#cley is so big compared to her

[meghanxbrownbarrow-blog]

6'0.

Send your character’s height and I’ll compare it to mine!

5′3 vs 6′0

[the-cerwyn]

Golden Roads, Chapter Vlll:

The point of these writings is to show how the happenings of Cley whilst the Season 2 AU, as well Season 6 of the show, occurred. References to other OCs and characters are included as listed: Gryff and Harys belonging to @morethanjustwords / @fiercefourthborn, Gwyn belonging to @vxicefromhighpoint, Greta belonging to @terrarosas, as well as references to @badgershite‘s Season 2 AU.

Warning: Acts of violence are described in this chapter and the next one.

As the two of them sneaked to the patrolling bandits, the criminals’ backs were faced to the two Flints; two against four, and they had the element of surprise. Donnel looked all too eager to get his hands dirty and his boots wet, but he still understood the reasoning behind their stealth. Cley on the hand… had changed dramatically. The once friendly and very anxious boy had a stone faced expression, his mind came up with various ways of dispatching his share of brigands. The Cerwyn was all distant in his current mindset; cold, calculating; this persona was a rare one to spectate with those who have met the young lord. He was now methodical, his medical knowledge and survival instincts now kicking in.

Approaching his target from behind, Cley grabs one of the men’s left arm and roughly spins them around. Following this, he impales his victim's stomach twice with his family’s sword before pushing their body to the floor. Cause of death: Internal bleeding, if he didn’t die instantly, he would perish slowly.

As for Donnel, the Flint clansman now runs up behind his target, before taking his axe and violently sweeping their legs from beneath them with great force, causing them to fall hard into the ground. He then brings the axe around and swings it down onto his victim's face, crushing it messily and killing them instantly. The big man brutally tears his weapon free. Cause of death: Skull shattered by the impact of his cousin’s two handed axe, severe trauma applied.

That left two remaining bandits, who were now alarmed to the noise of murder behind them. As they turned to face them, the Cerwyn knew for a fact they had a small window of time to dispatch them before they unsheathed their own weapons. Before his target can stop him, he rushes forward and stabs their stomach, causing them to lean forward. Afterwards, he viciously twists the blade and kneels in the same movement, keenly freeing his sword and causing his victim to collapse backwards, bleeding to death. Cause of death: Internal organs mangled by his sword, if not already dead, would bleed out.

Donnel takes his own opportunity to show off his own tenacity, as if the Cerwyn or their hiding forces had time to be impressed by his feat of strength. The Flint heir runs at his target, before knocking them helpless to the floor and riding his axe head downwards into their face. Standing up, the Flint nudges his hammer from side to side to help him dislodge it, before walking away, leaving his victim with a bloody mess for a head. Cause of death: Same as the one Donnel killed.

Cley gives a weary sigh as the Flint’s Finger bannermen and Flint clansmen come out of hiding to place the slain bodies in the shrubbery to hide them from discovery. He hated the violence, even if it was truly necessary; it wasn’t properly apart of his own nature. Noticing Cley’s posture, Arwyn comes forth and places a comforting hand on one of his shoulders: “My lord, are you well?” The Cerwyn gave the squire a knowing look, before conveying to him: “You know how it can be… I’ll be fine, hopefully”. Not the answer he was looking for, but one nevertheless, Arwyn gave his lord a understanding nod before backing off to his mentor.

He took a moment to glance away from his bloodied hands, had to take his mind away from his disgusting actions. He thought about noteworthy combatants thus far: Donnel and him. A very tall and strong individual, and a young lord. Reminded him of two other people, companions, friends of his. His mind, to recuperate, went off to think of people he remembered. He wondered if Gryff and Harys were carrying themselves quite alright. He hadn’t heard from them in quite a long while. Well, not only them, but the other Whitehills as well. Greta, his old friend, was with child last he saw her. The Cerwyn was the one to point it out to her, but that fact was often overlooked by most of Highpoint, something… something that hurt sincerely. Gwyn was probably still trying to vied for peace between her house and the Forresters, he wished the best for her. Torrhen… was probably still doing the best for his family, he didn’t want to dwell on him too much. His thought process was broken by Donnel, giving his cousin a hearty pat on the back, his voice was a murmur: “Good work there, Flint’s Finger. Our boys hid the bodies, we can move forward”.

