Hello DEARIES.....
Enjoy...
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Winter Town was huddled in the dark, the muddy streets frozen into jagged ruts that threatened to twist an ankle with every step.
Duncan spat a glob of thick saliva into the snow, wiping his mouth with the back of a scarred hand.
He walked with a heavy, rolling gait, the massive warhammer at his belt clanking softly against his rusted mail.
"You have a strange way of spending coin, Snow," the big man grumbled, his voice rough with years of shouting over shield walls. "Most lordlings would be warm in their featherbeds, or balls deep in a whore by now. Yet here we are, freezing our teats off in the mud."
Jon pulled his grey cloak tighter, shielding his face from the wind. "Comfort makes men soft, Duncan and I can't afford to be soft, not with what's coming."
"And what is coming?" Duncan asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "Wildlings? The King? Or is this just some bastard's fancy to play at being a commander?"
"Profit," Jon said simply. He navigated the street by memory and by the glowing blue GPS marker hovering in his peripheral vision, visible only to him. "We aren't just building a crew, Duncan, We're building the future. But before we can sell anything, we need a place to make it."
"Make what?" Duncan pressed. "If you're thinking of brewing ale, you'd do better in a cellar. If it's weapons, you need a forge."
"Something better than ale," Jon replied, his breath misting. "A drink that burns the cold away. But to make it, I need privacy. I need a place where the City Watch won't stick their noses. A place that smells so bad, even the rats hesitate to enter."
Duncan stopped and looked ahead, squinting through the snow at the sagging, skeletal structure looming over the frozen stream.
"The Old Tannery?" Duncan looked at Jon as if he were mad. "Seven Hells, boy. That place has been rotting since the last Long Summer. It reeks of piss and lime. You want to set up your shop in a privy?"
"It's not a privy. It's...secluded," Jon corrected, though he wrinkled his nose as the wind shifted, carrying the faint, acrid scent of piss and shit toward them.
"No need to pay and no people nearby to complain about the smoke or the strange smells..... It's perfect."
They trudged closer, the building was a complete disaster, timber blackened by age, a roof that looked like a stiff breeze would collapse it, and half of it hanging precariously over the ice.
"It's a ruin," Duncan stated flatly. "And it's occupied."
Jon stopped, his hand drifted to his belt, though not to his sword. Ghost, who had been a silent white shadow at his heel, suddenly stopped panting. The wolf's hackles rose, a low, vibrating growl rumbling in his chest like distant thunder.
"Occupied by whom?" Jon whispered.
"Squatters....Thieves....The Mudfoot gang, likely," Duncan murmured, loosening the hammer at his belt. "Scum who prey on the weak and they charge a toll for this path."
As if summoned, three shapes detached themselves from the shadows of the Tannery's entrance.
They were what someone would call wretched creatures, thin, shivering, wrapped in layers of filthy rags and stolen furs. But the weapons in their hands...clubs and rusted knives were real enough.
The leader, a man with a weeping sore on his lip and eyes that darted nervously, stepped forward. He grinned, revealing gaps where teeth should be.
"Lost, little crow?" the man rasped. "This is Mudfoot land, so you got to pay the toll."
Duncan sighed, a sound of profound weariness. He stepped forward, his massive frame blocking the wind. "Go find another hole to rot in, worm, this isn't a toll road tonight..... It's going to be someone's stuff."
"Big words for an old dog," the leader sneered, tossing his knife from hand to hand. "Leave the cloak and the boots, and maybe we let you keep your ears, or on another thought....let the pretty one stay, he could have a taste of my cock....heheheh..."
Duncan cracked his knuckles. "I was killing better men than you while you were still suckling on your mother's...."
"Duncan," Jon cut in, his voice calm.
"Stay back, lad," Duncan warned, not looking around. "I'll handle the trash, don't want you dirtying your pretty clothes."
"No," Jon said. He unclasped his heavy wool cloak and let it drop onto a relatively clean patch of snow. "I need to stretch."
Duncan blinked, looking back in genuine confusion. "Boy, this isn't the training yard. These filth won't stop when you yield, they'll gut you."
"I know," Jon said, he felt light.....Fast.
He had the orginal skills of Jon but he didn't want to use that here, the part that remembered the jujitsu classes he took after watching UFC took over. He looked at the leader, and a translucent box floated over the man's head.
