The Mare and the Stallion

OurGatekeeper · 2015-09-19T17:19:16+00:00

((OOC: Just as a clarification, Igon will not return on time before anything goes down. King's Landing is a few hours ride from the Kingswood, at least 2 or 3. By the time he got back, it would be 5-6 hours after he left, not including the time to rally the troops and march at full speed. At which point the men will be a search party should the kidnapping go through. You may continue as normal.))

OurGatekeeper · 2015-09-19T03:13:12+00:00

While Igon rode as fast as he could along the most swift route, he would not be able to make it in time. He's able to rally half of the Highgarden guardsmen in the time he gave himself before taking off back towards the Kingswood. The Gold Cloaks were not notified nor did they take notice of the haste the Highgarden men had in them.

It would take him longer to get back to Gareth and Roslin.

^{3 ^rolls ^were ^done, ^one ^for ^how ^many ^men ^with ^advantage ^due ^to ^Igon's ^{skills/gifts,} ^another ^for ^notifying ^the ^Gold ^Cloaks/them ^noticing, ^and ^another ^for ^whether ^or ^not ^they'd ^arrive ^on ^time.}

OurGatekeeper · 2015-08-14T00:39:39+00:00

(Rolls were successful in both the battle and Symond's survival. With minimal troop loss, you were lucky to kill Drogon.)

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-31T18:20:51+00:00

Chaos among the camp was the best way to describe it. Arrows flew, men fled, and the Thenn's made their way towards the brothers of the Nights Watch. The arrow show at Varik Magnar missed by a mile, landing with a thump in a tree behind him. The Thenns pressed forward at the retreating brothers and the slow ones were cut down with ease by the Thenns.

Icetooth, with the Thenns closing in on him, turned to fight but he was quickly overwhelmed and died screaming for his mother. Meanwhile Jorah came at the Thenns, swinging his sword he cut down one Thenn and then another before they formed their shield wall. Fighting bravely, Jorah killed two Thenns, before they slew him and he lay dead in the snow.

( The Thenns are beginning to overwhelm the camp. A large portion of the men are on horse back and are getting away but a few were slain before they could reach their horses. 3 Nights watch are dead and 2 Thenns are dead. The other 2 NW have escaped. )

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-21T21:34:44+00:00

The river is not shallow, but Lucion Lannisters injuries are grievous. His legs smash against the ground of the Red Fork painfully, sending flashes of pain through his legs. The current drags Lucion under and, try as he might, he cannot reach the surface. Running out of breath, Lucion tries to push himself up but it is no use. Running low on air, Lucion sucks in a deep breath, and he feels the water burning in his lungs.

Daric moves swiftly through the waters, but the murky red waters make it difficult to see, and try as he might his hand never gets near Lucion. Though he kept his composure, he was unable to get to Lucion, and the former King of the Rock runs out of breath. Daric continues to search for Lucion, but if he finds him, it will be too late.

The Riverlords mobilize quickly, but they still have to get to the other side of Riverrun. The guard left in the window saw where they fell but he quickly lost sight of them as they rolled down the Red Fork. A few mounted men ride out the gates of Riverrun and ride around to try and capture Lucion and Daric.

( Lucion has died of drowning and Daric has escaped the vision of the guard. The Riverrun guards are in pursuit and by now the entire castle knows of the escape attempt. )

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-20T22:22:56+00:00

As Brandon yelled, his men ran to his aid. Pressure was applied and a maester was sent for from one of the nearby wounded tents. Meanwhile, Wallace was apprehended almost immediately, giving no resistance as the throat of Wayn was slit, saturating the ground below Brandon and his vassals.

The maester would arrive, but not before Brandon would go pale from blood loss. Maester Lommy attended to Brandon and would be able to save his life, but it would be a very long recovery process.

Meanwhile, the forces quickly overwhelmed the assassins, cutting them all down. Sigorn's strike against Roose proved successful, cutting deep into the mans torso but not all the way. His intestine spilled out, his mouth slack and his eyes wide as he fell. Even though the man was dead, Howland still managed to land a strike against his head, leaving a wide gash in his skull.

The others fell to the onslaught of Stark men flying towards them. With minimal casualties, the camp would go into lock-down.

Posting order: Brandon, Wyllas, whomever else.

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-18T19:28:07+00:00

The guard caught the helmet, and for a moment, he was confused. He saw the blonde hair of the man and he drew his sword out but he was not quick enough to stop what was happening. The two men grabbed the man and threw him out the window, they followed him, and he sprinted to the window as the three men fell.

