XelianEmperor
Fragile. Handle with care
Did the name Seaworth only given after Davos was knighted?
Oh God, am I the Mannis now? - GoT/SI
- Thread starter Sir Rabby
- Start date
Ok really liking these so far a less asshole Stannis is making friends and being liked by the people. One thing I have to ask what are you doing with the left over wood chips and saw dust from all the wood making projects? Because saw dry saw dust in large quantities can explode. Dust explosions are pretty dangerous Dust explosion - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
Its being gathered in casks in case the Tyrells break through the first walls.
Not really, as when you examine this time period you notice how badly GRRM "armies travel faster than ravens" messed it up in general. One of the Kingsguard is simultaneously at King's Landing outside the Queen's chambers and getting killed at the Ruby Ford.
Anyway, this argument seems pointless on my behalf given you have made a decision on the direction of your story.
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Chapter 0.06
283 AC – Siege of Storms End
I must have aged decades that day I found out about the tunnel. I stood side by side with the men and shoveled until Cressen's frantic cajoling convinced me I should take my rest. Its been three days since then and we had come no closer to finding the damned tunnel. The only consolation I had was that the water buckets, those we seeded everywhere around the walls, were no longer shaking.
Had the Tyrells given up on it?
I found it fairly unlikely. Perhaps they had simply gone deeper?
Either way. I couldn't afford getting bogged down in this particular problem. Not when hundreds of others demanded my time. Day after day the Tyrells launched their stubborn attacks. My garrison has been reduced to a little over three thousand two hundred, injured soldiers that rejoined the battlements included, and the stack of bodies in front of the walls were ever increasing. The bastards had resorted to throwing the most virulent of the corpses over the walls and forced me to detach three dozen men to have them immediately burned.
I wasn't going to lose this castle to fucking disease.
The food situation was far more dire. Davos still hasn't turned up and our supplies were falling dangerously low. Some of the cooks managed to perform miracles with horse bones but the soup was increasingly thinning.
I knew that Davos would show up soon, had I conformed to canon, and rescued us from the looming threat of having to resort to cannibalism. Now though...I had thoroughly riled up the Reachmen. Perhaps I had butterflied Davos' success right out of the book. Which meant that I could not rely on the scurvy smuggler.
Instead I would have to take risks. A rather massive one, in fact, as soon as night hit. The Reachmen seemed to retreat every evening, after spending a few hours in the morning attempting to scale our walls, and I was hoping they'd hold true to form. Dusk was already settling in and when the battlefield was fully cloaked in darkness I could start with the first part of my plan.
Over the past two days I had attempted to make deals with the Reachmen in my dungeons. Each of them was locked up in a different part of the castle, to ward against collusion, and I had them all interrogated by way of bribery with food. Half the men categorically denied our offerings.
Those had starved by now.
We carted off their bodies, and made sure to pass the others in lock-up, and had their remains burned. Their cloaks, and other garments, were needed for our plan. The other prisoners, mostly after having seen their companion bodies as well as the compelling argument their hunger man, played ball with me. These Tyrell men were interrogated separately and, while several tried to trick us, most of them shared details that were verifiable across the board.
I know knew the, perhaps heavily outdated, lay out of the watch teams of the Tyrell host. Even if the specific details were no longer accurate it was still possible to make deductions. The host liked to sent out groups of thirty outriders to patrol. They liked having two seperate lines of watch men, several watching the inner camp with the leaders, while most paid attention to the outskirts of the camp.
I may not know they positions but I could make educated guesses after hearing several possible lay outs. The information I had more faith in was the make up of the camp itself. I knew about the two concentric rings but the absolute gem in the bunch was their horses. Before the past three weeks the Tyrells were lazying about, playing at war in their feasts and tourneys, and because of that never bothered to thoroughly secure their vast number of horses.
I wanted those horses. Those delicious, delicious, walking food-supplies.
Now, however, I was counting on the assumption that the horses would be even less defended. The Reachlords absolutely could not believe I would sally out and harass them. Horses were also notoriously useless in sieges.
Please let their horses be under defended.
"My Lord, I am ready."
I looked over at Hugo, dressed in the Tyrell colors and cloak, and considering the sheer balls of brass this man must have. The thought idly struck me that perhaps he might not want to survive this mess. I'd like to say that this felt terrible...but it barely registered with me.
"Hugo, are you clear on your task? You must come back with accurate information."
Hugo the tanner nodded firmly and when I dismissed him, after giving him a bottle of fine Arbor Gold, he made his way to the wall. I'd told him that, in the event he was caught, he might be able to trick them into thinking he's a levy who sneaked off to get drunk. I didn't have high hopes for that.
In a few minutes the Tyrells would have retreated far enough, the staging ground will be dark enough, for him to sneak down and follow them. Hopefully he'd come through for me.
283 AC – Siege of Storms End
I made my peace with god and fully expected to die here. The only consolation I had was that it probably wouldn't be a long drawn out ordeal. I looked around at the cohort I had with me and only saw determination shining through their posture. I had to admit that it did a fine job of steadying me in return. With our scaling off the wall in the darkness I felt that the worst of it was over. For me at least.
God, I hate heights.
I was keenly aware it should be the other way around but I wasn't about to bitch and moan. The whole lot of us slowly made our way across the three hills that separated Storms End from the Tyrell camp. Hugo had quietly scouted it out for us, with his prized possession of Arbor Gold still tied to his back, and told us of the troubles ahead.
"Patrols come out every so often, my Lord. If we hold behind that hill-" He pointed to a particularly steep one, "We can wait it out and sneak past."
That sounded just fine with me.
Unfortunately reality didn't tend to quite agree with me. And so I had to prepare for quietly taking the patrol out. Hugo had assured me he saw three sets of thirty patrol men pass by, each time taking the same route, so we had the benefit of setting the staging ground. I chose a small area between two rocky hills with a road that narrowed down through them. I arranged for fifty crossbowmen to sit perched on the far side of the hills. Fifty pikemen to hide behind the hills and come rushing out to set the trap.
