Post by The Stranger on Aug 3, 2008 15:33:55 GMT -5
A corpse slid off Ser Mychel’s greatsword as he shook it free, before binging the blade up to parry the strike from another soldier. The King’s Men had been slaughtered nearly to a man, early in the battle. Ser Mychel cut men down all around him, lunging after those that tried to slip past him, always interposing himself between any foeman moving toward the King. Battle seemed much more exhausting, now that his energy was spent solely on defending someone else’s life rather than merely his own. He felt as though he should be in all places at once, and was coming up wanting because he could not do so. He watched in horror as Darien Stone cut down one of the enemy champions that had gotten around both Ser Mychel and Ser Elwood, and after that the Lord Commander stayed even closer to the king’s side.
The gates fell to the ferocity of the Westerosi soldiers, and the walls fell soon after, as men pushed into the interior of the city. Men died by the thousand under the city’s walls, but the King was able to rally his men over and over again, driving the army through the streets of the city clearing out blocks one-by-one. Ser Mychel kept his eye on the young knight that he had beaten in the training yard, and the man performed incredibly, his dual blades cutting down soldiers and even the fearsome Basilisk creatures as well.
The battle seemed to take weeks, with everything going unnoticed besides the spray of blood and the crunch of bones. The wails of the wounded could be heard over the clashes of steel upon steel, and the stone frozen corpses of those unfortunate enough to look into the Basilisks’ eyes impeded those who fought forward to kill the beasts. The men in black armor fell, cut down by arrow, lance, and sword, though the losses were heavy on the attackers’ side as well. The Empress of the enemy, a woman with an ethereal look who hissed like a reptile moved gracefully about the field, cutting down warriors easily until she came upon the Dornishman, Osney Santagar.
The Knight of Spotswood moved even more gracefully and quicker than she, slashing her chest to ribbons before ending the fight mercifully. Less than a minute later, Ser Mychel stepped over the corpse of a young knight killed by the enemy’s second in command, and cleanly moved in to decapitate the Envoy. Ser Mychel looked down at his armor, which was soaked completely crimson though the Envoy’s blade had not even touched him. Blood leaked from his wounds and when the battle was won, Ser Mychel gave up a cheer with the men-at-arms.
Afterwards, he put a hand on King Rickon’s shoulder as pages fussed over them both. “We will honor those men who fell here today, your grace, for their sacrifice has saved your kingdom.” Rickon looked on impassively, his young face etched with an unreadable expression. Ser Mychel bowed to the king, and then took his leave to see to Ser Elwood, and the remaining King’s Men, and to prepare a missive to be sent to Highgarden.
Ser Mychel Lannister improves toward Master Battle
Ser Mychel Lannister improves toward Master Leadership
The gates fell to the ferocity of the Westerosi soldiers, and the walls fell soon after, as men pushed into the interior of the city. Men died by the thousand under the city’s walls, but the King was able to rally his men over and over again, driving the army through the streets of the city clearing out blocks one-by-one. Ser Mychel kept his eye on the young knight that he had beaten in the training yard, and the man performed incredibly, his dual blades cutting down soldiers and even the fearsome Basilisk creatures as well.
The battle seemed to take weeks, with everything going unnoticed besides the spray of blood and the crunch of bones. The wails of the wounded could be heard over the clashes of steel upon steel, and the stone frozen corpses of those unfortunate enough to look into the Basilisks’ eyes impeded those who fought forward to kill the beasts. The men in black armor fell, cut down by arrow, lance, and sword, though the losses were heavy on the attackers’ side as well. The Empress of the enemy, a woman with an ethereal look who hissed like a reptile moved gracefully about the field, cutting down warriors easily until she came upon the Dornishman, Osney Santagar.
The Knight of Spotswood moved even more gracefully and quicker than she, slashing her chest to ribbons before ending the fight mercifully. Less than a minute later, Ser Mychel stepped over the corpse of a young knight killed by the enemy’s second in command, and cleanly moved in to decapitate the Envoy. Ser Mychel looked down at his armor, which was soaked completely crimson though the Envoy’s blade had not even touched him. Blood leaked from his wounds and when the battle was won, Ser Mychel gave up a cheer with the men-at-arms.
Afterwards, he put a hand on King Rickon’s shoulder as pages fussed over them both. “We will honor those men who fell here today, your grace, for their sacrifice has saved your kingdom.” Rickon looked on impassively, his young face etched with an unreadable expression. Ser Mychel bowed to the king, and then took his leave to see to Ser Elwood, and the remaining King’s Men, and to prepare a missive to be sent to Highgarden.
Ser Mychel Lannister improves toward Master Battle
Ser Mychel Lannister improves toward Master Leadership