The Ironmen Arrive

[Iron King Vickon Greyjoy]

Vickon Pyke urged his horse faster. The great stone castle of Winterfell lay before them towering above the fields that surrounded it, a gigantic stone mountain amongst a sea of grass. They had been able to see it from miles away, but only now did Vickon truly appreciate the sheer size of the fortress. Although not as impressive as Pyke, Winterfell was still an impressive sight to behold.

Vickon reined in beside his father, Lord Jerron Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands. He had never enjoyed his father's company, preferring to ride with the men. He had but seen his father only twice during the entire journey and that was the way they both preferred it, he knew. However, his curiosity was stronger than the bitterness he felt for his father.

"Is it true that Theon Greyjoy took this castle with just twenty men?"

[The Darkness]

A old man of nearly fifty years, dressed fully in black spoke to the lad in a low voice. "Theon Greyjoy was a ward of Winterfell for years. If anything, he knew how to spin a tale, as Queen Asha once said." He spoke roughly, clearly discouraging such nonsense.

[Iron King Vickon Greyjoy]

Vickon spun in his saddle to see where the voice had come from. He hadn't noticed the old man before. "What would you know, old man?"

[The Light]

"More than you think, boy," the man growled. "Fresh off your mother's teat and greener than the Summer Island sea, not that you'd ever have seen those warm, green waters." He scoffed. "Shut the hell up and learn your lessons proper."

[Iron King Vickon Greyjoy]

A flash of anger shot across his face, "Keep talking to me like that and I might just take your tongue!"

[The Darkness]

"Enough!" The guards say. "Hold your swords when in the Home of Lord Stark. There will be no bloodshed."

[Leman Harlaw]

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Leman Harlaw, alone, slowly trudges up the road toward the great castle. He wished he managed to catch the damn horses when they fled, but at least he had gotten some packs off of them before the incident. He had not starved. He came to the great gates and made his way inside. He stopped one of the service men and asked if the Lord Stark was still at Winterfell.

[The Light]

The young soldier, clad in the drab gray mail marked with the sigil of House Stark, looked surprised to be stopped by the grizzled Ironman. "Milord," he began, not sure of how to address this fellow. "He is in the keep. Likely with his wife, or..." he paused, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, milord, but I don' know. I just patrol the gates."

[Leman Harlaw]

"Ach, excellent. Thank you lad, on your way then." Leman squinted up at the castle and prepared to enter the castle.

[The Light]

Four men rode into the yard, almost riding down the young guard to whom Leman had just spoken. Their horses were in a lather and their rough appearance marked them as swords for hire. Riding at their fore was a thin man, with a pinched face and a thin moustache, who looked almost as though he would be better suited to a library than to horseback. He dismounted, and the rest followed. His cold eyes scanned the courtyard, until they rested upon one who seemed vaguely familiar.

"D'ye see him? Looks like our little Iron Friend from the coast," said the thin, mustachioed man, gesticulating wildly.

A big man, with arms like tree trunks, grinned. "Oi, Harlaw, ye'r the las' one we thought ter see here." He guffawed loudly.

[Leman Harlaw]

Leman stopped dead, a flush creeping up the back of his neck. He turned and spoke with a smile "Hoped I'd seen the last of you Adolf."

[The Light]

"Well, looks like you haven't. What think ye, lads? We take him in as prisoner, after all?" The slender, mustachioed man, whose name was Adolf Snow, and whose distaste for the Iron Islanders was legendary, narrowed his eyes at Harlaw.

The muscular one with arms strong as oaks and legs slender as a girl's was Franklin the Crippler, Adolf's left-hand. He nodded. "Le's take 'im, I say."

A grey-haired chap with a pipe clutched in his chubby fist was the third, by name of Winston of Saltspear. The fourth was a dour-looking man with a military bearing, his green coat buttoned up high under his chins. It was Yusef the Turncoat, who had served under several lords in Essos and betrayed them all. These two also nodded, and moved to surround Harlaw.

[Leman Harlaw]

Leman raised his hands palm outwards "Now lads, do you really want to do this? I mean, there's four of you with steel, and it's in broad daylight. Are you sure you don't want to wait until night like last time?" He lowered his hands and curled them into fists, joints cracking like firewood "Because it might not go as well."

Roll (Intimidation:Noteworthy)

[The Light]

(Intimidation: 55 + 70 = 125)

Franklin looked a bit scared. "Eh, boss, maybe 'e's right. We're right 'ere in Lord Stark's walls...shouldn't we...?" The other subordinates looked similarly ill at ease.

Adolf was having none of that. His hatred of the Iron Islanders and their ilk was too overwhelming. "We are four against your one, and steel against your fists." He drew himself up to his full height. "I think we have the advantage."

[Leman Harlaw]

Keep talking, keep talking... "Advantage? Maybe if I tied my hand behind my back! Or some of the guards around here joined in. You bunch are still the sorriest excuse for warriors I've ever seen, and I've been to Braavos let me tell you!"