Blackfyre Rebellion (CCH) Roleplaying

[Mithridate]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Could you please not post like that pinkie? The placeholders themselves ruin enough (this is when i facepalm for doing the same instead of PMing) Come on people, dont post placeholders and then dont use them!

As to my placeholder, im waiting for mac. Besides, ive typed at least twice as much RP as anyone else so cut me some slack?

Response to below, lets keep the thread clear of non-RP posts?
Keep it in the save/pics thread

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

I like this idea, we could also have some small reward in game now to promote RP.
Whoever writes the best RP gets 2 decent units or so and its decided by popular vote (we all promise not to simply vote for our allies) Promoting more RP As those fighting are more likely to make good RP, the units/money will be put to good use

Obama btw

[Lord AcidRocker]

This is totally off topic but we should have a RP contest? The two best overall role-players of the HS gets first pick for factions when 1.0 comes out! (This will of course be a RP hotseat as well)

Or maybe a diff reward?

[Pinkie Pie]

That is actualy a good idea, when it is over (or 1.0 comes out, whichever is first) I will pm an indipendant player to look over the rp.

[Mithridate]

It was late at night, the cold winds from the north leaving a chill in the air even inside the command tent behind the pallisade walls. Outside the calls could be heard as the watch was changed around the camp as a soldier knelt before Daeron bringing a message. "Your grace, word has finally reached us from the eagle, following your response to their threats. This message was not for you but our spies are most vigilant."

The Vale's terms were simply to be returned Gulltown and Runestone.

Are all Targaryens so lousy at diplomacy and not offending potential allies and friends

The Lord of the Vale suggests King Daeron to honey up his tongue a little, as it is currently too sour. If he offends the Lords Paramount without caring for the consequences as in this case, he might get a little lonely

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

"Is the eagle mad? I offer him everything yet he then demands it from his king, in public at that. When i placate the situation appropriately he threatens his king, treachery they say! Spoken in rage for his losses? Not everything can be forgiven..."
Could he afford to show mercy one last time, give the Eagle one last chance to redeem itself?

"Out" Daeron abruptly said, putting the message on a small table and rubbing his hands.

Enemies, traitors and opportunistic bastards all around, where there no one he could trust? Even the fierce and righteous Baratheons had abandoned him so and now the eagle sends this, doubt gnawed at him. Could the Sunderland raidings have been a clever ploy by Blackfyre to instill trust in the Vale?

How well it had worked, when word had reached Daeron he had sent Maegar against Bloodravens insistent counsel with the entire fleet and all the remaining reserves north... He had promised the land to be returned and the might of his fleet yet the Eagle seemingly still lay claims and demands, even when a royal warning was sent.

All while the eledged King in the North was reported to be stirring, Greendreams of a great wolf bearing down on the south, great claws... or was it talons she had seen? Lighblue cloth colored in blood as the first storm and the last comes to an end.

"I know now what must be done, seven forgive me and may the stranger take him!"
Daerons hands started shaking violently again as he sent for his scribe and swift messengers
_______________________________
Many leagues away, Luna rushed into action and broke camp. There would be no rest for the Men of the Night, the true war was about to begin and her dreams had been troublesome as of late. His mind was shattering before the onslaught and there was naught to do but fight!

And fight she would

[Dux]

He had heard the rumors long ago, Daemon thought, yet he had refused to believe them. He thought it was just war propaganda of the Targaryens, aimed on spreading discontent in his camp.
Yet the rumors became more persistent, and even King Daeron himself hinted at it in his declaration after the defeat of Leobolt Hightower.

They probably would have done anything to save Leobolt, this he could understand. However this, and he looked at the letter in his hand, this was far worse.

He put down the letter.

"Alert the camp! We'll march in two hours! " Daemon shouted to his guards.
As the guards rushed out and the camp began to weak up in the night he called his maester.
"Write William, we'll have to clean up this mess."

"What about the siege of Stoney Sept, my lord?" the maester asked. "William wrote in his last letter that he could relieve the siege, he planned a clever trick to pass the river fortifications."
"Yes I know, it was a cleaver plot, yet he is not allowed to do it. It is against the rules we decided before this war started."
"Why? the maester asked.
"William was planning to first defeat the general outside the fortifications and the sallying garrison, then make sure the general pulls back on the bridge. Then attack the general again but this time let his main army act as reinforcements. This would totally diminish the garrison and would allow the main army to march past the fort towards Stoney Sept and defeat the Tully heir. Yet this is unfair, as the general should be allowed to pull back in the fort."
"Ah yes, of course, and we want to play it fair." the maester answered.
"Of course" Daemon said as this was the most obvious thing in the world.
"You wouldn't know any different way to play it" the maester said.
"No, and that is why I will put William in charge of cleaning up this mess" Daemon said as he pointed to the letter that bore the rose sigil.

[Hopelessly Hopeless]

The forest was alive with the rustling of leaves and branches. Even dressed as he was, with cloak, furs and a hood, Ser Lucas Corbray felt the chill breeze cutting through his bones.

