Post by The Smith on Sept 3, 2008 18:04:24 GMT -5
Lord Rhaegar Velaryon rode swiftly through the bailey, steering his destrier around piles of rubble and burned out shells of buildings. The pre-dawn air was filled with smoke. He could feel it scratching at the back of his throat, taste it when it coated his lips in the same powdery grey dust that covered everything. Far above him, torches flared on the walls of Dragonstone, the men on guard casting huge shadows as they passed through the pools of yellow smoke. Wounded men huddled on the back of a cart as it bounced over the uneven ground on the way to the infirmary,. They moved past a train of slow moving men loaded down with arrows in bundles on their backs who were making their way to the walls to resupply the archers and crossbowmen that had dealt death and destruction to the thousands of dead that lay outside the walls of Dragonstone. Most of them, it appeared from their banners and the colour of their surcoats, were from the Mander.
Rhaegar dismounted and handed to the reins to a squire. The area of the wall near the massive iron gates of Dragonstone was quiet in the hours before the next assault was due to begin. “Have you seen my uncle?” he asked the squire.
The squire gave a short bow and pointed up the stairs that led to the battlements.
“Up there, my lord.”
Rhaegar nodded his thanks and bounded up the stairs. The knights on guard nodded respectfully to him, as he pushed open the door that led to a small chamber and then further on to the walls.
Inside he found his uncle and Ser Vortimer Rivers bent over a drawing of the walls laid out on two barrels. Torchlight threw their silhouettes up onto the sides of the lofty chamber, the floor of which was littered with shards of stone.
Ameron looked around. “Ah Rhaegar. What news is there from your section of the wall?”
Rhaegar grimaced.
“We’ve slaughtered the Mander below our wall, but from we can gather the Far Reachmen are now moving towards here. It looks as if they’re going to make a direct assault on this position in order to break through. Under the cover of darkness they’ve almost filled in part of the fosse and are almost up to the base of the walls.”
Ameron cursed.
“I’ve given orders that all my men are to be woken” said Rhaegar. “You need to do the same.”
Ameron nodded and turned to Vortimer Rivers.
“Wake the men Vortimer” he said. “Tell them we are expecting an all out assault.”
“My lord.” said Ser Vortimer, bowing and moving out.
Ameron, his face haggard in the torchlight, turned to Rhaegar. “This could be it Rhaegar.”
Rhaegar’s jaw tightened. He nodded.
“I must make ready my men and you must return to yours.” said Ameron.
“Rhaegar nodded again wordlessly.
Ameron went to head to the battlements, then turned back and grasped Rhaegar’s hand in both of his own, which were rough and calloused. He squeezed hard. ‘The Warrior be with you.” he said in a tight voice.
“And with you.”
Rhaegar watched his uncle go, before moving off himself. As he passed the Gate he head somewhere in the distance, beyond the walls, a drum begin to pound.
///////////
It was a scene from hell. Smoke bollowed in black choking clouds as clay pots full of wildfire exploded in the bailey. There weren’t many, but enough to cause havoc as horses screamed and reared as their flesh burned. A small contingent of mounted knights had repeatedly charged and wheeled at the attackers bursting through the massive gates. One man, whose mount had been slain beneath him had burst into flames as one of the pots smashed against him, the fire setting his cloak alight. He thrashed blindly as the flames roared up around him and his face began to burn, his skin melting and running like tallow.
The Far Reach lines were a seething wall of men and spears and shields, those in front forced forward, pushed by those behind. The first soldiers held tall shields from behind which archer s launched volley of arrows into the Targaryen defenders. Other thrw javelins and still the pots of wildfire kep coming untril it seemed the whole world was burning.
Rhaegar was on his horse, by now fighting alongside his uncle whose men had been forced from the walls. His arms were throbbing and his mantle was torn and blackened, soaked in blood, almost all of it that of others. He lifted his shield to deflect another javelin as it was hurled against him and crashed agaist the high back of his saddle with the impact. The sound of three hundred kettle drums beating loudly rang insanely inside his helmet, along with the screams of the dying scattered all around him, both friend and foe.
