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

[DragonParadox]

Scholars of the Depths ​

Eighth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

Once the last of the contracts have been signed you escort your newest retainers home, leaving them to the already experienced of what are already unofficially named 'Alinor's greeters', clerks whose task it is to swiftly and effectively teach the very basics of life not only in Sorcerer's Deep but in the world under the sun.

"... yes the sky is full of air, we are not sure if it goes on forever, no nothing too terrible falls out of it in the usual run of things, especially here where we have Zathir to look out for us..." one goes on to explain.

Unlike with most other visitors to Sorcerer's Deep the talk of warding serpent gods lays to rest more questions than it raises. The greeters know their business. "Do you think they aught to be folded into the diplomatic corps?" you ask your mother as the two of you prepare to return to Vialesk.

After pondering the question for a moment she shakes her head. "No, though this might make use of some of the same skills it is not really a herald's task, more oil for the gears of state."

***​

Ninth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

On the next day you head out to commission a truly prodigious number of enchantments, from circlets anointed with the blood of guardians loyal onto death that the furies might see through even the most skillful of treachery to pendants blessed by priests of the Merling King to guard against the unliving and meant for the men of the Night's Watch. Doubtlessly the clerks of the Imperial Administration would greet the spectacles that can read any tongue with just as much fervor given the recent expansion to the east. Still, it is acquiring the more potent enchantments that will require the deftest touch...

Spoiler: Commission

Enchanted Items:

• Level 8-9: Eight Rings of Mind Blank (22,000 IM each, 176,000 IM total)
• Level 6-7: Twenty-nine +1 Soulfire Mithril Bracers (5,000 IM each, 145,000 IM total), and three Circlets of Perceive Betrayal (26,400 IM each, 73,800 IM total)
• Level 0-5: One-hundred PfE Rings (800 IM each), one-hundred Healing Belts (150 IM each), one-hundred Wands of Cure Light Wounds (150 IM each), twenty items (spectacles or something) with a constant Detect Aberration effect (800 IM each), ten Gravewatch Pendants to be given to the Night's Watch (1,600 IM each), two-hundred Beads of Newt Prevention (200 IM each), two-hundred Muleback Cords (200 IM each), ten Inquisitor's Monocles (1,360 IM each), and twenty Spectacles of Understanding (600 IM each) - (113,400 IM total)

Costs: 508,200 IM

A great mage might ignore a bag heavy with coin, for the powers they wield can easily be turned to making more. By the same token mages who have mastered the Eighth or Ninth Circle might feel comfortable leaving the door firmly closed in a Dragon's face, or even that of two Dragons come to that, but both together have a way of opening many paths indeed. Some are reluctant, others confused by your heritage, and a couple seems so distracted by their studies that they would not notice if you were a Dragon or a talking donkey. Of those curious enough to do more than take their payment for a promissory note you mark three who seem genuinely interested in the possibilities of the Sphere of Balance, the Garden of old.

The first is Clo'Tiss, a Locathah sorcerer who replaced much of his scaly skin with rune-etched True Silver. His tower, for it is almost invariably a tower as high places seem to draw mages almost as much as they draw cats, is filled with all manner of clockwork contraptions wrought of bone, limestone and even cold delicate copper wires set in arcane traceries of his own design. Unusually for a mage involved in a great project he makes no attempt to veil his interests, crafting the most efficient constructs with the least amount if magic. "If only the Garden had remained as drained of magic as it was so recently, I would have been most eager to accompany you then," he comments.

"Had that sphere remained so drained of magic you could have never visited it, nor I for that matter," Relath says with utter seriousness that you nonetheless suspect of holding more than genuine annoyance.

"Quite so... quite so..." the mage shook his head. "In any case I would be interested in acquiring samples of magically nonreactive materials and any other means of lowering ambient magic without outright banishing them. If you could find such a place in your domain I would be inclined to take your generous offer."

To that you have no answer yet, and so you take your leave and move on with your visits.

The next mage to show more interest in you than the weight of your coin pouch is one of the rare full-blooded Marid in Vilaesk, a rather bombastic fellow by the name of Zamorto. He makes no attempt to hide his connections to several Free Companies and rumor has it that he is studying wide-scale battlefield magic, though despite being loud and inclined to gossip he does not seem to trust you quite enough to speak of his studies.

Lastly is a sorceress with a ribbon of glistering blue-grey scales ruining over her face and around the neck. One look into the bright sea-green eyes is enough to guess at the Brine Dragon blood, but as easily as you had guessed her heritage she does not offer her true name, but only the title Wavespinner. Her current project is not easily guessed, though she does seem uncommonly curious about Relath.

Which of the three do you attempt to cultivate going forward?

[] Clo'Tiss (INT based caster; max spell level 8)

[] Zamorto (Sorcerer Creature/Sorcerer, max spell level 8)

[] Wavespinner (CHA based caster; max spell level 9)

[] Write in

OOC: You guys rolled only middling to fair so no clear avenues for recruitment at first attempt, so the question is now who you want to focus on getting to know. @Abhishek M I'm sorry there's no alchemy yet, the enchanters took up the spotlight in this update. I'll cover hunting for alchemists tomorrow.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Brewing War ​

Ninth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

"Honored Wisdom, I will endeavor to keep my eye out for such a low-ambient zone of magic, though with all of the strange phenomenon I have witnessed effecting our Plane, to the sheer variance in these effects, you would likely have better luck chasing such leads in the Garden than waiting for rumors of uncommon deposits turning up where they are likely warded as they often are by hazards both mundane and not..." Thus do you go on to explain to Clo'Tiss the duality of conceptual riveting of fire effecting the wastes of the Lands of Long Summer, the Shadow that ever looms above Asshai, and how reality fades out the closer to the poles you near until it is less a matter of distance and more if one might advance or retreat across the twisting nether and ice.

