Absurdity is Coming
This is an AAR I will be updating, and a Stark one at that. In case you want to see what is going on around the world, I have unfogged for the screenshots. And so it begins.
WinterSpringtimeCrabapplesAbsurdity is Coming
Robb walked the halls of Moat Cailin with his mother, Catelyn, as well as the Steward. The sky is a thick dull grey, and the air is musty and humid. The sun is rising, and the halls are empty, the silence engulfing as Robb pauses in their near whispered conversation.
Robb: "I'm sorry, Greg, that you should miss out on the festivities, but you know how important this is,"
Greg: "I understand, m'lord, after all I will soon see the day when I may dance in Kings Landing or the Rock!"
Robb: "That's the spirit! Anyways, back to bussiness. I have great need of Roose Bolton. We need to finalize the battle plans, before we enter enemy territory. And I also should find the GreatJon, he may be needed."
Greg: "Umm...m'lord, Lord Umber's chambers are right here, but this might not be the be-"
Robb pounds on the door. A red-eyed Jon throws open the door
Jon Umber: "You! Young Wolf! I'm seein children u ther for'st here....ther 'n me socks! Bite 'em, bite 'em!"
Jon starts beating the wall, and Robb closes the door slowly, before slipping away down the hall.
Robb: "And what just happened?"
Greg:"The Karstarks, m'lord, they've been tampering with the punch, I swear to it."
Robb: "And now I know that my bannermen have been busy tampering with each others beverages instead of planning. Just what I needed. Please make a note to never let Karstark near the beverages again, though. Also, where is Roose?"
Greg: "The Raven Tower, so I hear."
Robb: "Really? Usually he lurks in the party, and makes a killing off the drunkards; you should see him at the Summer parties and feastings! If it weren't for this news, I'd have voted Roose as the culprit of Umbers drinks, perhaps." Robb chuckles
Greg:" Quite so, m'lord. Also, here we are at the ravens, m'lord. Should I call him down?"
Robb: "No, I'll do it. You two stay here, these plans I have cannot be spoken to anyone, so guard the stairwell."
Catelyn started to protest, but Robb went up the stairs anyways, closing the door behind him. After silently ascending the stone stairs, Robb peers in as Bolton narrates a letter to his scribe to be sent.
Roose: "And tell Tee-Tee that his sideburns burn with the radiance of the sun, and his eyes are like an endless sea. And that when I see the South soon enough, that we might finally be together. And then 'Yours only, Roosey'. And make sure to get the hearts just right above the 'Yours', or expect to have a few inches less of skin by the morrow."
Roose's voice has an emotional tone, and his face is filled with color.
Bolton peers up at Robb and jumps in surprise, his face draining back to pale white.
Robb: "Lord Bolton, the plans....?"
Roose: "Eergh, yes, the plans...."
Robb: "So you will cover my rear with a smaller force of spearmen, and I will be focusing all our forces into a larger army to confront Tywin directly. Once at the Twins, you will be recruiting a second army to hold the Riverlands. Umber will be dealing with Flints and Barrowtown, and Cassel with the Northerners, and, when done, should be sending us reinforcements. Are you good with that?"
Roose, with a voice cold as ice: "Yes, lord. it should do."
The party set out soon enough, and each went their own ways. Robb tried his best to forget that night at Moat Cailin, and decided to not go planning after their next Stark Rave Break. Barrowtown fell easily enough to Umber, and Domeric Cerwyn the Uncertain joined Bran Stark the Cripple in Denial as Castellan of Winterfell.
LittleFinger: "And now for the International segment of Westeros Today. The King on the Iron Throne was surprised today, as Renly Baratheon declared himself King of Westeros! What do you think of that, Varys?"
Varys: "Oh, another day, another king. It's quite ridiculous, really."
Petyr: "So true, so true. Anyways, now to Illyrio with the weather, right after this commercial break, followed by the Brynden Tully showing his new book "Fish out of Water on the View."
Meanwhile, at the Twins.
Robb: "Surrender, damn it! You can't win, Walder!"
Walder: "If you're so confident, why don't you just storm us now?!"
Robb: "Yeah, that's why the ram is at the door. It's sort of for storming."
Walder: "Oohhhhh."
Robb killed only Walder and his troops, and that night stayed at the Twins to rest. But as he entered the dining hall, a new menace awaited. Spoiler for length
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
And so the Freys discovered the downsides of musical theatre, and Robb began to get peircing headaches from severe annoyance.
Then, at the Twins, a gathering of generals, with Roose and Robb planning the upcoming invasion.
Catelyn: "According to the news reports, Sandor and Gregor Cleglane are assauting Harrenhal. Or were, until Sandor flipped Gregor off, and the Blackfish came in and called them all very obscene things. Gregor had his feelings hurt and retreated, but Sandor besiged Harrenhal until Brynden sortied and broke much of his army. In the ensuing chaos, Brynden hit on Sandor, and Sandor was following him back to the Keep, until a new force showed up. Sansans, they are called. Rabid fans who were so incensed that the Hound would take another beside the underaged girl they have chosen for him, that they tore apart Sandors host before his battering ram entered the portcullis."
Robb: "Wait...that last line....who wrote this report?"
Catelyn: "Brynden."
Roose: "Anyways, I was thinking...maybe I could join in the Westerlands invasion?"
Robb: "No. We discussed this already."
Roose: "But there is someone I have to meet there."
Robb: "I said No. Did you hear me?"
Roose: "Ungrateful little..."
Robb: "What was that?"
Roose: "Nothing, my lord"
Robb: "ANYWAYS....I have news from the North. Your bastard, who appears to have fortified the Dreadfort, is under seige by Cassel, and Umber is returning to Cailin for reinforcements to beat the rebels of Flint."
Roose: "Just tell Cassel not to go in my bedroom. Or the dungeons. I don't like people touching my stuff."
Robb: "Very well then, I'll send a raven. However, I have a mission for you, Roose. Take Fairmarket; the Twins should have plenty of knights willing to follow you, and that town is essential in the long run."
Roose, of course, swept into Fairmarket like nipples on a breastplate. I mean, he did it well. Robb, meanwhile, assaults Golden Tooth, as Tommen the Heir assaults Harrenhall. Time is of the essence.
However, Robb found a surprise waiting at Golden Tooth
Robb, outside the walls: "What do you mean, 'No one's here'?!"
Jaime: "Well, we didn't think you'd actually have the balls to do it, little wolf...and, well, I sort of lost my army..."
Robb: "What? Wait, you lost your army?"
Jaime: "Okay, I make rash decisions, all right! It looked good at the time. After all, who could lose a bet to a septon?!"
Robb: "You lost it to a septon?"
Jaime: "How was I supposed to know he knew how to gamble? Anyways, what was the risk? Just look at your Oldtown picture; you look like a woman in her prime! I can see why the Northerners love you; they might think themselves suitor to the Princess of Winterfell!"
Robb: "And did you check your own picture? You look more womanly than your sister; you truly are mirror images, just as they say!"
Jaime, skulking: "Well, lets see about that! See how womanly I am when you die beneath my gate!"
Him and all of 15 drunken bodyguards.
And so the Young Wolf took no casualties, Cersei entered mourning, and a a random bodyguard of Renly felt a disturbance in the force.
Well, I will complete the epic saga tommorrow, or at least the first episode!
I apologize in that, writing this at night, this is not exactly my best writing, but I hope to improve tomorrow, and I have plenty more to write at that
Baelish: "And now for today's international segment for Westeros Today. It would appear that Dorne has actually used this conflict to push into the Stormlands and the Reach, and appear to be supporting Joffrey as King, at least as an ally in fighting the latest king, Renly Baratheon. Meanwhile, Tommen the Innocent has been featured in a Kings Landing Press Conference as having taken Harrenhal. However, despite all this news, Renly and a certain Lord Dondarrion have begun an assault on Kings Landing itself, with his brother Stannis attacking Rosby. Certainly is a bloody time for the Southeast, don't you think, Illyrio?"
Illyrio: "Definately, Petyr, so if you're a peasant South of the Saltpans, prepare for a 70% chance of raining gore, with a 30% of fires. In more cheerful news, over to Varys with the Celebrity Corner."
Varys: "In pop culture news, that cheerful little Imp who we love to hate, and was the inspiration for the movie "Royal Dwarf: A Comedy of Kinslaying", has been free by the Arryns and returned to Kings Landing. We'll be right back with the View after this break, where you can see Davos Seaworth promote his new feelgood family title "The Onion Ship", premiering with mummers in four days. Stay tuned!"
Meanwhile, in the more serious conference in the Golden Tooth.
Robb: "So Jon Umber has taken Flint's...and reminds us to brush our teeth?"
Catelyn: "The steward with him sent a message asking if we may never send them back to Moat Cailin, and that Jon has acquired the entire punch bowl when they returned for reinforcements..."
Robb: "The Others take that bloody Karstark! Anyways, focusing on the Westerlands: We have reports of Loras the Chivalrous assautng the Hornvale, and that Lord Tywin's host has retreated from the mountain passes, and is flaning Loras, along with Safford, and that only a green captain with a sizable force is stationed to bottle us in. I think we should try and destroy this Lannister host peice by peice."
Roose: "Nah, I say go for Caterly Rock. Let me come in and reinforce Golden, and head for the jugular."
Robb: "But there's a problem with that...it would appear that you are needed rather in the Twins. And Arryn host has been spotted wandering far too close."
Roose: "Arryns...if they attack, I will leave none alive."
Roose, whispering: "They try to seperate me from Tee-Tee...they will all die"
Robb: "What was that? Can you speak louder?"
