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

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We'll need to pounce on cleaning up after Varys soon. There's Garth the Gross who we need to free, that general in Yi Ti who he was going to assassinate who we need to get in contact with, etc.

Also, 10/10, would sacrifice again.
 
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Part MMDCLXVI: When Helms Might Fly
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    • When Helms Might Fly​

    Twenty-Second Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC

    However much you might enjoy to stand before a crowd and speak of things small and great, of dreams being forged, there is something to be said also for sitting aside and looking out over the crowds when their eyes are not upon you, when you can appreciate anew all that your realm is becoming—a crossroads of the world where people from the four corners and beyond can meet in peace to live, learn, and work... and of course to bleed and bludgeon each other for glory and gold.

    The Hound certainly looks like he would like nothing better than to pound his opponent into the ground without even the promise of reward, his scowl as dark as his soot-black plate. As he marches out of the gates, his heavy steps throwing up a cloud of sand in their wake, you make a mental note to ask Leto about their time together... The thought trails off into a fleeting smile.

    "What?" Tyene asks, catching your expression.

    "I just thought of Clegane and Leto in terms that might have been counted romantic if it were any other pair," you reply. "Both of them would likely stab something or someone if presented with the notion."

    "Not just that... anything or anyone getting close would probably cut themselves as though they had tried to embrace a sword," Tyene sighs. "You know I wanted to hate him, for being a Clegane and the Mountain's brother. It would have been simpler, but after reading what the Inquisition gathered on him I hope he wins and uses that sword to gut the monster. Dying utterly alone at the hands of his last living kin sounds about right for Gregor Clegane."

    "Your father probably does not agree," Waymar notes from her other side, for once utterly unbothered by Tyene's ruthlessness.

    "Father has a less poetic view of vengeance," the Dornishwoman answers.

    Before any of you can speak again the horns call and battle is joined below.

    The easterner is a flurry of flesh and purpose, his movements so precise and controlled it seems almost a dance or a spell, but there is no sorcery to it, even though you peer as deeply as your arts allow through the veils of the world. It is mortal flesh and bone that bends castle-forged steel, a simple kick that slams into the side of the Hound's head such that it sends his distinctive helm flying into the dirt.

    "...a man not a beast, fight as one," you catch over the roar of the crowd.

    These words have the gift of making the armored warrior hesitate, though only for the merest instant in the midst of his charge. When his blows come, however, they are none the lighter for it. One cuts into the easterner's side, turning his robes red with blood. The second comes near to cutting off his left hand, only just deflected into a deep gouge into his arm. And the third one rattles his head in return, though you note with the flat of the blade and not the edge.

    In response the robed warrior rolls away, moving deftly out of the reach of the heavy adamantine blade, drawing a potion from one of his sleeves, unstoppering it with his teeth, and drinking it in the same smooth motion before the Hound can even reach him. Alas for him the potion's virtue does not seem to be that strong, staunching the flow of blood slightly, perhaps easing the pain of his head, but no more, and then the swordsman is upon him.

    One more kick is all the easterner manages before the sword falls in a deadly arc, sinking into his back as he tries to draw back again. As he begins to topple, Clegane catches him and lays him down with surprising gentleness, waiting for the healers to arrive.

    "Looks like you might get your wish," you say to Tyene. And the Hound may get his, but his true salvation does not lie in his brother's blood alone. Of that you are certain.

    OOC: Alas, poor Ting he tried his best, but he was fighting a character with four more levels, optimized for duels where he is not. Still, he did get a diplomacy crit in the middle of the fight. In full he compared Sandor's attachment to his Hound persona to other knights' attachments to their House animals and reminded him that all of them were but men.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • News for everyone regarding Yss.

    We discussed earlier that Yss would need to sleep less and less since he was being fed so many high-CR sacrifices. I PMed DP about the specifics today and this was what information I got.

    Originally, Yss' mechanics were thus:

    1dX days where X is the number of HD it's sacrifice had if the creature's CR is less than 10. For CR 10-15 it's 1d2*X and for CR 15-20 it's 1d4*X.

    Now, however, it has been upgraded to this:

    CR 1-9 - (1dX)/2 Days
    CR 10-15 - 1dX Days
    CR 15-20 - 1d2*X Days

    It's more or less halved from the previous times.
     
    So ting has won pretty much every fight that mattered? Well done to him then.

    Well done for not bowing out once he knew he was outclassed as well.
     
    Duesal said:
    News for everyone regarding Yss.

    We discussed earlier that Yss would need to sleep less and less since he was being fed so many high-CR sacrifices. I PMed DP about the specifics today and this was what information I got.

    Originally, Yss' mechanics were thus:

    1dX days where X is the number of HD it's sacrifice had if the creature's CR is less than 10. For CR 10-15 it's 1d2*X and for CR 15-20 it's 1d4*X.

    Now, however, it has been upgraded to this:

    CR 1-9 - (1dX)/2 Days
    CR 10-15 - 1dX Days
    CR 15-20 - 1d2*X Days

    It's more or less halved from the previous times.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Yay!

    Efficient trash-compactor ftw!
    :V

    Now, to feed him fat enough that he doesn't sleep at all at cr 1 through 10 ...
     
    I'm rooting for Oberyn. Sandor can go eat a poisoned speartip!
    He can eat it so hard it sprouts out his bloody ass and grows us a weirwood tree.
     
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    Azel said:
    This references a smith trying to reforge VS without knowing how to do so. It is never specified in canon what exactly happens if you improperly reforge VS, but given it's damascus pattern, I would like to think that it peels apart like a flaky pastry if you don't quench it in blood.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Yeah... But it's mostly fireproof? Irren painted the entire forge with sigils made out of blood. Probably to weaken the fire resistance enough to actually heat it up.

    I think something stupid like using a gigantic water powered millstone would be more in character.
     
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