Seeing that the mage's pale eyes gleam with interest you add: "I was of the understanding that the Elemental Planes were given to follow certain rhythms if not necessarily ordered, ever-shifting unless the scales were tilted by a power's finger pressing upon them. I also discovered some zones of wild magic in the Southlands—that is to say, near an equatorial range miles away from my realm, where the ruins of long lost civilizations are often marked by a variety of enchantments given over to the environment or vents of energies sprouting from the earth, air and water." The message is clear you hope, your home holds many wonders and opportunities to advance spellcraft that are less perilous than the Elemental Wilds, but not so easy a trek that even a mage of the Eighth or Ninth Circle aught to dare them alone.

"Fascinating..." the Locathah trails off. "I had always thought that the Garden would have been a more stable mingling of elements, though of course where the thinking mind is so too might one find sorcery to unbalance the scales to their advantage." A short bubbling laugh fills the air. "I shall have to look into this on my own that we might speak more in depth of this matter."

No more than you had expected. You nod in understanding. "There is one other matter I would speak to you then, there are some among my realm attempting to advance the field of arcane engineering using lore of the fallen kingdoms of Sarnor and that of lost Valyria whence my own ancestors sprang." You go on to explain Lya and Anu's projects, eliciting some interest, but Clo'Tiss is still focused on his own path of study in utilizing uncommon scarcity of magic to better tune constructs for mass deployment.

As the visit concluded, the Locathah mage is more than happy to give you not only directions but a recommendation to the Hall of Swirling Currents, Vialesk's Alchemist's Guild.

Within those half-flooded halls you find many eager young apprentices interested in journeying to far off lands for coin and steady employment. Given the scarcity of fire alchemy is a difficult and rare art to practice in the Boundless Sea. A realm where the transformative powers of fire may be called up with a moment's thought and lacking the ever-present threat of salt-water contamination is more than enough for many of those present to sign on for a journey into the unknown

Gained 28 Apprentice Alchemists (level 1); 10 Journeymen Alchemists (Level 3); 2 Master Alchemists (Level 5)

Lost 12,480 IM

***​

Tenth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

On your second visit to the Marid sorcerer, Zamorto, you lead the conversation toward those he had fought alongside. You speak of how you are planning to place several more Free Companies on retainer if possible to further your war in the Deep and carve out safe haven in the Narrow Sea for your vassals. You ward the room prior to the conversation to keep unwanted ears from listening in.

"These battles are likely to present many a varied foes to test his battle magics, and should some spell misfire in unexpected ways... well, no one would regret the deaths of creatures who would enslave and devour others with less thought than others might place upon plucking a treat from a artfully crafted plate," you finish by taking a tiny marinated sea sponge from the plate in front of you and eating it. Zamorto had warned you that this particular treat had shards of glass growing through its savory 'flesh', too small to be extracted, but a dragon's stomach, or even one half-way between man and dragon, would make short work of such things.

"But you are not yet at war with the foul ones, correct?" the mage asks thoughtfully. "You do not quite have the urgent manner of one hiring mercenaries for a campaign even now spilling blood in the water?"

"No," you admit. "Not yet, but if you have an interest in them I have my own battlefield magics to share. There was one used in ancient times by the gods of my home to sunder the lands and bring forth the surging waters of which one of my dear friends has recently come into the possession of a bound enchantment."

"Interesting, but I do not lack for inspiration," the sorcerer replies. "Let us speak again once your war against the Farspawn begins in earnest." Though the words are a dismissal, the tone is as courteous as ever and he proves most helpful in discovering which of the Free Companies are without contract and inclined to swim far from Vialesk.

Unfortunately, owing to the recent battles against the Deep Ones and the unsettled waters as former reluctant allies eye the spoils of victory and each other with suspicion, only two companies of any size make a good fit for recruitment. Serega's Shields, a company of heavy Triton cavalry that ride upon the backs of giant sea turtles, their own enormous living coral shields allowing them to brawl with even the most enraged of Sahuagin, while the second are called the Lightning Chasers, an odd name in a realm with no storms, at least until one discovers that this company of skirmishers shares a particular bond with giant eels whom they train to fight alongside them in battle.

***​

As one might expect from sellswords out of work the two captains agree to meet with you at an inn in the Upper City, the Maw, supposedly built around the petrified remains of a Kraken. One brush against the limestone wall of the common room is enough to confirm that the fearsome teeth around the entranceway have never bitten into anything beside a sculptor's chisel. Hopefully the two warriors you are to meet here are more genuine.

Magrios arrives first, a leather garbed Locathah looking out at the world through a bone helm which must have belonged to an enormous eel. The slithering black beast that coils around his waist and arm seems as unconcerned with that as with the fact that eels do not usually breathe air, and is instead content to snatch up morsel of food under the tolerant gaze of its master.

Spoiler: Magrios

By contrast Serega makes no effort to stand out, though the claw scars upon his cheeks and the many trophies ganging at his throat draw the eye of more discerning patrons nonetheless. His armor seems at first rough patchwork, until that is one looks deeper to see how every piece of bone and leather glows with an echo of the beast or foe it was torn from, granting the sellsword a measure of their vigor and perhaps other skills besides.

Spoiler: Serega

"So then, you are the Fire Wyrm that wishes to hire us to swim in far off waters to make war on the Foul Ones that have so recently been driven from so many of their forces," the Triton captain looks you fearlessly in the eye. "Tell me then, why should we chase a desperate beast in its flight and risk being mauled for it?" Trying to take your measure you suspect, perhaps trying to see how deep draconic pride runs within you. A bold way to go about it.

How do you reply?

[] Write in

OOC: Relath talking to the dragon-blooded mage will be addressed in the next update. There wasn't room here.

 

[DragonParadox]

Silence in the Screaming Caves ​

Fifteenth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

Mance had been ready for the girl's spell, as ready as one could be for being drawn through the grey emptiness between here and there, the bronze barrow blade in his hand ready to smash those old bones and end whatever wickedness roosted in them. Alas that he was not quick enough, no one could have been. As soon as the monster saw them all there in the tunnels he spoke a word that twisted through the air and slicked upon the stone. Shadows rushed to him and he was gone. Would that he had taken the rest of the nightmare with him.

