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.01
NEW SKIN
March 10, 2018
.02
EPISODE 1
March 8, 2018
.03
FACTIONS
Feb 4, 2018
.04
PREMIUM
Feb 1, 2018

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BtW is a new premium + intermediate Game of Thrones AU taking place immediately after the end of Season 7. From there, we are diverging off to create our very own Season 8 and beyond, one episode at a time.
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 All the King's Men, Scene 1


 

Mar 5 2018, 11:57 PM

This was nothing new. He'd been in this position before. That was what he told himself when he'd seen them come over the horizon. It was a lie. His life and the life of thousands had been on the line back at Hardhome. The lives of a handful of men had been on the line when they went beyond the Wall to capture a deadman to bring to the Lannisters... He told himself a lie because he knew the fate of the living rested on whether or not they could survive the coming onslaught.

Before long, there was no time to think. Arrows were shot into the legions of the dead, but it did very little to stop their advance. There was no strategy that could be used against a force of nature. In order to battle the storm, one had to fight with all the love and hatred in their hearts. They'd have to become a storm themselves.

From the back of his horse, he'd come face to face with the legions of the dead again. As he brought his blade down on the charging force along with the other Stark cavalry that rode with him, there was a determination in his heart. They'd not take his home from him. They'd not swarm the courtyard where he'd trained with his siblings as a boy. They wouldn't tear apart the godswood that his father had taught him to pray to their gods in. They'd never swarm the battlements that his brother climbed when he still had legs. Winterfell would stand.

Winterfell must stand.

The Stark Cavalry was to be the armored fist that drove into the hordes of dead and halted their advance, whilst the Knights of the Vale harassed their flanks. The men that were brave enough to charge without horses would come in soon and lay waste to whatever they could. If all else failed, they'd retreat to Winterfell and use the walls to their advantage.

In the meantime, Jon was busy killing any dead that was in the range of Longclaw, a look of fury clear on his face.
This was nothing new. He'd been in this position before. That was what he told himself when he'd seen them come over the horizon. It was a lie. His life and the life of thousands had been on the line back at Hardhome. The lives of a handful of men had been on the line when they went beyond the Wall to capture a deadman to bring to the Lannisters... He told himself a lie because he knew the fate of the living rested on whether or not they could survive the coming onslaught.

Before long, there was no time to think. Arrows were shot into the legions of the dead, but it did very little to stop their advance. There was no strategy that could be used against a force of nature. In order to battle the storm, one had to fight with all the love and hatred in their hearts. They'd have to become a storm themselves.

From the back of his horse, he'd come face to face with the legions of the dead again. As he brought his blade down on the charging force along with the other Stark cavalry that rode with him, there was a determination in his heart. They'd not take his home from him. They'd not swarm the courtyard where he'd trained with his siblings as a boy. They wouldn't tear apart the godswood that his father had taught him to pray to their gods in. They'd never swarm the battlements that his brother climbed when he still had legs. Winterfell would stand.

Winterfell must stand.

The Stark Cavalry was to be the armored fist that drove into the hordes of dead and halted their advance, whilst the Knights of the Vale harassed their flanks. The men that were brave enough to charge without horses would come in soon and lay waste to whatever they could. If all else failed, they'd retreat to Winterfell and use the walls to their advantage.

In the meantime, Jon was busy killing any dead that was in the range of Longclaw, a look of fury clear on his face.


 

Mar 6 2018, 12:16 AM

This was the moment she was born to live in.

Brienne of Tarth, Brienne the Beauty, Maid of Tarth and many other names. Yet, as she sat astride the large white destrier, only one name mattered.

Oathkeeper.

She was a force onto herself. On the horse, she was the embodiment of the Stranger. Oathkeeper sang in her hands as she brought it in wicked arcs around her and the horse's shoulders. The horse bit and kicked where it was able, as it was trained to do. The two moving in sync only found in the pulse-pounding world of the battlefield.

Until the horse finally fell with a horrid scream.

Brienne was thrown from it's back, but rolled away before it could crush her A roar falling ragged from her lips as the sword continued it's deadly song. Beautiful blue eyes, the only thing anyone would name beautiful about her, were wild with a hard hatred.

Each time the sword found a fatal point on a wight, a shivering sound of the magic being severed between it and whatever Walker had summoned it from death's embrace. Both hands resting on the hilt as she moved with quick efficiency.

No movement wasted on fancy footwork or sword technique, just brutal efficiency.

Her head turned when she spotted Jon and the dragonglass dagger she'd found was grabbed and flew from her hand in a powerful underhanded throw that took the face of the wight moving too close to his flank.

"Jon!" Brienne's voice was cut off as a wight grabbed her from behind and she grunted for the weight of it. It was newly turned and not as light as the more skeletal wights.

She reached back and grabbed hold of some of the fur at it's shoulder and heaved forward with her not inconsiderable strength. Oathkeeper finding it's place in the wight's chest before she ripped it free.

Brienne had seen glimpses of dread between the wights when she was atop the horse. "Jon! Something is coming!" She cried above the din of battle even as she turned to face more of the coming storm with fierce determination.
This was the moment she was born to live in.

Brienne of Tarth, Brienne the Beauty, Maid of Tarth and many other names. Yet, as she sat astride the large white destrier, only one name mattered.

Oathkeeper.

She was a force onto herself. On the horse, she was the embodiment of the Stranger. Oathkeeper sang in her hands as she brought it in wicked arcs around her and the horse's shoulders. The horse bit and kicked where it was able, as it was trained to do. The two moving in sync only found in the pulse-pounding world of the battlefield.

