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

TalonofAnathrax said:

[X] The Voice of Tryos
What kind of Empire doesn't have dark secrets at the helm of the state? At least this guy is absolutely 100% competent, and has the best record of them all. It's hard to beat "literally ran a fake religion" when it comes to controlling public opinion.
@DragonParadox, will Yss be angry if we hire this guy? I'm surprised Yss didn't eat him, honestly.

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TalonofAnathrax said:

[X] The Voice of Tryos
What kind of Empire doesn't have dark secrets at the helm of the state? At least this guy is absolutely 100% competent, and has the best record of them all. It's hard to beat "literally ran a fake religion" when it comes to controlling public opinion.
@DragonParadox, will Yss be angry if we hire this guy? I'm surprised Yss didn't eat him, honestly.

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DragonParadox said:

Yss does not like him, but he will hold you to your word, if the false Tryos vanishes from the world in the span of the nest few months and years he shal be content with its passing. Keep in mind snakes hold no grudges, they bite you or they do not.

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Azel said:

Is there anything we need to be doing for that or will he and the Inquisition handle that in the background?

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DragonParadox said:

It's a pretty major undertaking, so yes making it a plan of some kind with resources invested would be a good idea. It does not necessarily have to be next month if you guys do not have the time but you will need to invest some of that fancy new mana of the new system. Religions do not pass easily from the world, even when they maker is helping to take them apart.

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Azel said:

Yeah, this is one of those times when I regret asking questions. This was kinda supposed to have happened in the background since the last year, when we officially told him to dismantle the faith and now it turns out nothing at all was done.

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DragonParadox said:

A Voice for the Throne​

Eleventh Day of the Fifth Month 294 AC

Although you consider Bharo and even arrange an interview with the great adamantine sage, in the end you think the better of naming him, and not as Dany suggests in jest, because you do not wish to trouble the builders with crafting a seat in the Curia fit for his stature. The Ministry of Magic will have work from the first hour of its making. More than that, it has work now that is going undone, and there is no time for teaching its head and little tolerance for the errors that one inexperienced will doubtlessly make.

By contrast you find Lady Emyle, not Wisdom for she is quick to divest herself of the honorific that shall do her more harm than good, is a skilled enough organizer to ask the right questions at the right time, and diplomatic enough not to step on any toes nor presume authority she does not have as the link between the Scholarum and the wider apparatus of the realm as well as the citizens it serves. Teana finds her easy enough to work with, though she warns that the manner and speech of He'Nekar will earn her some guffaws and mockery from the more haughty of her Volantene peers.

"They are as likely to complain that she is a failed mage with only the power of parchment and seal over them, so really you could not win for losing there," she admits, eyes growing dark as she considers the follies of Volantis the Great and its new-made mage-lords. "I'll speak to Zherys about it." Her eyes do not darken at the prospect as they might once have done. "Best to head this off before any of the whispers start, or worse, someone decides to act out publicly."

Part of you wants to act surprised that such a thing might happen, but you have seen enough of the pride of mages who do not oft emerge from their studies to consider the wider world that you are not surprised. Hopefully, the lady should find more good fortune in the west, where a woman without magic of her own yet with some knowledge of sorcery will be seen more kindly...so long as no one raises the matter of where that knowledge came from. According to the Inquisition, no small number of Dothraki were bled in the secret halls below the ruined city so that the sanctuaries of the Kindred could be kept safe. A better cause than many lords of the Freehold gave for their own works, and no less then the one that had seen the steel of the Legion forged. There might be something to getting ahead of the scandal and just unveiling the whole thing in as heroic a light as you can manage...

No, you shake your head. Too much else to do, and too much that is yet unsettled in the Deep and abroad in the land with the reorganization to play those sorts of games. Really, you should have someone to make these calls for you... but a minister there is among the hardest to find. They would have to be not only loyal, not merely competent, but also that rarest of qualities among those ambitious enough to seek public office, bereft of their own opinions, or at the very least have opinions so near to your own as to be confused to near identity.

First there is the flamboyant Sol Tyrais, the former head of a Lyseni mummer's troupe that has made a name for itself in not only making mirror shows, but also promoting them all over the Imperium. He seems to have an almost instinctive sense for what the people of different lands want to hear and how they want to hear it. Alas, his lifestyle is almost as infamous as his plays. 'Live fast and drink deep, for tomorrow you may die' may as well be his motto, and to be entirely honest you suspect he would have died already if he did not have access to some of the best arcane healers in the realm. It has never gotten in the way of his work, to the quiet shock of what looks like every superior he ever had, but Sol seems to delight in shocking the more puritanical of his fellow citizens with his exploits. If nothing else, it earned him Azema's recommendation for which you are quite certain he is proud of and quite a few of his detractors would not be the least surprised if they knew. There are already rumors and more than rumors of his assignations with some of the bolder 'ladies of the Sunset Lands'.

