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

[DragonParadox]

Battle of the Dead Fields: Part Eleven​

Nineteenth Day of the Second Month 294 AC

Though Nirah is busy fighting for his life against the monstrous 'lord' of Kasath and all across the field others are engaged in their own desperate battles against the dead, lesser and greater, clearing a path or turning a flank, Zathir, who had not yet involved himself in battle, is quick to answer your call. Swift as an arrow he flies, a rainbow arc against the storm, a living ward around and around turning as heralds and shadow dragons gather for a guard. At your right is Ser Richard, at your left Lya, and perched upon your head, the better to observe the battle without risking being wrestled from the sky, is Dany. You are as ready as you will ever be.

The nearer you come the more you can feel the malice in the altar, the desperate power, wanting... needing to lash out. Though between yourself, Lya, and Vee you are able to keep the lesser mages gathered near it from protecting the anchor of their god, you are not so fortunate when it comes to the chained ones at the last. Half dozen bolts of ruin fly from their ethereal fingertips and only three are stopped, one by Lya, one by you and another by Zathir literally interposing himself in front of a myrkdreki and letting the magic fail against his scales.

The other three attacks strike home a trio of heralds, but spells bind no purchase against bespelled steel.

The time-lost seem to be drifting this way but not purposefully. Was their existence accidental, you wonder as you turn your breath to clearing out the altar's lesser attendants first. You would not be that surprised to find that Moonsong's antics somehow managed to upend the plans of even a dead god somehow. How is this thing so powerful if it is dead...

"The chained ones are his priests, the last of them dead in chains in Vaes Dothrak. Do not strike them directly, it will wake the foe," you hear the voice of the serpent god in your mind. "They must be unbound."

Lya is obviously not distracted by questions for once, she traps one of the chained beings in an otherworldly maze forged of lines of fire and ideal shapes. A clever trick to make it gone but not dead. Zathir meanwhile unwinds himself until he is face to face with another of the chained beings and begins communing with it, silently ignoring the lashes of its chains though they leave welts upon his many colored scales.

When Teana attempts to bind a third in a cage of shadows and break its connection to the altar however the spell fails entirely and four more launch their deadly attack.

Dany counters one, her scales shinning like a silver star in defiance of night, Ser Richard sends another back from whence it came, destroying the spirit, but the other two strike home, wounding the same myrkdreki Zathir had saved before, though thankfully she is able to resist the magic as well as the heralds had.

Seeing Ser Richard's feat you have an idea, one the knight himself would doubtless find fault with when all is said and done. Silently you weave around yourself a ward-mantle to make enemy spells shatter and rebound, then thus do your proclaim across the field in the tongue of Sarnor: "Dost thou hear me, oh feeble and corrupted husk of what was once noble and grand, you twisted thing crawling from the grave of gods? Show me the power of thine servants or flee into the fetid darkness that spawned you!"

Zathir's words find their mark and one spirit is freed, Lya loses one more down arcane paths, though Dany is not so fortunate. A spell against bindings mundane and arcane barely seems to rattle the chains.

A rain of arrows strikes your scales, some deflecting, but a few piercing deep, heavy with old curses. You have to end this soon.

Two needles of bale-fire strike you, one turned back by your ring, another by the mantle you had conjured. Two more of the damned priests perish by their own magic.

The altar is without guardian now. What do you do?

[] Try to destroy it, being ready to teleport out at once

[] Attempt to pick it up and fly off

[] Take the hammer upon it

[] Write in

OOC: For anyone wondering Zathir did not make a roll to figure out about the priests, he could just see the truth of it because he is a god with sight beyond mortal ken.

 

[DragonParadox]

Battle of the Dead Fields: Part Twelve​

Nineteenth Day of the Second Month 294 AC

You set down on a carpet of fine ash, part grass and withered flowers part dead bones carried by spite and curses to burn far from their resting place, and for a moment you contemplate the hammer even in the midst of the encroaching dead whom fire and the fate of their fellows does not frighten. Fanatics or puppets, you wonder as Dany raises a wall of gleaming true silver between you and the altar, then Lya did the same with a wall of coruscating barely contained sorcery.

For just a moment you feel an odd kinship with the shifting colors, then just a swift a flash of repulsion and in a moment's insight gleam that beneath the spell-wrought formulas and arcane principles there is an echo of She of Many Colors and None, bound and codified, but still a memory of Her. You suppose it says something of the dread that Tiamat shrouds herself in that in that moment you worry more about her eye that the mad and broken Once-God whose power swirls above. But no, this is Lya's power pulsing through every color and thread, replacing one meaning with another.

