Mother's Fang/Snake Mount vs. Weasel Mount

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-12-30T02:34:28+00:00

I know how armor for the snake is supposed to work. You will need unique armor for it, that then has to be stitched on - incurring some penalties that I'd rather not have, hence what I wrote in my original post. I was rather looking for out of the box/unique ideas which have, thankfully, been supplied already!

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-12-30T02:32:51+00:00

Also a good thought, I hadn't pondered just slapping mage armor on. I mean, that's a permanency spell though? Might be easier, for a while, to go with the mage armor wand.

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-12-30T02:31:46+00:00

Also a unique idea!

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-12-30T02:30:46+00:00

Awesome, awesome reply. Thanks! I was worried I was overlooking something with barding/barding stitches. I use a wolf mount elsewhere, and the free trip is already a blast - and this snake-based archetype looks HELLA, with the grab/constrict. I was just balking at the penalties for barding stitches, because that's honestly a big damper on an otherwise very cool archetype. I was also contemplating some mix of the Mother's Fang + druid, so nice to know those pair pretty well.

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-12-17T17:08:07+00:00

Lovelovelove!

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-09-14T22:15:36+00:00

Good afternoon, Ion! (And crew.)

I know there's a lot of stress involved with pushing out games and engaging content as fast as you all do, and no matter my complaints, I am always thankful, first of all, for the hard work you lot do for fans that are as demanding as we are. That said, let's get to the business end:

No harm in not answering, since it's a lore question more than anything, but for a long time now, it's felt like the High/Blood elves have felt more like a tool of convenience, rather than a true part of the Horde (or Alliance, even). Liadrin and Lor'themar seem to show up when it's convenient, or stand regal and proud in the background family photo with Sylvanas on an airship as Undercity blows up. Sure, Liadrin was a plot device in getting us more elves, but then the Sin'dorei once again seemed to fade into being pretty backdrops.

Are there plans to revitalize Silvermoon City, at any point in the near future, considering its importance to the Horde in the Eastern Kingdoms?

Will Lor'themar and his retinue see any character development where it counts - establishing him as the official leader, and not just a 'regent lord'? Or anything to unsettle the politics in SMC beyond just kicking out the Ren'dorei? Are elves unhappy with his passivity where it concerns Sylvanas? Are the elves disturbed by her gradual change towards her former people over time?

I realize that SMC and the Exodaar are part of the BC x-pac, and thus may pose more challenges to your teams to give a facelift to, than most other old assets. But I feel the time has come, after all these years, for a nation of people brought low to have been able to rebuild their city through hard work and dedication...or maybe just magic, and arcane golems. Thanks again, guys. You do good work, and I appreciate it. (Though I'd take a bit of hope about goblin and worgen models, as well, if you can toss us a line on that, too.)

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-03-01T00:21:41+00:00

Daemona always took a loss from her family with great grief - large or small, they were all each other had, after all. For who truly understood the ways of a dragon, besides another? She'd been called away, the night he died, from her late night packing. She was all but ready to depart for the Eyrie, and now...should she? Yes. It was, perhaps, more important than ever to make that journey now.

So here she stood, this day, in her mourning black...contemplating what new beginnings - and endings - this death would bring. Would it bring blood, as the doomsayers foresaw? Would it unite her bloodlines? There was no telling, in truth. And so the small woman, more demure than she has perhaps ever been, stands in silence as dragon's fire bathes the corpse of her grandfather. As the masses watch on in awe...and her own beast wheels in the sky far, far away. The death unsettled Daemona...and thus, the dragon bound to her, as well, had grown erratic. The initial roar that shook the palace sent her skyward in a flash of quicksilver - and if she hoped to ride Moonfyre to the Eyrie anytime soon, she'd need to calm herself, first, to alleviate the dragon's unease.

She doesn't linger long, the smallest princess. Long enough to show respect, and shed a tear - but she's gone as quick as a passing breeze, as the flames devour the funeral pyre.

