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
- Location
- Mexico
If he is as useless as he seems, I suggest we get rid of him and replace him with someone who will actually make a good vassal.
There's probably a dozen fey on line for his position, no need to settle for Aurane le Fey.
- Location
- United States
You're being quick to judge. The forces at work are pretty damn competent all things considered, I don't blame the Hooded Lord for getting caught up in their web.
- Location
- Earth
Let's decide what to do with the Hooded Lord once we actually met him, and not before.
- Location
- Mexico
It is possible that he is literally bound in a box somewhere, but assuming incompetence is no less realistic than assuming he will be useful.
He has a lot going against him right now.
His enforcers are creepy and scary.
He has not made any attempt to contact the authority of the city once it was replaced.
He used scummy tactics to bind the city to his contract.
He sounds like a petty slum Lord or wannabe mobster.
- Location
- United States
Again, you're being quick to judge.
His enforcers being creepy and scary isn't a point against him. We have literal Fiends in our service. The only ones we don't have at this point are Daemons.
Him not contacting the authority of the city isn't a point against him either -- as far as he was concerned, the previous contract was still valid. And more to the point, until now we didn't make the effort to reach out either. We just ignored the Goblin Market for months after taking Lys.
As for scummy tactics -- that's a Fey thing. Even the Orphne Court was like this. Alysande had to spend months negotiating with the Orphne King to get him to dial down. Getting them to recognize that people who aren't all there upstairs shouldn't be allowed to make binding contracts with Fey was considered a victory for Braavos.
How about we actually talk to him instead of preemptively declaring him Aurane?
tarrangar
Fat arctic chicken
Probably to a point, but I expect it's not so clear-cut as that, it's probably implied that if you're a man, in good standing, and bring her the Sultan's head then she will allow you to court her, and if she find you a tolerable potential husband she will marry you, so she's not going to marry just anyone who bring her his head, but bringing her his head, mean if you want to marry her, she will seriously consider it.
- Location
- Mexico
I think the first point is bad not because they are scary, but because they seem his main point of contact with the market, if all we had were devils people would be justified in believing us less than honest, ruling through fear is generally a mark of a poor ruler.
The second is important because it makes him unable to adapt, he doesn't see the city as a valid authority, just a farm for people to attend his market, the orphne were like this, years ago, this "Lord" still has primitive mentality.
Scummy tactics is just a fey thing, but again paints him in the low side of the average, not someone we want.
But let's see.
Update in beta.
Part MMMLXII: Of Mortal Sorrows and Fey Pride
Of Mortal Sorrows and Fey Pride
Twenty-Sixth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
Swan Street fails rather thoroughly to live up to its name, from the scab-like lichen growing between the paving stones to the grime turning the pale sandstone of the shops to a light blotchy brown, where it is not covered in the marks of the local gangs. Colored strips of cloth hang listlessly on a rope spanning the street, you suspect in imitation of Westerosi pendants, and if so put there almost two months ago to coincide with the tourney in the Deep. They say a rising tide raises all boats, but you know better. The ones with holes in the bottom will sink just the same.
It is not hard to guess what 'malady' inflicted the craftsmen here—the freeing of the slaves who did the simple but necessary work apprentices handled in other realms left them without the coin to hire freemen for the task. Many of the stories of the conquest of the Three Daughters dwell upon the fall of the great latifundia or trading houses, but in truth they were far better equipped to weather the storm than most, at least if their owner managed to avoid the noose. It is not hard to find the tailor shop Haldon had mentioned. The sign of a pair of scissors and a measuring stick creaks above a door covered in peeling green paint... and beside it a beggar trying to find what shelter he can against the chill of approaching night.
Rina reaches out to toss a Steel Faith in his bowl, but you reach out to stop her. "Too valuable, he won't keep that long."
"I just wish I could help," she sighs.
The man does not recognize either of you for who you are beneath your glamours, of course, but you still have the look of relatively wealthy travelers. "Turn around. Turn around right now, missy, and don't make any deals with old Hogart and it'll be better than anything he could pay me." He spits on the ground. "Bastard, may the Lord of Light strike him blind and deaf for what he's done."
Thoros, the only one among you to be wearing his own face, shakes his head sadly and drops a fist-full of bronze Trades in the beggar's bowl, a windfall, but one he can explain away when he goes to spend it. "He would sooner bless the innocent than curse the guilty."
"What has he done?" you ask, half tempted to add to the gift, but knowing that anymore would likely arouse suspicion. This is not a problem you solve by slipping your hand into your pocket here and now in any case. You need some sort of net to catch those who slip between the cracks of the system, former slaves ill-fortuned in gaining their freedom. Hell, the man before you would probably be better off breaking a law and getting sent off to prison, absurd as that may be.
