Post by The Smith on Jun 8, 2009 1:03:23 GMT -5
Simon Tarly knelt in the small sept in Winterfell, praying to the Seven. Generally his prayers were to the Maiden and the Mother, as well as to the Warrior, beseeching them to protect his family, if they were even alive in the south. The sept at the Wall had been a meager thing, dreary and depressing and the septon had long since been killed. Here, at least, while the small sept stood at the edge of Winterfell's Gods' Wood, it had a homey feel to it, with an aged septon to administer the rites that Simon had long been denied of, while on campaign.
Simon had a grudging respect for the queer gods of the North, unable to deny the abilities that they granted to those of northern blood, and recognition of a Faith that was at least as old as his own. Winterfell, though the Starks had nearly been wiped out, the castle itself had not been hit particularly hard by the Others, and so the tall wooden statues of each of the seven faces of God were still in good condition. In the south, thousands of septs had been profaned and burned by cultists before the tide of battle had even turned against the invaders; on the campaign North Simon saw things that had been done in septs that he could not have even conceived of before.
It was rumored that Winterfell's sept had been built only a hundred and a half years ago, when some Stark lord commissioned its construction to make his bride from the riverlands feel more at home in the cold north. Eventually Simon got to his feet, and tucked the small even-pointed star that he wore on a chain around his neck, back under his shirt, and turned to leave the building. he walked almost completely without a limp, his wounds having almost completely healed on the long march.
He looked up at the castle, frowning at the lion banner that flew above the gatehouse, under the banners of Stark and targaryen. The Master of Laws turned toward the castle and began to make his way toward the solar that the Queen had appropriated for her use upon arriving at Winterfell.
Simon Tarly improves to Expert Faith of the Seven
Simon had a grudging respect for the queer gods of the North, unable to deny the abilities that they granted to those of northern blood, and recognition of a Faith that was at least as old as his own. Winterfell, though the Starks had nearly been wiped out, the castle itself had not been hit particularly hard by the Others, and so the tall wooden statues of each of the seven faces of God were still in good condition. In the south, thousands of septs had been profaned and burned by cultists before the tide of battle had even turned against the invaders; on the campaign North Simon saw things that had been done in septs that he could not have even conceived of before.
It was rumored that Winterfell's sept had been built only a hundred and a half years ago, when some Stark lord commissioned its construction to make his bride from the riverlands feel more at home in the cold north. Eventually Simon got to his feet, and tucked the small even-pointed star that he wore on a chain around his neck, back under his shirt, and turned to leave the building. he walked almost completely without a limp, his wounds having almost completely healed on the long march.
He looked up at the castle, frowning at the lion banner that flew above the gatehouse, under the banners of Stark and targaryen. The Master of Laws turned toward the castle and began to make his way toward the solar that the Queen had appropriated for her use upon arriving at Winterfell.
Simon Tarly improves to Expert Faith of the Seven