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Agreed, a level a year seems believable for a chosen not doing anything, even if they're just a child.
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
Great omake @Crake I particularly liked the part where she interacted with the Erinyes, even knowing Sansa was safe there was soemthing faintly sinister about the moment, the faint sense of darkness and violence at the edge of awareness that Sansa could not place. It's nice to see how Sansa sees Jon as opposed to others (like Robb) who are closer to him and got used to the air of death and melancholy.
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
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Jon is just a sadboi with a lot of baggage he lugs around everywhere trying to find a place to feel at home.
I think even Sansa recognizes that. So long as he's acting like family she's oddly fine with treating him like it. Not having a Septa Mordane around (yuck) feeding empty garbage into her head, or dealing with her mom constantly sniping at him in front of her helps form that picture.
But... Sansa is a bit of a scaredy cat girly girl still. Not anywhere on the level of Samwell, and perhaps even more girly girl than Margaery, who has nooo problems getting her hands dirty, but Jon, besides being a sadboi, is also 2spooky4u. And that is reflected by their emotional distance. She's not ready for that level of spookiness, as evidenced by the brief interaction with a fallen angel.
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Vote closed.
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
Great character piece, dude. Getting out of Winterfell and away from both Septa Mordane and her mother is obviously doing Sansa a world of good.Southron Dialogues
Ninth Day of the First Month 294 AC
Runestone, Vale of Arryn
Sansa would often found herself wandering in the wee hours of the evening when she was sure no one was watching for her, when there came a time that the elements seemed to dash themselves upon the drum of the great central keep of Runestone, so very much unlike Winterfell in some respects, though perhaps that could be accounted for by its positioning upon the peninsula it had been built, stout and tall it was, set by the sea, a strong castle built for a strong line. In other respects, it was so hauntingly familiar as to make her heart sick with thoughts of home, the lines and crenelations and the construction so very much like home in many ways.
She thought of her Mother and Father and Robb, Jon who had been kind, even Arya who hadn't really seem wholly a person in her mind, not until she had left home, just the wild girl who had put the Lady of Winterfell beside herself trying to raise another dutiful daughter who would keep to the Seven and act ladylike.
Not that Sansa really could bring herself to blame Arya or think ill of her, she wasn't that old at all, so how was she to know what proper really was just yet? And while Sansa knew that wouldn't hold up as an excuse for very much longer and tracking mud through the halls of Winterfell and chasing around the dogs would be less endearing, here she was learning magic behind her Mother and Father's backs, unable to contend with simple fright of a storm trying to shake the stones down around her ears, not that Runestone seemed to care an ounce.
Winds lashed, and the stones seemed to shrug them off with nary'a'care. Rain came pouring down upon it and the edifices would sluice them off in many clever and carefully formed channels and drains, some of them adding to internal resevoirs as she had been taught by Lord Yohn. Nothing would shake the castle, not at the foundations and not at the towers, not in the open halls and not even in the rooms closest to the outer yards and battlements. A storm could scream down upon it and it would stand strong as it had for thousands of years, also much as Lord Yohn had taught her.
'Bronze' Yohn was very kind to her, but he was given to strange company at times... like...
"Back again, little bird?" The woman who was not a knight but stood with a warrior's bearing that would have Ser Rodrik nodding his approval tilted her head to one side, standing at ease and basking in the last rays of a dying sun upon the edge of a wide veranda... a quite precarious drop over the cliffs greeted her, but the fierce--and Sansa secretly thought, beautiful, though never had the courage to voice aloud--woman cared naught. In fact, she seemed to exult only in this small pleasure and was uncannily expressionless otherwise. It was odd, but that one detail had stuck out enough to Sansa, as it was only occasionally that the woman would dally here, the first indications that the face this guest that Lord Royce hosted was merely a shared mask.
"I should really be in bed," Sansa said aloud, more thought than will toward any greater purpose, and she gave no indications of leaving soon, but the unspoken truth was apparent for the world to see. She disliked to admit it, but she wasn't quite as much the dutiful daughter that she hoped to be. Life hadn't turned out as she had planned it, either, but she hoped to make up for it somehow, to her family and to herself.
"Yet here you are," the woman relented after an awkward pause. Something like a thread of amusement trickled into their tone. It only emboldened Sansa further.
"Yes, I... ah. You never did give me your name, my lady?" She fell back on a simple courtesy, hoping it wouldn't offend any more than the lack of recognition had. In fact, Sansa suspected settling on something to call her at last had won over more approval than disdain, given the quirk of the woman's brow but no frown upon her face, at least Sansa had not been to afraid to say anything at all this time.
