Side note, if we ever find metallic remains to cut up, I propose something along these lines to stitch together:

(Just a very barebones write-up, mind. Name is a placeholder)


The Apostasy (CR 20)
Lawful Evil, Huge Aberration Blood Magic Creature Dragon (refluffed and based off Gorynych).

The creature made in the deepest parts of Valyrian fleshforges, carved under a scalpel of beings weak-minded will decry Evil at the first sight, it defies the nature of long-dead Metallics with every fiber of it's being - being born of blood rituals, and powered by ancient blood-magics of both Drow and Valyrian flesh-smiths alike.
Valyrian Steel suffused with artificially grown flesh, it draws on the power and the blood of the fallen enemies, seemingly impossible to stop in it's slaughter once it enters the battlefield.

It draws on the ancient powers of the Dragon Dream with great strength as well - but carefully grown and nurtured, the multi-faceted mind of this creature burns with fierce loyalty to see the Empire it was born in stand forevermore - by any means necessary.

Where the Herald is the Emperor's voice in the distant lands and battlefields, Apostasy is the Empire's poisonous stinger, ready to fly at the first sight of a danger worthy it's attention.


...(Dunno how to calculate these stats properly)...
Regeneration (equal to 10 points per HD the blood magic creature possess [Maximum 150], this effect costs 6 blood points; bludgeoning, fire, and acid).
DR 20/VS; Immune: paralysis, poison, sleep; SR 26; Fire, Cold, Electricity, Acid Resistance 30.

Speed 40 ft., fly 120 ft. (poor).
Melee 5 bites +?? (??), 2 claws +?? (??), tail slap +?? (??), 2 wings +?? (??).
Space 15 ft.; Reach 10 ft. (20 ft. with bite).
Special Attacks breath weapon (40-ft. cone, 16d6 of either fire/cold/acid/electricity, Reflex DC 24 for half, usable every 1d4 rounds), Crush (??), Tail Sweep (??).

Multi-Headed (Ex)
All five of the Aspostasy's heads can act independently of each other. When it makes a full attack, each head can either cast, bite or use its breath weapon, but no more than two breath weapons can be used at once, nor can more than one casting be done simultaneously (3 bites and 2 breaths; 1 breath,1 casting, and 3 bites, and so on).

Maws of Mettle (Su)
Each of the Apostasy's heads is capable of using the elemental Breath Weapon of the corresponding metallic dragon type, for all purposes of calculating this ability assumes the Apostasy to be in Old age category.
Once every 3d6 rounds, Apostasy can combine all of it's breath weapons at once, focusing the might of Metalics in a single 60-ft cone, dealing 12d6 of each: Electricity, Cold, Acid, and 20d6 Fire (Reflex save for half the damage).
This damage is considered Searing (and the equivalents) for purposes of applying immunities, but is stopped as usual by elemental Resistances.

Aura of Elements (Su)
All creatures within 10 feet take 2d6 points of electricity/cold/fire/acid damage at the start of the dragon's turn. The Apostasy can choose what type of the damage is applied to a specific creature, and can suppress this ability at will.

Blood Point (Su)
See Blood Magic Creature

Caustic Blood (Ex)
See Blood magic Creature, but probably with Fire/Cold/Electricity and not just Acid for blood.

SLAs: See Blood Magic Creature and some variety of mid-level elemental spells.
Otherwise, same SLAs as per Mature Adult Gold Dragon, I guess.
-------------------------------------


Yes, this blatantly fucks with everything Bahamut considers precious.
All the better, I say :V


[This isnt me seriously pushing for this stuff, it has moral complications to making it as much as technical ones. But building new creatures, if very roughly at that, is pretty damn fun, apparently].
G'night all.
 
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Canon Omake: Opposite Sides of the Same Coin
Opposite Sides of the Same Coin

Fifteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
<<<Previous Next>>>

Gerold had not known exactly what he was in for, when he first agreed to accompany Mercy and Ser Denys back to the Riverlands for the remainder of the month--he did not want to rest on his laurels back in the Deep, not while everyone else was still running around at the King's behest. He might have been done taking care of his enemies, but it was not as though the King rested easy himself. Before long, they had charged off east at the head of a small army of champions and mages and dragons. None of them had been invited along... truth be told he was not sure if he should feel slighted because of it. Any fight the other dragon sorcerer, Amrelath, would find challenging, he knew as surely as anything else he would not survive.

Dragons, the Dayne knight thought in slight wonder. Intellectually, the Dornishman knew that the King had hatched dragons of his own for months. But there was a stark difference between a handful of hatchlings barely grown large enough for a small rider to get around in the air, and several full grown ones, such as had flown over the Field of Fire and burned just about every castle in his homeland to the ground.