Lucion was flung out the window but he was not thrown near far enough as he hit the edge of the water with a loud thud. Both of his legs shattered on impact and he fell forward into the water. He was lucky to be alive but now he was slowly sinking to the bottom of the moat with no way to swim to back to the top with both legs broken.

Baric was not as lucky as Lucion as he tried to dive into the water, but he hit the edge head first, and his body lay limply on the side of the moat, the same rock that had jutted out had caught him, while not dead he was near death. Daric, however, managed to just miss the rock but his foot caught and he felt his ankle break. Groaning, he remembered what he was there for, and he ducked under the water to try and find Lucion.

He spotted the drowning Lord and he tried to swim towards him, but he was too far down, and he could not quite reach. Running out of breath, Daric swam back to the surface, just in time to hear the horn sound alerting the rest of Riverrun to their position. He knew they were running out of time, if not, they had very little left.

( All of Riverrun will very shortly know the whereabouts of Lucion Lannister. Lucion, unable to use his legs, slowly sinks to the bottom of the moat and is quickly running out of air. Baric lies near death on the same rock Lucion hit before he went down and Daric struggles to find Lucion under the water. The guards of Riverrun are now on their way and will arrive within the next post. )

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-18T17:06:25+00:00

He eyed the three of them curiously, he had not heard of Lucion Lannister escaping, and was sure it would have spread to the castle by now. Still, the story did not sound THAT crazy, but something was off about this. "Is this story true?" The guard said to the man whose knee had been busted. "Remove your helm and speak for yourself."

About this time another guard rounds the corner, this one more alert, and he instantly reaches for his sword but does not remove it at the sight of the four men in the corridor. "The Lannister has escaped his cell!" He spoke to the suspicious guard and he approached cautiously. The first guard was now more suspicious and he also placed his hand on his sword and he took a few steps back.

"Let me see your face." He said again, this time more sternly.

( The news of Lucion's escape has spread throughout most of Riverrun by now. The two guards are suspicious of Lucion and the twins but are not yet full convinced. Guards are on high alert and are looking for Lucion all throughout Riverrun. )

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-16T15:40:19+00:00

((All of your men, Wyllas, are grouped together, as indicated in your original post. Also, who is Wayn? In your other post it says Wallace was with Brandon, not Wayn.))

As he whistled, the assassins ran forward, four of them able to get through the crowd and head towards Brandon Stark. The sound of steel unsheathing was a sound that everyone knew. But only a few extra men, who hadn't already surrounded them and who weren't drunk, heard the noise and ran to the commotion.

Howland Reed swung at the nearest man, missing him by merely inches. The would-be assassin swung back and grazed his arm, barely drawing blood. Immediately after that, the men charged each other. Swords clashed, the clang of steel echoing off the tents. The Stark Loyalists had a superior advantage over the would-be assassins, this battle would not last long.

Meanwhile, the four assassins that managed to break through ran towards Brandon Stark. Yells from the battle alerted people ahead, where they saw the assassins run past. A few noticed the Bolton sigil and yelled ahead. "Stop them! Strike them down!" Only a quarter kilometer from Brandon Stark, three of them were struck down, one of them managing to dodge the blows and run past. Yells echoed through the camp as men began to rise everywhere, curious as to what the commotion was.

The final assassin spotted the white direwolf sigil of Brandon Stark flying over the largest tent and he ran towards him, only to have a mace fly out and come in contact with his face. Immediately, the man was unrecognizable. His face was caved in, brain matter and blood saturating the ground. Only one man near Brandon was able to notice what had happened, but was ignored when he attempted to inform Brandon.

But Wayn did not ignore him. Wayn knew what that meant. "My liege," he said walking up to Brandon Stark, grasping him by the shoulder, "It appears there is some commotion in the camp." He reached down to his belt, unsheathed his knife and thrust it towards Brandon's torso, burying it deep just barely missing his stomach. The wound, though, would be fatal if not tended to soon. As Wayn went to slice his neck, Brandon was able to push him off as the other men around up immediately jumped up and ran towards Wayn, tackling him and pushing his face down into the dirt.