"You may address me as Uriah." A foreign name, perhaps? Sansa thought. There was a pause, and the woman turned to face her, the next word a command, more stern: "Presently!" She snipped, causing Sansa to straighten and offer a curtsy and her own name in reply.
"Lady Sansa Stark, a pleasure to meet you, Iady..."
Her head shot back up when she heard something suspiciously like a stifled laugh, but for all the world Sansa would swear up and down the warrior woman was having her on, they looked as stoic as ever. Uriah seemed to wave the unspoken question in her eyes away. "Run along now, little bird, before it grows dark." Black eyes locked onto the Stark's own, and a chill ran up their spine at the next words: "If a cold wind blows in summer, it won't find anyone in this of all Keeps with kindly intent."
Sansa was barely able to parse the thought before she continued, some unknowable presence looming or superimposed before her in this woman garbed in silvered armor. She did not know if it was the purest madness that invoked her response, or true bravery, but they came unbidden: "When might we speak again, my Lady?"
They tilted their head, black eyes closing as the last ray of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. "When duty permits."
Sansa gathered her skirts respectfully and with poise again, then tried not to look like she was fleeing at a dead sprint when she turned tail and went in the opposite direction.
"Now I have to file a second report," was the last that Sansa heard, the words almost a sigh.
***
Tenth Day of the First Month 294 AC
Sansa liked the little township at the base of the castle more than she thought possible... there was less to fear there, fewer expectations. It seemed wealthier now, more trade from Gulltown but also across the Narrow Sea. She noticed that the docks had begun another expansion, as much as space would allow, but the quay was always filled with trader cogs and more from across the Narrow Sea. But never a Crowned Stag... the entire time she was here in the South, a part of Sansa had believed that if she was not being sent off to Court and to take part in the tourneys and grand balls, they would simply upend everything and come to her instead, a silly frivolous thought that disappeared into the harbor waters, along with everything else little girls dreamed of when sailing far away from hearth and home.
She sat with her legs hanging over the edge by the sea, what might have seemed a scandal some months ago, now something she did without any further thought, neither her Mother to give words of reproach to the danger or of appearances, or waiting recrimination from her Septa... actually, Winterfell's Septa was very diplomatic about decorum and bearing these days, much less how a lady of the North specifically might conduct herself. That might be accounted for due to the fact the new Septa was sent by way of White Harbor, and thus had lived in the North rather than the South upon arrival. Specifically, Sansa had learned that she was far freer in some ways than ladies of the South were than she ever thought possible. Lady Royce was very kind to her, if a bit stiff and at times sad, perhaps seeing in her a missing piece in her own home, a daughter lost. But she had made it clear she was not looking to mother her. Sansa was personally working her way up to 'friend' and would be content with it, and she liked to think she was managing that much.
She read a bundle of letters, fine creased from opening and reopening it as she had done many times already despite having received it less than a week ago, one of the few things that could bring a smile to her face, there was one from Robb who was mindful to mention more than his sword practices with Jon, but also his own lessons and the doings of the Keep, ones her Mother and Father would not be minded to mention though apparently had not forbidden him from sharing.
Another from her Mother, also inquiring of her own lessons and even, she thought tentatively, news from the South as it could be gleaned from Runestone, which she dutifully espoused upon at every opportunity given. It was very many questions about Uncle Brynden and her Grandfather newly arrived in King's Landing, rumored to be petitioning the King about bandits in the Riverlands. She was glad she had been sent South by ship.
Father was... different now, as she was in the South and his words always seemed so careful, like one handling delicate glass, but that did not mean he had nothing of substance to say. In fact it seemed for all that he said fewer words in his writings to her, they were even more important. He told her to be strong. She hoped she would not disappoint him.
A ship sailed into the harbor on a stiff wind, bearing a Silver Serpent upon its banner. It had taken some time for her to understand how truly brazen a sight that was, she had not for instance known what to make of silver-furred monkeys which chattered like men or the lone great bullman was ever so frightening looming upon the forecastle the first time she glimpsed such a sight, but neither had actually disembarked the ship, likely because the locals, more used to the sight, still did not count it as less than rare and were equally discomforted by it. But they also did not run screaming... which might have been enough to keep the Dragon's traders coming into harbor.
There were whispers in White Harbor, of course... Sansa couldn't not pay attention to everything she heard, her Lady Mother made her promise to pay attention to both gossip and rumor, not to spread it, which she had halfheartedly forbidden, but because a Lady might go unseen and better arm herself by other means unavailable to men, one thing she should quickly learn.
