Lifespark Gem plus the Advanced Template. Our Raven Constructs and Elemental Wyrmlings weren't supposed to be Intelligent, but they gained it as a side-effect of the Lifespark Gem. No reason a souped up Tattoo Guardian can't benefit from the same.

Would this take up a teleport slot?

If so, do you think we can throw money at it untill it dosen't? :p

(Even if it does take a slot, Lya will still be worth getting one for, but not so much for other party members, imo).
 
Canon Omake: Divide and Conquer
Divide and Conquer
Twenty-Seventh Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC

At the moment, Beren was not acting as Lord Dynymion. He was not the Keyholder who had shirked and shriven before his father, a man who he still looked over his shoulder for whenever someone thought to address him as such, who at the last had just barely forgiven him on his death bed for time spent on the frivolities of the Dancing Blade. Though he had since shed the dark cloak of Braavosi aristocracy, as well as the peacock assortment of garish colors of the young bravo, he was at heart a questing man who thirsted for justice the world had long denied.

The bright red cloak hanging about his shoulders seemed to strike a fine compromise between the two, when married to the soot-blackened plate that a water dancer wouldn't dare be caught in. A Dragon's Talon, however, need their scales as much as their claws...

And the massive blade he used to cleave in twain the 'bandit' rebel before him, was as fine a claw as any. They fell messily onto the shattered rain-slicked cobbles, war-cry a ragged gasp through pale lips.

The fighting jerked to a sudden stand still, grim soldiers gathered together in a deluge of falling rain, mud and blood coating their armor and blades while the distant shouts of sergeants from the Shields a fair distance away indicated that their headlong charge into the rebel invested town had not gone unnoticed. That his men had followed him out of sheer surprise as much as loyalty...

Enough, Beren had spat, I'll do it myself!

The Captain could not deny the results. It had at least lit a fire under their asses, he thought, though he would concede only the fact that he had been given leave to 'commit where you think the hammer blow best placed' made the move merely bold, rather than outright insubordinate. It also spoke highly of the Legion's light horse and their ability to deter flanking action against the Dragon's Talons by not-quite incompetent enemy cavalry.

The sellsword leader dismounted, sizing Beren up, having the gait of a predator which he knew well by experience. So this is that Fey-touched black-heart, he thought. They had been played for fools by him for the last two weeks in this short campaign alone, and now he was cornered. Whatever side of the sheets a man was born on, they all bleed the same... some more prettily than others.

By unspoken agreement both sides cleared ground at but a glance from the two. Pure theater, but this wasn't a mere slaver, or anything so pedestrian as a simple mercenary, he was some kind of by the roots revolutionary who brayed that the Marches should secede, owing their rebellion as proof of the affront and 'cowardice and abject prostration' of the more soft-palmed magisters standing on the council. Beren considered it more shrewd than anything else.

No one wants to be reduced to fine ashes by dragon's fire.

They did not speak, for all that, and had the man been anyone else Beren likely would have ordered a charge then and there and simply cut them down like dogs... but this one was clever. Cut him down neat and quick and they'd make a martyr out of him, worse still he had freedmen's courage at his back, the opportunistic and those angered at the idea they would be 'granted freedom' by the masters they had dreamed of stringing up like the Legion had been stringing them up, along with those who took issue with the King's rather secular policies... Nothing quite like a holy war to turn a glorified police action into a right mess.

Instead they circled one another, Beren's massive weapon hanging loose near the ground as the iron corded muscle of his arms ached in protest and anticipation. The rebel captain moved counter-clockwise, his own greatsword resting on his shoulder, sharp eyed behind a silvered helm, walking with great loping strides.

All at once the two drew closer as they changed directions, rainfall coming down harder on the wrecked market plaza the fighting had been drawn into.

Steel clashed against steel as the man gripped the blade of his weapon and attempted to drive the guard into Beren's eye, the Braavosi ducking back and smashing his sword against their guard a moment later, the enemy's weapon cutting the air before his helm's visor. Steel crashed against steel and sparks flew, the two not able to gain the better of the other.

They traded a dozen strikes in silence as the weather took a turn for the worse. A heartbeat, a minute, an hour... an eternity had passed, gouges and scratches accumulating in the witch-steel that garbed them.