The fact of the matter was... it did not matter what the Lannisters did. It was a thought that had struck him, as he had wondered after his first tasks for the King what worth a knight on the ground was when you had dragons in the air. It was more likely the Grand Fool of Casterly Rock would see his lands whole, hale and healthy were they not more likely to burn it and all of Westeros to the ground out of spite, as the King struck him as no man for bloody conquest such as Aegon had led.

Why burn your own Kingdom to the ground, after all, especially when you near rule it already? That would have been a bitter jest, Gerold thought, just a year ago. Now he planted feet in a Kingdom that near unanimously bent the knee to the King before his armies had even done the same, with only some poor trout flopping around left to stink up the place.

"You having fun down there?" Gerold smirked for the seventh or eighth time that evening, sword angled toward Ser Denys as he paused in their scramble to regain his feet. It almost made up for the first three times he fell for some trick and got smoke caught in his throat or eyes, leg stuck to the ground by expanding bladders of sticky fluid or half-deafened by a glowing vial.

Darkstar shook his head in exasperation as Ser Denys blew his slightly longer hair out of his face, jaw jutting out defiantly, though the man was hiding a smile of his own. Likely thinking about the last time that almost worked, Gerold thought. "You're never going to impress those Lordly types, who care more about their swords and hunting trophies than they do of books and 'witchery nonsense'. Not if you don't get a handle on that counter riposte, at least." The Crownlander would never be as good with a sword as he was at rooting through the underbrush and digging up rare plants, or else blowing up or confounding monsters with his creations, but the magic potions he could drink down before a fight would probably allow him to handily defeat most Knights in Westeros without trouble. If a man could turn invisible, he could slit your throat without you ever knowing where he came from, or carve you open from breast to groin with runes of flame, or else turn into a beast and rip you limb from limb and cast off your blades. Or just toss bombs at you from the air.

Though that's 'cheating', of course, something no honorable Knight would do, Gerold thought wryly.

"I practice every night with Ser Criston," the Alchemist replied, sighing as he lowered his sword. "Though part of me thinks I should just earn a fortune by selling magic and then wear a prince's ransom in enchanted items, instead. That's not quite as 'dishonorable' as drinking a few potions before a fight. Men would have to put aside their own spellsteel before admitting that." Right, Gerold thought, so when pigs fly.

While the man had come a long way, in Gerold's opinion, doing nothing to hide his contempt at the idea that his knowledge of brewing up magic was less worthy as knowledge of the sword, lance and horse, something that the Dornishman had warmed up to, after learning of the advantages which magic could provide a warrior in a fight against monsters who were born with those abilities... they also wouldn't go back on their word if they agreed to duel on another man's terms.

And all because my cousin set the damn precedent on having the best magic sword Westeros has seen in hundreds of years. Men were born fools, not sorcerers, Gerold knew this. One could awaken magic or else learn it, but you had to stop being a fool before you became anything else, or you would never amount to much more. But that doesn't mean you have to play the fool, either.

The two looked out over the hills, gazing upon the nearby Lord's castle which was at present lit up, the settlement before it bearing an assortment of merry crackling fires, a small celebration underway. A bevy of lasses and lads deciding to throw Mercy a party on a whim wouldn't make the Dayne knight scoff in disbelief, in all honesty he'd come to expect oddness to accumulate around anyone associated with the woman.

The two stood in bleak silence, neither the sort to be totally comfortable in one another's company. They had grown past the initial, obvious dislike, the things that rubbed them the wrong way about the other having taken on a new light, given certain... perspective they had lacked outside of their service to the Dragons.

"It all seems so petty," Gerold murmured. "Look at the Lord feasting in thanks to his good fortunes, and the smallfolk are celebrating someone who was a stranger naught but a fortnight ago. The gold they've both gained means so little given that if you hadn't stepped in here, they probably would have hatched their own monsters to terrorize folk in the night. As if there aren't enough to slay already." The Dornishman scoffed. An undercurrent of spite hadn't entirely left Darkstar's voice, not even now. These were the types of fools who had judged him unworthy of the same honor as others of his lineage, who couldn't even stare past their own noses to see the shit between their eyes. To them he was just a treacherous Dornishman, and to Dorne he was a compared to a viper, useful in a moment, but trouble at every turn before the basket he nested it was opened. He used to revel in it, but now...?

"I'm not doing all this for them," Denys replied, some of the awkwardness between them dissipating as they desperately latched onto something to talk about, "His Grace seems to know that they won't just go away no matter what banners get hung over King's Landing."

