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

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Evaunit02mark1 said:
2. That I don't know. You'd think our ritual to transform them would change the parameters of their summoning. No so much change the hardware as putting them on a usb drive and porting them over to another server. Summoning should still be possible, but it should at least be more difficult than finding their names and chanting for five minutes.
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This just made me wonder. Is there anything out there with "Summon human I" on their spell list?
 
Crake said:
I see Uncle Brynden is watching everywhere as always.

"It's not your time to die yet, Benjicot Brown. There's work to do."
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That's a great line, and I seriously considered having him play a larger role. Ultimately I thought that a better implication of just how powerful and frightening Brynden Bloodraven is would be showing just what he can do with one bird.
Alucard Bellsing said:
Frankly I found the moment where he gets back up very powerful, ful of hope and despair, I liked it.
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Really? Thank you! I always feel like whenever I try and put emotional parts into stories like this it ends up as trite or cringeworthy. It's nice to hear that it was good!
 
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@LonelyWolf999

No, you were entirely on point with your omake, dude. Good show.

I don't so much worry about my emotional scenes being trite or cringe-worthy, so much as lacking enough impact.

I'm always glad to hear when people are touched by them, too.
 
@Crake There is some stuff on the crafting schedule for Beryl this turn. If you want to look and update her sheet, it's there spread across various crafters on the spreadsheet.
 
LonelyWolf999 said:
The Lads, Part One​
292 AC

Benjicot Brown had been born into gentile poverty, a descendant of a branch of house Hawicks who had attempted to strike it off on their own and failed miserably. He never met any of his distant, landed relatives, and from an early age understood that his only chance at a real future was as a hedge knight. He almost certainly would have faded away, wandering from one minor tourney to another, his already thin reserves of coin wasting away until he was driven to mercenary work or simple banditry, not that there was any great distinction between the two, if luck hadn't smiled upon him: war broke out.

The Last Blackfyre rebellion was a bloody mess, and now that Benjicot had a fair amount of experience with the business he supposed all wars were, but for a fourteen year old desperately looking for a way to prove himself it was a blessing. He flung himself into battle with the vigor and foolishness of youth, and survived more due to luck than skill. He was there for the final grand act of the war, participating in the charge of Ser Barristan, although Benjicot found himself bogged down long before Barristan the Bold reached Maelys Blackfyre. Nonetheless, his bravery was witnessed and along with the few other survivors of the charge he was knighted. It was, he resolutely held, the greatest moment of his life. At that point the good King Jaehaerys' health was failing from stress and grief for his lost family, but he had managed to appear to honor the victors, and laid the sword on the newly dubbed Ser Benjicot the Brown, for he had been coated in mud by the time the Golden Company fled the field, to hear him say the oaths.

Benjicot was made a landed knight of the Goodbrook, a house true to their rightful king, and spent his years happily administering his small fief and participating in tourneys. He got married, and when his wife passed away after giving him two sons he refrained from taking another woman. It was a life far above any he ever thought he would achieve, and he never forgot who he got it from. Ryam and Carl were good boys, true to their king and their duty, and he was overjoyed when Lord Goodbrook's second son took Ryam on as a squire.

It couldn't last, of course. He fought in Robert's Rebellion at the side of his liege, but the Goodbrooks were defeated, their holdings sacked, and their lands stripped from them. Ser Benjicot was struck down by Tully forces razing the village he'd spent over a decade ruling, and spent the rest of the war recovering from his wounds in a cell, and when he was released it was all over.

His boys weren't so fortunate. Benjicot refrained from shedding tears when he had them buried next to their mother, it would have been an insult to their memory. They were good boys, they did their duty. He couldn't have been more proud of them. But he wept when he heard what had happened to Prince Rhaegar's children. By the Gods, they were just babes. When he learnt that for their crimes against nature itself the Lannisters would be receiving a royal marriage to the Usurper himself he flew into a rage, a deep, long, and violent one which left him feeling hollowed out, a sensation that never left him.

His small holdfast ended up being abandoned, with no village to protect or funds to maintain it. Benjicot made no effort to prevent it. He didn't blame Lord Goodbrook for bending the knee. After all, the man still had a family to protect, people to rule. But Ser Benjicot would never bow.

So he left. He was born to be a hedge knight, after all. For years he aimlessly wandered, skipping from one petty job to another. It wasn't long before Benjicot began to fray at the seams. He was old, and tired, and impotent hatred could only carry a man so far. Every morning it grew harder to force himself up, to ignore the ache in his bones and the cold burn from poorly healed injuries. His gear grew ragged, his heraldry tattered, his scars accumulated, and one day while traveling to Maidenpool his steed, Faithful, having grown as old and battered as he had, tripped and broke a leg.

