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

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Poor Brienne, you'll get there eventually. I wouldn't be surprised if, by this point, people in the wider Imperium are beginning to doubt if the Seven are even real gods and not just a small cabal of mid-tier Outsiders who crowd funded a couple warlocks.
 
DragonParadox said:
Twelve of Three Hundred and Twelve, the golem's maker even sold gears supposedly from earlier failed prototypes together with steamed pumpkin to the good people of the Deep and beyond. The gears were all spare parts from the local warehouse, but the seeds at least were authentically steamed.
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The Bulbar truly are the best fey.
Arawndil said:
Poor Brienne, you'll get there eventually. I wouldn't be surprised if, by this point, people in the wider Imperium are beginning to doubt if the Seven are even real gods and not just a small cabal of mid-tier Outsiders who crowd funded a couple warlocks.
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The Smith and the Warrior might have crowd sourced it, but I'm starting to think the Father tried to fund his by manipulating the dogecoin market. :V
 
Huh, now that you mention it, I can totally see the Seven being ascended Outsiders. They could have banded together after the fall of Heaven, pooling their power for enough juice to start their own divine realm. Would fit well into the whole Seven Who Are One thing.

Might explain their limitation for each selecting a single Chosen as an aspect that got baked into their divinity when they were still too weak to power up more than one champion each. Now that they're each legit gods, they cannot overcome those early bits and pieces that got stuck to their godhood.
 
[X] Nuri vs the Old Juicer
Nevermind; the votes already closed.
 
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Interlude MXCVIII: A Perilous Dance
  • Threadmarks
    • A Perilous Dance ​

    Nineteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

    She was fire and leaping grace, she was light as the wind but bore blades dredged from the depths of the earth. At first one might mistake the looks the dancer drew from the crowd for base attractions of the flesh, but in truth it was more than that as the wind of an oncoming storm was more than a lover's breath, no matter how heated. The crowd loved her not because they imagined her in some other setting, not because they desired to possess her, but simply because she seemed to belong amid the sands of the arena as the tiger to his forests or the dragon to the sky.

    "Nuri! Nuri! Nuri!" Someone, perhaps an overzealous employee of the Ministry of Information, had tried to get the crowd to chant some honorific with her name, lady perhaps, or wisdom, it was hard to recall among the shouting and the cheers.

    The incarnate bowed with a flourish to the crowd, her long red hair like a banner waving in the wind of her own passage, then without missing a beat she turned on her heel and faced her opponent in all his hissing, steaming vegetative glory.

    "Oh fuck me, not another tin man." Through some trick of acoustics or perhaps a touch of sorcery the exasperated words carried perfectly even to the upper stands.

    "Ah, wouldn't I love to darling," Saladhor Saan's words on the other hand were rather lost of among the noise of the crowd, though anyone who knew the man would have been able to guess what he had said. The old rogue considered himself something of a connoisseur of women, and men for that matter, but he had never known one with quite so much fire in her blood. A real pity she would fry me like a roast pig as soon as look at me...

    A reputation could be something of a burdensome thing, and if there was one universal fact known about the Daughters of the Empress it was that they were uncomfortably particular about the company they kept. Why, these days Saan could have almost any woman he set his eyes on, High Lord of the Imperium that he was, master of his domain, answerable to none but the Imperator, which was likely why his eyes were so very focused on the women he could not have...

    On the other side of the stands a very different sort of man watched the same scene of the incarnate ducking and weaving around the construct's heavy blows as she wove ward upon shield and shield upon blessing of haste with rather different eyes. Ser Willas Tyrell was a man who in theory should have been seen as one of the most influential young noblemen in the Reach. True his family's fortunes had not come out as well as they might have from the recent upheavals, but the lands of the Mandervale were still rich and wide. He could claim blood relation to many other Dukes and influential Counts, but his father seemed bound and determined to piss it all away with clumsy attempts to call out the pride of an age already dead, even if they had not yet said its last rites.

