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A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

Postby Pax » Sun Jul 20, 2014 2:31 am

The Chelian Empire, and the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, two realms cobbled together from many kingdoms. Two lands held together by blood and fear. Two nations, on their own doomed to be tragedies fraught with bloodshed and tears, heroism and loss. Slaughter, warfare and atrocities unmentionable unavoidable for these two nations; unless, perhaps, if they were to walk the same path. Surely, if these two nations were forced together, had no choice but to interact and intertwine, all the heartache, all the senseless death and unrecoverable destruction would be averted. Or, would the tragedies simply be, different, would the tears fall from different eyes, the blood spill from others veins? Either way, the song will be sung.

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

Really just an intro to the Song of Ice and Fire(Game of Thrones)/Drowtales my muse has been going crazy with for the last few months now at this point. Its just that my outline is nearly done, so I should have actual story to post soon, so I got kinda excited and decided to at least get a thread up and to see if there was any interest, heh.
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Re: A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

Postby Dalvyserran » Sun Jul 20, 2014 3:24 am

I look forward to seeing what you do with this combination
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Re: A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

Postby 2stupid » Thu Jul 23, 2015 5:45 am

This looks like a really cool concept! Just out of curiosity, how many moons are in the sky?
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Re: A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

Postby Isaiah Cortez » Thu Jul 23, 2015 7:09 am

Intresting. I shall wait for more!
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Re: A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

Postby ThatGuyThisGuy » Fri Jul 24, 2015 9:10 am

I am not so sure about that Isaiah he hasn't done anything on this for literally an entire year I am thinking it could be dead, but then again authors sometimes resurrect their works after a little prodding.
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Re: A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

Postby Pax » Fri Dec 04, 2015 9:09 pm

yea, writers block hit me, plus my muse ran off with an original idea. But I have her wrangled and back to helping all the fanfics that I use as literary whetstones.

Plus, do you know how gorram hard it is to write a chapter with a 4th wall breaker? They yell at you if you put them out of character. it sucks yo. But yes, I'm back at it
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Re: A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

Postby ThatGuyThisGuy » Sun Dec 06, 2015 7:01 am

Well okay then, Just don't give up!
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Re: A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

Postby Pax » Sun Dec 13, 2015 6:35 am

at long last, the story begins!

Prelude 1


*-*Somewhere in the Dutan'vir ruins*-*

Turbulence is often the enemy of education, the bane of minor powers. For years now, the major clans have been aware that many potentially powerful sorcerers are slipping through the cracks usually filled by the minor clans. Minor clans currently fighting puppet wars in the name of their Great Clan masters. So it is that just over three dozen starving, desperate drow, drow with great potential in the arcane arts, some that may have come to be considered prodigies with training, many with High Sorceries. None of them trained, some not even able to read, all clad in rags, huddled around fires, silently seething, hating the world.

These poor souls have a plan though, to save themselves from the inequities of Chel'el'Sussoloth. An ingenious and powerful sorcery of their own design, one that is sure to work... to their uneducated minds. Surely, a prodigy can occasionally invent a spell or technique of her own without the training most need, and such techniques are prone to backfire, to failure, to unexpected side effects. This sorcery is an inelegant, simple cludge of a desperate bands combined pipe-dreams. It is the arcane equivalent of standing on a table and screaming “take us somewhere safe!” until your throat bleeds. A single voice, would simply be ignored. A dozen may manage to shake something loose and hurt themselves. Two dozen just might manage to collapse a section of cavern, killing thousands. But forty drow, all with the potential to be masters if properly trained? This cabal manages to grab onto the cosmos, onto the shifting, wriggling, unpredictable weave of space and time, and pull.

Were such energies meant to be bent to the will of such crude, simple-minded beings they may have been able to steer the vast section of underworld now hurtling through the infinite possibilities of reality. However, as far as the vast and uncaring cosmos is concerned, as powerful and long lived as the drow are, they barely rate better than humans. The cabal is, mercifully, when one considers what the great Vals and Vels would do to them for this idiotic ploy at improving their pathetic lives, snuffed out by the very energies they unwittingly tapped into, and had intended to save themselves. To be true, they did not even know such forces existed, or could be manipulated until they held it, albeit loosely, in their hands, and even then, they were already being consumed by it.

In Westeros, the collision is a barely noticeable tremor. Chel'el'Sussoloth and Nuqrah'Shareh however, are forced to twist and shift, stretch and compress as nature tries to make them fit.

