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Post by perry on Jun 26, 2020 11:39:54 GMT -5
Lord Torwold sailed out of the Honeywine aboard the Drowned Bitch, down into the city of Oldtown. Above their sleek and vicious longships, filled with killers, mercenaries and madmen, flew the rotten tooth of Browntooth, the Golden Kraken of Greyjoy, and half a dozen other Ironborn houses. Houses great and small. Torwold wore some of Lord Redwyne's finest jewelry, necklaces, and rings, that stuck a stark contrast to his boorish dress. The dark hide of his armor was faded white in some places, from sunburns and salt stained, accumulated over many years of use. At the head of their longships came the fishing boats and the small merchant vessels, making a line straight for the harbor, and the fleet that defended it. "Wait till you can make it hurt!" The sea dog screamed. "We'll send them to the Drowned God yet!" Torwold held two dark axes in an ironlike grip as the ships pulled forward. The fishing boats and merchant vessels pulled forward as the longships spread out across the water.
Horns were sounded out at sea, as the Ironmen began dropping the last of the dead weight, the screams of the prisoners as they were put to the sword and the axe drowned out the sound of the rolling ocean itself. More horns followed as the ships began to surged forward, the War Galleys first, a mix of Ironborn made vessels and larger looted Redwyne ships. The former Redwyne vessels led the charge, forming up to tear through the inert defensive line, about a score of them pulling ahead to smash and splinter the oaken wall. Behind came the rest of the War Galleys, mostly of Ironborn make not too dissimilar from the Ships that made up the Iron Fleet, and behind those a small swarm of sleek Ironmen longships. The ships proudly displayed the Golden Kraken of Greyjoy, but beneath the Kraken sat the Silver Codfish of Codd, the silver shoal of Botley, the Stonetree of Stonetree, the leviathan of Volmark, the horn of Goodbrother, even the setting sun of Farwynd, among many others too many to count from shore. The screaming Reachmen, Septons, and even Kinsmen and Kinswomen of some defending Oldtown screamed from the bows of the Ironmen vessels as they pulled closer, the sea rising up and drowning out the sound of their suffering periodically. The rest of the Ironborn longships stayed at sea, prowling like a swarm of locusts, waiting.
Euron stood board the blood red deck of the Silence. Cradling his son in his arms, his summer eye focused on the oaken wall. "You will end us." Aeron said from the ground, the chains weighed heavily on him, in his weakened state. "An end is just a beginning for something new, brother." Euron chided, ominously. "You need to open your mind to the possibility of growth, the possibility of change.. for however long that is possible." "So says any man like you." "There are no men like me, sweet brother, the first and last of my kind." Euron rebutted proudly, not a hint of self-doubt in his voice. The madman extended a finger toward the bubbling baby boy, the moaning pain of the child's own mother providing an ambient background to the moment. "There will always be men like you.." Aeron hissed, a cough rising from his enflamed chest cutting off his defiance. Euron frowned at that, a vein forming up in anger on his forehead. Euron's mongrels brought out the warlocks from below, the creatures watching as the bloody sacrifice was swallowed up by the seas. Euron turned from his brother, toward his pets. "This better work warlocks, this child took no small effort to shit out." His words were a sweet venom, calm and collected for the moment. "To waste this much blood would be a sin."
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 27, 2020 9:02:04 GMT -5
The ironborn meet with mixed success. Though Torwold's ships catch fire and set a few of the Reachmen ships sent to block his passage alight, it ends up hampering the passage of the fleet downriver. The Ironborn will be forced to wait or attempt to clear the flaming wreckage from the river. This could give time for the Reachmen to bottle up the entry of the Ironborn to the harbour from this direction.
From the other end, Euron's ships sent to break the blockade ram into the Ship Wall - but it doesn't quite break. Reachmen spring from the decks, and with grappling hooks and rope board the Ironborn ships. A prolonged naval combat is now taking place on the decks.