Cley gave an acknowledging nod his bigger companion, as they all began to creep carefully forward, no doubt getting closer to the big camp they were told about. However, his cousin had another thing to say, murmuring quietly again to the younger one. “That patrol didn’t mean much… which one us is gonna start the battle off right? You or I?” The Cerwyn gave his cousin a weird look, before realizing what he meant by such. Who would initiate the attack, be the first to kill the enemy. Who would have… the “honor”, in that sort of terms. Such a detail didn’t matter much to Cerwyn lord, but it no doubt matters to his behemoth of a family member. Before Cley thought it out more, Donnel murmured again: “Don’t worry too much about it, you have some time before the battle begins. If me, just gesture me; if not, feed em’ the afterlife”. Not much of conversation happened afterwards, considering they were upon the camp closer and closer. Several minutes of careful travel occurred before they found what they were looking for: A enlightened encampment, when they saw it in the distance, the mixed force proceed to hide properly among the surrounding woods, becoming with nature in case of wandering eyes of their enemies. They snuck closer, and closer; until they were able to look upon the camp closely in a safe manner. It was lively, many bandits were present; drinking and making merry. His calculating side told him not for long, as he counted at least fourty men within. They had sixty and four men with them, with thirty and six men nearby, ready to charge in. Their own advantages: Most of the bandits could be intoxicated, they had twice the number of men they had, and finally… this alliance of houses had the element of surprise. Their enemies’ advantage: None he knew of, most likely didn’t have one. One could compare this to the Red Wedding in a way; they outnumbered their foes while they were unsuspecting and drinking their fill. This… felt dirty, but necessary. Bandits were a parasite upon this land.

Donnel glanced at Cley from his position, as the Cerwyn looked back. The man was looking for a signal from him, to begin the... slaughter. Cley only had so much time to think of who should begin this battle. Him… or his cousin, who would get the glory? He himself knew he could make a crossbow shot from here, could kill a marauder quite easily. He knew the Flint heir was proficient in throwing axes, but was he guaranteed to make it? The Cerwyn had a choice to make, and it was by no means an easy one…

Make Cley’s choice here: http://www.strawpoll.me/12526756

[the-cerwyn]

Golden Roads, Chapter lV:

The point of these writings is to show how the happenings of Cley whilst the Season 2 AU, as well Season 6 of the show, occurred. References to other OCs and characters are included as listed: The Brownbarrow family belonging to @meghanxbrownbarrow, as well as references to @badgershite‘s Season 2 AU.

You and 60% of readers chose to be polite.

Cley weighed heavily his two options, as much as he yearned to see his old friend as soon as possible… he needed to play it diplomatic. He wasn’t a lad anymore, he was a lord, whether he liked it or not. Hallis has dealt with that, so did… so did Ethan, Old Gods bless his soul. The Red Wedding left it’s scars on all of them, heaved this new responsibility onto the younger generations. It wasn’t fair, but when you really think about it? Neither was most of Westeros. It's just something he has to take in stride. Like this is the way the world is, and he better just get used to the fact his main goal will be overcoming his parent’s shadow. And… letting go, eventually.

After a several moments, Cley refocused and looked back to the older lord. The Cerwyn responded: “I am here for a particular reason, Lord Stout, but it can wait. How has the past few months been treating you and your steadfast?” He had to swallow down his straightforward and uncomplicated thoughts, in favor for pleasantries and manners. It can’t always be about himself, he had to do things for his house; he’ll have his own moment soon enough. As much as his Flint nature went against it, he’d have to stomach that fact, and play polite lord for a bit.

“The past months have been fair enough for me, as for my steadfast…” The ruggedly older man paused for a moment, as if trying to find the correct words for his situation. Possibly didn’t want mope and whine in front of guests, but that was Cley’s own varied guess. He went further: “As you brought me, we’ve been dealing with rabble such as your “gift” for some time now. Because of the wedding, we don’t have the men we used to for dealing with them”.

