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#1 Posted by La_Espada (4265 posts) - - Show Bio

"Winter's Wolves"

Schilt Sigil

Once a premier house of patrician exemplification, House Schilt boasted the cosmopolitan regalia of the blue-blooded Schilt lineage, a dynasty of irreproachable distingue and aristocracy. A once architecturally immaculate compound serving as the palatially architectonic abode of a gallant collection of chivalrous knights, paladins and paragons of valiance, House Schilt's historically attributed affluence and reputation of paramount wealth however, dissipated with time.

Founded by adventurous nobles and twin brothers, Gustav and Alexander Schilt following their contrived predestined marriage to a dyad of beauteous duchesses, the House of Schilt's incipient stateliness and cultured éclat experienced esteemed embellishment through the accumulated wealth and riches of a succession of mines and entrepreneur-oriented ventures to ensure the puissant house's splendor and sublimity. A plan of insufficient premeditation, highlighted by House Schilt's eventual internal instabilities and turmoil, a successive series of familial turmoil and vehement envy inciting an ill-occurred assassination of the house's constituents by an external observer from House Clegane, intent on eliminating the then plausible eruption of war following the voiced intentions of various Schilts to collaborate with their respective allies for a potential violent conflict, certain to spread with malignant effect across regions of Westeros.

Castle Snowsword

With few surviving Schilts, the majority largely forsook their disheveled abode, constructing lives elsewhere, while one remained to tend to the weathered features of house's infrastructure and claim his irrefutable birth right as a noble and Lord of the forgotten House Schilt. Under the leadership of the largely nomadic, adventuring charmer and potent swordsman, Rasmus Schilt, House Schilt's lethargic reemergence commenced with the amassment of a minuscule armed force of virtuoso swordsmen and archers serving as his cronies in the now largely abandoned 'Castle Snowsword' situated in the freezing northern regions of Westeros.

#2 Posted by Mercy_ (92704 posts) - - Show Bio

Ahhhhh this is perfect ♥

Gives me some good ideas to work off of.

#3 Posted by Isabelle_Godwinne (356 posts) - - Show Bio

[ Wicked! ]

#4 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio

lol I knew you were somewhere plottin. Unique af man.

#5 Posted by Annabelle_Godwinne (150 posts) - - Show Bio

I would spit in disgust upon thine house, but 'twould be favourable circumstance for you.

#6 Posted by Urban_Ronin (9935 posts) - - Show Bio
Badass, son

#7 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio
#8 Posted by Urban_Ronin (9935 posts) - - Show Bio
#9 Edited by Connoisseur (6579 posts) - - Show Bio
#10 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio
#11 Posted by Mercy_ (92704 posts) - - Show Bio
#12 Posted by Connoisseur (6579 posts) - - Show Bio
#13 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio

#14 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio
#15 Edited by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio
#16 Edited by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio
#17 Edited by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio
#18 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio
#19 Posted by Connoisseur (6579 posts) - - Show Bio
#20 Edited by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio

@andres_knightfall: Gotta get this bio down first, don't have a good enough handle on her yet.

@ben_baxter: Ahahahaha, I didn't even realize that :P

BTW, are you using Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken as your character's house words?

#21 Posted by Connoisseur (6579 posts) - - Show Bio
#22 Posted by _Animus_ (2535 posts) - - Show Bio
#23 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio

@_animus_: If you weren't, I was gonna nab 'em. Digging through the house words compilation right now. Not coming up with any of my own that fit, tbh. Not a big deal either way.

Gotta get it just right :)

#24 Posted by _Animus_ (2535 posts) - - Show Bio

@aeron_glyndwr: Take'em. I wanted to come up with my own Sigil anyway, might as well make a the words custom too.

#25 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio
#26 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio

It had been almost ten years. Ten years since the youngest teenage noble daughter of House Glyndwr had fallen madly in love with the tempting older son of House Schilt. In the waning days of summer, their fathers had sat down and decided that they would solidify the generations-long truce between Houses in a marriage between the eldest daughter and overall youngest sibling of House Glyndwr and and the eldest of House Schilt.

