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TheAncientCenturion said:
You've turned to the dark side then.

I'm sorry Fezze, but I must expel you from the Jedi Order
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I'm a Grand Master on the Jedi Council. You want my Jedi robes?
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TheAncientCenturion said:
Cold Hands = Teddy?

I'm fine with this development. Teddy can be the Last Watcher of the Night. The fire that keeps the darkness away.
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Jader ran as hard as he could.

It was supposed to be a simple rabbit hunt. The young wildling had split away from his group earlier so that he could check the traps before the others. With luck, he would have the juiciest pick out of all of them. The winters had gotten colder recently, and with less game in the woods. He had only heard about this happening once before, but dismissed it as just a freak occurrence, even when Elder Bram warned them of the terrors of the night.

The Others were supposed to be gone.

And yet, Jader knew what he had seen, and as sweat began to pool around his head from the exertion and the animal skin armor on him, he could feel the cold breath of them breathing down his neck. The woods, so still before, began erupting with movement. Rocks and fallen logs turned out to be corpses, and corpses turned out to be wights. The undead began crawling out of every crevice, some with weapons in hand, some with missing limbs. All had unhinged jaws dropped from their mouths and blue, glowing eyes. And so the young man ran, making quick turns around trees and hopping over ditches. Still, his speed did nothing to prevent them from catching up to him.

Suddenly a hand popped out of the snow in front of him, and Jader saw it too late. It snatched his ankle and the wildling flew through the air, hearing a snap and feeling pain in his leg. Landing on the ground, he rolled over to see a disembodied hand clutching his leg. It grew colder and tighter, but Jader stabbed at it with his hunting knife, finally freeing himself from the dismembered appendage by cutting its remaining digits off. However, he looked up just to see another crowd of wights approaching. The young wildling closed his eyes and accepted his fate, just in time to hear a roar rumbled out of nowhere.

Eyes snapping open, Jader looked as a large bull moose collided headfirst with the crowd, its antlers lowered. The impact nearly disintegrated most of the undead, and those that didn't were thrown back quite a bit of distance. It took a moment before Jader realized that someone had been riding on the moose. A large, imposing figure got off of the powerful mount, with an old hat with flat rims, some sort of glass on its face and a burning pipe in his mouth, just in front of his impressive mustache. The man inhaled before blowing out a large cloud of smoke, sighing contently as though he had been out on his morning walk.

"You look like you could use some help, partner." The man spoke to Jader, though the young man couldn't exactly comprehend what the other man was saying, his mind racing at the moment.

However, just as the danger seemed to have passed momentarily, the air grew more frigid. The steam produced by Jader's breath grew more pronounced and his already panicking eyes began to dart around, looking for something he prayed he would not find. The gods must not have heard the young man's silent pleads then, as more figures, armored ones this time. Their skin looked pale beyond any human or undead standards, and their eyes bluer than even the most evil of the wights. Their movements were not mechanicals like those that were struck down, but fluid and graceful in comparison. One of them stepped forward, and draw a blade of crystal out. The man looked unimpressed. Run damn you! Jader's mind sped up, though his body seemed locked in ice, and he couldn't tell whether he was thinking about himself or the man anymore.

The moose had stepped to the side, looking as unconcerned as its rider, who merely smoked his pipe as the Other got closer and closer. As the threat came closer, the man pulled out his pipe from his mouth and spoke up. "Well, well, well, what do we have he-" he never got to finish his sentence, as the Other plunged its sword into the man's torso, and straight through where his heart should be. The man looked down at his wound then back up, before giving a menacing smile. "Now that's not very nice of y'all." The Other looked confused, just delaying itself enough for the man to grabbed its head and forced it back, before putting the lit end of his pipe into its mouth and slamming it shut, holding it closed with his strength. Even through the clinched teeth Jader could hear the Other screamed as the burning content of the pipe roasted its mouth, then its throat and all the way down. He would wake to it periodically for the rest of his life.

The Other slumped as its screams grew quieter and quieter, eventually, its body fell limp at the man's feet. The large rider then bent down, the sword still sticking out of him, before opening its mouth again and retrieving his pipe. Pulling it out, he wiped it on his clothing, before pulling some more tobacco out and putting it in, before lighting it again by snapping his finger, almost as magic. Turning to the rest of the Others, he grinned, casually pulling out the sword from his torso as a bear might a dagger from its hide, before tossing it aside. Jader never saw a drop of blood fell from the wound.

The man then spoke up. "Ah good, your boy's got me in a fightin' mood now. So... who's next?"


(Consider that my post until whenever Fordee puts up that Estermont/Hightower post XD)
 
Yes. Make the Summer Islander who is a notorious killer, apparently, Martin Fucking Luther King Jr.

Can we go any higher? Can we make the Royal Executioner Gandhi?
 
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