That made sense, House Stout seemed more of a production house than one of the fighting ones. They didn’t have many bannermen to start with, such as the Brownbarrows, and had to make do with what they have. And such as the Brownbarrows… they lost men to the Red Wedding. Unlike the Cerwyn and the Condons, who had to only deal with the Mountain and his forces; they managed to salvage more compared to other houses.

“Well, while I’m here, if they get too much out of hand, all you need to do is but to ask me for assistance. Goldgrass has always been fair to me, as well as you, my lord. I only feel it’s right I repay your hospitality”. Cley replied back, offering to handle the local bandits if they become too much of a problem. He figured he might as well try his hand at bettering his relationship with the house. He had experience with feeling welcomed among the smaller houses, such as the Wolfwoods’ houses, it normally pays off to be fair and generous with them. Ser Kyle would go to add: “And as you know, House Condon would be more than willing to lend you aid as well”. The Cerwyn mentally noted of their houses’ relationship, so it only made sense he would throw in that fact. The alliance between Stout and Condon was strong; Cley’s words prior showed that the Condon’s liege lord approved of it, perhaps such as his own father did.

Lord Stout scratched at his facial hair with his one arm, giving a quaint nod to their words, before adding: “Both of you have my thanks; times have been tough, for all of us. But if we all pull through together, we can get through this time of terror”. He put his arm down, before actually using it to support himself up from his chair. Lord Stout continued: “We can talk more of ridding Westeros of those brigands during dinner, later in the evening. With your offer of help, there’s some duties I need to attend to before we discuss such any further. Now may be the time to accomplish what you hoped to, before evening is upon us”.

Cley gave a old-fashioned bow to the older lord, adding along: “Of course, attend to what you need to, Lord Stout. Although, I must ask, do you know where the whereabout of Lady Rikkie Condon are?” He had been patient enough, now was his chance in asking where she was.

Lord Stout gave a wiry smile to the younger lord’s question, as if he had a general idea of why the Cerwyn was inquiring such. He replied with a chuckle, before turning to leave to go into another part of the hold: “Ah, yes… Try the courtyard, that’s where the guards undergo training. She seems… bored of the un experienced guards, maybe you can sate her?”

Ronnel Stout gave a face palm to suggestive tone his uncle was giving, prompting a confused and nervous response from Cley. The Condon knight just shook his head at the Cerwyn, before walking over to Ronnel Stout, who remained there. Before doing so, Arwyn was approaching, and Ser Kyle decided to inform Cley: “I’m going to catch up with ol’ Ronnel here, Arwyn’s sticking with me, maybe he can learn something from our old stories… I would say, “have fun”, but that’d only fuel the old man’s laid out thoughts. So… have a nice talk, catching up, all that”. The Cerwyn was only able to give a nod, knowing he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and earn Kyle’s ire; Master at Arms or not, this was his daughter they were talking about. Cley walked out the great hall; leaving Ser Kyle, Arwyn, and Ronnel to create conversation. It was time to see an old friend.

Cley walked down the dirt courtyard, taking in the old sight of his memories. He remembered walking down here for the first time, he was on horse with a younger Ser Kyle; he himself was younger than ten when that occurred. Although, he was much younger when he met Rikkie, that was back when he first went to House Condon’s steadfast. The Cerwyn actually recalled the reason she was here instead of there; it happened before the war, the knight wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be in harm’s way. Thus… she ended up in Goldgrass, and has been here since there. Although they disagreed about it beforehand, one couldn’t help but to note… that Ser Kyle does truly care for his daughter, perhaps they could take her to her home after this?

His thought process was interrupted by the Cerwyn actually spotting his old friend. She had the straight black hair Condons usually have, but the Stout dark brown eyes. The lady kept her hair short, in order to transition between sparring and duties required of her as a lady. She was shorter than Cley, but then not by much. Even more so, she wore lord like clothing; hard to fight in a dress. That was another thing that was noteworthy of his old friend; Ser Kyle actually taught her how to wield a sword and a dagger, to protect herself. So much so, it’s said even Kyle’s older brother threw some training her way. Compared to Arwyn and himself, he wasn’t afraid to admit it, she could probably hand him his arse. She no doubt got to train whilst he participated in the war, even more so when he began the learning process of becoming an heir, and then again when he became lord. She’s had a lot of time to hone her own skill, and she was proving such as well as he spectated.

