Men of the North (Unfinished)

((OOC: This Duel between Jon and Iain will take place without Inventory, as IC it is set as a 'Practise' battle.))

It cold was it’s usual bitter self at Winterfell, though compared to the Wall this almost felt like a familiar summers breeze to Jon Snow. It was so pleasant to him, in fact, that he had purposely neglected to take his cloak with him as he traversed the castle of Winterfell, looking for his older brother. No one else seemed to share his openness to the cold, as everyone else that he laid his eyes upon were heavily wrapped up. He knew well enough that it was not summer anymore, it was simply because his body had steadily began to adjust to the more harsh weather at the Wall. No, this was not a summers breeze for autumn had fallen across the lands and winter was coming.

As far as Jon had been aware, Robb was not holding a war council on this day, and so when Jon had checked the chamber where they usually held the meetings, he was not surprised to find its doors lacking guards and the room empty. Similar results occurred when Jon searched Robb’s personal chambers, as well as when he visited the Great Hall in search of his brother; eve the Kitchens turned up nothing. No one seemed to know where he was, in fact no one had seemed to have seen him at all the entire morning.

Jon frowned as me moved towards Winterfell’s courtyard. Jon was not worried about the fate of his brother, what could possibly happen to him in their ancestral home? He was merely frustrated that he had not yet found him. Perhaps Robb had gone out to the camps early, to spend time with his men? Or perhaps he was busy training in the courtyard? Either way, someone was bound to have seen him out there at some point, as the courtyard was the main point of entrance or exit to the rest of the castle and beyond it. Though if no one within the courtyard had seen him then Jon would begin to worry.

As Jon moved outside and the cold bit as his skin, he turned his head and looked about for a sign of his brother. There were many people moving back and forth, even a few training with the bow and sword here and there, but there was certainly no sign of the King of the North. With an exasperated sigh Jon decided to ask about, and the noted that the closest individual was a young looking soldier, no older or younger than himself, was slicing at the air with his sword, clearly practising his swordplay. From his somewhat well groomed appearance, and his clear skill with a blade, Jon deducted that this was no common soldier, perhaps even a nobleman? Tough in truth it made no matter. Jon moved towards him, stopping a few feet behind him.

“I’m searching for King Robb,” he began slowly, his voice a level tone. Just loud enough to get the attention of the man. “Have you seen him recently?”

Word Count: 502.

Iain awoke in his room in Winterfell blearily. His head felt as if a battering ram was hitting it, his eyes were teary as if he had just been cutting onions. While Iain desperately laid in bed, trying to remember the night’s happenings. It came back to him as quick as a loosed arrow.

He had been playing a drinking game with one of the men, a great brute who claimed to be from the Last Hearth. Iain had jested with him about a pretty ring, golden. Within it was an Onyx stone and set in that was a tear drop diamond. They had argued over who owned it before they both decided on one thing. A contest, a drinking contest to be precise.

Iain pulled himself out of bed with a groan and a blinding headache that nearly toppled him. He stumbled his way to a barrel of water and as he placed his hands on the edge of it, he was pleased to see a ring. The ring he had drank himself into a stupor for. Iain dunked his head inside of the barrel of water and remained under for a few seconds. The water was ice cold, exactly what he needed and he pulled his head free from the barrel with a loud gasp and ice cold water dripping down his face and neck.

Iain placed on a woolen undergarment, a leather jerkin and a pair of black woolen breeches. To go with it he placed on his feet a pair of worn brown leather boots that fit him snugly and with half of his hangover gone, he walked to his door. When he pulled it open, a shaggy dark mass of fur greeted him. Iain jumped back in shock and the black dog unwound itself sleepily and gazed at Iain with his tongue lolling out. The dog sleepily yawned and moved off through the castle, tail swinging from side to side like a hang mans noose.

Iain gave the back of the retreating dog a shake of the head and began to retreat down the steps. As he jumped nimbly down the steps, men nodded at him and muttered either; “Lord Domhnail” or “Red Wolf” The nickname was starting to grow on Iain and he was beginning to immensely enjoy it. Instead of making his way down to the hall or elsewhere to break his fast. Iain wanted to work up his appetite and build up a sweat. When he reached the smithy, he picked out a balanced wooden sword and carefully left Wolfspaw out of sight. As Iain stepped into the yard, he looked about for someone to spar with and many seemed to know it, Every day Iain came down to fight and he lost some and he won some. It frustrated him when he lost and left him immensely happy when he won.