Were this another time, another place, you would wonder what that means, if there is indeed any difference between mortal and immortal when all are made of soul-stuff and shaped by will.

A fleeting thought is all you can afford before your mind turns back to sorcery, to winding around your fingers the subtle threads of fate, to whispering of your success into the future's ear before you summon the power of the crystalline pendant you had gained in far off Limbo. 'Too steel the mind against peril,' the monk had called it. You suspect you might be missing a linguistic twist, for steel in Limbo's roiling mists is the product of an organized mind.

It is as though in those six heartbeats your mind is the crystal reflecting endlessly upon itself, aware of every resonance that plays upon it. "Brace," you say, voice oddly distant in your own ears as some sort of projectile hits you from the south with enough force to shatter a steel-braced gate.

You take 34 Damage

You pay it no mind, instead focusing upon the spell that would allow you to forge an arcane echo of your own hand to grasp the hammer. It feels unnaturally light for a moment, as though it had expected to be raised. Not common steel, but sky-metal, you realize, and then it grows more than light, twisting and turning it rips itself from the grasp of the hand...

Cold lightning crackles at the edge of your mind but finds no purchase and no crack...

The spell you have cast brings forth a hand as strong as an elder dragon or a giant of yore, yet it is not quite enough. The hammer flies upwards towards the clouds, a tendril of darkness reaches down to grasp it, but Lya is faster and traps it in a sphere of unwavering magic. Lightning flashes through the point of sorcerous light, once, twice, until it is as a bead upon a string of radiance, a bead that is climbing still though slower in defiance of the workings of the spell.

"I think..." Lya speaks with unaccustomed hesitance. "I think is is trying to incorporate itself, maybe summon an avatar... Anu-Simung, but he's spent too much of himself trying to tip the scales of the battle."

As though to give lie to her words the hammer shatters her spell and continues to fall upwards into the god's embrace, but no fresh horror falls from the sky above. Instead the clouds begin to tear and break, great rents in the black veil. The Power you had felt since the battle lines were drawn before you had even learned its name from Naamaru is gone, withdrawing towards the south, even as the armies are ground down by the increasing envelopment of the Legion.

"They are surrendering," Varys speaks in your mind suddenly, perhaps the most unexpected words on this of all days, though recalling Tall Pines perhaps you should not have done so. "Queen Naamaru asks you if you wish to bring them to terms or crush them utterly as cravens?"

What do you reply?

[] Kill the enemy greater dead to the last

[] Accept surrender on the right flank
-[] Write in terms

[] Write in

OOC: So full disclosure, it was likely fight the avatar from @Artemis1992's omake, but I do not like to make pre-determined boss fights like this as a video game. All throughout the battle I was keeping track of divine interventions, not only what the dead god did but how successful it was, and at end here he got a roll to manifest (modified by your choices in dealing with the chained ones, the altar and how those rolls went of course). He barely managed to recover his hammer, but lacked the strength for the final manifestation. In some ways having to beard the lion in its crumbling den feels more in keeping with the theme of ruin and decay than a battlefield showdown, at least to me.

 

[DragonParadox]

As Battle Stills ​

Nineteenth Day of the Second Month 294 AC

The answer you give Varys is instant and for once uncomplicated in execution. While the legions would struggle to take prisoners from among the living dead Queen Naamaru has no such troubles. By the hosts she leads, by the scepter she wields, by the unshakable will that lead her to this place the ancient queen of Sathar is more than adept at keeping her new prisoners in line.

Alas that this is not the full picture of the battle. While you had dealt with the altar the lines still crashed together and many brave soldiers of the First Legion perished to accursed blades, and even when the strength went out of them and the power that drove them was off the field some undead still fought till the last. Once you might have called it hatred of the living, some intrinsic quality to their cursed existence, but that their fellows fight on the other side is proof ten thousand times over that this is not so. Fairer to call it spite, fanaticism or desperation.

Whatever you might call it only a few of those not of Kasath think to surrender after your spell carried voice makes the offer over the field. Those already dead do not lightly die. Were it not for dragon-fire, for spells, for bombs falling from on high this could have still been a far bloodier battle. Were it not for the men and women of the Legion holding the line neither dragons, nor sorcerers, nor skyships alone could not have prevailed this day.

