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

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Artemis1992 said:
*Icy dissaproval intensifies

I know that's not usually Mereth's speech-colour, but she would propably change it just for that occasion.
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If people have found Dany to be a disturbingly odd chikd, I can only imagine how they might react to Mereth trying to pretend she's a kid.

That sounds like a horror movie in the making.
 
DragonParadox said:
As Amrelath, Relath, the Herald, and Harbinger continue to try to pry open the shells of the remaining Turtle Ships against the sporadic weapons' fire within, Balerion has another notion altogether for how to deal with the matter. In one titanic heave of his wings the Black Dread lifts a Turtle Ship entirely from the surface of the Sea of Fire, taking it hundreds of feet in the air before dropping it from his talons. Perhaps unsurprisingly those inside call out that they wish to surrender.
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Balerion is best dragon, can't change my mind

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DragonParadox said:
After destroying all the towers save the ones that holds the Efreeti slaves waiting for the judgement of their masters, though bereft of their bound elementals, you begin to carry the ships home, first bringing them together so you can dispel the protection upon them, then having the dragons bear them off home. Balerion takes to the task awkwardly, perhaps unsure if holding them gently is really the best idea instead of crushing them between his claws.

Dany giggles at the sight, the sound seeming to calm some of your prisoners as the ships depart and the Gate to the Opaline Vault opens.
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I'm loving this dragon. Rezzing him was clearly a great decision.
 
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DragonParadox said:
Lanna Lannister, Lady of Castamere and first among the Golden Shields, looked up at the rippling enchanted mirror without any trace of the good cheer around her reflecting in her gaze, and her worries that ran far deeper than gold running north or south along the Narrow Sea. All of Western Essos was his now or soon would be, for the notion that Lorath could resist such might was ludicrous...
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Wow Lanna, such disrespect for Lorath. Watch the ruler of Lorath be Asmodeus's half brother of something like that, all cause she jinxed it.
 
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Interlude DCCXLIUI: Of Fights and Feasts
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    • Of Fights and Feasts ​

    Twentieth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

    Northern Rainwood, Stormlands, Westeros

    Shara Rogare did not like forests, they were filled with strange chirps and hoots that set her mind on edge, of odd yeasty smells her nose could not place from her years in Lys, either trying to curry favor in the mansions of the powerful or gaining power of a different sort in the narrow back alleys. But there was another smell here: sharp, coppery and all too familiar from those same alleys. It looked like those braggarts had not led them astray to get lost among the damn trees by moonlight. With the smell came the song, a twisting turning echoing.

    I wandered alone to the forest one night
    Led by a music strange to hear
    And followed the glow of a shimmering light
    That seemed to grow distant as I grew near    ​

    I'm not alone in the reveal tonight, thought Shrara as the song tried to worm its way into her mind. She recalled well the shadow of black wings overhead, the glint of cold iron arrowheads in the hands of warriors as old as any fey.

    The woods were alive with the fragrance of spring
    But winter was everywhere clear to see
    The moon shone bright and a bat on the wing
    Beckoned me closer and said to me:    ​

    Of how its eyes gleamed with hunger, almost akin to the dagger at her side. Shara had seen magic, she had used magic, spells, enchantments and scrolls, steel, ink and silken stitches, but this was more. As a thunderstorm is more than a pitcher full of water, the air itself was alive with magic older than sorcery, with power beyond words and invocations.

    "A clearing close in the forest you'll find
    A fabulous banquet, a fairy ball
    If you close your eyes and you open your mind
    The veil disappears and you'll see it all."    ​

    It's voice was sweet as honey and enticing like a the cool night breeze after a too hot day. What would the smallfolk I'm pretending to be know of balls? Shara wondered and she was even more on her guard. So they knew, they could see, hardly a shock on its own since the fey were masters of veils and tricks.

