hadriel_logs | Helping the Hosts + Predator vs Prey [semi-open!]

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Helping the Hosts + Predator vs Prey [semi-open!]

Who: Jon Snow (

northerndragon) and others! Some of this is prearranged but please give me a nudge if you want to plot something; I'm especially looking for people for him to save in the event, on this log or any other.
What: Jon gathers people to help the Hosts and goes out looking to capture them, hopefully without hurting them too much. After the event starts, he will be unaffected. However, if he is in a position to stand between a predator and someone they want as their prey, whether it's on one of these hunts or back in the city proper, he will. If you are tagging in during the event with one of those positions, please make a note of it.
Where: Host hunting: outside the city. Predator vs. Prey: anything that comes up during host hunting, plus anything he's needed for in the event itself.
When: 3/11 through closer to the city move (flexible), covering the Predator vs Prey event. If the event itself gets too hot and he feels he's needed more in the city as a protector, he may set aside host hunting for the latter part of it. Other than that and the stuff set before the event starts, I don't want to be too fussy about the timeline.
Warnings: The usual overall Game of Thrones warning. While Jon himself is a super good guy who fights to protect people who are less able to protect themselves, a blanket warning is important because potentially objectionable or triggering themes (extreme violence, abuse, consensual incest, etc.) are so pervasive in his canon that it's almost impossible to interact with him without them coming up from time to time in tags.

{Starter in comments.}

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After Hope's request for assistance, Jon has let it be known around family, friends, and Guard HQ that he's looking to go out and help some Hosts, and left word to meet him near the Speakeasy as early as possible, starting the next morning.

As he leaves the city with whoever is coming along, he asks a number of questions: Do they remember how the Hosts move and fight? Do they have much experience hunting?

A day may come when he doesn't turn up for the planned meeting.

[Note: Sonya's participation must be prior to event start, but everything else is pretty free and clear. Daenerys will be around on and off. Since multi-character threads can get bogged down, we can break small groups down into one-on-one conversations or etc.]

Edited 2019-03-15 03:05 (UTC)

Maria wasn't family, friend or part of the Guard HQ but she had been paying attention to the bustle in the City, it wasn't hard to find out there was a young, strong man wanting to rally together a hunting party.

She showed up hours before the arranged meeting time, using it as a chance to scope out others who were planning on joining. As she waited, Maria wondered if she was doing the right thing? These Great Ones, they had asked for help, surely this would redeem her of her past actions if she could find and save their hosts?

As Jon arrived, Lady Maria watched him for a moment. Yes, he seemed to be the man she was looking for so she approached him, slow and cautiously.

"I am Lady Maria and I am here to aid you in your mission if you will have me?"

Giving a slight nod of her head, her tricorn hat almost covering all of her face as she did so. His questions were expected and Maria tried to answer them as best she could.

"I have never encountered such creatures. I only know they are hosts to the Great Ones. As for Hunting? Yes, I am well seasoned, have no fear, my skills will not let you down."

Maria was keen to get started, it felt like forever since she was last useful in a worthy cause.

“Lady Maria.” He looks very faintly surprised, and his greeting is half an echo, albeit a pleasant one.

So this is the woman who has been kissing my sister. Well, the cousin he still thinks of as his sister.

“A pretty name, and I’m grateful for your help. I’m Jon Snow. My sister has mentioned you — Sansa Stark.”

He isn’t bringing the horse today. It might make sense, if he had a sledge that he could use to carry any Hosts they might find back to the city, but without that, and with companions who don’t all have faster modes of travel, going on foot is best. Still, he has a secret weapon, other than the sword with the white wolf pommel and the daggers strapped to his belt, and he raises his voice to call for it now: “Ghost, to me!”

A big white direwolf, twin to the one on the sword, emerges from behind a building. He looks at Maria with interest in his dark red eyes, then sniffs the air between them.

Maria notes the look of slight surprise on his face, though she thinks nothing of it, nothing to fret about at least.

A compliment to her name is it? How charming, she almost cracks a small smile and then it all becomes very clear why he sounded surprised to hear her name.

"It seems you have the upper hand on me then, Jon Snow. For you are a mystery to me. All we share is the part of our hearts that your sister occupies."

Her voice is very calm, composed and ringing with an Eastern Europian accent, sweet and chilling like a haunting song. It's clear there is still a fondness for Sansa as she speaks of her and Maria has nothing to hide on the subject.

