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Post by perry on Jun 2, 2020 13:01:30 GMT -5
The Battle of Blood
After their victory over the Lords of the Shields Euron purged himself of most of his detractors, by awarding lordships in the Shields to Nute the Barber, Andrik the Unsmiling, Maron Volmark, and Ser Harras Harlaw. Others he sent away with his dim brother Victarion, on an errand far to the east. Euron had informed his men to let the ravens fly from the keeps in the Shields, all the Reach to know what he had done, and the people in Kingslanding as well. The Redwynes would return and the Hightowers would help them.
From the Shields the Ironmen moved south, to the Arbor. Euron hand had been forced, he had to give his silly Ironmen their grapes. And there were others prizes in the south besides, the Crow's Eye could see much with one eye, more than most could see with both. The invasion of the Arbor was simple, the few defenders were easily swept aside at sea. The Ironmen sacked Ryamsport, and took control of Vinetown, Starfish Harbor, Stonecrab Cay, the Isle of Pigs, and the Mermaid's Palace. Euron has made a pass of the Mermaid's Palace while he has awaited the arrival of the Hightower and Redwyne fleets. Here the Ironmen harassed the trade out of Oldtown, unaware of Euron's grand scheme.
Eventually scouting ships returned, the Redwynes were coming from the east, and the Hightowers from the north. The Redwyne Fleet had come to reclaim their home, the Hightowers to protect their land, the Ironmen to reap what they had not sown, and Euron.. Euron had come for Euron. This battle could decide naval superiority for the rest of the war. Battle would soon be upon them all, for good or ill, and there would be blood in the water.
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Post by perry on Jun 2, 2020 13:37:29 GMT -5
The raven black hull of the Silence cut through the waves of the straight like a knife through butter. Euron stood at the helm of his ship, his one good eye surveying the sea. The water from the waves breaking splattering on his pale blue lips, his tongue darting from his mouth to savor the taste. It would be a quiet day on the sea, if it weren’t for the howling of the septons and priests he’d tied to the prow of each ship, Falia Flowers carrying Euron’s unborn child held that place of honor on the silence, tied next to Euron’s ever faithful brother Aeron.
With him Euron had a few dozen longships, and a few prizes of war useless in a fight, though they would give an appearance. Among the prizes a broken down sow of a ship, tall, wide, and slow as molasses. It seemed to almost rot beneath the strength of the southern sun.
One of Euron’s swarthy skinned mutes approached, giving the captain a meek nod. “Good.” Euron replied, a smirk playing across his blue lips. “I wouldn’t want my brother to miss a thing..” He laughed, a gleeful cackle, stamping on the deck with his booted foot. “You hear that brother?!” He called. “I don’t want you to miss a thing!”
For his part Aeron was silent, as the waves rose up to drench his face, and down again, only to return. Aeron had been drowned before, he did not fear the sea. Falia however was fairing poorly, she was weeping and moaning in pain, if she had a tongue to speak she would surly be making use of it.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 3, 2020 10:52:11 GMT -5
Redwyne ships appeared on the horizon, in full battle order. Dromonds and War Galleys slithered across the waves, growing more numerous as they came into view, the banners of the Reach fluttering in the soft caress of the wind. The skies were clear for now, though a few blackened clouds loomed ominously overhead. Aboard would surely be Paxter Redwyne and many of his banner-men, seething for vengeance at the wanton pillaging that the Sea Pirates had wrought upon their lands and homes. From the north would come Hightower, still out of view, but they would surely take the bait.
The seas were almost deathly calm, with enough wind only to blow the Arbormen on their course for battle. Septons chanted prayers for those soon to die, as the knights and lords clad themselves in their war gear. The bravest (and the most foolish) clad themselves in cold steel, while the veteran sailors and Lord Redwyne himself preferred simple boiled leather.
"They surely know they are trapped. Their doom has come."
Lord Paxter announced, though the unnatural silence of the sea had set him on edge. He turned to face his assembled vassals.
"The man who gives me Euron Greyjoy's head wins himself a hundred golden dragons!"
There he waited, in the narrow strait. The Ironborn had the numbers, but their ships were crude things, and Paxter was assured that his own mighty craft would simply smash through the ranks of the Iron Fleet from the south as Hightower finished the job from the north. They were close, now, and the Ironborn would see the full might of Redwyne converging upon them.
