A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover

One of them that I'll talk about is that the only contemporary example in-setting that is even close to having as many distinct roles (cavalry (knight and freerider doctrine), pikemen, elephant riders, archers) is the Golden Company, with its own ranks and formal doctrine. The Legions of New Ghis are a pale shadow of their forebears, and the Unsullied are more like marionettes who are only decent at the one role they're drilled for.

Even the "professional" units in Westeros are not organized like a military, merely retainers meant to keep at certain levels of war readiness, and explicitly drilled for personal combat rather than unit fighting. All unit drills happen in the months proceeding battles, and that is merely to keep levies from breaking coherency.

The Legion will have both a heavy cavalry and light cavalry, one drilled and specialized as shock cavalry and the other for out-riding, patrolling, reconnaissance and raiding. Despite how well equipped our Lancers are, it is merely because of their main focus being the battlefield that allows them to keep up with their counterparts in the Chivalry of Westeros. In comparison, our Scouts have it tough. They have many duties to be seen to, and they will have to drill and train for all of them. Truly, they will be one of the most integral parts of our war doctrine. Both armored and armed with the finest steel available, plate armor and reinforced breast plates.

Next we have the core unit, the Infantrymen. Trained as sword and board heavy infantry, marching in tight formation, they are the toughest nut to crack, striding forth and striking at whatever unit in front of them precisely and steadily until the butcher's bill pays in their favor, or standing fast and breaking up enemy charges in concert with a volly of bolts from the backline and battlefield control from mages, using javelins and then sheer grit, whittling away at whatever sloppy formation finally reaches them. Again, armored in full plate armor of masterwork quality, superior to the foot levies, man at arms or mercenaries expected to match them in pretty much any corner of the world barring Slaver's Bay or the plains of Joghos N'hai where our arch-enemies lay.

The Crossbowmen are similarly in truncated armor our Scouts share, much better than chain or leather, using high quality Myrish or Fey crossbows, giving them essential range and punch. While without a doubt similarly drilled longbow men will have a better output than them, crossbows are easy to drill with, and in a pinch, they are more than well equipped to draw their swords and meet an enemy in melee with better odds than their equivalents without the same sloppiness (it's easier to find hunters or the like accurate with a bow, but absolute shit otherwise at defending themselves in close quarters. Professionals are expected to know how to wield all their weapons. These are professionals.) While seemingly not as impressive as the above, they allow us to skirmish quite effectively. Nine times out of ten, our enemy will detest trading volleys with us, because our troops' rate of fire will remain steady under fire themselves.

Finally, our Assault Troopers, or Shocktroops, will be the vanguard of any major assault. While our regular Legionnaires are excellent at digging into a melee and slowly pushing their way forward, or holding their ground, these men are specialized for plugging a gap or making one. They swing their Mercurial Fullblades, and on their charges deliver massive damage to the enemy front rank. They are armored in gear a Knight would envy, with blades that make Westeros question their own masculinity. Uthero and his friends would believe we are the ones perpetuating the stereotype.

And most of these men are Essosi. And they are utter maniacs while doing it. If any of those Braavosi ever considered joining the Legion, they would want to be Officers here.

These men wear fire-blackened armor, which looks much like this:



This is done using oil, which helps prevent corrosion in the field. It is what perpetuated the image of the "black knight", though historians believe that many men who owned such heavy armor blackened their gear, leading one to believe the "knight in shining armor" trope was mostly filled by those who could afford the maintenance of such armor in favor of maintaining a certain image, or was used for merely ceremonial purposes. It is not glossy and the matte color lends a certain degree of a "means business" aesthetic.

This is paired with the classic german gothic bevor/sallet helmet.


Along with a red cloak, this allows the Legion to cut an intimidating figure of uniformity and authority. They cannot be mistaken for anything other than household troops of House Targaryen.

A whole army of them.

Each Legion is around 8,360 combat personnel (10,290 including noncombatants).

A standard Host would be 25,080 (30,870).

I predict each of the Disputed Lands could easily field 3 Legions a piece with their standard incomes. SD could easily afford a Legion with our direct incomes alone.

After securing our rear, so to speak, by folding in local units (the Banners of Volantis, regional mercenaries, standing guards, basically anyone who could cause some chaos while our troops are away during that timeframe), in the coming months, I expect we could field anywhere from 10 to 12 Legions against Westeros when the time comes.

That's 83,600-100,360 combat troops (102,900-123,480 military personnel). That's in effect, a host to match the entire muster of the Reach.

Meaning we could probably make three or four landings simultaneously if we really wanted to.

If you're going to outdo the fucking Blackfyres, this is how you fucking do it.

FIN.

Edit: Better physical description, courtesy of @Diomedon:

Diomedon said:

So I was trying to envision our legionnaires, and realized that they're going to be fairly distinctive looking. With the extreme shield's description, it's really a steel hoplon, or aspis. It's strapped to the arm, and gripped at the edge, with the other edge resting on the shoulder (distributing the weight and force of blows more evenly). The Tararyen sigil is perfectly suited for display on a circular shield, and with fabricate it shouldn't be too difficult to have it embossed on the shields.

The thinblades can share the scaled look we mentioned for Valaena's sword we're going to give her for the hilt, and a makers mark of the targ sigil (again). With the (currently) unique design and above-average craftsmanship, I think it would be pretty identifiable.

