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

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BronzeTongue said:
It's in the leadership subdomain too, so couldn't he cast it as a 6th level cleric spell?

Not that that's much better, but I figured it was worth asking since it wasn't clear to me if the wards were keyed entirely to spell level or if it was modified by scale of effect.

Freeze and Cold Snap for example are both 6th level, but dropping the temperature by 50 degrees Fahrenheit in a 1 mile radius area intuitively seems like it'd be more obvious than encasing one guy in ice.

I'm not going to call it unfair or anything, it's honestly probably better to pin it to spell level to make rulings simple, but since the description effectively only said big spell it seemed reasonable to ask if fancy telepathy would be over the line.
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The wording is deliberately vague to leave room for DM decisions, as a 7th level self-buff would reasonably be harder to detect than weather control spells affecting miles of land.
 
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Winning Vote
Adhoc vote count started by DragonParadox on Jun 13, 2021 at 2:11 PM, finished with 25 posts and 10 votes.
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Part MMMDCCCXII: Blowing Smoke
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    • Blowing Smoke ​

    Eleventh Day of the Ninth Month 294 AC

    The brass casting of the great hollow piston rattles on stone. Inside it smells of leather and oil, sharp and pungent. Little beads of it slide down the scarred cheeks of the dervishes guarding you. They are afraid, though not of your magic, not of your power. You do not doubt they would be able to slay one such as you are presenting as in moments. No, they are afraid of what your presence here might mean. Had plans changed, had their commander fallen out of the favor of the court and the Sultan chosen to show his displeasure by subtle smoke not sudden flame? One can practically read the questions in their eyes and by those questions they might be undone.

    You really cannot afford to be affable or polite. The mask you wear is not made for smiles. Not honest ones, at least, but rather sly and knowing looks and innuendo, the game of push and pull, the attempts to tease out the threads of power and influence that define life here. Yes, that is expected... and of course reciprocated.

    These are not the giants who keep the peace of the Bazaar, if peace it can be called. Fanatics they may be, these dervishes of ash and dust, but they are no man's fools, and they seek to discover your purpose and your manner. Carefully, patiently, you draw their commander aside, speaking in a soft voice and promising insight. Given a few hours you imagine he would be able to pick apart your hastily woven identity on their own.

    A few hours from now you plan to be back home in the company of your new treasures.

    Hes'izzit sherakat.... You do not speak the words of draconic, you instead think them, suppressing the magic of the warding talisman for but a moment. Not pausing for breath, not pausing in the stream of questions whose answers you do not care one whit for, you weave the second spell of enchantment subtle and snaring.

    Garin stumbles forward as though he had lost his balance from the unfamiliar sensation of the floor moving with him as the piston lurches into motion. An adamant blade no longer than a single finger snaps in his hand without flash, the talisman falls with a clink.

    "Ah, apologies for the carelessness of my servant. I shall have him whipped with a scourge of salt..." you proclaim grandly. At this point, if your victim was not thoroughly snared this would ring as hollow as their hearts.

    But he is and so he accepts the words with a gracious nod as you 'recover' the talisman from the floor. and hand it to him. In truth it is a replica forged in the deep after the specifications given by previous scouting. Keeping the magic suppressed for any meaningful length of time would have drained even your magic all too soon.

    "You there, Scarred One, why do you bend your shoulders as though for battle?" Another of the dervishes asks, his eyes on Ser Richard and that is when you realize your mistake. For all the times Ser Richard had hidden in plain sight, you had never left him knowing something risky was going to happen while an enemy's eye was on him. You can see the soldier's eyes slide in the direction the knight was looking... toward his commander, the same one you had drawn away from the group and who was now wearing a fake ward pendant which would only hold up to passing scrutiny .

    Fuck.

    Quick as you are able to, you send a blessing of foresight to the knight but the unexpected flash of sorcery seems more to befuddle than to help. "Maaybe it's your eyes and not my shoulders that seek battle where there is none!" he snaps.

    "Captain," the soldier says carefully, suspicions now more fully aroused. "I believe we should be more careful of these visitors until their credentials are verified. Many stalks endure when one alone is broken."

