Rest of the review
The modular nature of the room meant that you could put the Skaven in a cell very uncomfortably small indeed, but instead you placed him in a cell taking up a third of your dungeon. Your room in the Grey College was smaller than this, and though it was stark, bare stone, there was a slab in one corner for sleeping and something like a table and a chair in another. Stone furniture, but with the application of an apparently very basic Rune to make stone fuse together as though it had been connected since the world's birth.
Oh so THATS how the seamless dwarf stonework works. Fuse the stone back together again.
Also a very useful thing for prison furnishings. No risk of them getting weaponized unless they could shatter stone with their bare hands.
In which case they probably didn't need a chair to hurt you.
You were watching through the door of steel bars as he regained mobility - he'd been sensate the entire time he'd been under Mockery of Death, but you'd closed his eyes and let him take what information he might from what must have seemed an endless ascent. You watched him stretch the strange cramps the release of the spell always caused out of lithe, furred limbs, and then he'd looked around the room and quickly spotted you. At that point, you'd left him.
Let him know he's being watched, but ALSO lets him think we have to be there to watch?
Good for setting up certain useful assumptions to be sure.
Skaven, from all you've read of them and what little you've witnessed, are masters of cruelty and you doubt your own ability to match them. But your tutelage from Regimand and Abelhelm had agreed on one fundamental fact: torture was an unsavoury but necessary tool when you had some way to verify the information it produced, and the subject had no way to know what you could or couldn't verify. Torture was better than nothing if you had limited time and information of dubious provenance was better than none. Torture would not, however, convert a sapient being into a font of information - not without the sort of advanced mind magics that only two Colleges possessed, and neither the Light nor the Grey were all that free with them.
Interesting that the advanced mind magic isn't available to Magister rank. I guess thats for Lord Magister, on an As Needed basis?
So if you had time and attention to spare, you did not attack a subject's sanity with cruelty, you attacked their loyalties with kindness. Humans, upon which most of your techniques were developed, were notorious among Elves and Dwarves alike for their mutability, and that didn't just apply to literal mutating forces like the Winds of Magic or the forces of Chaos, but also to the more mundane forces in the world. A human's loyalty might be as concrete as anyone could hope for, and in a mere decade they could completely change the way they see the world and the values they used to judge to whom they owe their loyalty, and though that was a weakness when it came to trying to build bureaucracies and infrastructure, it was an opening for any interrogator worthy of the title.
Interrogator. Harsh connotations. But in the end, all it necessarily meant is one who questions another. And though some of limited imagination swore by fiddly little devices of rusted iron that applied pressure where pressure was never meant to be applied, and others instead claimed that all one needed was a sharp knife and a source of heat and everything else was just window-dressing, the true masters of interrogation - that is to say, the Light and Grey Colleges - knew that it was simply a single tool in a master's belt.
The vulnerability works both ways I think, trying to subvert them that way also breeds sympathies for them due to the very same human nature to connect with others.
As for those who claim torture is all you need, its usually three things:
-They never needed more than a battlefield interrogation, where you don't have time for any strategy and aren't looking for any information you can't verify within a day.
-They already know what they want to hear, and the important part to them is your saying what they want to hear.
-The interrogation is primarily a means to exercise their personal desires(whether hatred, zeal and/or sadism), any information obtained is mostly a nice extra.
The Skaven's cell remained dimly lit, but through the door he could see the light of the rest of the dungeon, which matched exactly the light of the world outside. Food arrived through a steel hatch in the wall three times a day, and was simple fare but enough to live comfortably off, or as comfortably as one ever could with the Black Hunger lurking within them.
Hmm, I wonder if their sense of smell is keen enough to figure out who is providing the food.
Granted, Mathilde is a terrible cook and poorly inclined to go to much effort for a prisoner, so odds are good its just trail bread/biscuit and cheese.
Also for academic interest, I wonder how much of the Black Hunger is actually supernatural/biological and how much a consequence of toxic societal drives?
Mathilde might have an answer to that given enough time and observation.
