Post by The Stranger on Apr 5, 2008 16:45:18 GMT -5
Captain Andrik Greyjoy stood on the bow of his Iron Reckoning, surveying his prey through a spyglass with his one good eye.
“A turtle on green,” he said, “Whose arms are those?”
Surri Saltcliffe, Andrik’s first mate, stood close by. The Saltsnake, as he was called, was busy sharpening his shortsword against a whetstone. A crow perched on his shoulder, its beady black eyes as intent on the distant ship as Andrik’s. “Estermont,” Surri replied. The man had a knack for heraldry. “Stormlanders. Greenlanders.” Surri laughed. “Easy meat.”
“Meat,” the crow cawed in agreement, “Meat.”
Andrik went back to studying the Estermont ship through his spyglass. She was a ship of war, no fat-bellied merchant vessel. Andrik wondered what she was doing in these waters – was there war in Westeros, or had she simply been blown off course? He could make out figures moving on her decks; mostly sailors, but several soldiers as well, carrying spears and bows. Andrik chuckled aloud. If they thought that would be enough to repel a reaver from Pyke, they would soon learn the error of their ways. He supposed no one expected Ironborn attacking from the east. But then again, they did not know about Captain Andrik Greyjoy. Yet.
//////////////////
The Iron Reckoning cut through the surf, the wind billowing in her grey sails. She gained quickly on the Stormlander vessel. Normally she would be hunting alongside Andrik’s brother’s ship, but a chance storm had blown the two far off course. Andrik was not concerned; he did not think the Drowned God was finished with Ulfrik yet. Andrik did not bother hiding his intent to the Estermont vessel as his ship soared across the waters.
“Ready yourselves,” Andrik called to his men. His voice was grim and certain. Every man aboard his ship was a veteran; all had done this before. His commands were but a formality, something to be dispensed with before the glorious close of combat. “Prepare grapnels for boarding.”
A disorganized flight of arrows flew from the other ship, falling short into the sea. The Estermont sailors had formed a line to repel boarders. Andrik’s men lined up as well, weapons at the ready. A second flight of arrows came from the Estermont ship, this time falling amongst the Ironborn. Several fell, wounded. Andrik himself stood at the fore, unflinching. The Saltsnake stood to his right, and the giant wildling called Grigg to his left. The ships collided, and Andrik smiled for the first time.
Andrik was the first over the side, his axe carving a path of bloody ruin before him. He was born of salt and sea, a man of iron, and no greenlander could stand before him. Grigg the giant came second. There was no art to the swings of his massive mace, only brutality. Swords bit into his flesh, but Grigg shrugged off the wounds as if they were gnat bites. An arrow fired from the crow’s nest lodged into his arm, and his mace fell from his hand, but it did not stop his charge; he simply switched from breaking men’s skulls with his mace to breaking them with his fists. Surri Saltcliffe fought nearby his captain and the wildling, sword and axe spinning, severing limbs and spraying warm blood across the deck.
The soldiers aboard the ship had courage, but as more ironmen poured onto the ship, the battle turned into outright slaughter. Sailors tossed down their weapons only to realize that Andrik was taking no prisoners. A few crewmen dove into the sea to escape while others formed small pockets of resistance. Andrik found the Captain in one of these and slew him himself. The last greenlander alive on the ship was the lookout. Surri scurried up the mainmast with the agility of a man born aboard a ship and cut the lookout’s leg off at the knee. He screamed for a long time.
When Surri climbed back down, the ship was entirely theirs. Andrik hailed him as he came close. “The ship has been cleansed by the blood of our enemies,” Andrik grins, “She is Iron now. And she needs a captain. Captain Surri Saltcliffe.”
Surri grinned in return. “About damned time, Captain.” He leaned over and removed the previous’ captain’s hat from his head, dusted it off, and placed it on his own head. “And where’s our next port of call?”
“King’s Landing,” Andrik said.
