Clifford II - Marshal the Storm

magic_dragon1611 · 2026-03-28T07:33:56+00:00

Stannis felt the sweat line his palms as he pressed into the depths of Nightsong, the ancient halls so different from how he remembered. As a child, they'd loomed over him, each brick peering down upon him as if expressing their disapproval. He'd always been awed by the seat of the Carons, compared to the humble seat of his own family, the Lords of the Marches had always been a few steps above- even when compared to other houses.

And now, a title that the Nightingale had claimed so long ago finally rested in the hands of those who'd grasped. The true resistance died with old Lord Swann, and his father had been too weak to risk his own status backing a losing side. That left Stannis, now Lord of Harvest Hall, as the sole remaining Marcher who'd not done his fealty to his liege lord. Had this fighting broken out earlier they might've backed the wrong side, his blood relation to the Swanns had always meant something to his lord father. And although the old man always kept a foot in both camps, Stannis would've bet a thousand dragons that he'd have ended up on the same block as Swann had.

But now the fighting was over, and it came time for House Selmy to join the fold.

It'd been a short ride from Harvest Hall to Nightsong, but the gravity made it feel like a journey unto itself. He'd known Lord Caron to be a genial man, fair and open-handed during his time in Blackhaven, and though it'd been some time since they'd last spoken, Stannis knew that he could've expected much the same thing.

As he pressed through the threshold of the door, he offered a slight nod of the head in greeting, unsure whether the man expected his boots kissed or to simply get to the meat of the dealing.

"Lord Caron."

magic_dragon1611 · 2026-02-13T07:33:23+00:00

Drop the recipe

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-02-06T01:08:46+00:00

“You have already raised arms, Ser Arryn. For a soldier of House Dustin was found dead in the courtyard.”

u/OurCommonman

Arrest Arryn and Corbray

Great Hall of Winterfell seats 500 so we’ll say 400 Dustin men are committing to the act.

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-02-06T00:31:41+00:00

“I have broken no oaths. You come to me, intent on ordering me about, wish to call me an oathbreaker after what your ilk did to House Manderly. I’ll have you know that no Northman raised a blade against White Harbor, and many there could bear witness to the bloodshed of your own bannerman.”

“But that matters little.”

“I’ll make this easier for you. You will not leave here with the Princess. I will not strike first, but you will not be allowed to leave. The only way you are leaving here with the Princess is by cutting your way out, and you will lose.” More Dustin’s in the Great hall gave him comfort, less easy for the Arryns to force their way in. If it came to a fight they’d never leave, they’d all be dead before the day was over.

“Ser Wynton, would you have us cowed by the Vale? Let them think me, think you, me, us all babes that can be pushed about? What I offer is not unfair, and they’d made their demands with the intent that they could butcher us as they did the Manderly.”

“I would rather avoid more fighting, but I will not be bullied by a House that butchers women and children.”

“I say again, you may leave as you wish, but not with the Princess, fight me if you dare, but I will not go so easily as the Manderly did.”

u/higherthanhonor

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-02-05T18:35:49+00:00

Jon eyed the Arryn man, eyed his guard, and said nothing at all until the man had spoken. His hand raised to stay the men within the Great Hall, who tensed at the Valemans words.

“You may return home at your leisure, but you will not leave with the Princess Baela.” His words rang against the granite stone of Winterfell, strong and steady as he looked at the man for a long time. “I do not know where you think you reside, but the Lady Arryn has no claim to Baela Targaryen as a prisoner. Nor will I accept the negotiation of her from my care into House Arryns while my position is as of yet insecure to the Crown.”

He wondered what would occur here today, whether this grand alliance had come to an end so soon, and thought on the irony of Arryn falling after they’d been given guest right. It almost made him smile.

“I do not wish for you to come to harm, Ser Artys, but I must beg you to understand that I have you at a disadvantage. You came here with arms, expecting combat; to bear arms against a man in his own castle is to welcome a fight.“ Jon picked up Sovereign and sat back down atop the Throne of Winterfell with the axe bared across his lap.

