It was a stormy, rainy night, and thunder shone in the sky. With the largest and westernmost islands of Wyk and Great Wyk taken, and Orkmont under seige from Commander Muntez, Neshtaka knew that the islands further east would be more difficult, as their men would guard them fiercely without a doubt. As he would secure these so called 'Iron Islands' and Commander Tzoutzili was currently sailing for 'Fair Isle', his forces would use these as a springboard toward the vast mainland. He knew the capital of this empire as great or even greater than his own was on the other side of the land, so he would need every inch of courage and wisdom he had, or else he would fail his mission, and he would never get to see this 'Winterfell', where the Wolfmen came from. He had sent a letter to the 'warden of the North', Eddard Stark demanding a meeting or surrender, but it would be some time before a reply came back, if at all.

"Where are we heading toward now, Lord Farwynd?" He turned to the young and shy Giles, new lord of Lonely Light. His father had been sent to warn Fair Isle and 'Lannisport' of the punishment, and when his purpose was done, Tzoutzil sacrificed him in front of the horrified locals, pulling out his beating heart and feasting upon it to their horror. Neshtaka thought this was excessive, and unceremonious compared to burning the heart. But these people deserved fear. Or so that is what the Emperor's priests has told him. Apparently his wolfsblood meant he too deserved it, though they would never say that to his face.

"This island is called Saltcliffe, my Lord," he said nervously. "It is known for the readily available saltmines and farmland for sheep. It is ruled by Lord Saltcliffe and his second in command Lord Sunderly. My second skin-" referring to his whale he was Gifted with, "-tells me that they're gathering a great fleet to meet us, with Lord Greyjoy's brothers heading the defence. It seems likely they will fight your force with everything they've got." The young lord Farwynd tried not to offend with his voice, he could tell, not that it would matter. Perhaps he would grant one of Balon Greyjoy's sons or brothers the rulership of 'Pyke' once the islands were secured. Neshtaka himself hoped the Emperor would grant him the so called 'Riverlands' to the east as a reward.

"I am sure they shall," Neshtaka responded. "I had no doubt they would defend their lands bitterly. They know these harsh waters better than we do. But we have other advantages." He turned to Sunbite, his bronze and gold scales shining in the lightning, glistened from the rain. The beast growled but sat down, waiting for orders. Even his own men feared his companion greatly, for he was far larger and more fearsome than the lockjaws they used for war or security. "I expect this one shall fall as easily. I will revel when Lord Greyjoy's heart is torn out and burnt in honour of the gods."

He went above deck with Sunbite behind, looking upon the coasts of the island ahead. He could see the so called 'Iron Fleet' up ahead already, gathered into position. Or some at least. Lord Saltcliffe would no doubt rather die fighting than cowering. Respectable. He walked to the front of the ship and observed the other crew's own preparations, of their weapons, their lockjaws, and most importantly, their minds.

As his men marched into their battle positions, Neshtaka prepared himself. The siegebows would be filled with explosives to beat through the fleet, and the enemy was laid right into a trap. With the fleet destroyed, the army and beasts could get on the mainland and use their full potential. Only the Barakas would be spared from the islands, for they were being saved for the mainland. Neshtaka had about sixteen of the beasts under his control for then. The prince had perhaps forty.

"We're getting closer to the Iron Fleet." He said to his captains. "We should prepare to hit them with everything we can. Our fleet should begin to fire within the next few minutes as we get closer!" The men were already getting excited. Cheers were heard around. "The islands to the west fell without much difficulty, and this campaign shall be no different! The gods watch over us tonight, and our emperor will be proud of us." The Choqi men chanted in the sacred hymns to prepare. He and the other Gifted were less eager to sing along, but couldn't help themselves in excitement.

The ships they were targeting looked gathered into a spot. Such foolish tactics would be their undoing! "Get the ships on the edges into position with the green flag."

The plains soldier Lostok responded. "Right away, chief!" And waved the flag. The ships to the peripheries of the Choqi fleet prepared their bows and their explosive payloads toward the outer edges of the enemy fleet. Once the peripheries were alright, he could move in and crush the remainder.

"Fire away!" The men signalled to the left and right ships, and they prepared to hurl their firey projectiles at the ships. Neshtaka saw the great bows open up, get their firey payloads on, and unleash their hellfire upon the Ironborn. The great balls of fire shot through the sky like falling stars and landed on their quarry. The explosions were fearsome, even if some didn't go off in the rain. All the same, they caused destruction and terror wherever they landed.

They quickly set the ships ablaze or sank them outright, as debri spread fire to other ships too. Neshtaka was proud. He could already see the little iron men jumping overboard to put out the flames! It was all coming together, and the ships in the middle seemed only to panic as their defenses were failing, firing bolts and arrows back at the Choqi, only for few to even reach the ships.

"It seems to be going well, chief" one of his commanders said. "Won't be long until we can board."

"I say we board now." Neshtaka said in response. The enemy's ships were alight and now he could personally move in for the kill! "Set for the centre, now!" He called out to his men.

