World creator system

Dark clouds hung low over King's Landing as

In a fury borne of grief and vengeance for the loss of his brother, King Aenys, and his nephews, Princes Aegon and Viserys, Maegor Targaryen unleashed a display of ruthlessness that would echo through Westerosi history.

Maegor was angry he quickly rushed out ordering his men."Go and round up the men, meet me at Sept of Remembrance in Seven's Hill."

Maegor's loyal followers Ser Bramm of Blackhull, Ser Rayford Rosby, Ser Guy Lothston, and Lord Lucifer Massey nodded and rushed to gather the army.

While Visenya and Alyssa Velaryon was about calm him down. Merlin stopped them and said."He needs this, he is grieving and angry. Also, Faith of seven needs to be kept in check, them assainating a king is out of control."

Visenya agreed, but she didn't want Maegor to lose his calm.

Maegor Targaryen, clad in black armor, mounted his colossal dragon, Balerion. His face was grim, his eyes cold, reflecting the depths of his grief and the fire of his vengeance. The great dragon's scales shimmered like molten night, muscles rippling as it stretched its wings wide. With a deafening roar, Balerion took to the sky, a shadow falling over the capital, as if the city itself sensed the fury that would soon rain down.

Below, the faithful gathered in the grand Sept of Remembrance, the Warrior's Sons in their silvered armor, heads bowed in reverence as they offered their prayers. The light of dawn filtered through the sept's high windows, casting gentle hues over the sacred space. But their peace was short-lived.

Without warning, a shadow eclipsed the sun. Heads turned, eyes widening in terror as the unmistakable silhouette of Balerion loomed above. Maegor gave no words, no declarations; his vengeance was a silent decree from the skies. He urged Balerion forward, and with an earth-shaking roar, the dragon unleashed a torrent of fire. Flames poured down like a divine scourge, scorching the sept's ancient walls, its pillars, and all who stood within.

Panic surged through the faithful, cries of horror rising as men scrambled for any exit they could find. Flames licked across stone and flesh, the air thick with black smoke and the stench of burning. Warrior's Sons attempted to flee, pushing and shoving against the crush of bodies, but outside the sept, Maegor's archers and spearmen waited in grim silence. Arrows flew, cutting down those who dared escape the inferno.

The screams of the dying filled the city, a terrible chorus that echoed through every street and alley. Onlookers cowered in their homes, hearing the cries but too afraid to venture out. The skies themselves seemed to darken, a cloud of ash rising high above the sept, drifting over King's Landing. For seven days, this smothering pall hung in the air, blotting out the sun and casting a shadow over the city, a constant reminder of the wrath that had razed the sacred ground.

As the smoke settled over the ruins of the Sept of Remembrance, Maegor's guards dragged forth a lone survivor. Covered in ash, his robes singed and his skin marred with burns, Septon Menos—a man whose name was feared among the followers of the Faith—was thrown to his knees before Maegor. His body shook with pain and terror as he looked up into the cold, merciless eyes of the Targaryen prince.

Maegor stepped closer, his voice a low growl that echoed off the stone walls. "Tell me everything."

Menos choked back a sob, shuddering as he whispered, "I... I don't know. I was following orders… I was only his servant."

Maegor's face darkened, his fury swelling. "Whose orders?"

The septon trembled, his voice barely audible. "High Septon Pael… it was him. He commanded it all."

Behind Maegor, Merlin's eyes narrowed as he pieced the plot together. "The High Septon… he resides at the Starry Sept in Oldtown."

Maegor turned to Merlin, his voice steely with resolve. "Tell my mother to meet me there."

With a silent nod, Merlin slipped into the shadows, bound for his own grim task.

Maegor, wasting no time, mounted Balerion once more. The mighty dragon spread his wings, and with a single beat, lifted into the sky, tearing through the air toward Oldtown.

In Oldtown, news of the destruction reached the High Septon's ears, and he paled, desperate for protection. He summoned Ser Morgan Hightower and two hundred Warrior's Sons, the elite force of the Faith, to guard the Starry Sept. But even the strongest fortress is frail in the face of dragonfire.

The sky darkened as the dragons approached. Maegor astride Balerion, Visenya on Vhagar. From below, the gathered Warrior's Sons looked up, their courage fading as they glimpsed the titanic creatures soaring overhead, scales glinting ominously against the dimming sky. Some prayed, some trembled, and others turned to run, their hearts seized with terror.

Visenya and Vhagar struck first. In a single, sweeping arc, Vhagar unleashed torrents of fire that engulfed the ground. Warriors screamed as they were swallowed by the inferno; metal melted, and flesh turned to ash. Ser Morgan Hightower, resolute to the end, stood his ground, his sword raised as if to defy the dragons. But even he fell, his form disappearing beneath the waves of flame.

Maegor circled overhead, watching the remaining few scatter like ants. Balerion let loose a roar that shook the very earth before the dragon descended upon the Starry Sept itself. In moments, flames raged through the ancient building, the grand seat of the Faith crumbling beneath the onslaught. Stone cracked and shattered, statues of the Seven crumbled, and every inch of the sept was reduced to smoldering ruin.

When the fire finally died, there was nothing left of the Starry Sept but charred stone and ash. The destruction was complete. Maegor had not only avenged his family but left a mark of terror that would haunt the Faith of the Seven for generations.