Another fifty pikemen would sit just passed the treeline covering one side of the battle. These men would rush forward and cut off the retreat of the patrol. The rest of the men would be sent up ahead, and off to the left, to catch whoever managed to dodge us.
Oddly enough, this was a situation I was much more comfortable with than simply hiding behind a hill...hoping to not get spotted. Of course...if the first volley of bolts missed the man with the horn we were screwed. We'd have to retreat immediately having accomplished little.
I found religion again and prayed that wouldn't happen.
"I can see them, my Lord."
I had positioned myself with the pikemen in the treeline, as my group was the most heavily armored. Orys as in charge of the anvil, the men between the hills, and hopefully I'd be the hammer crushing the patrol. Annoyingly slow minutes passed by as the patrol lazied across the short distance – did they really feel this safe – and when they made it to the narrow part of the road I gestured for my men.
As quietly as fifty men could move we sneaked across the road, swerved off to the hills, and formed up two man deep. Our timing worked out wonderfully, the crossbowmen sent the patrol hurrying past them, and I didn't hear an incredibly loud vuvuzela expy.
The volley of bolts was our cue to charge...and god damnit, charge we did. We ate up the distance between us and the patrol getting chewed up by the other pike. Unfortunately we didn't make it all the way across before we were noticed. Bolts had ceased crashing into the turmoil and the patrol managed to turn.
Shit!
They were going to try and run.
"Double step!"
We sped up to meet their charge and loosed the single ballistae bolt we each carried as javelins. The first line of cavalry was chaotic enough to allow us to field the pikes, retrieve our shields from our backs, and then we clashed.
Horses don't like crashing into walls, even if they are made up of pikes, and with the fairly loose way they had to turn to charge at us...they didn't have any momentum to come crashing through us. Even worse than all the people I'd killed from the safety of the walls...this was straight up slaughter.
As we caught up with the patrol our other pikemen charged them from the back. The crossbowmen picked off anyone who managed to swerve out of our trap. The rest of the horsemen were well and truly caught between anvil and hammer.
Within moments I ordered, "Move the bodies past the treeline. Send three men to take those horses back to the gate."
After Orys handled that for me I turned my mind to our next objective. We had a little over an hour to make our way over to the horse herds.
I needed a distraction.
AN: Feedback and commentary are greatly appreciated!
I must have aged decades that day I found out about the tunnel. I stood side by side with the men and shoveled until Cressen's frantic cajoling convinced me I should take my rest. Its been three days since then and we had come no closer to finding the damned tunnel. The only consolation I had was that the water buckets, those we seeded everywhere around the walls, were no longer shaking.
Had the Tyrells given up on it?
I found it fairly unlikely. Perhaps they had simply gone deeper?
Either way. I couldn't afford getting bogged down in this particular problem. Not when hundreds of others demanded my time. Day after day the Tyrells launched their stubborn attacks. My garrison has been reduced to a little over three thousand two hundred, injured soldiers that rejoined the battlements included, and the stack of bodies in front of the walls were ever increasing. The bastards had resorted to throwing the most virulent of the corpses over the walls and forced me to detach three dozen men to have them immediately burned.
I wasn't going to lose this castle to fucking disease.
The food situation was far more dire. Davos still hasn't turned up and our supplies were falling dangerously low. Some of the cooks managed to perform miracles with horse bones but the soup was increasingly thinning.
I knew that Davos would show up soon, had I conformed to canon, and rescued us from the looming threat of having to resort to cannibalism. Now though...I had thoroughly riled up the Reachmen. Perhaps I had butterflied Davos' success right out of the book. Which meant that I could not rely on the scurvy smuggler.
Instead I would have to take risks. A rather massive one, in fact, as soon as night hit. The Reachmen seemed to retreat every evening, after spending a few hours in the morning attempting to scale our walls, and I was hoping they'd hold true to form. Dusk was already settling in and when the battlefield was fully cloaked in darkness I could start with the first part of my plan.
Over the past two days I had attempted to make deals with the Reachmen in my dungeons. Each of them was locked up in a different part of the castle, to ward against collusion, and I had them all interrogated by way of bribery with food. Half the men categorically denied our offerings.
Those had starved by now.
We carted off their bodies, and made sure to pass the others in lock-up, and had their remains burned. Their cloaks, and other garments, were needed for our plan. The other prisoners, mostly after having seen their companion bodies as well as the compelling argument their hunger man, played ball with me. These Tyrell men were interrogated separately and, while several tried to trick us, most of them shared details that were verifiable across the board.
I know knew the, perhaps heavily outdated, lay out of the watch teams of the Tyrell host. Even if the specific details were no longer accurate it was still possible to make deductions. The host liked to sent out groups of thirty outriders to patrol. They liked having two seperate lines of watch men, several watching the inner camp with the leaders, while most paid attention to the outskirts of the camp.
I may not know they positions but I could make educated guesses after hearing several possible lay outs. The information I had more faith in was the make up of the camp itself. I knew about the two concentric rings but the absolute gem in the bunch was their horses. Before the past three weeks the Tyrells were lazying about, playing at war in their feasts and tourneys, and because of that never bothered to thoroughly secure their vast number of horses.
I wanted those horses. Those delicious, delicious, walking food-supplies.
Now, however, I was counting on the assumption that the horses would be even less defended. The Reachlords absolutely could not believe I would sally out and harass them. Horses were also notoriously useless in sieges.
Please let their horses be under defended.
"My Lord, I am ready."
I looked over at Hugo, dressed in the Tyrell colors and cloak, and considering the sheer balls of brass this man must have. The thought idly struck me that perhaps he might not want to survive this mess. I'd like to say that this felt terrible...but it barely registered with me.
