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

[DragonParadox]

Of Veils and Glittering Gold ​

Eleventh Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Unlike the subtle watchers that may or may not be lingering just out of sight the mages of the Golden Company do not hesitate to flaunt their power, their magic, tents threaded with silk and sorcery alike and effigies of power set before their doors. You see tombstones unearthed from Nefer resting uneasily upon the ground and the smell of burning nightshade hangs heavy in the air, disdaining to mingle with that of oiled leather, roasted meat and stale wine that is the common aroma of every army's camp. You wonder what they would think, these sorcerers from distant lands gathered to the promise of wealth, knowledge and glory to know that you walked among the tents wearing a stolen face, beyond the eye of even the most skilled diviners to guess at, the most cunning eye to discern.

It is easy enough to discount the apprentices, those who still make some efforts to fit into the structure of the company, six and ten mages relevant only in that they might serve as future recruits for the Scholarum, should they prove compatible to its strictures. Half a dozen of the Third and Fourth Circle mages are more capable of altering the battlefield, perhaps providing some small utility, if given the chance to take use of their talents against you, but it is those known for greater powers still who concern you, not only in being able to fight but potentially being able to whisk themselves away in a flash of sorcery.

Alas, the news grows grimmer in the telling for as the sun approaches its zenith one of the two most skilled sorcerers in the company exits his glittering tent. Raerys Aergyreon is garbed in robes of black and gold, in glyphs of Valyrian sorcery and in an arrogant assurance of his own power that makes all but the boldest officers cross his path. It is certainly enough to make the humble drover you are playing at the moment drop his gaze and cringe. Yet as you watch him sweep past between lowered lashes you realize something that makes you almost curse under your breath, you cannot see him with anything but the eyes of flesh, though only a blind man could mistake his staff for anything but magical. He is warded as you are warded against divination. If this man is allowed to escape he will not be easy to find again.

Spoiler: Raerys Aergyreon

"I think it's fair to say his twin would be as well guarded," Dany whispers in your mind from across the camp at your revelation. That after all was what was most known of Raerys, that he had a twin alike in face, form and temperament and that the two seemed fond of each other, though seemingly disdaining all others. How you wish you could follow the sorcerer, but a military camp is not a city, one has to be at least in the vague vicinity of one's supposed task to remain inconspicuous. So you drift off and let your sister and Tyene pick up the trail. Still, even without your arcane senses you can see what sort of mage he is, you can read it across the silk of his robes, carved into his polished ebony staff, an evoker, one who binds and looses the elements to his will.

"I've got eyes on Taenys, same robes, same staff, same lack of an aura," Tyene says across the mind link a moment later.

It does not take you long to find the other master sorcerers, the flesh-smith whose apprentice or perhaps colleague you had already slain, the diviners around their scryer's pool by a blood red sunset, and all of them have one thing in common, they are warded from divinatiom, all of them must be either brought to battle at once or attacked at once.

Spoiler: Golden Company Wizards

Wizards:
2 Wizards of the Seventh Circle (Volantine Evokers)
1 Wizard of the Sixth Circle (Necromancer/Flesh-smith)
3 Wizard of the Fifth Circle (2 Diviners; 1 Enchanter)
2 Wizards of the Fourth Circle
4 Wizard of the Third Circle
10 Wizards of the Second Circle
6 Wizards of the First Circle

All six mages of Fifth Circle and above has mind blank

However, as the day fades from the sky there is yet graver news abounding, the priests of Tiamat do not keep records of Tiamat's servants, the dragon-headed abishai, so the only way to do that would be to peer into the mind of a priest, or to interrogate them in a more direct manner. Dany offers to peer into their dreams, Ser Richard suggests feigning an attack from Trader Town to capture one, either way it would be risky.

How do you discover more of the priests, their sacrifices and their fiends?

[] Dreamwalking
-[] Write in who to take

[] Ambush an acolyte under the guise of reprisals from Trader Town

[] Write in

OOC: It was only when I reached the very end of this update that I realized you guys had asked for the priests not the mages, but since I had already rolled for tailing them I figured it would be better to post thing than spend another hour witting up the priests. Sorry for the mix up, priests will be in the next update regardless, but I do need to know what you guys plan to do about the abishai.

 

[DragonParadox]

Sister of the Sword ​

Eleventh Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Oddly enough the priests of Tiamat of Many Colors and None prove to be far more adept at mingling with the common soldiers than the mages drawn to the lure of power and knowledge. They are not universally beloved of course, the screams that sometimes echo from their altars see to that, but from the tales the shadows heard they are at least respected.

