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Post by Pinkerton on May 13, 2023 10:28:13 GMT -5
Battered and bruised, Lonmouth cussed and cursed his rotten luck and the good luck of the foul traitor, Baratheon, who had beaten the army of the Stormlands royalists.
He and the few survivors of the clash rode for days away from the battlefield, deeper into the Stormalnds, familiar lands, until they felt they were safe.
Then and there, the Knight of the Kisses and the Skulls counted how many remained and evaluated the state they were in. Fell, Cafferen and Grandison were gone, he was was now in charge.
[Roll to see how few royalists survived]
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Post by Gandalf on May 13, 2023 11:55:42 GMT -5
In the aftermath of Summerhall, most of those Stormlords still loyal to the Dragon turned their cloaks to the rebels. Others had simply returned home, and hoped their Lord would forget their transgression. Around six hundred stubborn men remained of the forces of those who opposed Lord Robert. Four hundred of them were on foot, two hundred on horse, with only twenty of those being knights.
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Post by Pinkerton on May 13, 2023 12:58:12 GMT -5
The Knight of Skulls and Kisses gathered his men, dismounted and addressed them.
"We are few. We are hungry and tired and beaten. We have lost friends and brothers and even our Lords. But we have gained something after the battle, men."
Richard unsheathed his sword and raised it for all to see
"We have gained the opportunity for VENGEANCE! The sweetest and most fair of pleasures. I promise you, men of Summerhall, I shan't rest till I see the traitor Baratheon brought to justice. THE SKULLS OF SUMMERHALL LIVE AND RIDE!"
The survivors cheer and Lonmouth orders them to get ready to march to Felwood.
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Post by Pinkerton on May 14, 2023 15:26:20 GMT -5
The Skulls and Skeletons proceed thusly in the lands of House Fell, following Lonmouth's orders:
They'll arrive at village and demand a pledge of allegiance to the one and true King, Aerys Targaryen. If the villagers refuse, they'll ransack their lands, taking with them gold, food and animals. If the villagers affirm their loyalty, Lonmouth asks for whatever men and supplies they can spare.
[A couple of rolls: a charisma roll I guess to see if they remain loyal, if that fails then a sacking roll? (command? warfare?) but if it succeeds then another charisma roll I guess.
Lonmouth's stats:
+2 Warfare
+2 Command
+2 Perception
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Post by Gandalf on May 15, 2023 9:49:52 GMT -5
The peasants and remaining vassals protest that Lord Fell was loyal to the King and paid for it with his life. They have no real means of resisting, however, and allow him reluctantly to occupy their villages. Lord Fell’s son remains holed up in the family castle.
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Post by Pinkerton on May 15, 2023 21:54:45 GMT -5
The peasants and remaining vassals protest that Lord Fell was loyal to the King and paid for it with his life. They have no real means of resisting, however, and allow him reluctantly to occupy their villages. Lord Fell’s son remains holed up in the family castle. the Knight warns the villagers. Then, Ser Lonmouth invites the late Lord Fell's son to parlay in neutral grounds
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Post by Gandalf on May 16, 2023 15:50:06 GMT -5
Lord Fell is a young man, scarcely fourteen, and covered in pimples. The snot nosed land comes down to negotiate with Lonmouth on horseback.
"You fought with my father, Ser Lonmouth. What do you want?" He asks, in an agitated and reedy voice
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Post by Pinkerton on May 16, 2023 16:29:55 GMT -5
The sight of the lad moves Lonmouth, although he does his best not to show it. Not long ago he had been a boy himself, chubby and scared of his own shadow. But he had grown up, thanks to Prince Rhaegar. Perhaps.
"To offer my condolences, Lord Fell. Your father was brave and died fighting, unlike Grandison and Cafferen, who lost whatever spine they had and have now joined the Usurper's futile cause."
Ser Richard moves closer to the young man
"It would pain me and I am sure it would pain your late father if you chose not to continue the fight, milord. Give me men and horses to carry on; Baratheon has left the Stormlands vulnerable, we have a golden opportunity to strike back."
The Knight pauses for a second and suggests, shyly
"Perhaps you could even squire for me, milord. It is incredible what riding and fighting can do to a boy, they can turn him into a man."
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Post by Gandalf on May 16, 2023 16:42:52 GMT -5
The young lad sniffs.
"My father was brave. I can lend you a few of his men. The rest turned their cloaks to Robert."
He looked downcast for a moment.
"Don't you know the Prince?"
He asked suddenly, looking at Lonmouth bug-eyed.
"I will squire for you, my lord, if I can meet the Prince."
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Post by Pinkerton on May 17, 2023 10:47:07 GMT -5
The Knight places his right hand in the boy's shoulder
"Your father was brave and so are you, Lord Fell. I know the Prince, and soon, you'll know him too. He always has time for courageous and loyal men"
Rhaegar had made time for him when he was neither courageous nor particularly loyal and especially not a man, Richard thought. He remained forever grateful
Lonmouth then turns around and speaks with his back turned to Fell
"Squire! Ready yourself and your father's men. For we ride in the morning."
