A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover
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- 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
Update in beta.
You could technically give them to anyone, but it's a month long procedure so it is likely not worth if for say companions.
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
Here's the chapter where we killed it.
A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover
A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover In a world where magic has all but guttered to ashes, becoming the fare of charlatans, petty conjurers, and ragged illusionists, a mighty change is stirring. From small and fragile sparks a great blaze will be reborn and men will...
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Part MMMXXIV: Old Fellowships Undone
Old Fellowships Undone
Twentieth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
Reports of every sort pass across your desk each day, as varied as the messengers that bear them, from Mereth's account of doings in the east to the brazier borne whispers accounting for the folly of the last archon of Lys lingering even past his death. It is a raven bearing fortuitous tidings from Lorath, however, that leaves you in a grim and thoughtful mood. A Prince deposed, a conspiracy unraveled, a city one step closer to being brought under your rule... By rights you should be elated, but the reminder of just how effective the last of Windward Society are in your service only places the secret that hangs between you in sharper relief. Tor's fate would not be easy to divine, of course, but it would hardly be impossible with their growing skills. Worse still, some foe could reveal it to push them off balance or even tempt them to treachery.
Looking down, you see the parchment in your hands half crumpled without you noticing. This cannot be allowed to continue, even if it costs you their service, you resolve, getting up from your desk. As the words of translocation flow to their familiar cadence, you hesitate. There is something to be said for going alone, for it had been your decision and no other's to keep the secret, but you know Dany would wish to be there. She had known them as long as you have, and Tor also.
"Are you sure?" she asks simply when you explain what you mean to do.
"As sure as one can be about something like this," you sigh.
Without another word your sister takes your hand and between one moment and the next you are standing at the back of a dark warehouse between crates of what looks like steel ingots and what smells like fish. It is private, you will grant it that, but you wish whichever captain had decided to leave your marked token here had considered how you were supposed to get out of here without knocking something over. In what may be the most petty use of a spell of the Seventh Circle you have ever used you slip through the crowded warehouse as a wraith through the dark while Dany simply ducks through the gaps.
Stepping out into the chill fog you try and mostly fail to get a sense of where in the city you are. Like Braavos Lorath is a city embraced and divided by the cold northern seas, its stony islands long since grown confining, driving its people to build upwards, houses and towers of dark stone with arches and bridges between them. Unlike in warmer southern climes the roofs here are sharp and jagged against the sky to guard against deep winter snows, though for now the most that drips off them is yesterday's rain, occasionally drenching passersby on the narrow cobbled streets.
"They could do with wider streets," Dany notes. "It can't be easy getting people and goods from one end of the island to another, and I would not want to navigate a ferry in winter weather just to do it by sea."
"Trade with Lorath has been doing poorly for the last two centuries, little enough coin to invest in wide scale public works according to Menel," you reply. That too will change soon enough.
***
The Palace of the Three Princes is set upon the highest point of the largest isle, which is still not particularly high, nor the island particularly large, though its builders did seem determined to make up for the drab grey facade watched over by ancient grotesques with inner grandeur. Rich eastern carpets cover floors of marble polished to a rich amber as scores of lanterns are made to seem all the brighter through cunningly placed mirrors. The painted landscapes that adorn most of the larger chambers are also pleasant enough if a bit formulaic in style, likely due to the artists not wishing to risk having a commission rejected.
As fate would have it, you find Menel, Ser Aubert, Grazdan, Koron, and Lothos sitting around a table under a large fanciful landscape of Sothoryos, filled with everything from the lizard-birds to flowers with the faces of men and palm trees shrouded in orchids where faeries dwell.
"What brings you here in person, Your Grace, Your Highness?" Menel speaks first, catching your somber expression. "Does something require our attention elsewhere? This Illyrio...."
"No," you sigh. "This concerns the foes of the past not the future. This concerns Tor's fate..."
All of them freeze in mid-act, five pairs of eyes at once young and old fixed unerringly upon you. Had they suspected something, you wonder, but cast the thought aside, it matters little now.