Roose: "Nothing, my liege. Anyways, how are the diplomats to the Reach and Ironborn going?"
Robb: "Trade Rights only so far, but that may change soon."
Meanwhile, at the Dreadfort.
Ramsay Snow: "How are our supplies, Reek?"
Reek: "None left. Just another month, and we'll be out. And further more, we have run out of peasants to flay...and we have resorted to throwing confetti at the wolves, hoping they wouldn't notice the difference" Reek turned his eyes down in shame
Ramsay: "Then it is time to ride out. But don't burn the camp...we shall read all of their diaries! A flayed man has no secrets! Mwahahaha!"
Reek: "Isn't that going a little far? Skinning is okay, but that's just plain invasive!"
Ramsay: "Quiet you."
And so Ramsay led out his forces against Cassel.
Ramsay Snow led his large cavalry force, directly into the spearwall. He himself rounded the flank, charging the heavy infantry, but soon Cassel himself burst from the wood, screaming "For Narnia!"
The two fought atop the summer snows, and soon the infantry surrounded Ramsay. But he simply charged forward, until he remained the only one left of his retinue. In a final charge, he went screaming into the mosh, soon to find himself face to face with Cassel. Their swords flew through the chilly air, blades sharp as the cold. Ramsay lunged wildly, ravenous for blood, but Rodrick parried, and, calm as the blue sky above, he sent his sword through a gap in Ramsay's armor, sending the man off his horse. The blade has peirced his throat, and he gasped for air, but only the burning of his own blood filled his lungs. The natural instincts left him gurgling, desperate, drowning in his own blood as he lost conciousness, the snow staining crimson as he lay face-first upon the ground, overwhelmed with the greatest pain he had ever felt, followed by the greatest weakness as his life drained into the cold air. Soon he was gone.
But, as he felt himself go, he thought one more thought, a strange, meaningless thought.
"Let's think of all the things that rhyme with Reek. Leek. Creak. Sheik. Meek. Beak. Leak. Weak." And as he thought the last word, weakness overwhelmed him, and he simply felt cold.
Meanwhile, on the Iron Islands, Theon Greyjoy decided to sleep in after he had the weirdest dream about rhyming. How queer.
Meanwhile, at the Reach:
Mace Tyrell: "So an alliance to bring down the lion and the false stag? I'm in."
Robb: "Excellent. And, with Edmure Tully assaulting the Banfort, I think we should be able to concentrate our efforts without worrying on raiding."
Mace: "The Floppy Fish? I can't wait to hear what comes from this one." Mace chuckles. "And in the East, you should know, things are as chaotic as usual. We shouldn't be seeing much trouble from them."
Robb: "You know what? Mace, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
More coming soon. Very soon, hopefully
Meanwhile, at an emergency Stark Council
Robb: "So, with the Lannisters amassing around the Hornvale, and Loras pushed back, I think we should meet them up front and beat the Lannister host in a pitched battle."
Roose: "Sir...who exactly leads the Lannister forces?"
Robb: "Tywin has gone to defend Crakehall, while Kevan and Gregor defend the Hornvale, and Safford Lannister moves South but is nearby."
Roose's lip curles into the ghost of a smile
Robb: "In any case, it's this letter here from Umber that worries me. According to Jon, he is celebrating Karstark's reinforcements by heading out to see and fight the sealions...by the gods, will someone just please get those two away from each other?!"
Robb slumps over the parchment, as his headaches start to worsen.
Robb: "Well, anyways, I'm sending you, Roose, to Harrenhall. The Arryns have retreated back to the Saltpans with no conflict, and the Lannisters are too busy fighting around Kings Landing and Felwood against Renly to propery garrison Harrenhall anymore, by my reckon. And, with such a key defensive position..."
Bolton's phantom smile disintegrates, and a gleam of annoyance enters his eye.
Roose: "Yes, my lord. But remember, I can always go West if need be..."
Robb, unamused : "I'll consider it."
Catelyn enters the room.
Catelyn: "A Dornish envoy his here to speak with you...and perhaps even give support to your cause."
Robb: "Send him in."
Roose begins humming 'A Dornishman's Wife"
Robb, glaring: "Stop that"
A Dornish envoy, dressed in fullMoorishdesert attire enters the councilroom.
Envoy: "Well, I hear you've been driving lions from the West, no? Well, Dorne is also in need of assistance...with Tumbleton so sexily ours, I am afraid that the fool boy Joffrey might demand a return to our old holdings...and I'm afraid we find these new lands....delicious."
Dornish envoy bites an apple very slowly and dramatically, draping his flowing cloak over the table, before laying down on top of Robb's plans, lounging while still slowly eating the apple.
Robb: "The contested lands and Stormlands are hardly friends of ours, nor the false stag. I see no reason why we should not work together. However, I would kindly ask you to stop laying on my plans, though."
Envoy: "The Red Viper gets off of no man's paperwork unless he wills it."
Roose: "Then perhaps the Red Viper would will it, and get off before spilling ink."
Oberyn Martell: "The Red Viper FEARS NO MAN'S INK" He flailed on the table on his back, angry but still managing to enter a pose dramatically.
Roose: "And if the Red Viper's expensive clothing gets stained?"
Oberyn: "...I see." He nonchalantly slides off the table, and, in a single fluid movement, drapes himself over Catelyn, who is now looking very startled.
Oberyn: "So, I know that the brute, Gregor Cleglane, who raped and killed Elia of Dorne and her children, is under Lannister pay once again. And I know he is in these very mountains of the Westerlands, leading a sizeable force at the Hornvale. The lions seek to hide him from the Sun, and while he is far too distant for any Dornishman to kill, I seek to help you and your cause against him, and his cruel lord, Tywin. The Mad King Joffrey will not long watch me declare open alliance with you, so it falls to you to deal with these savages yourself. But, with this alliance, no lion can hope to match the allied banner, one not seen for centuries: The Flaming Vegetable Wolf, bearing a Trout with a spear in it's mouth! So long has this banner remained unsung and unflown!"
Roose (quietly): "And with good reason. It's nearly as bad as the Tentacled Elk-Bat of old. Bloody ridiculous."
Oberyn gives him a deathly glare.
Oberyn: "I see the Flayed man grows sassier than ever before. Perhaps, once this meeting is over you'd care to see what the Red Viper does to insolent sassymen?!"
Roose: "Sorry, I'm taken."
Oberyn grows red and furious.
Robb: "Catelyn, please have Roose face the wall for the rest of the meeting. Far too valuable, but far too outspoken, and I frankly have had enough of this stupidity. After reading Umber's letter, I've lost my patience for the day."
Roose looks sullen and irritated, but is really rather pleased with himself, as he faces the wall's joint, silent.
Robb: "ANYWAYS, I think we should finalize this alliance. Are you ready to enter this solid agreement?"
Oberyn: "Only on this last condition, one final condition. When you kill the Mountain that insults the Red Viper, kindly whisper one last line to him. Tell him, 'I have been sent by Oberyn Martell. You killed Elia of Dorne. Prepare to die.' I must have my revenge."
Robb: "Done."
That week, Robb rode out from the Golden Tooth with his army, leaving behind a newly recruited but sizeable garrison to keep the Tooth while he set his sights on the Hornvale. Robb felt anxious, but confident; he had yet to lose a battle, and he felt near certain that he might break the forces of the Horn in Battle, and crush the lions. He remembered Roose giving him one last, irritated look after Robb had refused to ride for Casterly, or allow Bolton to, but he had sensed a resentful respect as the man rode to take Harrenhall. The start of autumn was upon them, and the first few fallen leafs shimmered in the Western air. Red and gold, they were blown into the air, dancing against the grey sky and white clouds of the dreary day. It was not long before he had encountered the first Lannister force, but Robb's army was too tired to fight. Looking at his position, he set up camp on the mountain shelf, preparing for a possible assault. He knew more were on the way, and that the lions would not let him remain. He poured over his maps, scribbling with maester's ink and making notes, as he prepared his plans. And then Catelyn entered the tent, solemn-faced, bearing a raven's note.
Robb: "Dark wings, dark words."
Catelyn: "Quite. The enemy has sent a sizable force from the Rock, and they assault the Golden Tooth as we speak. We can only pray that the men can hold it, or the progress we've made will be lost."
Robb: "Don't worry too much. Once their forces are bled, walking into the Tooth will be an easy feat, win or lose."
Catelyn didn't look so convinced, but left the tent to go send Jon Snow more hate mail; unfortunately for him, Catelyn secret hatred of scribes was all too evident nowadays.
Meanwhile, at the Golden Tooth, Captain Galbart stands atop the battlements, looking upon the host of the besieging Lannisters. On the distant hills, he sees men in red and gold scurrying about, constructing nearly completed machines of wood and steel. 'You think they would dress in something other than red and gold,' Galbert thought, 'they might as well be holding up little signs while shouting 'Look at me! I'm trying to be clandestine!' of course, on the other hand, white and grey do stain awfully bad.' Seargant Pocklemeister runs across the stone walls to him, shouting for his attention.
Pock: "Galb! The second Lannister force has retreated! We should be well off against these fighters outside are walls, and the men are ready, sir."
Galbert: "Good, good, I think they are ready as well. Time is of the essence for them, unless a second army should arrive and drive them back. They need to deny Lord Robb a refuge before the battle. Be on your guard."
Pock: "Yes sir. Also, there is offerings of parlay by the enemy."
Galbert: "Who sends it to us?"
Pock: "His name is stated as Tion of the Lannsiters."
Galbert: "Never heard of him. A vicious foe and conqueror, undoubtedly. I shall ride out now to meet him, and see for myself. But beware Lannister treachery; if I fall, it is up to you."