"Ain't afraid to get their hands dirty, not bloody neither," a broad-shouldered man with half his scalp burned and healed glistening pink says to a still wide-eyed trio of young recruits who you would wager had not done anything more martial that scaring off wolves with sling-stones. "See this.." he points at the scar. "One of the damn horse-fucker fire wizards almost boiled my brains in my skull and he would've managed it too if it hadn't been for Lady Lemore. Healed me right up she did after the fight too. The fires are enough to turn your stomach if you stand downwind of 'em, but that's the price you've gota pay. Ain't no way to make sausage without blood."

One wonders if he would be as philosophical about it if it was his guts being minced to sausage meat, Varys hisses, though she sounds more amused than offended. Well that and bored enough of sitting still coiled around your shoulders under your cloak that she is tempted to demonstrate the point.

Lemore, you had heard that name before of course, besides young Aegon the one most blessed by Tiamat among the Golden Company, able to 'heal all the ailments of body and mind', a spell of the Sixth Circle unless you are mistaken. However, her tale is of more than sorcery and faith in Tiamat. Supposedly she had been a septa, an uncommon calling indeed for a company that has been away from Westeros for generations, though you could certainly understand why Varys at least would wish to ensure that the boy learned of the Seven, given his mad plan. If that was indeed his intention it had failed rather spectacularly. Septa Lemore had been poisoned at the command a Myrish magister, furious that the company was marching east instead of taking his city's generous payment to fight in the Disputed Lands. That had been when young Aegon's magic had been first revealed outside his inner circle, first in healing her, then in forcing the truth from the magister's lips before burning him alive before all present.

By all accounts the miracle had inspired in the former septa a fervent loyalty to the would-be boy king, and an equally deep faith in Tiamat. She had not only learned prayers and invocations, but had taken to a warrior's arts with a passion and skill that supposedly surprised everyone save Jon Connington himself.

For many of the sellswords she is the first example for why one should not discount a sorceresses on the battlefield, her deeds recounted in almost the same reverent tones as Aegon's Long Ride and the breaking of the Jogos Nhai tribes. The slaying of the black manticore, a creature unleashed from one of the company's first ill-fortuned forays into the Shadow Realm, the fall of the Tattered Lord, a dead prince of Sarnor who refused to negotiate with the living in any form and dozens of other accolades of battle. A perilous foe to be sure, but not one you think too likely to be keen-eyed enough to see through the veils you had wrapped yourself in. For caution's sake however you decide to look for her with Ser Richard and Tyene near at hand, the former for her skill with glamour and quick wit and the latter for his own peace of mind.

You find the septa turned champion of Tiamat in front of a large bonfire, the light of the flames reflecting off lustrous dark hair and armor of dragon bone and leather. She smiles readily and laughs often, though there is a melancholy behind her eyes that neither can touch. Does she regret any of the deeds performed in the same of Tiamat, you wonder...

Spoiler: Lemore

The thought breaks off abruptly as you hear Tyene curse in shock inside your mind, surprising in itself given that the spell that binds you aught only carry conscious messages, though when you hear her next few words you understand the point. "What the fuck is a Dayne doing here? Is that... no it can't be. She's dead."

"Death is not as much of an impediment to walking around under the sun these days," you point out. "Which Dayne cousin does she look like?"

"Ashara, Uncle Doran showed me a painting of her once," Tyene says. "A long way from silks and and knights sighing for her gaze..."

"But not so far for the sister of the Sword of the Morning," Ser Richard points out, eyeing the woman with a thoughtful gaze, just as he would a devil, dragon or any other foe he has time to study at his leisure.

After that particular revelation none of the rest you learn of the priests of Tiamat proves nearly as surprising, though accounts of the boy Aegon's growing powers, even when filtering out obvious tall tales, make you revise how many of your Companions should face him.

Spoiler: Priests of Tiamat

1 Aegon 'Young Griff', Chosen of Tiamat, mage of the Eighth Circle
1 Tiamat Cleric of the Seventh Circle ('Lemore', Ashara Dayne)
2 Tiamat Clerics of the Sixth Circle
2 Tiamat Clerics of the Fourth Circle
4 Tiamat Clerics of the Second Circle
13 Tiamat Clerics of the First Circle

What do you do next?

[] Continue Scouting
-[] The elephant riding mages
-[] The drakes and their riders
-[] The boy Aegon and any immediate guards or companions
-[] Write in targets

[] Contact Ser Cole
-[] Alone
-[] With Benerro's help

[] Try to find out more about the mind-blanked watchers
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: I would have liked to find a pic for Ashara more in line with her actual coloring, but the armor was too good to pass up. Imagine she has black hair and violet eyes.