Following the beating of the thunderous drum that had continued to reverberate, the Far Reachmen had launched their assault shortly before dawn. They had come as a single solid mass, one that the depleted defenders who the day before had wreaked such destruction on the men of the Mander were this time unable to contain. Many of the Far Reachmen had fallen, crushed beneath the stones flung from the Citadel walls or burned alive in the boiling oil that was poured on their ranks. But many more kept coming, striding over the dead. The clouds of arrows flying up at Dragonstone’s troops was simply too thick for the defenders to stand against and within a short time the Far Reachmen had a foothold on the walls. They poured in through the breach, pushing back the troops that tried to halt them and entered the outer bailey between the outer and inner wall. Some broke left and charged along the channel towards Rhaegar’s own position in front of the thousands of dead men from the Mander. Another company, made up of several thousand surged right throught the outer bailey to Aegon’s Gate, where well warned, the companies commanded by Ameron and then Rhaegar himself prepared to resist.
Time after time the Reachmen in the front rows hefted their shields to move forward through the broken, burned gates advancing inch by inch across the rock strewn bailey. As they did so, Rhaegar would let out a rallying cry and the defending knights, now mounted from the stables would charge against them, hurling themselves at the Reach lines, bring down swords and axe blades into the heads and throats and arms of their enemy. Some men fought on with arrows piercing their sides or appalling wounds that shook them with agony every movement they made.
This was it. The final stand.
Rhaegar found himself himself pinned in a circle with a number of other knights, lashing out with this sword, his shield arm throbbing with every bone-crushing thump as blades struck the wood each time he deflected a blow. A sword scraped across his thigh, but skittered harmlessly off his chainmail; another tore through his mantle. Sweat coursed down his cheeks inside his helmet, through the slit of which he could only see the faces of the enemy in front of him, There were screams all around, the clash of iron and steel.
Rhaegar fought ruthlessely, methodically, pounding away at the men around him, his only aim to kill them before they killed him. These were not men anymore. In his sights they were targets that had to be destroyed. Instinct had taken over from intellect and remorse had vanished out of necessity. He roared as he slammed down on them, the edge of his blade slicing through any area of exposed flesh that he struck. The last man in front of him dropped, his unprotected skull cleaved down the middle all the way to his chin.
The men of the Reach in front of him were massing again. Rhaegar recognized their position here was hopeless. As they’d won their way through a group of Reachmen who had threatened to cut them off from their passage to the Stone Drum, Rhaegar saw his opportunity of his men reaching the Stone Drum and dealing more death and destruction. He roared the retreat.
The defenders closed ranks. Nearly all of them were dismounted now with most of their horses dead. Rhaegar started to move slowly backwards holding his shield in front of him. A flash of white caught his eye to the left, as a man detached himself from the mass of enemy in front of him and threw himself snarling at Rhaegar.
It was a knight of the Baratheon boy’s own Kingsguard! Rhaegar brought his sword up to block the man’s sweeping blade. The resultant clash of blades rang higher than the roar of the battle. Rhaegar swung his own blade at the knight’s head, but his cut was easily blocked.
I’m not going to die at the hands of one of the Baratheon’s lackeys he thought. I won’t give the Kinslayer the satisfaction.
The two men swung at each other again, but this time the press of battle began to bear them away from each other. A rush of defenders seeking to protect their lord, rushed the white knight, who was engulfed in a sea of red and black Targaryen defenders.
Ameron had been the first to see the clash with the Kingsguard knight and had ordered his own men to attack and kill the knight. The rush was certainly enough for Rhaegar to disengage from combat and ascertain their circumstances. He saw nothing to give him confidence and neither did Ameron
“It’s hopeless.” his uncle screamed. “You’ve got to get out of here.”
Rhaegar shook his head. “No, I must lead the men.”
“It’s over Rhaegar.” It’s over. We’ve lost. Don’t die here. Live to fight another day.”
They were joined by Ser Vortimer, bloody and bleeding from half a dozen wounds. Behind them, another charge against the massing Reachmen was led by the few remaining knights, forcing the enemy back and giving them extra space.
“We will hold them for as long as possible.” said Ser Vortimer. “Take him!” he said to Ameron.
“Vortimer,” murmured Rhaegar, grasping the man’s arm.
“Get out of here!” ordered Vortimer, shrugging Rhaegar's hand off before turning to face the enemy as they advanced again. Vortimer’s face was pale despite his recent exertions.
