Remove ads

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

Reader mode
Remove ads
Canon Omake: Gathering of Flames
  • Threadmarks
    • Gathering of Flames​

    In the endless seeming labyrinth of grey walls and floors, even colours became nothing more then the servants of the rigid order. Green and blue lines running the entire length of the vessel, one in the left-hand and one in right-hand main hallways so that you could find your place. A yellow line on the ground, leading from a turret to its assigned ammo storage room. And red. What felt like a hundred shades of red, drawing the path from each single bunk room to their assigned battle stations. And on these paths, they scurried every hour of the day, people in dark uniforms and with dyed caps denoting not who, but what they were.

    She though? She was an aberration in these halls. Flowing robes of red silk did not mesh with the drab clothes around her, and while each and every person here moved with a purpose, one little part of a greater whole, her movements were solely her own. It was strange to Melisandre to see the dance of people from the outside when she had so often been at its centre. Strange but not unwelcome. For all her petty vanities, she had not forgotten the lessons she learned so long ago in a city buried beneath shadows. It was easier to move freely when the eyes were caught by something else.

    Thus, in a sense, to be here was freedom. A few of the crew had approached her when she came aboard the Dauntless, knowing her from the tourney in the Deep and taking the chance to see her in person. More yet still came to the sermons she held in an empty cargo bay, the practice tacitly accepted if not approved by the commander. But when she was done reciting the prayers and blessing the faithful, they all moved on to their duties. There were no sycophants and zealots who clung to her, or schemers and plotters that one day tried to get her aid, just to betray her the next. There was no time in their schedules and plans for such things. For once, all she had achieved did not matter, and she was again that one young girl of many who could do as she pleased while the world moved without her.

    With that in mind, here lodgings were pure irony. The Dauntless was a machine of war through and through, having no frippery such as guest quarters like the Moonchasers. So, when she had asked to be housed here, the only place they could offer her was one of the cells of the brig. She did not mind though. For most of her years, she owned nothing save the clothes on her back, so the austere room with a dozen beds welded to the walls was more then enough for her purposes. A place to sleep. A place to store the few things she took along. An empty spot of floor to put a few candles. Anything more would have been a luxury to her and an easily missed one at that.

    The quiet was appreciated though. In the busy parts of the vessel, there were always the voices of chatting crew and the occasional order being barked by an officer. You were never truly alone on the Dauntless, the sounds akin to a busy city coming through walls, floors and ceilings always reminding you of that fact. Worse yet, for her own senses, there was a constant buzz of enchantments. The constant rustle of dormant far-speakers mingling with the keening of the anti-gravity engines, and beneath that the almost constant chiming of one enchantment or another roaring to life for a brief moment of use.

    Here though, in the bow of the vessel, there was barely any of that. Only the strange sounds of the steam pipelines and the occasional echo of nearby footsteps. The wardings of the nearby hull giving off a steady sound not unlike a slowly turning millstone. The metal itself occasionally groaning in the heat of this realm. It was much closer to the gentle and regular sounds of the sea or a forest then the cacophonous noise that was found wherever humans gathered in large numbers. And the longer she listened, the more it felt as if she was listening to a living thing, the constant sounds feeling more and more like the rush of blood and the quiet breath of a titanic beast. It was not perfect for what she was about to do, but with true silence out of her reach, it would have to suffice.

    Even if it was a war beyond anything a mortal would know, it was still a war and not one that was truly fought by just two parties. How it was among the ranks of their enemies, Melisandre could not tell, but the servants of the Lord of Light were many and came from every corner of creation. Hosts of angels were marching along bands of Salamanders, and the souls of mortals given shape by his divine flame mingled with those who were primordial fire given a mind. And they all brought along their own champions and heroes, priests and warlords, soldiers and zealots. Even if they were all united in purpose, brought her by divine commandment, it was still them who had to fight and win this battle.

    But it was the realm of their enemy they were now in, the very land they walked on and the air they breathed as much part of their foe as her own flesh. The Lord of Light had quieted the realm, made it so that they could walk and fight in it, yet when the prize was great enough, there was no doubt that Ymeri might yet overpower him for a brief moment. For all the power bestowed upon them, his champions were still mortal and before the power of one who was almost a goddess, they would be snuffed out like candles if they were to gather in one place. So, they kept their distance from each other, each staying with their own hosts where their and their lords powers was greatest. In body at least.

    As far as rituals went, it was almost insultingly simple. Just a bit of blessed oils dabbed on the floor in a circle, a prayer written around its outer edge. But it was not much that it had to achieve. It was a call to the Lord of Light and it was his will and might that would turn mere flame into the conduit for a vision. It was safer than any mortal magic could ever be, for just as he could not shut off Ymeri from her own realm, she could not intrude into him communing with his servants. All it took from Melisandre was a spark and a bit of faith, then the circle roared to life.

    For anyone who would have entered the room, it would have looked as if the priestess sat there and gazed into the flame, but to her, there was so much more. A lavishly decorated tent, though for the standards of his kind it was a plain affair, with an Efreeti sitting on a pillow in it's centre, his hair a blue blaze of violent fire. A cave of half molten rock, in it a living blaze in which you could see prayers written in every tongue that was ever spoken or which had yet come to be. A vault bedecked in faded gold, flames filling the gaps of broken mosaics and pillars, in its centre standing a withered figure with a golden mask and a glowing chest. All this she knew as much as she knew her own body, knowing the sounds, smells and sights of these places as if she was a formless spectre watching them.

    Parchment-like turquoise skin pulled taut over desiccated flesh as the masked figure raised his arm in greeting. He looked much more like one of the living dead then a servant of R'hllor, but the flame shining from within his chest was unmistakable a sign of his favour, spreading a pleasant warmth that reached far deeper than it should. "It is a great pleasure to me to see all of us in good health and spirits, despite the risks we take on in our great task," the figure spoke, the unmoving golden metal covering his face giving his voice a strange timbre. "And even our last sister in arms joins us today. Welcome, Lady Melisandre of Asshai."

    "I thank you for the welcome, Eshisha. It is indeed a joyful moment so speak with all of you, holy ones." She dipped a shallow bow at the flame before her as she spoke, for once having to offer courtesy to other servants of the Red God. "I apologize for only joining you now, but it took a while for the forces of my patron to be ready to support our war."

    With his mask, the celestial was hard to read and the living flame seemed not to have any emotions at all, just burning quietly without giving any sign of even listening. The Efreeti though? He made no attempt to hide his reaction at the topic she had touched upon. "We have heard your patron's words and how he offers aid." He spoke in an even tone, but the sneer on his face was unmistakable. "It might have been better if you had answered your summons promptly instead of waiting for him."

    A reverberating drone filled the molten cave in which the flame floated, the sounds only slowly coalescing into words that seemed to be both whispered and shouted by a thousand voices at once. "Do you doubt our Lords plans, Abd Al-Daw? You know why we speak today."