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Post by perry on Jun 3, 2020 12:54:32 GMT -5
Euron smiled at the sight of the Redwyne banners, siping a cup of his shade of the evening. His Valyrian Steel armor gleaming in the sun’s light. There were less than a hundred longships with him in position in the straits, though from a distance the broken down trading vessels and cogs among their numbers would make them seem more numerous than they were. Once the enemy drew close enough they would be able to see the vessels for what they were.
Each proudly displayed the Golden Kraken of Greyjoy, alongside their own livery: the silver fish of Botley, the war horn of Goodbrother, the brazier of Stonehouse. The Reachmen would think the Ironmen trapped Euron suspected, the scene reminiscent of Fair Isles where the Ironborn had been trapped and crushed so many years ago. “Lord Redwyne wants to prove himself a hero..”, Euron mused to his crew. “Let us give him the chance.” No answer came from the motley assortment of mutes, though he had not expected one.. truth be told Euron proffered it this way.
Euron’s longships skipped around the water at an even pace, their rowers saving energy for the fight to come. Euron’s men knew the signal, it was only to be seen if the Redwynes would rush in to claim their prize.
A chant was being taken up from the nearby longships as the Redwyne came into view, “what is dead may never die!” It started with a few, but the sound began to swell as an increasing number took up the call, “WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE!!” However, no sound came from the Silence, the red eye banner of the Crow’s Eye fluttering gently on the breeze. The raven black ship simply sat there, rising and falling on the swells. “A small minded bunch.. my Ironmen.” Euron mused again, dropping his empty chalice, the shade of the evening that was within it now stained his lips and filled his belly. “Secure the sails and ready the rowers, battle is upon us.”
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 4, 2020 11:29:50 GMT -5
Redwyne took the bait. The larger and sleeker ships of the Reach made their way to the cruder vessels of the Ironmen, watching as the flaming ships sunk beneath the waves on their approach. A few men were shaken by this, but they pressed onward, Paxter ordering all hands to the oars to ram into the Ironborn. Crossbowmen and archers readied themselves on deck to fire off the first shots, and harpoons were readied to bring down the smaller Ironborn craft. Within the straits, they clashed. Ironmen leapt aboard the galleys and dromonds of the Redwynes as volleys of arrows showered the vanguard of Euron's fleet. Redwyne was confident of victory, his own mighty vessel smashing through a longship as led the advance. The air was now filled with the screams of the dead or dying, many ships were now nothing more than bloodied splinters on the waves. Those with armour were too heavy to swim, and so sank into the watery arms of the Drowned God.
Something stirred on the waves, going unnoticed by those in the midst of the fighting. A great wave came and crushed the mast of Ser Goldwyne's ship, and it now sat there immobile as the Ironmen pelted it with arrows and spears. They too were swallowed by the savagery of the ocean. As the Reachmen were led further into the straits, the blood on the water grew thicker, a crimson blanket that muddied the crystal blue. Paxter spotted more longships, this time from his rear. He harrumphed.
"Is this all you can summon, Crow's Eye?"
Another mast shattered. Splinters flew everywhere. Reachman and Ironborn alike screamed as great watery arms began to flail and drag their ships beneath the waves. Even as their own joined the dead, the Ironborn took up a great cheer. The Drowned Men chanted in praise to their God. For now he roamed the waves, and woe betide those who do not follow the ways of Salt and Sea. A thousand tendrils flailed at the Redwyne fleet, smashing half their ships to pieces. Men fired their arrows into the sea rather than at the Ironborn, or knelt on the deck in recognition that the hour of their doom had arrived. As the Redwyne fleet was decimated, Browntooth's ships descended on them, sinking or capturing the crafts of the demoralised Reachmen. Ironborn and Reachmen alike were being dragged to the depths.
"Seven Hells."
Redwyne froze as he watched his entire fleet disappear before his very eyes. His flagship stood in the midst of it all, somehow untouched by the carnage. Eventually he summoned the wits to order what was left of his ships to break through the lines. Hightower was on the horizon, but they had not engaged... Paxter damned them as cowards and fools. They broke through the Ironborn lines. Some ships were sank or captured, but Paxter led the largest of the Redwyne ships through the straits and towards Oldtown. They would regroup there. They had to. Ironmen tried to pursue, but their smaller craft were no match for the warships of the Redwyne's for speed. Paxter made good his escape to Oldtown, though he had precious few ships left to defend it.