"He's isolated his court away from the leeches," Gerold countered, gesturing vaguely southwards. "I mean, sure as anything they will just come to him, but..."

"I don't think so," Denys countered, "Think back to all his conquests. He takes the strength of the people there and he turns it back around on them, makes them walk in step with him, but he's not fighting them off with a stick, hells, they probably don't know where he even is over half of the time. For all that the true power in the realm resides in Sorcerer's Deep, the Magisters of Tyrosh still wait patiently for audience in the Palace of that city, because they know that he rules there and thus that honors them by extension."

"A polite fiction," Gerold said absently, but he saw the point. "But even if they both know that, they can tell it to everyone else, and that will make others fit to gnash teeth and chew gravel." Denys smiled as Gerold conjured the affront Lords of Westeros would have felt if they weren't so busy scheming or being scared shitless of dragons, of how involved in unbecoming Essosi customs the King had grown. The King little resembled the Magisters of any of the Free Cities, he was too strange, though it was arguable if that was to his advantage.

If, however, it eroded away all the common and petty arguments people had, that only left histrionic braying about blood magic and dark rites if anyone had further cause to complain. No, the people did not get vanished off, screaming all the while, to stock the King's dungeons for baby soup. So they would likely just fall flat on their faces with the commoners and exasperate all the men and women the King had raised up personally. The other Lords would throw the slander back in their enemies' faces, either out of transparent sycophancy or just to undercut a rival.

"He'll be spending more time knocking their heads together, getting them to cooperate, than he will fighting them," Gerold said, having little respect for most of the men here in the Riverlands, doddering fools or bitter and crusty old men who couldn't let a grudge go, of which each had a dozen of them and was meaning to share them around. Say one thing about us Dornish, but we will circle wagons in an instant when the time calls for it.

"His Grace is skilled when it comes to getting other people to do things for him," Denys pointed out. Gerold nodded, unconvinced.

The topics of the day, past lingering resentment or the Alchemist's work experimenting with arcane humors, was utterly exhausted by that point. That left the two of them with only the bitter knowledge that Winter was bearing down on them, dying meant you were worse off than being alive even if half the world despised you and cursed your name, and the blatant disrespect people showed their liege had united two unlikely men in resentment. That they should vie for the favor of those who had stood by and asked to be saved after they had all chosen so poorly was a bitter pill to swallow.

For Gerold's own part, he just hated the fact that his hard work would go on to profit Lords like Lychester, and Denys' too. He was starting to like the man, if for no other reason than the fact that he was optimistic enough to make him remember some good had come out of the people they'd saved in the Riverlands.

Killing Hags and sorting out mad spirits had felt... good, he wasn't after gold or glory, hardly anyone had realized who was truly responsible for either of those deeds. He did it because the King he served asked him to, and he was honored for it, to be sure, and rewarded plenty, but that was immaterial to the fact that he knew he was needed, even necessary. That was hells of a lot more than he had to his name before.

"Do you think I could have ended up like that fool, Corbray?" Denys turned to him, surprised, a flicker of doubt must have shown on Darkstar's face, a tremble in his voice. "Uriah told me," he explained. "Something about devil worshiping and feeding men to Hell with coin and the lust of blood madness."

"If I've learned anything in these past few months, Ser Dayne, it's that you're an asshole," Denys said, causing Gerold to scowl in anger, though the Crownlander went on to say, "But you're not stupid. Maybe struck by more of the same many a clever man is, but once you've got your head out of your ass, you stop thinking you're too clever by half and most people around you too stupid to understand. I don't think there's any chance of devils getting a hold of you, now."

"But then...?" Darkstar wondered, wondered what the high and mighty Ser Denys Trainer thought of him, who was nothing and no one before he wandered off into his own fairy tale. Simply because he was tired of lying forgotten in the muck. By all rights, Gerold should probably hate the man on principle for that, but part of him wanted to hear otherwise. The core of a man who had been at the end of his rope, contemplating bloody murder at a tourney before hundreds, simply because he had so very little honor left to lose.

Denys was silent for a time, before eventually replying, "Maybe then. There's no point in wondering about what could have been. Maybe in one future you would have just been another devil pawn, or another mad man who thought the world should burn around you before you burned with it, because there was no light or luster to be had, no place for you. Maybe that's our job on this world," Denys said, voice growing stronger and more impassioned, as was his wont when he carried on thus. "To make a place for people, give them a chance. What's the point of all of this, if not that?" The man pointed at the Keep in the other direction, "Maybe that man will never change, but I bet you thoughts of glory and wealth both will vanish from his mind when Winter comes for us. When it comes for us all."