    "Unthandonathi," the angel called to the flame in an even voice. "That is uncalled for."

    The Efreeti just stared straight ahead for a short while, then slowly shook his head. "It is not wrong. It is hard to trust when I hear words fit for the line of Iblis coming from the mouth of one who calls himself an 'ally' of ours." Slowly his fingers moved through the gently swaying flames that were his beard. "We will see who he truly is soon enough, so I shall be patient until then."

    Melisandre just listened quietly, preferring not to say something one way or another. She had pledged herself into his service after all and it would be ill becoming of her to speak against him, even though he likely would not even mind it if she did, but neither would she defend his heresies for him. Only when it looked as if no one else wanted to add to the topic that she spoke again. "I am afraid that I not yet know what you wish to speak about today, holy ones. Is it something special you need to know from me?"

    "In a sense," the masked angel replied while waving with one hand. As he did so, Melisandre became aware of another place. It looked much like the faded temple that Eshisha stood in, but there was not a person in the centre of the vision. Instead there was a great reliquary wrought from gold and living flame. Two figurines of phoenixes stood on opposite ends of the elongated box, their wings spread, and their gaze directed outwards as if looking for threats to their treasure. "Can you feel it?"

    That she could, even without the celestials prompting. Even through the distance of the vision, even with the wardings woven into the flames, she felt the cold and darkness from the reliquary. It was deeper than anything she felt before, a stillness so total that her heart wanted to stop merely from being near it. Was it a work of the Great Other? Or something else? Old memories came forth as she pondered the thing, the deep shadows cast from the reliquary almost taunting her to remember where she felt something similar before. "Yes," she answered after a bit more contemplation. "It is hard to miss, despite all efforts to shut it away. And it feels familiar in part. Like the shadows of Asshai, where I learned long ago."

    The drone rose from the living flame again, the words betraying neither judgement nor emotion. "Can you tame it then, Shadowbinder?"

    A small and prideful part of Melisandre's mind was almost ready to confirm it out of hand. To manipulate the powers resting in the dark was a skill she took pride in, especially since it was nearly unheard off among the followers of the Lord of Light and thus a thing that had set her apart from other priests. This though? The power leaking through the wardings of the reliquary was already daunting and she doubted that she was asked to merely contain it better. Could she do it?

    A deep sigh broke her thoughts, the Efreeti gazing ahead with a defeated expression. "Your silence speaks loud enough Melisandre of Asshai. We had hoped that you could control the artifact within, but I did not expect us to have such luck."

    "She did not deny it either, Abd Al-Daw," the flame chimed in again. "We wish to use it because of it's power and we all know that such always comes at a price. If there is a chance for her to succeed where we would perish with certainty, then is it not sensible to have her try in our stead?"

    "We will not force you, Lady Melisandre," the celestial cut in again, his tone brokering no argument about this. "What you have felt is an artifact that our Lord has kept for many years. Of its origins, I cannot speak, for no records survived of where it was obtained, but it is a shard of cold and darkness, anathema to all that is the Lord of Light."

    "And also, anathema to all that is our foe," she finished the thought for him. "As a mortal, I am not as deeply touched by our Lords flame as all of you, so it stands to reason that I could wield this 'shard' while it would annihilate all of you. Better yet, I have learned to control one part of its power already."

    "Sadly, there is no time for such things as learning to wield this thing," as he spoke, Abd Al-Daw dismissively waved his hand towards nothing in particular, gold and gemstones of his jewellery clanking together at the movement. "A more direct measure will have to be taken. The Lord of Light can give us the strength to withstand its corruption, but that…" As he trailed off, he shook his head again. "What is the soul of a mortal to that of a god? What does the glory of lords and princes mean before Him, who is the flame from which all has come and to which it all will return?"

    It was odd for the priestess to hear an Efreeti quote these lines of prayer, the pride of their kind usually being an ill fit with sermons about humility. "In his embrace we all were one and one we shall become again. Neither crowns nor chains will adorn us, for in the furnace, all our sins shall be stripped from us, to leave only that which is pure and worthy." In a reverent tone she finished the quote for him, leaving them all in contemplation for a moment. R'hllor was a kind god to those who gave themselves to him, but his love was still the hot kiss of the flame and they mere tinder before him.

    "It is indeed so that whoever will bear the weapon that I will forge from the shard will perish before the battle is over," the angel quietly spoke to break the heavy silence. "There is no spell or warding in this world that could hide the blade as it is plunged into the False Flames flesh. She will know its presence and she will know its bearer, and all her might will be marshalled to keep it away from her sanctum. Our Lord will give us the strength to master this trial, but we will have to pay the price for becoming the vessel of his will all the same."

    "One of us must carry it to her palace. Plunge it into the very flames that are her being," continued Abd Al-Daw again. "Then her defences will falter, and she has to show herself in a form which can be brought low by mortals. When our Lord showed us that you would come to our aid, we thought that he might have given us a path by which none of us will have to give their lives for this tasks, but it seems that price must be paid."

    The droning voice of the flames rose and for once there was a shiver of emotion in Unthandonathis words. "You still doubt our Lords designs."

    In response, the Efreeti almost hissed into the other beings face. "There is no proof that it is not his will to test us and that we should reject the easy path, for it would give glory to the blasphemer."

    "And there is no proof that we should shun him who claims to be our ally either," came the reply in an agitated tone, the tiny prayers within the living fire shifting faster then before for a while. Yet after an awkward silence at the outburst, Unthandonathi turned its attention back to the sole human in the group. "The presence of you patrons machines is part our lords plan, and while Abd Al-Daw believes them a vile temptation, we believe them the key to our conundrum. Their weapons are unlike any other in our hosts and their armour can become a conduit of our Lords might."

    "I have not seen these vessels of war that your patron brought, Lady Melisandre, though I believe they could deliver the decisive blow in our stead." Eshishas voice was much more cautious then before as he spoke, as if suggesting this at all was a trespass of some sort, though Melisandre could not tell in what regard. Sure enough, Abd Al-Daw scowled all the while, but made no motion to interrupt the celestial. "The shard could be forged into more than one weapon, which could be delivered by the cannons of these vessels. Unlike all other siege weapons we possess, no mortal servant of the False Flame could stop such an attack and her own power would be just as useless against the artifact. The parts of it could be buried deep within her sanctum, leaving her nearly no chance to remove them before we can put an end to this battle."

    "I see," Melisandre spoke, mainly to gain a short moment to think it through. "Its armour is steel and magic in equal measure, wrought both by and against eternal flame at that, so it would be a fine conduit for the Lord of Lights blessings. Unlike us though, it has no mind or soul that would be consumed by the might that would be forced into it."

    While the priestess had tried to sound as neutral as she could, Unthandonathi raised its voices again to press on. "Of course, if this path is taken, we will grant every blessing and warding in our knowledge to the machine. We also have priests in our entourage that could strengthen it further from within by a ritual performed as it faces the False Flame. Your patron will not bear the risk alone."