Until the horse finally fell with a horrid scream.

Brienne was thrown from it's back, but rolled away before it could crush her A roar falling ragged from her lips as the sword continued it's deadly song. Beautiful blue eyes, the only thing anyone would name beautiful about her, were wild with a hard hatred.

Each time the sword found a fatal point on a wight, a shivering sound of the magic being severed between it and whatever Walker had summoned it from death's embrace. Both hands resting on the hilt as she moved with quick efficiency.

No movement wasted on fancy footwork or sword technique, just brutal efficiency.

Her head turned when she spotted Jon and the dragonglass dagger she'd found was grabbed and flew from her hand in a powerful underhanded throw that took the face of the wight moving too close to his flank.

"Jon!" Brienne's voice was cut off as a wight grabbed her from behind and she grunted for the weight of it. It was newly turned and not as light as the more skeletal wights.

She reached back and grabbed hold of some of the fur at it's shoulder and heaved forward with her not inconsiderable strength. Oathkeeper finding it's place in the wight's chest before she ripped it free.

Brienne had seen glimpses of dread between the wights when she was atop the horse. "Jon! Something is coming!" She cried above the din of battle even as she turned to face more of the coming storm with fierce determination.


 

Mar 6 2018, 03:14 AM

Tormund was not usually one to straddle a horse, so it took him longer than the front of Jon's party to reach the horde of white walkers. He stayed back with the rest of the wildlings, running at the wights with his giant battleaxe in hand, leading the group at the back of the force while the Knights of the Vale followed closely behind. Tormund was the first of the wildlings to join Jon in the fight, smashing one wight and ricocheting into the skull of another. His brute strength was apparent as he shattered walker after walker, delivering devastating blows with the huge piece of dragonglass that made his weapon.

He was nearby when Brienne fell from her horse, turning his head to see the source of the scream that followed, knowing it came from her. Tormund watched in horror as the wights surrounded her, losing track of the walkers close to him as one tackled him from the right. The white walker's weight was not enough to bring him down on it's own, it only threw him off guard before he grabbed it by the arm and slammed it to the ground, smashing it's head in with a loud grunt.

Turning his attention once more towards Brienne, he saw a wight grab her from behind and began to fight his way towards her as quickly as he could. Relieved when she was able to pull it off, he finally reached the spot where she stood. Tormund moved to her side and continued to stave off the white walkers, keeping their backs to each other for protection from the massive army running at them.

His brow furrowed as he heard Brienne yell to Jon, a low rumbling growing louder in the background as he hurled the huge battleaxe at every wight that threw itself in their direction. Tormund glanced around briefly, trying to see what Brienne was talking about, but he couldn't see past the crowd of white walkers that closed in on them.
Tormund was not usually one to straddle a horse, so it took him longer than the front of Jon's party to reach the horde of white walkers. He stayed back with the rest of the wildlings, running at the wights with his giant battleaxe in hand, leading the group at the back of the force while the Knights of the Vale followed closely behind. Tormund was the first of the wildlings to join Jon in the fight, smashing one wight and ricocheting into the skull of another. His brute strength was apparent as he shattered walker after walker, delivering devastating blows with the huge piece of dragonglass that made his weapon.

He was nearby when Brienne fell from her horse, turning his head to see the source of the scream that followed, knowing it came from her. Tormund watched in horror as the wights surrounded her, losing track of the walkers close to him as one tackled him from the right. The white walker's weight was not enough to bring him down on it's own, it only threw him off guard before he grabbed it by the arm and slammed it to the ground, smashing it's head in with a loud grunt.

Turning his attention once more towards Brienne, he saw a wight grab her from behind and began to fight his way towards her as quickly as he could. Relieved when she was able to pull it off, he finally reached the spot where she stood. Tormund moved to her side and continued to stave off the white walkers, keeping their backs to each other for protection from the massive army running at them.

His brow furrowed as he heard Brienne yell to Jon, a low rumbling growing louder in the background as he hurled the huge battleaxe at every wight that threw itself in their direction. Tormund glanced around briefly, trying to see what Brienne was talking about, but he couldn't see past the crowd of white walkers that closed in on them.


 

Mar 8 2018, 01:03 AM

The last time Gendry had fought wights suddenly seemed a lot easier than the hell he was currently living through. They weren’t just fighting wights. No, this was more than the few that he had encountered north of the Wall, this was a hoard of dead men trying to take Winterfell. This wasn’t like fighting an army, where a commander shouted orders and the men followed patterns of killing. This was chaos, sheer chaos as the wights moved around indiscriminately to reach their goal.

He had never spent much time riding horses, and it hadn’t taken him long to fall from it after he rode out as close to Jon Snow as he could manage when he rallied the men. Something changed in him when he held the hammer in his hands, when he saw the look of fury on Jon’s face, and everything except for this fight, survival, protecting Winterfell and Jon from monsters, fell away. He wasn’t Gendry, he wasn’t a blacksmith, all he was was unbridled fury and a heavy hammer that he swung into the heads of the dead men.

He trusted that Jon, the Stark men, and the Knights of the Vale had a plan of attack, and he trusted that Jon’s army would defend Winterfell. All Gendry needed to know was kill anything that was trying to kill you, and follow Jon.

He heard shouting coming from all around him, but the loud voice of Brienne of Tarth cut through his ears and Gendry turned around as fast as he could to locate where her voice was coming from. She was nearby, and she seemed to be struggling, and if Gendry hadn’t already been fighting his way steadily towards Jon, he would have turned and headed her direction instead.

