- Location
- Brazil
On that note, perhaps we could finally decide what it does tonight, so you can give us the cost for any extraneous stuff and hopefully the time to craft it?
A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover
- Thread starter DragonParadox
- Start date
-
- Tags
- a song of ice and fire a sword without a hilt d&d 3.5 dungeons & dragons 100% high octane dragon fuel ave corvidae battle action dragon diplomacy best sister bureaucromancy delicious soul-stuff dragon dreams come true dragon ta'veren greatest uncle hubris is a coward's word in defiance of gods and men mammon's folly mutually assured mage's disjunction qm murderhobo top tier coatl
I'd like to know crafting time before voting, honestly.
- Location
- United Kingdom
[x] Duesal
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
That would be great. Once I know what it's going to cost, I can finalize the crafting schedule. Right now, I have most of Lya's time unassigned because of it.
Here's my entry, complete with a new name inspired by TNE;
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- Location
- Philippines
Here in the Philippines, Mamon is a cupcake.
Can we call the Arkduke of Greed, Cupcake? Pretty please?
[X] Duesal
- Location
- Argentina
I'm sorely tempted to call him Mr Cupcake from now on.
We just need an IC motive to do so.
- Location
- Philippines
His defeat tastes so sweet and soft and chewy in the inside?
- Location
- Australia
Cane beetles actually, and the fuckers can't even catch them cause they're too fat and lazy to reach that far up the cane stalk.
Sounds about right.
Canon Omake: Deadly Farce
- Location
- Germany
<< Previous
Anya didn't wake up with a start, going straight from the black embrace of unconsciousness to full alertness. The bards seemed fond of this idea, but it simply didn't hold up to scrutiny. They also seemed to forget the terrible headache a poisoning left you with. It was almost as if she was back in Gulltown and woke up after a night of downing the worst swill the docks had to offer. Instead she slowly drifted back, he eyes seeing her surroundings much earlier then her meandering thoughts were ready to address their observations. Around here were only crates, the vague brown shapes easily recognized even in the dark. Dockside then. One warehouse amidst hundreds.
It took a while longer for her to feel her limbs again and though it was good to learn that everything was still were it was supposed to be, she was hardly comfortable. Her feet had no ground beneath them. Instead her arms were uncomfortably, as she was bound at the wrists with a coarse rope and left to dangle from a beam above her like a ham. The simile had come uninvited to her mind and brought along the lingering worry that it was far more apt then she would have liked. The killer was a cruel creature. A fiend most likely. There was not much that the lawmen were taught about fiends, save for some general things on how to spot them and how they behaved when among mortals. The forked tongue was a dead give-away, now that her mind was no longer failing thanks to that blasted potion. Quietly she added wielding magic to the list of skills the killer had. It seemed such a reasonable idea to drink the stuff back then, while now she could not stop feeling like an idiot for having done so.
Apparently, this was it then. Outwitted by a shapechanging fiend that could make her dance like a puppet to his whims, then hung up to dry somewhere. There were certainly more embarrassing foes to fall against, though she generally would have still preferred to have the bastard clasped in iron then herself. Would her colleagues know? Would they even care? As far as they were concerned, she was the killer. She most certainly got blamed for Lares too and the fiend would most likely arrange something to make her death look like an accident. A gruesome one at that. The murderess dead while trying to flee from the law. A shame that nobody would ever get answers from her, but at least she was no longer at large. Tragic, especially that she was one of their own. Nobody would have ever thought it of her. Case closed. Let the scribe write up the summary and bring it to the archive. No need to ever think about Anya the Traitor ever again or look too closely at the bodies she left behind in her wake. And the bloody fiend would sit in a tavern and sip a glass of wine.
