Quoted By: >>6358670
We are back! Only a year after the first thread. I’m like that, sorrynotsorry.
You are Alyssa NicNivara, High Elven lady archmage of the seventh order, stuck in this strange backwards land called ‘Westeros’ with your sister Anya, a cleric of the Dawnfather, your druidess colleague Eva, and four mortal partymembers you scarcely know.
Where we left off, you and your party were demonstrating what duels of the mighty look like to these folk who do not know power; your duel with Anya involved you turning into a Sea Dragon and accidentally frightening many spectators, and then polymorphing into a 20-foot-tall-Sun Giant - which is when Lord Stark happened to walk in, at just the right moment to witness you beating your sister over the head with her own summoned Leskylor.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/62761627?view_full_work=true
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6182755/
https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/westeros-elf-wizard-quest-archive.1213676/
>Just another day in the life.
Lord Stark stares up with the face of a man at a loss. Here you stand before him a Sun Giant, tall and stately as the immortal redwood, in the fullness of your might. Every instinct instilled by noble upbringing and many years among mortals shouts that you have made a grave blunder. This place is ignorant of real power, to say nothing of its stricter mores. But then, this is you, and the truth of an archmage; there should be no pretence of anything else among your guests. They will live.
“Sorry,” you reply with a shrug, using one of the few words of Westerosi you’ve so far picked up.
Anya looks up at you as she heals her injuries. “Do you have the spells for another bout?”
“Not too many. I think I’ll hold the rest in reserve.” You glance around the yard, at the many faces, the divots your dragon form dug in the muddy ground… as well as the section of roof where you stood moments ago and from which you took flight as a dragon. Well, what used to be the roof; two tons of sea dragon taking off from it mostly left behind a collection of loose tiles and timbers, thankfully without catching any spectators underneath in the process. “Perhaps we ought to take this outside the castle in the future.”
“Agreed.”
When after the next bout (another victory, this time using the dragon form while managing to suppress its Frightening Presence), you return to your normal form, the lord is gone. You’ll have to find him on the morrow; freshly-returned, he’s yet to hear of his foster-father Jon Arryn’s passing, and you have no way to communicate at the moment anyhow. Lord Stark’s children are also elsewhere.
You are Alyssa NicNivara, High Elven lady archmage of the seventh order, stuck in this strange backwards land called ‘Westeros’ with your sister Anya, a cleric of the Dawnfather, your druidess colleague Eva, and four mortal partymembers you scarcely know.
Where we left off, you and your party were demonstrating what duels of the mighty look like to these folk who do not know power; your duel with Anya involved you turning into a Sea Dragon and accidentally frightening many spectators, and then polymorphing into a 20-foot-tall-Sun Giant - which is when Lord Stark happened to walk in, at just the right moment to witness you beating your sister over the head with her own summoned Leskylor.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/62761627?view_full_work=true
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6182755/
https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/westeros-elf-wizard-quest-archive.1213676/
>Just another day in the life.
Lord Stark stares up with the face of a man at a loss. Here you stand before him a Sun Giant, tall and stately as the immortal redwood, in the fullness of your might. Every instinct instilled by noble upbringing and many years among mortals shouts that you have made a grave blunder. This place is ignorant of real power, to say nothing of its stricter mores. But then, this is you, and the truth of an archmage; there should be no pretence of anything else among your guests. They will live.
“Sorry,” you reply with a shrug, using one of the few words of Westerosi you’ve so far picked up.
Anya looks up at you as she heals her injuries. “Do you have the spells for another bout?”
“Not too many. I think I’ll hold the rest in reserve.” You glance around the yard, at the many faces, the divots your dragon form dug in the muddy ground… as well as the section of roof where you stood moments ago and from which you took flight as a dragon. Well, what used to be the roof; two tons of sea dragon taking off from it mostly left behind a collection of loose tiles and timbers, thankfully without catching any spectators underneath in the process. “Perhaps we ought to take this outside the castle in the future.”
“Agreed.”
When after the next bout (another victory, this time using the dragon form while managing to suppress its Frightening Presence), you return to your normal form, the lord is gone. You’ll have to find him on the morrow; freshly-returned, he’s yet to hear of his foster-father Jon Arryn’s passing, and you have no way to communicate at the moment anyhow. Lord Stark’s children are also elsewhere.