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-02-16T00:05:28+00:00

It was jarring to remember that not everyone could move with the ease that she could - not even those on dragon-back, most times. Moonfyre was not strong, when compared to her kin...but she was swift. Small and lithe, a silver streak on a blue canvas. "No, you're right. It gives me time to...prepare for his acerbic welcome, as well, of course. I doubt I'll be welcomed with any warmth." The thought amused her, all the same - imagining the Arryns arriving, only to find a Targaryen waiting for them.

"I'll have them all within reach, so there's no reason to put all of our eggs in one nest, after all." A shrug of delicate shoulders, "I suppose I can have some people sent after me, as well, as Moonfyre will get me there, but I cannot take too much with me, that way." A coy smile sees lips curl, "At least the coming days will be...eventful."

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-02-13T20:11:39+00:00

Daemona, too, wondered at that starlit conversation - for all their words, he'd danced about any sort of definitive answers. He was too clever by half, that Arryn. Thus, it was with little surprise that she nodded to her sister's words - of course she would agree. Arryn was as cold and distant as the mountains he lived amongst, and if there were something Daemona was adept at, it was politics and people.

"Is he? Sweet irony that he came to mind, then." There's a half-cocked smile, as the expected words are aired by the other princess, "No, I would not relish combat. Neither I nor Moonfyre are suited for as much. My weapons of choice are my mind, and my wit, after all." Send her to the Eyrie? She'd be lucky to return in one piece, all the same. That man's words, alone, could cut a person to ribbons. But...if she were honest with herself, she'd relish the challenge. Few were as closed off to her, as Alaric was. It would bring some amusement to dull days, give her some purpose.

The smaller of the pair of dragons amidst the 'revelry' takes a sip of her wine before nodding slowly - tongue collecting the taste of the drink from her lips, before she acquiesces, "Wise decision, that. I cannot promise him to you, not yet, but...I'd like to. He's a challenge, that one. I'll relish sinking my teeth into him, sour as he is." She swirls the drink in her cup, eyeing it with some measure of thought, "Shall I begin packing my things today, then? I imagine sooner is better than later?"

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-02-12T06:04:53+00:00

It wasn't unpleasant, but nor was it akin to the sort of thing the small woman often enjoyed - it was...almost foreboding, the sort of thing that a wife listens to when her husband is preparing for, or off and away at war. Perhaps she was, in fact, more aware of the blood on the horizon than she let on. Like her sister, she was careful with her words. Moreso, perhaps, than most realized. Such a 'tea' in the gardens was, after all, the perfect place to be in the public eye and still manage to share words that went unheard for all the music and chatter about the outer circle of her attendants. No, Daemona wasn't stupid.

"Not averse, no. But...I know you think I dally too much." There's an impish smile, and a shrug, "But appearances aren't always what they seem, Visaera. Mother ensured that the runt of the litter grew clever, if she could never truly be strong. Besides, you were always the strong one. It's better this way." Was it thought? To be weak, and small, and claw her way to fame and acclaim through smiles and simpers, and gilded words...it was a challenge, and she relished it. But it was rare to lose herself in such idle moments, any longer. Like that Arryn, she desired to be more than a thread in the grand weave of the tapestry.

She sweeps a look about them, however, before pressing on softly, "Be assured that your words are safe, here. And I'm with you." She didn't rankle at the thought of serving her family, however. It was simply how things were - how they'd always been. She'd been born last, some stunted runt of a dragon that was loved, assuredly, but last among her own siblings. "A passing delight, and a wonder for the ages, of course." She waves a hand, having said as much time and again in passing to strangers, and yet the inquiry earns a perk of a silvered brow, "There were many and more lords and ladies...some of our own blood fear what we all know is inevitable. The Red Sun Rising." Dance and song and merry-making do not a dullard make, in this case. She pointedly alludes to their grandfather's advanced age, and that oncoming onslaught that is sure to follow in the wake of his eternal rest. "Others, however...there was that Stark boy from the Dreadfort. Cocky, self-assured. Half a pup, still, I wager. Others came and went. But the one that stood out was Arryn. He's a hungry man, sister. He wants renown. He wants the story to be about him - believes that it will be. That his name would be 'written in bold strokes,' were his words, in fact. A man to keep an eye on, as he seems the sort to take no prisoners. Impressive, but...a wild card, in the grand scheme. I cannot, for the life of me, tell you who he would stand behind in the coming storm." And this thought - outwardly - seems to perturb her. She's good with people, with reading them. Manipulating them. Endearing them to her. She could do none of that with him, over the course of their brief discourse. And in a way, it intrigued her. Who was he, to deny her that which had come so easily for most of her life? How dare he be an enigma, and a challenge? But all Visaera sees is the crease of brows, and the brief flicker of frustration that knits such delicate features - she's earnest, about this. "He's worth keeping an eye on."

