The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC]

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oathkeeper
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"Take the Black"

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The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Sept 29, 2014 22:04:44 GMT -6

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Post by oathkeeper on Sept 29, 2014 22:04:44 GMT -6

"ARYA!" Jon cried after his sister as she fell off the horse, the bastard unable to turn the mare around instantly due to the young beast being frightened to the brim at all of the death around her. Feeling his own adrenaline start to slip away, the crimson seeping out of his left thigh and arm, Jon spat on the ground roughly as he swung Longclaw in his right hand. Bravely lopping a raider's head off in one swoop of his bastard sword, the young man slipped off the white mare, almost falling onto the ground as he watched the horse flee in pure terror.

Not bothered to concern himself with the costs of a horse in this situation, Jon marched back through the mud and viscera that coated the forest flooring. In the distance, he could see several more regiments of Northerners sweep downwards, their lances drawn and horses beating against the soil as more of the bandits began to flee than ruthlessly loot. Still, despite it all, a good portion of them remained, dueling against inexperienced, Northerner spearmen and boys younger than Robb.

Parrying an incoming hack from the ax of a greasily, aging, white-haired elder, Jon spat in the old man's face, plunging Longclaw through his bosom and kicking him onto the soil. Hellbent on simply getting his sister somewhere safe, Jon marched apathetically forward, his eyes focused on the meekly, petite Arya as he occasionally reached out to punch or jab at any overly-aggressive raider.

Raising his bastard sword as he approached Arya, the bastard reached down to scoop her in his right arm, standing among his Northerners as the banners of the direwolf began to close in from the west. "Keep your ground, brothers! A'ye, we'll send them back to Dorne if they are this damned determined!" Jon proclaimed loudly, trying to rally the troops' morale, looking down and whistling for Ghost to follow and protect him. Using this as a chance to escape, Jon looked down at Arya as he fell back further in the woods, feeling a tear trail down his left cheek.

"'Bloody 'ell...Arya, stay with me, sister. You're a Stark, a she-wolf. Come on, little sister." Jon pleaded, resting her against the bark of a timber tree as he knelt beside her, Noting the arrow in her arm, Jon deeply sighed, grabbing the shaft of it and hastily snapping it off. Getting the easy part of it done, the Bastard of Winterfell reached for the tip, wondering if Arya was conscious or not at this point.

If she isn't, she will be from this, Jon thought, mentally perparing himself for the incoming screech of pain. "This is gonna hurt, sis. Just bear with me." the crow whispered, and in an instant, pulled the arrow straight out of his baby sister's arm. It could of been worse; the arrow did not snag on bone or flesh.

Lillian Gray
Lil'Meister the Admin

King in the North

Good god, let me give you my life.

Posts: 1,597

The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Sept 29, 2014 22:47:30 GMT -6

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Post by Lillian Gray on Sept 29, 2014 22:47:30 GMT -6

The world was gray. Blood didn't have a color any more, it all molded together into a monochromatic scheme of desperation. Men swung their swords, fighting to keep their lives if it was the last thing they did. For some, the very motion of the swing was indeed their last effort, for others, they'd live to see another blow. All of it looked the same. Old, young, the living or dead, gray was the only color Arya could register.

She heard Jon's voice, felt his hand around her, but it was cold. Where he reached to grab her, she felt nothing but ice against her skin. The leather armor on her body had been battered and beaten, providing little protection from the onslaught around them. Jon was doing his best, she could see that, but why not rest? They could take a moment to pull the color back into the world, until crimson was the color of blood and the white of Ghost's fur was more vibrant on the field.

There was a snap, and when she opened her eyes, she was propped against a tree. Arya hadn't noticed the move, the men were gone but the world was still so dull. Her senses were dimming, her eyes wanted her to sleep, begged her for release. Her hand was deep in Ghost's fur, she hadn't realized she'd been holding it hard until the beast whined at her. She couldn't stop though, her muscles were frozen in place.

"I'm a Stark, yes." Arya muttered uselessly. "House sigil, a direwolf, words, Winter is..."

No, Arya, this isn't time for lessons.

Jon mumbled something else. She felt the arrow being ripped from her arm. The color was back in the world, her hand was gripping hard against Ghost and she screamed. Her opposite hand clasped hard over her arm as crimson blood poured endlessly down. Jon was covered in a bit himself, but she couldn't handle the pain at hand.