"Jarl, Yrma..." He looked from the boy to the woman besides him, the Weeper's wife and his boy, he'd want blood for this. Fuck, Mance wanted blood for this. The former ranger had seen men frozen to death many a time, on the Wall and beyond it, but the look of fear and pain peering out from their frost covered faces marked harder deaths than that.

"Where'd the damned thing go?" he growled, looking back up to meet the knight's eyes.

"The spell was too quick, I didn't..." he began angrily, though obviously with himself, not with Mance.

"A lesser translocation, it went hundreds of yards, not hundreds of miles," the snake-man said, twin heads speaking eerily as one. "It's still in the caves."

The red-robed maegi meanwhile was fiddling with something in his robes, a thing of glass, gold, and diamond, like something you would find in a maester's study if the maester wanted to be robbed blind. "Our foe is warded against the Wayfinder's magic."

"But not mine," the bright-eyed sorceress who'd come from the south said as she motioned through the air, fingers trailing ghostly fire in patterns that teased the eye and the mind with meaning until finally bringing them close and whispering something onto them. Whatever she heard or saw was not to her liking for she cursed under her breath, Mance knew enough of the eastern tongue to guess as much. "Nothing more than 'the Screaming Caves'."

Just, Mance scoffed inwardly. Now here were folks too used to magic solving every problem. "We split up and look for it," he said firmly, not a command of course, but not soft enough to be called a request either.

"Perilous," one snake head hissed. "Patience would serve us well," the other added.

"More of the wild... er, Free Folk could die!" the boy knight said sounding horrified, for all the near-slip of the tongue. A better sort than Denys Mallister that was for certain.

"Vee, Amrelath, and I can all cast a simple location spell with more strength behind it than the Wayfinder," the sorceress said after a moment. "That's three groups, if all set out in different directions we'll have the greatest chance to finding Dhroka before he can kill again."

***​

Mance wasn't sure how he'd ended up with the red-robed one and the knight, even if Yara or the sorceress come to that would have probably made a better better view from the back. The thought put an extra spring in his step and a small smile on his lips. It was all very well for the likes of the Halfhand to fight for goals and noble ambitions. Mance would rather fight for the hope that he'd find his way into the furs with a lithesome lass tonight, Yara that was, not the sorceress. He'd caught something about her being the Dragon King's lover, and Mance had enough enemies without making more of those who rode dragons or were one.

"I sense him, come, we must make haste." The words cut through Mance's thoughts like a hot knife and after running and scrambling through tunnel after tunnel, deeper and deeper into the stone beneath the cliffs it was like that knife had been jammed into his lungs.

As they drew close the red-robbed wizard lay a glamour on them to hide them from their foe's sight, muttering something about the tunnels being too small that made no sense to Mance. After all, he was taller than either of the southerners.

So it was that they rounded a corner into a cave with sharp rocks hanging from above and growing from below like the fangs of some forgotten beast and there Dhroka was again, but this time he couldn't see them. Lightning crackled in the still air as the knight called some magic to his sword and charged the last handful of feet to the monster.

Just as the glamour failed and the bronze sword came down the shadows of the cave slithered like snakes around them and rose up to meet the blow, the lightning passed through them and into the stone.

Even as Mance charged, sword arcing to strike at the thing's back before it could turn, the stone rumbled and shifted behind them. A chill ran down his spine, fearing that the cave was about to come down on them, when out of the corner of his eyes he saw a huge red beast... a Dragon crammed painfully behind him, stones breaking as he moved. Had he been a lesser man, a lesser warrior, it would have stopped his swing or made him miss his mark, but he'd fought wights, skin-changers and mad fire priests too. The barrow blade arced true to slam into the dead man's spine. That much at least was like onto a living man. Mance smiled as he felt bone cracking under his blow.

The air tore and rippled like unseen knives passing through it as the ragged cloak tore even more, but the thing still turned its three hollow eyes, looking right at Mance: "Die screaming," the hollow voice said, and it was as though every bone in his body turned to fire and his blood started to boil. Looking past him it added, "Fools, They are coming, and you would make war upon me for the sake of those who will be naught but fodder for Their armies?"

Through eyes filled with tears of pain Mance watched the boy knight answer the monster by cutting off his left hand, sword alight with white flame. Good for him. One more swing, one more blow... this one to the ribs dealt the King-Beyond-the-Wall before again the Dragon's wide claws tore at the thing like a storm tears at an old tree.

Again the dead thing looked at Mance, this time with hate, and its clawed hands tore at the air to deal some dreadful curse. Then something truly strange happened, stranger perhaps than even seeing a man turn into a Dragon, the red in his cloak burned like embers against the night sky and a great wind gathered through the cavern to pick up the monster and shatter it against the stone, until it lay broken at their feet, still at last.

OOC: Well here we are, it would probably have been more fitting to have Yara here to see Drokha die, but I just could not justify the Companions assigning two unknown people whose defenses they knew nothing about to one search party. Also Amrelath just broke a wing to help with this fight, which he would not have even been in if it had not been for concern over random people he does not give a damn about. He is going to be in a rather foul mood for the next few days.

 

[DragonParadox]

Strangers' Spears ​

Ninth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

"The Deep Ones are as relentless as they are patient. Do you truly believe they have cast aside their desire to dominate the Endless Waters, to enslave all who live here to serve as fodder for their twisted experiments, food for their insatiable appetites or hosts for their next generation?" The question is not meant to be answered, for anyone who has ever looked upon the face of one of the Deep Masters knows the truth of it. Instead you answer the question after that, the next step in the dance of war and ruin. "They will retreat to their strongholds to lick their wounds and gather their forces for the next wave of expansion. By allowing them to operate unmolested in the Garden, you invite your own doom. Perhaps not next year, or even a decade from now, but they will come, and if it is not you who must face them again, it could very well be your descendants."

