Creating Cacophony at Karhold
It had been six months that Jon had arrived and settled in Karhold. The Lord of the castle, Rickard Karstark, was a stern but caring man. He didn't mind Jon's bastard status, he had the blood of the Starks, his kin, and that was all that mattered to the Lord. He might have cautioned his household about the fact since Jon didn't receive the usual scorn or sneer like at Winterfell. But then again, many of those had been caused by Lady Stark.
Lord Karstark's eldest sons, Harrion and Eddard, were older by a few years of Jon. So they didn't care that much about him, citing him as a child. They were there to receive him when he arrived, but afterwards, they had left him to his own devices. Torrhen, the third son, who was a year younger than Jon, had become his close companion. They had picked up a rather easy friendship training and having lessons together. Torrhen had shown him around the castle and the surrounding area and helped Jon to settle himself. They did have an avid stalker in form of Alys, Lord Karstark's youngest child and daughter, but since Jon was used to having Arya dogging his every step, he didn't mind her to the annoyance and spluttering of Torrhen. Alys blushed bright red when Jon asked her about her interests. She timidly told him about her passion for horse riding. Jon promised her to give lessons in riding. She stammered her thanks and ran back inside the keep. Torrhen had burst out laughing and told to an incredulous Jon that his sister might have started planning for their wedding already.
The Godswood here at Karhold was far different than that of Winterfell. Of course, the face of the Heart Tree was curved differently, here it wore a frown instead of a sorrowful face from back home, but the connection that Jon felt with the Old Gods, albeit a little different, was still present. At home, he felt a sense of tranquillity and easy acceptance, here, the Godswood felt like a stern but caring guardian, much like the Lord of the castle himself.
The Castle Karhold wasn't as grand as Winterfell, but it had its charm. Jon tried to imagine the times gone by through these walls since its inception almost a thousand years ago. The library, smaller than he was used to, but was stuffed with rare and valuable tomes about the history of the house and the North. Although Jon did spot a few skill books on the shelves, he hadn't had a chance to look closely at them yet. He had a medium-sized but quite comfortable room here with the view over the yard and a part of the farming fields that surrounded the keep. The castle may not have been warm because of hot water flowing through the walls by pipe, like back in Winterfell, but it had a friendly and calm atmosphere, well, as calm as it could be when Harrion and Eddard were not creating raucous that is. The brothers were close like Jon and Robb, but they were always at each other's business and wrestling each other to domination for the littlest bit of disagreement. All of these done good-naturedly, of course. The Lady of the house, Anya Karstark were often seen to be chasing and pulling her eldest, almost to the brink of manhood, sons by the ears exasperatedly for their antics, much to the amusements of others, even the stern Lord Karstark was seen to wear a smirk during those times. Lady Anya was truly a gentle soul, she had welcomed Jon to her home with open arms, always fussing over him. He once even accidentally heard her lamenting about him being a motherless child to her ladies. Jon couldn't help but comparing her to Catelyn and felt an enormous amount of respect for Lady Anya.
Maester Darryl was much older than Luwin but was very genial overall. He was amazed at Jon's reasoning and strategic mind during their lessons. When Jon had told him about how he and Maester Luwin were experimenting with the use of the left hand, he was very interested in their method and told Jon that he would be making correspondence with the Maester of Winterfell in this regard for sure.
Jon had taken up his training right where he left them at Winterfell. Here at Karhold, he didn't feel the need to hold himself back. So he was soon receiving accolades for his skills with the sword. The Master-at-arms, Donnel Keen, a grumpy old man who, according to Torrhen, never had a smile on his face, made his approval known for Jon's skills. That reason only was enough for Torrhen to almost start worshipping Jon.
There was, however, a dark cloud hovered the general acceptance of Jon at Karhold. Arnolf Karstark, a cousin of the Lord and steward of the castle, had made his opinion known about the Bastard of Winterfell. Only the fear of Lord Karstark stopped him from showing open hostility towards Jon, but he made up for that with his hidden barbs and insults. The sneer and scowls of his were for everyone, none escaped those. But, on the whole, Jon was very happy with his fosterage otherwise.
Jon had found a workable clearing in the nearby woods where he could continue his obstacle course. He couldn't keep it secret however since Torrhen had become his shadow. The both of them usually leave early in the morning for their work out in the woods. Jon had to help Torrhen to walk back to the keep after the first day. He had thought that would be the end of him coming down to the woods every morning, but he was wrong about Torrhen's enthusiasm, he was standing beside the gates with a big smile on his face the next day Jon was about to leave the keep.
Jon was very close to dual wield swords, his practising in the yard and the writing with his left hand had come through. He could wield a sword in his left hand as good as with his right. He only needed to practice using them simultaneously. He had reached almost level 4 in his sword skill, the continuous working with swords, both on and off the yard, had paid off. His bow skill, however, wasn't coming as good as his sword skill. He had reached level 3 in it and could make 10 out of 10 shots at 20 paces by his right hand, but his left-handed shots were often veering off target. Jon was determined to get his bow skill up to the task as quickly as possible, the unfinished quest in his Quest Screen had started to grate on his nerves.
*Line Break*
Jon had come out to the woods surrounding Karhold on his own. Though Torrhen was supposed to come with him, he had received punishment for some pranks he pulled off on Alys. When Jon left with his bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, he could see him standing by his window with a sad look on his face. Jon gave him a cheery wave and received the bird in return. Laughing, he mounted his horse and rode out of the castle. This was not the first time Jon had gone hunting in the woods. It had plenty of games but almost none of the dangerous predators. Therefore, the boys from Karhold were often found in the woods hunting for birds or rabbits. Lady Anya had ranted at them saying that if they spend any more time in there, they would become the beasts of the woods themselves.
