I joined up with those who'd taken their places close to the shoreline. That way, I figured, I'd be able to see just what the Wildlings were going to do. If they planned on a full-frontal assault, then I'd make sure that none of them would ever have the chance to leave the water; a single, light tap from [Chill Touch] would be more than enough to incapacitate any of them. And, to make sure I don't become a walking war crime simulator, I'd only target their legs, which would still probably be incredibly painful for anyone I used [Chill Touch] on, but at least they'd get to live or, most likely, someone else would kill them and I get to wash my hands of the fact.
There around fifteen villagers in the coastline, each of them armed with a variety of polearms – just about all of them carried proper bows and arrows, half had backup weapons in form of spears, which they kept on the ground by their feet, and about ten of them had actual armor. Though, being archers, they didn't exactlyneed armor. A few of them sent glances and narrowed gazes my way, but they quickly averted their eyes once they saw my clothes and I was probably as far away from a Wildling as one possibly could be. If anything, I could probably claim to be a Maester, but with black robes instead of gray. Whatever the case, I didn't look or smell like a Wildling and so no one asked or bothered; I was here to fight by their side and, at this point, what sort of idiot would deny the fact that they did need help?
No words were exchanged. I simply walked up to them and they simply made space for me to stand on.
Dark gray waves crashed into the shore again and again, whilst sharp black jagged rocks jutted out of the water and pointed skywards. The spot they'd chosen with which to rain death upon the Wildlings was a tall outcrop that overlooked much of the beach and the surrounding waters, allowing us a great vantage point. The villagers had also established a series of low wooden walls as well, made of wooden planks, which they simply tied together. The point of it, I figured, was that it would make it about a thousand times more difficult to return volley from a lower position with the walls in the way of projectiles. That was oddly crafty of them; I hadn't even considered such a thing.
It also meant that, while I was stuck using [Chill Touch], no one was going to send an arrow through my forehead, which was nice.
And then, one of the villagers approached me. "Stranger, you've a bow?"
I shook my head and smiled, though I honestly wasn't quite sure how I was going to answer them, before my mouth just sort of did it for me. When I turned, standing there was a teenager, maybe six or seven years younger than I was, holding a spare bow and a quiver with about fifteen or so arrows in it. "Don't worry, I've got my own weapon."
I pointed at the [Great Boner]. The young man simply shrugged and placed the bow right next to a tanning rack of some kind. "Alright, then; suit yourself, stranger. But don't blame me if you get killed. Though, should you ever decide to use it, then the weapon is yours – at least until you die or the battle ends."
"Huh, well that's a grim way of talking about things." I said. And the teenager merely huffed and chuckled, before he turned and walked back to his position. I stood at the leftmost flank, not wanting to be in the middle of it all when they started launching their arrows. That said, there was, for now, nothing to do as we waited for the Wildling fleet to make landfall or... well, do anything really. But, we didn't have to wait for long. Barely ten minutes passed before a few of the Wildling ships broke off from the main fleet, turning left, which would lead them further down the beach, I figured. Were they planning a flanking maneuver, perhaps? Or was it something else?
No time to dwell on it, I suppose, as their ships got within the maximum range of the archers and an old, bald man roared and raised his hand, "Nock!"
Was he a former soldier? It certainly seemed like it.
The gathered archers responded by drawing arrows from their quivers and placing them upon the frames of their bows, but they didn't pull the string just yet, no. At this range, the arrows would likely reach the Wildlings, but the chances of them actually hitting anything, especially given their low numbers, was more or less as close to zero as possible. So, their leader guy did the smart thing and waited.
I, of course, also waited, because I couldn't really do much until the Wildlings actually got within range of [Chill Touch], which was a hundred and thirty feet at maximum, which really wasn't a lot. My plan was to fuck up their boats so that a bunch of them would fall into the water, which might just thin out some of them, given the sea's crushing waves and its icy temperatures. And a few of them probably didn't know how to swim too, living around frozen lakes and rivers their whole lives and all that.
Thirty seconds passed before the bald dude issued another command. "Draw!"
Without another word, the archers pulled their bowstrings and took aim at the approaching ships. By then, the Wildlings were close enough for me to make out the individuals on the ships and... while there were a lot of them, they looked, each and every one of them, like they'd been through the worst possible hell imaginable. Still, more than a few of them had draw their own bows. A skirmish was about to begin, I figured, the initial phase of any battle, where two armies poked and prodded each other. Another second or so passed before their leader gave the final command. "Loose!"