*-*Machike'Shikumo*-*

“I KILLED THEM ALL, THE USELESS LOT OF THEM! I KEPT YOU AS A BABY SISTER FOR KHARLA'GGEN BUT I SHOULD HAVE GIVEN YOU TO HER AS A NEW DOLL!!” Sene'kha rages as Kiel walks away.

She can hear the guard shutting the bitch up, hearing such an angry speech shut up by uncaring dismissal would usually bring a grin to her face. But with the choice she had just made, mirth is far from her mind. Just after she leaves the prison block, survival swiftly takes over as a deafening roar, blinding light and intense burning sensation overpower her, and every other soul in the cavern, spilling them all to the ground. Kiel pulls herself over the shaking ground to where Naal had been waiting “What in the name of Sharess massive mamaries is this?”

“Sorcery. A big one.” Naal replies in between the drawn out thunderous roars drowning out all other sounds.

Kiel positions herself over her only friend as the overly bright shining of the crystals overhead that supposedly prevented any seismic activity from affecting the underworld again flare beyond blinding and shouts “No, Really? What kind?”

Naal shifts the both of them over with the next tremor as bits of the prison begin to rain down around them and replies “Dont know.” as a rock smashes down where they had just been.

Kiel growls, but another crescendo in the caverns incredibly vocal disapproval with what is being done to it drowns out her anger. “So, at least a week until the damn Kyorls will be able to kill Sene'kha properly.”

Naal patiently waits out another round of deafening roaring before deadpanning “Unless a Kyorl is crazy enough to try any arts after a sorcerery this big goes off...” before whispering “And thats probably all I have left.”

Kiel snaps down to look at her only true friend, and holds her gaze until the roaring and blinding lights subside “But we're the heroines Naal. Its just us against my crazy clan. We're gonna save the world together from that damn demon god Sene'kha wants to summon.” her voice wavering a bit “You'll make it more than just a week, you have too, thats the way this sort of thing goes.”

Naal forces a dead smirk as her mind works out the implications of Kiels panicked, poorly explained admission and declaration and replies “Of course I will. You and me, until the end. No matter what it takes.” she pauses, and adds “You'll have to actually tell me all of what she told you if I'm going to help you.” as the noise and light finally die down, though the air still feels stretched and agitated.

Kiel pushes herself off the ground, dusts herself off, and turns to look over her shoulder to bark out “If any of you accuse me of being sappy, I find ya and I beat ya down, got it?”

“Your weird.” Naal accuses halfheartedly.

Kiel smirks, blinking a few times to combat the moisture all the dust in the air had forced her eyes to secrete “I know.”

Naal stands up herself, dusts herself off and continues “We'll need to stretch out our hotel rent before someone offers more than we paid.” Grinning sheepishly, Kiel turns her pockets inside out, dumping her lint. Naal pinches the bridge of her nose and adds “I'll cover both of us.”

They continue in nearly perfect silence to the modest inn they had rented a room in to wait until Sene'kha's execution. Naal sets enough ada at the rate the inkeeper, a kindly, tainted drowussu male had charged them for the first few nights to cover the next week at the same rate, plus some extra for good measure. He simply smiles, and lays into some other drow that tried paying the same amount, roaring about supply and demand.

“So, a week to plan how to stop my crazy clan from sending everything to hell.” Kiel quips without any prompting as the duo enter their room. Kiel stretches, yawns, and flops down onto her bed “Starting in the morning.”

*-*Just off the White Knife at the edge of the Wolfwood*-*

The girl had long been used to how sleep works for her. Locked in a plain dark room of her own volition and for her own safety, the last bastion truly her own within herself, a ravenous beast pounding at the door, as she huddles in the corner. Mighty tremors and the walls splintering are new. The beast howling in agony and the roar of fire almost incomprehensible, but all that matters for naught when the room, the halls, the veritable manor that had been her mindscape shatter to nothing but emptiness and encroaching flames. Her throat burns as she locks eyes with the hideous, gluttonous betentacled beast trapped within her. But the beast is covered in terrible burns, deep bruises and marrow deep gashes from the destruction of the place it had inexorably been claiming for its own. Death. She is dying, and so is the beast, a feral grin crosses her face, and, in a final act of defiance, she lunges towards its falling form, and begins to tear into it with her own teeth, just as it had intended to do to her for so long.