As Ghost is called to his master, Maria turned her full attention towards him. A beast in wolf form at that! When the scourge ravaged the streets of Yharnam and even those of the Healing Church turned to blood ministrations, they always made the most terrifying, vile, bloodthirsty beasts. This Ghost, this direwolf, as white and pure as Vicar Amelia, startled Maria until she recalled the same sigil embroidered onto some of Sansa's clothes.

Letting the breath she had been holding escape, Maria her left hand against her heart, her right arm extended, palm facing up, a common greeting for those worthy of it back in Cainhurst where Maria was from. She took a knee towards the honourable Ghost and bowed her head in submission.

"The Healing Church would be envious of you, such a beautiful beast. Such nobility."

By now Rey was all too used to seeing people congregate at the Speakeasy. After all, she spent more time here these days than anywhere else in the city. It's just that she doesn't make a habit out of eavesdropping on people's plans and discussions. That's just rude, and even Rey has a line that shouldn't be crossed.

Today makes an exception, though. In a moment of sobriety, she's pouring herself a cup of water as she eyes the familiar fur-clad guy who once marveled at the concept of glass kitchenware. She's noticed that he show up from time to time, but never really approached him after the few times they've spoken. Rey was rarely ever the approach-someone-to-talk-casual type of person unless they gave her reason to.

Another excuse to leave the city, though? That's a good enough reason if she heard one. She knows their time left on this planet is limited, and judging from Hope's plea to help his people that are stuck, the gods aren't super eager to jump this ship so soon, either.

Besides, it's coming that time of the month where they'd be planning to get some emotional juice from them, so they probably won't leave until then. Knowing which ones tend to be behind the world-hops, that isn't something Rey wants to stick around for, but at least she can count on Love not being the one to fuck with her feelings again.

"Bit early for a beer, isn't it?" Rey comments, flatly yet trenchant.

That makes him chuckle in spite of himself.

“Is it? When I was a lad, just joined the Night’s Watch, the Lord Commander made me his steward.” He does not expect that Rey knows what almost any of this means, so he elaborates. “A steward is a servant. I fetched his messages, washed and mended his clothes, brought his meals. For breakfast, he always wanted beer with lemon.”

After a beat, he adds, “So no. Not too early for a beer, but that isn’t why I’m here. I’m looking to go on a hunt to help the Hosts. We’re meeting outside.”

Rey knows what a steward is, but that's hardly the point as far as she's concerned. Brow knitted, she folds her arms over her chest.

"Guess it's always give o'clock somewhere..." Rey mutters. But again, not the point. She grows infinitely more interested by the mention of the Hosts. "You need to actually subdue them first, yeah? Have a way of doing that without killing them?"

"Five o'clock?" He looks at her, a little baffled.

Why don't these people know what anything is called? The clock on the network devices has an hour on it numbered five, one in the morning and one in the evening depending where the city is, and it is true that the beginning of the day would be too early for a man to be in his cups no matter what you call the hour, but -- "I don't think we have that where I'm from. We have dawn, midday, the hour of the bat, the hour of the wolf.

"As to the Hosts..." His bafflement shifts to frustration. "It depends on who's with us. Some can calm them, some can't. It would be easier if we could take one with us that would tell its fellows that we mean it no harm."

Edited 2019-03-17 11:32 (UTC)

Huff.

"Never mind, don't worry about it."

It might not be too early for beer, but it sure as hell is too early to explain silly idioms to people from other worlds -- no matter how ridiculous that sounds on Rey's head. Either way, it's not Jon's fault.

She scratches her forehead in thought. "Take one... You mean a Host that isn't trying to take our guts out?" Hope did claim he could calm his people down once they're in close proximity, so that's not a surprise. "Well, can't do shit about calming them. Have a pretty good lay of this planet by now if you haven't gotten out that much, though, and can make sure they don't rip you apart."

It's the least Rey can do. And she wants to leave for a bit, anyway.

To answer his questions, Sonya had already experienced hunting hosts. She'd done so when they first attacked the city; at the time she was only providing suppressing fire while others went in for the kill, now though, she had a way of stunning them so they could be taken without a fatal blow. She also had experience in tracking, and having hunted in the terrain all this time, she knew the area very well indeed.

She supposed she should've joined just for altruistic reasons; these hosts were victims to the Null and still have no control over their lives. They should be rounded up and placed where they could heal; it was only right.

In truth, her reasons were admittedly more selfish. Without a steady supply of resources, the gift of healing would be especially useful to them. But she'd also welcome a more material-less practical gift in way of photos from home.

