Remove ads

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

Reader mode
Hm. Davos has been reading political theory?
Cute. I wonder what he thought of our broadsheets ? At the very least, they should be easier for him to read ;)
 
TalonofAnathrax said:
Hm. Davos has been reading political theory?
Cute. I wonder what he thought of our broadsheets ? At the very least, they should be easier for him to read ;)
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...

In canon he had fewer responsibilities.

He had to learn to read by order since he actually had people to delegate to, and Stannis doesn't trust anyone as much. So! Political theory, to not step on any toes or make himself seem like a crab fisher, or worse, a smuggler.

The first thing he learned? How to stop making allusions to having been a smuggler.
 
Given Stannis' opinions on punishments for transgressions against the law, I'd expect him to find some common ground with Malaris there.
Both would prefer for Viserys to take a more stern approach.
 
LightLan said:
Given Stannis' opinions on punishments for transgressions against the law, I'd expect him to find some common ground with Malaris there.
Both would prefer for Viserys to take a more stern approach.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...

Viserys is hardly soft, and neither would call him that, but well, he does prefer a peaceful solution and, as his mother says, an ounce of prevention instead of three pounds of cure to the neck.

And I think Malarys' preference toward harsher punishment is more habitual than anything else. He adapted well to our way of doing things. Stannis' adherence to the law is partly neurotic as much as idealistic.
 
Crake said:
Storm-Tossed​

Twenty-Sixth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
<<<Previous

Davos Seaworth wasn't much used to the sight of men gazing upon him with respect, as he made his way through the Keep with a will and purpose known only to himself and his liege. Respect borne of having faced perils that warding gestures or even castle-forged steel couldn't stave off with better chances than a wish and a prayer. He found that martial men were often accepting of danger when it came from familiar quarters but were just as likely to shy away from the birthing chamber for a sport of hawking and hunting, as was the case with the King and his three children... with Lord Robert Baratheon, he stuttered the correction, even in his thoughts, as if you had asked the former smuggler and seafarer a few weeks past, he would have declared it sheer lunacy, a farce, that his liege lord would ever raise his hand in defiance to his elder brother, much less name him usurper and break bread with his enemies.

Davos was born in Fleabottom. The most he could say about Kings was that it was right and good and proper when they concerned themselves even a small amount with the ills that plagued the common folk, and from mumbling his way through still hard-to-read books and scrolls, the works of some of the better ones had worn down his natural suspicion at the noble intentions simply holding authority and power would seem to imply. Lord Stannis Baratheon demonstratively proved that cleaving to what being a Lord demanded was not actually what was expected, and it had actually won him few friends or allies... except for one boy, a boy no one in the world had thought much of or expected anything from, a lad of an age with his oldest, Dale.

One who had risen to become the new terror of his age, as Daemon Targaryen of old, or so the books described. Who had conquered and talked his way into cities dipping their banners to him as Aegon of old had, and who's words were felt across two lands in their entirety every day from sea to sea. He had taken Lord Stannis' side when his back was pressed to the wall on two occasions, then, a false shade of his brother occupying his ancestral home and once more when he faced hostile and reluctant vassals, who were only a thin margin from outright rebellion, turning them into steadfast allies overnight, letters flying in from all over the Stormlands, not enough to make anyone suspicious, but regular correspondence that seemed a fevered dream.

Lord Stannis was facing an uphill battle to simply gain control of his Kingdom, and Viserys Targaryen's first act as his rightful liege was to... simply erase the problem. Through threats or honeyed words, Davos couldn't be sure, but it was done. Aye, there were still troubles, still suspicious Lords and Knights, but the muttering had become quiet whispers nearly overnight, and no one spat at his feet anymore--that lot had almost sprinted their way out of sight the day dozens of other knights had rode up to Storm's End, sent forth from several Lords to make a show of support to some of the Lord's policies and efforts to organize defense against the otherworldly. Now men tried to curry favor with Stannis, Davos thought, as was proper.