“Damn it Naal! No! Wake up! C'mon don't do this to me!!” a hellions shriek rouses her from her slumber. Blinking her sore, hurting eyes, and groaning in protest, Naal'suul Val'Beldrobbaen pushes her friends form off of her, coughs, and looks around. “Whoa, you just coughed up fire Naal.” the Vloz'Ress notes, her voice still wavering.

A single full moon sits high in the sky, to the left is a mighty river running down a steep slope towards flatter lands, a massive forest to her right, nearly pitch black in the night. Behind her a ragged wound in the ground, and not more than a few feet from her yammering friend lies a halme clad in rich crimson robes, a dagger drove into his skull up from the base of his neck. “What happened?” she asks, flopping back down to the hard, frigid earth.

“I dont know Naal!” Kiel exclaims “I woke up and you were gone, so I figured you went ahead and went to see the surface without me, so I went to follow you.” she pauses and takes a steadying breath “Then I find some halme making out with your corpse, and well...” as she trails off all pretense of offense at Naals going to do alone what they had agreed to do together fades, along with her characteristic self-assuredness.

Naal finally opens her eyes, and turns to look at Kiel “My corpse?”

The fire-haired girl nods, looking almost meek “You were dead Naal, nothin else can explain how limp you were hangin.” she pauses, before adding “Whoa... swirly eyes. Almost as cute as the ones you had, well, before.”

Naal squeezes her eyes shut again, sticks out her tongue, and flops back down “I guess this is my second chance then.”

“Now if I said your tongue was... wait. Second chance? Whadaya mean?” Kiel cuts herself off, again shifting to face Naal, instead of the serene beauty of the surface spread out before her.

The reserved girl half-chuckles, opens one eye and shifts her head back towards Kiel “Whats the first thing I said after you saved me?”

Kiel scratches at the back of her head “Ehh... you were whinin about...” she pauses, wipes the grease from her hair on her pants and exclaims “Wait! Ye felt somethin!!”

Naal nods, and slowly levers herself up to a fully sitting position then replies “Yea. I dont know what happened after that halme killed me, or what he did to resurrect me. But I know what I saw. Felt. Whatever. It was me, eating my seed.”

For a few seconds, Kiels mouth gapes, working at the air, almost like there is something there for her to chew on. First she whips around and screams “Shut up!! All of you!!! I cant make a damn thing out with all of ye yammering like that!” before shifting her body and launching herself at her best friend, tackling her in a bear hug, eyes screwed shut in a vain attempt to stop the moisture accumulating there. “So... hows saving the world sound like for a start to your second chance?”

Naal grunts a bit, then answers “Your being weird again.”

Smiling, Kiel nods, and answers “I know” not releasing the girl everyone had thought doomed from her grip.

Smiling a bit herself, Naal answers “That’s the second time since that quake you mentioned that. Mind explaining whats going on?” Kiel releases Naal, leans back on her elbows takes a deep breath, and starts explaining.

*-*Eastern edge of the Hornwood, two weeks later*-*

Syphiles legs feel like two tons of lead, but still she pushed on. Her chest is on fire, but she keeps up her jog. She reeks, the closest thing she had had to a bath since her escape was swimming that damned half-frozen river a week ago after she got past the Sarghress gate. But she is alive. She has nothing but her assassins gear, and a pouch of ada to her name, and just a first name at that, but she is alive.

Things had fallen to chaos after the cavern did its best to tear itself in half. First, the Sharren in charge had had to kill nearly a dozen males to restore order amongst the troops. Then, they had to wait for the air to stop feeling like it was about to explode just because it felt like it. By then, a runner arrived, bearing a sealed message from Zala'ess. In short, Quain'tana had been formally invited to the Gathering, as any aggressive move was likely to end in disaster and harsh reprisal from the other clans thanks to recent, unexpected events. Forward scouts confirmed the Ill'haress had left with a sizable force of guards a few days later.

The hot headed leader of the strike force had fallen into a fit of rage when the golems, and many of the females left after that. Later that night, as he announced that he would decimate the remaining force to ensure loyalty. When he moved forward with the attack, she had slipped out. Once she reached Machike'Shikumo, she slowed from a dead run for the first time; but only for long enough to catch her breath, kill some commoner for her cloak, and make her way to the surface.

