Steve the Messiah

Comments and Reviews would be welcome as always. :3

Voting seems split pretty evenly soooo, Elia and Torrhen have a child but remain friends and their relationship is not affected?

Yes

No

Eigth Moon of 284 AC, The Far North:

POV: Mance Rayder

Castle Black faded into the snow and stone behind them, a smear of shadow against the Wall's towering white face.

They were seven when they slipped away in the night — seven who had seen enough. Seven who refused to keep watch behind frozen gates while the Free Folk were butchered by monsters no one dared name. Mance Rayder led them, clad no longer in black, but in a patchwork of leathers and fur, with chainmail beneath, looted from one of the red eyed undead he had killed two moons earlier during a ranging.

He was done with oaths. Oaths had built the Wall — and the Wall had long become a prison for him, the appearence of these monsters and the decision of the Lord Commander to not help thousands of innocents when he could had severed the last few pieces of loyalty Mance had held to his oaths.

They rode northward, skirting old paths through the Haunted Forest. Rumors had trickled to Castle Black along the wall: the western coast was growing perilous. Mormonts from Bear Island and the ironborn had begun raiding the coast — and the Mormonts were even establishing a fort on some high ridge above the icy cliffs north of the Shadow Tower. No, west would mean war. East, though... east meant water. Food. Trade. Salt. Life.

Mance was heading for the sea.

The first tribe they found called themselves the Ashheads — stragglers, ragged and sickly, living in the ruins of a burnt village. There were no walls. No guards. Just piles of wet ash, old bones, and eyes filled with dread.

Mance didn't blame them.

"We've seen the red-eyed dead," their elder woman whispered. "We lost thirty in one night. Our firewood ran out. We thought the forest would protect us…"

"We'll build better fires," Mance said. "And walls. And spears."

The Ashheads followed him the next day.

A week later, the Redbears found them. Loud, brawling, and drunk on fermented pine-mead, the Redbears were known for their strength — and their stubbornness.

Their leader, Harold the Roarer, challenged Mance at once.

"I don't follow just anyone," Hrold barked, flexing arms thick as tree trunks. "Especially not crows,

Mance didn't waste words. He dropped his cloak, revealing the stolen chainmail glittering beneath, and drew steel.

The duel was swift. Mance danced around the bigger man's blows and opened a line across his leg, then another across his chest. When Hrold stumbled, Mance disarmed him with a quick twist and sent him into the snow.

Hrold lay back laughing. "You fight like a southron. One of 'em knights, eh?"

"No," Mance said, panting. "I fight to win."

Hrold stood, clasped his forearm, and grinned. "Then I'll follow you, crow."

The Redbears had no qualms following him.

As the weeks and then months passed, the pattern repeated. Tribe after tribe.

The Rootdrinkers. The Ghostmen. The Spearwives of Gloomfall.

Some fought. Most fell. All joined.

Mance earned scars and captains. He gave them tasks... a purpose: foraging, watchkeeping, hunting. No one starved. No one froze. Word spread — a leader was rising.

One night, as their growing caravan made camp in a dry hollow, Mance could be found in his tent lit by firelight and filled with somberness, business as usual, when a young woman entered his tent followed by one of his guards.

"She asked to see you," said Brandon, one of his oldest companions, with a wicked grin. "We saw no reason to refuse her."

Mance got up, hand on the hilt of his sword. The woman — golden-haired, fine-featured, with dark, sharp eyes, was quite bit younger than him but clearly here for him. Upon asking she told him her name was Dalla. He tried to confirm his suspicions.

"You know what they say," she said with a soft smirk, "a man who leads must be claimed, or claimed he'll be."

He opened his mouth to protest. Then paused.

The cold crept in around the tent's seams. He thought of the long nights on the Wall, of vows and loneliness and senseless rules. He had left all that behind.

Mance stepped forward and undid his cloak and for the first time in his life, after being raised at Castle Black and never knowing a woman's touch, he experienced a night of passion.

Morning came with sharp wind and sharper eyes.

Dalla walked with him among the campfires, fingers curled in his. At the cooking pit, a younger girl eyed him as if weighing his soul.

"This is my sister, Val," Dalla said.

Val, no more than ten and four, stood tall with a bow in hand, quiver slung over her shoulder. Her hair was moonlight-white, and she regarded Mance with more curiosity than deference.