So when he had learned, not long ago, that he would be company to royal blood that night, if only briefly, he had just hoped he wouldn't make a fool out of himself and shame his lord. Princess Daenerys wasn't anything like he had expected of princesses, but she was just about everything he expected of a Targaryen in this age. He had heard the stories that had worked their way across Westeros at this point, and it was a mixed bag, much of it spinning yarns of how she'd turn into a baby dragon just like her brother and steal into the eaves and hollows of people's homes to whisper their secrets into his ear, or how she spun abhorrent sacraments to dark gods to slake the Blood Dragon's thirst for death and destruction. Hogshite, Davos knew then, but still there to hear and quite loudly.

Davos had also spent time in Sorcerer's Deep, and heard all the other tales that got spun in a city which was ruled by their kin, and what struck him was how people didn't bother to embellish stories about the good she did, not when so many of them had the air of "I was there" and "she helped me", "fixed me right quick, she did", "told me a nice story" and "gave me sweets when I was sad", smiles on their faces and proud to talk about all the little things the girl did for the people living there. The Princess had free reign of the city and wasn't at all afraid to get her feet wet or her hands dirty interacting with the common folk. Actually, people would just about worship the ground she walked on, if there weren't laws against exactly that in a city where paying false witness would anger a giant snake that ate demons, fed to it by the King's own hand more often than not.

"Your Highness," Davos kneeled, now that he had lead them into the Keep properly, but she waved him off, then stepped forward and grasped his hand between two of hers in something that almost seemed like a benediction. "I won't be here long, but give this to Shireen for me, will you?" It was a box, like you might place jewelery in. "Actually, show it to cousin Stannis first," she said thoughtfully. Davos blinked at the remark. "He'd appreciate the gesture if he was the one to deliver it, after inspecting it first. Her scars..." she explained.

"Honest truth, your Highness?" She nodded. "He'd probably be chewing iron if he heard gifts were delivered, even by the person who cured her of her greyscale herself, even after inspecting it." She smiled softly, and nodded. "But even if he does still comb over it with a fine Myrish lens, it's mostly because it's Shireen you see, so don't think too harshly of him..." he trailed off as she kept smiling, their steps taking them away from prying eyes and ears in the Keep, though not too far from where he had to lead her back through darkened hallways.

"I don't," she proclaimed, and it was there and then that Davos realized he was speaking to her like she wasn't a child of ten years, barely half a decade older than Lady Shireen herself. "There are only perhaps two, maybe three Lords in all of Westeros who my brother respects as much as Lord Stannis. And I think that, personally, he would be first among equals in some cases, if not in all matters. You cannot value true loyalty like coin or even a strong wind at your back," she declared in a common seaman's adage to his surprise.

He got the point, however: If it was good enough for her brother, Davos thought, it must be so for her. He also understood the other unspoken part, so long as they didn't go against her brother, she would be on their side too.

Davos flicked his gaze to the side, where her companion had remained silent all the while. They wore a white cloak with a blued steel clasp and her grey walking dress was dry despite the earlier rain. The Princess gestured at her, and the woman lowered her cloak. Eyes of storm-cast blue gazed back as his own widened in shock.

He never would have caught it if she hadn't appeared in the Princess' company and hadn't looked at him dead-on, and there were of course plenty of people in keep's surrounds who might have similar features from byblows long past. It took him a moment to place her age, and he decided she probably couldn't be Robert's, as his eldest bastard was barely older than the girl nearby, unless he got started on that damn early. "This Steffon's get, then?" He decided to be blunt, as this mire couldn't get any less tangled if he tried, and it was with that air of resignation he knew he would be explaining all of this to Lord Stannis before the night was over.

"No," the woman replied instantly with a look of brief exasperation, even as the Princess shot her an amused glance. Davos began to relax. "It was actually Ormund Baratheon who sired my father with a maid, unknowing, though his son Steffon never knew of the fact. He had just learned about it not long before he died, since he took father on that campaign in the Stepstones, and I still can't decide if that was to name him worthy or to see him dead." She shook her head in false sadness, "The Gods really do make mockery of all our plans." The Princess shot her another look, though this one Davos was less able to read through.

"Then..." Davos began, then trailed off, realizing the hidden tension that had lifted and reappeared just as quickly.

