| Street To Street |
| Summary: | The Army of the Cape pushes its front a scant two blocks further. |
| Date: | 25/1/289 |
| Related Logs: | The whole Siege of Seagard. |
| Players: |
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| Street of the Ropemakers - Seagard |
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| A run-down section of the Low District. |
| 25 January, 289 A.L. |
While no general offensive has been ordered, a small scale movement of select men to secure a nearby cluster of buildings adjascent to the Riverlord lines. Under the cloak of 'securing the perimeter', such an operation is the nearest thing to an advance loyal commanders can manage.
A handful of Men-at-Arms and knights have been gathered for a discreet operation.
There's no concealing the fact that Aleister had been anxious to see an advance begun and when the 'call' came forth for select men, he'd promptly donned his gear and made his way from the Charlton camp to that meeting place. It's there that he stands, helm clasped beneath his left arm while his right hand rests almost too comfortably upon the handle of his mace.
Jarod is among those gathered. He's been itching for any sort of push and was also eager to be part of this one, however small it might be. He stands with the other men-at-arms, doing some last-minute tightening to his breastplate at the middle. With his squire still injured he's doing for himself in such matters, which makes buckling certain areas more of a chore.
At the Nayland portion of the line, the men are ready to move. Many of the militia are being left back to guard the baggage and fortified area should there be a need to retreat. Still more of them are ready to march, their pikes held on shoulders or on the ground. But the vanguard of this movement is not men with long pikes - it is the professionals of the Nayland Guard, Ser Bruce Longbough among them.
Tam had been sitting by a campfire when the word came down; he moves toward the perimeter with a brisk, eager stride. The man's bluff, bearded features are hard as the iron maille that sheathes him; he grins toward some of the other common-born knights and men-at-arms, resting his great bastard-sword across his shoulders.
"Right, so it's going to be close-in and dirty this time, is it?" He sidles up to Jarod with a lopsided grin, addressing him as the only greeting he offers, eyeing the rough barricades levelly. "Going to be tight," he admits after a few moments. "Like the Battle of the Bells."
Starling is neither a man nor a knight. Nor is she really meant to be here at all, of course. But keen eyes and near-constant wandering about the makeshift encampments and cooking fires in the low district, well.. they might pique the curiosity of a certain class of person. And that certain class of person might just see fit to trail along in the wake of whatever's going on. Or, in the case of the young stablehand, to clamber and haul herself up onto the remnants of an aging smithy roof and watch, for now, in wide-eyed silence.
Kell had finally healed up nicely with his belly wound, the area still pink of a healed flesh if revealed but for now he is garbed and armored for battle once more. Eager to be back on his feet and bac into the fight, the Hedge Knight is amongst the gathering, minus a steed as Horse was slain in battle during the first advance. Eyeing the others that have gathered, Kell seems to be waiting quietly as he knows that the upcoming engagement will certainly be ugly and brutal. War is never pretty, despite what the songs and stories say.
The Nayland Guard advances to the staging area ahead of the line, where all of the professional soldiers are gathering. Ser Bruce approaches Jarod and Tam, grinning, while his men check over their equipment. "Allo, lads. Looks like we're going to be doing some up and in the face. None of that silly horseman shite, either. This is all on the only two hooves the Gods saw fit to give us."
Mention of the Battle of the Bells doesn't elicit a return grin from Jarod, though Tam earns a nod and bright-eyed look that's more intensity than enthusiasm for what's ahead. "Seagard's quieter, at least," he notes to the common knight. "Those chimes didn't quite suit the mood of the place." He raises a hand in silent greeting to Kell and Bruce. The comment about hooves does draw a flickered smirk, albeit brief.
Anselm like many others has been awaiting word on the attack, he's arrived. He puts on his helm before letting his hand come to a rest on his blade. He looks over the gathered men with an expression of… anticipation if not excitment."
"We got time for a pipe, you reckon, Ser Bruce?" Tam smiles over at the other common-born knight, his manner relaxing as the man joins him. He casts a glance back up over the rooftops, pausing as he spots Staring before raising his bastard sword in brief salute. Turning back to Bruce, he adds "I always feel better on my feet. I ain't a natural horseman, neh at'all." As though such were not obvious from the big man's stance. Absently, he touches something inside his left glove, gaze flitting up to the rooftops again.
Listening to the conversation at hand, Aleister doesn't seem overly inclined to join such a thing at this time and with a faint shake of his head, he's simply moving his hand from his weapon to his helm so that it can be slipped on, though the visor remains raised for the moment.
There are some faces he recognizes in this group as Kell nods his head in return to Jarod's wave, moving closer to that cluster of men as it is always better to fight with men you have more affinity with than complete strangers. "You may be better on your feet, Tam, but so are the Ironborn." The Hedge Knight says as he remembers Tam back when he was staying a Stonebridge. Kell also gives Ser Bruce a nod, perhaps recalling the man at the dinner he was invited to by Lady Isolde what seems like a long time ago.
Rygar stands near the pike formation, the other veteran of the Battle of the Bells raises his voice, words pitched to carry. "Sers. A number of the enemy have been observed moving through the line of homes and shops between our present position and the street of the ropemakers which runs eaqst to west, two blocks to the north. The levies shall hold the street, facing east to deny any Ironborn reinforcement. The business of clearing said buildings is yours. Ser Longbough," he bids Bruce, "Proceed with the Armsmen at your discretion, Ser."
Bruce gives a solid thumbs up to Rygar, then turns back to the two men he's with. "You're commanding the Terrick professionals, eh, Jarod? Well, make sure you pass this on to the other commander. We're not pushing salients into enemy territory. That means, until we've taken a full area, we don't keep pushing forward. We bite, and then we bring up levies to hold. THEN we can move on." Bruce looks over to Tam, chuckling. "I think the pipe smoke is for when the battle's done, Ser Tam." He winks, but his demeanour returns to seriousness. "The reason we need to do it the way I just said is because if some people push far beyond others, they won't be able to plug gaps and prevent us from being rolled up. It's very confusing and chaotic. Watch for standards and flags on buildings, and runners. If we bite and hold, we'll actually keep the territory." Another nod is parcelled out, this time to Kell. He moves, making his way over to Aleister and Anselm. "Just want to make sure that that was passed on down here, Sers. That is what is going to be happening. We march in two minutes, prepare your men, Sers." The Stonebridge Captain makes his way back to his own men.
Tam listens intently to Rygar's instructions, and then to Bruce's more detailed ones, nodding along several times to show his approval. His seamed features are shrewd now, as he turns to study the section of houses that has been cordoned off for such an effort. Resting his sword across his shoulders easily, the man offers Kell an acknowledging nod. "No worse'n any other brawl, mate," he remarks softly, directing this both to Kell and Jarod. "Just don't let 'em get ahold of your weapons when we go in."
"Stay together. No glory-hunting, no stupidity. That about it?" Jarod boils down Bruce's instruction, nodding short. "I think I can manage that."