As he moved closer, however, something didn't feel right. He looked into the water, and the people drowning or crying for help looked unarmed, or underprepared. It felt like-

The boat shook. Neshtaka turned around and one of his fellow ships had been rammed into by another vessel. "Gods damned!" He exclaimed as he saw a larger Ironborn fleet behind his own. It had been a trap!

Upon one of the ships, he saw a strange man with black hair and one eye, even at this distance. The man laughed, even if Neshtaka couldn't hear him. Beside him stood a huge man with long hair and a great axe, and a third, with long hair and throwing axes. They must have been the Greyjoy commanders. This would not be an easy victory after all!

"Ahead! We have been tricked!" He called to his men. "To battle!" He drew out his steel sword, one he had obtained while fighting the Ironborn, and threw his arm up to drive his men forward. He ducked only narrowly avoiding an enemy arrow. They have no honour, he thought. Sunbite ran in front of him, his thick scaly hide guarding him from the arrows, which for now we're faraway. The Ironborn ships were far more mobile than his own, for they had their lives worth of experience at sea, whereas he did not. Even a young Ironborn captain knew more than he did.

And now he would pay the price for his arrogance. At least there was room to escape should the need be. Not west for the other islands, but the mainland. That was worth far more than these rocky islands anyway!

Neshtaka's own ship collided with one of the attacking Ironborn. Soldiers from both sides boarded the other's ship. The Ironborn were well equipped and fearless, high on morale, but the Empire's people had beasts on their side and superior archers. More importantly, they still had numbers.

Neshtaka flung his obsidian tipped spear towards a soldier's neck, killing him in a single thrust. He pulled it out in time to intercept another soldier. The spear was pushed aside, but the older man dodged. He was old enough to have many years under his belt in combat. He stalled the man attacking, and waiting till his back was turned. Not to himself, but to-

The man fell as Sunbite knocked him over and crushed his skull in his jaws. Sunbite has a couple of arrows in him, but they weren't deep. He could survive these. But Neshtaka needed to survive these threats regardless. Realising the challenge as the battle raged on, he felt he needed to retreat. The cargo ships at the back were well outside of range at least. He fought on, and went to board the rival ship.

The man who must have been Lord Saltcliffe was waiting on the dock of the ship. The island's Lord was balding, but his remaining hair was shoulder length and black, his shoulders broad and eyes hard, his axe and shield in hand. He charged forward, and Neshtaka braced himself. He remembered when he could charge with such fervour, but he was fifty now, those days were gone. He could still stand his ground though, he wouldn't die on his feet. He prepared.

Neshtaka dodged the axe blow narrowly, but his own spear thrust was dodged too. Saltcliffe knocked the spear down with his axe and sent his shield into Neshtaka's belly. His belly aches immediately, and he felt a rib or two must have been cracked. He staggered back, but never let go of his obsidian spear.

He dodged another of Saltcliffe's axe blows and returned the favour with a kick to his back, sending him tumbling over, his shield thrown away and quickly grabbed by another Choqi soldier, Kolotil he thought the name was. He tried to thrust his spear, but the pain grew too intense and he dropped it. Before he could take his chance, his opponent got up. Before he could strike, Saltcliffe charged again, angrily.

Neshtaka drew out the steel sword and parried quickly. He went for the wood instead of the axe head.

Lord Saltcliffe howled in pain and dropped his axe. Neshtaka wasn't sure why, until he saw that four of his fingers were on the floor next to the axe. He took his chance, and killed the now defenceless lord with a thrust to his neck. Blood gurgled our and the lord struggled against the inevitable for longer than Neshtaka would have thought possible. He had no time to watch though. He picked up his spear again and continued onward.

Despite his own success, the ambush had been a danger, and he had no choice but to order a retreat.

"They're winning! Withdraw! Head east to the mainland! Now!"

"Yes, commander," one of his messengers responded, narrowly dodging an arrow.

Neshtaka responded with the signal. "Fly the yellow flag, and make sure to fly it up and down, so they know to go east! Go!" The messenger nodded and went back to his ship to fly the flag.

Neshtaka, his belly still aching from the shield blow, marches on regardless. If he could kill one of the Greyjoys before dying, he would at least disrupt the Ironborn attack and save more of his men. He saw bodies of both sides, and he didn't want to risk even more of the invasion fleet dying.

As he walked through the rain, he came into front of the one-eyed Ironborn. The other Ironborn soldiers stepped aside. He opened the door of the boat, and his companion shuddered as the door creaked. The one eyed man drew his sword. "Well, you've come far, haven't you? Too far!" He ran forward but let the other man go forward, tears in his eyes.

Neshtaka met him head on, and the two wrestled for some time. But Neshtaka's foot went upward, to try and knee his attacker in the groin. But in doing so, he tripped.

The two combatants fell onto the side of the boat, and Neshtaka found himself on his back, his stomach aching even more now the Greyjoy was on top of him. The two looked the other in the eye with shock as they both fell overboard. Neshtaka could have sworn there was a push.

Oh well, he thought as he tumbled toward the sea.