Maekar's March

The movement slows as the army moves along the banks of the Mander to avoid flanking from any outriders of the Faith. The might Mander had flooded high this year, leaving the soil boggy and the men struggling to move through the muck. On the morning of fourth day, a scout informed Maekar that there was only one suitable spot for fording between Longtable and Cider Hall, though it was dangerous. Their only other option was to march on Highgarden and double back to ford the much more tame Cockleswent.

The army reaches the ford without incident, though a summer rain on the second evening of their march leaves the river higher and the current faster than anticipated. The men and horses will likely make it across without incident, but the carriages of the baggage train are another matter entirely.

As Cyrax lifted him across the river, Maekar cold see a small fishing village a league east on the far bank. A few old villagers lazily fishing with poles fled as the shadow of the Little Dread fell over them, fleeing back towards their settlement.

The army crossed without incident and only a single caravan from the baggage train was lost when its wheel broke in the deep mud, sending its contents spilling out into the Mander.

As Cyraxes flew over the village, Maekar could make out a few small hovels, meager docks, and a few small fishing boats. Smallfolk looked up into the air in terror, many fleeing into their homes as the beast passed over.

The four scouts returned with grave news. Cider Hall had fallen without bloodshed, villagers saying Lord Fossoway had opened the gates for them rather than risk being the 5th lord of Cider Hall to meet the Stranger in this war. The royal banner of King Maegor II had been stricken in favor of the rainbow flag of the Faith Militant. Below that hung the personal sigil of Ser Hector the Dragonbane, one which would be familiar to Maekar at this point in the war. It depicted the seven pointed star, with a dragon skull mounted upon the points dedicated to the Father and the Mother, symbolizing the two that the Faith had slain. It was said that the Stranger would not claim Ser Hector until the point reserved for him had been filled, the harbinger of death requiring his due.

Cider Hall was one of the oldest keeps in the Reach; originally a motte and bailey with wooden palisades. Though the earthen mound with a flat top still stood, the wooden palisades had been replaced generations ago with a circular stone curtain wall. The excavation of earth to make the mound left had a ditch around the motte which acted as a further defense. In this case, a nearby steam of the cockleswent had been diverted to flood the ditch, creating a moat. To the east of the moat sat rows upon rows of apple trees, the orchards that gave the Fossoways their sigil, though the trees had long since been burnt or foraged, just another casualty of the keep passing hands so many times in the long war.

There were four towers along the circular curtain wall, each with a ballista sitting atop, aimed at the sky. Maekar could see that Warriors Son siege crews were working to modify the instruments, aiming them towards the sky as the dragon flew overhead. The keep or donjon was the most defended point of the castle, the great tower giving a commanding view of both the northern and southern approaches. Three more ballistae topped the central keep.

A barbican defended the keep's single gatehouse, topped with two more ballistae. The iron portcullis, which had once defended the entrance, was long since gone, melted by dragonfire the last time the Crown had retaken the keep. Two wooden doors locked in blade by a massive piece of timber now kept the entrance sealed, as well as a wooden drawbridge which stretched across the moat.

Knowing the typical 300 man garrison of the keep, Maekar was able to judge from the crowding of the ramparts the no more than 800 men currently held the castle.

Ivory flames burst from Cyrax's maw, engulfing one of the ballistae crew and all. Though the flames were not yet hot enough to melt steal as Meraxes had, the Faith's knights and Fossoway guardsmen roasted within their armor as their screams echoed accrross the keep.

Maekar was fortunate, in that by choosing the shorter journey to Cider Hall the Faith had not had time to properly set up and modify the ballistae upon the keep with their now-infamous Citadel upgrades. Nonetheless, the twang and torsion springs soon filled the air, quickly followed by a volley of fire-hardened heavy black ash darts as Maekar flew back towards his camp.

Most missed the beast, the crews firing wide in their haste. One bounced with a loud clatter harmlessly against the beast's thick obsidian scales. Scores of crossbow bolts and longbow arrows followed, but they all fell short.

Enough word is found among the grove of dead and dead apple trees to make a fair amount of mantlets, but not enough to construct a pontoon bridge suitable to cross the sizable moat. Most of the usable wood had been picked clean in the various sieges Cider Hall had fallen under through the years. The crews assigned to the moat's crossing were able to find a shallow spot in the water that could be filled in more rapidly, left from when it had been filled for crossing in the past and re-dug hastily after. They set to work with broad-spades, gradually filling in the moat as the mantlets protected most of them from missile fire.

