Post by The Stranger on Aug 2, 2008 21:10:09 GMT -5
Lord Dondarrion led the Stormlanders in a great charge towards the walls of King's Landing, but suddenly the ground far ahead of them broke open and the enemy rose up from tunnels buried far beneath the ground. Their men were cut off from their support and the enemy confused the generals and soldiers, who all fought for their lives.
"Cut them down!", Dondarrion ordered as he raced through the crowds of foe, sending a man to the ground with every other stroke.
He watched a man of his take a blade to the stomach and his charger pommeled the attacker, as Dondarrion slashed the man across his face.
Breck was wild with a sword today as he fought viciously to prove not only his loyalty to the crown, but his devotion to his men. The first had been in question and the second was always worth proving, especially when he was not their permanent leader.
His sword was slick with blood but he continued fitting after blooding his coat so bad he could not read his own arms.
At one point his horse was cut out from underneath him and he landed on the ground poorly, before raising his sword to defend from two blows. He gave strongly placed ripostes and killed one of his attackers before giving two others fright-- they fled from him.
Sound faded from the world as Breck turned into a whirlwind in the battle, putting himself in the most ridiculous positions and always seeming to manage a way out. His friends who saw him battling were impressed with how incredible he was fighting until they noticed him take a few superficial wounds, which slowed him down considerably.
Aware of what could happen if he chose to keep pressing himself, Breck turned from the thickest parts of the battle and heading back to groups of Stormlanders-- fighting alongside their dwindling numbers.
He was unsure if they would notice now, but he had already seen that it seemed only one of every twenty men who stood this morning still stood now. The rest of the battle was a silent frenzy of blood and cuts, and cries, as the Westerosi men retook their city.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Day broke over the King's Landing, and the snow and soggy grounds of the city and the suburbs were run with blood. It was only a few days after the greatest tragedy soldiers of Westeros had seen in centuries took place...the culmination of the better part of a year of fighting took place in the capital, where armies had stretched for miles in formation to assault the walls.
Breck had not slept for days and all the time he had was spent in his own quarters in Blackhold, which remarkably still stood. He had requested one night that hard leather dummies and other makeshift training objects be sent to his chambers, and he spent a marvelous amount of time with his blade, merely slicing away.
In the daytime when he could find partners in the training yard --those that still wanted to fight, and few did-- he saw to it that he won each fight. It was something new to his character, something brutal, a dormant and deep vengeance that blindly awoke to attack everything in its sight. However bad it was for other people, it gave Breck more focus when he fought, and his sword was a mere extension of his own arm. Every movement need no thought, his attacks and lunges were superb, and he held his defense better than ever before.
Whatever it was that was awaking inside him, it was bringing something new to his life.
Results:
Breck Dondarrion improves to Grandmaster Swordsmanship, for his part in the Battle of King's Landing and this scenario.
"Cut them down!", Dondarrion ordered as he raced through the crowds of foe, sending a man to the ground with every other stroke.
He watched a man of his take a blade to the stomach and his charger pommeled the attacker, as Dondarrion slashed the man across his face.
Breck was wild with a sword today as he fought viciously to prove not only his loyalty to the crown, but his devotion to his men. The first had been in question and the second was always worth proving, especially when he was not their permanent leader.
His sword was slick with blood but he continued fitting after blooding his coat so bad he could not read his own arms.
At one point his horse was cut out from underneath him and he landed on the ground poorly, before raising his sword to defend from two blows. He gave strongly placed ripostes and killed one of his attackers before giving two others fright-- they fled from him.
Sound faded from the world as Breck turned into a whirlwind in the battle, putting himself in the most ridiculous positions and always seeming to manage a way out. His friends who saw him battling were impressed with how incredible he was fighting until they noticed him take a few superficial wounds, which slowed him down considerably.
Aware of what could happen if he chose to keep pressing himself, Breck turned from the thickest parts of the battle and heading back to groups of Stormlanders-- fighting alongside their dwindling numbers.
He was unsure if they would notice now, but he had already seen that it seemed only one of every twenty men who stood this morning still stood now. The rest of the battle was a silent frenzy of blood and cuts, and cries, as the Westerosi men retook their city.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Day broke over the King's Landing, and the snow and soggy grounds of the city and the suburbs were run with blood. It was only a few days after the greatest tragedy soldiers of Westeros had seen in centuries took place...the culmination of the better part of a year of fighting took place in the capital, where armies had stretched for miles in formation to assault the walls.
Breck had not slept for days and all the time he had was spent in his own quarters in Blackhold, which remarkably still stood. He had requested one night that hard leather dummies and other makeshift training objects be sent to his chambers, and he spent a marvelous amount of time with his blade, merely slicing away.
In the daytime when he could find partners in the training yard --those that still wanted to fight, and few did-- he saw to it that he won each fight. It was something new to his character, something brutal, a dormant and deep vengeance that blindly awoke to attack everything in its sight. However bad it was for other people, it gave Breck more focus when he fought, and his sword was a mere extension of his own arm. Every movement need no thought, his attacks and lunges were superb, and he held his defense better than ever before.
Whatever it was that was awaking inside him, it was bringing something new to his life.
Results:
Breck Dondarrion improves to Grandmaster Swordsmanship, for his part in the Battle of King's Landing and this scenario.