Guile
Having a really great time right now
I wonder? What seems more Kragg-like, "I said fireproof, and I don't leave a job half-done" or "I said fireproof and that's exactly what you get, no more, no less"?
I could see it going either way.
I wonder? What seems more Kragg-like, "I said fireproof, and I don't leave a job half-done" or "I said fireproof and that's exactly what you get, no more, no less"?
So we'd be clothed in fire? EpicWe never properly tested, but I imagine Mathilde doesn't burn but the clothes do
That would just be silly, since that would mean that Mathilde would end up naked whenever the belt does it's thing.We never properly tested, but I imagine Mathilde doesn't burn but the clothes do
For people who plan to use fire, answer this. How does Mathilde start the fires?
I've read through the thread up to now and no one has addressed the question.
And no, dwarven ale isn't flammable, as if it were that strong, Mathilde would be dead from drinking it. She also has no way of carrying large amounts of it.
Matches and lighters also probably don't exist. Flintlocks to light fuses do exist, but you then need fuses to light, as they only make sparks.
I thought it'd be something like taking some wood from an existing campfire from the greenskins, setting a hut on fire, and letting the nature of a greenskin shantytown without unified leadership do the work for us?For people who plan to use fire, answer this. How does Mathilde start the fires?
I've read through the thread up to now and no one has addressed the question.
And no, dwarven ale isn't flammable, as if it were that strong, Mathilde would be dead from drinking it. She also has no way of carrying large amounts of it.
Matches and lighters also probably don't exist. Flintlocks to light fuses do exist, but you then need fuses to light, as they only make sparks.
I thought it'd be something like taking some wood from an existing campfire from the greenskins, setting a hut on fire, and letting the nature of a greenskin shantytown with unified leadership do the work for us?
Like, fire is everywhere in this sort of place and fire safety is null. Without a boss to have them work together to put it out, this barely requires our help.
I expect this place to be dry. It's a town. Has it even rained recently? Also, we can probably take advantage of something more flammable if we find it. What do they use in place of straw? This really isn't so hard, human cities have burned down, this a town of greenskins that is currently at war with itself, we can probably get them to help us spread the fire towards their rivals or interfere with their fire-fighting efforts just by planting the idea while in disguise.Wet seasoned wood won't burn just because you throw a torch on it. It will char and then the torch will go out.
You need dry wood to ignite easily, preferably kindling in small pieces. Have you ever tried to ignite a wet log? You need a blow torch and patience or to throw it on an already well established bonfire and even more patience.
and as far as I'm aware it hasn't rained recently, so the wood won't be terribly wet unless its literally holding standing water, in which case you move to the hovel next to it.Wet seasoned wood won't burn just because you throw a torch on it. It will char and then the torch will go out.
The halfling shrugs.
[ ] "Fire has taken a quarter of the town, why not give it the rest? Some fire arrows from here, and over the walls around the rest of the town, and we can consider the town pacified once the fire burns itself out."
This is pretty interesting, since I'm pretty sure Kragg is a hell lot more valuable than Belegar speaking as a strategic asset.Though it had been merely days since the capture of Karag Lhune, it has already begun its transformation. When last you saw the Hall of he Moon it had been strewn with corpses and wreckage and hovels, and even the floor had been caved in to form a crude slave pit. But the hard work of hundreds of Dwarves had cleared away all signs of greenskin habitation and begun the process of rebuilding the floor, block by block. It was not quite a throne room fit for a King, but it did make a suitable place to confer privately with King Belegar and Kragg.
[Telling Belegar and Kragg: Diplomacy, 25+10=35.]
The two are fixing you with looks, one curious and one disapproving. You take a deep breath and plunge right in. "The Black Orc Priests were trying to separate Gork and Mork - Gork for Brutality, Mork for Cunning, and no crossover. Mork ended up using me to kill the Boss. In the sort of... possession or avatar kind of sense."
[Belegar's reaction: 49+15(Benefit of the doubt)=64.]
[Kragg's reaction: 20-10(Disapproval)=10.]
Kragg's reaction is instant, taking a step to the side to interpose himself between you and King Belegar, his hand moving to the hammer on his belt. You're very careful not to move, and after a long, tense moment, he un-tenses only very slightly. For his part, King Belegar remains unmoved, his gaze on you thoughtful.
Truth. It'd be Brutally Cunning."You thought I'd tell you all about it and then attack?"
"Aye. It's the sort of thing they'd do." Though he no longer seems to be on the verge of attacking, he's still very much ready to defend. and remains in place between you and King Belegar.
