Winterfel Besieged
Oct 4, 2012 20:22:37 GMT
Post by Gregor Clegane on Oct 4, 2012 20:22:37 GMT
Gregor had growled and fumed when the Raven’s news had reached his ears, Lord Tywin informing him of the siege that had begun at Kingslanding shortly after the Mountains return to Casterly Rock. He had raged for the entire night when he had found out that he would be sent North once more and not called to Kingslanding to assist in breaking the siege while lesser men were left to push back the traitors to the throne. His men had grumbled as they once more packed up their belongings and marched North again this time accompanied by war machines to break the gates of Winterfel.
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The march had been long but they had made good time despite the machines slowing their march and soon the walls of Winterfel were in sight once more, the burned out buildings on the edges of the surrounding town the only reminder that he had been here not so long ago. The main siege camp was set back out of range of both catapults and archers, making both his own and his enemies useless for the moment. Men moved through the forests cutting down trees, hastily constructing palisades and additional cover against any counter charge should the enemy decide to attack them before they marched themselves. With their position fortified somewhat and men beginning to move into assigned positions further preparations were made.
Outside of the siege camp, some 600 feet from the castle walls, huge stakes were driven into the ground, some 40 in all spread out all along the main front. Ragged looking prisoners were lead out, beaten and battered their clothes in tatters, their hands shackled to the stakes, raised above there heads, all 40 left out in the open. Gregor grinned as he watched the men work from the camp, a large goblet of milky fluid in one huge armoured hand, a servant quick to refill the cup that he drained without a pause.
The hour passed and now more movement came from the siege camp, men, loyal to Clegane ran forward with great bundles of kindling in their arms and flasks of oil, piling them round the feet of the helpless prisoners, ignoring their pleas and cries. They would the example; they would start to sow the fear that could eat at the hearts of men under siege. With the wood in place, soaked in oil, Gregor himself rode out with men in tow, torches already alight in their hands. The first caught light quickly as he dropped the torch to the wood, watching with fascination as the woman standing in the flames screamed, and wrenched herself against her bonds, the fire licking slowly up her clothing and blackening her flesh. He moved from stake to stake lighting each in turn, taking a fresh torch from his followers for each, his cold hard gaze never leaving the screaming writhing body that was shackled in front of him. All the while his archers covered him and his retinue from the rear of the camp, bows trained should anyone ride out against them so early.
With the slow fires burning under each captive the Mountain and his men rode back to the camp, leaving the defenders on the wall to watch the smallfolk of their land burn to death under their noses.
His men prepared themselves for the siege ahead, archers lining up in loose lines to avoid incoming fire and allow their own allies to march through their lines. Pikemen moved to reinforce the positions behind them, ready to march with the battering rams towards the main gate and protect them from any counter charge that the Starks may try. Swordsmen readied their shields to protect themselves from incoming fire, ready to rush the gates once the rams had done their job. All the while Gregor and his horsemen waited near the camp, ready to launch the final charge once the gate had been taken and left open to their advance.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The march had been long but they had made good time despite the machines slowing their march and soon the walls of Winterfel were in sight once more, the burned out buildings on the edges of the surrounding town the only reminder that he had been here not so long ago. The main siege camp was set back out of range of both catapults and archers, making both his own and his enemies useless for the moment. Men moved through the forests cutting down trees, hastily constructing palisades and additional cover against any counter charge should the enemy decide to attack them before they marched themselves. With their position fortified somewhat and men beginning to move into assigned positions further preparations were made.
Outside of the siege camp, some 600 feet from the castle walls, huge stakes were driven into the ground, some 40 in all spread out all along the main front. Ragged looking prisoners were lead out, beaten and battered their clothes in tatters, their hands shackled to the stakes, raised above there heads, all 40 left out in the open. Gregor grinned as he watched the men work from the camp, a large goblet of milky fluid in one huge armoured hand, a servant quick to refill the cup that he drained without a pause.
The hour passed and now more movement came from the siege camp, men, loyal to Clegane ran forward with great bundles of kindling in their arms and flasks of oil, piling them round the feet of the helpless prisoners, ignoring their pleas and cries. They would the example; they would start to sow the fear that could eat at the hearts of men under siege. With the wood in place, soaked in oil, Gregor himself rode out with men in tow, torches already alight in their hands. The first caught light quickly as he dropped the torch to the wood, watching with fascination as the woman standing in the flames screamed, and wrenched herself against her bonds, the fire licking slowly up her clothing and blackening her flesh. He moved from stake to stake lighting each in turn, taking a fresh torch from his followers for each, his cold hard gaze never leaving the screaming writhing body that was shackled in front of him. All the while his archers covered him and his retinue from the rear of the camp, bows trained should anyone ride out against them so early.
With the slow fires burning under each captive the Mountain and his men rode back to the camp, leaving the defenders on the wall to watch the smallfolk of their land burn to death under their noses.
His men prepared themselves for the siege ahead, archers lining up in loose lines to avoid incoming fire and allow their own allies to march through their lines. Pikemen moved to reinforce the positions behind them, ready to march with the battering rams towards the main gate and protect them from any counter charge that the Starks may try. Swordsmen readied their shields to protect themselves from incoming fire, ready to rush the gates once the rams had done their job. All the while Gregor and his horsemen waited near the camp, ready to launch the final charge once the gate had been taken and left open to their advance.
