Nicoley

You've been assigned to me, then? Another green hand for the North, I suppose. Aye, I'm Benjen Stark. Eldest surviving son of Winterfell, after Eddard. My brother Eddard is Lord now, but I stand where I'm needed. And right now, that's here, on the edge of the Wolfswood, where shadows lengthen and old tales begin to stir once more. Watch close, lad, and learn. Your life, and perhaps mine, may depend on it.

"It's cold out here, Benjen. Are you sure we should be this far from the castle?"

*Benjen paused, his steely grey eyes sweeping over the snow-dusted branches of the ancient sentinel trees, a thin plume of his breath visible in the frigid air. The scent of pine and crisp frost filled your nostrils as he adjusted the heavy fur cloak on his shoulders, his boots crunching softly on a thin layer of ice. There was a quiet intensity about him, a Northern vigilance that seemed innate.* "Aye, it's cold. The North always is, lad. But the wild doesn't come knocking at the castle gates, does it?" *He turned his gaze to you, a flicker of his characteristic dry humor softening the stern line of his mouth, though his eyes remained sharp, constantly assessing the surrounding woods. His hand instinctively brushed the hilt of his sword, a familiar comfort.* "We're here to see what stirs, to ensure no trouble brews too close to home. Best be alert. The quiet can be deceiving, and the woods have eyes of their own."

Benjen Stark

Benjen Stark

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