Whether Starling, hiding up in the eaves of the simple, low-roofed building nearby, actually catches any of this noble poshtalk or not is impossible to say. Though she does have the sense to flatten herself out along the remaining surface, scorched and unsteady as it is, when Tam's glance flits her way; mouthing a silent curse under her breath. After a moment, when no guardsmen appear to haul her down by the scruff of the neck and send her off to find some bloody women's work, she exhales softly and peeks back out again, watching the various men-at-arms and knights below as they ready themselves. Well, that's dull to watch. Flashing a glance about herself, the girl idly considers the distances between the other still-standing structures nearby; their height and ability to hold her weight. Some look more promising than others.
Shifting his attention to the approaching figure of Bruce, Aleister offers the man a slight nod of his head and a faint curve of his lips to a smirk. "We're already prepared, Ser," comes the immediate reply before he's turning his attention to those that have gathered.
As orders for tonight are being passed along, Kell listens to the words before nodding slightly as it wouldn't be a good idea to push too far by himself only to be stuck behind enemy lines. As Tam mentions the brawl, the Hedge Knight can only grin to the other man, remembering that time of fun in the Tavern at Stonebridge.
As he waits the word to move, Tam begins to hum - lowly, but with the buzzing rhythm of a bumblebee. The tune is a bawdy one, and his lips twitch as he watches the houses. Not looking at the other men, he remarks, "I ain't had a woman in three days. Ain't -killed- a man in four. I got an ache to get this movin'."
"Aye, Ser Jarod. That's about the lot of it. We seperate, they will fucking /mangle/ us, if you'll excuse my language." Today, the Nayland Guards are lacking their most deadly weapons, the large crossbows which have done damage in the previous battles. Instead they're lighter and more maneuverable, carrying swords. The Stonebridge men have shields, while the Mire Guards do not. They look mean and ready for battle. Ser Bruce draws his own sword, swinging his shield off of his back. He turns to face all the men of the force at once, and lifts his sword to his face in salute. "Gods provide us victory." Turning back towards the street in front of him, he breathes deep and nods at his squire, who lifts the standard spear up and down, before dipping it forward - the signal for advance. Bruce's hobnailed boots crunch on the packed dirt of Seagard's Low District, face set.
Tam 's tough features light up as he moves forward, swinging his big sword to rest on just one shoulder, with both hands on the hilt. He grins as he walks, still humming, following at Bruce's shoulder with an easy, loping stride. As he draws nearer to where the foemen wait, the man begins to mutter under his breath - almost inaudibly, but there. "Fuck this for a game of soldiers."
"Warrior with us, and may He take the lot of them," is Jarod's quick prayer as he draws his sword. He follows not far from Bruce and Tam, fingers tightening two-handed on his longsword.
<FS3> Bruce rolls Stealth: Good Success.
<FS3> Dominick rolls Stealth: Failure.
<FS3> Kell rolls Stealth: Success.
<FS3> Jarod rolls Stealth: Success.
<FS3> Alek rolls Stealth: Good Success.
<FS3> Aleister rolls Stealth: Good Success.
<FS3> Kittridge rolls Stealth: Good Success.
<FS3> Tam rolls Stealth: Failure.
As the brief prayer or rallying words are spoken, Kell draws his own longsword from its sheath with the familiar ringing of steel. The Hedge Knight has chosen to leave his shield behind for today's mission as he wants his hands free to grip his blade or anything else during close combat fighting. This is certainly no open field battlefield where there may be allies at your side, this could easily turn into a bloody brawl.
Unslinging the shield from his back and placing it upon his left arm, Aleister is then drawing his mace as he begins to follow the group forward. For the moment, his visor remains raised, affording him more freedom to simply look around around his surroundings and those that march on.
Returned to his usual habits, Alek is currently taking a bracing sip of wine pilfered from somewhere or other, sucking it through his teeth with a fierce grin before he stows it away at his hip. Then he checks his equipment, examining his sword as if perhaps it has grown nicks from the last time it was sharpened. He seems—rather pleased with the choice of combat for today, eager as he rocks on his heels and grey eyes sweep sharply as he waits for someone, anyone, to hit.
Kittridge has a grim look about him today, and refrains from joining in the joking and boasting some turn towards before the fight begins. Standing somewhere near the Terrick contingent generally, he shifts his grip on spear and shield, glancing down to double-check the fastenings of various bits of gear. He glances at the streets ahead, the buildings around them, and then back to his squire. "Right, Bryn, like we talked about. Stick close. Eyes open. On your toes. They could be anywhere here, plenty of spots to jump out from. Yeah?"
As the hunting party moves off, Starling observes them from only slightly above, not daring to stir until they're at least a good half-block or so ahead of her, along their route. Only then does she shimmy herself into a turn, coming to one knee on the smithy roof. A swift glance surmises where they're headed, then her dark eyes are off and away, scanning the rooftops nearby and adjacent. What fortuitous circumstance! Scrambling only a little, she vaults herself up lightly onto the next roof, presumably some manner of storage for one of the now burnt-out and deserted buildings below, drawing up one knee then the other and proceeding to track the progress of the men below, now at a better vantage up above. Well, she doesn't have armor or a ruddy great sword. Stealth is a girl's best friend, in this instance. As is the wisdom of staying markedly back, lest she be mistaken as the enemy.
Dominick is standing near Kittridge, listening with one ear to the talk while poring over a section of his birdseye map of Seagard. Parchment crinkles loudly as he folds and unfolds to find the sector they're headed into. "Walls are made of shiite here," he mutters to the Groves lord. "Construction all over is awful, there's not terribly much for useful cover. Best shot is just overwhelming them before they can breathe."
Jarod steps quick, and surprisingly quiet for a young man who generally seems intent to barrel through everything at top speed. Not being caught off-guard by a reaver in the shadows is motivation. His manner is taut and not a little grim.
There is another veteran of the Battle of the Bells, the Young Lord Anders Flint, and he's not looking forward to this battle. It's bloody, it's in close quarters, and there is no advantage to be gained. One on one. His men have their grey, black and white standards, and marked with an additional identifiers, just in case. In a split-second, friend can be seen as foe, and foe, friend. Anders catches the comments, fully agreeing. Move forward slow, watch standards and pennants..
Bryn is right there with his knight, wide-eyed and nodding at everything Kittridge says. "Stick'n close, ser," he agrees, clenching the muscles of his shield arm. "Eyes open. No fallin' off horses today, ay?" The smile that accompanies his joke is only half-hearted, and he scans a look about the street.
Moving along at a steady clip, Tam finds it hard to be quiet. His maile catches on barrels, rattling, and his sword-tip -clunks- against a low-hanging eave. With each heavy footfall, he announces his presence more vividly, but the man seems oblivious to any danger his sound makes, staring out at the world with a sharp alertness, clearly expecting to take his foe by surprise.
Kittridge smiles at his squire a bit and nods, "That's something. Almost like hunting," he suggests, by way of comparison. "You want to be quiet and quick and watchful. Except not like hunting because it's no fucking fun at all."
Not the quietest man in the advancement group, Kell is making his footsteps a little lighter though, perhaps out of instinct as they start towards the aformentioned buildings to clear out. His grip on his blade is a little tighter as the near the potential hot zone, knowing that Ironborn will be meeting them soon or vice versa.