When he turned on the saddle, he saw his friend was faring just as poorly. Long-faced and dour, Ser Eddard Tollett had no beard, and his thin black hair could not keep his head warm. His breath turned into mist as he shivered. "Did you really have to scout yourself, ser? Are your outriders not to be trusted?"

"I needed some quiet to think, that is all." The idea of ranging ahead had seemed more tempting when he was in the column, weary of the noise the men did as they marched south. It was dusk then, and warmer than now.

Cold as he was, Lucas was comfortable enough. This ranging was safe enough, as they had no known enemies in the area, other than the mountain clansmen who were no threat to them for the nonce. And the silence suited him. It always had.

His thoughts turned to the letter. It had arrived by raven a few days earlier to a holdfast near Coldwater Keep, where he had been staying. Dark wings, dark words. But these news were not as dark as one may think, at least not at first glance. "The Iron Throne offers to restore Gulltown and Runestone to the Graftons and Royces respectively," Marwyn Arryn, his liege lord, and Protector of the Vale, had written. Lucas figured Raymar Royce, whose host had been till a few days ago camped in Coldwater, was likely hurrying south, all impatience and frenetic energy. He could scarcely blame him. Loosing your seat was always a disgrace, so it was apparent he would want to be present in the negotiations for Runestone.

Lucas didn't feel warmly for those who styled themselves Blackfyre. They had plunged the seven kingdoms into open war, bloodshed, and their final goal was kinslaying. A Dance of Dragons indeed. The kinslayer was accursed in the eyes of gods and men, and Targaryen and Blackfyre were kin. They are all dragons, no matter how their sigil is coloured. Daemon Blackfyre was a renowned warrior, and he had summoned many a brave knight to his cause, yet Lucas would rather they bent the knee and resigned their kingly ambitions, no matter how reasonable their claim might or might not be.

And the Targaryens were not much better, either, even if they were the rightful rulers. Family, Duty, Honour, he thought with some amusement. One of them was mad, beyond a doubt, and dangerous even to friends and family. The king himself was no good as a soldier. It's the sword that makes the lord, some say. And things were whispered of their field commanders, things that might make a man's blood turn cold. Brynden Rivers, bastard-born, was a terrorising figure. It was rumoured that he bathed in blood to augment his vigour, and partook in strange rituals to see the past, the present, and the future. Of this Luna Rivers, a bastard woman with strength and savagery to match any man's, it was said that she was a warg (a warg!) and from time to time would enter the skin of mares in heat and be taken by horses. The veracity of those rumours, he could not attest to, but everyone agreed that both bastards were just as dread.

Words are wind. No matter what side his liege chose, Lucas' sword arm would still be true. Fear would not cozen him

He looked up, catching a glimpse of the sky through the treetops. The sky was pitch-black, except for some grey masses that slowly moved south. Clouds. One of them looks like a wolf, snarling. An ill omen, mayhaps?

The trees they were passing by were harder and taller than the ones before. Old trees. There was a wiry, lean feel to them, somehow. Lucas couldn't explain it. For a moment, he thought (he hoped) there might be a weirwood amongst these elder trees. Maybe some day, after the war was done, he could search for one in these woods.

Or I might journey north. Might be easier to find a weirwood there.

Tollett caught up with him, just as they ascended a steady slope. "No threats so far. Shouldn't we return to the trail, ser? The men might grow anxious if we do not return."

"Aye." The chill was getting unbearable, and the host would not march a lot further today, dark as it was. They would make camp and fires to keep the cold away. "Some mulled wine would do us good, wouldn't it, Ned?"

"Indeed, ser."

They turned their horses and returned to the host, their minds already savouring a good mug of mulled wine.

_______

Not a lot of conflict (yet), but I felt obliged to write a little

EDIT: Typos galore fixed
EDIT2: The Lord of the Eyrie is Marwyn, not Waymar

[vozd]

Winterfell, an hour before midnight...

Maester ran through the castle carrying paper and ink.
William Stark was sent for him wanting to write a letter.
He went into the Lord's room and sat down at the desk saved for the occasion.

- Do you have everything? - William asked.

- Yes, M'Lord!

- Good, now write! - William began to dictate:

- Lords of Westeros,

In this dark times I find that the safest path for my people is to become masters of our own destenies.
This way I want to inform all of you that the North and the Vale break out from Kingdom of Westeros and become one Kingdom under my rule.
I do not seek war with any of you, but if someone stand in our way he will feel full wrath of the Winter!
I ask from Deamon Targaryen to give back Runestone and Gultown to their rightful owners!
Enough blood alredy has been spilled. Do not make this worse.

Signed in the eyes of Gods, Old and New

William Stark, King of the North and Lord Protector of the Vale

- Is that all, M'Lord? - maester asked.

- Yes. Sand ravens to every castle from the Wall to Dorne! Let them know that Winter is Coming!

[Hopelessly Hopeless]

THE KING IN THE NORTH!



Also, reserved; I'm writting some quite interesting stuff, if I may say so myself.