"You seem to have mistaken us for some lord's fancy swords," Magrios cuts in. "The squids haven't conquered Vialesk nor the waters it guards it for a Genie's age and more. They're the only ones who think they can take it, and that's just more easy coin for us."

"All the better, then," you answer with a smile. "I do not ask for charity, nor do I hoard my gold in some vast hall from which I am loath to spend. Coin well spent is more pleasing to the ear and so I pay well and on time always." You pause again, waiting to see if either of the two sellswords are inclined to doubt your word.

Serega watches you carefully, taking a deliberate bite of his brew-bread, the dark-crusted confection that is the preferred means of intoxication for those who do not have the luxury of taking their meals above water or with a sealed cup and reed straw. You cannot say if he ordered the thing out of simple habit or to make the point about eating as his soldiers do. Magrios certainly seems to enjoy the frothing seaweed bear when it's not sloshing out of his cup as he tries to keep it away from his eel at least.

"I can also provide quality arms and armor of nearly any make or material, including minor enchantments, at cost. Your forces will also never lack for healing or logistical support while in my service," you add one more promise to the scales.

"Alright, let's talk price," the triton finally says. "I've got six-thousand spears, all with heavy shell armor or better mounted on battle trained great turtles that'll bite a shark in half as soon as look at the thing. The Shields ain't the best skirmishers or scouts, but we make do better than swimmers. No magic to use in battle to speak of, but enough healers that that we can't just be bled to death. I've got a few monster killers like me who can take on behemoths with Pearlsteel and magic, but we ain't deploying a thousand leagues away from the rest of the company to go hunting Kraken."

"Three-thousand," Magrios grunts, giving the other captain a dark look as though he is afraid of having his thunder stolen. "Half with metal tridents like this one," he twists the weapon in hand for emphasis, much to the annoyance of his eel companion who had been coiled half around his upper arm and half around the weapon. "Eels are trained to give the spears some lightning on the charge and then go for the enemy's eyes before both retreat to try again, tides of battle willing. The other half use weighted darts tossed from above in a mass, preferably against a foe that's too distracted to swim out of the way. Their eels are bigger and trained to protect them when there's blood in the water."

What do you do?

[] Hire Serega's Shields (6,000 Heavy Turtle Cavalry strong on the charge, but also capable in a melee; Cost 150,000 IM/Month)

[] Hire the Lightning Chasers (3,000 Eel-Bonded Spear Skirmishers/Dart Casters; Cost 90,000 IM/Month)

[] Hire both

[] Try to negotiate a lower price in exchange for other benefits
-[] Write in

What do you do next?

[] Continue shopping
-[] Write in

[] Learn more about the political situation of the Plane of Water

[] Write in

OOC: The price will not increase on campaign if you buy the mercs now. If you hold off on hiring them until you are at war, chances are they will cost more.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Pearls and Odd Pairings ​

Ninth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

The enormous placid Manta Rays swimming in slow circles around Vialesk feasting upon the great shoals of fish drawn to Palixna's silver radiance may not be the most fearsome creatures the two mercenary captains have ever seen, but they are certainly nothing to scoff at. Rippling fungus-infused flesh envelops and consumes vast gulps of beasts and water, deep black eyes as large as a man is tall peer through the waters as the Triton rider gently guides it along out of the path of other ships and travelers.

"You made this beast?" the captain of the Shields asks, fascinated. "I have seen the flesh-warping of the Deep Masters, but this does not smell of their foulness."

"My ancestors learned the art from many places, and now that it has been rediscovered much work is being done to improve and refine the process. Should you be interested in flesh-forged beasts of your own and provide corpses or gold for reagents, such beasts could be made to your specifications," you explain to the increasingly thoughtful stares from both sellswords. You suspect you have found where a great deal of your coin is to be spent, though by no means all of it.

The offer to forge weapons by sorcery as needed, and provide reliable magical healing at a cost as well as resorting those of their fallen comrades who may wish to return are greeted with good cheer, prompting Captain Magrios to ask if he might visit Sorcerer's Deep of which you had hinted so much. Serega is not far behind, and from there negotiations proceed even more smoothly than before. When you suggest one third lower pay in exchange for a guaranteed six month contract neither warrior so much as blinks, both considering the many uses they can put flesh-forged beasts and better armaments to.

Serega's Shields and Lightning Chasers Hired (6 Month Contract)

Lost 960,000 IM

***​

Tenth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

Relath had not been idle while you conversed with enchanters, alchemists, and sellswords, seeking out the Merchant House who sold the enchanted pearls scattered throughout the high administration and court of Tolos, those that gleamed with a pale light in the presence of Deep One taint. You wonder if they would mark the presence of hidden agents as Jeyne had been, but there is no way to tell without capturing one. Still, from the Brine Dragon's own experience the pearls will detect more direct forms of Far Realm influence and flesh-craft, making them as valued a tool in the rest of your realm as they are in Tolos.

Pearls of the Clear Sea
Ability: Detect Aberration and other Far Realm influence within 5 ft of bearer.
Cost: 50 IM
Maximum Number: 3,000

How many do you buy?

[] Write in

Yet it is clear Relath is distracted by something as he recounts his meeting and negotiation with the Marid merchant, something your mother realizes as readily as you. "What did Wisdom Wavespinner speak to you of?" she asks, hesitating ever so slightly over the title.

"She wished to inquire whether I had a mate or was interested in one," the Brine Dragon replies bluntly. "I suspect she would take it ill were I to ask her if she wishes to be my eleventh wife."

Silence stretches awkwardly in the wake of his words. So simple, you shake your head. Perhaps you had grown too used to many-layered intrigues to have assumed the sorceress' interest in Relath related to her work and not personal reasons. Then again... "Did she hint she might wish something other than companionship?" you ask.