"Hugo, are you clear on your task? You must come back with accurate information."
Hugo the tanner nodded firmly and when I dismissed him, after giving him a bottle of fine Arbor Gold, he made his way to the wall. I'd told him that, in the event he was caught, he might be able to trick them into thinking he's a levy who sneaked off to get drunk. I didn't have high hopes for that.
In a few minutes the Tyrells would have retreated far enough, the staging ground will be dark enough, for him to sneak down and follow them. Hopefully he'd come through for me.
283 AC – Siege of Storms End
I made my peace with god and fully expected to die here. The only consolation I had was that it probably wouldn't be a long drawn out ordeal. I looked around at the cohort I had with me and only saw determination shining through their posture. I had to admit that it did a fine job of steadying me in return. With our scaling off the wall in the darkness I felt that the worst of it was over. For me at least.
God, I hate heights.
I was keenly aware it should be the other way around but I wasn't about to bitch and moan. The whole lot of us slowly made our way across the three hills that separated Storms End from the Tyrell camp. Hugo had quietly scouted it out for us, with his prized possession of Arbor Gold still tied to his back, and told us of the troubles ahead.
"Patrols come out every so often, my Lord. If we hold behind that hill-" He pointed to a particularly steep one, "We can wait it out and sneak past."
That sounded just fine with me.
Unfortunately reality didn't tend to quite agree with me. And so I had to prepare for quietly taking the patrol out. Hugo had assured me he saw three sets of thirty patrol men pass by, each time taking the same route, so we had the benefit of setting the staging ground. I chose a small area between two rocky hills with a road that narrowed down through them. I arranged for fifty crossbowmen to sit perched on the far side of the hills. Fifty pikemen to hide behind the hills and come rushing out to set the trap.
Another fifty pikemen would sit just passed the treeline covering one side of the battle. These men would rush forward and cut off the retreat of the patrol. The rest of the men would be sent up ahead, and off to the left, to catch whoever managed to dodge us.
Oddly enough, this was a situation I was much more comfortable with than simply hiding behind a hill...hoping to not get spotted. Of course...if the first volley of bolts missed the man with the horn we were screwed. We'd have to retreat immediately having accomplished little.
I found religion again and prayed that wouldn't happen.
"I can see them, my Lord."
I had positioned myself with the pikemen in the treeline, as my group was the most heavily armored. Orys as in charge of the anvil, the men between the hills, and hopefully I'd be the hammer crushing the patrol. Annoyingly slow minutes passed by as the patrol lazied across the short distance – did they really feel this safe – and when they made it to the narrow part of the road I gestured for my men.
As quietly as fifty men could move we sneaked across the road, swerved off to the hills, and formed up two man deep. Our timing worked out wonderfully, the crossbowmen sent the patrol hurrying past them, and I didn't hear an incredibly loud vuvuzela expy.
The volley of bolts was our cue to charge...and god damnit, charge we did. We ate up the distance between us and the patrol getting chewed up by the other pike. Unfortunately we didn't make it all the way across before we were noticed. Bolts had ceased crashing into the turmoil and the patrol managed to turn.
Shit!
They were going to try and run.
"Double step!"
We sped up to meet their charge and loosed the single ballistae bolt we each carried as javelins. The first line of cavalry was chaotic enough to allow us to field the pikes, retrieve our shields from our backs, and then we clashed.
Horses don't like crashing into walls, even if they are made up of pikes, and with the fairly loose way they had to turn to charge at us...they didn't have any momentum to come crashing through us. Even worse than all the people I'd killed from the safety of the walls...this was straight up slaughter.
As we caught up with the patrol our other pikemen charged them from the back. The crossbowmen picked off anyone who managed to swerve out of our trap. The rest of the horsemen were well and truly caught between anvil and hammer.
Within moments I ordered, "Move the bodies past the treeline. Send three men to take those horses back to the gate."
After Orys handled that for me I turned my mind to our next objective. We had a little over an hour to make our way over to the horse herds.
I needed a distraction.
AN: Feedback and commentary are greatly appreciated!
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I think his status as a battle commande will be much higher then canon after this.
This Stannis might actually get along with Robert
This Stannis might actually get along with Robert
Well there's one source of food that won't run out for a while.
He sure is earning his nickname 'The Mannis' much earlier then canon Stannis.
It tastes terrible, mostly because the horses actually used those muscles during their lives. Think of the worst beef you've ever tasted and then make it worse (this information comes from reading memoirs not actual experience).
FalseDead
Consuming Fear
- Location
- Boatmurdered
True, but when you're starving any food will taste good, hunger being the best taste enhancer
I've had horse meat before. It's good. Kind of like a cross between beef and venison. The "bad" horse meat is from horses used on a march/retreat or that were starved. These horses have been chilling and eating for a long while; they'd taste just fine. Especially to starving men.
Lots of people love it.
Tell that to every soldier that ever had to eat horse on campaign. It was usually the next last on the list of desperation food list just before eating leather. That said these horses have not been putting a lot of work recently and the garrison is starving.
XelianEmperor
Fragile. Handle with care
Horse meat that i ate taste like a really salty beef.
Maybe its how its prepared.
Maybe its how its prepared.
Chapter 0.07
283 AC – Siege of Storms End
Together with the vast majority of my men I hugged a tree. We were hiding in the shrubberies across from the fields where the Tyrells kept their horses. There were no enclosures and thankfully my besiegers felt themselves secure enough to not tie them down. The horses were idly grazing and from what I could tell only a token force kept watch.
I say kept watch.
I mean they played cards next to the warm fires. Hopefully that meant their night vision would be shite. The plan for us was simple; a two pronged attack on the herd, and its watchers, and then racing off to the gates. The attack would happen right after a distracting fire was set and I prayed, with all my might, that the two pronged screaming charge we'd try would startle the horses bad enough to get them to rush away.