She showed up to the gathering point, arm bands charged and supplies to form binds once they're caught. "There are some caves a few kilometers north from here. We might start there."

What Sonya brings to this task, Jon thinks, is invaluable.

"I'm glad you've decided to come. Not sure we could do it without you."

He knows the terrain well enough from hunting the other creatures, but, well, since the Hosts became a difficulty, he's been occupied: a new lover who is nearly a bride, in his mind, and a reunion with the man who is his father by blood. It had kept him from exploring the area around the city, and it had kept him from going with Fear and Delight after all.

So having someone there who has been hunting them, who can stun them, who can tell him what he doesn't know -- that's of more use than he can say. He remembers Mance taking him out to the Fist of the First Men to see what the Army of the Dead had wrought. If that hadn't happened, the North would have no chance now; the world might have no chance now. What they do today is different, but no less important to the Hosts, he thinks, if they do it with any success.

"I want to help them." A shake of his head. "They don't deserve to be left here, to be tortured while we live in what's left of their city. Have you ever had to help anyone like this before?"

Edited 2019-03-17 11:33 (UTC)

She had everything written down; land marks, distances, other points of observation. The way the null were, she worried they might be able to hack into the devices if she took pictures, and under stress-well, things written on paper were less likely to be forgotten if they needed to remember.

His question earned a sigh ans she set the notepad back in her bag. "In a matter of speaking, yes, it was one of our objectives in Special Forces. Ours was to go into enemy territory and defend those who couldn't fight for themselves-S and R...Search and rescue missions included."

That used to just involve her country. Now, if she were home, it would involve all of Earth realm.

If there are innocent beings being used against their will, Ahsoka should do something about it. It's not wholly unlike the mission she'd given herself before being brought here; protecting Force-sensitive children from being captured and indoctrinated into the Dark Side had given her purpose once. She's willing to do this. To find a reason to be in this place.

"I've never hunted these before. But all things are connected. I can feel their presence, and that's helped me track others many times before."

Ahsoka looks different from almost anyone Jon has ever met, like some kind of woods witch of the Free Folk, maybe, or like no one he’s ever known at all. But she has a kindness to her, and he thinks her desire to help must be sincere. Why else would someone offer, knowing that the task is dangerous?

Still, he tilts his head to regard her curiously, frowning a little. “Feel their presence? How, my lady?”

Sometimes he can feel Ghost’s presence, but he knows that’s strange; that some people don’t like it.

It's not all that different from when she'd helped younglings. The memory brings a pang, but the words come easily.

"We're all part of the universe. We're all connected in that, by what." She pauses. Maybe the words aren't so easy. "What some call the Force. I've been trained to see that connection, and see through it."

She hopes that makes sense. The Force may have been a mystery to some in the galaxy, but they usually had at least stories of what could be done by its allies. If it doesn't...well, she'll keep trying, or go alone if she must.

He's quiet for a moment, considering her words with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I don't know what that's like. I don't feel that.

"But the gods of my people, the Old Gods of the forest... we're told that they can see everything, that they know us. They watch us through the weirwoods -- it's a tree that's holy to them, and long ago, the Children of the Forest carved eyes and mouths for them in the bark. But they aren't only in the weirwoods, they're in every tree and rock and river. It sounds a little like your Force."

After a pause, he adds, "The Hosts are afraid, my lady, and rightly so. Can you feel their fear? Is there a way to calm them?"

She nods at the explanation, grateful for his understanding. Not every culture saw the Force like the Jedi. Perhaps this is another example of a Force tradition. Under different circumstances, she'd have been curious to learn more. For now, she pushes that aside.

"Yes, to your first question. Emotion, especially the kind, falls under what I can sense. As to the second question...we need to make them feel safe. I can project goodwill, but it needs to be paired with our actions."

It takes the same work as any peace effort, in other words. Being attentive and responsive, empathetic. It's the sort of thing the Jedi were meant to do, and wandered astray from. That's why she's here.

He nods, accepting what she's saying.

"I doubt the Null made them very trusting -- certainly not now. The Hosts have hurt people. We have to be prepared to hurt them ourselves, if it's needed for our protection. But, as you say, it's a rescue mission. We don't mean to make slaves of them, or put them in a dungeon and cause them pain.

"Have you seen the images -- the record of how they fight?"

Not an easy foe.

At least she's used to fighting people stronger than her.

"I have. If it comes to it, I can help defensively, not just with fighting." To demonstrate, she floats one of her lightsabers out of her belt. "To move people away from harm."