"I could've shot you from the ridge," she said bluntly. "Didn't, though. Dalla says you're clever."

"She's right," Mance said, amused.

"She also said you snore."

Mance barked a laugh. "That true, Dalla?"

Dalla only smirked.

He looked at Val again, noting her posture — confident, alert, already a huntress. One day, she would be as formidable as her sister. Maybe more. He would keep an eye on her, her growing beauty might be a little too tempting for some of his people, especially those men who liked their partners a little younger.

As disgruntling as the thought was, Mance knew that those kinds of men existed. A rumour about a southern Lord called Walder Frey came to mind who had married atleast 5 times already, had become quite old by now and was (according to the rumours) bedding girls who had barely grown to become women. Simply disgusting, but what could you do?

"She'll need training," Mance said.

"She teaches herself," Dalla replied proudly. "Like we all do."

Mance nodded, "I'll give her the freedom to keep doing just that."

**Scene Break**

Second Moon of 285 AC, Skane Island:

POV: Steve Craftson

The portal still shimmered in the cave's heart, humming softly with the same eerie glow as the day they'd first found it. Its glowstone frame pulsed with faint warmth, untouched by time or weather.

The four of them stood before it again, cloaks dusted with snow, breath misting the still air.

"Hmmm," Steve mused, tilting his head and flashing a crooked smirk. "Still any worries that the glowstone portal might disappear anytime soon?"

Torrhen folded his arms, eyes narrowed in thought. "Well, I do have to admit it seems our worries were rather unwarranted. It's better this way though. We can likely go back and forth now — bring more and more building resources into Westeros. Maybe even get more netherite, if time allows."

Alex stepped forward and tapped her foot near the stone base of the frame. "Then we'd better secure this cave before someone stumbles onto it and starts asking questions we don't want to answer."

"Meaning?" Torrhen asked, raising a brow.

"Let's split up," she said decisively. "Steve and Torrhen head back to the manor and resupply — we'll need stone, wood, redstone, lanterns, anything that helps us scale Frostgate. Meanwhile, Lyarra and I stay here and reinforce the cave. Secret doors, traps, camo — the usual. Let's face it: there's no way Westerosi lords aren't going to get curious about where we're getting netherite swords and all that gold."

Steve grinned, already itching to get his hands back on the storage chests. "Sounds like a plan."

Moments later, he and Torrhen stepped through the portal, heat brushing against their skin as the glow swallowed them whole.

The cozy hum of their overworld manor greeted them instantly.

Steve let out a breath and rolled his shoulders. "Back to home base."

Torrhen chuckled, already making for the supply chests. "Let's move fast. If we're lucky, we can haul enough for the next three expansions in one trip. We're planning to build a proper port after that, and that needs a looooot of stone."

Steve was only half-listening. His gaze had drifted to the trading hall where villagers in robes of all colors milled about behind their job blocks — some murmuring softly, others locked in place waiting for a trade.

A wild idea struck him.

"What if," Steve muttered, rubbing his chin, "we pushed a few of them through the portal?"

Torrhen turned, one brow arched. "To what end?"

"Well, we're going to need someone to run the farms. They're not exactly fighters, but they're consistent, trained, and we've got enough carrots and wheat to keep them happy for years. Plus…" Steve grinned, "...I want to know what happens. How they look like on the other side and how they will react."

Torrhen laughed aloud. "You just don't want to stand at the cobblestone generator for ten minutes, do you?"

Steve looked offended — only slightly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh." Torrhen turned back to the chests. "Fine. I'll be doing that then. See you when my inventory's full of all kinds of stone and wood."

Steve saluted and made a beeline for the trading hall.

A few minutes later, the minecarts clicked and clacked on the rails he'd hastily laid from the hall to the portal. One by one, the villagers rolled forward and vanished into the glowing void — four in total, selected for their farmer professions and high-level trades.

Satisfied, Steve dusted his hands, then stepped through the portal himself.

What he saw on the other side made him freeze.

The villagers were no longer… villagers.

They were people. Human-shaped. Taller. Clothed not in pixel robes but in rough-spun garments, real and textured. One woman had braided hair and eyes wide with awe. Another man clutched the sides of his head as if adjusting to thought for the first time.

And all of them turned to Steve.

Then, as one, they dropped to their knees.

