The Battle for the Crown (Baratheon vs Blackfyre)

[Lucius Malfoy]

Golden Company and Allies

3560 Elite Infantry 3503 Heavy Infantry 1692 Light Infantry 3293 Pole Arms 4995 Archers 600 Myrish Crossbowman 1666 Unsullied (Elite Polearms) 510 Elite Cav 2174 Heavy Cav 2265 Light Cav Total: 23,758 men Commanders Daemon Blackfyre - +10 Duel (+8 from Blackfyre, +1 from Veteran Swordsmen, +7 health from Armor), +4 Survival (+1 from Dark Bodyguard) Tom the Butcher - +3 Joust, +6 Battles, +14 Duels (+7 Greatsword), +4 Survival Ser Derrick Fossoway - +3 Joust, +3 Battles, +2 Survival Ser Moryn Tyrell - +2 Battle, +2 Joust Ser Thorgen Pyre - +2 Survival, +2 Duel, +2 Battle Larraq of Braavos - +3 Duel, +3 Survival

With the Stormlander host within sight of King's Landing, Daemon decides to march his soldiers out onto the battlefield. Clad in a suit of golden armor, decorated with a black dragon upon it, Blackfyre in hand, the would-be King marched his soldiers forth, surrounded by his commanders and those who had followed him thus far. A long column marches forth from the Mud Gate, a variety of soldiers made up the ranks of the Golden Company now. At the front, came rank upon rank of Unsullied, elite soldiers from the Slaver's Bay, acquired by the handiwork of Moryn Tyrell.

Daemon rides at the front of his army, coming to a halt as his army began to fan out, taking up its positions before the walls of King's Landing. His eyes gazing outward upon the ranks of the Stormlander host. This was to be the battle of battles, to determine who would be king and would face either bending the knee or an execution as a pretender. He had given secret orders to those he knew could be trusted to safeguard his heirs and wife if victory was not achieved.

[Lucius Malfoy]

OOC: I will be making the battle orders for this. If anyone wants some specific orders or where they wanna be, VM me. I have a general idea and will send it shortly.

[Gandalfus]

Baratheon and allies

Army composition: 7327 heavy infantry 4232 heavy cavalry 200 AOR elite cavalry 900 elite infantry 600 Elite cavalry 3495 light cavalry 1400 raider cavalry 8519 polearms 7010 Archers Total: 33,683 Characters present: King Steffon Baratheon - +4 battles, +10 duels, +2 survival, +6 duel hp Ser Harbert Baratheon - +3 battles, +2 scout, +3 joust, +3 survival, +1 duel Lord Tarth - +2 Duels, +1 Joust, +3 Survival Lord Penrose -+3 Battles, +2 Survival, +2 Duels, +1 Joust Lord Caron - +3 battles, +2 survival, +2 charisma, +1 scout Drakar Ormelar - +4 battles, +12 duels, +2 survival Stallar Essolis - +3 battles, +2 survival, +3 charisma, +3 duels Lyonel Rock - +4 battles, +3 pathfinder, +3 pillager, +3 survival) Damon Rivers- +3 Battles, +3 Duel, +3 Survival Edmure Waters -+3 Battles, +3 Joust, +3 Survival

Baratheon's forces had formed up on the borders of the Kingswood, where the open fields transformed into dense forests and shrubbery. Flying proudly above the forces were various heraldic devices, the Baratheon stag, the moon and stars of Tarth, the nightingales of Caron, and various other banners fluttered in the light breeze. Steffon had chosen his ground. They would be attacked here, with defensive positions adopted accordingly. Whoever won this battle would likely win the crown, for certain, regardless of whether it was decisive or not.

[Gandalfus]

OOC: Orders sent.

[Lucius Malfoy]

OOC: Orders sent

[Poach]

The two armies faced each other near King's Landing, the site of so many battles this past decade. Many an attacking army had been broken outside these walls, and once more two would clash.