We needed to herd the horses as close to the main road as possible. There another two cohorts were stationed, out of sight, to cover our retreat and assist with directing the horses.
We waited with bated breath for the promised distraction. I'd sent a small contingent of men, twenty poor souls, to go harass the Tyrell supplies. With some careful maneuverings they managed to dodge the incoming patrols and followed in their wake. All the detachment around me could do now was wait for the chaos to kick off.
Such idleness wasn't for me though. I peeled off another twenty men to follow me, around the edge of the wood, to circle back around and surprise the guards. I couldn't tell how many of them there were but I didn't need to kill all of them. They just needed to be run off. Quietly my little band of marauders hustled our way through the treeline and eventually made it close to the guards. From this closer distance I could spot at least twelve men. Another six or so we'd spotted a few minutes before.
Two short and sharp engagements then.
Wordlessly I directed half my men to crawl out, to the area on the right of the guards, while the rest of my crossbowmen followed my lead to the left of the partying troops. Our muddy cloaks hung heavy over ourselves but they were needed. We crawled, ever so slowly, across the field and once again I fired silent thanks off to the dark of the night.
If there was any kind of moon this would have been impossible.
After we made it to our positions we had to wait.
And wait.
Finally I could hear commotion in the distance. The guards were stirring but they still made no move. Minutes passed by agonizingly slow before the ruckus got louder. Finally the Tyrell men shook of their lethargy and dispersed.
Yeey for protocol!
This was our cue. I slowly inched my crossbow off my back, took careful aim, and was rewarded by the silent thud a body makes when it flops to the ground. Holy crap, that was a lucky shot. While I reloaded the rest of my men to their knees and fired at will. The guards freaked out, attempted to reform ranks, but we had half of them wounded while a few perished.
I got up, silently, and rushed the disoriented group. Twenty meters have never felt so excruciatingly far. I crossed the distance, didn't dare to look back to see if my men were following me, and fired off my last bolt. This time I only heard a faint grunt that let me know I didn't miss. I dropped the crossbow, reached for my sword and shield, and threw myself in the carnage.
One man died when I caught him in the neck and his blood sprayed all over me. Immediately after that I threw myself to the right to avoid getting speared. Right then another volley of bolts hit the group standing over me. I made sure to stab at their shins just in case.
By the time my men had converged on the Tyrell troops and within two or three minutes we had them cut down. I knew there was still another six of them out there but I couldn't worry about that.
"Be loud, Stormlanders! And smack as many horses are you can!"
Surprisingly, the men chose to scream, "Stannis! Stannis! STANNIS!" As we crashed through the herd, slapping the horses as we passed them, desperately trying to get them to stampede. At first it seemed like they wouldn't cooperate. The horses attempted to run towards the Tyrell camp but a courageous performance by some of my men dissuades those bold horses.
The rest bolted into the direction we wanted them to. I attempted to catch a passing horse, failed, and humiliatingly had to accept the outstretched hand of one of my men. The soldiers, Duncan something, pulled me up on the back of his ride. I shook off his crossbow from his back, searched around for his bolts, and when I found them half-twisted around my axis.
Where were those other six men?
"Heeya!"
"Stannis! Stannis! STANNIS!"
This went on for a while, even longer than I dared, but I was desperate. We absolutely needed at least a hundred or so of these horses to make it all the way to the castle. It was less than a mile away but I had no doubt we'd have angry Reachlords on our tails soon enough. Even so; the many hundreds of horses we were riling up would be dispersed regardless. I might as well cause some trouble for the Reachlords.
I yelled as loud as I could, "Alright, RETREAT!"
And Duncan steered us behind a particularly dense group of horses. I had no idea how many we managed to scatter, or steer towards the castle, but if we even managed to bring this single group home I would be pleased. We had already secured a dozen horses from our earlier ambush but every last bit would help.
Especially if it appeared that Stark was more than a month away.
The first few minutes of the ride were hectic but not terrifying. We were making good place and had made it at least halfway back to the castle. Unfortunately I had completely lost contact with anyone outside my twenty man group. I had to simply trust they would follow the plan. We had to make it another hundred meters before we passed our reserve troops. Four hundred men, or two cohorts, would be lined up beside the main road and all I needed them to do was to delay our tail.
Which incidentally started following us and attempting to ride us down, hard.
Sixty meters.
Forty meters.
Twenty meters.
And we made it.
"Halt here, I'm retreating with the reserves."
"Aye, my Lord."
Duncan stopped his horse, I slid off the back, and the man continued onwards. Driving up our section of the herd to the gates. I, on the other hand, slipped away into the shrubbery. Within moments I had made contact with my men. Unfortunately it was because one of them almost shot me. I didn't know if I simply slipped, ducked out of a vague sense of danger, but the bolt missed me by inches.
"Motherfucker! Hold your god damned bolts, Stormlanders!"
I didn't wait for their replies and rushed, as much as you can rush in the shrubberies, into their ranks. One of the troops attempted to apologize but I wasn't having any of it.
"It's done. Now, save your bolts for the fucking flowers, savvy?"
"Aye, my Lord!"
I looked around for Sebastion but I'd apparently picked the wrong side of the road. It didn't matter much. Despite his whining he's a fairly capable man. I had no doubt he wouldn't disappoint.
"What's the situation?" I asked the nearest sergeant, Karel Langtree.
"We sent a tenth of the men onward with the herds, my Lord. The rest of us were waiting on your stragglers and we already picked up some."
I nodded, realized he wouldn't be able to see that, and said, "Wait no more, we're wiping out the Tyrell forces following us. Expect about six to eight hundred troops. Form up six deep with crossbowmen on the flanks. Peel off thirty men for each flank to stiffen the crossbowmen, Karel."