Result: Decisive victory
Remaining Ironborn Fleet:
Euron: 68
Browntooth: 143
Cobb: 100
Remaining Reachmen:
36 Redwyne Ships
45 Hightower Ships
32 galleys, dromonds and carracks are captured by Euron and his men.
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Post by perry on Jun 4, 2020 13:32:18 GMT -5
The Redwynes took the bait, Euron could see with his smiling eye. As a small breeze filled the enemy sails. He gave the order and flaming arrows descended on the old junk crafts, shortly there after they were consumed in foam. Their hulls buckling and breaking, as crimson red began to fill the water.
Battle was upon them, the monstrous Redwyne ships crashing into the Ironborn line. Euron was one of his ships, shatter clean in two as the flagship of the Arbor sailing straight through it. The men who manned it paddling with in the water and scrambling to get into nearby ships. The line was beginning to buckle, Aeron was bear to tears, he new Euron would lead the Ironborn to their deaths.. and here it was, was his brother so spiteful that he would throw away his kingship just to prove a point? But, Euron smiled, that strange Crow’s Eye smile twisted as it was. “It’s coming.” He said, plainly, even as battle raged all around him.
A movement beneath the water, and one of the Redwyne ships was swallowed up, drowned in the belly of the beast. At first neither Ironmen nor Reachmen knew what was happening. They would know soon enough though.
Torwold brought his ships around the Redwyne rear, pushing off from their place along the Arbor’s shoreline. The salty sea dog was a mongrel, almost as foul of heart as Euron himself. He carried two axes in hand as he cried orders to his ship, the Drowned Bitch. His men were true Ironmen, unlike the mutes aboard Euron’s ship. “We’ve had the grapes, men!” He cried, spittle flying from his mouth. “Now let’s kill the farmer!” He gave a crooked smile, his rotten brown tooth marring the sight. They raced in, cutting off Redwyne’s retreat. Torwold’s ship came alongside one of the Redwyne galleys and the slaughter began.
Blood began to fill the straits, so thick it almost appeared black. Soon tentacles rose among the Redwyne ships, they began flying and flailing all about, dragging more sailors to their deaths. Foolish knights dressed in full plate jumped into the water to escape the Kraken, only to drowned in the bloody waters. Cheers came up from the Ironborn ships, the Drowned God was with them, with King Euron.
Aeron was shocked, appalled. His brother had a Kraken, a Kraken! “Why have you forsaken me!” Aeron cried as he attempted to pull free of the restraints that tied him to the prow of the Silence, a wave of bloody water slapping him in the face, almost as if the Drowned God himself were silencing his acolyte.
Euron laughed, a foul cackle, as the Silence cut through a swell and the sea sprayed upon his face. “Do you hear how they pray!” He cried, wiping the bloody sea spray from his lips. “But there will be no answer.” The glimmer in his eye faded as he noticed the Hightower’s had not committed to battle, and it seemed Lord Codd has been slow in taking to the sea.
A few Redwyne ships made to break through the lines, and the longships that moved to stop them were shattered. Euron was distressed by that, though he would never admit it, this Lord Redwyne had broken through two lines to escape and regroup with the Hightowers as the remnants of the two fleets drifted away. His fury bubbled up in his soul. But he kept his cool.
As the battle came to an end the tendrils retreated into the depths. And the Ironmen began collecting the living sailors from the waters. Euron sent an order out, any prisoners were to be brought to the Mermaid’s Palace. They would need to gather the men and prepare for the next step.
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Post by perry on Jun 5, 2020 12:10:02 GMT -5
The Ironmen were drunk on their victory, and on wine.. lots of wine. The Arbor was rich in food and luxury. Their King sat among them at what had been the lord’s high table. His booted feet up on the dinner table, next to a roasted pig and the driftwood crown, on his lap some common girl who’d been ensnared by the man’s charm. The lazy curls of her hair were red and her eyes green, with a small snub nose. Euron has dressed her in the lady’s clothes, a fine dress of green with gilded threads holding the seams together. The poor thing had no idea what happened to Euron’s last plaything, and it’s not as if any Ironmen remained that might warn her.