Galbert donned his helm and walked, to the portcullis, waiting as the gates mechanically opened, spilling in light to the dark passage. They had a lacking of horses here, so he went by foot, leading his men as an equal, on equal ground. He saw the Lannister forces on horse, but lightly armored, only hedge knights. They stopped, facing each other, and Galbert stepped forward. A hedge knight trotted forward from the rest as well. Both men, after an akward silence of only the cool breeze, removed their helms.
Galbert: "So I take it you are Captain Tion?"
Tion: "Aye, that's me. I have come bearing options of surrender. Are you wolves willing to negotiate?"
Galbert: "My Lord Robb Stark gave me this post himself. I'm sure you understand that I cannot leave it."
Tion: "Is your lord so kind that you'd die for him? Is honor worth a beautiful life, as death is hardly a cheery prospect. Even a green hedge knight as myself can see that."
Galbert: "No, this is more than that, more than honor. You see, it was the action of giving it to me himself that I meant to emphasize. You see, that sort of ruler is a step forward from the old ways. His willingness to cross social borders like that, it really calls to me. It is men like Robb and Edmure that ultimately might be willing to put aside years of opression. You see, I have been doing some thinking, and I have some concepts on parchment he might want to see."
Tion: "What knight fights for a scrap of paper?!"
Galbert: "You see, this is no ordinary piece of paper, but a Declaration of the Basis of Government, and the Requirments of Self Governing Bodies. I like to call it BOGATROSGB for short. Once Robb reads this baby, I can see it now....kings with limited power working with multi-class governing bodies composed of nobles and prominent smallfolk, as well as basic human rights for all men. It will be a shining utopia of a new era."
Tion: "That's bloody ridiculous! You have to think of the social structure!"
Galbert: "I know, I know, but I feel that possible long term shifts may be allowed by creating basic limits on governmental power!"
Tion: "But we all know that human nature and entropy will naturally eat away at such a disorganized structure. Centralization is the key, not breaking up power!"
Galbert: "Now there is where I disagree with you...you see, I think tha-"
A metal clanging occurs as one of the Lannsiter horseman falls off his horse onto the ground, and jolts awake.
Tion: "Well, I think we are boring the guardsmen...how about after the battle, 6:00 in the keep either way?"
Galbert: "Deal. I have some magnificent economic theories as well, though, if you don't mind."
The two captains gallop back to their forces, having achieved nothing, but feeling very good about themselves.
That afternoon, Tion sent his men off to take the Golden Horn by force. Galbert, looked sad as the Lannister forces of good Tion attacked.
Galbert, to himself: "Well, at least my lords take this seriously. If they can endure such meaningless bloodshed with a stern face, and live on knowing that this very second men loyal to them are spilling other's blood for their sake, than so may I. Right now, I can feel their mourning tears raining down, and so I understand at last true leadership. "
Meanwhile, in Fairmarket
Bolton: "Thats 3 XXX diagonally. Tic. Tac. Toe. I win."
His bodyguard Garold, a minor lord: "SO UNFAIR! Thats totally cheating, you beat me 28 times now in a ROW! Why are you so mean?!"
Garold bursts into tears
Bolton: "Oh come now. You've had a bad day, why not just say so? Come on, I'll give you a hug."
Bolton hugs the weeping guard.
Garold: "Thank you m'lord...I just get so worked up when I lose at things like this..."
Bolton: "Don't worry. Nothing will leave this tent about it. Including from you, or you die a retched painful death, am I clear?"
Anyways...Back at the Tooth
Understanding his importance in the grand strategy of his nation, and eagor to hear more, Galbert sent his forces in a head on assault.
Galbert's military competence won the day with a heroic victory, but sadly captain Tion was killed trying to rush the keep at the end of the battle. His last words to the army was "Don't worry it's completely alright; Galbert said it was okay." Well, before he was stabbed and shot to death by 500 angry garrison troops. This was a terrible tarnish on his otherwise perfect day,
Galbert, unaware of all this, was drunk on the glory of a complete and utter victory. He jumped atop the gatehouse, parchments in hand, and shouted something inspiring that no one really cared to listen to. The other troops of the castle were rather annoyed when he refused to stop blathering on about some gibberish he wrote. Destroying the enemy utterly never excuses blathering.
Meanwhile, at the Hornvale, Robb Stark sits with his friend and bodyguard, Morian Norrey, as the sit outside the walls.
Morian: "Lord, is besieging them a good idea? They have assembled a mighty force not so far..."
Robb: "And Tywin means to join them. By doing this, we can draw them into attacking us, while we have the advantage of being so far uphill, and Tywin is stuck trying to reach us. Anyways, I just got a raven from...uhhh...whats-his-name....starts with a G...guarding the Tooth..."
Morian: "Greg?"
Robb: "Nah, Greg I sent to watch Umber."
Morain: "George was it? I keep calling up the name Martin too, was that him?"
Robb: "Whoever he was, he sent me a letter telling me he had won the Battle of the Tooth against some hedge knight, and that he has something important to show me. Ah well, I'll see it soon enough."
That morning, the Lannister forces marched, gold shining brilliantly in the sun. As Robb saw them down below in the valley, a red sea, he began to dawn his armor.
Robb: "Who are you, that I must bow so low?"
Only a cat of different coat
That's all the truth he knew.
In a coat of gold and a coat of red,
the lion still has claws,
but his were long and sharp, my lord,
as long and sharp as yours.
And so began the Battle of the Hornvale, and the start of the real war.
As the Lannisters approached, 2 armies full, lead by Ser Gregor and Ser Kevan, Robb prepares his troops.
Robb: "What do you mean, 'I can't deploy on that ridge' ?! Why can't I?! It's right there!"
Morian: "Well, sir, the men refuse to cross the line."
Robb: "Why not? It's just a line in the grass!"
Morian: "It's just how it works, sir."
Robb: "So I can deploy where? The line goes right up to the mountains, where am I supposed to put everyone?"
Morian: "Well, there's two small inlets."
Robb: "So I have 2 small inlets, 1 of which has a semi-open flank and the other is far too small to even fit everyone in...because people won't just cross the line and get ready on that absolutely perfect position there" Robb points to what seems to be the ideal position.
Morian: "Pretty much."
Robb: "Well, Others take your lines! This is just idiotic! Who thought of this?"
Morian: "You aren't alone in that, sir. The truth is that I also gotten the short end of the stick of ridiculousness. I'm too ashamed to tell anybody...but look at this sword."
Morian draws out his sword, which gleams white as snow and winter, and appears to be Valyrian.
Robb: "That's quite an awe inspiring blade there, one of legends. Is it really Valyrian?"
Morian: "Simply well disguised steal, back when my family bought it from a con artist before the Doom. Hardly spell-forged, but excellent quality steal nonetheless, and good looking."
Robb: "Hardly the short end of the stick! Wait...what's that on the pommel?"
Robb looks closer at the hilt, and distinguishes a puppy playing with a butterfly in the snow, beneath a rainbow.
Morian: "That's the thing...my blade is the ever fearsome Slushpuppy of House Dorian. Reforged from Cuddlebunny, the fake Valyrian blade the King in the North sent House Umber as a practical joke."
Robb: "Oh. Well, perhaps you can bring some honor to the blade. No man will laugh at Slushpuppy, The LionBane, Destroyer of Kings!"
Shouts rise up from the deployed Stark army as the Lannisters march into the plain of battle.
The Lannisters charge towards the inlet, ready for blood and outnumbering their foes. Out of the second inlet rushes half of Robb's cavalry, setting off for the Lannister flank. The knights and scouts skirt the Lannister forces, and attack Kevan's trebuchets. The Gilded Brother himself leads the Lannister hedge knights, as the forces charge each other. Kevan's shining armor reflected off the hot sun, sending an unmistakable yellow gleam that Robb noted. The Mountain, a massive black shadow, charged with the heavy and light cavalrys into Robb's pike wall, followed by the combined forces of their huge infantry contingents. The longspears thrust at him, making deep scratches in his heavy plate with the sound of a wailing animal, but they never peirce it; his broadsword slashes men and sends them flying like leaves in the wind. Robb, seeing the cavalry distracted, leads the rest of the cavalry through the protected passage on their flank, and lowers his lance as he runs through the massive crowds of longbowmen. The air is alive with screams and the whir of arrows as the forces wade through a chaotic mesh of spears, swords, and raining arrows. Hedge knights returning from his captured cavalry return, to be cut down by his knights. Kevan himself charges into the fray, raising his golden sword high. The hill is steep, a sheet of loose gravel help together by some loose vegetation, with towering granite slabs casting a dark shadow over the battle. Robb returns to his lines as spearmen go back to ward them off. Shouting orders to his horn-blower ('tis a common form of battle communication), Robb turned his eyes back down the slope, and sees The Mountain and his guardsmen, all exposed to the end of the line. Robb lowers his lance, and charges, Morian beside him. He launches towards Gregor, sending his lance screeching into the Mountain's backplate. The lance shreds through his saddle harnesses, and clips into some of the armor joints, tearing into the lighter armor and sending the huge plates into disarray. Gregor swings in response, but Robb is already gone, and the massive blade sings through empty air. Morian swings sideways, sending Slushpuppy into an arc, and the steel screams on his armor, and the guard dances his horse away, as the end of Gregor's blade ripped through his sheild, sending splinters into the air and taking off a corner. Robb and his guard head off for a second sortie, as Gregor's former oppenents snapped back into his focus. Morian shouted as they passed beneath the hill "The Mountain is hardly a knight; look as he sits in the pool of battle, just standing there slashing, himself a rock, treating his horse as a pedestal instead of a steed! I'll bet though that the rocks around us have better brains than that one does! What do you have to say, Gregor, or do you have the words to even speak with?"