King Baratheon's army had numbers on their side, King Blackfyre's experience. In the early stages of the battle, Baratheon's cavalry would sweep Blackfyre's from the field, but as the battle progressed would falter against the veteran Blackfyre infantry, proving unable to break the flanks. A Baratheon victory in the centre was thus rendered wasted as the troops were forced to withdraw or face complete encirclement.

The exhausted Blackfyre army could do little to harry the Baratheon forces as they retreated south, as the Stormlander and Dornish cavalry still reigned supreme, enabling the routing infantry to retreat without facing too much by way of pursuit.

In the aftermath, Lord Tarth and Stallar Essolis are brought before Daemon as prisoners.

The Blackfyre army thus snatched an unlikely victory against a foe with a clear numerical superiority. This had bought them time and breathing space, but with no declared allies and King Baratheon expecting further support from the Holy League, would this victory be for nought, or would it be the legitimising victory that Daemon needed?


Baratheon victory in the centre, Blackfyre on the flanks (due to lopsided infantry rolls in Blackfyre's favour), meaning Blackfyre overall. 10% rout roll for the Baratheon forces (rolled a 2), which I RP'd as being due to the Baratheon cavalry having drove the Blackfyre cavalry away.

Blackfyre survivors

3760 E INF
2516 H Inf
1222 L Inf
2369 Polearms
382 E Cav
1630 H Cav
1698 L Cav
5,595 Archers

(19,175 in total, of 24,258, around 5,000 dead, or ~20%.)

Baratheon survivors

585 E Inf
5863 H Inf
5193 Polearms
4781 H Cav
3152 L Cav
6302 Archers

(26,338 in total, of 39,483, around 13,000 dead, or ~33%.)

(Dornish are about 23% of the total H Inf, 36% of H Cav and 15% of L Cav.)

In a duel between Tom and Drakar, Tom is victorious with 5.5hp remaining.

Post Battle Rolls

Baratheon

King Steffon Baratheon - 18 Free
Ser Harbert Baratheon - 3 Wounded, 7 Arm, -2 duels for 3 RL days
Lord Tarth - 11 Captured
Lord Penrose - 17 Free
Lord Caron - 4 Wounded 18 Torso, bedridden for 3 RL days.
Drakar Ormelar - Fate in the hands of Tom.
Stallar Essolis - 11 Captured
Lyonel Rock - 13 Free
Damon Rivers- 19 Free
Edmure Waters - 17 Free

Blackfyre

Daemon Blackfyre - 13 Free
Tom the Butcher - 13 Free
Ser Derrick Fossoway - 1 Dead
Ser Moryn Tyrell - 8 Captured, but freed as the battle was won and the enemy routed.
Ser Thorgen Pyre - 14 Free
Larraq of Braavos - 17 Free

Tom, Morryn and Derrick gain +1 Battles as the main commanders, and Tom gains +1 duel for defeating an opponent in a serious duel.

[Gandalfus]

The battle began as all battles did - in a bath of blood. At first, it would look as if Steffon's gamble had worked - the Blackfyre cavalry had been driven from the field, and the flanks vulnerable.
But the infantry did not break. Again and again, Harbert Baratheon led the charge into the ranks of the enemy, but they did not falter, and he himself was slashed hard across the arm by a wicked longsword, and thrown from his horse.
Whilst the centre succeeded, the flanks failed. Steffon himself committed to the fray along with Tarth and his senior bannermen, hacking and slashing his way through the Blackfyre ranks, his aide carrying the Stag forward into the central ranks. There was a brief respite as the Baratheon charge won the centre some ground, but the battered and bloodied Harbert found Steffon along with his commanders in the centre.