The first meal also came with sheets, which could have just as easily been on the slab from the beginning, but everything was a message. You were supplying food, warmth, and a measure of time; if the Skaven was simple, it would either think you weak or generous for providing them, and you could work from there. If it was not, it would be aware that you could just as easily take all of those away.
A test, AND I notice, a convenient way to let Mathilde visibly punish the prisoner without harming the prisoner's viability.
Just a subtle way to provide incentives to cooperate on peripheral matters.
That the hatch supplying food was separate to the door through which you would enter and exit was a smokescreen. Was someone else supplying food? Were you part of a larger whole? Was this an automated facility? How many others might there be?
Disorientation strategy, though as mentioned previously, we're not sure how keen their sense of smell is. They probably can smell Wolf around easily enough.
The first time you entered the cell gave you information from the first second. He did not immediately attack; it would not have succeeded, as Mockery of Death was suspended within him by a web of Ulgu, but he had no way of knowing that. That he didn't try indicated he intended to at least play along with his offer to serve you. You weren't unarmed, but he had no way of knowing that Branulhune was never more than a thought away, and all he could see was the pistol in your hand. Your Marksdwarf's pistol, with a specifically-made bullet, with a sharpened tip that would punch through flesh, rather than tearing like a regular ball. The Dwarves had yet to find a way to make such a bullet work over distance, but you didn't need distance for this.
Huh, armor piercing round? If they're having trouble with range on those it should be because of tumbling? Or does the round tend to lose structural integrity with the higher powder loads needed for range because its brittle and sharp?
The former should be solved by rifling well enough. Latter I doubt is a dwarf problem.
"What is your name?" you ask.
He considers you; you're not sure if he's considering his answer, or merely translating it into Khazalid. "I was once, and if you decide it is to remain the case, will continue to be Qrech. I was once Chieftain Qrech of Seventh-and-Final-Combe; my deed-name was Anuvongeni."
Hmm, not verifiable, but if its a cover story its something he didn't have much time to cook up. I'm leaning false name, false origin(he KNOWS we can't verify that and its a decent way to test our lie detection ability), probably real job, since its too easily tested.
Wolf lingers just outside the door; it makes him happier being able to intervene if need be, and allows him to keep track of scents, and with enough exposure you might be able to identify the 'musks' that are part of Skaven communication. The Skaven's whiskers and ears twitch as he talks, of unconscious and suppressed attempts to add information and context incompatible with the language being spoken.
Probably no specific anti-interrogation training if he's having trouble suppressing tells. We really need someone watching the interrogations and taking notes on the tells
Khazalid is a very precise language, and his speaking of it is more so, seeming to opt for multiple words where normally one with sufficient suffixes and prefixes would do. You're not sure if this is a deliberate choice, or if it is a reflection of his own level of knowledge, or perhaps the level of knowledge that Clan Moulder or the entire Skaven possess.
Hmm, a sign of limited grammar, extensive vocabulary.
Judging from the leaking tells, its probably not deliberate, throttling your understanding of a language to play dumb is hard.
Obtained by getting specific words out rather than via natural language then?
Anuvongeni. Vong means 'raid', in the sense of theft from an enemy. Vongen is raids that continue over time but will end; anuvongen is raids that will soon be ended. Anuvongeni: they who ends raids. Is this a translation, or was his deed name in Dwarven? Questions for later. This meeting was to set the stage.
Feels like a proper dwarven name. He's not using prefixing/suffixing properly previously, but Anuvongeni is properly modified.
So thats likely what the Chaos Dwarves call him.
"I am Mathilde Weber. What does that mean to you?"
Another pause. "Manling wizard-warlord of the Exhausted Mine Land. Now of the West-Dwarves." You try to follow the chain of meaning from Khazalid, through Skaven, and back into Reikspiel. Exhausted Mine is a single word in Khazalid, and could be conceptual, so the land that Skaven considered picked clean... ah. Sylvania. And West-Dwarves? As opposed to East-Dwarves? If that's how the Skaven differentiate between the Karaz Ankor and the Chaos Dwarves, you're sure both would object.
