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

Fifth Day of the First Month 294 AC

Valley of Thenn, Far North

'The Dragon has three heads', that was the adage of an age stillborn, one which had seemed to have fallen off a precipice and headed off toward a dim twilight but now seemingly reached toward a new zenith. One of the dragonsteel necks moved sinuously, belying its enormous and weighty nature, holding a brief exchange with the Fire Tamer and watch warden of the group tapping their way up the slope upon a weirwood staff. Another draconic head watched the skies patiently from the entity's position upon an incline carved out of the hillside, while the final skull leaned over to listen to the Adamant warrior and student of philosophy, one who had walked in moonlight to know peace in order to understand the gruesome nature of war.

To the construct, much like its brethren, it knew purpose beyond war, but it was not a mere messenger.

Staring into overcast skies and the icy slopes beyond the horizon, and further past that in sight beyond sight, where the heart of winter reigned supreme, they were fire beyond fire, steel beyond steel, order beyond order. They were not death and they were not life, though both feel within structures both natural and artificial, constructs of the mind that had wrought it and three natures that were bound inexorably toward one destination. When informed they would likely be facing an enemy which would very much like to put a halt to their works and cast them down to dust, it already had a response formed. Not a promise, not an oath, or a malediction or a curse.

It was inevitable.

A Harbinger of the fate that awaited all those who opposed House Targaryen.

"...then under that logic, is our purpose to be spent here, then?" Mused the warrior, seemingly lost. "If not now, then stemming the tide of a river flowing over the dam of ages?"

"Our purpose is clear," the third head replied, taken up by the other two as it rose into the air with two clean sweeps of its wings. "To deny the enemy assets in the prosecution of a war of annihilation upon our creators," a flicker of green flame shot from the mighty being's eyes as he acknowledged the other artificial being's foreign nature, "or patrons of thought and form." Thousands of individual scales of smoky black steel strained and bristled as threads of sickly green light flowed over its back. "A tactical insight, knowledge of strategic import, the weakness of an enemy. These are factors of the immediate concern, those which will allow the philosophers of tomorrow to debate the cost of lives spent toward battle and those having never once stepped upon the field of blood."

"Well said!" Amrelath spoke up with a surprised laugh, a gleam in their eye as he regarded the metal dragon in a new light. "To quibble over your fate and destiny when the enemy intends to cast down your homes and salt your fields is purest folly. Ruminate over the worth of never-ending battle when your very way of life is not at stake, should you choose to instead spend your days painting frescoes or else moldering in seclusion for fearing of stepping on ants, else you will at least have an appreciation for the price others will surely pay for it."

While reinforcing the urgency of its purpose, the entity of Valyrian Steel found itself hesitating to agree with the red wyrm, kin to its master, for it was not spoken in a like tone which they would surely have used, of hope and determination, but instead faint disdain, contempt even. Power by itself was without purpose, directionless, if only used to gather more of it to oneself and indulge in baser primal urges, power was without use if it was not disposed in aid of a just and equitable society, one where such simple choices were available to those living within its structures.

One head itched for battle and strained against branches and trees of protocol and logic, a thought matrix entwined with the second seeking to render the enemy incapable of opposing its master, and the third which never knew life and would never know death was content with its task and the careful ordering of objectives, hundreds of them flowing through its entwined minds with inhuman precision as it saw the end in sight, the destination beyond the light of common day or mind of mortal, dragon or student of philosophy, numerous factors bringing that final victory closer. Pure inhuman logic never seen anywhere in the world before and perhaps never to be seen again should they fail this day.

They would not fail.

It was inevitable.