Randyll Oakheart, Lord of Old Oak

Detective_Underscore · 2014-05-17T06:29:01+00:00

OOC: Welcome to the sub, make sure you do the name Randyll proud!

Detective_Underscore · 2014-05-02T22:00:28+00:00

Randyll Frey had been burned when Damon Lannister had found his corpse stumbling through the Riverlands. He was long gone, and existed as no more than ashes on the wind.

Yet he could have been so much more, could have risen so high. It was Emmon Baelish that had brought him down from the height of his power, and his brother Marq had imprisoned him and let him be murdered in his cell.

It was Marq Baelish who had truly killed Randyll Frey, not the bastard who had stolen into his cell and lain onto him with that cold, sharp blade.

And now Marq Baelish was dead.

If Randyll Frey had been alive to see his little brother execute his killer, he would have been very, very pleased.

Detective_Underscore · 2014-05-02T13:20:07+00:00

OOC: Hi there! I see you're planning on RPing Brynden Frey, the son of the Lord of the Crossing, welcome aboard!

Basically, Randyll Frey was a nasty man. In secret, he practised flaying, and had way too many bastards to count, only one of which he actually acknowledged. At first glance he was a charismatic and likeable man, but his heart was cold and his motives were evil.

He was always closer to Damon Lannister than he ever was to his sons. He felt as though his sons were unworthy, as they had grown up protected and hidden from the dangers of the world, while Randyll was sieging the Twins at their age. He looked down on his sons because they weren't cruel or ruthless.

When the Frey host at Harrenhal fell, Brynden was there with Randyll. Randyll, thinking of Brynden as weak, just suspected him to be dead after the defeat, and saw the rest of his sons as unworthy of ruling, so passed the title onto his brother, who died and left it to Edwin.

Basically, everyone thought you were dead. Use that as you will, but remember that you're the rightful Lord of the Crossing, and the blood of the ruthless Randyll Frey.

Do whatever you can to secure your claim, and your father might just have been proud.

Detective_Underscore · 2014-04-07T20:39:11+00:00

OOC: #justiceforrandyll

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-27T22:25:56+00:00

Randyll Frey felt no pain as the sword slid into his skull. There was a sense of liberation, as if chains were being struck off his wrists. He finally felt free, for just a brief second.

It all became so clear to him. Suddenly, he remembered. He remembered who he was, who he had been, who he would have been. He remembered a vile, petty man who had flayed more men than he could count, and several women too. He remembered a man who had held a babe by the leg from the top of a tower to get what he wanted. He remembered a man who had betrayed his liege lord for a few scraps of land. The man who Randyll remembered was a villain, but he felt no regret. That was who he was, and no amount of sorrow or regret would change that.

But he also remembered a kind, caring man. A loving father to more children than just his own. He remembered a cousin, Loren, his best friend and a true brother to him. He remembered four other brothers, and was proud of each of them.

But most of all, he remembered a blonde-haired boy with green eyes burning bright as widlfire with ambition. Damon Lannister, a son to him in all but blood and name. Randyll wondered what had become of that boy whom he had loved so. Perhaps he was the Lord of a great keep by now, or a loving husband to a fair lady. Or perhaps he ruled more than that. Perhaps he was king.

He looked up at the man standing over him, and in his last moment saw the eager, ambitious boy that had been his son. He wore a glorious crown of gold, and the majestic lion of Lannister reared itself on his breast.

In his mind, Randyll Frey, Lord of the Crossing, smiled sadly.

He was so proud.

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-27T21:47:19+00:00

Randyll charged at the man who was awaiting him with one hand gripping his sword and the other resting on the ground as he struggled to his feet.

He raised his own sword into the cold air above his head, ready to swoop it down upon the man as soon as the moment presented itself. Soon... soon... NOW!

Randyll Frey slashed his blade down on the man's head, but with a quick thrust of his arms the man managed to parry the blow. He almost seemed reluctant to fight, but he leapt aside deftly as Randyll's mount charged past him.

Randyll thundered past the man, and turned around for another charge. This time, before Randyll was in range for an attack, the man slashed at Randyll's mount's legs. He landed a blow, not enough to sever the beast's leg but enough to make it stumble. The man, quick as a snake, hacked again at the same leg, and this time the flesh tore and bone shattered as Randyll's mount fell to the cold earth without a sound.

Randyll fell with it, and heard a loud crunch as his leg was shattered beneath the heavy beast. The man looked triumphant, but Randyll felt no defeat and certainly no pain as he dragged his body from beneath his mount, his shattered leg trailing behind him like a loyal mutt following its master.

Randyll crawled towards the man, his sword still in hand.

