Setting the Board
Thirteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
"Recall everyone, prepare the Worm, it's almost time." There is a slight hitch in your throat, a tremble in your fingers as you reach for Dark Sister's hilt. It takes you a moment to recognize it,
nervousness. Tyene could have died to the mage's spell, not easily, not likely, but it could have happened and you have certainly seen your share of unlikely things. Like a boy reduced to petty theft and blackmail in Drowned Town rising to be King. Others could believe in fate all they wanted. You have seen the hand of chance play in your favor time and again, and know without a doubt that it can turn in an instant. You look around to the faces of your companions, determined smiles, thoughtful gazes. They were ready and so were you.
Nirah, spiraling through the cool, morning air makes his coils seem endless. It is not often one can call on the power of a god's herald in battle, but you know the trials ahead will be perilous even for him. Yss is far more than the fading dream he was when you first laid eyes upon his death-like slumber, but he is not a match for the Mother of Dragons. He does not have to be. "Which of the sorcerers do you wish me to devour?" Nirah hisses. You note with some amusement that he does not assume that you might wish to use him against anything other than the mages. It makes sense of course. His hide can not only shed all but the strongest of spells but reflect them back at his foes in turn, making him a match for even Archmages.
"The priests... probably," you add after a moment. There were other decisions to make, other potential champions to enlist.
***
"You wish me to fight these priests of the dark goddess, the child also?" The words, though hardly more than a whisper for the Awakened Adamantine Golem before you, are still clear and ringing as a trumpet sounding the advance. Bahro had been forged for war and even now he would be a fearsome warrior. But when you had awoken him it had been with the understanding that he could choose his path, that he could be more than the weapon the Efreeti forged him as.
"I will not lie to you," you say grimly. "The boy Aegon might die, so might many others among the Golden Company, soldiers and even camp followers if magic goes wry in the battles to come. It is the nature of war. I will not think less of you if you would push this cup from your lips." The expression is formal, almost archaic in the Valyrian you are speaking, but it seems to fit the solemn conversation.
"I will fight, perhaps in doing so I will spare harm done to others," the living construct says after a moment.
Others there are of course—your Heralds, the Harbringer on wings of Valyrian Steel, the Seeker an assassin without peer. Dragons fly above Sorcerer's Deep, and before the gates of the keep a small but most improbable gathering of spirits stands, an Azata besides the Sisters of Vengeance.
"It almost looks like the doing of some strange spell, does it not?" Zherys asks in a rare moment of humor, catching the meaning of your gaze.
"Only if you do not know their names and their deeds, the tale that has brought us so far," you reply.
Before you can say anything more Wisdom Qyburn approaches you with a request, one you should perhaps have anticipated. "Your Grace, if I am to lead the dead in this battle I would prefer not to lead from the front." A small weary laugh bubbles to his lips, laugh lines deepening in uncanny contrast to the surprising glance he gives the black armored warriors behind him.
"Of course," you nod. You do not need another death mage serving in direct battle in any case. Wyla can serve the role much more readily... assuming she gets here in time. She and her companions still have not returned from the Far North.
Melisandre had sent word that she cannot leave the
Golden Wind even for the span of one battle. Her control of the captured Efreeti would falter across the barriers of worlds, leaving Yrten and Siduri surrounded by foes.
"Are you sure you want to call up the Inquisitors for this?" Xor bobs beside you in the darkness. "They are not very...
experienced." He shifts uncomfortably. "They have never faced the contentions of gods and powers."
"What about me then?" Azema asks with a sharp-edged smile of anticipation. "Don't tell me I should miss seeing the Bitch Queen humbled?"
The question elicits cheers from Glyra, but you cannot keep all worry from your words. "Have you spoken to Yss?"
"Yes," the Alu Demon nods. "My soul's as safe as it's ever been."
Hopefully you will not have a need to test that, you think but do not say. All of you are rested and the Worm is almost woken, now all that remains to decide is how you will begin the attack. Some of your forces, like Garin or the Drow assassins, could get into position quietly. The
Moonchaser and the Wyverns... less so.
How do you distribute your forces in preparation for the attack?
[] Write in
OOC: This was a bit of a struggle to write with so many people in play. Hopefully I got across the feeling of being at the edge of battle and calling on all your resources. 