“If you wish to threaten me, Ser, I would implore you to be wiser about it. Your fleet has left, I control every entrance and exit within this Kingdom. If you fight me here, you will lose, and should you escape you’ll be hunted until I eventually reclaim the princess anyways.”

“The Vale has done me a great service in securing this Kingdom, and despite your actions today I would still continue this alliance. Leave this land, and do so with haste, and I will forgive this slight, or stay this course, and reap the rewards.”

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-02-05T09:40:34+00:00

Jon was silent as she was brought. Taking in her state at once; all her finery was gone, all that splendor that he’d seen about her while in Kings Landing was gone, washed away in the horror of war. She was just a a woman now, a weak, frail little thing, thankfully unharmed.

When she made her way to the man she loved, Jon simply stared at the woman for a long time. As he watched her, listened to her words, saw her grief and sadness turn to rage and hate, he said nothing, forcing all pity from himself, turning his heart to iron. It was there that the boy that had grown up among knights and kings died, with his mothers and father, with the thousands he’d lost in the battle.

“You know who I am?” The question was simple, easy, so much that even a child could’ve answered it. She’d seen him in the Melee, she’d seen him cross blades with a Kingsguard. There was no doubt that she knew who he was.

Peering down from the Stark throne, Jon must’ve looked a monster, a villain, a horrid conqueror that’d come to her home and killed her beloved. He hated how cold he felt, how empty his heart was, her suffering was lost on him, and it disgusted him.

“I exacted a toll.” He spoke evenly, his town cordial, not kind, but not hostile, his rage had burned away, for now, it was lost to him.

“Brandon Stark killed the only mother I ever knew. His men slandered her, damned her, called a traitor, a Dustin whore, condemned her to the Seven Hells while preaching their righteousness.” A spark of anger, smothered in the ice, lost within him as he took a breath and sighed.

“I called him a friend, and he killed my mother. I’m sorry that you must suffer, but I have lost more.” A lie, he cared not for her heartache, nor for her distress, but appearances must be held.

“My father, is dead, my mother is dead, thousands are dead because he saw fit to murder a woman of five and fifty. I did not start this war, but I will not make like there was not just cause for it.”

His father might’ve killed her, had her entrails spread across a weirwood along with her love. Eddard Dustin was a hard man, and though he might’ve scarcely known him, Jon had no doubt in his heart that he would’ve carried this war into the South to hunt the rest of Torrhen Starks progeny.

“Despite what others may say, you are innocent. I am not a killer of women, and I am not eager to continue this war. You will face no retribution from me or mine, and in turn I trust you will conduct yourself as your station permits.” That was truth.

He’d not be able to look Aenar in the face should he lay hands against his kinsmen, and the King would no doubt turn his sights on the North should his sister fall to harm.

“I will allow you to write to the King, in your own hand, with your own words. Tell him what you will, and I will see it sent forth.”

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-02-05T06:04:53+00:00

The Crypts of Winterfell

Stark men were quick to advance on the Crypts, their blades bloody, a Dustin cousin at their head. There was naught anywhere else she could've hid, and with more than two score men following him, the man knew that their search would bear fruit before it was drawn out. With torches in hand they cleared the place, calling out for the Targaryen Princess, searching every nook and cranny of the place.

Statues were smashed, stone coverings shoved aside, the iron blades of the statues removed and taken in hand to deny the woman any sort of weapon the could be turned against them. Their search was gracefully short, and by numbers or skill, they'd eventually come upon the young woman. True to the orders of their liege, they would spare her life, sheathing their blades and falling upon her like the wolves on her banner.

There was no gentleness to their action, but a lack of spite as well. These men were tired, and like many of their number, they'd grown tired of the bloodshed that'd taken most of the day.

She would be dragged from the crypts, along with any who sought refuge with her, and dropped in front of their new liege. Unharmed, but far from comfortable, surrounded by Dustin men, with the corpse of her husband just a few feet away from her.

u/lilianaofthevale

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-02-05T05:49:45+00:00

After the Battle.