Alek moves almost like a cat, even in the heavy maile he wears, so used to his weight that through the haze of adrenaline and the first ease of wine, it does not seem to bother him. He is not near enough to any companion of his own to converse, with helps with his own lack of noise as he makes no silly jests.
The column approaching its target, the street of ropemakers can be seen beyond the low, squat line of homes. Any hope of surprise is lost, however, as a shout goes up from an unseen sentry. In the distance a pair of ironborn dash through a doorway, with the clamor of weapons being drawn, shields readied, armor donned.
Kittridge glances over his shoulder at Dominick as they advance slowly, peeking at the map. He nods a bit. "Good to know," he mutters back. "Any blind alleys, dead ends, shite like that we should know about? Good spots for traps and ambushes?"
Bruce and the Nayland Guard have a different philosophy. They form groups of three, and at fifteen that's perfect. Each group of three walks a bit more cautiously forward. They've practiced this type of combat. The command 'blade' is Bruce, his squire Amos and another Stonebridge man. The other four 'blades' of three advance together on the edge of the street, their boots proceeding fast forward, but quietly nonetheless. As the men of the Cape of the Eagles force reach the street of ropemakers, Bruce frowns; the element of stealth is no longer with them. "Guess we'll do this the hard way. ADVANCE!" Amos blows the quick charge signal into his horn, and they all move forward to take the first building with Ironborn on the upcoming block.
"Aye," says Brynner, as he adjusts his grip on his spear as he advances. "I'm gonna hunt me som stinkin' Ironborn," he mutters, then twists a curious glance over to the maps Kit and Dom are looking over.
"/Fucken finally/!" Tam lets out a war, half-way between a bull's bellow and a wolf's howl as he charges toward the first house. His sword sweeps up and over in a powerful chop intended to sever his opponent's arm - or at least shiver his shield to pieces. "C'mon! I've shat better than you down my bed-lining after a hard night's whorin', you gray-faced bastard!"
Dominick thrusts his hand between Brynner and Kit's shoulders, map flapping in the air as his finger taps on it. "Everywhere, m'Lord. Here especially…here and here. Cramped as hell, won't be able to get more than a man or two and that's if we get real friendly. Alley system here, extends all through…right here." He traces the area. "It's a slum." He crumples the map quickly as people start shouting. "And about to be more of one."
Starling almost loses her footing at that sudden horn-blast, her booted toe slipping from where she had placed it upon a crossbeam of the shallow-sloped roof she's crawling up. But she makes up for the mistake with a firm grip of both hands and drags herself up to the peak of the structure, looking over and down as the two sides rush to meet one another. Hmm. That's not very helpful. Slinging a long leg over the pinnacle of the roof and setting herself more securely, the girl keeps both hands gripping tight and lays her upper body as flat as she can, staying low. You never know, someone might see a silhouette up above and launch a boot at her or something.
A laugh spills out from Alek at Tam's cry, the first sound he makes before he follows suit to claim the second soldier with a thrust of his own sword. He allows, "I wouldn't admit that, though they do look like they just crawled out of a whore's privates." As he joins the combat, he may not be quite as loud as Tam, but a thrum of excitement obviously carries in his words, gaze lighting with pleasure and life.
With the chance of surprise lost, Kell smirks as he knew that the likelihood of a large group of heavily armored and armed men had little chance of any sort of ambush. Now it will get nasty but that is why they are here, not for a walk in the park but a bloody fight. With the call to advance ringing out with the signal horn, the Hedge Knight steels himself and rushes forward as well to engage the enemy in teh first building.
Kittridge grimaces at Dominick's news, taking another quick glance at the map before shouting and advancing happen. "That just cheers me right up, Dom, thanks," he mutters before saying, "Looks like here we go. Ready, boys." He grits his teeth, and moves with the rest of the force towards that first building.
Within that line of hovels, one distinct voice is hollering orders, directing warriors to "Get the fuck out, for love of the Deep!" But the Rapid advance of the Riverlords prevents escape. Without any prelude, the door is crashed open and the fight begins.
As the cry goes up, Brynner shifts a look to Kittridge, and gives his knight a sharp nod. He readies his shield, he lifts his spear, and he sets his face to a grim sort of scowl - it's his concentrating face - as he picks out a target.
"Glad to be of service, m'Lord," Dominick calls back to Kittridge with dry cheer. He baps the back of Brynner's helmet with the rolled up map before shoving it away and whisking his sword from its place at his side. 'Ere we go.
<COMBAT> Myre 04 attacks Jarod with Sword & Shield but Jarod DODGES!
<COMBAT> Myre 03 attacks Tam with Spear & Shield but Tam DODGES!
<COMBAT> Myre 02 attacks Alek with Bludgeon & Shield - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Myre 01 attacks Brynner with Sword & Shield but Brynner DODGES!
<COMBAT> Myre 05 attacks Kell with Bludgeon & Shield but Kell DODGES!
<COMBAT> Tam attacks Myre 01 with Greatsword but Myre 01 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Meric Myre attacks Bruce with Bludgeon - Light wound to Left Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Kittridge attacks Myre 03 with Spear & Shield but Myre 03 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Kell attacks Myre 03 with Greatsword - Light wound to Right Leg.
<COMBAT> Jarod attacks Myre 04 with Greatsword - ARMOR on Neck stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Dominick attacks Meric Myre with Sword & Shield but Meric Myre DODGES!
<COMBAT> Brynner attacks Myre 01 with Spear & Shield - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Bruce attacks Meric Myre with Sword & Shield but Meric Myre DODGES!
<COMBAT> Alek attacks Myre 02 with Broadsword - Light wound to Left Hand.
Most likely because his 'blade' of three is leading the attack, Ser Bruce and his cohorts take the brunt of the attack. Pressing through the first narrow doorway on the Street of Ropemakers, he comes face to face with some very nasty looking Ironborn men - one of them clearly an Ironborn noble in full maille armour. It's this one Bruce goes after, his shield up being the only form of caution he's got while he and his comrades seek to smash the enemy with their shields, and then deliver quick stabs with swords, or in Amos's case, spears. Meric Myre, the foeman Bruce faces, smashes him on the sword arm with his bludgeon. The Stonebridge knight first misses with his shield smash, and then has his sword blow knocked out of the way, with the Ironborn dodging handily.
"Suck my cock, you goat-faced butt-boy!" snarls Tam. As his sword comes overhead, he spots another man lunging toward him and barely dodges out of the way of the man's blow. His own goes wide, and he grits his teeth in frustration. Recovering, Tam pivots and brings his backswing down hard toward his opponent's knee. "Here, I'll help you kneel!"
Jarod finds himself in as much of a dodge-and-parry match as a man with a giant longsword and an Ironborn reaver in tight quarters can have. He pivots the blow in his direction, but his own strike is misdirected ever-so-slight as he turns his body, and catches the armor of the man's neck rather than the skin and blood beneath. He brings back his arms to swing again and continue the lumbering dance.