"He uses folks right up he does, takes us off the street saying he'll feed and clothe us but ain't no one that left his shop any better off than they found it," he answers, old anger mixing with shock at the priest's generosity. "And that's for the ones that even make it out," the beggar adds, determined to pay back the gift in words and tales or driven to pay ill with ill to his former employer. "There's a lot who come out of here feet first and no one gives a damn, 'cause they were sick, old and nameless when they came in."
"Are you sick?" Rina asks a touch hesitantly.
"Nothing catching, lass, just the aches and pains you'd expect inside and out, nothing a warm meal won't help put right." The words have more hope than confidence, a fact that Rina notices too to judge from the determined light in her eyes.
"Do you want me to heal you... with magic?" she adds after a moment.
The old man looks at Thoros eyes wide, to which the priest nods in encouragement. "It won't harm you in body or in soul."
Rina reaches out and with a whispered spell in that tongue like breaking ice she cures all sickness from his flesh, for though the power she wields cannot mend or strengthen life the cold can slay plagues and parasites as easily as anything else alive.
"Lady Rina, Lady Rina is that you?" a tiny fey light flickers up from among the weeds, the sprite clearly known to your companion.
"Yes, it's me, Dewchaser, but you shouldn't announce it to all and sundry," she sighs as the old beggar, more hale and healthy than he has been in a long time, stutters his thanks and walks away from the odd meeting.
"What are you even doing here?" the frost-touched mage adds.
"I'm investigating the Hooded Lord and his Hunters," the sprite proclaims with pride that brings to mind Moonsong's manner. He is another Fey Spirit who would not let something so insignificant as being the size of the dragonfly whose wings he bears get him to back down from a challenge.
"How did you come to investigate here?" you interject, intrigued.
"I followed a rumor I heard from a house spirit that said the dreams of mortals had been troubled by visions of death on tattered wings. If they think I'm going to take my life being threatened for no cause..."
"You were going to fight one of these Fey Hunters?" Thoros asks incredulously.
"Well, no..." Dewchaser's light flickers brighter in embarrassment. "I was just going to spy on them, look around, and then I noticed there are Fey wards on the shop writ in fire."
Calling on the second sight you see there is indeed a simple ward laid out across the threshold, like embers laid out across the stone.
What do you do?
[] Speak to Hogart the Tailor
-[] Write in
[] Dispel the ward and sneak in
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: It's been a while since I got to name the new currency, I hope it integrates properly.
Last edited:
Evaunit02mark1
S-s-smell the Prey, S-s-start the Hunt.
Much as I want to go Kool-aid man on this ass I expect a more subtle approach is needed.
So to that end do we dispel the ward or do we employ our acting skills and see just what this prick will try to sell us before we string him up on charges?
So to that end do we dispel the ward or do we employ our acting skills and see just what this prick will try to sell us before we string him up on charges?
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
Of Mortal Sorrows and Fey Pride
Twenty-Sixth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
Swan Street fails rather thoroughly to live up to its name, from the scab-like lichen growing between the paving stones to the grime turning the pale sandstone of the shops to a light blotchy brown, where it is not covered in the marks of the local gangs. Colored strips of cloth hang listlessly on a rope spanning the street, you suspect in imitation of Westerosi pennants, and if so, put there almost two months ago to coincide with the tourney in the Deep. They say a rising tide raises all boats, but you know better. The ones with holes in the bottom will sink just the same.
It is not hard to guess what 'malady' afflicted the craftsmen here. The freeing of the slaves who did the simple but necessary work apprentices handled in other realms left them without the coin to hire freemen for the task. Many of the stories of the conquest of the Three Daughters dwell upon the fall of the great latifundia or trading houses, but in truth they were far better equipped to weather the storm than most, at least if their owner managed to avoid the noose. It is not hard to find the tailor shop Haldon had mentioned. The sign of a pair of scissors and a measuring stick creaks above a door covered in peeling green paint... and beside it a beggar trying to find what shelter he can against the chill of approaching night.
Rina reaches out to toss a steel Faith in his bowl, but you reach out to stop her. "Too valuable, he won't keep that long."
"I just wish I could help," she sighs.
The man does not recognize either of you for who you are beneath your glamours, of course, but you still have the look of relatively wealthy travelers. "Turn around. Turn around right now, missy, and don't make any deals with old Hogart. It'll be better than anything he could pay me." He spits on the ground. "May the Lord of Light strike the bastard blind and deaf for what he's done."
Thoros, the only one among you to be wearing his own face, shakes his head sadly and drops a fist-full of bronze Trades in the beggar's bowl. A windfall, but one he can explain away when he goes to spend it. "He would sooner bless the innocent than curse the guilty."
