Welcome back, thanks for sticking around.
Thanks to the reviewers for all the input and support.
Also I realise I haven't done this yet so I own nothing besides the OCs I create, which so far includes Eadric, Severus and Dinontus. The rest belong to GRRM or Bethesda respectively.

Castle Black, The North, Westeros

Eadric paced the square of Castle Black, he had become a common fixture of the yard over the two days since he'd chosen to stay at the castle. Around him the several groups of recruits practised their sword swings and in the centre was Jon, showing Grenn, Pyp and Rast how to use footwork properly. Thorne hadn't asked him to do a repeat of the little challenge a few days ago, he'd muttered something about it making Snow think too much of himself.

The door to the armoury at the side of the square opened and Thorne stepped out, carrying his longsword in his hands as he led what looked like a very, very fat recruit to the centre group of Jon and the others. "What in the Seven Hells is that?" He heard Grenn ask when he saw the new recruit.

"They'll need an eighth hell to fit him in." Pyp said with a laugh.

Shrugging to himself slightly the Nord walked over to join them as well, earning him a glare from Rast who didn't take being throttled very well. "Tell them your name." Alliser ordered, sounding bored.

"Samwell Tarly." The fat one spoke. "Of Hornhill, I mean... I was of Hornhill" He looked like he was already tired out from the short walk from the armoury. "I've come to take the black."

"Come to take the black pudding." Rast joked, which drew no response from anyone but Pyp who only smirked.

Thorne scowled. "Well, you can't be any worse than you look." He turned to Rast, who stopped smirking immediately. "Rast. See what he can do."

Rast nodded slightly and stepped in front of Samwell, who readied himself and tried to look intimidating. What followed could have been considered funny if Rast hadn't clearly taken joy in whacking at Tarly, who put up no fight whatsoever and was sent to the floor with one measly hit. "I yield!" Samwell begged. "I yield, please no more!"

Alliser rolled his eyes. "On your feet, pick up your sword." When Tarly didn't stand he looked at Rast. "Hit him, until he finds his feet." Rast again nodded and began whirling blows down onto the still prone Samwell. After a few strokes Rast stopped. "Seems they run short of poachers and thieves down south, now they send us squealing bloody pigs." Jon, who had up until now stepped forward, probably to help Samwell up but was stopped by Pyp. "Again. Harder." Thorne instructed to Rast again.

The strokes fell again and again Tarly begged. "Enough!" Jon called out. Both Rast and Thorne looked at him. "He yielded." Both glared at him as he moved forward and pulled Tarly to his feet.

"Looks like the bastard's in love." Thorne spat out. "Alright, Lord Snow. You want to defend your lady love, let's make it an exercise. You two." He motioned at Pyp and Grenn to join Rast. "Three of you ought to be sufficient to make lady piggy squeal." He crossed his arms and smiled maliciously. "All you gotta do is get past the bastard."

Eadric crossed his arms and watched, already knowing the outcome. "You sure you want to do this?" Jon asked Grenn as the three advanced.

Grenn shook his head and was visibly worried. "No." He glanced at Pyp who looked equelly concerned. Rast, however, was not and immediately charged and received a kick to his crotch and fell to the floor in agony. Pyp then tried his luck only to get an elbow to the side of the face. Last of all was Grenn who put up the best fight and traded a couple of blows with Jon before being kicked away. Jon advanced on his and he quickly dropped the sword. "Yield, yield, yield. I yield."

Thorne scowled again as Grenn pciked up his sword. He glanced at Eadric, who has up until now just stood nearby and watched. "You want to try, Nord?" The question caused Samwell to look at the Nord and he looked visibly terrified that the giant of a man might be set against Jon and himself.

"It's not Jon who needs to learn." Eadric shrugged.

Alliser glanced at Tarly and smirked evilly. "What do you Nords do to fat ones anyway?"

Eadric looked at Thorne and then at Samwell, who was now looking at the Nord with a mixture of fear and curiosity. "We don't get many fat ones in Skyrim, wolves tend to get them."

