. No experience yet, but he'll learn on the job. Rumored to wear an invisible ring.

[Arrae]

Unfortunately, I can't play or spectate this game.

 

Will dead people be given the alignments of players that are still alive?

[Amanuensis]

Will dead people be given the alignments of players that are still alive?

 

No. Because of the Greenseer role, dead players will receive no extra information other than what they share with each other.

 

Isn't this what the Questions and Clarifications section is for?

 

It has been updated.

[Mark IV]

If a ranger follows a faceless man, does the facelessness affect the result? Otherwise, how does one use the fact that "choose to assassinate a single player every cycle disguised as another.

(Emphasis mine)

And, another question -

Is there a special win condition for the faceless man, or does he just kill for the fun of it?

[Hellscythe]

I'd like to sign up to spectate if I could.

[Amanuensis]

If a ranger follows a faceless man, does the facelessness affect the result? Otherwise, how does one use the fact that "choose to assassinate a single player every cycle disguised as another.

(Emphasis mine)

And, another question -

Is there a special win condition for the faceless man, or does he just kill for the fun of it?

 

If a Ranger follows the Faceless Man, they will see him visiting whatever player he takes the face of and not the player they kill.

 

The Faceless Man's win condition is for everyone else to die to the White Walkers (in other words ensure that neither the Loyalists or Traitors win).

[Kynedath]

What if he dies a cycle or two before his win condition is fulfilled. Will that still count as a win for him?

[Amanuensis]

What if he dies a cycle or two before his win condition is fulfilled. Will that still count as a win for him?

 

Yes. Even if he dies C1, if all other players lose, he wins.

[Mark IV]

Could I be faceless?

[Amanuensis]

On 2/20/2016 at 5:00 AM, Mark IV said:

Could I be faceless?

No you'll be whatever role the random generator gives you xD.
 

---

Prologue to QF13: Winter is Coming

---

Before the sun had yet mounted the horizon, three Sworn Brothers, two Wildlings and a lone, southron Knight departed Castle Black, heading for the heart of the Haunted Forest.

Except for Marcas, Ollendir was not fond of his company this ranging. It was bad enough Lord Commander Bolton selected that lazy sod Wyllam for the mission, but a desert-born nobleman and a couple from beyond the wall? The thought disgusted him so completely he thought he might throw up.

To be fair, his curdling stomach could have been the cause of that cursed dish Ser Armen Dayne forced them all to break their fast on. The Knight ate a bowl of curry every meal as if it were the cure to coldness, but as far as Ollendir could tell all it did was singe his tastebuds senseless and melt his bowels molten. For a moment it took all the Sworn Brother’s concentration to hold the subsequent blaze within him. If not for the fact that he was severely outranked - as painful as that was for him to admit - he would demand the column halt so that he may relieve himself.

As soon as the blaze passed, Ollendir glanced over at Marcas, whose tense expression suggested he was experiencing the same sensation. Square jaw clenched tight and ordinarily pale skin as red as an apple, the Umber looked as if he were going to explode. As if he could feel the weight of Ollendir’s stare, Marcas turned his head sideways and locked eyes with his friend. At once their bellies both burst with laughter, each glad to see they weren’t the only one suffering, though a new worry, in the form of a hot wetness at their saddle, had blossomed.

Embarrassed, Marcas returned his gaze to the path ahead. As always, Ollendir was amazed that Marcas’ destrier could keep up with his own. While Ollendir was tiny and ferretlike, Marcas was more akin to an auroch. Apparently his size was common for those born of his house, whose coat of arms was a roaring giant. Ollendir had heard tales of Marcas’ ancestors mating with giants following the War for the Dawn, though how that was possible he could barely comprehend. Still, looking at his Sworn Brother - who was a full two years his junior yet nearly twice his height - it was hard to believe any other explanation.

When his uncle, the Lord of Oldcastle, had first told Ollendir he would be journeying to the Wall to join the Night’s Watch, he thought it a death sentence. In retrospect, it was an opportunity; not to die, but to live. Not once did he imagine he would meet Wargs or battle Wights. To learn the tales his wet nurse told him as a child were not pure fiction was both humbling and frightening, yet now that Ollendir knew the truth he would not have it any other way. Grumkins and snarks, on the other hand, were still nothing more than a myth. No one could vouch for their existence other than old Eldur, who was as crazy as Marcas was strong.