"Tor was a man who lusted after true magical power at a time when we little understood magic ourselves, so any means to acquire it seemed proportionate to the degree of desperation he must have felt in the twilight of his life," you begin "He found that means through my blood, but the ritual came at a cost I did not then know, not to him nor to me, but to others. Like a vampire he had to feed upon the magics of others to sustain himself, for this cause he enslaved others, weaker mages, breaking the First Law of Braavos as well as..."
Grazdan's cursing cuts you off, the words harsh and guttural after the manner of Meereen in his rage. "You lie!" His eyes shine with unshed tears.
At another time and in another place you would take that for an insult, but here and now you answer softly: "I am sorry, but I do not."
"Why didn't you tell us before?" Lothos snaps. "Why now of all times? Did you find him again?"
"Tor is dead, gone beyond even the power of gods to restore," Dany interjects sadly, not for the dead madman's sake but for that of the five men standing before you. "We killed him for crimes that went much further than simple slavery."
They know the law as well as you do, they know what you are accusing Tor of. No one speaks up to name you liar again, but Aubert's voice is cold as drawn steel as he asks. "And did you give him a trial, Your Grace, a chance to speak for himself and perhaps to be freed of whatever pact he had made? There is a demon in the ranks of your Inquisition, what evils did Tor commit that were worse than hers?"
What do you reply?
[] Write in
OOC: So far so good, decent rolls and the slavery angle hits hard but I figured just rolling through the whole discussion would be doing it a disservice, not to mention wanting to show off Lorath a bit since it's Viserys' first time here. Edited.
Last edited:
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
Old Fellowships Undone
Twentieth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
Reports of every sort pass across your desk each day, as varied as the messengers that bear them, from Mereth's account of doings in the east, to the brazier borne whispers accounting for the folly of the last archon of Lys lingering even past his death. It is a raven bearing fortuitous tidings from Lorath, however, that leaves you in a grim and thoughtful mood. A prince deposed, a conspiracy unraveled, a city one step closer to being brought under your rule... By rights you should be elated, but the reminder of just how effective the last of Windward Society are in your service only places the secret that hangs between you in sharper relief. Tor's fate would not be easy to divine, of course, but it would hardly be impossible with their growing skills. Worse still, some foe could reveal it to push them off balance or even tempt them to treachery.
Looking down, you see the parchment in your hands half crumpled without noticing. This cannot be allowed to continue, even if it costs you their service, you resolve, getting up from your desk. As the words of translocation flow to their familiar cadence, you hesitate. There is something to be said for going alone, for it had been your decision and no other's to keep the secret, but you know Dany would wish to be there. She had known them as long as you have, and Tor also.
"Are you sure?" she asks simply when you explain what you mean to do.
"As sure as one can be about something like this," you sigh.
Without another word, your sister takes your hand and between one moment and the next you standing at the back of a dark warehouse, between crates of what looks like steel ingots and what smells like fish. It is private, you will grant it that, but you wish whichever captain had decided to leave your marked token here had considered how you were supposed to get out of here without knocking something over. In what may be the most petty use of a spell of the seventh circle you have ever used, you slip though the crowded warehouse as a wraith through the dark while Dany simply ducks through the gaps.
Stepping out into the chill fog you, try and mostly fail to get a sense of where in the city you are. Like Braavos Lorath is a city embraced and divided by the cold northern seas, its stony islands long since grown confining, driving its people to build upwards, houses and towers of dark stone with arches and bridged between them. Unlike in warmer southern climes, the roofs here are sharp and jagged against the sky to guard against deep winter snows, though for now the most that drips off them is yesterday's rain occasionally drenching passersby on the narrow cobbled streets.
Noticing Dany's look of disdain, you shrug. "It's not the most beautiful city we've visited, but it has its own charm."
"It's not the city," she shakes her head and motions towards two men loading grain onto a wagon, their rough burlap clothes worse off than the sacks they are handling. Both wear heavy iron collars. "I had gotten used to not seeing that."
