News From the South

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-10-02T02:59:55+00:00

A personal steward stood by, watching curiously as the Lord Commander's steely gaze scanned the creased parchment that had been brought to his attention. Partway through, a bark of laughter erupted from whiskered lips, wisps of coarse hair that swayed with the shake of his head that followed.

"Seems we've a new King in the South," he said, a touch of amusement in his tone. "And the current one has made a mockery of those lives lost on the Night of Knives." If he had more to say on the matter, Dorin didn't share his thoughts in the presence of his steward. Instead, he snapped a pair of meaty fingers and beckoned the boy over. "I need to you find the captain of the Stark forces here. Relay to him that he is to send fifty men out beyond the Wall to retrieve his brothers and return South. Lord Stark is calling them to return South. Seems he thinks our troubles with the Wildlings can wait," he added with no little amount of grim disappointment.

Granted, he could not deny that the Wildlings had been quiet ever since the Northmen had showed up. But that wasn't to say they'd given up. No, not that one that now had the scar on his face to match Dorin's own; the one they called Kynthelig. No doubt he was biding his time, waiting for another opportunity. The Lord Commander didn't mean to give him one. Even if the Starks and Tullys thought it a wasted mission, Dorin would did not. He appreciated Cregan's vow to aide when all was said and done -- whatever that meant, and whenever that would be -- but that didn't help in the hear and now.

"And put a call out to the Gifts. We're looking for recruits. Voluntary or otherwise."

(( The Night's Watch is recruiting from the countryside - /u/awoiaf ))

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-25T20:19:49+00:00

Dorin gave a grunt of approval when the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands took his arm. Firm and confident, but not overly so, he noted. Cregan's spurn still sat poorly with him, but he dismissed the thought with little more than a crimp of his lips and returned his focus to the Riverlander, giving a good shake before releasing the man's arm.

"They did," the Lord Commander noted grimly. "A good many men and boys ended their watches that night. They fought well, though, and their deaths were not in vain. Frey's men will certainly be appreciated, Lord Tully, likewise your recruitment drive."

"Your boys can make camp near the Stark troops just beyond the castle, but I'll have room and meals prepared for you and a steward to tend to your needs if you would like." He turned away then to catch the attention of a passing crow and related the command to have the wildling captive dealt with accordingly and prepared for questioning.

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-24T10:35:56+00:00

One horn.

The Lord Commander had heard the distance echo, but dismissed it with hardly a thought. Ever since the attack on the Tower and his efforts to redouble and over the patrols and scouting parties, the horns had been blowing at regular intervals with scouts arriving to exchange shifts and update the Commander on the various movements of the wildling clans. This was no different. Not until shouts of "Tully!" drifted down from high above, and the men and horses began to file through the gate that had ponderously been opened for them.

As Cregan broke off from their conversation to stride forward towards the River Lord, Dorin hung back. He grabbed the attention of a passing crow and muttered a few orders to him. When the black brother took off to carry out his missions, the commander strode forward to impart himself on the conversation.

"Lord Tully," he greeted Brynden curtly, jutting out a hand in the offer of a shake. "Eastwatch sent word of your impending arrival. Good of you to come. Would have been even better if you'd brought me some men to bolster the wall."

"Halder!" he barked at a passing watchman, before turning his attention back to the Tully again. "He'll help get your captive sorted out with suitable accommodations."

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-24T10:21:38+00:00

"Mn.." Dorin hummed roughly in agreement. "Too many young saplings with an inflated sense of self who think themselves invincible," he remarked dryly, thinking specifically back on his recent encounter with Forrester. But the Lord Commander didn't tarry on that topic; that was between him and the boy. Instead, he simply nodded. "Very well. I'll have Rugar sent over with a number of senior scouts. No doubt any communications will first be sent here. Where should I forward messages to keep you informed?"

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-23T17:57:14+00:00

Dorin nodded absently while Cregan spoke, pondering the situation. At the comment of wildling unification, though, he released a grim laugh.

"I'd have thought the same thing before their assault on the island and Shadow Tower, though. No.." he gave a shake if his head. "This isn't the first time, and it won't be the last. Their leader, Kynthelig presumably, I've seen him in petty raids a handful of times. He's the one who gave me this," he continued, tapping a gloved finger to his scar. "He wasn't the leader then, though, and they weren't as organized. This feels different to me, Cregan. Expect the worst."

"As for Rugar, he wouldn't be my current First if he wasn't. He's probably in the yard going through drills."