Suddenly the air grew colder and Ser Dayne signaled for the column to reduce its speed. A couple hundred feet ahead a solitary cabin stood, solemn and weary. Once this place had been known as Craster’s Keep, but after the owner’s death and the liberation of his daughters it had been made into an outpost for the First Ranger and his best warriors. Two moons ago all contact with them via raven had ceased, instigating the Lord Commander into sending a group to investigate.

Originally he was to be the senior man with Marcas his second before the southron Knight insisted he accompany them. Despite his blue blood, the Sword of the Morning seemed alright, though he was too haughty for Ollendir’s taste.

Other than the faint whistle of the wind and the moaning cabin the forest was utterly silent. At the edge of the clearing Ser Dayne dismounted his steed and tied its reins around a tree, his companions soon following suit.

Ollendir had heard enough recountings of the Others to recognize the signs that heralded their presence. The Dornishman seemed to notice the signs as well, for he did not hesitate to draw his ancestral greatsword from its sheath. Despite the night, the blade was shimmering and white, as if forged from crystallized starlight.

Njal, the male Wilding, couldn’t help but hoot at the sight of it. “Preddy sword ya got der, Ser Knigh,” he mumbled through the gap in his front teeth. “Nah da id’ll do ya any good agains da Odders, o’ course.”

Wyllam strained not to laugh at the Wildling’s horrid pronunciation, though Ser Dayne did not look the slightest bit amused. “Oh? Are you so certain? I reckon that if Valyrian steel can slay an Other then Dawn should have no trouble managing the same.”

This time there was laughter, though it was Hilegra, Njal’s lover and spearwife, not that dumb Whitehill. The Knight responded by tensing his sword arm, but not before Marcas stepped up between them, towering above them both.

“Quiet,” he hissed so harsh even Ser Dayne obeyed. Another arctic breeze stirred around them, rustling pine needles and sweeping the snow in the direction of the cabin. Marcas closed his eyes and cupped his hand at his ear, as if it would help him hear something besides the howling wind.

Ollendir focused all his effort on listening but all he heard was that moaning from before. It was then he realized the sound wasn’t the creaking of logs, but the whimpering of a man in pain. A sudden urgency to move, to help, then overwhelmed him. If not for his training he would have let it seize control, but instead he moved to Marcas’ side, hand finding the small of his back.

“A trap?” Ollendir asked, loud enough to be heard by his companions but soft enough to not be carried by the wind. Marcas nodded, though there was pain apparent in the gloss of his eyes. Trap or not, one of their Brothers was in that cabin, hanging onto life by a single, agonizing thread.

“Well?” Wyllam asked. “We just gonna sit here and let him die or do something about it?”

Ponce or not, Wyllam still knew what it meant to be a man of the Night’s Watch.

Marcas sighed, though it was not him who answered. “I’ll be the breacher,” Ser Dayne said, tone resolute. “If it is a trap, I am the most heavily armored, and therefore the most likely to survive. Let me take the initial blow.”

If not for the lingering scent of death Ollendir would have grinned at the offer. “You heard the Ser; Hilegra, Njal, take flanking positions beside the door. Wyllam, roost yourself in branches of one these trees and string your bow. Marcas and I will circle around the cabin to see if we can find a window looking in,” he paused, looking at each member of his party for confirmation. Not one challenged him. “Good. Let’s move.”

Ollendir glided across the snow, gaze focused on the farthest corner of the cabin but still wary of any movement in his peripherals. There was none. Besides Marcas and the Knight, whose weight made it impossible for them to not create some kind of noise as they moved, the world was silent as death. A faint whinny came from behind, likely from Wyllam’s horse as he stood on its back to reach the lowest branch of a massive, charcoal-colored tree. Though Ollendir reached the corner first he allowed Marcas to take a knee beside it and stood behind it. Clenching his tricep, the pair swung around, Marcas staying low and close to the wall, Ollendir moving far and standing tall. No enemies waited on the other side though they both caught a glimpse of a frosted window at the cabin’s center.

