- Location
- Argentina
Oh, so we actually made sure they understood the message and they are less likely to do anything stupid over it.
Makes sense, but it is boring
A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover
- Thread starter DragonParadox
- Start date
-
- Tags
- 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
Oh, so we actually made sure they understood the message and they are less likely to do anything stupid over it.
Makes sense, but it is boring
- Location
- United States
Scaring the soul out of them was half the goal, but I'll accept them never being a problem for us ever again.
- Location
- ?????????
As long as the Tyrells act like good little vassals for the next two generations I can live with it. If they decide ambition is a better flavour...well they will learn what Fire and Blood mean
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
Updated with the Vale and the Reach's new situation.
Last edited:
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
[X] Crake
It is truly illustrative of how idiotic Fey are, that a group of them is more willing to align themselves with the Void than try to grovel at us for mercy.
Tyrells are finally over and I'm all the happier for it.
If they fuck up during the Reconquest I'm inclined to soul-kill tho.
It is truly illustrative of how idiotic Fey are, that a group of them is more willing to align themselves with the Void than try to grovel at us for mercy.
Tyrells are finally over and I'm all the happier for it.
If they fuck up during the Reconquest I'm inclined to soul-kill tho.
- Location
- United States
I do understand it. Everyone wants revenge when their plans get wrecked.
But we're totally killing them all before they get the chance.
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
Not unless they're demon conjuring.
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
They could have joined literally anyone other than the omnicidal "kill everything"-force and been both a bother for us, and remained (mostly) alive.
Qohor would've taken them with open arms, tentacles, and mouths. Same for Qarth. Asmy would've not left them hanging. Bloodstone Emps would've taken them in eez.
Taking Others is just objectively the worst personal-safety-and-remaining-oneself option they could've gone for.
This court are idiots.
...do the "inner demons" count?
But yeah yeah, cant make exceptions outta the law on a daily basis, whatever.
We have significantly less stuff left for the turn now:
[] Seeing the death of Robert.
[] Aife's "unknown task from Ferryman"-report.
[] Stats for the Reforged Hammer of the Sarnori God.
[] State reports on the economy, infrastructure, Inquisition, and Scholarum.
[] Rumor-posts
[] Inquisition's detailed report on Lucan getting to Viserys IC.
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Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
Others is the best option if your only goal in life is to kill all life. If you want to have the most broken OP plz nerf powers for murder, violence and maximum True Death Oblivion Hax, Void is the way to go. In fact, it is the way Bloodstone Emps did go.
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
Debatable.
If you want to "kill all life and maybe not die afterwards" Daemons are the go-to, their ideal state isn't far from the Void's, although the sheer capability is somewhat less.
Others are entropic singularity of murder-suicide.
Single-minded and good for those not thinking too far ahead.
...Like Fey.
Bloodstone Emps is aligned (for Unlimited Power, most likely), but so far doesn't seem like a direct servant?
What little we've seen of him so far is "muh Empire, imma ruuuul ze world", not the "kill all, froth at mouth"-type usually seen in the Void's corner.
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
I'm finally moved out of my house. Took the entire weekend and paying a moving company more than I'm comfortable admitting, but it's done. So damned glad that is over with. Now I just have to survive living in a hotel for a week or two.
[X] Tyrell Interlude, Part Two; "We should have worn brown pantaloons!"
[X] Tyrell Interlude, Part Two; "We should have worn brown pantaloons!"
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
Yes! At least 20 more, bringing our total up to 23. I think we should add another Umbral Stalker and maybe a dozen Umbral Spies to next month's crafting schedule.
What we really need is to figure out how to produce Were-Praetorians...
/is a genius
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
- Location
- Texas
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Crake
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
This could very well be something to get the full force of the Wild Hunt involved in, not just the relative handful who are in our service.
- Location
- United States
That's my hope as well. We'll have to negotiate with their leader, though, not just one of his major huntsmen.
- Location
- Texas
- Pronouns
- He/Him
We still have the Wild Hunt Seilenos's 3 favors we can use maybe we can use one as an in to talk to the Wild Hunt?
- Location
- United States
Better still if we can find a way to maximize those 3 favors into strengthening ties between the Imperium and the Wild Hunt. We provide them with hunts and rocking parties (with ZERO mind control of citizens) and they lend their aid in tracking down and destroying the more dangerous and elusive of our enemies.