Telling information:
-They know our career history, so they did at least do a background check. Mathilde isn't THAT famous in the Empire, only in Stirland, but there she's practically a household name
-Their justification for not going to Sylvania is that theres nothing there. Totally not because Frederick Van Hal made it too dangerous, considering theres plenty of warpstone kibble all over the place.
"I am a Magister of the Grey Order. What does that mean to you?"
Qrech cocks his head; you try not to interpret it as confusion or curiousity. The body language you know will only lead you astray. Finally, it speaks. "Eshinzhufi." Partially correct, partially enlightening. That he uses Zhufi instead of Zhufokri when he's clearly trying to at least seem like he's cooperating either indicates a lack of knowledge of cultural connotations, or Skaven Khazalid has absorbed Chaos Dwarf cultural assumptions that don't see being defined by magic as negative.
Well, thats another thing to lay at the Dawi Zharr's feet, that the Skaven probably learned Khazalid off them. Probably not willingly but the dwarves aren't likely to see it that way.
Eshinzhufi is a curious term. Using Eshin Sorceror as the equivalent term?
The gun has been in your hand this entire time, and though it hasn't moved Qrech has been giving it regular glances. At last, you lift it. "A lesson, to make things clear," you say. And without hesitation, you lift the gun and shoot yourself through your palm.
Mental exercises meant to dominate the Winds of Magic are able to bring pain under your control, if you prepare enough beforehand. The moment of agony that showed on your face before you brought it under control was more than masked by Qrech's own jump as he immediately tried to run and hide and do four other things at once, but then he brought himself under control as he realized he had not been shot, but not before you'd done the same. He looks from your impassive face, to your bleeding hand, to the circle of blood and bone fragments spattering the wall behind your hand. Then his gaze drops to the lump of malformed lead on the ground.
"I do not trust you, Qrech. My confidence does not come from trust in your words." You hold up your palm to look at Qrech through the bullet-hole. Roots writhe in your hand; your bullet was an inch clear of the Seed, and it takes an instant to start working once commanded, and the hole quickly closes. It takes only a handful of seconds for bark to peel away and leave unmarked flesh. "Nothing you could do with fang and claw could possibly harm me. Do you understand?"
He squeaks something in Queekish, then repeats his 'yes' in Khazalid.
And a healthy dose of terror to further encourage cooperation.
I notice a neat detail in that Mathilde DELIBERATELY chose the Seed hand, so as to deny him a clue that you could kill her regeneration by cutting off that specific hand.
When you leave the room, the door swinging shut and latching itself behind you, you get out of audible range and vent a long-held yell of pain as Wolf frantically licks at the phantom ache in your healed hand. When you catch your breath, you observe Qrech unnoticed, having prepared means beyond simply looking through the bars of the door. He's unmoved from where he stood when talking to you, watching the door for some time; when he finally decides you're gone, he drops to all fours and cautiously approach the leftover remnants of your demonstration. He sniffs the bullet carefully, holds it up to the light at the door, runs his claws over its malformations, licks at it and wrinkles his nose at the odd mix of lead and blood. Then he stands and sniffs at the circle of blood and bone fragments, touching his claw to a fleck of gore, bringing it to his mouth dubiously, nibbling at a fragment of bone or cartilage. He turns once more to look at the door you exited through, then back to the circle of gore, then scampers over to the bed to burrow into the tangle of sheets.
Also observe, he faked or played up his initial panic.
He carefully examined the traces, maybe it was sleight of hand or illusion.
...then he realized no, this is really the blood and bone of Mathilde Weber and the bullet is still warm and smelling of gunpowder.
THEN he panicked. Carefully.
You continue to observe him over the next few days in between your other obligations, and his initial contentment to eat and sleep in peace begins to give way to the beginnings of agitation, as he paces the cell and cautiously pokes his head as far as it will go through the bars to see what can be seen, which is nothing but hallways. If you were in a hurry, you'd have to operate under a lot of assumptions, but with time to spare you can afford to test them first, and one more has just been confirmed. Skaven do, in fact, succumb to boredom.
Basically anything sentient should, I think. The capacity to learn also means that a total lack of stimulation can be harmful.
