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

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MTB said:
Hard sell to his father that an archivist is a warrior.
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Let him watch the team battles and the mage competition. Once he's seen a meek bookworm incinerate someone with a Fireball, he will sing a different tune.
Duesal said:
We could just pull a Valaena on him.

Tell Tarly we could make his son mighty.

Turn around and make him a wizard.
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That works too.

Worst case, we educate him the direct way on why a full-caster is worth more then your average knight. We let him duel Dany.
 
Eh, or we could point out that ourselves, our sister, our mother, and most of our immediate court know some spell craft.

To say....


@Azel you cheeky bastard you snuck that "skilled administrator" thing in for Sam didn't you?
 
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Azel said:
Let him watch the team battles and the mage competition. Once he's seen a meek bookworm incinerate someone with a Fireball, he will sing a different tune.

That works too.

Worst case, we educate him the direct way on why a full-caster is worth more then your average knight. We let him duel Dany.
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I really want dany to show how superior she is to westeros knights. I mean she's even physically stronger than a lot of them.
 
Azel said:
The alternative is letting Lya stand up for the honor of her profession.


I think I would prefer that. Lya get's so little screen time in social situations and Randyll shitting on wizards would definitely go over well with her.
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Id prefer him getting his ass beat by the 8 year old. I mean Danny could probably beat an army of him.
 
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Interlude CDVI: Facing Fire
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    • Facing Fire ​

    Twenty-Fourth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC

    For the sixth time in as many days Scarbrand Grovetender stepped out onto the sands of the Circle. Unlike many of his kin he did not fight often to still the clamor of battle in his blood, instead seeking the voice of the Gods, the rustle in crimson leaves, the slow thump of sap through pale veins. The voices of the crowd called... the promised rush of battle. Yet it was not for them he fought, but for the glory of the Gods, to show all those come from far off places their power that others may come to give a tithe before the roots, that other trees may be planted and carved. He did not wholly understand the way of such things, that was for the Crow-Man in his Long Dreams, but he did know strength and strength he would show.

    Bloodletter slung over his shoulder, Scarbrand strode forth under the eyes of the roaring crowds, but his eyes were upon his foe, the Hound Man who had bested the Snake-Bane woman with eyes of flint. He did not have to look far down to see this one, but it was not his size that made the minotaur's hackles rise and his head toss in instinctive challenge. This one was a fighter born and tested. It made him curious...

    "What fire burned you?" he asked respectfully, one warrior to another.

    "None of your fucking business!" the warrior snarled.

    The minotaur snorted, taken aback by the rage. Men were still strange to him even after all this time. Perhaps after they had spoken with steel they might share words again.

    As the horns called out for battle he did not charge, but as in every battle thus far called out to the Gods for armor beyond steel, his hooves digging into the sand as he braced for battle. Yet when the Hound Man struck it was with such fury and strength that though the gods turned away one blow and his armor another, the third swing carved into his arm, striking bone.

    Yet minotaurs had been made hardy to endure the lash of their dead masters, to which freedom and good food had only added to. Thus Scarbrand endured.

    All boons are born of blood.

    But where the masters of old took the Gods paid fairly.

    Blood so often spilled before the heart tree burst from his palm, boiling like flame to coat the head of his hungering axe, to guide and hone it. Deep did it sink into the warrior's shoulder, slipping unerringly between the armored plates, but he did not flinch from the pain nor falter at the sight of sorcery as others had done.

    Now Scarbrand was hard-pressed by his foe's attack, blood flowing freely between his brows from a cut into the ridges of the brand upon his head, and thus he thought to himself how much he would wish for a brother or sister to stand beside him to weather the storm of steel, though he knew no other warrior of flesh and blood could aid him now. Yet fire might... the same fire that had burned him, the fire that had seared the foul mark into his flesh was now his to command by the will of the Old Gods.

    No words did he speak for the fire was as close as his own flesh, and at once to the Hound Man's left there burst into being a fire that bent to his will as easily as another arm. To his shock his foe paled and cursed not in anger, but fear. "What the fuck is this shit?!"

    "This fire that burned me, fire that took my kin. Gods gave it to me like King gave me axe," Scarbrand answered, still confused. He would not take the moment to strike without warning but he did heal by the power in his magic belt. "Now my fire. If I ever meet squid-man I use it on him."

    For a long moment the warrior just stood there getting his breath back, then his fingers turned white on the hilt of his sword and with one mighty wing he swept the little fire away in a shower of embers.

    Good, but it would not spare him Bloodletter's edge, Scarbrand vowed, striking out with fury and the power of his blood to cave in the chest of the soot-black armor and turn its sharp edges into the Hound Man's flesh. Another blow like that and...

    The pain in his side was like being kicked by a whole herd of horses, the sound of breaking ribs reverberated in his skull as he fell. He tried to stumble to his feet again, but the point of the Hound Man's sword touched his chin.

    His eyes were not so angry after the fight. Perhaps men were not so strange after all.

    "Drink?" he asked.

    "What?" the other warrior asked.

    "You win. Want drink at the Red Horns? I pay," Scarbrand explained.

    For a long moment there was no answer, then the warrior offered his hand: "Why the hell not? I was going to get drunk anyway."

    OOC: Scarbrand was actually doing more damage than Sandor when his blows connected, but he did not have the attack bonus and hit points to pull through even with Sandor's phobia giving him a free heal round. For anyone wondering, the reason Sandor is being so friendly is just the sheer rush of relief from being able to kill the elemental. He cannot even put into words why he felt that way right now.
     
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    • firefrog600 said:
    Id prefer him getting his ass beat by the 8 year old. I mean Danny could probably beat an army of him.
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    Yes, but Dany is still a Dragon, so he can go 'I didn't fight full power' and also 'she's a dragon'. So, not a typical bookworm. Lya on the other hand - well, if you just look at her she's moderately impressive, a little uncanny, but no reason to think a good hit with a sword wouldn't end her.
     
    Duesal said:
    What's his class and level? Seeing as he was the only commander to actually beat Robert in a battle, and considering he wields Heartsbane, I expected him to be more than a mook.
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    He is but still he is not level 16

    I'd say he has a Cavalier/Martial build totaling 8/9 HD which would put his BaB at around the same value as Dany though of course he also has feats centered around fighting too so he would probably win a no magic duel.
     
    DragonParadox said:
    He is but still he is not level 16

    I'd say he has a Cavalier/Martial build totaling 8/9 HD which would put his BaB at around the same value as Dany though of course he also has feats centered around fighting too so he would probably win a no magic duel.
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    Technically Dany could just use Dream shape to get a better combat form, then use Cleric melee buff scheme that are always a classic and be a combat monster with no more than a mace or even a dagger.
     
    MTB said:
    That's why Lya is better still - she hasn't got that 'Dragon that's because I lost' apology going.
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    Plus you know, Lya was a stereotypical bookworm at Sam's age. And she still is at heart.

    It'd be completely anticlimactic since Lya is very well kitted out for captures, but that's just part of the fun. After going through Chains of Light, Greater Black Tentacles, Amber Sarcophagus and Maze even Randyll Tarly would have to call it quits and admit that no, he can't do shit against the power of the books.
     
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