Game of Thrones: The Legend of Jon Arctic - ASOIAF/GOT [Book - 1]

Chapter 185 - The Doom of Those Who Enter the Lands of Artica 01.

[Chapter Size: 3200 Words.]

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Thrid Person POV

North, 296 AC.

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The screams began to echo that night, filled with death and terror, from a corner of the camp. Everyone was confused, exclaiming in shock, as if they were under a wild invasion.

The panic spread rapidly throughout the camp, and soon more screams and rumors surfaced. It wasn't a wild attack, as they first thought; shouts about monsters, undead, and corpses attacking them quickly circulated among the soldiers, many of whom ran in the opposite direction.

The camp's first line of defense began to crumble as more and more corpses advanced, growling and claiming victims one after another. The southern soldiers could hardly react to the terror of seeing indescribable monsters before them, fighting more out of desperation than attempting to maintain any formation.

"What are these things?!"

"By the Seven, save us!"

"How can we defeat these monsters?!"

Terrified cries burst forth desperately as more and more undead pressed them, beginning to invade their positions, killing anyone they could, leaving more and more southerners as corpses scattered across the snow.

Lord Westerling quickly advanced toward the commotion with his men and members of the Night's Watch, running to see what was happening. He moved through the rows of men, gazing at the scenes before him, filled with shocking exclamations.

The campfires began to spread due to the chaos, setting tents ablaze, illuminating everything and giving the people a clearer view of the horrors unfolding.

"This... by the gods..." He stopped with his men, watching a veritable wave of the dead advancing toward them. Soldiers tried to stab the creatures, but they wouldn't stop even as their bodies were cut; they continued growling and killing more and more soldiers.

Lord Westerling froze, his face locked in horror. Even the Night's Watch members present trembled as they watched the ghastly creatures, unsure of what they were, with bright blue eyes and animalistic snarls.

"We have to do something against them!" exclaimed a man beside Westerling, equally terrified.

Lord Westerling looked at a member of the Night's Watch nearby and quickly questioned him, "Can you tell me what these things are?"

"I don't know. I've never seen anything like this," answered Qhorin Halfhand, wearing the same fearful expression as his comrades, losing all the confidence of an experienced fighter.

"You're saying you don't know what these things are? Fine... we need to stop them!" The commander swiftly began organizing his men as they approached, giving orders to everyone around. "Stand firm, men! We'll fight against these monsters!" Lord Westerling commanded, despite his fear, trying to control the situation.

The men began to listen, starting to handle the creatures more effectively. The battle raged on throughout the night, with arctic owls watching the carnage from the trees.

When dawn broke, the camp was shrouded in smoke, with tents and trees burned. The southern soldiers bore expressions of shock and exhaustion after an entire night of fighting, looking over the remains of their fallen comrades, who were being carried like dead animals to be thrown into massive pits for burning, with several such pits scattered around.