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
Turnvote proposal Updated.
Changelog:
[] Added chasing Indigo (mainly to kill, and hopefully subjugate the remains), and Violet (to subjugate, and to trigger the Dusk Dancer) Courts as Crake wrote it(?).
[]Action Duo Qyburn and Marwyn's Citadel Adventure has something other than shitty attempts at humor to it, now!
[] "Unassigned PCs/NPCs"-lists edited to account for the above.
Relevant blurbs: We are pretty much done, only 2 actions need forces assigned to them.
Am kinda tired tbh.
Changelog:
[] Added chasing Indigo (mainly to kill, and hopefully subjugate the remains), and Violet (to subjugate, and to trigger the Dusk Dancer) Courts as Crake wrote it(?).
[]
[] "Unassigned PCs/NPCs"-lists edited to account for the above.
Relevant blurbs: We are pretty much done, only 2 actions need forces assigned to them.
Am kinda tired tbh.
- Location
- France
Honestly, I'm not too happy with this latest interlude. We've asked them to be "loyal" (whatever that means) but we didn't actually ever explain our problem with their previous course of action. At best, we ordered them to stop trying to broker deals with Fey, which is a bit of a blunt solution to our problems.
Omake?
Omake: Old Soldiers
Old Soldiers
Horato basked in the soothing liquid surrounding him in his ablution chamber, the tinted crystal leaving him observable to a variety of technicians and the occasional Battle-Priest his only true company in the long stretches of silence he inhabited.
So long had he been submerged, in fact, that he had entered and left the fugue of long slumber at least seven times since had last been entered here. His limbs would scream with agony after implants were overworked in the heat of battle. It took several such cycles for the pain to resolve itself into a dull ache, and two more before even that had been erased, leaving him with nothing less than the sort of numbness accompanied by one who had slept on a limb for long periods of time in an awkward position, cutting off all circulation.
His magically enhanced flesh had no such problems, of course, that limb was still as strong as it ever was, but the magic ever coursing through his frame would eventually begin wearing down his body even as it struggled to contain the weight of his soul. Or so the Flesh Smiths had claimed, in truth they had never guessed what the cause of such phenomenon was, so few of the original founding was left even now.
It was a springtime for new heroes in the ever-spinning gears of empire, new conquerors who had gazed upon vistas unfamiliar to them. A war for boys and girls and some few seasoned veterans, not old fossils like him.
They did not understand why he did not ask for improvements to what he had been granted. These flesh smiths, they were not the maddened dogs begging to be put down such as the ancient Valyrian architects of the original compounds where he had been forged anew, but even they saw nothing wrong with casting off old flesh like a fraying cloak if it meant donning something inherently superior.
Even they did not call it weakness, not after seeing how familiar this body was to Horato... a well-oiled machine, they called it, admirable for it being a throwback to a momentous time, if nothing else.
He meant to die in this flesh, come to it. It was what he was used to, and there were few calls for him to leave this chamber as it stood. Only the times where he would fight so hard that it felt like his body would combust into a nimbus of fire and out of it he would arise, like a dragon-shaped flame, to consume his enemies with the weight of his ascending soul.
"Venerable Ancient," the young champion approached his chamber, standing before the untinting crystal wall separating the two, the one who had roused him from his rest. He presented an emblem of a burning star, glowing with the light of dragon's flame, even now it flickered as it came close to the sheet of crystal that separated the two. Two sworn brothers of the cloth in their mantle of armor and silk made gestures at the sight. "We invoke the Rite of Reclamation, and invoke, in His name, let the enemies be consumed by the wrath of the First."
His mind was connected to the ghost-sound speaking apparatus, outside his prison of glass and arcane machinery. "Who approaches," Horato rumbled, taking the measure of this boy for the first time through eyes of transfigured steel... "Ah," he recognized this one. A young lad of three centuries, who had donned the mantle of Captain only when he'd last bathed his ambulatory coffin called armor a half century past in the blood of his foes. "Little Gwayne. Did they spank you hard and send you sulking off to fetch your elders?" He rumbled in amusement, though much of the humor was lost to the cold tone of his words, which barely took time to reflect any sense of self before they had been mimed by the enchantment, like a machine given voice.
