Iron from Ice

Garrick Forrester, 32, Lord of Ironrath

[forrestcr]

W Y A T T :

Cuddled up in fur, Wyatt ventured into the white that was surrounding his home.  The company of Cinder was greatly appreciated, but the absence of further company was even more appreciated. At times, Winterfell was too much for the young prince. The guests were slowly but surely leaving the palace and with it, it brought more restlessness with it. Today felt like a good day to escape that restlessness for a bit. He’d have to return before nightfall, so he could make one final attempt at soothing the displeased guests that were leaving for the South the following day. As expected, the relationship between Northerners and Southerners was far from natural, but the tournament put an even greater strain on their alliance.

His travels brought him to the Wolfswood, where he had been a million times before as a kid, playing out great wars with his siblings. The prince was even able to point at some of the scars the trees received from their wooden blades. Familiar sounds led him down a trail he knew far too well. At the end of the line was a good friend who was a sore for sight eyes, a friend who he had not yet seen since his return from the Wall. “I come in peace.” The youngest Stark immediately spoke with a grin as he approached Garrick.

Lips quirk into something of a half smile upon seeing the young wolf, unable to resist ribbing him about his choice of words when it seemed to sum up the way that he chose to navigate life and the muddy waters of politics too. “As you always do, Your Highness.” The words are as light as his gruff voice will allow for with some genuine fondness held for the youngest Stark. He was a different kind to his elder siblings but Garrick still found plenty to admire in him despite the differences that there were between them. 

It had always been easy for him to to engage with any others from the same land he grew up in when it felt as though they had their own language and way of doing things despite still speaking the same as the rest of Westeros. He had never been one for pleasantries, however, and is quick to ask the questions that he truly wants the answers to. “How is it at Winterfell? Have all the Southerners let you be yet?” There’s a dryness to his voice at the mention of the supposed guests of the Crown, always struggling to respect them the same way he did those from The North. “House Forrester is always happy to aid should anything be needed from us.”

[forrestcr]

D E S M O N D :

When he wasn’t at the Dreadfort, Desmond was most likely elsewhere in The North. Most of his travels were on orders of Lord Bolton, though this time was different. He still intended to seek answers for what was witnessed at the King’s coronation. He had lingered in Winterfell with the Boltons, willing to help in any way he could whether it was to help calm things down or to be an extra set of eyes or an extra sword if it was needed. Word spread like wildfire, and accusations and insults had been thrown around The North. Desmond did his best to bite his tongue, but he, too, didn’t understand the inclination to point fingers mindlessly. And his patience only lasted for so long. Each House had been attacked, now was not the time to turn on each other.

Now, he was seeking answers and also aid in his pursuit. He was sure the most loyal houses in The North would also be intent on seeking the mysterious assailants. Northerners were stubborn, but also highly loyal and honourable. Desmond knew there would be a good number that would be intent on at least avenging their fallen, just as he and the other Boltons were. And he didn’t intend on sitting in the shadows and wait for someone else to find the assassins.

His journey took him to the Wolfswood, where he knew House Forrester resided. He hadn’t been able to speak with Garrick at the coronation, but he knew the other man would have been just as eager for vengeance as he was, if not more. Desmond arrived on foot, leaving his steed a ways behind him as he approached the lord of the Ironrath. Desmond gave a bow of his head in greeting to Garrick before speaking, “My Lord. I hope I’m not intruding; I was passing through and thought to come see you since we had not had the chance to speak in Winterfell.”

While Garrick respected all Northerners regardless of their birth by virtue of being raised in the same environment that he was, there were certain ones that he held in a slightly higher regard. The man approaching him was one of them and if asked to point to someone who embodied what it meant to be from the North - hardy, resilient and loyal - the Lord of Ironrath wouldn’t have hesitated to point to his fellow solider. They had fought side by side against the Frey’s, where he’d regrettably witnessed the demise of the man who had raised Desmond. If the hadn’t already been bonded tightly through the act of fighting together, he only considered them closer when they both knew what it was like to lose a father.

A hand is waved dismissively at the idea that  the other might have been intruding when he had never had an issue with his presence before. “Not at all. Boltons are always welcome at Ironrath.” There’s no effort made to separate him from the House that he serves when his loyalty to The Dreadfort and those that lived in it was known to be unmatched. He fought for them, trained their troops and worked closely with the family, in Garrick’s mind that made him as good as one of them. It wasn’t about birth or where you came from, it was about what you did with your life and how you chose to lead it. 

Scoffing slightly, he draws himself up to his full height at the mention of what had happened at the tourney instantly setting him on edge again. His own time there had been fleeting but he’d arrived in time to witness the deaths. “It is a shame we did not get the chance but there was enough fucking confusion without trying to find anyone but our own.” His voice was icy sharp but he soon thawed it out when the man before him was no enemy and perhaps understood his irritation more than most. “But it is good to see you made it. We lost too many.”