Gregor shouts something of a snarling roar, and something sounding remarkably like "Mountain SMASH little man".
Robb, riding back up the hill to take control again shouts "Can you speak in first person, ser, or what?"
Gregor's reply of something between a snarl and something about ham and bread.
The battle raged on, troops in the pit exhausted on all sides, and the corpses piling up.
On Robb's second charge down, he and Morian once again struck the Mountain, now with but 8 guards and still in his spot. The guards all in battle, Robb sent his lance into The Mountain's side this time, tearing into the gap between the plate before shattering, leaving a splintered mess behind his backplate, and tearing apart his connective peices. His armor now lopsided and his stallion exhausted beneath it's heavy plate, the 3 men fought, Robb and Morian lunging and ducking away on fresh steeds, dodging the unmoving Mountain's blade and tearing at whichever spot they could. "Mountain...KILLL...Not....Stuupid"
Morian: "Then speak right, or die a fool!"
Robb then retreated once again, as the last of the Lannister's untouched spearmen charged him.
In one final charge, Robb killed the last of the Mountain's guards, but he still remained. Fleeing from a wearied lot of spearmen, however, Robb was seperated from his guard, and soon found himself face to face with the Mountain.
Robb, looking at the hulk of a man, then charged, using the force to send his sword into the neck of the exhausted equine.
Stallion, in Dothraki: "Why do we always die? I never asked for this! First Fred at the Tourney, and now this?!". Unfortunately, Robb had little knowledge of the Stallion's Narnian origins.
The Mountain fell to the ground under his horse, and pushed the heavily armored carcass off of him, and reaching out and grabbed Robb's armored leg, ripping him off his steed. Robb sent his blade into the Mountain's inner elbow, finally slashing into the strained tendon, breaking the grip as he fell to the ground. Gregor went over to his horse, heaving his broadsword out, as Robb rushed him. Seeing his peril, Gregor took his right arm off and smashed Robb. The force sent Robb's blade, formerly destined for the exposed gut, instead into his armpit. As Robb's headed bounced inside his steel helmet, his body sent flying into the steel carapace, he saw he had struck the artery, and bloody mail dangled from the wound. He looked up the hill for his guard, but saw instead the gleaming armor of Kevan Lannister charging through down the hill, dust flying. And he saw Morian's Slushpuppy slicing into the back of a guards neck, and meeting Kevan's as he charged. Robb scrambled up, weaponless, desperate to escape to safety, throbbing from his heavy bruising, and he could hear the crunching of the Mountain climbing after him, sinking into the gravel with every step. Robb, in a final surge of adreneline, shouted, "I have been sent by Oberyn Martell. You killed Elia of Dorne. Prepare to die!" feeling proud of himself as he recalled Oberyn's words. He picked up a spear from a corpse, and flung himself down the hill, slamming into a confused Gregor Cleglane, sending his spear into the Mountain's exposed gut. Gregor's metalled arm clenched around him, forcing him down.
Gregor: "Dammit, why does everyone keep shouting at me about that?"
Robb: "Well, you know the Red Viper...anyways, why are you speaking normally now?"
Gregor: "I have a speech problem, okay? I'm very sensitive. People keep judging me on it, and 'oh no, you're a brute, you can't speak proper!' follows me everywhere! Do you have any idea how much this annoys me? I'm getting a PHD in Nueroscience, why can't anyone seem to remember? But, of course, I can't go to bloody Oldtown, because people like you seem to think that my speech problem implies stupidity! And that Brynded Blackfish fellow...so rude! Not to mention little Sandor, and UGH! Its been horrible! Why is it that people here just are too narrow minded to p-...ARGGGHH"
Grey Wind had knocked off Gregor's helmet and torn into his face, tearing off an ear and a cheek. Gregor knocks him off, sending him down the gravelly slopes.
Robb: "Greywind! What took you so long?!"
Greywind, in his secret Stark-wolf treehouse code: "Bran fell into the well. Again."
Gregor: "ENOUGH! Now, back to Elia of Dorne. Yes, I did all that...and now I shall demonstrate first hand how I smashed the babe's head against a wall. Like th-"
Horse galloping distracts him, and he looks up, to see Slushpuppy tear through his throat, the momentum sending the blade through the metal neckguard, sinew, vein and membrane, even the bone, cutting in one final tug, Gregor's spinal cord, sending his head toppling down in a bloody mess onto Robb's chest. (Robb is unamused, as he now has to clean it extra..what a pain).
Dorian lugged the massive corpse off of Robb, and helped him atop a new horse.
Robb and Gregor had rolled far in the gravel, leaving a trail in the loose rock among the corpses. A trail of dead upon the grass of the valley led up to the loose slopes, and the massive pile of dead at Robb's battle line. He could see his banners as his men rushed down to chase after the routing remains of the Lannisters.
It had been a clear victory for Robb, but still a hard one to take in. The Lannister forces of Gregor and Kevan were crushed, with Kevan fleeing with his tail between his legs into the Hornvale. Gregor lay dead. But more Lannisters were coming, and Robb's host had taken a heavy beating. He knew he had to retreat to the Tooth, or lose everything in the Westerlands.
And Robb needed no more confirmation than what he saw on the horizon, deep in the valley; Lions of Gold and Red. Tyrek Lannister's army. Robb ordered a retreat; they gambled that the Lannisters would rather fortify the vale than chase him down. As his forces pulled back, Robb wore a grim expression, and pushed exactly 17 minstrels into a river who had dared sing
"Brave sir Robb ran away
Bravely ran away away
when danger reared it's ugly head
he bravely turned his tail and fle-"
And usually they didn't get past that. Robb was fond of feeding all the poor fishes.
Tyrek, with his fresher force, followed, and soon Robb was forced to take a position on a wooded slope of a plateau, overlooking a valley adorned with a small sept and some farms. He only hoped Tyrek looked as incompetent as he seemed. Sure enough, Tyrek came. Robb, leading a broken force, looked down upon the shimming peacock leading his troops into the valley. One last battle to decide the fate of the Lord of the North.
Setting up his forces in a hidden line upon the wooded slope, and his cavalry, freed from Gregor's caravan, behind the Sept. Tyrek, inexperienced and incompetent, charged straight towards the trap. Sending his small contingent of hedge knights around the sept, Tyrek soon discovered that sending green mediocre troops up a steep hill towards experienced heavy cavalry charging downhill is not always a good idea. The light cavalry, arcing around, raided Tyrek's artillery battery and archers, sending his army into dissaray as he broke apart his forces to chase after faster cavalry, and was promptly charged from uphill into their flanks. Robb himself charged downhill, driving into his knights and archers, and sending his foes running. Tyrek himself was busy trying to fight spearmen, as he was being surrounded and poked, shouting angrily. Robb charged, lance ready, and soon Tyrek fled, his forces utterly crushed, but the charging cavalry from the flank soon had him surrendered, putting his decorated and armored arms into the air as he wimpered pathetically.
The Cowardly Lion, alas, was executed with his large captured army, having inflicted few casualties but had managed to get Tywin to facepalm repeatedly for twenty minutes straight, a new record.
Robb returned to the Tooth, his army battered, but knowing the lions had been bled even worse. He then placed Marion as commander and Lord of the Golden Tooth, and the proud owner of Slushpuppy, the Mountain smasher and Lionbane of the West, the Bite of the North.
But he knew that the war had taken a major step, not one easily reversed. And when he saw ravens from both East and West, he thought perhaps that maybe, for once, the words would not match the wings.
Well, that was a good amount of progressBut I'm still not done with last week's game progress, but I'll continue tomorrow to bring it up to speed and start on tonight's play mayhaps
I hope you all enjoyed it, but I would kindly ask for some response/comments; I feel really bad triple-posting!
Meanwhile, at Harrenhall, Roose Bolton and his army seiges it, and Janos Slynt, stuck with only a few peasants, rides out to parlay.
Slynt: "So please, for everyone's sake, just let us leave. Revenge for Stark is not worth lives. I see no reason for anyone here to die."
Roose: "As craven as you are, I see you have a good sense of reason, although I assure you I care not of dead wolflords. Just be aware that my men have are ready at any time to smash any keep, no matter how huge, and we wouldn't want to see that curse come into play would we? If you left any surprises, for example?"
Slynt, looking frightened: "Of course not, of course not"
Garold the guard runs in waving a scrap of paper.
Garold: "My lord! A raven from your penpal!"
Roose turns his back on Slynt, totally distracted, and reads the parchment. As his eyes go down the page, his face grows ever more sour.
Slynt: "What does it say?"
Roose: "A certain Tee-Tee is having a bad day."
Slynt, looking worried: "And that means?"
Roose: "You all die."
Roose unsheaths his sword, smashing his blade into Janos' neck and sending the head, hinged on a frayed nerve column and some muscle, slamming into his backplate.
Garold: "Sir! He was a messanger!"
Roose: "And one who was a lord who went alone to a Flayed Man whose had a very bad day. The Lannisters might thank me."
And so Roose took Harrenhall like a Myrish Sw-...I mean, very well indeed.
Outside of Lannisport, Jon Umber sits on a horse, shouting to Adam Marbrand, on the walls.
Umber: "So then I said, 'BUT THE BEAVER DOESN'T HAVE ANY WALNUTS'"
Adam: "I still don't get how this has anything to do with the siege!"
Umber: "What I'm try'n to say is that you...how should I put it...pulled a Jaime."