[Dr Mac]

Lord Bloodriver was out riding in the woods hunting. He preferred the tranquil countryside and the fresh air compared to the camp where his army had been stationed for the past few months. Whilst stopping for lunch with Stannis Rivers in an inn the door swung open. A messanger bearing the black dragon on his cloak approached the table.
'M'lord I bring news from the king: here is his letter'


Lord Stephen Bloodriver,

Amongst the generals who fight for me there is nobody more courageous or adept than you. When Blackfyre and his hordes pillaged your lands you held your ground. When the Iron Islanders seized the northern Riverlands you stood your ground. When presented with the traitorous Lord Hightower you executed the king's justice accordingly. For your zealous service to the crown and your vast accomplishments I hereby declare that you are to be hand of the king. Whatever I dream you shall build and I dream of one united kingdom under my rule.

King Daeron Targaryen, Second of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

Stephen turned to Stannis 'By the seven Stannis. I am the hand of the king. I wish I could share this with my wife and son but I am glad I am with you brother. Anyways we have much work to do. I have had enough of staying in this place too long. Assemble the army; we break camp tomorrow morning.'

[Mithridate]

Daeron pulled up before the scurrying men, the united forces of the Riverlands and all the Targaryen reinforcements that had thus far arrived. Bringing supplies and gold in abundance to the battle worn defenders. News had reached the men about the Eagle taking flight alongside the wolf, the deal made between the kraken and the north further dampening spirits.

Daeron pulled back his thick cloak and roaring for the attention of the men preparing to break camp.

"Warriors of Tully, Soldiers of Bloodriver and Ryman. Militia of the Riverlands and peasants alike. The cold winds are rising and the Eagle has taken flight as you've all heard."

Men where quickly gathering before the king, perhaps due to the speech or perhaps due to all the fresh provision and long delayed wages being brought up from behind him.

"I bid you fight those who would burn your lands, to Hold your ground! Hold your ground against yet another enemy!"

Men shuddered and looked to eachother as a wolf howled in the distance and another gust of chilling wind from the north. Silently cursing the gods the Kings stood up in the saddle, hands finally seizing their eternal shaking as he grasped the reins and his sword.

"Sons of The riverlands, warriors of Westeros, my brothers, I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when our courage fails, when we forsake our friendships and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. "

Rising his sword towards a cluster of battle worn men, crowding a campfire Daeron put steel in his gaze.

"An hour of wolves and shattered shields, they seek to conquer you and bring me down and plunge westeros into an age of civil war. There may well be a day when we dragons come crashing down, when westeros truly does fall into civil war and darkness for ages. But it is not this day! This day we fight!!"

Men cheered, yet most stood silent. Around them the riverlands had burned for what seemed an age as theyve been forced to stand by, awaiting the advance that never truly came from the multiple fronts they faced. Yet the prospect of spilling the blood that had cost them the north, the cause of their suffering fueled their fires still.

"Do not falter, Do not fear. This hour of wolves shall pass and those whom seek to burn your lands will be undone. You are not forgotten, you are not alone and i will not allow you to falter! Once the great Mudd empire ruled from the Riverlands, i shall see you rise to their glory and to the woe of your enemies"

"I bid you stand, Men of the Riverlands!!!"

A ragged cheer rose, not as fiery as he had hoped but it was a step in the right direction. Daeron called for his runners and sent out the orders, they now had both a goal and a target...

________________________________________________________


Luna could smell the blood in the grass, it could not be far now. She prowled onwards in the undergrowth and deepening shadows of the forest as the sun slowly set.

More than a few Crownland scouts lay dead in the forest, opened throats and impaled by arrows their watch had ended to the vile Valesmen. She pushed on, moving towards the ever thickening smell of death.

Maekar laughed as he crushed the skull of yet another "knight" of the vale, they where all running by now. Their oh so fierce assault having been abruptly stopped by his hardened dragonstone men, not even knights yet they had torn into the enemy. All the forced drills under his leadership finally paying off.

The order had been to return, but he along with his men would sooner die than allow these obvious traitors to take advantage. He had met them head on and now the entire eastern vale was all but in his hands, Gulltown had been burnt to the ground but it was of little matter.

"We make for Redfort" He bellowed, setting off a brutal forced march

The Eagle would not get a chance to regroup he vowed, ravens where sent calling for reinforcements to hold the gains against the coming counterattack from the Eyrie. The bastard better send him some much needed men, he would show these valesmen that they had woken the dragon.

In the shrubbery, The Lynx moved on
Luna woke from her trance and called for a scribe and a raven

[Mithridate]

Suitable... or perhaps not so suitable music to go with reading Fits surprisingly well imho

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Lucos the Ranger shivered as he lead his appointed men, the mountains of the vale where unforgiving and cold unlike the warm crownlands and damp riverlands. Throughout the night he and the sorry lot granted him by Maekar had climbed and marched, many falling to their deaths or breaking bones in the dark. But it had payed off, before him the Sillhuette of the Redfort was made out as dawn approached with its light. In the Distance Maekar would be forming up for the assault. Absently he wanted to think of it as a diversion but he knew they where expected to fail and they to be the real diversion.