"From where dost thou hail?" The rebel inquired casually during their next lock of blades, excitement and interest dancing in his eyes, speaking in a faintly archaic manner in High Valyrian, only the faintest trace of an accent to his conversational words.

"Braavos upon the Lagoon," Beren replied as the two separated, neither yet to gain the other man's measure.

"Opportunists everywhere," the man said with a faintly sardonic smile, perhaps acknowledging the irony of his own part in the hellishly stupid seditious activity, some of the magisters who's long-standing dominion over these undeveloped lands was growing more tenuous even while leeches like this one thought to ride the wave of short-lived chaos to their advantage.

"Seems to me you have missed yours," Beren sniffed, "With a blade like that, you likely could have won your slice of clay in the a fortnight if you had backed the right horse, or dragon as the case may be." His voice gained a tinge of a mocking sadness to it, "Only to end dangling from a noose."

"That would be a boring ending to an otherwise exciting tale," the man smiled as they traded strikes, Beren's armor groaning in protest as one such strike nearly carved into his ribs if he had not blunted the force of the blow. He punched the man in the side of the head with a steel-clad fist, nursing his bruising chest.

It had all lead to this moment. A dozen strikes, leaning hard with each blow that two blades of steel kissing each other like lovers caught in an embrace, making keening and brutal music in a complex dance, neither man unsteady on their feet despite their heavy equipment they wore and broken cobbles or sluicing mud they were forced to carefully step around. For all of those dozen, neither man letting up or allowing the exertions of the day or the smell of the dead and dying break their narrow focus, spinning, slashing, ducking and jabbing from riposte to parry, an accord formed by two artists with neither knowing the steps in advance.

Except one blade was of quite ordinary provenance, and the other had been hardened like seasoned wood in Sorcerer's Deep to be near unbreakable. One blade gave... broke.

The man stared at his shattered sword, then was knocked on his ass by the hard blow to the head Beren delivered unceremoniously with the flat of his weapon. Can't be missing that trial, Beren thought in satisfaction, now can we?

Even though he was tempted to slay him where he stood, for his own reputation could only be helped by the breaking of the enemy's morale... the more level-headed part of him, that which was demanded by his father before they had reconciled before his passing, and honed more carefully while acting almost like a student to the Sealord, won out in the end.

He stared at the remnant of the enemy's tattered band, lifting his blade in their direction. Half threw down their arms on the spot, and the other half were sent into a rout.

"Perhaps my acting could use some work?" Not all men could be mummers, he conceded, King Viserys aside.

Lines of grim soldiers with cold smiles marched past him to secure the settlement. They would not catch all of them... but they didn't need to.

A noose today, or a noose tomorrow, what else could be predicted of those who would raise arms against the Dragon Banner?

"Captain," his adjutant presented themselves before him as the prisoner was taken into custody. "The General reports success by raven. He wants us moving out in another hour."

"Oh, he's back then?" Beren asked in surprise and amusement. "Did he win many favors in the King's pony show?

"Many ladies were left disappointed," the lieutenant replied with a straight face and not even a twitch of a smile. "Had he won I am sure her Highness, Princess Daenerys, would have brayed loudest about his vaunted honor and bravery."

"I suppose the madmen are brave enough at that, being so willing to trust their lives to horses and swinging their giant sticks at each other for fun," he told his subordinate irreverently.

Neither mentioned the massive sword Beren had slung over his shoulder.

A gentleman's agreement, then.
 
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[X] Azel

You know what would be awesome is when spreading the truespeech propaganda we get a literal angel to disseminate it to the masses. Have them go from city to city in the sky spreading the propaganda true speech stuff. It would certainly get a lot of people to read it.
 
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The Royal Stables
The Royal Stables

32x Skyborn Griffons (32 Adults) -- Includes Cloud and Zephyr as the leaders

71x Hippogriffs (58 Adults; 5 Juveniles; 8 Chicks; 52 eggs)

11x Istaheqs (3 Stallions; 8 Mares) -- Includes Bone-Breaker

1003x Giant Fungal Darkenbeasts

Hippogriff Breeding:
1) How long do hippogriff eggs normally take to hatch?