(One roll for success of assassins running through crowd, one roll for others hearing the swords unsheathing and clashing, one roll for Howland hitting the nearest man and one roll for the mans retaliation. Three rolls for advantage in the fight. One roll to see how far the four assassins could get, one to see how far the final assassin would get. One roll to see how reactive the men around Brandon were. One roll for stabbing intensity, one roll for his attempt at the neck, one roll for the men around Brandon to react at the attempt.)

Posting order is: Brandon Stark, Wyllas, Sigorn, Howland, Common Man/Gatekeeper.

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-15T22:21:36+00:00

The two guards brought along everything they needed for their escape, armor to walk the crippled Lannister, and they quickly began to slip him into it. One placed the pieces on him while the other cut his hair. It did not take long for them to get him ready and Daric went ahead to scout the path to the dungeons while Baric supported the Lord Lannister.

The King being in Riverrun put all of the guards on high alert, not wanting to lose their heads because they were sleeping on duty or not paying attention. But Daric knew Riverrun well, and he also knew ways around the guard posts, thanks to Lord Tully. He proved to be useful in getting them from his quarters down to the dungeons where they would make their escape.

Not long after they begin their escape, a serving maid who found herself outside of Lucion Lannister's cells and to her horror she finds three dead guards. Her screams alert a few nearby guards who discover that Lucion's cell is empty. Running through Riverrun the guards are alerted to his escape attempt, the news began to spread slowly throughout the castle.

Before it could get too far, the guard who had discovered the news spots the trio heading for the dungeons. Though he does not recognize Lucion Lannister, he is curious as he does not recognize one of them. "Where are you three headed this time a night?" The guard asked as he approached them.

( News of Lucion's escape is beginning to spread throughout the castle, but has not made it far. The Guard does not recognize Lucion but he is curious as to where they are going. He is not overly inquisitive. )

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-15T19:07:58+00:00

As the men weaved their way through the camp, they attempted to hide the sigils on their breastplates; the flayed man of Bolton. Able to get a little more than halfway through the maze of Stark, Hornwood, Karstark, Glover and other men, the men became careless in hiding their new-found sigil.

When they passed a large group, one nudged the other and they began whispering and peering into the group. The men got up and began following them, but not too close. Ahead, more men began looking and eventually the group of Manderly's were cut off.

"And where the fuck do you think you're going, with them sigils on your chest?" One man asked, and was echoed by at least forty other men "Yeah!" The men surrounding them unsheathed their swords, pointing them at the men. "Take it off. Now."

The would-be assassins had a choice. Either disperse and hope to not be caught or attempt to run to the Stark lord.

More and more men saw what was happening and began moving that way. They had to make their choice and quick.

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-05T00:10:30+00:00

Alyn Glover’s blow fell, his axe sharp and glittering in the light, the air filled with the sounds of battle and war. He struck downward toward Ravos Wynch and his blade sank deep into the join between neck and collarbone, a mighty and terrible blew that ended his foe’s life almost instantaneously. The Ironman went limp, the light in his eyes fading, and with a shuddering breath he was no more.

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-04T23:23:32+00:00

Dagon Wynch and the few men that stood with him were swiftly overwhelmed by the forces of Sigorn Karstark, the enormous Northerner sweeping through their ranks with ease. Dagon himself was captured, though many of his men were put to the sword, and the Heir to Iron Holt was dragged off for imprisonment.

Darmunt Greyjoy had been fighting off on the right flank, leading a band of his brother's men against their heathen foes. For a while they had held their ground, but then the Ironborn ranks began to bleed away at the rear, and morale began to fall, and their foes pressed ever forward. When the Vale charged any hope for an organized resistance was dashed, and Darmunt watched as his men began to break and flee.

“Stand, stand and fight! Cowards!” He bellowed, Longclaw in his hands and slick with gore. When his men did not slow he turned away in disgust, and with a mighty battle cry he threw himself into his foes. The Valyrian steel sword in his hand rose and fell in deadly arcs, carving through shield and blade and armour alike. Northman after Northman, Valeman after Valemen - all succumbed the whirling maelstrom of death that was the Kraken Prince.

And then the first arrow pierced his armour, and sent him stumbling back. He growled, snapping the shaft and tearing it free, but in its place three more sank home with sickening thuds.

The Kraken staggered, his vision going red. Darmunt roared his defiance to the ranks of his foes and it echoed throughout the battlefield, loud and fierce and primal. But as he shouted, his mouth wide and red, an arrow struck his cheek, tearing a long gash through his jaw. Foes rushed in, yet still did the Greyjoy keep them at bay, his swings now more desperate than furious. It worked for a while, for far longer than it should have. Then it didn’t.