"Soon enough you won't have to see it here either," you assure her firmly. Whatever comes of your conversation today, Lorath's fate had been sealed when Braavos agreed to come under your rule, made all the swifter by the happenings of the last few days.
***
The Palace of the Three Princes is set upon the highest point of the largest isle, which is still not particularly high, nor the island particularly large, though its builders did seem determined to make up for the drab grey facade watched over by ancient grotesques with inner grandeur. Rich eastern carpets cover floors of marble polished to a rich amber as scores of lanterns are made to seem all the brighter through cunningly placed mirrors. The painted landscapes that adorn most of the larger chambers are also pleasant enough if a bit formulaic in style, likely due to the artists not wishing to risk having a commission rejected.
As fate would have it, you find Menel, Ser Aubert, Grazdan, Koron and Lothos sitting around a table under a large fanciful landscape of Sothoryos, filled with everything from the lizard birds to flowers with the face of men and palm trees shrouded in orchids where faeries dwell.
"What brings you here in person, Your Grace, Your Highness?" Menel speaks first, catching your somber expression. "Does something require our attention elsewhere. This Illyrio...."
"No," you sigh. "This concerns the foes of the past not the future. This concerns Tor's fate..."
All of them freeze in mid-act, five pairs of eyes at once young and old fixed unerringly upon you. Had they suspected something, you wonder, but cast the thought aside, it matters little now.
"Tor was a man who lusted after true magical power, at a time when we little understood magic ourselves, so any means to acquire it seemed proportionate to the degree of desperation he must have felt in the twilight of his life," you begin "He found that means though my blood, but the ritual came at a cost I did not then know, not to him, nor to me, but to others. Like the vampire he had to feed upon the magics of others to sustain himself, for this cause he enslaved others, weaker mages, breaking the First Law of Braavos as well as..."
Grazdan's cursing cuts you off, the words harsh and guttural after the manner of Mereen in his rage. "You lie!" His eyes shine with unshed tears.
At another time and in another place you would take that for an insult, but here and now you answer softly: "I am sorry, but I do not."
"Why didn't you tell us before?" Lothos snaps. "Why now of all times? Did you find him again?"
"Tor is dead, gone beyond even the power of gods to restore," Dany interjects sadly, not for the dead madman's sake but for that of the five men standing before you. "We killed him for crimes that went much further than simple slavery."
They know the law as well as you do, they know what you are accusing Tor of. No one speaks up to name you liar again, but Aubert's voice is cold as drawn steel as he asks. "And did you give him a trial Your Grace, a chance to speak for himself and perhaps to be freed of whatever pact he had made. There is a demon in the ranks of your inquisition, what evils did Tor commit that were worse than hers?"
What do you reply?
[] Write in
OOC: So far so good decent rolls and the slavery angle hits hard, but I figured just rolling though the whole discussion would be doing it a disservice, not to mention wanting to show off Lorath a bit since it's Viserys' first time here. Not yet edited.
Made a few edits to the chapter, @DragonParadox.
Last edited:
- Location
- Germany
Until we use Miracle to find the way from our audience hall to the next decent backer for a snack.
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
Lya: "Viserys, dear, did you just use a Miracle to alphabetize that stack of Inquisition reports?"
Viserys: "I have no clue what you are talking about..."
- Location
- Argentina
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
We have been doing just that with Bloodwish for a while now, haven't we?
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
Old Fellowships Undone
Twentieth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
Reports of every sort pass across your desk each day, as varied as the messengers that bear them, from Mereth's account of doings in the east, to the brazier borne whispers accounting for the folly of the last archon of Lys lingering even past his death. It is a raven bearing fortuitous tidings from Lorath, however, that leaves you in a grim and thoughtful mood. A prince deposed, a conspiracy unraveled, a city one step closer to being brought under your rule... By rights you should be elated, but the reminder of just how effective the last of Windward Society are in your service only places the secret that hangs between you in sharper relief. Tor's fate would not be easy to divine, of course, but it would hardly be impossible with their growing skills. Worse still, some foe could reveal it to push them off balance or even tempt them to treachery.