"Aye, aye."
I bid this group adieu and hurriedly made my way across the road. Thankfully the other pocket of men didn't attempt to skewer me with friendly fire.
"Sebastion, we fight on the road. We crush the force chasing us and make way to Storms End."
"At once, my Lord." He turned to the rest, "You heard him! Form up on the road and make good with the Warrior!"
I added my two cents, "Form up, six deep! Pikes out, crossbowmen flying flanks!"
The two full cohorts, eight hundred men strong, did form in good order. Five hundred and four pikemen, six men deep held the entirety of the main road. Two hundred crossbowmen flanked them in the shrubberies and the easily passable, for them at least, treeline adjacent to said road. We were as ready are we were ever going to be to face incoming trouble. And come it did in the form of a force of Reachmen. It was too dark to make out how many, and I deliberately hadn't brought any torches - my men knew the land intimately -, I could tell we'd be slightly outnumbered. For the third time tonight I found religion again and prayed the flying crossbowmen would be able to swing around the host attacking us.
A buildup would be perfect and the conditions were ripe for it.
Another only silver lining I could perceive was that this was likely the first response the Reachlords mustered. They can't really advance in good order and make good enough time to catch us. I was banking on the fact that our disciplined line could catch their advance and turn it back. Hopefully that would buy me enough time to double march out back to Storms End.
"Embed Pikes! First line kneel for impact!"
Our fair robust six line deep pikewall would simply have to hold. With the first line kneeling each of us could reach over and stab an overly eager Reachmen before they crashed into our lines. Afterward the first two lines would slip into the ranks, cause chaos, and attempt push a short distance clearing space for the other lines to follow.
It's difficult to explain the feeling of utter terror, and dreadful piety, a charging mass of horses inspires. The very ground shakes as they come for you and horses are big. If something doesn't halt their progress the charging Reachmen would be able to barrel through us. The horses would be going too fast to allow anything else.
Which is why I loved my crossbowmen.
"Loose!"
Sixty meters before impact a volley of heavy bolts tangled up the first ranks of the charge. Because of their speed they tumbled, took several others with them, and in turn tangled up more and more horseflesh. Two hundred bolts would slow down any charge, let alone one as disorganized as this moonless night chase. It worked marvelously. The crossbows were effective at greater ranges than that but I liked to play it conservatively. More than a handful of charging Reachmen collapsed, inconveniencing plenty of others.
I yelled, "Pike, Hold!"
I couldn't order an advance yet as I felt, not unreasonably, that I'd like my crossbowmen to poke as many holes as possible in these Reachmen. That meant that this wasn't the time yet for our own counter charge. Chaos engulfed the vanguard of the Reach cavalry, knights from the looks of their armor, but they thankfully didn't have enough time to fully armor their horses. Heavily armored knights don't do too well when their horses die underneath them.
"Loose at will!"
The heavy horse in front of us , those still intact, attempted to reorganize itself with another, far smaller, spray of bolts shook it. Nowhere near enough crossbowmen had managed to reload their weapons but it wasn't wasted. Several well placed bolts interrupted a breakout from the flanks, slight off the the side of the road, and neat disorganized that attempt. Even if it didn't particular hurt them too much.
Curse slow reload times. I'd need to figure out how to make repeatable one, soon.
"Hold, back ranks fall in!""
Within seconds they were on us, but thankfully not before every collectively put their shoulders, and shields, behind the first two ranks. The shock was not as bad as it could have been but still they very nearly broke through. A quick thinking sergeant filled up the holes before I could attend to the situation. This freed me up to order the counter charge. These cunts had no room to maneuver, couldn't retreat too far because they too were backed by other troops, and I wasn't about to let them reform. Errant bolts flew through the air but I couldn't tell where they went. I was engulfed in human flesh.
"Double Step Forward! Push!"
The first ranks of pikemen took a long step forward. The next two followed immediately. The following three, myself included, did the same. A few mindbogglingly terrifying seconds had passed when I was worried the first two ranks couldn't punch through the disorganized, but well armored, Reach knights. My relief was palpable when the full cohorts moved as one. Thank fuck I didn't make nearly starving men drill for nothing.
The first ranks surged forward, we used our heavy boots and shields to batter anything that still moves under our feet while we step forward, and so forth. I'd like to say my first taste of up close organized warfare was the stuff of legends. It wasn't. It was mechanical, steady and repetitive, but I couldn't afford getting caught up in the uniformity.
In hindsight I should have stayed behind the lines on a horse. Right now I couldn't tell what was happening up front. Only the forward momentum, which we kept up, and the futile squirming bodies beneath my hard boots told me we were winning.
The thing was...I didn't want to be winning all the way into the main Tyrell force.
I yelled, desperate to be heard over the din of battle, "Offer surrender, Dalos!"
I thought I saw him in first ranks, and frankly he strikes me as the type who enjoys that sort of thing, followed the order. We proceeded with us merry butchering, our enemy cavalry caught between thick insurmountable trees and their own rearguard, for a good long while.
Finally the first ranks stopped advancing I got a little crushed.
"Last two ranks, retreat and cover the flanks!"
They melted off and made way through the shrubbery to do just that. I, myself, walked briskly -fuck I was tired - around my men to go see what happened.
It was marvelous.
A large contingent of the crossbowmen interspersed with pike, did in fact, manage to swing behind the troops to sow some delicious chaos. The knights had become knelled by their own allies and our pike's tenacity didn't help them much either. A decent sized group of knights, a little over a hundred survived to surrender to my sergeant. The man proved Stannis' confidence in him right when he immediate split off fifty pikemen on the flanks to disarm the knights.
I walked up to the closest group and said, "Who's in charge here?"
The defeated knights looked at each other for a long moment before one spoke up, "That would me be, Lord Stannis. I am Ser Humphrey Hightower. I'd like to say it's a pleasure meeting you but I don't believe in lying."
