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

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Canon Omake: A Watchers Meeting
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    • Omake: A Watchers Meeting​
    Previous Part

    Sometime During the Festival.

    Just leisure Ilaria told herself. She would just pop down to the docks to have a look at the Queen Rhaella. Apparently the ship itself was alive. And if one of her transport ships happened to be pulling in. Well it would be only common courtesy to say hello.

    Perhaps she would invite the captain to watch the performance with her. She should have brought one of the bards she patronized, or even one of her friends in business. Just for the conversation. Sure her guides where plenty talkative. But the bull-man, Lockhorn, would mostly give short but informative answers. Where as the little-valyrian, Bright Eye, would easily talk your ear off about the most mundane subject if you let him. But mostly she wanted someone that shared her experience of being in what seemed to be a completely different world.

    "Flag down the harbour-master if you please."

    Bright Eye noded from atop the bull-mans shoulder and then shot off. Deftly weaving through the crowd, and climbing over cargo where he could. Fifteen minutes later Ilaria strode onto the docks themselves and followed Lockhorn to her destination.

    "Lady Ilaria. The Swallow Wing is at dock 17, got in about 3 hours ago, and looks to be ready to sail in another 2 hours." The man was too the point, clearly busy but without any bitterness that she often heard from others in that same stressful position.

    "I'm sorry? That ship normally takes 8 hours at minimum to turn around."

    "So i've been told. Now if you don't mind, dock 17 is that way." The Harbour-master indicated, using his whole arm to point towards her ship. He then hurried off in the opposite direct.

    Weaving the rest of the way towards her ship, the captain of The Swallow Wing noticed them approaching.

    "Ah Ilaria, hows ye leisure time been." The Captain greeted her with good cheer, clearly something had gone well.

    "Well Hotoris, i've only been to the Astral Current Stock Exchange 7 times in the 5 days i've been here," Ilaria said feigning offense. "But that's not important, what's this 5 hour turnaround all about."

    "HA," Hotoris leaned in, voice at a normal level now, "that'd be Xhanar Daso." He indicated the dark skinned summer islander, currently hauling an impressive amount of cargo back up onto the ship. "Picked him up in Tyrosh. He didn't have enough coin for the trip though, so he said he wanted to offer his labour for passage. I told him even so, it wouldn't be worth it for just a single ports labour. What with rations and bunks already sorted. He almost begged me, I could see it in his eyes. He didn't want to but he would've. So I said i'll take half of his coin and the labour, but he'd have to sleep on a blanket. He accepted straight away. Used to be a slave I think, if the scars on his back are anything to go by."

    Hotoris glanced over at Xhanar again, as he walked back down the plank onto the docks. "Honestly now? I'm thinking of paying him double the normal rate, just so he's tempted to come back. He carries almost double compared to any other worker, and is completely indefatigable. Fairly sharp too."

    "Why not just offer him a place now? If he's even half as competent as you make him out, he should be training to be a ship officer as soon as possible."

    Hotoris holds his hands up in mock surrender. "Honestly I tried, hes set on something here in the Deep. Wouldn't say what, and i'm not one to press. Man seems to have his reasons."

    "Hmm." Ilaria wandered over towards the ship. "Mr Daso, excuse me."

    Xhanar stopped as he was carrying another rather large box, setting it back down on the ground and stepping towards Ilaria. "Xhanar is fine."

    "Well then, Xhanar. I'd like to offer you a permanent position aboard my ships."

    "No thanks, I'm perfectly fine."

    "Xhanar, I am willing to offer you immediate training into an officers position, along with other potential benefits."

    "I'm sorry, the answer is no."

    A mix of Ilaria's temper and curiosity got the better of her. "But why! There are men who work on ships for decades for just a chance at what I am offering you!"

    Something changed about Xhanar's demeanor. His face darkened, and he kept flexing his right hand. "Look I don't want it. Now I am going to finish this, and then I will leave."

    Lockhorn started to stepforward, but Ilaria threw out a hand. "You're right, I'm sorry, you're right. The offer remains open. I'll be in Sorcerer's deep for the rest of the festival, if you change your mind just ask for me at the Astral Currents, I'll leave a message with them."

    Both turned to go back to their tasks.

    Ilaria massaged her temples, "I can't wait for that performance, that bard is simp-"

    Xhanar whipped back around, "I'm sorry? Did you say performance?"

    Ilaria blinked in surprise, "Uh, yes. Do you have a particular interest in music?"

    "4 years ago I would have said yes, but now i'm not looking for the music, just one person related to music. Did you see the Summer Islander? In the Circle of Battle?"

    Eyebrows rising further, "Yes, that would be Xor, one of the Kings master bards. I was there in person. Do you know something about her?"