You consider that. "Okay, granted. But I'm not, though."
Calling in a professional!Kragg scowls, and fires off a staccato salvo of Khazalid, and King Belegar continues to stare.
"No," King Belegar says finally. "We do it here."
"He's barely into his second century-"
"I trust him."
Its all in the framing. Plus Mathilde and the Rangers had done good work these days to save dwarf lives.Kragg sighs and assents, and King Belegar calls out and one of the Hammerers that were standing guard outside enters. A short bark of instruction from Kragg and a nod from King Belegar sends him off again. "Okay. Continue."
You take a deep breath and plow on. "Okay. I am a worshipper of the human God Ranald, whose spheres are stealth, luck, trickery, and protecting the innocent."
Belegar frowns. "Sounds..."
[Belegar's reaction: 63+10=73.]
"Somewhat like a God of Rangers. Or a human Grombrindal, in a way," he decides.
The dwarf god way WOULD probably be pulling on their follower."When I was back in control of myself, the connection was still intact. So I invoked Ranald for protection, and he took hold of that connection and pulled."
"On you?" Kragg asks, suddenly curious.
"No, on... Mork, I guess? Or his power, if the two can be distinguished before it's used."
"Debatable. Continue."
First thought: "A dwarf greatsword user! Now we can buy the advanced Greatsword class from dwarfs when we go to campaign turns!""Mork cut himself off from me fairly quickly, but Ranald still got quite a bit, and he seemed more... radiant? And the, uh, metaphor he was communicating suggested he profited a fair bit from the encounter. That is the nature of the weakening I spoke of at the meeting. I don't know how much he lost or how it will effect him, but it seems important."
"It may be." He stares at you thoughtfully, mirroring the carefully thoughtful stare King Belegar still has levelled on you, and just as the silence was getting awkward the door opened once more and another Dwarf stepped in. This one seemed little different than the thousands of other Longbeards with the Expedition, except for the two runes on his right breast: a cave and a flame. And, to your shock, with a two-handed sword strapped to his back.
"This is Gunnars," King Belegar says, "Cleric of Gazul and Hunter of the Order of Guardians. They guard the souls of the dead. And when necessary, those of the living, too."
Gatekeeper?The Cleric locks eyes on you as Kragg speaks to him in Khazalid. It's an impressive look, and though you've had worse looks from scarier beings, you're still a little intimidated. This Dwarf does not tend a garden as the Morrites do, nor does he embrace the fatalism of Shyish like the Amethyst College. He is a sentry guarding the entrance to the Underearth, where the Ancestors reside. He stands ready against all those that would prevent the honoured dead from safely entering, be they wraith or daemon or necromancer.
Its a good relief.[Cleric Gunnars: 100.]
He shakes his head firmly. "Not a possession in the conventional sense. Circumstance and affinity..." he thinks for a moment. "Like jumping from one chariot to another. Impossible, unless they're going the same way at the same speed. No long-term damage, no risk of relapse."
"You're sure?"
"Entirely. Look," he says, pointing down at your shadow, which as always was wandering freely. "Zhuf-soul. Possession is the same body, same mind, but replaces the soul. Still Zhuf-soul, still her."
With visible evidence that you weren't Morkishly possessed, King Belegar releases a small, relieved sigh. "My thanks to you and your Order."
Kragg applies his massive Lore stat. Its super effective.Cleric Gunnars nods, and turns and leaves, and Kragg's gaze follows the Cleric out the door.
"Affinity," he says thoughtfully. "How did you kill the Priests?"
"A, uh, knife to the back of the neck for the first one. Sword to the throat for the next two. The fourth-"
"Escalating brutality," he interrupts.
"I suppose."
"A Temple trying to separate Cunning and Brutality. You perform an act of Cunning, sacrifice a Priest of Brutality. Then acts of both Brutality and Cunning. You accidentally performed a counter-ritual. That's what opened the way for Mork." He sighs in annoyance. "The only thing manlings are better at than finding stupid new ways to die is somehow surviving them. As long as she doesn't jump into the middle of any other godly squabbles, she'll be fine. So I fully expect her to do it again by the end of the week."
And for all the drama...of course they know. In hindsight, the original batch of Black Orcs are going to be using dwarf made weapons, made to dwarf standards, and sized for orcs."With that established," you press on. "While it was happening, I got some spillover from Mork. I saw the original creation of the Black Orcs-" King Belegar winces, and Kragg looks like he just bit into a lemon. "You know that part?"