A bone-deep chill went through both men, irrational fear stabbing deeply, knowing there were worse things than devils and the conjurers who brought them here.

"Well... then we best be ready, ourselves," Gerold said with more certainty, when they no longer felt eyes on the back of their necks.

He raised his sword. Denys brought his back up as well.
 
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And all because my cousin set the damn precedent on having the best magic sword Westeros has seen in hundreds of years. Men were born fools, not sorcerers, Gerold knew this. One could awaken magic or else learn it, but you had to stop being a fool before you became anything else, or you would never amount to much more. But that doesn't mean you have to play the fool, either.

I have to say I love this bit, it so perfectly encapsulates Darkstar's epiphany about the Sword of the Morning, the tiitle and the blade both. Nice to see him growing into being a hero for more than glory's sake.
 
I have to say I love this bit, it so perfectly encapsulates Darkstar's epiphany about the Sword of the Morning, the tiitle and the blade both. Nice to see him growing into being a hero for more than glory's sake.
He's walking perpendicularly towards the role, and our people are helping him limp along when he falls down.
 
Sheets are nearly done, except for the spell list of the Very Old Myrkdreki.

forums.sufficientvelocity.com

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

A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover In a world where magic has all but guttered to ashes, becoming the fare of charlatans, petty conjurers, and ragged illusionists, a mighty change is stirring. From small and fragile sparks a great blaze will be reborn and men will...

@Goldfish, would you help me out there? I was thinking the Shadow [School] line and some all time favourites like Enervation, Orb of Force and Alter Self.
 
Spell list done, unless someone has suggestions here.
Searching Shadows is one of the few shadow shenanigans needing a Reflex save. Disbelieve all you want, the semi-sentient shadowstuff tentacles are still reaching for you. Spell encompasses a very good amount of utility beyond its plain combat applications -could potentially replace that Mage Hand as spell known. Duration: Concentration so can have it up pretty much all the time too, as some sort of creepy, writhing mantle.

Shadow Projection is an excellent scouting, protection and diplomacy spell. Send off your attention - now with undead immunities - to parlay, to mock, to sneak past, to give peeps a false image of capabilities. And if it does not work? Well, you wake up, hale and hearty and laughing at the peeps who thought they scored a win while you were in truth half a world away.
 
Searching Shadows is one of the few shadow shenanigans needing a Reflex save. Disbelieve all you want, the semi-sentient shadowstuff tentacles are still reaching for you. Spell encompasses a very good amount of utility beyond its plain combat applications -could potentially replace that Mage Hand as spell known. Duration: Concentration so can have it up pretty much all the time too, as some sort of creepy, writhing mantle.

Shadow Projection is an excellent scouting, protection and diplomacy spell. Send off your attention - now with undead immunities - to parlay, to mock, to sneak past, to give peeps a false image of capabilities. And if it does not work? Well, you wake up, hale and hearty and laughing at the peeps who thought they scored a win while you were in truth half a world away.
1. Concentrating on a spell needs a Standard action per round, so it would be extremely inefficient to keep this spell up.

2. The Myrkdreki has many benefits of Shadows already, such as infinite flight and being Incorporeal, while being a lot sturdier. Being thrown to -1 HP when the comparatively squishy Shadow dies seems not like a good deal.
 
1. Concentrating on a spell needs a Standard action per round, so it would be extremely inefficient to keep this spell up.

2. The Myrkdreki has many benefits of Shadows already, such as infinite flight and being Incorporeal, while being a lot sturdier. Being thrown to -1 HP when the comparatively squishy Shadow dies seems not like a good deal.
1. I thought there was some DnD 3e trick for swift action concentration? Have not played the system all that much but am pretty sure.. Believe Viserys has it. Gnomes can do it in PF, though.
EDIT: There we go.

2. Fair 'nough, did not actually look at the statblock.
 
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1. I thought there was some DnD 3e trick for swift action concentration? Have not played the system all that much but am pretty sure.. Believe Viserys has it. Gnomes can do it in PF, though.
EDIT: There we go.

2. Fair 'nough, did not actually look at the statblock.
1. I know, but I'm not much of a fan of skill tricks on NPCs and monsters, as they are forgotten far too often.

Edit: Eh. What gives. Going to replace Magic Missile in favor of Searching Shadows. I like the aesthetics too much.
 
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Sheets are nearly done, except for the spell list of the Very Old Myrkdreki.

forums.sufficientvelocity.com

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

A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover In a world where magic has all but guttered to ashes, becoming the fare of charlatans, petty conjurers, and ragged illusionists, a mighty change is stirring. From small and fragile sparks a great blaze will be reborn and men will...

