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

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@DragonParadox, before you head out for the evening, can you tell us what is available in terms of Metamagic rod commissions we can place in the Opaline Vault?
 
DragonParadox said:
The four of you bow to the once-goddess before departing, not to her power, nor even the knwolege she showed, but to her dedication above all.
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So I think Meraxes restoration should see a priority increase. Do we have a timeline on when we act against the coward? After all right now the worst thing that could happen is for him to awakened and empowered.
 
lancelot said:
So I think Meraxes restoration should see a priority increase. Do we have a timeline on when we act against the coward? After all right now the worst thing that could happen is for him to awakened and empowered.
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just a very general priority:

Illithids > Westeros Reconquest > Efreeti > Essosi Undead > Quohor/Slaver's Bay/Quarth > the 15th > Others > Bloodstone Emperor > Ymeri, Lollth, Sseth, Moonpale Maiden.

Illithids are there as a pure "we don't want to be drowned in Saghuain when we go to Westeros, let's break that facility first".
Efreeti are there for a quick run at their mint, consecutive ritual, and (hopefully) a few shots during the sacking the CoB.
 
Good night guys, see you tomorrow, probably in the morning with probably kobolds and more.

Writing speed might increase as I worry about the damn coronavirus since I'll need the escapism more.
 
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Omake: Magic Equals Friendship Squared: Part III
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    • Magic Equals Friendship Squared: Part III
    ​
    Elsewhere, Elsewhen

    It was a funny thing, dueling a God. It was both much like a traditional mage duel and not, a thing of form and function and the very weave of the world as two sides exerted their will upon reality. In an ironic echo which called him here he took a formal stance, which surprised Syrax naught. She took up the same, this particular clasping of hands used in the Freehold of old that of a far older and innately superior instructor, about to either evaluate their student's current level of knowledge and comprehension... or to put the impertinent in their place. A razor-thin smile graced your own ethereal features, alike with Syrax and so very much not. She returned the same smile, I made you, boy, not every facet or detail, not every line, but I allowed you to be here. The words seem to echo forever within this pale reflection and without. Yet you haven't seen everything that I can do.

    I suppose not, you thought recklessly, smile growing wider. She would not be Syrax of Fate Unwoven of course, if she did not keep a secret or two, even from kin. Nor would you be of Her blood if you had not.

    "Unbound, unbroken be! Cursed your arrogance and sundered the astral sea!" The imposition you forced upon a domain a Goddess had walked the ways of for thousands of years was a nail on glass, the very air seemed to tremble and then it shattered into a million pieces--this world was fake of course, just a reflection of what was, the landscape of burning Valyria cast aside to reveal the fire on the horizon. The smote temple mounts and the shattered cities, but also the blue skies creeping in from chance and luck borne, something that had grown beyond the purview of Gods or man, neither Syrax or you knowing for certain what it would turn into. A fitting place as any for this, you half-declare, not the defiance of youth in your gaze but cold determination.

    Trailed by the destruction of Her trap in one fell swoop, a crystal icon hidden there. She had underestimated you too many times already, you had lurked these ways as much if not more than Her in preparation for this day. She had thought you convinced she was willing to release control, but you of all people know old habits die hardest unless forced. This will teach Her a lesson you know she needed to learn, though it pains you.

    She will not forgive this lightly, perhaps never, you locked away the power that had allowed you to assail the domains of even Gods, but in doing so, had you just stripped the ability to simply command the world from them, to make you kneel, but it would not be enough to stop Her. She was too strong, you realized years ago, hoarding power you could not predict the origin of. No matter how carefully you checked Her, she always had something hidden from your sight, no evidence at hand to call Her into question.

    So you went further, you had stolen Her life's work, their final triumph. She was never satisfied without achieving perfection, just like you, even if you both knew how unattainable it truly was, it was the striving that mattered the most. Why defy fate otherwise, if it is fate that declares you will fail?

    "I am not finished, boy!" Terror had long since fled from your heart, it could find no roots there, not after casting down the Gods themselves from their high mountains, not after safeguarding an entire world for a thousand years and more. Not even she had managed that much, you thought with pride and a hint of madness, the ember that lay buried at the heart of all this, a thing you hated and a thing you loved. Were it not for that same madness you would not have come this far and flew this high. Still, you felt unease as a spear of jet and scintillating lightning flashed by you, staved off by a thousand wards woven year after year upon your mind and soul. She had not meant to kill you, you knew, but she would not shy away from a crippling blow, that could be recovered from, this she could salvage.

    "Fall." The simple command sent the two of you aground, cratering the land and straining the barrier between this world undreamt and the next, it protested... then gave away. Ten thousand crystal icons lay shattered in the dreamscape, their purpose fulfilled.