[crownlessrp-blog1]

[forrestcr]

crownlessrp:

“ HE IS MADE OF BATTLE ARMOUR AND SHARPLY EDGED SWORDS. ”

FULL NAME: Garrick Forrester

AGE: Thirty-Two

HOUSE: Forrester

TITLE: Lord of Ironrath

OCCUPATION / VOCATION: Lord of Ironrath, War Advisor & War Commander for The North

ORIGIN: The Wolfswood

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Ironrath

ALLEGIANCE: House Forrester, House Stark

TRAITS:

+ Courageous, Forthright, Diligent

- Abrupt, Coarse, Uncompromising

BIOGRAPHY:

It took years for Ellard and Berena Forrester to conceive despite their marriage being an amicable one. The Lord of Ironrath was well into his forties when his younger wife finally became with child after a string of miscarriages there was no denying how pleased the two of them were to be able to say that the Forrester name would continue. The first nine months were spent plagued with worry that this child would meet the same end as all the others had and as the pregnancy progress the fears only grew. Except this child was strong and he proved it by forcing his way into the world while his mother was still in the Wolfswood.

Their son grew up strong and over the next few years a daughter and son followed, to the pride and joy of the Lord and Lady. The young Forresters were raised in a happy enough environment, with their parents tutoring all of them in both what it took to manage those in their care and also how to work alongside them. They were taught that the surest way to gain respect was to pull their weight and so they did. All three grew up learning to wiled an axe and to work, their hands soon forming calluses and their muscles growing stronger. But for all the three of them worked in tandem, it became all the clearer that Garrick was going to be a formidable sight when at thirteen he was already challenging his father’s height.

 At fourteen he gained another sister but lost his mother, her death strike a blow just as hard as any he landed on the Ironwood when he had been the one thing to soften him and all his coarseness with even his first sister was just as blunt as he. The sister that was left in Berena’s stead, Marna, soon became Garrick’s reason to be more gentle even if such gestures were fleeting to anyone but her. His father soon began to weaken with grief, his old war wounds soon taking more and more of a toll on him as he rushed to instruct his children in what remained of his battle experience.

He was sixteen years old when the responsibility for his house was placed firmly on his shoulders after his father finally lost the battle he had been waging against ill health. The weight of all those he depended on might have crushed him when he had always been more suited to fight than anything else had it not been for those who his father had kept close. The first year they helped him, filled in the missing gaps in his knowledge and at seventeen Garrick felt as though he was ready to take over completely and so he did. Changes were implemented, among those the decision to follow other Northern Lords in ensuring that everyone within his borders knew how to defend themselves. He made them all strong, each and everyone of them a warrior along with whatever profession they held. 

At twenty five there came an opportunity for him to put all of his newfound skills and his decisions to the test when House Frey attacked Winterfell. Ironrath’s proximity to Winterfell aided them well and House Forrester and its men were one of the first to arrive at the battle. It was bloody and lives were undoubtedly lost, but they were fewer than most when Garrick finally had the opportunity to show exactly where his skill lay. In the victory any doubts about his leadership or his methods were put to rest and there has been peace and a simple way of life ever since, even through the rule of the Stark that he didn’t support. Now he has ruled House Forrester for half of his life and continues to seek ways to better his house and their quality of life while also working closely with the rightful King to ensure that life in The North remains as it should be, with each of its inhabitants protected.

FACECLAIM: Tom Hopper

[darkhelvete-deactivated20180918]

[myrcella]

House Forrester is a noble house from the wolfswood in the north. It is sworn to House Glover of Deepwood Motte. The Forresters are seated at Ironrath, an imposing stronghold surrounded by towering ironwood trees. Built over fifteen hundred years ago by Cedric Forrester and his triplet sons, Ironrath is a testament to the strength and endurance of ironwood. Ironrath sits on the edge of the largest ironwood forest in Westeros, which has proven to be a strategic advantage for the House. 🌱 

[requested by @fifthbornforrester]

[forrestcr]

An axe in his hands would perhaps always be the thing to bring the Lord of Ironrath some peace of mind when the rhythmic swings of it deep into the ironwood was almost the melody of his childhood. Hands were long since calloused enough that hour upon hour could be spent in the Wolfswood, venting his frustrating and loosing himself in the task at hand and this day was no different when his anger was only building over time rather than fading after what he had seen at Winterfell despite his late arrival to the tourney. 