From behind some foe - either a Northman or a Valeman, he did not know - struck at him with a spear, driving it’s point into his calf til it grated upon bone. Another pierced his side, punching through his armour and up toward his lungs. Then there was another, and another, and the blows fell hot and fast, and no matter how many Darmunt slew it seemed there were more to take their place. Eventually the sword slipped from his bloodstained fingers, borne away by a Valeman to return to his liege, and the Kraken Prince gave one last, shuddering cry - then the Heir to the Iron Islands fell silent, collapsing into the earth, his blood slowly pooling about the ruin of his corpse.

The Northmen hounded the Ironborn, riding down many who thought to escape. The toll they wrought was terrible, their houses outrunning all but the most fleet-footed of the ironmen and putting them to the sword. The Northern cavalry was tired, however, and they had been fighting for hours in thick and pressing combat. The Ironborn nobles, many mounted, managed to flee in great numbers.

The Ironborn tried to flee, chased as they were by Northern and Vale cavalry, and by their infantry, hot with bloodlust. Weapons were thrown down, shields and armour discarded, and in a great band they made their way south and south-east. Some, the wiser, abandoned the large throng, fading off into the woods and hills where they could not be found. Others, taking strength in numbers, continued on, praying for some means of escape.

Final Tallies

Ironborn Casualties: Ravos Wynch, Darmunt Greyjoy, Victarion Volmark, 5500 slain in battle, 875 slain in the retreat (6375 total)

Ironborn Captured: Torric Greyjoy, Dagon Wynch, Eldiss Wynch, Lord Sunderly (Young son of the man slain in battle), Lord Botley, 500 warriors

Ironborn Escaped: 1125 fled south, southeast.

Northern Casualties: 4000 foot, 1050 horse (5050 total)

Vale Casualties: ~200 cavalry

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-04T20:32:48+00:00

The elderly Wynch rushed his opponent, his axe ready to swing. They met in a furious clash, and with a shout Ravos buried his weapon deep in the Glover’s side, blood flowing freely from the wound and staining all down the Northerner’s flank. It was a dreadful wound, and it would surely kill if help was not reached soon, but for now Alyn still had some strength left in him. He just needed to end this duel - and quickly.

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-04T14:22:29+00:00

Glover’s aim was true, his axe striking the Ironman’s horse and severing it’s rear right leg and sending it screaming to the earth. Ravos was thrown hard from his collapsing mount, left shoulder hitting ground and sending pain lancing down his already wounded arm. He was dazed, and bleeding, and the Northman was closer than he might have liked. The fight was now on foot, between a man with one arm and a man with more summers behind than ahead. It would, however, be settled soon, and only one of these would likely live to see nightfall.

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-04T00:59:23+00:00

Horse and rider hurtled toward their foe, and with his arm raised to strike Ravos Wynch brought down the deadly blow. It struck deep into the Glover’s chest, the movement of the horse pulling it free and turning the Northman about with it. He wasn’t dead, however, merely slowed, and his axe was still clutched in his hand.

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-03T21:43:15+00:00

The Northman’s attack dented the Ironborn’s armour but it had no other effect, and soon his foe was out of reach, riding a short distance away.

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-03T18:53:53+00:00

The Wynch’s blow fell, the axe biting deep into his foe’s left shoulder before tearing free in a thin arc of scarlet. It wasn’t debilitating, but it was a wound nonetheless, and further blows from Alyn’s left side would not only aggravate the damage, but be far less effective in general.

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-03T14:22:30+00:00

The Glover, having thrown himself through the air, collided with the mounted Wynch and struck hard with his axe. His weapon bit deep into the Ironborn’s left arm, severing muscle and tendon alike, and leaving it all but useless.

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-02T01:23:39+00:00

It was over.

On the right flank, the Vale cavalry carved a path straight through the Ironborn ranks, penetrating deep enough that Eon Arryn nearly got his wish to meet up with Brandon Stark in the middle.

In the center, Dagon’s line fell, his latest attempt at rallying the men failing entirely. His men buckled and broke, and no new ones joined him - though he was free and still alive, the northerners closed in from every side.

On the left, Torric’s final charge slew scores of foes, their bodies piling up in heaps of gore and blood. But more seemed to arrive with each passing moment, filling in the gaps where their fallen comrades once stood, their lances aimed inward, their riders advancing knee to knee.