    She could see the reason behind it all and even the lure of it. After all, had the king not spoken to gain glory from his aid to this war? Maybe even faith? There could hardly be a more impressive showing then his war machine delivering such a decisive blow while withstanding the wrath of Ymeri herself. That was the crux of the matter though. It was his war machine, not hers.

    "I can not order such a thing," Melisandre said at last. "But I can inquire with my king if he is willing to support this plan."

    "As if he would pass up the chance to see his contribution exalted above all others. He is a dragon after all." He might have just whispered to himself, but to those sharing the vision, Abd Al-Daws words were still easily heard. Before they could comment though, he spoke on in a normal tone. "Make no mistake, I object to this path, but if you all agree that it should be done this way, then I will not stop you. May the Lord have mercy on us if we err, and may he bless our efforts if this is indeed his will."

    "Then it is decided," the dulled tones of Eshisha sounded with finality. "The Lady Melisandre will inquire if her patron is willing to support this plan and we will convene again when she knows what choice he made. Until then, may His light shine upon our paths."

    And just like that, the flames grew colder before snuffing out, the oil that once sustained them spent long ago already. She was alone again with only the clanking of pipes and the calm sounds of the armours enchantments as her company. For now, at least. It seemed she would have to return to Sorcerers Deep much sooner then she had anticipated.


    AN: This kept getting longer and longer.
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] One of our Verdant Phoenixes will travel to the cavern Garin located, along with a team of Pech engineers and guards.
    -[X] The Verdant Phoenix will use its Commune with Nature SLA to determine the path through the stone needed to reach the Gate. Once this has been determined, the Pech will use their innate abilities and a set of Titan's Tools to open up a sturdy tunnel through the stone, one large enough to quickly transport those of our forces who will be involved in assaulting Casterly Rock.
    --[X] While the engineers work, the Verdant Phoenix will use prepared Control Water spells to keep the flow of water in check. Once the tunnel is close enough to the Gate that the last remaining stone can be quickly removed at a moment's notice (using a Disintegrate, Stone Shape, etc), the engineers will make sure to leave enough of a drain in place that the flow of water will remain steady when the Verdant Phoenix relinquishes control of it.
     
    Also @egoo, regarding @Azel's omake above, keep in mind damn near anything in the Larder is fair game for R'hllor sacrifices unless it's earmarked for Operation Starfall or it's meant for a specific task like dissection or something.
     
    Azel said:
    She could see the reason behind it all and even the lure of it. After all, had the king not spoken to gain glory from his aid to this war? Maybe even faith? There could hardly be a more impressive showing then his war machine delivering such a decisive blow while withstanding the wrath of Ymeri herself. That was the crux of the matter though. It was his war machine, not hers.

    "I can not order such a thing," Melisandre said at last. "But I can inquire with my king if he is willing to support this plan."

    "As if he would pass up the chance to see his contribution exalted above all others. He is a dragon after all." He might have just whispered to himself, but to those sharing the vision, Abd Al-Daws words were still easily heard. Before they could comment though, he spoke on in a normal tone. "Make no mistake, I object to this path, but if you all agree that it should be done this way, then I will not stop you. May the Lord have mercy on us if we err, and may he bless our efforts if this is indeed his will."

    "Then it is decided," the dulled tones of Eshisha sounded with finality. "The Lady Melisandre will inquire if her patron is willing to support this plan and we will convene again when she knows what choice he made. Until then, may His light shine upon our paths."

    And just like that, the flames grew colder before snuffing out, the oil that once sustained them spent long ago already. She was alone again with only the clanking of pipes and the calm sounds of the armours enchantments as her company. For now, at least. It seemed she would have to return to Sorcerers Deep much sooner then she had anticipated.


    AN: This kept getting longer and longer.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    I mean, at worst it's three months of effort and an utterly replaceable warship, but I think it's absolutely important not to sacrifice a high CR character in Rh'llor's forces, considering all of them likely are more than just a unique and powerful asset that can't be replaced, but are likely, much like Melisandre, a pillar of his faith who can perform tasks that no one else can, are positioned like no one else can be, or have knowledge and experience that is irreplaceable.

    Finally, yes, being able to claim the lion's share of credit for slaying Ymeri without actually making anything but a gamble of men and material is almost too good to pass up. As it stands now, we get to throw some valuable stuff into the pot and come out the other end claiming we helped (and we legitimately would have) but with this we can say we are an ally who's always able to deliver a unique solution to any problem just when you needed it.
     
    Last edited:
    Azel said:
    Gathering of Flames​

    In the endless seeming labyrinth of grey walls and floors, even colours became nothing more then the servants of the rigid order. Green and blue lines running the entire length of the vessel, one in the left-hand and one in right-hand main hallways so that you could find your place. A yellow line on the ground, leading from a turret to its assigned ammo storage room. And red. What felt like a hundred shades of red, drawing the path from each single bunk room to their assigned battle stations. And on these paths, they scurried every hour of the day, people in dark uniforms and with dyed caps denoting not who, but what they were.

    She though? She was an aberration in these halls. Flowing robes of red silk did not mesh with the drab clothes around her, and while each and every person here moved with a purpose, one little part of a greater whole, her movements were solely her own. It was strange to Melisandre to see the dance of people from the outside when she had so often been at its centre. Strange but not unwelcome. For all her petty vanities, she had not forgotten the lessons she learned so long ago in a city buried beneath shadows. It was easier to move freely when the eyes were caught by something else.

    Thus, in a sense, to be here was freedom. A few of the crew had approached her when she came aboard the Dauntless, knowing her from the tourney in the Deep and taking the chance to see her in person. More yet still came to the sermons she held in an empty cargo bay, the practice tacitly accepted if not approved by the commander. But when she was done reciting the prayers and blessing the faithful, they all moved on to their duties. There were no sycophants and zealots who clung to her, or schemers and plotters that one day tried to get her aid, just to betray her the next. There was no time in their schedules and plans for such things. For once, all she had achieved did not matter, and she was again that one young girl of many who could do as she pleased while the world moved without her.

    With that in mind, here lodgings were pure irony. The Dauntless was a machine of war through and through, having no frippery such as guest quarters like the Moonchasers. So, when she had asked to be housed here, the only place they could offer her was one of the cells of the brig. She did not mind though. For most of her years, she owned nothing save the clothes on her back, so the austere room with a dozen beds welded to the walls was more then enough for her purposes. A place to sleep. A place to store the few things she took along. An empty spot of floor to put a few candles. Anything more would have been a luxury to her and an easily missed one at that.