It would have been more efficient to fight side by side with somebody, and Gendry knew this was the reason that Robert and Ned had fought so many battles together; He was going to fight this one with Jon. Instead of pushing his way towards Jon, however, he found himself fighting harder as the wights around him threatened to get too close to the walls.

Finally, he saw it. He had heard it first, a sound that seemed too loud for the dead men scrambling across the snow. A sense of dread and terror mingled with the adrenaline that was coursing through his system as he realized what he had seen. A dead giant was trying to knock down the stone wall that surrounded Winterfell.

"I see it!" He yelled as loud as he could, and he turned around again, hollering as he swung his hammer with a renewed force as he fought his way back towards Jon’s side. “It’s a bloody giant. It’s at the castle wall trying to get through.” He swung his hammer as hard as he could, clearing the path immediately around himself, and he panted out ”There!” as he pointed a finger towards where the giant was pounding his fists into stone.
The last time Gendry had fought wights suddenly seemed a lot easier than the hell he was currently living through. They weren’t just fighting wights. No, this was more than the few that he had encountered north of the Wall, this was a hoard of dead men trying to take Winterfell. This wasn’t like fighting an army, where a commander shouted orders and the men followed patterns of killing. This was chaos, sheer chaos as the wights moved around indiscriminately to reach their goal.

He had never spent much time riding horses, and it hadn’t taken him long to fall from it after he rode out as close to Jon Snow as he could manage when he rallied the men. Something changed in him when he held the hammer in his hands, when he saw the look of fury on Jon’s face, and everything except for this fight, survival, protecting Winterfell and Jon from monsters, fell away. He wasn’t Gendry, he wasn’t a blacksmith, all he was was unbridled fury and a heavy hammer that he swung into the heads of the dead men.

He trusted that Jon, the Stark men, and the Knights of the Vale had a plan of attack, and he trusted that Jon’s army would defend Winterfell. All Gendry needed to know was kill anything that was trying to kill you, and follow Jon.

He heard shouting coming from all around him, but the loud voice of Brienne of Tarth cut through his ears and Gendry turned around as fast as he could to locate where her voice was coming from. She was nearby, and she seemed to be struggling, and if Gendry hadn’t already been fighting his way steadily towards Jon, he would have turned and headed her direction instead.

It would have been more efficient to fight side by side with somebody, and Gendry knew this was the reason that Robert and Ned had fought so many battles together; He was going to fight this one with Jon. Instead of pushing his way towards Jon, however, he found himself fighting harder as the wights around him threatened to get too close to the walls.

Finally, he saw it. He had heard it first, a sound that seemed too loud for the dead men scrambling across the snow. A sense of dread and terror mingled with the adrenaline that was coursing through his system as he realized what he had seen. A dead giant was trying to knock down the stone wall that surrounded Winterfell.

"I see it!" He yelled as loud as he could, and he turned around again, hollering as he swung his hammer with a renewed force as he fought his way back towards Jon’s side. “It’s a bloody giant. It’s at the castle wall trying to get through.” He swung his hammer as hard as he could, clearing the path immediately around himself, and he panted out ”There!” as he pointed a finger towards where the giant was pounding his fists into stone.


 

Mar 9 2018, 07:23 PM

A wight had flung itself at Jon and knocked him clear off his horse a short while after he'd led the charge into the invading dead. He gritted his teeth as the pain from the impact shot straight up his back. The wight was snapping at him, likely trying to kill him with it's teeth. The dead would get to you in any way they could. Longclaw wouldn't do him much good in this scenario, so he drove his dragonglass dagger into the creature's eye.

It's movement stopped and Jon was on his feet again, using Longclaw to slice away at the horde that was surrounding them. The sounds of horses and men dying all around echoed across the battlefield and the sound of the dead rejoining them was just as prevalent. Everyone knew what they were fighting for.

He'd driven his blade through the chestplate of a wight and had been pulling it away as a wight lunged at his left flank. Brienne had save him from that attack, though. Jon's gaze was on her as she yelled that something was coming. The shaking and rumbling of the earth beneath them was a give away as well. His gaze shifted from Brienne and Tormund as they fought back to back. Gendry had pointed out the source of the rumbling...

A fucking giant.

Gods, he should have listened to Dany and rode Rhaegal into battle...

Jon's gaze on the dead monster intensified. Putting that thing down was their greatest priority at this time. Jon turned and cut down another wight before he raised his sword.

"Brienne! Tormund! Gendry! To me!", Jon called out to them. They were the warriors he trusted most out of any that rode with him into the fray. If anyone was going to kill that giant, it would be the four of them.

Jon fought through the wall of dead men keeping him away from giant and broke out into a full sprint towards it. He could see that the defenders of Winterfell were already raining arrows and large stones from the battlements but Jon knew it wouldn't be enough.

A wight had flung itself at Jon and knocked him clear off his horse a short while after he'd led the charge into the invading dead. He gritted his teeth as the pain from the impact shot straight up his back. The wight was snapping at him, likely trying to kill him with it's teeth. The dead would get to you in any way they could. Longclaw wouldn't do him much good in this scenario, so he drove his dragonglass dagger into the creature's eye.

It's movement stopped and Jon was on his feet again, using Longclaw to slice away at the horde that was surrounding them. The sounds of horses and men dying all around echoed across the battlefield and the sound of the dead rejoining them was just as prevalent. Everyone knew what they were fighting for.

He'd driven his blade through the chestplate of a wight and had been pulling it away as a wight lunged at his left flank. Brienne had save him from that attack, though. Jon's gaze was on her as she yelled that something was coming. The shaking and rumbling of the earth beneath them was a give away as well. His gaze shifted from Brienne and Tormund as they fought back to back. Gendry had pointed out the source of the rumbling...