"Perhaps..." the Brine Dragon's green frilled tail lashes thoughtfully though the water. "She expressed some interest in what other scions I had sired, though that may have been in an attempt to discover what rivals she might have for my affections."

Your mother clears her throat a touch uncomfortably before adding: "Lord Relath, you must keep in mind that any children you bear are not only heirs of your body, but of the province of Tolos also."

She does not add her less than complimentary opinion of any inheritance situation that is drawn from multiple wives, but you suspect Relath hears at least a hint of disapproval for he bristles and replies that he had no intention to be succeeded by any heirs so long as the sun shines and the earth turns. "Succession is a mortal concern," he proclaims.

How do you approach your second meeting with Wavespinner?

[] Try to warn her off trying to seduce Relath, he is still a young and brash Brine Dragon

[] Try to discover if her interest in Relath is indeed more than what meets the eye

[] Use her interest in Relath to get her to enter your service

OOC: You guys got 33% instead of 20% off on the merc contracts thanks to the facilities offered and decent diplomacy rolls.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Shade's Tale ​

Second Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

Two women sat by the fire in the shadow of the Howling Hills, where once it was said Gharak Squint-Eye, a great champion of the Zhorse Riders, slew the last of the Stone Giants of yore. Few of the Jogos Nhai ventured out from the plains these days, leaving brigands, exiles and worse to scramble and fight among the graveyard of the elder folk. Yet the two travelers did not seem troubled as the smell of freshly cooked antelope meat wafted on the night air for man or beast to smell, nor had they seemed to place any watch against danger, though one might catch the shadows dancing strangely out of the corner of the eye. A bow flickered in hands that held in truth parchment and stylus, or great black wings stretching out for a moment behind the dark-haired warrior.

"I wish those things would stop pulling at our shadows like that," Aradia sighed, looking up from her letter. "It's not like they can't just stand still. That's the entire point of spies that can meld with shadows, after all, or so Naria assured me."

"You have never had the ill fortune to work with an imp, have you?" Mereth's voice was wry rather then dismissive. "Trust me, a bit of play when no one is looking is infinitely preferable to the sorts of 'brilliant' plans the little pests come up with if given half a chance."

Whether in repose to her words or simply driven by the same boredom that had them sending the shadows dancing, a thin black mist rose from the darkness beyond the camp, two sparks of sickly yellow gleaming within. The figure the shadows resolved into might have charitably been called a dog, or perhaps the wavering charcoal depiction of one wrought by an artist with only a vague description to work with. Cautiously, the shadow creature approached the fury and tried to bump its head against her hand, though of course its misty substance passed through armor, flesh and bone, leaving only a small chill in its wake.

Far from pulling her hand away, the Fallen looked at the shade approvingly. "See, they are actually trying to be helpful."

"Maybe you should throw it a stick to fetch," Aradia suggested, amused.

"Don't be ridiculous," Mereth snorted, something of her usual bite returning to he words. "It would no more be able to interact with a stick than it could with any other material object."

"Maybe we can have them hunt rabbits tomorrow," the incarnate suggested idly, eyes drifting back to the letter to Ser Balon, hand moving in quick and certain lines as she drew up a suggestion for a simple watchtower, the sort of thing that would help project the influence of his fief into the higher peaks. Nothing could really tame the mountains. Believing they could had been the mistake his folk had made for so long in their western fastnesses, but a careful hand and a keen eye could ensure no great foe mustered there, and if you had welcoming crafts and rich fields in the lowlands to offer them then many a mountain man would abandon the frigid heights. This was more Beryl's area to advise in, but Aradia did not mind lending a hand. It was more than a fair trade for all the times the Marcher lord's dry wit had made her smile at some escapade of the eager young knights that had followed him.

"More than rabbits out-about," the shadow spy's silent words drew the incarnate's attention away from the letter once more.

"Wolves?" she asked, reaching for her bow in case some ill-fortuned beast should try to make a meal of them. A few arrows whistling past their snouts should see them off without killing something they couldn't eat.

"Bigger," came the silent reply, still struggling for words.

"A bear, then?" Mereth prompted, her unerring golden gaze piercing the dark of night as easily as the world under the midday sun.

"Bigger..." The shade paused a long moment, then with the child-like glee of finally finding the right words, it added. "Hills walk."

OOC: So I was thinking about how to make the Umbral Spies. I could have just made them something creepy, like a half-eaten were-creature dragging itself along the ground, but there is really no reason why Lya would make that, so playful shadow hounds it is, though ones with a great deal of patience when they are actually on the job.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Soaring Towers and Anchors Deep​

Ninth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

As is starting to become a habit in your visit here, you simply buy all the pearls with hardly a second thought. You can think of far more than three-thousand people you would wish to have warning of Deep Ones lurking nearby, though odds are only a handful of your subjects will be given a pearl to hold. Most would secure doors and corridors. Breath Taker even suggested constructing free standing arches to pass people under before allowing them into more sensitive locations like the Inquisition headquarters or governors' palaces. The priest is practically brimming with ideas, useful of course and much appreciated, but also a sobering reminder that his people have been laboring under the fel shadow of those creatures called the Deep Ones since time out of mind.

Gained 3,000 Pearls of the Clear Sea

Lost 150,000 IM

Not all treachery is the province of dreadful minds from beyond the spheres of being, however, for mortals are worryingly adept at it and, as in all things, magic can help a great deal. Strange as it may be to think of protecting a Dragon more than five times your age from ill-intentioned seduction, that is indeed at the forefront of your mind as you wind your way up Wavespinner's pale spire, the eyes of serpents carved in every alcove almost seeming to follow you.

***​

"... so then I silenced it by the most expedient means at my disposal. I bit into it. If you remember nothing else of my visit, Wisdom, remember this—apart from being horrid parasites with delusions of grandeur, Illithids taste truly atrocious," the tale told in a lighthearted tone draws laughter, as others before it have, but also a cautious gleam in her sea-green eyes. It seems she understands the warning about harming those who are under your protection.