    The quiet was appreciated though. In the busy parts of the vessel, there were always the voices of chatting crew and the occasional order being barked by an officer. You were never truly alone on the Dauntless, the sounds akin to a busy city coming through walls, floors and ceilings always reminding you of that fact. Worse yet, for her own senses, there was a constant buzz of enchantments. The constant rustle of dormant far-speakers mingling with the keening of the anti-gravity engines, and beneath that the almost constant chiming of one enchantment or another roaring to life for a brief moment of use.

    Here though, in the bow of the vessel, there was barely any of that. Only the strange sounds of the steam pipelines and the occasional echo of nearby footsteps. The wardings of the nearby hull giving off a steady sound not unlike a slowly turning millstone. The metal itself occasionally groaning in the heat of this realm. It was much closer to the gentle and regular sounds of the sea or a forest then the cacophonous noise that was found wherever humans gathered in large numbers. And the longer she listened, the more it felt as if she was listening to a living thing, the constant sounds feeling more and more like the rush of blood and the quiet breath of a titanic beast. It was not perfect for what she was about to do, but with true silence out of her reach, it would have to suffice.

    Even if it was a war beyond anything a mortal would know, it was still a war and not one that was truly fought by just two parties. How it was among the ranks of their enemies, Melisandre could not tell, but the servants of the Lord of Light were many and came from every corner of creation. Hosts of angels were marching along bands of Salamanders, and the souls of mortals given shape by his divine flame mingled with those who were primordial fire given a mind. And they all brought along their own champions and heroes, priests and warlords, soldiers and zealots. Even if they were all united in purpose, brought her by divine commandment, it was still them who had to fight and win this battle.

    But it was the realm of their enemy they were now in, the very land they walked on and the air they breathed as much part of their foe as her own flesh. The Lord of Light had quieted the realm, made it so that they could walk and fight in it, yet when the prize was great enough, there was no doubt that Ymeri might yet overpower him for a brief moment. For all the power bestowed upon them, his champions were still mortal and before the power of one who was almost a goddess, they would be snuffed out like candles if they were to gather in one place. So, they kept their distance from each other, each staying with their own hosts where their and their lords powers was greatest. In body at least.

    As far as rituals went, it was almost insultingly simple. Just a bit of blessed oils dabbed on the floor in a circle, a prayer written around its outer edge. But it was not much that it had to achieve. It was a call to the Lord of Light and it was his will and might that would turn mere flame into the conduit for a vision. It was safer than any mortal magic could ever be, for just as he could not shut off Ymeri from her own realm, she could not intrude into him communing with his servants. All it took from Melisandre was a spark and a bit of faith, then the circle roared to life.

    For anyone who would have entered the room, it would have looked as if the priestess sat there and gazed into the flame, but to her, there was so much more. A lavishly decorated tent, though for the standards of his kind it was a plain affair, with an Efreeti sitting on a pillow in it's centre, his hair a blue blaze of violent fire. A cave of half molten rock, in it a living blaze in which you could see prayers written in every tongue that was ever spoken or which had yet come to be. A vault bedecked in faded gold, flames filling the gaps of broken mosaics and pillars, in its centre standing a withered figure with a golden mask and a glowing chest. All this she knew as much as she knew her own body, knowing the sounds, smells and sights of these places as if she was a formless spectre watching them.

    Parchment-like turquoise skin pulled taut over desiccated flesh as the masked figure raised his arm in greeting. He looked much more like one of the living dead then a servant of R'hllor, but the flame shining from within his chest was unmistakable a sign of his favour, spreading a pleasant warmth that reached far deeper than it should. "It is a great pleasure to me to see all of us in good health and spirits, despite the risks we take on in our great task," the figure spoke, the unmoving golden metal covering his face giving his voice a strange timbre. "And even our last sister in arms joins us today. Welcome, Lady Melisandre of Asshai."

    "I thank you for the welcome, Eshisha. It is indeed a joyful moment so speak with all of you, holy ones." She dipped a shallow bow at the flame before her as she spoke, for once having to offer courtesy to other servants of the Red God. "I apologize for only joining you now, but it took a while for the forces of my patron to be ready to support our war."

    With his mask, the celestial was hard to read and the living flame seemed not to have any emotions at all, just burning quietly without giving any sign of even listening. The Efreeti though? He made no attempt to hide his reaction at the topic she had touched upon. "We have heard your patron's words and how he offers aid." He spoke in an even tone, but the sneer on his face was unmistakable. "It might have been better if you had answered your summons promptly instead of waiting for him."

    A reverberating drone filled the molten cave in which the flame floated, the sounds only slowly coalescing into words that seemed to be both whispered and shouted by a thousand voices at once. "Do you doubt our Lords plans, Abd Al-Daw? You know why we speak today."

    "Unthandonathi," the angel called to the flame in an even voice. "That is uncalled for."

    The Efreeti just stared straight ahead for a short while, then slowly shook his head. "It is not wrong. It is hard to trust when I hear words fit for the line of Iblis coming from the mouth of one who calls himself an 'ally' of ours." Slowly his fingers moved through the gently swaying flames that were his beard. "We will see who he truly is soon enough, so I shall be patient until then."

    Melisandre just listened quietly, preferring not to say something one way or another. She had pledged herself into his service after all and it would be ill becoming of her to speak against him, even though he likely would not even mind it if she did, but neither would she defend his heresies for him. Only when it looked as if no one else wanted to add to the topic that she spoke again. "I am afraid that I not yet know what you wish to speak about today, holy ones. Is it something special you need to know from me?"

    "In a sense," the masked angel replied while waving with one hand. As he did so, Melisandre became aware of another place. It looked much like the faded temple that Eshisha stood in, but there was not a person in the centre of the vision. Instead there was a great reliquary wrought from gold and living flame. Two figurines of phoenixes stood on opposite ends of the elongated box, their wings spread, and their gaze directed outwards as if looking for threats to their treasure. "Can you feel it?"

    That she could, even without the celestials prompting. Even through the distance of the vision, even with the wardings woven into the flames, she felt the cold and darkness from the reliquary. It was deeper than anything she felt before, a stillness so total that her heart wanted to stop merely from being near it. Was it a work of the Great Other? Or something else? Old memories came forth as she pondered the thing, the deep shadows cast from the reliquary almost taunting her to remember where she felt something similar before. "Yes," she answered after a bit more contemplation. "It is hard to miss, despite all efforts to shut it away. And it feels familiar in part. Like the shadows of Asshai, where I learned long ago."

    The drone rose from the living flame again, the words betraying neither judgement nor emotion. "Can you tame it then, Shadowbinder?"

    A small and prideful part of Melisandre's mind was almost ready to confirm it out of hand. To manipulate the powers resting in the dark was a skill she took pride in, especially since it was nearly unheard off among the followers of the Lord of Light and thus a thing that had set her apart from other priests. This though? The power leaking through the wardings of the reliquary was already daunting and she doubted that she was asked to merely contain it better. Could she do it?