The more damage can be prevented, the better.

The lightsaber gets another curious look.

"That's your sword? I've seen them now and then, but -- "

He's learning to accept the magic people do here; he had been learning well before Daenerys sought lessons. And he knows that magic exists at home. It's not just the Old Gods, or the Night King and the White Walkers and the way they can make dead men march for them, it's also his dreams, some of them, and the fact that he's alive anymore at all.

"Where does the blade come from?"

"Oh, you've seen them? Here?"

She knows Anakin is here--she hopes he's been, well, better than he was as Vader--but she hasn't yet met anyone else who would use the weapon.

"It's made of energy. Finding the material to build one was a sacred ritual."

With those last words, her eyes become clouded for a moment.

It still is one, she reminds herself. There was Ezra. In the future, there could be others.

"Energy."

Now he's frowning, not understanding, visibly trying to put it together.

"The blade glows like fire. No -- not fire. Almost like the sun on ice, but not the same color. What kind of material can do that?

"My sword is made from Valyrian steel, dragonsteel, but the way of making it is lost, and there's nothing sacred about it."

Well, not to him, but maybe to the Valyrians, who held dragons at the center of their lives and their domination of the known world.

Ahsoka blinks. This she was not prepared for.

"That's...a good description. It does burn. It's called a lightsaber, and you could say it is made of light."

She could tell him it comes from a crystal, and about plasmic energy, but it doesn't sound like that would help.

"If the way of making your sword is lost, there's something precious about it all the same. Losing knowledge--culture, heritage--is a sad thing."

She speaks from experience.

A pensive expression passes over his face, before he dismisses it and nods.

"Light." All right, he can understand that. Not how you can use it as a sword, but why not? Fire and ice both burn -- why shouldn't light?

"The Valyrians ruled the world with dragons for thousands of years. Do they have dragons where you come from? Great lizards that fly and breathe fire. A few hundred years ago, the Doom fell upon them, and the Valyrian Freehold was no more, except for one family that had come over to Westeros, where I was born. Most of their secrets and most of their dragons were lost. And the family, the Targaryens -- they used their dragons to conquer the land, and ruled it for close on three hundred years."

I speak of Old Valyria as if I have no Valyrian blood. But I'm a Targaryen, even if I don't have the look of one. His father does; Daenerys does. Jon himself looks resolutely like his mother -- like a Stark. He knows the truth now, but sometimes, he has to remind himself of it.

"Your sword... it's a little like a dragon breathing fire."

Ahsoka raises her eyemarkings.

"There are many species of dragon. Fire-breathing is not a known trait as of yet. Weapons are more often of the invented kind; it's been some time since creatures were used for conquest instead. "

She thinks, then slowly adds, "But a weapon is a weapon.

Ahsoka puts the saber back on her belt with the other and gestures at them. "These were used in a war between different traditions, long ago."

And they're being used still, if in the shadows, half-legend.

"In that they aren't too different from your sword."

Which certainly sounds as if it might've been made with dragon fire.

"Until recently, we thought all the dragons were dead. Most of them died in a war for the throne, Targaryen fighting Targaryen from the backs of their dragons. There are three now living -- " (he hesitates) " -- but I don't think the way of making the swords will come back with them.

"You're right that a weapon is a weapon, only some are sharper than others. Why did your different traditions go to war against each other?"

"They had two different views on the Force, and how to use it. Passion, and the use of it to have power over what's around you, bending it to your will. Serenity, and connecting with it, a light touch. Acceptance, knowing your feelings and letting them go to see clearly, to go where the Force takes you."

She pauses. "That's a simplification." To say the least. "There's more I was taught, and much more I wasn't. About light and dark both. Amd not many of either remain."

He thinks on that for a long moment, too, and as he does, a big white wolf comes trotting up, and Jon places his hand absently on the back of the wolf's head, scratching behind his ears.

He likes to think of himself as reasonable, but he's never known real serenity. There was always a question or a sorrow or both. He was a bastard who didn't know who his mother was, then there was what happened to his family, then Ygritte, then all the Night's Watch in his hand, the White Walkers, the knives in the night, and so on and on. Now there is a new name that he doesn't especially want, and a woman he does, and maybe the Null coming to end it all.

"What did someone do if they couldn't choose? Can't be too serene and still have a care for the people around you."

