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

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[X] Azel

Should we do weight classes too? I think most men would prefer not fighting literal giants after all.
 
Tomcost said:
Was there any kind of mind control in the pavillion? We strictly forbade her from attempting any such thing.
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My bet is more on drugs in the air than magic.

We have some smokes from the Bazaar that could create this kind of confusion, dissosiation, loss of self-control, etc.
Which is not technically illegal, as long as nobody pushes any deals or contracts on him in that state.
 
Artemis1992 said:
My bet is more on drugs in the air than magic.

We have some smokes from the Bazaar that could create this kind of confusion, dissosiation, loss of self-control, etc.
Which is not technically illegal, as long as nobody pushes any deals or contracts on him in that state.
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Well, this kinda answers it for me.

The whole thing felt way too unnatural to be a place where someone could make a proper decision.
 
Azel said:
[X] Make three classes:
-[X] No magic is allowed
-[X] Intrinsic blessings and self cast spells only
-[X] All magic is allowed
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how about add a few like
- no consumable magical items like spell scrolls and alchemical explosives unless proven that the user created them himself
-a limit on magical gear it being a max of two enchanted rings , one piece of magical head wear and a single amulet also no artifacts allowed unless the rules explicitly make exception for them only bog standard magical items
-no pre battle buffs allowed
-specific magical items and area of effect spells that might spill over outside of the area or posses dangerous esoteric properties that could effect the audience just by seeing them are banned
 
Good night guys, see you tomorrow with more of the festival, probably the melee to dust off some standard rolls in preparation for... something I can't reveal yet because spoilers.
 
Zedred said:
The Imperial Times Calendar! This month Issue comes with exclusive, all colors pictures of our Great Imperial Majesty and his male adult Companions!

Examples of the pictures within:

Viserys lounging on The Throne, bare chested save for his golden cloack, one hand holding his head while the other is extended towards the viewer, a smile on his face.

Ser Richard inside a cabin in the woods at night. Resting against a bedframe, wearing nothing but a loincloth, his gauntlets and boots, Oathkeeper in his hands. Ser Richard 's serious expression somehow seeming to invite the viewer in.

Garin sitting on top of a high class candlelit table, holding a cup full of crimson wine in toast to the viewer, his eyes tempting the viewer to drink with him. He is clad in tight black clothing and leather pants, his shirt has a V-cut so deep that it practically ends at the hip.

Waymar, bare chested, resting at his hippogriff side on a grassy field, a peaceful smile on his face inviting the viewer to lie at his and the noble steed side.

Malarys inside a courtroom, bare chested. A stern expression on his face while staring at you, judging you.

Xor on the street in all his rotund glory, a smile on his face and a lyre at his side, ready to start a song.

******
"I can not believe this worked...". Even though you can't see him, Malarys disbelief and haunted expression is clear in his voice.

To be fair, if it weren't for the reports you have on your desk, and the feeling inside your chest you have come to associate with part of your legend, you would have a hard time believing as well.

No, even now you still check your wards to see that you aren't trapped inside an illusion, but reality is still the same.

UNREST ON THE WESTERN PROVINCES DECREASES TO 0.

100 NEW CLERICS OF VISERYS GET.

You don't bother keeping the sigh from leaving your lips.

it's in these situations that you wish you could get drunk.

A/N: Brought to you by 1AM brain.
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Okay, now I want to see the reactions of the various female companions. For instance:
Danaerys: Ewwww!!! I did not need that mental imagery of my brother! Vee, can you please give me some Memory Moss? I need to unsee this.
Rhaella: Make that two Memory Mosses, please.
Azema: *Smiles, and rubs hands together*
 
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Yeah, but seeing Viserys like that would be something that Danaerys wouldn't really be able to unsee (at least not without modifying her own memory).
Also, I do believe that I have mentioned pin-up art before.
 
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Interlude MXCI: On the Future's Wings
  • Threadmarks
    • On the Future's Wings ​

    Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

    The wind was cool upon Sansa's cheeks, scented with brine and beneath that with strange spice of lands far off, with alchemical concoctions and the lingering perfumes which she could not begin to place. There were some like rosewood, some like mirth and incense, and others that had no names in any of the tongues of men.