 

[DragonParadox]

In New Halls ​

Eleventh Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

For all that its bones too had been raised more by magic than mortal hands Port Saan was not Sorcerer's Deep. Its granite walls and flat roofs already starting to weather and turn green in the humid southern air, but the citizens of the new town were nothing if not practical. Rooftop gardens had gone from an oddity to be laughed at to a perfectly respectable way to keep yams and other crops on the table and spare a coin or three. Salladhor Saan had seen the burgeoning change in his town and done what he was most known for, on land or sea. Be bright, be bold and always worth remembering.

Using the same contacts as went into the founding of the Southlands Fruit Company, through his own funds of course, the Archon of the Basilisk Isles had set about building himself a palace. It was not the largest in the realm by far, there were no doubt merchant princes in Braavos and magisters in Tyrosh who would scoff at the size, nor particularly filled with glittering wealth, though he liked to think that his treasures had more character for being honestly looted rather than passed on from father to son like a bad squint, but what was most striking about it were the gardens. Not yams, melons and herbs, but proper trees grown atop it that you could rest in the shade of one and drink summer-wine. A touch of leshy magic went a long way.

Create Manufacturing Business (Southlands Fruit Company) in the Bassilisk Isles Complete 6/3

The pirate lord turned Archon wondered if he could get a Heart Tree up there, it was all fine soil, the people who knew dirt and gardens assured him, and the walls of the palace were all fused stone going right down to the bedrock. Could weirwood roots burrow through stone?

"It might be more trouble than its worth to try, captain," Varn pointed out when Salladhor shared his latest thought for the palace. "If you let the trees into the palace the Red Priests are going to want a fire, then the snakes are going to put in a giant tamed snake monster or some shit and pretty soon you can't enjoy the garden from all the priest-work."

Saan shuddered dramatically at the thought of priests trampling all over his as yet incomplete gardens. "Maybe I can just make an exception for some Summer Islander Gods, it's just being neighborly after all..."

"Is that what you're after calling it, my lord?" the old salt scoffed. "If you're after that sort of worship no need to be bothering gods for it. There's a new brothel by the fish market."

"Bah," Saan scoffed. "And here I am trying to be subtle and bringing practicality into the matter."

"You truly are an incurable romantic, my lord," the sorcerer Kedric called out absently from where he was fiddling with some sort of odd device with brass tubes and Myrish glass. "Is there room for an observatory in that palace of yours?" To show what he meant he briefly conjured the image of a bright glass eye peering out among the green.

"Add that to the plans then," Saan said, liking the look of it. "Hells, maybe we can get someone in the Scholarum or that new university to pay for it if I let them play with it."

OOC: There really was not much to say about the fruit company, but it got Saan thinking about how to make his new palace and administrative center of the Isles stand out.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Crimson Shield ​

Eleventh Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Not all those who are foes of note among the Golden Company are wise enough to wear rings that veil the arcane auras around them and so to mage sight they shine like many colored stars even seen from high above, too high for any careful watchers on the ground to spot you in turn. "They could still be watching from the air," Varys notes judiciously. "Perhaps not all their dragons are gaudy as a color-blind magister's jewels."

Shaking your head slightly at the bite of jealousy in her mind-voice as she looks to the drakes you take her advice just the same, flying in wide circles around the group of riders. Your gaze is sharp enough to catch every details of their heraldry and manner just the same. These are knights as Ser Gerold was a knight, men who had never seen Westeros and who by and large had never kept to the Seven even before the revelation of Tiamat and her magic, but they fought with on destriers in steel plate... no, not quite steel, at least not the armor of the lead rider. It had not been smelted in any earthly furnace, but in a place where shadows lie thick enough to tread upon, and of that same forging is his blade that seems to hiss and sputter in your sight as though a tongue of dark flame had been sheathed in leather and sought only to escape. Rings of strength and arcane warding, a belt of fortune around his waist, all these you see but most telling are the enduring blessings upon him. Not so different from the ones Dany had laid upon you. This man is important to the Champion of Tiamat, or at least someone in his service as you had heard.

Spoiler: Rolly the Red

You go over the tales you had heard, how he had gained his name and spurs cutting down steel-clad devils who had threatened his liege, and there surrounded by the brimstone stench and black blood he had sworn himself to be the boy's shield. Connington did not like him, counting him too common company for the king no matter his skill with the sword. Supposedly he had once been naught but a smith's son in Bitterbridge who had to flee Lord Caswell's justice. "Perhaps the one who had wounded young Lorent", Lya reminded you, her perfect memory shinning through in more than sorcery.