Ollendir fingered the dragonglass daggers at his hips as he moved closer to the window. Slower than before, Marcas followed him, his Valyrian steel war axe held by one arm, hanging across his back. Squinting, Ollendir peered into the cabin, its interior obscured by the ice and the darkness. He breathed hot air on it until the rime began to weep and wiped it away with heel of his hand.

The glass shattered, an arm drenched in crimson and draped in black bursting through it, clawing for the nape of Ollendir’s neck. Before it could grab hold and pull him close, Marcas shouted and shrugged his shoulders, using the momentum of his body to send his axe head skyward and the fulcrum of his arm to slam it back down, cleaving the bloody limb from its body. The creature did not so much as wail; neither did Ollendir whimper as he stumbled backwards onto his arse.

Meanwhile Ser Dayne crashed through the front door of the cabin, Dawn held before him, filling the foyer with a dim luminescence. Six Wights, eyes as bright and blue as the Wall at noon, stood beyond the portal waiting for him. Behind them he caught the glimpse of a man still living, chained in the center of the room, his hands and feet severed to stumps. The Knight only saw the man for a moment before the first Wight threw itself onto his sword, toppling him to the ground.

It took all of Marcas’ weight to dislodge his weapon from the thick lair of permafrost covering the earth. Noticing that the Wight’s arm was writhing in the snow, he stepped forward and, with a grimace, kicked it into the distance. “You alright, Olly?” Marcas asked, turning to his friend, only to find that he was gone and nothing but a dragonglass dagger and trail of flattened snow leading into the treeline remained.

Sliding down Dawn’s blade, the Wight’s skin smoked, limbs flailing, until its chest finally met the sword’s hilt and it died. Grinning stupidly, the southron Knight glanced at Njal who just shrugged as two more Wights forced themselves out through the doorway.

Howling, Hilegra drove her spear up into the second Wight’s exposed armpit and heaved it over her head, throwing its limp body several feet behind her. Whip now uncoiled, Njal lashed it around the third Wight’s neck and yanked it back, snapping two of its seven cervical vertebrae before it even hit the ground.

Axe at the ready and dragonglass dagger held in his off hand, Marcas barreled into the woods with reckless abandon, following the winding trail of displaced snow like it was the King’s Road.

Ser Dayne scrambled backward and tugged on his sword until it was free before rising to his feet and readying his stance for the last of the Wights that struggled to get outside at once.

Overhead three arrows with obsidian tips sliced the wind and buried themselves into the center of the remaining Wight’s foreheads. Dead center, bulls-eyes each. Amazed, Ser Dayne looked back at Wyllam to give him his thanks.

Wyllam yawned, unimpressed. When he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was Ser Dayne’s face contorted into an ugly grimace. Second, he saw something white and blue crouched beside him. Third, a veil of crimson. Last, absolute darkness.

The trail stopped in a small clearing. Ollendir was nowhere to be seen. Marcas paced a circle around it, eyeing the twisted branches and snowy canopy for his friend, for where whatever had grabbed him could have gone.

The Other jumped from the tree, its glowing, azure eyes warring with the Knight’s pale cerulean stare. Hilegra and Njal moved to join them, though Ser Dayne waved them off, urging them to check on the Sworn Brother in the cabin. With a flick of the wrist, the Dornishman spun his sword at his side, creating a shield of light that remained in the air until eventually fading away. Grinning, the Other swept one arm across the length of its other, ice coalescing into a jagged, razor sharp blade.

Marcas dodged right, feeling the aura of coldness radiating from the Other’s weapon before it ever reached him. Crouching low on one leg, the Umber spun left, swinging his Valyrian axe horizontal at the Other’s legs, but by then its body was already a white blur. By the Old Gods, these things are fast, he thought, realizing he could not win this battle by normal means. Resolute, the Sworn Brother dropped his trusty axe and tossed the dragonglass dagger into his strong hand.

