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

[DragonParadox]

When Gold Speaks ​

Twenty Third Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

Loath as you are to turn your own scholars away from the many and varied avenues of study already open to you, you cannot in good conscience allow your future subjects to toil under the effects of wild magic. Even without the fey seer's words still ringing in your ears, you know too well how perilous magic run amok can be. "My own mages will perform the examinations, my lord, and at no cost to your coffers. Should they learn the wild magic confluence is having a negative effect on your employees, then we will seek to cure them of the damage or determine how long a worker may be exposed before the damage becomes truly dangerous."

"That seems a waste of gold to me," Lord Lychester says doubtfully. "Time too, for that matter. The smallfolk will be well enough taking the risk for the price offered."

"Let us leave comparisons aside for a moment, my lord, lest they lead us astray. The growing of blood crystals is not, in fact, the same as operating a mine, nor is the greatest peril being crushed to death or slowly suffocating under fallen rubble, dreadful as those possibilities are. I could not now tell you how and to whom wild magic is a danger," From the sudden tightening of his features, you suspect Lord Derman has realized that the latter could just as easily mean him as the men he is paying to go down into the dark. Just to make the point clear, you continue, "That is precisely why it is termed 'wild', and among those dangers is the potential for... metamorphosis, of both the mind and body. You should not discount the possibility of willing miners becoming unwilling monsters. I certainly would not."

"What must be done to guard against such a fate then?" the lord asks urgently. "Perhaps we should acquire some tomes regarding the crystals and their effects from the stone folk..."

A quick wit, at least, you note approvingly. "I have already done so. For now you must warn your workers of the dangers, tell them that you have arranged for outside experts to monitor their health, and make them aware that they should report any unusual symptoms or afflictions without delay."

"Yes, of course, Your Grace." In spite of his considerable bulk, Derman Lychester manages to kneel easily enough to give his vows to you, an oath given wholeheartedly, you would judge.

Less then an hour later, you receive word from your mother that House Wayn has also pledged to your banner, her task having been half-done before she even entered their halls, through the auspices of Walder Frey wielding the traditional tool of alliances in the Riverlands and beyond; a favorable marriage. That is not to say there had been no hurdles to overcome. There had been several Lannister spies among the lord's household knights, but at Ser Kennos' suggestion, she had simply bought their loyalty a second time. Former hedge knights might make for inconspicuous spies in these troubled times, but not reliable ones.

Lost 300 IM (Hedge Knight payment)

Of the three, two are to fake their deaths at the hands of the Lads with the third simply riding off, supposedly in fear, never to return. This fresh 'outrage' will hopefully strengthen the impression that Ser Howard would never dream of raising the Dragon banner himself while inconspicuously putting out Tywin's eyes in his household. As for the knights themselves, all have agreed to join the Legion as so many of their station have already done. You can certainly use every horseman trained to fight in armor you can get.

Which lord do you visit next?

[] Write in (List of Houses can be found here, more details about them here)

OOC: A really short update this time but the break point was inevitable.

 

[DragonParadox]

Horse of a Different Coat ​

Wendwater Vale, Painted Mountains

Twenty Third Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

Thank all the gods Old, New and every one between for the Legion, Jon Redfort, Count of the Painted Mountains and Keeper of the Eastern Approaches thought not for the first time as he wiped the sweat from his brow, at least it was mostly sweat. The hand came away crimson with blood that had just been starting to dry and flake. The last clansman had been so damn close to taking off his head in the charge... of course that may have been because it was a clanswoman. It was one thing, the knight discovered, to see women fight skillfully in the Dragon King's Circle of Battle or shoot bows like a goddess of the hunt, and quite another to raise your sword against a woman to cut her down, but he had done it in time and with that last charge, the last battle the tribes arrayed against him and his allies broken.

"So, Iron Man, how do you find our hills?" Achaeus the Lame, First Spear of the Red Horns Clan, asked while slapping Jon's armored back until it rang. That had been at first cause for confusion and mockery when the knight had first come before the tribe offering trade and alliance that had since become a jest between them. Though that did not mean there was not still plenty that they did not agree on. "Their camp is as unguarded as a whore's..."

Like say that, the knight thought grimly. The King's advice on being magnanimous to the locals aside, Jon also had no intention of being party to the kind of rapine, murder, and occasional enslavement of defeated peoples that the mountain men practiced to their foes. "What did I tell you when we first met, friend? Real wealth, real strength comes from tilling the land in peace and guarding the roads the merchants walk, to have food to raise many strong sons and daughters and spread through the hills and vales. What worth is petty quarrels like magpies picking over shiny rocks?"

"Ah, but the Slash Lizards, the Thunder Sons, the Death Thorns and all the rest, they have quarrels with you," the clansman replied.

"And with what would they make that quarrel known?" The knight motioned to the field of battle, the field of slaughter more like. The heavy slashing swords and broad hunting spears of the mountain men made a poor match against plate armor out of Everfire Dale, still less the counter charge of heavy horse in the vale. If it had not been for the messengers giving timely warning...

Establish Messenger Service in Painted Mountains Complete 7/5

Jon fought back a shudder. He was honest enough with himself to know that he would be feeling a hell of a lot less magnanimous if things had not come together just right to smash the enemy this thoroughly, but as his father often said, 'you live in the world beneath your feet, not the one behind your eyelids'. It was a pretty good world today, even with all the death he'd had to deal because some of the tribes understood the open hand of friendship to be weakness.