Those streaming across the drawbridge had less success. Arrows and crossbow bolts rained down upon them from the battlements, slowing movement across the bridge to a crawl as the bodies of the valiant slain had to be crawled over. Fossoway and Faith troops atop the top of the gatehouse began turning the crank which would raise the drawbridge into a vertical position with two iron chains, the movement sending some of the royal troops plunging into the moat below, where they were dragged down by their own armor.

Cyrax's ivory flames burned a hole clear through the middle of the timber gates, the defenders bracing it from behind forced to fall back as the front ranks caught fire. Of the two ballistae bolts fired, the first missed while the second punched through the membranes of Cyrax's left wing, doing little damage. However, an arrow from a Faith archer who had been drilled to aim for rider rather than beast, ricochet off Maekar's elaborate helm, leaving a deep gash above his right brow that obscured his vision as blood poured into the eye.

The arrows that did connect with Cyrax's scaly hide bounced off with barely a notice from the Little Dread. His flames made short works of the archers on the gate and one of the ballistae crews. Men screamed as they burned alive, attempting to jump off the walls into the moat below to quench the flames, where they drowned with the rest.

Though the gatehouse was in flames, the drawbridge had been raised and held by two sturdy chains fixed to the stone walls, cutting off the stranded army on the shore from reaching the burning gates. Those that remained squashed up near the gate were set upon by defenders below, arrows from the battlements, and the murderholes above them. Those filling in the moat would not reach them in time to offer assistance: the drawbridge needed to be dealt with if this battle was to be won.

The drawbridge crashed to the ground with a resounding boom, the royal troops rushing across it with a triumphant and manly yawp. The defenders guarding the wall fell quickly, sweeping the courtyard of it's defenders, streaming up the spiral staircases of the towers to overwhelm the archers and ballistae crews on the walls. Only the central keep remained intact as the defenders fell back within it.

Landing upon the courtyard, Cyrax began tearing with tooth and claw at the enemy troops around it, proving its similarities to the Black Dread were not just cosmetic. Warriors Sons, Poor Fellows, and Fossoway guardsmen all fell alike to the crunch of its mouth of razor teeth and claws.

But a dragon upon the ground is in its most vulnerable state. Though it claimed twenty men for every brave soul that came into striking range, those that did struck with madness and fury. A barrel-chested Poor Fellow, a seven-pointed star carved upon his forehead, buried a two-handed francisca between the scales of the black dragon's side. Yanking it out, bravely stepped up to take a swing at the rider, which Maekar barely deflected.

From the ballistae still remaining in the central keep, a black dart punched a hole through the dragon's shoulder where its wing met in torso. Cyrax howled in pain, but continued to tear at its foes with a mad frenzy.,

Cyraxes took to the air with only a moment of difficulty, the Poor Fellow with the francisca taking a swing at Maekar that hit only air ad the dragon lifted from the ground once more. As the Little Dread took to the air, Maekar could see that the black bolt was still lodged firmly in the bone where it had struck, forcing the beast to favor the opposite wing more heavily.

Below, the royal troops made short work of those in the courtyard and the battlement. The Poor Fellow armed with the francisca fell with a bellow as he was cut down by no less than four men-at-arms. However, the central keep stood firm with its door barred, as archers and crossbowmen rained death down from their vantage point. A battering ram was being moved up to take down the door, but at a risk of additional casualties as arrows sprouted from the necks of the troops trying to take cover.

The men followed his orders with haste, the ram reaching the wall and beginning its work of dismantling the oak doors, the covers protecting them from all missile fire save the ballistae.

As Cyrax landed, he folded the damage winged protectively, a low growl at the sting of the wound. Though Maekar gave a valiant effort to remove the dart, he could not move it, the heat of the steaming blood pouring over his plate quickly rendering the attempt too dangerous to continue. His father's face was a testament to the dangers of dragon blood. When the aids arrived with the pliers, it took three of them to remove the offending object. Cyrax let out a roar of pain, snapping up one of the attendants in his razor sharp teeth and biting him in half in his rage.