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Post by perry on Jun 27, 2020 10:34:38 GMT -5
Torwold got nervous, he released the fire ships too early and they ignited a few warships sent along the Honeywine. “Fire at the useless pieces of wood, we have to let the river take them or we won’t be able to pass!” He called out to the men, as they prepared the ballista and the heavier equipment. This would complicate things. He was a mix of anger and fear, surly this had been an easy task, and if he failed Euron might turn his rage against him.
In the south the fleet had smashed into this immobile wall of ships, wood splintered and buckled, but the wall did not break. The ships were filled with sailors, a fight began between this inert fleet and those sailors and soldiers manning the former Redwyne ships that had crashed into the wall. Blood making the decks slick, steel, wood, and iron clang as the engagement began.
A series of horns were sounded and the smaller longships crept forward, with grapples and swords, and axes. The small and more mobile vessels kept a healthy distance from the inert wall of vessels, but began throwing these toward the larger ships. Rowing backward attempting to pull the line apart.
Euron stood aboard the Silence, his blue lips twisted up in frustration. The child began to cry and Euron hissed his disapproval. The baby, as baby’s are want to do, merely began to cry more. With the Euron began to smash its soft head against the railing, and there were no more tears. Euron dropped the tiny corpse carelessly upon the floor, as a normal man might dispose of garbage. The blood was hidden by the color of the ship’s deck, but Aeron could still see the blood on his brother’s hands. And smell the iron in his little nephew’s blood, the child had never even been baptized before the Drowned God.. he would never know the watery halls. Not a word was spoken on the ship, as the battle continued, or as it struggled to begin. Aside from the moans of the child’s mother from the bow, and the muddled chanting of the warlocks.
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Post by oznerol on Jun 28, 2020 4:07:47 GMT -5
Garlan commands the men accordingly.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 28, 2020 12:17:37 GMT -5
Euron's numbers begin to tell, though the blockade holds out well against the Ironmen. Their resolve would have surely posed a great problem, but the very seas themselves rose up in anger and claimed many ships, both Ironborn and Reachmen, beneath the waves. Tentacles rose from the sea and smashed ships into wooden husks, and though the men of the Reach fought bravely the blockade was broken. Damage was also caused to the sea walls and harbour defences, though they were not destroyed, as the Kraken was driven off by steel and fire. Euron's ships now have entry into the harbour, with only a score more of Hightower ships preventing the transports landing. Torwold manages to sneak a few longships through, but the other half of the remaining Hightower ships (20 or so) are arrayed against him and blocking his entry down the Honeywine. He will be able to bring his force to bear but it might take some time. {Casualties}
Ironborn: 46 ships, 1300 men died to the waves or steel
Reachmen: 19 ships sank, 30 captured/abandoned. 1410 defenders died to the waves or Ironmen.
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Post by perry on Jun 28, 2020 13:24:58 GMT -5
The water grew choppy and angry before the child's blood was even dry, as tendrils of water threw men and ships about like rag dolls. The sea walls themselves were racked by this great wave, masonry coming lose only to fall on ships or plummet into the water, the aftershocks came into harbor and struck the defenses. The wave swallowed Reachmen and Ironborn alike down into the Honeywine and out to sea, before the waves were driven back into the deep. Despite the carnage on both sides, the Ironmen were convinced the sea was with them. "What is dead may never die!" They cried, as they slaughtered their way abroad the vessels. As the wooden wall pulled apart, salt stained and windswept Ironborn reavers climbing aboard the enemy galleys and claiming them for Euron.