3-4 weeks

2) How often do hippogiffs lay eggs in the first place?

If provided with plenty of food as soon as the last of the young can fly so roughly 3 months.

3) How long do hippogriffs take to fully mature?

Two years to be reliably trained to carry a rider long distance as well as having the endurance to do it.

4) How many eggs at a time does one pair lay?

2-3

5) How does Blood-Wished Fertility affect hippogriff breeding?

There is one extra egg per breeding pair on average, bringing it from 2-3 to 3-4.

Note: The griffons don't stay in the stables since they're sworn vassals and even have their own land, but they're still going to be serving as mounts and are thus catalogued in here. Similarly, the Istaheqs are all presumably off with the Dothraki with the males hopefully breeding with as many regular mares as possible. They're all still ours, but again they're kept track of by the Royal Stables.

Future Goals: Pegasi (there's a herd in Umber lands), Fey Creature Horses (can hopefully get a dozen or two from the fey in the Reach somehow), Shadow Creature Horses (a total of 16 can be bargained for from the Orphne King for the right price provided that the horses are treated well).
 
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Oh right the Pegasus... send our Umber minion to grab them next turn because he will be there. Once he does he can bring it here. Also send soft strider to help with that.
 
@Crake, did you just make the role-playing Braavosi, Zack Fair???

Because if you did, I won't forgive you if don't make him do an Omnislash!

[X] Azel
 
Vote closed.
Adhoc vote count started by Azel on Mar 28, 2019 at 2:54 AM, finished with 142 posts and 13 votes.