Even the Captain, veteran of many battles, was discomfited by the change. The last time they had met, he could still hear the trace of a man when the ancient Praetorian spoke. Now it was like Order given form, symmetrical geometries carved out of flesh, leaving an almost perfect statue which could only seem to move itself with the aid of arcane instruments as old as he was, a ward of Imperial Steel and a tomb all at once. Not even their mind gave any indication of greater individuality.
It was like staring into an artist's uncanny rendition, carved out of smooth marble, molded century after century into the ideal shape. "
The figures standing outside his chamber shared a look of uncertainty, unable to compose a response.
"Best get moving, then."
The liquid charged with positive arcane energies began to drain from around the elder being, even as the partially assembled frame of his war gear was prepared outside the chamber.
"Don't want to keep them waiting, now do we?"
***
He could only walk with the assistance of his armor, but that did not mean his mind had slowed. In fact, it had only improved with time and experience, its recesses given breadth and depth to a finer degree such that it had seemed the true gift, or perhaps curse, of his enhancements. He was as fine a warrior as any, but it was his mind they had called to advise them, it was his acumen in the field of war and politics that had brought him aboard the Undying Wrath of the Dragon, shared by a full company of his younger kindred.
"Heh, they don't seem to lose any of that arrogance, no matter how much time passes." A few chuckles passed around the long chamber, from those uncertain of what deportment was required for a meeting with one such as him. Ah, how much time had passed that protocol had worn at the edges?
Baator had underestimated them again. For all that they would spin that iron wheel with an inexorable tread, infinitely forward, they were always so surprised by mortal ingenuity and perhaps even their audacity, after a fashion. Certainly, the Red Tempter was never outright shocked by the nature of rebellion in any system founded upon tyranny at its very base, but his servants were less easy to mold to that mindset, forever stymied by the very path they had been set down countless eons previous.
A poison of the mind.
"It's not unexpected, losing a battlefleet to their gambit and yet sealing away an Archduke isn't exactly an even bargain," quipped one of the sprouts, who's name and face Horato didn't recognize. He marked them down immediately and wouldn't forget. Literally. He could not imagine being unable to recall their words, down to the inflection used, even should the world close in on him and turn dark again.
"Who?" Horato queried, out of touch with this time and place, but coming to life again, ever-so-slowly. That was news to him, after all. It was telling, that even a seemingly hollow victory like that, all that hardware gone, all those lives lost, was slanted more in their favor than not. The hierarchy of Baator had been shaken up very few times since the last thousand years signaled the start of everyone in this room acting as they had meant to go on.
Spitting in the eyes of Gods and tearing down their works and then pissing on the ashes.
The young man grinned a wolfish grin. "Dispater."
Horato whistled.
The war council was a bit of a misnomer. With so many losses, there was hardly anyone over five centuries left to lead this lot. So much so, they were willing to dig up old fogies like him, though he could hardly call it for no reason. His bones did not ache, but there was a part of him that thought movement without purpose was so pointless, a weariness soul-deep. Only battle seemed to vitalize him, or those rare moments he could frame an intellectual exercise in terms of conflict, and to a lesser extent acquisition of glory.
"Old Ironside too stubborn to die, then?" He wouldn't put it past the paranoid snake to have an out.
"Temporary, at best," the Captain, Gwayne, replied, dispassionately, the table made of valuable magically-resonant materials showing an illusory display of over a hundred warships holding position above a plane of tainted glass and reality warping magma, leaving little room for the exotic lifeforms which used to inhabit this place before it had been half-scoured, first by the Blood War, and then by their own endless conflict. "He's not important. He will take centuries cleaning up that viper's nest he left in Dis, even should he return today. What is important is the intelligence recovered from his mind, what little could be accessed by the Companions."
Lines of text, images and moving displays replaced the battle-scape, and Horato's mind went into overdrive.
Ever so slowly, Horato smiled, and the rich tones of his old voice leaked through the distortion his helmet made of his ravaged throaty rumble.
"Son of a bitch, he did it."
They'd be killing a God, tonight.
OOC: A glimpse into what you have wrought with Project Praetorian and the ethos of the Imperium to be. Once more many thanks to @Crake.