    There the hooded figure of a woman draped in a cloak like autumn rippling from faded green, to brilliant gold to red as bright as blood, spoke with a squat smith with his beard and hair aflame. There a chorus of sprites sang accompaniment to a young singer with a voice like an angel as he touted the 'Barrel of Endless Wine'. By all seeming he was actually being truthful since rich red wine flowed from the copper spout into the fountain next to him from where the celebrants scooped it up into cups, laughing, jesting and toasting to the good fortune of the Imperator and his soon-to-be bride.

    There were sea horses in the harbor parading in patterns like flocks of birds in the foam and astride them strange knights with helms of shell and bone and breastplates of choral that glittered like rainbows, but it was only when little Bran squealed and pointed above that Sansa realized they were actually being mirrored in the sky by winged horses, pegasi they were called.

    "You know those are from the North. There was a whole herd of them in the lands between Last Hearth and the Wall, and the Imperator went north to convince them to swear to his cause. They are as clever as a man," the she said, glad to spot something she did know about in the sea of strangeness all about the small party from Winterfell.

    They looked so very drab and somber here, under the wolf-head banners of House Stark. True the arms and armor of their guard were all polished Legion-steel, as the magicked stuff was called in the west, and mother was dressed in fine saffron edged with Myrish lace, but compared to the riot of color and magic all about them they might as well have been visitors from some impoverished frontier, not the family of one of the greatest dukes of the realm.

    We have a duty to our bannermen and to our smallfolk before our own pride, father had said when Sansa had asked about that, though mother had not looked too pleased fearing it. She had been in a bad mood since this morning since they got on the Pegasus Transport, which was the name of the flying ship and not as Sansa had feared a way of saying they would have to learn to ride a flying horse.

    "How do you know that, about the horses I mean?" mother asked, giving her an odd look.

    "Jon wrote to me about them in his last letter," Sansa replied cautiously. What she did not mention was that her previous worry that she might need to ride a winged-horse was related to the same letter. Mother would not take that kind of teasing well, but for her part she was just glad Jon could joke around again. It had been hard the last few months, getting used to Robb just not being there, like there was a big Robb-shaped hole in the tapestry of life at Winterfell and everyone was trying to pretend not to see it most of the time.

    Part of her almost wished she had been able to stay at Runestone, but that would not have been fair to mother and father, and if there was one thing Sansa Stark was it was a dutiful daughter.

    "What letter was this?" mother asked, a little sharply. "Luwin did not say anything about this to me."

    Sansa's reply was drowned out by the sound of what looked like a giant jade gong that rang not in one note, but a thousand uncanny harmonies that climbed over each other until they filled the mind. It made the snow-white snake-man draped in crimson veils dancing next to it look almost ordinary. Or was that a snake-woman? How would you even be able to tell?

    "What was that?" mother pressed.

    "I said the Princess just pops in and hands them to me," Sansa replied. And hadn't that been a shock to walk into the first time, but she had been kind and funny, at once like everything she had imagined a princess must be and nothing like it. 'Just a humble messenger here, get your post fresh from the quill...'

    At that her lady mother opened her mouth as though to say something, glanced sideways at her lord father, shook her head and walked on into the ordered chaos of the capital.

    Sansa barely noticed and did not really care when her father said. "I'll be leaving you off at the townhouse. I have a meting with Duke Bolton in an hour."

    "I want to go see the tourney, mother please can we, can we?" Sansa started to wheedle.

    What next?

    [] One of the shows
    -[] Write in which

    [] One of the competitions
    -[] Write in which

    [] Write in

    OOC: Obviously there is quite a bit of politics being rolled for in the background, but I would rather not show all of it since you obviously do not know about every detail of what every duke does each day and that will play into Curia interactions later.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • DragonParadox said:
    On the Future's Wings ​

    Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

    The wind was cool upon Sansa's cheeks, scented with brine and beneath that with strange spices of lands far off, with alchemical concoctions and the lingering perfumes which she could not begin to place. There were some like rosewood, some like myrrh and incense, and others that had no names in any of the tongues of men.

    A hooded figure of a woman draped in a cloak like autumn rippling from faded green to brilliant gold to red as bright as blood, spoke with a squat smith with his beard and hair aflame. There a chorus of sprites sang accompaniment to a young singer with a voice like an angel as he touted the 'Barrel of Endless Wine'. By all seeming, he was actually being truthful since rich red wine flowed from the copper spout into the fountain next to him, so the celebrants could then scoop it up into cups, laughing, jesting, and toasting to the good fortune of the Imperator and his soon-to-be bride.