@Goldfish, would you help me out there? I was thinking the Shadow [School] line and some all time favourites like Enervation, Orb of Force and Alter Self.
Some spells I would consider, which are either too useful to ignore or which fit the theme really well, IMO;

1st Level: Blood Wind,
2nd Level: Mirror Image, Scintillating Scales, Spectral Hand, Wings of Cover,
3rd Level: Ancestral Awakening, Shadow Necromancy,
4th Level: Dispelling Breath,
5th Level: Friend to Foe, Mirage Arcana,

1st) Blood Wind is a ridiculously good 1st level spell for Dragons and other creatures with a lot of powerful Natural Attacks.

2nd) Mirror Image, Scintillating Scales, and Wings of Cover need no explanation, IMO. Squeezing them all in would be difficult, but you can't go wrong with any of them, especially Wings of Cover. Another spell to consider would be Spectral Hand, if only because it would work really well with the Dragon's Vampiric Touch SLA.

3rd) I would make Ancestral Awakening fit, no matter what has to be removed to do it, maybe Dispel Magic? It's a low level Swiss Army Knife spell that gives the Dragon a ton of utility. Shadow Necromancy would be another good pick. Not only does it fit the theme really well, but it provides great utility. With it, you could mimic other Necromancy spells which you've already selected, such as Ghoul Touch or Command Undead, and it could be used to mimic Spectral Hand instead of having the Dragon learn it directly. Being able to duplicate those spells using Shadow Necromancy opens up those slots to learn some of my other suggestions.

4th) Dispelling Breath would be a good option if you drop Dispel Magic as a 3rd level spell. It will also grow with the Dragon as they level further or increase their caster level through aging, since its maximum bonus is +15 compared to Dispel Magic's +10.

5th) Shadow Evocation adds a lot of versatility, so I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to keep it, but Vampiric Shadow Shield isn't all that great. Friend to Foe is not only a really good combat spell that can affect a bunch of targets, it also fits the Myredreki theme very well. Mirage Arcana would also be super thematic for them, plus it would have great synergy with their other spells and abilities.
 
Changes:
Grease -> Blood Wind
Command Undead -> Scintillating Scales
Detect Thoughts -> Wings of Cover // Keeping Ghoul Touch as a spell known due to Saves
Lesser Animate Dead -> Ancestral Awakening // In range of Ancestral Awakening, so redundant.
Dispel Magic -> Shadow Necromancy
Masochistic Shadow -> Dispelling Breath // It hurts to loose this fancy spell, but the shuffling makes it necessary.
Vampiric Shadow Shield -> Mirage Arcane // Could have sworn this was 7th level. Definitely this.

Thank you very much @Goldfish.
 
Opposite Sides of the Same Coin

Fifteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
<<<Previous

Gerold had not known exactly what he was in for, when he first agreed to accompany Mercy and Ser Denys back to the Riverlands for the remainder of the month--he did not want to rest on his laurels back in the Deep, not while everyone else was still running around at the King's behest. He might have been done taking care of his enemies, but it was not as though the King rested easy himself. Before long, they had charged off east at the head of a small army of champions and mages and dragons. None of them had been invited along... truth be told he was not sure if he should feel slighted because of it. Any fight the other dragon sorcerer, Amrelath, would find challenging, he knew as surely as anything else he would not survive.

Dragons, the Dayne knight thought in slight wonder. Intellectually, the Dornishman knew that the King had hatched dragons of his own for months. But there was a stark difference between a handful of hatchlings barely grown large enough for a small rider to get around in the air, and several full grown ones, such as had flown over the Field of Fire and burned just about every castle in his homeland to the ground.

The fact of the matter was... it did not matter what the Lannisters did. It was a thought that had struck him, as he had wondered after his first tasks for the King what worth a knight on the ground was when you had dragons in the air. It was more likely the Grand Fool of Casterly Rock would see his lands whole, hale and healthy were they not more likely to burn it and all of Westeros to the ground out of spite, as the King struck him as no man for bloody conquest such as Aegon had led.

Why burn your own Kingdom to the ground, after all, especially when you near rule it already? That would have been a bitter jest, Gerold thought, just a year ago. Now he planted feet in a Kingdom that near unanimously bent the knee to the King before his armies had even done the same, with only some poor trout flopping around left to stink up the place.

"You having fun down there?" Gerold smirked for the seventh or eighth time that evening, sword angled toward Ser Denys as he paused in their scramble to regain his feet. It almost made up for the first three times he fell for some trick and got smoke caught in his throat or eyes, leg stuck to the ground by expanding bladders of sticky fluid or half-deafened by a glowing vial.