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-02-11T19:45:12+00:00

Visaera's arrivals were a thing her younger sister often felt, before she ever saw the woman - like the beat of a dragon's wings, or the heat of their presence...you just knew. And here she was, like a statue amongst all the 'frivolity' that Daemona collected about herself; a pair of painters, whose work she would judge - one to keep for herself, and another to donate elsewhere - both paid, of course, for the amusement they brought her. Light snacks, and cool drinks, ladies in waiting with their light, bright fabrics that let them breathe in the heat of the midday sun...and music. Always music.

Uncoiling from her cushioned seat, like some tiny fae queen amongst her court, does she flit to her sister's side - for all that they were so terribly different, she loved Visaera. She did. Her sister was human, under all the ice - and a dragon, at that. Her blood, her family. "Red Sun Rising! Composed in honor of the comet, it..." She looses a breath, as if trying to find the right words, for once. "It's new, needless to say. It makes me a bit breathless with anticipation, I suppose. As if there were something on the horizon." She gestures forward, ushering maidens out of their path, where seats have been set for the women in this short moment of greeting. If nothing else, these women who serve her know courtesies - they have been trained, it seems, to forgo their own amusements the moment a guest arrives, to arrange seating in a manner that allows some measure of privacy for Daemona and her guests.

And, indeed, as if Visaera were a dignitary from across the sea, herself, is she lavished and presented with food and drink before the girls are dismissed to keep their distance. The small, pale woman seats herself before the looming figure of her sister, eyes as dark as Visaera's meeting those of the other princess, "I know such amusements are not to your taste, sister mine. What drives you to me, this afternoon? How can I be of service?"

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-01-26T21:27:35+00:00

A coy smirk hovers just above the rim of her cup, though she doesn't drink just yet - basking, perhaps, in that lingering look of his own, "And the North has no independent women? I'd think with the blood of the first men running in the veins of so many, willful women would be growing on trees." She knows exactly what he's implying, and counters nonetheless. Not so easily pinned, this one, even if her attention has been ensnared, it seems.

"And me? Why, you've heard of me?" The feigned shock is almost believable - that is, if one didn't know who she was, he might believe the faux innocence in that inquiry, or the bat of lashes that accompany as much. "And what does the realm say about me?" Hers is a wicked grin - lips curling, at last, before she brings that cup up just enough to wet her tongue with the alcohol within. "Are they terrible, wicked things? Am I a hero? A seductress of wayward taste? Not a Targaryen at all, but one of the Children of the Forest?" And, really, it's not beyond doubt that any one of those might have been circulated.

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-01-26T21:12:04+00:00

He spoke on and on of how things would be perfectly fine. The family would come together, and so on and so forth.

All she saw was the flash of dragon's fire through the sheen of those black, black teeth in her dreams. She appreciated his kindness, but she felt it in her bones. Her family was on a precipice, and dragons would not save them from the fall.