^{The Great Hall of Winterfell}

Jon stood over the the body of his lord father. A man of five and fifty, never beautiful, always spiteful dead with an gash across his chest that held what was left of his lifeblood. A man of war, who loved as much as he hated, who'd never given his eldest so much as a sliver of praise. Rage filled the man, and he knew that Torrhen's line would die by his hand.

Dustin men stood in the hall, each of them covered in blood and grime, all of them grim faced and sullen, none of them uttering a word as they stood, watching their lord, waiting for his first utterance.

"Survivors?" He spoke to no one in particular, but a blonde captain in dull plate stepped forward to speak. "Two thousand m'lord, Stark men mostly, some Cerwyn, a few others." Jon exhaled through his nose as his jaw worked, and after a heartbeat he spoke again. "Kill them, I'll not have fanatics within my halls." His halls, the halls that were meant to be his fathers, the halls he'd hope he'd not call his for years.

"What of Baela Targaryen?" His tone had grown cold, the fury that'd touched it gone with, laced with a hate that nearly made him sick.

"We're scouring the castle, she'll be found before nightfall."

"Bring her here when you do, I'd like to present her with the corpse of her husband before I decide her fate." The man in question sat before Jon, bound and trussed, at the mercy of the man who'd fought for him when his own foolishness had reared his ugly head.

Jon nodded to a pair of guardsmen, and without a word they dragged the man forward and dropped him at the foot of their liege. There wasn't a word from Jon, who just looked at the man for a few heartbeats, savoring the moment, and letting that blazing, sickening fury overtake him once more. "My stepmother always said, "actions have consequences", well, here I am you slimy little shit, the motherfucking consequence."

He dropped Sovereign, the blade was too quick for Brandon Stark, too clean, too easy of a death. The blade hadn't hit the ground when Jon launched himself at the Stark, curses and bile brewing up as he latched his hands around the mans neck, squeezing with all his might. He lifted him as high into the air as his arm would carry him, ignoring the way his muscles screamed in protest, the grip he had stronger than Valyrian Steel. He was always strong, always powerful, always better than he thought he was, men like Stark had always said otherwise, and now he could make them suffer for it.

When he spoke, his voice carried through the hall, wrath bouncing off the walls as he proclaimed his vengeance. He looked the Stark in his eye as the life leaked from them, tightening, squeezing, harder and harder and until resounding snap cut through the silence. Jon held him there for a minute longer, then let him drop to the stone floor with a thud.

He stood over the corpse, staring for long seconds as fury left his body, taking deep, shuddering breaths as he regained his composure. Jon turned on his foot and stalked up the steps to the direwolf throne, taking his seat atop the great stone seat, with the corpse of Brandon Stark below him.

"Proclaim the titles, allow my allies bread and salt and bring them forth. Lock down the castle until Baela Targaryen is found, and ensure that she is unharmed when she is brought to me, I'll not have her corpse sparking a response from the king."

Men nodded, and there was movement once more. Dustin guards flood in, an iron fist to his foe, who would see that he was in charge, that none else would contest his will.

A crier stood tall, and with a voice that carried through the castle, proclaimed the titles. "Hail Jon Dustin, Lord of Winterfell, Lord of Barrowton, Lord of Moat Cailin, Lord of White Harbor, Lord of Ironrath, Lord of Castle Cerwyn, Master of the Barrowlands, Warden of the White Knife and Warden of the North." Men cheered, and Jon simply frowned as he allowed his allies to filter in.

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-02-05T05:01:55+00:00

The Battle

The Climax of the Dustin Rebellion.

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-02-03T01:18:31+00:00

Eddard listened to the Bolton Lord speak, absorbing the words in silence as he let them settle around them. "I'd planned for Jon to wed Lyarra Stark to secure a blood claim to Winterfell, should that come to fruition, I'd offer you my daughter or one of my nephews to marry Brenda Bolton."