"We appear to be losing, sire." Harbert stated grimly, clutching his bleeding arm to prevent the flow of crimson. Steffon ground his teeth in fury, watching as his flanks melted away. Damn mercenaries.
Now, they turned on his centre. "We fall back." Baratheon commanded, as the Blackfyre forces began swiftly approaching, engaging the centre in combat. Baratheon mounted his horse and began ordering a retreat, cursing himself for not using his good sense to place a reserve. He had been too brash, too confident. He would not make the same mistake again. The Golden Company began to try and hound him from the field, the remnants of their horse chasing him down. Cleaving a man in two with his greatsword, he did his best to fight them off as they fled, but he saw Lord Tarth pulled from his horse. Roaring in anger, Steffon tried to direct himself back towards his goodfather, but his stallion was pulled away by Lord Penrose. Caron had been wounded too, taking an arrow wound to the chest, between the plates of his armour. Lord Swann hauled the wounded Stormlord up onto his horse, and ensured Caron would leave the field alive.
"I shall return." He vowed to his vassal, grasping him on the shoulder, before leading the remaining Baratheon forces away towards the Stormlands.

[Pericles of Athens]

The pre-battle was quite, as Tom watch the enemy arrange it's battle lines. He looked to the skulls of the commanders passed.. This was it. The battle was bloody and chaotic, men screaming and dying all around. The cavalry scattered on the right flank, but the infantry rallied behind Tom and stood against the crashing waves of the enemy. But by the end the Golden Company held the field and Tom stood over some nobody who thought he could kill the butcher. Old One-Eye looked down with his one good eye on the bleeding and disarmed man. Who the are you boy? The old pirate questioned in a thick accent. All around them men were bleeding, some missing body parts others mortally wounded. Prays and curses rung across the blood stained and haunted fields as men waited to die, the head hunters patrolled the carnage spearing the Baratheon wounded dead.

[ficenzi]

((Ooc: of the dead on Baratheon side, how many casualties do my mercs take?))

[Pontifex Maximus]

Moryn had been hard pressed in the center. His Unsullied did not retreat. And neither would he. At one point no doubt seeing his Tyrell colors enemy troops had tried to grab him. He would have been captured if not for the enemy's defeat he was sure of it. He ralied what Unsullied he had left and returned to hik king. He was delighted to see the orisoners. Bargaining chips.

[Xion]

void.

[Pyrrhus the Molossian]

Drakar is angry. All these years of journeying, fighting, and training. All for nothing. The same man who had left himself and his father on the shores of the Reach to die now stood over him ready to finish the job. He answers him in fluent Tyroshi.

"You don't recognize me? You wouldn't I guess. I was only a boy when you left my father and the rest of us upon the shores of the Reach. Lazar Ormelar was his name, Tyroshi through and through just as I am. I am Drakar and when you left us on the shores of the Reach my father gathered us together as mercenaries and made sure the Westerosi didn't slaughter us. We roamed Westeros before my father finally died Beyond the Walls in the desolate snows. We fought to make a living and to ensure our very survival after you left us here in this hell Tom. My father might still be alive if you hadn't left us here! If you must kill me do so, but remember I am of Tyroshi blood and I am only here because you left me behind...."


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[Poach]

[OOC: No idea Ficenzi, as I don't know how many of the total are your men. Find out how many of the men as a percentage were yours before the battle, subtract the Dornish from the survivors, and then take what proportion should belong to you.]

[Lord Dread]

Being among his wildfire men at the side of Derrick Fossoway, it was a fine feeling when the elite infantry marched rythmic towards the enemy, slowly approaching their destined battlefield.
No longer walls maintained the grim man, who was few years ago a nobody. A hedgeknight pretender among several. Noone anyone cared about.
And now it was his second battle, another path the Red God has chosen for him. Even with Aerys' death, the energy of wildfire was still contained within him, not as a substance, not as actual fire,
but by the fire of his soul. Visions of the last battle overcame him, when Fossoway ordered them to move forward faster, Pyre giving short, but powerful commands towards those, he was supposed to command.

As it was given by the Lord, it shall be returned to the Lord.
Fire and Blood - Fire I bring, Blood I sacrifice.
As the Night is dark and full of terrors.

