Post by The Stranger on Apr 9, 2008 12:50:43 GMT -5
"You!" Robb snapped to a messenger, angry, although not at the messener. "Yes, milord?" was the timid response from the young man. Pointing, Robb indicated to a group of outrides to his western flank. "What the hell are they doing out there? Tell them to get back closer to the bloody riverbanks. How many times do I have to tell them?" The messenger nodded and rode west with all haste, relieved to be out of Robb's presence.
The sun was beating down on Robb. It was almost impossible to concentrate with the heat boiling his body like it was, even though he was only wearing light mail for armor. A few men broke the line to splash down into the Greenblood, dipping their heads into the cold river. Robb didn't even bother to yell at them to get back into marching order. Can I blame them? I would do anything to get down into that river myself, but I must not show weakness in front of my men.
They trudged along, slumping in their saddles. They had only passed one village so far, and two of his men had taken arrows to the neck before Robb had ordered the village sacked, provisions taken, and then the male villagers put to the sword.
Ser Oliver was also commanding, but was further south, with his own scouting host under his command. Lord Lydden and Lord Tyrell were also to the west somewhere, no doubt having a worse time than Robb, as they were off the riverbanks and marching into the interior of Dorne.
Suddenly a messenger appeared and informed Robb of a village a couple leagues to the north, right along the riverline. Informing his men and shouting out commands, new life sparked into the host as they rode hard and fast. Robb was not taking any chances this time. "Kill any man who resists!" Robb shouted. "We want their food and supplies. Spare the women and children at all costs."
Robb shifted in the saddle, even the wind in Dorne was hot on his face. Turning around the bend in the river, a small outlay of buildings lay sprawled in the muddy grounds beside the Greenblood. A ragged group of men, armed with bows and crossbows stood in the way up ahead, before scattering into the various buildings, appearing in the windows. Robb's force rode hard through the streets, dismounting at will and entering the buildings to rat out the resistance. A few arrows and crossbolts found marks, but not nearly enough. Robb himself pulled up in front of a small shack and entered. A woman was huddled in the corner, crying, holding a baby draped in a bundle of clothings in her arms. He loosened his grip on his shield for a moment, intending to walk towards the mother and console her. Suddenly without warning, the woman produced a crossbow from her bundle of clothing, already loaded, and fired. Robb moved his shield in front of his face a split second in time, hearing the thud of the missile sticking in the oaken wood. Cursing, he flung down his shield and stalked towards the woman, who curled in the corner, sobbing. The bundle of clothes fell from her arms, and was empty. There was no baby.
"Fucking bitch!" Robb snarled, slapping the woman with the back of his hand. He retreated back into the street where a rider met him. "All resistance is killed or taken captive, milord." Robb nodded, good. "We have no time for captive peasants. Put them to the sword unless they are children. Even the women if they so much as lift a finger in resistance." The man nodded, and Robb's men cheered. A few men had arrived in front of the shack, looking greedily at the woman inside. Robb had ordered a no-rape law before the mission, threatening to send any man who does to the wall. This time, Robb looked at the men and said, "Have some fun, boys. Forget what I said. Bloody woman tried to kill me." They laughed and entered, intent on enjoying the spoils of war.
An hour later the host was moving forwards again, on the banks of the river. Robb was about to turn them around when the sounds of battle seemingly came out of nowhere to the south. A rider appeared, out of breath. "Ambush, milord! Dornish, a couple thousand at least." Robb felt a pang of panic in his chest before calming down. "Right." Turning to his men, he ordered them to swing around back south, to take the ambushers in the side and rear. They rode hard and fast, and a few minutes later they saw the engagement up ahead. Robb and his newcomers slammed into the Dornish flank. Robb, holding his sword high, sheared right through the Dornish line on his horse, hacking while he was at it. He looked for any signs of a commander but could find none. He split a man's skull open with another cut, before his horse was taken down from under him. He fell with a thud, but was no worse for it, and rose with a new fury. He slipped the point of his blade into a man's ribs, and turned to find another foe but they were all riding, melting away into the desert.
"Halt!" Robb bellowed to his men, who were pursuing. "That's what they want us to do. Bait us into chasing them into that forsaken desert that they call Dorne." Swearing, he lined his men back up into an orderly fashion and asked for a report. "200 dead or wounded of ours, milord, and 100 dead Dornish." Robb nodded, his expression grim. They had gotten off light considering the ambush and the way his line had been spread out, it could have been much worse. Besides, if this war was to become a war of attrition, it would soon be over, with Robb's side being victorious.
"We march on," Robb announced, determined. They raided another village's provisions and the crops in between. They retreated slowly, wary of ambush, but no signs of resistance was seen. Finally, the castle of Lemonwood could be seen in the distance, and Robb immediately went to the command room to meet with Lord Irwyn.