You take a sip of your drink and wait. Blood Wine the locals call it, though it thankfully has nothing to do with blood but instead the nodules of a particular type of kelp that grows anchored to the lowest parts of Vialesk.

"I am not your enemy, fire-born," the sorceress says, at last abandoning the game of hints and double-meaning.

"I never claimed you were, Wisdom," you reply instantly. If she had thought the sudden change of pace would put you off balance, then she will have to deal with disappointment.

Wavespinner sighs, a small exhalation of bitter mist passing her lips. "I know it is uncommon for a mortal to seek to court a Dragon, but I assure you I have no interest in drawing Relath from your service, nor in any way interfering with his duties. You must know how hard it is to find peers in power and accomplishment, worthy to stand at one's side. Even having found them, they are all too likely to be distracted with their own doings, ill-mannered or too used to mastery in all things."

You nod in cautious understanding of her point, though to your great good fortune you have never been in that position, without friends or companions at your side. No, more than that, you have never counted arcane lore or skill in battle the only worth that others might hold. How lonely it must be atop this tower, forever looking down.

"I make no claim that my home has more great sorcerers or dragons than this sphere, but those who have gathered around my banner at least work together for the betterment of all without jealousy or arrogance," you say, convinced that her motives are genuine.

To your surprise the sorceress laughs. "Ah... what a strange notion you must have of me. Generous as the offer may be, it is too early to think of moving my tower just yet."

For a moment the expression strikes you as odd, then you realize that by the magic she wields Wavespinner might actually move her tower whole across the planes of being. Bidding farewell to the dragon-blooded mage with a far lighter heart than you had entered, you return to the market once more.

There you find that Breath Taker had found a supplier of the Anchor Crafter Guild, who rather than forging mere ships' anchors is responsible for maintaining and at times expanding the coral and limestone foundation of the City of Splendid Waves. From them you acquire a set of cunningly wrought enchanted horns similar in function to the Titan Tools of the Opaline Vault, but working in living coral.

Gained 2 Deep Song Horns (Coral Growth Titan Tools equivalents)

Lost 20,160 IM

What do you do next?

[] Continue shopping
-[] Write in

[] Learn more about the political situation of the Plane of Water
-[] Focus on the Marid Houses
-[] Focus on the Brine Dragon Dominions

[] Write in

OOC: I was really tempted to try and push through with the political information, but I would like to get back to posting the last update of the day at a reasonable hour not past midnight.

 

[Crake]

Knights of Summer
​

Second Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

The Lord of Draconys glared out across the borderlands as though one might mistake him for seeking out clouds of ash and storm, shot through with flashes of what might be lightning or the torment of the damned, revealed by scintillating, if hellish, fulmination. Most men did not willingly brave even this close to the border between where northern Valyria began and the Lands of Long Summer stretched out like the bitter dreams of ages long since passed... or had they?

After all, warning off or at least corralling and encouraging the venturesome 'adventurers' who claimed they were preparing to brave the wastes to pick through the bones of civilization was thirsty work, and there was no Golden Hearth here in the lands he sought to rule over and pass onto his descendants after him, Gods willing, and he really did mean that sincerely. Tree or Snake or Merling, Old Gods and New, after what Balon had seen in the past eight long weeks when he was not distracted by comparatively soothing matters like settling disputes, learning at least three dialects of Low Valyrian so that he might foster trade with the Volantenes magnates, the Tolosi merchant marine and the caravans sent along by the Angels of Mantarys.

Though really, only Wisdom Aemon had seemed to ever appreciate the effort in the former part of that endeavor.

"They're coming back," the Sorcerer commented, breaking Balon out of his brooding stupor. Indeed, the knights he had sent to see off the flame-touched ghouls that the men in the heathland had been complaining about, nasty things stuck in a perpetual half-life, their agony and wounds or sores seeping flame and cinder, spoke more clearly to him of the nature of those in the province than anything else. The baron's brother stood ahorse to get a better view, reaching out a hand when Balon offered his Myrish far-eye.

These were proper Marchers, he thought, the men who lived here had put up with all matter of strangeness with grim resignation and a will to survive that would more-than-equal those he was accustomed to in his homelands, fighting off Dornish invasion and trespass since time immemorial. That had started out a bitter thought, that he should already do the admittedly green men who'd come to gather under his banner such disservice so soon, that he would rely on the council and determination of Dothraki riders who'd seen the horrors of the dead spilling out over the steppe to the north and east, value their service over those who'd come far with him, but unless there was a clear target to trample over, they had been lost at what to do with a foe who knew no terror from a mounted charge and would claw their way past a lance embedded in their chest if it brought them closer to mauling their horse or pulling them down from it.

The cavalry crested the low rise and wheeled about to gather in the hastily put together camp which had shifted a few times already in the last fortnight, Ser Guye pulling in abreast of him and the Volantene mage. "Lads're too shaky," the only veteran from the Stormlands to accompany him said gruffly, still not used to having spurs to his name, but he had certainly earned them twice over by now and it was his right to knight him--who else would help him lead this lot?

"They'll always be shaky," Balon grunted, "Will be until they're blooded thoroughly and I don't mean against bandit filth, but the true threat, the very thing we came here to ward off."

"And they'll be pissing into the wind and up their own eye lids until they pry their--" Ser Guye paused, obviously not used to moderating his tongue before a superior--much less speaking in the sort of casual frankness only household knights of long-standing service seemed to develop with their lord. "Should I bring them around?" There were scorch marks on the man's breastplate, bags under his bloodshot eyes and he looked too scruffy to be a knight who had servants groom him into a semblance of sophistication some weeks past, but by all the Gods, he would do it, Balon thought, such was his loyalty.

"I can deal with..." Aemon began to offer before Balon gave him a strained smile. "No?"