    The captain, now your 'friend', or at least what passes for one in such a place, flicks his wrist as though to banish the suspicion away like a buzzing gnat. "Do not quote the Creed at me, acolyte, and do not insult one who speaks with the voice of the Office of Sublime Works."

    The guard relents, but his gaze is yet heavy with suspicion.

    What do you do?

    [] Try to keep the suspicious guard close at hand while you question his superior and then dispose of both before starting the infiltration in earnest

    [] Let the suspicious guard leave and continue to question the charmed commander in private, the guard has nothing solid to base his suspicions on yet

    [] Write in

    OOC: Not as smooth as it could have gone, but given what you have to work with it could have been much worse. Not yet edited.
     
    Last edited:
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    • DragonParadox said:
    Blowing Smoke ​

    Eleventh Day of the Ninth Month 294 AC

    The brass casting of the great hollow piston rattles on stone. Inside it smells of leather and oil, sharp and pungent. Little beads of it slide down the scarred cheeks of the dervishes guarding you. They are afraid, though not of your magic, not of your power. You do not doubt they would be able to slay one such as you are presenting as in moments. No, they are afraid of what your presence here might mean. Had plans changed, had their commander fallen out of the favor of the court and the Sultan chosen to show his displeasure by subtle smoke not sudden flame? One can practically read the questions in their eyes and by those questions they might be undone.

    You really cannot afford to be affable or polite. The mask you wear is not made for smiles. Not honest ones, at least, but rather sly and knowing looks and innuendo, the game of push and pull, the attempts to tease out the threads of power and influence that define life here. Yes, that is expected... and of course reciprocated.

    These are not the giants who keep the peace of the Bazaar, if peace it can be called. Fanatics they may be, these dervishes of ash and dust, but they are no man's fools, and they seek to discover your purpose and your manner. Carefully, patiently, you draw their commander aside, speaking in a soft voice and promising insight. Given a few hours you imagine he would be able to pick apart your hastily woven identity on their own.

    A few hours from now you plan to be back home in the company of your new treasures.

    Hes'izzit sherakat.... You do not speak the words of draconic, you instead think them, suppressing the magic of the warding talisman for but a moment. Not pausing for breath, not pausing in the stream of questions whose answers you do not care one whit for, you weave the second spell of enchantment subtle and snaring.

    Garin stumbles forward as though he had lost his balance from the unfamiliar sensation of the floor moving with him as the piston lurches into motion. An adamant blade no longer than a single finger snaps in his hand without flash, the talisman falls with a clink.

    "Ah, apologies for the carelessness of my servant. I shall have him whipped with a scourge of salt..." you proclaim grandly. At this point, if your victim was not thoroughly snared this would ring as hollow as their hearts.

    But he is and so he accepts the words with a gracious nod as you 'recover' the talisman from the floor. and hand it to him. In truth it is a replica forged in the deep after the specifications given by previous scouting. Keeping the magic suppressed for any meaningful length of time would have drained even your magic all too soon.

    "You there, Scarred One, why do you bend your shoulders as though for battle?" Another of the dervishes asks, his eyes on Ser Richard and that is when you realize your mistake. For all the times Ser Richard had hidden in plain sight, you had never left him knowing something risky was going to happen while an enemy's eye was on him. You can see the soldier's eyes slide in the direction the knight was looking... toward his commander, the same one you had drawn away from the group and who was now wearing a fake ward pendant which would only hold up to passing scrutiny .

    Fuck.

    Quick as you are able to, you send a blessing of foresight to the knight but the unexpected flash of sorcery seems more to befuddle than to help. "Maaybe it's your eyes and not my shoulders that seek battle where there is none!" he snaps.

    "Captain," the soldier says carefully, suspicions now more fully aroused. "I believe we should be more careful of these visitors until their credentials are verified. Many stalks endure when one alone is broken."

    The captain, now your 'friend', or at least what passes for one in such a place, flicks his wrist as though to banish the suspicion away like a buzzing gnat. "Do not quote the Creed at me, acolyte, and do not insult one who speaks with the voice of the Office of Sublime Works."