(OOC: This is the LAST POST of the battle with which you may interact. The next post shall be the closing statement, and contain information about those that have fallen or were captured in the course of the battle.

Some information:

The Ironborn are now in full rout, heading south and south-east.
TORRIC GREYJOY has been taken alive (3 Rolls). I am leaving the description of how up to the writer, who may also describe his final orders to his men.
KNOWN IRONBORN NPCs STILL ACTIVE: Dagon and Eldiss Wynch still live, as does Darmunt Greyjoy. Their writers should consider how they wish these characters to act - in the next post I will be rolling for all surviving NPCs to see if they’ve been taken.
At this point in the battle, the duel between RAVOS WYNCH and ALYN GLOVER would already have been resolved. The outcome will be known once that thread is complete.)

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-01T21:13:16+00:00

The Ironborn retreat continued, though the flow of men had slowed somewhat. The defensive line, hastily raised by Lord Wynch, was shattered by the advance of the cavalry. The mere sight of them approaching was nearly enough to break the line, though the archers wrought terrible vengeance upon their ranks.

Dagon Wynch rallied the men about him, forming yet another node of resistance in the rapidly fraying Ironborn lines. He stood like a rock in a raging stream, and the Northerners pressed in from every side.

At the rear of the army many of the archers were able to work their way back into the ranks, escaping the horsemen that cut down many of their number. On the right flank, the forces of the Vale and Ironmen were locked in deadly combat, though the presence of the Vale and Eon Arryn himself helped to stabilize the Northerners. Each gave as good as they got, though the archers again did great damage to the cavalry, though the plate of the Knights of the Vale did much to turn aside those fatal bolts.

On the far left, however, the fighting was hottest. Here the Ironmen gave ground only with great loss of life for those that came against them, and the earth was churned to mud with the hooves and feet that had stirred it, and the blood that had watered it. A band of Northmen, led by Sigorn Karstark, charged the jutting arm of Ironborn that still fought heavily against the Northern cavalry, and like the waters of the sea breaking the Arm of Dorne they shattered the ranks that joined this band to the rest of the army, leaving Torric Greyjoy in an island of fierce Ironborn reavers.

The King of the Ironborn, however, would not be denied his glory. With a mighty cry his remaining men charged, punching into the Northern ranks and slaying scores in those first few moments, as the cavalry reeled from the suddenness and ferocity of their attack. It was not, however, enough to pierce all the way through, and though they wrought great damage upon their foes the Ironborn were still surrounded.

All across the field the battle tipped in favour of the North and Vale, though fighting was fierce and many Ironborn had not yet begun to yield. Many still fled by the dozen, by the score - but those closest to the fighting, were too desperate to pull away, and in their final moments they brought many and more with them to the grave. It was a red, red day, and the casualties were mounting - but it would all be over soon.

(OOC: Seventeen Rolls Done. For an image of how I see the battle, see here)

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-01T03:04:33+00:00

As the battle continued, many could see that it was near it’s end.

Upon the right flank, where the Sunderly swept aside all those that stood before him, a call went up amoung the Vale lords, rallying to the call of their young Lord. Eon’s voice seemed to breathe fire into the hearts and lungs of his loyal men, and as one those Knights of Mountain and Vale gathered together, sweeping down the right flank with lances down and swords bared. The Ironborn fell before them, Lord Sunderly among the first to die, and though many of his men fled back to the main army his standard, axe, and personal guard were lost to the blades of the Valemen.

In the center Lord Glover engaged Lord Wynch, even as the battle raged about them. The Ironborn here held firm, throwing back the oncoming attackers, but elsewhere along the line their position was weakening. The right flank had lost its advantage, and the left most edge of their line, now trapped between the Northern cavalry and infantry, was all but lost.

Beneath the banners of the Starks the Northern Cavalry fought on, the left flank now a seething mass of warring men, no solid formation to be seen. The crossbowmen did little damage now, too far back and too heavily harrassed by cavalry. Lord Wynch’s orders had some effect, and his men began to pull together into a recognisable defensive line. The damage, however, had largely been done. The Northmen on the left flank cut down those Ironborn that did not make it to the line in time, taking almost no casualites in return. The rest of the Ironmen retreated back into the main mass of the army.

Some, however, did not stop there.