"Lively now, we have but an hour before sunrise. Tie the ropes together and follow me"
He set off towards the walls through the shrubbery, aiming for the keeps high walls.

The climb was brutal, but unlike the castles in the crownlands this one was as rough and chipped as it was old and formidable with many holds for him. After a quick entry he fastened the rope allowing his men to climb up after him as he secured the pitch dark room he found himself in. Apparently a large storeroom, he thanked the seven for his luck.

The Defenders would not know what had hit them once the attack begun.
The battle was short and bloody, the men proved to be the leftovers as expected but fought hard knowing there to be only death in failure. As Maekar climed the walls to bring death with his mace Lucos secured the keep,from where he and his men could bombard the defenders from behind with rock and arrow, greatly easing the assault for their comrades. In a mere hour after sunrise, the castle had been secured with moderate to minor losses.
_______________________________________________________________

He found Maekar in the lords hall, now occupied by nothing but the corpses of Corbray and his guards brought down with arrows and sword by Lucos and his men. Maekar heartily tore into the breakfast still adorning the longtable with his men and said nothing but grunting "Raven" as he entered, pointing to a torn note at his side.

With a sigh he grabbed the letter and started to move away, only to stop dead in his tracks.
this bears the royal insignia, the high commanders marking and its Lunas handwriting...

In light of recent events, you have been appointed commander of the northern armies. The Redfort, Runestone and Gulltown are yours to govern and defend. You are to treat with the local Valesmen for peace and secure our dominion in these grave times. Maekar is to serve as your right hand and adviser as is proper, his men are at your command.

Signed under the gods and men alike
King Daeron of the Seven kingdoms, Lord Commander Bloodraven, Luna Rivers the Defender of the Iron Throne

Lucos went cold as he read the letter again and again, he had been sent by Luna with Bloodravens blessing but this? On his 18th nameday he now commanded over a thousand troops, held the fate of a quarter of the vale in his hands and was to face the fury of the falcon...

Behind him, Maekar laughed and continued his feast. Apparently oblivious to the cold stare Lucos gave him.
Curse that man and the strife he brings, if not for him the vale would still likely kneel to Daeron and now i get responsibility for his leavings... Luna spoke truly, it is the people whom suffer when the high lords play their game of thrones...

He laughed at the hopelessness of the situation and went to find the maester,
he had lots of ravens to sendand an almost overwhelming urge to get drunk, very very drunk.

[Dux]

"Leo Tyrell! You have been accused of high treason! Surrender now and the remainder of your men will be spared!" Kevan Costayne shouted at the door.
They were standing in front of Leo Tyrell's personal chambers, 20 of Tyrell's personal guards lay death on the floor. Kevan Costayne and 50 of his best men and personal guard had spearheaded the assault on Highgarden and had overwhelmed the defenders, only one dead against thirty of them.
Highgarden had fallen quickly, only the personal bodyguard of Leo Tyrell were present when the entire army of Kevan Costayne had besieged the mighty fortress.

Lord Leo Tyrell didn't have any friends in Westeros, but even in the Reach itself he didn't had any friends left.
There came no response from the chamber.
Kevan looked around, his men were tearing down Tyrell banners and were replacing them with Blackfyre banners and his own banner. He had ordered his men that the sack would be light, only the gold was to be taken, no burning of fields or chambers and the women and children and every man who surrendered were to be left alone.

Highgarden, the seat of the one of the mightiest and wealthiest houses of Westeros and home of chivalry. You could it see it everywhere, even the table-legs were gold engraved. Every hall was decorated with standing armors, most of them beautiful but impracticable. Each and every one of these armors were worth ten times more then his own. Many of his men were already taring them down and taking parts to fit on their own.
He called his second in command, Arron Yronwood, who had fled Dorne with most of the Dornish Blackfyre supporters and had joined his army two months ago.
"See to it that every man of the first 100 men who entered the fortress with me receives a fine set of armor, and look for one for yourself and your personal guard as well" Kevan said.
"What about yourself?" Arron said.
Kevan looked at his battle-hardened and dirty steel plate armor, engraved with the barely visible coa of House Costayne.
"I will keep it for now, it served me well, I will let the blacksmith make me a new one when the Reach is conquered."
He looked at the 3 death men he had just slain, their armors were the greatest of them all, as was expected of the personal household knights of House Tyrell. Not that it had been of much help for them.
He looked at the door again.
"LEO!" he shouted
"This is our last warning, move your lazy flower ass and open the door!"
No response, the door remained close.
"Axes!" Kevan called.
Five men with heavy axes started hacking at the door.
After a while the door began to crack and finally it burst open.