Now that he was briefly out of the battle and able to think more clearly, Rhaegar knew that the defence of Dragonstone was over. The knights would die there or be slaughtered afterwards even if they surrendered. Whether he was with them or not would make no difference.
“Go!” yelled Vortimer again as arrows fell around them. A few Reachmen attempted to get around the pathetic line of the defenders to try and cut off Rhaegar’s retreat into the Stone Drm, but Rhaegar sliced his way through them, swinging his sword two handed through the neck of one of them and slashing the hamstrings of another amd then stabbing at the throat of the fallen man. An arrow struck his back a glancing blow, but bounced off his chainmail. Rhaegar fought off another soldier, then together with Ameron dashed into the Stone Drum. A couple of knights were there guarding the gate of the Stone Drum and they ushered Rhaegar and Ameron through, before putting up a dogged resistance behind them at the gate to cover their retreat.
//////
It had been seven days since Dragonstone’s fall as far as Rhaegar could make out. After descending into the secret tunnels below the Citadel, he and Ameron had remained just below the entrances, listening to the sounds of killing that had continued for three days and three nights. Dragonstone Citadel had become a charnel house, a stinking open grave filled with children lying twisted and bloodied, men hacked down as they ran, women viciously raped, then disembowelled and beheaded. All along the walls and outside the gates and entrances of towers the corpses of knights and soliders lay sprawled across each other. Banners and flags, some still clutched by their bearers fluttered limply over the piles of dead.
It had become dangerous to stay close to the surface, especially after the victors had realized that Lord Velaryon was not amongst the dead and had begun actively searching for the young lord. Rhaegar and Ameron as a result had descended deep into the secret passages that had taken them years to explore and become familiar with and which any pursuing enemy who had been lucky enough to find a couple of the secret entrances would never have a hope of navigating
Far below the Citadel were stashed several rock chambers that had been filled with Dragonstone’s treasury and important documents. Coins, relics, jewels, chalices, rings and books, all were neatly stacked. Rhaegar and Ameron worked for days moving the more important and more valuable pieces close to the spot from where they would make their escape from the island. A ship had been stationed there for some time and over the next few weeks Ameron had used his ship building skills to make the ship more seaworthy. Rhaegar christened her the ‘Sealion.’
Both men began surfacing in the dead of night on the island to silently and secretly observe the movements of the ships sailing off the coast. They could easily see the winking lights of the ships’ cabins as they moved regally through the night patrolling along the coast. As the days and nights passed, the sighting of enemy ships became rarer and raere.
They spent a few days loading what they could of Dragonstone’s treasury onto the waiting ship that had been stationed in a smuggler’s cove in the event that it would be needed for an escape. Several times they had to hide both the ship and themselves from roving patrols of Reachmen. It was close thing on occasions but they were not discovered. On two occasions Rhaegar himself caught sight of the Kingsguard knight that he had crossed swords with. At each sighting he grimaced. Rickon would not have the satisfaction of one of his Kingsguard taking him – either dead or alive. Each time he spied the Kingsguard Rhaegar melted back into the shaows of his well concealed hiding place. As the Reachmen patrols became less and less, they were joined by a number of fleeing islanders, who had somehow managed to escape and who were overjoyed to learn that their Lord was still alive. Rhaegar used them to help crew the ship which would be needed for their escape
Almost to a man they were loyal, but when Rhaegar had to kill one who wanted to turn him into the enemy, Rhaegar judged it was time to go, before the offer of a reward became too tempting for any of the others.
Loading the gold onto the ship and using the dark cover of a moonless night, the ship, by now painted black, sailed silently out into the open sea. Rhaegar and his uncle both knew the waters and shoals of Dragonstone island intimately and were able to put their knowledge to good use to avoid any hostile contact. The local currents enabled them to drift quietly out to sea, out of sight and hearing of any enemy ships that might have been lurking nearby.
As the shores of Dragonstone receded, Rhaegar could see the lights of Dragonstone Citadel winking on the horizon. A tear ran down his cheek as he contemplated his life there. Avery, Alessa, Monterys, Viserys and Aelinor as well as his cousins and most of his friends were all gone. Nevertheless, as he stood gripping the rail of the ship, he vowed to one day return and wreak vengeance on those who had brought him to this. All men must die he thought. May they die soon.