"We suspect," he says shortly.
And it turns out it LESSENED the shame. Willfully turning against everything their race stands for is vastly more shameful...but as we learned about Grudges, if a grudge was caused through the misdirection and manipulation of a third party, the third party is the shitlord."Either partly or wholly, the entire thing seems to have been steered by, uh, the plotter of the Four."
Kragg rattles off a string of Khazalid obscenities, and King Belegar closes his eyes as he absorbs it. "That," he says slowly, "may be easier to bear. Puppets, rather than willingly..." he sighs. "Though that weight will never be less than backbreaking, not while they still scheme out there."
And it will be brought to the highest authorities of dwarfkind.As King Belegar heads off to pen a letter to the High King, you make your way back down the aggravating amount of steps to the Eastern Valley and back to the East Gate.
Oh yeah, Halfling army cooks means an army which might have been better fed in the army on campaign than they could get at home.The Dwarves have begun to move into Karag Lhune, and plans are underway for a barracks of sorts in Karag Nar for the manlings, but the Halflings are happy enough camping behind the high walls of the East Gate, at least until the Eastern Valley is properly secure and they can start building idyllic little cottages.
But what they consider good enough for temporary residence is a much lower bar than what they consider the bare minimum for proper cooking, and so a kitchen has been carved into the southern flank of Karag Nar and has been bustling with activity ever since. The morale effects of proper meals cannot be overstated, and you would not be surprised if the Halfling noncombatants have contributed more to the success of the campaign than the Fieldwardens.
Diplomacy yet remains our weakest skill after all.For a second time, you pause and watch Panoramia's interactions with the Halflings. Even a Journeyman of the Jade College can make any nascent farming attempt into bumper crop after bumper crop, so they've got more reason than her sunny personality to try to win her over. But though you're suspicious enough to question it, you don't quite have the knack for analyzing interpersonal relationships. Titus certainly seems genuine enough, his bow put aside in favour of an apron as he carefully rakes the coals underneath a haunch of what looks like goat, and likewise Panoramia seems to be having fun as she rummages through hand-labelled jars of spices, stocked up on when the Expedition passed through Barak Varr.
When she finally notices you there, Panoramia is only slightly and momentarily terrified, but she quickly rallies with an impressive facade of happiness that slowly turns genuine as it becomes clear you're not here to traumatize her.
Panoramia takes notes as she observes the halflings' bows and the dwarf axes.Titus seems happy enough to see you, and you reflect that even though you haven't spoken much, you've known and fought alongside Titus for longer than anyone else on the Council of War. Titus has been sipping his fair share of the cooking wine, and it doesn't take him long to start reminiscing about former battlefields, and Panoramia makes no attempt to hide her curiousity.
"It could have been any of them," Titus says, lost in memory. "At first we thought it was just fresh zombies, but no, they went straight from normal human upright and talking to horrible murderous corpse like the snap of your fingers."
"They burned out quick and then were basically normal zombies, but during that first burst of energy they were vicious," you remember. "I was interrogating one of the castle staff at Wurtbad and caught him in a lie, and next thing he was going for my face. Barely managed to get my greatsword in the way."
"I was curious," Panoramia says. "Why do you use a greatsword?"
You reach back and pat the comforting weight of it on your back. "Swords are the symbol of the Grey College, but honestly it was opportunity. I was at Eagle Castle, they were at Eagle Castle, so I went up and asked them to teach me. My teacher ended up being Sir Markus, the Champion of Stirland." You smile at the memory. "Ended up going into business with him and Wilhelmina, the steward, and we founded the EIC."
Genius!"What are you doing?" Panoramia asks suddenly, knocking you from your reminiscence just as you start to veer into sadder memories.
You look down at the bundle of twigs you'd been fiddling with, which was tied at one end and in the middle. "I have no idea. What is this?"
"Haven't you seen a whisk before?" You give her a blank look. "Oh, come on. Even the Grey Order needs to eat."
"I went straight from the College to Eagle Castle." You rotate the whisk in your hand, considering it. "Never had to learn. Is it some kind of pestle?"
"No!" Panoramia stops, and considers. "Well, I guess actually yes, sort of." She takes it from you and focuses on it. "You can use birch if you just want to have a permanent utensil, but fresh fruit tree twigs can add some extra flavour. Peach is nice, or apple. Of course there's none of those around here, but if we cheat a little..." She concentrates, and you can see the slightest stirring of Ghyran within her, and the twigs lighten slightly in colour as the wood forgets it no longer has a tree to provide sap. "There! Perfect for a lovely pie."