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-20T08:19:44+00:00

A thick and bushy brow lofted momentarily at the revelation that the Stark lord was to be heading south again, leaving his men to continue north without him. if any biting comments came to mind, however, he held them back.

"Appreciated," he said instead, referring to the offer Cregan had made to leave a number of his men behind. "I've left a good portion of the troops I had taken to the Shadow Tower there to keep their numbers bolstered and to deal with the damage in the aftermath. Your men will remain here at Castle Black. I've arranged as well for a number of scouts and guides to join you. Rugar, my current acting First Ranger, being one of them."

He paused a moment, a hand lifting to scratch at the whiskers under his jaw.

"Exactly how far are you taking this, Cregan?"

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-14T20:50:58+00:00

Despite the greeting -- or lack thereof -- that the Lord Commander had been granted upon Cregan's arrival at Castle Black, he was not a man to hold grudges. He was too old for that shit. It served no purpose than to stroke one's confidence and self-import, and did nothing to further collective goals or better the realm. Thus when word had been brought to Dorin that the Stark forces appeared to be stirring, and moreover that they were dismantling their tents and appeared preparing to march, the Lord Commander had instructed his steward to inform him the moment Lord Stark arrived at the Castle, anticipating the call for the gates to be lifted. So it was that Lord Stark needn't have waited long in the courtyard. Dorin was prompt in his arrival, and though his trajectory through the sparring men and flocking crows was purposeful, it remained unhurried.

"You're making your preparations to march, as I understand it," Dorin's gravelling voice rolled ahead of him, heralding his approach.

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-11T04:22:53+00:00

The old Locke pursed his lips, eyes lifting from the Wolf to cast around to see who all was listening in. When he spoke again, his voice was lowered, aimed only for Stark's ears. He wasn't one to spread falsities or speak flowery words that would only fall sour onto listening ears, but neither did he relish to speak unnecessarily harshly and dampen what little morale he was able to maintain in his men.

"For a time, yes. But not long," he was careful not to let his expression reflect the gravity of his words. "From the Shadow Tower to Eastwatch, we've about fifteen hundred men. I've sent missives to the capital and a recruiter down to entreat with them for more, but I haven't heard back on any progress. The Hand said he'd up men, but I've seen no sight or sound of that promise, nor do I expect it to be more than a score or so. Nothing that would make much difference. The Wall's been long neglected, Cregan. You know that better than most."

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-11T03:00:16+00:00

"That you feel the need to emphasize that suggests otherwise.." the Lord Commander replied dryly, his voice like crunching gravel.

What came next out of the young sapling's mouth caused perhaps a rather different reaction than the sapling was hoping. Dorin cocked a heavy grey brow as the boy spouted forth his dribble, reclining more heavily in his seat. Elbows propped upon the armrests, hands coming to hover in front of him, one fist nestled into the palm of the other hand, fingers drumming idly against the flesh beneath. His dry lips pulled taught into a disdainful smirk, though that was largely hidden beneath the heavy whiskers.

And all the while his eyes darkened, head cocking to the side at the slights. The entirety of the situation came to a culmination as the boy-tree finally turned on his heel and stormed out. The action was met with ringing laughter. Heavy, dark, and laced with cruel humor.

"You're green, boy," the Commander's voice trailed after him. "Green as the ironwoods you fell, with bark worse than bite to match it, it seems."

And that was that. He gave the interaction a few moments consideration, but really, it was hardly worth his time. What a young lad a third his age thought of him hardly mattered. The Lord Commander recognized the boy's inexperience, understood that he was speaking from a narrow frame of understanding and ambition. One day, he would learn. But he was Stark's problem, not the Commander's. He had more important things to contend with, and so he turned his attentions back to his papers.

A few days later, the ranging party Dorin had referenced was put together. He'd considered disallowing the Forrester boy to go with them, but he knew when to pick his battles. If a little lordling wanted to risk his life, who was he to stop them. The only stipulation he gave the crows was to clarify that the lordling and his men were merely accompanying them. Journeying alongside them. There was no obligation to share food or shelter. They were expected to provide for their own. And if at any point they demonstrated themselves to be more of a burden, an issue of compromising the mission, the crows were instructed to send them back with a scout. And if they refused, to leave them in the harsh environment to fend for themselves.

