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

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Also happy new year to everyone here. Just hit twelve here.

And these intiatiors may finally intrest me in a martial build.
Although is their really good leader type one.
 
Azel said:
You in particular should check out the Crimson Countess – d20PFSRD archetype.

The Book of War provides some quality murdering. 👌
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Oh, I most definitely would check the Book out. Anything related to bloodletting and slaughters always gets an A+ in my book. The more gruesome it is, THE BETTER!!!

KHORNE CARES NOT FROM WHENCE THE BLOOD FLOWS, ONLY THAT IT FLOWS.
 
Happy 2020 everyone.

I'm filled with existential dread, over way too many things to count with this date-change, but some hopes too.

NY is oft more of an occasion than Christmas here in Russia, you see, so it's far more of a celebratory cause for some.

Imma say g'night now, because me appearing here today again is not guaranteed.
:p
 
@DragonParadox How is Perwyn handling the shocking and scandalous revelation that King Viserys is embroiled in TRADE?!?! 😩

Probably not more shocking than seeing some of the figures flying off Alinor's desk funding new projects... "Twenty thousand to fund a... this is for sewage?"

Alinor, absently: "Sanitation systems for a chain of islands. Complicated work, has to hold up to unique geographic circumstances."

Perwyn: "Why not just have them wash in a bucket? Small folk make due in the Riverlands just fine."

Alinor: "Perwyn, dear. Put another groat in the Feudalism Jar."

Perwyn: "Fine..."
 
egoo said:
Happy 2020 everyone.

I'm filled with existential dread, over way too many things to count with this date-change, but some hopes too.

NY is oft more of an occasion than Christmas here in Russia, you see, so it's far more of a celebratory cause for some.

Imma say g'night now, because me appearing here today again is not guaranteed.
:p
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Happy New Year, egoo. And everyone else, too.

I might as well say it now, as midnight is well past my self-imposed old man bedtime.
 
@DragonParadox

Any chance we have these templates? The first one is simple, and the second is the sort of thing the Valyrians would have.


sites.google.com

Eberron Pathfinder - Magebred Animal

Magebred animals are near-perfect examples of their kind that have been carefully selected, bred and augmented through magic to enhance the abilities that make them useful to intelligent races. Chief among their traits is their universal aptitude for being trained without attaining a true
sites.google.com sites.google.com
 
JamesShazbond said:
@DragonParadox

Any chance we have these templates? The first one is simple, and the second is the sort of thing the Valyrians would have.


sites.google.com

Eberron Pathfinder - Magebred Animal

Magebred animals are near-perfect examples of their kind that have been carefully selected, bred and augmented through magic to enhance the abilities that make them useful to intelligent races. Chief among their traits is their universal aptitude for being trained without attaining a true
sites.google.com sites.google.com
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I'm pretty sure warbeast is the sort of thing you get from training not breeding

*rolls*

You have magebred yes
 
JamesShazbond said:
@DragonParadox

Any chance we have these templates? The first one is simple, and the second is the sort of thing the Valyrians would have.


sites.google.com

Eberron Pathfinder - Magebred Animal

Magebred animals are near-perfect examples of their kind that have been carefully selected, bred and augmented through magic to enhance the abilities that make them useful to intelligent races. Chief among their traits is their universal aptitude for being trained without attaining a true
sites.google.com sites.google.com
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DragonParadox said:
I'm pretty sure warbeast is the sort of thing you get from training not breeding

*rolls*

You have magebred yes
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I'll add Magebred as a template listed on my Forge Orders page.
 
Inserted tally
Adhoc vote count started by DragonParadox on Dec 31, 2019 at 1:24 PM, finished with 59 posts and 14 votes.
  • [X] Speak to the Sprites
    -[X] After attracting the attention of one or more Sprite, greet them politely and engage in what conversation they are willing to make. Try to learn what we can of these Sprites, the surrounding Feywild (not just the tree and its immediate environs), the reflection of the Great Heart Tree, and anything else they are willing to share that may be of interest.
    -[X] In exchange if the Sprites ask of ourselves, share minor stories of our realm, some of the accomplishments of our vassals (especially Fey, such as Glyra and Moonsong), and perhaps even something about ourselves, though obviously nothing sensitive or of much greater worth (the kinds of tales we can use to make major purchases with powerful Fey).
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Part MMMCCLXV: Heart of Tales
  • Threadmarks
    • Heart of Tales ​

