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IMAGE: http://pile.randimg.net/0/213/53304/Robb%20gifs.png
AGE: 16
LOCATION: Winterfell
PLAYER: OS
ABOUT: you know nothing [s]Robb Stark[/s].
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Joined: 26-July 15
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Last Seen: Dec 16 2015, 06:34 AM
Local Time: May 22 2018, 12:09 PM
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ROBB STARK

NORTHERNER

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Oct 23 2015, 08:42 PM

"You alright m'lord?" Tepid gaze flickered to him, if only for the moment. Beholding the out of breath ward. He had been tasked with keeping up with Lady Arriana, while he had boasted it was an easy task. The other lords had simply smirked behind their ales as he had set off to his duties, it was only mid day and it seemed that his sister had already given the poor lad more work than he had originally bargained for. The very sibling that stole the breath from his lungs was not exactly something one could rightly just 'prepare' for. Learning to anticipate Arriana was the same as attempting to control the weather, futile for everyone involved.

Robb did not bother to verify him with an answer, they had long since passed the Northern border, and a few that lay between it. Weaving through rivers that mapped the continent. Alongside his father they had both undergone the journey. Eddard Stark was a rock, a fortress within a churning sea that always remained steadfast. He was the only one in the entire Stark tree that had not imposed his opinion to the mystery which was his future on him. His father had stood by his statement, saying that he would not chose the future for his son. The boy did not know what the lingering sadness was that dwelt within his colourless gaze. Yet he found he could not respect his father more for it, neither were ones to talk on fickle problems that bothered the other. Silence was one thing they shared more often than not. Elinor had near talked both of their ears off on the journey.

They rode into Summerhall, the clap of thunder was barely being held at bay by the looming clouds. The rain followed soon after, falling in torrents and rousing the mud from beneath the grass. The field for the tourney was set out before him, workers scrambling to escape from the torrents. The skeletal bones of the structure stuck out from the earth, thin veils and colourful flags were lagged down from their newly acquired burden. Drawing alongside the stands, a lone figure stood where the crowds feet would gather. Perhaps oblivious to the rain, or had no way to get down without slipping in the cascade of mud that was slowly forming at the base of the foundations. Robb urged his garon alongside the boarded walk.

The shaggy and thick coated gelding was more than happy to accommodate, biting against the reins and stamping his hooves in the gathering puddles. Itching to shake the water, and perhaps his rider from his pelt. Clearing his throat, feeling the uncomfortable rise in his chest as a result of the need for him to raise his voice louder than his preferred norm. "Miss?" Furrowing his azure hues as he caught her attention. "I hate to trouble, but, do you need assistance?" He refused to point out the obvious, whether it be the weighing rain, or the chilling temperature. But Robb could not let it pass that he did not offer to help. Be it the right thing or not.


Oct 6 2015, 07:48 PM

They had meant to have been back by now. The thunder clouds loomed ominously on the distance. Light playing through the darkened sheets of white. Flashes of light put on a magnificent display of power, as the rest of Winterfell was only left to watch in an icy silence. It was surely the early hours of the morning by now, Robb stood as a lone, silent vigil. Artos had attempted to remain attentive with him, it had been a few hours passed when his cousin had finally slumped in his position against the stone window. He had been dragged to his mattress not long after that. Running a strained hand once more through the well worn path that adorned his skull. Travelling plans could change, it was anything one in their right mind could assume. They could have been caught in the storm as it travelled across the windswept tundra, or perhaps they camped for the night in order to avoid being caught amidst the gods when they finally decided to unleash the burden from the clouds. All made reasonable answers, yet it did not help the Silent Wolf sleep any easier.

Vargo lay beside him, unperturbed by his comrades current state. Eyes the colour of brimstone staring unseen into the vast wilderness. Seeing the things that Robb's eyes could not. Yet every time the wolf's ears pricked, Robb had turned in haste. Asking the creature in a silent question if it were them, yet, each time so far it took a second. Ice trailing down his spine before the monolith wolf finally rested his head once more on the ground. Robb was not one to often pace, or to let his disquiet rise to the surface of his palate. Yet there were tells, the irritation and dismantlement of the fawn coloured tresses or perhaps the slight adjustment in his stance as silence wrapped it's heavy cloak around him in his station.

