Derik Thomas #285048
Winterfell @ Creekside
Wielding the power of Nightwatch Raven (#3), Derik demonstrated exceptional skill by playing +110 points above their rating in this epic clash.
Sentinel's Watch
The Warden's trials have begun in earnest, as Skyler Kunz and his Stormborn Phoenix blaze a path through the magical challenges that will prove the North's champions. Under the watchful eye of Tormund 'Creek Walker' Giantsbane, the ancient godswood of Creekside Park has become a crucible, where EJ Orschel and his fellow players must master the elements themselves. As whispers of an approaching darkness echo through the frost-touched pines, the Storm Thrones pulse with barely contained power, a promise and a warning of the trials to come. With each throw, the guardians of the North grow stronger, their resolve tempered by the icy winds of winter itself. Yet even as they rise to meet the challenges set before them, a deeper chill settles in their bones - a premonition of the true tests that await them, when the fate of the North will hang in the balance.
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Sentinel's Watch
The frost-covered grass crunched beneath Tormund Giantsbane's boots as he knelt to examine the tracks. They were unlike anything he had seen before, even in his years ranging beyond the Wall. The shape was familiar - a direwolf, but larger, the claws digging deep into the frozen earth.
An ill omen, he thought, his breath misting in the cold air. And on the eve of the Sentinel's Watch, no less.
He rose, his eyes scanning the tree line. The Godswood was quiet, but the old gods whispered their warnings on the wind. Winter was coming, and with it, a threat that even now stalked the shadows of the North.
Tormund turned as Derik, EJ, and Skyler approached, their breath pluming in the chill air.
"The old gods stir," Tormund rumbled. "These tracks bear their warning."
Derik stepped forward, the Nightwatch Raven hanging heavy around his neck. As he neared the tracks, the talisman pulsed, the ancient iron warming against his skin.
"I feel it too," he said, his hand closing around the raven. "A shadow on the edge of sight, watching, waiting."
Tormund nodded, his gaze hardening. "Aye. And it falls to us to stand guard."
Together, they turned to face the course, the baskets glinting like sentinels in the pale light. Each hole was a challenge, a test of their resolve and readiness in the face of the growing darkness.
As they played, the Nightwatch Raven guided Derik's throws, its warmth a constant reminder of his duty. On the seventh hole, as he lined up a shot through a narrow, frost-covered corridor, the talisman pulsed urgently.
Danger.
Derik paused, reassessing the shot. The raven's warning had come just in time - beyond the gap, a patch of black ice lay in wait, ready to send his disc skittering off course.
A guardian's sight, he thought, adjusting his stance. The raven sees what I cannot.
With a deep breath, he let the disc fly, watching as it sailed through the gap and settled safely on the fairway beyond.
As the round drew to a close, Tormund gathered the players once more.
"Well thrown," he said, his gaze lingering on Derik. "The Nightwatch Raven has chosen its bearer well."
Derik inclined his head, the weight of the talisman a reminder of the trust placed in him.
"But our trials are far from over," Tormund continued. "The tracks are but the first sign. The true threat still lurks beyond our sight."
He turned to face the North, the wind tugging at his beard.
"We are the Watchers on the Wall. The Sentinels in the Shadows. And when the Long Night comes, it will be our vigilance that keeps the realms of men safe."
As if in answer, a sudden gust of wind tore through the course, carrying with it a bone-deep chill.
Winter is coming, Derik thought, his hand tightening around the Nightwatch Raven. And we must be ready.
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