A fucking giant.

Gods, he should have listened to Dany and rode Rhaegal into battle...

Jon's gaze on the dead monster intensified. Putting that thing down was their greatest priority at this time. Jon turned and cut down another wight before he raised his sword.

"Brienne! Tormund! Gendry! To me!", Jon called out to them. They were the warriors he trusted most out of any that rode with him into the fray. If anyone was going to kill that giant, it would be the four of them.

Jon fought through the wall of dead men keeping him away from giant and broke out into a full sprint towards it. He could see that the defenders of Winterfell were already raining arrows and large stones from the battlements but Jon knew it wouldn't be enough.



 

Mar 9 2018, 11:42 PM

Brienne's intense blue eyes met with Tormund's own for a moment. There was none of the usual confusion she typically felt with the big man. Of course, he wasn't leering at her, either. Putting her armored back to his as they fought like two possessed. Nothing stood before either of them and with them watching the flank of the other?

They were a formidable pair.

Then she saw it. The undead giant was smashing it's fists into unyielding stone in order to create a breach that the dead could exploit. If the walls of Winterfell crumbled, they were lost.

Not even the dragons she'd caught sight of wheeling overhead would be able to save the heart of the North.

Jon called for them and Brienne reached out and took hold of Tormund's shoulder. "Keep them off my back." There was something deadly in her voice as she turned to face the dead between her and the King calling for her aid.

Shifting her grip on Oathkeeper as she pulled the dragonglass dagger from belt. She had three others on her. Having filched them from the case the Wildlings had brought.

Brienne was deadly with Oathkeeper in two hands, and now she proved equally capable with one. It's bastard sword design with a hand and a half hilt and her own strength made it brutal either way. It was less graceful a thing, but she wielded both sword and dagger as though she were born to.

Brienne of Tarth was clearing a path through muscle, blood and steel. She put no thought to her flank, trusting the Wildling male to make sure nothing got close enough to kill her.

Once close enough, Brienne threw the dagger at another wight with enough strength to take the thing off it's feet and drop it back to the ground before she turned to Jon. Sweat glistened off what little skin was showing and most of that was coated in varying degrees of blood and horror. Her pale hair matted to her head.

She knew what had to be done. A large breath taken causing her breastplate to flex for the effort before she pushed the hilt of Oathkeeper into Tormund's hands and spun on her heel before charging forward with a roar falling from her lips.

Brienne of Tarth had never been counted for much by others in her life. Yet, as she impacted the legs of the giant at full sprint and gripped, she rolled her weight and heaved with every ounce of strength she had left to her.

The fist of the giant flailed as it missed it's target of stone as Brienne felt something pop grotesquely in her chest. Once, twice. Three times.

Yet, the giant was shifted. She wasn't able to lift the thing, but her strength and momentum was enough that it began to tip as she let out a pained cry and fell to her knees.
Brienne's intense blue eyes met with Tormund's own for a moment. There was none of the usual confusion she typically felt with the big man. Of course, he wasn't leering at her, either. Putting her armored back to his as they fought like two possessed. Nothing stood before either of them and with them watching the flank of the other?

They were a formidable pair.

Then she saw it. The undead giant was smashing it's fists into unyielding stone in order to create a breach that the dead could exploit. If the walls of Winterfell crumbled, they were lost.

Not even the dragons she'd caught sight of wheeling overhead would be able to save the heart of the North.

Jon called for them and Brienne reached out and took hold of Tormund's shoulder. "Keep them off my back." There was something deadly in her voice as she turned to face the dead between her and the King calling for her aid.

Shifting her grip on Oathkeeper as she pulled the dragonglass dagger from belt. She had three others on her. Having filched them from the case the Wildlings had brought.

Brienne was deadly with Oathkeeper in two hands, and now she proved equally capable with one. It's bastard sword design with a hand and a half hilt and her own strength made it brutal either way. It was less graceful a thing, but she wielded both sword and dagger as though she were born to.

Brienne of Tarth was clearing a path through muscle, blood and steel. She put no thought to her flank, trusting the Wildling male to make sure nothing got close enough to kill her.

Once close enough, Brienne threw the dagger at another wight with enough strength to take the thing off it's feet and drop it back to the ground before she turned to Jon. Sweat glistened off what little skin was showing and most of that was coated in varying degrees of blood and horror. Her pale hair matted to her head.

She knew what had to be done. A large breath taken causing her breastplate to flex for the effort before she pushed the hilt of Oathkeeper into Tormund's hands and spun on her heel before charging forward with a roar falling from her lips.

Brienne of Tarth had never been counted for much by others in her life. Yet, as she impacted the legs of the giant at full sprint and gripped, she rolled her weight and heaved with every ounce of strength she had left to her.

The fist of the giant flailed as it missed it's target of stone as Brienne felt something pop grotesquely in her chest. Once, twice. Three times.

Yet, the giant was shifted. She wasn't able to lift the thing, but her strength and momentum was enough that it began to tip as she let out a pained cry and fell to her knees.


 

Mar 10 2018, 03:49 AM


Tormund was still slamming into wights when he felt Brienne's hand on his shoulder. Smashing three of them in one swing, he hurled his battleaxe through the air and turned to face her with the biggest grin on his face he had ever had. Not only had she touched him, she had spoken to him, and his goofy grin never ceased as he eagerly fought the wights off for her.