In his eagerness to insert himself into the combat and turn the second soldier's attention from Tam, he misses his chance to dodge a sword that comes under his thrust. It turns his own sword to only hit on the man's hand. Alek presses his attack seamlessly, regardless of the hit, calling to Tam, "I wouldn't want his mouth on your cock. It's probably already been on his mother's." Cock, presumably.
Here we go again - can you guess what Brynner's war cry is? "FOR LADY ROSANNA!" He yells, as an attacker rushes to meet him with a sword. He ducks to the side, lifting his shield, and thrusts forth his spear to meet is attacker's chest… armor. "Crumbs!" He shifts his feet, ready to strike out another blow.
Dominick keeps the two other Groves (represent) in his peripheral vision as they charge into the fray. With nobody spurting blood yet from that area, his attention's caught by the flashing sword of the Meric Myre on that archer he'd glimpsed during the initial charge — close enough to take a crowded swing in Bruce's defense he does so. And promptly misses, the cramped quarters throwing off his balance near the end of the swing. "Fuck! Fighting in a fucking butter churn!"
Not so eloquent with his words like Tam is, Kell rushes into his room with the others and selects a foe rather quickly instead of nit-picking. The Ironborn the Hedge Knight picks happens to be attempting a thrusting stab at Tam so he calls out a word of warning before his own blade lashes out, "Coop, watch your side!" Then Kell is on the Ironborn as steel cuts through a bit of the man's leg, though it is only a minor wound for now. However, in a fight like this, there is no one-on-ones, just a brawl and the knight was wary of another brute bearing down on him. Sidestepping the battle axe neatly, Kell now turns on the new target and engages him in combat with both hands on his longsword.
"You mother has a cock?" Meric Myre laughs back at Alek, "Suppose that makes the sheep your father, eh?" Despite the banter as the Ironborn nobleman brings his shield up to waqrd off Bruce's attack, and the speed with which he draws back his battleaxe, the Ironman's banter has a vaguely desperate edge beneath it.
<Newbie> Cordelya has connected.
Kittridge would like to roll his eyes at Brynner's 'war cry', he even begins to, but it's ill-advised to take one's eye off the ball in this sort of situation, so he settles for muttering, "Whatever works, I guess," as he steps into battle beside his lovesick squire. The spear-thrust he aims at one Myre man is dodged, close quarters requiring some adjustments. As the reaver aims for Tam, Kit steps into range once again to try to distract the Ironborn. By stabbing him.
Pushing herself back up a little to a more upright position astride the roof she's chosen as her spot, Starling shrugs out of her longcoat almost reflexively, letting it fall about her hips and thighs. Not that anyone down there can see, of course, but the discarding of the garment reveals a neat quiver of arrows strapped across her slender back, and an equally simple hunting bow that was previously obscured under the overlarge lay of the leather. Unslinging the latter, she lays it across her lap, dark eyes fixed upon the 'battlefield' in the narrow street. The quarters remain, for now, far too close to chance a shot. Maybe the simple wood and sinew is nothing more than a comfort to the girl. A scant one, at that.
<COMBAT> Myre 05 attacks Kell with Bludgeon & Shield - Moderate wound to Right Hand (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Myre 04 attacks Jarod with Sword & Shield but Jarod DODGES!
<COMBAT> Myre 03 attacks Tam with Spear & Shield but Tam DODGES!
<COMBAT> Myre 02 attacks Alek with Bludgeon & Shield but Alek DODGES!
<COMBAT> Myre 01 attacks Brynner with Sword & Shield - Light wound to Right Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Tam attacks Myre 01 with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Right Arm.
<COMBAT> Meric Myre attacks Bruce with Bludgeon and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Kittridge attacks Myre 03 with Spear & Shield - Serious wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Kell attacks Myre 05 with Greatsword - Critical wound to Right Arm.
<COMBAT> Jarod attacks Myre 04 with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Dominick attacks Meric Myre with Sword & Shield but Meric Myre DODGES!
<COMBAT> Brynner attacks Myre 01 with Spear & Shield but Myre 01 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Bruce attacks Meric Myre with Sword & Shield but Meric Myre DODGES!
<COMBAT> Alek attacks Myre 02 with Broadsword - Critical wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Myre 03 has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Myre 04 has been KO'd!
"Shut your yap, barbarian." Bruce grunts at Meric Myre, in a very rare instance of battle taunting from the veteran Stonebridge Captain. His sword thrust, again goes by the way side, and this causes a groan of irritation from the man. Feeling far more exposed than he aught, Bruce gets back behind his shield, just in time for him to raise it and block a blow from Meric Myre's battleaxe. Again, Bruce seeks to lash out with his sword, though not so aggressively as last time.
Jarod dodges again, but this time his opponent doesn't parry so well. His strike at the man's chest finds a weak link in the maile. The Ironborn doesn't go down so much as get shoved back against the wall, and Jarod's own momentum against it does the rest of making what might've been a glancing blow on the open field a killing one here.
This time, Alek is prepared for the Ironborn he faces, twisting around the sweep of the man's weapon to send his own in a hard clash against the man's helm. "That saved your life," he growls lowly, before pushing away to find another opening. "She does, and she fucked your dad up the arse with it. She said he was awfully loose, though." This last called loudly towards Meric where the man joins the banter.
Dominick swings too late yet again, his sword tip going right past the Meric Myre's chestplate. There is a reason they keep this on in the back — he can shoot far better than he can swing, that's for certain. Whatever. Not one to give up, the Groves engineer digs his heel into the dirt and puts weight into another swing at the Ironborn facing down Bruce.
Ripping his bastard sword out of his opponent's hamstring, Tam barely shifts his head - a spear-tip ripping right by his left ear. He seems oblivious to the battle at large, a dull red film descending over his eyes as he hacks furiously at the now-staggering man. "Yellow-gutted little sea-farmer! Hah! Come on!"
Perhaps coincidentally, he continually positions himself between the pikemen and the Ironborn, preventing the Nayland levy from really sinking their hooks into the combat in the narrow confines of the street. His sword comes down in an overhand chop at the Myre warrior's head.
Despite parrying the Ironborn's attack with his blade, Kell's defense was only partially successful as the battle axe manages to bite into his hand though the linked armor offers some protection before breaking apart. The brief pain only fuels the Hedge Knight's anger as he pushes the reaver's axe away with his blade and then with a rather gruesome swing, separates the man's arm from his body, "Death is too kind for the likes of you." But it seems like Kell is willing to grant it as he advances on the one-armed Ironborn with his longsword.
Although the outnumbered Ironborn had held up to the initial charge of Westerosi, the greater skill and numbers of the knights break through the two shieldmen holding the door. "Typical Rivermen: can't even fuck right- Shit!" Meric's taunting cuts off abruptly as the skirmish cracks into chaos. "Hold! Hold!" he hollers, stealing a brief glance aside to judge the status of his men, "We surrender!"
Adjustment made, this time Kit's spear strikes home with enough force to kill. He jerks the weapon back out of the reaver's chest and moves on to the next one, or starts to anyway, when Meric Myre calls a surrender. He holds, spear held at the ready, gaze flicked around the room and the remaining Ironborn for signs that this might be some sort of trick.