It was the knight's present, not his past, however that interested you most, alas that soldiers' tales do not Inquisition report of his abilities make. All you know is that he is not a sorcerer of any sort for all he bears so many enchanted objects, marks of valor and in some cases spoils taken from the foe, you know that he is loyal to the boy who knighted him but returns the Lord of Griffin Roost's disdain, and from a spy who listened in the shadow of an old healer you know he fought some manner of duel in Nefer that was almost his end, supposedly over a woman's hand.

"That is such a common reason you do not know whether to discount it as someone filling in the blanks of a half-heard tale or count it a good answer for playing to the odds", Tyene notes when you recount the tale. The knight certainly seems grim and you cannot imagine riding patrols is a particularly common task for one who should be his master's sworn shield. Had he been exiled by Connington, or sought the distance himself, you wonder. Either way you could use that. If nothing else you had heard nothing of him being particularly pious in the service of Tiamat.

Alas, you cannot get close to either Connington or the boy. The 'king's tent' is not only the grandest in the camp, seeming almost a palace in of itself, it is also surrounded by unseen wards you would not trust even the most carefully woven veil to slip past, and while you are reasonably certain you could step through them wearing a different face, choosing a drover or recruit will not do as they would have no business in the command tent. You either need an identity that can stand up to scrutiny to meet Aegon or to wait until he emerges that you might watch him from afar.

What do you do?

[] Approach one of those you have identified as sources of inside information
-[] 'Red' Rolly
-[] Ser Dick Cole

[] Try to gain access to the Command Tent
-[] As a merchant seeking to sell goods from distant lands
-[] As a mage wishing to join the Golden Company

[] Continue with more basic scouting
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: Ser Rolly the Red has equipment up to Companion standards which means his sword is an artifact, he also has a belt of battle, healing everything it takes to make him a meaningful martial threat on that level. You guys can assume his level is in the same ballpark.

 

[DragonParadox]

Crumbling Stone, Enduring Bone ​

Eleventh Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Sea Dragon Point, The North

Wide dark cracks spread through the pale stone like branches reaching for the heavens, yet as the tower crumbled there was little sound over the crashing of the waves. It was as though the whole sorry place was melting into the fog now that it's keepers had at least gone to their eternal rest. Or at least what I hope will be their eternal rest, Kira sighed, her shoulders tensing slightly with unaccustomed guilt. She had told those poor souls that there was some kind of order to the Spheres, that they should let go of the sorrows of their earthly lives and pass on. For all she knew they were passing right into a daemon's gullet, and that was a risk she would never have to take by the simple circumstances of her birth.

"I think you did magnificently in there," Leila said shyly, likely reading her expression. "That did not deserve to end in blood, we all wanted the same thing, all pledged to end reaving. The King will end it." She said it very firmly, as though there was no doubt in her mind that Viserys Targaryen could do whatever he set his mind to.

Kira could remember him as the lonely boy in Braavos who had revealed himself on accident, even if they weren't her memories, but that was not the knowledge that made her ill at ease. "I'm thinking of writing a song about them to remember them by once the stones are worn away..."

"No use weeping over ghosts," Mors Umber said gruffly. "I'd bet my axe and even my eye that not all those bones belonged to reavers, or even Ironborn." The base of the tower had been an ossuary, each bone bleached white by salt and sea before being set there to grow the power of the lingering spirits, to thin the veil between life and death more and more.

"You know it's a pity we did not find anything worth taking back with us," Mia began. The souls of the dead had little use for treasure and so for once they would be returning to Sorcerer's Deep empty handed, though the task was done. "But this would be a excellent place to raise a tower dedicated to... er," he glanced at Mors a touch uneasily. "Necromancy. I can still taste death in the air."

To Kira's surprise, and she suspected not hers alone, it was Tor who raised an objection. "Too good a location," he chuckled darkly, motioning northward into the overcast horizon. "Too close to the Lords of Night." There was something like admiration mixed with the fear in his words.

Looking away from the rakshasa's hooded gaze she noticed something glittering among the rubble by the flash of distant lightning. Likely a trick of the light but...

It looked like a leg bone, but not like any bone she had ever seen. Thin and delicate, almost frail looking, but rather than dull yellowing white it seemed to be made of glittering crystal... or ice. Anya's gaze followed hers. "You don't think..." she trailed off, not wanting to give voice to the suspicion.

"Something must have started all this, the tower, the ghosts. It couldn't just be that they killed themselves in despair." Leila shook her head, eyes darkening. "If that were enough the Iron Islands would be filled with ghosts and haunted places."

"I think," Mia said slowly, "That we should get this thing back to Sorcerer's Deep as quickly as possible and leave it for Lady Lya or another Companion to make sense of it." She did not touch the bone, conjuring an unseen servant instead to unearth it.

