Thaddeus Raiders, the Scourge of the Storm

[Iron Aquilifer]

They were a dusty group of raiders, having ridden hard to reach this land yet untouched by war. They were more than happy to follow their lord's commands to leave everything a blackened wasteland. They would begin carting the goods back home as soon as possible.

Raider Force:
Thaddeus Rowan:
+3 Pathfinder
1000 Light Cavalry

[Jokern]

Detection: rolled 8, so a 5 with the trait bonus.

The peasants notice Rowan's force too late and cannot mount a proper defence.

Loot: rolled a 6.

6% of 30,000 = 1,800 Golden Dragons gained.

[Iron Aquilifer]

The column, still beaming from their revelry, descended further in to the Rainwood, hooting as they raped and burned.

Thaddeus could not deny that he took part in the raping. From crones with the age of the world in their wrinkles, to girls just becoming women. Men were slain in their hundreds, heads collected and added to the ever increasing column.

OOC: This is now Rainwood Castle I am raiding. Same composition as above

[Iron Aquilifer]

"Another like that and we will be rich men!" laughed Toothless, smiling to reveal the reason for his name.

"You are not far wrong," agreed George, slapping the backside of his trophy.

The woman, fat from cow's milk, squealed at the hit. The reaction caused the group to erupt in to hysterics.

"That is enough!" Thaddeus shouted. "Get them moving!"

The column, larger now with carts filled with their loot, started to trudge away from the smoke trails, which reached further and further and further in to the sky.

[Honors Bastion]

Detection Roll: Rolled a 1.

1-5, the peasants are caught completely by surprise and no defence can be mustered. Proceed straight to a Loot Roll.

Raid Roll: Not needed.

Loot Roll: Rolled a 9, so 9% of 40,000 3,600 Dragons looted.

[jacb547]

OOC: But you still haven't even got there.

[Iron Aquilifer]

I still wait the required time

[Iron Aquilifer]

The village was a reasonably large thing; though no map marked its location. Maybe fifty small huts clustered together in a small clearing on the edge of the Rainwood, nestling against the great forest as if it could protect them from the ravaging weather.

It wouldn’t protect them from the storms which rolled in near enough every year, so how could it possibly defend the peasants from the rape of a host of bandits?

At dawn, the villagers were woken up by a volley of fire arrows. Straw and wood lit up as a dozen trumpets sounded in illusion. As the village dragged themselves up to face the threat, scores of armoured riders tore through with lances, swords and torches.


The road was a badly-maintained dirt track, winding through valleys and hills like a snake. The rains made it a muddy quagmire while winter turned it in to a metal sheet which neither man nor beast could traverse safely. However, necessity demanded that it be used.

The merchant family had fled the capital after the declaration of war by the traitors. “The city will be lit ablaze,” the father, Yarren had declared, knowing full well that the Mad King would not survive a war against half the realm. And so they gutted the small jewellers the family had run for nigh on twenty years, selling off what could be sold. With the doomsayers screaming about vengeful stags and the downfall of the Last Dragon, they left for the relative safety of the Stormlands.

That had proved to be a bad decision.

The small convey had grown from eight to almost fifty, refugees and discarded soldiers making for the coastline to catch a smuggler ship to wait out the war. Crownlander, Reachmen, Stormlander, it didn’t matter which lord ruled over them: they were all victims of the same disease. As the sun reached its zenith, Yarren called out to Javos, the most recent addition to their group. He had come all the way from Bitterbridge, where Robert crushed the Tyrell army which faced him. “It was horrible,” the boy had cried. “I think I killed someone, but it was all a blur!” However, Yarren did not fault the boy for his cowardice. He was a very capable and loyal soul.

“Javos, go check up on Kyle, he should have reported back ages ago.”

Kyle was the only knight of the group, and a self-confessed traitor. He had once been in the service of Lord Connington, before betraying him to serve Robert. He went to Tumbleton under Renly, although it was the High Lord Caron he followed. When the man broke away to defend his home, Kyle followed him, but a dispute over a peasant girl saw him thrown out by his comrades. The knight had proved to be another strong addition, scaring away those who threatened the group.

As the boy raced off on a skinny mount, an arrow whizzed from out of nowhere, taking him in the throat. The boy collapsed after a few moments, frantically struggling to find breath.

“Hold there brothers!” a man called out, standing from out of the foliage which covered the hills which were on either side of their stretch of road.

With the man appeared a score of fierce looking men, cradling weapons like loving mothers. They began to descend towards the road, a dozen archers rising to cover them.

“Stay back!” Yarren demanded, joining the defenders as they formed up around the carts.

A flight of arrows was loosed instantly, taking down five of the better equipped men Yarren had allowed to join them. The women and children began to scream, helpless.

“Give us your women, your children, the clothes from your backs, the weapons in your hands and the wealth of your carts, and we will let you live,” spoke the leader of the bandits.

Where is Kyle? The knight had taken some men with him off ahead, and he was long overdue to return. Maybe he has already noticed them, and is circling to surprise them. However, as soon as hope flared in him, he heard the plod of a horse on dirt. Turning, he saw Kyle with four other riders, coming closer and closer.

“Ser Kyle! Bandits!” Yarren shouted, pointing frantically up at the approaching foes.

Another volley sent the merchant sprawling, screaming as an arrow pierced his thigh. As he lay there, pleading with his eyes for Kyle to react, he noticed that a man was riding behind him on the horse. This man was wearing plate armour, there was no doubting that. The roughspun cloak could not hide it.

As suddenly as the man was noticed, he threw Kyle off of the horse, the blood evident on the corpse.

“Take them all,” Thaddeus ordered softly, riding forward as the screaming intensified.

OOC: Loot roll please

Many Thanks

[Honors Bastion]

Detection Roll: Rolled a 15.

11-15, the peasants muster a defence, and report the identity of the attackers by rider to the local keep. Proceed to Perception Roll.

Perception Roll: Rolled a 4. the local populace are only able to identify that the raiders appeared to be Reachmen.

Raid Roll: Rolled a 2. 2% of the raiders are killed.

Loot Roll: Rolled a 20. 20% of 40,000 Dragons is 8,000 looted.

[Iron Aquilifer]

OOC: That is Thaddeus gained a point in the raider trait right?

[Iron Aquilifer]

A knight, wearing bright heraldy of the reach, chanced upon Thaddeus' personal band as they sat down to plan their next attack.

"I am Ser Uthor, sent by Lord Rowan," he cried as soon as the raiders noticed him. He revealed a message from within the folds of his cloak, and handed it over. "Lord Garlan reinforces the matter that speed is of the key."

My Son,

You must have heard the tales of the rebel's victory. This is all true. Robert Baratheon is now the king of the Seven Kingdoms. Return to Goldengrove, and ensure that our family is kept safe. I will remain with the host at Storms End, until such times as it is clear that our war is over. Do not go against my commands. Ride hard, ride fast.

Thaddeus didn't need to re-read the message. He accepted his father's words with a grim smile. "Tell the other bands to return to Goldengrove, by any way they can. Our war is finished."

At his quiet order, half a dozen from his small group leapt on to their mounts, and galloped away to find the others before they were caught ravaging the lands.