With Brienne getting the ones in front, Tormund was able to take out the wights that came at them from the back, although it seemed Brienne was doing most of the work. Tormund didn't have any daggers on him, only his dragonglass battleaxe, so as Brienne took out the closer of them, Tormund swung his weapon behind him in a fury.

Albeit a little slower than Brienne's strategy, each hit caught the white walkers a good distance away, and flung them even further as they shattered into pieces. The wights were knocked back by force, usually losing a few limbs and falling to the ground. He put all of his effort into protecting Brienne, until they finally reached the giant and she was shoving her sword into his hands. Shocked that she would ever relinquish Oathbreaker, he finally looked up and saw the reanimated giant who was attempting to break the wall.

His eyes widened in disbelief, and he was even saddened at the site. Giants were like family to the wildlings, and their bodies should be burned...not whatever this was. Furious, he threw the strap of his battleaxe around him, slinging it onto his back, and ran after Brienne.

He was actually thankful for the sword, slicing through the wights as he followed her, a few paces behind because of his large stature. He yelled in anger and shock as he watched Brienne fall to the ground. Tormund was close enough to hear what sounded like her bones cracking just before the giant's body smashed into the tower to it's right. A few dozen pieces of stone flew out of the walls of the tower, falling to the ground below.

"Brienne!" Tormund screamed in a low growl. He sprinted in her direction, avoiding the stones while the giant used one arm to brace itself. Tormund slid around the giant's legs while it was distracted and then stood in front of Brienne. He faced away from her, barring Oathbreaker at the giant to protect her as it slowly shifted to face them. "Are you alright?" His deep voice was full of concern as he prepared to fight off the giant.

The undead giant began to raise its fist again, still holding most of it's weight against the tower behind him. Tormund was actually scared, although he tried not to show it. Not only was Tormund one of the fiercest wildlings known, and their leader, but he had to defend Brienne.

He wasn't used to fighting with giants, they were usually on his side; Tormund thought back to Wun Wun, and his anger grew once more. It was here in Winterfell that he had watched Wun Wun die, spears covering his body before a final devastating blow from Ramsay, straight through his skull. Tormund had been right next to Wun Wun, staring in horror as the arrow shot through his eye. Winterfell did not seem to be a good place for giants.

He was now infuriated as he tossed Oathbreaker back towards Brienne, taking care enough so it landed in front of her without hitting her, but was still within reaching distance even with her injury. "Here!" He boomed, she should at least be able to use it to somewhat protect herself, and Tormund would be much better with his own weapon now that they were dealing with the giant.

Pulling his battleaxe out once more, he ran at the wight giant, swinging with all his might at the huge beast. Tormund caught his eye for a split second before being hit with a massive force. He felt the wind get completely sucked out of him as his entire body was slammed into the wall. A loud grunt came along with a huge crack, followed by the sound of the giant's arm banging into the hard stone.

The effort that the beast had put into the blow had it caught off balance again, dropping to one knee as it kept a hand against the wall. Tormund slid onto the ground, his back resting against the stone as he tried to use the handle of his weapon to stand.

There was no time for him to be sitting on the ground, even if he was hurt. Tormund almost shouted in agony as he attempted to stand, leaning his right side against the blunt part of his battleaxe for support. He managed to rise onto one knee and grunted loudly as he tried to regain the strength to attack once more.

Tormund was still slamming into wights when he felt Brienne's hand on his shoulder. Smashing three of them in one swing, he hurled his battleaxe through the air and turned to face her with the biggest grin on his face he had ever had. Not only had she touched him, she had spoken to him, and his goofy grin never ceased as he eagerly fought the wights off for her.

With Brienne getting the ones in front, Tormund was able to take out the wights that came at them from the back, although it seemed Brienne was doing most of the work. Tormund didn't have any daggers on him, only his dragonglass battleaxe, so as Brienne took out the closer of them, Tormund swung his weapon behind him in a fury.

Albeit a little slower than Brienne's strategy, each hit caught the white walkers a good distance away, and flung them even further as they shattered into pieces. The wights were knocked back by force, usually losing a few limbs and falling to the ground. He put all of his effort into protecting Brienne, until they finally reached the giant and she was shoving her sword into his hands. Shocked that she would ever relinquish Oathbreaker, he finally looked up and saw the reanimated giant who was attempting to break the wall.

His eyes widened in disbelief, and he was even saddened at the site. Giants were like family to the wildlings, and their bodies should be burned...not whatever this was. Furious, he threw the strap of his battleaxe around him, slinging it onto his back, and ran after Brienne.

He was actually thankful for the sword, slicing through the wights as he followed her, a few paces behind because of his large stature. He yelled in anger and shock as he watched Brienne fall to the ground. Tormund was close enough to hear what sounded like her bones cracking just before the giant's body smashed into the tower to it's right. A few dozen pieces of stone flew out of the walls of the tower, falling to the ground below.

"Brienne!" Tormund screamed in a low growl. He sprinted in her direction, avoiding the stones while the giant used one arm to brace itself. Tormund slid around the giant's legs while it was distracted and then stood in front of Brienne. He faced away from her, barring Oathbreaker at the giant to protect her as it slowly shifted to face them. "Are you alright?" His deep voice was full of concern as he prepared to fight off the giant.

The undead giant began to raise its fist again, still holding most of it's weight against the tower behind him. Tormund was actually scared, although he tried not to show it. Not only was Tormund one of the fiercest wildlings known, and their leader, but he had to defend Brienne.