  • [X] Have a nice little chat with Crimson Lotus
    -[X] Buffs as per Goldfish, using the Sirine's Grace variant.
    -[X] Go into this as if it as a play that will be written on the fly. The cell is a stage, every word spoken a script, and with the knowledge gained from his interrogation, you can write a play that sees him not only dance to your tune, but do so willingly and with joy.
    -[X] Script Outline:
    --[X] Seat him in a cell, chained to a chair at a table. When Viserys enters, he sends all guards outside the room and opens the chains with a spells, proclaiming them unnecessary. // There are multiple layers to this showmanship. On the one hand, it's a straight power-play. Crimson Lotus is well and truly the weaker party here, so fearing and restraining him is utterly pointless. The second layer is that it gives him symbolically some measure of agency. He is still our unwilling guest, but he is free to act within the boundaries we give him. This is a psychological thing for humans, but for a fey, it means the difference between a willing oath and one made under duress. Lastly, it sets a clean stage, restricting this to two actors with little in regards to diversions, meaning that this is a direct battle of wits and titanic social skills.
    --[X] Ask him clearly if he knows why he is here. Focus on the reason why we would object not only to his indirect dealings with Baator, but also his coercion of mortals into de-facto slavery. // Setting the focus of the scene and establishing the roles. We are the reasonable authority figure, he is the criminal.
    --[X] As he has already shown a willful blindness to a mortals desire for a free will, he will most certainly object to the interpretation that he enslaved anyone. Adjust the following to fit the particulars of his answer: "What else would you call it then? They were made to swear oaths they never wanted, forced upon them by capricious fate and no fault of their own. Forever bound to the whims of another, no say in their own path, their wants and needs an afterthought at best. This may seem strange to you, but this is what we call slavery." Pause here. "But maybe you know this far too well..." // We know that he is an ambitious one and his acting out is precisely the result of that ambition being stalled by his oaths and the rigid structure of the Court of Stars. Furthermore, he abandoned his previous court to escape it's ever changing nature that would have subsumed him. So he basically is our default recruit. Ambitious. Arrogant. Self-serving. We have achieved marvelous results with these base materials. For him though, all of this is far more absolute then for a human. His oaths constrict him and getting the necessary Traitorous Underling narrative going to rise the ranks would be difficult. Here though we offer him a plot hook to get out of his situation. The rebel that throws off the shackles of oppression. It is one of those roles with tremendous potential and one he played to some degree in the past. A sweet offer and given freely at that.
    --[X] Bridge section in which he has room to state his motivations while we nudge him along to the freedom narrative that is our preferred outcome. Wrap it up by clearly stating that you can now see why he acted the way he did and that he is not the cruel monster some might see him as. None the less, you can't let his actions slide. He will face trial, either in your court or that of the Court of Stars, depending on how negotiations go. Then end teasingly with: "Unless..." // Shaping his narrative more into a preferable route for us. This is not a process where we force a new narrative upon him, we just give him a lead and aid him redefining himself. He can block all of this by simply not playing along, instead opting for a Haughty Fey narrative or Loyal Servant Of the Court line, but given everything we learned about him, he will pounce on the chance we are offering here.
    --[X] Offer him a bargain. There will be no trial in a court for him, but a trial in our service. For 7 years, he will swear himself to us, then he is free to go. Either to rejoin his old court or do something else, that will be up to him. // The core of the offer. He pays us with 7 years of service "for his transgressions" and in return, he gets his freedom afterwards. As someone who has chaffed for millennia under his current master, we might as well tell him that he can do whatever he wants in a week.
    --[X] No matter if he agrees immediately or wants to know his duties, spin the following tale. You believe that there needs not to be strife between Fey and mortal, but that it will require effort and understanding to create peace instead. You can sway the mortal side, eradicating prejudices and standing up for the Fey against fanatics and madmen, but to reach the Fey, you need help. Many more are there in the Court of Stars who chaff under the chains binding them, willing to take out their frustrations on mortal, or hurting them not from malice, but simple obliviousness. Crimson Lotus task would it be to seek out those who are straining under their current positions. Tell them that we would take their service gladly if they are willing to live side by side with humans, giving them the freedom from their shackles that they crave. Obviously, the higher ups of the Court of Stars should not be made aware of this, lest they tighten the vice and cause more harm and suffering to cling to their power. It is not the power of the Fey we seek in this, but to ease tensions and give those like Crimson Lotus a way out before they do truly heinous things. // And this is basically it. We start a recruitment drive among the dissatisfied parts of the Court of Stars. They will obviously not like it, but going against the narrative we are setting up her is dangerous and thorny for them. They would have to cut back on the allowable terms for bargains with mortals to shut us out and we are preemptively attaching the image of cruel masters tightening the collars of their slaves to any resistance they offer. At the same time, we exploit existing dissatisfaction and disunity in the Court of Stars with this.
    --[X] Detailed list of potential counter-attacks by the Court of Stars and how these have been mitigated or prevented:
    ---[X] "Fey can't swear fealty to mortals." - This is a false, as both Doran and soon Oberyn have oathsworn Fey minions, and any attempts to curtail the ability of Fey to bargain their fealty would cause problems with their own Rainbow Guard for the Tyrells. If they actually try this narrative, their whole infiltration operation goes poof.
    ---[X] "This isn't about Freedom, it's just about power." - This is a bit more thorny for us, but we have enough leverage to weather this attack. There are a bunch of freed slaves in Essos after all, so by giving all of this a slavery spin, we can use that narrative weight accrued against attempts to frame this as a power-play.
    ---[X] "This is an act of war." - This one is hard to spin for the Fey, as we would not attack anyone. Not entirely impossible, but if they want to sell this narrative, they would neat to react to it as if it was a an act of war and that would create a situation where the person with the better spin-control wins. As we already have the anti-slavery spin on the story, we can turn their act into unprovoked attacks, play the bodies of the courts against the leadership and wrap this whole mess up by murdering 7+1 Fey lords.
    ---[X] "Fey and mortals can't live together." - Part of the narrative they tried to push during the talks on the Redwyne ships was that it's good and proper that there is a Fey lord for Fey matters and a monkey lord for monkey matters. This one is very shaky to employ against us due to the number of Fey in our service. Especially Moonsong making a spectacle of herself in front of most of Essos is undermining this by her very existence as our oathsworn vassal and captain of a mostly mortal crew. The other Fey in the Golden Fields area will help fortifying us further against this.
 
Would this take up a teleport slot?

If so, do you think we can throw money at it untill it dosen't? :p

(Even if it does take a slot, Lya will still be worth getting one for, but not so much for other party members, imo).
It's a magical tattoo Construct that can be worn on a person's skin. In that form it probably shouldn't count as a separate entity for Teleportation purposes, IMO. If it does, it can always travel inside of Lya's Handy Haversack, since it's a Construct with no need to breath.
 