As Qrech sleeps, you trigger the Mockery of Death within him, which prevents the possibility of him awakening; then you move into his cell, replace the spell, and then add a second 'chair' to the table. Not quite an interview table, but it will do, and that it could be added to his room without him awakening will hopefully keep him intimidated enough to keep cooperating. The next day, with your footsteps ringing on stone to give him enough time to note your approach and mentally prepare however he sees fit, you begin the second session of the interrogation of Qrech.
And THAT is some nice gaslighting.
Skaven don't sit quite the same way humans do because of their tails, and Qrech has to decide between either sitting straight with his tail hanging off the edge of the square stone block of a chair, or hunching forwards slightly so his tail can swing freely behind him. He opts for the latter, and you're quite curious whether it's because it's a more defensive posture or whether this is an expression of trust or submission in Skaven body language, keeping his tail and foreclaws visible so they can't be up to anything out of sight. If all goes well, these will be unknowns no future Grey Wizard will be handicapped by.
Hmm, going by physiology, its probably an aggressive submission posture "I will pull no tricks, but I'm ready to take action". Its practically a half-pounce.
"Can you read Queekish?" you ask. A nod. "Khazalid?" Another. The next question is trickier, but you formulated it ahead of time. "Are you bored?" Nakokrutar: the pain of not creating. Khazalid had a new word every generation for boredom, as youths rediscover it and as adults never quite formalize it into the language; Nakokrutar was the closest approved part of the lexicon. A long period of thought, you assume as Qrech examined the question for a potential trap, and a hesitant nod. "Would you find reading entertaining?" More thought, and you wonder if the answer would be different if he gave it without having endless days of nothingness to compare it to. Eventually, a nod. "What subject would it entertain you to read of?"
This was a tricky question. If he tried to be cheeky with it, you could easily shut it down, but it would make a possible avenue to develop an emotional bond instead be an avenue of sparring. You wonder if he's considering something similar, or if he's simply considering the question. "Ogrikaraz," he says at last. And, to your satisfaction, he offers more information unprompted. "Often close. Never visited. Nufgnollenguz." Never-wisdom-food; curiousity.
"In three days, I will have a book for you on the subject." One carefully chosen for its complete lack of any information the Skaven couldn't trivially obtain elsewhere, if they were so inclined. "This I give. I will not have you suffer needlessly." You pause, so that the possibility of suffering needfully is properly considered.
Bribery! And yet another thing we can deny, only all the more potent because we let him grow bored and thus dependent.
Ogre territories are probably extra interesting to Moulder. So many fine samples to work with.
"If it is your choice to reciprocate, I would like to know of Clan Mors."
"There is no such Clan!" Is his immediate answer, and though he's kept himself from moving his frame is suddenly quivering with energy.
"Traitor-Clan Mors," you say, remembering the words of the Eshin you encountered, and he nods so fast his head seems to quiver.
Skaven Thought-Police is strong indeed.
He reacted immediately in a way that smells of being reasonably genuine.
Implication, the title of Clan is very culturally significant and also he seems to be more afraid of using the wrong term than of us.
Eshin or Horned Rat fears?
"Nurglitch should never have survived the Black Pillar! Been allowed to spread his sickness to Gnawdwell! The first time should have taught us! The second time should have taught us! There will never be a fourth!" He subsides, chittering in agitation. "Clan Mors is past. What remains is a meal soon to be devoured."
So the Nurglites subverted Mors, and bypassed the divine security check of the Horned Rat. I have no doubt that the Skaven are selling it as a test by the Horned Rat, but I suspect Nurgle might have interfered there?
Its the heart of the Horned Rat's power and its not directly opposed to Chaos after all.
Though he's reticent with any information about Skaven, he seems to enjoy talking about the books he's read, albeit through a lens you could have predicted. The understanding of Skaven warfare you inherited from Frederick allows you to engage him on his level, and you find yourself more entertained than you'd expect by discussing the myriad ways a Skaven war party could subdue and consume the various beasts of the Mountains of Mourn, and as his tastes expand, of the Dragon Isles as well.