She breathed out softly, squaring her shoulders and standing a little taller, features even more noble-seeming in the dim torch light. "Lords would say blood only matters when they say it matters. I'm not even a bastard. I'm a nobody, a bastard of a bastard. But my father matters to me. I'm taking him with me, because I am somebody now," she proclaimed, and sparks of sky's flame danced across her eyes, and she seemed as if she could unleash the fury of a thunder cloud and shatter stone and sunder earth. "Because my blood is the blood of Elenei, like as not. And even if he is an oafish cad, even if he is a violent brute, even if he is from an old and small world who can barely understand the struggles I've been through..." the lightning in her gaze seemed to vanish and she seemed... smaller herself, somehow, less sure.

"He's still my father."

Davos didn't dare to breathe for what felt like minutes. Then he nodded. "Aye," he said.

Kin... kin he could understand.

"Let's go find him."

Davos pretended not to see the Princess squeeze the woman's hand.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
Ah, another Davos POV, and it has Ceria and Dany, too. :)

Nice job, dude.

I wouldn't mind Davos serving as a captain on one of our captured Sword Ships, or even on a Moonchaser, in the near future.
 
Last edited:
Inserted tally
Adhoc vote count started by Artemis1992 on Sep 15, 2019 at 4:37 AM, finished with 37 posts and 8 votes.
  • [X] Speak to Hogart the Tailor
    -[X] Viserys casts Greater Arcane Sight and uses Wild Arcana to cast Brain Spider prior to entering the shop. Rina casts True Seeing on him.
    -[X] Once they enter, Rina will do the talking while Viserys rummaged through Hogart's mind, along with anyone else we find inside.
Click to expand...
 
Remove ads
Part MMMLXIII: Thoughts Picked Apart
  • Threadmarks
    • Thoughts Picked Apart ​

    Twenty-Sixth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC

    Amidst all the intrigues and secrets it bears to remember that at times straightforward subtlety serves best. This is a shop in which customers enter daily and are welcome, and so the three of you step calmly over the ward seemingly paying it no mind. Glancing to you left you see Rina fidget slightly as she looks around the darkened shop, though whether from being asked to openly take the lead or from glancing up at the stubborn little sprite flying along the roof grinders, his light dimmed as he continues his own investigation into the ones who had almost slain him, you cannot tell. You keep back the smile while drawing on the worn hemp chord besides the counter, the insistent clang of the shop bell ringing through the shop

    "I'm coming I'm coming. Ain't as young as I used to be," a quarrelsome voices rises in response from among the rolls of cloth and beetle-bright buttons at the back.

    Hogart the tailor is a man proud of his craft to judge from the number of layers he wears, green silk over blue velvet and wrapping all of them up a fur-trimmed coat that has his florid face sweltering even in the shady shop. The emerald hanging on a gold chain over his ample potbelly makes a unpleasant contrast with the sick and ragged man with no roof to call his own save the sky.


    "What can I do for you good ser, my lady...?" The tailor gives Thoros a long and not particularly pleased look. "Holy one," he adds at last.

    "We require information on one of your former employees, Aemie was the name she gave you," Rina begins, though before she can even give a full accounting the merchant snorts angrily.

    "The thread-picker the priests asked of this already. I know nothing of her and do not recall the name. If she was once here then she left and I wish her well on her path." The coldly dismissive tone was at odds with the supposed well-wishes, but the renewed sweat dripping from his temples hints that he might be more invested in the matter than he lets on if one were of a mind to dig. You most certainly are.

    Not a word do you speak, your gestures obscured by Thoros' deliberately looming presence, but still your magic reaches out across the shadowed room. "Who did you bargain with? What power did you call into your shop that day and all the others to follow?"

    The answer comes in flashes, threaded with fear and anger. You see a fire gremlin slip into the shop one night to set afire a roll of linen, laughing among the leaping flames. You see Hogart looking haggard and far less well dressed threatening the fey with a broom. An offer is hissed among the crackling whispers, a single word: Ymeri.

    Days pass and Hogart prospers, the glint of hidden fire reflected in fistfuls of silver, something older and darker passed into his shop, a ragged shadow edged in fire, the dread Hunter in the dark made dark no more. The merchant neither knows not cares what dreams the spirit passed into Aemie's mind, but still he fears the bargain being known, the fear itself a bonfire to draw your searching thoughts.