    The two of you stood amidst a city of soaring towers, glittering buildings and gleaming edifices marked by tens of thousands of lights and sights and sounds, silhouettes of shadow and memory marking the people there. Half of it recalled Valyria the Fallen, the dream of what could have been, not the maggot-ridden tomb of old ambitions it had become even before the Doom had come down upon it, the other half was a very different city, your city, the one you had dared to dream all too often and saw surpass your expectations even without your hand upon the scales.

    Sorcerer's Deep.

    "We did not start with wings, we wriggled in the ground and scrambled to find reason in a world gone mad," you declared, walking up to the Goddess who had refused to kneel, before Tiamat, before Baator and before you, keeping Her feet with the ease of long years shrugging off mortal blows. You stared each other down in the middle of the Way of Kings, where it was said many could find their fortune, whatever it may be. "Unlike you, though, I have no problem cutting off an atrophied limb to save the body." It had come out harsher than you intended, surprising even yourself that the animosity buried within the heart of your relationship with this being, your progenitor in a sense as much or more than She of Many Colors. You were their triumph, and the bane of all their plans. She would not appreciate the comparison.

    "Something of you would remain!" She barked back, a flicker of pain in Her eyes, "Are you really so selfish you would risk all you have built for a chance that may never come? Or are you--"

    "Like your fallen brother?" You whisper. "No, obviously not. I am not a corpse already, who refused to die, who sold himself into slavery to escape it." The words could mean both or any of the Fifteen kindred who had cast down your ancestors. She had not missed that, not by the closing of Her eyes and the soft breath of amusement that escaped their lips despite Herself. "I am not your idol, I am not a monument you built to enshrine some nebulous legacy. I'm just me... that's all I shall ever be."

    "Even now I am proud of you," she called back, opening Her eyes, jewels which boiled the air and sent a visible aura of the same jet-black flame toward him, hiding flashes of thunder and sound, words carved upon the air as she spoke with the soul of dragons. He incanted a word of the divine made manifest, to keep the blades of flame back just one pivotal moment. A moment was all he needed, wards protesting, flickering... gone. "So very proud. But I can't let you go, Viserys. You are too important. Your place is here."

    "You and an army couldn't keep me here," you say, smile still touching your lips. Seven doors opened behind you, three carved of archaic and eye-searing architecture, another that amusingly enough was ordinary as any of the ones that lined the street, and three which, while ostentatious, spoke of modernity and the future which you had carved a place for here. The shock on Her face was almost a little too satisfying. "You thought that I had my allies keep all of your desperate cabal back, that I was arrogant enough to assume you alone I could face, but not everyone kept agreeing with you after I exhumed their bones, Ancestor." You smiled. "I have no illusions that you could not beat me here, nor I you, but then I don't have to."

    "You agreed to this?" The sheer betrayal in Her voice was almost heart-wrenching... if you hadn't already resigned yourself to this measure long before. "Why? We had a plan."

    "You had a plan," scoffed Vhagar, the more solemn hand of Meraxes resting upon His shoulder, a warning glance cutting off their next words, though they seemed to hiss through the air unbidden, something only Syrax hears.

    "It was something worth placing our faith in, given what we knew then," Balerion spoke softly, resting a hand on your own shoulder. "But then you lied to me, so why should I uphold our compact?" The words weren't cast in a tone of anger, or even disapproval. The lie had been kind after all. She had loved them all in Her own way, and still did. "Go, boy." That, however, carried on a tone of exasperation, "Before you make any more of us tear our own hair out with your trickery."

    You, Viserys Targaryen, Kin of Fourteen yet apart from them, cast a glance over your shoulder, seven risen brothers and sisters barring Syrax's path. In the distance you could see six more doors open, reinforcements. These doors were all archaic.

    They would not arrive in time.

    Your eyes met. A glimmer of desperate hope died in that moment. You did not apologize. She would either forgive you or she wouldn't.

    She would have to figure out how to forgive Herself on their own.
     
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    • DragonParadox said:
    Good night guys, see you tomorrow, probably in the morning with probably kobolds and more.

    Writing speed might increase as I worry about the damn coronavirus since I'll need the escapism more.
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    I worry for my grandmother who lives with me. She's 90 and in great health for her age, but that's only so helpful and the virus is apparently especially hard on the elderly.
    DragonParadox said:
    Sorry I forgot again, I keep remembering really late at night. I will get to it in the morning, promise.
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    No worries. We can just place the order retroactively.
     