For the plate armor, it actually makes the most sense to be a bit asymmetrical (well, for non-officers at least). The shield covers the left shoulder/armpit, so it doesn't need pauldrons or rondels, just spaulders will do. I prefer pauldrons over rondels, so a pauldron for the right arm. In terms of helmets, I'm a fan of the german gothic style bevor/sallet combo, at least for the linemen, since it reduces moving parts, but still provides full head/neck protection (officers can have the fancier close helms, with visor).

Now, the armor is going to be mass produced, not bespoke, so it's all going to need to be adjusted a little by blacksmiths before it's properly fitted for use. Fortunately, that gives us an opportunity to both help in long term maintenance, and also get a little more style in. Since they already need to do a little work on the pieces, and given all the fancy things they do with armor in canon, simple blackening of the steel should be straightforward to do at that point, and will help reduce rust and corrosion. Add in a simple red tabard, and paint the emboss on the shield red, and you have very impressive looking heavy infantry in Targaryen colors for little extra cost.

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Edit:

Viserys, according to Uncle Aemon, on the eve of Conquest:

Twenty Sixth Day of the Fourth Month 293 AC

Rather than descend into the depths of the necropolis, risking the wrath of the ancient dead and whatever other traps Tor has set in his fetid kingdom, you decide instead to let Yss' power decide the battle. As the others array before you armed and armored for battle not only in steel but sorceries also, you take on a dragon's form and raise the Staff of Ages high over the burial mound chanting the verses writ upon its length, rising and falling like the hiss of the wind through the marsh cane....

The spirit lizard had long returned to its tree that it might guard the eggs still in its keeping and even the beasts all around seemed to have some inkling of the power called forth, dominion over life and death. The minutes slip by to the almost hypnotic rhythm of the chant, every syllable bringing you one moment closer to triumph.

"Five hunters glamoured to be unseen, to the south, with bows!" Xor's voice echoed inside your mind, and from the ways the others sensed theirs as well, though the spectator continued to float lazily above the marshgrass.

Alas some gesture must have given the knowledge away, for not half a breath later the sound of bowstrings snapping in unison echoes through the clearing and five arrows arc through the air directly towards Lya. One burns in a flash of cerulean light as the simple trustworthy silver amulet, first of all enchantments she had wrought, wards it away, but the others find their mark. The first three slide off her skin as the earth's vitality wards her, but the last lodges itself painfully in her knee.

Lya loses 26 temporary Hit Points

Lya takes 13 damage

"I think the arrows are poisoned!" Lya called through the pain, though her hands already move in the complex gestures of spell-weaving, undaunted.

Maelor proves quicker than her, quicker even than the fiery rage that bubbles up within you, making you lose your place in the ritual. Thus your first sight of the Serpent kin is illuminated by hungry flames as the archers struggle to untangle themselves from the underbrush that had been shielding them moments before. Straps of scaled leather meant to hold supplies and weapons, including a short stabbing spear and a buckler made from the bone plates of some titan lizard, crisscross their chests and legs as they obviously trust their own scales to ward then against the common dangers of the jungle. Delicate fangs curved like daggers flash as they open their mouths in pain or anger, but not to call out, though from their gestures you guess that they are communing in some manner, perhaps mind speech.


Lightning falls in the fire's wake rained down from Waymar's hand, striking down two of the wounded archers and leaving another so badly charred he has to lean on his buckling knees, but is soon dispatched by Xor. For once the Valeman does not throw himself into the fray, perhaps because like you he suspects this is not the main attack.

No sooner had the thought crossed your mind that the earth near Tyene and Lya bursts open to reveal a torrent of slithering yellow bone held together by foul sorcery. Sickly yellow smoke pours around it, weeping from eyes in an almost human skull but for the hungrily distended jaw. Though the shape of the bones recalls the serpent sorceress of Mantarys the festering corruption in that gaze recalls something older, darker, a name to conjure one of the horrors that even the Freehold's conjurers feared, for it bespoke of one of the darkest fates they might be consigned to: Bodak.


Reeling and pale from the creature's dreadful visage, Tyene calls down fire from the heavens in a raging pillar, though the thing slithers aside shedding the worst of the spell, though the motion sets its deformed head just close enough to the ground for Garin to drive his rapier through it even as its tail sweeps the Dornishwoman off her feet and begins squeezing her in its bony coils. Seeing this Lya casts a shroud of golden life upon the horror, anathema to its accursed existence.

Tyene gains 2 negative levels

Tynne takes 22 damage

The thing is wavering, but not yet fallen, and so Bronn and Ser Richard charge it raining upon it blow after blow, dragonsteel and enchanted silver ringing side by side.

"Have you no respect for the dead?" the cold mocking question ringing inside your mind is spoken in dreadfully familiar tones, though the being that materializes beside Bronn recalls nothing of Tor's from before or after the transformation. Garbed in robes of pale blue and bearing a dagger of some strange crimson crystal in one hand and a black rod in the other, he utters but a single poisoned syllable, to sunder the protections upon the warrior's mind, but to your shock as much as his the protection holds, and so he casts again in full and this time the ward fails.


In the same instant two more of the smoke-weeping monstrosities burst from the muddy earth on either side of you.

What do you do?

[] Write in battle plan

OOC: You, Vee, and Malarys have yet to move this round. Also, poor Tor, he crit failed his quickened dispel against the PfE and that was the only way it could fail. Still, he is far from out of the fight, and it is pretty clear he is going to try some kind of compulsion on Bronn next turn.