The way now clear, the Ironborn ships slunk into the river's mouth. Euron turned his galleys to the north. Toward the remaining enemy fleet on the water, cutting through the water as they approached. As the chaos began to wind down. The longships had their own surprise, as they began firing upon the defenders, ballista bolts, and people, severed limbs, and heads began landing on the fortifications along the harbor. And out among the homes of the denizens of the city.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 28, 2020 15:51:11 GMT -5
Euron breaks the score of ships sent out to face him, capturing four of their craft. The harbour was now theirs to attack. However, he was unable to assist Torwold due to the islands lying between his own fleet and his lieutenants. After battling fiercely with the Reachmen that attempted to block his passage, the Browntooth was able to access the harbour from the other side. They could now attempt their landing, and face the formidable sea walls of Oldtown manned by the City Watch and the men of the Reach. {Casualties}Euron losses: 6 ships, 192 men. Captured 4 ships
Torwold: 16 ships, 696 men. Captured 5 ships.
Reachmen: All ships destroyed, captured, or otherwise driven away.
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Post by oznerol on Jun 28, 2020 17:40:26 GMT -5
"Seven guard us"
Said Garlan, peering from the high battlements.
"Something from the deeps, as uncle Paxter said. Monstrosities. Lord Leyton was right, foul magic at work"
He was wearing a green suit of plate. His eyes wandered to the Hightower itself, where his kindred where, a stronghold like none other.
"Men to the walls, haul stones and bolts, fire scorpions and onagers, sink those hips and kill the men trying to land!"
He yelled orders as he lowered the stairs, the men in retreat already taking position in towers and walls, manned to the brim with valiant men of the Reach. Garlan's squire handed him the war helm, a large bascinet, that he wore. The battle would soon be leading the Ironborn to the very walls, but he was not going to yield the harbors. He was surrounded by the finest knights and swordsmen of the kingdom, including Garth Greysteel wielding vigilance. Tyrell naked his steel. Four men at once he could fight, one would be a short affair.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 29, 2020 11:52:30 GMT -5
Euron succeeds in breaking one of the bridges connecting the Battle Isle to the main harbour, but the Reachmen mount a fierce defence and drive the Ironborn off with siege weapons of their own. Some of the bridges are damaged, but the majority are still usable in some fashion.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 29, 2020 17:04:23 GMT -5
The Ironborn began to land their crafts at the Merchant docks, under heavy fire from the Hightower archers and skirmishers that rained death and destruction down upon them. Many jumped overboard to try to swim to the shore, only to find the swords of the reachmen waiting for them. A few crafts managed to land at the docks, however, and reavers poured forth into the wall of steel that had been arrayed against them. Baelor Hightower commanded these men, and he sent a runner to find Ser Garlan and Lord Redwyne to inform them of the attack on the merchant docks. In the meantime, they fought, with Baelor holding his ground against several waves of Ironborn. They stood and fought, pushing back several waves, before the sheer numbers forced them to give ground. They were being pushed back into the streets towards the Citadel. Lord Redwyne's men came then from to aid them, hacking through to bolster Baelor's forces. It stayed the tide, but more were coming under the Browntooth. Somehow, Torwold had landed his ships round their flank, and so the Ironmen broke through the side streets and were assaulting the flank of Baelor's men. The Brightsmile's men were being cut down in droves, and the call was sounded to fall back to the Citadel. It seemed the Ironmen now controlled the docks. Garlan's forces had been delayed by the Iron King himself, who had harassed his forces and even destroyed a bridge. Never daunted, Garlan managed to find a crossing over and arrived just as Baelor's men were retreating. His fresh troops turned the tide, the mounted warriors catching the Ironborn in an open square and riding down many hundreds of the lighter infantry. They pushed the Ironborn back to the docks, slaughtering many thousands as they used their heavy horse to push through the ranks. Torwold was forced to flee back to the ships with his men, with the Ironborn badly blunted. However, it came at the cost of many lives. Garth Greysteel, Lord Leyton's son, was dragged off by the Ironborn as a hostage. Result: Pyyrhic Reachman victory {Casualties}
Ironborn:
5800 Light Infantry (4000 from the longship crews, rest from the army)