OOC: I can confirm since Lya's other body can get that much from it at a glance that this is a Winter Fey bone of some sort, and not just from a human who made a pact or was cursed.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Absence and Unfond Hearts ​

Twelvth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

There is something odd afoot in Trader Town, the realization is built up layer upon layer as you inquire after the comings and goings of those among the Golden Company whom you are most concerned with, the sorcerers, priests and demons. The common soldiers are restlessly boasting, yet more than happy to sup upon the profits of providing protection to caravans moving to the not quite besieged city, but the others...

"My lord is indisposed for the week," proclaims one servant.

"Away on the king's business," a concubine replies with a sigh that you suspect is as deceptive as the smile she had greeted Tyene's questions with. The flesh-smith she shares a tent with has a certain love of youth and beauty, though he was quick to abandon his lover once either wilted. The fact that she was in Tyene's words 'still wearing mask and mummer's garb' was proof enough that he would be returning soon, though of itself that did not tell you much. A single spell of the Fifth Circle could carry one a thousand leagues and most mages who could cast it once could cast it twice.

It was Dany who provided the most important piece of the puzzle, slipping in among the fatherless children who accompany any sellsword company after a while. She discovered that 'Lady Lemore' had a certain fondness for them, having once rescued an unfortunate urchin from a priest's sacrificial dagger when the servant of Tiamat had sought out the nearest victim for her master's ceremonies. There had been a trial and at the end of it a sentencing. The priest's head had fallen by Blackfyre's own blade and the priests commanded in no uncertain terms to seek out their victims only among the enemy and not those under the protection of the Golden Company's banners. But that is not what caught your sister's eye.

"She's not allowing any of the children or dependents to leave for Trader Town anymore, says it's not safe." Dany pauses for a moment. "Servant of Tiamat or no I think she means it, that she cares..." she sighs.

"You feel sorry for her?" Rina only half asks. The name Ashara Dayne had meant very little for her, but from the softening of her gaze you guess she shares something of the sentiment herself.

Dany shakers her head, fireflies buzz away at the glint of silver hair like the courtiers of a disgruntled fairy. "No, it's easy to come up with reasons why it's alright to work with Tiamat, I did it myself after all. Those Jogos Nhai camps didn't burn themselves," she says darkly. "Hells, I could not tell you how many new orphans and widows that made."

"But you think she's telling the truth about there being danger in Trader Town for her children," you muse. Given that the Golden Company is at war with the self-styled Orange Emperor and that he himself is preparing some sort of attack against them, it would make sense for the priests and sorcerers who are not in the camp to be moving first, attempting to steal a march on the general. You briefly consider the haughty but clever Pol Ning, he would not stand much of a chance before the Golden Company's archmages and high priests. Hopefully Lady Xue proves more formidable.

"So who's not in the camp right now?" Ser Richard asks, bringing the conversation back on track. "That should give us some notion of if they mean to strike or just to scout."

"Raerys Aergyreon, his fellow evoker along with our friend the Neferese flesh-smith and necromancer with an appreciation of womanly beauty, " Tyene says with a grimace. "Additionally we are missing three of the high priests, one of the Sixth Circle and two of the Fourth..."

"Those are normal absences," you interject. "The priests travel to the Shadow Realm often, I suspect because leaving the Shadow Fortress to the dead alone to guard might leave them with the impression that it is theirs in full. I think many of the underpriests and acolytes might be there as well." None of you could afford the time to track down the lesser mages for all they would have been easier to find, after all they could not meaningfully flee with magic. "I suspect that the three sorcerers are alone in Trader Town, if it is indeed there that they had gone." You loath being blind and unable to divine where your foes are, warnings given to children and camp followers are scant evidence to form plans on.

"We could try sneaking into their sanctums while they are absent," Lya points out after a moment. "Those are the three most skilled mages in the whole camp, if anyone has a more complete account of the Company's long term plans it would be they."

"Are you sure it's just intelligence you are after?" Dany asks with a teasing smile.

"Of course," Lya replies primly. "I can loot their laboratories for research after the battle is over."

Spoiler: Currently absent mages

Wizards:
2 Wizards of the Seventh Circle (Volantine Evokers)
1 Wizard of the Sixth Circle (Necromancer/Flesh-smith)

Priests:
1 Tiamat Clerics of the Sixth Circle
2 Tiamat Clerics of the Fourth Circle

What do you do?