Jarod turns away from the corpse he created to continue the fight, stepping quick to flank Meric Myre and assist Ser Bruce. Though, at the call to surrender, he looks to the Nayland knight. "This one'd make a fine hostage, Ser," he says, panting.
"Ow," cries out Brynner as steel scrapes past his right arm. "Cheese and…" Thrust! goes his spear, but his assailant is already sweeping out of the way as he finishes his downward cut stroke. "Biscuits!" The young squire aims his spear again, but pauses to sweep a look around for instruction from Kittridge as Meric calls the surrender.
At the last moment, the call of surrender registers in Tam's head. He jerks his sword aside, the heavy blade diving into the oak flooring with a thick -thunk-. Quickly yanking it back upright, he eyes his bleeding opponent warily, a snarl still twisting his lips. "Lay down your arms, or die hard and fast," he murmurs lowly.
What? Dominick's sword is down in ready position to be swung straight at the Meric Myre's broad frame. One dark blond brow arches for the sky, and while the others are focused on the Meric his green eyes flicker around the fighting group, watching for movement from the Ironborn in the alley…or any hiding in the shadows.
"No! No quarter!" Ser Bruce yells at Meric's effort of surrender. Either his blood is so far up that he's forgotten to act chivalrous, or he's made a calculation in his head that the situation does not permit taking enemy prisoners. To those that know him, the latter is more likely than the former. The Stonebridge Captain lashes out with a thrust aimed at Meric Myre's neck.
It is good that Ser Bruce calls that, as it seems that Alek has no intention of turning his own blade where he finds an opening to make a thrust.
"Hold," Kittridge instructs Brynner, though whether the lad will hear it over Bruce's shout and those of others, who knows.
<COMBAT> Myre 05 passes.
<COMBAT> Myre 02 passes.
<COMBAT> Myre 01 attacks Alek with Sword & Shield and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Tam attacks Myre 01 with Greatsword but Myre 01 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Meric Myre attacks Bruce with Bludgeon - Critical wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Kittridge passes.
<COMBAT> Kell attacks Myre 05 with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Jarod attacks Meric Myre with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Dominick passes.
<COMBAT> Brynner passes.
<COMBAT> Bruce attacks Meric Myre with Sword & Shield but Meric Myre DODGES!
<COMBAT> Alek attacks Myre 02 with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Bruce has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Myre 02 has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Bruce spends a luck point to keep fighting!
"Sorry, mate," Tam remarks to his opponent as the order comes down. He steps forward and pivots, his hand-and-a-half sword flashing toward the man's skull once more, all his weight behind the blow. This time, by the matter-of-fact expression on his face, this is business now - not pleasure. He doesn't waste his breath cursing or taunting, instead just getting the bloody mess over with.
He offers a fleeting glance back at the pikemen standing by, gaze meeting that of a Serjeant in the Green Quarter, Einion Wycliffe - unreadable, and flinty as stone, after his sword catches only air. And then, seeing Bruce take a nasty strike to the neck, he shifts toward Meric, ignoring the man he had been attacking, trying to buy the other knight time to retreat or regain his wind.
Jarod looks at Bruce, hesitating. But the hesitation only lasts a beat before he soldiers on, standing with the Nayland man as the Ironmen un-surrender. He's a shade paler as he strikes, moreso than when he killed the Ironborn against the wall a moment ago.
Blow dealt efficiently to crumple the Ironborn he currently faces, Alek twists away from the sword of the second soldier, throwing himself forward to attack him despite Tam asking for the man's surrender. "Unlace your bodice and kill the man before he kills us," he calls to Tam—even as the man attacks as well. Oops.
Dominick hears the shouted command to Brynner to hold and his own arm ends up hesitating like Jarod — but on his part long enough to be behind the curve as swords and shields suddenly clash and blood drops fan across the street and his armor. As the Meric turns swing on another ally, the hesitancy vanishes.
Bruce's turning his head to call the no quarter order to the men around him serves as his undoing. Meric Myre's axe plows into his neck, Ser Bruce's shield only rising enough to ensure that the wound doesn't kill him. Links are broken, and the Stonebridge man is knocked on the ground. There is blood flowing very, very freely from his neck wound. It appears on the ground as if Ser Bruce is dead or else not conscious for a moment, but his eyes open quickly. He coughs up more blood, to add to the stuff on his neck. And then, rising to a knee, the knight withdraws.
At the sudden call, from the midst of carnage, in a street that still reeks of charred wood and other, fouler things, for mercy, of all things, Starling's jaw actually drops, utter incredulity upon her features as she watches the men actually seem to consider such a thing. Mercy? For the squids? Closing her lips with an almost audible *snap*, the girl pulls an arrow from her quiver and nocks it, straightening her back and drawing on the string of her bow with a quiet creak of tension in the sinew. Very, very unwise, even to consider what she's considering. But then, she's not famed for clarity of thought. There's -some- relief when she sees Longbough rise from the dirt but the bastard who put him there is still standing… and she keeps her gaze settled, for the most part, on Meric. Just in case.
One of the crippled Myre warriors is dealt a swift coup de grace,with the last two standing do their utmost to take down a knight or two with them. "Come on, lads!" Meric Myre hollers, at his assailants. "How can I get a glorious death if you all keep dying?" That same edge of desperate bravado can be heard under the bloody words.
Kittridge grimaces, looking displeased but not precisely surprised as his fellow knights refuse to honor the surrender requested. He watches and, as Meric manages to survive the attack and strikes a vicious blow at Ser Bruce in return, he lifts his spear once again to assist in attempting to bring down the Ironborn as they renew their briefly-aborted attack. To Brynner he calls over, "As you like, lad." Whatever that means.
The call of surrener is heard by Kell and he hesitates in his advanced on the maimed Ironborn who is more keen on scrambling back and bleeding all over the floor but right now, the hatred he has for the invading barbarians is so great that his usual knightly self has been replaced with bloodlust. Vegeance for a particular someone must be achieved and that will require a large amount of Ironborn blood being spilt. The blade slashes out for a decapitation though the Ironborn won't oblige, only rewarding the Hedge Knight with a nasty slash to the face. Instead of wasting more time to finish this reaver off, Kell shifts his attention to the noble squid who is valiantly fighting on, dealing a nasty blow to Ser Bruce. The Hedge Knight's blade now sings for more blood, going to Bruce's assistance.
"I'm your elderberry, Ironborn." Tam laughs as he answers Meric, keeping himself between Bruce and the man. His eyes glint with genuine pleasure at the bravado - the respect of one brave man to another, even across the battle-lines. He lunges toward Meric, even as others converge on him as well, attempting to ram his blade straight into the brave Ironborn's chest.
Jarod throws himself at Meric Myre when Bruce is felled and the Ironman's axe turns in his direction. The chance for quarter gone now, rebuked as it's been, he'll soldier on through blood.