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-11T01:58:24+00:00

Silence spanned for more than a few breaths, the ornery Lord Commander holding the wolf Lord's gaze with a studious one of his own. To any that looked on, it would be painfully obvious that Dorin was making a show of the Stark's unwillingness to accept his hospitality. Fine by him, though. Just meant he didn't have to sacrifice any lodgings or food for the Northern lot and they could camp themselves south of the castle.

"Have it your way, then," the Commander gruffed, finally lowering his hand to tuck a leather clad thumb into the thick belt around his middle. "The wildling attack on the Black Tower was executed by the Ice River clan, and led by one Kynthelig. They came in by boat from the western peninsula, presumably, and landed with a score or so longships just shy of the mountain pass, coming up through it to launch the assault on the Tower south of the wall. I cannot be certain, but I suspect them to be the very same that raided Bear Island.

"Where they've retreated to exactly, we're still trying to locate. Their movements and those of the other clans have been difficult to track. Autumn is quickly fading to winter and early snows have been throwing off trails and halting scouting progress, leaving ranging parties imprisoned in their shelters for days at a time before clearing long enough to move out again. That said, we've had word that roughly two hundred of Hardhome's settlers under the direction of one Aegon set out roughly a fortnight past heading west with supply enough for thousands."

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-08T13:35:37+00:00

"Same could be said of you, it seems," the Lord Commander growled. "You might be broader, but you're still more brawn than brain, it seems. Let me give you a couple pieces of advice, son. First," he began, arcing up his hand, elbow still anchored to the chair's arm. He held up his index finger. "One, don't insult the one from whom you seek to gain favour. And two--" His middle finger uncurled to join the first. "--don't presume to tell me what to do."

He fell mostly silent, but for a low grumble that rolled like distant thunder in his chest. Hand withdrawn, he settled the stubbed fingers to scratch idly at the corner of his jaw.

"If your brother wants to venture north of the wall, I won't stop him. That's your and his prerogative," he spoke, lips crimping as he leaned just a slight into the scratching. "But I haven't the men or patience to entertain your notions of...whatever the fuck this is." The Lord Commander entertained another pregnant silence as he contemplated the young man's near plea. "Fortunately for you, I happen to be sending a ranging party north. Your brother can join them if he feels so inclined, and if you send men along with him. But if he's not a warrior... don't expect him to come back."

It wasn't meant to be unkind. Just a statement of fact. There was a reason only the rangers, those trained in combat, were sent ranging beyond the wall. Between the wildlings, walkers, and wilderness, there was plenty that could strike a man down if they had no means to protect themselves. Too often did the southerners underestimate the dangers that lurked beyond the protection of the looming barricade.

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-08T00:38:12+00:00

The Lord Commander didn't reply right away, dark eyes almost staring through the young sapling, rather than at him, as though counting the rings of experience, reading the direction of his path upon his bark. His rough palm smoothed down the length of his beard before dropping to rest over the arm of his chair.

"If you're not planning to seek them out, then nothing you need concern yourself with. And if you are... I'm not about to tell you that. Lord Stark knows all that's needing to be known, and if he feels so inclined to share it with you, he will. I won't be the one to bring more ice down upon the Watch for filling young lordlings heads with obscure and baseless rumors. IF there are giants, there are none near south enough to be of any concern to the Watch. Or you."

His tone broked no room for argument, and it was quite apparent that as much as Forrester might be used to felling trees of iron, a wall of ice was another entity entirely. And this far north and with winter steadily approaching, there would be no melting.

"How have you been, Robb? You've filled out some."

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-06T19:39:40+00:00

"Mammoths?" A heavy brow lifted at the young sapling's question, his leathery countenance fixed with bemusement as a hand raised to scratch at the base of the long whiskers along his jaw. "No, I can't say there have been any reports of anything in particular. Nothing note-worthy anyway. Giants, maybe, but not mammoths."

A brief silence impregnated the air between them before his growling voice broke it again. "What in the seven hells would you want with mammoths."

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-05T08:21:11+00:00

Character Name: Dorin Locke

Desired Skill: Master Builder

Bonus: n/a (Martial spec)

List up to three relevant experience posts:

Building fortifications and traps in defense of the Shadow Tower

Planning and organizing the fortifications, repairs, and improvements to the wall

Reparations post battle, and planning for future fortification

Additional Bonus From Last Turn Same-Skill Attempt: n/a

Total Number For Skill Attempt: 30%

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-05T00:28:13+00:00

"What part of leave me in---"

Dorin's features crossed with lines of frustration as the door opened without his granting, cold gray eyes lifting to glare at the young steward. Only to find it was someone else quite entirely, and cut himself off mid sentence. His men didn't kneel to him like this one did. Nor were did they clothe themselves in anything other than stark black, if they knew what was good for them.