The small army of the Count of the Painted Mountains rode through the hills to speak again to the heads of the tribes who had wronged him. He would be asking for hostages this time, but no more than that. What wealth the mountain folk had managed to eke out of these unforgiving hills was not worth filling your saddlebag with.

At least that had been his resolution setting out and the first three tribes he visited did nothing to change it, the first shot arrows over their the crude walls of their fortress and Jon let them rot, the second tried to buy him off with slaves and he had to explain he would not make use of such by the dictates of conscience, king, and gods, the third included half the people in it deciding to throw their lot in with him rather then risk raids from their neighbors so weakened were they.

But the fourth tribe he visited wanted to give him a 'warhorse'. Now Jon already had a perfectly fine horse under him and three more back home in the stables, but he was curious just what sort of horse could eke out its days on these slopes that the locals thought fit for war.

"Well ain't that something..." Jon said in Common out of sheer surprise when the beast was lead out to him. The thing was definitely some sort of horse, the lines of the body were familiar, the walk fair and proud, but that was about all that was familiar. The creature's back was covered in black scales with a row of sharp spines going along its back, the eyes were like a cat's and its head was crowned in heavy black horns. Steam wafted gently from its nostrils into the cool air.

Spoiler: Dragon-Horse

Most of the things that wandered in from the wastes were monsters, mad with pain and rage or possessed of ghosts and demons, but this had the bearing of a noble a steed as any Jon had seen. "Is this the only one you have?" he asked. The idea struck him as painfully tragic if it were so. Such a beast did not deserve to die alone, the last of its kind.

"No, we have three and twenty, great lord," the woman who had been chosen as an envoy of the tribe replied smiling. "You like?"

"I buy," Jon said at once. "All of them." It would be unwise to take tribute from one tribe and not the others, but he had enough coin for this and owning a herd of dragon-horses who nonetheless stayed sensibly on the ground seemed like a fine notion indeed.

OOC: As I was writing this I realized that I got Balon Swann mixed up with Jon Redford since I wanted the action to take place in the painted mountains. Also, I don't think I ever did an interlude of poor Jon so it seemed fitting to have the luck of double crits head his way.

 

[DragonParadox]

Swift Waters and Flickering Flame ​

Twenty Third Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

You take wing from Lychester Hall, with Dany joining you soon thereafter. You quickly leave the steep hills and crumpling keeps around High Heart far behind for the fertile lands between the Green Fork and the Blue Fork. This is where the Mudd Kings had once reigned from Oldstones, where Jenny once sung before she grew to love Duncan, the Prince of Dragonflies. A patchwork of fields are laid out beneath you, some black and yet unseeded, some golden with the wheat swaying in the wind almost ready for the sickle, and unless you are much mistaken, bearing the faint blush of sorcery, the product of the rituals Baelish has been so diligently spreading.

"It makes a bit more sense why Lord Keath would be so eager to keep Hoster Tully and the Usurper sweet, doesn't it?" Dany asks, her musings so low they are almost snatched away by the wind of your passing before you can hear them.

"These lands have precious little in the way of protections if you do not happen to rule far and wide like the Mudds did," you nod. "The rivers would make a fine moat, I suppose, but there is barely anything worth calling a hill hereabouts and those same rivers could just as easily be roads for an invading army."

"I wonder why the Keaths didn't just take Oldstones. That at least has a decent seat upon its hill," Dany motions towards the ruins looming darkly to the northwest.

"There is a decree forbidding it from as far back as House Hoare's dominion, though King Aenys passed it into current law," you reply, recalling the detail from a book of laws you had read through a few days ago in preparation for the tour of the Riverlands. "It might have been at the suggestion of the then Lord Tully. The king was known as pliable to such requests."

"What, you mean only the stupid ones?" Dany jests, reminding you for a moment of how little patience she used to have about learning of the lives of kings who 'didn't do anything'.

Less than perfect placement or not, Keath Keep has strong defenses with two circular walls, and around it a thriving village. It's more of a small market town really, for all it is not marked as such on most maps, boasting everything from a trio of smithies alive with the ringing of steel, to a tannery whose noxious atmosphere you do not wish to contemplate in any detail, to a small dock that sends ships up and down the Blue Fork. Trade looks to be as brisk as the fields are rich, in spite of the current troubles in the Riverlands. Even better for your purposes, the fish and hook banner rides high above the battlements, marking that Lord Ashwin Keath is present. Is he even now cloistered with his Braavosi solicitors to build a case against Ser Benjicot for the death of his son, you wonder.

"What's that?" Dany points towards a thread of thin black smoke rising from one of the town's squares. "It looks a little magical... oh." The concern fades from her voice to be replaced by mirth, and you can see why that would be. A small group of Keath armsmen are trying to set a stack of your pamphlets alight. The worst they have managed to do so far is make a few of the corners smolder. They would probably be better off abandoning the public spectacle and tossing the parchments in a smith's forge, not that you mind the show. Seeing how hard the magic letters are to burn may well tempt someone into read them, and your ravens carry more of them in each night.

What do you do?

[] Try to speak to Lord Keath directly
-[] Write in

[] Speak to one of his solicitors to try to learn more of the case they have been building
-[] Write

[] Write in

OOC: Another short update with a description from above. There is no canon setting for the seat of House Keath, and it made sense to me that someone had to hold the old Mudd lands near Oldstone.

 

[Crake]

Home is in Another Sky​

Twenty Third Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

Robert Ruthermont tossed his starfish emblazoned shield against the far wall of the empty stable, more of a 'sky-perch' for all that the building was just a temporary thing, it was easy for the builders to make it comfortable and accessible to the griffons. The corners of the letter in his hand crinkled and nearly tore, such was the strength that he bit into it with his grip, sinking down against the fused stone wall behind him. He couldn't see the wet spots staining the letters clearly anymore.

