Attack of the Wildlings

In the lands of Westeros, a new threat loomed on the horizon: the attack of the wildlings. Often, there were one or more little wildlings in each home: he arrived 9 months after a drunken evening, grew up while emptying the food stocks, and around the age of 15, began a crisis of wildness which undermined the values family at the cost of internal conflicts with noise and noise. After his twenties, this little wildling took a wife, and in turn created lots of little wildlings to perpetuate the family lineage. But during these attacks, it did not seem that we were talking about the same wildlings. These had a much more complex history, and came from beyond the wall, in the cold lands where freezing nights often prevent reproduction. The G2L were therefore preparing to take on the challenges ahead, and were preparing to defend their respective castles against successive waves. As accomplished great lords, the G2L had little fear of barbarism. Nor was the number of hordes to come a source of concern. Valeryan weapon equipment and combat techniques learned from war experience could easily overcome disorganized savages. It was therefore time for laughter during the preparations as the event approached.

The beginner level of the event was shaping up to be a fairly accessible test. Glorf, one of the leaders of the G2L, was known for his abundant words. In fact, Glorf spoke tirelessly, trying to motivate the troops and sharing his strategies. Sometimes we had to lock him up to stop him talking. Sometimes he talked until the event started without finishing his introductory speech. Despite his fruitful and incessant chats, no one could deny Glorf's positive impact on the alliance. So, as usual when our valiant warriors found themselves facing an event too simple for them, it began while Glorf was still speaking. The first waves of wildlings, fierce as they could be, seemed to live up to their name. Without commander, without weapon, without awakening, without even any statistics. They were simply there to storm the castles of the Lords of Westeros. Slow as they were, their speed was not even likely to do any damage to the wall enclosure.

The alliance took the opportunity to welcome Thimo, who had recently joined the G2L. Thimo came from a wild country called Belgium. He was not unknown to the members of the alliance, since he had formerly belonged to the FVM alliance which had merged with the G2L. Thimo also had a particularity of his own: he was once the husband (again?) of Anne Ibale. Anne Ibale therefore, Anne Ibale, the woman of multiple marriages, who often found herself at the center of the agitation. Despite the friendly mockery to which she was subject within the alliance, Anne remained an experienced warrior, always ready to bring a touch of humor and lightness. The anecdotes about her numerous husbands, of which she herself was a bit of a victim, made the alliance laugh, creating a relaxed atmosphere even in times of war.

Despite the expected lack of difficulty, the G2Ls did not fail to bring out their finest attire. Zarachiel proudly displayed his burning castle throne, Arthurion exhibited his Daenerys, whose dragon's breath was often enough to discourage the toughest opponents. We had made ourselves as beautiful as to participate in the alliance conquest, and the most exquisite bonuses blazed in the septuary. Subsequent waves were met with the same unwavering resistance. Could it be otherwise, when a commander was not really guiding his barbarian hordes? We would like to say that the G2Ls were a living wall, repelling the wildlings with disconcerting efficiency. We would like to praise the perfect harmony of the troops and the coordination of the incessant attacks. We would like to sing of each member the precision of the arrows of the archers of Zarachiel, the impassive guard of the infantry of PacoVega, or the celerity of the charges of the cavalry of Arthurion sweeping away the wildlings who tried in vain to cross the first lines defense. But it was hardly any. No attack even passed the enclosure of the wall, nor shook the slightest stone.

The castle wall and the flames of the dragons were impassable ramparts for the wildlings. Each assault turned into an easy victory for the G2L. The members of the alliance demonstrated exemplary striking power, which were the mark of the true Lords of Westeros. The difficulty levels of the following waves were hardly more intimidating for the G2Ls. Each wave was pushed back with disconcerting ease. The wildlings, devoid of any strategic subtlety, were eliminated one after the other, reduced to a wild tide attacking in vain the walls of the glorious civilization of Westerios.

While Glorf was still talking, we could listen a little to Cléry, the inveterate complainer, who could not help but express his displeasure. Always ready to express his opinion, Cléry was the self-appointed critic of the alliance. However, even his ranting was met with humor by the members of the alliance, who knew his temperament well. Too easy. Not enough ambition or scope. As a gruff man, Cléry led his spear troops, often dissatisfied with the level of his opponents.

At the end of the event, the G2L castles still stood tall, resisting all waves of attacks. The victory was sweet, easy, but more importantly, the alliance had come through the ordeal with solidarity and humor. The members of the G2L could boast of having triumphed over the wildlings, not only with weapons and troops, but also with the power of friendship and the diversity of characters which made them truly inflexible.