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Post by Gandalf on May 18, 2023 6:14:54 GMT -5
Rhaegar had taken a hard route through the Red Mountains, goat tracks high in the peaks known to few but the Daynes and their friends. Cracked lips and a dry throat had driven him to take water at springs, a growling belly to stalk rabbits at dawn. Under star and stone he slept, shivering in the cold of night, while by the light of day the relentless sun had kissed his skin with blisters. Despite the discomfort, his sleep was untroubled for the first time in many years, though what that meant he could not say.
Though he was glad to leave the scorching sun of Dorne behind, his road grew no easier, the path through the mountains no less treacherous. Whatever his current fortunes, these were the lands of Robert Baratheon, and he was wary to hide himself from villagers and travellers unless necessary. Even when he risked asking for food or news he went hooded and cloaked. Even with such urgency, Summerhall called him, and he had stolen one last night of rest beneath the stars there before pressing onwards. It had been a foolish risk; the stench of recent bloodshed had lured monsters of both man and beast to prey on the dead. A pair of looters had tried to gut him in the night for a warm cloak and a pair of boots. Their struggle had alerted more men, and wolves besides, lean and hungry for fresh pickings. He had galloped day and night to take them off his scent.
After making his escape, he crossed the borders of the marches into Felwood. Prince had heard news and signs that Tyrell men were on the march. He had been gone too long, too much had changed. But he recalled the Lord Fell to be a loyal friend of his father, and he was now so so close to the Kingswood. It was a risk, but a necessary one.
”Hail, Lord Fell!” Rhaegar called imperiously up to the ramparts from the gates below, though not yet daring to pull back the hood of his tattered brown cloak.
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Post by Pinkerton on May 19, 2023 17:16:39 GMT -5
Rhaegar had taken a hard route through the Red Mountains, goat tracks high in the peaks known to few but the Daynes and their friends. Cracked lips and a dry throat had driven him to take water at springs, a growling belly to stalk rabbits at dawn. Under star and stone he slept, shivering in the cold of night, while by the light of day the relentless sun had kissed his skin with blisters. Despite the discomfort, his sleep was untroubled for the first time in many years, though what that meant he could not say. Though he was glad to leave the scorching sun of Dorne behind, his road grew no easier, the path through the mountains no less treacherous. Whatever his current fortunes, these were the lands of Robert Baratheon, and he was wary to hide himself from villagers and travellers unless necessary. Even when he risked asking for food or news he went hooded and cloaked. Even with such urgency, Summerhall called him, and he had stolen one last night of rest beneath the stars there before pressing onwards. It had been a foolish risk; the stench of recent bloodshed had lured monsters of both man and beast to prey on the dead. A pair of looters had tried to gut him in the night for a warm cloak and a pair of boots. Their struggle had alerted more men, and wolves besides, lean and hungry for fresh pickings. He had galloped day and night to take them off his scent. After making his escape, he crossed the borders of the marches into Felwood. Prince had heard news and signs that Tyrell men were on the march. He had been gone too long, too much had changed. But he recalled the Lord Fell to be a loyal friend of his father, and he was now so so close to the Kingswood. It was a risk, but a necessary one. ”Hail, Lord Fell!” Rhaegar called imperiously up to the ramparts from the gates below, though not yet daring to pull back the hood of his tattered brown cloak. In the days and weeks that followed his first encounter with his new squire, Richard had taken control of Castle Felwood and had started whipping both Lord Fell and his own men into shape. Daily drilling, marching exercises and riding practice. They would face battle again but they would not be routed, they would either be victorious or be dead. The stranger called during the daily practice and Lonmouth himself made way to the ramparts to deal with him. Sweat in brow he yelled down while signaling the guards on patrol to stand down. It was only one man."Hail, stranger! Are you for the Stag or for the Dragon?"
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Post by Gandalf on May 19, 2023 19:06:40 GMT -5
For a moment, the challenge was met with silence. Then the sounds of laughter echoed up to the ramparts, as the Prince pulled back his hood to reveal his face to those on the wall.
”Dragon, Ser Richard.” He said, laughing all the while. ”I fear I am for the Dragon!”
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Post by Pinkerton on May 20, 2023 9:15:39 GMT -5
"LOWER THE PLOUGHING GATE" orders the Knight as he rushes down the walls of the castle to properly Rhaegar
The Prince is brought into the courtyard, where all the men kneel. Richard fails to meet his eyes, something stopped him. Was it shame for what happened in Summerhall? Maybe. But also something deeper: he admired Rhaegar the way a man admires his father, his king or even his gods.
"Your majesty. Me and my rag tag bunch are at your service."
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Post by Gandalf on May 20, 2023 9:59:54 GMT -5
Rhaegar dismounted, grinning like a boy as he handed his mount off to a stablehand, scarcely noticing the kneeling men as he crossed the courtyard in several long strides.
”By the Gods, it’s good to see you Richard.” The Prince threw his arms about his old squire, squeezing him in a fierce embrace that spoke of relief.
”I fear I need a bath.” He laughed as he pulled away, suddenly conscious of how the stench of sweat clung to him like a thick perfume. Dirt smudged his sun-darkened face and matted his hair, and dubious spatters of black and brown patterned his cloak and breeches. ”But that can wait. How is it that I find you here? Where is Old Silveraxe Fell?” His violet eyes creased with concern as they flitted over the assembled men, the smile slowly turning to a grimace.
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