Darkstar shook his head in exasperation as Ser Denys blew his slightly longer hair out of his face, jaw jutting out defiantly, though the man was hiding a smile of his own. Likely thinking about the last time that almost worked, Gerold thought. "You're never going to impress those Lordly types, who care more about their swords and hunting trophies than they do of books and 'witchery nonsense'. Not if you don't get a handle on that counter riposte, at least." The Crownlander would never be as good with a sword as he was at rooting through the underbrush and digging up rare plants, or else blowing up or confounding monsters with his creations, but the magic potions he could drink down before a fight would probably allow him to handily defeat most Knights in Westeros without trouble. If a man could turn invisible, he could slit your throat without you ever knowing where he came from, or carve you open from breast to groin with runes of flame, or else turn into a beast and rip you limb from limb and cast off your blades. Or just toss bombs at you from the air.

Though that's 'cheating', of course, something no honorable Knight would do, Gerold thought wryly.

"I practice every night with Ser Criston," the Alchemist replied, sighing as he lowered his sword. "Though part of me thinks I should just earn a fortune by selling magic and then wear a prince's ransom in enchanted items, instead. That's not quite as 'dishonorable' as drinking a few potions before a fight. Men would have to put aside their own spellsteel before admitting that." Right, Gerold thought, so when pigs fly.

While the man had come a long way, in Gerold's opinion, doing nothing to hide his contempt at the idea that his knowledge of brewing up magic was less worthy as knowledge of the sword, lance and horse, something that the Dornishman had warmed up to, after learning of the advantages which magic could provide a warrior in a fight against monsters who were born with those abilities... they also wouldn't go back on their word if they agreed to duel on another man's terms.

And all because my cousin set the damn precedent on having the best magic sword Westeros has seen in hundreds of years. Men were born fools, not sorcerers, Gerold knew this. One could awaken magic or else learn it, but you had to stop being a fool before you became anything else, or you would never amount to much more. But that doesn't mean you have to play the fool, either.

The two looked out over the hills, gazing upon the nearby Lord's castle which was at present lit up, the settlement before it bearing an assortment of merry crackling fires, a small celebration underway. A bevy of lasses and lads deciding to throw Mercy a party on a whim wouldn't make the Dayne knight scoff in disbelief, in all honesty he'd come to expect oddness to accumulate around anyone associated with the woman.

The two stood in bleak silence, neither the sort to be totally comfortable in one another's company. They had grown past the initial, obvious dislike, the things that rubbed them the wrong way about the other having taken on a new light, given certain... perspective they had lacked outside of their service to the Dragons.

"It all seems so petty," Gerold murmured. "Look at the Lord feasting in thanks to his good fortunes, and the smallfolk are celebrating someone who was a stranger naught but a fortnight ago. The gold they've both gained means so little given that if you hadn't stepped in here, they probably would have hatched their own monsters to terrorize folk in the night. As if there aren't enough to slay already." The Dornishman scoffed. An undercurrent of spite hadn't entirely left Darkstar's voice, not even now. These were the types of fools who had judged him unworthy of the same honor as others of his lineage, who couldn't even stare past their own noses to see the shit between their eyes. To them he was just a treacherous Dornishman, and to Dorne he was a compared to a viper, useful in a moment, but trouble at every turn before the basket he nested it was opened. He used to revel in it, but now...?

"I'm not doing all this for them," Denys replied, some of the awkwardness between them dissipating as they desperately latched onto something to talk about, "His Grace seems to know that they won't just go away no matter what banners get hung over King's Landing."

"He's isolated his court away from the leeches," Gerold countered, gesturing vaguely southwards. "I mean, sure as anything they will just come to him, but..."

"I don't think so," Denys countered, "Think back to all his conquests. He takes the strength of the people there and he turns it back around on them, makes them walk in step with him, but he's not fighting them off with a stick, hells, they probably don't know where he even is over half of the time. For all that the true power in the realm resides in Sorcerer's Deep, the Magisters of Tyrosh still wait patiently for audience in the Palace of that city, because they know that he rules there and thus that honors them by extension."

"A polite fiction," Gerold said absently, but he saw the point. "But even if they both know that, they can tell it to everyone else, and that will make others fit to gnash teeth and chew gravel." Denys smiled as Gerold conjured the affront Lords of Westeros would have felt if they weren't so busy scheming or being scared shitless of dragons, of how involved in unbecoming Essosi customs the King had grown. The King little resembled the Magisters of any of the Free Cities, he was too strange, though it was arguable if that was to his advantage.

