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

Fifth Day of the Ninth Month 293 AC

Aemon Naremos had never thought of himself as one overly enamored with life's small luxuries. If he had been then he never would have taken the long arduous path to arcane power, one in which comfort was often the first and the least sacrifice. Yet as he looked up at the worn stone hill upon which rested a half ruined caravanserai of reddish stone and cracked wood he could not deny a pang of regret for the small but comfortable manse he had left behind.

"Having second thoughts already?" Aeron asked, bringing his shadow steed level with his brother's. There was a hint of serious concern beneath the jesting tone. The ink was barely dry on the documents that proclaimed him owner of the remaining Naremos assets in Volantene lands.

"Just considering how much sweeter it will be when I make these lands surpass anything father could have dreamed of," the mage replied.

"Father, you say? What about me?" the younger brother asked in mock-affront.

"Do you plan to rusticate?" Aemon asked dryly as they both spurred their arcane mounts to a steady trot.

"I'm doing it this month, aren't I? Perhaps I will come to like it," came the instant reply.

"Indeed, and perhaps cats will develop a taste for swimming, though I shall not hold my breath in anticipation."

Aeron threw his head back and laughed, sparks and shadows dancing all around him as his tempestuous power moved with him.


Sixteenth Day of the Ninth Month 293 AC

It was a relief when the first of the colonists from Mantarys arrived along with the first of the couriers that had started traveling not just along the Dragon Road, but the lesser paths also. A reminder for the locals that there was a wider realm out there should any of them take it into their head to revert to brigandage and petty feuding. More importantly, the town growing up around the the caravanserai now had actual craftsmen worth the name—smiths and potters, weavers and tanners.

Establish Messenger Service in Draconys 6/5 Complete

Aemon's Rest would soon have more to offer travelers than simply the only convenient source of fresh water in thirty leagues. In due time they might even send out their own traders out towards Mantarys and Volantis with rare herbs and other reagents drawn from the magic-touched earth that had been the reason Aemon chose these lands to begin with.

Alas that it was not only the earth that was magical. The first sign he had that something was amiss was the shadow falling over his desk as the light of the noontime sun abruptly dimmed. A storm, he thought as he moved to open the mage lantern. Then his eyes wandered past the window. A storm it was indeed, but not of anything so common as rain and lightning. A vast cloud of ash flowed forth from the southeast borne upon a scorching wind.

At once the lord moved to call orders to his people to bring man and beast under a roof, thanking good fortune that he had not yet sent out anyone to break ground for new villages. But at the same time Aemon the mage was struggling against excitement. Arcane weather often brought with it transformations upon the land and strange beasts ripe for his experiments.

Thus it was with no hesitation whatsoever that he set off with his brother and a handful of his best guardsmen into the storm to look for the shepherds and guide them back. It would win him favor with the locals while doing something he would have done in any case.


"Did you hear that?" Aeron called as the wind shifted slightly. "It almost sounded like laughter."

"I did, yes," the elder brother replied, grimacing at the bitter taste of ash in his mouth. The cackling came again, almost impossible to catch against the whipping wind. "Be on your guard," he called back to his men, hoping they would be as good in a fight as they were on the sparring field. He had been in enough fights against monsters and other mages to know that the first test of any warrior when first confronted with them was simply not turning tail and running.

The man at the end of the line never got a chance to prove his mettle as a hulking shadow of ash-grey and crimson flame leapt upon him, tearing out his throat before the body hit the ground.

The laughter revolved into a sort of chant in the tongue of fire, though it gained nothing of reason in the doing: "Burn... crackle... blacken... die... die... die..."

A burning fey emerged from the ash-fall about fifty feet ahead of Aemon, its misshapen bat-like ears twitching, its lips pulled back into a smile that looked too wide for its face to reveal dozens of needle-like teeth. "At last... at last... fool mage... your men are dead, their sheep-beasts also. Now only the wolves remain."


As it spoke more of the hulking dark shapes could be glimpsed circling all around them, their eyes like hungry embers. They were wolves, though not of any common sort, their coats were cinder, their gaze of flame, their teeth of black dragonglass. The largest of the pack moved out into full view to lay its head under the fire-fey's head, clearly in the grip of some enchantment.


The thing obviously thought to overawe them, but Aemon was already calculating its worth alive or dead and swiftly concluded that it was worth far more than a handful of shepherds and forty-two sheep.

"Kneel before Yozg, mortals, and through me to mighty Ymeri, and some of you may yet live to serve her glorious power!" the thing called.

"I have a counter-proposal," Aemon replied silkily, the crackling tongue of flame exacting upon his tongue. "Leave at once and return with recompense for the harm done to my lands and people and I shall simply kill you rather than dipping your skull in gold and setting it atop my new staff for all the world to witness your folly."

As the mage had hoped the grotesque fey answered with wrath, spitting forth a spell of flame and ruin or trying to at least, for he was ready his words entangling and picking apart the enchantment before it could come into being.

Aeron needed no further signal, leaping from his horse, his own magic drawing shades and phantasms from the ash to distract the wolves even as his blade cut the monster true. Then the wolves closed in.

Ash and blood mingled, fire guttered upon steel, and the warriors of Draconys proved themselves no cowards, whatever other sins they may have had. Another of their number was pulled down into the dust to perish, but the servant of Ymeri paid like price for his trespass, by sword and spell undone until he crumbled into the wind, leaving naught but gleaming ebony bones behind.

At the battle's end as even the ash-storm began to abate, Aemon collected the bones quietly then walked over to one of the wolf corpses and kicked it experimentally. "Flesh, not deathless spirit, though touched by fire's kiss." He turned back towards his surviving men: "Do any of you know how to track in this?"

The elder of the two swallowed. "Aye, Kaelos, I do. It's easier than on dirt and stone..."

"Good," the mage pointed at the other. "You, go back to town and gather a party to retrieve the bodies and wolf carcasses for skinning and processing, the rest of us have a den to find."

Find it they did indeed in a deep cave besides noxious springs, the wolves left to guard it easily dispatched, leaving Aemon in the possession of thirteen Cinder Wolf pups. He already had more than enough reagents. Perhaps the king would be interested in new beasts for his menagerie.

OOC: The roll for Aemon's settling in was a lot more exciting than I anticipated.