Then the last of the enemy finally perish, encircled before the walls of Sallosh, a weary cheer rises from the ranks of the gathered legions, from those who can cheer at least. The healers have work yet to do aiding those they can.

"Light losses," Dany sighed in relief while looking over the field. Even the companies most in harm's war had not suffered losses of more than three or four out of every hundred, and the reserves had not even needed to be called upon, other then the cavalry to aid in the pursuit.

"It was quick," Ser Richard adds shortly. Left unsaid is that what you had most feared was the prospect of grinding battle against the untiring dead. That had thankfully been avoided by the speed of the advance, both on the flanks and in the center, and with the dark god's passing many of the lesser dead which had been filled with his will no longer fought as units, but only blindly flailing at their foes.

On that hopeful note the three of you fly off to find the command tent.

***​

"We should be able to have the citizens of Sallosh back in the city by the morrow, after sending the dead back to the deep with all honors of course..." Ser Gerold looks impeccably clean of course by virtue of the arcane ring he bears, but the dents in his armor that were not there before the battle tell the story of his part in the day's fighting just the same. "You might want to talk to Vargo too, Your Grace. He's upset for not having gotten into the fighting, but well... there was simply no place for him on the line and the man was never trained to fight ahorse. I could have sent him with the champions and such, but... he's no Companion, far from it."

What do you do next?

[] Receive a report on Legion losses and the enemy dead

[] Deal with the prisoners

[] Speak with Vargo and deal with the return of the Salloshi

[] Write in

OOC: If it weren't this late I would have included the Legion report in this update, but I can't really work out the math at 1 AM.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Reckoning in Blood Writ​

Twentieth Day of the Second Month 294 AC

Eight hundred and ten caskets would be traveling back to Sorcerer's Deep according to the Legion's final accounting, it would have been as much as three times as much in crippled soldiers and those who might perish from wound rot had it not been for access to healing magic. The worst losses were taken among the outriders on the left flank who had to weather the arrows of the enemy charioteers until the heavier cavalry could charge home and among the siege companies who traded salvos with the bone wagons of the enemy. Thankfully you had not lost any skyships through the valor of he manticore pilots and only three heralds on that push to the altar.

Your mages were also spared from trading spell-fire by the fact that the Sarnori seemed mostly inclined to use spells that empowered their own allies rather than those that harmed the enemy, ensuring that none of the mages called to serve alongside the Legion died in the fighting proper. Sadly a few did perish picking over the remains of the battlefield, helping to point out the remains of cursed and malicious magics.

None of the staff and high officers had died, though among the hardest hit companies the commanders were no less likely to have perished than the common soldiery. Ser Gerold delivers the first bit of news with relief and the second with grim satisfaction. He might be one of the highest officer in the land now, but no doubt he remembers being just one more 'knight' of the Golden Company, only a step above line infantry, and he, like others of similar background, have imposed in the Legion a culture of fighting from the front.

The last losses of note were a trio of minotaur fighters who had faced one of the stronger of what the legionaries had taken to calling 'death knights'. According to accounts they had they had practically hewed it limb even as its blade and cursed aura had sapped their life. The sorcerer attached to the company, a young woman with the fading accent of Dragonstone still in her voice, solemnly asks for a chance to light their pyres and send their souls on to the Lord of Light in whom both she and they hold their faith. "I already burned them halfway out there on the field, Your Grace. Seems only fair to finish it and may the Lord of Light judge me as he sees fit."

You would have to be blind not to see the guilt in her eyes, the question that will doubtless haunt her from this day on. Had all three of the minotaurs been dead when she had cast fire upon the death knight?

Not a question you can truly answer, but perhaps one you can obviate the need for. Melisandre catches your eye from across the plaza where the First Legion had pitched their tents. "Though they found the Lord of Light by paths stranger and darker than most, they fought valiantly in the protection of life. I would see them restored if you would allow it."

The implication is obvious, being able to end her post-battle sermon by bringing three of the fallen whose exploits had already begun to be known to the whole expeditionary force would likely strengthen many's faith in the Lord of Light, and perhaps draw others to His worship.