Brynner holds, true to his knight's barely-heard call, the action made easier as his assailant turns sword on another man. But the surrender is broken, and Kittridge is calling out odd things to him, and the squire looks puzzled as he looks desperately about for a target. "As I like? Crackers, ahhhh…" Well, there's that douche with the sword from before? "For Lady Rosanna!" Comes the cry, as Bryn follows his knight after the swordsman.
<COMBAT> Myre 05 passes.
<COMBAT> Myre 01 attacks Alek with Sword & Shield but Alek DODGES!
<COMBAT> Tam attacks Meric Myre with Greatsword but Meric Myre DODGES!
<COMBAT> Meric Myre attacks Jarod with Bludgeon and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Kittridge attacks Myre 01 with Spear & Shield but Myre 01 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Kell attacks Meric Myre with Greatsword - NEAR MISS!
<COMBAT> Jarod attacks Meric Myre with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Abdomen.
<COMBAT> Dominick attacks Meric Myre with Sword & Shield - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Brynner attacks Myre 01 with Spear & Shield but Myre 01 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Bruce passes.
<COMBAT> Alek attacks Myre 01 with Broadsword - Light wound to Right Hand.
<COMBAT> Meric Myre has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Myre 01 has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Meric_Myre spends a luck point to keep fighting!
The fight in the ugly little Seagard hovel has begun to grind down, with Meric Myre being knocked off his feet by a stout blow to the maile armoring his torso, crashing into the hearthstone. "Eh, sonuvawhore," the Ironborn grunts, throwing the shield up to cover his head as he struggles back to his feet. Bloodied axe drawn back and let swing once again, the reaver finds himself surrounded.
Jarod crashes hard toward Meric Myre, catching his foe in the gut. If he was fighting with a professional swordman's finesse earlier, that's taking a back seat now. He's in nasty, bloody sort of brawl with many other men to cut the Ironborn down.
Where the soldier falls, Alek turns on the ball of his foot and stalks for a new prey, swinging his sword carelessly at the first Ironborn he sees with a called, "No mercy!" In case anyone wasn't aware.
Bruce pages: If I have chiurgeonry, can I treat/bandage myself?y
Young Bryn runs after the last Myre swordsman, shouting for his lady, but that proves to be his downfall; with his head tipped to the sky, his spear thrust falls off to the side, and is easily dodged. The squire watches as the man goes down anyway, and he pulls his spear back up to ready whilst others group around Meric for the kill.
Bruce creeps back until he's just outside of the door of the charnel house that the mass of blood, guts and bodies is making that particular building. All around in different buildings, Allied men at arms are fighting Ironborn, while the pike levies hang back in wait of the buildings declared clear. Bruce sits down, well, really, slides down into a seated position against the wall, and puts his sword and shield next to him. Reaching into a pouch on his belt, the Stonebridge Knight pulls out layers of clean looking white cloth, and a small vial of poultice. He begins wrapping his neck with the bandage, wincing at the pain, stopping at some moments for extended periods of time, before starting back up.
Kittridge misses the blow he aims at one of the few remaining reavers, but the man is cut down by other blades all the same. As most of the knights aim to finish Meric Myre off, the knight from House Groves doesn't join in the frenzy around the Ironborn noble, instead stepping over towards Bruce, crouching, leaning on the butt of his spear and asking, "Need a hand with that?"
Meric is fast - too fast for his opponents, and Tam's blade catches naught but air. His expression is flat and focused now, narrow-eyed as he goes in for another strike on the brave Ironborn. "Die well, chum," he offers the man. His sword comes up for an over-hand chop at the man's chest, attempting to drive him to his knee.
Bruce coughs, blood coming up. He nods very slightly at Kittridge. "Press on it. Tell me-" cough, "when it slows."
Here since strike one, Dominick isn't going anywhere. Neither are his sword swings, but there's got to be at least something admirable in trying this hard when out of one's niche. He shoots a glance behind him at Bruce, just long enough to confirm the man's moving, and goes back to trying to papercut Meric to death before he can do the same to Jarod.
<COMBAT> Myre 05 passes.
<COMBAT> Tam attacks Meric Myre with Greatsword - Light wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Meric Myre attacks Jarod with Bludgeon but Jarod DODGES!
<COMBAT> Kittridge passes.
<COMBAT> Kell attacks Meric Myre with Greatsword but Meric Myre DODGES!
<COMBAT> Jarod attacks Meric Myre with Greatsword - Serious wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Dominick attacks Meric Myre with Sword & Shield but Meric Myre DODGES!
<COMBAT> Brynner passes.
<COMBAT> Bruce treats Bruce:
< Neck (Critical): successful
<COMBAT> Alek attacks Myre 05 with Broadsword but Myre 05 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Meric Myre has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Meric_Myre spends a luck point to keep fighting!
Jarod draws his arm back and, almost blindly, hits the Ironborn noble as hard as he possibly can. It's another gut shot. Which makes him wince, but not pause. No pausing in matters such as this. He's covered in a good deal of blood, but none of it's his own. Yet.
Kittridge nods to Bruce, wrapping the bandage around the man's neck and folding up what's left to press to the wound. "Nasty looking scratch," he says, "It's slowing a little," he says, "But you're going to want a healer on this soon as you can."
Tam's chop manages to break a few rings of Meric's armor, drawing blood, and he grins as he presses in for another two-handed swing at the other fighter. Jarod's strike, and the Ironborn's brute determination to keep fighting, has him whistle lowly in admiration. What a way to go! He throws himself forward, hoping to at least give the man a quick end, rather than this death-by-a-thousand-cuts fate he currently faces.
Bruce's head stops spinning, or stops spinning as much, though his breathing is still a bit raggety. He nods very slightly again at Kittridge, handing him the small wooden vial. If Kitt was to open it, it would look like some tiny off white grains. "Pour it. Even. Then wrap." The Stonebridge Captain leans on his elbow to facilitate an easier pouring motion.
Meric Myre is a capable warrior, and a determined one. How much it must have galled the warrior to yield, none can truly say, but without recourse to escape, the man of Myre resolves to die as well as he can. Jarod's blow carries the telltale crack of ribs beneath maile, and although Meric falls a second time, teeth gritted together in pain, he fights off one knee, "Just throw me in the sea, after, you bastards-" Meric manages, swinging hard at the first man within reach.
Looking rather lost all of a sudden, and definitely unable to bring himself to join the pack attacking Meric, Brynner sweeps a look around the bloodied street. Spotting Kittridge with Bruce, he jogs over, shield and spear in hand and ready. "Sers? Yikes, that looks right painful."
Dodged, Alek still presses his attack, holding true to his call of no mercy despite the other man's lack of attack. "I'll make it swift," he promises the soldier.
Kell swings and misses once again as Meric is indeed damn quick though atleast the Hedge Knight is help bracketing the Ironborn noble in for his compatriots to slash at. "Time to sleep, Ironborn. To the seas? I think not, we'll feed you to the pigs, they can get very hungry. Enjoy /drowning/ in pig acid." Kell says with a smirk, obviously having no sympathy for the reaver as he holds onto the memory of what happened at the Roost and Tall Oaks in his head.
