Post by Jolder the Exile on Oct 8, 2016 1:06:49 GMT
Jolder walked with a prideful stance, left shoulder and right shoulder pumping back and forth with every step he took. His fur lined cloak waving behind him. His runed plates clanking against each other and the slinking of mail beneath the armor could be heard from almost a mile away. He walked beside his best man, his brother. And to his left his true love. Lady Lefford she was called before but now she was no longer a lady. Now known as Anaris Mountainwedder. She was a strong woman by what the clansmen considered Westerosi standards. She made a great decision and left the man she was supposed to be wed to, for a savage mercenary.
And she did not seem to regret a single event in her life since that decision. She hugged Jolder's arm as they approached the gates of Winterhold. A sizeable hold from what Jolder could see, ancient, yet strong. A true throne for a King of First Men blood. Obviously Jolder meant to come in peace. And he knew that his men would scare the peasants so he left them in front of Winterhold. "Hold here men, I'll come with good tidings." "You'd better." Said Harrond Frosteye, a grim man, likely to be the most pessimistic man in all of Westeros. A clan member jokingly punched Harrond's shoulder and chuckled "Quit bein' so negative!". Jolder turned around, his fur cloak whipping in the wind. What he saw made him sigh. The gates were closed, then again, who wouldn't close them when they saw such a ragged band of killers and warriors. "Open the gates!" Shouted Jolder "I've come to strike a deal with the White Wolf! I'll leave my men at the gates, we're what you'd call, swords for hire!"