II-7: The Price of Fame II – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – Greg had gotten a few interesting receptions in all the towns and villages he had been in since he had shown up in Westeros. Most of them had been oddly hesitant about him, a…
II-6: The Price of Fame I – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – Greg trudged through the snow-encrusted earth beneath his feet, each step a reminder that Westeros was a far cry from his cozy suburb back in Brockton Bay. A canopy of leaves above his head…
II-3: Sleepless Night – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – The knight did. Assume he knew nothing, that is. And Ser Arryk told him everything he thought he would need to know. As Greg trudged through the thick, sucking mud of the woods, his boots making wet,…
II-4: Shifts In the North Author’s Note: Yes, yes, I said I was sick. Yes, yes, I should be asleep. Are you gonna hassle me or read the chapter? – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – ROBB The heavy oak door of his father’s solar—his solar now—groaned shut…
II-5: Monsters of the North I – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – Not too far from the Karhold, where ironwoods stood silent watch, a small clearing opened up to the banks of a slow-moving river. The midday sun, filtered through a canopy of green, dappled the…
II-2: A Knight’s Help – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – Greg had been walking for what felt like an eternity, though in reality, it had only been about five days. Five long, grueling days of trekking through the wilderness with only Ash for company. All this…
II-1: The Beginning’s End II – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – The morning sun shone down brightly on the town of Wintermoss, a low buzzing in the background as the people went about their daily routine. The air hummed with the sounds of daily life –…
II-0: Berrin of Wintermoss – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – The night wind howled through the Lonely Hills, cold as a witch’s teat and just as merciless. Berrin shivered, his thin arms wrapped tight ’round his knees as he huddled close to the pitiful fire. The…
II-1: The Beginning’s End I Note: Apologies, I should not write while half asleep.– o – o – o – o – o – o – o – Greg’s boots crunched in the snow-covered underbrush of the Lonely Hills as he rushed forward to meet the bandits, the cool night air filling his lungs. He…
Nerd In the North VIII The afternoon sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows over the snow-covered path. Greg squinted against the glare, his eyes watering slightly from the combined assault of light and cold. The wind nipped at his face, not quite as brutal as it had been before Frostfall, thanks to…
