Post by The Smith on Oct 14, 2008 23:26:32 GMT -5
With the wind blowing strong, the Titan of Braavos was easy to make out on the other ships' ensigns.
It was a few moments before they began to turn away. The Braavosi had grown comfortable, thinking the Stepstones secure.
Nothing like a sail bearing the kraken of Greyjoy to ruin such a thought.
The seven other ships were slower than the Ironborn longboats. The prancing Easterners new how to make their ships fast, it could not be denied, but these large ones were obviously laden with goods, and rather ponderous as a result.
Jhorgo grinned as he saw what the Braavosi were running to: an island not so very far off. It looked like a barren rock rising out of the ocean. A perfectly good place to corner and kill the merchants.
"Slow down a bit," He told the man beating the great drum that kept the rowers in time, "We'll let them reach their would-be safe harbor." Similar messages were delivered to the five other longboats. It was Helya that raised the first objections, of course.
"Trying to trick us, brother?" She called across the water between them, "Get us to slow down so you can get the first kills, and the first pick of the loot?"
Jhorgo just shook his head at his sister's comments. "Just thinking they might lead us to something worth finding on the rock of theirs. No sense in killing some folk on the open water when they might be more useful to us on shore."
Helya just rolled her eyes, impatient as ever. Her ship did slow, though, and crept with the others toward the Braavosi shipping fleet. It went on for a few hours, until the island had grown large and close, and could now be seen as a great round thing of black stone, its sides sheer and topped by high cliffs.
Jhorgo thought the Braavosi were just fools, sailing for an old, useless piece of rock. Or he did, at least, until the first ship disappeared.
One by one, they slipped into a huge cave on the island's side. Jhorgo laughed at that. "Smugglers and their hiding places." He muttered to himself, before calling out, "Light some torches! Seems we'll be going spelunking!"
The torches were lit, and the Ironborn followed into the cavern, twisting through the rock, until finally they emerged into daylight. They were in a colossal basin, housing a beach which wrapped around most of its circumference, a tropical forest presenting a colorful show.
And, of course, there were also the Braavosi. They were hurriedly unloading their ships, carrying what they had to a small collection of ramshackle buildings.
"Octavion!" Jhorgo called over to his half-brother's ship, "Give them the usual offer! Their lives, in exchange for their women and their wealth!"
"Of course, brother," The small Ironman called back, managing to sound quiet even while yelling. He shouted the offer to those on the shore, then telling Jhorgo, "The fools refuse. It seems they think that they outnumber us, and that their possessions are not, in fact, rightfully ours."
"Bloody fools." Jhorgo muttered, drumming his fingers on the axe stuck in his belt. Then he nodded to the archers standing on his deck, and a number of Braavosi sprouted feathers. All the longboats sped up, before grinding to a halt in the beach's shallow water and having their crews leap out, ready for battle.
The Braavosi fought well, given the circumstances. But, much as they might have liked to call themselves water dancers, they were not suited to this, nearly a brawl in waste-deep water. They are not a terribly brave people, however, and the sight of Helya, soaking wet, covered in blood, kneeing a man in the crotch and neatly severing his spine, could frighten even the terribly brave.
"We...we surrender!" Shouted an old, bald man, hung with fineries. "Take what we have, and leave us in peace!"
Jhorgo strode past several waterlogged bodies to come face-to-face with the Braavosi leader. "Leave? Why would we do that, you damn fool, when everything we could ever want is right here?" He said, laughing, then growled, "Lay down your arms." They did. Some of the Ironborn scurried between them, picking up the weapons. "This is how it shall be. You are ours. Our thralls. Not quite so bad as a slave, but near enough for our purposes. This place, it is ours. I can't see a Braavosi fleet managing to find us in here. Now get to work," He nodded at the tree line some yards off, "Grab some axes. We'll need a hall."
The Braavosi leader began to stutter a protest, but soon realized he was appealing to deaf ears.
That night, those Ironborn not guarding the new thralls were drinking around the fire they had built.
"Welcome to New Pyke, gentlemen." Jhorgo told his men.
------------------------------------------
New Pyke is founded in the Stepstones.