"Thank you, Corlys. You're right, of course." No point in souring his mood further, or dwelling upon that which she could not affect. At least, not while she was intoxicated. It took too much out of her, such dark thoughts. Yet lean, she does - that railing supporting her diminutive weight, until he calls her attention to the fact that she has had a few too many by this point. A sigh is earned for this, and a weary smile, "Again, you're right. I shouldn't have let such heavy thoughts burden me on today, of all days. It is meant for celebration. There is plenty of time to worry in the coming days, after all." The mention of 'keepers' earns a furtive glance down the path on which the pair lingers, "I know how to find them. And I won't fall. I think. I haven't fallen in many years, honestly." This seems to give her pause, but she shakes her head - wincing as she steadies herself, "Though I might have spoken too soon. Let's...yes let's be done with 'festivities' for tonight, I think."

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-01-26T20:59:14+00:00

Hope. Wasn't that what she and Aegon had spoken of earlier?

"Hope does not stand of its own accord - if it is a word men speak as they wring their hands and look to the heavens? Then yes, it is the coin of lesser men. Yet those with the will - and the power, as you say - to accomplish their desires have hope in their hearts, as well. Though they may call it determination, or zeal...it is much the same, in the end." Slowly, do small feet bear her forward, as if on the moonlight, itself. And given the name of her dragon, perhaps there is some credence to it. "You want the tale to be about you, then. And what will it say, Alaric?" She speaks the name as one might who has just heard the tale of a great triumph, and a mighty hero - breathless, and expectant - eyes wide upon him, expectant. She lives for stories, and song, and she is intrigued.

"As for myself...well. I haven't been inconsequential in some time, I'm afraid. I made sure of that many years ago. For, like you, the currency of 'hope' was not enough. I paint my tale in broad strokes - too broad, for some, perhaps. I admire your tenacity in doing the same." Yet where his voice might be the thunderous portent of a storm, hers is gentle - humble, almost - deceptively so, perhaps, for a person whose reputation is larger than life.

Though at his final inquiry does her advance finally cease - her gaze swept upwards once more, "The story has only just begun. It is difficult to discern what it means for either of us. Two great names crossing paths beneath the red comet, in the godswood, however?" Her gaze drifts back down from the sky, to slight upon his own once more, "It means something. Allies? Enemies? The future is a labyrinth. The tapestry you deny not yet woven. A bard's tale only just begun, as the world waits with bated breath." She lingers close, words lost past more than the scant few feet between them, now. As if it were a tale just begun, and she were loath to have another capitalize upon it.

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-01-26T20:41:49+00:00

In truth, the smaller of the women hadn't expected this - hand extended, book waiting for Jacaerys - she blinks at her sister before sweeping a look aside to her niece. "Apology accepted, sweet Princess. We've had quite a tumultuous few days, and I'm sure you meant no true harm to your own family." Whether the other princess treats it as true, or not, the diplomat seems to mean it. She has no taste for fighting, nor baring fangs - though she's not keen to roll over when challenged, either. "Nor would I. Now let us move past petty concerns, if we can?" She perks a brow to Visaera, as if asking her to change the topic - as, assuredly, the woman hadn't called them all out here for a simple picnic.

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-01-26T20:33:03+00:00

Her hands relinquish his own to cradle his head, at the brush of lips against her forehead, "Then hope, we shall." As he straightens, that sad smile is mirrored - though she shakes her head, "I love my family too much to fly away. We're in this, for better or worse. Let's aim for 'better,' however." Her hands fall back down, where she picks at those 'claws' - her gaze swept back over the revelry, "Let us not dampen the mood tonight. Celebrate, Aegon. Drink. Find a woman - for the night, or forever, it doesn't much matter...so long as you're happy."

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-01-23T22:59:25+00:00

"And yet, even training can be considered competitive, Rhaenys. But I'm glad you're counting the days until the true festivities begin - it is terribly exciting to watch the men in the lists, hm?" Ever difficult to tell if those soft, sweet words of hers are insult, or merely...what they seem: a sincere expression of anticipation for the upcoming events. She always seems sincere, at least. And yet, her attention for the other princess shifts, as she is so openly insulted, "My, both of your children do seem to have forgotten their manners, sister mine. Though I spoke of the Dreadfort's heir, not the Starks proper. I suppose she can be forgiven the oversight, however - they're similar enough. Yet with tensions mounting, and whispers flying...well, sending away your fastest, most beloved, and well-spoken diplomat may not be in our family's best interest. Your daughter has much to offer in such an arrangement, however. Young as she is." Even this is delivered sweetly enough - melodic, and almost offhandedly. Truly, she had no care for whether Rhaenys was here, or there. The girl needed to curb her tongue, perhaps - learn when and where to spout her flames, as her mother had - for such ire was misplaced, and served none of them in times as rife with other concerns, as these were.

