Post by The Stranger on Apr 10, 2008 1:06:46 GMT -5
While the majority of the King’s Army feasted their victory at Sunspear, Alexander sat distracted, while his battle plans for Dorne had gone pretty much as planned, the Dornish army was not acting as he expected.
They left the Prince’s Pass and Boneway almost completely undefended to reenforce Sunspear but when his army captured Lemonwood, the Dornish made an all out attack and when repulsed by Ser Gilbert, scattered into the desert rather then stand and fight.
While the other Lords and knights laughed and joked, Alexander sat in deep thought until he saw his friend Ser Gilbert Flowers, coughing violently and spitting up blood.
At first Alexander thought it was one of the Drunken Bastard’s pranks he expected to see his friend’s smiling face in a few minutes, until he saw Lord Lydden and Lord Tyrell choking as well.
“Quick, get the Maester its poison,” someone shouted but Alexander heard and felt nothing. He stood dumbstruck, paralyzed as his best friend sat coughing up the deep crimson liquid of life. While, the men scrambled for the Maester, Alexander knew that there was nothing that could be done for his friend. The poison would kill him, but Alexander knew that more then his friend died that day, the gentle kind thoughtful husband and friend died as well; the treachery of losing his wife, banner lord and best friend too much for his soul to take and would mean dark days for the entire realm.
Alexander’s first stop was to the prison towers, his men wrestled out a sleeping Zoella Martell, Clandinista Martell and Lady Dayne. The women were still sleepy eyed when his axe came down splitting their skulls or taking their throats. “Sorry little one,” Alex cried as his axe cleaved the collarbone of Lady Dayne killing her and the unborn child. As the women fell to the stone floor their bodies were pushed out of the Tower windows to the streets below.
Alexander next went to his men’s encampment, many who were dealing with their own grief at the death of their brother at arms. “The Serpents have taken our friends, let us take revenge,” Alexander said.
“Grab the rest of the wine and carpenter tools we will show these Dornish curs what the price is for treachery,” Alexander yelled his face racked with pain and anguish and his heart dead and devoid of feeling.
His men went through the streets of Sunspear, barring the doors from the outside. A women came out into the street to see what the racket was. “Get the fuck inside,” a soldier said.
“What?” she called out in disbelief. The soldier responded by releasing a crossbow bolt into her chest.
“Get the fuck inside or you’ll suffer the same,” another man called to other onlookers, who this time did as they were instructed.
As the doors were barred the poisoned Dornish wine was poured over the buildings, cask by poisoned cask until whole city blocks were covered in the shitty alcohol of Dorne. No one was really sure when the first torch was lit but it did not take long for the fires to catch. The wood burned first but soon even the mud huts of the city were cracking under the fire fed by the poisoned wine of the Martells. Some citizens attempted to escape the inferno but ones that escaped the flames fell to the smoke and the few lucky ones to survive both were cut down by archer and crossbow fire as they exited the affected area.
Alexander watched the blaze from the towers in the Palace. The fire which would have sickened him in the past now seemed strangely comforting. The fire raged through the evening and into the morning, but slowly burned itself out as the fire burned to the sands of the Dornish desert. As the fires extinguished so did the heart of the once honorable man of Alexander Irwyn of Uplands. A man of a knightly house, who rose to command one of the largest armies ever assembled on the continent. With this Army he was going to subjugate every man, woman and child to the will of the Iron throne and ensure that the will of the Dornish people was crushed as fine as the sands of the miserable desert that they called home.
“Onto the boats, Alexander told his army, there is nothing left for us here.” The knights and men of arms of the Crown Forces did as they were instructed. Some men seemed bolstered by the event, some sickened but the aftermath left little remaining of the city or palace of the home of the Martells. “Think nothing of it, boy” Alexander says to one of his men who seemed really shaken by the event.
“You think the Dornish are shaken by the death of your friends.” Alexander shouted as the men board their ships. “The Dornish are cravens who refuse to fight as men on a field of battle. They deserve to die a traitor’s death,” Alexander cried out.
“We didn’t ask for this war when we called our banners for the King, but as the Seven as my witness, we will bring this war to every man woman and child of Dorne until they take a knee.”
The men cheered, they too caught up in the hate and feelings of revenge that flow from all of men’s conflicts.
Only the Smith knew what laid ahead for the army of the Crown forces in the months and years to come and only the Stranger knew what became of the soul of Alexander Irwyn, the Boy General, from the town of Irwyn three days ride from Stoatheart. For today marked the death of Alexander Irwyn the boy and the birth of Bloody Alex the man.
Results:
Zoella Martell, Clandinista Martell and Lady Dayne are killed.