Jhorgo Greyjoy improves to Expert Sailing.
It was a few moments before they began to turn away. The Braavosi had grown comfortable, thinking the Stepstones secure.
Nothing like a sail bearing the kraken of Greyjoy to ruin such a thought.
The seven other ships were slower than the Ironborn longboats. The prancing Easterners new how to make their ships fast, it could not be denied, but these large ones were obviously laden with goods, and rather ponderous as a result.
Jhorgo grinned as he saw what the Braavosi were running to: an island not so very far off. It looked like a barren rock rising out of the ocean. A perfectly good place to corner and kill the merchants.
"Slow down a bit," He told the man beating the great drum that kept the rowers in time, "We'll let them reach their would-be safe harbor." Similar messages were delivered to the five other longboats. It was Helya that raised the first objections, of course.
"Trying to trick us, brother?" She called across the water between them, "Get us to slow down so you can get the first kills, and the first pick of the loot?"
Jhorgo just shook his head at his sister's comments. "Just thinking they might lead us to something worth finding on the rock of theirs. No sense in killing some folk on the open water when they might be more useful to us on shore."
Helya just rolled her eyes, impatient as ever. Her ship did slow, though, and crept with the others toward the Braavosi shipping fleet. It went on for a few hours, until the island had grown large and close, and could now be seen as a great round thing of black stone, its sides sheer and topped by high cliffs.
Jhorgo thought the Braavosi were just fools, sailing for an old, useless piece of rock. Or he did, at least, until the first ship disappeared.
One by one, they slipped into a huge cave on the island's side. Jhorgo laughed at that. "Smugglers and their hiding places." He muttered to himself, before calling out, "Light some torches! Seems we'll be going spelunking!"
The torches were lit, and the Ironborn followed into the cavern, twisting through the rock, until finally they emerged into daylight. They were in a colossal basin, housing a beach which wrapped around most of its circumference, a tropical forest presenting a colorful show.
And, of course, there were also the Braavosi. They were hurriedly unloading their ships, carrying what they had to a small collection of ramshackle buildings.
"Octavion!" Jhorgo called over to his half-brother's ship, "Give them the usual offer! Their lives, in exchange for their women and their wealth!"
"Of course, brother," The small Ironman called back, managing to sound quiet even while yelling. He shouted the offer to those on the shore, then telling Jhorgo, "The fools refuse. It seems they think that they outnumber us, and that their possessions are not, in fact, rightfully ours."
"Bloody fools." Jhorgo muttered, drumming his fingers on the axe stuck in his belt. Then he nodded to the archers standing on his deck, and a number of Braavosi sprouted feathers. All the longboats sped up, before grinding to a halt in the beach's shallow water and having their crews leap out, ready for battle.
The Braavosi fought well, given the circumstances. But, much as they might have liked to call themselves water dancers, they were not suited to this, nearly a brawl in waste-deep water. They are not a terribly brave people, however, and the sight of Helya, soaking wet, covered in blood, kneeing a man in the crotch and neatly severing his spine, could frighten even the terribly brave.
"We...we surrender!" Shouted an old, bald man, hung with fineries. "Take what we have, and leave us in peace!"
Jhorgo strode past several waterlogged bodies to come face-to-face with the Braavosi leader. "Leave? Why would we do that, you damn fool, when everything we could ever want is right here?" He said, laughing, then growled, "Lay down your arms." They did. Some of the Ironborn scurried between them, picking up the weapons. "This is how it shall be. You are ours. Our thralls. Not quite so bad as a slave, but near enough for our purposes. This place, it is ours. I can't see a Braavosi fleet managing to find us in here. Now get to work," He nodded at the tree line some yards off, "Grab some axes. We'll need a hall."
The Braavosi leader began to stutter a protest, but soon realized he was appealing to deaf ears.
That night, those Ironborn not guarding the new thralls were drinking around the fire they had built.
"Welcome to New Pyke, gentlemen." Jhorgo told his men.
------------------------------------------
New Pyke is founded in the Stepstones.
Jhorgo Greyjoy improves to Expert Sailing.