2100 heavy infantry
500 archers
Total: 8400 men
Reachmen:
2700 Light Infantry
1150 heavy infantry
650 knights
1000 archers
Total: 5500
40 longships captured
Torwold: injured
Garlan: free
Garth: captured
Baelor: serious wound
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Post by oznerol on Jun 30, 2020 7:05:01 GMT -5
Garlan could see the flaming projectiles crossing the sky like comets. The impact of their fiery mass left houses in ruins and a fire had starting to devour the quarter closest to the harbor. The greater Ironborn warships carried machines of war of large size and strenght in their prow castles and they were raining death all over the city from the sea. The cries of war was all over the town, filling the air of agonizing screams, roars and the thunderous sound of crumbling buildings, battered down by artillery. The walls were a hard fought place, with ladders raising and filling the battlements with hoary bastards from the isles. But trouble came from the docks, where the Hightowers stood in a wall of steel, flesh and oak. A runner came with pleas, it seemed Garlan's uncles were hard pressed and wavering. Tyrell grabbed his reins and galloped at the front of the Reach's finest, the many colorful banners fluttering over their heads like a field of flowers in the splendor of summer. Their way was hard, for the bridges were assaulted and one had been destroyed by a red-hulled three-decked warship, the sails black as tar. But Tyrell was not deterred, he pushed forward -traversing the city through ways and streets he knew well- and, then, he saw. The battle standard of Hightower was falling and stroves of Ironborn clad in mail and leather flooded the city, hailing to the Citadel and the Hightower. That was not to be. The sword hissed as he released the sword from the scabbard, horns and clarions sang as the battle line formed, the horses pawing the ground nervous. Garlan lowered the great helm's visor, obscuring his face and raised his sword:
"Charge! Men of the Reach! Highgarden! Tyrell!"
He pointed forward and his horse started a fierce gallop, a thunderous storm of steel and flesh, hundreds of horsemen riding forward to battle, in a tight battle line, a moving maelstrom to drown the men who could not be drowned, or so they claimed. Garlan was atop his horse, clad in the heavy green plate, chased in gold, the steel tinted red by the fires arising in the city. And he rode, like a mad man and like a wave they crashed against men, wiping them like grass, cutting them in droves. Of those who charged few were as fierce as Tyrell, who cut men left and right, a storm of unrelenting steel.
"Highgarden! Highgarden!"
He rallied the men as they pushed forward. Many were falling to arrow, lance and mace, but they rode until the Ironborn crumbled and turned tails, defeated, leaping into their boats, those who could and were not cut down like swine. However, Euron left unharmed and many of the raiders could return to their ships and sail in retreat. Garlan raised his visor, panting, his arm red with blood up to the elbow, his Redwyne squire came, with word for the Tyrell knight:
"My lord, Ser Garth is lost to the enemy and ser Baelor is badly wounded"
"Seven hells..."
Tyrell looked at the retreating enemy.
"Rally the men. Call my uncle Redwyne to help us here, we gotta organize the host and prepare for a second assault, Euron will not yield until I carve his black heart out his seven times cursed body"
The would-be Lord of Brightwater knew the battle wasn't done and, such, he rode back and forth, taking the lead of Hightower's banners and rallying them. He ordered a tight watch over the battlements to warn for another attack and he organized turns, so the men could rest, drink and eat, regain their wasted strenght. He called for the Hightower to send arrows and stones, swords and lances, as to ready the defenses again. Tabbles savaged from broken washed ships were used to repair the bridges and the gaps in walls and defenses were filled up again. Garlan did not rest, he could not, he instead prepared the city for a second assault, which would be more desperate than the last.
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Post by Gandalf on Jul 1, 2020 12:34:47 GMT -5
At dawn, the Ironborn regrouped and prepared their assault, their dead still littering the wharf and streets of the Guild District. They gathered their longships at the mouth of the river, and Garlan would have little time to prepare for the imminent second wave of their attack on the city. Euron's strategy this time is one of brute force - Garlan and his commanders would quite clearly see the Ironborn make for the Main Harbour on the opposite side of the river to where the first attack came. Tyrell now had the chance to commit all his forces there, if he so wished.