Going from a meeting with Sol to the next man on your list is a great deal like walking out of a festival plaza filled with light and music and right into a rain-soaked street where even the sound of faint whispers disturb the grey air. Only newly promoted to the rank of inquisitor, Valens of the Vale, no relation to the area in Westeros, is a man born to the lands of Andalos and grown to adulthood in the halls of petty Pentoshi aristocracy, though he found little to engender love or loyalty for his fellows there. One of the first recruits of the Inquisition in Pentos and a man with a deep knowledge of cults and their recruitment practices, it is to be hoped that he will bring to the Ministry the means to help curb such rot, though he is also suspicious almost to a fault and a hard taskmaster, for he comes from a line of work where failure means death.

The third person you meet is not a being of flesh and blood at all, but wax and old dreams. The one who for centuries forged the Cult of Tryos would have words with you, and he offers his services to another 'faith without gods'. You meet with him warily and add your own divinations to those the House of Mirrors has already done, but as far as you can tell by every means open to you, he is sincere and wishes only to advance the cause of the Imperium which he has come to see as the cause of civilization that his long dead master would have championed. Alas, that for all his skills and for the experience unmatched he would bring to the task, 'Tryos' has a history that would haunt him for many a long year should it become known.

Choose One (all candidates have been vetted not to have strong political opinions in addition to the qualities listed)

[] Sol Tryaris
+Skilled Stagecraft
+Mirror Experience
-Living the High Life
-Lady's Man

[] Inquisitor Valens
+Cult Expert
+Unquestionably Loyal
-Paranoid
-Hard Taskmaster

[] The Voice of Tryos
+The Skill of Ages
+Cultural Chameleon
--The Great Deception (He was part of faking a religion for centuries)

[] Write-in

OOC: I got idea for Public Information and not Diplomacy so here we are. I put in an explicit write-in this time around, but you can also approval vote is you like.

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DragonParadox said:

In High Halls of Power ​

Tenth Day of the Fifth Month 294 AC

Jon was not in the habit of making a spectacle of himself. He'd learned that well as a bastard of Winterfell, and learned it twice over as just a hair shy of a Prince, in form if not function, now that he was living in the capital, under the aegis of House Targaryen. More honestly to himself than he was wont to do, with Ghost at his side, that distinction meant little and less, and nothing at all when stood before his uncle or beside his aunt while at Court. It was odd... not unpleasant, to think that casually of the King--no, Imperator--a slip he thankfully hadn't had much opportunity to make, as he tried and failed to keep to himself.

He had far too many faces around him most days and those more than eager to drag him about, into some function or activity, to really call himself a recluse. He would still brood in the evenings, especially what with having little need to consign himself to restless sleep, not when it could be spent studying and refining mundane skills, so long as he didn't exert himself. That he left to the daylight hours.

A day like today.

Samwell, Joran and the Frey girl watched him from the edge of the warded chamber, a bit of a testing ground for a concept nearly seen to fruition, some facility was being set up by the Scholarum to allow people to train as if they were really at battle, or near enough to it as to make the difference academic. It was probably too... the word was sterile, to be considered akin to the real thing, but it was close as was possible. Thoros--not the Red Priest--was nearby somewhere, but he had run off after Theon had mentioned his sister and Lord Redwyne had found some exotic spirits new to the Deep, and he was always on the look out for inspiration to help his family, who was apparently business partners with one of his uncle's trade companies.

To one side of him was... probably the most intimidating Companion, at least by merit of what his reputation held for someone like Jon 'Snow' of the North. Boys and men had dreamed of becoming Aemon the Dragonknight, Daeron the Young Dragon or Arthur Dayne the Sword of Morning and Barristan the Bold, knights with legendary deeds to their names, but none more deserving of the honor perhaps than Ser Richard Lonmouth. When his uncle had said that he might learn at the feet of Ser Darry or Ser Richard, he thought it was more an assurance of the former over the latter.

A Companion like him should have better things to be doing with his time, after all? But almost everyone of import was gathered together in the capital running and organizing the realm, so there'd likely be no better opportunity to take advantage of the offer. And he needed to be the very best that he could be.

Still, he hadn't at all expected the request to be so readily accepted or so... on the spot. Companions kept schedules, didn't they? He wouldn't want the man to drop everything for him, but he wasn't about to backtrack for anything short of a real emergency taking place, either. Some his age would cut off their left arms if only to be taught to wield a sword with their right by the man, though he got the impression anyone who'd cripple themselves for the opportunity had better look elsewhere given how little time for nonsense was about him.

"Good footwork. Ser Cassel's doing?"

Jon nodded, hesitantly, but not jumping at the sound of the older man's deep baritone, his partner being Dany right now. Compliments were rare but sincere, which made them feel much, much more valuable. She was holding back against him again... quite a lot, honestly, which wasn't particularly galling, Jon found, considering what she and her brother had gone up against together, alongside the Knight himself.

What it was is encouraging, that he could gain that kind of skill with enough will and dedication... but of course he'd need more than just will and dedication. He'd need to take risks. That was a big rule about magic--you grew fastest when you burned, and the greatest of mages were those who managed to burn bright and hot without turning to ashes.