Spoiler: Total Losses

1st Legion

• 201 Siege Engineers
• 99 Outriders
• 20 Heavy Horse
• 57 Assault Troopers
• 126 Heavy infantry
• 3 Minotaur Fighters

9th Legion

• 99 Outriders
• 20 Heavy Horse
• 25 Heavy infantry

8th Legion

• 99 Outriders
• 20 Heavy Horse
• 25 Heavy infantry

Total Legion losses: 810

Special Assets Lost:

• 2 Wizards (Level 5)
• 1 Adept (Level 4)
• Soft Strider (Ranger 7)
• 1 Mind Dragon
• 2 Fiery Darkenbeasts
• 6 Darkenbeast riders

Who do you draw back from death's embrace?

[] Soft Strider

[] The mages

[] The minotaurs
-[] Allow Meliandre to do so
-[] Do it yourself

OOC: If Mel raises the minotaurs she is doing it on her own dime.

 

[DragonParadox]

Life's Paths ​

Twentieth Day of the Second Month 294 AC

"They fell in battle in my service, my lady. I will see them returned to form if they so wish," you reply by way of Varys. Hopefully all three minotaurs are minded to actually return rather than remaining in the embrace of the Red God.

Melisandre nods once in understanding... then again to the thought you had kept to yourself. How many had she convinced she could read minds even when magic ran too thin to conjure such a thing, you wonder, admiring and a touch amused. She had to be showing off at this point, not that you have any room to object to showmanship.

The local amphitheater which serves the colony for everything from duels like the Circle of Battle to plays has more than enough room to accommodate the two darkenbeasts you hope to return to life today, and Malarys is of course more than skillful enough to preside over the ritual. Though no gods are summoned, no powers called, the magic washes over the sands, a star with sixteen points burns against eternity. Two of the mages and three of the riders it seems had found something worth remaining on the other side of the veil for, though as Melisandre promised all three minotaurs return with only a bit of confusion as they attempt to pummel a foe that is not there.

Being punched by a death-addled minotaur still hurts you discover, especially when they manage it without warning. If there was any doubt as to the newly restored mind dragon's state of mind the bubbling laughter that erupts from above lays them all to rest.

"Pardons, Your Grace," the warrior in question says looking sheepish, or as close to it as a nine foot tall bull-man can manage.

"No need, I am happy indeed to see that your strength of mind has not lessened with your trial," you reply smoothly. The pilots and sorcerer are looking at you a touch oddly now, but really what do they expect standing on principle for lèse-majesté over an honest mistake?

"Not yet for me to dream with the elders and sing the deepest song," Soft Strider noted as she gingerly rose to her feet. "Good, there is too much of the world to see to set down roots."

"Did... did you just make a pun?" Dany asks incredulous.

"A pun?" the Singer asks, genuinely bemused.

You are less confident of her ingeniousness when, upon having the concept explained to her, she claimed to find it 'lyrical'.

Lost 5000 IM

Spoiler: Resurrections

• Soft Strider
• 1 Wizard
• 1 Mind Dragon
• 2 Fiery Darkenbeasts
• 3 Fiery Darkenbeast Riders
• 3 Minotaurs

***​

Your next meeting is a touch more formal, Vargo Alexi is much as you last met him, save for the sword at his side which has not seen any use. "Your Grace, I humbly ask to know your mind in the matter of my fellow citizens' return." No criticism of Ser Gerold for refusing to send him out to fight, but you can practically feel his frustration of a most pernicious sort, tainted with self-loathing.

Meeting Queen Namaaru, a legend in flesh before which armies quail, would more than likely hurt rather than help. Nor does the queen seem the sort to take Vargo under her wing. She respects you for oaths made and oaths kept, for the power both of yourself and of your realm. The question is what can you say to the Governor of Sallosh that might set his mind at ease after his perceived 'failure' to defend the city?

[] Point out that he dealt well with the evacuation once he got over his initial surprise, his position is not one of military responsibility to begin with

[] Note that there was the better part of an entire Legion kept in reserve, that does not mean their service is somehow lesser not his willingness to fight discounted

[] Write in

OOC: Putting the legendary leader of Sarnor's past beside Vargo stewing because he never got a chance to fight would likely not have done good things for his self confidence, not unless the Queen was minded to be gentle and in Viserys' estimation she would not have been.