Ser Dayne and the Other clashed, both unconcerned with blocking the other ones blow, both aiming to inflict a fatal wound. Where the Other’s ice sword touched the Knight’s armor it burned cold and turned brittle, but did not break. Dawn would have found the Other’s heart if it had not bladed it’s body at the last second, forcing Ser Dayne to dig it into his shoulder instead. Seeking an advantage, the Dornishman wrapped his left arm around the Other’s right and brought him close, driving his knee into the demon’s groin. Laughing, the Other headbutted him and threw the Knight back. Dawm freed, Ser Dayne noticed that the Other’s touch, scale-like skin steamed and melted around the hole the sword left behind.

This time Marcas did not dodge but spun around to meet the cold flash and the blade that accompanied it. The Other’s weapon collided with his boarish helmet, causing one half of it to shatter like glass on impact. Fearing nothing, the Umber leaped forward, the Other still being dragged by the velocity of its thrust. He hugged the monster to him, dragonglass dagger held at its spine, and fell forward with all his weight, a plume of snow scattering into the air as they landed on the ground together.

This time Ser Dayne was more careful and paried the Other’s every attack. Though it pressed the assault, the Knight knew he had the advantage. The demon was too focused on striking the same spot it did before, allowing the Sword of the Morning to maneuver it exactly where he wanted. A step or two more and he would “trip,” allowing the Other to finish the deed. Two steps later and he did indeed trip, though because he anticipated it, he shrimped his body onto its side and scissor kicked the Other’s legs, felling him to his knees then down onto his back.

“Ollendir!” Marcas screamed over and over as he searched the snow, ignoring the Other’s corpse lying a few feet behind him.

“For Wyllam!” Ser Dayne yelled, memorializing the name of the Sworn Brother who lost his life under the Knight’s watch as he squeezed the Other’s head between his bicep and gorget.

Moaning man slung across her back, Hilegra watched Ser Dayne wrestle with the demon on the ground, wanting nothing more than to laugh at sheer audacity of the scene, but the wound she took from the one armed Wight hiding inside the cabin tormenting her too much to allow it.

Nearby, Njal picked up the shimmering sword the Dornishman called Dawn. It really is a pretty sword, he thought, words sounding right so long as they stayed in his head. How easy it would be for him to drive it through both the Knight and the Other right then, to lie and say that the man died fighting the demon. The only witness would be Hilegra, his spearwife, whom was guiltier of worse crimes than killing a kneeler.

Though the Other seemed to weaken beneath him it was nowhere near death. “Quickly! Hand me my sword!” Ser Dayne demanded of Njal whom he now saw beside him, wielding the blade. The wildling seemed to be considering something. Sensing his end, the Other struggled harder, forcing the Knight to double his efforts to keep him pinned, though his eyes never left the wildling. Njal looked up suddenly, then, noticing someone approaching from the treeline, shrugged. Taking a knee, the wildling slid Dawn into the Other’s chest menacingly slow until eventually its life left it.

Sighing, Ser Dayne let go of the corpse and stood, lifting Dawn gently, holding it reverently. “Thank you,” the Knight said, understand that the wildling - no, the Free Man - could have killed him easily then. Njal grinned a toothless grin before stepping up to his spearwife and kissing her on the cheek.

Marcas approached her now too to look at the face of the man slung across her back. “The Old Gods be good, First Ranger Cassel still breaths. What of the others?” he asked.

“Eight of them, yeah?” Hilegra asked. Marcas nodded. “All dead.”

“Wyllam too,” Ser Dayne added. Marcas frowned.

“Ollendir… is gone. Nowhere to be found. I think the Others took him.” Ser Dayne stepped beside him and patted his back reassuringly.

“We should go before the chill returns. We have the First Ranger, as ordered. Our mission is complete.” The Umber hesitated to agree even though he knew the Knight was right.

“Fine. Then let’s saddle up, lady and gents. It’s a long road back to Castle Black.”

Edited November 5, 2016 by Alvron

[Alvron]

No you'll be whatever role the random generator gives you xD.

Want to use my random generator?  I promise it's only a little rigged.