Hmm, we're getting info out of him by feeding him books.
His hobby seems to be wargaming.
But I'm getting the sense that getting Queekish out of him is going to need to START from some variant on "I already know Queekish."
Get the Chaos Dwarf anatomy book decoded as far as we can and then use a copy of it as a discussion topic? He has no reason to protect the Dawi Zharr either, and if we appear to know its contents, decently well he wouldn't know to resist.
Amid these recreational conversations, details about the Skaven need to be teased from him carefully, and you make sure to keep to information on Pestilens and Mors, who he sees no reason to protect. A picture emerges of the Third Skaven Civil War, with the Council of Thirteen apparently gripped by indecision and unable to decide the wishes of the Horned Rat, and of Clan Pestilens once more trying to seize dominance over Skavenblight. Not alone this time; Clan Mors sided with them, as well as several minor clans, and after a brutal decade of fighting they had failed.
Hmm, could pick up quite a bit of incidental knowledge of Skaven politics just from extending this dicussion. Mors and Pestilens specific information can be used for that, because he'd need to highlight how they are different and not at all normal Skaven, and that also means explaining what is normal.
Now the remaining Great Clans and minor clans alike sought to claim the strongholds and secrets and breeders. Pestilens, Mors, Feesiks, Morbidus, Flem, Septik, Fester. Open season with the unspoken fear that sooner or later the Horned Rat's silence will end, a ceasefire will be called, and for a third time Clan Pestilens would be forgiven and the opportunity would pass forever.
Anyone notice that all the minor clans listed are disease related?
Qrech never would have played a part in the war at all, engaged as he apparently was with the constant mutual war of raiding each other for test subjects that Clan Moulder and the Chaos Dwarves are locked within. He was not a raider, though. He prevented raiders, and for six straight years he ensured that more Hobgoblins went northwest to Hell Pit than Skaven went southeast to Zharr-Naggrund.
Hey, a source of Advanced Skaven Tactics, Advanced Skaven Strategy and Basic Chaos Dwarf Tactics!
Then apparently a local Moulder with more ambition and authority than sense took this to mean the Qrech was a universal solution to all matters Dwarven, and commandeered his service and dragged him halfway across a continent to Clan Moulder's attempt to be the one to claim the kill on Clan Mors.
"'Don't attack the Dwarves,' Qrech said. 'The greenskins are weak, the Dwarves are strong. They are not as vulnerable as we will be if you attack them.' 'Coward', Grot-brained Moulder said. All the soldiers he had given Qrech were loyal to him. They put Qrech in cage, Grot-brained Moulder had many ideas for what he would do with Qrech after 'victory'."
Hmm...that explains how he was tortured for 'fun' and still alive I guess?
Qrech's eyes refocus on reality as he shakes himself loose of the grip of memory. "What happened to them?"
It's the first unprompted question he's asked, and you refrain from smiling. "Dwarves from one side, greenskins from another, Clan Mors from a third. Exterminated."
Qrech's teeth rub against each other in something that sounds almost like a purr. "Good."
Think thats possibly the most genuine we've seen him all update.
Then you answer a knock on your foyer door to see what you're almost sure is a Priest of Grungni, except unlike every other Priest of Grungni you've ever seen or heard of, he doesn't possess a pick. "SO," he says. He doesn't seem to be shouting, that's just how his voice is. "YOU WISH TO LEARN TO PUNCH."
You've encountered stranger and you refuse to be put on the back foot.
Mathilde, you've usually BEEN the strange thing.
"THIS IS GOOD. APPROPRIATE LEADERSHIP. LEAD ME TO YOUR EMPLOYEE."
The possible Priest of Grungni gives Johann a glance and snorts, but after Johann takes his gloves off and reveals his gilded skin, the Priest gives him a longer, much more thoughtful look. "FOLLOW," he finally commands.
FistPriest: "Weak Umgi fists can't possibly live up to Grungni's pick!"
Johann: [Metal Body]
FistPrist: "Its a raw ingot, but I expected raw ore. It'd do with some hammering."