Then, the entire world within his eyes became red again, like in a frenzy. Colours barely made sense, as the Red Knight clashed roaring with his mace into the first Stormlander while smashing severely the next helmet.
Yet though the entire world became slower in the eyes of Ser Thorgen, he could later barely tell what actually happened, as he barely witnessed the heavy cavalry charge of Baratheon giving them heavy blows. He still stood as the enemy cavalry met them, while he among the Blackfyre men surrounding him pushed them back, slew their horses, smashed their riders to the ground.
It was a carnage, which in the end became a magnificent victory.
Again the Lord of Light has blessed Thorgen Pyre, this time granting him the triumph, he couldn't experience within the first siege due to fighting on the wrong side.
"For R'hllor!", he yelled, as the enemy ranks began to retreat, "For Blackfyre and the Lord of Light!!"
He knew that those, who died this day for their treacherous High Septon and the Faith would only see the endless abyss. Many men fell, but he knew that it was for a better cause, for the protection of the capital.
Those who would seek the next days a beacon of hope, would find it within King's Landing and those, whom R'hllor had chosen to defend it.

Yet not all men made it out of the battle equally. When Pyre heard that Ser Derrick Fossoway, the commander under whom he served had fallen, he decided to lower his mace, praying silently for the Reachman.
The Seven apparently did not bring him the same mercy as R'hllor granted it towards Thorgen.
And if Fossoway betrayed the King, he would probably take as well the secret into his grave.

[Trot]

Mathis horse reared as he brought his sword down grimly on a soldiers head. He had been fighting alongside Steffon earlier, but the tide had shifted drawing them a part. The battle was a mess filled with the groans of the injured and dying. Still he fought the battle clearly no longer in there favor. The tide of battle was starting to turn Blackfyre forces had initially been swept by the overwhelming Baratheon cavalry, but it was soon to much. The experienced soldiers of the Blackfyre host had soon turned the tide of battle against him. He heard the order to withdrawal, and turned and felt an arrow pierce his back. He toppled from his horse and the world went black.


The next thing he knew he awake to a sharp pain. He was being carried in a litter by two blooded men in battered armor. He tried to sit up and found he could not. "Water," he croaks his voice sounding dry and cracked. one of the man hears him and turns putting a water bottle to his left.

"You are lucky to be alive my lord," The man says, a little to the left and it would have gone through your heart.

[Pericles of Athens]

Tom recalled how he'd left those men behind to die, Maegor had wanted to take them - but there was no time to secure more boats. Good, I ing hate Tyroshi. He slid the tip of his sword into the beaten man's throat, leaving to go find Daemon as the mercenary choked on his own blood. Before he walked away he took the battle ax from beside Drakar's hand.

[Oznerol]

Tarth watched as the battle unfolded before his eyes. Baratheon, Tarth and the senior Stormlander lords watched the action from behind the lines. The cavalry did well, as expected. There was a roar in the Baratheon lands when the banner with the apple fell in one of the wings, soon word was brought of Derrick Fossoway's dead at the hands of several Dondarrion men.

"One less, sire"

Said Tarth leaning towards his son-in-law, his bascinet open. Boremund smiles, things were faring well, soon they would...

Something is wrong.

The flanks of the Golden Company refused to yield the ground. In fact mountains toppled with the dead covered the land before the phalanx formed by the Golden Company's elite infantrymen. Something was going pretty wrong. Blackfyres, even if outnumbered didn't rout. The Dornish then made their attack, covering the sky with arrows and javelins, with little effect: the projectiles simply couldn't pierce the thick mail and armor of the Golden Company and the Myrish Crossbowmen did a short job with them, felling the horses with astounding ease.

Baratheon ordered a charge and Tarth lowered his visor and couched his lance. The lance was splintered against the oaken shield of an enemy knight, painted with three black castles. Around Tarth men started to die, his bodyguards were slowly slaughtered. Old Bors Errol was killed when an halberd opened his belly wide open; he died screaming. Tarth's arm was exhausted from rising his mace. Jolly Bill was dragged down and butchered by some barbarians. He was a nice fellow, thought Tarth as he struggled to remain by Baratheon's side, covered in blood. His mace did a nasty job of an infantrymen's face, but he was tired. I'm too old for this. Next, he found himself facing three men at once. Lord Horpe was fighting against an armored Essosi. Tarth was too tired to yell when his vassal was beheaded with an arakh. He tried to dodge the incoming attacks, his armor spared him of some blows. Suddenly he found himself on the dirt, his horse impaled. He watched as Lord Baratheon was pulled away by Penrose, who grabbed his reins.