In a rarity of their times, the two had well and truly fallen for each other, unknown to their respective parents. It was a fast love, a love that burned deep and it was true....but it had not been fated to last. The Gods, old and new, had not willed it.

In a night that would be written about in sonnets of pain and agony, the two Houses turned on each other, or so that was how it was written. Unknown to either House, there were others at play. But that was knowledge that was yet to be discovered due to mischievous machinations.

Both keeps burned to the ground, and there were no survivors...aside from Rasmus of House Schielt and Aeron of House Glyndwr.

Her survival was unknown to any, and aside from a few tangential relations who were parts of other Houses, the line of Glyndwr was assumed to have died out.

She traveled Westeros and trained ruthlessly, building herself up as a pinnacle of perfection. Known under a myriad of aliases, she became a renowned and feared warrior. If she came after you, whether on a field of battle or from the shadows, you were not safe.

She had sworn a blood feud against House Schilt, something that had been put temporarily to the side after several encounters with animals and Wildings who had been ravaged, yet still walked.

Accompanied by the Dire Wolf companion who she'd imprinted with and never left her side, Aeron found herself back in a place she had never again wanted to visit.

The early evening snowfall scented the air with the undeniable scent of winter as Aeron rode steadfastly on the back of her mare. The furs she wore insulated her and kept her warm as the dire wolf kept pace and scouting ahead as an advance lookout.

She had followed the trail of a ravaged animal, one that had been infected. Never had she wanted to lay eyes on these lands, on the small chunk of happiness that her former lover had apparently found for himself, and yet here she was.

#27 Edited by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio

That was a great story. Got a Shakespeare vibe.

#28 Edited by Isabelle_Godwinne (356 posts) - - Show Bio

Nice. I like it.

#29 Edited by Connoisseur (6579 posts) - - Show Bio

@aeron_glyndwr: Nice. I'll get something up once I'm allowed to post again on that account :P

#30 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio
#31 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio

@ben_baxter: Thanks! Been trying out some different stuff lately.

#32 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio
#33 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio
#34 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio

@aeron_glyndwr: Too late I'm already schemin. I'ma mate it with a dragon and name it a dire wagonal.

#35 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio

@ben_baxter: you're messed up ;p

(But that does maybe sound a little badass)

#36 Edited by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio

@aeron_glyndwr: lil bit lil bit.

I'll trade you this..Dire Wolf pup >_>

#37 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio
#38 Posted by Annabelle_Godwinne (150 posts) - - Show Bio

Mercy and her imprinting.

#39 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio
#40 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio


Mercy and her imprinting.

I noticed that this became a trend with me. All my characters have pet companions <__<

#41 Edited by La_Espada (4265 posts) - - Show Bio


Obsessively immersed in the terminating stages of his intensive physically conditioning training regimen, the Charming Cosmopolitan struggles, experiencing an almost impairing strain on the rear deltoid muscle of his upper back as he seeks to exceed his previously established record for consecutively performed squats. Moving his hips back, the Blue Eyed Blue Blood bends both knees and his hips, lowering his torso along with the accompanying 982 pounds of weight prior to returning to an upright position, completing his session's concluding deep squat, dropping the elephantine weight on the opulently maintained mat amid a reactionary series of fatigued pants, frantic droplets descending to the ground from the sheen of sweat glistening across his impeccably chiseled, shirtless frame.

Reaching for an approximated vermillion cloth resting atop a wooden bench to his left, he lethargically wipes himself dry prior to the feverish intrusion of an alarmed crony. "Sir! I bring news, but tis not favorable", the frenetic crony began, halting himself inches from the door. Panting, Rasmus rose his left brow with intuitive curiosity, "News *pant*? What is it lad?", he calmly inquired, seating himself on the perfectly carpentered wooden bench, subtly hunching his back, forearms resting atop his lower thighs. "Lady Aeron, the one you were betrothed to, she is here.. well not here, but in the outskirts of the castle, though she stares at the house". With unforeseen spontaneity, Rasmus' heartbeat pounds frantically against his chest, its abrupt escalation in rapidity accompanying the instinctive widening of his wintry, pale blue eyes, facially expressing his disbelief, ".. No, no that can't be true", the Sword of Snow murmured, shooting off the bench and onto his feet.