He wasn't used to fighting with giants, they were usually on his side; Tormund thought back to Wun Wun, and his anger grew once more. It was here in Winterfell that he had watched Wun Wun die, spears covering his body before a final devastating blow from Ramsay, straight through his skull. Tormund had been right next to Wun Wun, staring in horror as the arrow shot through his eye. Winterfell did not seem to be a good place for giants.

He was now infuriated as he tossed Oathbreaker back towards Brienne, taking care enough so it landed in front of her without hitting her, but was still within reaching distance even with her injury. "Here!" He boomed, she should at least be able to use it to somewhat protect herself, and Tormund would be much better with his own weapon now that they were dealing with the giant.

Pulling his battleaxe out once more, he ran at the wight giant, swinging with all his might at the huge beast. Tormund caught his eye for a split second before being hit with a massive force. He felt the wind get completely sucked out of him as his entire body was slammed into the wall. A loud grunt came along with a huge crack, followed by the sound of the giant's arm banging into the hard stone.

The effort that the beast had put into the blow had it caught off balance again, dropping to one knee as it kept a hand against the wall. Tormund slid onto the ground, his back resting against the stone as he tried to use the handle of his weapon to stand.

There was no time for him to be sitting on the ground, even if he was hurt. Tormund almost shouted in agony as he attempted to stand, leaning his right side against the blunt part of his battleaxe for support. He managed to rise onto one knee and grunted loudly as he tried to regain the strength to attack once more.


 

Mar 11 2018, 06:07 PM

This was chaos, and Gendry didn’t have as much experience thriving in the chaos of battle as the rest of the Northmen did. Men were easy to kill with his hammer, a heavy hit to the side of their head and he was free to move to the next man, but wights were different. He could clear a path around himself with the hammer to keep the creatures at bay, but he needed the dragonglass daggers he had hidden all over his body to truly finish the job.

If he’d had more time to work with the dragonglass Jon had brought home from Dragonstone, he could have fashioned a tip to his hammer or messed with making a crude sword, but they had been so desperate to put weapons into the hands of their people that Gendry hadn’t even seen a third of the dragonglass before people were left to their own devices to turn them into weapons. He had wanted to get his hands on all the remaining Valyrian Steel in the north to melt down into smaller daggers, but the Lord's and lady’s had been understandable unwilling to part with their blades.

Dragonglass did the job, but it was stone secured to wood or antler with rope, and Gendry far preferred the weight of the hammer in his hands. Still, the closer he got to Jon, it became apparent that he would have to hit the creatures with his dagger to truly end them, and his hammer was useless in his left hand as he stabbed with his right.

Something, a claw, a bone, a sword, he couldn’t be sure had grazed his face and blood poured from his cheek as Jon yelled orders and Gendry turned to follow him towards the walls of the castle. It wasn’t his only wound, he was sure his leg was bleeding, and his shoulder, but the blood running towards his mouth and neck was distracting. He spit the blood into the eyes of a wight that got too close before swinging his hammer, and his eyes darted around for the rest of their company.

It was dangerous running after Jon towards the giant and Gendry heard too many arrows flying past his head to count. It seemed hopeless, and his mind was a constant loop of “what the fuck” as they neared the creature.

It was easier to fight once he reached Brienne, with Tormund at her back they had cleared a space enough to attack the giant, and Gendry put himself behind Jon. “Help her!” He shouted, holding up his hammer, trying to convey that he would watch the perimeter. Tormund had been at his side as Brienne charged the giant, and Gendry cursed in frustration once he left, leaving the perimeter to him alone.

He had lost count of the wights he knocked over, and soon he dropped his hammer to the mud and grabbed a second dagger from his cloak, letting out guttural cries as he tried to keep the horde away from the giant. A crushing sound distracted him, and he turned in time to see Tormund struggling to his feet. He backed up, running towards Tormund and stabbing a wight in the eye before it could reach the wildling. He reached a hand out to help haul Tormund to his feet. “You help them, I’ll be at your backs.” He shouted over the noise of the battle, and once Tormund had reached his feet he turned back around, and swung his daggers again.
This was chaos, and Gendry didn’t have as much experience thriving in the chaos of battle as the rest of the Northmen did. Men were easy to kill with his hammer, a heavy hit to the side of their head and he was free to move to the next man, but wights were different. He could clear a path around himself with the hammer to keep the creatures at bay, but he needed the dragonglass daggers he had hidden all over his body to truly finish the job.

If he’d had more time to work with the dragonglass Jon had brought home from Dragonstone, he could have fashioned a tip to his hammer or messed with making a crude sword, but they had been so desperate to put weapons into the hands of their people that Gendry hadn’t even seen a third of the dragonglass before people were left to their own devices to turn them into weapons. He had wanted to get his hands on all the remaining Valyrian Steel in the north to melt down into smaller daggers, but the Lord's and lady’s had been understandable unwilling to part with their blades.

Dragonglass did the job, but it was stone secured to wood or antler with rope, and Gendry far preferred the weight of the hammer in his hands. Still, the closer he got to Jon, it became apparent that he would have to hit the creatures with his dagger to truly end them, and his hammer was useless in his left hand as he stabbed with his right.

Something, a claw, a bone, a sword, he couldn’t be sure had grazed his face and blood poured from his cheek as Jon yelled orders and Gendry turned to follow him towards the walls of the castle. It wasn’t his only wound, he was sure his leg was bleeding, and his shoulder, but the blood running towards his mouth and neck was distracting. He spit the blood into the eyes of a wight that got too close before swinging his hammer, and his eyes darted around for the rest of their company.

It was dangerous running after Jon towards the giant and Gendry heard too many arrows flying past his head to count. It seemed hopeless, and his mind was a constant loop of “what the fuck” as they neared the creature.

