One nitpick, Domeric did not serve as a page for the Ryswells. He served his aunt Barbery (which you got right) in Barrowton after she was married to Lord Willam Dustin.
Yes but Barbrey was a Ryswell before marriage just like Domerics Mother was.
That said, thank you for the kind words, I've just gone over it with a clearer head and tidied my errors as well as clarifying Barbrey being both a Ryswell and a Dustin.
I think that thanks to your prod that the Omake is much improved now!
I thought of Bless for the team-effort aspect of a mass buff, many a time where "the cleric's +1" made the cut.
We get to cast stuff as swift actions, so buffs are really rather nice.
But I like Stunning Barrier, but then again, much like Sun Metal, it has the issue of lasting all of one round at our CL. Bless at least will go for one minute.
You are Domeric Bolton, only child of Lord Roose Bolton, and heir to the Dreadfort, the strongest lordship in the mighty North, apart from your liege lords, the Starks of Winterfell. You have seen nineteen name-days, though your last seven had been spent with not your father and mother, but amongst your aunt Lady Barbrey Dustin of Barrowton, as a page, and with Lord Horton Redfort of the mountainous Vale as a squire.
You have only just arrived back in the cold, enormous North, spending only a few days with your lord father Roose before tiring of the grim feeling of the Dreadfort. Before your squireship, your father sometimes remarked that you were of a more delicate persuasion than most Boltons, and you could never bring yourself to disagree. Even now, the pale pink cape of House Bolton and its badge of the flayed men feels an odd weight on your shoulders.
Something must have seemed troubled on your face during those early days of your return, for Steelshanks Walton, a loyal and brusque retainer for House Bolton, declared that the crisp Northern day was a fine one for hunting and fishing, and that it could be even finer if "Lord Domeric" could join him for the day. Steelshanks was not known for his subtlety, and as you put on cloaks and left the Dreadfort, you could almost feel your father's mouth approach an expression that would be a smirk on any other man. But even still, the Leech Lord did not begrudge you a day of relaxation.
So it was that Steelshanks and yourself traveled mounted along the Weeping Water, the river along which the stones of the Dreadfort sat. The captain wasn't much of a talker, but in your melancholy mood, that suited you. The cool air and soft snows of the North comforted you, and as you "searched" for wild game and fishing spots, you felt a little better.
After half the day was gone in the pleasant diversion, you began to cheer. Steelshank's idea had been a smashing success. But then, you heard a hoarse scream carrying over the wind. "Help! Help! By the Old Gods, someone help!"
Immediately you spurred your mount in the direction of the voice, hoping that you were not too late. You rode as quick as you dared, your years in the Vale paying off as you galloped. You were sure Steelshanks had been left behind by your mad dash.
Finally, you happened upon the source of the noise. About twelve feet away from the river, a peasant knelt in the thin snow. Stout and grubby, his face marked by pox and more importantly, an expression of pure terror, the man seemed horrified out of his wits, if wits you could call them.
As you approached the kneeling man, your hand went to your sword. You recalled your father's oft-repeated words, "A peaceful land, a quiet people." Now here was a man who disrupted both. You were not as suspicious as the Lord of the Dreadfort, but it was wise to be prepared. You dismounted and strode towards him.
The terrified man's expression shifted as he saw you, and in some strange manner, he seemed relieved by your presence, a disquieting fact. What could have terrified this man to rejoice at the arrival of a Bolton? Respect, aye, you could understand, and fear too. The flayed man struck fear in the heart of the enemies of the Dreadfort, and grim respect in its smallfolk. But relief, that was new. His words came babbling out faster than you could answer them.
"Milord you've got to help, someone has to, t-the village, it's all gone, they're gone, everyone is, they, the graves, its like the L-Long Night c-come again!"
That too, disquieted you. Your fingers still on the hilt of your Vale-forged falchion, gifted by Lord Redfort as you passed back into the North, you held your other hand to stop him from babbling further. Looking at him with a cold, almost imperious glance you had seen your father use many time, you examined the man, from his rough attire and furs at his waist, a hunter by trade. This hunter needed to give you more answers. A soft smile came to your lips, as if to comfort the man.
"Peace, good man. Slow down. What happened?"
"T-the dead, Milord. They rose out of their graves. Old Podrick, he was our village elder when I was a lad, he died thirty years ago when the old Lord Bolton was alive, he rose first, moaning and s-shambling out of his grave. T-then there were others, Beric the baker, he died three winters ago. He died of a sickness of the mouth; his jaw was missing, milord! The dead men ate whoever they could get their hands on, I don't know who's still alive!"
You looked at the hunter. The dead rising sounded like the Others of legend, a fairy tale in most of Westeros, and scoffed at even here in the North. Yet, the man was so obviously terrified; you could not rightly name him a liar.
"Where is your town, good man?"
"W-Widow's Brook, just a mile or so from here milord! Please, ye got to help us!"
How do you respond?
[X] Agree immediately and head for the town
[X] Go back for Steelshanks, he's a trained warrior, he may be able to help
[X] Say that you need to head back to the Dreadfort for more men; if the threat is truly that bad, you'll need reinforcements
Adhoc vote count started by Zioneer on Jun 30, 2019 at 4:24 AM, finished with 154 posts and 16 votes.
OK so this is probably zombies, slow clumsy and not very good at hitting things and we are dressed in plate. I think we can take this on our own and we should by IC motivation.
You did a very good job, the only thing I would make be change is using the word smallfolk in the singular. So this:
The smallfolk's expression shift as he saw you
Might work better as:
The terrified man's expressions shifted as he saw you
[X] Go back for Steelshanks, he's a trained warrior, he may be able to help
Well, this guy escaped the undead on foot, so we probably can go check and turn back for reinforcements if it's too much. Not leaving our hunter buddy behind, it won't cost too much time to get him. I don't think people back home will agree to investigate without sufficient proof.