He startled as he heard a shuffling, Tempest poking their head through into their neat den. "What is wrong, partner?" Their voice was smooth and deep, like a drum, accented as it was by the tongue of air of which he knew little but more every day. Robert tried to hide the letter, before reluctantly showing his mount and friend after they started bumping their head against his chest, something they'd do whenever he annoyed them or tried to hide something from them--though that was usually a piece of meat or a letter from a maid or two from back in the Vale.

"Ah," he said sadly, staring up at Robert with sympathy he'd normally find a damn slight to his pride. Instead the young man ran a hand through the skyborn griffon's feathers after they laid their head across his lap. "Your sire is angry at you for joining the Thunder-Lightning Warrior's pride?"

"Ser Waymar wouldn't call it that," Robert said glumly, not even able to find his friend's weird manner of saying things a comfort. "He's a good man, but father called him a traitor in his letter... and me the same, just not in as many words. Asked me to come back and hope the King didn't hear about what I'd done, to beg the Gods for forgiveness for consorting with traitors and heathens, and beg the King for my life if he did hear about things. Nowhere did he say "congratulations" for raising my House's lot in the world, seeing as how to my eyes we haven't been fu--," Robert blushed and cleared his throat, going on, "--damned relevant since the days a Royce was King in the Vale and it wasn't called 'of Arryn'. You'd think with Lord Jon being dead he'd grow a bit of a spine and maybe some sense to go with it," Robert groused.

"He could worry that you are not safe," the Griffon considered from its somewhat other perspective. "That you are not in lands rich for the hunt, have no shelter to keep away the elements, or will go to fight wild things too mighty for you to contend with." He raised his head in an odd rolling gesture, his equivalent of a shrug Robert had come to learn. "I am not learned of your lines on flat things. But you say in this 'letter' he mentions all these things."

"Just... not in so many words," Robert admitted. But that was essentially what they had wrote. "And it's just my Father who's raging at me, my Mother and sisters wrote me a week ago and they're fine, just worried."

"I'm sorry I haven't been around to pay attention to things like this," the voice startled Robert into a stand, prompting an irritated squawk from Tempest. Robert shot him an apologetic look but had a thousand different things on his mind than ruffling a few feathers. Ser Waymar Royce was standing around the corner, now leaning around to look at him. "You looked upset and I pointed your bond-mate over to you, but... I didn't know you fell out with your family." He hesitated, starting to say something like 'why didn't you' before shaking his head and cutting himself off. "I'm sorry for listening in."

"No, don't be," Robert quickly said as his leader started to walk away. It was sort of awkward since Robert was a couple of years older than the Grandmaster and Lord Commander at seven and ten, but he all but worshiped them for all he had seen thus far. Never a finer sword out of the Vale, or a better man for all of that. He wanted to follow him into battle but knew from all the lessons and tales that the things the Knight of Thunder was off fighting were so far beyond Robert's ken, and that was partially why he was always away for most of each month. "You've done nothing wrong, I've just got to suck it up..."

"No, that's not right," Waymar interrupted, stepping fully into the room. "I made the offer and brought you into this when I saw you at the festival. You weren't even competing, just squiring for Ser Qarlton. I promised I would have all of your backs, and that's not just in a fight but also when things get messy in life too." The younger and somehow older Knight looked far away for a moment. "I wish I had the proper words to make this right with your lord father, but I don't. I'm not blessed with a silver tongue like that. Even so, I know when to rely on others to help. We'll fix things with your family, either with my own father's help or with that of the King."

Robert paled, "We can't bother the King with this, he..."

"Like hell we can't," Waymar scoffed, "They're his vassals too, and Viserys is going around setting the realm in order as we speak. The only thing we can do wrong is to say nothing and hope things work out 'til the last moment where battle lines have already been drawn in the sand."

Robert took a deep breath, lifting his arm as Tempest nudged it and sat by his side. "A-alright." He wiped his face, only just then realizing he'd looked like a godsdamn simpering fool in front of Ser Waymar.

"I looked the same when I went into exile," Waymar said with a slightly tight smile. "Between you and me, I was probably messier."

Robert coughed out a laugh, and the hurt eased a bit more.

 

[Crake]

Dark Stars and Sand Snakes​

Twenty Third Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC
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Gerold Dayne, or Darkstar, he was the most known by, and until recently had preferred before all else, to better stand apart from the shadow cast off loftier lights, did not know what to think after recent travails he had been involved with. That he would sink into drink after some of the recent horrors he'd encountered in both the Stormlands and the Riverlands, perhaps, except he thought that would be taken for weakness, or else that is to the effect of what he'd said to the others... and more importantly himself.

He looked around the familiar common room of the Golden Hearth that seemed to be the haunt of Ser Denys and his companions, and it had thus been a common gathering area for the likes of Thoros of Myr who was friends with Ser Criston Storm and Ser Kennos who was amiable with they in turn, along with another Stormlander, if but rarer, for he would spend three days in a Sept for every one in a tavern the Dayne knight had found, with only a tinge of distaste, for he had found Ser Bonifer Hasty to be a skilled man and a trustworthy one for all that to have at one's back when cutting down undead or cursed hags in a forest.

