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

Fourteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Sorting through the piles of the dead, reanimated and formerly living, would take days you know, but since Essaria you had gained the skill of assessing how much use the Flesh Forge's tendrils would be able to gain among the detritus of battle. An army in the making, not even accounting the prisoners you had delivered to Gogossos in person to the approval of a smiling Salladhor Saan. It's not that the man lacks bravery, one does not become one of the most skillful pirates on the Narrow Sea by being craven, but the Lord of the Basilisk Isles is a practical man. Enemies he does not have to fight himself are best.

Bones crackle and flesh tears as the pile of broken limbs, ripped chain and the odd half-rotted head grows as you translocate once more. Gathering all this had been the first task Malarys had set the survivors of Anagaensy, a practical choice certainly, but also one you have no doubt is meant to impress upon them the consequences of being counted among your enemies.

Gained 3,350 HD For Flesh Forge purposes

"You know..." For a moment you think Lya is about to address the matter of the former slavers, but her eyes are on the mound of corpses. "I think the Old Valyrians could have conquered all of Essos and beyond with their Forges, if only they weren't afraid of enthroning the flesh-smiths over it all."

"Probably," you agree. "Though as magic waned they would have struggled to keep their grip."

"Vee would hate to have to rule anything, Qyburn and Elaheh would find if a bother and Lady Caleris has had enough of it in her first lifetime," Lya says, never taking her eyes off the mound of corpses. "Magic is waxing now."

"I know," you do not even try to hide your smile of satisfaction.


Victory is not made wholly of smiles and looks to the horizon, victory is looking on the field of ash and burnt bone Amrelath had made of the former camp of the Golden Company. It's considering how you will explain wanting to sweep up all that ash and taking it with you when the time comes to speak to the venerable Xue. No one had surrendered here, Amrelath had taken the refusal of your first offer at the battle's start to be enough reason to treat them all to death and dragonfire, but he had also not bothered to give chase to those who fled unless they tried to do so in an orderly manner.

"If they didn't want brigands scattered over their trade ways they should have dealt with the enemy themselves, not let us do it for them," the crimson wyrm blinks lazily in what would have been to a human form a shrug.


Thankfully you will have a gesture of goodwill to show to the Orange Emperor's court when all is said and done. Dany had grown, not yet in spellcraft to touch the very highest circle of sorcery, but in the depth of her working. Nine diamonds acquired in genie markets, nine thousand marks is roughly the cost to restore the fallen to life. Not all the minotaurs return, counting their deaths in battle a fitting one according to your sister. You do not resent it, but you do regret that they had not learned to see themselves as worthy of more than warriors upon the field of blood.

The erinyes of course rise to their feet the moment the call left your sister's lips, their oaths were never meant to be sundered by mere mortal death. Still, you can read the anger in their gaze, the shame of their failings made paradoxically all the stronger for not having been punished for it. You offer what comfort you can truthfully and without infringing upon their pride. They had fallen against mighty foes, the likes of which even the skies of Avernus do not commonly see.

"Watch them. Help them as you can," you send to Mereth. Half a year ago you would not have added the last part, knowing she would not accept it, but the first of the furies to swear to your name has changed through the time under your banner. Is that a glint of steel beneath the ash-black of her wings?

Lost 6,000 IM (Resurrection quality gems)

Vrath Resurrected

Lost 6 Minotaurs (Permanently Dead)

Of the shugenja only three return, hollow eyed and tight-lipped, at first not willing to believe that they had returned to the land of their birth rather than simply being pray to another ploy of Tiamat to break their wills. Two of the three withdraw from your presence once thanks at once formal and heartfelt are given, but the third, the young man you remember almost tripping over his own robes as he delivered a message from Pol Ning a few weeks ago, remains. There is little of the earnest young man left upon his face, but you can see in his eyes a strange eagerness.

"Great Emperor of Dragons, I called to the kami and they did not answer, whether they were cruel or weak I care not wich, but you did answer. I have heard of the magics of blood your kin practiced of old and now I have seen that in them there is true power. I would swear myself to your service if you would allow it."

With such words you imagine a man would sell his soul, fortunately for him you are not in the market for such.

What do you reply?

[] Accept his service, but point out that he need not forswear the service of the kami
-[] Write in

[] Reject the offer, you do not need the political complications the offer comes with
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: And here we are, aftermath and XP, no glossing over the mound of corpses this time like after the Lys campaign, but also some other post-battle reactions.