You tail along out of curiousity, and watch as the Priest of Grungni pauses, catalogues and ranks every nearby rock formation, and leads Johann towards the least meritorious of the foothills. The Priest slams a bare fist into a rock-face; it is unmoved, but so is the Priest. "NOW YOU."
Johann obeys. The Priests spends some time correcting a number of different things about Johann's posture. A second punch. A pebble bounces down the rock face.
...by the time he's done Johann will be a siege engine of fists.
Wonder what Johann-quest thought of this.
Everything man knows about the wolf-rats says they are feral, frenzied, and eternally hungry, but logic dictated that the only wolf-rats man would encounter are ones that the Skaven have decided they want man to encounter, which doesn't really tell you much about the base state of the creature. So you and Johann plow forward based not on what you know of wolf-rats, but what you know of these puppies. And while they've certainly got an appetite, they're also inquisitive, playful, and able to sit back on their hind paws and use their forepaws as clumsy hands and it's somewhere between adorable and disquieting.
Hmm, behaves closer to rodents than wolves. Must have been newborn and too weak to abuse into the savage attack dogs they were used as yet.
Their paws are usable as hands, which has interesting potential for tool use.
You apply everything you learned for and from Wolf's upbringing and it seems to take, and though Johann's golden skin is proof against their rapidly-growing fangs, he reacts with feigned discomfort to their nips and they paw at the feigned bite-wound and lick it apologetically. They spend plenty of time wrestling with each other to decide who's in charge, but when they're not doing that they're grooming each other with paws and teeth, or piling sprawled atop each other or Johann or Wolf. You add another notch to the 'nurture' column of the eternal debate. Though Dwarves that spend time in Karag Nar give them a lot of dubious looks and keep their distance, the humans and Halflings alike quickly adapt to Wolf's new entourage.
Undumgi: "The wizards are doing weird shit again."
[Candidate skill level: ??]
[Compatibility with the We: ??+??+/-??=44]
[Ongoing education of the We: ??+??+/-??=84]
The final matter was a repeat of an old matter: the We. Though they'd gotten along well enough with a Dwarven Loremaster, either he'd failed to communicate or they'd failed to understand, so you've moved on to your next candidate: a Priestess of Esmerelda, the Halfling Goddess of Hearth and Home and foremost of their pantheon. Hluodwica found a candidate young enough to be flexible but knowledgeable enough to teach, and though you need to intercede a time or two early on to prevent misunderstandings from compounding and she never seems to be as comfortable with the We as Sjeåth was, she does seem to be communicating the information they need to learn, if not the cultural assumptions you might have hoped they'd inherit. Further time will be required to see if it will stick, but it's undeniable that progress is being made.
Guess that DID work.
Its a very nervous priestess there though.
[Paper on Alkharad's control and advancement spells: Learning, 94+26+20(Necromantic Insight)+2(Library: Necromancy)-10(Practical)=132.]
And last of all, the paper. To your great relief, your distaste for writing papers seems to fade in the comforting embrace of the Room of Serenity, as you're able to reduce the world to your memories, your knowledge, your notes, your reference materials, and the process of distilling it all into physical form. Your first draft ends up scrapped not because you're unsatisfied with it, but because you finally pin down an itching familiarity you didn't consciously realize was there and figure out the base spell that whoever invented this must have built upon for this suite of necromantic enhancements. You don't say that, of course - it does raise uncomfortable questions as to how you know the spell in question well enough to spot a derivative - but you can use it to work out what the weaknesses and limitations of the spell would be and you can easily justify that knowledge based on observations. You fill pages with ink, and then you go over it and expand it to half again its size as you remember extra little details that might make all the difference if this knowledge didn't die with Alkharad.
[The Properties Of and Countermeasures To an Observed Suite of Necrarch Control and Enhancement Spells, 2481. Subject: Rare, +1. Insight: Confirming, +1. Delivery: Compelling, +1. Precious, +1. Thorough, +1. Tactically Relevant, +1. Total: 6.]
Hmm, reverse engineering the spell for Ulgu might be useful if we ever developed a lack.
Also I think thats Mathilde figuring out how to trigger a miscast/backlash?