Their arrows flew and, almost immediately, I heard the Wildlings scream in panic as a few of them dropped, pierced by an arrow or two, though I could also feel, weirdly enough, that none of them had died. At best, a few were suddenly injured and unable to fight, but there were still a lot of them. I gritted my teeth. A few more seconds I'd be able to poke holes onto the hulls of their ships. The Wildlings responded by sending a volley of their own, though they had around the same number of archers, despite most of them being warriors – if my knowledge of the books was remotely accurate, then just about every single Wildling was, to an extent, a fighter.
Their volley was for naught, however, as the village archers simply ducked behind the wooden plank wall and waited, the defenses shaking with every arrow that pierced into the wood. Despite that, it held quite firmly. I joined them, of course. And then, when the volley finally ended, with nobody on our side even remotely hurt, we stood back up and it was then that I realized that the first of their ships was now firmly within range of [Chill Touch].
I breathed in and firmly held my staff with my right hand, steady against the ground, as I reached out with my left hand and aimed right at the approaching ship. One of the archers turned to me, I noted, though I didn't quite catch their expression as I cast the spell. I felt the hand materialize just above the surface of the water, right beside their ship. And then, I held reached for the wooden hull and, unsurprisingly, met absolutely zero resistance as everything I touched with [Chill Touch] rotted away immediately, almost turning into dust from the amount of Necrotic Damage I was inflicting. Water floods into the lower deck of their vessel and, almost immediately, it begins to sink. The screams of the Wildlings, confused and afraid, fill the air as their ship slows down. With it being my only available target, I use [Chill Touch] punch even more holes into its hull, making it sink even quicker.
Soon enough, every single Wildling began jumping off. A few of them struggled dearly, but were able to swim, and a few panicked and screamed, unable to swim as they were overwhelmed by the strong currents and the icy cold. And, all the while, the villagers hadn't stopped loosing arrows at them, painting the crashing waves red. I felt many of them die in the water, their bodies floating limply. I swallowed the lump in my throat, however, and focused. The battle wasn't over yet. That was just one ship and a few of those who'd jumped and were able to swim were now headed straight for the shore, though I wasn't worried about them as they'd likely just meet a bunch of arrows the moment they met dry land.
Someone beside me yelled something at me. And I knew that the archers were now backing away from me. But I ignored them. As long as they didn't start turning their weapons at me, then all was well. Magic was never going to be an acceptable thing in Westeros and this wasn't surprising. I'll deal with the consequences later, when the Wildling threat was dealt with.
Another ship came forward, but I could see its crew members desperately trying to steer it away from the shore, likely on the wrong conclusion that there were very sharp rocks underneath, which were responsible for the sinking of the first ship. Oh well, a little too late to turn back, unfortunately, as they drifted into the range of [Chill Touch]. Briefly, I considered just... not sinking their ship at all, because they really seemed like they wanted to be anywhere else but here at the moment. Unfortunately, I knew for a fact that they'd simply find other victims to torment, maybe even make landfall on some other part of the beach and attack the village from a different angle. I couldn't take that chance. And, besides, the villagers had already decided to attack them when they sent another volley of arrows.
Breathing in, I activated [Chill Touch] once more and, as I'd done before, punched open a bunch of holes in the ship, forcing it into the water. The crewmen of this ship, however, unlike the first one, all seemed to know how to swim, which was a surprise; though a few of them panicked as they jumped out into the frigid sea, nearly all of them began swimming to shore, their spears and clubs and axes still in hand, which – honestly – was quite the accomplishment.
"Sorcerer!" One of the Wildlings cried out, a women with bright red hair, in a voice that was loud enough to pierce through the crashing of the waves for the other Wildlings to hear, even as she was gurgling saltwater. "The fucking kneelers are fucking using fucking magic!"
Wow, she really had the time and energy to throw f-bombs in there, huh?
As their ship sank into the icy waters, it got caught up one of the jutting rocks and just sort of froze there, creating a wall of jagged wooden planks for the next ship to just slam into, creating a cascade of destruction as the fleet just... blundered into each other, their hulls breaking apart upon impact and their decks immediately filling with water. More and more of them begin jumping out of their boats and just swimming towards the village, like a bunch of maniacs. A few of them drown and a few more die to the arrows, but a lot of them were going to make it to the beach, I figured, though I wasn't overly worried about that. If hypothermia didn't get to them first, then my [Chill Touch] definitely would and all I needed to do was to top their ankles one at a time until their little raiding party turned into a cripple party.
Actually, I had to wonder just what these lunatics were planning now that most of their ships were broken? Were they just going to swim all the way back to the snowy wonderland beyond the wall?
"Sorcerer!" I blinked, realizing that the voice came from right beside me. And, when I turned, I found a spear pointed right at my face.
Great.