A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover
- Thread starter DragonParadox
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- a song of ice and fire a sword without a hilt d&d 3.5 dungeons & dragons 100% high octane dragon fuel ave corvidae battle action dragon diplomacy best sister bureaucromancy delicious soul-stuff dragon dreams come true dragon ta'veren greatest uncle hubris is a coward's word in defiance of gods and men mammon's folly mutually assured mage's disjunction qm murderhobo top tier coatl
- Location
- Germany
[X] Azel
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
So how is the Harbinger supposed to get to Bear Island? Viserys can Teleport it there, then Teleport back to SD, then rinse and repeat to retrieve it, or allow it to fly all the way to the island and back. One is incredibly obvious tland the other is merely obvious, with a side order of a lot of needlessly wasted time.
Interlude in beta.
- Location
- Germany
Viserys boots him out of a window with the words "Fly, my pretty! Fly!".
Why overcomplicate things?
Viserys boots him out of a window with the words "Fly, my pretty! Fly!".
Why overcomplicate things?
The distance is pretty significant. It would take about 2-3 days to get there. In the grand scheme of things that is not that significant though.
Interlude CDXXXV: A Prince at Peace
A Prince at Peace
Twenty-Ninth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
Theon Greyjoy smiled and waved at the crowd with one hand while holding his dragonbone bow loosely in the other, occasionally to women who caught his eye, and being five-and-ten his eye was very easily caught indeed. By chance he caught sight of a man with the telltale wide fish-like eyes of Deep One corruption, and a complex shudder went down his spine. The poor bastard can't help what he's become anymore than I can help being related to Damphair, the young man reminded himself, but even so the realization that he was smiling and happy to be putting on a show here in the deep was like a wall of glass between him and the world. For one fleeting instant the world felt like a dream, like he was going to wake up screaming any moment still in his mad uncle's clutches with no Dragon King to save him.
"Eyes forward, little brother. You're here to shoot, not pose for a painting," Asha's words pulled him from his own bleak thoughts as surely as if she had thrown a bucket of cold water on him.
"Mind your axes and leave the shooting to me," he called back cockily.
She just rolled her eyes and turned to the Frey knight, still hidden under the thin guise of a 'mystery knight'. "I know you favor caution over a headlong charge, but remember if we let them call down all their blessings the incarnates will rush over us like a gale. Giving them even half a minute's respite means we likely stand no chance."
"And they can all bloody fly so unless I move before them I won't be much more good than a bloody crossbowman," the knight shook his head, not with any disdain of the arcane contraption, but simply knowing he hadn't trained in its use.
"Whatever weapon comes to hand," Theon said, almost to himself as he briefly recalled the feel of a piece of sharpened bone in his hand. That had been real alright. His hands steady Theon Greyjoy plucked an arrow from his quiver.
***
The flame dancer's blades moved through the air faster and faster with each flurry as she bounded into the air, light as leaping flame, though Valaena was almost as swift to rush forward, the dark chain tearing the air in her wake, but Theon barely noticed either, for his eyes were for the silver-haired incarnate who rose into the air straight as a ray of moonlight, her fingers trailing warding magic. These were all the shots he would get. He was no great sorcerer, worker of mighty spells to shake the field of battle, but in his fingers too there was a spark of magic, of more than mortal swiftness. Four arrows flew, three found their mark, one lodging in the incarnate's chest so deeply it was sure to have pierced a lung, yet somehow, somehow she still floated in the air as he desperately pulled for the next arrow.
Too late, the archer Aradia had risen beside her sister, and with a touch of her hand healed her, wounds mending, arrows slipping out of flesh. Better to focus on the more perilous ones.
In the center of the field Valaena, with Asha and Walder a step behind her, met the flame dancer, but before chain, axe, and sword could meet blades of whirling adamantine, an arrow guided by fel winds flung her from her feet, leaving Asha and the Frey knight to face the onslaught alone. They strike, veils are cut and blood is split, but not enough, not nearly enough. She laughs and the sound is flame let lose on the world, it is passion, death, and fury. Two blows spark against borrowed armor, the other three find their mark, cutting through joints... almost sawing off the knight's hand at the wrist.
Urgently Theon shoots into the fray, one arrow striking the spirit woman in the shoulder, another grazing her cheek as Valaena charges chain in hand and manages to tangle her limbs, the hellforged chain pulling taut as it trips her. Alas elation is short-lived, from behind and above arrows fall like leaded rain, felling the knight, though Valaena's armor warded her as the chain flew through her hands... a strike, the chain glowing ghostly white... a miss and the dancer had risen to her feet, blades flashing in her hands, though again the Velaryon's armor held against all but one of the blows.
Arcs of light descended from on high, the healer proving she needed no arms to be dangerous. These Valaena could not avoid as the flame spirit launched herself out of her reach.
Feeling the arcane swiftness fading from his fingers the young Greyjoy renewed the spell and again set four arrows into the sky... one struck her foot, but the others missed, and a moment later Valaena fell under black arrows, Asha's axe swinging impotently against the heavens.