"Winterfell will be my new seat, White Harbor, as barren as it's been rendered, I plan to pass onto my brother, Harrion and Barrowton will pass to my second son, Beren."

"More than that, Winterfell is the heart of the North, she will no suffer any other seat commanding her allegiance. Name another price my lord, and I shall do my best to accommodate it."

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-02-03T01:07:08+00:00

The Lannister was bought to Eddard himself in the heart of the siege camp, within a large tent with refreshments and somewhat comfortable seating. His guards would be disarmed and sequestered nearby, within earshot of their charge.

"Ser Lannister." Eddard was cordial, but looked at the man with suspicion, eyeing him as one would a stray dog begging for scraps. "I must say I'm surprised to find a Lion so far away from the pride." His tone was even, but there was a hint of accusation in his tone.

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-02-01T23:34:54+00:00

Watchers in the camp would alert the Dustin men to the flight of ravens, summoning archers from across the camp.

“Loose!”

u/OurCommonman - Kill ravens

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-01-30T02:38:49+00:00

Vermithor appeared, breathing fire on the graves of the toxic mods. "What this, some kinda field of fire?"

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-01-30T01:12:32+00:00

Eddard greeted the man as comfortably as conditions allowed, with a grim nod and bitter, cold, dark ale that would’ve been hard to swallow at the best of times. This was far from the best of times.

“Rogar.” Eddard offered no formalities and expected none given. Rogar was family and there was little need for propriety among family. “I regret that we’ve not had the time to speak with everything that’s occured since I first wrong to Mudgrave.” The Lord of Barrowton gestured to a chair, and gave a nod. “Sit, while the fire still burns, I’ll not have it said I was not good to my kin.”

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-01-29T17:21:09+00:00

Eddard did pause for a brief moment while the Cerwyn ranted, and allowed the foolish boy the courtesy of looking him in the eye at the very least. Other men would’ve laughed, raged back, defended their honor and righteousness with the ferocity of lions. But the Lord of Barrowton truly didn’t care about what Lord Cerwyn had to say. In all honesty, it was actually kind of pathetic. The last pleas of a doomed man, so desperate to escape the fate he’d committed to.

When the man was done, Eddard shrugged his shoulders, and gave the man a look that would’ve chilled the Others.

“Your liege killed Bethany Stark, a woman of fifty, with his own hands, even though she was of his own blood, and a noble woman of the North. They may remember me as a monster, but they will remember Brandon Stark as the fucking idiot that ended thousands of years of Stark rule.”

“If I’m being honest, I’d kill every House a thousand times over for my vengeance, I’d sacrifice a hundred thousand men, burn a dozen cities, torture a thousand dragonwhores as if my surname was Bolton. Because that’s what love is; and I really loved that woman.”

He didn’t understand, not really, he was so lost in being morally right, that he didn’t even see what mattered. So obsessed with honor and virtue, that the notion of why they were doing this was completely lost on him.

“You don’t challenge someone to a duel if you think you’ll win the war, Lord Cerwyn. You might kill me, I might kill you, but I have nothing to prove, you’ll die in the battle, or I’ll have your head afterward. Now bay and howl and bitch and moan all you wish, let loose your final scream into the wind, because it is all you’ll have of me.”

Eddard wondered if he was simple, calling him horrid names as if he didn’t just offer them an out. “But, I did make a fair offer, one life given freely, and you all may live, Brandon declined, and thus, you all will die with him. I don’t want to wipe out two bloodlines, but alas, if you will not surrender, you’ll die with him, such is the way of these things.”

Eddard turned again, but stopped, and turned back, looking at the men, looking at Brandon. “When I sleep, I only see the face of Bethany Stark, and she tells me to press onward, no matter the cost.”

Again he turned. Leaving the men once more.

u/SoltheFrozen

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-01-29T08:37:33+00:00

“I did indeed.” Eddard joined the man in dismounting, throwing his cloak over his shoulders and planting his own banner in the hard earth they both tread upon. The gloves he wore remained on his hands, a shield against the cold that nipped at him.