He caught Ser Denys' eye for the fourth time, a rush of anger reaching him, and not for what the damned fool must think. The alchemist didn't flinch that time but he did draw his mouth tightly in a grim line, as if expecting blows to start flying. "Damn it man!" Gerold barked, patience thinning. "Everyone else out."

Ser Criston sat up, a remark already on his lips before Denys raised his hand. "Go on, Ser," the alchemist spoke. Ceria sighed in exasperation and snapped her book shut loudly, trailed by the serene Yi Tish monk perfectly balancing a tea cup on a small tray, whispering conversation with a green robed priestess from that snake temple.

"She's using you, you know," Gerold said at last when they had cleared the room. "Oh not out of any malice," Gerold went on as the other knight angrily started to rebuke, "...but I know what she's like. She'll get bored of you in fits and starts. Take it from me when I say that she'll use you up and leave you wanting for more, only never to give it." Gerold had gotten used to be denied everything that seemed to come easy as breathing to others, to the point that he realized it was poison. He was almost content with the idea of being of that poison himself, but that was then and this was now. He wasn't about to fight more damned monsters with something as petty as a jilted lover the cause for losing his life.

"I don't," Denys began harshly, before breaking off. "I know it won't work out," he said lowly, angry still but Gerold had a way about recognizing anger, his tongue was sharp and his ear sharper. "Do you think I'm full of hot air because of it? I don't think I'm special," he said it like a curse.

"What you have here is more 'special' than any damned affair with the Princess of Dorne could measure up to," Gerold said with surprising conviction, surprising from Ser Denys' reaction and even his own. "I would have killed to have what you have even without that. Hell she might keep you as the paramour for years given how much benefit she can wring out of you in the long run of things," he spat.

"That's--she's not like that," Denys said weakly. "She's only thinking of her House, her family--"

"Aye, her 'family'," Gerold almost sneered, but spoke more softly. "See how that logic threads? You can justify anything if it's 'for family'. Like how I bedeviled mine for not being content with mediocrity. For daring to desire to match up to the fucking gleaming Sword of Morning, dead in the ground for a decade now, and you don't see Viserys Targaryen lifting him out of the grave with any urgency." A heavy, seething silence passed for several dozen heartbeats, so much so that one could hear a pin drop. "I'm not jealous of you, Ser Denys," Gerold said quietly. "I pity you."

"I don't know what to do," Denys whispered like a man walking to the damned gallows. "I-I think I love her. But I'll ruin her. Or she'll ruin me. We can't ever be--like that. I won't just be someone sneaking through the curtains even if magic makes that a hell of a lot easier."

"So don't," Gerold said, standing up and winding around the table to take over Criston's seat, then refilling the other knight's cup. "I think I actually like you, Ser Denys. I thought I wouldn't, honestly, but you are very hard to hate. Sort of like a puppy," Darkstar snorted. He'd never owned a dog but he thought he'd treat one well enough, like he did his horses. They didn't really know any better than you taught them after all, so it was kind of similar.

Denys snorted in turn, voice starting out wispy before it gained strength again. "So what do you suggest?"

"Ordinarily I'd tell you to run in the opposite direction, the woman is still a damn Martell after all," he said, shuddering slightly. "I mean Gods, man, could you not think to scorn a woman without that kind of legacy looming behind her? I'm fairly sure they've poisoned Targaryens for less." He was trying to lighten the mood, though the Dayne knight realized it worked not very well at all. He sighed. "You can only tell her what you feel and either let her cut you loose, or convince you with sweet lies for a while that things will be alright. Tempestuous as she is who knows what she'll say?"

"I think I'd rather take Lady Sandviper up on that 'nice talk' first before walking into that snake pit,' Denys quipped surprisingly, causing Gerold to bark a laugh. They heard rustling from the other side of the door and traded an exasperated look.

"Just come in," Denys said with a sigh, and the entire group, plus a few others nearly fell into the room.

"So," Gerold trailed off, before Denys shook his head. "No?"

"I think I will talk with Lady Tyene, actually," Denys said shakily. "They're supposed to be the best of friends. She'll know what to do, right?"

Gerold traded a worried glance with Ser Criston, both cringing.

Denys slumped against the table, while Thoros patted his back. "Drink?" The Myrman offered a bite from his flask. "I find a nice spirit helps before going into battle."

Gerold found the idea of walking into a room with Arianne's cousin being equated to marching out onto a battlefield utterly hilarious, and rather loudly made it known.

 

[DragonParadox]

Courage Beyond Swords ​

Twenty Third Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

Finding a Braavosi solicitor in the service of a Westerosi lord is far from the most difficult investigation you have ever made. Lord Keath's subjects are naturally interested in their lord's guests, and this far from the sea an Essosi may as well be an Essarian or one of the Children of Yss for how uncommon they are. Even without listening for it you hear no end of tales about why they are here, some claim they are in fact wizards preparing to fight the 'Dragon's men', others that they are agents of the Iron Bank come to grant some great loan. By far the most outlandish rumor is the notion that they are in fact assassins sent by the Iron Bank to collect on some dept 'in coin or in blood' and Lord Ashwin is only putting off his own demise by keeping them in the lap of luxury.

"That fellow needs to write mirror plays, he's a genius," Dany says while fighting against a giggle. "I can just see it, the polite assassins, not like those rude ones who try to take you by surprise..."

All jests aside you are relieved to discover from one of the more wordily merchants that the solicitors in question are from Stefazo and Sons,a reputable firm if not one of the oldest or most well connected. While you have never had any business with them personally, a quick message back to the Deep confirms that the Silver Serpent Enterprises' Braavosi headquarters made use of their services against a rash of spurious claims. "'Sinking ships by foulest sorcery...'" you shake your head, as much in amazement as disgust. "They thought accusing Silver Serpent of that would work?"

