Snowfire
Polyglot of Chimera
- Location
- Wordcats
To be fair, it's been somewhat...unreasonable for him to use TD form in any of his combats. It's kind of...obvious, y'know?
A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover
- Thread starter DragonParadox
- Start date
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- 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
To be fair, it's been somewhat...unreasonable for him to use TD form in any of his combats. It's kind of...obvious, y'know?
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
No, we've been over this. It's because of Dramatic Impact and trolling Harry.
You can't troll Harry without playing coy about what's underneath all them layers.
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
Snowfire
Polyglot of Chimera
- Location
- Wordcats
No, we've been over this. It's because of Dramatic Impact and trolling Harry.
You can't troll Harry without playing coy about what's underneath all them layers.
You can't prove a thing
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
You can't prove a thing
It's immutable fact.
Trolling Harry is Love. Ruse Cruising Molly is Life.
Snowfire
Polyglot of Chimera
- Location
- Wordcats
*looks at the last chapters of Arc 2*
...what happens when I do the exact opposite of that at once? Because I'm pretty sure I did.
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
- Location
- Brazil
Horde Thief Chapter LIII
Snowfire
Polyglot of Chimera
- Location
- Wordcats
<< Previous
You and Harry lay it out quickly in the Carpenter's kitchen, around a table large enough to seat at least a dozen, though from what little Lady Carpenter had said of her family, that was a requirement, not an indulgence. Sanya is the first to speak once you're done, expressing his opinion of the situation in a single word.
"Shit." The man's accent somehow makes the curse sound much stronger than it usually feels to you, but when you know swear words in the tongues of demons, others just lack weight. He glances apologetically at Michael a moment later, as if remembering himself, and freezes in place.
"Michael?" Harry asks softly, and you look over to see the older man sitting very still in his chair, his grey eyes blazing. The cane in his hand creaks in protest as he presses down on the wood, and his attention snaps to you as if the others simply weren't present.
"You didn't know that Sanya was here, did you?" It's a simple question, and the way he asks it should have kept it that way. And yet somehow, it doesn't. Harry beats you to the reply, perhaps having expected the question.
"No, Michael," he admits, grimacing. "No, we didn't. You know what this means. The Denarians acting on this scale needs more than just one or two Knights. Even with everything we can bring together," and it's a steadily increasing list, "this will need all of the Swords, together. This is their fight, Michael, and you're the only person who I know I can trust to wield Amoracchius."
"I'm retired," it isn't an objection, but Michael waves a free hand at his bad leg, continuing without rancour. "And I'm not wielding anything like this. I don't regret what I did to get here, but I know you can't fix it, Harry."
"No," Harry sighs heavily, a flash of guilt passing over his face. "I can't. But Viserys can." The room goes very still for a moment, but it doesn't touch you. You've survived awkward silences before, and there's nothing in the words that are untrue.
"You can?" Sanya's words are more of a statement than a question by their tone, and he runs a hand through his tight cropped hair.
"I can," your own attention is fixed on Michael, trying to judge his reaction. "Ser Harry has explained to me the nature of the Swords, though I admit I do not understand entirely," why exactly the Knights were charged to save, instead of kill, was…odd to your sensibilities. "The world needs you, Michael Carpenter, and if you'll let me, I can give you the strength to answer."
Michael looks at Harry, who nods, and as you watch something in the way he holds himself…shifts. If you weren't paying such close attention, you might have missed it, but something changes. He takes a breath, looking up at the ceiling as if he can see the iron-grey sky beyond, and nods once, very slightly.
"I hear you," the statement isn't meant for anyone around the table, and the sheer depth of faith in those three words putting you in mind of Melisandre, of all people. Michael Carpenter does not posses the same power as she, and yet maybe that's the point; he doesn't need it. His lips move in what you think is a prayer, though without sound it's hard to tell.
Then he drops his gaze back to the people around him, focusing on you. "If there is a price, I would know before it is paid."
"There is none," you tell him simply, "for you, or myself, Ser." You consider making a comment about appreciating the gesture, but that hadn't been one.
He studies you a moment, then seems to accept your words. "Then I will answer." You doubt he could have said anything else.
Three spells you speak then, resting a hand upon the former Knight's shoulder, washing away the furrows of old injuries until nothing of them remains and restoring Michael's strength to what it should be. He is still grey-haired, though, and a surge of strength grants him freedom from the weakness of age for two days to come, long enough to see the battle through to its end. Then you stop, content to wait until all are gathered to speak the less permanent blessings, and let the very changed man sitting beside you adapt to his new reality.
He rises from the chair slowly, one hand constantly ready to catch himself, yet never needed. He looks down at his leg, around with eyes that are now both entirely clear, and the smile on his face is untouched by pain. "How long?" He asks, as the euphoria fades.
"The first three spells, those which healed you, will last until your death." You reply, ignoring the look that prompts from Harry. He knows what you're capable of by now, this shouldn't be new. "The fourth, and the others I would wish to lay upon you and your fellows in preparation for the battle ahead, will last only a few days."
"Long enough to see this done," Michael nods, then turns to Harry. "Do you have it?" He doesn't need to say what 'it' is.