Without speaking, a grizzled man-at-arms stepped up with a grin and aimed his sword at Iain’s chest. Iain smiled in anticipation of the fight when he heard behind him; “I’m searching for King Robb, Have you seen him recently?”

The voice sounded familiar and he turned to Jon Snow, wondering if the bastard of the North remembered him. “Can’t say that I have. Sorry ‘bout that.” Iain replied in an even voice. Keeping it free of emotion or anything else.

WC=560

The man who Jon has spoken to suddenly stopped swinging his sword, another man, who had stopped in front of him and was apparently about to take part in a practise fight, also stopped and looked towards Jon. With his attention gained, the figure turned around to view who had spoken to him. It was clear from his expression that he knew who Jon was, and Jon realised that he had met this individual before, only he couldn’t put a finger on where or who he was exactly; it was as if the answer eluded him, flirting with the very edge of his conscious thought, but never dipping its toe into it. It was quite annoying, to say the least.

“Can’t say that I have. Sorry ‘bout that.” he responded, his tone bland and unemotional. For some reason, that irked Jon. This was no normal matter, and Jon wasn’t looking for a normal person. He was searching for Robb Stark, his brother, Lord of Winterfell and King of the North! What if it had been important? Perhaps Jon’s voice hadn’t portrayed a sense of importance, but this young mans apparent lack of interest in the situation had just rubbed the Bastard of Winterfell the wrong way.

Jon flexed his sword hand before resting it on the pommel of Longclaw. An idea slipped into Jon’s head at that precise moment, one that almost caused the slightest of smirks to push itself onto his expression, though he managed to stifle it. There was no real rush to see Robb, it could wait a little while at least, while Jon taught this young man a lesson. Jon looked at his surroundings until he found another wooden practise sword, which he then moved over and picked up. The wood span in his hand with little difficulty, slashing it through the air like he hardly felt the weight of it. Of course, Jon had practised almost daily with men of the Night’s Watch, she had had first joined. Moving back in front of the young man, Jon lowered the swords tip until it rested on the floor next to his right foot.

“Well, in that case perhaps I could trouble you for a practise session? If your opponent doesn’t mind me cutting in, of course.” Jon looked past his potential opponent to what would have been his opponent, though the bearded man raised his arms and took a step back, signalling that he had no issue with Jon stepping in. With that Jon looked back to his opponent. “I’ll let you start.”

Word Count: 427.
Total Word Count thus far: 929.

It irked Iain that Jon could not remember who he was. But then, it had been a good few years since Iain was a ward at Winterfell. Iain briefly wondered why Jon wanted to see King Robb, but that was none of his own business. It was for the king and his brother. Iain saw Jon trying to conceal a smirk and he did, but it was his eyes that gave him away. Iain watched him finger the tip of a bastard sword with a white wolf set as the Pommel.

“Well, in that case perhaps I could trouble you for a practice session? If your opponent doesn’t mind me cutting in, of course” Iain grinned at he was-to-be-opponent who grinned back and left the arena. Iain watched with close, rapt attention as Jon picked up a practice wooden sword and put his sword to the side. They took up positions opposite each other and Jon said; “I’ll let you start” Jon seemed cockier than Iain remembered, but with a start Iain remembered he had joined the fable order of the Nights Watch, he most likely had been training with master swordsmen and the like from the day he actually arrived at the wall.

Iain pointed his wooden sword at Jon slowly, he let his body go slack and relaxed and made the wooden sword an extension of his arm. He grinned at Jon rather cockily and said to him; “Are you sure you want to do this?” A grin on his face, Iain took to studying his opponent for now.

Iain slowly began to circle around Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell, Man of the Nights Watch. Brother to a King. He was more than Iain could possibly hope to be in some ways or another.

Iain watched Jon Snow’s eyes as he warily circled him. He remembered an old friend of his, Nash Leyddon. That old foreigner as well. They thought him to watch with his eyes and he did. Iain let his face remain relaxed, bored, no hint of what he was going to do. When he had circled Jon Snow twice, he began to attack.

Iain leapt forwards and feinted to Jon’s left leg and quickly brought it up in a stab, Iain then quickly brought it down in a slashing motion to the bastards sword hand, not waiting to see if the first strike had hit or not and concentrated on the strike on his sword hand instead.

