Until Torrhen knelt, this castle served as the seat for the Kings of Winter. Now it is the home of the Lords of the North, Torrhen's descendants, who were allowed to keep their power in exchange for the dignity of kingship. The most formidable castle north of the Eyrie, the vast stone complex is built over hot springs, with the warm water pumped around the castle to combat the cold of long winter. Lord Stark likewise sees to it that the larders remain amply stocked, for when the snows descend from the north the land becomes as empty and lifeless as the grave.
Lord Stark
CREGAN STARK, LORD OF WINTERFELL Age: 30
Temperament: - Bloodthirsty: This character is hotheaded and loves to jump into fights, lethal or otherwise. This is not something others find endearing off the battlefield, though. +1 Battles, -1 Charisma. Traits: +3 Personal combat (+4 with Ice) +2 Battles (+3 with temperament) +1 survival Marital status: Widower of Arra Norrey
Children: Rickon Stark (born 126 AC)
As harsh and bitter as the Winter Kings of yore, Cregan Stark is the latest of the wolf-blooded northmen to hold the seat of Winterfell as Warden of the North. Ambivalent to the conflicts of the southerners, Stark stands aloof and watches as the dragons that brought the realm to heel a hundred years ago prepare to tear themselves apart. Nonetheless, if the North is roused, he will be amongst the first to ride south and redden his sword with the blood of the chosen foe.
THEON SNOW, BASTARD OF WINTERFELL
Age: 25
Temperament: - Reserved: This character is a stoic who generally keeps to him/herself and exercises strict control over their emotions. While this means they're not likely to make reckless moves in court or on the battlefield, they can come across as unfeeling robots to others. +1 battle rolls, -1 Charisma. Traits: +3 Personal combat +2 Battles (+3 with temperament +1 Assassinations
Fathered by Cregan's father Rickon on a Ryswell girl, Theon spent his early years fostered at the Rills with his sister Sara. Once Rickon's wife had passed on, he brought the two to Winterfell to be raised with Cregan, who had no full blooded siblings of his own. Lord Stark grew close to his brother and sister, and refused to send Theon to the Night's Watch as many of his father's men advised; instead he has become the most trusted man of his household and captain of his guard.
Demesne
High Lordship of Winterfell:
60,000 Dragons
3000 men
Direct Vassals:
- Castle Cerwyn - House Cerwyn of Castle Cerwyn
- King's Course - House Cassel of King's Course
- Torrhen's Square - House Tallhart, Master's of Torrhen's Square
- Dawnforest - House Mollen of Dawnforest
Lordship of Moat Cailin (ruined)
20,000 Dragons
500 Men
Lordship of Sea Dragon Point 20,000 Dragons
250 Men
Buildings
Tier I
Tier II
Tier III
Tier IV
Last edited by Gandalfus; January 09, 2019 at 11:09 AM.
Lord Desmond Manderly made his way north with a compliment of a few score of White Harbor’s finest knights. He brought with him his middle son Torrhen, who had been named for the last King of Winter, the King who knelt. Manderly was once a powerful looking man, spry and fit, but many of his muscles had begun to soften or turn to fat, and his blond hair had begun to fade to gray. He wore partial chain, though it was mostly a decorative gesture covering little more than his arms, with a sea green tunic adorned by the merman of Manderly squarely upon his chest. His son Torrhen was his father’s spitting image, or he would have been if his father were a few decades younger, a strong and handsome knight, with vibrant blue eyes and shining gold locks. They had taken the White Knife the majority of the way north, a significantly faster and safer form of travel as far as Desmond was concerned, but the rest of the journey had to be made on horseback.
A small band of warriors make their way down south on the Kingsroad, dressed in thick furs and armor. Their banner displayed the chained giant of House Umber. Lord Harlon Umber himself rode at the front, his giant frame making for an impressive sight. He was close to seven feet tall and the muscles to match, with a thick brown beard and long hair on the verge of graying. His face was hard and weathered from many years of fighting in the harsh climate just south of the Wall. His retinue, of similar stature and composure as their lord, looked more like common bandits than sworn swords of one of the primary bannermen of House Stark. Next to Lord Umber rode Beron, his son and heir. The lordling looked much like his father, though less weathered and with a smaller beard. They rode on down the road to Winterfell, answering the summons of their liege.
