ceranko wrote:The Legend of Otho Grym and his Valyrian sword
In the year 172 of King Aegon IV reign the land was wracked in a fierce winter,Ironborn raiders harried the coast sparked on by their religious prophet Greymane Oarkmont who gave his vision to the drowned god in exchange for prophetic dreams.
Men in the North called him Greymane the Mad.
Demanding this was the sacred year of the Drowned God, Ironborn raiders struck out bringing devastation and woe to the people of the north.Otho Grym swore he would bring Greymanes head to Lord Stark.
With over threehundred men, he went out to Bear Island and with the help of the Mormont's began building a massive fleet of sleek ships. With these he struck out with his men and harried the Ironborn on the coast burning their ships in their quays as they slept. He won many victories and angered the Greymane.It is said that the Ironborn called a curse upon the clan of Grym and drowned hundreds of thralls they captured in their raids of the north. With this massivesacrifice he summoned a storm unlike any seen since that time.
The storm engulfed Othos fleet and brought his ship to the frozen shore near the ice riverclans. Otho had survived with about twenty men. The rest were taken by the Drowned God in his divine wrath.Othos plan was to reach the Shadow Tower and the wall, over ninety leagues south. They made their way up the ice river not knowing it was cannibal country. One night they were hounded by cave dwellers with faces painted blue, green and purple. After killing a few they saw the remains of their former victims in their caves, the children were knawing on the leg bones of some unfortunate victim. Otho killed the beasts and struck south, ready to be away from such evil.
Cold storms stalked the men through frozen ice country and more of his men were taken by the cold. On the edge of the frostfangs they found a cave hidden at the bottom of a glacial cliff. Exploring it they found the body of a ranger of the Night's watch long dead frozen in the ice of the cave floor. Five corpses lay near the man and an ancient Valyrian Blade was also entombed in the ice. The ranger had died defending himself, probably dying of blood loss from a severed forearm.
The men made a camp of the cave that night, burning the bodies of the dead.As their camp embers died the cave became very cold, an evil shattering bonewracking cold. From the depths of the cave they heard the cracking of ice and echoes of movement in the distance. Something came out of the depths of thecaves darkness, unloving cold surrounded his men and from the black cold camethe others. With bodies like milkglass and glowing inhuman eyes they came forth hungry for human blood. Othos cleaved them with his sword killing three and fled for his life as more came forth from the darkness wielding blue swords that crackled and shattered steel on contact. The few remaining men with him fell to the beasts. They rose and followed the commands of their new masters. Otho was hounded by his undead fellows.
He prayed to the old gods to keep him safe until morning, each night he fought his former friends killing them with his Valyrian Blade. One night he caught a glimpse of one of the Others, just before daylight, looming on a hill in the distance, searching for him. He fled in insane fear, that morning he came upon a wildling steadfast and stole their horse, fighting them off as he made his escape, he struck south for the Shadow Tower. He survived because he stole that horse, and pitied the wildlings he knew gave their lives to the evil other.When he finally reached the Shadow Tower he had lost his left hand and his ears to the cold of frostbite. He was tended to by the men of the Nights Watch and escorted back to Castle Grymhausen. Hailed as a hero his story was told by bards and expanded upon and glamorized. Otho never spoke of his exploits and never named his sword. He felt cursed because of what happened and the friends that he had lost in the Far North. The remainder of his days he spent increasing his stores and preparing for the day when the cold would come again, that bitterbone shattering cold that meant death.
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