"They were going bankrupt in any case," Dany points out. "What did they have to lose?"

Hopefully that would not prove prophetic for the shake of Lord Ashwin Keath. After sending Varys in advance with a message for the most senior of the solicitors you translocate to his tower chambers seeking answers.

"Welcome, welcome, Your Excellence," you are met with courteous words by a man perhaps on the waning side of forty, his curling hair and and beard shot through with grey, his build still hinting at a bravo's prowess, though starting to thicken around the middle as he settles into less exciting pursuits. "Loreso of Highwater, at your service. "

"Happy I am to find myself in such company, though the circumstances might be... odd." You pause for a moment, considering your options. Confidentiality is part of not only the usual contract of a Braavosi solicitor but also the custom of the Secret City and various firms, guarding their reputation for keeping it zealously, whether it be by honest dealings or silencing those who might be able to prove the contrary.

Thankfully your divination provides a neat loophole, you already know the gist of the case he has been contracted to argue and need nothing more than details that you might better help his client, or to be more precise, knowing if he wants to be helped.

"The Lord Ashwin... he was most distraught at the death of his son," Loreso explains. "He has naught but daughters otherwise and all have already been married to other lords and knights, and young Horwin himself did not leave any heirs of his body, thus leaving the lands to fall under another House, yes, another name unless his goodsons should choose to to give up one of their children to bear the Keath name. They do not so desire."

You nod, an understandable concern and one you can untangle by bringing the young man back. Alas that the Braavosi is not finished. "I must warn you, my lord, that this is not all. The old lord, he was the one to bid his son to 'hunt brigands' and the brigands killed him. Thus it is either their fault for driving the blade, or his for placing him in its path. I have heard from the servants that he prays long and mournfully for his son's spirit to find paradise and for forgiveness. A man in the grip of such great sorrow could easily lash out in strong anger, of such things are old and bitter feuds born, and some not so old for they are mad in the taking up, yes?"

You nod in understanding. The feuds of the Secret City are almost as famed as its ships, some ancient beyond measure where all sense of the original grievance has gone. A solicitor would know them best, save perhaps for sculptor who carves grave stones.

"You should be wary of seeming too much on this Ser Benjocot's side, I would think," Loreso advises. Then, to your surprise he offers. "Do you wish me to accompany you, perhaps to mediate the conflict?"

What do you reply?

[] Accept the solicitor's offer
-[] Write in approach

[] Decline the solicitor's offer
-[] Write in approach

OOC: And here we are, as you guys surmised an accommodating solicitor, very accommodating thanks to the rolls it turns out.

 

[DragonParadox]

Emerald Blades and Bloody Trails ​

Ninth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

Dojo of the Blue Crane, Jiang Province, Yi Ti

It had all started so promisingly, Nuri thought as she hung still and silent in the air above the chaotic melee that filled the dojo of the Blue Crane, doing her best not to draw the eye of either her supposed oni 'allies', nor the investigators in jade robes, the Emerald Magistrate she had learned they were called, the eyes and the blades of the Emperors of Yi Ti in matters arcane. Though they had lost much with the passing of ages and the waning of magic they had never forgotten the core of their power, the flowing art of flesh and steel that made of feet and knees, heads and elbows as much of a threat as the short curved swords they bore. Kodachi, the sword of honor, they called it and it was with honor they bore it against against the Fallen Kami. A pity I'm supposed to be on their side.

It had not been easy to persuade the Huwa-no-Oni that he was to take her 'initiation' not against the men of Yi Ti, whose blood she could not shed without diplomatic incident, but against the Black Cult of the Lord of the Shadowlands. Day by day she had stoked the fiend's greed for profane tests it could amass from such a theft, until at last he agreed to wave the usual taking of first blood, a child stolen in the night from the villages, or worse yet taken as a profane offering for rich harvests or good fortune. Fallen and bound to bodies of flesh though they were the oni still held dominion over the elements and they might give great boons still for those willing to pay the price. Such a supplicant had Nuri pretended to be, a shugenja of flame lead astray by passion into darkness, one who disdained the dark rites of bloodletting not from compassion but pride.

"Only a single life you ask of me?" she had asked the oni and the dark spirit had laughed and sent on her way.

The perfect mission... if only someone within the Cult of the Devouring Dragon had not seen fit to inform the authorities, that they might launch a raid just as Nuri and the Oni working with her were making their final approach. Curdled pride and maddened ambition, it was a wonder the servants of Tiamat could manage to pierce so far into the heart of the empire with such warped blades. Enough power, Nuri supposed, could make up for a absence of wit. She could not fight the magisters without causing a diplomatic incident or the oni without losing her cover entirely. Under other circumstances she might have thought to wet her swords against the fools who served the Bloodstone Emperor, but having been caught unaware by two foes the cultists were dying messily even without her help

Perhaps if she timed it right she might be able to at least slip into the chamber of records and snatch some papers before the magisters finished their bloody work...

***​

Twelfth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

House of Master Coryn , Yin, Yi Ti

"So our friend the the oni commander has no notion of who might have scuttled his plans by getting the authorities involved," Azema mused, claws tapping on the ornate teak and ivory table. "Perhaps it is worth going at things from the other end..."

"And openly admit to knowing about a dojo tainted by the Shadowlands?" Tyene interjected. "That would bring too many uncomfortable questions and of all the skills of a courtier the Son of Heaven's eunuchs are most adept at wielding such weapons. No, we must continue investigating on our own. What did you find in their records?"