Then it was a dead run again, and a full speed swim across a river bound and determined to freeze her to the bones and drag her under. It had almost been as cold as the wind that carried the sounds of battle and slaughter to her midday after she first fled the Sharren camp, but far more oppressive than that terrible, impossible wind. After almost two hours hard swim against the current she made the opposite shore, and started running again, certain that her piss poor luck and whorish bitch of a mothers forces were hot on her heels. So, bleary eyed, and barely aware she plows through the forest, not sure what she is searching for, but certain she will know it when she finds it.

Of course, this means she does not see the hunting party crossing the clearing at the forests edge. Nor does she note their gruesome livery, or the fact that better than a dozen bows are trained on her. So, she tumbles through them, until, finally, she nearly rams into their leader. Faster, wiser, longer lived, more skilled in their chosen trade... all of these are true when comparing an elf to a man. Until you put the former through two weeks of terrified flight, and give the latter the same stretch of time worth of warm beds shared with buxom women, big meals and good company. The Lordling catches Syphiles thinner, smaller, lighter frame, twists them about and comes down on top of her, one hand braced about her neck and supporting him, the other dropping to a dagger on his belt. He barks something out in his barbaric tongue she cannot comprehend. So, she shouts back through her strained, dry throat “Get off of me you filthy Halme Pig!!!”

A strange look crosses his face, before he asks “And who are you to order around the future heir of a Noble House, darkling?” with a heavy, almost incomprehensible accent. Finally, Syphile takes stock of the man holding her down, pale and fleshy with a wide bone structure. His face is harshly angular, like there is not enough skin to stretch over it, his big nose showing prominently, close set, pale, small eyes and wormy lips dwarfed by it on his face. His black, dry hair handing straight about his shoulders.

A young man balanced on the precipice between a hideously fat slob, or a powerfuly built hawkish aristocrat. “I am Syphile v-” she cuts herself off “Syphile. And you are?”

He lets his face shift to a cocky, self assured smile “Ramsay Snow. Though I suspect it will be Bolton in a few years time, with the rate children age at.” he pauses “And you nearly gave me what sounded like a family name. Explain, or I will take you, then leave you to my men.”

Syphile barely hears him, as the last, though most terrifying thing about this Halme makes its implications fully known to her. He has an Aura, dark, cold and oppressive, but an aura nonetheless. Something his men lack. “I... I was to be the heir to the Val'Sarghress clan” she stammers out, as the severity of her situation sinks in.

He smirks, pauses to take stock of her, and she feels somehow sullied and vindicated as she sees the desire spark in his eyes. Without copious amounts of booze or drugs, the males of her clans very rarely gazed on her with such lust “So, you have a claim to a noble title...”

“In Chel'el'Sussoloth.” she continues “One of the nine great clans, though I have been disowned.” jerking to the side, feeling more and more sullied as the impossible Halmes gaze lingers on her for longer and longer.

He shakes his head, sadly “Disowned? It is never the main line that supports the bastards claim, it is that lines foes. All you need is patience.” he stands, freeing Syphile “Come Syphile Sarghress. This hunt has been a failure, and soon the Hornwoods will take notice and umbrage at my presence on their lands.” he pauses “You will tell me of your former houses foes and rivals, and which of them may support a pretenders claim.”

*-*Kings Landing*-*

Petyr Baelish looks on at his brothels most recent acquisitions and smiles. Two women, slender of waist, busty and wide hipped. One with eyes almost as dark as her ebon skin and shock white hair, the other red eyed and with black hair. The third a male of the same race, a bit more endowed than is average, and muscular, but not disgustingly so.

At first, the entire city had been in an uproar when the earth split open, several blocks of Flea Bottom either crushed or falling down into the gaping wound in the earth. The City watch had quickly established a perimeter around the wound in the earth. Then, the Darklings, as the small folk and less inquisitive nobles had taken to calling them, had started to climb up out of it. At first they had been greeted with fear and confusion, luckily one of the watchmen had recognized their tongue as some bastardized form of Valyrian, and saw the purse bulging with gemstones. At that point they had been allowed to pass the roadblocks for trade.

When Littlefinger heard how much the first few had paid, or offered, at a pot shop, he hired some mercenaries and set off down the chasm, somehow already possessing a wide, easily passable stair to see what could be found. Initially, he had been speechless at the grandeur of the city he found, despite the fact that much of it was ruins or slums. At the edges of it larger, more opulent structures could be seen, but he did not make it that far. The inhabitants had almost all appeared malnourished and downtrodden, but almost universally handsome or comely, if one were to scrub away the filth and properly garb them.