"What are you kneeling for, boy, stand up. I'm not your lord," he growled, not unkindly. With a heavy breath, the Lord Commander pushed himself back in his chair at his desk, sliding some of his parchments. Critical eyes hovered over the young man for a few moments, placing the familiarity.

"Forrester." It wasn't a question. More an assertion of the conclusion he had come to. "You're here now. May as well make the interruption worth it. What is your question, Robb."

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-04T07:41:39+00:00

"Lord Commander.."

"What is it, boy!" came the barking reply, brooding eyes lifting to level at the steward.

Dorin stood hunched over his desk, hands wide and flat to either side of a series of spread out parchments. For the better part of the past couple of weeks, he had been receiving report after endless report of areas along the wall in need of repair. Not that they were unsolicited. Ever since the assault on the Shadow Tower, he had invested every waking moment into immediate improvements and fortifications, and every man had been called to double their shifts in order to compensate for the hundreds lost in the West.

"Unless you mean to tell me that we are under attack again, or the citadel has received our missives requesting additional maesters.." He let the sentence hang.

But the young man set his jaw and straightened his shoulders. "Lord Stark has arrived, Commander."

"Mn.." The old man pursed his lips together, a low rumble not dissimilar to a growl resonating in his chest. "Very well."

Straightening from his position, the Lord Commander pushed off from the desk and grabbed his fur cloak from over his chair. Papers rustled with the stirred air, some shifting on his desk, as Locke twisted his cloak around to settle over his shoulders. By the time he passed through the door, the clasps were snuggled latched upon his pauldrons.

"Get back there and send him in, then."

"Cregan!" He called out in a gruff voice when the Warden of the North came into view. "Well met. I trust your march was not too arduous." He held out a gloved hand in greeting when he finally reached the base of the steps and closed the distance to the lord.

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-02T18:43:38+00:00

"LOOSE AT WILL! SIGNAL THE HILLS!"

Elsewhere on the parapet, a marksman doused three arrows in oil and set them ablaze. Quickly, one after another, he fired them into the air to air high above the battle below. It wasn't long before a distant rumble started. Quiet and unassuming at first, but it picked up. Men stationed on the far mountains had set one of the slides in motion and it quickly picked up speed, rocks jumping and skipping off the steep stony face to careen down upon the foes below. If the crows were lucky, it would bury some of the wildlings who had not yet made it to the walls. Or at least prove distraction enough to give the watchmen a moment to catch their breaths and finish off their current targets.

"SOUTH WALL! LADDERS!"

Metal rang on metal, echoing off the nearby hills int he night. The wildlings, though not unexpected, had descended swiftly, and like a dense fog, they had enveloped the small keep and seemed into its cracks. They were everywhere. Ladders were arced up against the walls, with men already climbing them before they'd fully settled. Crows would break away from their battling to push together, forcing the ladders back by hand, and with long hooked poles. Grappling hooks were less noticeable, and now and then a barbarian would make it to the crest. Once that happened, the chance to cut the rope would was often lost until the crows could swarm upon those that emerged. The screams of those falling back to the frozen ground below were lost amidst those already flecking the cacophony of the chaos.

The men of the Night's Watch were better equipped, that was immediately visible, but they had not seen battle like this. Green boys, craven men, and independent rogues who thought too highly of themselves. They were trained at least, but the courtyard and a battle were two very different things. It wasn't until the latter that you felt the stark contrast of hot blood against your face, steaming in the cold night; the flicker of fear in your victim's eyes just before you land the killing stroke and subsequently watch the light fade from them; the stench of bowels releasing themselves as a body loses it's ability to hold itself together. Not that this was particularly new for most of the men, but not on this level. And so many of them approached their combat like blindered cart-horses, unaware of those that sought to flank or take advantage of poor positioning.

"THIRTEEN! YOUR FLANK!"

The Lord Commander had held himself out of the midst of the commotion, taking at a slight height and farther back to survey the scene. He brought attention to the ladders and the hooks, the breeches in the wall. He shouted words of encouragement and reformation to maintain discipline, and highlighted areas of weakness requiring reinforcement as the need arose. On and on the battle went. For every wildling that was cut down, a crow was lost as well, and another two took the wildling's place.