"What has he done?" you ask, half tempted to add to the gift, but knowing that anymore would likely arouse suspicion. This is not a problem you solve by slipping your hand into your pocket here and now in any case. You need some sort of net to catch those who slip between the cracks of the system, former slaves ill-fortuned in gaining their freedom. Hell, the man before you would probably be better off breaking a law and getting sent off to prison, absurd as that may be.
"He uses folks right up he does, takes us off the street saying he'll feed and clothe us but ain't no one that left his shop any better off than they found it," he answers, old anger mixing with shock at the priest's generosity. "And that's for the ones that even make it out," the beggar adds, determined to pay back the gift in words and tales or driven to pay ill with ill to his former employer. "There's a lot who come out of here feet first and no one gives a damn, 'cause they were sick, old and nameless when they came in."
"Are you sick?" Rina asks a touch hesitantly.
"Nothing catching, lass, just the aches and pains you'd expect inside and out, nothing a warm meal won't help put right," the words have more hope than confidence, a fact that Rina notices too to judge from the determined light in her eyes.
"Do you want me to heal you... with magic?" she adds after a moment.
The old man looks at Thoros, eyes wide, to which the priest nods in encouragement. "It won't harm you in body or in soul."
Rina reaches out and with a whispered spell in that tongue like breaking ice, she cures all sickness from his flesh, for though the power she wields cannot mend or strengthen life, the cold can slay plagues and parasites as easily as anything else alive.
"Lady Rina, Lady Rina is that you," a tiny fey light flickers up from among the weeds, the sprite clearly known to your companion.
"Yes, it's me, Dewchaser, but you shouldn't announce it to all and sundry," she sighs as the old beggar, more hale and healthy than he has been in a long time, stutters his thanks and walks away from the odd meeting.
"What are you even doing here?"the frost-touched mage adds.
"I'm investigating the Hooded Lord and his Hunters," the sprite proclaims with pride that brings to mind Moonsong's manner. He is another fey spirit who would not let something so insignificant as being the size of the dragonfly whose wings he bears get him to back down from a challenge.
"How did you come to investigate here?" you interject intrigued.
"I followed a rumor I heard from a house spirit that said the dreams of mortals had been troubled by visions of death on tattered wings. If they think I'm going to take my life being threatened for no cause..."
"You were going to fight one of these fey hunters?" Thoros asks incredulously.
"Well, no..." Dewchaser's light flickers brighter in embarrassment. "I was just going to spy on them, look around, and then I noticed there are fey wards on the shop writ in fire."
Calling on the second sight, you see there is indeed a simple ward laid out across the threshold, like embers spread across the stone.
What do you do?
[] Speak to Hogart the Tailor
-[] Write in
[] Dispel the ward and sneak in
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: It's been a while since I got to name the new currency, I hope it integrates properly.
- Location
- Mexico
He likely didn't, he seems a full cultist of Ymeri, one of her servants did if for him.
lockingbane
If you're crazy and you know it clap your hands!
- Location
- Waxahachie tx
Heh, is it bad i kind of want to walk in in full royal regalia and demand to see the man who had been mistreating our subjects just to watch him panic and squirm?
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
[X] Speak to Hogart the Tailor
-[X] Viserys casts Greater Arcane Sight and uses Wild Arcana to cast Brain Spider prior to entering the shop. Rina casts True Seeing on him.
-[X] Once they enter, Rina will do the talking while Viserys rummaged through Hogart's mind, along with anyone else we find inside.
-[X] Viserys casts Greater Arcane Sight and uses Wild Arcana to cast Brain Spider prior to entering the shop. Rina casts True Seeing on him.
-[X] Once they enter, Rina will do the talking while Viserys rummaged through Hogart's mind, along with anyone else we find inside.
Good night guys, see you tomorrow with more intrigues as well as the results of Lya's research and divinations on the chosen of the Smith and other background actions.
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
If the Alarm spell is warding the doorway, it must be Permanent unless someone is taking the trouble to recast it daily. It would allow him to know whenever someone crossed the threshold, which is pretty convenient for a shopkeeper but not particularly helpful to prevent a robbery.
Nothing wrong with just walking through the doorway like we're customers.
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
Really need to work on our social policies. I'm less concerned about the small businesses not able to afford unskilled laborers, since we have financial policies that encourage small business growth and offer loans, so they can adapt.Of Mortal Sorrows and Fey Pride
Twenty-Sixth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
Swan Street fails rather thoroughly to live up to its name, from the scab-like lichen growing between the paving stones to the grime turning the pale sandstone of the shops to a light blotchy brown, where it is not covered in the marks of the local gangs. Colored strips of cloth hang listlessly on a rope spanning the street, you suspect in imitation of Westerosi pendants and if so put there almost two months ago to coincide with the tourney in the Deep. They say a rising tide raises all boats, but you know better. The ones with holes in the bottom will sink just the same.