Adam: "So what if I..well...pulled a Jaime? That little septon is very convincing!"
Umber: "Sure he is, you little summer boy! Now how ready are you to die?"
Adam: "Hardly! You see, reinforcements are on the way!"
Umber guffaws
Umber: "Yah, all of a few militias! I knew that when I shows up outside yer gates, you'd be unprepared, and look at ya, caught with yer pants down!"
Adam: "We thought you were an Oldtown Party Boat; you had quite a clever disguise."
Umber: "Which reminds me, I have some very good malts from up North, if you'd like!"
Adam: "Umm...no thanks."
Umber and his forces won the day, obviously enough, and the Wolf, Giant, and Giant-Aqua-Vege-Sun-Wolf replaced the Lannister lions above the walls.
Robb hearing the news, calls a Stark group huddle at the Tooth.
Robb, bearing a letter in hand: "So, according to this letter, Karhold fell easily to Cassel. So we have victory in all fronts...and it seems like the lions are at an end of their reign. Tywin stalls Mace at Crakehall, but is unable to face us, and all-in-all, the door is at last opening towards the Rock."
Roose: "I wouldn't say we've won. Our opponents are rich, powerful, and, according to my sources, very nimble, if you know what I mean."
Robb: "I'd rather not."
Umber: "I would!"
Robb: "No you wouldn't. ANYWAYS, I'd like to welcome our newest member, Morian Norrey, Lord of the Tooth."
Everyone turns to Morian, who is wearing a nametag and a very perturbed look.
Umber: "Glorious wielder of Slushpuppy, the MountainSmasher! Let me see it! Oh, it looks as white as it did a millenia ago. Back when it was truly the greatest joke of the North...and now it just got so much more funny!" Umber falls backward in his chair, and Norrey looks even more perturbed.
Robb: "Annnnyyywwwaayyys....what do you have to reveal to us, Bolton?"
Roose: "Stannis and Arryn both have strong contingents at the border, and it may eventually fall to war. Joffrey raids towards their border as well, but feild no strong forces. Altogether a good holding position, but difficult if you want me to push forward."
Umber: "So, all in all, the wolves rule this day? It is therefore traditional for a Northmen group hug!"
Robb: "You must be joking"
Umber isn't and forces the table into a group hug, which Norrey and Robb find rather akward, before he finally lets go.
Umber: "The KING IN DA....too soon?"
Robb: "What was that?"
Umber: "Nothing." Umber than initiates his pokerface.
Okay, that finishes that little segment, but hardly it as a whole (and thanks to Heart of Madness for combo-breaking!)
On a mountain above the Hornvale, Robb and Morian watch a seige from afar, with the rest of the small council dining a little aways.
Morian: "You think they'll manage it this time? I mean, this is what, the fourth seige of the Hornvale? As much as I would love to see Mace win, it almost seems cursed."
Robb: "My father never believed in curses and omens, and neither will I! It is a proud Stark practice of genre blindness that has ritually picked off my family for generations!"
Morian: "Yeah, maybe you ought to rethink that. Anyways, I'm betting 20 stags they get smashed by Tywin or otherwise fail."
Robb: "I'll take that bet. Anyways, how about we up the stakes to mayb-"
Catelyn runs over, waving a letter
Catelyn: "An urgent letter from the West! It has to be Umber!"
Robb rushes over to the table with Morian, while Catelyn reads the letter, and Roose looks very bored.
Robb: "What does it say, dear mother?"
Catelyn: "The Lion's back for Lannisport, and Umber has been catapulting posioned antelope at them. Unfortunately, they didn't eat it as planned, but the corpses did give the stewards a hard time cleaning up."
Robb: "Umber is underforced and his spontaneous advantage won't work while he's shut up in stone walls. How long until the army is finished repairing after the Battle of the Horn?"
Catelyn: "It should be ready by the end of the week. However, there is a Southern Lannister army circling towards the Riverlands through Tyrell territory that we should be wa-"
They are interrupted by a massive, high pitched noise that seems to echo off the mountains, causing everyone to cover their ears, except Bolton, who calmly places a pair of fluffy pink earmuffs on his head (with little embroidered flayed men). Oberyn Martell, poised hiding in the bushes, falls out and rolls down the hill, writhing in anguish.
Robb: "What in seven hells was that?!"
Oberyn: "Sounded like 'PeeetYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY-"
Robb: "Wait, why are you even here?"
Oberyn: "Well, I had to make sure you'd keep your word. The Red Viper deals with enough sleasy little puppydogs to know that he must deal with things...himself" Oberyn flings himself on top of Catelyn, who dumps him promptly onto the ground irreverantly. He rolls over and lounges on a rock.
Robb: "You've got your proof, now head back to Dorne; Prince Doran needs you."
Oberyn: "But Tywi-"
Roose: "You just can't get enough, isn't it?"
Oberyn turns to him, angry and flustered at his disrespect, and marches away, forgetting his poise for a moment.
Robb: "Annnyyywaaayyys...so what exactly was that?"
Morian: "Dragons coming back into the world?"
Roose: "Maybe the Starks were finally right and winter showed up; maybe Sansans attacked; maybe all the Lannisters were eaten by a flying kraken on ice skates. Who knows?"
Robb gave him a peircing glare, but was too distracted to noticed Catelyn begin to say something, but catch herself; after all, she knew it couldn't possibly be...
The Wolves prepared later that week, forgetting the strange incidents on the Horn. Robb, Lord of Winterfell, set out to break the seige of Lannisport, his experienced, renewed army ready for battle.
Meanwhile, at Harrenhall, Roose is dusting his skins, whistling "The Bear and the Maiden Fair", when suddenly a messenger bursts in.
Messenger: "Sir, Sandor Cleglane the Hound, and Tommen the Naive have appeared outside our gates with a massive force, m'lord! Quickly, to the gates!"
Roose flies out of his chambers, down the many staircases, and to the gate to view the Lannister force preparing for a seige. The massive forces of the Boy King surround the citadel. Roose, knowing that he could only do this once, prepared his trump card. He sent out a parlay for Sandor Cleglane to enter negotiations in Harrenhall, but only if alone. A risky move for Sandor to take, but possibly very fruitful. The Hound, knowing that if he entered the citadel, he would be at their mercy, guards or no guards, he took the oppurtunity. Led by a messenger bearing the Flayed Man, he was led to a chamber deep within the final keep, and allowed inside.
Sandor: "What the
The door closed behind him, and, a few hours later, Sandor burst from the room, running as fast as he could.
Roose (calling after him): "Oh come on Sandor, what's the matter?"
Sandor, pale as snow, ran from the keep in silence, only saying "go" once he left the gates. As the Lannister forces fled with no casualties taken on either side, Sandor was constantly looking over his shoulders, shuddering and wide-eyed.
Messenger: "So...sir, what was that about?"
Roose: "Poor little pup always thinks the Sansans are after him...I have the Blackfish to thank for that one."
Messenger: "But for him to be so afraid, doesn't that mean..."
Roose: "Some questions are better left unanswered. And other questions involve a torment-filled death if they are answered by chance. Either way, I suggest you leave this where it lies, and forget about it..."
Meanwhile, in the Mystery Mobile...(spoiler for total pointlessness)Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Later, in the Westerlands, Robb and his host review their warplans one last time.
Robb: "Okay, so the army beseiging Lannisport has broken off, as anticipated. I'm thinking we should beseige the Rock itself, draw their armies out, bleed them, and then let Umber move in and finish the job if we don't manage. The Lannisters can't possibly stand a seige of the Rock, so we have to expect major resistance. Dear mother, any last news before we bear down on the Rock?"
Catelyn: "Well, the Arryns have moved a massive army into the Neck, but it appears to be unable to make up it's mind on where it is going or what it is doing; it is going up and down through the marsh pointlessly. In fact, they aren't even at war with anyone at this point. Also, the Lannisters sent their armies through Tyrell land and into the Riverlands. We still don't know what their doing."
Robb: "Tell Kartsark and the Twins to prepare larger garrisons, and warn Edmure; this is rather disturbing news, but nothing pressing."
Catelyn: "Also, Widow's Watch is under seige by Cassel."
Robb: "Okay, good. Anything else?"
Catelyn: "Also, The Hound has retreated after seiging Harrenhall...and then immediately breaking the seige and running away. I have no clue what that's about."
Robb: "Oh I'm sure there's a story there, but the important thing is that Harrenhall is safe. Now tell the captains to clean the armor and prepare the arms...we march on the morrow. Upon Casterly Rock."
With that, the Northern forces assaulted the walls of the Rock, laying seige. The Lannisters, desperate to protect the central key to the Westerlands, quickly sent Captain Rollam to break the siege. Retreating to an open feild, Robb soon had two large armies sallying forth to destroy him from the same direction. In the fields of Casterly, Robb prepared his troops, and soon his host was in formation, steel shining in the Western sun. The sizeable red tide was chasing after him, he could see, but it made little difference. Without leadership, Robb knew, he had the advantage here, although he knew his forces were not completely recovered from the Battle of the Hornvale. He donned his helm as the Lannisters drew near. He gazed into the enemy formations, making plans and strategies in his head as the lions prepared to pounce. And so the Battle of Casterly began.