Fly, son. Fly. I miss home...

He laid on the ground, too tired to move. Many faces surrounded him.

How was that song? Ah...

A blow to the head. Brutal... Everything was dark; he barely felt as some men carried him away, likely as a trophy for some sellsword. Tarth could only hear a long-forgotten tune and his mother singing it...

Summer is not to last, is not to last!

Nah nah nah...

[Dirty Chai]

OOC: Poach, how can the Baratheon army be encircled when the Dornish came down behind the Blackfyre army.. Also were the Dornish characters just forgotten in the post-battle rolls? And did you just roll the Dornish flanks as part of the Baratheon flanks, removing the point of pincering? *Sigh* it just looks on paper here like the Dornish flank attack was pointless/ineffectual

[Dirty Chai]

Total Dornish force remaining:
1,173 Heavy Infantry
1,721 H Cavalry
473 Light Cavalry

Evenly dispersed back into House forces:
House Martell
759 men (1,331 points)
- 286 Heavy Cavalry (858 points)
- 473 Light Cavalry (473 points)

House Yronwood
1,747 men (4,068 points)
- 574 Heavy Cavalry (1,722 points)
- 1,173 Heavy Infantry (2,346 points)

House Uller
861 men (2,583 points)
- 861 Heavy Cavalry (2,583 points)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The banners of Martell, Uller, and Yronwood fluttered in the dead wind of the burned Kingswood. They waited off to the far flank of the Stormlandish battlelines, off out of site. Rows of riders and knights from Dorne sat in the green-less forest of ash and burnt wood.

Doran stared up at the grey sky above, lips parted. It was quiet here, though he could hear the occasional horn from off to his right, signaling some sort of formation or maneuver by the forces of this new Baratheon king. Here, there was naught but some little chatter between horsemen and the muttering and neighing of their steeds.

Closing his eyes, Doran wondered how his father had been before Tumbleton. Before any battle, for that matter. Tumbleton had been his last, however; Did he know it? Did he feel it beforehand? Does one know the hour of their death?

Looking back down in front of him, opening his eyes, and closing his mouth, Doran figured not.
Today he would observe. He was no warrior. Things would be done differently than what was done under his father.

When it came, it was a long low growl of a horn, decided between the commanders weeks ago. Doran turned in the saddle, raising a hand, which caused a cascading line of officers down the ranks to bark orders for their battles of horsemen to begin moving forward, first at a cautious trot through the ruined woods.

They kept as quiet as they could when moving forward. Footmen clasped in plate and mail from Yronwood followed behind, their boots smacking into the ashen mud of the forest floor, but the Dornish seemed mostly successful in reaching the edge of the Kingswood without alerting their foe.

It was a sudden edge, rimmed by a small ridge of rammed earth just past the tree line.. a dyke perhaps for when the Blackwater flooded. It also kept the forest from overgrowing, Doran presumed, but the Mad King had seen to that in other ways.

Doran looked again at the long line of horsemen, many of whom seemed to look back. It stretched on into the wood's edge, and he could not see its end, though he knew it was just beyond his sight. They could all hear the battle had started, and now they had to join it. Men watched their Prince anxiously.

Martell only looked back with a similarly grim look. Their eyes, their noses, their mouths. These men had loved ones, homes, families. He forced himself forward suddenly, frowning deeply, and raised a reluctant hand and threw it forward in motion. The only thing that warranted their desire to fight the Golden Company was revenge. Vengeance for fathers, honor for brothers. Blood for the lost ones.

Doran held that anger and hatred when it came back to him, and he used it to grimace then, and charge forward with the horsemen, close behind.
Once over the rammed mound wall, the Dornishmen began to gallop in large swooping wings, wheeling onto the flank of a battle they were just now able to see. Blackfyre flags, in the distance. Doran thought he could see the golden skulls, for a split moment. He looked back, saw the foot from Yronwood jaunting up and over the mound and following on the right flank in support.