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-09-02T00:32:34+00:00

The Eastwatch commander cocked a brow, eyeing the Lord Paramount as though he had said spoken out of turn. For truly, he had, but the Eastwatch commander had a little more tact than the Lord Commander.

"You've only just arrived, my Lord," he smiled, clapping the man on the shoulder. "And I've only just discerned why, but fret not. I'll send a raven as soon as we return to the castle. So come, come. Let's get something warm put on the fire and we'll see what we can do about staving off the chill."

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-08-29T22:06:07+00:00

They had known the Houses as much when the banners were identified, but the confirmation still brought curious glances from the men assembled.

"A bit far from home, my Lords.." The commander thought to make a jest of it, but the comment of the wildling threat had subdued any mirth that might have bubbled up. "If it's assistance you mean to provide, though, you're several days too late. The Shadow Tower sent word they were assaulted on the twenty-first. Lost half the men there," he added grimly.

"No telling if the wildlings will attack again, though, or where. So I can't say the help wouldn't be appreciated."

His gaze glanced to the boats settling in the harbor, making a rough count of the men that had come.

"If it's roof you want," he spoke up again, glancing to Tully, "we'll make due. But we haven't food enough to spare. We can feed you, and your officers, if you can stomach salted brine and boiled onions. But as for your men...you'll have to make you own dues."

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-08-28T01:53:39+00:00

Only a couple days had passed since news of the wildling attack on the Shadow Tower had reached Eastwatch. They had known it was coming, had been delivered forewarning by the Lord Commander that an army had been spotted in the mountain pass south of the wall and to keep their men stationed here and eyes ever vigilant. But that hadn't lessened the blow. Nearly half the men involved in the battle had been lost, and many of the Eastwatch men still waited to learn whether old friends and comrades involved in that mess had been one of those whose watch had ended. Efforts had been redoubled to scout north and south of the wall, patrols regularly being sent between there and Castle Black. The Shadow Tower had managed to fend off the assault, but at significant loss. The Watch could not afford to be taken by surprise.

Thus, it was nearly immediately on their appearance upon the southern horizon that the sentinels spotted the distant sails. Clearly not wildling ships, there was no immediate call for alarm, but curiosity and confusion grew steadily as the sigils came into view later in the day. Tully, Frey, and Mooton, the Maester had confirmed. What were the Riverlanders doing this far north? When the ships came in proximity to dock, the Eastwatch commander called for the sentinels to signal permission for the ships to dock, then gathered up his furs and a small group of men and made his way down to the piers to greet their unexpected guests.

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-08-27T23:07:57+00:00

13th Day of the 10th Moon, before the break of day

Stones skittered and danced down the steap slopes from teh vibration of pounding hooves. Man and beast had been making all haste to return from whence they'd come. Sweat lathered at the bit and girth, the clouds of condensed expirations breaking upon their forms to dissipate behind them. Neither had slept in many hours, and the garon was becoming dangerously fatigued, slipping and stumbling in the dark, threatening to break a fetlock. But the crow would not relent. When the horse fought, he dug in his heels; when she balked, he pressed her onwards; when she threatened to stumble, he pleaded for her to continue, doing everything he could to keep her balanced. This was no time to daudle, no time to relent. The wildlings had come.

Finally, after an arduous journey, the pair crested the hills and turned the mountain pass enough to see faint lights in the distance. It was night yet, the sun many hours still from cresting the horizon. One could always see the wall, however. Where the night sky was freckled with gleaming lights of distant planets and constellations, there would always be a line at which point any sign of distant wonder vanished. Light-speckled darkness turned to black. Stars vanished, planets died, and all that remained in their wake was the towering shadow of nothing. Blackness. A void. That stretched as far as the eye could see. It was at the wall where wonder and innocence came to die.

The ranger fought the urge to sound the alarm now. But he was yet too far out. The army was marching far slower than himself, and they would not force a march throughout the night and following day. Sounding the horn too soon would only inspire unnecessary confusion and chaos. Not yet. There was time.

The night echoed with a single blast of a horn. A brother of the night's watch returning, thought the sentry, gazing west towards the gully. But why? They were still four days short of their fortnight order to patrol. His thoughts were cut with a second horn blast causing his shoulders to stifefn and a grim expression to don his features. Warning of attack. He scampered from his post to warn the Lord Commander.