WC=413
TOTAL WC= 973

The young man caught the practise blade with relative ease, twilling it within his hand to adjust himself to its weight. He seemed to be able to hold the blade with at least some competency, which meant he was no ordinary swordsman. The younger man then extended his sword arm, pointing the tip of the sword towards Jon, as he wore a cocky smirk, one that showed he was very confident in his own abilities. At least this won’t be without some challenge. Jon thought, as the two men began to circle each other, though Jon merely turned in a slow circle on the spot, watching his young opponent with an attempted unreadable expression.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the young man said, his cocky nature now thick within his voice, but Jon did not respond immediately. Instead the man of the Night’s Watch simply continued to watch his opponent, and as the young man finally finished his second circle of Jon he crouched ever so slightly, signalling that he was about to begin. Only then did Jon respond, the corner of his lip curling upward ever so slightly; an attempt to gain a psychological advantage over the young man, to throw him off balance just as he began his attempted assault.

The first attack was quick, but as anticipated it wasn’t what it originally appeared to be. A key way to beat your opponent was always with the element of surprise, with inventive thinking, and Jon had no doubt that this young man would no doubt have more than one of two creative tricks up his sleeves. The slash, which appeared to be heading towards Jon’s left leg, broke upward at the last moment into a jabbing motion aimed at his gut. In truth Jon had not expected the stab attempt, it was not the obvious faint and he had committed himself to defending against the slash. Tilting his sword to the left, Jon allowed gravity to take hold and swung the blade through the air to parry the attack as he sprang to his right; thankfully the parry was equally effective on the stab.

The collision between the two swords had been higher up his blade than Jon had anticipated, which jolted Jons arm, stopping him from immediately countering as he brought the sword back up in front of him. However, it appeared as if his young opponent was far from finished. He came in for an attack once again, this time his sword quickly flicking through the air towards the older mans sword hand, though this presented the perfect opportunity for Jon to teach this young lad some humility. With a slight angling of his blade, Jon allowed his opponents sword to collide with his wooden blade and slide along its length until it was blocked by the crossguard of the hilt.

Being the slightly larger of the two, likely because of the few years he no doubt had over his opponent, Jon had the physical advantage, and decided he would use it. Putting all of his weight behind it, Jon shoved the young man backwards, using his sword as a pushing point. The force of the push was only enough to cause the young man to potentially stumble backwards by a few steps, enough to open up some room for an attack. Jon was on his opponent like an eagle swooping in on its prey, sword pulled back like a talon and ready to strike.

The Black Brother swung his sword downward forward through the air, looking to strike his young opponent across his left shoulder; an extremely easy attack to defend from, though that was the point. The truth was that Jon wanted his attack to be blocked. Whether or not it was actually blocked meant very little, as long as Jon managed to get close enough. Almost immediately after using his slash, Jons free hand swung forward, clenched, directly at his young opponents jaw. The unarmed punch would no doubt be unexpected, and that was what Jon was counting on. In a battle for life and death the most unexpected attack could often make all the difference, and the young man needed to be taught that the unexpected didn’t always have to mean creative swordplay.

Word Count: 714.
Total Word Count thus far: 1,643.

Iain was surprised that Jon blocked his first attacks. But then again, he was a man of the Night’s Watch. He would have to be deadly if he was to be fighting Wildling’s for the rest of his life. Iain grinned in happiness of the battle when Jon blocked all his attacks. He was finally fighting someone that was on his own level. Or at least, that was what Iain thought.

At first, Iain wasn’t really trying with his attacks. He just wanted to get a feel of Jon’s moves and tactics. He seemed surprised when Iain veered his attack from his left leg up to a stab into his groin. But then he had swung the blade away from him in a parry. The collision of the two blades had rocked Iain’s arms to the bone and he was even more equally surprised when he slashed at his Sword Pommel to knock it out of the way. He had tried that move on an old friend of his before, Nash Lyyden. Unknowingly, it brought a smile to his face, a smile of the past, where there was no war to worry about at all.

Iain was surprised when the two blades collided and he was caught in a sword cross with Jon. Their snarling faces were inches away from each other, only held apart by two wooden swords between them. Iain thought that it was increasingly strange, like a battle for pack dominance. The Red Wolf at the White Wolf fighting each other.

When Iain was shoved backwards, he almost fell on his arse. In truth, it only caused him to stumble back a few paces and when Iain saw what Jon was doing, he was horrified. He was leaving Iain opened for an attack. Iain’s right arm was slung from his body, Sword still in hand. But he was only gripping it by the pommel. If he tried to block an attack now, the sword would fly out of his hand and he would lose. That would not happen. Iain wanted to try and best a member of the Night’s Watch, no matter what it took.