 

[DragonParadox]

Battles Sought and Guarded ​

Twentieth Day of the Second Month 294 AC

Though you could truthfully point out that the better part of the Ninth Legion waited the battle out in reserve you suspect the truth alone will not serve here. Thus after pointing out that it will be better for the people of Sallosh to remain safely in the Deep you invite him to accompany the campaign that he may speak to his people of what he sees as honestly as you do with him. "This is no sellsword's war of city against city, no noble's spat where the worst one might face is injury or death, these are the sins of yesteryear come to haunt us all after their perpetrators have been driven from these lands."

"It is the war against my people's enemy..." Vargo grimaces, the expression seeming almost painful upon the lines of his face. "My people's legacy. To let those of the Three Daughters, of Braavos, Volantis and the Deep fight it for us would be a lessening of our place in the realm."

Your place you mean, you think but do not say, biting back a sigh. It would do little good to point out that there are Sarnori legionaries, just as there are for every city of the realm and some beyond it. What the man before you wants is what he wanted when he built a caravan in Saath hoping to drive into the plains, to carve out a place for his people, to reclaim by force of arms a realm lost. Though he now has these things here in Sallosh he cannot rest and see all the troubles swept away by another's hand.

In the silence that follows you look to the sword at his side, it had been gifted as a symbol, but its edge will cut just the same and if accounts of his skill do not lie he would not fair poorly against Ser Willem Darry on the training field at least. "There are some who were on the field today in whose company I think you would do you well." Not least because you trust them to have the good sense to retreat, you forbear from adding.

***​

While Diana is speaking to the Governor of Sallosh about his skills and the arms and armor he bears, some borrowed and some gifted, Nuri draw you aside. "Why did you have to foist him on us? He's not useless I guess, but I'm not falling over myself over his donkey handling skills from when he was a caravan guard. Why not the deep dwellers?"

You give her a long meaningful look as to why you could not entrust Vargo to the drow assassins, not that you think they would actually kill him, but leave him behind as a distraction while they retreat, that you could well imagine. While Tuin and Morwyn might be slowly learning to value some 'sun-walkers' for skill at arms, for wit and insight, you doubt they would care one way or another about the administrator of a city they saw once in passing on the road to a battle.

"Alright... alright, but I want a proper dragon at least watching us, one of the shadow-kin," the incarnate allows with a huff that is at once familiar and strange.

You see no reason to refuse. The myrkdreki would doubtless be able to amuse themselves.

What next?

[] Speak with Queen Naamaru about the future of her people
-[] Write in

[] Speak with the prisoners from Kasath
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: Regardless of what you choose here the next update will also give you guys an account of what remains of the enemy army (HD for the Forge and loot).

 

[DragonParadox]

Upon a Silent Stage ​

Twenty-First Day of the Second Month 294 AC

The amphitheater is far more populated than it was just yesterday, though you would not know it on approach. A eerie stillness lies upon the gathering, the mark of those who need neither breath nor motion, the only sound the hiss of the wind over empty bones and the fluttering of funerary bandages. To one side is Queen Naamaru and her closest courtiers, vizier and treasurer, something like a Master of Whisperers, though the formal ibis headress makes the position as one of greater formal import than it ever held in Westeros, along with the commanders of her hosts who had laid shattered, banners at her feet.

On the other side are those who marched under those banners, divested now of arms and armor they seem somehow smaller than their captors, the withering of death more obvious without gold and sapphires to catch the eye. They do not seem to be ordered in any manner greater than a Freeholder's household, whatever officers had lead them to be vanquished, forgotten and ignored. Unlike Sathar's hosts you spy no priests among the vanquished and for good cause. According to accounts of the battle every mage-priest among the Kasathi chose true death over apostasy to the Last God of Sarnor. Though Queen Naamaru is not one for mercy in the usual run of things she gave them their wish.

Do they feel fear, you wonder, when they look upon the fields of bone and ash your mages now carefully sift through for the remains of the fallen, or is death too familiar a face to hold any silvering terrors?

Spoiler: Remains of the Enemy Army

1. 40,000 Lesser Dead -> 70,000 HD; Max CR 3
2. 15,000 Chariots, Minor Mages and Champions -> 67,500 HD; Max CR 6
3. 380 Grave Knights -> 3,800 HD; Max CR 13
4. 80 Storm Sorrows -> 1,360 HD Max CR 12
5. 250 Bone Wagons -> 4,000 HD Max CR 15
6. 24 Beasts of Ruin -> 600 HD; Max CR 18
7. 9 Battle Mages -> 144 HD; Max CR 18

You enter the arena, Ser Richard on one side, the only honor guard you need, Lya on the other as both your future queen and most importantly the one most skilled in explaining the arcane workings of soul magic. Dany had wished to be here, but there are still those among the Legion who lost entire limbs in the battle that lesser healing magic cannot mend. That not only Vee but Malarys has chosen to join her is you suspect a sign that the mage lord does not wish to be part of this particular conversation. Though he has never said it in so many words you suspect seeing Sarnor thus, an open grave where the dead hold court, makes an ill sight for him.