Doran payed close attention to the knights, how they seemed to gracefully come together in charge, all while growing in speed, and how their lances seemed to come down together into a long line of pointed death. He followed behind, his guardians in tow.

His head was swung to the left as he heard the dying begin, horses and riders thrown under the charge and spears and lances breaking in the hundreds as the Dornish far flank crashed into a mounted foe. He continued on, following the rest of the charge, all the way to the rear of the Golden Company.. they came closer, closer, and Doran felt his heart fill with a feeling he had never felt before, a burning. A fear, perhaps. Or was it hate. Anger. Rush.

Doran drew his sword in that feeling, though he knew he would likely not see combat himself.
He watched with a bitter grimace as his front lines of knights crashed into the rear of the invaders.

But the Golden Company would not be tamed or whipped, not today. It was not enough, Doran learned. What he and Baratheon had done was not enough.
One day, he swore to himself, as he looked back across the field before he fled back into the Kingswood, he would see them all shattered and scattered, and their leaders crucified in Dorne. One day.

[Lucius Malfoy]

Daemon sat upon the battlefield, gazing out at the results of the fierce carnage that waged between two claimants of the Iron Throne. One would stand victorious and surely legitimize their claim over the other.

As the Blackfyre gazed out at the bloodstained and tattered banners of House Baratheon, Daemon knew he was that victor.

As the reports came in, there was an estimation of over ten thousand Dornish and Stormlanders dead, compared to only several thousand of their own. Victory cries range across the field as prisoners were brought to the victorious army under the banners of House Blackfyre. Daemon, though, remained seated for now, gazing out at the bloody field that laid before King's Landing. Almost a decade ago, Maelys had attempted to same form of battle only to be crushed by the weight of many armies. Now, here he stood, Daemon Blackfyre, victorious and alive. Blackfyre still within his grasp and his claim upon the Iron Throne solidified and legitimized, but not yet secure. His eyes gazed up at the sky as ravens flew from the capital in all directions, proclaiming his victory to all. As the ravens became dots in the sky, the Blackfyre rose from his seated place, turning to gaze upon his army. All eyes fell upon him now as he raised the bloodied sword, Blackfyre, high into the air.

This gesture caused the entire army to roar with praise and hails in his name, Three separate sessions of war cries pierced the silent battlefield and echoed for miles around them, proclaiming to all nearby of the Blackfyre victory achieved here. Yet victory came at a cost when word came of Ser Derrick Fossoway's death. Daemon rushed over to the corpse of his supporter, who had been one of four major figures that ensured his rise. He gazed upon Fossoway's death before turning to see Raymun Fossoway, still alive and well. Daemon slowly reaches over, closing the eyes of Derrick, so that he may know peace.

The Fossoway line endures, Ser Derrick, You can rest well knowing that victory was achieved and the line of your ancestors continues through Raymun. May we meet again in the afterlife... my friend.

He nods to the soldiers as they lifted the body of his retainer and took it into the city for cleaning. A proper burial would be performed later in honor of Ser Derrick's service and loyalty to Daemon.

With such things now performed, his attention turned to those captured; a Lord Tarth and a Stallar Essolis. The latter was a mercenary by his attire and would not fetch a high price, but may be valuable as a retainer. The former, however, was a prominent Lord of the Stormlands and one that Daemon remembered, for a trial was held against him during his captivity. Such a prominent vassal of Steffon could surely fetch a handsome fee from the King or perhaps his release would ensure a debt of honor by House Tarth. He turns to Lord Tarth first.

Tell me, Lord Tarth, what should I do with you? What should I, as the rightful King by victory, do with a traitor to the Seven Kingdoms who supported a usurper?

=======================

He turns to Stallar after speaking with Lord Tarth.

Your name... you are Essosi correct? What brought you to the service of Baratheon and, for that matter, to Westeros?