Jon had tied his horse to a tree after he went a little deep in the woods. He ventured further in on his foot. The rabbits would scatter for sure if they heard the hoofbeats of a horse. That morning had proved to be lucky for him, in only half an hours turn, he had bagged three rabbits and two pheasants. Encouraged by his success, Jon had ventured further into the woods than he normally did. He didn't even notice that he gotten in far too deep than even Harrion or Eddard said they had.
Jon came upon a small creek deep in the woods, he had taken cover behind a bunch of rocks because he could hear the unmistaken sound of some animal drinking water. He peered cautiously around the rocks and spotted a buck. It was a magnificent beast with the biggest set of antlers on its head. Very slowly he took off his bow from his shoulder and notched an arrow to it. He took a deep breath and let loose the arrow. It flew true and struck the buck near its throat. It let out a keening sound and tried to run away, but Jon was faster, his next shot had hit its chest area and probably went through its lung. It tried to run away but waddling after a few paces, it went down. Jon got out of his hiding place and leapt over the creek. The buck was still breathing when he reached it, it tried to get up but couldn't muster the strength. Jon took out his skinning knife from its sheath and after muttering a quick prayer to the Old Gods, he slit its throat to give it a quick death.
Jon had just gotten up to find vines so that he can tie up the buck and dragged it to his horse when the hair on the back of his neck stood up and his every sense screamed at him about danger. He slowly turned on his heels and came to see a huge bear standing on top of the copes of rocks he was hiding behind. Jon cursed under his breath, he should've realized that the other animals could be around for the creek to be a source of water.
Ping!
Quest Alert!
Bear the bear!
Stay alive!
Reward: ?
That was really helpful, mused Jon absentminded. The bear snarled and took a step towards Jon. He very slowly took out his bow and aimed an arrow towards it with trembling hands. It took another step and Jon let the arrow fly. Though his hands were trembling something fierce, his aim was true, the arrow embedded itself on the right shoulder of the bear. It let out a roar of pain and dashed towards Jon, he had ditched his bow by then realizing it wouldn't help him in the current situation. For the lack of any other weapon, Jon grabbed the skinning knife and held it tight in his grip.
The bear wasn't slowed at all with the arrow wound, in a blink, it had reached Jon and swiped at him. Jon dove into his training and tried to parry the swipe, the sharp edge of the knife left a shallow cut at the bear's claw. Enraged, it stood back on his hind legs and let out another roar. It lunged at Jon and he tried to dive sideways to avoid its claw, but this time the bear managed to land an attack. Jon was thrown backwards and had the winds knocked out of him. He felt as if his chest was on fire. He looked down to find three long gashes across his chest, his torn jerkin was slowly getting wet from the seeping blood. Shakily, Jon stood back on his feet, firming his resolve, he again held up the knife. He snarled back at the bear, he would not die alone in the wood, on his back, he would not go down without a fight. Jon felt as if his blood lit on fire, primal energy suffused him, his senses became sharper – he could smell the salty tang of blood in the air, he could hear the heartbeats of his own and the bear's, he could see the tensing of muscles behind the thick, black fur of the bear.
The bear once again lunged at Jon, this time he jumped upwards. Jon twisted in the air and landed atop the bear. He wound his left arm around its neck and pulled back with all of his strength. Even though it felt nothing to the bear, but having Jon on its back and his arm around its neck enraged it further and it stood on its hind legs once again. The bear's action showed to be in favour of Jon, as it stood up, Jon was now hanging from its neck, his entire weight now tugging at the bear's windpipe. No matter how small Jon was in comparison with the bear, it surely felt the discomfort of almost getting choked. It kept flailing its forelegs about trying to snag Jon and free itself. He gritted his teeth and brought his right arm up to stab the bear in the head, but the flailing made him miss his target. He had just made a gash across its snout, in pain, the bear shook its entire body and almost dislodged Jon. He tightened his grip with his failing strength, he could feel that he would not be able to hold on for much longer. With an angry yell, Jon again stabbed at the bear, he didn't notice where the blade landed, he kept swinging his right arm and stabbing at its head. After what felt like a lifetime, the bear collapsed on the ground, creating a tremor. Jon leapt up from its body which was convulsing in death throws. From a distance, Jon looked at the bear and saw the right side of its head was almost cut to the ribbons. One of his stabs had landed on its eye and went through to its brain, which was what ultimately brought the bear down to the ground.
Jon collapsed on his knees and emptied his stomach. He laid on his back and started to take big gulps of air, his arms were screaming at him. After a few minutes, with his breathings once again under his control, Jon tried to get up, he winced at the pain that flared up in his chest. He took a glance at the bear to find that it was finally dead. He dragged his leaden feet towards the creek and drank the ice-cold water to his heart's content. He tried to wash off the blood from his hands and face as much as he could. He then took off his jerkin and undershirt to wash the wounds on his chest. He made strips from the ruined undershirt to tie the wounds till he could be back to the castle.
*Line Break*
The castle of Karhold was in an upheaval. Jon Snow had left the castle after dawn to go hunting and is yet to return even after nightfall. Lord Rickard stood at the yard and directing guards to form a search party to bring his liege lord's son safely back. Harrion and Eddard too stood ready in their gear to ride out with the men. Lady Anya stood back with Torrhen with worried looks on their faces and Alys was clinging to her skirt crying her eyes out.
The men were ready to ride out when the guards atop the gatehouse shouted about an approaching rider. Everyone present at the yard stood back and looked on flabbergasted as Jon Snow slowly rode through the gates dragging two enormous beasts wrapped in vines behind his horse. Lord Rickard rushed forward and helped him off the horse. When he was steady on his legs, he thundered at him –
"Where in the seven hells have you been?"
Jon looked at the ground and stammered, "I beg your forgiveness, my Lord, I just went hunting and lost my way in the woods."