[] Take advantage of the mage's absence to enter their quarters to gather more intelligence

[] Travel to Trader Town, you might be able to remove some of your most dangerous foes while making it seem as though Pol Qo did so

[] Write in

OOC: Hopefully the list is not too jarring I wanted to make it clear who left and who is still here. There are a lot of pieces moving around who have been introduced only recently.

 

[DragonParadox]

To Speak in Jest and Die in Earnest ​

Twelfth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Valley of the Lost Clans, Fronstfangs, Far North

There were cornflowers among the grass, blue as the summer sky, blue as ice glinting on the jagged peaks. Though the cold did not touch him Thoros of Myr shivered as he stepped through the rustling bear-grass and sent a prayer to R'hllor with his next breath. No battle prayer this to fill him with the righteous fury of His fire or healing light in his hour of need, only simple words such he might have spoken long ago in the temple's rectory when the world seemed a simpler place. The priest glanced at his companions, trying to guess if they would push to the barrows this evening or camp again to the sighs of the northern wind.

The Red Viper would want to press on that much he was certain of, the mad did nothing by half whether it came to wine, women or war, and judging from the expression of almost cat-like anticipation upon the face of the Lady of Naath this endeavor had come to involve both the latter two. Thoros wished the Dornishman all the joy of it, for beautiful as she might be Thoros had no desire to half-embrace the grave. What she thought of the matter was more than Thoros could guess, other than the brief flash of frustration she showed at the fact that none of them dared fly through these skies. I'll not regret the Hell steed that's for certain, the priest thought to himself.

By contrast Clegane's face was as easy to read as a sky full of storm clouds and just as dark, though not at the danger they were walking into. The Hound had taken poorly to being separated from the Princess while she went into danger, no matter that she would have Ser Lonmouth there to guard her. How times change. Thoros briefly tried to imagine the Hound regretting not having Cersei Lannister's company. He laughed loud and clear, the sound strange to these peaks and vales.

"Care to share the reason for your good cheer with the rest of us poor travelers, your holiness," Oberyn Martell called.

Another priest might have taken the jesting title poorly, but Thoros for all his renewed faith reasoned the Lord of Light must have a fair sense of humor about the world else his tears would have drowned it long ago. "I was imagining Cersei Lannister on some distant venture risking life and limb like the King and the Princess go off on..."

"I would not mind having her with us right now," the Dornishman said with a cold smile.

"You wouldn't?" Thoros asked curiously, though he knew there was some sort of sting in the tale waiting for him.

"Of course not, we could just stake her in front of the barrow to see what comes out to eat her," came the reply.

"Alas, it looks like someone has had the notion before you," Wyla said, motioning ahead where the morning mists had pulled back just enough to reveal a group of people, wildlings from the looks of their furs though bearing mostly weapons of stone not bronze like the Thenns. Ahead of the crowd a ragged figure stumbled, pushed along with the buts of spears and taunts towards the looming mass of a barrow.

"There's only what thirty of 'em of that," the Hound said eyeing them up. "I say we deal with 'em before going in the barrow. Don't like having enemies at our backs."

"A fair tactical assessment, but we do not yet know if tactics will be required," Lady Drekelis said, motioning for Velen to come out of her mage bag. The phoenix flew so low to the ground he almost set the grass on fire with his wings, and judging from the shouts and pointing he had certainly gotten the wildlings' attention. Hopefully he would be able to get some answers too.

OOC: Not a lot of action, but I figured it would be interesting to look in on Thoros for a bit. He tends to get overshadowed by more extroverted characters like Oberyn, or more powerful ones like Wyla.

 

[DragonParadox]

An Ill-fated Meeting ​

Thirteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

If this were Braavos, Tyrosh or even Volantis you could have found your quarry in a matter of hours. In Trader Town it takes you a little over a day following rumors on the wind, whispers of stone and answers from the ether drawn. Thankfully the three sorcerers had indeed taken a few of handful of their apprentices with them, though following them through a maze of unfamiliar streets while passing from shrine to barracks to marketplace and back again was not easy you finally do happen upon a guiding thread. It seems Raerys Aergyreon is posing as a Volantene spice merchant under a name three letters shy of his own.

"That's proper Volantene pride alright," Waymar notes when the two of you find a good vantage point in the square opposite the townhouse built about as close to the west wall as the laws of the city allow. Part of you wonders if there is a tunnel going under the wall that might prove a hidden path into the city, but then you dismiss the notion. An army counting three and twenty Tiamat Blessed drakes would hardly be inconvenienced by walls.