    A deep sigh broke her thoughts, the Efreeti gazing ahead with a defeated expression. "Your silence speaks loud enough Melisandre of Asshai. We had hoped that you could control the artifact within, but I did not expect us to have such luck."

    "She did not deny it either, Abd Al-Daw," the flame chimed in again. "We wish to use it because of it's power and we all know that such always comes at a price. If there is a chance for her to succeed where we would perish with certainty, then is it not sensible to have her try in our stead?"

    "We will not force you, Lady Melisandre," the celestial cut in again, his tone brokering no argument about this. "What you have felt is an artifact that our Lord has kept for many years. Of its origins, I cannot speak, for no records survived of where it was obtained, but it is a shard of cold and darkness, anathema to all that is the Lord of Light."

    "And also, anathema to all that is our foe," she finished the thought for him. "As a mortal, I am not as deeply touched by our Lords flame as all of you, so it stands to reason that I could wield this 'shard' while it would annihilate all of you. Better yet, I have learned to control one part of its power already."

    "Sadly, there is no time for such things as learning to wield this thing," as he spoke, Abd Al-Daw dismissively waved his hand towards nothing in particular, gold and gemstones of his jewellery clanking together at the movement. "A more direct measure will have to be taken. The Lord of Light can give us the strength to withstand its corruption, but that…" As he trailed off, he shook his head again. "What is the soul of a mortal to that of a god? What does the glory of lords and princes mean before Him, who is the flame from which all has come and to which it all will return?"

    It was odd for the priestess to hear an Efreeti quote these lines of prayer, the pride of their kind usually being an ill fit with sermons about humility. "In his embrace we all were one and one we shall become again. Neither crowns nor chains will adorn us, for in the furnace, all our sins shall be stripped from us, to leave only that which is pure and worthy." In a reverent tone she finished the quote for him, leaving them all in contemplation for a moment. R'hllor was a kind god to those who gave themselves to him, but his love was still the hot kiss of the flame and they mere tinder before him.

    "It is indeed so that whoever will bear the weapon that I will forge from the shard will perish before the battle is over," the angel quietly spoke to break the heavy silence. "There is no spell or warding in this world that could hide the blade as it is plunged into the False Flames flesh. She will know its presence and she will know its bearer, and all her might will be marshalled to keep it away from her sanctum. Our Lord will give us the strength to master this trial, but we will have to pay the price for becoming the vessel of his will all the same."

    "One of us must carry it to her palace. Plunge it into the very flames that are her being," continued Abd Al-Daw again. "Then her defences will falter, and she has to show herself in a form which can be brought low by mortals. When our Lord showed us that you would come to our aid, we thought that he might have given us a path by which none of us will have to give their lives for this tasks, but it seems that price must be paid."

    The droning voice of the flames rose and for once there was a shiver of emotion in Unthandonathis words. "You still doubt our Lords designs."

    In response, the Efreeti almost hissed into the other beings face. "There is no proof that it is not his will to test us and that we should reject the easy path, for it would give glory to the blasphemer."

    "And there is no proof that we should shun him who claims to be our ally either," came the reply in an agitated tone, the tiny prayers within the living fire shifting faster then before for a while. Yet after an awkward silence at the outburst, Unthandonathi turned its attention back to the sole human in the group. "The presence of you patrons machines is part our lords plan, and while Abd Al-Daw believes them a vile temptation, we believe them the key to our conundrum. Their weapons are unlike any other in our hosts and their armour can become a conduit of our Lords might."

    "I have not seen these vessels of war that your patron brought, Lady Melisandre, though I believe they could deliver the decisive blow in our stead." Eshishas voice was much more cautious then before as he spoke, as if suggesting this at all was a trespass of some sort, though Melisandre could not tell in what regard. Sure enough, Abd Al-Daw scowled all the while, but made no motion to interrupt the celestial. "The shard could be forged into more than one weapon, which could be delivered by the cannons of these vessels. Unlike all other siege weapons we possess, no mortal servant of the False Flame could stop such an attack and her own power would be just as useless against the artifact. The parts of it could be buried deep within her sanctum, leaving her nearly no chance to remove them before we can put an end to this battle."

    "I see," Melisandre spoke, mainly to gain a short moment to think it through. "Its armour is steel and magic in equal measure, wrought both by and against eternal flame at that, so it would be a fine conduit for the Lord of Lights blessings. Unlike us though, it has no mind or soul that would be consumed by the might that would be forced into it."

    While the priestess had tried to sound as neutral as she could, Unthandonathi raised its voices again to press on. "Of course, if this path is taken, we will grant every blessing and warding in our knowledge to the machine. We also have priests in our entourage that could strengthen it further from within by a ritual performed as it faces the False Flame. Your patron will not bear the risk alone."

    She could see the reason behind it all and even the lure of it. After all, had the king not spoken to gain glory from his aid to this war? Maybe even faith? There could hardly be a more impressive showing then his war machine delivering such a decisive blow while withstanding the wrath of Ymeri herself. That was the crux of the matter though. It was his war machine, not hers.

    "I can not order such a thing," Melisandre said at last. "But I can inquire with my king if he is willing to support this plan."

    "As if he would pass up the chance to see his contribution exalted above all others. He is a dragon after all." He might have just whispered to himself, but to those sharing the vision, Abd Al-Daws words were still easily heard. Before they could comment though, he spoke on in a normal tone. "Make no mistake, I object to this path, but if you all agree that it should be done this way, then I will not stop you. May the Lord have mercy on us if we err, and may he bless our efforts if this is indeed his will."

    "Then it is decided," the dulled tones of Eshisha sounded with finality. "The Lady Melisandre will inquire if her patron is willing to support this plan and we will convene again when she knows what choice he made. Until then, may His light shine upon our paths."

    And just like that, the flames grew colder before snuffing out, the oil that once sustained them spent long ago already. She was alone again with only the clanking of pipes and the calm sounds of the armours enchantments as her company. For now, at least. It seemed she would have to return to Sorcerers Deep much sooner then she had anticipated.


    AN: This kept getting longer and longer.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    The Dauntless Awakens

    The Dauntless Gains One Mythic Rank
     
    Crake said:
    I mean, at worst it's two months of effort and an utterly replaceable warship, but I think it's absolutely important not to sacrifice a high CR character in Rh'llor's forces, considering all of them likely are more than just a unique and powerful asset that can't be replaced, but are likely, much like Melisandre, a pillar of his faith who can perform tasks that no one else can, are positioned like no one else can be, or have knowledge and experience that is irreplaceable.

    Finally, yes, being able to claim the lion's share of credit for slaying Ymeri without actually making anything but a gamble of men and material is almost too good to pass up. As it stands now, we get to throw some valuable stuff into the pot and come out the other end claiming we helped (and we legitimately would have) but with this we can say we are an ally who's always able to deliver a unique solution to any problem just when you needed it.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Same, I really want to go for it. Just think of the sheer amount of prestige the Dauntless and the Imperium are going to get from this. :D Very few nations can truthfully claim to have been the deciding factor in a fucking divine war.
     