"So you claim she lives? Her death... was untrue?", Rasmus inquired, aimlessly pacing around the expansive training room, "Sir.. what do we do?". Uncertain of an answer, Rasmus the Winsome approached the nearest window, quickly peering out it, catching sight of Aeron's distinctly cloaked figure, ruthlessly pelted by the accumulating snow. "Old Gods be damned", the Son of Schilt murmured, audibly above a whisper. Turing round, he issued his instructions, "I will confront her. Do not interfere. Go! Tell the others. I... I need to think before speaking to this woman again".

Following his terse submergence into the memories of his past, his forsaken relationship with Aeron, the conflicts plaguing both their houses, he stood, six feet before her, adorned in the patrician affluence of a Schilt Noble, snow accumulating atop his sculpted shoulders, the arctic white contrasting the aesthetic emerald of his luxuriant attire. Meeting Aeron's eyes with his own, unconcerned with the obedient canine earnestly positioned next to her, Rasmus began. "You should not be here", left hand defensively resting on the hilt of his sheathed long-sword, Sublimity.

#42 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio

@rasmus_schilt: That was a beautiful post <3

I'll have one in return once I get home :D

And you missed the R in my name ;p

#43 Edited by Connoisseur (6579 posts) - - Show Bio

@aeron_glyndwr: I edited it. Its cause Aeon sounds so much cooler :P

#44 Edited by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio

@andres_knightfall: won't deny that lol

Aeron has a meaning that's relevant to the character though ;p

#45 Edited by Legacy_ (10597 posts) - - Show Bio

This stuff is pretty awesome. Too bad I can't get into it -__-

#46 Edited by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio


The soft fur interior of her hooded cloak insulated her cheek as she approached the homestead of House Schilt. She knew that there were but minutes before the guards sighted her and used those to her advantage. Arctic blue eyes faded to a milky white as her consciousness slipped into that of a bird flying overhead, trying to escape the oncoming darkness of night.

The bird's eye view allowed her a tactical advantage as guard positions were scoped out, as was Rasmus. Her eyes cleared of the whiteness and her prone slumping posture straightened in the saddle as she snapped back into her own head, having all the information that she needed.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him as he approached, nor for the effect that it would have on her heart. Her physical and emotional well being were in peril as she used her intense inner focus to calm down the pattering frantic heartbeat that ricocheted inside of her chest.

She did not know that it was possible to feel this way. The simultaneous pull of red hot hatred combined with the love and lust that she had once been beholden to when in his presence. It was a war within herself, and something that she struggled to push down.

A blood oath had been sworn in honor of revenge against House Schilt. Aeron Glyndwr would stop at nothing to see what remained annihilated and burned for what they had done to her House. It was a memory she lived with every day, something that chose to visit her in the weakness of sleep time and time again, something she still bore the physical and mental marks of to this day.

"And you should be dead. We do not always get what we want, my love." The last words were uttered with a venomous nature so vile that her lip curled as she spoke. What had once been an endearment she'd whispered while in his arms, was now a curse upon him, an insult thrown in his direction.

Her eyes drifted to his hand and its resting position and a smirk colored her lips whilst she peered at him from beneath the brim of her hooded cloak. It obscured the majority of her facial features, the coldness and hatred that burned in her eyes, and to her disgrace, the other emotions that resided in there as well.

It was to her curious interest to ascertain how his men were able to identify her so easily, she had done much over the years to erase any defining features. All tales told only of her aliases, and the woman with the eyes of ice. None of the last daughter of House Glyndwr, long believed to be dead.

The dire wolf kept its distance while circle around the two of them, prepared to surge forward at a moments notice from its companion. "Do you think I want to be here? To look upon you, upon your House?" Complete and utter derision laced every word as she dismounted the horse with languid and catlike grace.