As the blade sliced down towards Iain’s left shoulder, he heard the voice of an old sellsword pierce through his mind, ; “Look with your eyes, only then. It is true seeing when you do that” Iain took a quick glance as Jon readied himself, He was slashing with one hand, not two as Iain would have intended if he had not a shield. His stance was all wrong. It seemed to him as if he was readying himself for something else. So Iain did something that the last time he did resulted in broken fingers. He threw his sword to his left hand.

He managed to catch the handle surprisingly as the slash struck with the wooden blade and when Iain saw the punch coming, He raised his right forearm to block it. When he did have it blocked, he grinned at Jon and sent a head butt at his unprotected face.

Then Iain tossed his sword to his right hand and wielded it with two hands. He was used to doing this with Wolfspaw. He swung down at Jon’s right leg, then brought his blade up from the side and brought it down in a two handed slash to his face. Iain leapt back before any attacks could continue.


WC= 569
Total WC= 1542

The slight shove had apparently been harder than Jon had meant, the young man stumbling backwards slightly more so than the Black Brother had anticipated. It had been the slightest of miscalculations, Jon likely not taking the young mans footing into account or the weight he had thrown behind the shove, nevertheless all it would mean was a slight adjustment of his plans to make sure that they were still successful. Taking that extra step forward, Jon still seemed on task to complete his string of attacks, as his practise sword swung down through the air, still on target for the young mans now exposed shoulder. It hadn’t been his plan to hit him with such an easily blocked attack, but if that’s all it took to end this practise duel then Jon would not look a gift horse in the mouth.

The strike neared its target but before contact could be made, the young man acted. With some precision he threw his wooden sword from one hand to the other, catching it successfully and tilting it to effectively block the oncoming attack. That was more like it, what Jon had expected from such a confident young swordsman. However, what Jon hadn’t expected was for him to also block his oncoming punch. With a quickly raised forearm the punch was blocked, cushioning the blow. With both of his arms occupied, there was little that the man of the Night’s Watch could do when he suddenly noticed the young mans head rapidly fly forward.

The connection was thick and without hesitation, Jon barely managing to turn his face to the left before the head butt crashed into his cheekbone, causing him to raise a hand to the pained are as he stumbled backwards. Jon knew if he hadn’t managed to turn his head in time then he would have likely have been left with a blooded nose, perhaps even a broken one. Jon had just enough time to glance at the blood on his fingers, he head butt had cut his face, before he was under attack once more, the young man using his sudden advantage to try and end and win the practice bout. It suddenly became completely clear that this young swordsman was true in his desire to win, though it was a shame that the now angered Jon would have to disappoint the young hopeful.

Returning the sword back to what was clearly his preferred hand, the young man gripped the weapon with both hands and charged at the Black Brother, swinging for his right leg. Having readied himself for an attack, Jon was able to shuffle backwards quickly enough that the attack against his leg missed, though only by a few inches. Using the momentum of the missed attack, the young man dragged the sword up through the air and attempted to slice it downward at Jons face, but with the space and time he had given himself from avoiding the last attack, Jon brought up his own sword and blocked the attack before it could strike him. But before Jon could offer a counterattack the young man sprang backwards, halting his attack and instead opting for some distance between them both. Your first mistake. Jon thought, as he lowered his sword towards the ground and sprang forward towards his opponent.

With enough distance to pick up some speed, Jon made the quick decision to go for an attack fuelled by brute force rather than skill, to see if it would knock the young Northerner off-balance. With a few more steps between them Jon let out a shout as he brought his sword above his head and jumped into the air, slashing down at his opponent with a two-handed strike. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t graceful, but it would no doubt be unexpected, and in a battle the element of surprise was often as useful as superior skill.

Word Count: 651.
Total Word Count thus far: 2,294.

Iain was pleased when his headbutt hit Jon in the face. Even though it didn’t hit his nose (Iain was glad about that) It still hit his cheekbone and drew blood, by the end of the day, he would most likely be left with a throbbing bruise. Iain’s own head was hurting but he shoved that out of his mind when He resumed his attack on Jon Snow, Bastard of Winterfell.