    Xhanar paused for a moment. seeming to carefully consider his words. "You could say that... She's my Aunt."


    OOC: Part 3 in my series focused on Xor. Honestly I didn't have any planes for Ilaria when I first thought of her. But realised I'd accidently made the perfect person to end up meeting Xhanar.
     
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    • superguy2876 said:
    Mostly what I was going for. I also assumed that in front of the mirrors Xor wouldn't take his normal form.
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    Most likely not; that means a lot of people in SD know he's a shapechanger. And I bet there are rumors about other shapeshangers (ribbons of disguise and there being only very few perfect secrets). So Xor being a father/mother may be unlikely, but I don't think a lot what outright think impossible. Also because of our lovely Deep One hybrids.
     
    Part MMDCLXXVI: A Modest Gathering
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    • A Modest Gathering ​

    Twenty-Fourth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC

    The announcement that you had invited Horas Redwyne, Randyll Tarly, and Randyll's young heir as your dinner guests has your mother shaking her head and smiling at 'how quickly everything is going', the words carrying far more meaning than just needing to hurry the cooks along. The Reach is practically falling into your lap, not precisely a surprising development given how mighty and disunited Reacher lords are, but a welcome one just the same.

    On the other hand Ser Richard seems bemused. "I'd have expected Tarly to have more sense than to run off playing sellsword, dragging the boy along besides. As far as he knew they could have both gotten captured or killed and left Horn Hill in guardianship or worse."

    "Well, you said the boy is plump and has magic which he might be hiding from his father..." Tyene trails off, sipping at her wine. "Maybe the journey is as much for his sake as anything else, at least to Lord Randyll's mind."

    "Ah, yes, I'm certain constant fear would not make the child seek comfort in food at all..." Malarys snorts.

    "Long day?" you ask, guessing the acerbic tone is rooted in something more than suppositions of bad parenting. The festival had made the Lawmen's work harder or at least more tangled, and the mage priest had taken up his share of the burden with his usual diligence.

    "One of the visiting knights took it into his head to accuse the Lawmen of stealing his horse because the fool had left it wandering loose after he overindulged in brandy and they had taken it off the streets. The captain in charge of the patrol he was haranguing decided that was grounds for a hundred mark fine..."

    "Which it isn't, that's more than three times the maximum fine for something like that as long as no one was hurt," Maelor finishes. He had been paying more attention to the administrative aspects of the city recently, probably still in an effort to prove he deserves his own to manage.

    "Indeed," Malarys said dryly. "I hate it when I have to take the side of fools, but such is the nature of the law that even a fool must be guarded."

    "The captain should've just gotten him to throw a punch," Asha interjects as she walks in accompanied by her brother, a spring in her step from her latest victory in the Circle. She would be meeting Valaena on the morrow.

    "The point of the Lawmen is to establish peace, not sow more chaos," Waymar points out before Malarys can say something sharper.

    Asha nods, though she does not linger on the matter. "So, Tarly...? No port, not even a river for reavers to sail up. I do not think he will be too angry at Theon and me for old slights, though that means he won't be as impressed about us either unlike the Redwyne boy. I'm half tempted to take him on as my first mate when I get my ship."

    Somewhat to your surprise Horas Redwyne had taken very well to Asha, listening raptly to her only slightly embellished tales of sailing and exploration. From the way his cheeks flame you would guess he might have even taken a bit of a shine to the young Ironborn woman so very different from the ladies of the Reach he had grown up around. Not the worst way he could have taken meeting her all things considered, though it might be a touch awkward to explain to Paxton if anything more than infatuation comes of it.

    ***​

    "This is a small gathering? A private dinner?" Lya asks teasingly as she motions towards the long table with seven seats set on either side, the silverware bright in the light of the mage lanterns.

    "Relatively speaking," you shrug. "One must always consider circumstances."

    "It only has three courses counting desert, that is outright tiny," your mother interjects as she absently rights a flower arrangement. "At a true feast, guests have to pace themselves to be able to taste from even dish lest they offend their host. Some lords and ladies are even said to have practiced beforehand. Granted it was the ones who would have enjoyed said practice the most."

    For the first of those two courses you had chosen poached bream with lemon and herbs, a local dish one might easily find on the table of even well-off merchants, though the vintage of Arbor Gold is certainly not of any common year. You had meant it as a compliment to Horas, though he hardly seems to taste the wine as he chats with Asha.

