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

Seventeenth Day of the Fourth Month 293 AC

Though wary of speaking too much lest the lady in Saan's arms should prove unreliable, you answer his concerns forthrightly: "The Basilisk Isles are a strategic location for me. Close to Sothoryos and far away from any other power which could reasonably stop us from taking them. This is not a foolish attempt to take whatever is in reach, but an investment. Trade will flow between Sothoryos and Essos in time, making the man controlling such strategic ports rich as sin and courted by all from Braavos to Volantis. And his raiding fleets feared from Slavers Bay to Yi-Ti."

The pirate lord looks at you in askance: "You mean to raise cities out of the jungle, on the far shore? Hot though a dragon's fire may burn, I am not sure it is hot enough to burn those sodden lands bare. It is bad enough to come ashore on the isles where the sea might keep painted lizards, brindled men, and strange plagues at bay, but not hardly one ship of every two that makes shore on Sothoryos returns to port, and its not that sea that takes most of them to hear sailors talk."

"Cities have been built there before, a thousand ruins scattered across the shore from Gogossos to Gorash. Were they greater men than us to raise those stones, lord Saan?" you answer with a question of your own.

The old pirate opens his mouth to answer with passion, then thinks the better of it, giving a rumbling laugh. "You'd almost rouse a corpse to sail out talking like that, but I'll need more than that to raise worthy havens for trade and raiding both."

"Worry not, I will have a vested interest in seeing such ports built, ships and crews brought to the islands, and ample work supplied for the taxmen. Wealth and men will flow as soon as the first island is taken," you answer, secretly admiring the streak of stubborn practicality so at odds with his flamboyant dress. "For my part I shall be quite content with my small cut that the taxmen will bring and the knowledge that there are strong ports and fast ships to enforce my will upon these seas."

"Music to my ears, Your Grace," Saan assures you with a wide bright smile.

"That music wouldn't happen to sound like coins jingling, would it?" you ask, matching the expression if in a somewhat more restrained manner.

"Now that you mention it, mayhap it does," he laughs.

"Go then," you command. "Bring me those islands, Salladhor, and I will turn them into something that lords and ladies the world over will envy you for."

To your somewhat amused surprise he bows with a flourish worthy of the Triarchs' Court in Volantis. "At once, Your Grace." Then his gaze slips sideways to his companions and amends. "In an hour... no, make that two."

You leave, a wry smile still on your face, closing the cabin door firmly behind you.

On your way to meet the others you almost forget your new-made grimoire for it is still strange that you would posses such a thing, some unruly fragment of draconic pride rebelling against its very existence even as you pick up the slim leather bound, gold-clasped tome wrought of Lya's deeper studies into the arcane. No mere notebook of seals and rituals from which your eyes slip like water off oiled leather, but words of power inked in your own blood, all but searing the parchment upon which they were set with the weigh sorcery within. The irony of most of the arcane witting within the book's pages being enchantments that keep it from falling to ashes does not escape you.

Thus you arrive back in the keep's great hall, Ser Richard, Bronn, Malarys, and Vee are already there, the girl already holding a vial, swirling with faintly glowing red mist, the gorgon bull ready to harvest. Xor floats in a few minutes later, looking quite incongruous with all manner of supplies strapped to himself 'just in case they should be needed'.

Maelor and a rather harried-looking Dany arrive late. "Sorry... It wasn't easy convincing Embra that she shouldn't come with us and should keep to exploring safer places until she gets her footing," she explains.

"Maybe you should let her come then," Bronn speaks up. "Noble girl or o she's got some magic right? What's the worst that could happen?"

"War the likes of which the world has not seen in ages beyond knowing," Malarys announces making no attempt to hide his annoyance at the sellsword's nonchalance.

"Let's just be off before she has another change of heart," you interject before the conversation can get out of hand.

[] Write in preparations for the journey

OOC: I was about two paragraphs into the fight when I realized I did not give you guys time to vote for preparations, which would have been a major oversight in terms of questing since I need to know what tools the expedition will have to handle any problems thrown at it.