Asking around the city for what sort of man 'Master Aerlyteom' might be you discover many of the subtle markers of a decent spy, not just a skilled mage. Quiet, they say, generous with favors and coin both, with only one or two minor complaints, the sort of artful scuffs one adds so the mask does not seem too polished, an altercation between one of his servants and the guards during a festival, a contract fulfilled one week late, but among the piles of concealing sand you also find a gem or two. The mage turned spy is unsurprisingly interested in ancient texts, particularly those pertaining to the worship of the kami and the healing arts, for only the most reputable purposes you have no doubt.

"I've found the apprentice we trailed almost to here, he's heading for the townhouse," Tyene's mind voice interrupts your thoughts, sounding less pleased than the news would warrant, at least until you hear the second part of it. "There's a shugenja with him, the road shakes a little when he walks upon it. He's young, looks to be one of Ning's lot."

As neither Pol Ning nor any of her associates are warded against divination you make quick use of it while Teana continues to observe the pair with Dany and Ser Richard moving to reinforce her should there be need.

The news is not thankfully as grim as it could have been. Pol Ning has not decided to abandon all sense and sanity to ally with Tiamat, nor is she in the habit of blindly accepting aid from strange visitors, no matter how well it served her when she met you. She is suspicious of the sudden request for a meeting, but curious enough to send one of her more adept allies to speak to this merchant who has dared turn his gaze so high. Unfortunately her most skilled fellow shugenja are not a match for the master mages of the Golden Company had sent.

What do you do?

[] Subtly disrupt the meeting by contacting the shugenja then approach Pol Ning about the matter. Little as you are inclined to grant her bother the title of Emperor he is still the lord of Trader Town

[] The meeting is a distraction, scout the townhouse to ensure the master mages are truly there

[] Strong as the enemy are you do have the advantage of numbers, split up to cover more ground
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: Not the most detailed part, but it is a third update for the day. Late posting or not I did promise.

 

[DragonParadox]

An Eyeful of Poison​

Thirteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Contending against Varys has taught you many lessons about dealing with well prepared foes, never underestimate a mortal foe with no magic of their own to call on, never forget to comb for any poisoned hooks lingering after they had been dealt with, but the first of them was by far the simplest and easiest to make use of.

While your true foe might be warded from the sight of all but gods who bend their full will upon the task, the shugenja Jie Quiang is not and one can guess much from hearing half the conversation. And so in the privacy of your rented room filled with the smell of jasmine and the faint rustle of bamboo leaves you pour your will into the flame before you until it rises as high as the ceiling. Not burning but shedding upon the chamber the light of a distant meeting as the crackling fades the sound of voices replace it, though you hear them in Common and not the Yi Tish they are initially spoken in, though as you do so you wonder for a moment if something is wrong with the spell. Surely you could not have heard what you did.

"All is in readiness, the false emperor has been stripped of all but the most delusional of his supporters. She who is blessed of the kami will soon deliver his head before the Azure Throne and cleanse Trader Town of his treason..."

This does not make any sense...

There is a moment of silence then. "Yes, yes, of course we will deal with the monastery too, their pious mewling is no reason to spare them the fate of traitors. There are barely any of them left in any case. The lore blessed of the kami has seen to that after all..." a sharp laugh, unlike any you have heard him give before, crosses the stone mage's lips. "I shall entomb Xue myself."

Unlike any you have heard from him before...

Unlike him...

"Dany," you say softly. "I need a question answered right now with yes or no, not in ten minutes, call down Zathir if you have to." You take a deep steadying breath. "Make that two questions, is what we are watching here true or an illusion, and is it meant for us or for Pol Qo?"

Under other circumstances Dany might have smiled, she might have pointed out that she would need to ask three questions under the conditions of a commune spell to answer all that you have asked, but you can see the horrified suspicion behind her eyes as she flickers away.

Ten heart beats, twenty as Jie Quiang recounts a list of traitors, supposed traitors, in Lady Xue's entourage. Then your sister reappears. You know the answer before she has even opened her mouth. "It's a false scrying, a veil, and Pol Qo is seeing it right now through Lady Xue's magic. The meeting was all a set up to get them to fight so the Golden Company can sweep in without resistance."

"Fuck!" The curse bursts from your lips unbidden.

"But, they can do what we did, ask if the vision is fake," Waymar interjects. "Surely their spirits can see what Zathir did."

"We noticed because we had already spied on Ning's mages, we knew her envoy did not go into this meeting to plot a coup with the Azure Emperor," Tyene replies, shaking her head so hard that a lock of hair flies free from its proper braiding. "Hells, we know Raerys Aergyreon is not working for Bu Gai and that Ning got that information from us not from the throne in Yin, but if Pol Qo is already suspicious of his sister's ambitions and her sudden rise in the favor of the kami..."

"Then he will not look any further," you finish grimly. "He will strike."