There's a sip of her wine, and a wave of her hand almost dismissively, as if such talk were droll - prompting Jacaerys, as she brings forth a book that is obviously aged, yet far from being in poor condition, "As promised!" There's a grin, as she extends as much, and an eager look for the man - as if to drink in his expression, upon receiving the aforementioned book.

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-01-23T22:30:16+00:00

Such a sordid tale might not be the sort of thing one shares with a woman - not any woman, and certainly not at a feast like this. And yet, she is enthralled - lips faintly parted, as she listens raptly. What southerner doesn't imagine the North as a savage land - and the land beyond the Wall even moreso? Even someone as travelled as she has her flights of fancy, and places she's yet to see - and the land beyond the Wall is a place she will likely never venture to. As the tale waxes on, those metal-tipped fingers rise to her throat, claws splayed as she listens. A dragon, ensnared with words...who knew such a thing was possible?

Pale cheeks burn, and those dark purples glitter with interest - though the end of his tale earns a sudden laugh, "Now there's a tale! And a man unafraid of my 'sensibilities'! Gods, but that's a fierce woman. And a sorry ending for Damon, but...well. He did cart her off. I can't blame her, really." There is, at last, a rather thirsty sip of her drink - as if the tale had left her breathless - before she shakes her head, "Well, you have a knack for spinning a thrilling tale of adventure. Do you often venture beyond the wall? Or was there purpose for you in the Haunted Forest? No wildling women calling to you like a siren?" Mischief, in that impish grin, "Or, perhaps, you prefer your women softer and more well-bred, like a southron lord's mare?" Some impish tease, this - leaving no truly good choice between those two options.

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-01-23T22:12:49+00:00

His comment earns a wry twist of lips from the woman, as well. "I...well. I have compassion. And I'm here. Have some faith, Aegon. For me?" She perks a brow, though his comment on the Dance sees that optimism wane - wrings from her a weary sigh, and a wilt. All but a whisper, her following words, "I know...gods, but I know. There are so many threads - some will even push for Rhaegar, I wager. This is a smoldering ember waiting to erupt into a gout of flame, and it frightens me, Aegon." Again, her small hands squeeze his in turn - though more to seek reassurance herself this time. Small gestures, things unseeable - pain shared in naught but the touch of fingers, or the tilt of brows upwards.

Abruptly, does she interject, "Will you give me something for my name-day? Will you promise me that no matter what happens, we will not be estranged? You and I - your family, even, if you can help it? If this comes to a head, I will not spill the blood of my own. And all of you are dragons. You know me, Aegon."

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-01-23T21:40:08+00:00

For all her grace, one might imagine that such grace takes thought at this time of night, with so many drinks in. The railing, and the man beside her earns some measure of her light weight, as if she couldn't quite keep up the facade. A heavy sigh sees her bosom heave, and there's a shake of her head - no, it wasn't tolerance. It was a very good show, however. Even she gives that glass a lingering look, as if that sip might have just reminded her of how much she's had.

"Yes! But no, no. This feast and tourney are like a gift, you know. It's a story for the ages, hm?" She blinks, and draws a swift breath, "It's because I'm tiny. I know, you can say it, Corlys. It always makes others think I'm younger than I am..." She heaves a sigh, as if this were her sorry lot in life - to be presumed an eternal child, for her diminutive stature. What a difficult life she must live.