Thorne nodded slightly and turned back to the recruits. "We're done for the day. Go glean the armoury, all you're good for." He scowled at them again before walking off.

Eadric looked at Jon and the others before making to follow Thorne. "So much for the noble place to go for second sons." He muttered as he caught up with the older man.

"He isn't a second son." Thorne said as he walked up the stairs to the castles main hall. "He's the first son of Randyll Tarly." Alliser opened the door and walked in, holding it for the Nord. "Best fucking general in the Reach and that thing is his son." He walked to the back of the room and took two mugs along with a jug of ale. "At least Snow can fight, but that fat fuck..." He said is disgust as he poured the ale into one mug and held it out to Eadric.

The Nord took it and drank a bit of the ale. "Would've thought his father would've made sure he trained for war."

"That's why he's here." Thorne muttered as he drank. "His father drove him out when his actual second son did well in training, the fuck we supposed to do with him?"

"You will do with him as you have all the other recruits." An old, faint voice came from behind the two. Turning to see who it was, Eadric saw the old steward of Castle Black.

Thorne looked at the steward and nodded slightly, his scowl gone. "Of course, Maester Aemon."

The old man shuffled over to the table and felt for the seat, when his hand found he sat down with a sigh. "Good to rest the old bones. So." He looked slightly to the side of the Nord, probably guessing where he was. "You're the Nord?"

"Aye, I am." Eadric said with a slight nod, even though the man couldn't see it. "And you're one of these Maesters I keep hearing about?"

"Yes, yes I am." The old man spoke."Sworn to the Citadel and the Watch both. Tell me, why is a Son of Skyrim in Westeros?"

Eadric looked at him, no one had asked him this yet and he wasn't about to reveal who his master was. "I was hired to guard a merchant." He lied, hopefully convincingly. "Shipwrecked off the coast and I walked for days before I arrived at Winterfell."

Aemon didn't speak for a few seconds. "Ser Alliser, would you allow me and our friend some privacy for a moment?"

Thorne looked at him for a moment before downing his ale. "Of course, maseter Aemon." He stood and nodded to the Nord before leaving, probably looking for recruits to yell at.

When the door closed Aemon spoke again. "Would you mind telling me the truth, son of Skyrim?"

The Nord sighed. "How did you know?"

"I grew up in Kingslanding." Was his simple answer.

Eadric sighed again. "How much do you know of the Nine?"

The Maestor looked upwards, as if remembering. "The Nine Divines, Akatosh, Mara, Kynareth, Julianus, Stendarr, Dibella, Arkay, Zenithar and Tiber Septim. We have a few tomes on the Empire in the library and I read them many a time before age caught up with me." He said with a chuckle.

Eadric nodded slowly. "Well I'm here to serve the one who commands me, just he's quite lenient about what I do."

Aemon nodded again. "The Lord Commander says you're not to take the Black."

"I have a wife, she's with child."

"Ah, love." He smiled slightly. "Do you have any duties, Harald's son?"

"To my Jarl, my Hold and my Kin. Same as every Nord." Eadric said, wondering where the old man was going.

The old maester's smile didn't falter. "Sounds like the Tully words 'Family, Duty, Honour'. Well." He said as he stood up slowly, his bones audibly creaking. "I'll leave you be, but first I will give you some advise, love is the death of duty." The old man left and not for the first time Eadric was left alone in an area of Castle Black.

Eastern Sea

The sound of steel clashing rang out across the Shivering Maiden and the nearby sea. Backing up, Frothar raised his shield to block Erik's attack and tried to lung with his blade, only for the older Nord to swat the blade aside with his own shield. "Don't aim for my shielded side, try and hit me above or below the shield." Erik instructed as he pushed his advantage over the teenager.

"But you'll just block them with your shield." Frothar said as he again raised his shield to block another, harder strike. Before he could retaliate Erik attacked again successively, hitting the shield several times.