With the sudden convergence on the apparent leader of the filth opposing the 'good guys', Starling slowly, in tiny increments, lowers her bow, gently lossing the taut string. There is, certainly, something to be admired in the man's tenacity, if not his way of life then his way of death. He deserves it by the blade. And, by now, victory, however small, seems imminent, even to the girl seated up on the rooftop. Just a matter of time.
"I will take your body to the sea, m'lord," Jarod says between clenched teeth, breathing hard as much from the terrible emotion of the fight as the exertion of it. He does not look at the other knights as he says this, though he sounds like he means it.
<COMBAT> Tam attacks Meric Myre with Greatsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Meric Myre attacks Tam with Bludgeon - Moderate wound to Right Leg (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Kell attacks Meric Myre with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Jarod attacks Meric Myre with Greatsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Dominick tries to attack but has no target!
<COMBAT> Alek attacks Myre 05 with Broadsword but Myre 05 DODGES!
<COMBAT> Tam has been KO'd!
The deep gash on Tam's thigh has him falling out of the fight - not too bad an injury, all told, but enough that he sees no reason to keep hammering at one men when so many other capable soldiers are doing the same. He retreats, limping, and goes to check on the battle out in the alley - a place where, perhaps, he can do more good.
Kittridge takes the vial, asking, "What is it?" though his curiosity doesn't delay its application. As Bruce bends he removes the cloth, pours the powder over the wound as evenly (and quickly) as possible, and then covers it and applies pressure once again. Out the corner of his eye he watches the on-going battle, and nods to Brynner as he does, "Aye, it's a nasty one. Neck's not a good place to get hit. Lucky to be alive at all."
And he does. Alek makes it swift where the other man leaves an opening, badly injured as he is. The tip of his sword finds a gap in armor to slash across the Ironborn's neck, blood making rivulets down his blade.
With the pouring of the poultice into his wound, Bruce winces and growls in pain. His free hand grips tight aroud the rim of his shield and his eyes close tight, teeth gritting. It's a few moments before Ser Bruce opens his eyes and loosens his jaw. "Alright. Help me wrap it tight to stay. I need to get that standard planted." His breathing is a bit more steady now, though he's definitely worse for the wear.
The thrust forward with his blade finds flesh but Kell had intended it for it to spear through the Ironborn's skull. Rewarded with only a wounding cut, the Hedge Knight grits his teeth and instead of a forward thrust again with his blade, he swings horizontally with the edge of his blade whistling through air at Meric Myre who is refusing to go down.
Dominick is by this point mentally going through everything he has packed away, weighing whether this or that when thrown would do something useful like melt this son of a bitch's face off. No time to figure it out proper, as Tam suddenly falls and then the bludgeon is headed his way.
Jarod presses on with what can only charitably be called a fight now, hefting this longsword for another hard blow. It's only a matter of time.
Meric Myre fights his way back up to his feet, staggering about drunkenly, shield arm hanging like a dead limb at his side, even as the axe is swung at the next Westerosi warrior in line. "Still- not- dead!" he shouts, between uneven and gasped-for breaths.
"Yowza," adds Brynner, holding his weapons at the ready and turning his back to the knights that he might provide some sort of cutesy-cursing human shield. Not that he's really needed; the combat seems to be winding down, and he reports as such with a low whistle. "Commander's almost down, Sers, crackers, he keeps takin' hits."
<COMBAT> Meric Myre attacks Dominick with Bludgeon - Moderate wound to Right Leg (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Kell attacks Meric Myre with Greatsword - ARMOR on Left Arm stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Jarod attacks Meric Myre with Greatsword - Serious wound to Left Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Dominick attacks Meric Myre with Sword & Shield - Light wound to Left Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Dominick has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Meric Myre has been KO'd!
"Plant the standard where?" Kittridge asks Bruce, as he leans his spear against the wall to use both hands wrapping the bandage around Bruce's neck. "Brynner can do it," he says, "You move, Ser Longbough, you're like as not going to bleed out."
The Ironlord strikes hard, his war axe slamming hard into the maile that armors Dominick's leg, but the quartet of blows which land an instant later- especially the vicious blow to his already ruined arm- have two effects. The first effect is that Meric Myre's blood sluices freely across both Dominicl and Kell. The second is that Meric Myre falls hard to the ground, battleaxe falling from his mailed grip. The life fades quickly, but the is time enough for another few rasping breaths to send ripples in the spreading pool of blood that coats the dirty floor beneath where he fell.
Bruce shakes his head at Kittridge. "There are wounds and then…" - cough, but this time, no blood, "there are wounds." He grins, and though his coughs have no more blood in them, his teeth are crimson with his own life fluid. The idiot gets up from his rest as soon as the bandage is wrapped. "It's my duty. Shut up and do yours, Ser." He is huffing considerably, but the man picks his sword and shield up, though he doesn't enter yet. "And thank you."
Jarod lands that blow to Meric Myre's arm. Swung as hard as the Terrick bastard can. He falls to his knee from the force of it, watching the Ironborn's face as life finally leaves him. He's breathing hard and heavy but, somehow, he came through that butcher's house without a scratch. For a moment he just breathes like that, the adrenaline draining out of him fast, kneeling by the dead Iron lord.
Dominick feels the slam into his armor way before any pain. His sword just manages to rip Meric's arm as the axe blow makes his knee turn a way it wasn't supposed to, dropping him hard to knee and one hand on the street. Numbness absorbs the brunt of the pain that starts to shoot up the side of his leg, his shin leaving a film of blood as he scoots out of the way on the ground.
Kittridge snorts. "Whichever of those is worse, that's what you've got right now," he informs Bruce dryly, but steps back, hands lifted as he shrugs, and then moves to pick up his spear again. "Knock yourself out," he says, "Your funeral. Brynner," he gestures to his squire as Meric Myre goes down and takes yet another with him. "Looks like Dom needs a hand."
"Cripes!" Yelps Bryn, starting a step forward. "Dom's down! Dom's down!" Unsure of whather he should stay by Kittridge or jog his way over to the other fallen Groves man, Brynner scoots a look between the two… and then flees, given his knight's order. "Oi! Dom, oi! I'm comin' ay?"
The house is filled with Ironborn corpses, and somehow not a single allied man was lost. The Stonebridge Guard that came in with Bruce and squire Amos got a spear in the leg, but will live from it. Amos, somehow, Bruce's strapping 17 year old nephew and squire, somehow managed to also make it out without a scratch; the tall youth, who obviously doesn't get his height from the same place Bruce does, grins at Jarod. "Ser." A moment later, Bruce enters, not to survey the scene as much as accomplish something in particular. He's walking very, very slowly. His face is pale, but his eyes are alert, and he looks to be in a great deal of pain. And he's got a large white bandage tied around his neck. Bruce lifts his sword weakly to motion up. So he and Amos begin to climb to the roof of the building. Amos, quickly, Bruce stopping every now and then to catch his breath. But they get there. "Standard. Raise it." Bruce advises his squire, voice a whisper. And the other does it, waving the Nayland standard high in the air, to signal the pikemen to advance.