It is not hard to guess what 'malady' inflicted the craftsmen here, the freeing of the slaves who did the simple but necessary work apprentices handled in other realms left them without the coin to hire freemen for the task. Many of the stories of the conquest of the Three Daughters dwell upon the fall of the great latifundia or trading houses, but in truth they were far better equipped to weather the storm than most, at least if their owner managed to avoid the noose. It is not hard to find the tailor shop Haldon had mentioned. The sign of a pair of scissors and a measuring stick creaks above a door covered in peeling green paint... and beside it a beggar trying to find what shelter he can against the chill of approaching night.
Rina reaches out to toss a steel Faith in his bowl, but you reach out to stop her. "Too valuable, he won't keep that long."
"I just wish I could help," she sighs.
The man does not recognize either of you for who you are beneath your glamours, of course, but you still have the look of relatively wealthy travelers. "Turn around, turn around right now missy and don't make any deals with old Hogart and it'll be better than anything he could pay me." He spits on the ground. "Bastard, may the Lord of Light strike him blind and deaf for what he's done."
Thoros, the only one among you to be wearing his own face, shakes his head sadly and drops a fist-full of bronze Trades in the beggar's bowl, a windfall, but one he can explain away when he goes to spend it. "He would sooner bless the innocent than curse the guilty."
"What has he done?" you ask, half tempted to add to the gift, but knowing that anymore would likely arouse suspicion. This is not a problem you solve by slipping your hand into your pocket here and now in any case. You need some sort of net to catch those who slip between the cracks of the system, former slaves ill-fortuned in gaining their freedom. Hell, the man before you would probably be better off breaking a law and getting sent off to prison, absurd as that may be.
"He uses folks right up he does, takes us off the street saying he'll feed and clothe us but ain't no one that left his shop any better off than they found it," he answers, old anger mixing with shock at the priest's generosity. "And that's for the ones that even make it out," the beggar adds, determined to pay back the gift in words and tales or driven to pay ill with ill to his former employer. "There's a lot who come out of here feet first and no one gives a damn, 'cause they were sick, old and nameless when they came in."
"Are you sick?" Rina asks a touch hesitantly.
"Nothing catching, lass, just the aches and pains you'd expect inside and out, nothing a warm meal won't help put right," the words have more hope than confidence, a fact that Rina notices too to judge from the determined light in her eyes.
"Do you want me to heal you... with magic?" she adds after a moment.
The old man looks at Thoros eyes wide, to which the priest nods in encouragement. "It won't harm you in body or in soul."
Rina reaches out and with a whispered spell in that tongue like breaking ice she cures all sickness from his flesh, for though the power she wields cannot mend or strengthen life the cold can slay plagues and parasites as easily as anything else alive.
"Lady Rina, Lady Rina is that you," a tiny fey light flickers up from among the weeds, the sprite clearly known to your companion.
"Yes, it's me Dewchaser, but you shouldn't announce it to all and sundry," she sighs as the old beggar, more hale and healthy than he has been in a long time, stutters his thanks and walks away from the odd meeting.
"What are you even doing here?"the frost-touched mage adds.
"I'm investigating the Hooded Lord and his Hunters," the sprite proclaims with pride that brings to mind Moonsong's manner. He is another fey spirit who would not let something so insignificant as being the size of the dragonfly whose wings he bears get him to back down from a challenge.
"How did you come to investigate here?" you interject intrigued.
"I followed a rumor I heard from a house spirit that said the dreams of mortals had been troubled by visions of death on tattered wings. If they think I'm going to take my life being threatened for no cause..."
"You were going to fight one of these fey hunters?" Thoros asks incredulously.
"Well, no..." Dewchaser's light flickers brighter in embarrassment. "I was just going to spy on them, look around, and then I noticed there are fey wards on the shop writ in fire."
Calling on the second sight you see there is indeed a simple ward laid out across the threshold, like embers laid out across the stone.
What do you do?
[] Speak to Hogart the Tailor
-[] Write in
[] Dispel the ward and sneak in
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: It's been a while since I got to name the new currency, I hope it integrates properly.
But exploitation of the poor and desperate shouldn't be that easy, we have bread and grain doles to new immigrants in the Deep, but that is mostly alms which granted are probably managed better than business-oriented charity and reaches more people, but still.
Maybe we ahould have Lya become the face behind organized charity efforts? That is often the role a queen took in Westeros, but she would have clerks and aides and it would actually be delegated on a wide scale, not just be a largely ceremonial position that only effects one city's slums.
Last edited:
- Location
- United Kingdom
[X] Goldfish
- Location
- United States
Agreed 100%. This sort of exploitation is fertile ground for cultists.