    Huh.
    I actually find myself not caring enough to throw a proposal for set of defenses beforehand for our ritual.

    Oh well.

    Guess we have to see how many assets we lose to Ymeri and whether we can actually use the Snare as the location after all the Demonic summoning that took place there, first.
     
    [X] Goldfish

    Using advanced technology to deliver holy ordinance through a klick away after blessing the shell with prayers and incense for the glory of the Emperor?

    What does that reminds me? XD
     
    egoo said:
    Huh.
    I actually find myself not caring enough to throw a proposal for set of defenses beforehand for our ritual.

    Oh well.

    Guess we have to see how many assets we lose to Ymeri and whether we can actually use the Snare as the location after all the Demonic summoning that took place there, first.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Soon it'll all be over. And we'll have so many spoils of war. So many.

    XP and potential mythic ranks for everyone in the Imperium who participated (conditional on them being important and strong of course). Our share of the loot from Ymeri's palace. And most of all... we can get R'hllor to sanctify the Great Temple of R'hllor in Sorcerer's Deep and give his own permanent island-wide blessing. :D After this we have all the bargaining power we could ever need.
     
    Azel said:
    Gathering of Flames​

    In the endless seeming labyrinth of grey walls and floors, even colours became nothing more then the servants of the rigid order. Green and blue lines running the entire length of the vessel, one in the left-hand and one in right-hand main hallways so that you could find your place. A yellow line on the ground, leading from a turret to its assigned ammo storage room. And red. What felt like a hundred shades of red, drawing the path from each single bunk room to their assigned battle stations. And on these paths, they scurried every hour of the day, people in dark uniforms and with dyed caps denoting not who, but what they were.

    She though? She was an aberration in these halls. Flowing robes of red silk did not mesh with the drab clothes around her, and while each and every person here moved with a purpose, one little part of a greater whole, her movements were solely her own. It was strange to Melisandre to see the dance of people from the outside when she had so often been at its centre. Strange but not unwelcome. For all her petty vanities, she had not forgotten the lessons she learned so long ago in a city buried beneath shadows. It was easier to move freely when the eyes were caught by something else.

    Thus, in a sense, to be here was freedom. A few of the crew had approached her when she came aboard the Dauntless, knowing her from the tourney in the Deep and taking the chance to see her in person. More yet still came to the sermons she held in an empty cargo bay, the practice tacitly accepted if not approved by the commander. But when she was done reciting the prayers and blessing the faithful, they all moved on to their duties. There were no sycophants and zealots who clung to her, or schemers and plotters that one day tried to get her aid, just to betray her the next. There was no time in their schedules and plans for such things. For once, all she had achieved did not matter, and she was again that one young girl of many who could do as she pleased while the world moved without her.

    With that in mind, here lodgings were pure irony. The Dauntless was a machine of war through and through, having no frippery such as guest quarters like the Moonchasers. So, when she had asked to be housed here, the only place they could offer her was one of the cells of the brig. She did not mind though. For most of her years, she owned nothing save the clothes on her back, so the austere room with a dozen beds welded to the walls was more then enough for her purposes. A place to sleep. A place to store the few things she took along. An empty spot of floor to put a few candles. Anything more would have been a luxury to her and an easily missed one at that.

    The quiet was appreciated though. In the busy parts of the vessel, there were always the voices of chatting crew and the occasional order being barked by an officer. You were never truly alone on the Dauntless, the sounds akin to a busy city coming through walls, floors and ceilings always reminding you of that fact. Worse yet, for her own senses, there was a constant buzz of enchantments. The constant rustle of dormant far-speakers mingling with the keening of the anti-gravity engines, and beneath that the almost constant chiming of one enchantment or another roaring to life for a brief moment of use.

    Here though, in the bow of the vessel, there was barely any of that. Only the strange sounds of the steam pipelines and the occasional echo of nearby footsteps. The wardings of the nearby hull giving off a steady sound not unlike a slowly turning millstone. The metal itself occasionally groaning in the heat of this realm. It was much closer to the gentle and regular sounds of the sea or a forest then the cacophonous noise that was found wherever humans gathered in large numbers. And the longer she listened, the more it felt as if she was listening to a living thing, the constant sounds feeling more and more like the rush of blood and the quiet breath of a titanic beast. It was not perfect for what she was about to do, but with true silence out of her reach, it would have to suffice.

    Even if it was a war beyond anything a mortal would know, it was still a war and not one that was truly fought by just two parties. How it was among the ranks of their enemies, Melisandre could not tell, but the servants of the Lord of Light were many and came from every corner of creation. Hosts of angels were marching along bands of Salamanders, and the souls of mortals given shape by his divine flame mingled with those who were primordial fire given a mind. And they all brought along their own champions and heroes, priests and warlords, soldiers and zealots. Even if they were all united in purpose, brought her by divine commandment, it was still them who had to fight and win this battle.

    But it was the realm of their enemy they were now in, the very land they walked on and the air they breathed as much part of their foe as her own flesh. The Lord of Light had quieted the realm, made it so that they could walk and fight in it, yet when the prize was great enough, there was no doubt that Ymeri might yet overpower him for a brief moment. For all the power bestowed upon them, his champions were still mortal and before the power of one who was almost a goddess, they would be snuffed out like candles if they were to gather in one place. So, they kept their distance from each other, each staying with their own hosts where their and their lords powers was greatest. In body at least.

    As far as rituals went, it was almost insultingly simple. Just a bit of blessed oils dabbed on the floor in a circle, a prayer written around its outer edge. But it was not much that it had to achieve. It was a call to the Lord of Light and it was his will and might that would turn mere flame into the conduit for a vision. It was safer than any mortal magic could ever be, for just as he could not shut off Ymeri from her own realm, she could not intrude into him communing with his servants. All it took from Melisandre was a spark and a bit of faith, then the circle roared to life.

    For anyone who would have entered the room, it would have looked as if the priestess sat there and gazed into the flame, but to her, there was so much more. A lavishly decorated tent, though for the standards of his kind it was a plain affair, with an Efreeti sitting on a pillow in it's centre, his hair a blue blaze of violent fire. A cave of half molten rock, in it a living blaze in which you could see prayers written in every tongue that was ever spoken or which had yet come to be. A vault bedecked in faded gold, flames filling the gaps of broken mosaics and pillars, in its centre standing a withered figure with a golden mask and a glowing chest. All this she knew as much as she knew her own body, knowing the sounds, smells and sights of these places as if she was a formless spectre watching them.