After a while spent asking about, and browsing the stalls he was barely able to hide the predatory smile that was threatening to spread across his face. “I understand you are a busy man, running a business in addition to your own holdings as well as being Master of Coin, but I have some questions for you, Lord Baelish.” Varys voice inturrupts his reverie.

“About?” he prompts, not looking away from his three newest whores, hired for a hock of ham and bed of greens each displaying their sexual prowess for him to determine what their rate would be, should they work at all tonight. A simple enough payment for a man of his means to acquire, but compared to the vendors hawking what many dismissed as mere rumored ingredients of bowls of brown as meals in and of themselves.

Varys shakes his head sadly “Dont play dumb with me Littlefinger. Your excursion earlier today that ended with these recent...”

Petyr chuckles, partly at his good fortune, and partly at the blatantly leading question “Hires. You would be surprised at what the downtrodden of this empire dredged up from the depths, by magic, if you ask them, will do for clean clothes and decent food.” The bored look on the spiders face hairless powdered face reveals nothing to Petyr he did not already suspect. The spiders network had already somehow made its way below. “A barbaric, slaving Empire though. And food is,m as one would expect, scarce at best for a nation of cavern dwellers.”

Varys simply shrugs “Though, if rumor of the fortresses of their Vals and Vels fortresses are to be believed, barbaric is the last thing one could call these Drow.”

“I wouldnt know.” the man replies, still not bothering to favor the eunuch with his gaze “It would seem that whatever portion of their supposedly single cavern empire ended up beneath Kings Landing are the districts most like Fleabottom in their holdings. Along with the ruins of some rebellion from a few years back. If anything it sounds worse than ours.”

Varys looks away from the waning spectacle before them and places a soft hand on the proper lords shoulder, finally gaining his full attention “You wouldnt be withholding information from the Crown, Lord Baelish, would you? It would be a shame if that were to be revealed when our Liege invariably calls the small council in regards to these recent events.”

“I wouldnt dream of it.” Petyr replies.

*-*Somewhere between Westros and Essos*-*

Mel'arnach revels at the sensation of the brine mist and sea wind on her face as the ship Snadhya'rune had smuggled her onto after her escape from her mothers clutches had been made good. Zhor is still sleeping below-decks. Her recently tainted bodyguard and new-found daughter likewise sleeping in their quarters. Sleep had evaded Mel however. She hadnt been as drunk as Snadya had thought that last night... she had half expected her lover to send her back to her mother under the pretense of keeping up appearances the next morning, despite the state of disarray the Empire had fallen into. “I have much to do to save our race Mel.” her words echo in Mels skull “Much of my planning has been has been ruined by this disaster. I need a small group I can trust without question to rebuild what has been lost to me.” she had pressed in a soothing voice, holding Mel against her bosom. “I need you to go far from here, to entrust the life of your daughter to me, so that we can save our people.”

“How?” she had pressed.

Snadhya finally looked down at her at that point “I have her history, your history, and the means to prove it. At the most opportune moment I will see that she receives them. Should your mother emerge victorious when the fires of war abate, her heir and champion will be revealed to be of our blood. Should your mother fail, that same blood claim will spare her. Clans will matter for little in what is to come, and no matter the outcome, we will all be able to live together.”

Mel had been shaking at that point, and Snadhya had had to help her into her clothes “Where will I be when this... storm, you seem to be planning, breaks?”

Snadhya pulled her up into a loving embrace at that “The New World that rests above our freshly fractured farce of an empire. Pentos, I think should serve nicely.”

When the deep kiss Mel had been pulled into breaks, she presses “To what end?”

Smiling peacefully, her lover had answerd “To build the power base that will allow me to save our family. And, if you can manage, prepare a home for us to raise a child together in.”

Mel shakes her head, trying to wrap hers around her lovers labyrinthine machinations and to clear the warm swelling in her heart the memory, and the images and emotions it evoked. Her newly found bratty, spoiled, albeit loveable firstborn; her strong, faithful younger daughter; her bold, clever, thoughtful mate. The more Mel thought of it, the more she found herself wanting, and the more she wanted to be able to stand with them, not behind them.

As the sun rises, she feels something shift inside her. “So, you need a seat of power to topple the system keeping our family, our people from being what they truly should be from?” Her shoulders square off “I'll give you that, and an army to do it with.” for the first time in a very long time feeling the Val she is.