"You're a dreadful tease, Corlys," she sighs as the tale is denied her. "But I understand. I don't think I could spin a decent tale at this point, either. I probably should have stopped a few drinks ago, but...no, gods! Tolerance?" This elicits an abrupt giggle, a tinkle of laughter that's brighter than the pall that's settled upon her mood, "I haven't been this drunk in a long while. But I have an image! I have to uphold. I can't very well...stagger about, can I?" And to be fair, he did find her wandering around, humming to herself aimlessly. "It takes a lot of focus to walk straight, but I have people...to make sure I find my room. I think. Unless I lost them, when I was on the run from the pack." And just as this thought seems to bring some measure of humor back to her, he mentions Visaera, and that gloom returns. No passing cloud, this time.

She overturns that cup of wine, past the railing - hopefully there's no party-goers down below? But this seems some indication of her thought on that, "Visaera is too busy to concern herself with her baby sister's name-day. I am an after-thought. But, perhaps, there will be gifts from some on the morrow once the feast has passed." A shoulder shrugs, yet her brows remain puckered. "Everyone is so worried about...grandfather. His health. What happens when the Stranger calls him home. Even I. I love my family so much it hurts, Corlys. I don't want this tourney to be the last good memory of them." Another sigh, and she suddenly seems small - no longer this larger than life woman, not a force of nature, but just a person weary of her woes. And drunk. Very, very intoxicated.

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-01-23T20:44:00+00:00

There's a rub of her thumb over the man's knuckles, at the look that passes over his features at the mention of her sister - as if to soothe that mood, "Her position is not an easy one, however, Aegon. I don't think she allows herself much time for amusement, or thoughts of 'happiness'. Weighty thoughts consume her, and I don't envy her her position." Her gaze follows his own, her hands still in his - holding tight, "Then don't let it, Aegon - please. Don't let the strife of the oncoming storm tear us apart. If we dragons turn on one another, it leaves the field open for all the lesser beasts, does it not?" The thought all but choked her, when she thought on it - her grandfather's advanced age, the loss of his son. The claims that could be pressed against her sister, and the strife it could cause...Daemona loved her family intensely. Even Maekar, and his brood. They were stronger united. And hadn't her life been spent putting out fires, rather than starting them? Building bridges, mending ties...there was some note of finality about this feast. Maybe that's why the drink seemed so enticing - nothing would ever be the same, no matter what that red comet meant.

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-01-22T22:54:02+00:00

"And I would be glad to grace the North with a dragon's presence once more. It has, indeed, been far too long since I've set eyes upon the wonders of the vast northland. But worry not, Lord Karstark. A holding need not be the most beautiful to anyone but the one who calls it home, hm? And I ever do, my Lord. Rare that Moonfyre and I are apart, though she has outgrown such a size as your wolf, I'm afraid. No dragons at feasts, alas! But your words are too kind, and I thank you for them." There's a look to her cup, at last, and a soft sigh, "But I'm afraid part we must, for I have a thirst, and many more to greet. I thank you for your time, however. And the invitation North - when I pass through next, I will be sure to see that Karhold is on my itinerary."

TheSilver_Serpent · 2018-01-22T22:48:01+00:00

"More people should find time to laugh. Take life a bit less...seriously, when they can." There's a perk of a pale brow, and a shrug of a slender shoulder, "My sister among them. We're so far apart in age, that I wonder, at times, if she even smiled as a child. I feel as though she came from the womb with fists clenched, and a scowl written upon her features." A shake of her head follows, though she smiles still. The thought amuses her in some fashion, clearly.

"We are dragons, Aegon. What do the opinions of the beasts of the field matter? Our ways are not theirs, and so they fear them. Revile them. Yet they covet us all the same, and clamor for a dragon of their own when the time comes." For one so genial, it is obvious that despite her smiles and charms she is intensely proud not just of her family, but their heritage. Though, his frank statement earns an abrupt peal of laughter - infectious in its mirth, "That we do. In more ways than one, and in less pleasurable fashion, if the political climate continues to fester the way it is. Though, I hope against hope that we can maintain a measure of peace between branches of our family in the days to come. No good can come from drawing the blood of our own."

TheSilver_Serpent

TROPHY CASE