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    [X] Receive a report
    -[X] Risen Nine loot, then on to Bloodraven for the details on how much we mugged Tiamat
     
    It's a tie :V
    Adhoc vote count started by egoo on Mar 9, 2020 at 7:04 PM, finished with 29 posts and 14 votes.
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    Crake said:
    Magic Equals Friendship Squared: Part III
    ​
    Elsewhere, Elsewhen

    It was a funny thing, dueling a God. It was both much like a traditional mage duel and not, a thing of form and function and the very weave of the world as two sides exerted their will upon reality. In an ironic echo which called him here he took a formal stance, which surprised Syrax naught, as she took the same, the particular clasping of hands used in the Freehold of old that of a far older and innately superior instructor about to either evaluate their student's current level of knowledge and comprehension, or to put the impertinent in their place. A razor-thin smile graced his own ethereal features, alike with Syrax and so very much not. She returned the same smile, I made you, boy, not every facet or detail, not every line, but I allowed you to be here. The words seem to echo forever within this pale reflection and without. Yet you haven't seen everything I can do.

    I suppose not, you thought recklessly, smile growing wider. She would not be Syrax of Fate unwoven, if she did not keep a secret or two, even from kin. Nor would you be of her blood if you had not.

    "Unbound, unbroken be! Curse your arrogance and sunder the astral sea!" The imposition you forced upon a domain a Goddess had walked the ways of for thousands of years was a nail on glass, the very air seemed to tremble and then it shattered into a million pieces--this world was fake of course, just a reflection of what was, the landscape of burning Valyria cast aside to reveal the fire on the horizon. The smote temple mounts and the shattered cities, but also the blue skies creeping in from chance and luck borne, something that had grown beyond the purview of Gods or man, neither Syrax or you knowing for certain what it would turn into. A fitting place as any for this, you half-declare, not the defiance of youth in your gaze but cold determination.

    Trailed by the destruction of her trap in one fell swoop, a crystal icon hidden there. She had underestimated you too many times already, you had lurked these ways as much if not more than her in preparation for this day. She had thought you convinced she was willing to release control, but you of all people know old habits die hardest unless forced. This will teach her a lesson you know she needed to learn, though it pains you.

    She will not forgive this lightly, perhaps never, you locked away the power that had allowed you to assail the domains of even Gods, but in doing so, had you just stripped the ability to simply command the world from her, to make you kneel, it would not be enough to stop her. She was too strong, you realized years ago, hoarding power you could not predict the origin of. No matter how carefully you checked her she always had something hidden from your sight, no evidence at hand to call her into question.

    So you went further, you had stolen her life's work, her final triumph. She was never satisfied without achieving perfection, just like you, even if you both knew how unattainable it truly was, it was the striving that mattered the most. Why defy fate otherwise, if it is fate that declares you will fail?

    "I am not finished, boy!" Terror had long since fled from your heart, it could find no roots there, not after casting down the Gods themselves from their high mountains, not after safeguarding an entire world for a thousand years and more. Not even she had managed that much, you thought with pride and a hint of madness, the ember that lay buried at the heart of all this, a thing you hated and a thing you loved. Were it not for that same madness you would not have come this far and flew this high. Still, you felt unease as a spear of jet and scintillating lightning flashed by you, staved off by a thousand wards woven year after year upon your mind and soul. She had not meant to kill you, you knew, but she would not shy away from a crippling blow, that could be recovered from, this she could salvage.

    "Fall." The simple command sent the two of you aground, cratering the land and straining the barrier between this world undreamt and the next, it protested... then gave away. Ten thousand crystal icons lay shattered in the dreamscape, their purpose fulfilled.

    The two of you stood amidst a city of soaring towers, glittering buildings and gleaming edifices marked by tens of thousands of lights and sights and sounds, silhouettes of shadow and memory marking the people there. Half of it recalled Valyria the Fallen, the dream of what could have been, not the maggot-ridden tomb of old ambitions it had become even before the Doom had come down upon it, the other half was a very different city, your city, the one you had dared to dream all too often and saw surpass your expectations even without your hand upon the scales.

    Sorcerer's Deep.

    "We did not start with wings, we wriggled in the ground and scrambled to find reason in a world gone mad," you declared, walking up to the Goddess who had refused to kneel, before Tiamat, before Baator and before you, keeping her feet with the ease of long years shrugging off mortal blows. You stared each other down in the middle of the Way of Kings, where it was said many could find their fortune, whatever it may be. "Unlike you, though, I have no problem cutting off an atrophied limb to save the body." It had come out harsher than you intended, surprising even yourself that the animosity buried within the heart of your relationship with this being, your progenitor in a sense as much or more than She of Many Colors. You were their triumph, and the bane of all their plans. She would not appreciate the comparison.