Benjicot kneeled down and calmed the screaming horse, whispering comforting reassurances as he stroked his head. And when he stopped his thrashing and simply trembled in pain, Ser Benjicot pulled out his sword and in a swift, unhesitant stroke put Faithful out of his misery.

He then walked off the path, carefully rested his sword in the grass, and sat down with his back against a tree before closing his eyes.


…







Caw!

Benjicot blinked with surprise, glancing up. A crow was staring intently down at him, and he gave it a scowl before he determinedly shut his eyes. He …

What was he doing? Was this how he was going to meet the Stranger? An beaten man just giving up on the side of some road?

With a groan he began to struggle to his feet, his body fighting him every inch of the way. He could feel the grasp of death upon him, a fate he couldn't deny for much longer. He could imagine the eyes of his family watching, of the line of Kings he had sworn to serve, of Ser Arthur Dayne and Duncan the Tall and all the other knights he had dreamed of emulating, all of them watching and judging some broken hedge knight fail to stand up. He could hear the roar of flames and the screams of the smallfolk as he desperately tried to rally the guard … he could remember his boys. He was so proud of them.

Benjicot let out some combination of a roar and a sob as he managed to wrap his arm around a branch and get his feet under him.

For a long time to stayed like that, leaning against the tree with tears streaming down his cheeks. Eventually he picked up his pack and continued his journey without a mount, and was able to reach the walls of Maidenpool before the sun set. It was on that long, silent walk that Ser Benjicot understood what he had to do. What he needed.

It was in Maidenpool that Benjicot found it. It was being buzzed about all over the streets, the latest passion of the people: King Viserys Targaryen had reappeared and conquered the Stepstones.

And a great weight was lifted from Ser Benjicot Brown's shoulders, for he now had a king to die for.

OOC: This omake was inspired by me trying to explore the concept of what exactly a 'Targaryen Loyalist' was. There are the big houses with individual reasons for their allegiance, but I wanted to get a 'lower' perspective. What exactly drives the small guys, who have never met us, don't understand what we're striving for, or worship our gods, to raise our banner and be willing to die in our name. I don't think I quite succeeded in that, because Benjicot is absolutely screaming 'PC', but I hope you all enjoy the story I created anyway.

Oh, the title is a reference to the Riverlander lords who fought for the Blacks in the Dance of Dragons.
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10/10 I cried.

Really moving. It really was.
 
Goldfish said:
@Crake There is some stuff on the crafting schedule for Beryl this turn. If you want to look and update her sheet, it's there spread across various crafters on the spreadsheet.
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I'm still at work, waiting for my car pool. I'll be heading home soon though, so I'll add it then.

@Duesal, when I update and send the sheet to you, make sure DP gets it. It's probably confusing for him having to pick which one to copy and paste.
 
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Interlude CCCIV: Like Clockwork
  • Threadmarks
    • Like Clockwork ​

    Fourteenth Day of the Fifth Month 293 AC

    The hall of the Tinker's Guild had thick 'witch stone' walls, as the locals had come to call the fused stone shaped by the unassumingly industrious Pech, paired with roof that rose to a sharp crimson peak, and a heavy stone door tall enough for even a giant to pass through comfortably. Above that door the flowing line stood written in the tongues of east and west, of fallen Valyria, and even the tongue of dragons which only mages spoke: "From Seeming Chaos the Rhythms of the World are Revealed."

    Most first time visitors, particularly ones what had witnessed a Tinker Fey's enthusiasm firsthand elsewhere, would have been understandably hesitant to cross the threshold, but it was not so for the red-haired woman who strode in that sunny afternoon. From a certain point of few the incarnate who called herself Beryl had faced far more daunting thresholds. She, like her sisters, recalled all the memories of Lya called the Soul Smith and 'the Mage' even in this city of mages. However, Beryl could not deny that those memories were like sketches besides a proper canvas set with oils... or that the explosion she heard 'felt' much louder than any in her memories.


    Thus with one hand on the hilt of her new-made sword and the other free to ward herself did Beryl enter the guildhall, curious about the strange racket as much as she was wary. It almost sounded like whistling...

    The incarnate possessed in full her maker's seemingly inexhaustible curiosity, though in a manner not shared by any of her sisters. She was not as gentle as Mercy, playful as Diana, nor as focused as Aradia. It was with Kira that she shared the closest kinship, though she lacked the minstrel's easy charm.

    Beryl did not aspire to change people's mind, as was demonstrated quite well in her swift dismissal of the guild assistant whose task it was to greet visitors, or more likely, to keep the madness of the front hall from spilling over onto the streets. Rather, she was a maker... an artist in aspiration if not yet in practice, and though there were many things she might have turned her hand to there was no place in the Deep more likely to give birth to a fantastical contraption that of the Tinker's Guild.

