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Post by Gandalf on May 18, 2023 13:54:23 GMT -5
Near the town of Stony Sept, two massive armies converge between the headwaters of the Blackwater rush; the largest gathered since the days of the first Blackfyre rebellion. Bella ring out to announce the arrival of the enemy, and the spilling of blood.
Spurred to action by Jon Connington’s sudden appearance, the rebels react slowly, allowing the Hand of the King to seize the initiative. They intercept him on a plateau a few miles east of Stony Sept, in the wetlands that flood each time the Gods Eye swells with rain. Between them lies soft ground, mud churned by men’s boots. A lightly wooded ridge sits to the east near Jon’s position, and further still in that direction lies a small river with several wooden bridges crossing over to the far side.
As the two armies take their position, it begins to lightly drizzle.
(Jon, orders and terrain in PM please)
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Post by Magnate Lucius on May 19, 2023 19:54:02 GMT -5
Seven above, it had to be muddy and rainy.
Jon Connington, sitting upon his horse, looked over the field of battle as his scouts reported that they spotted the banners of the Stag, the Fish, and the Eagle just on the other side. With him were an array of retainers, good and loyal Stormlanders, Crownlanders, and Reachmen. He turned to see as the infantry marched onto the field, their commanders shouting orders for formations. Looking across the muddy field, he turns to his fellow commander, the Lord Paramount of the Mander, Mace Tyrell.
Infantry will be broken into three blocks. You will command the left flank, Lord Tyrell.
He turns to another, a certain Lord Balman Thorne.
Lord Thorne, command the right. I will take the center.
Jon Connington looks around afterward before gesturing to the far sides of the field.
Array a thousand Reachmen knights on the left, a thousand Crownlanders on the right. The remainder...
Lord Connington ponders for now, wondering on what to do next.
Composition of the Flanks
Left Flank - Commanded by Mace Tyrell
1,000 Heavy Horse
2,500 Archers
8,000 Footmen
Center Flank - Commanded by Jon Connington
2,900 Archers
8,000 Footmen
Right Flank - Commanded by Balman Thorne
1,000 Heavy Horse
2,500 Archers
8,000 Footmen
Reserve
500 Archers
1,200 Footmen
200 Light Horse
200 Heavy Horse
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Post by Gandalf on May 20, 2023 4:17:21 GMT -5
Lord Tyrell nodded, closing his sallet and riding to join the rest of his knights assembled on the far left under the parade of gonfalons, crowned by the gigantic cloth of gold banner of the Tyrell rose. Sweating through his armour, he tapped his gauntleted hand idly on the hilt of his emerald-encrusted blade; a sword that was worth a lord’s random alone. Beside him rode his squire on a palfrey, a pimpled cousin or nephew of his, holding aloft his lance in readiness for the beginning of battle. It was no tourney lance this time. A pole of polished ash topped with a pointed end of castle-forged steel that would rip the throat out of a man if it took the right spot between the shoulder and gorget. A disconcerted silence fell over Mace, and that silence spread even among his usually boisterous and excitable bannermen as they waited.
The rebels struggle to determine the exact terrain and structure of the Hand’s forces as the downpour continues. However, he appears to have formed up on the eastern ridge, and waits for them to force him from it.
(Orders, rebels)
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Post by Gandalf on May 20, 2023 14:42:54 GMT -5
As the downpour worsened, the two armies came together in the fields east of Stony Sept. Men fought and died in the mud and the dirt, churning the ground up so fiercely that the earth itself seemed scarred by the bloodshed.
Baratheon led his own banner on the northward side of the ridge, driving back Thorne’s knights and taking the high ground there with little difficulty. The Lord of Storm’s End took another wound for his troubles, but was able to fight through the pain as he turned to roll up Connington’s line.
Despite some early success, the fall of his right flank ensured the royal line crumpled, the dragon standard falling into the dirt as the Hand beat a swift retreat from Arryn’s inexorable advance. Lord Connington himself took an arrow to the shoulder, and was bleeding badly even as he organised the retreat of his men across the bridges.
On the left, Lord Tyrell was not enthused about his knights being repurposed, but nonetheless acquitted himself reasonably well. Tully was being driven back to his own encampment when the call came to fall back across the river, and so Lord Tyrell duly did so, though cursing the incompetence of his allies all the while.
They retreated across the river, harried all the while by Baratheon and Arryn. Lord Connington falls back to Darry (1 day) while Baratheon’s army must recoup for 1 day.
Baratheon victory.
Casualties:
Baratheon: 418
Arryn: 440
Tully: 806
Tyrell: 1176
Connington: 1573
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Post by oznerol on May 21, 2023 5:01:09 GMT -5
"Now is the winter of our discontent ended, made summer by the dead of our enemies! All the clouds that lured over our houses shall be vanished! Today our brows shall be adorned with the garlands and wreaths of victory! All those who crawl under the throne's despicable shadow shall fear and tremble our might!"
Said Robert, atop his black stallion, moving back and forth the battle line. Hammer high, he rode with a drive, the golden standards flowing behind him. Tall as a mountain, clad in steel and antlered like a god of the First Men.
"Ride! Ride sons of the Vale! Knights without paragon! Flower of chivalry! Meet me in the battlefield and wrestle this day from the claws of our enemies!"
He glanced the banners of Royce, Tumbleton, Waynwood, Hunter, Corbray and many more. Knights glimmering in full armor, banners of silk and silver, embroidered falcons, ravens, runes...
"Ride sons of the Rivers! Let's bathe these fields with the blood of the tyrants! Men of the Trident! Brave and bold and true, you shall be my companions today! No rain, no wind, nothing shall stand between us and victory!"
Trouts and ravens and bats and stallions. All gathered. The many spears, polearms and bills of the Riverlands, the archers with feathered arrows of Ravenhall, the formidable knights of Stone Hedge and the sour-looking retainers of Lord Whent.
"All together! Three kingdoms shall see their sun rise, their glories confirmed and their bravery proven! Now shall the winter of our discontent made summer by our own arms and might! Ride! With me! To battle!"
...
And indeed they rode. With smashing fury they shattered lance, broke sword and axe and splinttered shields. The banners, damp with the downpour, were nevertheless risen high and fluttered with the wind as Baratheon charged thunderously, laughing as he did, booming within his antlered war helm. The very ground trembled under the hooves of the many stallions that were fielded that day. Baratheon was never seen as fierce and imposing as he did that very day, when he fearlessly galloped towards the enemy and plunged himself into the fray, cutting the Crownlanders like grass. Driven, furious, the Stormlord hammered the cream of the land's chivalry, felling two petty lords daring enough to face him in battle. And soon, Thorne was running away, his line shattered, dislocated from the ridge by Robert's advance and reckless charge. Little he noticed wound and fatigue, and braced the pain when a spear pierced the soft flesh of the leg. He turned his horse, organized his men, and then fell upon the Lord Hand like hammer, while Arryn himself mowed down Connington's line. At last Stag and Falcon met amidst the field of battle and those following the dragon were vanquished from the field...
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