    What do you do?

    [] Leave Hogart be for now so as not to show your hand to the enemy, it is clear he is only a pawn, scry the corrupted Ankou you saw in his thoughts
    -[] Write in

    [] Arrest the tailor to interrogate him more thoroughly
    -[] Write in

    [] Write in

    OOC: I was not exactly sure which spell you wanted to use for mind reading so I went with Brain Spider due to precedent.
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • So weve got him, but do we want to risk tipping someone off? Mmm...

    Unless that Ankou goes anywhere...

    Then again, he may not know anything more useful
     
    I'm feeling paranoid enough to try and grab a hair of his via invis'd Varys, ya'll.

    Fey bullshit is Fey bullshit, we can't know for certain whether or not he'll simply disappear in the time we'll take to unspin this mess, and I'd rather not take chances near fffucking Feywild of all places.
     
    Thoughts Picked Apart ​

    Twenty-Sixth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC

    Amidst all the intrigues and secrets, it's important to remember that at times a straightforward subtlety serves best. This is a shop in which custom enters daily and is welcome, so the three of you step calmly over the ward, seemingly paying no mind to the spell. Glancing to your left, you see Rina fidget slightly as she looks around the darkened shop, though whether from being asked to openly take the lead or from glancing up at the stubborn little sprite flying along the roof grinders, his light dimmed as he continues his own investigation into the ones who had almost slain him. You keep back the smile, drawing on the worn hemp chord beside the counter, the insistent tolling of the tiny bell ringing through the shop

    "I'm coming, I'm coming. Ain't as young as I used to be," a quarrelsome voices rises in response from among the rolls of cloth and beetle bright buttons at the back.

    Hogart the tailor is a man proud of his craft to judge from the number of layers he wears, green silk over blue velvet, and wrapping all of them up in a fur trimmed coat that has his florid face sweating even in the shady shop. The emerald hanging on a gold chain over his ample potbelly makes an unpleasant contrast with the sick and ragged man you met outside, who has no roof to call his own save the sky.


    "What can I do for you good ser, my lady...?" the tailor gives Thoros a long and not particularly pleased look. "Holy one," he adds at last.

    "We require information on one of your former employees. Aemie was the name she gave you," Rina begins, though before she can even give a full accounting the merchant snorts angrily.

    "The thread-picker the priests asked of already, I know nothing of her and and do not recall the name, if she was once here then she left and I wish her well on her path." The coldly dismissive tone was at odds with the supposed well-wishes, but the renewed sweat dripping from his temples hints that he might be more invested in the matter than he lets on if one were of a mind to dig. You most certainly are.

    Not a word do you speak, your gestures obscured by Thoros' deliberately looming presence, but still your magic reaches out across the shadowed room. "Wwith whom did you bargain? What power did you call into your shop that day, and all the others to follow?"

    The answer comes in flashes, threaded with fear and anger. You see a fire gremlin slip into the shop one night to set afire a roll of linen, laughing among the leaping flames. You see Hogart, looking haggard and far less well dressed threatening the fey with a broom. An offer is hissed among the crackling whispers, a single word: Ymeri.

    Days pass and Hogart prospers, the glint of hidden fire reflected in fistfulls of silver, something older, something darker passed into his shop, a ragged shadow edged in fire, the dread Hunter in the dark made dark no more. The merchant neither knows nor cares what dreams the spirit passed into Aemie's mind, but still he fears the bargain being known, the fear itself a bonfire to draw your searching thoughts.

    What do you do?

    [] Leave Hogart be for now so as not to show your hand to the enemy, it is clear he is only a pawn, scry the corrupted Ankou you saw in his thoughts
    -[] Write in

    [] Arrest the tailor to interrogate him more thoroughly
    -[] Write in

    [] Write in

    OOC: I was not exactly sure which spell you wanted to use for mind reading so I went with Brain Spider due to precedent. Not yet edited.
    Here's an edited version of the chapter, @DragonParadox.
     