    As for the main guests of the hour, however, they arrive precisely on time in somewhat rumpled finery that must have spent the past several weeks at the bottom of a locked chest. The boy looks so painfully shy it is only his father's glare that moves him to stutter his way through the introductions while Randyll himself seems to take it upon himself to compensate by putting himself forward as much as possible. His opinions are loud, usually right in military matters, but otherwise as traditionalist as expected from a man Oberyn had once described in passing as somehow being 'even less subtle than Robert Baratheon'.

    Not that it does not work to your advantage in this case. A few hints that you are displeased with rumors of disturbances in Oldtown as well as a handful of carefully calculated barbs thrown at the Citadel has him recounting everything he heard on the matter. "The damn maesters got to wagging their tongues about 'magical contraband'. I had not thought much of it until I got here and saw what they were selling in the bazaars. Of course the Lantern Bearers would be looking to get better tools. What fighting man doesn't?"

    "Particularly when the foes one faces are worse than men..." your mother prompts.

    "Fish-men, I heard of those. Saw a corpse strung up when we passed through Oldtown even..." At his father's words Samwell pales so badly you are half-afraid he might be sick on the spot. He had clearly not taken the gruesome sight well.

    "Supposedly the maesters are also arguing about which chain goes where, but I couldn't say which one or why..."

    "It's the ravencraft rod," the boy says, his voice much firmer when he is recounting facts rather than trying to navigate himself through introductions. "Archmaester Walgrave is an old man and no longer fit to administer the tests for the black iron link they say."

    The same one who had supposedly signed the introduction letter for Lord Brune's traitorous maester, you realize with start. The conspiracy is moving, you would wager, or perhaps someone is moving against them. Alas, Samwell knows no more on the matter and his father had obviously dismissed it without a second thought. Randyll Tarly clearly believes in the power of swords, not quills or ravens. By now you are practically certain he does not know of his son meddling in magic.

    While Maelor draws him into recounting what every link in a maester's chain stands for, Dany gives you a small shake of the head. There is no sign of any lingering fey magic on the boy. At least that is one tangle you won't have to deal with.

    As you begin to speak of other events in the Reach, including your conversation with Lord Redwyne, Horas takes it upon himself to quietly but firmly say that he is satisfied with the answers he has been given and that he will counsel his father to 'work closely with you in the coming months'. Avoiding the word oath only makes it loom more strongly in the silence that follows.

    Lord Tarly's lips thin as he seems almost to chew on a question before speaking it. "What do you think of the fey, your Highness? What aught to be done with them?"

    What do you reply?

    [] Write in

    OOC: As I was writing this I realized it had been a long time since we had PCs just sit around the same table bouncing thoughts off each other, so I included it as a preamble to the dinner.
     
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    • MTB said:
    Most likely not; that means a lot of people in SD know he's a shapechanger. And I bet there are rumors about other shapeshangers (ribbons of disguise and there being only very few perfect secrets). So Xor being a father/mother may be unlikely, but I don't think a lot what outright think impossible. Also because of our lovely Deep One hybrids.
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    I'm also playing off the fact that Varys didn't believe the truth. When it comes down to it, to outsiders, the whole "Xor is a floating eye with eye stalks" could sound almost like an in joke poking fun at the myriad other rumor potentially surrounding him.
     
    DragonParadox said:
    Lord Tarly's lips thin as he seems almost to chew on a question before speaking it. "What do you think of the fey, Highness? What aught to be done with them?"
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    Blunt as ever.

    Work with em if we can, ignore em if we can't, kill em if they start hurting folk. Same ol, same ol.

    You've likely seen several fae in the city already, and their contributions have been... Spectacular really.
     
    superguy2876 said:
    I'm also playing off the fact that Varys didn't believe the truth. When it comes down to it, to outsiders, the whole "Xor is a floating eye with eye stalks" could sound almost like an in joke poking fun at the myriad other rumor potentially surrounding him.
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    Right, rumor goes both directions; hadn't considered that. I was more looking into why he wouldn't be immediately set straight by the knowledgeable magnate he stumbled across.
     
    I think we should put this in military terms , because that's what he'll understand. The Fey are an enemy who can slip past just about any conventional defence and concentrate force far, far more easily than the Reach can. A war with them would be ruinous, so an accord of some kind must be reached.
     
    Tarly will probably appreciate how dangerous the fey are if we lay it out for him, especially when they're effectively bound by nothing. He'd probably rage at how easily the Tyrells allowed them to infest Highgarden.
     
    Handle them likey any other subject. They brake the laws, the pay the price. Otherwise, they won't be persecuted just for being non-human.
     
    MTB said:
    Handle them likey any other subject. They brake the laws, the pay the price. Otherwise, they won't be persecuted just for being non-human.
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    Only problem is they view themselves as above our laws. "Why should they follow the laws of mortals whose lifespans are basically a short nap?" was how DP put their view, IIRC.
     
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