Looking down, you see the parchment in your hands half crumpled without noticing. This cannot be allowed to continue, even if it costs you their service, you resolve, getting up from your desk. As the words of translocation flow to their familiar cadence, you hesitate. There is something to be said for going alone, for it had been your decision and no other's to keep the secret, but you know Dany would wish to be there. She had known them as long as you have, and Tor also.
"Are you sure?" she asks simply when you explain what you mean to do.
"As sure as one can be about something like this," you sigh.
Without another word, your sister takes your hand and between one moment and the next you standing at the back of a dark warehouse, between crates of what looks like steel ingots and what smells like fish. It is private, you will grant it that, but you wish whichever captain had decided to leave your marked token here had considered how you were supposed to get out of here without knocking something over. In what may be the most petty use of a spell of the seventh circle you have ever used, you slip though the crowded warehouse as a wraith through the dark while Dany simply ducks through the gaps.
Stepping out into the chill fog you, try and mostly fail to get a sense of where in the city you are. Like Braavos Lorath is a city embraced and divided by the cold northern seas, its stony islands long since grown confining, driving its people to build upwards, houses and towers of dark stone with arches and bridged between them. Unlike in warmer southern climes, the roofs here are sharp and jagged against the sky to guard against deep winter snows, though for now the most that drips off them is yesterday's rain occasionally drenching passersby on the narrow cobbled streets.
Noticing Dany's look of disdain, you shrug. "It's not the most beautiful city we've visited, but it has its own charm."
"It's not the city," she shakes her head and motions towards two men loading grain onto a wagon, their rough burlap clothes worse off than the sacks they are handling. Both wear heavy iron collars. "I had gotten used to not seeing that."
"Soon enough you won't have to see it here either," you assure her firmly. Whatever comes of your conversation today, Lorath's fate had been sealed when Braavos agreed to come under your rule, made all the swifter by the happenings of the last few days.
***
The Palace of the Three Princes is set upon the highest point of the largest isle, which is still not particularly high, nor the island particularly large, though its builders did seem determined to make up for the drab grey facade watched over by ancient grotesques with inner grandeur. Rich eastern carpets cover floors of marble polished to a rich amber as scores of lanterns are made to seem all the brighter through cunningly placed mirrors. The painted landscapes that adorn most of the larger chambers are also pleasant enough if a bit formulaic in style, likely due to the artists not wishing to risk having a commission rejected.
As fate would have it, you find Menel, Ser Aubert, Grazdan, Koron and Lothos sitting around a table under a large fanciful landscape of Sothoryos, filled with everything from the lizard birds to flowers with the face of men and palm trees shrouded in orchids where faeries dwell.
"What brings you here in person, Your Grace, Your Highness?" Menel speaks first, catching your somber expression. "Does something require our attention elsewhere. This Illyrio...."
"No," you sigh. "This concerns the foes of the past not the future. This concerns Tor's fate..."
All of them freeze in mid-act, five pairs of eyes at once young and old fixed unerringly upon you. Had they suspected something, you wonder, but cast the thought aside, it matters little now.
"Tor was a man who lusted after true magical power, at a time when we little understood magic ourselves, so any means to acquire it seemed proportionate to the degree of desperation he must have felt in the twilight of his life," you begin "He found that means though my blood, but the ritual came at a cost I did not then know, not to him, nor to me, but to others. Like the vampire he had to feed upon the magics of others to sustain himself, for this cause he enslaved others, weaker mages, breaking the First Law of Braavos as well as..."
Grazdan's cursing cuts you off, the words harsh and guttural after the manner of Mereen in his rage. "You lie!" His eyes shine with unshed tears.
At another time and in another place you would take that for an insult, but here and now you answer softly: "I am sorry, but I do not."
"Why didn't you tell us before?" Lothos snaps. "Why now of all times? Did you find him again?"
"Tor is dead, gone beyond even the power of gods to restore," Dany interjects sadly, not for the dead madman's sake but for that of the five men standing before you. "We killed him for crimes that went much further than simple slavery."