Kevan with Arron and 10 of his men charged in, only to be meet by the 5 remaining Tyrell Household knights, in such a tight space Kevan's numerical advantage was reduced and the knights put up quite a fight. Someone next to him went down with a blow on his head and Kevan immediately avenged him by cutting down his assailant. One of the knights wore the most beautiful armor of them all, with a giant golden engraved Rose on his chest, and came right at Kevan just as he tried to pull his sword from the body of the man he had just slain.
"Lord Leo I presume", Kevan said to distract the man in the beautiful armor as he released his sword from the death body.
"Lord Costayne, new Lord Paramount of the Reach and Lord of Highgarden. How good of you to finally make an appearance, I'm honored to receive you in my own chambers." Lord Leo said and he charged Kevan.
Kevan sword was just released and meet the sword of Lord Leo as it came down, they exchanged a few blows and started circling each other.
"Just surrender man, you played the game of thrones, but you played it badly and this is the price you pay." Kevan said.
"I'm a dead man anyway" Lord Leo said "one of my sons is dead, the other has abandoned me, I've betrayed both of my Kings and alienated the people of the Reach. This is the end of House Tyrell, and I will end it in style". And he came charging at Kevan, sword held high in two hands to deliver an overhead killing blow but leaving his chest all open.
Kevan took full advantage of the opportunity, he sidestepped and used Lord Leo's own momentum to shove his sword in a small gap between his chest and leg armor.
"Ugh" Leo said, "that...... hurts." And he crashed down on the floor.
Kevan poured his sword out of the dying man and gave him a killing blow of mercy.
"He died nobly" Arron said as the looked at the former lord of Highgarden.
"Aye, a true knight till the end. Shame he was such a bad player of the Game of Thrones" Kevan said.

The giant Tyrell Banner on the wall was taken down by his men and was being replaced by a just as great banner of House Costayne.


"Well done my lord, Highgarden is yours." Arron said as he clapped Kevan on the shoulder.

Yes, Kevan thought as he looked at his banner, Highgarden was taken, the rebellion in the Reach is almost crushed. However, the war for the Iron Throne was far from over. His success was directly tied with Blackfyre's, he owned everything to them, and he would do everything possible to put Daemon on the throne.

[Mithridate]

Lucos looked over the beautiful and currently hidden pass, leading down to the coast of the vale down on the other side and sighed in relief. The hillmen had no love for the falcons and had spoken true, with the new Vale Loyalists having shown the way he could finally order halt and rest for the coming battle.

Beyond the pass lay a small but well placed fort, cutting off the enemy from advancing further into the Vale dominion. With Maekar manning it it was all but certain that the valesmen of the north would assault it for vengeance and that the defenders would fight to the last should it come to it.

To his East, Luna had caused all the commotion she could as she landed at Gulltown and besieged Runestones. Making sure the news of her arrival would reach the north, the enemy would see naught but her and her forces. Faced with only his own men, some measly thousand and Lunas proven 2.500 they would advance as the valiant fools they where. Confident of their superior troops, numbers and surely knowledge of terrain!

"These lords and their games, when will they learn that war is no game" besides him, a guard looked at him curiously before snapping his head dead ahead again. Paying the man no heed Lucos looked over the mashing men and saw a scout waving a flag signalling that the enemy where moving in on the fort.

Cursing, Lucos hoped he and the levy-army of the crownlands whom had proved themselves at the battle of Kings Landing would arrive in time to prove themselves once again.

[Lord AcidRocker]

Upon the defeat of the Lannister armies, Lord Damon Lannister was trapped in his fort and was soon imprisoned after the storming of his defences.





“Lord Damon Lannister, your armies are depleted, your fort is taken, and you have no aid for hundreds of leagues. Here you are on your knees, hands tied, with nothing but your crimson and gold cloak. Your encircled by some of the greatest Ironborn warriors. Over there is Rodrik Pyke, the Old Bastard. He was at the taking of Castamere, and present when Lord Reyne was beheaded. Did you like that gift we sent?”

“There is nothing for me to speak of, Greyjoy. End this now, so that I may meet my daughter in the heavans.”


“Why must I end this conversation so soon? We have taken your shores, defeated your ‘professional’ armies, and even trapped you inside your own fort. Why must we make an abrupt end to such a glorious celebration? The Greenlanders always spat at us, thinking of us only as petty raiders to flee back to the sea when we’ve had our fill. That time has ended. The Old Way has returned, but we will colonize what we take as well. That will soon include Casterly Rock and Lannisport, where the highest concentration of spoils can be found.”


Rodrik Pyke grew impatient, eager to end the confrontation and continue marching south. “Let’s get this done with, my Prince. King Dagon landed on Kayce, tricking the levies around the mountain passes to mobilize.”


“You might just be right, Pyke. You do the honors.”


The Old Bastard unsheathed Salt and Stone, still stained with blood from the battle against Leo Lefford and Othell Plumm. Walking to meet Lord Lannister, he stopped and gazed into the green and gold-speckled eyes of a shivering lord.


“Lord Damon Lannister, you have failed in your duties of defending your holdings. As my prisoner, I hereby relieve you of your duties. Your remains will be thrown into the sea for the Drowned God.... Give him my regards.”