It was easier to fight once he reached Brienne, with Tormund at her back they had cleared a space enough to attack the giant, and Gendry put himself behind Jon. “Help her!” He shouted, holding up his hammer, trying to convey that he would watch the perimeter. Tormund had been at his side as Brienne charged the giant, and Gendry cursed in frustration once he left, leaving the perimeter to him alone.

He had lost count of the wights he knocked over, and soon he dropped his hammer to the mud and grabbed a second dagger from his cloak, letting out guttural cries as he tried to keep the horde away from the giant. A crushing sound distracted him, and he turned in time to see Tormund struggling to his feet. He backed up, running towards Tormund and stabbing a wight in the eye before it could reach the wildling. He reached a hand out to help haul Tormund to his feet. “You help them, I’ll be at your backs.” He shouted over the noise of the battle, and once Tormund had reached his feet he turned back around, and swung his daggers again.


 

Mar 24 2018, 09:18 PM

Stupid man.

It was the thought that rang through her head as she reached forward and grasped the familiar hilt of the sword. The giant was trying to recover it's standing position and they couldn't allow that. Get it closer to the ground so they could put the damn thing down.

She kept her breathing light and shallow as she could with her free hand pressed into her side. She could feel the bone shifting and grinding beneath her armor and flesh and gritted her teeth against the pain of it. A look to Tormund and then to Gendry as she turned her head to the giant.

It was the biggest threat and it needed to be put down.

Now.

"What I've seen, a killing blow with my sword or dragonglass puts them down. It's too bloody tall to get a killing blow on it." Not that the wights stopped their assault for them to discuss strategy. Her voice raised as she fought off what came her way best she could. Her side felt like it was on fire and breathing hard through battle was not helping.

"I've got three busted ribs, at least." Oathkeeper slid into the body of an undead Wildling rushing her and she used a foot to kick it's remains off the sword. "Gendry, you think you could take out one of it's knees? Tormund and I will try to keep you safe."

She looked behind her where Jon was fighting with everything he had before she turned to face the pair. "We bring it down or we die trying."

Brienne of Tarth was ready to meet the Stranger, though she would not go so easily. "Once that thing gets closer to the ground, use everything you've got to get that blow in and kill it."
Stupid man.

It was the thought that rang through her head as she reached forward and grasped the familiar hilt of the sword. The giant was trying to recover it's standing position and they couldn't allow that. Get it closer to the ground so they could put the damn thing down.

She kept her breathing light and shallow as she could with her free hand pressed into her side. She could feel the bone shifting and grinding beneath her armor and flesh and gritted her teeth against the pain of it. A look to Tormund and then to Gendry as she turned her head to the giant.

It was the biggest threat and it needed to be put down.

Now.

"What I've seen, a killing blow with my sword or dragonglass puts them down. It's too bloody tall to get a killing blow on it." Not that the wights stopped their assault for them to discuss strategy. Her voice raised as she fought off what came her way best she could. Her side felt like it was on fire and breathing hard through battle was not helping.

"I've got three busted ribs, at least." Oathkeeper slid into the body of an undead Wildling rushing her and she used a foot to kick it's remains off the sword. "Gendry, you think you could take out one of it's knees? Tormund and I will try to keep you safe."

She looked behind her where Jon was fighting with everything he had before she turned to face the pair. "We bring it down or we die trying."

Brienne of Tarth was ready to meet the Stranger, though she would not go so easily. "Once that thing gets closer to the ground, use everything you've got to get that blow in and kill it."


 

Mar 28 2018, 12:40 AM

Tormund grunted loudly and gritted his teeth as he used his good arm to grab Gendry and allow him to help him up. He could feel a few broken or fractured bones in his shoulder and arm from the way he had hit the wall. The impact had caused a lot of pain, but thankfully he still had his swinging arm.

He grabbed a dagger from his coat and began stabbing the dead that were closest to them. Tormund was glad to see that Brienne was up and moving again, and he made sure to keep fighting alongside everyone. He winced every time the movement would jerk his bad arm the wrong way, but he would fight through it.

As he looked between his comrades, he realized how much danger they were in right now. They were all tired, the giant had barely been brought to one knee, and it was now trying to pull itself back up again.

Brienne was right, they needed to make a move, and fast. He nodded in agreement, ready to protect Gendry, but then he had an idea. The wildling decided he could create a better window for the smith to knock out it's other leg. At the position the giant was currently in, Tormund had a much better shot; he ran closer, dagger in hand, and when he was finally within good range he flung it with all his might. "Aghhh!" It was a cry of both effort and pain. Tormund dropped to one knee and looked up in dismay as the giant turned its head, causing the dagger to barely miss its target.

He grimaced and quickly pulled out another. Only two daggers left. Tormund stood with a grunt and then ran closer as the giant seemed to be focusing its attention on him. It was risky, but he had a better shot now. The wight giant looked at him dead-on, and Tormund even felt a shiver down his spine as he threw the second dagger with most of his remaining strength. As the giant leaned down to give the wildling another smack, the dagger suddenly struck him in the eye, and the giant roared in anger as it tried to pry the the piercing object out.

Had the giant not already been on one knee, this probably would have caused it to topple over. However it kept its balance, with its hand crushing the top of the wall as it yelled and pulled the dagger out with the other one.