"Then try something else." The older Nord said, backing up. Frothar gritted his teeth and attacked again, charging with his shield forward and trying to knock Erik off balance. When their shields collided Erik stood firm and used his superior weight and strength to push back, throwing Frothar off balance instead, sending him back and nearly falling over while also dropping his sword. Before the young man could fall Erik caught him and pulled him up. "Right, I think that's enough for one day. Go get some rest." Frothar nodded and picked up his dropped sword before walking to the back of the ship, towards the cabins.

"He takes after his uncle more than his father doesn't he?" Came a voice from behind him.

Erik turned to see Severus standing just behind him, clearly having watched the training session. "Aye, he does." He nodded slightly, then smirked. "Bet Lydia taught him a lot when he grew up."

Severus laughed and nodded. "Yes, I bet she did." He looked over the side of the ship and out across the sea, just spotting the northern coast of Akivir on the horizon. "By the Nine I'm missing her already, but I'd rather she stay in Skyrim than go where we are."

Erik nodded and spotted another member of the retinue making his way over, with a nod the man spoke. "Ysmir, the Legate wants to speak to you." He gestured to the bow of the ship, where Rikke was studying a map alongside Neloth, who currently seemed to be busy explaining to some poor sod how to make canis root tea just the way he liked it.

"Well let's not keep her waiting." Severus muttered before walking towards the Legate.

As Severus and Erik approached the small two, Neloth's voice could be clearly heard "-You put the root in halfway through the boiling process you fool, not at the start. Try again." The attendant grimaced and poured the liquid over the side of the ship before trying again, cursing under his breath. "Ah you're here, good." Neloth said when he spotted Severus and Erik. "I still have some friends alive in Westeros from when I was last there..." Eyebrows rose around him and the Dark Elf just shrugged. "I do travel now and then. Anyway." He continued. "Around twenty years ago there was a massive Civil War between several of the great houses." He pointed at the map on the table.

"House Targeryan conquered the Seven Kingdoms and ruled them for three hundred years from Kingslanding." He pointed at the city on the map, roughly in the middle but on the eastern coast in a bay. "Before one of their princes kidnapped the daughter of Lord Rickard Stark, who ruled the North for the King." The area he gestured to encompassed around half the continent of Westeros. "However it was really started when the King executed both the Lord and his first son. In response the new Lord of the North, the Lord of the Vale, the Lord of the Riverlands and the Lord of the Stormlands rose up in rebellion and eventually defeating the Targeryans." As he spoke he pointed at each region in order. "The new King is the old Lord of the Stormlands, Robert Baratheon, the lover of the Stark the prince kidnapped."

"Never thought I'd see the day Ulfric's War looked simple." Rikke muttered. "As master Neloth suggested when he first came aboard we'll dock in Kingslanding and begin our search from there. With luck, the King will see our urgency and allow us to pursue the champions unmolested."

As they were discussing the plans Dinontus approached them. "I doubt we'll run into opposition, there's only several hundred of us after all."

Rikke crossed her arms. "Five hundred and forty heavy infantry along with one hundred and sixty heavy cavalry, as well as the Dragonguard." Severs rolled his eyes as she used the nickname his retinue had gained over the years. "He wouldn't just let such a force roam around at will, chances are he hasn't even heard of us."

"Oh I assure you they have tomes on Tamriel." Neloth spoke as he sipped his finally prepared tea. "Though all they have came from the Septim Empire so expect their knowledge to be horrendously out of date. I wouldn't be surprised if they expect us to all wield Daikatanas and wear that clunky old armour your Legion used to be so fond of."

The Legate nodded slowly. "If the King refuses us entry we can begin our search in Essos earlier than planned, then move back into Westeros when the situation there has been contained."

"What about this area?" Dinontus asked as he pointed to a small bit of land at the top of Westeros called 'Beyond the Wall'. "Couldn't we try there if the King rebukes us?"

Neloth shook his head. "To try would just cause more problems, the Wall they mention is defended by a group called the Night's Watch, and they'll only try to drive us off if we landed."