    There were sea horses in the harbor parading in patterns like flocks of birds in the foam, and astride them strange knights with helms of shell and bone and breastplates of choral that glittered like rainbows, but it was only when little Bran squealed and pointed above that Sansa realized they were actually being mirrored in the sky by winged horses, pegasi they were called.

    "You know those are from the North. There was a whole herd of them in the lands between Last Hearth and the Wall, and the Imperator went north to convince them to swear to his cause. They are as clever as a man," she said, glad to spot something she did know about in the sea of strangeness all about the small party from Winterfell.

    They looked so very drab and somber here, under the wolf-head banners of House Stark. True, the arms and armor of their guard were all polished Legion-steel, as the magicked stuff was called in the west, and mother was dressed in fine saffron edged with Myrish lace, but compared to the riot of color and magic all about them, they might as well have been visitors from some impoverished frontier, not the family of one of the greatest dukes of the realm.

    We have a duty to our bannermen and to our smallfolk before our own pride, father had said when Sansa had asked about that, though mother had not looked too pleased hearing it. She had been in a bad mood since this morning when they got on the Pegasus Transport, which was the name of the flying ship, and not as Sansa had feared, a way of saying they would have to learn to ride a flying horse.

    "How do you know that? About the horses, I mean," mother asked, giving her an odd look.

    "Jon wrote to me about them in his last letter," Sansa replied cautiously. What she did not mention was that her previous worry that she might need to ride a winged-horse was related to the same letter. Mother would not take that kind of teasing well, but for her part she was just glad Jon could joke around again. It had been hard the last few months, getting used to Robb just not being there, like there was a big Robb-shaped hole in the tapestry of life at Winterfell and everyone was trying to pretend not to see it most of the time.

    Part of her almost wished she had been able to stay at Runestone, but that would not have been fair to mother and father, and if there was one thing Sansa Stark was, it was a dutiful daughter.

    "What letter was this?" mother asked, a little sharply. "Luwin did not say anything about this to me."

    Sansa's reply was drowned out by the sound of what looked like a giant jade gong that rang not in one note, but a thousand uncanny harmonies that climbed over each other until they filled the mind. It made the snow-white snake-man draped in crimson veils dancing next to it look almost ordinary. Or was that a snake-woman? How would you even be able to tell?

    "What was that?" mother pressed.

    "I said the Princess just pops in and hands them to me," Sansa replied. And hadn't that been a shock to walk into the first time, but she had been kind and funny, at once like everything she had imagined a princess must be and nothing like it. 'Just a humble messenger here, get your post fresh from the quill...'

    At that her lady mother opened her mouth as though to say something, glanced sideways at her lord father, shook her head and walked on into the ordered chaos of the capital.

    Sansa barely noticed and did not really care when her father said, "I'll be leaving you at the townhouse. I have a meeting with Duke Bolton in an hour."

    "I want to go see the tourney, mother. Please can we, can we?" Sansa started to wheedle.

    What next?

    [] One of the shows
    -[] Write in which

    [] One of the competitions
    -[] Write in which

    [] Write in

    OOC: Obviously there is quite a bit of politics being rolled for in the background, but I would rather not show all of it since you obviously do not know about every detail of what every duke does each day and that will play into Curia interactions later.
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    Made a few additional edits to the chapter, DP.
     
    Still feel sad about Robb and really hope we can restore him intact later on. His death is a personal failing of ours after all.

    [X] One of the shows
    -[X] Popular Mirror Drama!

    Since always nice to see how our version of tv is develpoing.
     
    I've been looking into characterisation again. Apparently it's purely show canon that Ned Stark always dressed in drab grey/brown furs - in the books he's got these long conversations about male fashion and dressing up to give a good impression with other nobles. He doesn't quite dress like a KL courtier, but he definitely takes care of his appearance.
    I mean in this case IIRC they're all in mourning for their son/brother, but I am curious as to what they'll be wearing in future festivals.
     
    TalonofAnathrax said:
    I've been looking into characterisation again. Apparently it's purely show canon that Ned Stark always dressed in drab grey/brown furs - in the books he's got these long conversations about male fashion and dressing up to give a good impression with other nobles. He doesn't quite dress like a KL courtier, but he definitely takes care of his appearance.
    I mean in this case IIRC they're all in mourning for their son/brother, but I am curious as to what they'll be wearing in future festivals.
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    He does indeed dress snappy... for another age that is not high fantasy.
     
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