    The guard relents, but his gaze is yet heavy with suspicion.

    What do you do?

    [] Try to keep the suspicious guard close at hand while you question his superior and then dispose of both before starting the infiltration in earnest

    [] Let the suspicious guard leave and continue to question the charmed commander in private, the guard has nothing solid to base his suspicions on yet

    [] Write in

    OOC: Not as smooth as it could have gone, but given what you have to work with it could have been much worse. Not yet edited.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Here's an edited version of the chapter, DP.
     
    The suspicious guard is too likely to bring his concerns to someone else if allowed to leave now. Better to keep him close at hand for ease of killing, if necessary.

    [X] Try to keep the suspicious guard close at hand while you question his superior and then dispose of both before starting the infiltration in earnest
     
    Let us award his fervent devotion with permanent retirement!

    [X] Try to keep the suspicious guard close at hand while you question his superior and then dispose of both before starting the infiltration in earnest
     
    Hmm... no a lot of votes. I think in the interest of more participation we should have a minimum number of votes before an update. Nothing too high, let's say 12 so that people have more of an incentive to participate and vote.
     
    [X] Try to keep the suspicious guard close at hand while you question his superior and then dispose of both before starting the infiltration in earnest
     
    Eh... close enough. I really want to update. That said to quote the tag 'discussion makes the GM happy'
    Adhoc vote count started by DragonParadox on Jun 14, 2021 at 9:53 AM, finished with 15 posts and 9 votes.
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    Part MMMDCCCXIII: Of Answers Half-Spoken
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    • Of Answers Half-Spoken ​

    Eleventh Day of the Ninth Month 294 AC

    The tea is getting cold, steam no longer rising from the fine porcelain cup to swirl in eddies among the pillars of the room carved with abstract designs at once arcane and pleasing to the eye, and the words are getting more dangerous. As one who is drunk on magic, your new friend begins to suffer slips of the tongue, about the new patrol schedules, about the reasons why everyone is on edge and why they insist on crossing every t and dotting every i. Of course, they have no reason to mistrust one as obviously loyal to the Heir of Iblis as you, but the shipment... the shipment had just arrived not three bells past and no one wanted to be seen as endangering it.

    The janni-kin does not say which shipment it is. In his magic-addled state he must think that this is secrecy enough, he does not have to say more. Turning the conversation to what patrols and traps are around is not easy since whatever they are they are obviously not inconveniencing the garrison much, more's the pity. Thus you find yourself in the unenviable position of having to stoke suspicion about others in the chain of command with innuendo and implications since you barely know a handful of names of the officers and cannot even be sure which of them are serving here and which are back at court at any one moment.

    Garin tosses you a worried look from where he is standing beside the ever more uneasy sharp-eyed soldier, far enough away that he and only he can hear what you are saying

    "Trying to stoke suspicion while you are by far the most suspicious person around is poor tradecraft," he sends.

    "I know, it's not like I have a lot of options," you all but snap back. It has been too long since you have been limited like this, too long since you could not fall back on your power quite so readily. Still, you at least have some sense of where the vault might be found from reading your victim's surface thoughts as you turn his mind towards the matter.

    Route to Vault Found

    "The Brothers of the Iron Guard would put paid any treachery..." the words have the weight of cold finality to them, almost of fear, which you did not think the warriors of the Great Sultan could even feel, certainly not with regards to their own allies.

    "I have seen no giants here," you note, an edge of curiosity to your words, inviting further confidences. "They must be quite the pair..." It is too late that you realized he had not given the number and you had simply plunked it from the shadows in his mind.

    Thankfully, he does not catch the slip of the tongue. "Indeed they are. Through their might shall the cowardly traitors that slither on the out-islands be brought to heel. I would much rather see them all executed by excruciation, of course, but seeing their lords broken in battle will help to convince the fools that they must submit again to the three-tailed lash."

    Your eyes slip to his belt where the aforementioned symbol of authority rests, a mere copy of the one borne by the captain of the Sultan's Guard... but the implications. Does this man expect to command some portion of the captured islands?