Titus almost overbalances as he suddenly tears himself away from his still-roasting haunch. "We're making pie?"
---
You now know that a good pie is supposed to cook for at least an hour, but as you've just discovered, if you cover the pie in cooking brandy and set it alight after a mere thirty minutes... you get a soggy brandy pie half-cooked on the inside and burned on the outside. You'd still eaten your share, and been very sternly cautioned not to follow it up with anything strenuous.
Ooo, halfbaked dwarflings!You had very gravely informed Titus that it was your solemn duty to check that the ale was still good, and with equal solemnity he had informed you that the task was grave enough that an exception would have to be made.
You expected to find Skaroki surrounded by Longbeards, each taking it in turn to expound on how the ale wasn't anywhere like as good as the ale you used to get. Instead he's about a third of the way through a very close inspection of a barrel of Goat-Kicker Ale, easily recognizeable by the silhouette of its namesake stamped on the barrel, with two compatriots with beards barely long enough to cover their necks. "Mhornokrul!" he calls in greeting, and you haul yourself atop the wagon he and his companions have colonized. "Pull up a plank. These are my lads, Thorgrim and Thorek. Twins, and enduring proof that fortune still sometimes smiles on our people. These callow striplings are a mere two-and-thirty, and they had to swear many solemn oaths to stay well back before I even let them on a battlefield with a crossbow." You turn your eye to the 'youths', who stare back at you with unabashed curiousity. Three years your elder and still coddled. A Dwarf wasn't considered an adult until thirty, you've heard. Did they mature slower than humans? Are they taught slower? Do they set a higher bar for maturity? You barely manage to suppress your curiousity.
"Wandar, huzkul?" you ask, and are gratified to see twin looks of outrage.
This one is a Water Park Ride Master.Skaroki chuckles and ruffles the hair of the nearest lad. "Never underestimate them. If you want something done right, get a Dwarf, but there's none for getting it done fast like the manlings. That goes treble for this'n. Go get the lass a tankard, there's a lad."
How much do we know IC about the Norscan dwarfs?Thorek (you think) scoots off and Skaroki takes a pull from his own tankard. "As my choice of names for these lads demonstrates, I've believed in the Age of Vengeance since the High King rediscovered our Norscan cousins, but it's almost unbelievable actually seeing it happen. Not just spending lives to shed Grobi blood, but actually recapturing the Karags!" Thorek (maybe?) returns with a tankard, and without hesitation you pry up the lid and dunk it in. The ale seems at first quaff to still be good, but you'll need to perform a more detailed study to be sure.
Right and properly done by dwarf standards."It never occurred to me to ask, but what brought you to the Expedition?"
You try not to let your smile fade. "Adbarazi strollendreken." I fulfilled my oath and now I wander to find a purpose.
He nods solemnly. "Ah. Heard something of that. The zangunaz?" Vampire.
"Uzkulokrit." Petty necromancer. "Our charge succeeded, but everyone else's failed. By the time the Dwarves of Zhufbar reached us..." You sigh, and drink deeply. "So I killed Castle Drakenhof."
"Definitely heard of that. They say the Elders of Zhufbar combed the history books for a month to confirm it as the greatest concentration of cannon in history."
That a Lord of the Rings reference?You drink and chat and let the refreshed pain fade away into the background once more, and before long Skaroki is prodding his sons into telling their War Stories, which so far is only War Story, in halting Reikspiel. "We stood upon the stairs of Karag Lhune and shot bolts at the greenskins when they tried to flee in our direction," says one of them. "I got two, Thorgrim got one."
"You got two Goblins. I got an Orc."
At some point we might want a dwarf terms glossary.You smile at their half-hearted squabbling. They're obviously disgruntled by the lack of glory, and you think back to your first 'battle'. "First time I saw combat, I had just been made Journeyman. I was exploring my Count's-" you see the confusion on their faces, and translate. "My Thane's castle, to ensure that the previous Thane had left it secure." They nod at that. "What I didn't expect was that there was a zombie- Uzkularit?" You look to Skaroki.
"That's skeleton. Uzkulikar."
"It had been trapped for a long time, so it was slow enough that I was able to dodge it. I had never trained with a weapon, but I used magic to make armour for myself - Mhornzhufklad. And while it was trying to scratch through that, I stabbed it in the face with a dagger." You're pleased to get twin chuckles from your audience. "After that, I learned how to use a sword. Next battle was proper Uzkulari... Wights?" You look to Skaroki again.