As a matter of bussiness, Robb first sent forth his meagre remaining cavalry. The horsemen and knights slid behind the first Lannister force, breaking organization and twisting away from the massive onslaught of Lannister knights. The formations broken and the army is chaos, the forces then flung themselves onto specific points of Robb's line. The line curled around, and the Lord of Winterfell made sure to circle the massive groups, applying spearmen to the huge cavalry contingents and men-at-arms and dismounted knights to the Lannister infantry. Over the mosh, Captain Rollam was heard shouting to his men "The Young Wolf seeks to hide behind his men? Now watch as I bring you his head! Slay these foul wolves, as I shall slay this one!", and the Lannister Heavy Knight soon charged at Robb himself, going between the two moshes of battle. Robb, anticipating a cavalry attack on him and his archers, reigned his horse around and went behind his pike line, the lions at his back. Rollam, caught up in bloodlust and incensed by seeing Robb flee, didn't even both to look down. His eyes burning into Robb's backplate, he shouted, "Look how he flees with his tail in between his le-...".
Unfortunately, Rollam never got around to finishing the sentence, as the pike he had just launched himself into had used his own momentum, and punctured his breathplate, sending the massive spear through the mail and into his ribcage, spearing his left lung as well as several major arteries and veins. He screamed as the most terrible pain he had ever experienced raged in his chest, but as blood filled his lungs, he was unable to scream a second time, and instead writhed grasping at the pike in his chest, as burning liquid filled his lungs and poured from the hole in his chest.
The Westerland Knights looked at their dead captain, still managing to fight on due to their fierce training and experience...until they heard the horn behind them, and Robb's lances smashed into their flank, sending men fleeing in a chaotic flurry. Men of both sides turned to look as the knights fled, hounded by the Young Wolf...and also at the lone horse, dragging a corpse, still entangled in saddle gear and having fallen to horse's side, it's torso and head against the dry grass, along after it, and Captain Rollam left a smear of blood on the ground after him. After a dreadful pause, men started to run. Near surrounded, totally unorganized and leaderless, men fled the field, scrambling to get away. The mob on Robb's right had already lost all it's infantry to fear, and as he charged into the knight's backs and speared them from the back, he found that they too soon ran. Looking forward, onto the field, he saw that his cavalry, whom he had tasked with keeping the massive Lannister archer force from firing, had encountered hedge knights sent ahead by the oncoming Captain Lucion, and that the archers were beginning to reform and fire. As they gathered into a massive line to pummel the Northerners, Robb led his guard behind the archers, at last crashing into their flank and charging down the line. The already disheartened archers soon began to flee, as Robb smashed down the massive line, eventually unable to use his lance from the number of impaled corpses and body parts, and being forced to use his sword, cutting down men as his massive warhorse ran down unarmored longbowmen, trampling them beneath it's hooves. This route in turn sent the remnants of Rossam's forces into a retreat, leading to a massive wave of fleeing troops.
Lucion's forces soon found themselves disorganized as well, as they broke apart to attack Robb's cavalry, the multiple peices of the Northern army, and also as they waded through lions in flight and flying arrows of Northern archers. The ensuing bloodbath and skirmishes soon became a blur, as Robb's forces engaged the fractured but well-trained Lannister forces. Lucion himself soon fled, but was cut down by a Northern archer. In the end, only a force of the Rock's elite was left, the lion's rearguard, and the warriors found themselves surrounded, and it was not long before even they fled, joining the waves of fleeing Lannisters.
And although the Lannister forces had taken down a fair number of Stark men in the mosh, the few survivors were unable to reclaim the Rock, and the dozen survivors surrendered rather than fight when Robb chased them there. The Battle of Casterly was a success, as the Key of the Westerlands was now in Stark hands. But, he spotted a messenger raven from the East, he had a sudden ominous feeling that the victory had not been quite as complete as he had expected.
At Harrenhall...
Roose: "And, of course, five second of alone time is all I want, but nooo, I can't have that can I?"
Garold the Guard: "It's urgent, my lord, and extremely so"
Roose walks out to the battlements, and sees troops with blue and white banners surrounding the citadel. 'Bloody Arryns', Roose thought, 'just can't seem to stop sticking their heads where they don't belong'.
Garold: "My lord, the enemy captain is at the gates, wanting to speak with you."
Roose walks down to the wall above the portcullis.
Roose: "What is it? Why are you attacking?"
Captain Donnel of the Arryn forces, in a mocking voice: "What is? Why are you attacking?"
Roose: "What in seven hells...."
Donnel: "What in seven hells?"
Roose: "You can't be serious. That's just plain immature."
Donnel: "You can't be serious, that's just plain immature!"
Roose: "hmmm two can play that game.....Captain Donnell of the Vale is really a fat craven who sleeps with cattle, and couldn't outwit or outfight a lobster!"
Donnel: "AM NOT!"
Roose: "ARE TO!"
Donnel: "If you want to be like that, it's time for single combat! Or are you the craven one?"
Roose accepts, and they meet beneath the gates. They begin with a duel, but Donnel drops his sword and cuts his foot, so it is determined that the only fair way would be a game of checkers. After a near instant Bolton victory, Donnel demands Rock-paper-scissors, but Roose quickly figures out that Donnel always chooses scissors in an attempt to be fierce. They then divert to one last trial: a staring contest.
And, after exactly 2 hours, Donnel falls over shaking, with permanent mental scarring. Looking into those eyes does that to some people.
The Arryn host agrees to return to the Saltpans making for another month-long siege (Roose had been locked in his chambers after some very bad news from T-T for a month, but the seige once again ended without bloodshed)...but the war had begun.
And, with the Arryns supporting Joffrey as the true king, the war had finally spread to every corner of Westeros.
TheCouncil of EvilSuperfriends League of WesterosStark high council again convenes to go over news.
Robb: "So they just keep leaving? That's it?"
Roose: "Yeah, although Sandor is nearing the riverlands again, which might mean a lasting seige."
Robb: "Well, Harrenhall is the perfect place for such a seige, and....by the way, where's Catelyn?"
Catelyn bursts in, holding a letter.
Catelyn: "Robb, Cassel has taken Widow's Watch, and you finally have all of the North supporting the cause. We also now have Cassel with an army, ready to support us wherever we might need it."
Umber, waking up: "Wait...so we have all of the North? All of it? You know what THAT MEEEAAANS"
Roose: "Oh gods, please spare us THAT, Umber"
Robb: "What, who, where, when?"
Umber unsheathes his sword, and throws it to the table.
Umber: "THE KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNGGG IN THE NOOOOOORRRTTH"
Roose: "Gods save us"
Morian: "THE KING IN THE NORTH"
Servant handing Roose some summerwine: "THE KING IN THE NORTH" as he kneels, spillling the drink.
Oberyn Martell, outside "THE KING IN THE NORTH"
Mace Tyrell, bursting in: "THE KING IN THE NORTH"
Edmure, rolling out from under the table with the Blackfish: "THE KING IN THE NORTH"
The Blackfish: "The KING IN THE ...COMBO BREAKER"
Meanwhile, at the Dreadfort
Qyburn: "THE KING IN THE NORTH"
"Robert Strong" : "BLE BLE BLE BLE BLE"
Beyond the Wall, an Other bursts from the snow in front of two Watchmen.
Other: "the keeeng in the north"
Guardsman 1: "THE KING IN THE NORTH"
Guardsman 2: "Holy
Guardsmen 1 punches the second in the face
The moment passes, and everyone returns to what they were doing before.
Robb: "What just happened?"
Roose: "I guess this means you are the king in the North."
Robb: "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
Catelyn: "I'm not sure."
Morian: "I guess we'll find out soon enough..."
Umber: "Politics? That can wait 'till after the crowning! Anyways, I just sent for Karstark, so -"
Robb: "NO...I mean, maybe it's best if he..uhh...watches Moat Cailin while the Arryns hold the Neck"
Umber is annoyed, but gets over it by shouting: "THE. KING. OF. THE NORTH. AND. BLOODY TOUGH MEEEAAATT"
A knock on the door interrupts Bolton, as he was about to respond. The conversation goes silent, and Catelyn opens the door. Renly Baratheon strides in, in bright colored robes and hair blowing in nonexistent wind.
Robb: "How did you find our lair?"
Renly: "It wasn't too hard to find, dude...I just followed Mace Tyrell. Anyways, I hear you guys are breaking away from the kingdom?"
Robb: "And you would know this....why?"
Renly: "When Penrose won't shut up, nothing gets in his way"
Robb: "I see. Anyways, what is your message, Lord Renly."
Renly: "IT IS KING Renly. King. And that's why this is uncool, bro. Really uncool. I mean, I heard all that yelling and I was like 'WTF', and then I saw Loras post on Oldtown that no true king would watch his realm walk away and I was all 'WTTTTF FML LORAS' and then I realized that you started all this. You started all this, wolfy, and I am tired of people talking behind my back, and Loras not talking to me, and Stannis sending me mean notes, and the Blackfish being a tease! It was YOU!" Renly begins pelting Robb with peaches.
Robb, covering his face: "What is the meaning of this? How dare you approach another king like this?It is not honourable, or courteous, reasonable, or anything but bratty and immature."
Renly: "Cool story, brah, but you're no king any more than your wolf is a bird."
Roose: "Continue whining here, whelp, and you and your fuzzy peaches will get flayed so bad that people will think you a strange peice of butcher's meat."
Renly: "You can't flay peaches."
Roose: "Of course you can; they have skin, don't they?"
Renly: "Oh that doesn't count!"
Umber: "You know what I always do when things look down and everyone gets so anxious?"
Everyone stares at Umber, and the room goes silent.
Umber: "I say a phrase I learned in the Summer Islands...I think it was Kabunna Shyamalana or something of the sort...now everyone TOGETHER NOW!
Kubanna Shylama. Don't be anxious and pale (*nudges Roose, who is unamused*)
Kubanna Shylama. Go fetch us some ALE!
It means no worries, if you're noble and male
Its a problem free
philosophyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy"
Renly: "It means no worries
don't be stressed out and crazed!"
