Fifth Moon, 8002
Siege Camp outside Sunspear
Aladale Wynch sat at his tent, a mug of ale in his hand, the morning sun of Dorne marking the beginning of another day of siege.
This is not the glory I was promised. The Ironborn reaver thought to himself.
Vickon Greyjoy had promised them glory beyond measure if they followed him to Dorne, with the Lord of the Isles pointing out that since no other great lords save for the King himself were joining the war, they wouldn't have to share the glory.
In truth however, there had been little glory thus far after months of campaigning. They had landed at the castle of Spotswood some months prior, and Vickon Greyjoy had preferred to starve the castle into submission rather than assault it, which was not the way of the Ironborn.
To their credit, they had scavenged some honor by assaulting the village of Olivegrove once Spottswood fell, killing its garrison and many men folk, taking many saltwives and stealing a good deal of plunder, and they had followed this up by assaulting a less fortified keep in the area.
Two rights do not undo a wrong. The Lord of Iron Holt thought to himself, they should have assaulted Spottswood, and now the same thing was happening here during the siege of Sunspear.
Vickon Greyjoy had preferred to remain in Spottswood with a small retinue, enjoying the fruits of their labor and the plunder they had gained from Olivegrove. While the Lord of the Isles leisured in the keep at Spottswood, drinking its wine, killing their prisoners and enjoying its women, he had tasked Aladale with sieging Sunspear, the capital of Dorne, a prospect which would likely mean over a year of sitting around in tents around the sand.
In truth, Aladale Wynch did not hate Vickon, the two had reaved together in the shivering sea, forming a bond which Vickon had used to give him the command of the siege of Sunspear and Aladale had to grudgingly admit Vickon was a great warrior and commander.
He knew Vickon was wrong on this however, there was no glory in besieging castles, starving them into submission, the Ironborn way was to assault the walls, cost of life be damned and take their due, not sit around and wait for it to be given to them.
Vickon can win his glory through mummer's duels…I will make mine today. Aladale thought. Vickon Greyjoy had a rather unsavory reputation throughout the isles of challenging salt wives that displeased him to duels for entertainment in front of his men; two such lorathi women had perished that way at the end of Vickons ax.
‘’Pate….get in here.’’ Aladale shouted outside the tent, causing his younger brother, a boy of 14 with jet black hair to walk in.
‘’Brother.’’ Pate asked, running a hand through his hair, the boy constantly found time to see to his appearance, even in the middle of a siege camp.
‘’Go find my hornman…tell him to call all the captains to my tent and to ready our men…i've sat here long enough.’’ Aladale commanded
‘’You mean to attack….they have three walls…it wont fucking work.’’ The young Wynch asked incredulously.
Aladale gave his younger brother a clout on the ear, and then ruffled his hair ‘’Were Wynches brother….the blood of the Gray King flows through our veins…it will work..I've come up with a plan.’’
‘’A plan?’’ Pate asked.
Aladale nodded ‘’Aye now go do as i've asked.’’
Pate nodded and ran out to find the hornman, who let out the command for all the captains to gather at Aladales tent, Aladale set down his ale…he would need to be sober for what came next.
Once assembled, Aladale explained his plan, he would send 40 longships out to sea. However, they would be manned by a skeleton crew of camp followers, thralls from the Olivegrove, old men and young boys as well as a few warriors to oversee them, the ships would be chained together in 4 rows, allowing them to be undermanned, though the Dornish wouldn't see that until it was too late.
The Dornish, seeing 30 longships, would expect near 4000 men to be approaching by sea and send men to man the sea wall, leaving the front gates weakened, after the sea wall was manned, Aladale would order an assault of the walls with his full strength of over thirteen thousand Ironborn warriors.
Even if the plan worked to draw off some of the Dornish garrison, taking Sunspear by force was still a daunting and risky proposition. The seat of the Martells and principale fortress in Dorne was encircled by three large walls of sandstone, each one encircling the one behind it, and even if the walls were breached, there would be brutal fighting in the miles of winding streets and bazaars, perfect places for staging ambushes. The garrison numbered some 2300 men, a formidable amount.
It took a few hours to have the ships chained together, which were well out of sight of the walls, and another two hours to get them out to sea and approach the sea wall of Dorne. The plan appeared to have the desired effect as a large amount of the Dornish defenders moved from the front walls to the sea wall, though the men remaining at the main walls were alert for the possibility of an attack.
The Ironborn army had formed into a massive horde, obscured behind several large sand hills, Aladale had put many of his own warriors in the Vanguard, he wanted the sagas to sing that the men of his Clan had been the first over the walls.
Aladale was no coward, and he planned on participating in the fighting, but he was no fool either, fighting in the Vanguard was likely a suicidal notion and he wanted to be alive to bask in the glory his victory, so he positioned himself in the third rank, close enough to the front that he would win much renown and have a chance to be at the forefront of the fighting, but far enough back that the risk of being killed by stones or arrows before even breaching the walls was minimal.