"Kalanuzkular."
"And a few years after that, I was fighting a zangunaz called the Singing King, whose skull I've still got back home. And now here I am at Vala-Azril-Ungol, with two Urk Warbosses to my tally. Start slowly, like an avalanche."
Everyone finds God in foxholes after all.Between your actions back in Stirland and your confession to Belegar and Kragg, there seems to be no remaining reason to conceal your faith, and with a battle tomorrow these men could use some godly favour. The Ulricans, of course, have Ulric, and Codrin's archers have Taal and probably, unfortunately, Sigmar. But those who received an Orc charge and made them regret it have only just developed a sense of unity, and they remain a patchwork of superstition and half-remembered prayers. You can provide better than that, and hopefully bring them a little luck when they need it most. And it just so happened that the sacrament they could offer is something they'd like to do anyway.
A drunk wizard, a drunk halfling and a drunk dwarf walk into a bar....The only problem is that the type of man who uproots everything to travel on an all-or-nothing Expedition like this very typically has no money to gamble with.
Titus had to be dragged away from some loud and enthusiastic dance involving a lot of going around in circles and stamping his feet and making eyes at the Halfling ladies, but memories of pie are fresh enough that he agrees without hesitating. Ulthar came back from his hunt with only a pair of game birds, and has been drinking away his shame, and is likewise in no state to resist your machinations. With him standing by you with an exaggerated scowl to add a veneer of legitimacy, you announce that every man could sign away up to half his pending payment for an amount of coins, and then in the morning they could trade the coins back and the new distribution of payment due would be duly recorded, witnessed by Ulthar, guaranteed by the Grey Order, and may luck desert anyone that tries to bilk their brothers; you hold up a pair of crossed fingers and wink and most understand instantly, and there's a hushed murmur as they explain it to their slower-minded friends.
...Don't worry, I believe thats a proud representative of Sigmar's favored bird.The coins are the silver currency of the Moot, which you feel reasonably certain there won't be enough of in circulation here to meaningfully harm the system. They are stamped with the Moot's symbol of a... large male chicken, which delights the men and immediately leads to the most predictable set of bawdy jokes as they line up to make their mark and collect their tokens.
Thats a smooth trick.Dice and cards had been common enough at the start of the Expedition, but after the personal effects of the fallen had been inherited by the survivors there's more than enough to go around, and any shortfall is quickly corrected when the men realize that if they bet a Karak Norn Dwarf a tankard of ale they could carve a set of dice from wood faster than them, they'd very quickly have a very well made set of dice and all you had to do to pay is walk to the nearest barrel. As the sun touches the peak of Karag Yar, the games begin.
Thats quite the impressive book club.[Glory Unto Ranald: Piety, Req 40, 67+21+20(Empowered)=108.]
[Completely Sober Management: Stewardship, Req 50, 44+16-10(Goat-Kicked)=50.]
The tricky part was the paperwork.
Codrin has a proper roll, but he was still off on his hunt and he may not have felt like cooperating. The scheme would have fallen apart before it even started if you hadn't remembered your contact amongst the women of Karak Izor: a formidably organized eligible bachelorette by the name of Edda, with one eye on King Belegar and the other on the massive literature swap network that had grown to encompass the Halflings as well. Despite only being a third of the way through it, you surrender the greatly in demand copy of Night Falls On The Slayer Keep and thus purchase Edda's assistance.
Everything just going perfectly.There's some arguing from her family when they hear she'll be spending time amongst all those manling men, but she browbeats them into merely demanding she be accompanied by several of her surliest kinfolk, which only added to how official it all seemed. Nothing says 'stick to the deal' like the glare of a deeply suspicious Longbeard. All names were properly recorded, all marks solemnly made, and disaster averted by your remembrance of the magic of delegation.
@BoneyMThe hunt had been middling, but game birds and wild goats add a smell of roasting meet to the air even when most only get a few slices and have to fill the rest of their belly with fresh-baked bread, beer jam, and carefully rehydrated salt pork.
Inquisitor on cheating patrol with dwarf longbeard enforcers to boot.Once all have eaten their full there's a lull as they pause to digest, and then the games begin again in earnest. Every so often there's a round of accusations of cheating, but you need only show up and glare at them until someone backs down.