Results:
Rhaegar Velaryon improves to Noteworthy in Longsword
Rhaegar Velaryon improves towards Grandmaster in Command
Ameron Velaryon improves to Novice in Battle
Ameron Velaryon improves to Expert in Command
Rhaegar Velaryon and Ameron Velaryon escape from Dragonstone Island on the ‘Sealion’, laden with as much of the Dragonstone treasury as could be stored on the ship.
Rhaegar dismounted and handed to the reins to a squire. The area of the wall near the massive iron gates of Dragonstone was quiet in the hours before the next assault was due to begin. “Have you seen my uncle?” he asked the squire.
The squire gave a short bow and pointed up the stairs that led to the battlements.
“Up there, my lord.”
Rhaegar nodded his thanks and bounded up the stairs. The knights on guard nodded respectfully to him, as he pushed open the door that led to a small chamber and then further on to the walls.
Inside he found his uncle and Ser Vortimer Rivers bent over a drawing of the walls laid out on two barrels. Torchlight threw their silhouettes up onto the sides of the lofty chamber, the floor of which was littered with shards of stone.
Ameron looked around. “Ah Rhaegar. What news is there from your section of the wall?”
Rhaegar grimaced.
“We’ve slaughtered the Mander below our wall, but from we can gather the Far Reachmen are now moving towards here. It looks as if they’re going to make a direct assault on this position in order to break through. Under the cover of darkness they’ve almost filled in part of the fosse and are almost up to the base of the walls.”
Ameron cursed.
“I’ve given orders that all my men are to be woken” said Rhaegar. “You need to do the same.”
Ameron nodded and turned to Vortimer Rivers.
“Wake the men Vortimer” he said. “Tell them we are expecting an all out assault.”
“My lord.” said Ser Vortimer, bowing and moving out.
Ameron, his face haggard in the torchlight, turned to Rhaegar. “This could be it Rhaegar.”
Rhaegar’s jaw tightened. He nodded.
“I must make ready my men and you must return to yours.” said Ameron.
“Rhaegar nodded again wordlessly.
Ameron went to head to the battlements, then turned back and grasped Rhaegar’s hand in both of his own, which were rough and calloused. He squeezed hard. ‘The Warrior be with you.” he said in a tight voice.
“And with you.”
Rhaegar watched his uncle go, before moving off himself. As he passed the Gate he head somewhere in the distance, beyond the walls, a drum begin to pound.
///////////
It was a scene from hell. Smoke bollowed in black choking clouds as clay pots full of wildfire exploded in the bailey. There weren’t many, but enough to cause havoc as horses screamed and reared as their flesh burned. A small contingent of mounted knights had repeatedly charged and wheeled at the attackers bursting through the massive gates. One man, whose mount had been slain beneath him had burst into flames as one of the pots smashed against him, the fire setting his cloak alight. He thrashed blindly as the flames roared up around him and his face began to burn, his skin melting and running like tallow.
The Far Reach lines were a seething wall of men and spears and shields, those in front forced forward, pushed by those behind. The first soldiers held tall shields from behind which archer s launched volley of arrows into the Targaryen defenders. Other thrw javelins and still the pots of wildfire kep coming untril it seemed the whole world was burning.
Rhaegar was on his horse, by now fighting alongside his uncle whose men had been forced from the walls. His arms were throbbing and his mantle was torn and blackened, soaked in blood, almost all of it that of others. He lifted his shield to deflect another javelin as it was hurled against him and crashed agaist the high back of his saddle with the impact. The sound of three hundred kettle drums beating loudly rang insanely inside his helmet, along with the screams of the dying scattered all around him, both friend and foe.
Following the beating of the thunderous drum that had continued to reverberate, the Far Reachmen had launched their assault shortly before dawn. They had come as a single solid mass, one that the depleted defenders who the day before had wreaked such destruction on the men of the Mander were this time unable to contain. Many of the Far Reachmen had fallen, crushed beneath the stones flung from the Citadel walls or burned alive in the boiling oil that was poured on their ranks. But many more kept coming, striding over the dead. The clouds of arrows flying up at Dragonstone’s troops was simply too thick for the defenders to stand against and within a short time the Far Reachmen had a foothold on the walls. They poured in through the breach, pushing back the troops that tried to halt them and entered the outer bailey between the outer and inner wall. Some broke left and charged along the channel towards Rhaegar’s own position in front of the thousands of dead men from the Mander. Another company, made up of several thousand surged right throught the outer bailey to Aegon’s Gate, where well warned, the companies commanded by Ameron and then Rhaegar himself prepared to resist.