They said that Lord Royce was a Dragonman in truth, not a man loyal to King Robert. In the South, the more apt title would, she had thought, been 'traitor', but White Harbor apparently didn't truck much with that sort of talk, even though part of Sansa thought they should have... after all, wasn't dealing with dragons treasonous? The thought had been a weak one at the time, and did not seem to be growing stronger, backed by a poor understanding of the where and how, she knew nothing of wars long since fought and wars not yet begun, but she was desperate to learn whatever she could, even including magic itself, to be... to be prepared no matter what came next.
She thumbed through her letters again, a fraction more frantically even as her gaze was reluctant to leave the ship as it waited to be cleared to dock.
Jon had written her... she thought it passing strange that she smiled the most at his letters because he had always snuck in some answers to arcane or obscure questions using code that Ser Halys had taught him. She suspected that he had not changed it enough for her family not to recognize that the two were conversing privately with each other, but whatever came of that discussion--if it had indeed come up--apparently her Father wasn't against it, or had never even thought to intrude on Jon's privacy in the first place, much less allow anyone else to do so in turn. That would be much like him, Sansa decided, with mixed feelings of longing.
Jon was... very sad. He seemed almost... as haunted as the crypts of Winterfell that had always so frightened her, even though she knew it was terrible for her to think that, what with all he had tried to do for her. But she could never completely be at ease with Jon, either it was a feeling of shame... guilt, weighing at her, or the same unease she associated with some of Old Nan's ghost stories. An oppressive sense of melancholy hung around her bastard brother which did not seem to persist upon his writings. Those were much easier to bear and even cherish, for they were another reminder of family that helped stave off some loneliness of the day.
"Up for a treat, my lady?" Offered a voice from her left and behind. She very deliberately did not leap ten feet into the air at the surprise. She craned her neck up before smoothing her skirt and standing as quickly as she could, cheeks aflame. "No Ser Andar, err, I mean, that is to say... that would be ever so lovely and..." She stammered a response before letting it be strangled to death in a high-pitched laugh of embarrassment.
"I see, yes," the Heir of Runestone replied intelligently, a handsome smile on his face as he offered her the treat... the scent of baked pastries and lemons hit her like a stone spraying the sea into a great foam. She tried not to seem hasty in her eagerness to bite into one, ignoring the laugh from the Lord's elder son.
His eyes seemed to be glued onto the parcel of letters in her other hand, and a sad smile cut off the sound. "I know what it's like to miss family," he said quietly, offering his hand to help her down from her perch upon a stack of crates.
"You miss..." She lowered her voice, getting the feeling that he was not referring to his... departed sister. "...your brother? That is to say... I am sure he is safe." The other rumors made it more than clear he was more than safe, he was probably slaying demons and rescuing maidens from tall towers. And while shooting lightning bolts out of his magic sword, while bearing bronze armor which had more in common with that worn by a knight in the south than it did with the armor that Lord Yohn sometimes bore around.
Sansa was not certain she really believed everything that she heard about 'Ser' Waymar... though, who was she trying to fool, truly? If even half of it was true and given that Prince Viserys Targaryen himself lorded over nearly as many people as King Robert did, maybe Ser Waymar was more of a knight than half of those who had been anointed in the South? Certainly nine tenths had not slain demons or rescued maidens, even if she thought that would have been lovely to hear about.
While Ser Andar and Ser Robar were also lovely and noble and brave and true... they also made it very clear to her that they were also men in the truest sense of the word, when they thought she was out of sight and out of mind. Very court and kind when minded to be, but perhaps a tad crude when given to other, less delicate company. She sniffed.
"Why wouldn't I?" Ser Andar replied, perhaps a tad sharply, before giving her a brittle smile. "He was always thinking of others, just like you tend to."
"Is it true that... he left Runestone because he was afraid angry mobs would form?" She spoke even more softly, "Because of his magic, I mean."
"Magic has been part of these lands since the first stones of our ancestral home were lain down," Ser Andar said by way of reply. "I don't think a soul who lives here has not had some magic touch part of their lives since it seems to have sprouted up like a forgotten spring, begun to flood outward and upward again. He could have stayed and we would have loved him just the same."
"Do you ever... talk to him?" Sansa wondered what he would say. Ser Waymar Royce was the Knight of Thunder. A Companion. He sat at the right hand of Viserys Targaryen, it was said, who had many names himself, Dread Sorcerer, but also King, some say the rightful one by reckoning of his blood and three centuries of Targaryens sitting upon the Iron Throne. What else could anyone who swore fealty to King Robert Baratheon, a man who had slain his brother, say that bespeaks of, if not treason?