They now had a half-blind giant. Tormund ran as fast as he could out of the way, stumbling through the snow, "Now!!!" He yelled to Gendry. He hoped that their combined effort would be enough to bring it down so they could finish it off.
Tormund grunted loudly and gritted his teeth as he used his good arm to grab Gendry and allow him to help him up. He could feel a few broken or fractured bones in his shoulder and arm from the way he had hit the wall. The impact had caused a lot of pain, but thankfully he still had his swinging arm.

He grabbed a dagger from his coat and began stabbing the dead that were closest to them. Tormund was glad to see that Brienne was up and moving again, and he made sure to keep fighting alongside everyone. He winced every time the movement would jerk his bad arm the wrong way, but he would fight through it.

As he looked between his comrades, he realized how much danger they were in right now. They were all tired, the giant had barely been brought to one knee, and it was now trying to pull itself back up again.

Brienne was right, they needed to make a move, and fast. He nodded in agreement, ready to protect Gendry, but then he had an idea. The wildling decided he could create a better window for the smith to knock out it's other leg. At the position the giant was currently in, Tormund had a much better shot; he ran closer, dagger in hand, and when he was finally within good range he flung it with all his might. "Aghhh!" It was a cry of both effort and pain. Tormund dropped to one knee and looked up in dismay as the giant turned its head, causing the dagger to barely miss its target.

He grimaced and quickly pulled out another. Only two daggers left. Tormund stood with a grunt and then ran closer as the giant seemed to be focusing its attention on him. It was risky, but he had a better shot now. The wight giant looked at him dead-on, and Tormund even felt a shiver down his spine as he threw the second dagger with most of his remaining strength. As the giant leaned down to give the wildling another smack, the dagger suddenly struck him in the eye, and the giant roared in anger as it tried to pry the the piercing object out.

Had the giant not already been on one knee, this probably would have caused it to topple over. However it kept its balance, with its hand crushing the top of the wall as it yelled and pulled the dagger out with the other one.

They now had a half-blind giant. Tormund ran as fast as he could out of the way, stumbling through the snow, "Now!!!" He yelled to Gendry. He hoped that their combined effort would be enough to bring it down so they could finish it off.


 

Apr 5 2018, 07:08 PM

Gendry wasn’t sure he was ready to die. He thought he had made his peace with that on the journey from Kings Landing to Dragonstone, and he’d thought he was ready when he set off North of the Wall on the same side as his one time captors. It was different, though, in the middle of a battle like this, where one wrong turn could mean death.

Death wasn’t the worst part of fighting the wights. The worst part was what they did to you after death came. But he’d gone because he believed in Jon, he believed Jon when he said they were all on the same side as long as they were breathing. So here he was, killing as many of these dead fuckers as he could and trying not to die at Jon’s side.

He could hear Brienne shouting, barely registering her words as he did his best to keep a path cleared around the three people at his back, but he turned as he heard his name shouted over the commotion. We bring it down or die trying wasn’t the most reassuring thing he’d ever heard, but he couldn’t argue with the truth in that. He’d rather die out here than let his King down. He’d rather die than let that thing ruin Winterfell once and for all.

“I’ll get him down,” Gendry ran to his left, grabbing his hammer from where he had dropped it in the mud a few moments before. “Might need your help to kill the fucker.” They were running out of men, out of weapons, out of energy, and Gendry knew that he needed to do this now, or everything was lost.

He ran forward as Tormund managed to blind the giant with a dagger, and he saw him down on one knee, and as soon as Tormund gave the signal Gendry let out a scream and ran full force towards the other leg. He swung his hammer once, twice, and he soon lost count of how many times he hit the creature with his weapon, but soon he heard a loud crack and the giant toppled onto both knees, the bones shattered.

He took in a few shaky breaths, trying to steady himself after the effort that had taken, and he looked towards Jon. “Kill it!” He shouted. He wasn’t going to wait, either, even though he knew it’d take more than one of them to finally kill it, and he took his dragon glass dagger out of his sleeve again.
Gendry wasn’t sure he was ready to die. He thought he had made his peace with that on the journey from Kings Landing to Dragonstone, and he’d thought he was ready when he set off North of the Wall on the same side as his one time captors. It was different, though, in the middle of a battle like this, where one wrong turn could mean death.

Death wasn’t the worst part of fighting the wights. The worst part was what they did to you after death came. But he’d gone because he believed in Jon, he believed Jon when he said they were all on the same side as long as they were breathing. So here he was, killing as many of these dead fuckers as he could and trying not to die at Jon’s side.

He could hear Brienne shouting, barely registering her words as he did his best to keep a path cleared around the three people at his back, but he turned as he heard his name shouted over the commotion. We bring it down or die trying wasn’t the most reassuring thing he’d ever heard, but he couldn’t argue with the truth in that. He’d rather die out here than let his King down. He’d rather die than let that thing ruin Winterfell once and for all.

“I’ll get him down,” Gendry ran to his left, grabbing his hammer from where he had dropped it in the mud a few moments before. “Might need your help to kill the fucker.” They were running out of men, out of weapons, out of energy, and Gendry knew that he needed to do this now, or everything was lost.

He ran forward as Tormund managed to blind the giant with a dagger, and he saw him down on one knee, and as soon as Tormund gave the signal Gendry let out a scream and ran full force towards the other leg. He swung his hammer once, twice, and he soon lost count of how many times he hit the creature with his weapon, but soon he heard a loud crack and the giant toppled onto both knees, the bones shattered.

He took in a few shaky breaths, trying to steady himself after the effort that had taken, and he looked towards Jon. “Kill it!” He shouted. He wasn’t going to wait, either, even though he knew it’d take more than one of them to finally kill it, and he took his dragon glass dagger out of his sleeve again.
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