Time after time the Reachmen in the front rows hefted their shields to move forward through the broken, burned gates advancing inch by inch across the rock strewn bailey. As they did so, Rhaegar would let out a rallying cry and the defending knights, now mounted from the stables would charge against them, hurling themselves at the Reach lines, bring down swords and axe blades into the heads and throats and arms of their enemy. Some men fought on with arrows piercing their sides or appalling wounds that shook them with agony every movement they made.
This was it. The final stand.
Rhaegar found himself himself pinned in a circle with a number of other knights, lashing out with this sword, his shield arm throbbing with every bone-crushing thump as blades struck the wood each time he deflected a blow. A sword scraped across his thigh, but skittered harmlessly off his chainmail; another tore through his mantle. Sweat coursed down his cheeks inside his helmet, through the slit of which he could only see the faces of the enemy in front of him, There were screams all around, the clash of iron and steel.
Rhaegar fought ruthlessely, methodically, pounding away at the men around him, his only aim to kill them before they killed him. These were not men anymore. In his sights they were targets that had to be destroyed. Instinct had taken over from intellect and remorse had vanished out of necessity. He roared as he slammed down on them, the edge of his blade slicing through any area of exposed flesh that he struck. The last man in front of him dropped, his unprotected skull cleaved down the middle all the way to his chin.
The men of the Reach in front of him were massing again. Rhaegar recognized their position here was hopeless. As they’d won their way through a group of Reachmen who had threatened to cut them off from their passage to the Stone Drum, Rhaegar saw his opportunity of his men reaching the Stone Drum and dealing more death and destruction. He roared the retreat.
The defenders closed ranks. Nearly all of them were dismounted now with most of their horses dead. Rhaegar started to move slowly backwards holding his shield in front of him. A flash of white caught his eye to the left, as a man detached himself from the mass of enemy in front of him and threw himself snarling at Rhaegar.
It was a knight of the Baratheon boy’s own Kingsguard! Rhaegar brought his sword up to block the man’s sweeping blade. The resultant clash of blades rang higher than the roar of the battle. Rhaegar swung his own blade at the knight’s head, but his cut was easily blocked.
I’m not going to die at the hands of one of the Baratheon’s lackeys he thought. I won’t give the Kinslayer the satisfaction.
The two men swung at each other again, but this time the press of battle began to bear them away from each other. A rush of defenders seeking to protect their lord, rushed the white knight, who was engulfed in a sea of red and black Targaryen defenders.
Ameron had been the first to see the clash with the Kingsguard knight and had ordered his own men to attack and kill the knight. The rush was certainly enough for Rhaegar to disengage from combat and ascertain their circumstances. He saw nothing to give him confidence and neither did Ameron
“It’s hopeless.” his uncle screamed. “You’ve got to get out of here.”
Rhaegar shook his head. “No, I must lead the men.”
“It’s over Rhaegar.” It’s over. We’ve lost. Don’t die here. Live to fight another day.”
They were joined by Ser Vortimer, bloody and bleeding from half a dozen wounds. Behind them, another charge against the massing Reachmen was led by the few remaining knights, forcing the enemy back and giving them extra space.
“We will hold them for as long as possible.” said Ser Vortimer. “Take him!” he said to Ameron.
“Vortimer,” murmured Rhaegar, grasping the man’s arm.
“Get out of here!” ordered Vortimer, shrugging Rhaegar's hand off before turning to face the enemy as they advanced again. Vortimer’s face was pale despite his recent exertions.
Now that he was briefly out of the battle and able to think more clearly, Rhaegar knew that the defence of Dragonstone was over. The knights would die there or be slaughtered afterwards even if they surrendered. Whether he was with them or not would make no difference.