    [X] Plan Karma
    -[X] Use Brain Spider to implant a Suggestion into Hogart's mind. He is to find the nearest Imperial-affiliated charity located in Lys and donate to it all of his worldly goods, except for the clothing he wears and enough coin to stay in a low quality inn for a few days. We will send the Inquisition to arrest him later.
    -[X] Return to Hermetia's manse to scry for the Ankou and Fire Gremlin we saw in Hogart's memories. Depending on what we learn from observing them, we will determine how to proceed.
     
    Goldfish said:
    [X] Plan Karma
    -[X] Use Brain Spider to implant a Suggestion into Hogart's mind. He is to find the nearest Imperial-affiliated charity located in Lys and donate to it all of his worldly goods, except for the clothing he wears and enough coin to stay in a low quality inn for a few days. We will send the Inquisition to arrest him later.
    -[X] Return to Hermetia's manse to scry for the Ankou and Fire Gremlin we saw in Hogart's memories. Depending on what we learn from observing them, we will determine how to proceed.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    No. These things are decided in a lawful way, not by our whims.

    And, to be fair, we can't blame him for the fact that there is still poverty in the city and we haven't solved it.
     
    [X] Have Varys grab a hair off Hogart's head while under an effect of Invisibility - to ensure that the man won't disappear without a trace once the matter a of bazaar are dealt with - as he always may when Fey are concerned.
    -[X] Hogart will be dealt with in accordance with our laws later. This is just a precaution against Fey hijinks.
    -[X] Return to Hermetia's manse to scry for the Ankou and Fire Gremlin we saw in Hogart's memories. Depending on what we learn from observing them, we will determine how to proceed.
     
    Last edited:
    egoo said:
    I'm feeling paranoid enough to try and grab a hair of his via invis'd Varys, ya'll.

    Fey bullshit is Fey bullshit, we can't know for certain whether or not he'll simply disappear in the time we'll take to unspin this mess, and I'd rather not take chances near fffucking Feywild of all places.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Your... probably right.

    Goldfish said:
    [X] Plan Karma
    -[X] Use Brain Spider to implant a Suggestion into Hogart's mind. He is to find the nearest Imperial-affiliated charity located in Lys and donate to it all of his worldly goods, except for the clothing he wears and enough coin to stay in a low quality inn for a few days. We will send the Inquisition to arrest him later.
    -[X] Return to Hermetia's manse to scry for the Ankou and Fire Gremlin we saw in Hogart's memories. Depending on what we learn from observing them, we will determine how to proceed.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    This... feels wrong. On a bunch of levels. We have laws for a reason, and hes a criminal. Those assets will be going where they belong regardless.

    [X] Place Hogart under arrest, and store him somewhere... safe. Inform him that trying to flee would be incredibly foolish, as it is likely his fae "allies" will be coming to silence him. Permanently. Soul devoured by otherworldly horrors permanently. Afterward deal with him according to the law.
    -[X] If he would like expect some leniency, now would be the time to cough up some useful information.
    -[X] Return to Hermetia's manse to scry for the Ankou and Fire Gremlin we saw in Hogart's memories. Depending on what we learn from observing them, we will determine how to proceed.
    -[X] Use divination to see if someone is going to try and attack where we are holding Hogart.

    edit:
    Taking some of his hair wont stop any fae from vanishing him, or simply... erasing him outright.

    It did give me the idea to use him as a trap though... They very likely WILL try to come and silence him if they suspect he will talk. Which we can use.
     
    Last edited:
    Isn't taking the guy without a cover going to trigger a clean up crew or something from Yemri? Maybe we should have someone impersonate him in the meantime?
     
    BronzeTongue said:
    Isn't taking the guy without a cover going to trigger a clean up crew or something from Yemri? Maybe we should have someone impersonate him in the meantime?
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    as usual there are two basic ways to deal with a web of intrigue.
    1) pluck carefully at the threads until you see the whole of it without alerting anyone
    2) destroy it so fast that any message about you is outrun

    They already know Malaris and Co have been looking about for days at least unless they are blind and deaf.
    Time to switch strategies.
     
    Reader mode
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Remove ads
    Back
    Top