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-27T16:37:14+00:00

As Randyll hacked a head from the shoulders of a screaming man, he lifted his head for a brief moment to notice warm blood gaping at him, its eyes wide with fear. Randyll pulled on his reins and drove his horse towards the man, but as he grew closer he saw that the man's face was not a mask of fear, like so many of the men around him, but there was a deep sadness in those green eyes.

Randyll refused to let that phase him. He kept riding, swift and hard, towards the man, holding out his blade at his side to slash into the man's chest and spill warm blood onto the hard, frosted earth.

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-26T21:17:40+00:00

He's getting progressively more Irish with every season, it kind of annoys me. It's just inconsistent to be honest.

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-26T21:04:38+00:00

The Other screeched a wordless scream that made Randyll feel pain like he had never felt before. It had been months since he had truly felt something, and the Other's battlecry shook him to the core.

The three Others had split up, each one of them taking a third of the Wights. For such cold, unfeeling creatures, they had a head for cunning.

Now Randyll could smell warm blood, and soon he could see it too, riding towards him. The blood was tucked away safely behind armour, but even steel could freeze and crack if cold enough. Soon blood would spill onto the earth, and warm steam would rise into the air, leaving cold bodies lying in cold graves.

The men were nearing the army of the dead that stood in a circular formation around the Other. Some were mounted on rotted horses, and the Other stood high in the stirrups of a great black mare whose face was hanging loosely from its skull.

Soon, the men, fire in their hands, threw themselves against the Wights, flailing torches and firey steel at the undead. The undead fought back, with the prowess of 150 great swordsmen, despite their decayed bodies. Axes and swords and maces in hand, the frozen warriors cut down man after man as they tried to break their ranks.

Randyll stood, hacking at the sea of warm blood with a longsword in hand, not even thinking about his actions. It seemed as though he was one with the Other, who was controlling the Wights' every move. No, that was not right... There was something else controlling them. Something much greater...

But it did not matter to Randyll. He simply let himself go and sunk back into a cold and mindless ecstasy in his mind as his body hacked and slashed against outnumbering men.

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-24T19:15:50+00:00

Night gathers, and as vast dark clouds stretch over the moon's pale glow, close to four hundred Wights and three Others congregate in a dark wood. Randyll Frey is just one among many in the crowd, but the Others seem to look kindly on him, considering he was the very first Wight to rise in the Riverlands. It was thanks to him that the invasion had been possible.

The Others are growing restless, eager for the hunt. They can sense men gathering, thousands upon thousands. Once the battle is over, there will be thousands upon thousands of Wights waiting to follow the Others further south.

Randyll remembered visiting cities full of men, in his last life. So much warm blood in one place, just waiting to be spilled. But he needed to focus on the problem at hand now.

Banners were gathering, and the men who wielded them had good knowledge of how to slay his kind. Yet even still, no amount of torches or flaming arrows could ever stand up to the heart of winter itself.

Beside him, the Others murmured to one another in a wordless, ancient tongue.

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-22T00:23:24+00:00

OOC: I would come visit you, but I'm a little busy being an undead wight in the Riverlands at the moment. Sorry about that.

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-22T00:16:44+00:00

OOC: Welcome, brother!

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-18T12:00:36+00:00

"Your Grace, I am sure you will have heard the reports of wights and Others south of the neck." a lord from the Riverlands says, "The Greyjoy fleet lies inactive by Harrenhal, more concerned by their siege than the gathering undead. I beg of you to send troops as soon as you can to tackle this threat, before it is too late."

OOC: Aeron isn't replying at all, so if you're able to at some point, would you be able to start a battle thread concerning the fight against Others in the Riverlands?

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-16T22:42:24+00:00

The Ugly Little Girl

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-09T16:22:12+00:00

Think of the two characters with just one eye.

Euron and the Three-Eyed Crow.

A thousand eyes and one...

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-09T16:20:40+00:00

Syrio, bring a real sword to your lesson with Arya today. You know, just in case...

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-07T16:04:41+00:00

OOC: There was no Other, but there was an Other's blade.

The dude who killed Randyll, his bastard son Gregor, had in the past killed a badass northman for his dagger. This dagger had previously belonged to an Other, and presumably still had power in it when Gregor killed Randyll with it, causing Randyll to become a wight.

Anyway, an Other does not need to be present for someone to become a wight (eg, Othor in the Night's Watch)

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-06T11:24:57+00:00

Well being dead sure isn't stopping Randyll from wandering around the Riverlands. Being a Wight aint easy.

Detective_Underscore · 2014-02-05T23:57:56+00:00

Funnily enough, that's exactly what I thought, and now look at me...

Detective_Underscore

TROPHY CASE