Sunspear is razed by the army of the Crown most of the citizens burned or killed as they attempted to escape.
The Crown forces return by sea to Lemonwood.
They left the Prince’s Pass and Boneway almost completely undefended to reenforce Sunspear but when his army captured Lemonwood, the Dornish made an all out attack and when repulsed by Ser Gilbert, scattered into the desert rather then stand and fight.
While the other Lords and knights laughed and joked, Alexander sat in deep thought until he saw his friend Ser Gilbert Flowers, coughing violently and spitting up blood.
At first Alexander thought it was one of the Drunken Bastard’s pranks he expected to see his friend’s smiling face in a few minutes, until he saw Lord Lydden and Lord Tyrell choking as well.
“Quick, get the Maester its poison,” someone shouted but Alexander heard and felt nothing. He stood dumbstruck, paralyzed as his best friend sat coughing up the deep crimson liquid of life. While, the men scrambled for the Maester, Alexander knew that there was nothing that could be done for his friend. The poison would kill him, but Alexander knew that more then his friend died that day, the gentle kind thoughtful husband and friend died as well; the treachery of losing his wife, banner lord and best friend too much for his soul to take and would mean dark days for the entire realm.
Alexander’s first stop was to the prison towers, his men wrestled out a sleeping Zoella Martell, Clandinista Martell and Lady Dayne. The women were still sleepy eyed when his axe came down splitting their skulls or taking their throats. “Sorry little one,” Alex cried as his axe cleaved the collarbone of Lady Dayne killing her and the unborn child. As the women fell to the stone floor their bodies were pushed out of the Tower windows to the streets below.
Alexander next went to his men’s encampment, many who were dealing with their own grief at the death of their brother at arms. “The Serpents have taken our friends, let us take revenge,” Alexander said.
“Grab the rest of the wine and carpenter tools we will show these Dornish curs what the price is for treachery,” Alexander yelled his face racked with pain and anguish and his heart dead and devoid of feeling.
His men went through the streets of Sunspear, barring the doors from the outside. A women came out into the street to see what the racket was. “Get the fuck inside,” a soldier said.
“What?” she called out in disbelief. The soldier responded by releasing a crossbow bolt into her chest.
“Get the fuck inside or you’ll suffer the same,” another man called to other onlookers, who this time did as they were instructed.
As the doors were barred the poisoned Dornish wine was poured over the buildings, cask by poisoned cask until whole city blocks were covered in the shitty alcohol of Dorne. No one was really sure when the first torch was lit but it did not take long for the fires to catch. The wood burned first but soon even the mud huts of the city were cracking under the fire fed by the poisoned wine of the Martells. Some citizens attempted to escape the inferno but ones that escaped the flames fell to the smoke and the few lucky ones to survive both were cut down by archer and crossbow fire as they exited the affected area.
Alexander watched the blaze from the towers in the Palace. The fire which would have sickened him in the past now seemed strangely comforting. The fire raged through the evening and into the morning, but slowly burned itself out as the fire burned to the sands of the Dornish desert. As the fires extinguished so did the heart of the once honorable man of Alexander Irwyn of Uplands. A man of a knightly house, who rose to command one of the largest armies ever assembled on the continent. With this Army he was going to subjugate every man, woman and child to the will of the Iron throne and ensure that the will of the Dornish people was crushed as fine as the sands of the miserable desert that they called home.
“Onto the boats, Alexander told his army, there is nothing left for us here.” The knights and men of arms of the Crown Forces did as they were instructed. Some men seemed bolstered by the event, some sickened but the aftermath left little remaining of the city or palace of the home of the Martells. “Think nothing of it, boy” Alexander says to one of his men who seemed really shaken by the event.
“You think the Dornish are shaken by the death of your friends.” Alexander shouted as the men board their ships. “The Dornish are cravens who refuse to fight as men on a field of battle. They deserve to die a traitor’s death,” Alexander cried out.
“We didn’t ask for this war when we called our banners for the King, but as the Seven as my witness, we will bring this war to every man woman and child of Dorne until they take a knee.”
The men cheered, they too caught up in the hate and feelings of revenge that flow from all of men’s conflicts.
Only the Smith knew what laid ahead for the army of the Crown forces in the months and years to come and only the Stranger knew what became of the soul of Alexander Irwyn, the Boy General, from the town of Irwyn three days ride from Stoatheart. For today marked the death of Alexander Irwyn the boy and the birth of Bloody Alex the man.
Results:
Zoella Martell, Clandinista Martell and Lady Dayne are killed.
Sunspear is razed by the army of the Crown most of the citizens burned or killed as they attempted to escape.
The Crown forces return by sea to Lemonwood.