The sound of a bucket being emptied interrupted her fatalistic musings, drawing her attention to one corner of the warehouse where some hay was loosely stacked. A person was standing there, lighting a candle at that moment and banishing the darkness with some feeble, flickering light. Anya didn't need to see his face after turning around to know her captor. Who else could it be? Now she could see quite clearly that he was not human, the forked tongue peeking out of his mouth now and then joined by snake-like eyes and two small horns sprouting from his temples. A Devil then most likely. She dimly recalled being taught that they had the most human looking creatures among their number.
He still wore those Braavosi clothes, idly brushing over them as if to remove some lint from them. Then he looked back to her with an indulgent smile. "I apologize greatly for the circumstances that brought you here. Rest assured that I would have preferred other means."
"What means? That I follow you here as commanded by you 'willingly'?" Anya tried to spit at him, one of the very few means of defiance left to her. Alas, she never was any good at it and just awkwardly spat a glob somewhere right beneath her in roughly his direction. "You called it a mummers play. Is this then the part were the villain gloats about his masterful plan? Or do we directly proceed to the stalwart knight rescuing the fair maiden?"
The laughter coming from his mouth was almost alluring, were there not such deep and cruel satisfaction laid bare as the root of his mirth. "While I would not call you ugly my dear, fair is not a word I would use to describe you. As for the maidenhood, we both know that you left that behind quite a while ago. Quite amusing though that bring it up right here in a storehouse." He paused a moment and his smile faltered a tiny bit when Anya didn't deign this with a reply. She wouldn't reward a lucky guess. "I have to disappoint you in regards to the gloating too. It may be quite cathartic to indulge now and then, but I will reserve that for when I am back home. Recent events have made sure that I will have quite a few sycophants to listen to me when I return."
"Then why am I here? Just so you can savor killing me?" Her voice should have betrayed empty bravado at her impending fate, yet it didn't carry even a hint of fear, much to Anyas own surprise. Panic wouldn't improve her situation and most likely it was her fears and nightmares that this thing had used against her. At the very least she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her unnerved, though she held little hope that her nerves would hold if he started torturing her as he did the others.
"Oh, I can assure you that you will not die by my hand." With a sweeping gesture of his arm, he brought her attention to the many crates around them. The storehouse was half empty, but that just left the scattered towers of crates enough room to cast sinister shadows in the flickering candle-light. What the fiend apparently gladly indulged in was a sense of theatrics. "I have worked long and hard to come this far. Made quite a few bargains on the way and had my fair share of failures. The thing is though that one of those bargains stays my hand to get rid of those failures. They would just slip out of control the moment they knew me to be gone for good and that is something that might yet become a problem. Though if they are kept occupied for a while..."
As he trailed off, the vicious smirk returned in full force and Anya knew what he was getting at. "I'm bait."
"You could call it that." He shrugged and placed the candle-holder on one of the crates. "I would personally call you a toy, for they will hopefully play with you for a while. Meanwhile, I can take care of a few things and see myself out. It's hardly my fault if the little rascals had an accident while indulging themselves, don't you think?"
While he spoke, his features shifted right before Anyas eyes. Gone were the Braavosi clothes, the horns and the snake eyes, his whole body flowing as if made from wax. A heartbeat later, an entirely different man stood in the warehouse. A long blue beard and blue ponytail enclosed an elderly face which lacked any truly distinguishing features. From the sensible clothes had sprung a garish riot of patterns and colors, roughly arrayed in a robe of Tyroshi cut. Even his voice had changed, right in the middle of speaking.
But his new appearance made something click in place in Anyas mind. "You are the Tyroshi merchant. The one who bought the captains remaining cloth. Who had Lares smuggle strange dyes to the Deep." It took a moment for the last part of her deduction to sink in. Something Leani had said to her, what felt like a lifetime ago, and which had gnawed on her when Lares spoke about the dyes. "You are making a gift for the Deep. Something to pay back the King."
The grin of the fiend nearly threatened to split his face, showing all the warmth of a glacier and more teeth then any shark could ever have. "Ah, such razor sharp wit! I've took great care to make the others forget any details of my business with them, yet it seems I was not thorough enough. I'm impressed that the whore withstood my work so well and that you managed to snatch up enough morsels to see my hand in these events." He took a deep bow to her, like a mummer thanking the audience for appreciating his acting.