    In another life, in another place, he might have wanted to court the young woman who was even now slowly tearing apart a eight foot tall mass of vines, pistons and strange fey magic, deftly jumping out of the way of jets of steam and blasts of thunder. But I might as well wish for the moon. Any sort of odd moves by House Tyrell would be seen in her very darkest of lights, and rightly so in some way. Margaery might be able to wed as her heart tells her in a decade or two if she is lucky, but as for me... I'll have to go looking for the most boring bride that will have me and take care to only have the most blandly supportive of opinions to counter-balance father so that the Imperator might overlook any embarrassing word choices on his part.

    Willas had considered doing more than that. He had considered being a voice for change, enthusiastic and invested in all the projects that came down from on high. In some ways it would have been easier, after all he agreed with much of the plans for education and local representation to far more than lukewarm levels. The only trouble was... well, he knew what the Inquisition was beyond the shinny silver façade and he was very much afraid...

    The neck of the golem hissed and crackled as the thing lashed out with vines at a illusory doubles of its foe. Three swift blows rammed into the fey forged mechanisms and it exploded with the force of a dozen thunderbolts, the stands shaking. For a moment it seemed as though it had taken its opponent with it. Then some of the smoke swirled and danced and in the center of it stood the dancer, bloodied but unbeaten among the detritus of his body. She kicked the head, miraculously mostly intact, into the hands of a boy sitting on one of the lowest rows, much to his delight.

    And that might be father's head if the Imperator thinks he would be much better served with me, Willas thought. And I would never even know for sure. A safe and boring wife it is for me, if any of them will still have me.

    OOC: This fight was not the most exciting, so I used it as background to a bit of politics. You guys to know all this IC BTW because of passive surveillance. Basically Willas is for your policies, but does not trust Viserys personally not to arrange an accident for Mace if he looks like too good a replacement.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • DragonParadox said:
    A Perilous Dance ​

    Nineteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

    She was fire and leaping grace, she was light as the wind, but bore blades dredged from the depths of the earth. At first one might mistake the looks the dancer drew from the crowd for base attractions of the flesh, but in truth it was more than that, as the wind of an oncoming storm was more than a lover's breath, no matter how heated. The crowd loved her not because they imagined her in some other setting, not because they desired to possess her, but simply because she seemed to belong amid the sands of the arena as the tiger to his forests or the dragon to the sky.

    "Nuri! Nuri! Nuri!" Someone, perhaps an overzealous employee of the Ministry of Information, had tried to get the crowd to chant some honorific with her name, lady, perhaps, or wisdom. It was hard to recall among the shouting and the cheers.

    The incarnate bowed with a flourish to the crowd, her long red hair like a banner waving in the wind of her own passage, then without missing a beat she turned on her heel and faced her opponent in all his hissing, steaming, vegetative glory.

    "Oh fuck me, not another tin man." Through some trick of acoustics or perhaps a touch of sorcery, the exasperated words carried perfectly even to the upper stands.

    "Ah, wouldn't I love to darling." Saladhor Saan's words on the other hand were rather lost in the noise of the crowd, though anyone who knew the man would have been able to guess what he had said. The old rogue considered himself something of a connoisseur of women, and men for that matter, but he had never known one with quite so much fire in her blood. A real pity she would fry me like a roast pig as soon as look at me...

    A reputation could be something of a burdensome thing, and if there was one universal fact known about the Daughters of the Empress, it was that they were uncomfortably particular about the company they kept. Why, these days Saan could have almost any woman he set his eyes on, High Lord of the Imperium that he was, master of his domain and answerable to none but the Imperator, which was likely why his eyes were so very focused on the women he could not have...