Rikkie was sparring with a Stout bannerman, one of the young men guards, who seemed to be most of the standing force around here. He put up a good fight… but the Condon was used to fighting her father’s bannermen, who were more known for their combat. The guard didn’t stand a chance after being parried away one too many times. He gave a sigh, sheathing his sword, before commenting to the Condon: “Bested me yet again, Lady Rikkie, you’re getting too good for us”.

Rikkie herself gave a whimsical chuckle, sheathing her own blade, before replying: “So I’ve been told, Henric, so I’ve been told. Work on your swing, you might have a better chance next time”. As teasing as she was, her bold and knowing face was about to be questioned as she turned around to see a watching Cley, arms crossed with a knowing face. He slyly commented to her: “Ah, so the conquering heroine has noticed me? How goes your crusade of besting young guards left and right?”

However, he was instead given a tackling hug from his old friend. He almost lost his footing, managing to keep standing as Rikkie replied in excitement: “Cley, you thin lug, it’s been too long! Do you know how quiet Goldgrass is compared to Condon land?!” She had a warm smile as she hugged him tightly, he would too, if his arms weren’t trapped under her’s. It had been far too long. He replied, with a sheepish smile: “At least two years… sorry for not coming earlier. And… considering how Kyle and Allister are? Too quiet. Mind… letting me go? Wanna hug you myself, plus, you’re kinda crushing me”. The Condon lady noticed how tight she was squeezing him, and let go with a face of realization. Cley gave a thankful look, before hugging her himself; he missed her certainly. Two years were too long, this was evidence of such.

She gave a chuckle, before teasingly commenting: “I’d thought you be stronger than this after a war and two years of training”. Cley himself gave a laugh, before letting her go and playfully defend himself verbally: “Hey now, had to do deal with lordship training. That digs into combat training!”

Rikkie gave a sound of incredulity, obviously feeling that wasn’t a good enough excuse. Of course she did, her own responsibilities weren’t as big as the Cerwyn’s, the Condon got to enjoy what time she had. However, she paused for a moment, with a puzzled look to her. Rikkie asked cautiously: “Lord training? Don’t heirs get--... Did Ven…?”

Cley’s face went happy to more solemn, more soft. He confirmed her suspicion with a nod. She tried to backstep on the matter: “C… Cley, I’m sorry…” The Cerwyn gave a sigh, and responded, trying to ease her mind: “It’s fine, really. He was… Well, he was sort of a rude arse, you have to admit that much”. Rikkie actually gave a snort to his words, replying: “Old Gods, Cley… that was brutal! And, very truthful, I always wondered when you’d admit that”.

Cley’s face turned back to amusing as he shrugged to her words, before continuing to: “He didn’t make it that hard, let’s be fair here”. The young adult lord and lady laughed it off, finding it honestly too difficult in becoming grim when they’ve found each other again. A thought comes to Rikkie’s mind, as she went for his arm, tugging on it. She proposed an idea, wearing a enthusiastic and eager smile: “Remember the old golden meadow? Too many prying eyes here, want to catch up there?”

Cley thought only for a moment, still all too ready, even after all these. Suppose that’s where some of her charm came from, her sheer enthusiasm. The Cerwyn have a warm smile, bobbing his head in agreement, concurring: “I’d love nothing more than that, it’s been too long”.

As thus, the Condon lady practically dragged the Cerwyn lord away from the courtyard, to go off and speak of the years they missed together. They only had so much time before supper would occur, Cley had only a handful of subjects to talk about before such. He could speak about his training towards lordship… or how lordship has been, and what caused it. It wasn’t a hard choice, but it was one nevertheless…

Choose what Cley talks about: http://www.strawpoll.me/12427393