"On the island," Harry replies, "I'll get it for you."
"I can," you begin, but Harry shakes his head.
"I'm not sure the place would like you, Viserys, and I'd rather not have that argument with Alfred." The look you give him makes it quite clear you have no idea what he's talking about, but he doesn't explain. His own secrets, you can respect that. "But…Molly will want to know about this. She's her father's daughter, after all."
"That I can do, but what about Butters?" Your last word is interrupted by the sound of a car crunching up the driveway. Harry's bark of laughter as he looks out the window is all the confirmation you needed. "I'm starting to see what you mean about a Knight always being where they're most needed."
"Completely absurd, isn't it," Harry laughs, turning back to the rest of you. "Why are you here, anyway, Sanya?" At that, the already dark skin of the man's face deepens with frustration.
"My flight was cancelled," he explains, disgusted. "Terror alerts around Cairo airport. The entire city is on lockdown."
"Oh those bastards," Harry growls, shooting a somewhat guilty look at Michael a moment later only to be met with a similarly angry expression.
"Quite so. They're using the mortal authorities to make it harder to get into the area." Michael says steadily. "They've done it before, even though we know that the Almighty will give us a path to where we must be." He shook his head sadly, then turned towards the door as a sudden smile brightened his chiselled features.
"Go, Harry, I will explain things to Butters."
"To the marina then," the wizard nods. "Once I'm on my way, can you let Molly know what's going on?"
"Of course," you tell him easily. You made the rings which the two bear, and though they weren't designed to function as foci, they would serve in a pinch. "I have some other business to attend to afterwards. I'll go to your house when I'm done."
Horde Thief
Chapter 53
Chapter 53
You and Harry lay it out quickly in the Carpenter's kitchen, around a table large enough to seat at least a dozen, though from what little Lady Carpenter had said of her family, that was a requirement, not an indulgence. Sanya is the first to speak once you're done, expressing his opinion of the situation in a single word.
"Shit." The man's accent somehow makes the curse sound much stronger than it usually feels to you, but when you know swear words in the tongues of demons, others just lack weight. He glances apologetically at Michael a moment later, as if remembering himself, and freezes in place.
"Michael?" Harry asks softly, and you look over to see the older man sitting very still in his chair, his grey eyes blazing. The cane in his hand creaks in protest as he presses down on the wood, and his attention snaps to you as if the others simply weren't present.
"You didn't know that Sanya was here, did you?" It's a simple question, and the way he asks it should have kept it that way. And yet somehow, it doesn't. Harry beats you to the reply, perhaps having expected the question.
"No, Michael," he admits, grimacing. "No, we didn't. You know what this means. The Denarians acting on this scale needs more than just one or two Knights. Even with everything we can bring together," and it's a steadily increasing list, "this will need all of the Swords, together. This is their fight, Michael, and you're the only person who I know I can trust to wield Amoracchius."
"I'm retired," it isn't an objection, but Michael waves a free hand at his bad leg, continuing without rancour. "And I'm not wielding anything like this. I don't regret what I did to get here, but I know you can't fix it, Harry."
"No," Harry sighs heavily, a flash of guilt passing over his face. "I can't. But Viserys can." The room goes very still for a moment, but it doesn't touch you. You've survived awkward silences before, and there's nothing in the words that are untrue.
"You can?" Sanya's words are more of a statement than a question by their tone, and he runs a hand through his tight cropped hair.
"I can," your own attention is fixed on Michael, trying to judge his reaction. "Ser Harry has explained to me the nature of the Swords, though I admit I do not understand entirely," why exactly the Knights were charged to save, instead of kill, was…odd to your sensibilities. "The world needs you, Michael Carpenter, and if you'll let me, I can give you the strength to answer."
Michael looks at Harry, who nods, and as you watch something in the way he holds himself…shifts. If you weren't paying such close attention, you might have missed it, but something changes. He takes a breath, looking up at the ceiling as if he can see the iron-grey sky beyond, and nods once, very slightly.
"I hear you," the statement isn't meant for anyone around the table, and the sheer depth of faith in those three words putting you in mind of Melisandre, of all people. Michael Carpenter does not posses the same power as she, and yet maybe that's the point; he doesn't need it. His lips move in what you think is a prayer, though without sound it's hard to tell.
Then he drops his gaze back to the people around him, focusing on you. "If there is a price, I would know before it is paid."
"There is none," you tell him simply, "for you, or myself, Ser." You consider making a comment about appreciating the gesture, but that hadn't been one.
He studies you a moment, then seems to accept your words. "Then I will answer." You doubt he could have said anything else.
Three spells you speak then, resting a hand upon the former Knight's shoulder, washing away the furrows of old injuries until nothing of them remains and restoring Michael's strength to what it should be. He is still grey-haired, though, and a surge of strength grants him freedom from the weakness of age for two days to come, long enough to see the battle through to its end. Then you stop, content to wait until all are gathered to speak the less permanent blessings, and let the very changed man sitting beside you adapt to his new reality.
He rises from the chair slowly, one hand constantly ready to catch himself, yet never needed. He looks down at his leg, around with eyes that are now both entirely clear, and the smile on his face is untouched by pain. "How long?" He asks, as the euphoria fades.