"I'll handle this," he replied, drawing his bow as the monsters approached. He mounted the shallow rise his men had prepared, two bundles of arrows arrayed before him and many planted into the acidic ground. The twang of bowstring cracking against dragonbone and the air-splitting whistle of an arrow flying into far-distance, partly from strength of arm, partly from the magic imbued in the weapon itself, was the calling card of the keening song of winter chill which filled the air, the moment before it rippled into a sharp crack, pop pop crack, bulbs of alchemic ice shearing warped 'flesh' from the approaching hollowed out shambling dead, and even as each arrow struck its mark, the mob loped into a unnaturally single-minded charge. It wasn't glorious, Balon thought, but it's sure damn practical.

Forty riders gawked as Balon Swann planted arrows in eyes with skill and a will, or flensed bones and hides of flame from their foe, until the shame bit into them that they should be so callow, and mustered another charge in short order.

Swann smiled as he rested, wiping sweat from his brow, good, he thought, I was running out of better arrows.

"I'll help them," Aemon spoke, striding past without another word, though he wore a smirk on his face that indicated he had caught his intentions with that display of skill. His brother followed, shaking his head at the war cry sounding out ahead.

"Aye," Balon replied tiredly, drawing his blade of Valyrian Steel and mounting up himself. "You do that."

 

[DragonParadox]

Reading Currents ​

Tenth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

The Serene Shallows gave lie to their name with every moment, the clicks of dolphin caravans coming into market mingling with the bridle bells of seahorse riders, the waters filled with all manner of strange and conflicting aromas as seals and bindings come a touch undone in the rush to swim up to the market, first with the catch or the bargain, but if the Mirror Market is the heart of the city's trade, then this is surely was its ear, echoing with the sounds of a thousand thousand rumors. What better place to learn more of Vialesk's neighbors be they trading partners, rivals or allies, or as is so often the case with trading cities, a little of all three?

Spoiler: Serene Shallows

The 'map' of the plane, in truth a sphere cunningly wrought of bone, gears and artfully scrimshawed plates, shows thirteen great realms in contact with Vialesk, ten of which partook in the War of the Cleansing Tide against the Deep Ones. Of these six are Marid Emirates, concerned with trade and the flow of goods across the currents of the planes, and four are Brine Dragon Dominions, more isolationist and militaristic. From what you gather of the city's history Vialesk itself had been the dominion of a full court of brine dragons who wished to outdo the water genies at their own game. Given how poorly the attempt went the wyrms are now far more cautious in dipping their claws in the gilded currents of trade.

Of the four Draconic Domains the most active of late has been that of Kalatrangor the Rune-Carved, usually content to allow his nomadic Merrow subjects and their Giant overlords to drive their whale herds far and wide in search of rich waters while taking tribute from their raids and mercenary work, the Dragon had emerged from seclusion to place his own considerable talents at the disposal of the Emirates Zerbat and Dawa which promised him the services of their greatest craftsmen and enchanters for his personal projects. To hear the veterans of the war speak of the Dragon's coming, the runes upon his scaled hide were already mighty things allowing him to shrug off the blows of Illithid mind benders like the brush of stray kelp strands and pass through their armies like the breath of death and red ruin.

The Dragon's patrons, the Emirs of Zerbat and Dawa, are said to rule over the most ancient of the Marid realms, and the only ones whose alliance has endured the test of time. Dawa, the more junior of the two realms, is known for its expert fishermen and fine net-weaving which they put to good use in war. Many a Merrow champion, Sahuagin berserker, or even great beast of the dark waters have ended their days tangled in a Dawati weighted net. Zerbat by contrast is known for its artisans, the finest Pearlsteel and the most beautiful shell-craft is said to originate in the workshops of Zerbat.

Uneasy neighbors of this ancient alliance but still willing to partake in the war for the chance to put an end to generations of Deep One raiding are the kelp-growers of the Emirate of Hanpa. Though not known for their great military prowess the vast population of Undine and Merfolk allowed them to muster the largest army against the Deep Ones as well as the more numerous, if not most powerful, mages.

It is from a former Hanpa militiaman that you hear the first detailed account of one of the realms that did not unite against the Deep Ones, the Dominion of Alathrax the Bitter, a Wyrm whose domains touch upon the Realm of Earth's is great salt caves. Their vast numbers of Crab-like miners work ceaselessly to the command of their draconic overlord, uncovering not just common salt but also rare and precious reagents. At Alathrax's command these chitinous armies pour forth to raid other domains, though few can guess why and none can anticipate the hour.

Another realm who had no interest in fighting the Deep Ones was the Twilight Emirate of Dyutho, which trade in many strange and wondrous substances of the lightless depths, chief among them riverine. You have heard some dark tales about how they may have actually traded with the Farsawn for 'down there in the dark where even the gods don't see', but given how hard it is to distinguish tales of substance from our grapes you would be inclined to discount the notion for now.

Still, in speaking with a Dyutho trader in an attempt to find a less biased account of their people, you learn more of the least well liked of the realms among those who were persuaded, or rather bribed, to join the expedition. Vornath and Thyrax are raider lords cut from the same cloth, and some say born to the same clutch, whose raider fleets have been the bane of many an honest trader, though they have been careful to keep their predations contained enough and hold to their word when they promise 'protection' that none of the other realms have yet tried to end them in earnest. The dark-scaled trader even grudgingly admits that the corsair ships do occasionally provide actual protection in the wilder parts of the Boundless Sea.

Besides Hanpa, one of the more frequent targets of corsair attacks is the Emirate of Kela, whose rulers are suspected to have some Shaitan blood in their veins, though you suspect that has less to do with any historical studies and more with the fact that Kelasi smiths have access to one of the few large-scale furnaces outside Vialesk, as their realm is centered around a great pumice island that was said to have been ejected from the Sea of Fire long ago, its core still white hot to this day.