Though Nuri did not have her maker's perfect recall she nonetheless possessed a accurate memory and magic had translated the ancient ideograms the cultists used as easily as the more modern syllabic writing. Most of it had been worthless, false holy books to mime piety, accounts of the cult's history that accounted to little more than indoctrination for new arrivals, but their ledgers had provided a hint as to who might have known enough of the cult's activities to both warn the oni lord to begin with and summon the Emerald Magistrate spoiling the attack, Jingyi Liam, adjutant to Colonel Bu Jia Jin, exiled prince and the man upon whom the Golden Company spies had lavished such gifts upon, and the largest financial backer of the tainted Dojo.

"It looks like the Spider was not the only one who fancied he could juggle dark powers to his whim," Tyene said darkly. "Time to pay another visit to the prince's little 'court' I think."

OOC: This is going to be a multi-part action again, Yi Ti is complicated. Also I realize that is a Japanese sword name, if not one of the more common ones. I'm trying to branch out a little from just making Fantasy China like the way Westeros is not precisely a 1 for 1 mirror of any single RL country.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Passage Reversed ​

Twenty Third Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

After only a moment's thought, you decide to accept Loreso's offer, to which he is at first gratified, then a touch mystified to find himself in the midst of a divination seeking a lost soul. Yet as your gaze turns to other realms seeking if Horwin would and indeed could return to the world of form, he seems more fascinated than wary. Is there some kith or kin that he would see returned from beyond, you wonder, or simple professional interest of a man whose profession is much concerned with inheritance adding a new dimension to that passing. Regardless, you will have to see to those laws soon...

The portion of your mind bent upon the moments unborn shifts slightly. Threads of light dance in your sight and from them a melody rises, a memory and a verse. You do not speak it aloud, you do not need to. The young Keath knight will return for love of kin and duty both, one more tangle undone.

That question answered, all that remains to you is wait for Rina, Ser Kennos, and in particular your mother to arrive at Keath Keep, for she would serve as greater proof of the chance to return the dead to life than words can tell.

Fortunately, though they are late it is not overtly so, and the news from House Vypren is good. Lord Lucias had sworn himself to you, again through the agency of House Frey and its many bonds of blood and marriage throughout the Riverlands. The only trouble had been that young Damon Vypren had been so enamored by his uncle's tales of Sorcerer's Deep that he wished to travel there at once, while his father was not willing to risk such a blatant connection becoming known. Thankfully, your mother had managed to convince the young knight to wait until the Seven Kingdoms are reclaimed and such a journey can be undertaken openly. His father's pledge had grown a touch less grudging for the deed.

"The same faith that made him hesitant to raise the Dragon banner would make him a thousand times less likely to violate an oath," Rina adds. "I do not think he will ever be eager to raise his banners."

"I do not really need the Riverlords' armies, for all they would be helpful," you reply, waving away the concern. "I am more concerned with them not fighting me, and if the lord's piety should incline him to raise concerns at court, well he shall not be the only one I would wager. I will deal with them as they come."

***​

Rather than use Varys or a raven to carry the message, it is the bold solicitor who bears it along with spells and enchantments to gift him a silvered tongue that he might give a fair and skillful accounting before Lord Keath can interrupt. To your surprise, Loreso's smile grows a touch strained as you apply the needed magics.

"Ah... I see wizards will be putting us out of business soon," he says only half in jest.

"Worry not, sorcery might grant a glib tongue, but knowledge of the law is harder by far to come by," you assure him.

Whatever he had said and however he had said it, the solicitor's words grant you the meeting in the lord's solar at noon and there you go, not alone this time, but with Ser Richard and Rina to one side and your mother and Dany on the other.

Either from seeing such a gathering before him or the instinctive surprise at people appearing from thin air, though he had known it would happen, Lord Ashwin Keath freezes briefly in place, giving you ample time to look upon him. Mournful brown eyes look out of a face lined as much with worry as with age, his hair and beard mostly still dark, though here and there strands of white begin to appear like flecks of ice in the earliest days of winter. You also note with approval that he wears on a silver chain about his neck, a Braavosi made warding amulet against enchantment.

Spoiler: Ashwin Keath

"So it's true..." the air rushes out of his lips so swiftly in a relieved sigh it almost seems to rob the lord of breath. "You can bring back the dead, and now you would return my son who was taken from me by those brigands acting in your name. Before..." he forces himself to speak, and little wonder. "Before I say yea or nay to this resurrection, I would know by what power, by what authority, it is done, to call back a soul from the Stranger's embrace?"

What do you reply?

[] Explain that is is your power by blood and the heritage of the Dragon Lords

[] Explain that it is by he will of Horwin's sovereign soul that he might return to life and you merely provide the bridge

[] Write in

OOC: All is well so far, I had the solicitor to carry the initial message since he would make a better connection than just sending a raven.

 

[Rabbit]

Omake: Lady of the Night

"I'm here for my time with the Sing Song Woman." The soft voice claimed as the owner of the voice set the Iron Marks on the counter. A hefty thump and clank of metal on the wooden counter announced it's obscene price.

"Near a year's wages, or a minor ransom for a thirdborn son." The former owner of said coin grumbled to themselves mentally.

The Madame of The House of the Lily simpered and collected the bag holding the formerly agreed upon deal. "Just a moment dear, and I'll announce your presence. She has been yearning for a proper suitor. None so far have seemed to measure up. She's heard you've come from far away, and after tonight hopefully you'll come again."

