(Third person)
The two warships were too close. The Stark hurled hooks at the Iron Victory," and the Ironborn tried to cut them, but they weren't fast enough. Aermir could feel his water elemental draining its magic and tried to stop the warship, but even without summoning it, the ship could no longer escape.
Finally, the two warships locked onto each other, and the Stark soldiers began their charge toward the Iron Victory. But just then, Victarion landed on Aermir's warship, knocking all the charging soldiers to the ground like a bull breaking its chains. Immediately afterward, the Ironborn charged with burning passion.
Aermir glanced at Victarion's stats. He was a powerful man. He had 15 Strength and 10 Speed, and like Aermir, he was clad in armor from head to toe. His long, disheveled hair and beard spilled out from beneath his monstrous helmet. On one hand, he wielded a large black axe; on the other, he held a shield bearing their family crest.
His axe was as big as a two-handed axe, but he swung it effortlessly with one hand because of his immense strength. He saw the Red Rain in Aermir's hand and began to sneer.
"So, you're the one who killed that Drumm. I'll take that sword back from your corpse."
He charged at Aermir with his shield, and the moment the two shields collided, Aermir was pushed back. Aermir wanted to outmuscle this man, which wasn't a good idea, but in this confined space, he didn't have many options, nor could he always dodge his attacks or make wide-ranging movements.
Seeing that he had the upper hand in strength, Victarion continued his charge. With each clash, he was filled with confidence in his victory, but Aermir wasn't foolish. He knew he couldn't defeat him in strength, and without room to maneuver, his speed advantage was meaningless. So, he was luring Victarion into a trap.
After another collision, Aermir feigned a stumble. Victarion hooked Aermir's shield with his axe, attempting to pull it down for a final blow, but the instant Victarion hooked the shield, Aermir charged forward.
Aermir used his shield to force Victarion to raise his axe, pushing Victarion's shield aside. Victarion sneered arrogantly, for Aermir had failed to force him to back down an inch.
"How pathetic!"
Victarion grabbed Aermir's shield, and just as he was about to shove Aermir aside, Aermir delivered a direct knee strike to his groin. Aermir's plan had never been to shove him aside or anything like that. He simply wanted to get close to him and lower his guard, and Aermir achieved his goal.
As soon as Aermir saw Victarion's data, he knew he had to do something. He knew he had to act differently; in an open space, as he had when fighting Smalljon Umber, he could use his speed to outmaneuver him, but in this confined space, it would be tantamount to suicide.
When his knee struck Victarion's family heirloom, Victarion folded up like a chair. Normally, a breastplate would protect the groin from injury, but Aermir was no ordinary man. He possessed greater strength, and his magical armor enveloped his body. The resulting blunt force caused Victarion immense pain, though his family heirloom suffered some scratches, it remained unharmed.
Taking advantage of this opening, Aermir gave him no time to catch his breath, slicing deeply between his joint plates. The chainmail at the joints was no match for the Valyrian steel sword.
Ah!
Victarion lost his axe, Aermir immediately followed with a mid-air strike, but he defended with his shield, which Aermir kicked aside. Just as he was preparing to deliver his final blow, a Ironborn pounced on him. No, the correct way to say it is that he pounced on his sword.
Muttering something, the Ironborn lunged at Aermir's sword, saving Victarion's life. The Ironborn was pierced and killed by the " Red Rain," but he saved Victarion's life. Enraged, Victarion tried to charge at Aermir, but two Ironborn, under Aeron Greyjoy's orders, restrained him and dragged him back to the ship.
"Protect the captain, the What Is Dead May Never Die! Protect the warrior of the Drowned God. His mission is not yet complete. We cannot let him join the Drowned God; no true son of the sea would want to rot beneath the seabed. Fight, fight... fight and join the Drowned God's Water Palace."
Aeron raised his long staff, repeatedly ordering them to charge, but as he did so, he also prepared to jump ship. The battle continued, and another Ironborn came alongside the Iron Victory, taking Greyjoy's brother with it. The slippery eel and his nonsensical brother escaped, while the other fanatical Ironborn lay dying, chanting their spells. Aermir said with disgust.
"I hate fanatical Ironborn. Fighting them is such a hassle."
( Robert Baratheon's perspective)
I couldn't control myself. Finally, I boarded a boat to crush some wet rats, but something weighed heavily on my mind. What should I do with this Druid? He seemed honest, but you can never understand a powerful person. When you have power, you become even more greedy. I thought there was nothing to worry about as long as we didn't see this Druid on our necks, but if he even set foot in the Riverlands, it meant he had bigger plans for the kingdom.
He's using the war as a pretext to head to the Westerlands and the Riverlands. I wouldn't object if he retreated to the North after the war. Looking up, Saltcliffe lay before us. My heart pounded faster, my blood nearly boiling. I gripped my warhammer tightly.
I don't want this war to end so soon. So I ordered the suppression of the entire Iron Islands, and I want Balon to suffocate while waiting for my hammer. The North armies are attacking Harlaw, the Riverlands are attacking Oak Island and Blacktyde Isle. The Westerlands and the Reach are going to attack Great Wyk; the armies of the Crownlands and the Stormlands are going to suppress Saltcliffe first, and then attack Pyke.
The House Sunderly and House Saltcliffe will be the first to taste my hammer. We begin our landing; the island is like a desert. All the villages and settlements have been abandoned. They must have retreated to the two Citadel on the island. The House Sunderly is closest to us; they will fall first.