It is said that the Kelasi's long bitter feud with the elder Brine Dragon Galzerai kept the latter out of the alliance against the Deep Ones, with the wyrm even launching an attack against Kela while the Emir was out campaigning. Supposedly the dragon was seeking an anvil stolen from its hoard, though she did not find it, instead taking two of the Emir's children hostage. Galzerai's domain is known as a source of rare spices and arcane reagents for it is said to hold a area of wild magic at its core.

Last of the Brine Dragons to join the battle against the Deep Ones was Althazi the Deathless, so named not for any great feat of his own, but for the ferocious, disciplined 'Immortals' that are at the forefront of his hosts. These Giant-Kin are said to be able to be able to heal from any wound no matter how grievous, save those dealt by the Dragon's vitriol-laced breath, for which they revere him as a living god of death and war. However, for all his prowess at war, Althazi maintains close relations with the Emirate of Dawa as well as the last two Marid Emirs of note, the rulers of Dalaqua and Mardja.

Though both the latter realms are among the most remote from Vialesk, you have no trouble finding traders from either as the Dalaquas both weave and trade the finest of sea-silk, fit to adorn the noblest and most wealthy lords, while Mardjans are unmatched in their skill in growing coral armor, with many of the smiths you have hired for the task being immigrants from that far-off realm.

What do you do next?

[] Look into the guilds and see if any of them are interested in flesh-craft
-[] Write in offer

[] Seek out envoys from some of the realms beyond Vialesk to discuss trade or alliance with
-[] Write in which

[] Write in

OOC: I thought about just doing bullet points of who is who, but that looked too barebones so I went with full narrative. I'll have a list on the front page soon so you guys can get the information at a glance.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Song for Barrowtown​

Tenth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

Danar had to struggle mightily against a smile at the sight of six skittish horses being half-corralled half-cajoled towards the strange many-eyed wizard. He was wearing the skin of a man now, as fine a disguise as you could ask for, but the beasts still sensed something off about him so it was 'there's a good girl Rosie' and 'have an apple Blackfoot' all the way through. But it had to be done cause Lady Dustin apparently wouldn't let just about any sore-foot wanderer into her hall, the more fool she in these times. You never knew what sort of spirit or Fae folk might come knocking on your door seeking hosting, and even the kindly could all too easily be turned to wrath by ill treatment.

"What's so funny?" the black armored warrior with a hound on his shield who'd taken the beast's name growled.

"We have the sorcery to carry things from place to place in the blink of an eye and we're using it to carry horses a thousand leagues and more just so they can carry us a couple more where the Lady of Barrowtown can see." With a sly look at his wife he added teasingly, "Guess that's what comes from leaving a woman in charge, eh..."

"Is it now?" she asked archly without looking up from polishing the brass work of her new crossbow, bought with the Dragon King's coin from an earth-spirit trader. "Well then, I'll know what to blame whenever we meet an empty-headed lord."

"I am thankful then that my kind have no lords," Soft Strider said in that gentle tone of hers, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, but Danar didn't miss the spark of humor in her deep green eyes.

***​

A light snow drifted over Barrowtown as heavy clouds crowded above veiling the sight of the morning sun, though there was light aplenty peeking through the windows of smiths and bakeries, potters' shops, and candle makers. They weren't poor in fire to keep the cold at bay, nor for any other wealth needed to keep body and soul together. The last meandering songs of last night's carousing drifted out of tavern doors while diligent merchants set up their shops to catch early custom.

Spoiler: Barrowtown

Yet not all was as commonplace as seemed at first glance. Where the lights of hearths and candles faded into grey twilight the shadows twisted strangely, the creak of a lonely door echoing like strange laughter. Men walked softly and never alone along the snowy streets, Danar saw. They knew that they were not all that walked the streets and custom was not all that was being hunted, though being townsmen they might be too stubborn to admit it to themselves.

Ahead the Great Barrow loomed, a hill raised by human hands, not near so grand as Winterfell, nor so mighty as the Wall meant to keep the dead things out, but wrought of those same old arts, death brooding in the midst of life. Were their task less urgent he might have stopped to string a few words together to a tune to fix the feeling in mind. But like so many songs that might have been, this one too flew on the wind, perhaps to whisper itself into some other bard's ear.

They rode up the path to Barrow Hall openly for none dared challenge them until they reached the gates, there Xor gave a name to match his face, Baral Xo from the far off Summer Islands come to see the wonders of the north alongside his faithful retinue and wishing to give gifts to the lady of Barrowtown for the honor of seeing the deep halls under the hill. At this the guards grumbled a little, as good guards were wont to do, but they quieted down without needing any silver as only the best guards could claim. Whatever else Barbrey Dustin was she knew how to surround herself with loyal men bearing steel, likely why she hadn't come afoul of some dark Fey's bloody jest until now.

Thus it was that they came to have their audience with the lady of the keep without even an hour's delay. Twas private of course, as 'Summer Islander custom demanded', though that part had strangely been the hardest to convince Xor of. What kind of singer shied away from a lie or two, for after all, were not all songs lies as much as truths?

"So what are these gifts you would bring with the morning light?" Barbrey Dustin asked as they entered the shadowy great hall. She sat perched upon her throne like a raven on a branch. Black was her dress in mourning for a man more than eight years dead and black her hair pulled back in a widow's knot, seeming to stretch out her skin all the more over her sharp features.

Spoiler: Barbrey Dustin

"Many gifts, great lady," Xor began in his melodious voice. "The gift of spices and perfumes, of wines and chocolate, even of song if you would lend me an ear." With each proclamation he motioned to one of the bags they had brought along, the aromas of summer brought in the land under winter's grip. Then he paused, and in a far more serious tone, he added, "But above all else we bring the gift of safety from what which walks the night."

"A bold claim," the lady said, eyes narrowing in sudden interest. "Pray continue."

OOC: This is what happens when you send not one but two bards to perform diplomacy. No hidden messages and teleporting into locked rooms for them.