[Mithridate]

Battle raged all around her, Corbrays banners all but consumed in Stark white as her forces engaged the Falcons men. With her side to the sea and the fort blocking any attempt to flank on the west it was a battle of brute strength... and they where losing.

They had begun the attack almost immediately as the Falcons men lay siege and the first stark army arrived almost instantly. Corbray moving to shore up her retreating left as the enemy roared confidently as they pushed on, they where running out of time and Corbray failure to give ground forced the entire left to hold not to get him surrounded.

Corbray was no fool and loyal to the crown, why he would linger was beyond her and she strained her eyes... "By the gods..." At the front of corbrays position, on a small hill stood an imposing figure and beside him the knigh of the kingsguard could be seen.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Maekar laughed madly as he cut down another man in the onslaught, ignorant of all in his frenzy he called out: "Fire and blood, is there none in the north worth killing in this wretched army? Come here and die you fools, face the dragon!"

Thousands of men roared their defiance and the battle continued, the hill slowly becoming an island
________________________________________

In the thick treeline northwest of the engaging forces 3.000 men readied themselves for the charge, before them the great battle played out as predicted. The main Stark and Arryn armies engaged in what was all but a certain victory as the third was still on the march, yet to join the battle.

In the distance the banner of Maekar swayed, holding out on a hill in a sea of white as battle waged.

"The wolf and falcon think themselves to take on the dragons, thousands of them are even now attempting to take down Prince Maekar. Northmen and valesmen they tremble before his might alone, lets show them that the only thing more terrifying that dragons are the crownlanders whom serve bearing down on their backs!"

As one, the treeline erupted with screaming men in Targaryen colours. Once again they bore down upon the enemy as terrible weights of death as they had in the crownlands, not even the heavily armed and grizzled men of the north could stand against their fury. The enemy soon called for retreat and whatever semblance of order was lost as they ran for their lives.

And then, the second Stark army arrived


With thousands of desperate men before him, thousands of vengeful Starks forming up behind him Lucos gave the order, a long blast ringing out throughout the peeks. As one, his forces moved to face the new threat. But curiously they did not move against, but along the enemys flank whom where closing on the main battle.

A battle whom had long since turned into a rout, now left an avenue of escape

Two thousand fleeing men clashed with the stark lines whom struggled to keep formation, two thousand men driven mad by fear and death forcing their way to the other side of what they thought as a barrier of saftey.

Followed by three thousand men, pouring arrows and bolts on the enemy and slowly closing, further hearding the mass of men crying out in terror. On the flank Lucos continued to lead his men at double pace, a move the Stark host tried to counter by forming up to face him. An easy move for drilled troops, made nigh impossible as men forced their way through the solid ranks where they spread their seeds of fear and disorder.

By the time the second blast came from the south, the enemys formation was little more than a mass of men encircled on two sides. Hundreds fell to arrows, thousands continued to run and hundreds where starting to give ground.

"For westeros, for the people, for the king" Luna called out, raising her sword and beginning the charge
Five thousand men followed, screaming like madmen and striking their shields and weapons together as able.

The third stark army, made up by the best and finest men of the north did not even stand long enough to connect with the enemy, before they too started running in terror.

[Mithridate]

So much death..

All along the roads there lay dead starks and valesmen, thousands drenching the fertile soil with blood all the way from the grizzly battle. Maekar had eagerly tracked the stragglers down to continue the slaughter in his usual brutal yet effective way, as crude as Daeron was refined she thought.

Everything had gone perfectly, Lucos had more than lived up to Lunas expectations and his plan had worked marvelously. The southern Valesmen where subdued yet warming to the crownlanders, the city was being repaired and great clearings where being made for further irrigation for crops earning love from both peasantry and citizens alike while the nobility was either already wiped out by Maekar or coerced by Lucos. It was all going well


Too well

In the south contact had been lost with Dorne, the reach was on fire from Blackfyre whom had found evidence of betrayal in the Tyrells. Facing them at his rear and the unyielding Tullies he had struck hard and fast, he would soon be on the move again.

In the west the Lion roars, not in triumph but in crippling pain as the Kraken devours him. Having strayed from the iron throne it would have concerned her little if not for the fact that it was the ironborn, possibly in league or even loyal to the Daemon that where the cause. The people would suffer greatly and their enemies likely grow in strength.

Brooding, she reached the large clearance before Longbow hall and quickly called a halt. Her experienced Men of the night immidiately reformed on the flanks and the drilled crownland troops followed suit in silence. Before her the a temporary camp before the castlehad been raised, too many wounded alone to fit in the small castle they had little choice and probably did not expect such a swift advance north by any major force.

So many wounded she thought... With a grim face and a tinge of sadness,
she gave the command "No mercy" and signaled the attack.


The gates soon closed and another thousand of the Falcons men fell. Later she was informed, that the renowned Lucas Corbray had been found a barely recognizable corpse with knees smashed and nearly every bone broken.

A great man then, for Maekar to have had such sport instead of a quick death.
Misguided in life perhaps, a great man deserved a proper burial and she would see to it.