"Subtle." '" I heard tales of her talents. How one night with her leaves men seeing the heavens and feeling the touch of a goddess. I found myself needing to find out if these tales are nothing more than words or if my needs could finally be sated," the buyer's tone taking on a husky quality to it's earlier softness as the Madame disappeared into her backroom.

"She eagerly awaits your presence. I will show to her accommodations, " The Madame spoke upon her return, and led her newest client to their destination.

"Not gone long enough to have actually spoken to her directly or sent a runner. Magic to let the courtesans know their gentlemen callers are on their way."

A few turns in the manse and they arrived at a rather odd door compared to most in the Realm of the Dragon Lord. A paper door with wood crossing like windows stood before the pair.

"I'll leave you two to get better acquainted," laughed the Madam as she moved back towards the front of the establishment.

"Paper's as hard as rock. No one is getting through this door without someone knowing. Alchemical hardener or wards to strengthen the paper?" The client thought to themselves as they slid the door open.

The first thing that drew the eye was a woman lounging on a plush chair in a silk robe. Soft skin exposed by a scandalously large slit up the side of the leg would have been a crime in any other setting. Small hands grasped a wooden instrument with long neck and deep bowl. "Almost like a raindrop" Up the eyes traveled to reveal pale skin and ruby red lips with slanted eyes shadowed with a rich royal blue. Coal black hair done up in a bun with a large flower completing the hairstyle.

"Come in and be most welcome. Tonight you are with Lu Fei, and I will take care of all your needs." A high sweet voice greeted her newest caller.

Sliding the door closed and stepping in the client found a delightful mix of scents in the warmed air of the room. "Exotic yet comforting."

Lu Fei started moving her fingers against the strings and a voice like a songbird rang out clear and captivating. In her native tongue her words enraptured the attention of her soon to be lover. Calming and soothing, begging the recipient of the song to let go of burdens of life and be in the care of their lover.

Carefully taking off the outer robe and setting their belongings aside the suitor found themselves on the bed next to the Sing Song Woman Lu Fei. Enraptured by the performance they took in all the beauty that sat in front of them. Not only the lovely exotic features, but an almost enthralling surreal voice demanded attention. This was a woman well worth the price of the night.

The song came to a close and the music trailed off shortly.

Hands wiped away tears that they didn't know had fallen. "That was beautiful. What did it mean? That was Yi-Tish right? I only know a few words in that language."

"It is a song of Lovers Greeting. It is said to mend wounds of the heart and invigorate those poor of spirit." Lu Fei responded gently.

Before another question could be asked her delicate fingers caressed the instruments strings and began again. A much different song than previously played. This one was filled with raw passion and lust. A burning needs filled her voice as she sang out to her crowd of one. The room seemed to increase in heat as the robe slowly drifted off of Lu Fei's shoulder; exposing the soft pale skin of her neck and collar.

A burning heat traveled through the body of the patron, one that wasn't sated even after Lu Fei no longer sang or played. Eyes wide and breathing deeply they watched Lu Fei stand up and cross the narrow distance, her robe slipping even more almost exposing her breasts.

Lu Fei came to sit behind her lover pressing her body to them and softly spoke into their ear, "I see you enjoyed Lover's Joining, now let us make a new verse for the song," as she slowly pulled the shirt over her lovers head.

"Oh, that is a most interesting surprise. A girl. I expected a little lordling to come to my bed tonight, but I know enough verses to leave my lady satisfied," Lu Fei exclaimed after seeing wrappings around the girls body. Her hands moving to take the bindings off; when hands with a firm grip caught them.

"Leave the bindings on for a while longer, please." Her voice going deeper with need, and then released her hand.

"Certainly my love. A surprise it might be, but not an unwelcome on. Do not be nervous, this is your first time is it not?" Lu Fei asked and after a small nod of affirmation continued moving her hands. "Let me put you at ease and relax you. I will take my time and we will enjoy our little secret tonight."

Noticing a bruise on her back Lu Fei's hands rested on it for a moment when a small burst of magic healed her client. A small moan escaped in front of her.

"There now. We both shared a little secret." Lu Fei's warm breath caressed her clients neck. "Why do you not tell me another secret of yours?" Her voice taking on a new aspect. One that thrummed with power.

"I work for the King of this Realm. I protect the people's of his from those that would attack it." Her lover responded in a dreamy tone.

"A woman Legionnaire? Tell me what would your commanding officer say about your visit here? What would it be to you to protect your image and reputation? Why don't you get your bag and show me what you can give me so I can keep your secrets?" Lu Fei's tone turning into one of condescension and greed.

A small shake of the head and the woman rose walking to her belongings.

"Not a Legonnaire." She replied as she collected her things. "An Inquisitor."

Lu Fei stumbled to her feet off the bed in a second as the red headed woman pulled on a crows mask and pulled back on her previously discarded robe.

"Magically charming citizens and extortion are serious crimes in our Realm. Come quietly and you will be given a fair hearing and trial. If King Viserys is feeling lenient he may even allow you to keep selling your services. He has a special place in his heart for courtesans if the rumors are true about his time in Bravos." Anya of Sorceror's Deep called out across the room.

Lu Fei looked wildly around the room as if searching for somewhere to run.

"I wouldn't bother. After I sent the signal the others will have collected the Madame and shut The Lily down for the night until we can sort this out. Now relax and don't attempt to escape. I'd hate to further ruin this evening." Anya commanded.