"Fuck," Theon said quietly to himself as Aradia's arrows arced towards him. The chain shirt he wore might as well have been made of parchment for all the good it did him. One arrow lodged in his upper arm, the second in his leg, and the third grazed his neck.
"Can't..." he struggled to keep breathing, to keep shooting.
His last arrows managed to take Nuri down, though he did not even get to see her hit the ground before Mereth's return volley sent him spiraling into unconsciousness.
***
When he opened his eyes it was to the sight of his sister and Mercy both leaning over him. "I don't suppose you managed to win on your own somehow?" he asked in jest.
"I may be good, but I'm not that good yet," she replied. Thankfully she did not look too angry about it.
"We just need to keep practicing, eh?" he laughed. Even the fading pain and the sting of defeat could not dim the steady glow of contentment at just being here, his sister at his side, under the eye of the cheering crowds and a king worth serving.
OOC: Edits made.
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- Location
- florida
The sheer tactical knowledge these groups are picking up makes this worth it just on its own.
Vote closed.
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
Go Team Arcanum!
Minor issue, though, DP. Theon does have the ability to See Invisibility. His Earring of Arcane Acuity gives him the ability for 10 minutes at the cost of two charges.
- Location
- France
I thought of that too, but assumed the range was too short.
- Location
- Germany
Aside from when they inevitably attack our our fleet.
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
No range limitations on See Invisibility. That's True Seeing with the 120 foot range.
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
That's why I threw that "hopefully" in there.
- Location
- Philippines
About time House Greyjoy tame a real-life sigil of their house ei?
Speaking of which, why haven't we reached out to House Celtigar yet and asked for their Kraken Horn? @Duesal, I am dissapoint
Update in beta.
The range was indeed too short, arcanums are fast, sorry for the confusion.
Part MMDCCXXXVI: New Songs and Ancient Oaths
New Songs and Ancient Oaths
Thirtieth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
There is no fanfare to Wyl's transformation, no cheers and celebration to mark the moment, for though his choice and those that might come in its wake could well save the Singers from the grim silence of oblivion, they are before all else respectful of what it means to him to pass beyond the veil of death and return transformed. It is not without fear that he closes his eyes, though he strives to hide it as he sits upon the stone under the eyes of the Heart Tree, the eyes of his gods and perhaps of kin long past, if any yet remember themselves within the depths of the Greendream.
His companions stand silently aside, not knowing what to say or how to give comfort, even the glib-tongued bard having only sober and heartfelt hopes of swift return to speak of. Alysane is clearly haunted by the thought of having failed him once already by leading him into the jaws of death, but it is the green-clad Oddric who is most uneasy here, as though expecting the Gods, or perhaps Vee whom he sees as their servant, to start raining down curses on him for his failings.
"It's alright, my lord... er, Oddric," Wyl speaks up, obviously struggling for words himself. "It's just how the bones fall in battle. Most folk don't get more than one toss, but Gods willing I'll even get a third to my name. Can't complain about that now can I?" You do not think anyone besides yourself and perhaps a few of the Singers heard the faint shaking in his voice. "Hopefully I'll see you all again when I'm rid of this rag for good." Gnarled fingers pull at the bloody cap, but do not cast it off.
Instead he lays down, eyes closed, and waits.
Reaching out to touch his left hand you wish that death come upon him without pain. You feel his heart stop, hear the final hiss of air between his lips.
Then Vee touches his right hand and intones words of power, words of old that echo in the rustling of the crimson leaves. The roots reach out almost gently at first to envelop the body, then slowly they crush flesh and shatter bone, cast off iron chain mail and twist the axe askew, for never will he bear their like again. As the power reaches its zenith you let some of your own blood drip into the tangle, helping to guide and shape the magic. For a moment you are concerned you will meet resistance at the presumption, the clamor of the Old Gods' anger, but there is only the faint echo of an old familiar smile far away.
When the pale roots draw back soft green eyes look upon the world in wonder, the mind of a man who had lived as a fey reflected in a gaze that was neither wholly one nor the other. For a long moment he just lays there as the roots withdraw, the only motion being the rising and falling of his chest.
Wyl Reincarnated as a Child of the Forest (lvl 4 Martial Rogue, currently lacking the ability to use his SLAs)
Lost 200 Gold
"What's wrong?" Walter blurts out.
"Nothing... nothing's wrong," Wyl speaks, his voice as changed as his body but the inflections still recognizably his own. "There's just so much going on. I can hear so much, see so much... before the blood clouded everything. I had to keep myself from thinking about it, but now..." He turns to Alysane. "My lady, take my share of the winnings to my family and tell them what became of me. I'll come and see them as soon as I am able, if they still want me to, but right now I need to... er, get my feet under me. All that gold will be enough of a shock without seeing me changed like this."