They know the law as well as you do, they know what you are accusing Tor of. No one speaks up to name you liar again, but Aubert's voice is cold as drawn steel as he asks. "And did you give him a trial Your Grace, a chance to speak for himself and perhaps to be freed of whatever pact he had made. There is a demon in the ranks of your inquisition, what evils did Tor commit that were worse than hers?"
What do you reply?
[] Write in
OOC: So far so good decent rolls and the slavery angle hits hard, but I figured just rolling though the whole discussion would be doing it a disservice, not to mention wanting to show off Lorath a bit since it's Viserys' first time here. Not yet edited.
@DragonParadox, like in Braavos, Slavery is not practiced in Lorath.
Really?
Sorry for that, I should have checked
I thought all the free cities bar Braavos and technically Pentos practiced slavery. Editing out.
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
Pentoshi style bondsmen, maybe?Really?
Sorry for that, I should have checked
I thought all the free cities bar Braavos and technically Pentos practiced slavery. Editing out.
- Location
- Germany
I would call our reason pragmatism.
In Braavos we wanted to talk, but he foresaw a bad ending and fled.
In Pentos we didn't dare to face him fully prepared and weren't capable of good and quick capture, so we killed him.
After that his mind was twisted by a dark god and even without that we killed him, so we didn't want to trust him after that matter.
In Braavos we wanted to talk, but he foresaw a bad ending and fled.
In Pentos we didn't dare to face him fully prepared and weren't capable of good and quick capture, so we killed him.
After that his mind was twisted by a dark god and even without that we killed him, so we didn't want to trust him after that matter.
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
No matter if we had given Tor a chance to explain himself the time we killed for the first time, it would have been far too late.
He ended up in Sseth's domain after dying.
He made a fucking stupid deal, and got twisted into being that had very little of Tor left (and that's supposedly sad, yes, whatever).
But that very deal alone is a reason enough for killing him being righteous, even before all other shit he did is brought up.
He was an asshole through and through, from the moment he ran away instead of talking, to that time he almost Tanos!snapped Lya.
He ended up in Sseth's domain after dying.
He made a fucking stupid deal, and got twisted into being that had very little of Tor left (and that's supposedly sad, yes, whatever).
But that very deal alone is a reason enough for killing him being righteous, even before all other shit he did is brought up.
He was an asshole through and through, from the moment he ran away instead of talking, to that time he almost Tanos!snapped Lya.
- Location
- Argentina
That and to answer their question, Azema wanted to change.
Tor did unspeakable things so that he didn't have to change. FFS, we could have taught him wizardry or found a way to reincarnate him
Edits done.
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
Old Fellowships Undone
Twentieth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
Reports of every sort pass across your desk each day, as varied as the messengers that bear them, from Mereth's account of doings in the east, to the brazier borne whispers accounting for the folly of the last archon of Lys lingering even past his death. It is a raven bearing fortuitous tidings from Lorath, however, that leaves you in a grim and thoughtful mood. A prince deposed, a conspiracy unraveled, a city one step closer to being brought under your rule... By rights you should be elated, but the reminder of just how effective the last of Windward Society are in your service only places the secret that hangs between you in sharper relief. Tor's fate would not be easy to divine, of course, but it would hardly be impossible with their growing skills. Worse still, some foe could reveal it to push them off balance or even tempt them to treachery.
Looking down, you see the parchment in your hands half crumpled without noticing. This cannot be allowed to continue, even if it costs you their service, you resolve, getting up from your desk. As the words of translocation flow to their familiar cadence, you hesitate. There is something to be said for going alone, for it had been your decision and no other's to keep the secret, but you know Dany would wish to be there. She had known them as long as you have, and Tor also.
"Are you sure?" she asks simply when you explain what you mean to do.
"As sure as one can be about something like this," you sigh.
Without another word, your sister takes your hand and between one moment and the next you standing at the back of a dark warehouse, between crates of what looks like steel ingots and what smells like fish. It is private, you will grant it that, but you wish whichever captain had decided to leave your marked token here had considered how you were supposed to get out of here without knocking something over. In what may be the most petty use of a spell of the seventh circle you have ever used, you slip though the crowded warehouse as a wraith through the dark while Dany simply ducks through the gaps.
