Post by The Smith on Mar 23, 2008 21:36:01 GMT -5
Sailor Dick felt strange wearing the thick, ragged furs and light mail underneath, unseen. He and his men, 30 in total, had done their best to try to dress like ironborn. Although I don't know how much that will help, if they catch a company of men stalking through the forests or down by the docks, he mused to himself. That would be pretty suspicious, even if I looked the spitting image of Felyrn Harlaw. Especially when they find us carrying lamp oil and flint. Even ironborn could solve that puzzle, he thought. Clearing his head from his pointless musings, he returned his attention to the task at hand.
The two ships that had just been built at Deepwood Motte, both strong and swift, had slipped into the small cove on Bear Island's eastern shore in the midst of the night. 30 men, with proper supplies, were promptly dropped off and deserted, doomed to either achieve disgrace or glory. They had struck off through the dense, dark forests of the island, over unfamiliar territory, with only a vague notion of where their destination laid. Ten men at a time took turns scouting ahead, silent and cautious. Dick himself took his turn, and, finding himself suddenly on the small motte and bailey that was called a castle, he had to slit the throat of a drunken sentry. Finally, after what must have been close to two hours, but still pitch dark outside, one of the scouts returned to quietly report that the harbor was less than two hundred yards to the north. Dick quietly sent the command through the ranks, and small company dropped to their stomachs, inching forwards. They halted at the edge of a forest and Dick sat staring at what he saw for several minutes. He turned it all over in his head for a few minutes, and finally decided that what he saw had to be good. All in all, he could make out the outlines of several longships, maybe a dozen, or a score, but his eyes could be decieving him. There were a few sputtering or dead fires spread out on the beach, with silent tents beside them, flapping in the roaring wind. Signaling, Dick and the others moved forward, low to the ground, silent. When one of the men hesitated when he came upon the first tent, Dick himself shoved the man inside while he entered the small tent and stabbed two sleeping bodies, probably passed out for hours from drink. The rest followed his lead, and the tents were quickly forgotten. There weren't many, as most of the ironborn would be taking shelter from the snow and cold winds either in the wooden hall or in warm cabins in their beloved ships. Dick breathed heavy as he felt his boots sink into the soft mud of the ground underneath the sea. He signaled for his men to spread out along the hsips, and then, climbing the ropes put up by the men, they crawled onto the decks of the longships.
The work took only minutes. They had brought more than enough supplies, and the fires had sprang up, hot and hungry, on several ships before Dick heard the first distant shouts. Suddenly a man from the ship he was boarding sprang up out of the darkness, axe in hand, bellowing an alarm cry. Dick ended that with a quick swipe of his sword at the man's throat.
"Off the boats, off the boats!" Dick cried loudly, no longer worrying about secrecy. He ran headlong into the forests, and when he finally stopped, his breath coming heavy and ragged, he saw there was just two score men with him. "Where are the others?" he asked, incredulous. "Either slain, drowned, or lost," a grizzled sailor from White Harbor answered bluntly. Dick nodded, frowning. "And what of the ships? Did we burn many?" This time the sailor smiled. "Aye, my lord. Many and more." Dick allowed a slight smile to creep onto his face, and then ordered them to continue to march. The night was still dark, but the sun would rise soon. He knew they were being tracked at this very moment and had to get as far away from the harbor as possible.
Lewys oughta be able to take out their famous navy now, Dick thought. He knew that they had some ships out at sea, patrolling, but the majority he had just destroyed. If you do not fail me, my friend, you will be knighted, I swear it, those were Lord Lydden's words when he had informed him of the mission. "The Sailor Knight," he whispered, aloud, and smiled at the sound of it.
Results
Nine of Bear Islands ships are put to the torch.
All of the attacking forces are killed.
The two ships that had just been built at Deepwood Motte, both strong and swift, had slipped into the small cove on Bear Island's eastern shore in the midst of the night. 30 men, with proper supplies, were promptly dropped off and deserted, doomed to either achieve disgrace or glory. They had struck off through the dense, dark forests of the island, over unfamiliar territory, with only a vague notion of where their destination laid. Ten men at a time took turns scouting ahead, silent and cautious. Dick himself took his turn, and, finding himself suddenly on the small motte and bailey that was called a castle, he had to slit the throat of a drunken sentry. Finally, after what must have been close to two hours, but still pitch dark outside, one of the scouts returned to quietly report that the harbor was less than two hundred yards to the north. Dick quietly sent the command through the ranks, and small company dropped to their stomachs, inching forwards. They halted at the edge of a forest and Dick sat staring at what he saw for several minutes. He turned it all over in his head for a few minutes, and finally decided that what he saw had to be good. All in all, he could make out the outlines of several longships, maybe a dozen, or a score, but his eyes could be decieving him. There were a few sputtering or dead fires spread out on the beach, with silent tents beside them, flapping in the roaring wind. Signaling, Dick and the others moved forward, low to the ground, silent. When one of the men hesitated when he came upon the first tent, Dick himself shoved the man inside while he entered the small tent and stabbed two sleeping bodies, probably passed out for hours from drink. The rest followed his lead, and the tents were quickly forgotten. There weren't many, as most of the ironborn would be taking shelter from the snow and cold winds either in the wooden hall or in warm cabins in their beloved ships. Dick breathed heavy as he felt his boots sink into the soft mud of the ground underneath the sea. He signaled for his men to spread out along the hsips, and then, climbing the ropes put up by the men, they crawled onto the decks of the longships.
The work took only minutes. They had brought more than enough supplies, and the fires had sprang up, hot and hungry, on several ships before Dick heard the first distant shouts. Suddenly a man from the ship he was boarding sprang up out of the darkness, axe in hand, bellowing an alarm cry. Dick ended that with a quick swipe of his sword at the man's throat.
"Off the boats, off the boats!" Dick cried loudly, no longer worrying about secrecy. He ran headlong into the forests, and when he finally stopped, his breath coming heavy and ragged, he saw there was just two score men with him. "Where are the others?" he asked, incredulous. "Either slain, drowned, or lost," a grizzled sailor from White Harbor answered bluntly. Dick nodded, frowning. "And what of the ships? Did we burn many?" This time the sailor smiled. "Aye, my lord. Many and more." Dick allowed a slight smile to creep onto his face, and then ordered them to continue to march. The night was still dark, but the sun would rise soon. He knew they were being tracked at this very moment and had to get as far away from the harbor as possible.
Lewys oughta be able to take out their famous navy now, Dick thought. He knew that they had some ships out at sea, patrolling, but the majority he had just destroyed. If you do not fail me, my friend, you will be knighted, I swear it, those were Lord Lydden's words when he had informed him of the mission. "The Sailor Knight," he whispered, aloud, and smiled at the sound of it.
Results
Nine of Bear Islands ships are put to the torch.
All of the attacking forces are killed.