Ho. Ho. Ho.
Fuck you.
I smiled a wide grin, "Is there anyone else here I should know about? We wouldn't want my men to mistreat any easily offended highborns, I hope."
A flash a very real hatred shone for a brief moment but the man contained himself. He nodded over to someone else who introduced themselves as, "Ser Jon Cupps."
That...meant nothing to me. Nothing to Stannis either beyond signifying he was a knight from an extremely small fiefdom. Fuck it, I'll have more time for this later.
"I hope you can march gentlemen. In case you can't, my men will tie you to a horse, and your feathers might be ruffled. We're off to Storms End."
I waited a long beat before I continued, "Any escapes or attempts to delay our retreat will be met with swift crippling. I can ransom you just fine, even if you aren't are pretty as you used to be, my good Sers."
I ignored their affected affront and turned to Dalos, "Gather the horses. Everyone else, move out in order!"
"Aye, my Lord!"
Tonight we were going to feast and I was going to interrogate the shit out of this Hightower spare of a spare.
AN: Feedback and commentary is greatly appreciated!
Together with the vast majority of my men I hugged a tree. We were hiding in the shrubberies across from the fields where the Tyrells kept their horses. There were no enclosures and thankfully my besiegers felt themselves secure enough to not tie them down. The horses were idly grazing and from what I could tell only a token force kept watch.
I say kept watch.
I mean they played cards next to the warm fires. Hopefully that meant their night vision would be shite. The plan for us was simple; a two pronged attack on the herd, and its watchers, and then racing off to the gates. The attack would happen right after a distracting fire was set and I prayed, with all my might, that the two pronged screaming charge we'd try would startle the horses bad enough to get them to rush away.
We needed to herd the horses as close to the main road as possible. There another two cohorts were stationed, out of sight, to cover our retreat and assist with directing the horses.
We waited with bated breath for the promised distraction. I'd sent a small contingent of men, twenty poor souls, to go harass the Tyrell supplies. With some careful maneuverings they managed to dodge the incoming patrols and followed in their wake. All the detachment around me could do now was wait for the chaos to kick off.
Such idleness wasn't for me though. I peeled off another twenty men to follow me, around the edge of the wood, to circle back around and surprise the guards. I couldn't tell how many of them there were but I didn't need to kill all of them. They just needed to be run off. Quietly my little band of marauders hustled our way through the treeline and eventually made it close to the guards. From this closer distance I could spot at least twelve men. Another six or so we'd spotted a few minutes before.
Two short and sharp engagements then.
Wordlessly I directed half my men to crawl out, to the area on the right of the guards, while the rest of my crossbowmen followed my lead to the left of the partying troops. Our muddy cloaks hung heavy over ourselves but they were needed. We crawled, ever so slowly, across the field and once again I fired silent thanks off to the dark of the night.
If there was any kind of moon this would have been impossible.
After we made it to our positions we had to wait.
And wait.
Finally I could hear commotion in the distance. The guards were stirring but they still made no move. Minutes passed by agonizingly slow before the ruckus got louder. Finally the Tyrell men shook of their lethargy and dispersed.
Yeey for protocol!
This was our cue. I slowly inched my crossbow off my back, took careful aim, and was rewarded by the silent thud a body makes when it flops to the ground. Holy crap, that was a lucky shot. While I reloaded the rest of my men to their knees and fired at will. The guards freaked out, attempted to reform ranks, but we had half of them wounded while a few perished.
I got up, silently, and rushed the disoriented group. Twenty meters have never felt so excruciatingly far. I crossed the distance, didn't dare to look back to see if my men were following me, and fired off my last bolt. This time I only heard a faint grunt that let me know I didn't miss. I dropped the crossbow, reached for my sword and shield, and threw myself in the carnage.
One man died when I caught him in the neck and his blood sprayed all over me. Immediately after that I threw myself to the right to avoid getting speared. Right then another volley of bolts hit the group standing over me. I made sure to stab at their shins just in case.
By the time my men had converged on the Tyrell troops and within two or three minutes we had them cut down. I knew there was still another six of them out there but I couldn't worry about that.
"Be loud, Stormlanders! And smack as many horses are you can!"
Surprisingly, the men chose to scream, "Stannis! Stannis! STANNIS!" As we crashed through the herd, slapping the horses as we passed them, desperately trying to get them to stampede. At first it seemed like they wouldn't cooperate. The horses attempted to run towards the Tyrell camp but a courageous performance by some of my men dissuades those bold horses.
The rest bolted into the direction we wanted them to. I attempted to catch a passing horse, failed, and humiliatingly had to accept the outstretched hand of one of my men. The soldiers, Duncan something, pulled me up on the back of his ride. I shook off his crossbow from his back, searched around for his bolts, and when I found them half-twisted around my axis.
Where were those other six men?
"Heeya!"
"Stannis! Stannis! STANNIS!"
This went on for a while, even longer than I dared, but I was desperate. We absolutely needed at least a hundred or so of these horses to make it all the way to the castle. It was less than a mile away but I had no doubt we'd have angry Reachlords on our tails soon enough. Even so; the many hundreds of horses we were riling up would be dispersed regardless. I might as well cause some trouble for the Reachlords.
I yelled as loud as I could, "Alright, RETREAT!"
And Duncan steered us behind a particularly dense group of horses. I had no idea how many we managed to scatter, or steer towards the castle, but if we even managed to bring this single group home I would be pleased. We had already secured a dozen horses from our earlier ambush but every last bit would help.
Especially if it appeared that Stark was more than a month away.
The first few minutes of the ride were hectic but not terrifying. We were making good place and had made it at least halfway back to the castle. Unfortunately I had completely lost contact with anyone outside my twenty man group. I had to simply trust they would follow the plan. We had to make it another hundred meters before we passed our reserve troops. Four hundred men, or two cohorts, would be lined up beside the main road and all I needed them to do was to delay our tail.