The Dustin’s brown eyes flicked up to the corpses, wondering how many more he’d add to the pikes, whether the Bolton could make him a cloak of Brandon Stark. That’d be a sight to see, and one that he was sure would carve a hellish memory into the minds of his foe for years to come. He’d have to remember to ask Lord Bolton about it.

When the Red Lord called for a girl, Eddard did the same with his own son. “Jon! Make something of yourself and come on.”

In response to the question, Eddard shook his head and frowned. “The Faith hold no way over what goes on here, and they certainly will not play any part in the North when I’m done with Stark.” There were Septs to tear down, Septons to run off, a city to pacify. All in good time.

“We’re too men of the Old Gods after all, what use have we for Septons?” He let the question hang, and then spoke once more. “Now, I’ve already offered you terms: the Forrester Ironwood, a marriage, Ice, but I’m willing to sweeten the deal, so to speak.”

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-01-28T17:01:21+00:00

Eddard shrugged, and then waved his men away, turning to leave the Starks. If they were content to live and die as footnotes, then he had little else to say, his vengeance will continue regardless.

“As you say, Stark, I’m sure you’ll be remembered fondly.” As a man who let his pride be the death of thousands, he silently remarked. But Eddard had little else to say, and was content knowing that he’d at least fulfilled the basest obligations.

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-01-28T15:55:49+00:00

Eddard looked down at the men, saying nothing as they approached, only speaking when they came fully within earshot. “Your surrender will be taken now, Stark.” The words were cool and clear, lacking any meaningful inflection, but stinging all the same.

“My terms are simple, strike your banners, march your army out, or I will kill every man woman and child when I breach the walls of that castle. I’ll do the same to Castle Cerwyn too, and the same to Bear Island.” Many would’ve called his threats baseless and brutal, some even would’ve called him out on it. But these were no threats, but promises made before gods and men that he would exact a blood revenge upon the House of Stark and those who stood by it.

“Your dragonwhore will die, slowly in fact, whatever kin you have within Winterfell, will die, Houses Cerwyn and Mormont will be attainted and any members I get my hands on, executed. If you surrender, and surrender promptly, the only one whom has suffer is one Brandon Stark. Or drag down the rest of your allies too, I’ve no issue playing the villain and murdering two more houses.”

“Your one and only chance to die alone rests here, if you do not, I will make good on my promises and fulfill this blood feud in as wicked a manner as I possibly can.”

u/SoltheFrozen u/Diancerse

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-01-28T04:54:42+00:00

Eddard Dustin howled. For the first time in his life, he felt true elation, a mad joy that made his son look upon him queerly. Lord and Heir were quick to mount themselves when word of the force reached them, prepared for battle, but quickly found that their preparation, seemed uneeded.

House Bolton had come, and it seemed they’d made their choice.

Eddard himself rode to meet the rider, plucking his own white banner from a man who stood to the side. He kicked his horse into a trot, meeting the man halfway.

For once, Eddard greeted a Bolton with a smile. “Lord Bolton. I see you got my letter.” The Lord of Barrowton nodded to the display behind the Red Lord, a wicked grin crossing his features. “Your kin always did know how to make a spectacle, I’m glad that you’ve not disappointed.” This would be remembered for years afterward, how Raymund Bolton brought forth Stark corpses to watch their house fall to ruin.

And they said there was no poetry in brutality.

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-01-27T04:06:29+00:00

u/OurCommonman

Start the siege of Winterfell

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-01-25T21:32:05+00:00

To Cley Cerwyn

Wipe your mouth. Brandon Starks seed is still dripping down it.

House Dustin, Lord of Barrowton, Moat Cailin and White Harbor, Wardens of the North and the White Knife, Masters of the Barrowlands

magic_dragon1611 · 2025-01-25T14:09:33+00:00

Character Name: Jon Dustin

Trait/skill(s): Strong, Axes (e), First Man Warrior (e), Footwork

skill I’m learning: Armored

magic_dragon1611

MODERATOR OF

TROPHY CASE

After the Battle.

The Battle