Battle of Oldtown

Rhaegar cursed loudly as the mechanism that would have opened the gates below his position failed. The heavy infantry was still pouring up the ladders onto the city battlements. Rhaegar looked along the walls in both directions, judging that the next nearest gatehouse was near the Starry Sept. He began funnelling heavy infantry, along the battlements towards that gatehouse with orders to take it. Realising that they might not be able to batter down the heavy door that led from the battlements into the gatehouse, he ordered that three or four ladders be taken to climb from the battlements to the top of the gatehouse which would hopefully help in the assault.

Noteworthy: Land Battle

Daenya fought off a wave of nausea, the pain in her arm dull as the adrenaline kicked in. She screamed for Vandaras to keep biting and clawing at Ser Hector and, for good luck, threw her sword at him with her left hand.

Maekar wobbled slowly to his feet again, and after swaying for a moment, found his balance. He took one unsteady step forward, and paused, testing his balance, but when he did not fall he took another step, and then another. On the fourth step, however, he whacked his right knee against a wooden bedpost belonging to one of the other patients in the tent, and he swore violently, stumbling to his knees. He had seen it, but it had appeared much further away, and he stared at it, with a frown. He brought his hands up so they were within his field of vision, and held them level, before moving one closer, and the other further away.

He realized that his ability to perceive depth was almost completely gone, and the blind spot on his right side was massive. With a snarl, he forced himself back to his feet, and look at the tent flaps a few yards away. He stepped slowly, but deliberately, carefully choosing his steps and weaving around various obstacles, though he whacked his right leg on another bedpost before he made it to the tent's entrance. Maekar pushed through the flaps, raising a hand to shield his good eye from the sunlight, and then looked toward Oldtown, his eye searching for banners on the ground and dragons in the sky; anything to indicate the direction of the battle.

He saw the royal banners being raised above the main gatehouse, and fancied he could even hear the cheers of the men at this distance. He could see, however, that despite royal soldiers pouring into the city, the rest of the walls and, more importantly, the weapons placed upon them were still in enemy hands; banners of the Warrior's Sons and Poor Fellows still stood every few dozen yards along the walls, except in areas where they had been burned away by dragon fire or torn down by royal troops.

In the sky he only saw one dragon, which he recognized as Trajan's mount. Bellowing for his squires, or one of the farriers or grooms, he made his way back to his own pavilion where he shed the plate armor that hadn't been removed by the maesters and stood above the mat of furs that comprised his bedroll. He looked intently at the fluffy down-filled pillows that were the only item in the pavilion not in some way designed to be used in warfare, and touched the bandages over his right eye gently, wincing in pain even so.

He cast about for a spare sword, opening his weapons chest and sleeting an appropriate weapon, buckling its sheath onto his swordbelt. He still wore the leather and chainmail suit that went under his plate, and lifting a spare shield off a rack, he slung it across his back and stepped back outside where one of his squires was waiting with a warhorse. He mounted the beast slowly, though he thankfully did not require a block or assistance, and moved in the direction of the fighting that remained. He had no intention of getting back into the battle, woozy as he was from his wound and blood-loss and likely concussed from the blast, but his squires followed flying his own banner and the King's and he knew that the massive flags marching forward would inspire those men still in combat, and perhaps cause the enemy to waver. He paused at the edge of the royal camp, and scanned the field looking for the Prince of Dragonstone.

[OOC: Maekar isn't going to try and get into the fight, since that would end in disaster, he's just trying to figure out what's still going on; I don't know who much he would know IC having been gone for a few rounds and battles being as genuinely chaotic as they are.]

Elseyris didn't have to go far to find some refuge. She found a relatively clear space in a small alcove in the side of a nearby building, somewhat secluded by storage crates. She slumped against the back wall, feeling some relief at it's sturdy support against her aching spine. She leaned to her right, and was able to see around the crates to the fighting beyond. Fresh sobs choked in her throat as she looked upon Nenyan again. It was then that she saw that Rhaena and Aegon had flown in to engage Ser Hector, and spotted Daenya getting back onto Vandaras, with her arm at a grisly angle. Her heart was full of fear for Aegon and Glutton, her eyes flicking nervously between them and the Dragonbane.

You had better live. Send that bastard to The Stranger!

The city itself falls with relative ease, the Faith Militant having lost their strength in the field. Only the Starry Sept, Citadel, ad Hightower holding firm, with battering rams moving in to breach the gates of the first 2. The Hightower itself remains safe on Battle Island.

Ser Hector continued to dodge and duck as the two dragons snapped and clawed at him, once more biding his time for the right moment. As Vandaras’ maw closed in to swallow him, he wedged his dragonscale tower shield between its jaws, the large dragon struggling to bite through Quicksilver’s the bone and scale. In the brief reprieve that gave him, the Dragonbane caught Daenya’s sword and hurled it towards Rhaena, who was more a nuisance at this point than a danger to him. The blade arced through the air with deadly force, though merely passed by her thigh, cutting a deep gash that sent the princess to her knees. With Vandaras still struggling to bite through the tower shield, the Dragonbane drove Vigilance into its snout, leaving a deep gash which spewed molten blood. Luckily, Glutton moved in from behind, his claws lashing out to cut deep grooves in the back of Hector’s armor, blood welling out from one of the slices in the tempered steel.

(Rhaena takes an Average Wound)
(Vandaras takes a Light Wound)
(Hector takes a Light Wound)

Aegon continued his assault, throwing another axe at Hector and urging Glutton forward again.

Aemon sleeps peacefully snoring all the while, with a bit of spittle rolling down his mouth to pool inside of his helm and out onto the blood stained grass underneath him.

Maekar bellows in pain, cradling his arm, against his chest, doing his best to press the wound against his side to keep the blood flow to a minimum, despite the excruciating pain from doing so. Knowing he had only a few minutes before the blood loss rendered him unconscious and dead soon thereafter, he struggled to his feet one last time, still trying to bring down the Dragonbane before Maekar himself succumbs to his wounds.

"Maekar, get back!" Aegon roared. If he can, he will try to shield his brother from the combat by driving his dragon forward, in between Hector and Maekar. Another axe is thrown, another attempt made at a killing bite at the Dragonbane.

Aemon snorts loudly in his passed out state.

Seeing the mighty Ser Hector fall, and be plucked up by Glutton like he was livestock, Elsey's heart leapt with relief and vicarious triumph. Pushing against the wall behind her with her still-mobile arm, and whimpering from the pain that wracked her whole body, she got herself back to her feet, and limped towards the scene, cheering in support of those who had defeated The Dragonbane. Being near Nenyan again sent cold spikes of grief through her soul, but nevertheless, she looked at Rhaena with a smile, then turned her gaze up to Aegon, grinning proudly.

Elsey looked puzzled for a moment, then gingerly reached up to take Aegon's hand, pushing her mind past the pain in her skewered shoulder with the joy she felt as Aegon's fingers closed around hers. Suddenly realising he was about to pull her arm, she drew back;

"I'm going to need help doing this, hang on," she said, apologetically, feeling pathetic for her injuries.

She turned to a nearby knight, and asked him to help her up onto the dragon, using a combination of his lift and her sore yet still working limbs to clamber up behind Aegon in the saddle. It was not a dignified ascent, she nearly fell twice, and the pain made her feel like her bones were afire, but when she finally was secured atop Glutton, she gratefully slid her less injured arm around Aegon's waist, and leaned into him as the dragon took off.