"It hurts!" She screeched lamely. She was a she-wolf, like he'd said. A she-wolf with an injured leg more like, something to be put down after a long fight. Problem was, Arya wasn't old enough to die, she thought so at least. She hadn't killed the Hound, hadn't learned to stomach war or the battle around her. Arya couldn't die a coward, she wouldn't let herself. Crying like a child was better than dying. "Jon, you've got, y-you've got an arrow."

Arya reached her hand up to where he'd been shot at, fingers trembling near his blackened hide. Before she could say another word, she wretched on the forest floor and slumped into his lap.

oathkeeper
Resident Jackass

"Take the Black"

Posts: 63

The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Sept 30, 2014 22:48:30 GMT -6

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Post by oathkeeper on Sept 30, 2014 22:48:30 GMT -6

Arya's scream pushed Jon forwards, feeling himself choke at both the smell of what foul contents she wretched up and the sound of his family and blood in extreme amounts of pain. Tearing off his own cloak, Jon hastily pulled a dagger from his pocket, occasionally taking glance around him to ensure the environment was, at the very least, safe enough to operate hastily. Digging into the darken wolf-pelt furs, the crow ravaged his notorious cloak, stripping the fabrics and furs to formulate makeshift bandages out of.

Wiping Arya's mouth and a bit of her stomach from the bowels she rejected, the bastard couldn't help but look briefly at Ghost, the poor beast as about as tall as himself whining and occasionally growling at any nearing bandit. In the anarchic state of conflict, the deserter nearly got a few arrows in his neck, so distracted on helping the pure-blooded Stark that he didn't notice the arrow in his left thigh until the weak girl pointed it out.

Feeling and gladly praying to The Old Gods said arrow did not pierce fully through his armor and skin thanks partially to his scabbard, the arguably handsome yet bloodstained bastard wrapped the remnants of his cloak around Arya's bleeding wound. "Hold it tightly there, Arya. Don't you pass out on me, do you here me? Just look at me, look at me." Jon tried to calm down his half-sister, knowing that the traumatized prisoner of war could very well be reliving the horrors of Harrenhall all over again.

Knowing he was growing closer and closer on the brink of bleeding out, Jon knew he had no time to waste. In his mind, instincts of both a brother and wolf arose in his mind; the pack needed to survive. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew he was not as valuable as a true Stark. Lifting up the petite tomboy bridal style, the bastard whistled for Ghost to follow, limping away through the woodlands towards the rest of Northern army which was slowing marching to reinforce if needed. Praying if Robb was near the frontlines or watching the battle from afar, Jon kept Arya close to his body, finding faint and distant memories of holding her when she was just but a babe.

"Hold on, ple'ase...for me."

Lillian Gray
Lil'Meister the Admin

King in the North

Good god, let me give you my life.

Posts: 1,597

The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Oct 1, 2014 14:46:42 GMT -6

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Post by Lillian Gray on Oct 1, 2014 14:46:42 GMT -6

Look at me.

Who was it that disturbed her from her dream? Arya lifted her head, blackness swallowing her whole as they trudged slowly forward. The beaten wings of a crow lay around her in scraps, she was using one to wipe away the blood, but where had it come from? Thick and heavy, the texture was wrong. It felt more like fur than a feather, her mind couldn't wrap around the idea that she was holding a scrap of her brother's cloak. She tried to lift her head to get a better view but found that it was too heavy.

Hold on.

A voice called to her in the haze, but it was miles away. The battle raged around them, voices called out. The faces of friends and ally turned to foe and she could no longer discern between the sides. Somewhere deep in the lines she heard the screams of prisoners, back in the dungeons at Harrenhall it was all she heard. Day in and day out, the cries of the tortured. The Hound was their killer, no one bothered to save them.

Under her breath Arya began to mutter the names of those she'd take vengeance on. Her cowardice wouldn't allow her to raise a sword in her current state, but she could still remember that she swore she'd have their lives. To all those who'd wronged her, and at the end was the Hound. He'd suffer by her hand, die by it as well. She could see his face wherever she went, in the fires around them, and in the rain just into the fray.