As a boy he could always appreciate how alive the night was. The animals that whispered through the trees, the movement of the creatures in the underbrush. Yet he was so otherworldly frustrated by the silence it was producing for him now. The sounds that the woods were giving him were not what he desired at all. Robb could not help the wander of his gaze, breeching the tops of the trees, scaling the white capped canopy. His eyes seeking the unsearchable as they peered into the distance. Imagining what his heart was longing for. He could feel the chill on his skin, yet he was promised that the temperature here was nothing compared to the ice he would feel at the Wall. Adventure lingered just beyond his grasp, yet his feet remained stationary. Robb knew it was his own selfish desire that was calling him forward, yet the hesitancy of his family that weighed him down. But soon Elinor would be gone, as Sansa had already left. Soon it would be his turn, he knew it.

A peel of sound scraped off the forest floor. From his position in the great hall, over the clap of the distant thunder. Robb was sure of what he had heard. The soles of his boots seemingly picking up the thought before he had timed to process it. The furs that clad his shoulders ruffled in the weighted breeze. Striding unafraid into the depths of darkness, the pale light that was cast from the torches beside him was enough to paint the picture he had long been waiting to behold. "Nor!" The bass in his tones easily commanding his presence above the distant storm. "A fool would have assumed you would be persuaded to wait out the storm." A rare beam of pride that only surface on odd occasions came to play across his bearded lips. "I presume I know you better than that." For no one commanded Elinor Stark but herself.


Jul 26 2015, 11:48 PM
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<div class="appybod"><table><td>

<div class="infocat"><b> NICKNAMES: </b> Rob-bob-bo-bina-ballerina </div>
<div class="infocat"><b> RANK: </b> all of dem </div>
<div class="infocat"><b> TITLE: </b> The Lone Ranger The Quiet Wolf </div>
<div class="infocat"><b> AGE: </b> Sixteen </div>
<div class="infocat"><b> REGION: </b> The best one </div>
<div class="infocat"><b> HOUSE: </b> Ur mum (aka House Stark) </div>
<div class="infocat"><b> PLAYBY: </b> Lasse Hansen </div>
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<div style="text-align:justify; font-family: segoe ui; font-size:10px; width:200px; background-color: #fff"><b>ALPHA.</b></div>
<p>
Feeble fingers clutched the waning material with all the frail strength they could muster. The scent of comfort tainted your senses, it held you tighter than any blanket could. Their incoherent chattering made more sense to their ears than it ever did to yours. The only serenity that could be found was when you were thrust into the untried arms of your father. His unsure hands held your skull awkwardly and your body loosely, there was a brief moment where he was left staring all of his uncertainties in its quailing and wheezing face, before he slowly pulled your minuscule form to his chest.
<P>
Out there, the air was always sharp and strong. Sometimes a breeze could reach right through you and chill you to the core. Where the mountains were vast, you were small. Where the rivers wound and curved you remained flat as a bedrock. But where they crumbled under the weight of the elements, you remained steadfast and sturdy.
<P>
You were never the loud child, you did not bay for attention or scamper for praise. You enjoyed your own company more than you did the rest of your siblings, save for the other half that made you whole. You found a kindred spirit in your cousin Elinor, she was cut from the same cloth that you had been. It only made sense for her to be the foundation of who you were beginning to be as a person.