He watched with amusement as ‘his people’ celebrated the victory he gave them. They drank and their dirty paws grabbed at serving girls as they passed by, some were telling tale tales or wrestling, and others played the Finger Dance. The Redwyne Fleet was broken now and so too was the Royal Fleet, no one could challenge the supremacy of their fleet. But, Euron felt a foul mood coming on: Oldtown would be guarded now, more fiercely than before.
He pushed the red headed lass into the seat next to him. “Enjoy the food and drink, my lady.” He said with a feigned smile. “I have business to attend to.. feel free to join me in my chambers later.” He said reaching to pick up the driftwood crown, as the girl laughed. “I’ll see you tonight, my king.” She said coyly, and Euron flashed her a blue lipped smile.
Torwold was engaged in a game of the finger dance, with one of Lord Drumm’s boys. The sea dog laughed as they passed the ax back and forth. “Be careful you don’t lose something important boy!” He proclaimed, as he chucked the ax toward the boy.
Euron made his way through the crowd ignoring the revelry, passing out of the audience chamber where men feasted. In the next room he passed by a few of the Reachmen prisoners from the straits, hung by their ankles, throats slit and blood slowly dribbling out into the buckets below. A few of his Ironmen were tending to them, their hands stained with blood.
Eventully he came to the dungeons picking up a torch before descending within, where some of the other prisoners of war were held. A damp and dank place, dark as night illuminated only by the torchlight the King carried with him. Euron came before the cell furthest toward the back, within a bearded man in black rags, bearded with the stink of seawater upon him. “Brother.” Euron said, amused. “Why so glum?” He questioned, though no answer came. “And here I thought you’d want to talk to me, brother.. talk to your king.” There was an anger in his voice, a deep irritation. “Don’t you want to tell me the Drowned God will have his vengeance, will swallow me up?” After a few moments of silence followed before the priest spoke, his voice weak, tired. “How did you bring forth the Kraken, a forsaken and faithless man such as you?” Aeron lips were chapped and cracked, bleeding a slight, his skin dried and burnt from his time in the sun. Euron scoffed, feigning offense. “I told you Aeron, I am the godliest man alive.” He chuckled, his smiling eye glittering the torchlight. “That.. that was just the beginning.” “The beginning of the end perhaps.” Aeron protested. “Exactly.” Euron agreed, seemingly happen his brother was on the same page. “I thought you’d like to know, my longships will be raiding along the Mander.. tell me could your precious Balon have given the Ironmen that?” The priest clamed up, turning away from Euron, to face the stained stone wall of his cell. Euron turned and left, the light of his torch dimming until Aeron was left in darkness.
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Post by perry on Jun 6, 2020 1:24:57 GMT -5
 With the Ironmen came fire, blood, and cold steel. Fifty nine ships had sailed north, past the Shields that had once protected the Mander and up toward Highgarden. The Ironborn longships were sleek and fast, and without an early warning system no one knew when they were coming. Fishing vessels and villages alike were put to the torch in the lower Mander, as the Ironmen reaped a bloody harvest here for the first time in generations. Their leader: an eyepatch wearing Ironman, with jet black hair and a vicious disposition, flying a blood red eye. They threatened no keeps, but the small folk did not have stone walls to hide behind. And even when they could flee to their lord’s keep in time, their shanty homes and fields could not be taken with them. A gauntlet had been thrown, at the feet of the two Tyrell brothers charged with defending the Reach in their father’s absence. |
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Post by perry on Jun 8, 2020 19:08:49 GMT -5
Retreating from the Mander the Ironborn longships began reeving their way down the coast, on their way returning to the Arbor. Where they caught people off guard they stole mainly women and children, as well as their valuables. Where the seaside villages were abandoned they burned the fields and the homes, to ensure the cowards would have nothing to return to. They were sure to never travel beyond the sounds of the waves. Raiding was sporadic all the way from Bandallon to Blackcrown. Among the banners flew the red eye of the Crow's Eye.