    Parchment-like turquoise skin pulled taut over desiccated flesh as the masked figure raised his arm in greeting. He looked much more like one of the living dead then a servant of R'hllor, but the flame shining from within his chest was unmistakable a sign of his favour, spreading a pleasant warmth that reached far deeper than it should. "It is a great pleasure to me to see all of us in good health and spirits, despite the risks we take on in our great task," the figure spoke, the unmoving golden metal covering his face giving his voice a strange timbre. "And even our last sister in arms joins us today. Welcome, Lady Melisandre of Asshai."

    "I thank you for the welcome, Eshisha. It is indeed a joyful moment so speak with all of you, holy ones." She dipped a shallow bow at the flame before her as she spoke, for once having to offer courtesy to other servants of the Red God. "I apologize for only joining you now, but it took a while for the forces of my patron to be ready to support our war."

    With his mask, the celestial was hard to read and the living flame seemed not to have any emotions at all, just burning quietly without giving any sign of even listening. The Efreeti though? He made no attempt to hide his reaction at the topic she had touched upon. "We have heard your patron's words and how he offers aid." He spoke in an even tone, but the sneer on his face was unmistakable. "It might have been better if you had answered your summons promptly instead of waiting for him."

    A reverberating drone filled the molten cave in which the flame floated, the sounds only slowly coalescing into words that seemed to be both whispered and shouted by a thousand voices at once. "Do you doubt our Lords plans, Abd Al-Daw? You know why we speak today."

    "Unthandonathi," the angel called to the flame in an even voice. "That is uncalled for."

    The Efreeti just stared straight ahead for a short while, then slowly shook his head. "It is not wrong. It is hard to trust when I hear words fit for the line of Iblis coming from the mouth of one who calls himself an 'ally' of ours." Slowly his fingers moved through the gently swaying flames that were his beard. "We will see who he truly is soon enough, so I shall be patient until then."

    Melisandre just listened quietly, preferring not to say something one way or another. She had pledged herself into his service after all and it would be ill becoming of her to speak against him, even though he likely would not even mind it if she did, but neither would she defend his heresies for him. Only when it looked as if no one else wanted to add to the topic that she spoke again. "I am afraid that I not yet know what you wish to speak about today, holy ones. Is it something special you need to know from me?"

    "In a sense," the masked angel replied while waving with one hand. As he did so, Melisandre became aware of another place. It looked much like the faded temple that Eshisha stood in, but there was not a person in the centre of the vision. Instead there was a great reliquary wrought from gold and living flame. Two figurines of phoenixes stood on opposite ends of the elongated box, their wings spread, and their gaze directed outwards as if looking for threats to their treasure. "Can you feel it?"

    That she could, even without the celestials prompting. Even through the distance of the vision, even with the wardings woven into the flames, she felt the cold and darkness from the reliquary. It was deeper than anything she felt before, a stillness so total that her heart wanted to stop merely from being near it. Was it a work of the Great Other? Or something else? Old memories came forth as she pondered the thing, the deep shadows cast from the reliquary almost taunting her to remember where she felt something similar before. "Yes," she answered after a bit more contemplation. "It is hard to miss, despite all efforts to shut it away. And it feels familiar in part. Like the shadows of Asshai, where I learned long ago."

    The drone rose from the living flame again, the words betraying neither judgement nor emotion. "Can you tame it then, Shadowbinder?"

    A small and prideful part of Melisandre's mind was almost ready to confirm it out of hand. To manipulate the powers resting in the dark was a skill she took pride in, especially since it was nearly unheard off among the followers of the Lord of Light and thus a thing that had set her apart from other priests. This though? The power leaking through the wardings of the reliquary was already daunting and she doubted that she was asked to merely contain it better. Could she do it?

    A deep sigh broke her thoughts, the Efreeti gazing ahead with a defeated expression. "Your silence speaks loud enough Melisandre of Asshai. We had hoped that you could control the artifact within, but I did not expect us to have such luck."

    "She did not deny it either, Abd Al-Daw," the flame chimed in again. "We wish to use it because of it's power and we all know that such always comes at a price. If there is a chance for her to succeed where we would perish with certainty, then is it not sensible to have her try in our stead?"

    "We will not force you, Lady Melisandre," the celestial cut in again, his tone brokering no argument about this. "What you have felt is an artifact that our Lord has kept for many years. Of its origins, I cannot speak, for no records survived of where it was obtained, but it is a shard of cold and darkness, anathema to all that is the Lord of Light."

    "And also, anathema to all that is our foe," she finished the thought for him. "As a mortal, I am not as deeply touched by our Lords flame as all of you, so it stands to reason that I could wield this 'shard' while it would annihilate all of you. Better yet, I have learned to control one part of its power already."

    "Sadly, there is no time for such things as learning to wield this thing," as he spoke, Abd Al-Daw dismissively waved his hand towards nothing in particular, gold and gemstones of his jewellery clanking together at the movement. "A more direct measure will have to be taken. The Lord of Light can give us the strength to withstand its corruption, but that…" As he trailed off, he shook his head again. "What is the soul of a mortal to that of a god? What does the glory of lords and princes mean before Him, who is the flame from which all has come and to which it all will return?"

    It was odd for the priestess to hear an Efreeti quote these lines of prayer, the pride of their kind usually being an ill fit with sermons about humility. "In his embrace we all were one and one we shall become again. Neither crowns nor chains will adorn us, for in the furnace, all our sins shall be stripped from us, to leave only that which is pure and worthy." In a reverent tone she finished the quote for him, leaving them all in contemplation for a moment. R'hllor was a kind god to those who gave themselves to him, but his love was still the hot kiss of the flame and they mere tinder before him.

    "It is indeed so that whoever will bear the weapon that I will forge from the shard will perish before the battle is over," the angel quietly spoke to break the heavy silence. "There is no spell or warding in this world that could hide the blade as it is plunged into the False Flames flesh. She will know its presence and she will know its bearer, and all her might will be marshalled to keep it away from her sanctum. Our Lord will give us the strength to master this trial, but we will have to pay the price for becoming the vessel of his will all the same."

    "One of us must carry it to her palace. Plunge it into the very flames that are her being," continued Abd Al-Daw again. "Then her defences will falter, and she has to show herself in a form which can be brought low by mortals. When our Lord showed us that you would come to our aid, we thought that he might have given us a path by which none of us will have to give their lives for this tasks, but it seems that price must be paid."

    The droning voice of the flames rose and for once there was a shiver of emotion in Unthandonathis words. "You still doubt our Lords designs."

    In response, the Efreeti almost hissed into the other beings face. "There is no proof that it is not his will to test us and that we should reject the easy path, for it would give glory to the blasphemer."

    "And there is no proof that we should shun him who claims to be our ally either," came the reply in an agitated tone, the tiny prayers within the living fire shifting faster then before for a while. Yet after an awkward silence at the outburst, Unthandonathi turned its attention back to the sole human in the group. "The presence of you patrons machines is part our lords plan, and while Abd Al-Daw believes them a vile temptation, we believe them the key to our conundrum. Their weapons are unlike any other in our hosts and their armour can become a conduit of our Lords might."