...

a/n yea, I know its alot of tense hopping, memories and florid prose. More than I like to use to be honest. But, to rectify Drowtales semi-simultaneous chapter storytelling with Ice and Fires linear approach, and start getting the characters who should/would/need the leg up they should have I had to do it. The next chapter should have less clumsy alliteration, and more properly align the two worlds. By chapter three/four the stage should be set and ready for the aftermath of Jon Arryns death. (and I should be a good chunk of the way into my recently started re-read of Ice and Fire and Moonless age from the start to re-assure my character grasp)

questions and c&c welcome and encouraged.

Hit me.




Spoiler for what is coming:

King Robert Baratheon sits on the Iron Throne, a long table set before him at the foot of the steps beyond his seat. To his right sit the current heads of House Stark, Lanister, Tully, Arryn, Tyrell, Baratheon, Dorne and Greyjoy, the last allowed as a placatory gesture, one adviser to each. To his Left the Ill'Haress of the Sarghress, Sharen, Beldrobbaen, Illhar'dro, Sullisin'rune, Vloz'ress, Kyorl'solenurn, Nal'sarkoth, and Jaal'darya, one adviser to each. The seat opposite him, elevated to his thrones height is conspicuously empty, bereft even of any advisors to mirror the members of the small council not seated below standing behind the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Grunting with a scowl on his face, he stomps his foot, to call the gathering to order.
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Re: A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

Postby Gunbird » Sun Dec 13, 2015 12:16 pm

Were such energies meant to be bent to the will of such crude, simple-minded beings they may have been able to steer the vast section of underworld now hurtling through the infinite possibilities of reality. However, as far as the vast and uncaring cosmos is concerned, as powerful and long lived as the drow are, they barely rate better than humans. The cabal is, mercifully, when one considers what the great Vals and Vels would do to them for this idiotic ploy at improving their pathetic lives, snuffed out by the very energies they unwittingly tapped into, and had intended to save themselves. To be true, they did not even know such forces existed, or could be manipulated until they held it, albeit loosely, in their hands, and even then, they were already being consumed by it.


Hp Lovecraft much?
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Re: A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

Postby Pax » Sun Dec 13, 2015 1:23 pm

Obsidian Agent wrote:Hoo boy. Snadhya and Littlefinger on the same world. That's always a sign of epic scheming to come.

Now I'm wondering who's going to have the bigger gambit pile-up - you or me. I mean, you may have Littlefinger, but I have Kane. And the Cardassians.


:D And dont forget all the smaller players that get to trip all over each other to almost comedic effect compared to the actually skilled schemers, heh.

Gunbird wrote:Hp Lovecraft much?


guilty as charged...
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Re: A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

Postby Pax » Mon Dec 14, 2015 12:37 pm

Obsidian Agent wrote:
Pax wrote:
Obsidian Agent wrote:Hoo boy. Snadhya and Littlefinger on the same world. That's always a sign of epic scheming to come.

Now I'm wondering who's going to have the bigger gambit pile-up - you or me. I mean, you may have Littlefinger, but I have Kane. And the Cardassians.


:D And dont forget all the smaller players that get to trip all over each other to almost comedic effect compared to the actually skilled schemers, heh.


I mean, if you want the basic info on what's going on in my universe, it's this:

Snadhya'rune is plotting something. Kane is also plotting something. The Cardassians have their scheme for domination. Q and Tyrael have their joint gambit, which just so happens to incorporate Sharess into it. Diablo has his scheme, and Edran is trying to bring Snadhya into it. The Borg and Scrin have their own plans. The Vloz'ress are hiding something. The Free Borg Alliance is also hiding something. And there are about a dozen or so more small fry schemers.

Now, imagine if we were to say... combine our 'fics. Imagine the mayhem...


:0 I really need to get caught up with your fic... and the chaos, the chaos would be glorious. Especially with the forces of straight mayhem I have in the works
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Re: A Ballad of Blood and Moons (ASoIF/Drowtales crossover)

Postby Gunbird » Mon Dec 14, 2015 4:27 pm

Not just a Fic. He has RP going on too.

Which reminds me that it's my turn in it. >>
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Gunbird
Vel'akar
 
Posts: 1431
Joined: Tue Oct 21, 2014 9:51 pm
Location: A Island that looks like a fish.


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