"You…" breathed one of the men — tall, middle aged, eyes shining with something close to rapture. "You have freed us from our prison. You have sent us into another world… you have given us sentience."

Steve blinked. "What."

"For that," the man continued, voice reverent, "we will always follow your guidance, Messiah."

Steve stared, mouth slightly open.

"…Oh.. Well fuck"

**Scene Break**

Second Moon, 285 AC, Skane Island

General Pov

Alex stepped onto a marked area and the redstone mechanism beneath them opened a small hole in the wall. Lyarra stepped through first, followed closely by Alex. They walked through the small hallway they had not filled up towards the chamber. The moment their feet hit the dark stone of the underground chamber, they both froze.

They weren't alone.

There, in the bright torchlight, were four wide-eyed men and women in patchy tunics and straw hats kneeling before Steve. They looked exactly like normal men and women except that their noses were larger and longer than they should have been.

"Messiah, do you have anything you wish us to do?" the man said with reverent clarity.

Steve blinked. "Wait. I have never been in this situation before so bear with me alright?"

Lyarra tilted her head. "Are those…?"

"They're dressed like villagers!" Alex exclaimed, then narrowed her eyes. "Wait a second…"

"Thank Notch you are back. I have no idea what to do. I pushed them through the portal back in the overworld when I was clearing the manor," Steve said, scratching his head. "They were just standing around, getting in the way…"

"They're people now." Lyarra's voice was flat. "Like, actual people."

The four men stared at Steve as if he were a god.

Steve blinked again. "Well, uhm I think they see me as some kind of saviour."

Lyarra rubbed her temples. "I don't think I have to tell you guys the immense implications this has."

Torrhen, who had just arrived through the portal, grunted. "Yeah. No kidding."

There was a moment of silence as they all digested what this meant.

Steve turned slowly toward the villagers. "So… from your straw hats, I take it you're skilled at farming?"

The one who had spoken earlier nodded eagerly. "Yes, Messiah. The memories are a bit shaky, but I clearly remember having lived a life as a farmer. A lesser life it may have been but a life it still was."

Steve shot a glance at Torrhen. "That answers that."

"So where do we put them?" Torrhen asked.

"Leave that to me," Alex said, already rolling up her sleeves. "I'll take them and build the farms we planned outside the second wall."

"Sure thing, don't forget to build a third one though." Torrhen nodded.

The villagers hesitated, looking once more to Steve.

"Huh? Oh right." Steve cleared his throat. "These three here are my companions. You can consider their instructions as my own."

"Yes, Messiah," the group said as one, then turned and followed Alex down the stone tunnel toward Frostgate.

Once they were out of earshot, Lyarra gave a low whistle. "Okay. Well I definetely ain't missing such an opportunity to get loyal subjects. Let's get the rest."

Back in the overworld, at Stark Manor, the trio returned to the yard where more villagers loitered aimlessly. They began pushing them toward the portal, Steve making sure he did the final nudge each time.

One by one, they transformed. With each step through the glowing portal, another person was born — professions retained, skills real.

"Did you see that one?" Lyarra whispered. "That's our master armorer, wonder if he can reforge Valyrian Steel and Netherite?"

"Oh, just think about it," she nearly swooned, "dozens — no — hundreds of loyal, skilled workers by just pushing them through a portal."

Torrhen barked a laugh. "Company owners back in 'Merica would be really jealous if they could see us now."

Steve glanced at him, confused. "What's Merica?"

"Don't ask," Lyarra muttered. "Just accept that it was… stupid and capitalist."

Later that day, as Steve and Lyarra traveled to the old village — once their home — to gather their high-level villagers, Torrhen stayed behind crafting and laying minetracks from Stark Manor to what they now called Craftson Village.

Steve grew quiet as they stepped into the familiar square. The blacksmith's shop, the farms, the oddly shaped spruce house Alex had once insisted on building — all stood unchanged.

"Feels weird being back," he admitted.

Lyarra placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah. But you've outgrown this place."

Steve nodded. "Yeah… Skane's home now."

Together, they herded all the villagers toward the mine entrance where Torrhen was already waiting, arms dusted in redstone.

The tracks gleamed in the sun. "All aboard," Torrhen said with a grin, as one by one, the villagers were loaded into carts and sent rattling down the line toward Stark Manor.