    On the other side of the stands, a very different sort of man watched the same scene of the incarnate ducking and weaving around the construct's heavy blows as she wove ward upon shield and blessing of haste with rather different eyes. Ser Willas Tyrell was a man who, in theory, should have been seen as one of the most influential young noblemen in the Reach. True, his family's fortunes had not come out as well as they might have from the recent upheavals, but the lands of the Mandervale were still rich and wide. He could claim blood relation to many other Dukes and influential Counts, but his father seemed bound and determined to piss it all away with clumsy attempts to call out the pride of an age already dead, even if they had not yet said its last rites.

    In another life, in another place, he might have wanted to court the young woman who was even now slowly tearing apart an eight foot tall mass of vines, pistons, and strange fey magic, deftly jumping out of the way of jets of steam and blasts of thunder. But I might as well wish for the moon. Any sort of odd moves by House Tyrell would be seen in the very darkest of lights, and rightly so in some ways. Maergery might be able to wed as her heart tells her in a decade or two, if she is lucky, but as for me... I'll have to go looking for the most boring bride that will have me and take care to only have the most blandly supportive of opinions to counter-balance father so that the Imperator might overlook any embarrassing word choices on his part.

    Willas had considered doing more than that. He had considered being a voice for change, enthusiastic and invested in all the projects that came down from on high. In some ways it would have been easier. After all, he agreed with much of the plans for education and local representation to far more than lukewarm levels. The only trouble was, well, he knew what the Inquisition was beyond the shiny silver facade and he was very much afraid...

    The neck of the golem hissed and crackled as the thing lashed out with vines at illusory doubles of its foe. Three swift blows rammed into the fey-forged mechanisms and it exploded with the force of a dozen thunderbolts, the stands shaking. For a moment it seemed as though it had taken its opponent with it. Then some of the smoke swirled and danced and in the center of it stood the dancer, bloodied but unbeaten among the detritus of her opponent's remains. She kicked the head, miraculously mostly intact, into the hands of a boy sitting on one of the lowest rows, much to his delight.

    And that might be father's head if the Imperator thinks he would be much better served with me, Willas thought. And I would never even know for sure. A safe and boring wife it is for me, if any of them will still have me.

    OOC: The fight was not the most exciting, so I used it as background to a bit of politics. You guys do know all this IC BTW because of passive surveillance. Basically, Willas is for your policies, but does not trust Viserys personally not to arrange an accident for Mace if he looks like too good a replacement. Not yet edited.
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    Here's an edited version of the chapter, DP.

    I hope Nuri becomes Mirror famous. That would be pretty cool.

    Poor Willas...don't handicap yourself for Mace's benefit!
     
    DragonParadox said:
    OOC: The fight was not the most exciting, so I used it as background to a bit of politics. You guys to know all this IC BTW because of passive surveillance. Basically Wylas it for your policies, but does not trust Viserys personally not to arrange an accident for Mace if he looks like too good a replacement. Not yet edited.
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    He's smart enough to know we're tempted.
     
    DragonParadox said:
    Basically Wylas it for your policies, but does not trust Viserys personally not to arrange an accident for Mace if he looks like too good a replacement. Not yet edited.
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    "Can someone not rid me of this turbulent [Duke]?"

    To be honest, neither Viserys or Wilas may have a choice.

    There's an advantage to getting rid of Mace, it opens up the Mandervale for substantive politics again, and it is too valuable a province to waste away as a political landmine for an entire generation.
     
    Poor Willas, he shouldn't have to settle for a boring wife since he would make a fine duke of Highgarden when the time comes.

    He is friends with Oberyn, he should make use of that! Have him introduce all the most interesting women he knows who would be happy to settle down in the largest castle in the realm.
     
    Crake said:
    "Can someone not rid me of this turbulent [Duke]?"

    To be honest, neither Viserys or Wilas may have a choice.

    There's an advantage to getting rid of Mace, it opens up the Mandervale for substantive politics again, and it is too valuable a province to waste away as a political landmine for an entire generation.
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    Well yeah, but the trouble is feudalism is hereditary. There really aren't a lot of safe ways to get rid of him that leave him alive.
     
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