<div style="text-align:justify; font-family: segoe ui; font-size:10px; width:200px; background-color: #fff"><b>BETA.</b></div>
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<P>
They asked why you called him Vargo, the lumbering breast with flames trapped inside. You had simply shrugged, as if the matter were as obvious as the changing of the seasons. "Because he was the first." You did not know how you knew this, but you did. Out of his siblings he was the biggest, and though you had never asked him, you felt as though he did not need to tell you. You had just known.
<p>
You were always alongside him, the snowy white creature with eyes the colour of brimstone. Perhaps even when he did not want you to be. But you were as stubborn as worn leather. Once your teeth had sunken into something you rarely, if ever refused to relinquish. You had a compass in your chest that easily steered you through life, you saw what was right and what was wrong in monotone black and white. It was easy to agree, easy to learn, and easy to find a path. Until of course colour seeped into your vision, the deep matted reds and yellows. They shaded the lines, adding more detail and context to the image. Shadows appeared that you had not noticed before, and the line between you and childhood seemed to only become more defined with each gaining stroke.
<P>
They say that a man who laughs too loudly has something to prove. While you had always been steadfast and determined, as had your laugh always been a touch too soft for this statement to ring true. It was a trait of the being born to the second born son, you knew. You did not want to rule Winterfell, it was not your destiny. All you had wanted was to step out of the gathering shadows. The Stark boy, the spare to the heir. With no destiny set before you, no future to uphold. No work to keep your hands busy. No, you were just another number. Confined to the snowy depths of your home, you never voiced your misery. You were a solider. You quietly accepted your role and you were trying to fit yourself into.
<P>


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<div style="text-align:justify; font-family: segoe ui; font-size:10px; width:200px; background-color: #fff"><b>GAMMA.</b></div>
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<p>
You never fought for your voice to be heard. Or struggled for the limelight in your family. Your two younger siblings voices always overshadowed yours, and you were content with that. To be the spectator in the play that was your life. You loved to watch things unfold, and unravel. Your home is always filled with disquiet and the chorus of voices are almost always ones of love. Your parents say good things don’t come easily. But you aren’t so sure, what you have is great. But you were beginning to have the sense about you that,it was time to ask for more.
<P>
Though you did not get to consider it for long. You stand in the door frame to the world before you, the scent of winter wearing into your membrane as you will inspiration to come, but the constant burning of your eyes refuse you once again. The amber light of the fire still flickers in the pit of Winterfells yard, its diminishing fingers reaching towards the sky. Everything was in its place, guards at their station, Arriana where she shouldn't be and you standing to the side. Idly watching as the world changed around you.
<p>
Your sky coloured gaze then lifted over the guarded walls. Across the tops of the skeletal trees, towards the sloping and rolling white capped mountains. Unable to be seen from here, you thought of you uncle Benjen. How he had been in the same predicament as you. He had found his purpose, clad in black and among unblooded brothers. Is that what the future could hold for you?

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<div style="text-align:justify; font-family: segoe ui; font-size:10px; width:200px; background-color: #fff"><b>DELTA.</b></div>
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<P>
Yet you had let slip to Elinor your ideas once, and you have regretted it since. She was as ferocious as her wolf, and never let you forget, even for a moment of her opinion. She was rallying her army behind a war cry. As much as you loved your princess of Winterfell, you could stand a little less of her insistence. She hopes to wear you down over time, you are not quite sure her methods will stick yet.
<P>
You two were not usually ones to fight, the pair that had been inseparable since youth, even before the storm that brought you your wolves and showed you your mortality. Your two wolves were mirror reflections of each of your souls. Elinor had a future ahead of her, while you were sanctioned to the same monotonous life that you had always lead. You toyed with the idea of swordplay for a living, though your hand was sufficient, you knew your grandfather would not entertain the idea of his grandson being a sell sword.
<P>
So you wait your days out. Feeling each slow growth of bone and muscle in your flesh. Your mind turning slowly over the decision you had to make of your future - before your family inevitably made it for you. You had always done what it took to make others happy, it was a simple thing that ensured your own happiness. As it may be you had conditioned yourself to behave this way. Something that your parents had instilled in you early in life. However, mayhap it was finally time that you took that step forward. Elinor would inevitably leave, to be married to some far off place. While your grandfather had ensured that Sansa had remained close, Elinor was not likely to be quite so agreeable. So you lingered for the chance to spend more time with your beloved aunt, knowing that once she left, there would be little left anchoring you at Winterfell. Then, perhaps, it would finally be time for you to leave the den and find your own pack. That was where the true journey would begin.

