Thirty five thousand men had marched south of their homes at the call of their lords; some would not march back north again, and as the dawn rose so did they, together in armour ranging from boiled leather to plate steel noble and baseborn both proud first men all assembled at the banner of the dire wolf, and on the eve of the battle against Prince Rhaegar the crowned prince if the Seven Kingdoms, formed into a mass of men ready for the charge, as the boggy terrain had eliminated the use of cavalry in this engagement.

As the mass of men moved into position they saw the large form of Robert Baratheon take the head of the Andal forces, he was a tank of man especially in his armour and puffed up like a peacock on parade and every man there felt the raging hatred burning from him, he slowly made his way to the front of the army with hammer in hand.

Deep in the ranks of the Northern army came a quiet song, started by one nervous man trying to stop the fear from showing

"C, Come the day and come the hour" he began quietly the song was an old one translated from the tong of the first men, the man beside him also fearful that this was his fated day herd him and took up the song, then the next man and the next it began to build

"Come the power and the glory
We have come to answer
Our Country's call
From the four proud provinces of Stark land"

Grate Jon smirked ruefully, and then he laughed his grate booming laugh as he joined the song loudly and proudly, he was proud of his first man heritage and loved "the call" as a child and sung it to his children as his father sung it to him and so on and so forth to the first Umber who legends told was a giant, friend and near blood brother to Bran the builder.

"First men, first men
Together standing tall
Shoulder to shoulder
We'll answer the lupine's call"

Rickard Karstark shook his head and smiled "the call" had always reminded him of better times with his father and brothers a time when he was just the son of the sun of winter and not the lord, he added his own voice to the call as all of the Karstark's had since the Andals where repelled like the sea at low tide.

"From the mighty Glens of Wolfs wood
From the rugged hills of Karhold
From the walls of Last Hearth
And the Crannog Swamps
From the four proud provinces of the Stark lands"

Howland Reed was a proud son of the north and of the First men, he was taught "the call" was something his mother had taught him after his father had passed, she had said that it was his to teach to his children and that every true son of the north knew it, his voice was not loud or too soft but as he was taught every voice was equal in "the call".

"First men, first men
Together standing tall
Shoulder to shoulder
We'll answer the lupine's call"

Roose Bolton as a youth had been taught a different version of "the call" than most, his father had called it "the true call" replacing the Karstarks and the Reeds with the Bolton's and the Grey Starks but with his own houses fall from grace and the destruction of the Grey Starks he understood why, though he vowed in his very sole to return his hose to prominence.

"Hearts of steel
And heads unbowing
Vowing never to be broken
We will fight, until
We can fight no more
From the four proud provinces of Stark land"

Ned stood tall as "the call" sounded; his dreams had been dark of late, full of nightmares of the destruction of his land and house by the three headed dragon, a dream that had almost come true as his sister had been stolen by the Prince, and his father and brother had been butchered, slaughtered by the Mad king and his sole howled out for justice, for vengeance and for the deaths of those who had wronged him.

"First men, first men
Together standing tall
Shoulder to shoulder
We'll answer the lupine's call"

Deep in the back his mind something bound had been loosed, and all the mercy and all of the false honour taught to him was beginning to bleed away, where was the honour in the south, there king had murdered a loyal lord who sought justice for crimes committed by his son and crowned prince of the realm, and for that he burned and his brother had strangled himself to death trying to save him.

NO MORE!

The North Remembered, the North remembered every slight and every insult, the North remembered every lost son and daughter, killed by the order of other men, men who knew nothing of the North or the true gods and Nothing of true winter, but they would learn for Winter, true Winter is Coming with all the fury and thirst of a pack of hungry Dire Wolfs and all of the rage of generations lost in the south, in foreign lands for foreign lords who jeered at them and thought them nought but Barbarians.

Ned gripped his sword tightly his knuckles white with sheer force in his grip, unsheathing the blade, a hand and a half sword decorated with wolf iconography, he raised it ignoring the looks from the Andal lords and nobles, he unleashed a howl for such power and volume that animals for miles hid in fear of the apex predator prowling the lands. Ned pointed his sword at the heart of the Targaryen forces, like a pack of ravenous beasts a range of howls roars and cries followed, and then Ned sprang into action running, at the head of the pack of deadly warriors and into history.