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

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Canon Omake: The Artisans Pride XII
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    • The Artisans Pride XII​
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    Thirtiest Day of the Second Month

    Deep beneath the earth, they had done it. They had created something they both had sworn to never make. For one, it was a matter of principle, for the other, one of pride, yet that similarity that was and was not had been the first faint trace of trust between the two of them. It was only fitting that they had broken the letter, though not the spirit of that oath together.

    The young girl ran a finger over wizened flesh, thin tendrils of black blood that had begun to curdle in the veins rolling beneath the pressure. "The decay has already begun. The graft is rejecting you." They had made something unfit to live. Something that would devour itself as flesh turned against flesh. Something that would die in agony.

    "Good," was the only word rasping from the throat of their subject. It was not the time for words and it was a small wonder that Qyburn could even speak at all. Anyone who were to see him would have presumed him dead, just to be filled with horror at the realization that he yet breathed. That he still moved and felt.

    Most of his skull had been pried away, his face looking like a grotesque facade behind which there was nothing. Though there was something behind it. More even then there should be. His own brain, still loosely held in place and now wrapped in a membrane of eldritch origin, still was roughly in the place it was supposed to be, but behind it, there was a second one. Wrapped in fake flesh and the shards of bone cut from his skull rested a much larger brain, pried from the skull of a true horror from beyond all reams that man ever had dared to walk.

    But there was method to the madness. No matter how many would have called them insane for even contemplating this, it was ambition that drove them. The desire to push back the boundaries one more time. To overcome one more limit. And thus they worked quietly, only speaking when they had to. While the young girl from the Braavosi swamps made sure their patient survived the ordeal, gently nudging flesh and blood to keep working, the other woman worked at a furious pace.

    Under Elahehs fingers, flesh parted and merged again, sinews fusing to bones as if they belonged there, even though the other end was not within the body, but anchored to the harness holding it. Giant cysts full of strange fluids were hastily grafted into the old mans body. The raw materials for the work yet to come. She had done the same work before. Hundreds of times in fact, for the Praetori all endured something similar, but unlike them, this time her patient was slowly wasting away as she worked, making every movement all the more important, each second all the more precious.

    It seemed to her as if she had worked for hours, even though it could not have been more then a few minutes. "It is done," she said at least and for her that was true, so she slowly stepped back. Vee followed a moment later, one last healing spell cast at Qyburns body before she too left the small tank he had been strapped into.

    As for the man himself, he tried to smile at them. It was a crooked thing, with drool running from one corner of his mouth, but it still carried the sentiment just fine. "Farewell," he rasped, just as the membrane began to rise from the floor, closing off the pod.

    "Don't be silly and say a farewell," the Kyton spoke as the green ichor begun to rush into the enclosure, quickly rising to engulf Qyburns feet. "We wouldn't have helped you with this if we had doubts."

    From her side, the other girl made a gruff sound and crossed her arms. "You will come out there just fine."

    "Not me," he pressed out, the words hard to form and the ichor already reaching to his stomach. They frowned at him, but he kept that crooked smile and with all his power, he forced through two more words. "Something greater." And with those words spoken, his face disapparead beneath the green sludge, never to be seen again.


    AN: A bit shorter then usual, but there is not really much more to say here.
     
    Last edited:
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    • Azel said:
    The Artisans Pride XII​
    << Previous

    Thirtiest Day of the Second Month

    Deep beneath the earth, they had done it. They had created something they both had sworn to never make. For one, it was a matter of principle, for the other, one of pride, yet that similarity that was and was not had been the first faint trace of trust between the two of them. It was only fitting that they had broken the letter, though not the spirit of that oath together.

    The young girl ran a finger over wizened flesh, thin tendrils of black blood that had begun to curdle in the veins rolling beneath the pressure. "The decay has already begun. The graft is rejecting you." They had made something unfit to live. Something that would devour itself as flesh turned against flesh. Something that would die in agony.

    "Good," was the only word rasping from the throat of their subject. It was not the time for words and it was a small wonder that Qyburn could even speak at all. Anyone who were to see him would have presumed him dead, just to be filled with horror at the realization that he yet breathed. That he still moved and felt.

    Most of his skull had been pried away, his face looking like a grotesque facade behind which there was nothing. Though there was something behind it. More even then there should be. His own brain, still loosely held in place and now wrapped in a membrane of eldritch origin, still was roughly in the place it was supposed to be, but behind it, there was a second one. Wrapped in fake flesh and the shards of bone cut from his skull rested a much larger brain, pried from the skull of a true horror from beyond all reams that man ever had dared to walk.

    But there was method to the madness. No matter how many would have called them insane for even contemplating this, it was ambition that drove them. The desire to push back the boundaries one more time. To overcome one more limit. And thus they worked quietly, only speaking when they had to. While the young girl from the Braavosi swamps made sure their patient survived the ordeal, gently nudging flesh and blood to keep working, the other woman worked at a furious pace.

    Under Elahehs fingers, flesh parted and merged again, sinews fusing to bones as if they belonged there, even though the other end was not within the body, but anchored to the harness holding it. Giant cysts full of strange fluids were hastily grafted into the old mans body. The raw materials for the work yet to come. She had done the same work before. Hundreds of times in fact, for the Praetori all endured something similar, but unlike them, this time her patient was slowly wasting away as she worked, making every movement all the more important, each second all the more precious.