"I am Viserys Targaryen," you begin bluntly, not bothering yet with titles. "All of you know me for my banner and for those who fought under them in the battle that has passed. Some of you know me as ally, others as foe, but let us from this moment draw the curtain on the strife of yesterday. If there is to be a path forward for all Sarnor, not in madness and strife, but the building of a new realm, then it should be a future rightfully offered to all who endure of the legacy of the Tall Men."

"Seemly words and ones I can find no fault with, but I must confess an interest in details," Queen Naamaru interjects. "We cannot be restored to life as were those slain in the battle just passed, for all here have lain in their graves at least three and a half centuries, and some many more."

Some things never change, no matter how long one peers into the past, and one of these things is it seems is the mummery of rule. You happen to know for a fact that the queen has questioned Vee about the Flesh Forge and Dany about restoring the ancient dead, and so she knows of the vast powers of the former and your success in the latter endeavor, but this is for both her subjects and her erstwhile foes to know what you offer under the light of day.

[] Offer transference into warforged bodies for all who are willing to swear fealty to you

[] Offer the freedom of your realm to any of the dead who might wish to visit or even to stay

[] Write in

OOC: Loot in terms of treasure will come later, I'm not sure how to simulate piles of partially cursed/haunted tomb goods without getting too specific.

 

[DragonParadox]

Road of Steel ​

Twenty-First Day of the Second Month 294 AC

"There is no path back to Sarnor that was, but there is a path forward," you begin solemnly. "In this very city one was unearthed wrought of the arts of Sarnor who wished to revive them, one named in part for the very god whose shade we banished from these skies. Let it be remembered that the legacy of the Sky Smith will not be wholly lost with that embittered tyrant." Thus you recount Anu's tale, from his awakening by the Golden Company to the confrontation in Sallosh and his own 'resurrection'. You pass lightly over his oaths so as not to seem as though you are pressuring them and then you wait for a reaction.

Alas, it is not one you might have hoped for. 'Servitor' you hear whispered along the stone rows in a tone you know too well. It is the same Essoosi magisters take when confronted with those they held in chains mere years ago, 'tool,' you hear uttered in dust-dry whispers from those who wonder what cause you have to 'ring around' the issue since 'clearly' no automation could have done what you have said. Some even doubt that a warforged could even want so lofty a thing as companionship.

Glancing at Lya you see sparks of crimson and gold nearly fly from the corners of her eyes. It's been a long time since Lya has been motivated to speak to a crowd.

"Should I?" she asks mentally, not wanting to step on any plans you might have.

The only plans you have are to introduce them all to the idea of your realm, and being weaned off the preconceptions of an age long past would be a good beginning. "Go ahead."

You feel the magic rise beside you, arcane insight and ancient memory, the stature of princes and the dreams of dragons. "You who whisper and who wonder in not so subtle remarks, do you not know what most of Essos, most of the world would think of you? Dark spirits and revenants they would call you. The timid would bar their doors with oak, ash and garlic flowers, the bold would set out with fire to lay you low, yet in the Empire you have a chance to walk unhindered. Studies have been made and questions answered, by Anu, by me, by others still dedicated to the expansion of our understanding of the world that would allow you either to take on new bodies of metal or to have lead poured upon these bones you now possess, that you might walk among the living without bearing the echoes of death. These gifts we give freely and without rancor, expecting nothing but friendship and respect in exchange."

A bit blunter than you would have said it, but then sometimes a warhammer applied early is worth any number of taps of the mallet given later. Queen Naamaru obviously agrees to judge from the amused inclination of her head, a deliberate motion you suspect, the small mannerisms of life do not long endure the grave.

"I find it most fitting that the arts of Sarnor that was should aid in the raising of our future," she speaks up, her voice magically enhanced to be heard by all just as yours and Lya's are. "Granted for some of us those arts are more part of a future that has fallen to dust before we could behold it, but that is no cause to be bitter or spiteful. We have all seen too much, suffered too much to dismiss a hand offered to us."