[Mithridate]

Daeron looked upon the parchments, news from the Vale had been pouring in last week. Sitting down in the quickly raised tent by the candlelight he started reading again:

Longbow hall is ours, a third of the Vale fly Targaryen color under the Valelish-Crownland dominion and Lucos. Losses have been minimal and we've marched west by the coast, supplies being carried by the royal fleet in our rapid advance.

A few days march west of longbow hall, cowering in the protection of the mountains we encountered the wolf again. Thinking the mountain their refuge, it became all but their tomb as we overcame them. The survivors fled south towards the Eyrie, with luck they will be put down by Lucos and corbrays united forces.

Soon, the vale shall be in your hands your grace
-Luna Rivers of the Night, Champion of the Iron Throne.

With a frown Daeron put the note aside, he could feel the uneasiness of Luna radiating from the letter yet everything where going as planned. The enemies of the Iron throne where being slaughtered, peace being restored and no one discounted the Dragons any longer.

The trecherous dog of the north had indeed headed for the vale, but been intercepted and slaughtered by Lucos and Corbrays forces. The heads put on a ship and sent with a dozen survivors to White harbor, smiling he knew the work of Maekar and doubted the sanity of those who lived.

Taking up the latest letter he read with anticipation
_____________________________________________

[Lord AcidRocker]

The cold winds were rising over Fair Isle; a deep grey overcast hinting at rains to come. The Greyjoy camps surrounding Faircastle were silent, listening to the constant flapping of tent entrances and crackling of soon to die campfires. Rodrik Pyke, the Old Bastard laid his tent atop a jagged, rocky hill overlooking the siege lines and castle gates; never taking an eye off the enemy. The chill had settled itself deep in his bones, but he did not care. It became him. Cold, hard, and unforgiving.

Prince Quellon was on the other side of the castle with his army, likely whoring his way until the assault began. The Old Bastard had grown a preference to remaining around the younger prince and his raiders. A man of little words is a man of large ambition, Rodrik thought. Prince Greydon had always been the quiet one, sticking to the matter at hand and taking no pleasure from alcohol and the other addictions of his older brother. Greydon should be King Dagon’s heir, not Quellon. Aye, Quellon can lead and fight, but he cannot manage a kingdom. Greydon is only 20, yet he has lead the Iron Army to glory in the West. When Lord Damon was executed and the rest of the Lannister army routed, Quellon thought it best to move straight to Casterly Rock, foregoing the Lannister settlements along the shore. “You fool, we cannot catch ourselves between Lannister loyalists and one of the most insurmountable castles on the continent.” Rodrik remembered hearing.

They decided to move west along the shores, raiding and pillaging their way to endless amounts of gold and booty. They had expected King Dagon to join the assault on Faircastle by now, but they had not received a raven in some time. Men in red cloaks holding torches and crimson banners were seen pacing along the castle’s battlements when one of Rodrik’s crewmates crashed to the ground behind him.

“What is it, boy?”

“Captain. Dire news, you are wanted in Prince Quellon’s tent immediately. Word from King Dagon has arrived. I fear he…”

“Silence! Fool. Whatever happened, do not speak of this to anyone.”

Upon arriving to the Princes tent, both brothers were arguing over the hearth while the rest of the high captains waited in silence.

“We must go to his aid immediately! If he’s caught prisoner or murdered, our whole campaign will be at a stand-still!”

“Father can take care of himself! He brought the Iron Islands to what we are today. Do not expect him to fall so easily to southron scum.”

“My princes, I apologize for my late arrival. What of our King?”

“King Dagon has been defeated at Kayce. The siege was lifted and all we know is that he retreated north. Likely, he is at Castamere or on his way there.”

“If the Drowned God is good to us. His head could be on a pike, while we are here bickering like saltwives over what to do.”

“You do not speak of our King in that manner, Quellon. He is alive, and he is well. I know it. If he were in our shoes, he would assault Faircastle and then worry about reinforcing the battered army. We cannot leave something we have planned for months! Our campaign will be set back, and the Lannisters have more than enough gold to build another army.”

“Let them! We crushed them once, and we can do it again.”

“I crushed them brother. And I will do it again. We assault Faircastle immediately. Show no mercy. I want everyone in the castle executed if they did not die in the assault. We may have lost a battle, but we will not let them savor it.”

Moments later, horns around the Greyjoy camps blared the signal for battle. Prince Greydon Greyjoy was one of the first upon the battlements, but wouldn’t have done it without the Old Bastard by his side. Every single Lannister soldier and peasant was executed when the castle was taken…

[Mithridate]

( Credits to Tairis Deamhan and his amazing Mass effect novelization series for heavy inspiration )

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Pretty fitting to go with the reading

The scent was unmistakable. A large muzzle tipped upwards and inhaled deeply, causing every muscle in the beast's body to tense in anticipation as two-legs where coming.

Beside him, master did not stirr but remained still and silent.

"The tracks lead on south but one goes off in here, theres a lot of blood my lord Lucos... whoever it is cant have gotten far if theyre still alive."