Stepping out into the chill fog you, try and mostly fail to get a sense of where in the city you are. Like Braavos Lorath is a city embraced and divided by the cold northern seas, its stony islands long since grown confining, driving its people to build upwards, houses and towers of dark stone with arches and bridged between them. Unlike in warmer southern climes, the roofs here are sharp and jagged against the sky to guard against deep winter snows, though for now the most that drips off them is yesterday's rain occasionally drenching passersby on the narrow cobbled streets.
Noticing Dany's look of disdain, you shrug. "It's not the most beautiful city we've visited, but it has its own charm."
"It's not the city," she shakes her head and motions towards two men loading grain onto a wagon, their rough burlap clothes worse off than the sacks they are handling. Both wear heavy iron collars. "I had gotten used to not seeing that."
"Soon enough you won't have to see it here either," you assure her firmly. Whatever comes of your conversation today, Lorath's fate had been sealed when Braavos agreed to come under your rule, made all the swifter by the happenings of the last few days.
***
The Palace of the Three Princes is set upon the highest point of the largest isle, which is still not particularly high, nor the island particularly large, though its builders did seem determined to make up for the drab grey facade watched over by ancient grotesques with inner grandeur. Rich eastern carpets cover floors of marble polished to a rich amber as scores of lanterns are made to seem all the brighter through cunningly placed mirrors. The painted landscapes that adorn most of the larger chambers are also pleasant enough if a bit formulaic in style, likely due to the artists not wishing to risk having a commission rejected.
As fate would have it, you find Menel, Ser Aubert, Grazdan, Koron and Lothos sitting around a table under a large fanciful landscape of Sothoryos, filled with everything from the lizard birds to flowers with the face of men and palm trees shrouded in orchids where faeries dwell.
"What brings you here in person, Your Grace, Your Highness?" Menel speaks first, catching your somber expression. "Does something require our attention elsewhere. This Illyrio...."
"No," you sigh. "This concerns the foes of the past not the future. This concerns Tor's fate..."
All of them freeze in mid-act, five pairs of eyes at once young and old fixed unerringly upon you. Had they suspected something, you wonder, but cast the thought aside, it matters little now.
"Tor was a man who lusted after true magical power, at a time when we little understood magic ourselves, so any means to acquire it seemed proportionate to the degree of desperation he must have felt in the twilight of his life," you begin "He found that means though my blood, but the ritual came at a cost I did not then know, not to him, nor to me, but to others. Like the vampire he had to feed upon the magics of others to sustain himself, for this cause he enslaved others, weaker mages, breaking the First Law of Braavos as well as..."
Grazdan's cursing cuts you off, the words harsh and guttural after the manner of Mereen in his rage. "You lie!" His eyes shine with unshed tears.
At another time and in another place you would take that for an insult, but here and now you answer softly: "I am sorry, but I do not."
"Why didn't you tell us before?" Lothos snaps. "Why now of all times? Did you find him again?"
"Tor is dead, gone beyond even the power of gods to restore," Dany interjects sadly, not for the dead madman's sake but for that of the five men standing before you. "We killed him for crimes that went much further than simple slavery."
They know the law as well as you do, they know what you are accusing Tor of. No one speaks up to name you liar again, but Aubert's voice is cold as drawn steel as he asks. "And did you give him a trial Your Grace, a chance to speak for himself and perhaps to be freed of whatever pact he had made. There is a demon in the ranks of your inquisition, what evils did Tor commit that were worse than hers?"
What do you reply?
[] Write in
OOC: So far so good decent rolls and the slavery angle hits hard, but I figured just rolling though the whole discussion would be doing it a disservice, not to mention wanting to show off Lorath a bit since it's Viserys' first time here. Not yet edited.