To him, it was a game. One that he was winning handily. It sickened Anya to realize this and yet she couldn't do anything about it. "You will never get away with this." It was such a stupid thing to say. Meaningless drivel. But it was something at least. Maybe the bards were right to let the figures in their plays spout such things so often. When you only meek weapon was your words, they were soothing to say.
"Spoken like a true hero. But let us not be hasty and ask our audience for their opinion, shall we?" He whistled once, a clear and piercing note reverberating through the warehouse. And then the giggling started. Voices like children filled the air with their mirth, but it was tainted. It was cruel and shrill. Hungry and deranged. Anyas eyes darted around the room, looking at the flickering shadows. They had began to move. Small bodies casting twisted silhouettes as their owners silently darted around between the crates.
The fiend spoke again, but her eyes kept roaming the room, trying to glimpse the true shape of whatever horror he had called forth. "Let me give you a small parting gift. We need to do this properly after all." She had barely noticed him approaching, but just as he had done, the shapes seemed to hesitate. They feared him and stayed away. When her eyes settled back on him, she saw the he held a card aloft. The Mage of Swords. Ser Royce, if she recalled right. The Knight of Thunder. "A Valeman for the Valewoman. Quite a fitting last card for your hand, don't you think?"
Mutely she stared at the card while he shoved it to the others in her coat. The time for banter seemed over. And so hers. The fiend stepped back to the corner, pausing next to the crate with the candle. "Well then. It is time for my trail to grow hot."
Anya was torn between watching him go and watching for the shadows, clinging to his presence as the one thing that extended the short time left for her. But at the odd turn of phrase, her full attention was back on him. "Don't they say that the trail grows cold?"
His hand rose towards the candle. "Not this time." And with a small flick of his finger, it tumbled into the straw.
AN: Final chapter tomorrow.
Deadly Farce
Anya didn't wake up with a start, going straight from the black embrace of unconsciousness to full alertness. The bards seemed fond of this idea, but it simply didn't hold up to scrutiny. They also seemed to forget the terrible headache a poisoning left you with. It was almost as if she was back in Gulltown and woke up after a night of downing the worst swill the docks had to offer. Instead she slowly drifted back, he eyes seeing her surroundings much earlier then her meandering thoughts were ready to address their observations. Around here were only crates, the vague brown shapes easily recognized even in the dark. Dockside then. One warehouse amidst hundreds.
It took a while longer for her to feel her limbs again and though it was good to learn that everything was still were it was supposed to be, she was hardly comfortable. Her feet had no ground beneath them. Instead her arms were uncomfortably, as she was bound at the wrists with a coarse rope and left to dangle from a beam above her like a ham. The simile had come uninvited to her mind and brought along the lingering worry that it was far more apt then she would have liked. The killer was a cruel creature. A fiend most likely. There was not much that the lawmen were taught about fiends, save for some general things on how to spot them and how they behaved when among mortals. The forked tongue was a dead give-away, now that her mind was no longer failing thanks to that blasted potion. Quietly she added wielding magic to the list of skills the killer had. It seemed such a reasonable idea to drink the stuff back then, while now she could not stop feeling like an idiot for having done so.
Apparently, this was it then. Outwitted by a shapechanging fiend that could make her dance like a puppet to his whims, then hung up to dry somewhere. There were certainly more embarrassing foes to fall against, though she generally would have still preferred to have the bastard clasped in iron then herself. Would her colleagues know? Would they even care? As far as they were concerned, she was the killer. She most certainly got blamed for Lares too and the fiend would most likely arrange something to make her death look like an accident. A gruesome one at that. The murderess dead while trying to flee from the law. A shame that nobody would ever get answers from her, but at least she was no longer at large. Tragic, especially that she was one of their own. Nobody would have ever thought it of her. Case closed. Let the scribe write up the summary and bring it to the archive. No need to ever think about Anya the Traitor ever again or look too closely at the bodies she left behind in her wake. And the bloody fiend would sit in a tavern and sip a glass of wine.