Jon evaded and blocked both his attacks and he seemed rather sure to attack when Iain did a two handed blow on his head. In his eyes, anger flashed like one of the Seven Hells. He was clearly readying himself for something when Iain stepped back. Jon pointed his wooden practice sword at the ground and ran at Iain, not a jog. Not a trot,

As he neared Iain, Jon leapt into the air with a barbaric roar and raised the sword above his head. Iain’s face must have turned into one of fear as the sword descended on him and he was left in a state of paralysis. Unable to do anything until the last second when the sword was almost upon him, he knew it could either kill him or leave him a brain addled fool for the rest of his life.

With what seemed like an effort, Iain raised his practice sword into the air to block the great force of the blow. When the two pieces of wood collided with force, the lead inside of them to weight them must have shattered, but still made the wooden practice sword heavy. As they were stuck together, faces devoid of emotion and snarling at each other, only wooden practice blades keeping their faces apart. A plan formulated in Iain’s mind. He began to heave forwards despite his tired limbs and when Jon would have stumbled back, he managed to place his own foot behind Jon’s, with hope he would fall back.

Iain’s vision dimmed for a moment or two, he was unable to see what happened. But that was what exhaustion did to you. When his vision returned, he was unable to tell if Jon had fallen or not. But he had gained the advantage. He attacked Jon with a fury, yet a fury that was controlled. Lower leg slash, feint to the right, stab to the leg, uppercut slash, slash from waist to shoulder. Soon after, his own arm got tired and he was forced to retreat back away from Jon, Yet not further away so that he could do the leaping jump.

Iain twirled the practice sword around his hand slowly and then, he placed his left arm in front of him slowly and placed the practice sword upon it, a look of pure concentration on his face.

WC464
TOTAL WC= 2006

The young man raised his practise sword in a ditch effort to block Jon’s somewhat barbaric attempt of an overhead attack, and thankfully it did. In hindsight Jon would have deeply regretted seriously damaging the young lad, potentially for life, but at that exact moment he was more concerned with dealing a defeating blow to his young opponent. This battle had gone on long enough, and the young man was far better at fighting that Jon had first believed he would be. However, as Jon and his opponent stood in a stalemate of strength, the strain in his arms aching through his muscles, the Black Brother found that he was more determined than ever to put this young lad in his place.

At that moment the young lad summoned what was potentially the last of his strength, and he pushed Jon backwards. The Bastard of Winterfell began to stumble backwards, but nothing that would cause him to lose his footing, though unexpectedly he tripped on something. In the blink of an eye Jon found himself on his backside, looking up at his rapidly approaching opponent. At that moment Jon panicked as he attempted to get himself back onto his feet before he was inevitably attacked. In this he was only partially successful, and the rabid flurry of attacks that fell on him were almost too much for the startled Black Brother to deal with as he continued to stagger backwards in an attempt to regain his footing.

A slash at his legs, avoided narrowly by stumbling backwards. Feinting to the right, stabbing and the left leg, blocked by a parry of Jon’s sword. A slash at the waist, which Jon could do nothing more than lean into, allowing it to his free arm instead - it hurt, but it was a small price to pay. Thankfully that was the last of it, and his opponent attempted to once again retreat to recover, but Jon would not allow it this time and quickly followed.

Running across the small distance between them, as the lad continued to step backwards in retreat, Jon slid forward and shoved his sword forward in a thrusting stab aimed at the lads gut. It would penetrate, the swords weren’t nearly sharp enough to do that, but it would most certainly wind him if it did indeed hit.

Word Count: 390.
Total Word Count thus far: 2,684.

[internets on and off, so this is a short post sorry ]


Iain attacked like a cornered Direwolf. He slowly, but surely drove the Black Brother, The Bastard of Wintefell back away from him. Iain’s mind was only focused on one task. Ending this fight. It was a far tougher fight than Iain had expected and the Black Brother had proven himself. But then again, fighting Wildling’s the savages of the North was dangerous and one would have to have all the skills necessary to actually survive an attack of the Wildling’s.

Jon snow fell backwards and Iain backed away. He knew that the bastard would probably try something like he did before if he gave enough room, But Iain was right. Jon ran at him and as he neared him, Iain slightly raised his sword to block the down handed blow that would never come.

The sword point smashed into Iain’s gut painfully and He gasped in pain as he instinctively lowered his upper body down, He was struggling to get air into his lung’s, who were screaming in what seemed protest to Iain. He realized he was prone to attack and he stumbled back, Sword in hand ready to defend himself from any more attacks.


WC=195
Total WC= 2201