RESULTS:
Andrik Greyjoy gains expert axe
Andrik Greyjoy gains expert sailing
Surri Saltcliffe gains expert axe and sword
Grigg gains noteworthy mace
“A turtle on green,” he said, “Whose arms are those?”
Surri Saltcliffe, Andrik’s first mate, stood close by. The Saltsnake, as he was called, was busy sharpening his shortsword against a whetstone. A crow perched on his shoulder, its beady black eyes as intent on the distant ship as Andrik’s. “Estermont,” Surri replied. The man had a knack for heraldry. “Stormlanders. Greenlanders.” Surri laughed. “Easy meat.”
“Meat,” the crow cawed in agreement, “Meat.”
Andrik went back to studying the Estermont ship through his spyglass. She was a ship of war, no fat-bellied merchant vessel. Andrik wondered what she was doing in these waters – was there war in Westeros, or had she simply been blown off course? He could make out figures moving on her decks; mostly sailors, but several soldiers as well, carrying spears and bows. Andrik chuckled aloud. If they thought that would be enough to repel a reaver from Pyke, they would soon learn the error of their ways. He supposed no one expected Ironborn attacking from the east. But then again, they did not know about Captain Andrik Greyjoy. Yet.
//////////////////
The Iron Reckoning cut through the surf, the wind billowing in her grey sails. She gained quickly on the Stormlander vessel. Normally she would be hunting alongside Andrik’s brother’s ship, but a chance storm had blown the two far off course. Andrik was not concerned; he did not think the Drowned God was finished with Ulfrik yet. Andrik did not bother hiding his intent to the Estermont vessel as his ship soared across the waters.
“Ready yourselves,” Andrik called to his men. His voice was grim and certain. Every man aboard his ship was a veteran; all had done this before. His commands were but a formality, something to be dispensed with before the glorious close of combat. “Prepare grapnels for boarding.”
A disorganized flight of arrows flew from the other ship, falling short into the sea. The Estermont sailors had formed a line to repel boarders. Andrik’s men lined up as well, weapons at the ready. A second flight of arrows came from the Estermont ship, this time falling amongst the Ironborn. Several fell, wounded. Andrik himself stood at the fore, unflinching. The Saltsnake stood to his right, and the giant wildling called Grigg to his left. The ships collided, and Andrik smiled for the first time.
Andrik was the first over the side, his axe carving a path of bloody ruin before him. He was born of salt and sea, a man of iron, and no greenlander could stand before him. Grigg the giant came second. There was no art to the swings of his massive mace, only brutality. Swords bit into his flesh, but Grigg shrugged off the wounds as if they were gnat bites. An arrow fired from the crow’s nest lodged into his arm, and his mace fell from his hand, but it did not stop his charge; he simply switched from breaking men’s skulls with his mace to breaking them with his fists. Surri Saltcliffe fought nearby his captain and the wildling, sword and axe spinning, severing limbs and spraying warm blood across the deck.
The soldiers aboard the ship had courage, but as more ironmen poured onto the ship, the battle turned into outright slaughter. Sailors tossed down their weapons only to realize that Andrik was taking no prisoners. A few crewmen dove into the sea to escape while others formed small pockets of resistance. Andrik found the Captain in one of these and slew him himself. The last greenlander alive on the ship was the lookout. Surri scurried up the mainmast with the agility of a man born aboard a ship and cut the lookout’s leg off at the knee. He screamed for a long time.
When Surri climbed back down, the ship was entirely theirs. Andrik hailed him as he came close. “The ship has been cleansed by the blood of our enemies,” Andrik grins, “She is Iron now. And she needs a captain. Captain Surri Saltcliffe.”
Surri grinned in return. “About damned time, Captain.” He leaned over and removed the previous’ captain’s hat from his head, dusted it off, and placed it on his own head. “And where’s our next port of call?”
“King’s Landing,” Andrik said.
RESULTS:
Andrik Greyjoy gains expert axe
Andrik Greyjoy gains expert sailing
Surri Saltcliffe gains expert axe and sword
Grigg gains noteworthy mace