The sound of a bucket being emptied interrupted her fatalistic musings, drawing her attention to one corner of the warehouse where some hay was loosely stacked. A person was standing there, lighting a candle at that moment and banishing the darkness with some feeble, flickering light. Anya didn't need to see his face after turning around to know her captor. Who else could it be? Now she could see quite clearly that he was not human, the forked tongue peeking out of his mouth now and then joined by snake-like eyes and two small horns sprouting from his temples. A Devil then most likely. She dimly recalled being taught that they had the most human looking creatures among their number.
He still wore those Braavosi clothes, idly brushing over them as if to remove some lint from them. Then he looked back to her with an indulgent smile. "I apologize greatly for the circumstances that brought you here. Rest assured that I would have preferred other means."
"What means? That I follow you here as commanded by you 'willingly'?" Anya tried to spit at him, one of the very few means of defiance left to her. Alas, she never was any good at it and just awkwardly spat a glob somewhere right beneath her in roughly his direction. "You called it a mummers play. Is this then the part were the villain gloats about his masterful plan? Or do we directly proceed to the stalwart knight rescuing the fair maiden?"
The laughter coming from his mouth was almost alluring, were there not such deep and cruel satisfaction laid bare as the root of his mirth. "While I would not call you ugly my dear, fair is not a word I would use to describe you. As for the maidenhood, we both know that you left that behind quite a while ago. Quite amusing though that bring it up right here in a storehouse." He paused a moment and his smile faltered a tiny bit when Anya didn't deign this with a reply. She wouldn't reward a lucky guess. "I have to disappoint you in regards to the gloating too. It may be quite cathartic to indulge now and then, but I will reserve that for when I am back home. Recent events have made sure that I will have quite a few sycophants to listen to me when I return."
"Then why am I here? Just so you can savor killing me?" Her voice should have betrayed empty bravado at her impending fate, yet it didn't carry even a hint of fear, much to Anyas own surprise. Panic wouldn't improve her situation and most likely it was her fears and nightmares that this thing had used against her. At the very least she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her unnerved, though she held little hope that her nerves would hold if he started torturing her as he did the others.
"Oh, I can assure you that you will not die by my hand." With a sweeping gesture of his arm, he brought her attention to the many crates around them. The storehouse was half empty, but that just left the scattered towers of crates enough room to cast sinister shadows in the flickering candle-light. What the fiend apparently gladly indulged in was a sense of theatrics. "I have worked long and hard to come this far. Made quite a few bargains on the way and had my fair share of failures. The thing is though that one of those bargains stays my hand to get rid of those failures. They would just slip out of control the moment they knew me to be gone for good and that is something that might yet become a problem. Though if they are kept occupied for a while..."
As he trailed off, the vicious smirk returned in full force and Anya knew what he was getting at. "I'm bait."
"You could call it that." He shrugged and placed the candle-holder on one of the crates. "I would personally call you a toy, for they will hopefully play with you for a while. Meanwhile, I can take care of a few things and see myself out. It's hardly my fault if the little rascals had an accident while indulging themselves, don't you think?"
While he spoke, his features shifted right before Anyas eyes. Gone were the Braavosi clothes, the horns and the snake eyes, his whole body flowing as if made from wax. A heartbeat later, an entirely different man stood in the warehouse. A long blue beard and blue ponytail enclosed an elderly face which lacked any truly distinguishing features. From the sensible clothes had sprung a garish riot of patterns and colors, roughly arrayed in a robe of Tyroshi cut. Even his voice had changed, right in the middle of speaking.
But his new appearance made something click in place in Anyas mind. "You are the Tyroshi merchant. The one who bought the captains remaining cloth. Who had Lares smuggle strange dyes to the Deep." It took a moment for the last part of her deduction to sink in. Something Leani had said to her, what felt like a lifetime ago, and which had gnawed on her when Lares spoke about the dyes. "You are making a gift for the Deep. Something to pay back the King."