Rickard took a glance at the bodies of the massive buck and the huge bear which were attracting a crowd around them. He indicated at Jon's chest where the make-shift bandages were still seeping with blood, "What happened to you?"
Jon shrugged his shoulder and winced in pain, "The bear almost got to me." He replied nonchalantly.
Rickards jaw slacked in incredulity and his mouth formed an "O". Harrion and Eddard face-palmed hard at Jon's answer. Only Torrhen's bark of laughter broke the strange atmosphere of the yard and brought everybody to their senses. Lord Rickard indicated to Lady Anya and told her to take Jon to see the Maester, she came forward and cuffed Jon lightly at the back of his head and put her arm around his shoulder to steer him towards the Maester's rooms. Torrhen followed them shaking his head. Rickard let out a sigh – What the hell was he to tell Lord Stark about this incident?! He took another look at the slain beasts and shook his head in amazement – the lad has nerves of steel, a Northman through and through! A feast will have to be arranged for the next day.
Ping!
Quest Completed!
Bear the bear!
Rewards: +100 Hunting
+100 Bestiary
+100 Biology
+100 Observe
+100 Strategy
+1 Str
+1 End
+1 Wil
+1 Luc
+100 Exp
.
Ping!
Trait Skill Unlocked!
Wolfblood: You have become one with your inner wolf. Your senses are sharper than before and will get better as you mature. You will enter into a bloodlust at the height of the battle and will give you that much-needed edge in battles.
.
Ping!
Champion's Body will make sure that you are healthy by the next morning. However, you shall have to bear the superficial wounds and their treatments till they are cured the normal way. It may seem inconvenient but bear the stings of stitches, Champion.
*Line Break*
Lady Anya was spitting mad, she almost stripped skin of Jon's back for his recklessness. She was so wroth that her sons gave her a wide berth for the next couple of days. Jon was confined to his rooms for the duration it took his wounds to settle and for the Maester to take out the stitches from his chest. Torrhen was happy with this turn of events, for now, he was at the yard waving cheerily at Jon and receiving birds in return. Alys, the miniature version of her mother, tried to appear stern whenever she spoke to Jon, her behaviour was so comical that Jon couldn't stop himself from laughing, it sent an irate Alys marching out of his room with her nose up in air haughtily.
Harrion had cornered him during the feast the next day of his hunt. He asked about the hunt and questioned the littlest details. In the end, he slapped Jon's shoulder and nodded at him in respect, for it was an experience of a lifetime even when Jon tried to tone down everything.
The raven he received from Winterfell was much worse than he thought it would be. He could almost hear the disappointment in Ned's voice from the note. He chastised him thoroughly for his careless ways and piled on the guilt that Jon was already feeling by mentioning how worried his cousins were, especially Arya. At the end of the note, Ned had told him how proud he was of him. Lord Karstark had sent the stuffed head of the bear to Winterfell, which was now hung at the wall behind the Lord's seat at the Great Hall. The antlers set of the buck was mounted up on the wall at the hall of Karhold. It had become quite a conversation piece for Lord Rickard who would proudly tell everyone who asked about how his ward had brought down the huge beast with two shots and afterwards took on a massive bear with nothing but a skinning knife. Jon was gifted with a cloak made from the bear pelt. It was so big that it dragged on the ground, but he was told that it would adjust with his height as he grew up.
Jon had received a few letters from Robb. He had told him all about the splendour and wonders of New Castle. He regaled Jon about his trips to Bravos with Ser Wendel, son of Lord Wyman. Though he didn't venture out to the streets of Bravos, still, his description of the free city had ignited Jon's desire to travel somewhat fierce. Robb had come to know about Jon's bear-some encounter in letters from Winterfell. He at first rebuked him for not telling him about the incident himself and then asked for a return letter with minute details of his experience.
Jon had garnered a respectful position among the men-at-arms and household staff of Karhold for his deed, much to Arnolf's dismay. He had also earned the nickname of White Wolf because he always wore the kerchief he had received from Sansa tied to his arm with the white wolf on display for all to see. Lady Anya also stitched him a few of those herself when she came to know about the nickname.
As Jon's wounds had made it impossible for him to practice with his swords, he was constricted within the archery range. He counted it as a blessing that now he could invest even more time to bring his bow skill up to par. Within a week and a half of constant practising, Jon had finally completed the quest that had been bugging him for longer than a year.
Ping!
Quest Complete!
Eyes to the Prize – The Northern Bow 1
Reward: +100 Bow
+100 Hunting
+100 Observe
Bonus Reward: +20 Reputation with all men-of-war
*Every man familiar with any kind of arms will have respect for your skill
+50 exp
.
Ping!
Quest Alert!
Eyes to the Prize – The Northern Bow 2
Make consecutive 10 shots at 80 to 100 paces
Bonus Objective: Use each arm alternatively
Bonus Objective: Make consecutive 10 shots from running horseback at stationery targets (bonus reward for using alternative hands)
Reward: ?
?
?
+ 200 Exp
Jon's eyebrows went skywards by the dire requirements of the newest quest. He let out a deep sigh and took up his bow once again, the euphoria he felt moments ago for finally completing the quest had already evaporated.
[CotW]
Off the yard, Jon had spent quite some times in the Maester's room and the Library of Karhold. He had brushed up his Valyrian skill and earned further 2 levels in it. Now he could speak almost fluent bastardized Valyrian in Bravosi dialect. The dialects of other regions or proper Valyrian were still out of his grasp though.
The Karstarks had many books on Old Legends of the North, each of them written in Old Tongue. Lady Anya had patiently helped him to brush up on the language which he had started to learn from Old Nan back at Winterfell when she found him trying to badger the Maester about it who himself was not so good with the old language. She sat with her youngest children and Jon and read to them from those books. Jon was overwhelmed, He had a vague dream once that his mother was reading stories to him, like once he saw Lady Catelyn doing for Robb and Sansa. Lady Anya's gentle encouragement had brought Jon's skill in Old Tongue up to par with his Common Tongue and Valyrian skills.