The thick soles of her boots sunk into the light fall of snow, barely obscuring the ground. Her breath misted in the cool evening air as slight glimpses of her face were caught by Rasmus. "I tracked something down from the North, something wild and feral, something that's never been seen before. It needs to be put down." She wanted to put HIM down. The bloodlust was screaming through her veins, and she clenched and unclenched her fist to prevent herself from drawing, for she knew just what the consequence would be if she did so.

"I can turn around and leave you to it."

#47 Posted by La_Espada (4265 posts) - - Show Bio


'My love', the terminating phrase of her incipient sentence incited sneering disgust from the Blue Eyed Blue Blood. The nerve of this woman, this Glyndwr to address him with mockingly articulated affection. Reactionary irascibility had been warranted by Aeron's opening statement, Rasmus' subtly apparent facial ire, expressively indicative of his resentment. Oh how she made his blood boil, his vexing scowl gradually fading as the retainment of characteristic composure commenced. His was a character of temperance and emotional poise, he would not allow his collectiveness to dissipate. "I should rip your lungs out for what your family has done", he grimly remarked with uncharacteristically voiced ominousness, "But I won't", the vibrant stare of his wintry, arctic blue eyes never wavering from hers.

Their continued conversational disdain however, came to an abrupt, as with the meteorological darkening of the sky, came the damnable growls from a distantly situated but imminently approaching source. Intuitively directing his ocular attention towards the densely compacted collection of snow-enveloped flora several meters before them, the Charismatic Cosmopolitan's left brow shot upwards in an entrapping moment of alerting awareness. "....", again the infernal growling and bestial audibility auricularly touched Rasmus' ears, previously pelting snowfall seeming to diminish, adopting a lethargic pace, as if in suspenseful anticipation of what was to come. Aeron's aforementioned claims of encountering a creature of physiological abnormality and tameless savagery copulated with the deafening gnarls and animalistic sounds of an approaching collective spurred the the August Aristocrat into action.

Feverishly, the leaves of ambient flora rustled, the snapping sound of brittle, weathered branches breaking under frantic footsteps, a frenetic sound of a succession of erratic footsteps crushing the snowy terrain predated the abrupt emergence of a darting mass of grotesquely perverted humanoid creatures, the rumored 'Outbreak'. In the eyes of the Son of Schilt, this was his first sighting of them. His hatred for Aeron ran deep, coursing through the very fiber of his fundamental being, which baffles him as to why his following course of action occurred. Motivated by a subconscious faculty for which he has no logical explanation for, Rasmus's sculpted left arm shot out towards his former fiancee's waist, rapidly securing itself around it, athletically hoisting her onto his shoulder, gesturing for her canine companion to follow closely behind him.

While the surviving Glyndwr was arguably the land's premier archer, known for her peerless shooting technique, virtuoso form, and unparalleled long-ranged pedigree, Rasmus was a physical specimen like no other, a preternatural paragon of freakish athleticism, his perfected balanced blend of strength, quickness, toughness, and endurance knew no equivalent. In their present circumstance, carrying Aeron into the safe interior of Castle Snowsword would facilitate her probability of survival, more so than her attempting to flee under her own pace. Sprinting past the gates of his palatial abode, Rasmus frantically gestured for his men to seal the gates, "Close them! Now! Now!", he urged, with the gates closed, and the walls too tall and too structurally thick, this very real 'Outbreak' could not reach them, at least not for the moment.

Amid the dramatic shift in lightning in temperature, the illuminated, warmer interior of his castle alerted him of what he had done. Resting Aeron on her feet, he paced several feet forward, towards a dark brown, table, palms resting against it as he glanced back at the Glyndwr and her wolf companion, the only thought occupying his consciousness, "Why in the Old Gods' names did I save her?".

#48 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio
#49 Posted by La_Espada (4265 posts) - - Show Bio
#50 Posted by Aeron_Glyndwr (1309 posts) - - Show Bio