The masters scent was slightly muted and tinged with something else, something that reminded the dog of the dead after battle. Seeing two strangers emerge from the brush he growled deeply from beside his master where he'd been sleeping and looked around for other threats.

"Hold, and dont touch your weapons. Thats a Stark warhound, by the looks of it its master is dead or dying... he must have stayed here to delay us, or been left behind to die by the others."

"My lord?"

The two legs had stopped and where making sounds, he did not care for it and the cold and moist ground felt good and assuring under his paws. Master had said guard, and he was a good boy, he would kill them if they moved towards his master or touched the long claws at their sides.

"Hand me the hammer you got from the smithy, slowly and then back away. The rest of the Starks are out of our reach and mercy but this hound and its master are not"

The alpha made command sounds, they made no sense but his moves where slow and safe. A freshly killed rabbit was brought forward and the unknown packmate handed over a stick with a ball in the end. Master said guard, he could not play! He was a good boy and these where not pack, but the meat was tempting... Master often let others feed him, yes master would not mind. The dog licked his great maw and tilted his head.

The two-leg alpha moved forward and placed the prey in front of him, he smelled of bad men like the ones he had killed whom where hurting master and his pack before but he had not bared any or his claws... Or any pointy stick things like the master used. Perhaps this was two-legs where different... but something felt wrong... He growled and smelled fear from the alphas packmate, that was right.

The two-leg alpha did not move, nor did he smell of fear or threat, strange... Eying the fearful one he took a bite from the prey, his belly was happy to finally have something and the other seemed to relax and smell less of fear. He was tired of fear smells.

The night had been long, his pack full of it after the bad pack had come out of the forest and killed many of them. Master had never wavered and fought by the big alpha, but the bad ones where many and sticks where thrown in the dark that hurt them... they had run when even more came on the big whinnying prey things.

"Maekar will find the others, with luck the stark bastard will have died by then from the wounds of my arrows. Tell the men to push on North, i shall follow once im done here."

The alphas pack member left, making relieved sounds as he took another chunk of the rabbit.
Perhaps he should save some for master? Master had been weak and making hurt sounds after they had stopped, not even licking away the salty drops that had come down from his face had made it stop like it did for his cubs back with the alpha-female. He was a good boy, why was master unhappy and weak? He was never weak...

All of the packmates had been quiet after they had run and smelled of fear, none of them wanted to play and he was glad when master left them to sit by the tree. He had been told to guard, and guard he would. Master would rest and they would move again later.

He took another chunk, little remained now but master did always have his own food. The unknown-alpha raised the stick with the black ball slowly, the hair rose on his back but he ignored it. He had not shown claws, if he wanted to play thought then he would not because master told him to guard and guard he would.

"Dont worry, i will take care of your master too. You are a good boy, Im sorry i could not save your friends from what is coming for them but at least i can do this for you two."

Two-leg noises were so complex, but he could tell they were happy sounds even if they sounded sad. All he knew was a simple fact. Things would be as they where supposed to be again, master would get better and they would run again to fight the bad two legs. He devoured the last piece of the rabbit and licked his gums making a happy noise for master and this alpha.

But then there was a sound of movement, and the world went black

[Mithridate]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Baelor looked out over the large encampment, the brand new fleet visible in the gloomy distance.
2.500 Men at arms 2.000 Militia and some 500 gold cloaks along with a few hundred knights, freshly raised and yet to be tested in battle. All the current strenght of the Crownlands as Luna with the remnants of the Royal army under Corbray and her men of the Night held the Vale and hounded the North.

With a sigh, he turned again to face his father and his brother.

"Father, Bloodriver cautioned specifically against this. We are at war in the north, beset in the west with the reach firmly under the Bastards control. We cannot wage open war with yet another enemy."

Daeron, clasping the news firmly shook his head. Silently cursing the Baratheons incompetence in carrying out the simplest of commands and the vile treachery of Dorne.

"Bloodriver is capable and loyal, he will comply and grow to accept my decision. With the traitor snakes in dorne having shown their color we are left with little choice. All the Stormlands are at risk"

"Father..."

Daeron silenced him with a stern glance, yet clutching his hands behind his back to hide their shivering.

"You will take half the army, the knights and the finest men and depart immediately. Ive already recalled the Northern fleet and given Luna complete authority to act in my name and make peace with the Wolf."

Baelor knelt in the dirt

"Your grace, i beg you..."

"Silence" Daeron growled before glancing over on the smirking Maekar "It is done Baelor, leave us and see it through"

With a tap to his breastplate the elder son left, his officers already sent for. His father silently cursed the gods and looked to the beast of a man now approaching him, cold intelligence hidden in the eyes beneath fuzzy eyebrows.

"We have much work to do"

Maekar smiled, the same smile he had shown Lucas Corbray as he broke his legs and the armies of the vale crumbled around him,
the same smile he had when he put out Jon Norreys eyes after having killed his Lady Lyna that fateful day in the Vale.

"Fire and blood, Father"
There would be no mercy