Eh, we could just use our new staff to 'port to the weirwood back home for the CotF and mommy dearest and then 'port to the weirwood next to castle black (the initiation one) to talk to Aemon.
 
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Eh, we could use our new staff to 'port to the weirwood back home for the CotF and then 'port to the weirwood next to castle black (the initiation one) to talk to Aemon.

That's dangerous. Bloodraven has told us that it exposes those transported to the minds of the Old Gods, many of whom are Righteously Pissed Off. We'll need to make at least one significant sacrifice to the OG specifically to appease them so as to lessen the danger of using the staff before I'll support using the Tree Stride feature unless it is a terrible emergency.
Adhoc vote count started by Goldfish on Jan 21, 2018 at 6:05 AM, finished with 141867 posts and 8 votes.

  • [X] "It would be sad to see yours pass from this world and fully into the realm of tales and myth. We all would be poorer for it. My realm shall greet you with open arms and my aid I pledge should you find a way to turn back the coming twilight of your people."
 
You know who else was stupid enough to keep highly volatile substances in their massive war construct?
The Empire. How did their Death Stars turn out, again?
We'd keep it in an antimagic field. Once released, it'll leave the fields radius, becomes magical again and ...
And if we have borders on board that can demolish the am-field protected wall of force wyldfire tanks, that's not a problem, because than they don't have to do that to handle us.
 
No huggle?
ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ ༽ノ RIOT ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ノ
 
Part MDCXLIII: Song of Life
Song of Life

Nineteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 292 AC

You offer a bow to the Singers, in return for their acceptance of your 'proposal', strange though it may have been. "A sad day it would be when man's first teachers would pass out of the world, leaving it a poorer place. My realm, small or large, shall ever be open to your kin, and aid I pledge in helping to turn back the twilight of your race."

There is no surprise in the near-score pairs of glowing golden eyes, though you can read there trepidation, excitement, and of course, hope. Seven-and-ten of the Children of the Forest join you as you enter the presence of the Last Greenseer one final time, and without a single word they set themselves in a wide circle around you, waiting.

With trembling fingers you draw the bone you took from your mother's grave in Dragonstone and place upon the ground before stepping back. You feel Dany's small hand slipping into yours, then a squeeze of encouragement.

"Lord Bloodraven," you speak at last, glad that your voice does not shake. "Know that if this does not go as I hope I shall not blame you for it. I know that the magics of life can only return the willing. If my mother is satisfied to be wherever her spirits rest then I will be glad for her." The words are perhaps the hardest you have ever spoken, yet speak them you must, for your sake as much as his.

"Wisely spoken, young king," the ancient greenseer replies. "Know that I too hope for your sake that such bitter wisdom is not needed."

For a moment there is silence unbroken by even a single breath. Then softly a song begins to echo through the chamber, in voices pure as a mountain stream, at times deep as the bones of the earth, and at others high an piercing as an eagle's call. At first you think the Children sing, yet they are silent still... and so you understand. It is indeed the singers you hear, but not those who yet walk in flesh, but those who have passed into the trees and the earth, they who dream the Greendream.

Then the ground ripples where you had left the bone like water in a gentle wind, and slowly black earth begins to cover it. You do not know how long the song lasts then... heartbeats, minutes, hours, the words lose all meaning.

A mound of earth rises up before you and then so gradually it seems more like the work of ages than that of a a sculptor's hand it becomes the silhouette of a woman and then a woman in truth, her hair of silver, her dress of simple black silk and her face as familiar as a thousand dreams.

The song trails off into echoes once more, a question and a promise both as silence falls again... to be broken by a single startled breath as the woman... your mother, at last you can think it, opens her eyes and awakes from eight years of death into a world stranger than she could ever imagine.

What do you do?

[] Write in

OOC: The next part will be an interlude I've been waiting to write for quite some time.
 
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... I honestly don't know what to say.

Speech-time? But would one trust a devil to form the words you would say to your mother?

Ah, whatever.

[X] Azel
 
[X] Hug her dammit with Daenerys. Answer questions nicely if asked. Try not to appear as if you are a demon from hell where quite frankly she might have come from. single tear and all that jazz to go along with it. Use that diplomacy we have worked so hard on to calm and soothe her.

I mean if its a scale that determines whether someone goes to the upper or lower planes or middle planes i would call them then chances a lot of even decent people would go to hell. :p
 
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