Which incidentally started following us and attempting to ride us down, hard.
Sixty meters.
Forty meters.
Twenty meters.
And we made it.
"Halt here, I'm retreating with the reserves."
"Aye, my Lord."
Duncan stopped his horse, I slid off the back, and the man continued onwards. Driving up our section of the herd to the gates. I, on the other hand, slipped away into the shrubbery. Within moments I had made contact with my men. Unfortunately it was because one of them almost shot me. I didn't know if I simply slipped, ducked out of a vague sense of danger, but the bolt missed me by inches.
"Motherfucker! Hold your god damned bolts, Stormlanders!"
I didn't wait for their replies and rushed, as much as you can rush in the shrubberies, into their ranks. One of the troops attempted to apologize but I wasn't having any of it.
"It's done. Now, save your bolts for the fucking flowers, savvy?"
"Aye, my Lord!"
I looked around for Sebastion but I'd apparently picked the wrong side of the road. It didn't matter much. Despite his whining he's a fairly capable man. I had no doubt he wouldn't disappoint.
"What's the situation?" I asked the nearest sergeant, Karel Langtree.
"We sent a tenth of the men onward with the herds, my Lord. The rest of us were waiting on your stragglers and we already picked up some."
I nodded, realized he wouldn't be able to see that, and said, "Wait no more, we're wiping out the Tyrell forces following us. Expect about six to eight hundred troops. Form up six deep with crossbowmen on the flanks. Peel off thirty men for each flank to stiffen the crossbowmen, Karel."
"Aye, aye."
I bid this group adieu and hurriedly made my way across the road. Thankfully the other pocket of men didn't attempt to skewer me with friendly fire.
"Sebastion, we fight on the road. We crush the force chasing us and make way to Storms End."
"At once, my Lord." He turned to the rest, "You heard him! Form up on the road and make good with the Warrior!"
I added my two cents, "Form up, six deep! Pikes out, crossbowmen flying flanks!"
The two full cohorts, eight hundred men strong, did form in good order. Five hundred and four pikemen, six men deep held the entirety of the main road. Two hundred crossbowmen flanked them in the shrubberies and the easily passable, for them at least, treeline adjacent to said road. We were as ready are we were ever going to be to face incoming trouble. And come it did in the form of a force of Reachmen. It was too dark to make out how many, and I deliberately hadn't brought any torches - my men knew the land intimately -, I could tell we'd be slightly outnumbered. For the third time tonight I found religion again and prayed the flying crossbowmen would be able to swing around the host attacking us.
A buildup would be perfect and the conditions were ripe for it.
Another only silver lining I could perceive was that this was likely the first response the Reachlords mustered. They can't really advance in good order and make good enough time to catch us. I was banking on the fact that our disciplined line could catch their advance and turn it back. Hopefully that would buy me enough time to double march out back to Storms End.
"Embed Pikes! First line kneel for impact!"
Our fair robust six line deep pikewall would simply have to hold. With the first line kneeling each of us could reach over and stab an overly eager Reachmen before they crashed into our lines. Afterward the first two lines would slip into the ranks, cause chaos, and attempt push a short distance clearing space for the other lines to follow.
It's difficult to explain the feeling of utter terror, and dreadful piety, a charging mass of horses inspires. The very ground shakes as they come for you and horses are big. If something doesn't halt their progress the charging Reachmen would be able to barrel through us. The horses would be going too fast to allow anything else.
Which is why I loved my crossbowmen.
"Loose!"
Sixty meters before impact a volley of heavy bolts tangled up the first ranks of the charge. Because of their speed they tumbled, took several others with them, and in turn tangled up more and more horseflesh. Two hundred bolts would slow down any charge, let alone one as disorganized as this moonless night chase. It worked marvelously. The crossbows were effective at greater ranges than that but I liked to play it conservatively. More than a handful of charging Reachmen collapsed, inconveniencing plenty of others.
I yelled, "Pike, Hold!"
I couldn't order an advance yet as I felt, not unreasonably, that I'd like my crossbowmen to poke as many holes as possible in these Reachmen. That meant that this wasn't the time yet for our own counter charge. Chaos engulfed the vanguard of the Reach cavalry, knights from the looks of their armor, but they thankfully didn't have enough time to fully armor their horses. Heavily armored knights don't do too well when their horses die underneath them.
"Loose at will!"
The heavy horse in front of us , those still intact, attempted to reorganize itself with another, far smaller, spray of bolts shook it. Nowhere near enough crossbowmen had managed to reload their weapons but it wasn't wasted. Several well placed bolts interrupted a breakout from the flanks, slight off the the side of the road, and neat disorganized that attempt. Even if it didn't particular hurt them too much.
Curse slow reload times. I'd need to figure out how to make repeatable one, soon.
"Hold, back ranks fall in!""
Within seconds they were on us, but thankfully not before every collectively put their shoulders, and shields, behind the first two ranks. The shock was not as bad as it could have been but still they very nearly broke through. A quick thinking sergeant filled up the holes before I could attend to the situation. This freed me up to order the counter charge. These cunts had no room to maneuver, couldn't retreat too far because they too were backed by other troops, and I wasn't about to let them reform. Errant bolts flew through the air but I couldn't tell where they went. I was engulfed in human flesh.
"Double Step Forward! Push!"
The first ranks of pikemen took a long step forward. The next two followed immediately. The following three, myself included, did the same. A few mindbogglingly terrifying seconds had passed when I was worried the first two ranks couldn't punch through the disorganized, but well armored, Reach knights. My relief was palpable when the full cohorts moved as one. Thank fuck I didn't make nearly starving men drill for nothing.