The grin of the fiend nearly threatened to split his face, showing all the warmth of a glacier and more teeth then any shark could ever have. "Ah, such razor sharp wit! I've took great care to make the others forget any details of my business with them, yet it seems I was not thorough enough. I'm impressed that the whore withstood my work so well and that you managed to snatch up enough morsels to see my hand in these events." He took a deep bow to her, like a mummer thanking the audience for appreciating his acting.
To him, it was a game. One that he was winning handily. It sickened Anya to realize this and yet she couldn't do anything about it. "You will never get away with this." It was such a stupid thing to say. Meaningless drivel. But it was something at least. Maybe the bards were right to let the figures in their plays spout such things so often. When you only meek weapon was your words, they were soothing to say.
"Spoken like a true hero. But let us not be hasty and ask our audience for their opinion, shall we?" He whistled once, a clear and piercing note reverberating through the warehouse. And then the giggling started. Voices like children filled the air with their mirth, but it was tainted. It was cruel and shrill. Hungry and deranged. Anyas eyes darted around the room, looking at the flickering shadows. They had began to move. Small bodies casting twisted silhouettes as their owners silently darted around between the crates.
The fiend spoke again, but her eyes kept roaming the room, trying to glimpse the true shape of whatever horror he had called forth. "Let me give you a small parting gift. We need to do this properly after all." She had barely noticed him approaching, but just as he had done, the shapes seemed to hesitate. They feared him and stayed away. When her eyes settled back on him, she saw the he held a card aloft. The Mage of Swords. Ser Royce, if she recalled right. The Knight of Thunder. "A Valeman for the Valewoman. Quite a fitting last card for your hand, don't you think?"
Mutely she stared at the card while he shoved it to the others in her coat. The time for banter seemed over. And so hers. The fiend stepped back to the corner, pausing next to the crate with the candle. "Well then. It is time for my trail to grow hot."
Anya was torn between watching him go and watching for the shadows, clinging to his presence as the one thing that extended the short time left for her. But at the odd turn of phrase, her full attention was back on him. "Don't they say that the trail grows cold?"
His hand rose towards the candle. "Not this time." And with a small flick of his finger, it tumbled into the straw.
AN: Final chapter tomorrow.
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- Location
- Brazil
Watch as @Crake writes 10k words to the sound of America, Fuck Yeah!
Does it increase AC by a whole 10 points?
Why do you give out an epic enhancement bonus?
Does it increase AC by a whole 10 points?
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
Huh?
Are you talking about the Natural Armor bonus? Does +6 really count as Epic? Okay, easy enough to fix.
- Location
- Germany
All according to keikaku.
- Location
- Mexico
Oh god this is hilarious hahahaha, poor guy.
"Foolish mortals, stealing from me! I shall unleash torments upon their souls as the spheres have not seen for an age!"
....
"But maybe, just in case i should take one of these, just to show them after my victory that my very Big brain had thought of every possible scenario, and planned for It"
*Grabs a bead*
"On second thought, i am me! I am rich! I can afford any number of treasures! Muahahaha!"
*Grabs a second one*
*Remembers the rumours about what happens to the turtles*
"I mean, three is kind of my number, very special number, no reason why i cant take one more"
*Grabs one more bead*
"Sir! The contract is signed! You need to move now!"
"I'm coming i'm coming! No need to get on my shell about this!"
...
"My case, i meant my case"
...
"Are you taking that box with you sir?"
"No of course not, i was just checking, have to make sure everything accounted for, you know, my job?"
"So, you are going then?"
"I already told you i am, damn, why the hurry, its like you guys think i'm a turtle or something hehe, maybe you should bring some nice lettuce down here just in case, hehe"
- Location
- Germany
Ever since being told he had those, it's my dream to turtle a divine Avatar.