Death came for them all but in Garrick’s mind everyone, though mostly Northerners, deserved an honourable death. One in battle or defending something, not to have their life stolen by cowardly shadows and then be died the chance of a proper burial. His temper had only just been kept in check in what remained of his time in Winterfell and after discussions with the King he had taken his leave early when whispers of insults had reached his ears and he had been in no fit state to hold back the swing of his axe or sword had any such words been uttered in front of him. 

It  was almost impossible for him to accept that there was little he could do except increase training and drills among those he was responsible and so the icy chasm of his fury only increased. Today it had taken him deep into the Wolfswood, set on finding some kind of solution when surrounded by the peace in the forest. Breaks were not something he took regularly but even the strongest of men grew weary and so his back was resting against a tree, blade in hand as he made quick work of what little food he had taken with him. Footsteps catch his attention and he looks up to see if it’s friend or foe.

[forrestcr]

L Y A N N A :

          Many weeks had passed before the ache in her bones and the pain in her mind subsided, her throat had been coarse and her state not suitable for company. While she had spoken often with her handmaiden and own dear brother, her visitors had been few. Many wished to see Lyanna, or so her handmaiden had informed her, but all were turned away. The lady had an appearance to keep up, and even those concerned for her welfare could not see her so weak. The taste for Dornish wine had dwindled, leaving a blandness on her tongue whenever she’d hoped to soothe the aches with her favoured beverage.  

Lyanna was relieved to be over her illness, the last remnants of flu-like symptoms fading away with last night’s meal. She had dressed in white, ethereal and beautiful as she travelled from Karhold to Wintertown. It was there she met the poor and afflicted, who once again showered her with love and kindness - all too beguiled by her beauty and honeyed words to notice all her sins. 

“I have missed being among the people,” she proclaimed, breathing the cool fresh air. 

Trips to Wintertown were not something that it was out of the ordinary for him to make when he often travelled to Winterfell and also like to keep an eye on any trading that happened to ensure fair prices for all. In truth he almost enjoyed being among the people when they were all one in the same - all Northerners and as such more than worthy of his respect. Politeness was something he would undoubtedly always struggle with when he had been given hands for work or war rather than a mouth capable of spinning the prettiest lies, but among those that he felt he could trust cordiality was achieved easily enough.

Moving through the streets he soon spotted a small crowd and curiosity drew him in closer, hand on his sword should it prove to be anything untoward. Except as Garrick drew closer it was quite clear that the woman in white was quite the opposite and so his steps slow, allowing the crowd to disperse before he addresses her. Marna had been quick to tell him of the sickness that had inflicted the Karstark girl and he was almost certain that some sort of well wishes had been sent, even if they had come from the younger Forrester as opposed to the Lord himself.

A nod is given in Lyanna’s direction by way of greeting. “My sister informed me of your illness, it is good to see that strength prevailed.”

[forrestcr]

reyannabolton:

GOT Character Asks

arya stark: do you have different “faces” around different people? bran stark: if you could warg into any animal what animal would you choose and why? bronn: what would you do for money? brienne of tarth: do you fit the mold? catelyn stark: do you miss anyone? cersei lannister: what’s your favorite drink? daario naharis: what would you do to impress someone? daenerys targaryen: do you find yourself looking back on the past often? davos seaworth: who makes up your family? eddard stark: where does your honor lie? gendry: what is something you’ve created that you are proud of? gilly: do you ever feel out of place? grey worm: how do you stand up for what you believe in? hot pie: what’s your favorite food? jaime lannister: what would you do for love? joffrey baratheon: what qualities do you dislike in others? jojen reed: what is a dream of yours? jon snow: what would you break your vows for? jorah mormont: how loyal are you to the people you love? khal drogo: what does it mean to you to be alive? loras tyrell: do you hide anything about yourself from people? margaery tyrell: how do you get what you want? melisandre: do you ever purposely manipulate people? missandei: can you speak more than one language? oberyn martell: do you believe in getting revenge? petyr baelish: what drives you? are you willing to do anything to achieve your goals? renly baratheon: do you live in the shadow of an older sibling? rickon stark: are you the youngest of your siblings? the oldest? the middle? robb stark: are you a leader or a follower? robert baratheon: are you in your prime? samwell tarly: what is your favorite thing about learning? sandor clegane: what is a fear of yours? sansa stark: what does it mean to be strong? shae: where have you traveled? shireen baratheon: what is something you’ve taught someone else? stannis baratheon: do people see you as serious or easygoing? theon greyjoy: are you anxious to prove your worth to certain people? tommen baratheon: were you forced to grow up too quickly? tyrion lannister: what’s your favorite book? tywin lannister: are people’s perceptions of you important? varys: can you keep secrets? ygritte: are you free-spirited?

CREDIT (X)

REYANNA | LAENAH | OBERYN | GARRICK

[fytomhopper]