Skyrim System In Westeros

Near Grey Gallows Island, seven or eight pirate ships were in hot pursuit of three grand vessels. The sails of the three Reach ships had long been burned away, and the fires extinguished. Below deck, oarsmen shouted in unison, rowing with all their might. The Reach fleet had been scattered, leaving only these three ships retreating as fast as they could. The pirate ships, swift and relentless, followed closely.

The pirates, having used flaming arrows to destroy the sails, refrained from boarding the ships outright. Instead, they fired volleys of arrows to keep the sailors at bay, clearly waiting for the oarsmen to collapse from exhaustion. When the three ships finally slowed, the pirate vessels converged. These three grand and luxurious ships were prime prizes for the pirates, who sought to board and capture their noble occupants.

Randyll Tarly, now bald with a gleaming scalp, stood on the deck wielding Heartsbane in one hand and a shield in the other. He barked orders: "All soldiers and sailors, grab your shields and weapons! Prepare for battle!"

"Don't stop rowing! A relief fleet is just ahead!" shouted another armored knight as he rushed over, issuing conflicting commands.

Randyll grabbed the knight by his chest plate, pulling him forward. "You Hightower pup! Naval combat may be your specialty, but the pirates clearly intend to board and take us alive. If you don't let me take command, you'll all be fish food!"

The young Hightower knight hesitated — Randyll was overstepping his authority, as the knight was technically the captain. But Randyll released him and gestured to the chaos. "Look around you! The pirate ships are closing in. Do you want to live or die?"

The knight relented. "All soldiers and sailors, hear me! Lord Randyll Tarly is now in command. Everyone, out of the cabins and onto the deck!"

Garlan Tyrell, limping heavily and covered in blood, approached Randyll. He had been gravely injured in earlier skirmishes, taking five arrows and two sword wounds. Randyll glanced at him and shoved him toward the stairs. "Get back to the cabin! You're their primary target!"

"If I go below, they'll aim their heavy crossbows at you!" Garlan refused firmly.

There was no time for further argument. Randyll turned his focus to organizing the defense. The sailors and soldiers, many of whom were still arming themselves, were caught off guard as the ship suddenly lurched to one side. Both Randyll and Garlan nearly lost their footing.

"Kill everyone on board!"

"No, capture that pretty one alive!"

The pirate ships, swift and agile, rammed into the grand vessel, latching on. A horde of black-clad pirates swarmed aboard, their filthy tongues spouting curses in a cacophony of accents. Their eyes fell on Garlan Tyrell, and they surged toward him.

The deck erupted into chaos as the soldiers, sailors, and pirates clashed. Steel met steel, and cries of battle filled the air. "Second line, hold steady!" Randyll Tarly barked as he shielded Garlan, cutting down pirates while issuing commands to maintain the formation.

Despite his injuries, Garlan Tyrell fought on, unwilling to let himself be captured. He knew that surrender meant death—or worse.

Most of the soldiers and sailors wore no armor, unlike the nobles who bore steel protection. The pirates' overwhelming numbers quickly began to take their toll. For every pirate cut down, more climbed over the ship's sides, eager to join the fray.

Randyll's two sons emerged from below deck, armed and ready. The elder, Samwell Tarly, was portly and hesitant, his sword trembling in his hands. He stayed close to his younger brother, Dickon, who was taller, stronger, and more skilled with a blade. Dickon cut a path through the melee, steadily making his way toward their father.

The deck before Garlan and Randyll Tarly was drenched in blood, the thick red layer mixing with the bodies of both the Reach soldiers and the pirates. Only about twenty of their men were still standing, and they had been pushed back to the vicinity of the cabin.

"Reinforcements are coming! Hold your ground!" Randyll Tarly shouted, swinging Heartsbane at another pirate. But then, suddenly, he froze.

A deep hum filled the air as a massive crossbow bolt shot through the air, piercing Randyll's body and flying into the sea. He looked down at the gaping hole in his chest before collapsing, his eyes wide open, never to close again.

"Lord Tarly!"

"Father!"

The cries of his sons and soldiers were drowned out by the pirates' cheers of victory. On one of the nearby pirate ships, Euron Greyjoy pushed aside the crossbow, satisfied with the kill, and his face twisted into a strange smile as he surveyed the scene.

He began rubbing his already damaged chin, scraping off large chunks of skin, and eventually yanked the skin off his lower face, revealing a black iron jaw underneath.

A horn sounded in the distance, signaling the pirates to retreat. They quickly pulled back, leaving the Reach ships behind as dozens of warships flying the crowned stag sigil appeared on the horizon, swiftly sailing toward the battle.

---

Tyrosh

In the castle's war room, the Archon of Tyrosh stared at the city's defense plans while listening to the furious complaints of the Tattered Prince.

The Tattered Prince, commander of the Windblown mercenaries, was now in charge of the city's defenses. He slammed his hand down on the map. "The Windblown are holding this position, but the Company of the Cat should have been defending here. Where are they? Are we supposed to die in their place?"

The Archon tried to calm him. "I've already urged them to hurry."

"And what about Myr and Lys? Where is their support?" The Tattered Prince's patience was wearing thin. "We are mercenaries, Archon. You pay us to fight, not to be your pawns in a losing game!"

The Archon sighed. "Let me explain. I've just received news that Volantis has mobilized both its navy and army."

The Tattered Prince paused, his anger still simmering. He motioned for the Archon to continue.

"Volantis' navy is advancing along the coast, forcing Lys to fortify its defenses. The two fleets are now facing each other at sea. Meanwhile, Volantis' army has marched into the Disputed Lands, and Myr's governors have sent their troops to counter them. It's still unclear if Volantis plans to take advantage of this chaos or if they've secretly allied with the Seven Kingdoms. If Myr and Lys get involved, their cities will be vulnerable to Volantis, and Myr's fleet has already been called back to defend."

The Tattered Prince's expression darkened, but he nodded in understanding. "You need more mercenaries."

"I've already sent word out. The price we're offering is higher than ever," the Archon replied. "And there's some good news: Euron Greyjoy's pirate fleet attacked the Reach's navy and nearly captured Garlan Tyrell himself."

The Tattered Prince smirked. "I underestimated Euron. If he can delay them at sea, it'll work in our favor."

The Archon smiled faintly. "He's a master of surprise. Euron says the Seven Kingdoms' nobles haven't fought a real war in nearly a decade. Their armies look large, but most of their commanders are young and inexperienced. I'm coordinating with Tyrosh's navy to harass their forces and wear them down."

The Tattered Prince nodded, somewhat reassured. He then turned to a different issue. "What about the Company of the Cat? They've had conflicts with my men. You need to make it clear that I'm in charge of the city's defense now."

"I'll handle it," the Archon said, though the weight of the situation was clearly taking its toll on him.

With mercenaries, pirates, and unreliable allies all threatening to turn against him, the Archon was already making contingency plans for a hasty escape should things go wrong.