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

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Midturn Actions: Choose 2.

-[X] "What do you mean 'you didn't even classify for the world cup'?! Who cares about the world cup!?!? We beat both your asses in the Copa America! Twice!" *Stands up in a rage*.

-[X] "Guys? Is this amount of turbulence normal?" *Glances at the steadily approaching Atlantic Ocean from the plane's window*.
 
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Red shirt but in a medieval setting so 'red tunic' :p

@Azel we should take as much furniture / woodworkings from the palace / Tyrosh in general (buy up furniture?) and sell it in OP.

Then we just fabricate new mwk dragon themed woodworkings.

Also how about reworking the palace into a menacing tower of dragonstone, just need a sorceror-governor then. :V
 
By the way, just in case people haven't noticed... take a look at Viserys' titles. ;)

Lord of Fire and Air will join the list soon enough when more people realize we're a True Red.
 
I see we just love giving everyone uniforms. :p Considering the nature of most of the inquisition's work, I'm not sure about uniforms, tbh. Either they're low level information gatherers, in which case we don't want to draw attention to them, or they're PC troubleshooters who probably should have some leeway in what they wear.

I'd focus on figuring out the inquisition's symbol, since Braavos already stole a cool looking eye.
 
I was enormously busy today but that should be done now. Catching up to the thread now.
Adhoc vote count started by AntaeusTheGiant on May 9, 2018 at 7:47 AM, finished with 187688 posts and 16 votes.
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Diomedon said:
I see we just love giving everyone uniforms. :p Considering the nature of most of the inquisition's work, I'm not sure about uniforms, tbh. Either they're low level information gatherers, in which case we don't want to draw attention to them, or they're PC troubleshooters who probably should have some leeway in what they wear.

I'd focus on figuring out the inquisition's symbol, since Braavos already stole a cool looking eye.
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We gace them that awesome eye, no? That counts as ours then. Arguably. That's all we need ;).
 
BeepSmile said:
We gace them that awesome eye, no? That counts as ours then. Arguably. That's all we need ;).
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Ah, we know that, but do most people know that? It'll look just like we're copying them because most people wont know the details, they'll just know the Braavosi Silver Eye was first.
 
Diomedon said:
I see we just love giving everyone uniforms. :p Considering the nature of most of the inquisition's work, I'm not sure about uniforms, tbh. Either they're low level information gatherers, in which case we don't want to draw attention to them, or they're PC troubleshooters who probably should have some leeway in what they wear.

I'd focus on figuring out the inquisition's symbol, since Braavos already stole a cool looking eye.
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They need dress uniforms for official function and I definitely want to give them regular uniforms for official work too.

The clerks should wear them when on duty, while the Investigators and full Inquisitors can decide themself if they want to do so.


For the uniform: black with red accents.
Fir the symbol: A vook in front of a sword. Knowledge and fighting, as it is their duty.
 
Seeing as they are Inquisitors is there any other choice but stylish hooded robes? Maybe a full face mask to protect their identity while they attend to public events like our court.
Also what happened to The Seeker? Are we just leaving it in storage or what?
 
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Interlude CCXLIII: Legacy of Fire
  • Threadmarks
    • Legacy of Fire​

    Twenty-Seventh Day of the Second Month 293 AC

    Valaena Velaryon stood in the halls of the lord of Tyrosh, and she supposed now King of the Stepstones as much as he was the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, her heart in her throat. She had wished for a dragon since she was too young to say the word properly, she had wished to fly since she could do barely more than toddle, and now it seems those dreams were at hand, to be decided upon the edge of a dagger.

    She should have seen this coming... Blood and Fire were the words of House Targaryen, the second she had conjured from the brightness within the weave of twisting fate, the second she had spilled, but never like this.

    They walked quickly through the palace corridors, the carved faces in the stonework of man and beast alike seeming to leer at her in subtle mockery as she passed. An heiress of Valyria she named herself, and yet the thought of slaying a prisoner bound before her filled her with disgust. Was she an executioner to lower herself to such acts...

    The thought trailed off, embarrassment heating her cheeks like the touch of flame, suddenly grateful that she had let her hair down to veil her face. She had seen her king offer men to the roots of the Godswood with his own hands, for their blessings. Did she think herself greater than a man posited to rule over the Seven Kingdoms and beyond?

    "It's not easy the first time..." she heard him say, as though he had guessed her thoughts, or at least part of them. Valaena did not know how to answer.