    "We are in position to blow the secondary alchemical magazines,"     you hear Lya's voice in your mind, suddenly. "We were lucky enough to get one of their own mages enthralled for it, a Brass Shaper who we used to open the way in here. So we can make it look like an inside job, at least at first glance. She will be missed soon, however, so we can't hold off on it long. What do we do?"

    [] Set off the distraction and try to make it to the vault in time

    [] Tell them to wait, you do not know about the traps on the way, even with Garin's help they might fatally slow you

    OOC: I hope the way I presented this works. I did not want to describe the way to the vault twice, once now and once when you actually cross it.
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • DragonParadox said:
    Of Answers Half-Spoken ​

    Eleventh Day of the Ninth Month 294 AC

    The tea is getting cold, steam no longer rises from the fine porcelain cup to swirl in eddies among the pillars of the room carved with abstract designs at once arcane and pleasing to the eye, and the words are getting more dangerous. As one who is drunk on magic, your new friend begins to suffer slips of the tongue, about the new patrol schedules, about the reasons why everyone is on edge and why they insist on crossing every t and dotting every i. Of course, they have no reason to mistrust one as obviously loyal to the Heir of Iblis as you, but the shipment... the shipment had just arrived not three bells past and no one wanted to be seen as endangering it.

    The janni-kin does not say which shipment it is. In his magic-addled state he must think that this is secrecy enough, he does not have to say more. Turning the conversation to what patrols and traps are around is not easy since whatever they are they are obviously not inconveniencing the garrison much, more's the pity. Thus you find yourself in the unenviable position of having to stoke suspicion about others in the chain of command with innuendo and implications since you barely know a handful of names of the officers and cannot even be sure which of them are serving here and which are back at court at any one moment.

    Garin tosses you a worried look from where he is standing beside the ever more uneasy sharp-eyed soldier, far enough away that he and only he can hear what you are saying

    "Trying to stoke suspicion while you are by far the most suspicious person around is poor tradecraft," he sends.

    "I know, it's not like I have a lot of options," you all but snap back. It has been too long since you have been limited like this, too long since you could not fall back on your power quite so readily. Still, you at least have some sense of where the vault might be found from reading your victim's surface thoughts as you turn his mind towards the matter.

    Route to Vault Found

    "The Brothers of the Iron Guard would put paid any treachery..." the words have the weight of cold finality to them, almost of fear, which you did not think the warriors of the Great Sultan could even feel, certainly not with regards to their own allies.

    "I have seen no giants here," you note, an edge of curiosity to your words, inviting further confidences. "They must be quite the pair..." It is too late that you realized he had not given the number and you had simply plunked it from the shadows in his mind.

    Thankfully, he does not catch the slip of the tongue. "Indeed they are. Through their might shall the cowardly traitors that slither on the out-islands be brought to heel. I would much rather see them all executed by excruciation, of course, but seeing their lords broken in battle will help to move the fools that they must submit again to the three-tailed lash."

    Your eyes slip to his belt where the aforementioned symbol of authority rests, a mere copy of the one borne by the captain of the Sultan's Guard... but the implications. Does this man expect to command some portion of the captured islands?

    "We are in position to blow the secondary alchemical magazines,"     you hear Lya's voice in your mind, suddenly. "We were lucky enough to get one of their own mages enthralled for it, a Brass Shaper who we used to open the way in here. So we can make it look like an inside job, at least at first glance. She will be missed soon, however, so we can't hold off on it long. What do we do?"

    [] Set off the distraction and try to make it to the vault in time

    [] Tell them to wait, you do not know about the traps on the way, even with Garin's help they might fatally slow you

    OOC: I hope the way I presented this works. I did not want to describe the way to the vault twice, once now and once when you actually cross it. Not yet edited.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Here's an edited version of the chapter, DP.
     
    I'm not sure how much longer we can hold this ruse. The longer we go, the more moving parts we add, the more likely we are to be discovered, especially now that a Brass Shaper has been subverted. I think the time for action is here.

    [X] Set off the distraction and try to make it to the vault in time
     
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