    "I have not seen these vessels of war that your patron brought, Lady Melisandre, though I believe they could deliver the decisive blow in our stead." Eshishas voice was much more cautious then before as he spoke, as if suggesting this at all was a trespass of some sort, though Melisandre could not tell in what regard. Sure enough, Abd Al-Daw scowled all the while, but made no motion to interrupt the celestial. "The shard could be forged into more than one weapon, which could be delivered by the cannons of these vessels. Unlike all other siege weapons we possess, no mortal servant of the False Flame could stop such an attack and her own power would be just as useless against the artifact. The parts of it could be buried deep within her sanctum, leaving her nearly no chance to remove them before we can put an end to this battle."

    "I see," Melisandre spoke, mainly to gain a short moment to think it through. "Its armour is steel and magic in equal measure, wrought both by and against eternal flame at that, so it would be a fine conduit for the Lord of Lights blessings. Unlike us though, it has no mind or soul that would be consumed by the might that would be forced into it."

    While the priestess had tried to sound as neutral as she could, Unthandonathi raised its voices again to press on. "Of course, if this path is taken, we will grant every blessing and warding in our knowledge to the machine. We also have priests in our entourage that could strengthen it further from within by a ritual performed as it faces the False Flame. Your patron will not bear the risk alone."

    She could see the reason behind it all and even the lure of it. After all, had the king not spoken to gain glory from his aid to this war? Maybe even faith? There could hardly be a more impressive showing then his war machine delivering such a decisive blow while withstanding the wrath of Ymeri herself. That was the crux of the matter though. It was his war machine, not hers.

    "I can not order such a thing," Melisandre said at last. "But I can inquire with my king if he is willing to support this plan."

    "As if he would pass up the chance to see his contribution exalted above all others. He is a dragon after all." He might have just whispered to himself, but to those sharing the vision, Abd Al-Daws words were still easily heard. Before they could comment though, he spoke on in a normal tone. "Make no mistake, I object to this path, but if you all agree that it should be done this way, then I will not stop you. May the Lord have mercy on us if we err, and may he bless our efforts if this is indeed his will."

    "Then it is decided," the dulled tones of Eshisha sounded with finality. "The Lady Melisandre will inquire if her patron is willing to support this plan and we will convene again when she knows what choice he made. Until then, may His light shine upon our paths."

    And just like that, the flames grew colder before snuffing out, the oil that once sustained them spent long ago already. She was alone again with only the clanking of pipes and the calm sounds of the armours enchantments as her company. For now, at least. It seemed she would have to return to Sorcerers Deep much sooner then she had anticipated.


    AN: This kept getting longer and longer.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    I meant to mention it earlier, but I got carried away by the idea of the Dauntless gaining sentience.

    This was another really nice Melisandre POV, but I really appreciated the hints you sprinkled in about R'hllor's other powerful servants. Lots of tantalizing threads that would be neat to see pulled. Although we might never see them again, their appearance here did a lot to add some depth to his followers and further cemented Melisandre's place among his most exalted.
     
    Crake said:
    I mean, at worst it's three months of effort and an utterly replaceable warship, but I think it's absolutely important not to sacrifice a high CR character in Rh'llor's forces, considering all of them likely are more than just a unique and powerful asset that can't be replaced, but are likely, much like Melisandre, a pillar of his faith who can perform tasks that no one else can, are positioned like no one else can be, or have knowledge and experience that is irreplaceable.

    Finally, yes, being able to claim the lion's share of credit for slaying Ymeri without actually making anything but a gamble of men and material is almost too good to pass up. As it stands now, we get to throw some valuable stuff into the pot and come out the other end claiming we helped (and we legitimately would have) but with this we can say we are an ally who's always able to deliver a unique solution to any problem just when you needed it.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    I do have to point out that losing the entire Dauntless in such a public and dramatic fashion as having it smote to a puddle of metal by Ymeri on live Mirror Vision would be quiet a blow to morale, beside the obvious result of the Dauntless missing for the invasion of Westeros.

    On the other hand, if it succeeds, the Dauntless will instantly get a reputation as "that thing that shrugged off a point-blank smiting by a goddess". Sure, that is mostly R'hllors achievement for pouring his own mojo into it to withstand those attacks, but that's not what people who see the Dauntless in the sky will feel in their pantaloons. Even the Efreetis commanders might get a bit demotivated when facing it. Especially when it then proceeds to shrug off their own attacks.
     
    Azel said:
    I do have to point out that losing the entire Dauntless in such a public and dramatic fashion as having it smote to a puddle of metal by Ymeri on live Mirror Vision would be quiet a blow to morale, beside the obvious result of the Dauntless missing for the invasion of Westeros.

    On the other hand, if it succeeds, the Dauntless will instantly get a reputation as "that thing that shrugged off a point-blank smiting by a goddess". Sure, that is mostly R'hllors achievement for pouring his own mojo into it to withstand those attacks, but that's not what people who see the Dauntless in the sky will feel in their pantaloons. Even the Efreetis commanders might get a bit demotivated when facing it. Especially when it then proceeds to shrug off their own attacks.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Years later, people will point at the Dauntless and go "THERE, THAT ONE RIGHT THERE SIR, THAT'S THE GOD KILLER!"

    The officer will lean over the scrying pool and frown, then go, "that's the biggest, most deadly ship in their fleet? Well, it certainly looks dangerous, but--"

    Then the battleships drift into view.
     
    Goldfish said:
    I meant to mention it earlier, but I got carried away by the idea of the Dauntless gaining sentience.

    This was another really nice Melisandre POV, but I really appreciated the hints you sprinkled in about R'hllor's other powerful servants. Lots of tantalizing threads that would be neat to see pulled. Although we might never see them again, their appearance here did a lot to add some depth to his followers and further cemented Melisandre's place among his most exalted.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    They all have a background, personality and a rough character sheet draft, so pull away if you like.

    Also, they all have meaningful names, but I think that should be sufficiently intrinsic to my brand by now that it needs no stating.
     
    Azel said:
    I do have to point out that losing the entire Dauntless in such a public and dramatic fashion as having it smote to a puddle of metal by Ymeri on live Mirror Vision would be quiet a blow to morale, beside the obvious result of the Dauntless missing for the invasion of Westeros.

    On the other hand, if it succeeds, the Dauntless will instantly get a reputation as "that thing that shrugged off a point-blank smiting by a goddess". Sure, that is mostly R'hllors achievement for pouring his own mojo into it to withstand those attacks, but that's not what people who see the Dauntless in the sky will feel in their pantaloons. Even the Efreetis commanders might get a bit demotivated when facing it. Especially when it then proceeds to shrug off their own attacks.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Well, we better sacrifice a thousand or so HD to R'hllor to give him the juice he needs to shield us.
     
    Reader mode
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Remove ads
    Back
    Top