Aladale saw no point in a long drawn out speech, but he was of course expected to address the massive army before they assaulted the walls. He walked to one of the hills and stood upon its crest, looking down on the seemingly never ending mass of Ironborn in front of him.
The Lord of Iron Holt raised his two handed ax above his head, a fine weapon with an ax head made of castle forged steel from Qohor, a weapon he had gained while raiding a ship in the shivering sea.
‘’FOLLOW ME INTO BATTLE AND THE RICHES OF SUNSPEAR WILL BE YOURS…FOLLOW ME OVER THESE WALLS AND THE SAGAS WILL SING OF OUR ACCOMPLISHMENTS FOR A MILLENIUM…..FOLLOW ME AND EARN A PLACE IN THE HALLS OF THE DROWNED GOD.’’ Aladale shouted, his purple cloak waving in the wind as the sun slowly began to set, casting a dark and dim orange light across the sky.
The Ironborn screamed half a hundred war cries, ranging from clan words to traditional chants…they were ready to die….and to kill.
The hornmen signaled the charge and the Ironborn emerged from behind the sandy hills, like ants on a sandy field.
They were a good distance away from the castle walls, but the Ironborn made no attempt to save their energy, wordless battle cries on their lips, many of the Berserkers in the front line in a full out sprint despite their heavy armor, following close behind them were around 50 groups of the strongest warriors, carrying wooden ladders.
As they got closer the Dornish defenders began loosing arrows at them, in well organized volleys, striking dozens of Ironborn before they even reached the walls, but whenever a man carrying a ladder was struck another Ironborn quickly took his place.
We are a swarm…a swarm of death, Aladale thought as they made their way closer to the walls. A scorpion mounted on one of the towers struck a group carrying a ladder, its giant steel bolt turning the unfortunate group of men into a crimson mess of flesh and bone.
Despite the Dornish defenders best efforts the Ironborn were too many, and they were able to get many ladders up on the first sandstone wall, though the Dornish opposed them by dropping heavy rocks and pouring boiling tar on some ladders.
As he approached the wall, Aladale waited a moment, letting the men in front of him take the brunt of the stones, throwing spears, and tar before he began scaling the ladder, convinced the men up ahead had a foothold.
The fighting on the walls was brutal, with both Dornish and Ironborn being thrown, kicked and hacked off the wall to the ground dozens of feet below.
As Aladale scanned the ramparts for his first opponent, a Dornishman found him first, yelling a war cry and catching the Lord of Iron Holt by surprise as he turned around, the man, who was wearing a cloth turban that covered most of his face jabbed a spear at Aladale, its point puncturing the heavy steel armor in his chest, but stopping just shy of actually puncturing his flesh, the spearpoint becoming stuck.
Aladale laughed as the man tried desperately to withdraw his spear from his plate armor, hitting the man with the wooden handle of his two handed ax in the skull, knocking the unfortunate man to the ground before bringing his ax down on the man's
neck, taking his head.
Aladale then pulled out the spear from his armor with a grunt and tossed it down into the courtyard, returning to the fray, his armor wrent and broken but otherwise unharmed.
A defender in leather armor and a long halberd stood in his way, but Aladale was faster and brought his ax into the man's arm, forcing him to drop the halberd, before he could deliver the killing blow; however, the man got to his feet and fled, holding his mangled shoulder.
The battle for the first wall went on for some time before the Dornish ordered a retreat back to the second wall, where they mounted another stiff defense with rocks and Tars, but the Ironborn were eventually able to gain a foothold and force them to retreat.
The third wall was the toughest to crack as by now the men that had been tricked into manning the seawall had come to assist in the final stand. Many hundreds of Ironborn were killed and wounded, but eventually they managed to get a foothold on the wall. It was at this stage of the battle that Aladale again faced death, scaling a later when the man in front of him took a throwing spear to the neck, falling from the ladder and almost taking him down with him into the courtyard, which would have likely broken his neck, but Aladale managed to hold on and steady himself.
By nightfall Sunspear had fallen, though some of the defenders managed to escape into the winding streets and ambush the more bold Ironborn that pursued them, but the fight was essentially over at this point, Aladale had no interest in occupying the city, only looting it, and there was much loot.
The Ironborn plundered the Old Palace, taking with them valuable tapestries from Essos, Rhoynar trinkets, and other valuables of silver and gold, though the princess Deria and her household were nowhere to be found, likely fleeing the castle before the siege even began.
By the end of it near 2000 Ironborn were dead or dying, with most of the Dornish Garrison sharing the same fate, being purely overwhelmed by the Ironborns sheer numbers.
In the following days, the surrounding villages, holdfasts, and hamlets would share a similar fate to Sunspear, being looted and captured by the Ironborn. The assault, while costly would mark a huge blow to House Martells ability to resist the Targaryen invasion, and win Aladale Wynch much renown, and infamy for his actions in Dorne.