The Maester's tome collection and the Karhold Library had also garnered him loads of Skill Books. He had advanced almost all of his skills to at least Level 3 save Magica. For the life of him, Jon couldn't understand what would take for magical education. His bracers were surely magical, shouldn't using them constantly had increased his skill by now?
Lady Anya had also taught him ballroom decorum. When she started her lessons, all the boys were laughing their collective heads off at Jon's discomfort, but when she rounded each one of them up and made them dance with the ladies of her court, they were singing in a different tune. They might have grumbled a lot, but none of them could deny the fact that each of them became adept on the dance floor under the watchful eyes of Lady Anya.
One time, Alys had fallen ill and ran a very high fever. She became very clingy to her mother in her sickbed. She wouldn't eat or sleep till her mother was sitting beside her bed. Jon took pity on the Lady and tried to relieve her by offering himself as her stand-in. When Alys refused to go to sleep without her mother, Jon had to sing her to sleep. He sang to her the Northern lullabies like Old Nan used to sing to him. Unknown to him, Lady and Lord Karstark were standing by Alys' door listened to him singing. Once Alys had recovered her health, Lady Anya had cornered Jon and made him take singing lessons. Her opinion was – it would be a crime to not allow anyone to hear Jon's voice. Jon agreed to her reluctantly, he thought that mayhaps, by this way, he could honour his father – the Bard Prince.
[CotW]
Once Maester Darryl had taken the stitches out of Jon's wound, he went back to his training with renewed vigour, he was adamant to make up for the lost times. The elder Karstark sons had taken an interest in Jon after his tryst with the bear. They had questioned him so much about the incident that it had reached a point where Jon was about to tear off his hair if he had to hear any more of their questions. Their curiosity sated, they had taken Jon under their wings, or so they'd said. They told him about the fighting technique when one would lose his weapons, Jon had never in his life heard that there was a technique behind a simple fistfight. It was just something that drunkards resort to. Eddard smirked when Jon had said him so. He took him out to the yard and told him to try and hit him. He promised that he will not be hitting back because he would not need to. Jon stared at him for some time disbelievingly. Then he shrugged his shoulder and threw a punch to Eddard's face. Jon didn't understand what had happened. His punch didn't land on Eddard, Eddard himself hadn't touched him, then how come he was lying on his back, staring up at the sky? Jon got up to his feet and turned to see the smirking visages of the elder Karstark brothers. He looked at Torrhen and he shrugged his shoulder. He too had no idea what his brothers were talking about. Harrion and Eddard then took the boys with them and found a quieter spot at the yard, where they told them about the art of fistfight, a technique that had been developed by a Karstark almost around the time of the Conquest, the practice of which enables a man to keep fighting even when he had no weapons on him. It took hand-eye coordination, balance and strength of the upper body as well as strong sets of legs to become a decent fighter. The training of this technique was hell, but if one went through it, they would surely become a formidable fighter with or without a blade in his hands, because their arms and legs had turned into weapons. It didn't take a Maester to guess that Jon and Torrhen had started the training from the next day.
*Line Break*
It had been a year and a half since Jon came to Karhold. Jon was never happier even when he was at Winterfell. He indeed missed his cousins and the familiar surroundings of the old castle, but life at Karhold had its charm. Lord Rickard would sit him and Torrhen down and tell them about the politics and history of the North, but he had this style of giving lessons, that it would seem he was telling them stories. Through his anecdotes, they had become quite adept at Northern philosophy, they very clearly understood how a Northman thinks.
Lady Anya was someone that Jon had respected very much. He often thought that had his mother lived, she would've been like Anya Karstark. The Lady had always treated him as if he was her fourth son, she never used his bastard status to create a wall around her children. To her, Jon was the same as Torrhen. On his twelfth name day, she had arranged for a small feast, just like she did for any of her children. That morning, when she had gifted Jon a new set of clothes, prominent among them was a fine black jerkin, on which featuring a painstakingly embroidered picture of his namesake, a white direwolf, Jon couldn't stop his tears. Lady Anya hugged him close till he could compose himself.
The Karstark brothers and Jon had become a close-knit group. After the bear incident, they didn't let Jon go to the woods alone. They had gone back to the creek with Jon and each bagged games big enough to brag about. On one such hunting trip, Jon had found his avian companion.
*Flashback*
Jon was aiming for the deer in front of him when a strange screeching noise made him lose his concentration. Trying to find the source of the sound, he carefully ventured into the thicket just a few yards to the left from where he had taken cover. There, under the branches and bramble, Jon had found a newly hatched bird, which must have dropped from its nest from a nearby tree. Jon carefully freed the bird from the branches and held it up against his chest. It was an ugly little thing, yet to sprout feathers. Jon went out and carefully looked up at the surrounding trees in search of the nest.
After some time, he was called back by Harrion, who was dragging the very deer Jon was trying to shoot.
"What do you have there, Jon?"
"A hatchling, it must have fallen from its nest. I am trying to find the nest."
By then, the other two had joined them. Torrhen peered at the bird and commented –
"Ugly little thing, isn't it?"
Eddard snorted, "Look who's talking!"
The four of them had spread out and scoured the immediate area for the nest of the baby bird, but to no avail. Jon decided to take the bird back to the castle with him. He would try to raise it.
They had gotten to their horses and were on their way back to the keep. "What kind of bird is it?" Torrhen asked.