The grand fleet that had stayed in the Arbor set off on its own journey to the east, whispers of traveling to Essos passing their lips. Under the King's orders they began sporadically targeting settlements near the coast, acting in a similar manner to the reavers along the Mander. The many ships of the fleet broke off into smaller groups striking as they went, before rejoining the main flotilla that numbered in the hundreds. They took what they could mostly portable valuables, women, and children, and in their numbers swept aside any rudimentary defense the locals could offer. Often they found nothing but abandoned villages and fields, in response they burnt them, denying the owners their food and livelihoods. If they stayed longer they could leave a more lasting impact, but instead they continued to make haste toward the east. Among them flew the red eyed banner of the Crow's Eye. It truly seemed as if the Iron King were everywhere. They continued onward past the Dronish border, though they strictly avoided touching the villages once the Red Mountains were upon them, under explicit orders even if the Ironmen were frustrated by it.
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Post by perry on Jun 9, 2020 16:00:38 GMT -5
His fleets beached on the eastern shore Euron orders ships to work in shifts, to ensure that no prying vessels that spot their position leave with that knowledge. Euron thought on their situation, Ryamsport had been sacked, but much of the rest of the Arbor had been left unsullied by the Ironmen. This was an advantage, though Euron’s small minded subjects could not see it.. yet. The few riders in his army are sent into the countryside, to call up the leaders of the small folk and lower gentry, those people scattered about the rural island. They come under a banner of peace.
The Crow’s Eye sat in waiting, thinking about what would come next, a goblet of shade of the evening in his hand the surface rippling as he whirled the cup about. His red headed woman was pregnant he knew, and he’d lost interest in the girl after, but the child might prove of use if it lived. “King’s Blood.” Euron murmured under his breath, alone in his tent. He was in one of his foul mood, but it would brighten in time.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 11, 2020 8:48:20 GMT -5
Though the demand was 'peaceful' the Arbormen saw that they really had no choice. Representatives were begrudgingly sent to Euron from the communities that remained; Septons, merchants, and other prominent local figures attended. A few knights did, as well, but those who had not gone to war were all old and infirm.
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Post by perry on Jun 11, 2020 9:28:56 GMT -5
They are met with a large Ironborn encampment as they arrive, men jostling with one another and drinking. Strange considering the Ironborn had sailed out toward the east. They make their way through the pavilion, few pay them any mind and few point and laugh, or give rude gestures. An unruly lot them. At the center, before a black and gold tent sits Euron, a small group of Ironmen drinking with him, a fire pit set before them.
There was a twisted crown of driftwood sitting upon his head, cocked at a strange angle. A great smile played across his face, a wicked grin. Only his smiling eye was revealed blue as the summer's sky, the second covered beneath a patch, covering the window into his rotten soul. "Good you came!" He announced excitedly. "I was telling Torwold you would." He gestured toward some makeshift seats assembled near the fire pit, mostly stumps and logs. "Please, have a seat, gentlemen. And a drink?" He questioned, though it did not seem like a question. "Wine from Redwyne's own cellar, good vintage."
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 12, 2020 8:39:42 GMT -5
Warily they sat, watching Crow's Eye as they did so. His reputation had only grown since the battle off the Arbor's shores.
"Lord king, what do you want with us?"
Asked one, a grey-bearded knight with a stooped back and pot belly.
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Post by perry on Jun 12, 2020 9:14:44 GMT -5
“It’s not what I want.” Euron said coyly. “It’s what I can give you. I would like trade to resume, production and merchants alike. The Hoares built an empire off cooperation, not just blood. Farmers and vessels will have my protection.” He lazily drew an X across his chest, with his free hand. “You will conduct trade outside the Reach, though.” He smiled. “I’m also calling for men, men to serve. Men that will get a share of the profits as all Ironmen are entitled, something I doubt Redwyne did.” He grinned.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 12, 2020 9:25:07 GMT -5
They looked disinterested, awkward, afraid. It was a sorry crew of miscreants that Euron had dragged here, and they were uncomfortable in the presence of him and so many of his barbarous ilk.
"Common peasants do not need wages."
Protested the knight, the most vocal among them, too old to be worried about death.
"If you want trade to resume, stop destroying our ships. None can get on or off the island with your fleets blocking the sea. And we will have no trouble selling Arbor gold in any port, but many of our shipments were destroyed by the raiding and looting."
Chimed another, a merchant of some prominence in Ryamsport, owner of several businesses and wineries.
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