    Twenty Ninth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

    Attempting to converse with a sprite is not the easiest of tasks at the best of times, one might call them flighty, though the sprites themselves insist that they are actually very attentive to 'the important things'. Alas, what was important changed often from sprite to sprite and from moment to moment. Still, there are five words that are bound to get some answer: "I've a story to tell." The spirals flicker and they splinter, a hundred tiny eyes and more turned towards you. "A story of mortal lands far away, of daring deeds and far off travels, of battles won and kingdoms raised. In return, I ask only to know what this place is and all that lays around it, what princes rule, what powers hold sway."

    What follows is some strange reflection of a tale told by the campfire save that the light shone from the onlookers faces, brighter with every exclamation, radiating around the circle as you speak of Glyra's mischief in Braavos and Volantis, and of Moonsong's battles on the high seas and her raids upon the Basilisk Isles. Faintly you hear Qyburn ask, "How do they know what the Basilisk Isles are or what a galley is, or a magister?"

    "They don't have to anymore than you need to know what went into cooking a pie to enjoy it," Lya replies, leaving he former maester shaking his head, though more in bemusement than denial for the fey certainly look as stated as after a good meal once the last of your tales had been told.

    Thus they give accounting of the tree they call the Gilded Greenheart, and in the word you hear the echo of what this ward of Lys once was and what it had become in tale, but nothing of the Old Gods, no dreams nor dreamers, no bone-white boughs nor crimson leaves. This is not some hidden part of the Forge you soon realize, the greenseers of old were too canny and too careful to allow a part of their power to fall upon the ebb and flow of the Feywild to be shaped by chance or the passing whimsy of some fey lord or lady.

    This is the domain of Dian the Doughty, who heals all those who come to his door with the Golden Wine of Spring and whose servants fall from the branches of the tree like fruits come into ripening, as some of the old harvest wander away new ones are born. The sprites warn that while the fey lord is a jolly sort and likely to offer sanctuary for little more than a fair asking, treachery makes him wroth such that he will turn the very wine in one's stomach into fire or if one had not yet drunk of it spew out a great gout of spirits set alight with the eternally burning wick at the tip of his curling beard.

    "He sets fire to traitors, but heals and offers succor to the needy?" Dany asks, looking at you meaningfully, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth. "I think it may not just be the Old Gods being reflected here."

    "The tree and the embassy besides was a sanctuary for runaway slaves before the city was annexed," you point out. "It's not that far from healing berries to healing wine..."

    "The mortals did hold some rather spirited celebrations around the tree on the day the city was taken from what I have heard," the Orphne Lord adds. "Likely as not that is what helped to brew the brewer."

    "Eww... beer," one of the sprites sticks out her tongue at the shadowy figure. "We only drink wine, we're not barbarians."

    "Well, it makes about as much sense as anything in the Feywild," you say with a shake of your head, though to be honest more amused than exasperated. A cheerful fey lord who dislikes oathbreakers and traitors should not be that hard to charm.

    What do you do next?

    [] Enter the court of the Gilded Greenheart
    -[] Write in introduction

    [] Fly around the tree more to get the lay of the land

    [] Write in

    OOC: The Greenheart is an actual sort of tree, though obviously it does not look anything like the picture I used, still it was a nice discovery. It's really easy to fall into using just common plants in fantasy and that is one of those things that's hard to pin down that makes world-building seem flat.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • DragonParadox said:
    Not really, or at least not with anywhere near the same metaphysical weight, Spring is just another way to say renewal or healing in fey terms, Autumn is the wearing away of years, a withering.
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    And if you need to get ultra specific, there are Courts which have different themes (and none of the world shaking power equivalent to the White Court ala Dresden Files in metaphysical weight or responsibility, though I guess if Winter possessed responsibilities then they are basically absolved of them, having given in to the Outside in this setting).
     
