when he takes your throne
05-11-2014, 09:02 PM
For Shelby, 3 rounds.
Round 0 of 3
The blood stained hills had made an impact on his will to travel that day. He sought information as to what exactly had conspired to leave the naturally barren hills stained with such a thing like the blood of wolves. Wolves fighting wolves, what was new? What was new was that some was more dried than others and some more fresh. It was strange, perhaps a battlefield that many came to for spars or rank challenges or even death matches and pack challenges. Ser Barristan Selmy of Kingslanding never knew what to expect of such new and strange lands, especially with such strange wolves who inhabit them. He had once met an all black wolf with black eyes and razor sharp claws, barely avoided a fight as there was no way he had intended to lose his pelt that day. Yes, Ser Barristan never knew what to expect from the lands and he was not one to race into a fight he knew he could not win.
As the wind blew at his pelt, slicking it down and blowing it softly from side to side in the wind, he watched for any wolf who would approach him from the lower ground on the terrain or even the same ground that he stood on. He was constantly wary of what could happen, even if it was unlikely to happen. The worst...The worst were those who played the game of thrones. That was his theory, he saw pack challenges as a waste of time for those who were in power deserved to be in power by the divine right of kings alone, though he was sworn to protect the alpha or king or queen or whatever they called themselves in whichever pack he joined when they were the alpha or king or queen. That was his law, that was his oath. They didn't call him Oathkeeper for nothing.
His eyes swiveled from side to side as he prepped his defenses, knowing that sometimes blood drove wolves into a frenzy, well not him. He raised his hackles, perked his ears and spread his toes as he had learned to do the hard way. He spread his legs out equally and narrowed his eyes. His pelt bristled slightly along his spine with the discomfortable possibility of being attacked at any moment from any angle. His canines were bared and his eyes narrowed. Nothing would get past his defenses, he wouldn't have it, he wouldn't allow it.
The blood stained hills had made an impact on his will to travel that day. He sought information as to what exactly had conspired to leave the naturally barren hills stained with such a thing like the blood of wolves. Wolves fighting wolves, what was new? What was new was that some was more dried than others and some more fresh. It was strange, perhaps a battlefield that many came to for spars or rank challenges or even death matches and pack challenges. Ser Barristan Selmy of Kingslanding never knew what to expect of such new and strange lands, especially with such strange wolves who inhabit them. He had once met an all black wolf with black eyes and razor sharp claws, barely avoided a fight as there was no way he had intended to lose his pelt that day. Yes, Ser Barristan never knew what to expect from the lands and he was not one to race into a fight he knew he could not win.
As the wind blew at his pelt, slicking it down and blowing it softly from side to side in the wind, he watched for any wolf who would approach him from the lower ground on the terrain or even the same ground that he stood on. He was constantly wary of what could happen, even if it was unlikely to happen. The worst...The worst were those who played the game of thrones. That was his theory, he saw pack challenges as a waste of time for those who were in power deserved to be in power by the divine right of kings alone, though he was sworn to protect the alpha or king or queen or whatever they called themselves in whichever pack he joined when they were the alpha or king or queen. That was his law, that was his oath. They didn't call him Oathkeeper for nothing.
His eyes swiveled from side to side as he prepped his defenses, knowing that sometimes blood drove wolves into a frenzy, well not him. He raised his hackles, perked his ears and spread his toes as he had learned to do the hard way. He spread his legs out equally and narrowed his eyes. His pelt bristled slightly along his spine with the discomfortable possibility of being attacked at any moment from any angle. His canines were bared and his eyes narrowed. Nothing would get past his defenses, he wouldn't have it, he wouldn't allow it.