"The first three spells, those which healed you, will last until your death." You reply, ignoring the look that prompts from Harry. He knows what you're capable of by now, this shouldn't be new. "The fourth, and the others I would wish to lay upon you and your fellows in preparation for the battle ahead, will last only a few days."
"Long enough to see this done," Michael nods, then turns to Harry. "Do you have it?" He doesn't need to say what 'it' is.
"On the island," Harry replies, "I'll get it for you."
"I can," you begin, but Harry shakes his head.
"I'm not sure the place would like you, Viserys, and I'd rather not have that argument with Alfred." The look you give him makes it quite clear you have no idea what he's talking about, but he doesn't explain. His own secrets, you can respect that. "But…Molly will want to know about this. She's her father's daughter, after all."
"That I can do, but what about Butters?" Your last word is interrupted by the sound of a car crunching up the driveway. Harry's bark of laughter as he looks out the window is all the confirmation you needed. "I'm starting to see what you mean about a Knight always being where they're most needed."
"Completely absurd, isn't it," Harry laughs, turning back to the rest of you. "Why are you here, anyway, Sanya?" At that, the already dark skin of the man's face deepens with frustration.
"My flight was cancelled," he explains, disgusted. "Terror alerts around Cairo airport. The entire city is on lockdown."
"Oh those bastards," Harry growls, shooting a somewhat guilty look at Michael a moment later only to be met with a similarly angry expression.
"Quite so. They're using the mortal authorities to make it harder to get into the area." Michael says steadily. "They've done it before, even though we know that the Almighty will give us a path to where we must be." He shook his head sadly, then turned towards the door as a sudden smile brightened his chiselled features.
"Go, Harry, I will explain things to Butters."
"To the marina then," the wizard nods. "Once I'm on my way, can you let Molly know what's going on?"
"Of course," you tell him easily. You made the rings which the two bear, and though they weren't designed to function as foci, they would serve in a pinch. "I have some other business to attend to afterwards. I'll go to your house when I'm done."
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Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
I feel the battle approaching.
Urge to listen to Manowar rising...
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
Snowfire: Yeah, it'll come tomorrow. Maybe. Probably. We'll see if I feel like it.
Later... barely.
Snowfire: SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKERS!
- Location
- Brazil
Watched latest episode.
Game over man, game over. That was like, three epic spells in a day: Epic Teleport, Epic Mass Invisibility, and Epic Mass Truestrike.
Euron will get us, no doubt.
Game over man, game over. That was like, three epic spells in a day: Epic Teleport, Epic Mass Invisibility, and Epic Mass Truestrike.
Euron will get us, no doubt.
- Location
- Brazil
Man, if they were going to go straight-up Fanfic with it, they could at least have let DP write the show.
That would be fucking awesome.
This is just pure cool-factor at this point.
Geez.
That would be fucking awesome.
This is just pure cool-factor at this point.
Geez.
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egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
You joke, but I actually hold on to hope he's not going to be as nearly reality-breaking in this quest, as the series makes him out to be.
I actually want to hold a hope of killing him.
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
You joke, but I actually hold on to hope he's not going to be as nearly reality-breaking in this quest, as the series makes him out to be.
I actually want to hold a hope of killing him.
Good news. Euron wants everything we have.
So our collision course is essentially inevitable.
He's also delusional enough to think he has a chance in hell of winning. Hell he only needed a dragon horn and a bunch of randy vikings to be convinced he could sit on the Iron Throne, and that plan would only be marginally worse by an order of magnitude than whatever insane scheme he thinks would work on us.
About the only good news I can think of is to pose a sincere threat he would actually have to team up and cooperate with another faction (or two, ask Varys where that got him) just to pose a threat to us strategically.
Making me suspect he might just remain a tactical scale threat. He might even be subscribing to @Artemis1992's perspective on how to acquire power. Rather than murderblobbing up an empire, he just goes around adventuring, levels to 20, stacks on Mythic Ranks, then seats his ass on the hardwork we went through for him after killing us.
Which would at least allow him to remain an extant threat rather than yet another existential one waiting to end the world in fire, blood and burgeoning, treachery fueled incompetence at any moment.
Hell, he might remain hyper-competent, just to give us a new flavor of foe!
- Location
- Germany
Keep in mind that once you get there aquiring minions is rather easy.
Don't underestimate the high-level murderhobo, for he can easily get any amount of extraplanar deals going, because just the chance of getting their hands on a mortal champion of that caliber gets most Demonlords and gods drooling.
Also his crew propably leveled with him partially, so we are talking about a high-level group, not just one bastard.
Speaking of Euron, how much of Euron's various sins and atrocities is Bloodraven actually aware of? Because as bad as what he did to Vicatarion's salt wife was, he's done way worse.
Which makes Bloodraven drawing the line there kind of strange unless he's either unaware or the things Euron did to the rest of his brothers was somehow butterflied away.
Which makes Bloodraven drawing the line there kind of strange unless he's either unaware or the things Euron did to the rest of his brothers was somehow butterflied away.
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