    It seemed to her as if she had worked for hours, even though it could not have been more then a few minutes. "It is done," she said at least and for her that was true, so she slowly stepped back. Vee followed a moment later, one last healing spell cast at Qyburns body before she too left the small tank he had been strapped into.

    As for the man himself, he tried to smile at them. It was a crooked thing, with drool running from one corner of his mouth, but it still carried the sentiment just fine. "Farewell," he rasped, just as the membrane began to rise from the floor, closing off the pod.

    "Don't be silly and say a farewell," the Kyton spoke as the green ichor begun to rush into the enclosure, quickly rising to engulf Qyburns feet. "We wouldn't have helped you with this if we had doubts."

    From her side, the other girl made a gruff sound and crossed her arms. "You will come out there just fine."

    "Not me," he pressed out, the words hard to form and the ichor already reaching to his stomach. They frowned at him, but he kept that crooked smile and with all his power, he forced through two more words. "Something greater." And with those words spoken, his face disapparead beneath the green sludge, never to be seen again.


    AN: A bit shorter then usual, but there is not really much more to say here.
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    See you soon, Qyburnthillid!

    Was the weirdness with the upside down quotation marks intentional?

    [X] Azel
     
    Acolyte said:
    At this point I actively hope qyburn dies. I stopped caring 5 updates ago.
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    ...okay, harsh much?

    It is okay to want a character to die.
    I'd know.
    But stating outright you 'stopped caring" for someone's writing is in bad taste.
    I'd know.

    *catches violent PTSD over the sheer cringe done in the course of 4 years he's been here*

    Shitposting, discussion of uncivil conduct and salt-fighting in equal meadure aside, I liked this, @Azel.

    This is the point you roll for his survival, I assume?

    ...I forget, did we impliment any of the precautions we discussed?
    (No retroactively pushing them on, ofc. That's cancer)
     
    Azel said:
    The young girl ran a finger over wizened flesh, thin tendrils of black blood that had begun to curdle in the veins rolling beneath the pressure. "The decay has already begun. The graft is rejecting you." They had made something unfit to live. Something that would devour itself as flesh turned against flesh. Something that would die in agony.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    @Azel, so did they make Qyburn a body specifically fit to subvert ceramorphasis? Doomed to die, but in a premeditated manner.
     
    egoo said:
    ...okay, harsh much?

    It is okay to want a character to die.
    I'd know.
    But stating outright you 'stopped caring" for someone's writing is in bad taste.
    I'd know.

    *catches violent PTSD over the sheer cringe done in the course of 4 years he's been here*

    Shitposting, discussion of uncivil conduct and salt-fighting in equal meadure aside, I liked this, @Azel.

    This is the point you roll for his survival, I assume?

    ...I forget, did we impliment any of the precautions we discussed?
    (No retroactively pushing them on, ofc. That's cancer)
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Telling someone you don't care is fine with me. I did so repeatedly. I just think it should also be said why. That's what constructive criticism is about. Saying what is bad and giving a reason for it.
    Duesal said:
    @Azel, so did they make Qyburn a body specifically fit to subvert ceramorphasis? Doomed to die, but in a premeditated manner.
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    No, they revived the Ulitharid brain amd grafted it to Qyburns body. However, it's not a proper, stable graft, so the thing is killing Qyburn. One of the first things he will need to do is getting the Ceremorphosis going fast enough that the Ulitharid tissue is no longer dissolving his body.
     
    Azel said:
    Telling someone you don't care is fine with me. I did so repeatedly. I just think it should also be said why. That's what constructive criticism is about. Saying what is bad and giving a reason for it.

    No, they revived the Ulitharid brain amd grafted it to Qyburns body. However, it's not a proper, stable graft, so the thing is killing Qyburn. One of the first things he will need to do is getting the Ceremorphosis going fast enough that the Ulitharid tissue is no longer dissolving his body.
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    I can hear the Elder Brain screeching about heresy already.
     
    Can only imagine what the aftermath of the conquest will be like. Hoster would definitely not like how Viserys will change things and wonder how he can change Viserys mind.

    Same with the Tyrells really. Lannisters getting it worse. Arryns if they somehow survive.

    Ned would be the most curious like what would Ned do in the situation Viserys makes after the war? Starks losing lots of power and influence. Jon's thoughts would be interesting. Lyanna would just be a ghost so anger.
     
    Speaking of the Tyrells, our death curse killing the leaders of the Court of Stars is probably going to save them from what is near certain assassination from their so called allies.
     
    silvanknight said:
    Speaking of the Tyrells, our death curse killing the leaders of the Court of Stars is probably going to save them from what is near certain assassination from their so called allies.
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    Naw, I'd see the CoS keeping the Tyrells around. After all what's more narrative-ium inducing than the bumbling, well-intentioned patriarch and his shrewish, overbearing harridan of a mother? It wouldn't be more flandarized than the hundreds of ASOIAF fics that take the Tyrell's public personas at face value!
     
    @Azel , you always evoke a sense of morbid curiosity in these omakes. The images you write down are horrifying, yet the mind presses to know more.

    While I wouldn't agree with Qyburn's reasoning, at all, I'm exited to see what comes after this.
     
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