    "The first time I killed a man I could count perhaps one year less than you do now. I emptied my stomach in a Braavosi back-alley in the dark."

    "Who was it?" She was startled as she often was upon being reminded just how young her oathsworn lord was. His presence could fill a room like the heat from a roaring bonfire, as much a dragon in fearful power whatever shape he garbed himself in.

    "A thug and would be killer who threatened to kill both me and Dany a few days before," he replied readily, his gaze distant, not stopping though his eyes grew distant looking upon a scene far from here. For just that moment she could imagine him as a lost boy of three-and-ten struggling against some shadowy ill-defined killer.

    "It was quick, clean... it was not, however, remotely fair," he continued unflinchingly. "I got him drunk and stabbed him in the back."

    "Why?" Valaena asked in spite of herself, then cursed herself for it. The answer was obvious, after all.

    The king did not seem bothered by the question, however. "Because he was a threat, because he knew who we were when we needed to hide from our enemies... and because he deserved it. So it will be with you. The one who will be brought before you to feed the hatchling's thirst for lifeblood will undoubtedly deserve death, whether before a dragon egg or a weirwood sapling, but I would urge you never to forget the use you derive from the manner of that death. One can go down a dark road indeed if one forgets that fact..."

    "Like the Valyrians?" the young woman tried.

    "Perhaps in their beginning," came the grimly amused reply. "At the Freehold's bloody zenith they needed no such veils for their killings." He stopped at the threshold of the room in which the egg lay.

    Was she supposed to go in alone? Was it a test? she wondered anxiously before realizing the cause. It was technically a bed chamber, her bed chamber, even if all the sleeping she had done in it was collapsing into the sheets with her boots still on. "You can come in if you wish," she said, the rules of etiquette that had been drilled into her head since girlhood suddenly seeming distant, almost absurd. She was about to hatch a godsdamned dragon with blood magic. She had to struggle to keep in an inappropriate laugh.

    ***​

    The egg was hot in her hands... It had been warm since she had first laid her hands upon it in what seemed now like a lifetime ago, but now it seemed as though it should sear her flesh yet it did not. The blood rushed through her ears like the sound of drums as she set her precious burden upon the hard marble floor. Someone had taken down the carpets, the thought had a dark edge to it.

    The princess was standing solemnly to one side of the small octagonal chamber, a silent sentinel to the only door, once more wearing her true shape, though one needed only to look into the deep pools of her eyes to understand that her true power endured and she was no more a child than was Valaena herself.

    A knock upon that very door ushered in Ser Lonmouth and Lord Drekelis half carrying a prisoner between them, a woman of perhaps forty namedays, manacles upon her wrist and ankles. She seemed pale, sickly, mumbling constantly to herself, eyes fixed to the ground, hardly the image of the crazed death-seekers that had charged the ranks of the legionaries this night.

    For just a moment the young woman hesitated. What was she to do? Ask them to bring a more villainous-looking one? With that Valaena steeled herself and drew the 'spare' dagger she had acquired at Bronn's advice. 'If some bastard sneaks up to you in the middle of the night you won't have the chance to swing a chain at him' he had said, and it seemed to her wise counsel.

    The chain in question rattled with discontent at her belt, like a vicious hound straining at its leash, but she ignored it for there was precious little clean or swift death to be found upon hell-forged barbs.

    It was easy... too easy as the Stormlander knight bared the woman's throat with a quick twist of his armored gauntlet and Valaena pressed the dagger to her throat as hard as she could with strength of sorcery as much as sinew. Blood gushed out with a wet gurgle, some of it spilling out over her hands.

    Had it all been for naught? Then as the light guttered one last time behind the sacrifice's eyes... a resounding crack almost like metal tearing echoed through the chamber. A sinuous serpentine beast still covered in drying gore took to the air, wisps of black smoke trailing from its maw. Valaena opened her moth to speak, though for the life of her she did not know what she would say to convince the beast that she was worthy of being its rider... but there was no need. The thing landed upon her shoulder with a contented huff. For better or for worse she had already proven herself worthy.

    OOC: I know you guys would prefer a vote after the long absence, but this scene just felt so much more impact as an interlude.
     
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    • Seeing Viserys from someone else's perspective in informal setting, and discussing stuff so personal is really refreshing.
    Great chapter, DP.
     
    Ah she has her own little dragon. Brings a tear to the eye that does.

    Even better it didn't cost us a thing to hatch! Yes some cultist had to die for it, but we were going to kill her anyway and at least this way her wretched life was worth something.
     
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