BrianMcG: Massacre at the Fist of the First Men

BRIAN McGONIGLE

"BANNOCKBURN"

(WARDENS OF THE NORTH-WEST)

NIGHTS WATCH

THE BATTLE AT THE FIST OF THE FIRST MEN

The Old Bear stood alone atop the hill, surveying the valley below and scanning the horizon, as his forces scurried around just below him. He envied his Brothers working on the defences around the hilltop below, as the work would keep them warm and their minds focussed on their tasks.

Jeor Mormont, 997th Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, had neither of those luxuries. The wind exacerbated the cold, and the cold bit deep despite his cloaks. It was always cold North of the Wall. But the Old Bear was less troubled by the cold than on his current course of action. He had brought two hundred men from Castle Black on this expedition, supplemented by Qhorin's hundred or so from the Shadow Tower, to seek out out the Wildling's gathering in unheard of numbers in the Frostfangs, united behind the King Beyond the Wall. But the mountain range was vast, so where in there would they be?

He had sent out several ranging parties that should have reported back by now but as yet, none had returned. Allowing young Snow to accompany the Half-hand's party also played on his mind briefly, as did the fact that of Benjen Stark's men, they had found no trace. As he shivered again, he wasn't convinced it was just from the cold, as his eyes narrowed as he followed the low clouds heralding more snow, moving remorselessly down from the North...

---

Sam was relatively happy as he moved the wicker cages out of the worst of the breeze, even though the ravens were pecking him again, their sharp, hungry beaks nipping even through the hide gloves. He spoke to the birds of his thoughts, as he often did, though of late they were ever of Gilly and the brief conversations they'd snatched at Crasters'. She'd smiled at him too he told the black eyed raven that seemed to be listening. His ravens were certainly less caustic than Edd and easily more intelligent than Grenn. He was sorry Jon had left with the scouts as he felt sure he'd know what to do about Gilly. If only he had more courage, he would have... His reverie was interrupted by a long, soulless blast of the lookout's horn. He couldn't see much where he was, but he did hope it was Jon's party returning...

---

Grenn wasn't happy. He was cold and wet, tired and hungry, and Sam had spent all morning collecting wood going on about that girl. By the Seven, he had only spoken a few words to the girl at Craster's but she had spoken to him and that meant he hadn't stopped wittering on about it ever since. Even Edd had grown tired of teasing Sam about it, as Sam seemed to turn every witticism into another positive to extol a new line of the girls fine attributes. Still, he'd had a half hour or so grace as Sam had went to tend the ravens. He was stockpiling the wood they'd collected near the men from the Shadow Tower when the first blast had sounded. He stopped to look down the hill for any sign of the returning rangers, before the second mournful blast had him momentarily exchanging glances with the spearmen, before they scrabbled for their gear. The Shadow Tower men, their long, dark spears were eager to get to use them on the approaching Wildlings...

---

Eddison Tollet was more than unhappy. He'd never had much to be happy about in life, hence his nickname but Thoren Smallwood, the Watch Marshall leading his group, had him and the rest of his brethren picking up horseshit from the parties mount's to supplement the meagre wood supply they had for the fires. The first blast of the horn was distraction enough for him not to realise this dung was fresh, not frozen. The second blast had him grabbing his sword regardless of the smear he was putting on the hilt as his Sworn Brothers did the same. The third dolorous blast brought a terror to his heart that froze him to his very core...

---

My force for ALWAYS WINTER 2023 is based solely on those troops and characters that were actually at the battle for the hill top. So no Gilly for Sam, no Aemon for healing, no Conscripts either as only best troops were chosen for the great ranging - Veterans, Sworn Brothers, Rangers and Spearmen Qhorin brought from the Shadow Tower. And several characters were left behind, or out in the scouting parties.

As per last year, I've done a scenic diorama for showing off the valiant, but futile Battle at the Fist of the First Men. I've done some minor conversions on the Watch Marshal, Edd, Grenn and Sam, as well as every one of the Shadow Tower spearmen as hated the poses (I've cut, chopped and repositioned arms as well as adding shields). I've decided Stirling will always be my fun and fluffy themed event, it was amazing last year, so chilled whereas and friendly with the London GT being more competitive I'll be more serious. As for the other events, well, as the mood and painting takes me...

With 5 units and only 1 NCU, this is not a competitive build but purely thematic and my aim for the weekend is simply to win a game and chill up North. But its a tough bunch of lads I have, as the Watch doesn't make men weak and feel sure I can give a good showing...

ARMY LIST

Veterans of the Watch led by Jeor Mormont - 997th Lord Commander (C)

Shadow Tower Spearmen with Grenn - Aurochs

Sworn Brothers with Eddison Tollett - Dolorous Edd

Ranger Hunters

Watch Marshal

(Thoren Smallwood)

NCU

Samwell Tarly

SUMMARY

Faction: Nights Watch Commander: Jeor Mormont - 997th Lord Commander Activations: 6 Combat Units

Veterans of the Watch Jeor Mormont - 997th Lord Commander (C)

Shadow Tower Spearmen with Grenn - Aurochs

Sworn Brothers with Eddison Tollett - Dolorous Edd

Ranger Hunters

Watch Marshal NCU

Samwell Tarly

EPILOGUE

They trudged through the knee deep snow in silence. The snow continue to fall, closing in around them as they fled South. The Old Bear could see the fifty or so survivors were grim; tight-faced and sullen. Jeor had left some two hundred and fifty or so of his men behind, dead and dying up there. Or worse!!!

Jeor had seen some of his own men rise again to join the unending horde that had overwhelmed them. He had seen Thoren Smallwood charge the rotting bear, as the monstrous cadaver was wreaking havoc on the spearmen. He had seen his longsword bite deep as it's bony claw swiped his head clean off before the Rangers brought it down with fire arrows. The use of fire arrows had slowed the onslaught and allowed him to gather the remnants of his force into a spearhead to break out. Fire and decapitation seemed to stop the dead rising.

The Lord Commander only hoped that the ravens Tarly had managed to get off would warn the garrisons but the boy was a sobbing wreck and he hadn't conveyed yet what exactly he'd sent off, nor to where. If only they could reach Crasters' to re-supply, before heading south to the relative safety of the Wall. The Old Bear shivered as onwards they trudged. This foe, these Others, were out there. Unhindered by the driving snow, immune to the endless cold, unfazed by the fear of the death that only those that draw breath can know. His men were struggling in this weather, with the wind and cold but for this foe, it was Always Winter...