"I have no idea, mayhaps the Maester would know…"
Maester Darryl had consulted his books and found out the species of the bird. He had told them that it was a baby falcon. Native to the mountain ranges of Vale, it was very rare to see one such bird so far in the North. It was also very strange that they couldn't find the nest from which the bird might have fallen off. Jon thought that bird was a blessing from the Old Gods, he tried with all his might to keep it hale and hearty. The bird proved to be a warrior, it fought against all odds and became healthy. Soon it sprouted grey feathers all over its body, with a white underside, almost the colour of the Stark Banner. Jon had named it Gale and started to train it. He had borrowed a book on falconry from the Maester.
[CotW]
Jon had always felt a very strong connection with Gale, it seemed she could tell what he was saying to her. It had become a common sight for the residents of Karhold to see Jon walking around the keep with Gale sitting on his shoulder, having a quiet conversation with the bird. The brothers had made fun of him for it but when Lord Rickard enquired, Jon had told him about the connection he felt. Lord Rickard said that Jon could have been starting a warg bond with the bird. After that, nobody tried to make any jokes about it, rather they had taken to Gale with reverence. Because, to the Northmen, wargs were thought to be blessed by the Gods.
Some days, Jon would wake up from his sleep in the morning with the feeling of cold air running all over his body. He would be confused and went back to sleep wrapping the kilt around him. After experiencing such things many times, one day Jon suddenly found himself looking on top of the tree lines. He could feel the air current flowing through, keeping him afloat. He tried to look at his body only to find it had shrunk down and sprouted feathers all over. The feathers were ruffling in the winds. Jon could see every minute details down on the ground, the chickens that were pecking around the coop, the cat sitting on top of the forge roof, basking in the sun, rats skittering about the farmlands outside of the keep…suddenly, he swooped down from his glide towards the farms…he extended his legs…he snatched up a rat…and now he was flying up again…landing on the roof of the keep…his beak tore through the skin of the rat…he could taste the tangy iron of blood…
Jon woke up and found himself on his bed, the taste of blood still lingering in his mouth.
Ping!
Perk Activated!
You have spontaneously availed and enabled a perk!
Warg: You are the blood of the First Men. You can share the mind and body of your chosen companion(s). But beware, if your mental fortitude is low, the beast may take over (The negative effect of this perk have been rendered null due to Champion's Mind perk)
Since that day, Jon had shared the mind with Gale quite often, but he didn't feel right about warging into Gale in front of everybody. He only did it when he was either alone or was around the Karstark brothers or Lord Rickard himself. The Lord was quite proud to have witnessed a warg demonstrating his skills. He had pointed out the tomes in his Library to Jon to help him understand his gift better. Anya or Alys didn't care about any of this, to them, Gale was a precious little thing they had helped rearing up from her infancy. They only cared about spoiling her rotten with their extra bacon strips much to Jon's consternation.
Jon had trained his mind to keep his and Gale's consciences apart. He needed to do that or else he could be facing serious problems if his mind was divided while he was fighting. He trained himself to keep a link open with which he and Gale could communicate with each other. He had found it very useful when he went hunting. Gale had spotted the target from above long before Jon was near it, then she directed him towards the right path and near the target. The first time they had done that, Jon was so excited that he shot four extra rabbits just as gifts for Gale. She wasn't complaining though. His Tracking Skill had gone through the roof due to their connection.
*Flashback ends*
It was Alys' nameday. Lord and Lady Karstark hadn't left anything to the chance for their darling little daughter's special day. The whole household was on its feet since the morning, the kitchen staff had been run ragged to prepare every one of Alys' favourite dish. The keep itself was decorated from top to bottom. Alys had commandeered Gale for the day. The bird was sitting on top of her shoulder and looking at everyone imperiously as if it was her special day and none had better dare to try anything and spoil it. The four boys were chased around the keep by Lady Anya, doing numerous errands. As the afternoon approached, they were rushed to take bath and ready themselves for the feast for Princess Alys (and Gale). The gifts were first, new dresses from the Lord and Lady, a beautiful necklace from Harrion, a sunburst locket like their sigil to go with the necklace from Eddard, a new comb from Torrhen, a wooden horse statue, curved personally by Jon and numerous other gifts. The girl was beaming like the sun. Jon although have attended nameday feasts for his cousins, but was never this much involved. Lady Catelyn had always tried to confine him to his rooms and only let him out around the time for the feasts. She always feared that Jon would do something to spoil the day for her children.
The four boys had sneaked out of the castle to conduct their celebration. Basically, the elder two had dragged the younger two with them. They had spent the evening getting drunk to celebrate their sister's nameday. When they tried to sneak back inside of the castle, they made more raucous than they could have if they tried to go back to their rooms the normal way. Lady Anya ranted at them for a long time and then sent them to their rooms threatening with dire consequences come the morning.
It was the hour of the wolf when Jon was awakened by urgent mental nudges from Gale. Though he went to sleep inebriated, he had woken up stone-cold sober thanks to Champion's Mind. It took him a moment to understand why Gale had woken him up so urgently. He could see through her eyes from the rookery where she usually sleeps that the castle was being invaded by wildlings. Skagosi, as far as Jon could sense from the way they dressed. He leapt up from his bed and hurriedly dressed and put on his armour. Only Lord Rickard would be in a commanding position since all three of his sons were drunk out of their minds. Jon didn't have much faith in Arnolf. He rushed out of his rooms grabbing whatever weapons he could lay his hands on in his hurry. The yard was already a chaotic mess. Skagosi clashed with the guards of the night shift, other guards running out of the barracks half-dressed and many even were coming out without armours. Lord Rickard was on the balcony trying to direct the guards. Jon took a look around the carnage and jumped down from the balcony he was standing upon. He landed on the roof of the stable and took his stance. Arrows left his bow with unbelievable speed, none of them missing their targets. Soon, he had fired his last arrow. He threw the bow away and tried to draw his sword, only to find that he had buckled on an empty scabbard in his rush to get out. He jumped down from the rooftop and ran into the fray, weaving and dodging the ongoing battle. He had found a man advancing towards a guard who was busy fighting another invader. Jon took a running leap and landed feet first on the man, his leg impacting with the Skagosi's knee and a crunching noise of bone-breaking made it clear that he wouldn't be getting up any time soon. Jon wrenched the spear from his hands and advanced towards the fighting.