It's a magical tattoo Construct that can be worn on a person's skin. In that form it probably shouldn't count as a separate entity for Teleportation purposes, IMO. If it does, it can always travel inside of Lya's Handy Haversack, since it's a Construct with no need to breath.
Just to be clear, you want her to carry her tattoo in her handbag?
 
Divide and Conquer
Twenty-Seventh Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC

At the moment, Beren was not acting as Lord Dynymion. He was not the Keyholder who had shirked and shriven before his father, a man who he still looked over his shoulder for whenever someone thought to address him as such, who at the last had just barely forgiven him on his death bed for time spent on the frivolities of the Dancing Blade. Though he had since shed the dark cloak of Braavosi aristocracy, as well as the peacock assortment of garish colors of the young bravo, he was at heart a questing man who thirsted for justice the world had long denied.

The bright red cloak hanging about his shoulders seemed to strike a fine compromise between the two, when married to the soot-blackened plate that a water dancer wouldn't dare be caught in. A Dragon's Talon, however, need their scales as much as their claws...

And the massive blade he used to cleave in twain the 'bandit' rebel before him, was as fine a claw as any. They fell messily onto the shattered rain-slicked cobbles, war-cry a ragged gasp through pale lips.

The fighting jerked to a sudden stand still, grim soldiers gathered together in a deluge of falling rain, mud and blood coating their armor and blades while the distant shouts of sergeants from the Shields a fair distance away indicated that their headlong charge into the rebel invested town had not gone unnoticed. That his men had followed him out of sheer surprise as much as loyalty...

Enough, Beren had spat, I'll do it myself!

The Captain could not deny the results. It had at least lit a fire under their asses, he thought, though he would concede only the fact that he had been given leave to 'commit where you think the hammer blow best placed' made the move merely bold, rather than outright insubordinate. It also spoke highly of the Legion's light horse and their ability to deter flanking action against the Dragon's Talons by not-quite incompetent enemy cavalry.

The sellsword leader dismounted, sizing Beren up, having the gait of a predator which he knew well by experience. So this is that Fey-touched black-heart, he thought. They had been played for fools by him for the last two weeks in this short campaign alone, and now he was cornered. Whatever side of the sheets a man was born on, they all bleed the same... some more prettily than others.

By unspoken agreement both sides cleared ground at but a glance from the two. Pure theater, but this wasn't a mere slaver, or anything so pedestrian as a simple mercenary, he was some kind of by the roots revolutionary who brayed that the Marches should secede, owing their rebellion as proof of the affront and 'cowardice and abject prostration' of the more soft-palmed magisters standing on the council. Beren considered it more shrewd than anything else.

No one wants to be reduced to fine ashes by dragon's fire.

They did not speak, for all that, and had the man been anyone else Beren likely would have ordered a charge then and there and simply cut them down like dogs... but this one was clever. Cut him down neat and quick and they'd make a martyr out of him, worse still he had freedmen's courage at his back, the opportunistic and those angered at the idea they would be 'granted freedom' by the masters they had dreamed of stringing up like the Legion had been stringing them up, along with those who took issue with the King's rather secular policies... Nothing quite like a holy war to turn a glorified police action into a right mess.

Instead they circled one another, Beren's massive weapon hanging loose near the ground as the iron corded muscle of his arms ached in protest and anticipation. The rebel captain moved counter-clockwise, his own greatsword resting on his shoulder, sharp eyed behind a silvered helm, walking with great loping strides.

All at once the two drew closer as they changed directions, rainfall coming down harder on the wrecked market plaza the fighting had been drawn into.

Steel clashed against steel as the man gripped the blade of his weapon and attempted to drive the guard into Beren's eye, the Braavosi ducking back and smashing his sword against their guard a moment later, the enemy's weapon cutting the air before his helm's visor. Steel crashed against steel and sparks flew, the two not able to gain the better of the other.

They traded a dozen strikes in silence as the weather took a turn for the worse. A heartbeat, a minute, an hour... an eternity had passed, gouges and scratches accumulating in the witch-steel that garbed them.

"From where dost thou hail?" The rebel inquired casually during their next lock of blades, excitement and interest dancing in his eyes, speaking in a faintly archaic manner in High Valyrian, only the faintest trace of an accent to his conversational words.