Renly and Umber: "ITS A LOGIC-FREEEEE PHILANTROPYYYYY Kuuubanna Shylama."
Renly and Umber continue to drink and joke for the rest of the day. The next day, when the council reconvenes, peace is declared.
A Very Hungover Renly: "Uggghh....well, peace, not war, ain't it Umbro?"
Umber and Renly do their super-secret-cool-warlords-club handshake, and Renly departs. Unfortunately for Renly, however, Loras feels very jealous and put off, and Highgarden breaks away from supporting Renly.
That week, Robb led his forces down the penninsula to Kayce, to quickly finish the Lannister presence there. Beseiging the town, he found that only Lancel and some local untrained peasants garrisoned it. Battering through the gates and almost instantly routing the peasants, Lancel soon found himself running for dear life towards the town center. As the knights captured his forces fleeing down the avenue, and he found himself alone in the square, Lancel pleaded for mercy.
Lancel: "IT WAS ONLY HER BELLY, M'LORD, DON'T HUURT MEEE" Lancel begins to sob.
Rob, slowing down his charge: "What in seven hells are you talking about?"
Lancel: "Sir, do you know the phrase 'Lanceling'? Or perhaps the Blue Bard's latest hit, 'Ladies love a Lancel?' You know...'She ain't want no moon tea, moon tea, all she want's a good lancel, daug, imp'll leave you all free, all free, all he want's you to lancel, duag, maybe you-"
Robb, interrupting: "Wait, so the rumor's are really true?"
Lancel: "DONT KILL ME"
Robb: "Why would you even tell me this? It only would make me more likely to kill you...but, being as you've dropped your sword, I'll accept a yeild"
Random crippled villager: "Do it, Lancel. Yeild. Yeild. YEILD! YEILD, DAMMIT!!"
Lancel: "Why is everyone yelling at me??!"
Lancel was captured, but Robb promptly executed him after Lancel, who had finally felt the courage to fight back, offered him some strongwine. Unfortunately for Lancel, Robb noticed the boar in the closet, and promptly hanged him.
Meanwhile, off the Fingers, Rodrick Cassel sailed the Manderly fleet southward. As the sea foam in the wind whistled around him, he felt young again. His energy matched his newfound confidence; no longer was he to put down rebellious Northern lordlings like a mother hen. With the North held and fortified, he had taken the initiative; the ravens told of Arryns raiding along the Kingsroad gathering at the Saltpans, and Cassel knew that Robert the Young was unlikely to expect Northern attacks. After all, the Arryns had been preparing a navy, but the White Harbor fleet had sent them beneath the waves. As the vessels struck across the seas, he soon spotted his target.
Meanwhile, at Heart's Home...
Lyn Corbray: "Bloody Sparrow! All I had left was a few pikemen, but ONE of you just had to go Jaime didn't you? Now here we are, and you are SO lucky we aren't like to be attacked. Now who was it?!"
Bodyguard: "My lord...umm...behind you....the window..."
Lyn: "There's a fleet behind me isn't there?"
Cassel, from afar: "Ahoy there, you angry little buggers!"
Lyn: "Damn you all to seven hells! What am I supposed to do?!"
A voice calls from Lyn's chambers, and he runs in angrily to see what it is. He sees what appears to be a faint image of a blonde woman, all in blue.
Lyn: "I don't remember asking for a whore, might as well a blue one...however, I must say, you are very attractive, and I might as well..."
Jaime Lannister's Ghost, very disgruntled: "Lyyyynnn....Lyyynnn...Wait, what? Oh
Lyn: "Oh Seven above! Is that....JAIME!"
Jaime: "Yeeeesss, Lyyynnn, it is meeeeee, ooooohhhhh. I wouuld have yooou doooo what I didn't so looong agooooo oooohhh"
Lyn: "And what would that be, Lannister of Seiges Past?"
Jaime: "Well now I'm not telling you. No man calls Jaime Lannister a whore!"
Lyn: "Please, please, It was an easy mistake!!!!"
Jaime, fading away: "You know, you're only making it worse"
Lyn crumples onto his bed, sobbing. First he didn't get the woman, then he doesn't get the survival secrets, and then she faded away. What a horrible day, only made worse by the sound of the battering ram smashing the unmanned gates.
Needless to say, Cassel took no casualties as his army took Heart's Home. He set his eyes to the Mountains, and prepared for the march; the Eryie awaited.
Petyr: "And now Westeros Today would like to apologize for the recent unexpected haitus, which was due to some unexpected difficulties."
Lysa, backstage: "Petyr, Petyr, why did you leave me? I gave you plenty of food and water, and the leash looked so stylish! Oh Petyr, how did you get out? You should know I payed quite a lot to make sure you never escap-"
Petyr: "SECURITY....well, uurmm...back to our International Segment. In recent news, Quentyn Martell has forced his way into the Felwood, taking the Keep and establishing it as a territory of Dorne. However, in a recent interview, he did acknowledge that he kept having this feeling he was going to be incinerated any second; oh those querky politicians. In other news, Mace Tyrell proudly announced that he has taken the Hornvale, and has dispatched a sizeable force to take King's Landing. Now for the weather with Varys."
Varys: "Thanks, Petyr. In Weather news, the autumn has brought an excellent climate for jumping in piles of golden leaves, feasting, farming, and bloodshed. Also we have some predictions that winter is in fact coming. Now time for Illyrio with Celebrity Corner after this commercial break."
After an ad for Illyri-Os, Illyrio himself comes on for his segment.
Illyrio: "This is a sad day, ladies and gentlemen, peasants and lords, as we mourn the death for bestselling writer, cook,strippergeneral, and leader Brynden Tully, as a massive Lannister resurgence program killed him in his home of Riverrun. Rest in peace, little Blackfish, and may you swim on in our hearts forever. More on Edmure's reaction to this horrid death, after The View, with the special guest of Prince Tommen, with his new theory 'How Kittens can improve everything'."
Meanwhile, in the Vale...
Rodrick Cassel looked up to the mountain pass where the Eryie was perched, his eyes tracing the tiny burrow trail leading to the gate.
Cassel: "We'll starve them out, good sirs. No need for overdue casualties taking the mountain."
Squire: "But sir, what of the news that the Arryn forces are returned to the Vale? With their military rushing back to defend, how will we stand the onslaught out here?"
Cassel dismissed the squire without a word. He already knew of the Arryn armies, and knew that he would have to play the part of Robb if he wanted to bleed them into submission. He has rushed to the Eryie, leaving only newly recruited men to guard the Home, as he had been eager to catch the Arryns off guard. But, seeing the fortress himself, he realized that there was no way to truly surprise them here; he would have to wait, and, eventually, fight the enemy in the open feild. But so be it; he knew that the Eryie would serve as the perfect base of operations for taking the Vale, and would properly divide the province in half.
And so he waited.
Meanwhile, in the Eryie itself...
Ser Valen, of the Eagle's Guard: "But how will we survive so long here with no food or the like? They will surely seek to starve us out!"
Robert Sweetrobin: "I've got an idea! What if we give all the food to mummy, and everyone just drinks like I do?"
Another Guardsmen: "It might just work..."
Valen: "I am a knight! I will not take my food like a babe!"
Robert: "You're missing out then."
Lysa: "I'm finding this suggestion might be slightly flawed my Sweetrobin..."
Robert: "It works for me, why not everyone else?"
Other guardsmen: "Yeah! You tell 'em!"
Lysa: "Guard, what is your name?"
Guard: "Schwabb, m'lady"
Lysa: "Make him fly!"
Robert: "MAKE HIM FLY! Can I make the bad man fly to, mummy?"
Lysa: "Once we have him, little sweetrobin."
Scwabb, flying by the window: "I REGRET NOTHING"
Lysa: "All the better. Now come along, Sweetrobin. We shall not need to resort to extremes; we have armies on their way, and we shall be free again soon enough."
Cassel watched as his troops marched away from the trail. The grey direwolf proudly on display as they marched on, he took one last envious look at the Eryie. His scouts had told him of Alyn Waynwood, with a mighty force, leading a large force, near 1000 strong, to break his seige. Cassel may have been proud, but never foolish; he knew he could not remain and be smashed to bits against between the two forces. As he took a position on a large, sweeping hill, he watched the troops in the wood descend through the mountains. He had lured them into essentially a large depression in the ground, and watched with satisfactio n as the larger army drove relentlessly into his hands. He placed his helm upon his head, and fell into his old ways of battle, as instincts began to rise up and his mind blotted out unnessecary thoughts. Now was the time for blood on grass, steel on steel, and the dead on rocky soil. The time for war.
As he surveyed his opponent, he quickly began analyzing their forces. Large swaths of infantry, with a few crossbowmen and no cavalry but the general's own guard, made their forces. As the dismounted swordsmen dug in their feet into the rocky soil as they ascended the hill, he noticed a complete lack of spearmen besides a small contingent of elite heavy troops; most carried blades, and Cassel knew that this force would make for a tough opponent, but hardly a flexible one. He watched as his cavalry darted through the lines, mixing chaos into the army as they swooped between walls of swordsmen and chased the crossbowmen back down the hill. Albar Waynwood, a new general of young age and green as grass, fell for the distraction, sending his infantry to chase down the horsed knights. The knights and scouts busy dodging the pursuing divisions, Albar promptly set up his lines, sending his forces into the Stark infantry head on. He himself ran back and forth among the crossbowmen, shouting incouragement.
Cassel, to the archers: "Aim for the idiot running around in front of his archers. Should be an easy target."