Severus nodded slightly. "Regardless, we'll try Kingslanding first and if that fails sail across the..." He looked at the map again. "... Narrow Sea. For now though we have to get there." The others nodded and began to trickle off, eventually just leaving Neloth and Severus. "One thing I don't get is, what do you gain from coming with us?"

The Dark Elf looked up from the map and his tea. "It's very simple. The people of Westeros haven't seen magic in over a century, I figure that once I show off a bit they'll grant me a large amount of their tomes, maybe a few Dragon Eggs."

"I'll never say I've gotten on with you Neloth, but one thing I will give you is you know how to act like a mad mage."

Neloth smirked and sipped his tea. "I try, by Malacath's toenails do I try."

The Haunted Forest, North of the Wall, Westeros

Cotter ran, that's all he could do. That thing killed the rest of his band and he knew he was next so he ran, ran for dear life. Behind him the sound of tree branches snapping drove him further onward, knowing that the beast was getting closer and closer.

Ahead of him was a small frozen river that ran from the frostfangs all the way to the bay of Seals. Knowing it was his best chance he leaped down onto it and ran along it, hoping by all the gods that he could find the cave he and his band had used for shelter mere days before. The sound of the beast slowed and soon couldn't be heard against the sound of hard boots thudding against the hard ice.

Seeing the cave he dived into it and franticly looked around for something he could use to defend himself. Finding a spear one of the band had probably left he braced himself for what was to come, but it never did. Silence was all that surrounded him and it unnerved him more than any sounds the beast could make would. He cursed himself for his luck, for trying to rob that man they'd found in the forest that day. When they'd found him he was just wandering around with a sword on his hip and shield on his back and armour, armour of the likes he'd never seen. It was steel and carved in a way that made it beautiful, if terrifying.

If they had known what that man would've done they would've let him be, let the White Walkers get him, let him become one of theirs. instead they held their weapons at him and demanded everything he had in exchange for his life. It was then that it happened. The man had started convulsing nearly immediately, at first they thought he was sick but he wasn't. The man's arms had extended and fur had grown from his body. Soon he had transformed into a monster, nine feet tall and shaped like a wolf. With a roar he had charged the small band of Free Folk and tore the ones unlucky enough to be near him apart, the ground had been soaked in blood.

After that they all ran but Cotter had looked back and what he saw sickened him to the bone. back at the corpses of their fallen clan brothers the monster was hunched over them and was devouring them. When Cotter had looked at the spectacle, terrified, its head had shot up to look at him, it's deep red eyes burrowed into him and he was completely taken by fear, fear of that thing. So he ran.

For now though there was silence, only the dripping of water in the cave broke the terrifying silence. Fighting away his fear, Cotter inched towards the entrance of the cave, spear held forward and ready to strike. Soon he came to the entrance, he looked around, no sign of the beast. Tentatively stepping out he hoped it'd given up and maybe returned to its last kills.

All those hopes were dashed when he heard the growl above him, just above the top of the cave entrance. The soft clink of claws on stone sapped everything out of him and he stood, frozen solid with fear, maybe it would leave soon, maybe it would let him live. The thing breathed heavily, very heavily. Every half a second he saw a gust of steam break just over the top of the cave, the breath of the monster. For over a minute he stood, paralysed by his own fear and desire for survival. For over a minute the breath of the monster was visible. Eventually the heavy breathing stopped and the steam disappeared. Breathing a sigh of relief, Cotter thought he could fall sleep where he stood. But then the breathing started again, from behind him.

The last thing Cotter felt was the claws of the Werewolf dig into his back as he was dragged back into the cave.

Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine
Skjor - Hircine
Mystery person - Try guessing
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal

Thanks for reading we finally get a look at what Skjor has been up to while North of the Wall.
Also, sorry for the relative lack of the other champions, I'd rather avoid having to do the journey of every single one and some are being kept under wraps for reasons you'll eventually find out.
As always feel free to leave a review or PM me, all feedback is helpful and wanted.