By sunset, the entire batch had been transported. The original villagers stood marveling at the cold stone walls and the warmth of firelight, blinking like newborns. Alex had returned with the original four by now, her cheeks pink. The first four, now settled and confident, guided them with simple instructions and quiet reverence.

"What?" Steve asked, eyeing Alex.

She shrugged. "After I built the farms, warehouses and the third wall (with platforms for trebuchets and all just like we planned) one of them asked why Frostgate is so huge… said it was way too big for just four people. I told them there are soooo many people in Westeros. At first, it blew their minds. Then I kind of… maybe… mentioned our long-term plans. And the Long Night. And that their work was important."

She bit her lip. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Torrhen said, arms crossed. "It's better if they believe their loyalty isn't just to us — or to you — but that their efforts serve a greater cause."

Steve nodded. "Exactly. We'll need every bit of help we can get when that time comes."

Lyarra clapped her hands together. "Alright, time to give them names."

"Let them pick?" Torrhen asked.

"I'll make a list," she said, already pulling out a parchment. "But nothing too Westerosi. Something that stands out."

"Pop culture and Earthern history then?" she added, eyes gleaming.

Torrhen smirked. "Sure. But make sure there's no 'Sansas' or 'Aryas' running around."

"Got it," Lyarra grinned. "But I am naming the armorer 'Antony' That's not negotiable."

Ten minutes later and they had a few dozen villagers lined up in front of them. Among them were

Anthony the Master Armorer (Torrhen and Lyarra wondered if they could give him the name Stark at some point),

Michael Myers the Expert Butcher,

James Kirk the Expert Cartographer,

Martin Luther the Master Cleric,

Nicole Kidman the Master Farmer,

Nemo Fisher the Expert Fisher (yes really creative),

Candace Flinn-Fletcher the Expert Fletchers (as well as Phineas and Ferb of course),

Edna Mode the Expert Leatherworker,

Jocasta Nu the Master Librarian,

Shaun Shepherd the Journeyman Shepherd,

Toph Beifong the Expert Stonemason,

Reed Richards the Master Toolsmith,

and finally Hephaestus Vulcan the Expert Weaponsmith.

Each Master/Expert had a few journeymen, apprentices and novices who would assist and learn from them and would immediately begin working at Frostgate (except James Kirk who alongside a few apprentices would soon journey to Skagos and make a proper map of the place).

Those that had been nitwits like Patrick Star, Stan Smith, Homer Simpson, Peter Griffin, Edd Flanders (they wanted to avoid the name Ned), Leni Loud and Cosmo Elfson had been given plate armor and swords, spears and a shield and would now follow the group as a personal guard of some sort.

Sure they were not really smart (what a surprise) and lacked any skill at fighting but atleast the latter could be fixed in time when they got a proper Master of Arms.

After twenty minutes of pondering and gleefully naming the villagers and enduring the Craftsons' concerned glances, Torrhen and Lyarra patted eachother's backs, satisfied with a job well done.

Transforming some of the houses in the inner ring (the space between the first and second walls) into towers for the specific jobs that did not have a place yet and then giving those that did not have a place yet each one of those towers and assigning the rest like Reed, Anthony and Hephaestus to the smithy and Jocasta Nu to the library took a while.

Then they posted some of the villagers who did not have a job yet like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Inigo Montoya, Sif Asgardottir, Mace Windu and Wade Wilson at the entrance to the dungeons and gave them diamond plate armor and diamond longswords. These guards (who had chosen to call themselves the Diamond Guard) had orders not to let anyone through save the other villagers (henceforth known as the faithful).

It was at this moment that Steve had another glorious idea.

"Hey guys, what if we took a witch or multiple and pushed them throug the portal?" he asked with excitement before getting a soft admonishing slap from Alex.

"No, don't scold him too hard Alex, the idea isn't actually that bad" said Torrhen thoughtfully before turning to Lyarra who only shrugged and said, "It's worth a shot".

Minutes later and three young witches they had named Hermione Granger, Asajj Ventress and Wanda Maximoff had joined their employ. It was clear that these three did not hold the same unlimited loyalty to the group though that did not have to be a bad thing. Surrounding oneself with aye-sayers was a notoriously stupid thing. 

After swiftly building another tower in some unused space they finally let out a sigh and prepared for their journey to Skagos.

**Scene Break**