"Don't you have lessons," Ser Andar replied, voice sounding a tad strained. At her unamused glance, he sighed. "I know that he's safe and happy. What any brother could hope for their family."
"Yes... that's good to hear," Sansa replied, finding she meant it. Ser Andar was kind after all, she liked him, and King Robert's court was so very far away. She tried very hard to care in the other direction and found she could not. "Might you perhaps tell me more about him?"
"I... well, maybe later... back at the Keep." Ser Andar finally relented with an awkward smile, back to acting as her escort. "Come on now, we still have a few errands to run."
Sansa eagerly followed.
I really liked seeing how Waymar's legend is spreading, even if that is a fairly low bar to set when it's spreading in Runestone of all places, his ancestral home. It's especially appropriate because he just gained his first Mythic rank. I wonder if becoming Mythic automatically just causes one to leave a deeper impression on the world and those who live in it, so that even thousands of miles away people suddenly start talking more about your accomplishments?
I know that Sansa has recently begun learning the basics of magic, but I cannot recall what flavor of magic it was. Ser Halys is a Wizard, IIRC, but I'm also unsure if he was the source of her first foray into the esoteric.
You also reminded me that we need to Resurrect Lyanna sooner rather than later. Helicopter Ghost Mom isn't doing Jon any favors in her current existence.
Inserted tally
Part MMMCDXCI: Visions of Darkness
Visions of Darkness
Eleventh Day of the First Month 294 AC
As Tyene leads Gilly away to sleep, safe for what might be the first time in her life, you consider her unspoken request. You had vowed before the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch to remove as many of the Free Folk from the Far North as you could manage and Gilly's kin would surely be among the most imperiled given Craster's allegiance and monstrous deeds. The man had died upon the sacrificial stone it is true, but if his fate had been yours to decide you would have fed him to the vessel of Yss to ensure that nothing of him might return to the world.
On the other hand you have only to look around at the vast caravan preparing to rest under the shadow of the pine trees to see the other weightier and more immediate responsibility upon your shoulders. Was the enemy even now preparing to strike you as soon as you divided the protections of the caravan, their tireless hosts using the cover of night to catch up to you? They would not be able to hide such a large movement of forces from farsight and foresight, of that you are certain.
***
A curtain of soft grey smoke hangs in the air, scented with monkshood sage and honeysuckle. Pale rods of dragonbone thick as a man's finger and long as a arm draw patterns unseen by Vee's command. You can guess the words she will speak just by the narrowing of her eyes: "Woe."
"So there's enemies about, something bad enough to hurt the caravan if we split," Dany sighs. "Let's see what sort of monster's on our trail now."
Again the smoke gathers, though this time it smells of saffron and blood, bitter ash and sweet lotus flowers. In the grip of the dream Dany shivers once from head to toe than intones:
Beware the the servant banished and to the winds lost
Forth comes the Houseless One, deathless spite at vigil's end
In rotted heart, in frozen bone shall dwell the spirit of frost
With bitter cries and echoes into silence slain the heir must now contend
Forth comes the Houseless One, deathless spite at vigil's end
In rotted heart, in frozen bone shall dwell the spirit of frost
With bitter cries and echoes into silence slain the heir must now contend
Well isn't that a tangled skein, you ponder the words as your sister rises from the smoke, making a cup of journey tea from Waymar to clear her throat. "Some sort of specter then. Some sort of guard we disturbed along the way perhaps?" Too many question, not enough answers for your taste.
"Maybe it was whatever we felt at the Fist of the First Men," Lya offers. "I mean, we didn't try to reveal it but maybe just crossing the threshold would have been enough to wake it and make it follow us."
"No, not that," Rina says abruptly with far more certainty than usual. "Whatever was at the Fist wasn't just guarding the fortress, it was hiding there before the giants came at least and it didn't attack them in dream or the waking world though it communed with many including the young. The servants of the Enemy are hungry, forever trying to fill the emptiness within but this... presence, it didn't feed on any of them, not even those least able to defend themselves."
"Maybe it's something that followed the girl," Ser Richard offers. "She likely broke plenty if Their works when she killed that bastard who sired her."
"I hope not," Waymar says grimly. "If something woke up there than it must have woken up hungry like Rina said and the rest of Craster's wives and daughters would've been the closest to feed on."
