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

Thirtieth Day of the Eight Month 292 AC

It is not for gold that you decide to take Azema's advice, but for something far more precious: knowledge. Who knows if you could clear the madness from the streets before all is cinders and blood flowing in the gutters from the mad revel? Not you... not yet. You must understand this canker before you can purge it. "Lead the way," you call up to Azema as Tyene sees to all the wounds your company has taken in the last ambush and you go a step further, granting yourself the strength of the earth.

All Damage Healed

You gain 26 Temporary Hitpoints

As the four of you rush up the steep slope of the Captain's Hill, by a blessing of haste swifter than a gallop, you do what you can for those you encounter along the way, extinguishing fires in great plumes of smoke or else casting into slumber those who had taken arms against their fellows acting more like soldiers in sack than a feast day. In the distance you catch sight of larger groups, armed with tools or even cobbles ripped up from the street, mobbing solders and inebriated freemen... slaves. This will be an utter mess in the morning...

You put the thought out of mind for now. Your business is with the architects of this madness. The black mass of the Admiral's manse rises before you, lit by tongues or red flame. There are still a few moments to spare without the place going up in smoke, you realize.

"Get down here so you can get healed," you command Azema. Seeing her hesitate, you add, "There is no reason to fight if you do not wish to, but I imagine you are no great lover of pain..."

"Well, not this kind of pain at least," she answers suggestively as she lands next to Tyene. For once the reflexive innuendo is purely exasperating.

"Did you have any hint that this was going to happen?" you ask bluntly, looking into her void-black eyes.

"Not until it had already begun, no." The answer is instant and sure. If it is a lie then it is a very good one. "The shrews used to be dancers hired for the feast..."

"Were they disguised or did they turn into those things?" Waymar interjects, still catching his breath from the run.

"How should I know?" The alu demon shrugs, her wings rustling, then she stretches out her no-longer-wounded arm with satisfaction. "Excellent work..."

"What did...?" your question is interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. Turning, you catch sight of a blur of red arching to the ground from a shattered second-story window.

The creature that lands with cat-like poise before you is certainly a Maenad, but of a more impressive kind then those you have captured so far, her motions so graceful, so swift the eye can scarce follow her. She is unclothed save for her crimson hair which falls to her ankles. Her mouth, though stained with dried blood, seems perfectly human. You might have called her face alluring were it not for the madness that burns like hot embers in her gaze, "I ask but once from respect to pacts long broken: give back my sisters, sorcerer, and we will leave these lands. Our Father's will has been done and blasphemy has been punished. Refuse and I will eat your heart before your eyes." The words though clear in your mind are as a mingling of mad laughter, drums, flutes and the calls of beasts upon the air.

What do you do?

[] Agree to her terms

[] Attack to kill
-[] Write in plan

[] Attack to capture

[] Try to keep her talking
-[] Write in

OOC: It should be clear that this is no ordinary Maenad. Do not take it lightly.