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

Thirteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

The sixth hour of the day dawns cold and bright over the plains of Jogos Nhai as you look onto the camp below. It is not as it was. Perhaps if you had not spent the last several days observing the rhythms of the camp, the comings and goings of soldiers and officers, you might have missed the subtle signs. Perhaps if you had not been looking for weakness, you would not have seen it. Several more of the priests are absent, some gone to secure the shadow fortress, others vanished into the depths of the rough-hewn temple of Tiamat festooned with the offerings of the greedy, the faithful, and the fearful. It and it alone among the forest of tents is carved of stone, meant to endure even once all the rest had been blown away in the wind. It will not endure much longer

"They're calling something," Dany says grimly as she looks towards the temple. "From the Dreamlands, maybe. They know the townhouse in Trader Town was attacked, and even if they bought the presence of Emerald Magistrates they have to wonder if Bu Gai might not strike twice. Considering the letter he sent out about Tiamat when we told him about it, I do not think it would be outside the bonds of possibility that he might allow an unofficial truce with Pol Qo in order to deal with Her influence..."

"That would be impetuous to do," you muse, though it is not really a denial.

"Its the sort of thing a young king new to his throne and wanting to show strength might try," Ser Richard says still, his gaze sweeping over the camp. He catches the movement before you do. "Look there, that'll be the sacrifices they are bringing in." The camp followers of the Company call it the Black Wagon for the drapes of enchanted black silk at its windows, sighing and rippling as though alive. It's built more like a carriage really, though given the fact that no one alive has ever been seen leaving it the name does not seem wholly unfitting.

"I don't think they are calling for help, not yet," Lya interjects, tearing her eyes away from the scene. "Think about what we would do in their place, waste precious resources on summoning a temporary advantage that might be lost if it's mistimed, or try to find out more of what is actually happening so we can plan better?"

"They want to divine through the mind wards." It makes sense, it makes too much sense. True your enemies could be acting foolishly, they could be acting mad even—they are servants of Tiamat after all—but you do not think so.

You look up to see the sunlight shatter in painful prisms of light against the wings of the Prismatic Drakes. They could have simply been summoned for protection of course, or they might be here to draw the eye of their maker most keenly, to call upon her for a deed even She would not lightly undertake.


From the other side of the camp, though still flying above the sea of tents, you hear Malarys's voice in your mind. "Having seen them mounted I think I have discovered why the mages so dote on their war-beasts. They are bonded to them through blood magic, borrowing their vitality. It might afford them other protections, too."

"A pity there aren't anymore Elephants left in Volantis, they would have appreciated that bit of magic," you reply in jest, though part of you wishes you could study this bond.

A ripple of sardonic amusement passes through the thread of magic followed by Amrelath's voice crackling like fire. "I wonder what they taste like. It's been a while since I have eaten anything interesting." Given his standards for worthy meals you are not sure you want to find out just what he considers the last one to have been—perhaps the spirit of cold and famine in the Fathest North.


"I'm ready to start calling wind spirits now." Vee's voice is as calm and focused as it ever is on the eve of battle, though there is an edge of frustration under it at having failed to catch the flesh-shaper in Trader Town. He could have chosen to not return to the camp in the wake of the loss of his fellows, which would allow him to take his skills and his utter disregard to the life shaped under his hands elsewhere. "Once I start we won't have long before the attack. Argo, you there?"


The Minotaur is startled for a moment, unsure how to reply by the use of mind magic. "We'll hold the line don't you worry, only trouble is we ain't got shit to guard against the hurts-your-eyes dragons."

You almost dismiss the message as 'all is in order'. Minotaurs do have a slight aversion to bright light, and the shifting lurid colors of the Prismatic Drakes are certainly not something you would want to be staring into. Then you take a closer look at the patterns they are flying. It's too precise, too geometrical, and certainly not the best patrol route. "Dany, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" you motion to some of the lines in the air.

Her eyes go wider, "It's not a spell yet, but they are definitely doing something."

"We want them to call an Avatar though, don't we?" Lya asks. "That is what we have bargained with for the powers for the Well of Eternity."

Ser Richard clears his throat in what no one could mistake for a retching cough and certainly not for approval, but he does not speak aloud.


"Yes, but we really do not want to fight the thing together with everything else," you reply, reaching out to the Harbinger. The touch of its mechanistic mind of Dragonsteel and spell-forged gears is odd, but it confirms that it is ready to deal with 'significant threats' as they emerge.


Other gods are not without their champions on their field of battle today. Nirah, Voice of the Timeless One, is ready to deal the Great Serpent's justice upon those priests of Tiamat who might be outside the protection of the temple.


The next to reach out is the Orphne Fey Lord. "We are prepared to infiltrate once the battle begins, though I must warn you that our capacity for stealth and deception is... uneven." You can practically hear the disdain drip from his words. He had wanted to infiltrate the camp beforehand and attack from within, but you had judged the attempt too risky. All it would have taken was one watcher with a gaze as sharp as an Erinyes and the whole plan would have come unraveled with your forces out of position.

"There will be more than enough chaos for you to exploit," you reply in a carefully neutral tone.


The other winged intervention squad is far more enthusiastic about its task. At least those of them that can feel any emotions at all, the drakes and devils. The undead upon tattered wings feel nothing, but their enemies will feel their claws just the same. Hopefully Qyburn's creations will be able to shield others from the enemy also.


Last but not least are the Wyverns and the Moonchaser, ready to translate in from the Plane of Water and begin the attack with an all consuming storm of steel and flame. Moonsong can hardly wait to test her new ship in battle, though all the veteran pilots of the battles in the Endless Sky are more measured in their enthusiasm.


How do you attack?

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OOC: Buffs are on, but summoning has not started yet.