A wise choice, particularly from one who has passed through such a trial. To their credit none of his companions try to persuade him otherwise, and so it is five of you, six if you count Ser Jorah sealed in his bottle, who travel to Bear Island upon the winds of sorcery guided by Alysane's descriptions.
***
Though those descriptions had been spoken with the wistfulness of a traveler far from home, they were certainly not false. A harsh and windswept land, watered by the chill Sunset Sea, steely grey even in the morning light. Richer and more fortunate than the Iron Isles are these shores, draped in thornbushes and moss, save for the Ironborn themselves. The fragile fishing ships you see dragged upon the shore would fare poorly indeed against a longship and the small wooden houses, perched atop any small rise the builders could find, would be all to easily put to the torch. You very privately wonder if perhaps the island would not have done better to remain in the hands of House Hoare, rather than being an easy proving ground for raiders.
"The keep is this way," Walter points and sets off along the gravel path, though Ser Richard quickly overtakes him, instinctively placing himself as the first to face any dangers that might come upon you all. The faint smile one can glimpse upon his face makes it clear he knows the concern is likely unwarranted, but he is not one to only plan for likely occurrences.
So it is that you come to the seat of House Mormont, a solid and imposing keep that might be called half timbered if one were of a mind to be generous. Its lords might be old in this land but it was not. You suspect it had been sacked and burned many a time over the generations, its lords withdrawing to fight amid the woods and vales until help could come from the mainland.
Maege Mormont has the look of just the sort of woman who would be leading those grim battles, making the invaders bleed with every step they take away from the sea. The spiked mace at her belt certainly has the look of long use. Still, she is anything but prickly now, with a smile of relief upon her lined face seeming to lift ten years from it.
The Lady of Bear Island embraces her daughter and gives her goodson and his cousin a nod and a smile for their safe return. Unlike many other lords or ladies she takes a moment to ask about Wyl, though with the air of one who expects to hear an all too common answer.
"It's complicated... He's been changed and had to stay down south for a while," Walter says, obviously not thinking he can do the full tale justice in a few words.
"Bah... complicated. That's just another word for sorcery, ain't it?" Lady Mormont shakes her head. "Still, I can hardly complain. It was by sorcery that you got Jorah back. Speaking of which, where did you put him, my lord?" she asks of you, offering the title ungrudgingly, though with the sort of finality that makes it clear that debt or no House Mormont's other oaths forbid any higher courtesy.
"Here, my lady." You draw out the bottle and unseal it with a hiss of escaping mist that soon forms into the broad-shouldered form of Ser Jorah, hunched as if expecting blows from his formidable aunt.
She just shakes her head: "Well, aren't you neck deep in shit, boy. Are you gonna stop digging or not?"
"Yes, Lady Maege," he replies, so quickly you suspect he had not even thought of the answer, just reacted on the instincts of his childhood, looking for something, anything to cling to with his life in shambles.
"Good," she snorts. "Harlon's outside the door. He'll lead you to a guest room for now. We will talk about your journey to Winterfell when I'm done here."
The knight shuffles away, not looking at any of those present. It is only when the door is closed behind him that the She-bear allows herself to sigh, lines of sorrow deepening on her windworn face. She then turns to her daughter and her two companions. "Alright you lot, you don't need to hear this. Off with you to share tales of adventure and show off those new weapons I'm seeing."
Again her commands are followed instantly, though it is clear that Walter's curiosity at least has been sorely disappointed.
It is only when they too are gone, and unlikely to be involved in any discussions that others could mark as treasonous, that she addresses you again. "Like I said in the letter, my House owes you for what you did, and we don't like being in debt." Noticing Ser Richard bristle she adds, "It's got nothing to do with the color of your lord's banners, Ser, or the damn chair down south. It's about our honor not to leave the scales unbalanced for aid unlooked for. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for getting Jorah back, but thanks make poor eating as they say. What do you need?"
What do you reply?
[] Write in
OOC: The reason this is a break point is because you want to give Maege things and she wants to right what she sees as her debt, so it's going to take some diplomacy to get her to accept economic aid, rather than having to pay you back.
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- Location
- Brazil
??
You can see any objects or beings that are invisible within your range of vision, as well as any that are ethereal, as if they were normally visible. Such creatures are visible to you as translucent shapes, allowing you easily to discern the difference between visible, invisible, and ethereal creatures.
The spell does not reveal the method used to obtain invisibility. It does not reveal illusions or enable you to see through opaque objects. It does not reveal creatures who are simply hiding, concealed, or otherwise hard to see.
See invisibility can be made permanent with a permanency spell.
Wasn't it just 120 ft?
*checks*
Damn, that's true seeing. I'm going to have to re-wite the whole fight
- Location
- Germany
Matter of framing it right I guess.
We aren't gifting her anything, we want her to be part of our great Northern defence project when Winter comes and Bear Island has to be equipped for that.
I just rolled a wisdom roll for Theon and unfortunately for him he failed it so upon seeing Aradia heal Mercy rather than making her invisible he decided to focus on Nuri, leaving the fight basically unchanged.