Both Lord Manderly and Lord Umber are led through the gates and into the courtyard; snow had begun to fall after a few months of grey sunshine, though the white raven had not yet come from Oldtown to herald the onset of winter. Their horses are stabled, and Lord Stark's guard escorts them into the keep itself, a wide and square chamber of stone that had slowly evolved over the centuries to resemble the Andal castles of the south. Food and ale had been prepared, set out on a table large enough for both lords and their vassals and yet small enough to allow conversation.
"My Lords."
Lord Stark was not tall, but broad and the bearskin wrapped around his shoulders enhanced the size of his frame. He was good looking, in a rugged sort of fashion, but all his boyish charm had been replaced with a grim, straightforward manner.
Lord Manderly took a seat nearest to Stark as the seating arrangements allowed. His middle son beside him, and a number of prominent vassals beside him. “Lord Cregan.” Desmond replied, hands splaid on the table before him. “It is always a pleasure to attend council in these hallowed halls.” Desmond recalled a time when he was a young knight and Cregan merely a boy, his father had brought him to this place to attend council under Cregan’s own father. “But, I suspect we are assembled here for more than pleasant company and idle conversation?”
Lord Harlon and his son took a seat among the other lords, bowing their heads to their liege as they did so.
"Lord Stark, may the Old Gods watch over your house."
After Lord Manderly spoke, the large lord's expression turned from it's serious complexion into a devious smile. They had all received the news from the south - Viserys named king by the Queen Mother, while Princess Rhaenyra had been left in the dust. As much as the Umbers usually paid no heed to the schemes and intrigue at the royal court, there was no denying that tensions had been high for many years. War was coming, there was little doubt about that.
Lord Manderly took a seat nearest to Stark as the seating arrangements allowed. His middle son beside him, and a number of prominent vassals beside him. “Lord Cregan.” Desmond replied, hands splaid on the table before him. “It is always a pleasure to attend council in these hallowed halls.” Desmond recalled a time when he was a young knight and Cregan merely a boy, his father had brought him to this place to attend council under Cregan’s own father. “But, I suspect we are assembled here for more than pleasant company and idle conversation?”
Originally Posted by Jokern
Lord Harlon and his son took a seat among the other lords, bowing their heads to their liege as they did so.
"Lord Stark, may the Old Gods watch over your house."
After Lord Manderly spoke, the large lord's expression turned from it's serious complexion into a devious smile. They had all received the news from the south - Viserys named king by the Queen Mother, while Princess Rhaenyra had been left in the dust. As much as the Umbers usually paid no heed to the schemes and intrigue at the royal court, there was no denying that tensions had been high for many years. War was coming, there was little doubt about that.
"Trouble in the south. I know you all had ravens."
Cregan nonchalantly eased into his seat at the table's head and tore himself a hunk of bread.
"The Dragon is about to eat itself."
He spoke slowly, carefully considering each word that left his lips. Then, he popped a piece of bread into his mouth.
"We've had a long peace. Time to prepare for winter, though I do not believe the peace will last until the snows come in earnest."
Manderly gave a gentle tug to his golden beard, fleckled by gray with age. “A fight between dragons can burn all the other beasts of the wood as well.” The lord of White Harbor cautioned, as he extended a hand to tug idly at the food presented. “The Maesters say this will be a particularly harsh winter.. I will of course ensure that White Harbors granaries are filled, and that grain continues to flow into the north via my port, for as long as the season and war allows.”
"Then we need not worry about dragons to our south. All else can go to hell so long as we endure."
Yet Cregan suspected that someone would come asking for northern blades before long. And before winter, the young and old men alike grew restless, itching for a chance to die with honour rather than from the bitterest of cold.
"Though, we may not have a choice but to fight. If I must, then I will, though I will not make that decision lightly."
He grimaced. Like as not, they had sworn oaths, and a word given is not so easily broken.