“Go!” yelled Vortimer again as arrows fell around them. A few Reachmen attempted to get around the pathetic line of the defenders to try and cut off Rhaegar’s retreat into the Stone Drm, but Rhaegar sliced his way through them, swinging his sword two handed through the neck of one of them and slashing the hamstrings of another amd then stabbing at the throat of the fallen man. An arrow struck his back a glancing blow, but bounced off his chainmail. Rhaegar fought off another soldier, then together with Ameron dashed into the Stone Drum. A couple of knights were there guarding the gate of the Stone Drum and they ushered Rhaegar and Ameron through, before putting up a dogged resistance behind them at the gate to cover their retreat.
//////
It had been seven days since Dragonstone’s fall as far as Rhaegar could make out. After descending into the secret tunnels below the Citadel, he and Ameron had remained just below the entrances, listening to the sounds of killing that had continued for three days and three nights. Dragonstone Citadel had become a charnel house, a stinking open grave filled with children lying twisted and bloodied, men hacked down as they ran, women viciously raped, then disembowelled and beheaded. All along the walls and outside the gates and entrances of towers the corpses of knights and soliders lay sprawled across each other. Banners and flags, some still clutched by their bearers fluttered limply over the piles of dead.
It had become dangerous to stay close to the surface, especially after the victors had realized that Lord Velaryon was not amongst the dead and had begun actively searching for the young lord. Rhaegar and Ameron as a result had descended deep into the secret passages that had taken them years to explore and become familiar with and which any pursuing enemy who had been lucky enough to find a couple of the secret entrances would never have a hope of navigating
Far below the Citadel were stashed several rock chambers that had been filled with Dragonstone’s treasury and important documents. Coins, relics, jewels, chalices, rings and books, all were neatly stacked. Rhaegar and Ameron worked for days moving the more important and more valuable pieces close to the spot from where they would make their escape from the island. A ship had been stationed there for some time and over the next few weeks Ameron had used his ship building skills to make the ship more seaworthy. Rhaegar christened her the ‘Sealion.’
Both men began surfacing in the dead of night on the island to silently and secretly observe the movements of the ships sailing off the coast. They could easily see the winking lights of the ships’ cabins as they moved regally through the night patrolling along the coast. As the days and nights passed, the sighting of enemy ships became rarer and raere.
They spent a few days loading what they could of Dragonstone’s treasury onto the waiting ship that had been stationed in a smuggler’s cove in the event that it would be needed for an escape. Several times they had to hide both the ship and themselves from roving patrols of Reachmen. It was close thing on occasions but they were not discovered. On two occasions Rhaegar himself caught sight of the Kingsguard knight that he had crossed swords with. At each sighting he grimaced. Rickon would not have the satisfaction of one of his Kingsguard taking him – either dead or alive. Each time he spied the Kingsguard Rhaegar melted back into the shaows of his well concealed hiding place. As the Reachmen patrols became less and less, they were joined by a number of fleeing islanders, who had somehow managed to escape and who were overjoyed to learn that their Lord was still alive. Rhaegar used them to help crew the ship which would be needed for their escape
Almost to a man they were loyal, but when Rhaegar had to kill one who wanted to turn him into the enemy, Rhaegar judged it was time to go, before the offer of a reward became too tempting for any of the others.
Loading the gold onto the ship and using the dark cover of a moonless night, the ship, by now painted black, sailed silently out into the open sea. Rhaegar and his uncle both knew the waters and shoals of Dragonstone island intimately and were able to put their knowledge to good use to avoid any hostile contact. The local currents enabled them to drift quietly out to sea, out of sight and hearing of any enemy ships that might have been lurking nearby.
As the shores of Dragonstone receded, Rhaegar could see the lights of Dragonstone Citadel winking on the horizon. A tear ran down his cheek as he contemplated his life there. Avery, Alessa, Monterys, Viserys and Aelinor as well as his cousins and most of his friends were all gone. Nevertheless, as he stood gripping the rail of the ship, he vowed to one day return and wreak vengeance on those who had brought him to this. All men must die he thought. May they die soon.
Results:
Rhaegar Velaryon improves to Noteworthy in Longsword
Rhaegar Velaryon improves towards Grandmaster in Command
Ameron Velaryon improves to Novice in Battle
Ameron Velaryon improves to Expert in Command
Rhaegar Velaryon and Ameron Velaryon escape from Dragonstone Island on the ‘Sealion’, laden with as much of the Dragonstone treasury as could be stored on the ship.