It's both a hard question, and not. That dichotomy is not what she was taught. Nor is it the life she lived as a Jedi. But it has taken her some time to understand that, to balance herself and see clearly rather than be caught in the sway of emotions and impulses that kept her from seeing herself, what she was doing, and if her actions would actually sate her feelings or do any good. Whether she was trying to bend the universe around her will or accept it as it was first and do what good she could for it. If she is truthful, which she tries to be, she has only just relearned all this before her arrival, and she's still unsure how far the lesson has sunk in. There's always more to learn and see. That's the only thing she's sure of.

She tries, as best as she can, to condense it all.

"It's not so much about not caring. If anything, you are supposed to care. You are supposed to feel compassion. To love. To have regard for all life. It's about being aware of and in control of your emotions, and serving a higher purpose than to try bending things to your will, being swayed this way and that." She pauses. "But not everyone needs to be a Jedi. Not everyone is called to the same life."

A short while ago, she had said she was not. She can't claim the name now. She isn't. She doesn't know what she is. She just serves the higher call. A purpose she has yet to find again.

Whether it's a movement in the corner of someone's eye, or a tentacle whipping out at a member of the party, sooner or later, they find a Host.

What then?

Notably, Jon does not draw Longclaw.

It's hard to ignore that he doesn't draw his sword. Lyanna hesitated with hers, wondering if he might know something she didn't. Choosing the bow she had brought along as well, she readied an arrow to loosen the moment the tentacle came near them.

She looked at him questioningly. "You should be ready for attack."

He has a strong stance, and he's frowning, looking around. He could have sworn he saw something edge itself behind that boulder. Not necessarily one of the Hosts; it might as easily be something else.

"I am. But if I go at the thing with Valyrian steel, it's dead. Killing them isn't our task." He shakes his head, his hand at his belt on the handle of his dirk, then adds, "They're right to be afraid. You heard how the Null hurt them."

Edited 2019-03-15 03:45 (UTC)

She hadn't paid much attention to what was happening in this world, focusing instead on Rhaegar and Jon. When she volunteered to go with him, it was less for selfless reasons and more of wanting to protect her son. The Hosts and Null, she knew nothing of them, only that Jon seemed to be wary of them.

"You didn't have another sword to bring?" She asked him with a hint of amusement. "Use mine. You need to protect yourself and it will be less likely you will kill them." It was better than walking around without a weapon at the ready.

Another shake of his head, but he isn't looking at her, he's looking at the rocks for the tentacle he thought he saw.

"I could have taken another sword, but these things can kill. It might be that I'll need Longclaw. It's only -- I don't want to use it first."

Still, he holds his hands out for her sword. Some people in the city, like Sonya, have advantages in catching these things; his would only be an advantage in murdering them. And while he's found a net to bring, too, it may not be enough.

But it isn't hard to understand why they haven't really been given extra supplies for this task, not if the gods intend to move the city again soon.

"You are honorable." But she knew that already. Her son took after Ned in so many ways, certainly more than she did. While she held honor close to her, it was never to her brother's extreme. Otherwise, she might never have run off without a word.

"There are ways to wound with a sword without killing, sweetling." Still, she would bear in mind that she should aim to cause slight injury, not a mortal blow. If they were attacked, there was nothing to do but to fight back. She wasn't about to let her son be injured.

She handed him her sword, likely smaller than he was used to and lighter as well, better suiting her frame than his. "I'll follow your lead."

"I try to be. But our mission, it's not to kill them. It's to help them, even if they don't want to be helped."

That's what Hope has asked for: the creatures are people to the god, and he wants them saved. They don't look like people to Jon, they look like beasts. But he remembers a time when he had gone to the Wall to join the Watch to make a hero of himself by killing Wildlings, and how he had learned that Wildlings weren't much different from the people he'd grown up knowing around Winterfell, just freer.

So it is with the Hosts: much like people, with a few noticeable differences.

He takes the sword from his mother, not knowing what to do if one of the Hosts hurts her. He is glad that she's with him, but she has been dead for all but the first hours of his life. Seeing her die again would hurt him.

"If they wrap one of us, we may be forced to cut them. But not until then."

She was never a bloodthirsty woman. As much as she enjoyed swordplay and tournaments, it was never the same thrill for her that it would be for Robert Baratheon. The man seemed to take delight in crushing things smaller than him. It didn't take much for her to guess how he'd view this mission and what he'd prefer to do.

But Jon was right and it was better to press ahead without actively hurting anyone. Her arrows were sharp, and she wasn't familiar with the differences in Hosts to them, but she'd do her best to wound.