...by Ranald we made out like bandits.Heavy ales take their toll as Mannslieb reaches its apex overhead, and men stagger off to bed. Some have become quite wealthy and others are left with no coins at all, but even the least fortunate man still has half of a generous share in Dwarven treasure to look forward to. In the morning they nurse hangovers and stagger into line to cash in their coins once more, and each entry is scrupulously recorded. When you finish, you collect half a dozen signatures from Edda's protectors, each with impeccable personal honour, and carefully seal it away until the time comes for the mercenaries to be paid.
And how did your own gambling go?
[Gambling: Intrigue, 93+17=110.]
Splendidly, of course. You were the house, and the house's typical win/loss ratio is quite well known.
The secret isn't a secret at all, it's obvious. Six thousand gamblers, free ale, insufficient lighting. It occurs to some to scour the area the next morning, either remembering dropping a coin or figuring others would have, but hours before dawn your final accomplice had beat them to it, the night's darkness meaningless for one attuned to the Wind of Metal, for whom every silver coin shines like a beacon. A great many coins signed for by the adventurers had returned to you by Maximilian. Gambling, theft, deceit... three out of four, you decide, will do. You can do some protecting tomorrow.
The Bursar: "Are you sure she's not a financial wizard?"It's only the next morning as your sluggish brain follows through on the plans your ale-fuelled self had made that you realize that tithing this is going to raise quite a few eyebrows at the Bursary.
So pay off the EIC debt, probably outright commisson a lab in Eight Peaks after cashing in some residential rights, and hmm...
- Your total haul is the equivalent of the shares of 350 men. Before it is collected, there will be an opportunity to decide what to do with it, if 'actually have a pile of treasure to sleep on like a dragon' seems insufficient.
One thing to keep in mind is that since it is a Greenskin settlement it's probably filled with refuse and other things like rotting cloth, various piles of broken wood and more. So there should be a lot of random flamable junk just laying around.
and as far as I'm aware it hasn't rained recently, so the wood won't be terribly wet unless its literally holding standing water, in which case you move to the hovel next to it.
There's also the question of what their roofs are made of. Thatch? Thin branches woven together to be semi-waterproof? Leather and hide? Slate? Some of the options are pretty flammable, some really aren't.One thing to keep in mind is that since it is a Greenskin settlement it's probably filled with refuse and other things like rotting cloth, various piles of broken wood and more. So there should be a lot of random flamable junk just laying around.
Which would at worst probably mean the ground is muddy(which I don't recall being stated anywhere), and the lower half of the walls would be rotted, but may or may not be currently wet depending on where exactly in the caldera we're talking about, especially as the primary target for setting on fire is the buildings near the edge of the caldera, thus ones that would not have standing water, just water going past them. Furthermore, the ground probably won't be perfectly flat, high spots will be dryer, and any building more than a couple feet tall will have the upper parts left perfectly dry from said run off. will there be spots too wet to ignite easily, sure. But I highly doubt you'll be unable to find a dry patch of wood, currently burning campfires, and various sorts of tinder to use for starting the blaze, and once you get a house or two going the rotten wood won't much matter as the fire will just keep spreading.What makes you think the place would be dry? It's at the bottom of the caldera with all the runoff from the surrounding mountains pouring into/through it. The place will almost certainly be sodden. The geography basically requires it, as water flows downhill, and the mountains are tall enough to have a year round snowcap.
There's also the question of what their roofs are made of. Thatch? Thin branches woven together to be semi-waterproof? Leather and hide? Slate? Some of the options are pretty flammable, some really aren't.
Which would at worst probably mean the ground is muddy(which I don't recall being stated anywhere), and the lower half of the walls would be rotted, but may or may not be currently wet depending on where exactly in the caldera we're talking about, especially as the primary target for setting on fire is the buildings near the edge of the caldera, thus ones that would not have standing water, just water going past them. Furthermore, the ground probably won't be perfectly flat, high spots will be dryer, and any building more than a couple feet tall will have the upper parts left perfectly dry from said run off. will there be spots too wet to ignite easily, sure. But I highly doubt you'll be unable to find a dry patch of wood, currently burning campfires, and various sorts of tinder to use for starting the blaze, and once you get a house or two going the rotten wood won't much matter as the fire will just keep spreading.
You know, you have a point and might be right, but there's a simpler way to solve this problem than back and forth arguing. Cause if you're right Alratan, this is information we should have in character, not merely "its probably this or that." The leading plan being impossible due to details that we should know IC is something we should damn well know as voters.I think that the problem here is that people are assuming that Greenskin construction will be like medieval human construction in real life where this scenario would be plausible.