"...them all. Kill them." She murmured. Her head slumped hard against Jon's chest, the blood loss was getting to her, and it was hard to just keep her eyes open. There was a white flash at her side and a crow at her back. That would have to do for the small she wolf.

oathkeeper
Resident Jackass

"Take the Black"

Posts: 63

The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Oct 14, 2014 19:42:16 GMT -6

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Post by oathkeeper on Oct 14, 2014 19:42:16 GMT -6

The air was thick, moisture beginning to drizzle down in small grooves from cloudy, foreboding clouds hanging high above dying men, both loyal soldiers and fiendish bandits alike. In mere minutes, the fighting had mostly subsidized, the might of the Northerner forces converging at once upon the band of marauding raiders and pillagers. Screams died down to the moans of the dying, filling the already grim atmosphere with another layer of pure, horrific terror. As the rain began to feal, earth, water, and blood all mixed as one in tiny, nearly unnoticeable streams. How ironic, it was, that the gifts of life were mixing with the gifts of death.

Alas, this poetic scene had gone mostly unnoticed to "Lord Snow". His breaths grew heavy with each passing foot, Arya's weight tucked securely in his arms grew heavier, and the very dimmed sunlight around him seemed to constantly fading in and out. The woodlands he had retreated with into his half-sister seemed like a labyrinth of nature, constantly swirling and spinning around him, causing him to grow disorentated in his panic. In reality, it was not complicated, but profusely bleeding from three arrows digging into flesh and holding a dying little sister didn't bode well for his perception.

Feeling more like a scared boy than a young, strong man, Jon had occasionally leaned down, tenderly planting kisses on the top of his petite sister's head. He feared for Arya, and especially with how she had been acting since her discovery in Harrenhall, the bastard hasn't had enough time to truly evaluate the situation. All that mattered in his heart was that Arya was alive, and with an increasing amount of blood being lost despite being mostly controlled, the fear of death pushed Jon forwards. No situation in his mind proposed of his sister's death, it simply was an impossible factor to consider at this point.

Nearly tripping over rocks and splashing mud over his black trousers and breastplate, Jon eventually collapsed onto his knees beside the majority of the marching army. At this point, the fighting had completely ceased, and what little remained that was not salvaged by the bandits was being reclaimed by the morally-stricken Northerners. Panting heavily and darting his eyes about for any familiar face, The Old Gods themselves seemed that they were blessing the Starks for once in a lifetime.

Before Jon, just past a few squadrons of soldiers, sat the mighty King of the North. With a lance sternly held in his right hand and a fiecre glare of spite for letting his army be ambushed, the truest Stark flinched at the sight of his bastard brother knee-deep in mud and cradling Arya like a mother would an infant. Barely able to see Robb's reaction, Jon couldn't even falsely smile, the worry in his eyes and the loss of his own blood beginning to overtake him. Orders were given in harsh shouts, but for Jon, these voices were nothing more than whispers in his ears.

Feeling Arya ripped away from him and hauled off to get proper medical attention, the Bastard of Winterfell instinctavally reached out for the one family member that understood him. Collapsing on the mud and feeling the crimson seep out of his ebony attire, Lord Snow could only feel pure guilt. Not only did he desert his duty as a man of the Night's Watch, but he failed in protecting the one individual that mattered the most to him.

Father, forgive me. I will never be a Robb to you...

Lillian Gray
Lil'Meister the Admin

King in the North

Good god, let me give you my life.

Posts: 1,597

The Hollow of Harrenhall [IC] Oct 15, 2014 10:27:42 GMT -6

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Post by Lillian Gray on Oct 15, 2014 10:27:42 GMT -6

Arya felt nothing, heard nothing, as the waves of men retreated to Riverrun. She wanted to say she remembered her brother reaching his hand out towards her as she was ripped from his chest, but alas, her eyes were closed to the world. Robb and his men rode to Riverrun with haste unlike the days before in order to free themselves from another ambush from the Bandits. He, too, held her close but Arya was a ghost in his arms, ready to fade into nothing within hours.

She dreamed of Winterfell. Sansa and Jeyne chatted excitedly about their needlework, while Arya watched from the window down into the courtyard. Her brothers were there, laughing and fighting like they normally did. How she yearned to be down there with them, and why not? She was a noble person, if she wanted she could join them. So Arya hopped out of her seat, leaving behind her sister. She didn't call for Arya, nor did her friend. The spiraling steps led down, and as she thought she'd reached the courtyard gates, she opened it and was surprised to see another set of steps.

Those weren't there before.

Arya peeked down into them and heard the familiar screams of torture from Harrenhall and she whirled back up to Sansa. It was as if she never left. The boys were still practicing their swordplay and Arya was but a lifeless figure in the window. She wanted to be there though, and she tried again to join them. Harrenhall met her each time she threw open the door. Time and time again, until she curled up in the corner, unable to bear the cries. From just out the window she could hear laughter.