"We have to warn her," Lya says instantly. "A sending, it will give her a chance to explain."

"Can we explain this in twenty words?" Dany asked, motioning to the false image of treachery. "We should just tell her to get somewhere safe, until we can show up in person to recount what we've seen."

"By then the general might have moved and we could be right in the middle of a war between the local mages," Tyene points out. "If we tip our hand here..." There is no need to finish. All of you are very much aware of the worth of surprise against a foe as powerful as the Golden Company with so many mages who could scatter to the winds to trouble you for years to come.

Throughout all this Rina had been silent and uncertain, not used to these sorts of games, but when she speaks it is to offer an unexpected suggestion. "What if we called upon a kami, one of the stronger ones like back in Yin, surely they would not be happy to see those they favor slaughter each other at the behest of a dark goddess' servants? No one would wonder how one of them knew to warn Pol Qo..."

What do you do?

[] Use Sending to warn Pol Ning
-[] Asking her to meet you in person (Write in)
-[] Without asking her to meet in person (Write in)

[] Use Miracle to try to awaken a kami of the peril that is transpiring
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: The advantages of high wisdom strike again, though all things told it would have been practically impossible for everyone in the party to be fooled, there were just too many red flags from Viserys' PoV, though not from Pol Qo's.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Spirits Old and Young​

Thirteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

In the end the decision is simple, you will do everything you can to prevent the city and the lands it commands from falling into anarchy. First you ensure that no one can easily exit the house by magic then... "Tyene, warn Pol Ning she is being framed and advise her to get to safety..." Hopefully she takes that advice, you think as your friend murmurs the words of the spell. The princess had been rather young and bold in no small measure, her magic closest to flame which does not lend itself to choosing flight over fight...

You cut off the thought, that is not your concern for now. The false reflection of your own scrying, the expression on Tyene's face as she grips the stone of far speech, all fade and flow together as you turn your magic inwards and upwards... almost a dream, not-quite-a-gate, a whisper to those who slumber beneath your feet and ride the evening breeze, a rustle in the leaves and the crackle of the campfire. You are no shugenja of this land, sworn to the kami and by them beloved, but you are a dragon and you will be heard: "Guardians of this land take heed, for a great treachery is soon to be enacted against lord and land by the hand of mages under golden banners, by the will of the Dark Queen."

For a moment there is deathly silence within and without, then you hear in your mind a rumble like a storm in the distance, like the rolling thunder of an avalanche: "By the will of she who birthed you and all your greedy grasping get! We will not be your pawns blood weaver!"

Of all the stupid, pig-headed... Anger is not useful, anger will just confirm their belief. You let it flow through you, over you. You have dealt with worse for less gain. They would, you admit, have some cause to suspect a dragon warning of Tiamat. "I do not deny the sins of the past, but I had no part of them. I offer warning with no expectation of reward of profit beyond preserving order and law within this city and its people."

"Peace... the peace of a usurper who would tear apart the Golden Empire," the voice rumbles. "I could ponder why you desire such a thing but I have no patience to pick apart your schemes, Child of Deceit. "

With that there is silence again so absolute that it can only mean the spirit's attention is turned from you. A spell of the Ninth Circle wasted on the eve of battle, this time it is far harder to swallow your frustration. The light behind your eyelids has changed, you notice, and as you open them you realize why. It seems more than one spirit had heard your call.

At first glance it looks like a phoenix, or at least the outline of one writ in lines of flame it draws from your scrying candle, but this is no elemental you know but a spirit of this world struggling to attain a form that can be seen with the eyes of flesh. The 'body' you see is more likely a spell of evocation than any tangible conjuration. "Don't listen to that old fool, he just likes to brood and sulk since his mountain got ground down by dragons. I'll help..." the words sound eager and rather young. "Should I go to talk to the lady and the not-emperor?"

Spoiler: Flame Kami

You have the distinct impression that your friend would not have quite as much an impact as the spirit you had originally conjured, but on the other hand at least he is willing to take advice. Would it answer questions about itself, you wonder a moment before Lya puts it to the test, by introducing herself and trailing off meaningfully.

"Oh, my apologies," the spirit sounds a little sheepish. "I am Luang, the Flicker of Diligent Flames, I keep the hearth and cook fires of this part of Trader Town."

Hearth fires besides which many a traveler's tale was told no doubt. That you suspect is why he had been curious enough to answer your call.

What do you do?

[] Ask the kami to show itself to Pol Qo

[] Ask the kami to speak to Lady Xue

[] Write in

OOC: Your rolls on finding a kami were pretty bad, but you rolled decently on the temperament of the one you did get.