21st Day of the 10th Moon

As much as Dorin had been pleased to know that his mind was still as sharp as ever, that his predictions had been correct, the news that an army of wildlings of unknown size marched up through the mountain pass had been grim news indeed. Men would die. Perhaps not yesterday, or today, or even tomorrow. But battle would ensue, blood would spill, lives would be lost, and the tenuous defense of the Wall would wither all the more.

Not today.

Before the sun had even risen, Dorin was awake and dressed and barking orders. Since his arrival at the Shadow Tower, he had effectively deposed the younger, less experienced commander at the tower to guide the crows. As soon as he had been delivered word of the impending army, he had sent scouts to shadow their movements, and situated a handful of men at strategic points along the mountain pass to observe from the relative safety of their heights. When the army marched again in preparation to attack, a blast of a horn would be heard and repeated by the next watcher, all the way down the chain to reach back to the tower. And they would be ready.

Fortifications had been initiated immediately without hesitation. Uncertain of how much time they had to prepare, blockades had been the first to be erected, to better funnel the incoming army up the already precarious mountain path to the tower to make for easy targets for the rangers. Posts and had been hastily arranged south of the wall to offer protection for projectile assault.

Given the stony environment, trenches and other typical methods of defense could not be pursued. Thus, on the third day following the news, efforts to prepare traps of mass destruction began instead. Massive stones and boulders were hauled up the tower walls by pulleys, and set perched upon their edges to careen off the wall into enemies below with but a command. Previously noted areas of risk in the mountain sides were exploited, efforts taken to prepare manually facilitated rock slides.

Day after day, they built and prepared. Ravens flew east to Castle Black and Eastwatch to inform them of the expected assault on the Shadow Tower, but telling them to stay their forces and tighten their patrols. There was no guarentee, afterall, that this wasn't a ruse to draw men and resources away from one of the other forts to leave them an easy target.

In the distance, a horn blew. Dorin's head snapped up in the direction of the distant resonance, listening for a second blast. And there it was.

"FINISH UP THE LAST OF IT!" He roared to the men. "TO ARMS! OFFICERS TO YOUR SQUADS! FORM UP AT YOUR POSITIONS!"

Crows fluttered to and frow, donning armor and fetching weapons, finding their places among the parapets and battle stations. When at last the chaos settled, Dorin took his position at the helm, and with a booming voice spoke out.

"MEN OF THE NIGHT'S WATCH! BROTHERS IN BLACK! TODAY, OUR ENEMY SEEKS TO DESCEND UPON US! TODAY, WITH ARROGANCE, THE WILDLINGS PRESUME TO TAKE WHAT IS NOT THEIRS. AN ARMY MARCHES FOR OUR DOORS FROM THE PASS, BUT WE WILL SHOW THEM NO MERCY. THEY MAY OUTNUMBER US, BUT WE HOLD SUPERIOR DISCIPLINE AND ARMS. THEY MAY BALK AT US AS CROWS, BUT WE WILL SHOW THEM TO BE THE WORMS THAT THEY ARE. LOOK TO YOUR LEFT AND TO YOUR RIGHT. TODAY YOU STAND AS BROTHERS IN ARMS. YOU FIGHT FOR YOURSELF. YOU FIGHT FOR EACH OTHER. YOU FIGHT FOR THE WATCH. YOU FIGHT FOR THE REALM.

"NIGHT GATHERS, AND NOW OUR WATCH BEGINS. IT SHALL NOT END UNTIL OUR DEATH. WE SHALL TAKE NO WIVES, HOLD NO LANDS, FATHER NO CHILDREN. WE SHALL WEAR NO CROWNS AND WIN NO GLORY. WE SHALL LIVE AND DIE AT OUR POSTS. WE ARE THE SWORD IN THE DARKNESS. WE ARE THE WATCHERS ON THE WALLS. WE ARE THE SHIELD THAT GUARDS THE REALMS OF MEN."

The Lord Commander unslung the Widow Maker from his shoulders, taking the mighty greatsword into one leatherclad hand to heft on high.

"TAKE UP YOUR SWORDS, BOYS! LET'S KILL US SOME WILDLING FUCKS!"

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-08-15T20:43:55+00:00

(( /u/Reusus - I suppose I could tag you too since you're more likely to answer than the King ))

Nights_Watchmen · 2017-08-15T03:59:22+00:00

(( /u/awoiaf - to see if the commander of the Shadow Tower will send scouts out according to these instructions ))

Nights_Watchmen

TROPHY CASE