Jon had lost all sense of time. Evade. Parry. Thrust. Dodge. Thrust. Slide. Thrust. He had let his Wolfblood taken over. With Gale directing him towards his enemies, he was revelling in the bloodlust. He had just eviscerated a man with the blade of his spear when suddenly Gale sent him a sense of approaching danger. Jon turned back and brought up the spear just in time to block the downward slash from a giant of a man. The force of the impact had jarred his bones. Jon stood his ground and sized his enemy. It was a man of about six and a half to seven feet tall. The man was as wide as he was tall, but it wasn't due to fat, Jon could see the rippling muscles of his arms shone under the moonlight. He had braced himself for the next attack. Jon did successfully parry off the next slash, but the spear had seen better days. It didn't survive the impact with the man's sword this time and broke down in the middle. Jon was left standing with a blunt bit of stick. He threw the broken thing away and tried to lure the man to another place where he can snatch another weapon and renew his attack. He dodged and weaved around the man in search of a weapon, any weapon. But soon Jon's luck ran short and he stepped on a bit of a ground that had been sleeked with spilt blood. His foot skidded just a bit and it was all to make Jon stumble and caught his foot on the body of a fallen man. He had crashed to his knees.
Time had seemed to be slowed down. Jon could see the raised sword coming down towards his head. He raised his arms on instinct to defend himself. He was thinking of Winterfell, the home he would never see again. His cousins, Arya, Robb, Sansa, Bran, baby Rickon. His uncles Eddard and Benjen. Cley Cerwyn. The Karstark brothers. Lord Rickard and Lady Anya. Little Alys…and finally his mother, Lyanna Stark. He felt a strange feeling, happy that he will be with his parents, step-mother and siblings soon…but sad that he couldn't finish the work his mother and the Gods had entrusted him. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, waiting for the blade to claim his life.
*Snikt!*
*Clang!*
Another bone-jarring impact to his hands brought him back to reality. He opened his eyes and for a moment had forgotten everything about the ongoing battle for the incredulity of the situation. Two Valyrian blades, about ten inches long, which had come out of the Champion's bracers from under his wrists and palms, forming a cross, had stopped the sword. He let out a maniacal laugh at the absurdity of it all. The Skagosi looked at him with fear in his eyes and took a step backwards. Jon had a wolfish smile stretched on his face, he jumped up to his feet and ran towards the man, arms spread out like wings. As he reached him, he went down on his knees, the velocity carried him skidding onwards. As he went between the giant's legs, he slashed out at his knees. The man let out a scream and went down on his knees. Jon leapt up and turned on his heel, he jumped on the man's back and thrusted out his hands, towards his neck from both sides. The blades went through bones and flesh with ease. A gurgling sound came from the man as he collapsed. Jon retracted his hands and looked at the blades in wonder. The rippling, black appearance of Valyrian steel had an otherworldly beauty about them. Jon experimented with the blades for a short time, a jerking manoeuvre was all it took to bring out and retract the blades. Jon had a suspicion that they may also respond to mental commands, but he dismissed it for the time being. He grabbed the short axe from the fallen man's belt and went back into the fight.
Jon was like a deadly whirlwind. He kept hacking away with the axe and blocking, parrying or stabbing with his hidden blade. It wouldn't have been an easy fight if Jon was facing a trained army, but to the untrained wildlings, he appeared as if the wrath of Gods. He almost single-handed decimated the entire invading force. About half of them lay dead or dying by Jon's hands. The rest was soon overtaken by the Karhold guards and put to the blades. Jon stood in the middle of the yard breathing hard. The guards surrounded Jon and put him up on their shoulders. They carried him inside of the keep while chanting "White Wolf! White Wolf!" at the top of their lungs.
The hall was filled with people. The wounded was being taken care of by Maester Darryl and several maids under his direction. Lord Rickard had a bandage covering a wound on his shoulder, he was sitting in his seat looking grim. Lady Anya was trying to calm a distressed Alys in her lap. The Karstark brothers were sitting at a corner nursing their pounding heads, they were yet to get back from their drunken stupor. All of them looked up when the mob of celebrating soldiers came in yelling and carrying a bloody Jon on their shoulders. Lord Rickard leapt to his feet, Lady Anya placed Alys down and rushed towards Jon. When the men put Jon down on his feet, she hugged him tightly, then pulled back and peered at him from head to toe.
"Are you alright? Are you badly hurt?"
Jon gave her a wan smile, "I am not hurt, My Lady. None of these is mine." He indicated the blood and gore still covering his body.
"Did you manage to kill any wildling?" Torrhen had joined them by then.
Jon shrugged, "Mayhaps one or two…"
Donnel Keen, the old and gruff Master-at-arms snorted hearing Jon's reply. He turned to Lord Rickard and bowed, "Pardon me, milord, but the attack tonight could've turned into a disaster if it wasn't for young Snow here." He turned towards Jon, "One or two, my arse!" Donnel looked back at Lord Rickard with a proud smile, "I didn't see him at first as I was with you directing our men, but I heard from the men that the White Wolf had jumped down from the balcony on the roof of the stable, from there he shot down wildlings with every arrow in his quiver. By then you were already wounded, My Lord, and had to return inside. I was doing my best to leading the men on my own. But then I saw something that I won't be forgetting till me death bed."
Keen then started to describe how Jon had jumped right into the fray and started to decimate the invaders first with a spear and then with an axe, the hidden blades went unnoticed as far as Jon understood. When he described him laughing manically before cutting down the wildlings, Jon wanted to melt right into the ground. The people gathered in the hall were looking at him with awe. He could see the proud smiles on the faces of the Karstarks. Not being much eager for praises, Jon excused himself claiming to be needing a bath. He almost ran away from the hall from under the fond and awed gazes of the people.