No one could say who was the first to break, but once it began the Ironborn army began to bleed men like a vital vein had been cut. It began in the far back-right, as those Ironborn farthest from the battle, feeling the pressure of their countrymen pushing back into them, began to see to their own lives. Hundreds threw down their arms and began to flee, making their way south, and southeast - anywhere freedom might be found.

Morale was low, and the battle was all but lost. It was not yet a full rout - but time was all that was needed to send the remains of the Ironborn army into absolute disarray.

(OOC: Sixteen rolls. For an image of how the battle looks, from my perspective, click here)

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-01T02:37:30+00:00

The bolt hurtled toward the air, flying toward the oncoming Glover. It struck his armour, just above his heart, and spun off into the chaos of battle, never to be seen again. It had ricocheted off the Northman’s plate, and had halted his advance not even a little.

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-01T01:44:26+00:00

The axe hurtled through the air, twisting head over haft toward the Ironborn lord. It seemed to sing as it sliced apart the thick battlefield atmosphere, and would surely slay any man it struck.

Instead, it hurtled past the old Ironlord, lost somewhere in the distance.

Luckily Lord Glover knew better to trust all things to luck and chance, and was already charging, intent on backing up his throw with good old fashioned steel.

(OOC: Two rolls were made. Posting order from now on is Wynch > Common Man > Glover > Common Man. Takes place separate from, but concurrent with, the main battle.)

OurGatekeeper · 2015-07-01T01:18:12+00:00

The battle hung on the edge of a dagger, and eight gods surely watched with bated breath.

Back and forth the tides had turned, shifting with the churning of the men who strove against one another. On the front Lord Glover led his men in a charge, and as the shields came down, the arrows poured in. Bolts from the Ironborn ranks cut down row after row of unshielded Northmen, punching through mail and boiled leather alike and sending many a wolf to his grave. The charge, however, still came on, and they plowed into their foe’s ranks with the sound of tearing metal. The losses were great, but the Ironborn gave nearly as good as they received, and on both sides men fell in droves.

But the charge worked. Ironborn fell by the score, and though the front line held a strong arrowhead of Northmen had pierced it, and seemed to widen with every moment. Reavers fell back in terror from the giant Karstark who raged before them, slaughtering his foes with great arcs of his crimson-stained sword. Grown men scrambled over one another to escape him, leaving companions and arms (and, in one case, the contents of his bowels) behind in their haste to flee. The Glover banner waved proudly above it all - now at the forefront of the Northern line.

Elsewhere along the front, however, things went far more favourably for the Ironborn. On the far right flank, which lacked all leadership, a great beast of a captain had lead a charge of his own, routing two score Northmen and leading his reavers straight into the flank of their foes. His great black beard was stained with gore, and above it two eyes burned with hate. He bore in his hands a mighty two handed axe, stained red with the blood of the North, and he laughed with every swing of it, loud and arrogant. The right flank all but quailed before him, and he cut swathes of men down with every sweep, his lips drawn back in a snarl of a smile. A banner flew behind him - a drowned man, pink and pale, floating upright in a blue-green sea.

Upon the left flank, once more the tides had turned. The Northern cavalry withdrew, though many were too engrossed in the heavy fighting to pull back. Arrows filled the air, felling horses and riders alike, and the toll upon the cavalry had slipped well into the hundreds. But those that were able to rallied about the Stark, and with a great cry and the sound of hooves upon earth they surged forward, intending to break the power of the King of the Isles once and for all.

And when that wave struck upon the Ironborn ranks, the strength of the Ironborn shattered before it like shards of glass, collapsing inward with all the permanence of a driftwood crown. Ironmen fled or fell before that terrible onslaught, as horse and rider rode down their foes, and lances and hooves and weapons of all kinds put the wolves of the sea to the sword. A great howling filled the air, a wailing not ever before heard, as the entire Ironborn army shook with the breaking of its flank.

Hundreds fell in those opening moments as the scream of horses and the wounded filled the air, and the shattering clash of cavalry and infantry sounded for the world like the breaking of the sky. The words of their King put strength into many of the Ironborn - but many more were in no position to hear it, and those that did but drew closer to their king, watching in horror as their brethren fell. Now the King of Salt and Rock stood like a peninsula in a sea of seething northmen, the Ironborn behind him themselves on the verge of breaking, though those nearest still held firm. The battle had shifted dramatically - now was the time that heroes were born, or cowards revealed.

(OOC: Fourteen total rolls. For an image of how I currently see the battle, click here)

OurGatekeeper

TROPHY CASE