Harrion Whitehill

Harrion whitehill is the Heir the Highpoint. He is the first son of the three children of Lord Cregan Whitehill and Lyra Bolton. After taking up pit-fighting in Essos, Harrion returned home when tensions between House Whitehill and House Forrester heated. He currently serves House Bolton and takes up his father's mantle of protecting Highpoint.

### Titles

Heir of Highpoint, Keeper of the Ironwood Groves (claimant)

### Occupation

Bannerman, Retainer, Pit Fighter (formerly), Sellsword (formerly)

## Appearance and Character

Harrion has the slight scruffy look of a tuned fighter, yet garbs himself in the appropriate clothing for every occasion. His hair and facial hair are reasonably unkempt, yet short enough for it not to be a great issue. The young Whitehill dons a crooked scar across the right side of his head and through his ear, one of his many past-life trophies. His sapphire eyes and blonde hair keep him fairly attractive. Despite his noticeable bluntness and lack of etiquette, a trait he adopted from his years in Essos amongst pit-fighters and Sellswords, he respects authority and knows who he must kneel to. His words charm women and his cockiness pisses many off. Harrion is also very stubborn, offensive and reckless, causing him to be the main subject of an uncountable amount of tavern scraps.

Holding the mantle of Heir of Whitehill, Harrion must remain in good repute. This includes dressing correctly when needed. Since returning home from Essos, he has worn typical Sellsword attire when entering violent confrontations with the Forresters. This includes sleeveless leather armour and metal shoulder pauldrons. However, Harrion does occasionally inkeep with Whitehill battle-dress, such as a gorget in the Whitehill sigil displayed across the front. Furs are also a common appearance on Harrion's body, mainly that of wolf, fox or bear.

## History

Harrion Whitehill was born to Lord Cregan Whitehill and Lady Lyra Bolton. He was the first son of a line of three children, yet grew up with his father's only bastard son, Harys. He was his best friend. When he became two, he was introduced to his newly-born brother, Gryff. The pair were inseparable. They ate together, played together and fought together. Harrion, however, further excelled in the arts of combat. His skills were impressive. Yet poorly exploited. He would, far too often, find himself fighting amongst smallfolk and scrapping in taverns with men twice his size. He built a name for himself.

His father was not at all pleased about the situation, so when his son came to the age of one-and-twenty, he was exiled to the sun-baked streets of Essos. His return was at Lord Whitehill's discretion. It was a completely new world for Harrion. He'd never set foot in such climates, and was surprised by the claustrophobic density of the houses. A strange place for a Northerner. However, through fist-shaped prowess, Harrion found himself in high places amongst the people of Essos. He swiftly found his place. The fighting-pits. The mere concept seemed like a beautiful dream to Harrion. They were a place where he could be himself, without his damned father picking at his conscience.

As the young Whitehill's name became a word uttered amongst all that witnessed his brutal ways, a strong recognition was built around him. So much so, he was reached out to by various Sellsword companies. Within these companies, Harrion mastered bladework far more advanced than what he had been previously taught at Highpoint. He could wrap his hands around far more exotic and interesting weapons, beyond the humble sword. In little time, Harrion discovered new a gift in hatchets. After the sword, it was his next weapon of choice. A worthy one, too, as he made his way through the ranks planting it through the foreheads of those that bled his wages.

Meanwhile, over in Westeros, historical tensions between House Whitehill and House Forrester had suddenly errupted once more. Various minor skirmishes between men-at-arms of opposing sides had turned into a serious conflict. Harrion was a worthy fighter, and the next Lord of Highpoint. He was needed. Harys Snow, Harrion's bastard half-brother, was sent to collect him from Essos, to return and protect Highpoint whilst Lord Cregan was away making political manoeuvres. Harrion was pissed. They only wanted him back so they could exploit his martial talents. He decided to head back to the North, as his family always came first. He finally had a duty worth shedding blood for.

## Family

http://www.familyecho.com/?p=START&c=ie7t663h3u&f=351177751321419031

## Household Members/NPC's

* Gryff Whitehill - Harrion's brother
* Harys Snow - Harrion's bastard half-brother
* Cregan Whitehill - Lord of House Whitehill
* Helman Warrick - Lackey of Harrion's
* Grenn Warrick - Master-at-Arms of Highpoint

## Auxiliary Character

Lothor Whitehill would never be a fighter. It was clear. Yet he'd always be a fighter in his own unique, undefeatable way. A fighter through words. That spanned out in many forms, from lying, to convincing, to even insulting. His voice had been his sword and shield his entire life, and his tongue was the strongest muscle in his body. The most effective, too. His physique was something he'd never rely on, especially as he became older, and further wisened.

As a young boy, Lothor had a huge interest in learning all things politics. He'd spent hours beside his father, Lord Cregard, as he ruled over his holding from behind a desk in Highpoint. In some respects, Cregard would have liked Lothor to have been his successor as Lord of House Whitehill, but his very appearance would have stained the image of House Whitehill, and he was third in line form being the Heir.

Lothor's talent for intrigue, however was not over-looked. Lothor would very regularly assist the new Lord Cregan with any political gestures. Lothor, however, grew tired of this position, knowing he would not make a name for himself and all of his genius work would be recognised as the doings of Cregan. He wanted his own title. Much to his own fortune, Lothor was able to leave the life of a forgotten adviser. House Stark needed their very own council, and the role of Winter's Grasp. Lothor was the obvious candidate. And so, with his bastard son, Harmond Snow, and a garrison of Whitehill men-at-arms, Lothor found is new place. His only trouble, Prince Theodan's wife. She was Forrester scum. Well, let the games begin.