If, however, it eroded away all the common and petty arguments people had, that only left histrionic braying about blood magic and dark rites if anyone had further cause to complain. No, the people did not get vanished off, screaming all the while, to stock the King's dungeons for baby soup. So they would likely just fall flat on their faces with the commoners and exasperate all the men and women the King had raised up personally. The other Lords would throw the slander back in their enemies' faces, either out of transparent sycophancy or just to undercut a rival.

"He'll be spending more time knocking their heads together, getting them to cooperate, than he will fighting them," Gerold said, having little respect for most of the men here in the Riverlands, doddering fools or bitter and crusty old men who couldn't let a grudge go, of which each had a dozen of them and was meaning to share them around. Say one thing about us Dornish, but we will circle wagons in an instant when the time calls for it.

"His Grace is skilled when it comes to getting other people to do things for him," Denys pointed out. Gerold nodded, unconvinced.

The topics of the day, past lingering resentment or the Alchemist's work experimenting with arcane humors, was utterly exhausted by that point. That left the two of them with only the bitter knowledge that Winter was bearing down on them, dying meant you were worse off than being alive even if half the world despised you and cursed your name, and the blatant disrespect people showed their liege had united two unlikely men in resentment. That they should vie for the favor of those who had stood by and asked to be saved after they had all chosen so poorly was a bitter pill to swallow.

For Gerold's own part, he just hated the fact that his hard work would go on to profit Lords like Lychester, and Denys' too. He was starting to like the man, if for no other reason than the fact that he was optimistic enough to make him remember some good had come out of the people they'd saved in the Riverlands.

Killing Hags and sorting out mad spirits had felt... good, he wasn't after gold or glory, hardly anyone had realized who was truly responsible for either of those deeds. He did it because the King he served asked him to, and he was honored for it, to be sure, and rewarded plenty, but that was immaterial to the fact that he knew he was needed, even necessary. That was hells of a lot more than he had to his name before.

"Do you think I could have ended up like that fool, Corbray?" Denys turned to him, surprised, a flicker of doubt must have shown on Darkstar's face, a tremble in his voice. "Uriah told me," he explained. "Something about devil worshiping and feeding men to Hell with coin and the lust of blood madness."

"If I've learned anything in these past few months, Ser Dayne, it's that you're an asshole," Denys said, causing Gerold to scowl in anger, though the Crownlander went on to say, "But you're not stupid. Maybe struck by more of the same many a clever man is, but once you've got your head out of your ass, you stop thinking you're too clever by half and most people around you too stupid to understand. I don't think there's any chance of devils getting a hold of you, now."

"But then...?" Darkstar wondered, wondered what the high and mighty Ser Denys Trainer thought of him, who was nothing and no one before he wandered off into his own fairy tale. Simply because he was tired of lying forgotten in the muck. By all rights, Gerold should probably hate the man on principle for that, but part of him wanted to hear otherwise. The core of a man who had been at the end of his rope, contemplating bloody murder at a tourney before hundreds, simply because he had so very little honor left to lose.

Denys was silent for a time, before eventually replying, "Maybe then. There's no point in wondering about what could have been. Maybe in one future you would have just been another devil pawn, or another mad man who thought the world should burn around you before you burned with it, because there was no light or luster to be had, no place for you. Maybe that's our job on his world," Denys said, voice growing stronger and more impassioned, as was his wont when he carried on thus. "To make a place for people, give them a chance. What's the point of all of this, if not that?" The man pointed at the Keep in the other direction, "Maybe that man will never change, but I bet you thoughts of glory and wealth both will vanish from his mind when Winter comes for us. When it comes for us all."

A bone-deep chill went through both men, irrational fear stabbing deeply, knowing there were worse things than devils and the conjurers who brought them here.

"Well... then we best be ready, ourselves," Gerold said with more certainty, when they no longer felt eyes on the back of their necks.

He raised his sword. Denys brought his back up as well.
Great character piece for both men, but especially Gerold. He's grown a lot since he was first introduced in the tournament.

We don't have a character sheet for Gerold Dayne yet, not that I know of anyway, but here's the gear we've crafted for him. I included a Bead of Newt Prevention, Greater Ribbon of Disguise, Handy Haversack, and pair of Soulfire Bracers from the Armory for him as well. This might help with further chapters you write which include him.

Amulet of Tears
Bead of Newt Prevention
Boots of Speed (+30ft Enhancement bonus to speed) w/Anklets of Translocation effect
Earring of Arcane Acuity
Gloves of Hero's Strength (+2 Strength)
Greater Ribbon of Disguise
Handy Haversack
Healing Belt w/+2 Constitution & Giant's Growth effect
Reinforced Segmented Adamantine Fullplate (+1)
Ring of Protection from Evil
Ring of Sustenance
Soulfire Mithral Bracers
Valyrian Steel Greatsword (+2)
 
Switched Ventriloquism for Magic Missile, as Ancestral Awakening puts some very special roquefort on the table one age category earlier.