In his room, Jon had for the first time used Observe on the bracers –
Ping!
Champion's Bracers!
Mythical objects. These bracers have many magical properties. Primary among them is the ability to change forms. They will change from bracers to leather wristbands when the Champion is in need to put on the full armour. In their normal appearance, the bracers are made of supple leather, with coloured Valyrian steel plates placed on the outside. The bracers also have eight inches long Valyrian steel blades hidden at the underside. The blades will come out when the Champion applies a special manoeuvre, else, it can also be accessed by the mental command of the Champion.
Tired Jon didn't delve further into the magic or the properties of the bracers.
[CotW]
The name of the White Wolf had reached a fervent height around Karhold. From Smallfolks to Noble Karstark bannermen, were all praises for the son of Stark. Young maids started to give him coy smiles or sighed whenever he passed them by. Men in the yard hailed him whenever he stepped out. All in all, Jon had become a figure of legend over the night. The Karstark brothers didn't leave the chance to have fun at Jon's expense for the sudden growth of his admirers, especially of the female persuasions.
They had asked him how he was able to fight when he too was drunk like them, Jon had used the excuse that he wasn't as drunk as they were. He couldn't very well tell them how his Champion's Body helped him. They had accepted the excuse since they couldn't remember much of the night. The four of them had put their heads together and came up with a theory that the attack wasn't an unprompted one. It was too coincidental that they had chosen the day of Alys' nameday celebration to attack the castle. They were way more organized than just a bunch of wildling trying their luck. They had come into the night of celebration and caught them with their pants down. Someone or a lot of someones had informed them of the goings-on around the castle.
When they had approached Lord Rickard with their theory, he didn't reject it. He too thought the attack was too convenient to happen on that night. He ordered his sons and ward to try and smoke out any conspirator if there was one. The four then prepared for a long journey and rode out of the castle, on the pretext of visiting the minor Banner Lords of Karhold.
After travelling around for four months, their search had led them all the way to the Last Hearth. Lord Jon Umber, the Greatjon was happy to receive Lord Karstark's sons and the famed White Wolf in his home. Jon was thoroughly embarrassed about the nickname and the fact that it had reached this far here in the Last Hearth, much to the brothers' amusement. The Greatjon had arranged a feast in their honour, where he had boomed in his indomitable way and listed out each of Jon's exploits to all and sundry. The Karstark brothers were having the time of their lives seeing Jon squirming under all the attention he was receiving from every maid present at the Hall.
On the next day, they had gathered in the solar of Lord Umber and told him about the reason for their visit. They had presented the Lord a letter signed from Lord Rickard. The Last Hearth also gets attacked by Wildings constantly. Lord Umber, his son and heir Jon (Smalljon) Umber, his brothers Mors (Crowfood) and Hothor (Whoresbane) Umber were all present in the discussion. The Umbers had offered any help they can to root out the inside man that had been plaguing all of their lands.
Jon and the Karstartk brothers had been enjoying Umber hospitality for a week when Lord Umber received a raven saying that Robbet Glover, brother of Galbert, the Lord of Deepwood Motte, was in pursuit of a band of Wildlings. They had chased them through the Wolfswood and probably would take the pass of the Last Lake.
Smalljon had taken twenty men and rode out to head them off along the banks of Last Lake. Jon and the Karstarks had ridden out with them. It had taken them a week to reach Last Lake. They had decided not to make camps out in the open. All twenty-five of them had taken to sleep in their bedrolls under the trees of the forest, neither they had made any campfire, fearing that would alert the Wildlings about their position. That night they made do with the rations of dried meat and a chunk of cheese each. Near the dawn, the sentry made the signal of approaching men. They had no way to know if they were wildlings or Glover men. Jon had left Gale at Karhold under Alys' care. He climbed a nearby tree and started to quietly advance towards the oncoming men by leaping and swinging from branches to branches.
Jon was perched on a branch covered by leaves and waited for the men to come near the small clearing. He had left his sword with this stuff for the ease of climbing trees. The only weapons Jon had with him were an armlong dagger and a small axe strapped to his waist, and of course, the hidden blades. The axe was a thing of beauty. The Greatjon was a man who loved to collect axes. He had every kind of axes in his collection, small ones, huge ones – when he heard how Jon tore through a bunch of Wildling armed with only a small axe, he took him to his armoury and gifted the axe to him. It was entirely made of castle forged steel – from the blade to the handle, soft leather strips wrapped around the grip riveted to the solid handle, the blade itself looked like a teardrop, on one side it was rounded with a sharp edge, the other side, it was narrowed like a spear point.
Soon enough, Jon could hear snapping of twigs and crunching of dried leaves, the men he was waiting for were finally here. They must have not expected any attack from the front side, as they were not careful about making noises. He could see from their assortment of furs and the presence of a very small number of steel weapons, that these were indeed the Wildling group the Glovers were chasing. He was about to get back to his party when he spotted that some of those men were carrying prisoners on their shoulders. Many of them were young women. He didn't need to be a Maester to tell the fate that awaited the poor girls. Seeing them, the red haze of rage that he associated with the activation of Wolfblood made its presence known. Jon let out a loud and shrill whistle to alert the Karstark brothers and the Umber men. The raiding party below him was startled and tried to spot any attacking forces. Jon moved from his place through the cover of the dense leaves. He positioned himself at the back of the group and leapt off from the tree branch with the axe in his right hand the dagger in his left.