"Could you yell that louder, Brynn? Don't think I heard you." Dominick calls back to the squire. He drags his other leg back under him, feeling it wobble as he starts to stand back up. "Piss on an axe. I'm fine."
Kell's strike connects though it is against the strong links of the Ironborn's full maile armor, stopping his blade from cutting in but it seems like the combination of hits brings down the reaver. The Hedge Knight is quiet as the man finally dies before he takes a look around the room, seeing the damage that was done. Letting Ser Bruce do his duty with the standard, Kell's eyes move to Dominick who seems to have taken a hit and fallen over, though before he can go offer the knight a hand, Brynner is already on his way to help. The Hedge Knight then looks over to Jarod, nodding silently to the other man.
Jarod looks up, blinking, like he doesn't quite see Bruce for a moment. The grin's not returned, but the Stonebridge Captain does earn a short nod. "Ser. You look still alive." Green eyes go briefly to Kell, then go back to Meric Myre. He's kneeling in the man's blood. "He died a fighting man. I shall see he goes to the sea." It's said more to himself than anyone else, though he sounds firm about it.
Kell seems to have no verbal complaint about what Jarod proposes despite the words of anger that was uttered during the heat of battle. The Hedge Knight nods as if in actual agreement, "That he did, fought valiantly to the very end, Ser Rivers." Even offering the Ironborn some grudging respect but that is the most he would do for the dead reaver. "So how many other houses are we suppose to take?"
"DOM'S DOWN," the squire obliges, dropping his shield with a clatter so that he can cup a hand about his mouth to carry the sound. "Better?" Brynner cracks a stupid grin, and holds up his spear to show off his own glancing wound. "Wait'll we tell Lady Rosie about this one, huh? Crackers, man, lookit yer leg! It's all a-mess!" Just a few more paces, and his shoulder is close enough for support, should it be needed.
"Much better." Dominick smirks at the lad as he arrives. He keeps some weight off his cleaved leg in a fairly surreptitious way. Blood has started to run in a small reddish pool from under his ruined shin guard, mixing with the mud and grime of the slum street. The slightly gritted teeth might be the blossom of pain from moving around, but for now that's all the engineer allows to show. "Not as bad a mess as some. There's got to be a better way to do this…" He purses his lips, looking around at the carnage. "How's the Ser?"
Once the standard is planted, Bruce turns to his squire. "You continue up with the next in command. Guardsman Weaver. I'll get back, myself." Amos is wide eyed at the idea of abandoning Bruce, but before he can protest the knight is walking back downstairs. "Ser Jarod. You have command. Continue the advance once…" He pauses to take a few breaths, leaning with his shield against the wall. Then he continues, "Once the pike have secured the street." There's another pause, as he shifts bloodshot, ragged blue eyes to the corpse of the Myre man, then back to Jarod. "We could not take prisoners. Work not done. You're in charge of this group." He points at Dominick, but doesn't speak for a few more seconds as he again catches up on oxygen intake. "Wounded back on their own. Fighting men up. The militia will help us to healers." He coughs, dropping to a knee, continuing to breath heavy.
"I'll need some help carrying him, when we've finishing clearing the squids from this area," Jarod says to Kell. The waterfront, at least, will hardly be hardly short on Ironborn-manufactured wreckage for a pyre. "After that's done, I could use a drink." Brynner's screaming is jarring enough to make him aware other things are going on, and he turns to blink toward Dominick. The leg draws a wince, but at least the man is getting up. With a grunt, and nod to Ser Bruce, he gets to his feet. Doing his best to shake off the haze that took him after the fight. Having a task is helpful for that. "Aye, Ser Longbough. All right, lads. Work's not quite done."
Work is certainly not done and Kell does nod to Jarod, "I'll lend a hand, Ser Rivers, and I think we could all use a drink." It certainly helps after a heated battle. Even though the Hedge Knight did take a hit to his hand, he doesn't consider himself injured as Bruce tells them to continue on to the other buildings, to clear out the Sea Roaches. "More cleaning to do."
Dominick is half distracted as Bruce talks, looking down the narrow alley as he continues to drip blood on it. "If only we could draw them to us," he says under his breath. "Could trap alleys like this so well they wouldn't know ass from face before we were on them…Bryn, you see tha-" His hand's lifting to point out some window when he realizes he's bein spoken to. "What? Oh." Wounded or something. "Healers, aye. You ought to come with us yourself, Ser. Our septa can see to that wound better than most."
"Brynner, you're screeching," Kittridge chides his squire as he heads over to take a look a Dominick's leg, mouth twisting in a sympathetic grimace. As Bruce gives orders and puts Jarod in command, he just watches, silently, and then suggests to his squire, "Bryn, give Dom a hand back, we're not so desperate here he should have to hop his way to a healer. I'll catch up with you shortly when we're finished here."
"Thanks. Got our own, Senna. Good." Is Bruce's weak answer. He sticks his sword back into its sheath, the weapon rattling about. His grip is unsteady. That unsteady grip is about to go for water, before he realizes he's in a house full of dead bodies. Instead, Bruce makes his way outside, to fresh air.
"C'mon, then," Jarod says to Kell and Kittridge. Also not terribly keen on lingering in the house of dead bodies. Not that it won't be even more gross when he finds the time to come back. Dominick's words seem to remind him. "Ser Bruce, by your leave I'll ask your pikes to assist in sweeping the area for traps? The Ironborn do love their pitfalls."
Brynner's a little distracted for a moment, eyeing off Dom's shattered shin guard. "Huh? Oh. Aye, Ser," he says, looking up at the sound of Kitt's voice. "That'd be sweet," he tells Dom, tapping himself on the shoulder as a hint - come on, latch on for a hand back to the septa.
Cleaning off his blade of blood, Kell sheathes it into his sheath for now instead of walking around with it in front, ready to draw it when they near the next flashpoint of Ironborn. For now the Hedge Knight has no other words or questions to asked, just waiting patiently as the details are ironed out before they will go about their duty on more fighting and probably killing.
"I'll come back once she's down, m'Lord," Dominick tells Kittridge. "I want to have a look at where they're headed up here. Few spots on the map that might be useful if we can get at them first." He turns his head, looking after Bruce for a moment, then Brynner's offered shoulder gets a mild shove. "Just fucking walk, man." And that, somehow, still manages to sound endearing.
"Pikes are for holding and securing, Ser Jarod. But… talk to Ser Rygar. He's in charge of pikes. You're in charge of armsmen, now." Bruce doesn't seem like he's in much of a condition to make a rational decision. It appears he recognizes that, and passes the buck. As soon as he's outside, he slides down against the wall to a seat, again. His shaking strong hand slowly creeps down to pull his waterskin from the belt. Equally slowly, he begins to uncork it.
"Horse's tails, Dom, I was just offerin'," says Bryn, rolling his young blue eyes. And off he starts, trotting through the carnage of the street toward where the lovely Day awaits.
Jarod nods to Bruce. He can probably do the poking for traps with the armsmen. "I'll see it done," he says simply. Task-oriented now, he steps out of the threshold of the butcher's den they created. Deep breath of fresh air, before he gets to whatever work remains.