It has a +4 to existing natural armor, then a +6 enhancement bonus. As written, they stack. +6 is fine, +10 is a problem.
- Location
- United States
Same here!
I'm really hoping Tiamat tries to send another Aspect after us.
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
That's not what it does at all and I'm surprised @TotallyNotEvil of all people was confused by that. If he was?
...the wearer gains a +6 Enhancement bonus to their Natural Armor...
...If they already possess Natural Armor, it increases by +4...
If you don't have Natural Armor you gain a +6 Natural Armor bonus. If you do have Natural Armor, you instead gain a +4 bonus to that. You don't gain +6, and then because you have that +6, gain another +4.
- Location
- Brazil
Anyway, here's mine, inspired by @Deliste 's:
The Serpent's Sin: Stripped from the hide of the Avatar of Mammon, Lord of Greed and Archduke of Minauros, this fine-scaled cloak shimmers like polished gold and its golden clasps, though cool to the touch, glow as if freshly poured from the crucible. If one looks closely, rather than scales, the cloak actually appears to be formed of overlapping and interlocking coins which seem to slowly flow, as if part of a river of never ending gold.
The Serpent's Sin: Stripped from the hide of the Avatar of Mammon, Lord of Greed and Archduke of Minauros, this fine-scaled cloak shimmers like polished gold and its golden clasps, though cool to the touch, glow as if freshly poured from the crucible. If one looks closely, rather than scales, the cloak actually appears to be formed of overlapping and interlocking coins which seem to slowly flow, as if part of a river of never ending gold.
- The Price of Greed: Whenever you are the target of a ranged or ranged touch attack, you may deflect the attack either towards a new target within 30ft or the original attacker. Resolve the attack as normal. If you are attacked with a melee weapon, and the resulting roll is at least as high as your Touch AC, you may make a Disarm attemp as if you had the Improved Disarm feat. On success, the offending weapon is instantly drawn into the cloak's interior. This ability effectively negates the attack, as the weapon sinks into the cloak's depths instead of flesh. These abilities are Free Actions to activate, don't provoke attacks of opportunity, and may only be used three times a day in total.
- The wearer gains a +5 Enhancement bonus to their Natural Armour.
- The wearer gains the benefits of Awaken Spell Resistance. (provisory)
- The interior of the cloak acts as a Handy Haversack, but with a considerably larger storage capacity. While the weight of objects stored within the cloak is meaningless, its maximum volume cannot exceed 6,000 cubic feet, and no object larger than Huge-sized may be absorbed.
- Only one responsible for the death of an Avatar of Mammon may utilize the Price of Greed ability. Those who do not meet such criteria and attempt to utilize the cloak's extradimensional pockets will have their belongings disintegrate inside 2d4+4 hours, unless the objects stored within are Artifacts or have a caster level greater than the cloak, at which point they are transported to a random spot in the Astral Plane after the said period of time.
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Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
Can you add an enhancement to Spell Resistance, if the wearer already has SR? It's pretty fitting, considering the Avatar had SR 34.
- Location
- Brazil
You don't need to have NA to benefit from the enhancement, it's treated as 0 and you gain the enhancement from that.
The way you worded it, it seemed as there were two separate effects:
- +6 enhancement to NA.
- If you have any NA at all, it's increased by 4 and you gain extra SR.
You didn't tipify the bonus on the second instance, or even added a "it instead increases by 4".
- Location
- Australia
It's a nice cloak but I still prefer mine, at the end of the day I have a theme in mind and deflection or buff fuel doesn't quite fit with it.
My cloak eats threats and protects our hoard, it's basically the Embodiment of Hoarding, thematically appropriate for Mammon and his skin's new owner what with us being a Dragon and all.
Is this being voted on now? Kinda got a busy work day ahead but if someone could tag me so I could get a vote in that would be much appreciated.
- Location
- United States
It's not being voted on now, we're just discussing.
- Location
- Brazil
I found a fitting way to add it: Awaken SR.