The first ranks surged forward, we used our heavy boots and shields to batter anything that still moves under our feet while we step forward, and so forth. I'd like to say my first taste of up close organized warfare was the stuff of legends. It wasn't. It was mechanical, steady and repetitive, but I couldn't afford getting caught up in the uniformity.
In hindsight I should have stayed behind the lines on a horse. Right now I couldn't tell what was happening up front. Only the forward momentum, which we kept up, and the futile squirming bodies beneath my hard boots told me we were winning.
The thing was...I didn't want to be winning all the way into the main Tyrell force.
I yelled, desperate to be heard over the din of battle, "Offer surrender, Dalos!"
I thought I saw him in first ranks, and frankly he strikes me as the type who enjoys that sort of thing, followed the order. We proceeded with us merry butchering, our enemy cavalry caught between thick insurmountable trees and their own rearguard, for a good long while.
Finally the first ranks stopped advancing I got a little crushed.
"Last two ranks, retreat and cover the flanks!"
They melted off and made way through the shrubbery to do just that. I, myself, walked briskly -fuck I was tired - around my men to go see what happened.
It was marvelous.
A large contingent of the crossbowmen interspersed with pike, did in fact, manage to swing behind the troops to sow some delicious chaos. The knights had become knelled by their own allies and our pike's tenacity didn't help them much either. A decent sized group of knights, a little over a hundred survived to surrender to my sergeant. The man proved Stannis' confidence in him right when he immediate split off fifty pikemen on the flanks to disarm the knights.
I walked up to the closest group and said, "Who's in charge here?"
The defeated knights looked at each other for a long moment before one spoke up, "That would me be, Lord Stannis. I am Ser Humphrey Hightower. I'd like to say it's a pleasure meeting you but I don't believe in lying."
Ho. Ho. Ho.
Fuck you.
I smiled a wide grin, "Is there anyone else here I should know about? We wouldn't want my men to mistreat any easily offended highborns, I hope."
A flash a very real hatred shone for a brief moment but the man contained himself. He nodded over to someone else who introduced themselves as, "Ser Jon Cupps."
That...meant nothing to me. Nothing to Stannis either beyond signifying he was a knight from an extremely small fiefdom. Fuck it, I'll have more time for this later.
"I hope you can march gentlemen. In case you can't, my men will tie you to a horse, and your feathers might be ruffled. We're off to Storms End."
I waited a long beat before I continued, "Any escapes or attempts to delay our retreat will be met with swift crippling. I can ransom you just fine, even if you aren't are pretty as you used to be, my good Sers."
I ignored their affected affront and turned to Dalos, "Gather the horses. Everyone else, move out in order!"
"Aye, my Lord!"
Tonight we were going to feast and I was going to interrogate the shit out of this Hightower spare of a spare.
AN: Feedback and commentary is greatly appreciated!
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You know the most ironic thing about New Stannis is that among the major players it will be Tywin who respects him the most.
Ok; please continue commenting on the chapter but I have burning needs.
I need to off load some brainstorming on the hivemind of SB. With what we know of the contentious relationship between Stannis and Robert...how would the latter react to hearing about the former's exploits? I'm planning a Robert, or someone in his camp, Interlude soon and I was hoping for some input.
The way the news comes to him; rumors most and the odd raven that makes it out. Confrontation in front of the gates that ends with Stannis having custody of Mace the god damned Lord Paramount of the Reach. The Reachlords have upped the pressure on Storms End but the boy lord seems to be holding up. Word soon comes down about the bold, and perhaps stupid, sally out of the gates. Hundreds of Reach knights, and lordlings, dead with Stannis having captured a hundred of them. Including Hightowers (and whichever I fill in). They'll be well connected and young enough to be given shit duties like patrols.
How does Robert, Arryn, Tully and Stark feel about this development. Would Robert be moved to march on Storms End before Kings Landing? Would this change anything for Tywin and does he still pick team Rebels? (I'm leaning towards yes, see my earlier post)
What can the Redwyne fleet realistically accomplish? Could they ferry in siegecraft on their ships? (God, I hope not).
What are the odds the Reachlords are willing to keep charging, even with so many knights captured? (I'm leaning towards yes, even though Stannis has Garth Hightowers imbecilic little brother.
The last question feels like cheating but I have no issue stealing clever ideas. What possible butterflies can you spot/think up? Beyond the Reach, perhaps, falling in the same relationship with the Iron Throne as Dorne has?
Thanks in advance!
I need to off load some brainstorming on the hivemind of SB. With what we know of the contentious relationship between Stannis and Robert...how would the latter react to hearing about the former's exploits? I'm planning a Robert, or someone in his camp, Interlude soon and I was hoping for some input.
The way the news comes to him; rumors most and the odd raven that makes it out. Confrontation in front of the gates that ends with Stannis having custody of Mace the god damned Lord Paramount of the Reach. The Reachlords have upped the pressure on Storms End but the boy lord seems to be holding up. Word soon comes down about the bold, and perhaps stupid, sally out of the gates. Hundreds of Reach knights, and lordlings, dead with Stannis having captured a hundred of them. Including Hightowers (and whichever I fill in). They'll be well connected and young enough to be given shit duties like patrols.
How does Robert, Arryn, Tully and Stark feel about this development. Would Robert be moved to march on Storms End before Kings Landing? Would this change anything for Tywin and does he still pick team Rebels? (I'm leaning towards yes, see my earlier post)
What can the Redwyne fleet realistically accomplish? Could they ferry in siegecraft on their ships? (God, I hope not).
What are the odds the Reachlords are willing to keep charging, even with so many knights captured? (I'm leaning towards yes, even though Stannis has Garth Hightowers imbecilic little brother.
The last question feels like cheating but I have no issue stealing clever ideas. What possible butterflies can you spot/think up? Beyond the Reach, perhaps, falling in the same relationship with the Iron Throne as Dorne has?
Thanks in advance!