She is speaking only to the warriors of Kasath, you realize, her own subjects are assumed convinced because she is. Not that anyone has the courage to keep whispering after Lya and the queen have had their say.

***​

Later, as the four of you walk through the streets and market places of Sorcerer's Deep under a glamour, you confirm to Queen Naamaru that you could raise her to flesh once more, though the process is likely to be too complex to expand far beyond her inner circle. Lya assures her that she is more than willing to share research notes. If you know her mind, and you flatter yourself in counting yourself an expert on 'the mind of Lya', you suspect she is hoping the mages of Sathar would be interested in adding something of their unique arcane lore to the Scholarum's repository.

For her part Queen Naamaru accepts gracefully and lets it be understood that any derivative ritual will of course be shared, leaving the door open to other collaboration. The conversation lulls as you come upon the Godswood. The queen had been impressed by how ordered the city was, by the size and scope of the Great Library as well as the batteries of steam launchers that protect it in lieu of walls, but here she seems wistful. "I have no desire to wither more grass beneath my feet. Come, let us speak of battle, for in that at least I am undiminished."

Speaking of battles you do so in depths of the Hall of Horrors, for she is the first visitor in a long while who seems to genuinely enjoy the sight of dead horrors all around. Guessing the direction of your thoughts she explains. "It is perhaps petty of me, but it is pleasant to see that even those who count themselves deathless are nothing of the sort."

What are your thoughts about your longer term relationship with Sathar?

[] Military alliance only

[] Alliance and a free trade zone

[] Write in

OOC: Lya cheated a lot with magic in that speech, AoN, VoD, Divine insight, etc. The trick with doubled morality bonuses doubling and setting her roll result to 20, but putting all those links in just felt distracting, so I'll just acknowledge it here.

 

[DragonParadox]

To Craft the Future ​

Twenty-First Day of the Second Month 294 AC

The alliance between your realms is formalized with an hour's work and the aid of glinting calligraphy wyrms much admired, but the remainder of the agreement takes much time pouring over maps and ledgers. Unsurprisingly the Queen of Sathar proves to be a canny negotiator in matters of trade and it is no simple task to persuade her of the virtues of allowing no taxes or tariffs between her realm and yours.

After all, Naamaru argues, her people need no food, clothing, shelter or other things the living cannot endure without, yet even leaving aside treasures filled with the spoils of Dothraki khalasars they have the skills and the time to forge works of art and beauty. You counter with the understanding that greater volume of trade serves everyone in the end and a lack of taxes is far more likely to draw more timid merchants to Sathar and its hinterlands. Myrish venturers might make for an interesting conversation, but they are a rare breed.

Thus that agreement to is set to parchment and then, as Sarnori tradition dictates, to stone tablets. For agreements between city states in the days of Old Sarnor copies were made to be set at major intersections on the reasoning that princes were 'forgetful' and might reinterpret their agreements if the plain text were widely known in their realm.

The matter of an arcane exchange by contrast is quite straightforward. Queen Namaru acknowledges that the Scholarum has far more to trade that would be interesting to her scholars than the reverse, 'much as it would pain them to admit it,' she adds with what might be a smile behind the glamour. She further agrees with the reasoning that it would probably be best to wait for the transference of flesh to begin before the meeting for the sake of the Scholarum mages' safety and peace of mind.

While you do not doubt you could find mages in your service who would not mind conversing with the long dead amid dust and ruin you would rather they keep to their current projects. You agree with Lya that Qyburn has more than enough on his plate, his appetite for arcane knowledge of the soul and the permutations of life and unlife notwithstanding.

Speaking of scholars, Queen Naamaru asks to visit one more corner of the island before returning to Sallosh, the Forge of Creation itself.

***​

Anu is obviously daunted by the company, but just as clearly he will not let that stop him from meeting the queen as a scholar and craftsmen rather than the servant he was forged to be long ago. He explains the the various metals of which warforged can be wrought as well as their costs and virtues, arcane and mundane.

To your surprise the more he speaks the more thoughtful the queen becomes and unless you are much mistaken it is not about reincarnating her court. "I remember the failings of flesh all too well," she muses half to herself. "I did not perish in battle, mage-smith, but in my own bed surrounded by loved ones awaiting the hand of the one foe I could not best. Or so I thought at the time..." she raises a hand to look through the glamour between linen wrapped fingers. "It seems fate would make a fool of me. Well and good, from folly is wisdom learned. I wonder though, can you include more potent metals and deeper magics in the forging?"