"You know, Jon," Dany began slyly, raising the visor of her helm, a couple of strands of silver hair poking out absurdly even as she breathed evenly and steadily, like someone who hadn't been vigorously exercising for the past hour, "I could weave some blessings onto you. Even I want to be able to cut loose and get something out of this."

His cheeks heated, "Wouldn't that be cheating?" He regretted the words instantly.

"Well, technically I'm warded to high heavens all the time and have to repress so much magic like you wouldn't believe for this bout, and not even all of it. So it'd be making things fairer than not." Jon didn't argue after that, especially seeing Ser Richard nod at the suggestion very approvingly. For all the fact that he fought with a sword, the man strenuously argued using every possible advantage, and that even if he were the one doing it, if you were going after a mage with only a sword from anywhere but ambush, something had already gone wrong and you were just trying to clean up your own mess.

"She's right, and you could use practice identifying spells in the heat of battle. Don't hold back as much, Your Highness." Though gruff, the knight was never unkind to Jon, and he was helping... Jon had to tell himself that more than once given the harshness of the lesson to follow.

He did still walk away with perhaps a touch less stars in his eyes after the lesson, but he thought that they had well deserved their reputation for both legendary skill and ironbound dedication.

...​

"Sam, you don't have to follow me around ten paces back like a wounded puppy..." when the former heir of Horn Hill began to back away slowly, Jon rushed forward to grab his shoulder, sighing. "I didn't mean to go away! I just want you to walk beside me."

"I--I couldn't, you're, well, you and I'm..." Tarly's lips warbled a strangled excuse and his shoulders still shook under Jon's hands, but he didn't cry. "I guess I just don't know what I'm expected to do here."

"Be welcome, for I am a merciful host," Dany spoke with forced cheer. "I don't invite just anyone to my apartments, you know. I keep all my stuff here..."

"So it's got your hoard, you mean?" Samwell asked in spite of himself.

"Well, more of other people's stuff, at the end of the day, but I guess the difference is pretty academic when you're a dragon," she said lightly. And so she did have quite a collection of trophies from past conflicts... honestly, far too many to show off all at the same time. The number of fights she had been in and places she had travelled was mind-boggling, and she had many more in storage, apparently, so that her private space didn't look so cluttered.

They took a seat outside on her balcony, where they could see out over most of the city from the dizzying heights of the Palace Hill and the enormous structure above even that.

"Sam," Jon said, after the silence which overtook the three became decidedly less comfortable than she had intended, "You're probably the smarted person I know... well, which I admit, is not that many people, but it isn't lacking anything for quality."

"Mm, well, you haven't spent that much time around Lya," Dany admitted, though adopting a wounded expression, "But I thought we had quite a rapport, Jon!"

He gave her a sullen look, not an expression he would have taken with just anyone else, which spoke enough of how comfortable he felt around her. "Please be helpful, Your--Dany," he corrected himself in exasperation, when her expression shifted ever so slightly, in that special way that announced she was about to become decidedly less 'helpful'.

Then. Only then. Did her face became deathly serious. "Sam, why are you so worried over inheritance, when you hardly talk about rule or even the particular deeds and acclaim of your own House than you do that of others?" She breathed out evenly, and when she received no immediate reply, "Is it because of your father?" They both knew well enough that was the case, but it served no purpose to force him to answer, either.

"I just... wanted him to see that I was trying, to be the best at what I could do, even if..." he trailed off. "The King--err, that is to say... well you know... " He sighed. "He said I'm very gifted. Very. And... but... I know that I've come farther than most mages do at my age... but I can't help but wonder if even if I were as talented as the Princess here, would he respect me?" His shoulders shook, though neither Dany nor Jon saw any tears, if any asked.

"He'll either see the truth for himself when you become the name on everyone's lips when they think of great scholars and mages, or he won't," Dany replied honestly. "But we're all very impressed and pleased with what you've accomplished, Sam, and you can quote my brother on that. He's very proud that his ward is so clever and smart, and I've heard him say as much on three public occasions." That was more to the Dragon King's credit as wanting to protect his ward's reputation than any real involvement in his education, but if anyone deserved some blatant royal favor here it was probably Samwell.

"He did say that, huh?" The young Tarly asked, perhaps in spite of himself.

"Aye," Jon replied. "He was really rubbing it in when the other Lords were talking about their own squires and pages, and he's got no shortage of talented people learning the ropes in his household."

Jon's heart was made slightly lighter, knowing he had managed to help a friend feel better. Though whether or not the words would sink in was another matter entirely.

OOC: A glimpse of where Jon is and where Samwell is in lands strange and strangely welcoming, brought to you by @Crake once again.

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Goldfish said:

Dany's interaction with the boys here was fun, too, @Crake. I hadn't thought about it before, but it makes sense that she has mementos of her own from our adventures over the years. I wonder how many of those are skulls or other bodily remains? I'm sure Rhaella loves that.

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