[Target: Thug Leader]
[Level: 3]
[Weakness: Left Knee (Previous Injury)]
Jon smirked....thanks for the tip.
"You think this is funny?" The thug snarled, lunging forward with the knife. It was a sloppy, desperate thrust, aimed at the belly.
Jon didn't draw his sword, he simply stepped inside the man's guard, slipping past the knife arm and grabbed the man's greasy collar with his left hand and drove his right boot hard into the man's balls.
CRACK......
The sound was sickeningly loud in the quiet night, the thug screamed, clutching is groin.
Jon didn't stop as he grabbed the back of the man's head and drove it down into his rising knee.
The scream cut off instantly and the man crumpled into the mud, unconscious before he hit the ground.
The other two thugs froze as they looked at their fallen leader, then at the teenager standing over him, calm and breathing evenly.
"Get him!" one screamed, raising a club.
"Ghost," Jon said softly.
The white blur moved as Ghost hit the man in the chest, knocking him flat into the snow. The direwolf stood over him, jaws snapped shut inches from the man's throat.The hot breath of the beast washed over the terrified thug's face.
The third man looked at Duncan, looked at Jon, looked at the giant wolf...and ran. He scrambled over the frozen bank, sliding on the ice, disappearing into the dark.
"Let him go," Jon ordered as Ghost looked ready to give chase. "He'll tell the others."
Jon picked up his cloak, shaking off the snow. He looked down at the unconscious leader. "Drag him to the road. If he wakes up, tell him that I only play with beautiful pussies and tits..... not some ugly bastard."
Duncan stared at Jon, the amusement was gone from the mercenary's eyes, replaced by a wary respect.
"You fight dirty, Snow," Duncan muttered, nudging the fallen man with his boot. "No honor in a breaking someone's balls, even I feel pity for him."
"Honor is for men who expect to live forever," Jon said, walking toward the rotting door of the Tannery. "I just want to win."
They pushed inside, the smell was worse in here...confined and sharp.
"It's a shit-hole," Duncan judged, looking at the cobwebs hanging like drapes from the rafters.
"It's perfect," Jon said, his voice echoing. "The smell hides what we are doing here and the location keeps the casuals away."
He turned to the mercenary. "Here is the job, Duncan. I need this place sealed up and need the roof patched so snow doesn't fall in my brew and I need a door that actually locks."
Jon reached into his pouch and tossed another gold dragon to the big man.
"Go back to town and find me a carpenter who is desperate enough to work at night then find me a glassblower...I need bottles, small ones, clear glass, finally find me five men who can stand guard and aren't afraid of ghosts or wolves."
Duncan caught the coin, frowning.
"A glassblower? For what?"
" It's something called Packaging," Jon said mysteriously. "People pay more for poison if it comes in a pretty bottle."
He walked to the center of the room, pretending to inspect a something. Secretly, he opened the System Shop and bought something he saw was perfect for him.
[Item: Basic Wardstone]
[Cost: 150 Points]
[Effect: Alerts owner of intrusion. mild aversion field]
A small, rune-carved stone appeared in his palm. He knelt down, pretending to check a loose floorboard, and wedged the stone into a crack in the stone foundation.
A faint hum vibrated through his boots, the base was secure, even though he believes that the people will be loyal...he would always have a plan B.
He stood up.
"Get it done, Duncan," Jon said, the shadows of the Tannery hiding his face.
Duncan shook his head, a rough chuckle escaping his beard. "You're a mad lad, Snow. Brewing mystery drinks in a tannery with a direwolf for a pet. But....." He flipped the gold coin in the air.
"The coin is good. I'll get your men."
The giant turned and marched out into the cold night.
Jon stood alone in the dark, stinking ruins. He pulled out the bundle of Widow's Leaf from his pocket and took a great sniff....oh yeah.....
Authors Note:-
Another 1.6k chap.
Well jon plays dirty..... seriously i never ever saw a fight even in death situations....no one kicks in the balls that the most lethal attack against men...well jon will be kicking ball all over.... maybe joffrey.
So support your shameless Author with power stones and collections...
Also as per everyones request a new Harry Potter smut fic is in.....just read and enjoy....