Other foresight you weave and call forth then, soul's fire burning you ask question upon question of moments unseen. The answers you receive are at times encouraging, at times grim and all of them strange. Whatever is on your trail is not a champion sent forth from the Farthest North, but it is mighty just the same and driven to madness and despair, it uses Craster's magic and the horror of its deeds against you and all the living.
Lost 100 XP
"The Moonchaser should be here in two hours or less with reinforcements," Lya muses. "Do we have that long?"
"It's two hours to midnight, down to the knife's edge," Dany points out. "If there's any time when the Enemy and its servants would be strong in summer it's then."
What do you do?
[] Wait for reinforcements and move at midnight
-[] Write in who
[] Send someone to the Keep at once
-[] Write in who
[] Write in
OOC: Sorry this took so long guys, getting that verse down was really tricky and I still have not gotten the meter right.
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- Location
- United States
@DragonParadox, are you keeping track of the progress of the Mighty Mind Dragons as well? This is the second major fight they've been involved in, the first being against the Golden Company and Tiamat.
I am but they have not had much of a chance to shine so far so they are still quite a few battles off.
- Location
- Germany
So, did the Divinations say anything wether the caravan would be attacked if we go to Craster's Keep, or only the party going there?
Edit: Sorry, I mean wether both would be attacked or only the caravan?
Edit: Sorry, I mean wether both would be attacked or only the caravan?
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- Location
- United States
Well, it's not like we're going to lack for CR 20+ fights. They'll get there eventually, right alongside Relath and Amrelath.
@DragonParadox, when I asked if there would be the Other that regularly took the sacrificial infant boys from Crastor, you told me it would be highly unlikely in the middle of the day. What about the middle of the night?
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
...is this month going the "let's make it all about dealing with Winter"-route I proposed initially, if in a roundabout way?
I'm not sure how much of a good thing it is, but at least we areannoying the shit out of the Others.
Maybe we can even get a kill none if we are extra-lucky.
I'm not sure how much of a good thing it is, but at least we areannoying the shit out of the Others.
Maybe we can even get a kill none if we are extra-lucky.
More likely but still far from probable. You are quite far south.
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
And if another challenge is issued to their rule/power around here? Maybe mastery over Air in general?
We can "offer" the body of the other Other we killed here as our "fuck you, I'm taking this and you can't do anything, *sounds of making fun of*"
No one knows enough to hazard a guess.
- Location
- Germany
Let's maybe not challenge the Others while trying to protect a few hundred giants?
If we learned anything from the Thenn evacuation it's that they'll happily kill and turn the more vulnerable targets if our party proves too tough.
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
Aye, am just trying to get a feel for how we can set a stage for a battle with them more-or-less on our terms in the future.
- Location
- Germany
@DragonParadox
I might have missread that, but did we only get confirmation that if we go, the caravan will be attacked?
I'm not sure if we have a divination result on what will happen to the party going to Craster's Keep?
I might have missread that, but did we only get confirmation that if we go, the caravan will be attacked?
I'm not sure if we have a divination result on what will happen to the party going to Craster's Keep?
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
So how about we use Ancestral Awakening the learn Sudden Widen, then do some caster level buffing to use Wild Arcana to cast a Widened Blinding Glory spell at 28th level. That'll make a 5,600 foot radius area of bright daylight that blinds Evil creatures. Then we just lead the entire caravan to Craster's Keep.
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
I'd really rather ignore this distraction, since even one Undead Giant that is made and manages to escape is a problem. And we are liable to lose dozens if we're unlucky/not smart enough enough.
Likely to happen if exotic Undead BS is on the table, and it likely is.
One low-level person's resentment doesn't really matter to us beyond the "SHINY!"-reflex these days.
Likely to happen if exotic Undead BS is on the table, and it likely is.
One low-level person's resentment doesn't really matter to us beyond the "SHINY!"-reflex these days.
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- Location
- United States
Nobody's stopping you from voting that way, dude. If you feel that strongly about it then here you go.
[] You have learned from Thennhold. The risk is too great, and the safety of the giants, not Gilly's family, is your priority. Move on and leave them to their fate.
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
I'm too sleepy to vote reasonably one way or another.
So I express my feelings on the matter, and
politely abstain from splintering the vote one way or another.ty for the option, ofc.
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
@DragonParadox, do we know of any nearby Heart Trees?
If so, we might be able to Tree Stride to the newly grown Heart Tree Gilly used to shatter Craster's altar and kill him.
If so, we might be able to Tree Stride to the newly grown Heart Tree Gilly used to shatter Craster's altar and kill him.
They will probably be attacked too
The closest is White Tree some fifty leagues to the south