    Come and play as the wild fairies' play
    In a magical circle, a fairy ring
    You won't want to leave and forever you'll stay
    Pierced through the heart by bright crimson string     ​

    The inquisitor pretended to be entranced, swaying back and forth on her heels so lost in the music that she could not see the thorn vines coiling towards her on the forest floor like snakes, so caught up in the dance of light and shadow that she did not notice the bat grown to the grotesque proportions of a blight sprite.

    Shara walked slowly through the cursed woods seeing the faces of children, pale and haggard, out of the corner of her eye. If they had chosen to call on Lord Wylde's knights and those of his bannermen the fey would have never brought out the stolen children. Many, perhaps most, would have been lost to the deep woods, to hunger, thirst and beasts' own hunger, but once the trap was sprung...

    Pain bloomed in her back, tearing into her side white-hot, the sound of tearing flesh and scraping bone. With a thought she turned unseen, the familiar power of her ring granting her respite for a moment. The armor shimmered like cold fire against her skin around her making her seem a few steps to the left even to those able to see the unseen like the blight sprites with their cursed eyes.

    There, much too close to her was the master of the fel troupe, skin withered and grey like a corpse, a beard like diseased lichen hanging from his chin, eyes red as the cap upon his head seeming to glare into her very soul as it kicked her wildly.


    Three sharp cracks of translocation shattered the eerie melody even as Shara stumbled backward with hand pressed to the bleeding wound in her side. "I can smell it on you girlie, blood and fear, I'll have it, I'll have it all." The knife in the dark fey's hand looked pitted and old, but she had learned long ago not to judge a weapon in an enemy's hand by their looks, especially when the enemy was a fey. "Little liar thinks she's a hero, I'll cut out yer tongue and feed it to ye."

    The words seemed worm their way into Shara's mind, digging through every secret fear, every terror great and small until they loomed over her, blotting out the moonlight. She was a child in her father's study watching men in black yell and threaten him. "I'll take my debts out of her hide when I sell her..." She remembered being kicked then too.

    Twisted hissing words that did not belong in the world of men whispered in her ear. She should not have drawn comfort from them, from the tongue of demons of mockery and spite, but Shrara had years ago learned to take her allies where she found them and even in her panicked state let the magic in. Azema was beside her, claws dripping vitriol as they bit into the red cap's hide, a flurry of flesh and magic. A moment's breath, enough to heal, then she threw herself back into the fight.

    The battle was not clean, it was not quick and it ended with the furies having to chase down Jagged Knife through the forest rather than Shara being able to deliver the killing blow herself in payment for her humiliation, but that was perfectly alright by her. Life was not a tale and she was not a glorious hero, just a woman doing her job.

    ***​

    Twenty Third Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

    Rain House, Stormlands, Westeros

    Shara was almost resentful of arcane healing, allowing a perfect recovery in moments from her wounds. Otherwise she might have been able to avoid sitting here, listening to the tapestry of half-truths and nonsense for the consumption of Lord Wylde and his trusted bannermen. She wondered what they would say if they knew they were toasting a demon's cleverness and devils' valor. Mereth looked like she shared the young inquisitor's assessment of the proceedings. Clearing her throat she asked: "So is there a way to train yourself out of feeling magical fear?"

    The black armored warrior looked her up and down carefully: "Buy a talisman, the coin would come out as less valuable than your time training would be."

    Shrara flushed. That was worth more than a thousand toasts from petty lordlings who could not see past the ends of their noses.

    OOC: No vote on this one because I could not think of a good way to segue into the matter of dragons.
     
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    • Very atmospheric approach, though the fight was not up to our party, ultimatly.

    Well, if Jaggy had made a crit with that first hit it would have helped, maybe, at least taking out Shara. But propably even then not enough against Mereth and Azema.
     
    welp that's one fey murderer dealt with now lets hope that the little dragon wasn't to close with it so we can recruit it
     
    We really need to give Sharra the Shadowblade like we've been planning for months now. Y'all still cool with that?

    @DragonParadox, I liked Sharra's POV here. She's a city girl, born and raised, so I can see how even a normal forest might be disconcerting, never mind one infested with hostile Fey.
     
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