"You should take the lead," she offered, nodding towards the rock where the Host was hiding. "You might be able to calm it."

"I might. Don't think I will. If it knows about its fellows at all, it knows that we took some away, and they haven't come back. But it's been said that they have ways of speaking to each other without words."

He steps forward, towards the rock, one hand up, the other holding the sword.

How can he tell a creature that he comes in peace when it doesn't speak his language, or even understand the signs that seemed universal to him until now?

The creature begins to ease back from behind the rock, and Jon bends to begin to put the sword on the ground between them. Before he can lay it flat, a tentacle whips out and encircles his wrist, tight as anything.

She pulled an arrow as Jon approached the rock. Whatever their intentions, she wasn't naive enough to believe that they would reach the creature without words. That her son was at risk made her the most uneasy. Too much loss made her expect the worst and never find the strength to hope.

It moves too quickly for her to react before it wrapped around his wrist. "Jon!" Her seized in her throat, the world dimming around her as the worst possible outcome flashed in her mind.

An arrow flew at the tentacle, grazing it first as a warning. But with no response, her protectiveness taking control. Not her son! Not now!

Another arrow shot at it, landing sharply in the tentacle.

The nautilus jerks back the injured tentacle -- for the moment. Another one flies at Jon and wraps his wrist like the first did, before he has a chance to move his arm. It squeezes his forearm through his braces. The pressure isn't enough to break a bone, but it's enough to hurt a bit.

He reaches for the sword with his other hand and cuts the tentacle close to his arm, but to his surprise, the force on his arm doesn't lessen. It's like a hand clamped on him, and before he made the cut, one that had been tugging him towards the creature.

It doesn't occur to him to be grateful that Lyanna has called him Jon, for once.

He sets the sword down again and says in frustration, "We don't want to hurt you!" Foolish to say this when the creatures don't understand. A tentacle reaches out, whips the sword away from him. It skitters across the ground and lands closer to Lyanna.

Seven bloody hells. He shakes his head in frustration and resignation, and draws Longclaw.

It was obvious that the time for talk was over. Jon could lose an arm because of this thing, and despite his appeal, it wasn't about to let go. Her warning went unheeded, mercy couldn't be offered when her son was in danger.

She grabbed her sword, giving it a small twirl before charging towards the tentacle. Another one shot out at her, but she was quick enough to dodge, rolling to the side. It gave Jon enough time to draw his sword.

"Let go of my son!" She shouted, bringing the sword down against the tentacle that had disarmed Jon. The blade didn't cut through, managing a deep wound, causing the Host to scream in pain. Blood shot back at her, wetting her dress and face. She took its distraction to race to Jon's side, trying to pull the tentacle from him, though it seemed to have him in a vice grip.

Edited 2019-04-04 21:16 (UTC)

"If you think that you can wrangle it, I can block its path."

Dany is still watching the spot in the distance where they'd both seen movement, speaking to Jon in hushed tones. In her palms begins to burn a light, one that could erupt in flames if she continues to develop it. Lup's lessons have been more than fruitful.

"I know they're said to be easily frightened, so we'll have to keep it from trying to pass through the fire, or we may lose it," she continues, low.

His glance at her palm is a slightly disquieted one. He hasn't seen her dragons, or seen her with them, and his own encounters with fire magic have been... well. He's alive, and what Lup has been teaching Daenerys seems to be different than visions in the flames and burning people for a sacrifice. But a few months earlier, Daenerys wasn't able to do this. It's strange to see the radiance in her hand now, and strange that she can do something so impossible so quickly.

"I can try. Has Lup taught you anything else, other than fire? Stunning them is the hard part."

"Yes." Something that had saved her life, when Lucretia - compelled by Rage - tried to kill her. Dany glances at Jon with a hesitant resolve before glancing to the hosts.

"I can...persuade them, I think. Give an order that one, at least, must follow."

If it works. Having not practiced this more difficult spell very often, it's hard to say how effective it will be against these creatures.

"It would be worth the attempt if we can have one of their number stay still until we've captured it."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Helping the Hosts + Predator vs Prey [semi-open!]

I. Let's Go Find Some Snail People

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3/11

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Re: I. Let's Go Find Some Snail People

in which Jon “my lady”s Ahsoka in EVERY GAME.

at least it's one of the nicer things she's been called!

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so guess what word literally doesn't appear in his canon

A Clash Across Time!

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no fire-breathing dragons in Star Wars feels like a missed opportunity

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II. Hey, is that a Nautilus Person behind that rock?

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