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Post by Gandalf on Jul 1, 2020 16:47:34 GMT -5
Fire and stone is flung from the Hightower as the Ironborn land to make their attack, ships crushed between rocks and projectiles as they land at the docks, the city watch of Oldtown arrayed to meet them. Many ships go down to a watery grave in the river, with Euron's own flagship badly damaged by a mangonel hastily placed on Battle-Island during the night. As the Ironborn landed, they faced stiff resistance, with the first wave pushed back into the sea against the spears of the city watch. However, with Euron himself leading his men, the Ironborn fought with renewed zeal, pushing forward and seizing the docks, the watch fleeing as the enemy pressed forward. As the Ironborn pushed into the narrow streets Garlan Tyrell himself came to meet them at the head of the remains of his host, once more proving the bane of the Greyjoy King as Garlan the Gallant waded into the fray at the head of a score of his finest knights. Their target was the Iron King, and Garlan soon came face-to-face with Euron Greyjoy himself. His own knights engaged Euron's bodyguard as Garlan traded blades with the Crow's Eye himself, both fighters experienced men of many battles. But the Iron King went down as Garlan sliced open his neck, the Greyjoy's body being carried from the field as the Ironmen huddled back into a shieldwall. Torwold Browntooth rallied them and led another charge, but without their king the ironborn lost heart and broke. Many were cut down as they fled back to their ships.
Result: Reachman victory. Garlan gains a resilience point for his battlefield duel.
Casualties:
Ironborn:
18 longships
1550 heavy infantry
500 archers
2650 light infantry (20 ships)
Reachmen:
(city watch)
800 light infantry
470 archers
(Garlan)
400 heavy infantry
300 light infantry
50 archers
50 knights
Torwold escapes
Garlan survives unscathed
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Post by oznerol on Jul 1, 2020 18:01:02 GMT -5
The Ironborn had come in force, even the sailors were leaving their ships to take the city. Many found an early watery grave as they came, their ships sunk by large boulders and fire. But many came to land, flooding the quarter of the city with their foul presence under the cruel banner of Crow's Eye. And they fell upon de watchmen, who could not withstand the pressure of the axe-wielding islanders. The Hightower banners were again routed, but Garlan knew that could happen. He unmounted, handing the reins to his squire and his knights did so, scores of them, ten hundred men in good plate and mail. The twin roses were raised, the battle standard unfurled.
"Highgarden! Tyrell!"
Garlan again unsheathed his sword, he kissed the flat broad blade, pledging not to return it to the scabbard unless it was bathed in the blood of Greyjoy. He had finally come, at the head of his army, he could see the fiery eye supported by dark ravens. Clarions sung as Garlan advanced, surrounded by the knights on foot, prepared to fight street by street, alley by alley, house by housed. And with a roar, like two storms, the armies raged against each other, blood spilled, agonizing screams filling the air as light erupted in the streets, the sun reaching its apex on the morning sky. Tyrell faced his enemies headlong, two, three and even four at once, the foe unable to fell the lord of the Reach, his green plate soon washed in the blood of the fallen Ironborn. And he moved, mowing the enemy at the head of his finest, Lord Roxton with his Valyrian blade, Ser Inchfield with his battlehammer, Ser Ambrose with his longsword and Greyford with the mace. Like birds of prey they fell against the dark-armored men of Crow's Eye, with Garlan charging sword in hand, seeking the King.
"Face me, craven! Face me!"
He yelled, at the top of his lungs, as he removed the blade from the body of an Ironborn with a horn in the surcoat, having pierced his heart through the gap in the armor. And then, he saw, Crow's Eye wearing a queer armor of scale, glittering, every part of it made of Valyrian steel, the ripples going like solid smoke through the surface. There he was.
With this, I can deal. No magic, just a sword in my hand and a foe before me.
Men could bleed, men could die. Kings and warlocks were no exception.
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