Desmond gave a stiff tug to his beard, Stark has sworn oaths to uphold the accension of the Queen and he wasn’t the kind to break his word. “White Harbor will of course follow you wherever you might lead Lord Cregan.” He sighed wistfully. “I’m getting older, but this knight still has one good fight left in him, if the need should arise.” He cleared his throat as he broached another topic. “If war is to come we should be prepared for it. Perhaps, in the interest of unity, it would be advisable to grant me stewardship of the Broken Branch. The Wooldfeilds and Ashwoods already owe fealty to White Harbor, and if war does come I may be better able to rally the other houses there.” He ripped off a chunk of bread and took a bite from it, not as good as the bakers in his city, but passable. “Thanks to my proximity of course.”
Lord Harlon silently chewed on some tender meat while the Stark and the Manderly talked, intently listening to every word.
"So, we're staying out of this Southron conflict... can't say I disagree. If the coming winter is going to be as harsh as we've been led to believe, the bloody wildlings are gonna be coming down in droves. And if my boys are not at home, who else is going to bleed to keep the rest of you safe?"
The Umber men in the hall chuckled and made some small toasts. Lord Umber smiled and looked straight at Cregan Stark.
"Lord Stark, me and mine have sworn our oaths to the Stark of Winterfell, and we shall follow your command. If we stay home, we stay. However... if you call your wolves to war, you'll find no stronger warriors than my boys. No pansy flower knights in their colorful garments will put a stop to a raging Umber warrior, I'll tell you that."
Desmond gave a stiff tug to his beard, Stark has sworn oaths to uphold the accension of the Queen and he wasn’t the kind to break his word. “White Harbor will of course follow you wherever you might lead Lord Cregan.” He sighed wistfully. “I’m getting older, but this knight still has one good fight left in him, if the need should arise.” He cleared his throat as he broached another topic. “If war is to come we should be prepared for it. Perhaps, in the interest of unity, it would be advisable to grant me stewardship of the Broken Branch. The Wooldfeilds and Ashwoods already owe fealty to White Harbor, and if war does come I may be better able to rally the other houses there.” He ripped off a chunk of bread and took a bite from it, not as good as the bakers in his city, but passable. “Thanks to my proximity of course.”
Stark, for a moment or two, remained silent. He tore off a hunk of venison, mulling it over as he chewed upon the meat.
”Granted. Should it come to war, you will rally them. And if any word comes up the White Knife... Well, you know what to do.”
Rumours of war would reach White Harbour before anywhere else. And there was always the Sistermen, who grew restless when the lords of the Vale were no longer watching.
Originally Posted by Jokern
Lord Harlon silently chewed on some tender meat while the Stark and the Manderly talked, intently listening to every word.
"So, we're staying out of this Southron conflict... can't say I disagree. If the coming winter is going to be as harsh as we've been led to believe, the bloody wildlings are gonna be coming down in droves. And if my boys are not at home, who else is going to bleed to keep the rest of you safe?"
The Umber men in the hall chuckled and made some small toasts. Lord Umber smiled and looked straight at Cregan Stark.
"Lord Stark, me and mine have sworn our oaths to the Stark of Winterfell, and we shall follow your command. If we stay home, we stay. However... if you call your wolves to war, you'll find no stronger warriors than my boys. No pansy flower knights in their colorful garments will put a stop to a raging Umber warrior, I'll tell you that."
”I would be glad to ride with you all again. Be the foes wildlings or southrons.”
Cregan grinned crookedly. Stark had been wilder in his youth, always spoiling for a scrap. He had a few missing teeth and a bent nose for his troubles.
“I should speak with the Lord Commander. Ensure he has enough men and provisions. The numbers on the Wall have dwindled, of late.”
Manderly nodded. “My ships and men with guard the white knife with our lives, Cregan.” Manderly assured lord Stark. “And should any news of note pass through my city you will be the first to hear of it.” He picked up a knife and cut himself a slice of meat, surly something Stark’s men knew how to make properly, more so than the bread. The rest of the Manderly party were eating or chatting among themselves, or with the retinue of other northern lords. The men of White Harbor were an oddity in the north, but their loyalty to the Starks granted them acceptance. “Though I suspect that if Rhaenyra sends a dragon rider to discuss oaths, well they’ll arrive before any of my ravens could.” But a single dragon would surly be no match for the mighty Winterfell.
Cregan nodded in agreement. Should a dragon come north, there would be little he could do to prevent the rider doing as they pleased. But they would endure as they always have, no matter what promises needed to be made.
"For now, I shall see to our southern border. Moat Cailin won't stop a dragon, but it will hold an army. I will see it fortified."