    "Something of you would remain!" She barked back, a flicker of pain in her eyes, "Are you really so selfish you would risk all you have built for a chance that may never come? Or are you--"

    "Like your fallen brother?" You whisper. "No, obviously not. I am not a corpse already, who refused to die, who sold himself into slavery to escape it." The words could mean both or any of the Fifteen kindred who had cast down your ancestors. She had not missed that, not by the closing of her eyes and the soft breath of amusement that escaped her lips despite herself. "I am not your idol, I am not a monument you built to enshrine some nebulous legacy. I'm just me... that's all I shall ever be."

    "Even now I am proud of you," she called back, opening her eyes, jewels which boiled the air and sent a visible aura of the same jet-black flame toward him, hiding flashes of thunder and sound, words carved upon the air as she spoke with the soul of dragons. He incanted a word of the divine made manifest, to keep the blades of flame back just one pivotal moment. A moment was all he needed, wards protesting, flickering... gone. "So very proud. But I can't let you go, Viserys. You are too important. Your place is here."

    "You and an army couldn't keep me here," you say, smile still touching your lips. Seven doors opened behind you, three carved of archaic and eye-searing architecture, another that amusingly enough was ordinary as any of the ones that lined the street, and three which, while ostentatious, spoke of modernity and the future which you had carved a place for here. The shock on her face was almost a little too satisfying. "You thought that I had my allies keep all of your desperate cabal back, that I was arrogant enough to assume you alone I could face, but not everyone kept agreeing with you after I exhumed their bones, Ancestor." You smiled. "I have no illusions that you could not beat me here, nor I you, but then I don't have to."

    "You agreed to this?" The sheer betrayal in her voice was almost heart-wrenching... if you hadn't already resigned yourself to this measure long before. "Why? We had a plan."

    "You had a plan," scoffed Vhagar, the more solemn hand of Meraxes resting upon his shoulder, a warning glance cutting off his next words, though they seemed to hiss through the air unbidden, something only Syrax hears.

    "It was something worth placing our faith in, given what we knew then," Balerion spoke softly, resting a hand on your own shoulder. "But then you lied to me, so why should I uphold our compact?" The words weren't cast in a tone of anger, or even disapproval. The lie had been kind after all. She had loved them all in her own way, and still did. "Go, boy." That, however, carried on a tone of exasperation, "Before you make any more of us tear our own hair out with your trickery."

    Viserys cast a glance over his shoulder, seven risen brothers and sisters barring Syrax's path. In the distance he could see six more doors open, reinforcements. These doors were all archaic.

    They would not arrive in time.

    Their eyes met. A glimmer of desperate hope died in that moment. He did not apologize. She would either forgive him or she wouldn't.

    She would have to figure out how to forgive herself on her own.
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    Heavy stuff, dude. I know this omake series takes place in the far future, but can you remind me of exactly what Viserys is hoping to accomplish? I have either forgotten or didn't quite catch on, and it's been a while since the previous chapters.
     
    Goldfish said:
    Heavy stuff, dude. I know this omake series takes place in the far future, but can you remind me of exactly what Viserys is hoping to accomplish? I have either forgotten or didn't quite catch on, and it's been a while since the previous chapters.
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    It would spoil a lot of the plot, hence it always been alluded to instead.
     
    DragonParadox said:
    Working together the gentle spectator and the phoenix had also managed to lull the tormented earth spirit to uneasy slumber. You would have to find a more permanent solution soon though, certainly before evacuating Thennhold. It would have to be done soon too. Beasts had started vanishing from their flocks as the cold wind sweeps down from the mountains and on more than one night alchemical flame drove back dead things lurking beyond the reach of the wardstones.
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    I think right before we evacuate Thennhold we're going to be well served doing a sweep of the surrounding area and annihilating any strongholds we can find. That prophecy of Winter grinding the valley down as soon as the people leave worries me.
     
    Duesal said:
    I think right before we evacuate Thennhold we're going to be well served doing a sweep of the surrounding area and annihilating any strongholds we can find. That prophecy of Winter grinding the valley down as soon as the people leave worries me.
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    By the time we evacuate the Thenns, all three Moonchasers will be in operation. We can come in force, swarm the valley with servitors (Plant-Imbued creatures are absolute murder on Undead) while carrying off anything of value, the Thenns included.
     
    Mind all of the predictions, we already have a team on researching the wards of Thenn this month.
    Chances are, they'll even complete it.

    I say, we can put another team, or even several, on clearing out the remaining barrows the next month - quickly grabbing the Thenns afterwards with the Moonchaser and rapidly destroying the shit out of the local landscape if needs be.
     
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