"What did you have in mind, your majesty?" Anu asked, voice caught between worry and excitement.

"Something to enhance dominion over the passing of time," she replies, still measuring the matter in mind.

"I can think of no such metal," the mage replies after a moment. You however can, but it would be fantastically expensive even assuming one could find enough of it to buy. You have barely seven and thirty pounds of it in the treasury and that was a lucky find beside. Perhaps an alloy....

You shake off the thought, there is a battle yet to be fought before that, or more likely several. The Rat King is out there, and in Sarnath the shade of the Sky Smith yet lurks.

What city do you march on next and with what forces?

[] Sarnath
-[] Write in

[] Gornath
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: Some pretty good rolls for Anu's impression on the queen which is part of the reason she is leaning warforged, the other part of it are the potential practical advantages.

 

[DragonParadox]

Elder Death and Deeper Darkness ​

Twenty-Third Day of the Second Month 294 AC

Most mortal beings upon being made the object of direct divine displeasure would go out of their way to avoid engendering such attention again. Thankfully dragons were a breed apart and those such as Osryx even more so. Why fear the nights where your flesh is knit of it, why fear death when your bones sing of it? As he rode the night winds over the Plains of Sarnor away from the glittering camp of the legions the dragon found himself intrigued. What would it mean to devour the flesh of a withered god, to sup upon its blood? His 'father' would doubtless think him overbold, his 'mother' perhaps a touch too precocious, but in the end was it not the privilege of dragons to dream?

Truth be told Osryx was quite glad to escape the glare of the golden banners, they did not harm him as they did the living dead, but it still itched behind his eyes to look at them. It is not as though the the camp needed him to guard it regardless. Though the land this close to the Sarne was flat as rice paper the King had managed to find a few mounds peeking out of the long grasses. They made excellent positions for artillery emplacements.

Did they realize those were graves, the dragon wondered idly, graves from a time long before the Tall Men had come to these lands, and ones that had laid undisturbed even as the hand of death reached over the land? He could feel those sleeping below. They approved of the unmaking of the seed of Huzhor Amai.

If men were not as blind to death beside them then they would never again be able to sleep, the dragon chuckled darkly to himself. Still, as amusing as it might be to keep that detail to himself the Hairy Men might object when the hosts of Sathar were brought close and the King would not take well to being blindsided. "Little cousin, seek the ear of the King and tell him the dead older than Sathar slumbers beneath the feet of the Legion."

"You know I'm older than you, right?" Nizuss hissed, trying and failing to hide his annoyance.

"But you are so very much smaller," Osryx replied innocently.

Alas that he did not have long to ponder his cousin's amusement or whatever trickery or jest he might attempt in retaliation, entertaining as those were. He had an enemy army to find.

You have discovered that the position you chose to muster at is the site of an ancient funerary complex of the Hairy Men. It seems quiet for now, perhaps even approving according to Osryx, but that may change.

What do you do?

[] Try to commune with the spirits
-[] Write in with whom

[] Move, given enough time you can make hills and the enemy does not look like it is in a hurry to attack

[] Write in

***​

Much of the enemy hosts, mostly the least of the dead with a handful of overseers, were encamped outside the walls of Sarnath proper under tattered banners that marked both the hosts of Gornath and ostensibly of House Alexi of Sarnath. A less keen eye might have missed the threads of darkness woven into the banners among the vast rows of the dead, a hundred thousand and more strong. Not so Osryx who noticed them and he knew the shadow magic staining them even at the height of midday. The darkness of some other realm could be raised here, making it so the living suffered with every breath even as they struggled to see through the veil of shadows.

The too bright banners should be able to counter them if brought close, but as each would struggle against the other the rats would doubtless feed.

What do you do about the banners?

[] Try to sabotage them somehow before the battle begins
-[] Write in

[] Advance, there is only chaff before the walls and your mages should be more than skilled enough to remove the banners before the battle proper starts

[] Try to goad the enemy into acting
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: All the legions have been moved as directed in the above plan without any issue, there did not seem much point in showing that happening on screen. You are near the enemy and it looks like Gornath and Sarnath are moving as one.