The raining arrows came down in a torrent, puncturing many guards and archers alike. His own, downhill and heavily injured crossbowmen could not keep up with the archers, and soon Albar found himself alone, with a few crossbowmen, atop a mound of riddled bodies. But he remained stubborn as always; after all, he WAS winning the battle. His infantry had returned to the fray, and Cassel's charges into the swordsmen were slowly getting less vigorous. If by nothing else, he would crush them by numbers. In his (very lonely) excitement, he didn't hear the thunderous pound of hooves, as the light cavalry division slammed into him from behind. The first lance shrieked as it rent a gash into his backplate, nearly sending him off his mount, and throwing his arrow-riddled sheild to the ground. He pulled around, recovering lightning-fast, but, unfortunately for him, the second lance was just as quick, and slammed into his breastplate, sending a crack into the steel, and savagely ripping his breastplate out of place. The third lance then decided to actually be a contender ( and be somebody, instead of a bum, which is what is is), and promptly dove into his liver, sending a shearing pain into him as it pierced through the necessary organ and into his gut. Albar screamed wildly as he was overwhelmed by pain, trying in vain to pull out the lance. Luckily, his pain was mercifully ended as the cavalryman took out his sword and sent it through his gorget, cutting his throat and sending his head against his chest, the blood flowing down across the battered blue-and-white of the breastplate. Well, it was moderately quick; drowning in your own blood as your mind fades of extreme bloodloss and lack of oxygen is certainly quicker than dieing as the ammonia poisons what hasn't been ravaged by a spear in your organs. I'm sure that wasn't much consolation, but that's what happens when you aren't a major character, I suppose.
Seeing their general die, and with knights and scouts alike charging their flanks, the morale broke. Knights of great valor tumbled down the grassy slope in their haste to escape what had quickly turned from a strong victory into a massacre. Light cavalry swarmed in their back, sending a stream of prisoners to the caravans. Cassel, himself bloodied from the battle, gazed on, drunk of victory, exhaustion, and adreneline as he looked hopefully to the ominous sky.
The day ended after ferreting out pockets of knightly resistance. But the day remained won, and in such a fashion that the singers would remember the day for some years (before inevitably returning to Lancelling, of course).
But the victory was not overly celebrated, as Robert sent a force of his finest knights from the Eryie to smash Cassel's injured force.
However, Cassel, remaining on his hill, soon had the two smaller forces seperated and surrounded, quickly crushing them to dust. The Arryn's reliance on small pockets of undefended sword-bearing infantry quickly proved something of an extreme weakness (and also to act as one more question for Westerosi schoolchildren to answer incorrectly on their pop quizzes tomorrow).
And so the Battles of the MoonValley was won, and Cassel prepared again for his seige upon the Vale.
Rickon: "So Now that I'm a general, does that mean I get Shaggy back?"
Bran: "No, Rickon, I'm sorry but the Men took Shaggy away. I don't know where he is."
Rickon: "I know Bran...but I miss my Shaggydog, even now."
Bran: "What have your wolf dreams said?"
Rickon: "Strange things, Bran...strange things. I see a dark cave, with a waterfall, a the smell of sand and spice, I see large steel machines of light, I taste strange foods, and see a man with the strangest haircut I've ever seen."
Bran: "We'll find him someday, Rickon...I swear to you, I will try. In the meantime, you need to restore peace to White Harbor...it seems Manderly has an affinity for you."
Meanwhile, at Starfall, in the Mountains of Dorne, in Gerold Dayne's Lair....
Darkstar: "Alfred! Are all my guests cleared out?"
Alfred: "Yes, m'lord, it is safe enough to press the button."
Darkstar presses the head of a bust, which flips open, revealing a button. He presses it, and a bookshelf moves aside to reveal a stairway. He walks into the tunnel, as the shelf returns to place behind him. He descends into his Secret Darkstar Lair, where he passes the StarMobile, and continues to the computers with Alfred, throwing Shaggy a piece of beef jerky.
Darkstar: "Alfred, what are the results of the usual searches?"
Alfred: "My lord, you still have the most ridiculous name...however, an assassin named Jaquen has threatened your ranking as weirdest hairstyle!"
Darkstar: "I'll deal with him when I deal with him...in the meantime, fetch me some muffins and tell the Citadel that I have some new plans regarding tests on captured wights."
Alfred: "Yes, my lord."
MeanwhileAt the Plot] at the Saltpans...
Roose: "Oh, Nestor, Nestor, did you pull a Jaime to?"
Nestor: "I retain some of my forces, flayed dog!"
Roose: "A few peasants, while I wait outside with the finest pickings of Harrenhall. Surrender!"
Nestor: "NO!"
Roose: "Fine then, here we go again."
A raven flies from the won town, flying past the flayed bodies of a dozen peasants.
'T-T', it writes, 'I can't write long, I am afraid; I have duties to attend to. You know how it is. In any case, I am not the holder of the Saltpans, and, I grow all the more melancholy as I realize that I am farther away than ever. Some day, I shall show you my Northern home, so we may gather close to get warm under the blankets of our enemies, and so snuggle close as we have been so far apart...but alas, I must go, my people need me. So long, my golden lion! Love Roosey'.
At the Eryie, Robb and the Stark Council enter the main chamber to talk peace with Lord Robert.
Robb: "It seems to me that, with the Eryie threatened, and your armies cut off from the Vale by Roose, perhaps you can finally give up this pointless conquest. We are, after all, willing to return you your territories, break the seige, and return home...on a few conditions...namely, that you show your support for territorial independence, by going to war against the Kings Stannis and Joffrey."
Lysa: "And Renly?"
Robb: "Renly is not all too unfavorable with us, and is occupied as it is. Support him if you will, but you must , no matter your choice, fight these Crownlanders. Stannis is far too agressive and stiff-necked; he needs further distraction from the Northern breakaway. And War on Joffrey's brood will demonstrate your newfound disdain with him, will it not?"
Robert: "I don't like these conditions....Make them FLY!"
Cassel: "Little Lord, you may take these conditions or fly yourself...perhaps you ought to consider it."
Lysa: "And how will we know you Starks will uphold your treaties, and aren't going to attack my son as soon as he lies friendless?"
Robb: "Perhaps you could swing your support for the Northern Alliance? The Lannisters are a spent force, and the Baratheons equally injured. The Arryns could profit from throwing off the yoke..."
Lysa: "Perhaps...but the alliance will never hold. Of that, I am sure."
Robb: "We shall see. In the meantime, we have treaties to sign. And afterwards, we must surely rest a few days after such long travels."
After much paperwork, Robb ascended to his chambers, after Robert was rushed off with a near-mortal papercut. Climbing the stairs, he discusses the afternoon's agenda with Cassel.
Robb: "So perhaps a mummer's show at eight? I've always wanted to see 'The Bankers of Braavos'."
Cassel: "Oh, that one is excellent, your grace; I remember I was singing 'Springtime for Stannis and Draagonstoooone....wiiinteerrr fooor Cersei and Jaiiime....R'hllor's the new core for Westeros....don't be stupid, be a smartie, come and join AA's good army!' for weeks."
The two laugh, and Robb is about to suggest his new idea of applying butter to popped sweetcorn kernals, but the thought it driven from his head as he looks up and sees a beautiful woman outside his chamber.
Robb was about to say something, when Cassel jumped in.
Cassel, to Robb: "Don't be too quick to jump to assumptions, my grace...you never know when a whore might be Jaime, or perhaps the Blackfish, donning a guise of their most beautiful forms to haunt you."
Cassel begins fleeing down the stairs, and Robb calls after him.
Robb: "Well, I could imagine this would be the Blackfish then; Jaime is most certainly blonde."
Anya: "I am most certainly neither Jaime nor Brynden, your grace; I am Anya of House Arryn, come to comfort you after your loss."
Robb: "What loss?"
Anya: "It said in this paper, that your brothers have been slaughtered by Theon Greyjoy!"
Anya pulls out a copy of 'Weekly Westerosi News'; the death article is next to one outlining how Sandor Cleglane faked Brynden's death for their secret love.
Robb: "WWN? You truly believe such things? Anyways, the world knows that Sandor never felt any attachment for the Blackfish, it's clearly an exaggeration. Of course, comforting doesn't sound too bad."
The next day...
Catelyn: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU MARRIED HER?! You met her yesterday...in the afternoon, no less!"
Robb: "But how could I carry the guilt?"
Catelyn: "Robb...it was a massage."
Robb: "Isn't that how it works?"
Catelyn: "No Robb..." She whispers in his ear.
Robb: "By the gods, that's how it works? This whole time?! That explains so MUCH! I'm learning so much today! Anya's going to be so excited!"
Catelyn, trying to supress her rage: "So what's her last name...I need it for the anullment papers."
Robb: "Arryn, of course. Anya Arryn."
Catelyn: "Wait...it was Anya ARRYN? Not Royce? You mean, the daughter of Harry the Heir? By the gods, this is the sort of mistake that will win us the war!"
Robb looks rather ruffled by the comment, but is overjoyed as he peices everything together in his head.
And so AnyaArrynStark was Queen of the North. Useful, rationale, and considered admirable, she ruled by his side (according to the Box of all Holy Wisdom), and the Arryns were cemented to the Starks , joining their federation and spurning the Iron Throne. However, Lysa managed to quietly throw the attack treaties out the moon gate, quietly slipping out of declaring war.
As Robb returned to Casterly Rock with his new wife, he looked to the sky, as a dark cloud crept from the North. As the portcullis shuttered open, Robb felt a small chill as a snowflake melted upon his skin. As the tiny white specks drifted to the ground, Robb knew that his father was right all along.
Winter had Come.
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Originally Posted by Lordinquisitor