With any luck, he could foster ties with the Riverlords, which would give the North a buffer should the war escalate to such a level.
A letter arrives from the south, detailing Manderly’s encounter with the boy Prince Joffrey - including mention of his habit for rather uncouth behavior. Desmond makes mention that the boy is young and still quite childish, yet has been sent by ‘she who would be Queen’ to treat with the Northmen. He warns that the boy’s arrival will likely follow shortly after the raven’s.
As the gods had dictated it, a shriek could be heard in Winterfell's halls, soon thereafter. It seemed, for an unknown reason, dragonriders liked to make their dragons shriek when they were close to destination. Anyway, there was a dragon circling Winterfell, a young and thin winged lizard, rode by none other but Joffrey Velaryon. He landed in front of the exterior barbican and waited.
ooc: Seriously, I realized it's the tenth time I've said my dragon shrieked.
A letter arrives from the south, detailing Manderly’s encounter with the boy Prince Joffrey - including mention of his habit for rather uncouth behavior. Desmond makes mention that the boy is young and still quite childish, yet has been sent by ‘she who would be Queen’ to treat with the Northmen. He warns that the boy’s arrival will likely follow shortly after the raven’s.
Originally Posted by Oznerol
As the gods had dictated it, a shriek could be heard in Winterfell's halls, soon thereafter. It seemed, for an unknown reason, dragonriders liked to make their dragons shriek when they were close to destination. Anyway, there was a dragon circling Winterfell, a young and thin winged lizard, rode by none other but Joffrey Velaryon. He landed in front of the exterior barbican and waited.
ooc: Seriously, I realized it's the tenth time I've said my dragon shrieked.
Barely a few hours had passed from Manderly's raven when a dragon was sighted; a small little thing, as the lizards went, but it was still rather impressive to behold the little beast as it descended into Winterfell's courtyard. Lord Stark emerged clad in several layers of furs to ward against the bitter cold, Ice sheathed on his back, surrounded by the entire household guard.
"Prince Joffrey."
Cregan greeted, standing upright.
"You are welcome in these halls, provided your dragon behaves itself. My servants will take care to stable it properly."
Stark had no idea how to handle a dragon, and he didn't want the dumb thing accidentally setting half the castle ablaze.
"Lord Manderly told me you visited White Harbour?"
Stark nods to the servants, who fetch supplies from the winter stores to coax the dragon into the stables with. A faint smile crossed his lips.
"I have some idea. Come, we can discuss further in the warm."
They turned and entered Winterfell's keep; large and square, the interior was perhaps a little quaint compared to the hall that Manderly kept at White Harbour. It was quite bare, with a few animal trophies and tapestries; though several large fires burned within, and the stone floor was surprisingly warm. A small table had been prepared for them both within the main hall, and Stark took his seat as food and ale were brought out for the Lord's pleasure.
"You come by your mother's word."
Stark gestured for Joffrey to eat, he himself not wishing to partake.
"I warn you, do not blame the cooks. Winter soon comes, and I have ordered that all the food we have be rationed."
It was hard bread and venison. The snows grew heavier by the day, and the peasants couldn't farm or else they'd freeze to death by the afternoon.
The prince looked quite thankful for the warmth of Winterfell's hall, he had arrived looking more a small ball of fur than anything else. He had been provided with heavy furs in White Harbor, where he already thought temperature was far too low for his tastes. The cloak itself weighted more than the small boy, who, now wearing nothing but a fur-lined doublet looked half his size. Joff was strong, aye, but he was still two-and-ten. He had some kind of juveniel enthuasiasm around him, probably excited to carry his own mission and being in Stark's keep.
"It's fine. The court's fancy food bores me so much. I'm tired of sugar castles, pidgeon pies and swann"
He smiled, attacking the venison with both hands, using the bread to soak him the juices and the sauce.
"Nice"
Voracious like only a boy of his age could be.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Aye, I come on behalf of my mother, to fulfill oaths. She said you, Lord Stark, have always been her supporter, even supported my grandmother like... thirty years ago. Well, probably your father did, you're not that old"
Rhaenys was the only grandmother he knew. The boy examined Cregan's face, trying to ascertain his age.
Winterfell
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Originally Posted by Pericles of Athens