Opening the sliding door revealed two more Inquisitors in the hall, and Lu Fei's demeanor changed to one of defeat.
----------------------------------------------------------------

"Congrats to Anya and her first brothel visit!" A raucous cheer emanated from the bar as other Inquisitors slapped the investigator of the night on the back.

"Hopefully next time there will be a happy ending," Anya responded. Slightly disappointed such a lovely musician and talent wasted committing petty crimes.

Coming out of her reverie she noticed the room had gone silent. After a quick whisper from Sharra explaining what 'Happy ending' usually meant in a brothel, and a furious blush encompassing her face; the rest of the room roared in laughter and bawdy jokes.

-------------------------------------------------------------

The report from the Inquisitor's mission into unlawful casting and extortion even altered memories sat at Garen Drekelis' desk as he pondered over the interesting report his wife came and sat in his lap.

"The children are asleep and so should we dear husband. What keeps you up at this late hour away from our bed?" Selyse gently asked, slightly irked her husband and father to her adorable new twins was still working.

Picking up the report and handing it over to Selyse, Garen wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her close.

Curiosity piqued she started reading.

"Li Shishi alias Lu Fei... misuse of magic... extortion... from Yi-Ti province of... daughter of dishonored family of... Oh my my my. I can see why she would be interesting. A woman who was supposed to be killed because of her father's dishonor on a general who fled west and used her skills at song an manipulation to stay alive. Found herself in Sorceror's Deep where magic was plentiful and she thought she might slip by unnoticed. And she very well might have if she hadn't done it so often." Selyse said standing up and pulling her husband onto his feet.

"The Inquistor that made the arrest said she nearly gave herself away until "Lu Fei" tried to magic her way into her head. A little training and modifying certain behaviors and she would make a scary Investigator." Garen countered as his Lady wife pulled him along.

----------------------------------------------

That was a bit longer than I expected. Hopefully Anya's creator doesn't mind me using her in this situation.
I figured courtesans wouldn't be too bad at gathering information and maybe one would want to join the Inquisition. Hope this one was alright.

I wouldn't even know where to start with making a character sheet, but in my head she's a bard. At least level 4 with alter memory.

 

[DragonParadox]

King's Gifts​

Twenty Third Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

A question you had heard before, if not quite posed the same way, but one you know is of gravest import to the man before you, hope and fear warring upon his features. So it is with utmost care you answer: "Mine and mine alone, skill and power dream-born, not gifted upon another for all the fact that it can be, if the gods deem it wise or the boon sound. It is not fire stolen, if that is your fear, my lord. Every soul, ever person born in the world under the sun or in stranger spheres of being has the choice to live and breathe or set aside earthly bonds for whatever awaits them."

Shoulders sag in relief, but in Lord Ashwin's gaze fear is transfigured, not snuffed out. One to consider the greater implications even at a time like this. A world in which the sovereignty of souls is above the gods is less ordered and harder by far than one in which the ultimate arbitrators of fate are known to all.

Whatever his realization his thoughts do not linger upon it long with the promise of having his son restored. "What is required for this... sorcery?"

"Ordinarily a bone or other remains, but Viserys can manage with a likeness of the one being called from beyond," Dany replies, causing the lord to start, either just remembering she is present or surprised at a child speaking confidently on such a macabre a topic as wresting corpses from their graves. No one goes on to explain that you ordinarily could perform the raising with naught but the young knight's name, save for the fact that you have never met him and his name is likely shared with many others of his House.

"Pray wait a moment longer while I find one then," Lord Keath replies before turning on his heals and leaving at a walk that is almost a run, paying no mind to the fact that he is leaving you and your companions alone in his solar.

As the door clicks closed your mother sighs in relief of her own. "I never thought I would be so relieved to see a lack of piety among the lords of Westeros. You took a risk with him."

"I told the truth," you counter. "This power alone is likely to cause whispers and turmoil aplenty without trying to veil it in lies and half-truths. Better to begin with how one means to go on in matters of the gods and the soul."

That beginning is not long in coming, Lord Ashwin returns soon after clutching a miniature clasped in a silver pendant, the image of a young knight, with his father's coloring of hair and eyes but a slighter build, perhaps inherited from his mother. You fix the face in mind and twice call forth the greatest of your magics like twined strikes upon some cosmic gong. Once to forge a body unsouled, garbed in white that is emptiness, twice to cast the light of a shattered diamond to call forth from his wanderings the young knight's spirit.

Lost 1,000 IM

He reaches for a sword that is not there, eyes wide in confusion looking around the room. "What is this? Father, I... I had the strangest dream."

Ashwin Keath embraces his son and after a moment frozen in surprise Horwin returns the gesture.

Knowing that they have much to say to each other that your presence would only impede you excuse yourself and your companions for a couple of hours, knowing that you would find both father and son far better disposed in the end.

Likely enough this deed alone will have secured House Keath's loyalty, even if it was a knight in your service who first slew the young knight, but you might be better served strengthening it further. Dany's words from this morning come to mind. Aenys' decree is foolish on the face of it and it would cost you nothing to reverse it save perhaps the displeasure of House Tully, and they will have far greater reason to be displeased given your plans for the Riverlands.

What if any further promises do you make to House Keath?

[] Nothing more

[] The right to build a keep at Oldstones to better secure their lands

[] Royal aid to build a keep at Oldstones

[] Write in

OOC: It felt a little voyeuristic in character and not very interesting out of character to show the Keath's reacting to the return of their son so I'm skipping that. Next update will be the wrap up here and then off to deal with the Blackwoods and Brackens.