Use Ancestral Awakening to learn Fell Drain.
Cast Magic Missile with Thanatopic (+1) and Fell Drain (+2) as a 4th level spell.
Target five creatures with the five missiles.
As long as you beat SR, each creature gets some unavoidable damage.
This procs Fell Drain, which bypasses all immunities and defences, including Soulfire, thanks to Thanatopic.
Enjoy your negative levels. :V
 
Switched Ventriloquism for Magic Missile, as Ancestral Awakening puts some very special roquefort on the table one age category earlier.

Use Ancestral Awakening to learn Fell Drain.
Cast Magic Missile with Thanatopic (+1) and Fell Drain (+2) as a 4th level spell.
Target five creatures with the five missiles.
As long as you beat SR, each creature gets some unavoidable damage.
This procs Fell Drain, which bypasses all immunities and defences, including Soulfire, thanks to Thanatopic.
Enjoy your negative levels. :V
Ah, I didn't look at the feat line for the Very Old Myredreki when I was going over spells.

You're gonna need to squeeze in Spell Focus (Necromancy) somewhere if you want them to qualify for Thanatopic Spell. I already tried to get that one by DP with Threnodic Spell, which also requires Spell Focus (Necromancy). He ruled that the effects are too specific and powerful to bypass that prerequisite.

I recommend axing Iron Will. The bonus to Will saves is nice, but it's not that great and I can't see anything in the build which has it as a prerequisite.
 
Ah, I didn't look at the feat line for the Very Old Myredreki when I was going over spells.

You're gonna need to squeeze in Spell Focus (Necromancy) somewhere if you want them to qualify for Thanatopic Spell. I already tried to get that one by DP with Threnodic Spell, which also requires Spell Focus (Necromancy). He ruled that the effects are too specific and powerful to bypass that prerequisite.

I recommend axing Iron Will. The bonus to Will saves is nice, but it's not that great and I can't see anything in the build which has it as a prerequisite.
Hm... I keep missing that tax when planning.

If I do have to touch the Feats, I'm more inclined to remove Dodge, Wind Stance and Combat Expertise to make room for Spell Focus Nevromancy, Illusion and Solid Shadows.

Your thoughts?
 
Hm... I keep missing that tax when planning.

If I do have to touch the Feats, I'm more inclined to remove Dodge, Wind Stance and Combat Expertise to make room for Spell Focus Nevromancy, Illusion and Solid Shadows.

Your thoughts?
Instead of going with Solid Shadows, I would just focus on increasing the DC of Illusion spell and Necromancy spells.

I would instead go with Spell Focus (Illusion), Spell Focus (Necromancy), and Shadow Magic.

DP let Teana learn Shadow Magic without any of the Faerun Shadow Weave fluff. Those three feats will net you a +2 DC to Illusion and Necromancy spells and a +1 DC to Enchantment spells, at the cost of decreasing the caster level of Evocation and Transmutation spells -1.
 
"He'll be spending more time knocking their heads together, getting them to cooperate, than he will fighting them," Gerold said, having little respect for most of the men here in the Riverlands, doddering fools or bitter and crusty old men who couldn't let a grudge go, of which each had a dozen of them and was meaning to share them around. Say one thing about us Dornish, but we will circle wagons in an instant when the time calls for it.
"And this my lords is a fleshforge. As you see here, it's fed with the bodies of my slain enemies, and here you see a perfectly serviceable servant of the realm. Any questions?"
 
Instead of going with Solid Shadows, I would just focus on increasing the DC of Illusion spell and Necromancy spells.

I would instead go with Spell Focus (Illusion), Spell Focus (Necromancy), and Shadow Magic.

DP let Teana learn Shadow Magic without any of the Faerun Shadow Weave fluff. Those three feats will net you a +2 DC to Illusion and Necromancy spells and a +1 DC to Enchantment spells, at the cost of decreasing the caster level of Evocation and Transmutation spells -1.
Given that Magic Missile is Evocation and already pretty anemical at CL 11 I'm not sure about this.
 
Given that Magic Missile is Evocation and already pretty anemical at CL 11 I'm not sure about this.
It would still be at 10th level, which would net you five missiles and 200 feet of range. The only real loss is 10 feet of range and being one point lower to overcome Spell Resistance.

Just a thought.

You could also pick up Expanded Arcana instead, then have them learn a couple 1st thru 4th level spells, like Assay Spell Resistance and Nightmare Terrain.
 
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