<p></div>

<p></div>


</div></table><table><tr>

<td><div class="infocat"><b> PLAYER: </b> poo </div></td>
<td><div class="infocat"><b> YOUR AGE: </b> bum </div></td>
</tr><tr>
<td><div class="infocat"><b> EXPERIENCE: </b> wee </div></td>
<td><div class="infocat"><b> LOCATION: </b> shart </div></td>
</tr></table>
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<div style="width:280px;"><div class="vert"><div class="north">Robb Torrhen Stark </div></div>

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Apr 14 2015, 09:29 PM

This is the direwolf information as I know it from reading character apps and conversations ive had with the staff and character players. This is in no way set in stone. Changes up to a point should be able to be made if discussed with all parties. If you would like something added or changed to this list just give me a shout or reply here. smile.gif thanks!




PLAYERS AND CHARACTERS INVOLVED

Lyanna Targaryen - Echo
Rhaenna Targaryen - Oswin
Elinor Stark - Lina
Robb Stark - Oswin
Sansa Stark - Chloe
Arriana Stark - Quetzal
Artos Stark - Alex
Jon Stark - Surrah





THE WOLVES


KINGSWOOD PACK

Muna - mother - reddish brown with blue eyes - size of a pony - 20 years old - bonded with Lyanna Targaryen - most often found in Kings Landing
Adara - daughter - white with blue eyes - size of a pony - 10 years old - bonded with Rhaenna Targayen - most often found in Kings Landing
Vargo - son - white with red eyes - 10 years old - size of a pony - bonded with Robb Stark - most often found in Winterfell
Night - son - black with bright green eyes - 10 years old - size of a pony - bonded with Elinor Stark - most often found in Winterfell

WOLFSWOOD PACK

Jonquil- sister - grey with yellow eyes - 5 years old - bonded with Sansa Stark - most often found in Winterfell
Thunder - sister - grey with dark gold eyes - 5 years old - bonded with Arriana Stark - most often found in Winterfell
Winter - brother/sister - smoke grey with yellow eyes - 5years old - bonded with Artos Stark - most often found in Winterfell
Storm - brother/sister - silver grey with yellow eyes - 5 years old - bonded with Jon Stark - most often found in Winterfell

The two packs are unrelated through Muna, the father of the Kingswood pack is unknown. There are more than 2 mature direwolves in the Wolfswood so it is entirely possible that they are two unrelated packs or the wolfswood pack many be bred from Munas pups. They are not from the same litter.




THE TIMELINE


THE BEGINNING
  • Lyanna and her daughter, Rhaenna, go to visit Winterfell
  • On the Kings Road they encounter a female direwolf and Rhaenna approaches the animal and after an all-to-human look from the wolf to Lyanna, the queen whisks her daughter out of harms way.
  • Along the way to and from Winterfell the wolf is never far but the guards keep the beast at a safe distance.
  • Wolf is rumoned to be in the Kingswood. Lyanna finds her before the hunters. The wolf is pregnant.
  • The wolf, bonded to Lyanna and named Muna, gives birth to a gaggle of pups. One, a girl with white fur and blue eyes, Adara, bonds to little Rhaenna.
  • Lyanna releases the rest of the pups jnto the wolfswood.
5 YEARS LATER
  • Robb and Elinor escape into the wolfswood for an impromptu hunt during an especially tedious lesson. Robb hides a note detailing their location that is never found and the tso get lost in the wolfswood, caught in a blizzard. After taking shelter in a thicket of tree roots they find themselves trapped with a pair of wolves. The group must find a way to work together to survive.
  • After waiting out the storm Robb and Elinor emerge from the wood with their new partners in crime, Vargo and Night. The next morning Robb does not wake up, he is striken with severe pnuemonia.
  • Jealous of Elinor and Robb's wolves Arriana and Jon try their luck in the woods while everyones eyes are focused on Robb.
  • The two refurn with a hole gaggle of wolf pups in tow. One for every remaining Stark child.


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