There was only one thing she learned, that Arya Stark would never be able to join them. She'd remain in her tower with her Needle, unable to swing the blade even once.

"...we'll wait another day then." A familiar voice made it's way to Arya's ears. Sweet, yet fierce, unlike that of a true Stark and more of an adopted wolf. She bared her fangs when necessary, knew how to use them from years of raising a batch of unruly children.

Catelyn Stark sat at Arya's side, stroking her hair with ragged hands. Her mother had spent a time waiting for Bran to wake, and spent a few days more for Arya. A scar was there on her hand, the skin split in two disgusting pieces. She didn't know what it was from, although if she thought hard she would've known it was from the dagger used in an attempt on Bran's life. Arya couldn't remember back far enough. The memories simply wouldn't come to her over the trauma of the past few months.

"Promise me you'll eat again, this won't be like him, she'll wake up." There was Robb, soothing Catelyn with simple reassurances. "It's shock, Arya will be fine."

"She's been tossing all night, something is wrong, Robb, and I can't..."

Arya drifted off without ever opening her eyes. So she was safe then? She didn't know. Arya was back in the tower. Only this time she didn't need to open the door to hear the pained screeching from the basement. Hard as she tried to cover her ears, the sound only came closer, if she opened her eyes she could see the bodies clawing their way from the stairs in an attempt at another life. They wanted out, and Arya was already there. It wasn't fair, they wanted to live, wanted to fight for their rightful King and she was the one to live. A little girl with nothing more than a Needle on her belt and madness in her head.

"Arya?" A voice pulled her from the nightmare. The split hand was back on her brow, covered in sweat and fear. "Arya, can you hear me?"

"Jon..."

"No, it's your mother." The voice laughed, but there was no humor in it. Her daughter's eyes opened at it was an improvement, but with all the tragedy in their lives it was little to celebrate.

"He-" Arya swallowed hard. She was starving, her stomach empty from the days she spent trapped in her own dreams. Her arm was sore, and when she turned to examine it, there was a thick bandage in the way. The battle came back to her and she panicked. Where was Jon?

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daxam: At least I got $100 for my dad's sewer job :3 Jan 17, 2015 22:13:01 GMT -6

Lillian Gray: Ah, that's a bummer. Jan 17, 2015 14:30:55 GMT -6

daxam: Decided not to do it. It would just be for the console, no controllers, games or cables Jan 17, 2015 2:15:40 GMT -6

Lillian Gray: Nice! I'd be careful though, Ebay can be hard to deal with. Sometimes. Usually things work out. Jan 15, 2015 18:53:04 GMT -6

daxam: When I get the money from my dad, I'm gonna buy a 360 off of eBay :3 Jan 14, 2015 22:54:05 GMT -6

daxam: AAAAAAYYYYYYYY Jan 13, 2015 21:49:37 GMT -6

Lillian Gray: AAAAY Jan 12, 2015 23:26:43 GMT -6

daxam: Hello?

Jan 12, 2015 22:29:31 GMT -6

daxam: I have so much pop XD Jan 10, 2015 22:17:36 GMT -6

kitsunemage: lmao, Lils, never underestimate the power of Lord of the Rings!!! Jan 10, 2015 6:51:27 GMT -6

kitsunemage: Heya Daxie! :3 Jan 10, 2015 6:51:05 GMT -6

daxam: I MISSED YOU, KITSIE!! ;A; Jan 10, 2015 1:48:49 GMT -6

Lillian Gray: I was so wrong. Jan 9, 2015 23:58:18 GMT -6

Lillian Gray: My mom finished the first and we HAD to play the second. I had no idea it was coming, if anything I thought she wouldn't finish the first. Jan 9, 2015 23:58:14 GMT -6

kitsunemage: I'm gonna play smite with my boyfriend ;D Jan 9, 2015 20:40:18 GMT -6

kitsunemage: don't even worry bout it Jan 9, 2015 20:40:09 GMT -6

kitsunemage: pffft Jan 9, 2015 20:40:06 GMT -6

Lillian Gray: Haha, I might not respond until late. LOTR is on, and well, it's pretty distracting. Then I've gotta read. Sorry kitsune! Jan 9, 2015 20:20:48 GMT -6

kitsunemage:

yaaaaay Clint bears <3 Jan 9, 2015 20:14:50 GMT -6

Lillian Gray: Clint is gonna be your big teddy bear, no one will ever hurt Tessa ever ;o; Jan 9, 2015 19:29:59 GMT -6