Results:
Robb raises scouting from novice to apprentice.
Robb raises battle command from expert (improved) to master
The supplies and food along the Greenblood are taken by the army at Lemonwood for their own use.
The sun was beating down on Robb. It was almost impossible to concentrate with the heat boiling his body like it was, even though he was only wearing light mail for armor. A few men broke the line to splash down into the Greenblood, dipping their heads into the cold river. Robb didn't even bother to yell at them to get back into marching order. Can I blame them? I would do anything to get down into that river myself, but I must not show weakness in front of my men.
They trudged along, slumping in their saddles. They had only passed one village so far, and two of his men had taken arrows to the neck before Robb had ordered the village sacked, provisions taken, and then the male villagers put to the sword.
Ser Oliver was also commanding, but was further south, with his own scouting host under his command. Lord Lydden and Lord Tyrell were also to the west somewhere, no doubt having a worse time than Robb, as they were off the riverbanks and marching into the interior of Dorne.
Suddenly a messenger appeared and informed Robb of a village a couple leagues to the north, right along the riverline. Informing his men and shouting out commands, new life sparked into the host as they rode hard and fast. Robb was not taking any chances this time. "Kill any man who resists!" Robb shouted. "We want their food and supplies. Spare the women and children at all costs."
Robb shifted in the saddle, even the wind in Dorne was hot on his face. Turning around the bend in the river, a small outlay of buildings lay sprawled in the muddy grounds beside the Greenblood. A ragged group of men, armed with bows and crossbows stood in the way up ahead, before scattering into the various buildings, appearing in the windows. Robb's force rode hard through the streets, dismounting at will and entering the buildings to rat out the resistance. A few arrows and crossbolts found marks, but not nearly enough. Robb himself pulled up in front of a small shack and entered. A woman was huddled in the corner, crying, holding a baby draped in a bundle of clothings in her arms. He loosened his grip on his shield for a moment, intending to walk towards the mother and console her. Suddenly without warning, the woman produced a crossbow from her bundle of clothing, already loaded, and fired. Robb moved his shield in front of his face a split second in time, hearing the thud of the missile sticking in the oaken wood. Cursing, he flung down his shield and stalked towards the woman, who curled in the corner, sobbing. The bundle of clothes fell from her arms, and was empty. There was no baby.
"Fucking bitch!" Robb snarled, slapping the woman with the back of his hand. He retreated back into the street where a rider met him. "All resistance is killed or taken captive, milord." Robb nodded, good. "We have no time for captive peasants. Put them to the sword unless they are children. Even the women if they so much as lift a finger in resistance." The man nodded, and Robb's men cheered. A few men had arrived in front of the shack, looking greedily at the woman inside. Robb had ordered a no-rape law before the mission, threatening to send any man who does to the wall. This time, Robb looked at the men and said, "Have some fun, boys. Forget what I said. Bloody woman tried to kill me." They laughed and entered, intent on enjoying the spoils of war.
An hour later the host was moving forwards again, on the banks of the river. Robb was about to turn them around when the sounds of battle seemingly came out of nowhere to the south. A rider appeared, out of breath. "Ambush, milord! Dornish, a couple thousand at least." Robb felt a pang of panic in his chest before calming down. "Right." Turning to his men, he ordered them to swing around back south, to take the ambushers in the side and rear. They rode hard and fast, and a few minutes later they saw the engagement up ahead. Robb and his newcomers slammed into the Dornish flank. Robb, holding his sword high, sheared right through the Dornish line on his horse, hacking while he was at it. He looked for any signs of a commander but could find none. He split a man's skull open with another cut, before his horse was taken down from under him. He fell with a thud, but was no worse for it, and rose with a new fury. He slipped the point of his blade into a man's ribs, and turned to find another foe but they were all riding, melting away into the desert.
"Halt!" Robb bellowed to his men, who were pursuing. "That's what they want us to do. Bait us into chasing them into that forsaken desert that they call Dorne." Swearing, he lined his men back up into an orderly fashion and asked for a report. "200 dead or wounded of ours, milord, and 100 dead Dornish." Robb nodded, his expression grim. They had gotten off light considering the ambush and the way his line had been spread out, it could have been much worse. Besides, if this war was to become a war of attrition, it would soon be over, with Robb's side being victorious.
"We march on," Robb announced, determined. They raided another village's provisions and the crops in between. They retreated slowly, wary of ambush, but no signs of resistance was seen. Finally, the castle of Lemonwood could be seen in the distance, and Robb immediately went to the command room to meet with Lord Irwyn.
Results:
Robb raises scouting from novice to apprentice.
Robb raises battle command from expert (improved) to master
The supplies and food along the Greenblood are taken by the army at Lemonwood for their own use.