"Braavos upon the Lagoon," Beren replied as the two separated, neither yet to gain the other man's measure.

"Opportunists everywhere," the man said with a faintly sardonic smile, perhaps acknowledging the irony of his own part in the hellishly stupid seditious activity, some of the magisters who's long-standing dominion over these undeveloped lands was growing more tenuous even while leeches like this one thought to ride the wave of short-lived chaos to their advantage.

"Seems to me you have missed yours," Beren sniffed, "With a blade like that, you likely could have won your slice of clay in the a fortnight if you had backed the right horse, or dragon as the case may be." His voice gained a tinge of a mocking sadness to it, "Only to end dangling from a noose."

"That would be a boring ending to an otherwise exciting tale," the man smiled as they traded strikes, Beren's armor groaning in protest as one such strike nearly carved into his ribs if he had not blunted the force of the blow. He punched the man in the side of the head with a steel-clad fist, nursing his bruising chest.

It had all lead to this moment. A dozen strikes, leaning hard with each blow that two blades of steel kissing each other like lovers caught in an embrace, making keening and brutal music in a complex dance, neither man unsteady on their feet despite their heavy equipment they wore and broken cobbles or sluicing mud they were forced to carefully step around. For all of those dozen, neither man letting up or allowing the exertions of the day or the smell of the dead and dying break their narrow focus, spinning, lashing, ducking and jabbing from riposte to parry, an accord formed by two artists with neither knowing the steps in advance.

Except one blade was of quite ordinary provenance, and the other had been hardened like seasoned wood in Sorcerer's Deep to be near unbreakable. One blade gave... broke.

The man stared at his shattered sword, then was knocked on his ass by the hard blow to the head Beren delivered unceremoniously with the flat of his weapon. Can't be missing that trial, Beren thought in satisfaction, now can we?

Even though he was tempted to slay him where he stood, for his own reputation could only be helped by the breaking of the enemy's morale... the more level-headed part of him, that which was demanded by his father before they had reconciled before his passing, and honed more carefully while acting almost like a student to the Sealord, won out in the end.

He stared at the remnant of the enemy's tattered band, lifting his blade in their direction. Half threw down their arms on the spot, and the other half were sent into a rout.

"Perhaps my acting could use some work?" Not all men could be mummers, he conceded, King Viserys aside.

Lines of grim soldiers with cold smiles marched past him to secure the settlement. They would not catch all of them... but they didn't need to.

A noose today, or a noose tomorrow, what else could be predicted of those who would raise arms against the Dragon Banner?

"Captain," his adjutant presented themselves before him as the prisoner was taken into custody. "The General reports success by raven. He wants us moving out in another hour."

"Oh, he's back then?" Beren asked in surprise and amusement. "Did he win many favors in the King's pony show?

"Many ladies were left disappointed," the lieutenant replied with a straight face and not even a twitch of a smile. "Had he won I am sure her Highness, Princess Daenerys, would have brayed loudest about his vaunted honor and bravery."

"I suppose the madmen are brave enough at that, being so willing to trust their lives to horses and swinging their giant sticks at each other for fun," he told his subordinate irreverently.

Neither mentioned the massive sword Beren had slung over his shoulder.

A gentleman's agreement, then.
I was excited to see another Misfits story, then disappointed when I saw that it wasn't a Misfits story. Then I kept reading and was quite glad I did. Neat character piece, dude.
 
Just to be clear, you want her to carry her tattoo in her handbag?
No, I want her to wear it whenever possible, because it makes her much tougher and serves as a very effective bodyguard. If it counts as a separate creature for Teleportation, however, there may come a time where it has to hitch a ride in an extradimensional storage space for a few seconds.

Speaking of the Tattoo Guardian, I'm trying to imagine what form Lya's would take while worn. Maybe a full back piece of a Red Dragon, specifically Viserys' True Dragon form?
 
Speaking of the Tattoo Guardian, I'm trying to imagine what form Lya's would take while worn. Maybe a full back piece of a Red Dragon, specifically Viserys' True Dragon form?
Sexy, but not really her style. I would go with abstract pattern and arcane sigils.

Edit: For reference.
 
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