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    DragonParadox said:
    Heart of Tales ​

    Twenty Ninth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

    Attempting to converse with a sprite is not the easiest of tasks at the best of times. One might call them flighty, though the sprites themselves insist that they are actually very attentive to 'the important things'. Alas, what was important often changed from sprite to sprite and from moment to moment. Still, there are six words that are bound to get some answer: "I have a story to tell." The spirals flicker and splinter, a hundred tiny eyes and more turned towards you. "A story of mortal lands far away, of daring deeds and far off travels, of battles won and kingdoms raised. In return, I ask only to know what this place is and all that lays around it, what princes rule, and what powers hold sway."

    What follows is some strange reflection of a tale told by the camp fire, save that the light shone from the onlookers faces, brighter with every exclamation, radiance around the circle running as you speak of Glyra's mischief in Braavos and Volantis, of Moonsong's battles on the high seas and her raids upon the Basilisk Isles. Faintly, you hear Qyburn ask, "How do they know what a Basilisk Isle is or a galley, or a magister?"

    "They don't have to know anymore than you need to know what went into cooking a pie to enjoy it," Lya replies, leaving the former Maester shaking his head, though more in bemusement than denial, for the fey certainly look as sated as if they had eaten good meal once the last of your tales had been told.

    Thus they give accounting of the tree they call the Gilded Greenheart, and in the word you hear the echo of what this ward of Lys once was and what it had become in tale, but nothing of the Old Gods, no dreams nor dreamers, no bone-white boughs nor crimson leaves. This is not some hidden part of the forge, you soon realize. The Greenseers of old were too canny and careful to allow a part of their power to fall upon the ebb and flow of the Feywild, to be shaped by chance or the passing whimsy of some fey lord or lady.

    This is the domain of Dian the Doughty, who heals all those who come to his door with the Golden Wine of Spring, and whose servants fall from the branches of the tree like fruits come into ripening, as some of the old harvest wander away, new ones are born. The sprites warn that while the fey lord is a jolly sort and likely to offer sanctuary for little more than a fair asking, treachery makes him wroth such that he will turn the very wine in one's stomach into fire, or if one had not yet drunk of it, spew out a great gout of spirits set alight with the eternally burning wick at the tip of his curling beard.

    "He sets fire to traitors, but heals and offers succor to the needy?" Dany asks, looking at you meaningfully, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth. "I think it may not just be the Old Gods being reflected here."

    "The tree and the embassy beside it was a sanctuary for runaway slaves before the city was annexed," you point out. "It's not that far from healing berries to healing wine..."

    "The mortals did hold some rather spirited celebrations around the tree on the day the city was taken, from what I have heard," the Orphne Lord adds. "Likely as not, that is what helped to brew the brewer."

    "Ew... beer," one of the sprites sticks out her tongue at the shadowy figure. "We only drink wine! We're not barbarians."

    "Well, it makes about as much sense as anything in the Feywyld," you say with a shake of your head, though to be honest you are more amused than exasperated. A cheerful feylord who dislikes oathbreakers and traitors should not be that hard to charm.

    What do you do next?

    [] Enter the court of the Gilded Greenheart
    -[] Write in introduction

    [] Fly around the tree more to get the lay of the land

    [] Write in

    OOC: The Greenheart is an actual sort of tree, though obviously it does not look anything like the picture I used, still it was a nice discovery. It's really easy to fall into using just common plants in fantasy and that is one of those things that's hard to pin down that makes world-building seem flat. Not yet edited.
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    Made some more edits to the chapter, DP.
     
    This was a really cool chapter, @DragonParadox. I never would have thought that Viserys himself might have inspired the formation of a Fey Lord. :D

    It must be getting close to midnight in Romania. Happy New Year, DP! 🥳
     
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    DragonParadox said:
    This is the domain of Dian the Doughty, who heals all those who come to his door with the Golden Wine of Spring and whose servants fall from the branches of the tree like fruits come into ripening, as some of the old harvest wander away new ones are born. The sprites warn that while the fey lord is a jolly sort and likely to offer sanctuary for little more than a fair asking, treachery makes him wroth such that he will turn the very wine in one's stomach into fire or if one had not yet drunk of it spew out a great gout of spirits set alight with the eternally burning wick at the tip of his curling beard.
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    Damn, this would have been a perfect Christmas chapter! Have you been hoping we would have chosen this last week, DP? Because that's freaking a Santa Claus expy for me there no matter what anyone else says!

    Drunk santa obviously, but still!
     
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