[X] "Damn it, Aubert, I tried! I would have sold my blood to him, as would others among my friends, at least long enough to find another way around his restrictions. Lya mastered lore with only her mind, I had thought, so why not eventually Tor? He certainly wasn't short-sighted or petty, in fact he only seemed to see where my power might eventually plateau, and forged pacts with those who wished me ill."
-[X] "Months I spent fighting cultists, the misbegotten servants of mad gods. That only ever seemed to make the man more paranoid. When he fled me in Braavos, I marked him down as an enemy, for how was I to know what schemes he might have been tangled in? I name two Arch-Dukes of Baator as my mortal foes even as I entangle a third in their plots, and just in the past week have given cause for the greatest among that infernal host to cast his gimlet eye upon my works. And these are the foes I barely have the time to turn my full attention toward."
-[X] "So how is it that a man who made puppets of people like me or Dany for power and wealth and glory supposed to be weighed against any of the other petty tyrants of Essos? How many people did Tor kill in his experiments who won't ever experience a fair trial?"
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
[X] "Have you, perchance, met Sarah of Pentos, who now teaches at the Scholarium in Sorcerer's Deep? She was once enslaved by Tor before we freed her in Pentos, serving not only as a source of blood to fuel his powers, but forced to use her magic to aid him in his madness, to work alongside him as he conducted torturous experiments which twisted the living and the dead in unspeakable ways."
-[X] "We killed him during that encounter, but did nothing to prevent his soul from moving on or being Resurrected later, a decision I regret. We were not aware at the time, but Tor had already made a pact with a dark god, an evil, malicious, counterpart to Yss. It resurrected Tor in Sothoryos, among the few remaining serpentfolk in existence. He was irrevocably changed, however, both in body and in soul, remade as the god he dealt with wished. No longer just obssessed with power and control, Tor arose anew as a madman, one who killed for the simple joy of killing, and would have shortly wiped out the remaining serpentfolk had we not intervened."
--[X] "Once Tor's soul belonged to his new master, we could never allow it to be free again, for it would simply be able to return him to life elsewhere to once more carry out its plans."
---[X] "I did not want the last memory you possessed of Tor to be of betrayal and madness. The last embers of guilt I felt at killing a man who gifted my sister nameday presents and told me stories by the fire have faded, but that doesn't excuse holding back when forging oaths with those close to him."
----[X] "Before anyone can cut in, at this point succinctly say, "I'll release you from your oaths should you feel scorned by this revelation. I owe you all that much. And I would greatly value your continued, and willing, service, not to mention the wisdom and experience you have gathered throughout your long lives. Either way, should you choose to remain in my service or leave to seek your fortunes elsewhere, I hope that we can remain friends."
EDIT: Crake'd. My plan uses a heavily modified version of @Crake's original plan for the revelation.
-[X] "We killed him during that encounter, but did nothing to prevent his soul from moving on or being Resurrected later, a decision I regret. We were not aware at the time, but Tor had already made a pact with a dark god, an evil, malicious, counterpart to Yss. It resurrected Tor in Sothoryos, among the few remaining serpentfolk in existence. He was irrevocably changed, however, both in body and in soul, remade as the god he dealt with wished. No longer just obssessed with power and control, Tor arose anew as a madman, one who killed for the simple joy of killing, and would have shortly wiped out the remaining serpentfolk had we not intervened."
--[X] "Once Tor's soul belonged to his new master, we could never allow it to be free again, for it would simply be able to return him to life elsewhere to once more carry out its plans."
---[X] "I did not want the last memory you possessed of Tor to be of betrayal and madness. The last embers of guilt I felt at killing a man who gifted my sister nameday presents and told me stories by the fire have faded, but that doesn't excuse holding back when forging oaths with those close to him."
----[X] "Before anyone can cut in, at this point succinctly say, "I'll release you from your oaths should you feel scorned by this revelation. I owe you all that much. And I would greatly value your continued, and willing, service, not to mention the wisdom and experience you have gathered throughout your long lives. Either way, should you choose to remain in my service or leave to seek your fortunes elsewhere, I hope that we can remain friends."
EDIT: Crake'd. My plan uses a heavily modified version of @Crake's original plan for the revelation.
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