    The mechanical whir of some sharp and ill-defined metal part flying just over her head like a bolt from a minotaur's crossbow reminded the incarnate that the wounds one was liable to get here were just as fantastical. Luckily I heal fast, she thought as she passed a monocled tinker shaking a pair of glass tubes filled with acid with alarming enthusiasm.

    "Where can I find the 'project new modes' movement?!" she called loudly so as to be heard over the din.

    "The wings don't..."

    "...you just have to add more spikes to the wheels is all..."

    "Where would you find a fish large enough for..."

    After a little while spent deciphering the well-meaning but often contradictory instructions Beryl headed upstairs, the sharp whistle she had heard from the street ever louder in her ears. Finally she reached a workshop bellowing a thick curtain of steam, and inside was a contraption she would have called odd anywhere else but which seemed remarkably simple for this particular guild hall.

    Two spouts set on a round copper vessel filled with steam from a fire below caused the sphere to turn steadily on its axis which was in turn connected to a series of gears. The principle was almost absurdly simple now that she had seen it in action.


    However, the small blue-shelled fey working on the project tsked and shook his head at the result: "The motion is still all wrong for oars... all wrong."

    Beryl recalled the devices on the back of the efreeti shield ships, like the screws one used to bring up water for irrigation but instead designed to push it away. "I think I might be able to help with that."

    "You can? Wonderful!" the little fey cheered.

    The incarnate found herself smiling almost in spite of herself at the enthusiasm. Tinker Fey had their charm, assuming you were able to stay uninjured long enough to properly appreciate them.

    OOC: I remember mentioning the Aeolipile in reply to a question in the thread but never in a proper update so here you go. Beryl introduction and update on steam all in one.
     
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    • Why did we build an engineer Arcanum again?
    Please tell me she's also a chemist or something, at least. Or an item crafter?
    Where are her stats?

    Edit: also, that engineer-lair looks damn awesome. DOOMWHEEL!!!
     
    TalonofAnathrax said:
    Why did we build an engineer Arcanum again?
    Please tell me she's also a chemist or something, at least. Or an item crafter?
    Where are her stats?

    Edit: also, that engineer-lair looks damn awesome. DOOMWHEEL!!!
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    From my understanding of her she's not an engineer so much as she is a Strategist.

    Her name is literally Beryl the Strategist.

    I guess she just felt like helping out since this has to do with war.
     
    Duesal said:
    From my understanding of her she's not an engineer so much as she is a Strategist.

    Her name is literally Beryl the Strategist.

    I guess she just felt like helping out since this has to do with war.
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    Knowing how defenses are constructed, how engines work, how to exploit both, etc.
     
    Even if magic once again fades from the world SCIENCE shall not.

    Run and hide you blue skin fucks, cause we've got steam and that's only the beginning!

    This is going to be so. much. fun~
     
    Duesal said:
    From my understanding of her she's not an engineer so much as she is a Strategist.

    Her name is literally Beryl the Strategist.

    I guess she just felt like helping out since this has to do with war.
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    And it is good that she is doing so. She has just the right mixture of knowledges to appreciate the more... volatile aspects of their work with steam.
    It is simply amazing how well our arcane and natural research can play of each other to create something memorable.


    Real-Life interruption is over. Time to employ the blackest of arts. Banking.
     
    So are our steam engines going to be completely magic free or are we going to make the effectively perpetual energy machines via continuous create water and heat metal?
     
    By the way, I need 200,000 pounds / 90.7 metric tons of the adamantine, leaving us with 29,321.5 pounds / 13.3 metric tons for other projects. That's a market value of 12 million IM and 1.76 million IM respectively.

    @Goldfish, @Duesal, @TotallyNotEvil, knock yourself out with that stuff.
     
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    Duesal said:
    From my understanding of her she's not an engineer so much as she is a Strategist.

    Her name is literally Beryl the Strategist.

    I guess she just felt like helping out since this has to do with war.
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    Okay, so she's a strategist. Why not. But why couldn't she also be a secondary crafter or something, to make her useful in peacetime? Because right now she's honestly pretty irrelevant. We already have a genius-level strategist, and that's a buffed out Companion.
    Still, her skills are good.
    But her feat and spell selections...
    @Crake, why the fuck is she wasting a feat on Expanded Arcana for Flashburst? That spell is terrible unless you can pump the DC like crazy, and she can't! At the very least you could give her a crafting feat like Craft Wondrous Items, and she could make a few items to sell every month. Or items of Protection from Arrows or Divine Insight or Air of Nobility could be fantastic for our PCs and key NPCs like Alinor or Hermetia!

    Honestly, if I'd noticed beforehand that we were crafting this then I would have been strongly against using Lya's CP for this! She's cute to have, but almost useless! She's cost Lya time and XP to be a budget Companion we can throw at minor problems!
    Ugh
    Still, I'm hoping to give her some crafting capacity at least.
     
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