The two men at the back of the group hadn't expected an attack from the top. The one on the right side had his head split in two and the left-sided one had a dagger in his brain before realizing anything and dropped dead on the ground. The commotion alerted the raiding party, they turned around to see Jon getting up on his feet with bloody weapons in his hands and two of their numbers lay dead on the ground. Chaos ensued within the small clearing, the Wildlings dropped their prisoners and tried to rush towards Jon, but the Umber men had reached them by now. Clashes of weapons and screams of wounded or dying men rang through the air. Two men rushed at Jon, one took a swing of his club at his head, the other thrust his spear to his midsection. Jon locked the club by the blade of his axe and turned away to evade the spear thrust. He wrenched on his axe and the man with club grunted with overextending his arms towards Jon, he used the opportunity and drove the dagger in his throat. The spearman came again and this time tried a downward thrust, Jon shuffled his steps to make the spear miss and put his left foot down to capture the shaft between the ground and his feet. He used the momentum and jumped off the spear towards the man and kneed him in the face. Jon drove his dagger into the fallen man's chest and got up to find his next opponent. Another one rushed at him with a raised cudgel, a quick parry and hacking with the axe later, he was on the ground with a slit throat.
A giant man, like the one Jon fought against at Karhold, was fighting against two Umber men, soon he dispatched both soldiers and turned towards Jon. He peered at the wolf motif stitched on his leather armour and growled at Jon.
"You are the White Wolf! I heard that you killed my brother, Borg. I will kill you here and now and fuck your corpse. Then I will hunt down your family and kill every man and fuck every woman. They will bear the sprogs of Olaff and curse your name."
Jon had a feral smile on his face, he adjusted his grips on his axe and dagger.
Ping!
Tame the Wild!
Injure and subdue the leader of the raiding party. He holds the proof of the information you seek.
Reward: ?
Olaff proved to be a better fighter than his brother. He didn't fall for the feints and kept on his attacks at Jon. Jon was starting the miss the long reach of a sword. He tried to parry the sideway slash of Olaff's sword with his axe and lashed out with his left hand, but the dagger fell short of reaching the behemoth of a man. He ducked down another swipe at his head and made a slash at his forearm, Olaff didn't even felt that wound. Jon tried to use the same tactic he did against Borg, but here on the forest ground, it was impossible to slide through in between the giant's legs. Jon's moment's indecision was all it took for Olaff to cover the gap between them and taking a swing at his head, by instinct, Jon raised his left arm and the bracer took on the full impact. Though the strike didn't damage the bracer, it made his left arm numb and the dagger was dropped from his loosened grip. Jon leapt backwards, his left hand now almost useless, he tried to find any gap that he could exploit. Olaff had a twisted scar on the right side of his face, which made his right eye almost obscured by hanging bits of skin. He could be vision impaired on his right side. Jon decided to take the gamble. He strapped the axe back in his belt and looked around him and picked up a club from a fallen Wildling, it had the needed range he could use. Jon rushed towards Olaff with the club raised, he ducked under his swing and jumped to the right, Olaff had turned a bit with the follow-through of his swing. Jon lashed out with the club and smacked at his arm with all his strength.
*Crack!*
Olaff screamed and dropped his sword, cradling his right arm. Jon had broken his elbow with the strike for sure. He whirled around his back and swung the club with the full momentum at Olaff's left knee, another cracking sound and Olaff was on the ground writhing in agony. Jon went to the prone body of Olaff and smashed the club down at his crotch.
"What was that you were saying about fucking my family?"
Ping!
Quest Completed!
Tame the Wild!
Reward: Reputation +100 with the Smallfolk
You are a legend among the Smallfolk. They have come to know you as their protector.
+20 Exp
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the famous White Wolf!"
Jon turned around and found another group of men approaching them, clad in House Glover livery. A man, who could only be Robett Glover, came striding forward and smacked the smirking youth who had commented on the back of his head.
"That's enough out of you, Forrester." He turned towards Jon, "Are you Jon Snow?"
"Aye, My Lord, and if I am not mistaken, you are Lord Robbet, brother of Lord Galbert Glover."
"Aye, I am. what are you doing out here, lad?"
"We were at the Last Hearth when a raven from your lord brother had reached there telling about you chasing down a band of raiders. Lord Umber sent a small retinue of Umber men led by the Smalljon to head them off and help you to bring them down. The Karstark brothers and I tagged along with them."
Robbet nodded and ordered his men to help the Umber men in freeing the prisoner and finishing off the raiding party. Jon hadn't moved away from Olaff. The youth called Forrester came to stand beside him.
"So, the famous Jon Snow, the White Wolf. I thought you'd be much bigger than this…"
"And who might you be?"
"Asher Forrester, spare of the spare, that is, the third son among four of Lord Gregor Forrester of Ironwrath."
Jon nodded and looked back at the men rounding the wounded soldiers around.
"Not much of a talker, are you?"
"You are talking plenty for the both of us."
Asher snorted but fell silent. Soon every surviving Wildling raider was put through the blade. When Robbet came to finish Olaff off, Jon stopped him.
"My Lord, if I may?" Robbet motioned for him to continue, "During the fight, this man had confessed that it was his brother who led the attack at Karhold. We were investigating the invasion which had led us to the Last Hearth, and that was when we learned about the raiding of the Motte. Think about it, My Lord, it was a coordinated attack, one band went to Deepwood Motte, the other tried to invade Karhold. The Skagosi were never this organized before. And why would they attack both Karhold and the Motte but skip over the Last Hearth? There must be more than what we know, and this man holds the key. We should take him back to the Last Hearth for interrogation."
Robbet appeared to be thinking hard. "You say his brother led the attack at Karhold?"
"Aye, this one, Olaff, here had recognized me from the motif on my armour. He said he will avenge his brother's death by my hands by killing me and my family."
Robbet nodded, "If what you are saying is true, lad, then this is truly beyond simple raiding. Let us drag this sorry carcass back to the Greatjon. He will make him sing like a bird."