Winning Vote:
[X] Plan The Shine of Metal and Blood
-[X] Teach your apprentices. [Cost: 1 Action] Locked in for 10 turns.
-[X] Khazukan Kazakit-HA!: March out with the throng once more. Raise your war axe and slay them. Battle Turns
-[X] [Simple] Foundry Founding.: [Cost: 2 actions] Productivity Like No Other will proc. 2 Actions and Apprentice action.
-[X] [Simple] Altar Assembly: [Cost: (2-1) =1 actions] Productivity Like No Other will proc. Grudge has proc'd. 1 Action.
-[X] The Rune Metal: [Cost: ???-1 Actions] Student of the Odd will proc. 1 Action
Turn results after. This battle is happening immediately after (relatively) the beginning of turn 3 in terms of timeframe.
...
It is settled in a manner of days, clan members assemble, armour is donned, weapons drawn and supplies squared away. There is no need to rush, an advance scout of Longbeard rangers quietly stalk the Trolls, leaving cairns and markers for the Throng to follow.
You leave an exhaustively detailed list of reagents and materials for your apprentices to gather for when you return. You tell them grimly that the work will not take long, and that they'd best hurry if they want to be done before you get back. Nothing short of a throng's worth of Trolls could truly challenge a Runelord of the Karaz Ankor with a throng at his back.
You walk into your room that night with grim purpose and do not dream when you sleep.
When you wake you do not walk to your Wutroth closet as per usual, instead you move towards the far end of the room, rune hammer in hand. With a tap, the wall parts to reveal your wargear sitting ready for you.
It is with a sombre reverence that you take up your war plate once more.
The boots are slid into.
The thunder of feet as dwarfs rush to meet their enemy. Yours are among them, but you run for a different purpose.
The greaves and legplate are strapped in with an ease borne of hard-fought experience.
The blade slides across your thigh, bouncing off of the Gromril, your boot kicks out and breaks a knee in response. With contemptuous ease, you sever the head with your axe. All of this in seconds, but seconds you cannot afford all the same. You have to find her.
The under-layer of soft padding is followed by a gleaming shirt of chainmail.
The blade tries to dig into your armpit but gets caught. You take swift advantage of the opening, dropping your axe and grabbing the blade with one hand. Keeping the enemy in place while the other hand is bringing down your hammer onto the daemon's head. Your eyes search in the haze of the melee.
You put on the Gromril chest plate, the Runes glowing as strong as the day they were forged.
The forge erupts as a daemon bursts through the wall. A blow strikes you in the chest, sending you flying through a building. The air is pushed out of your lungs as stone, metal, wood and bricks from the collapsed building fall on and around you. Then you see her. Plaits swinging freely, running to meet the towering hulk of the beast without a second glance.
Next are your gauntlets.
You struggle helplessly, trying to shove and push off hundreds of pounds of rock off of your body. Your eyes never leave the fight in front of you. Her axe swings are devastating, her shield all but impenetrable. You should know, seeing as you made them yourself. Tears prick your eyes, the struggle for freedom grows more desperate as you see her flag.
You pause here, looking down at the helmet. It's surface pristine, the horns were repaired only years after they were broken. You run a finger down the ivory.
Then it happens. A single misstep, the tiniest opening.
It is all the creature needs.
With a single swing it cuts a jagged line down her torso then kicks her into another building. Everything fades away and your vision runs red.
The ridges are pristine.
Hate and anger.
The horns are bleached white.
Blood pours down your face, you swing, an arm breaks. A scream, you don't know who, you don't care. Your axe haft is broken, your hammer missing. You use your fists.
The gold trim is immaculate.
It is a haze, the feeling of metal-clad fist breaking bones and bruising flesh are the only things you remember. Punching and screaming until there is only the sound of your breathing.
You put on the helm.
You run to where she lays, dashing your helmet against the stones. Gingerly propping her against a ruined wall and feeling utterly helpless. She says nothing, but her eyes are still painfully clear, still painfully alive
, contrasting starkly against her deathly pale skin. She reaches up weakly, a bloody hand runs down your face, stopping just shy of your beard.
She always liked it best unbraided.
Her hand falls limp.
Your world fades.
The last article, a deep red cloak trimmed in white that
she made for you still hangs on the stand. You stare at it blankly for who knows how long. Until finally, achingly slowly, you take it up and drape it over your back. Clasping it in place mechanically.
Bone deep grief, long faded, flares for just a second.
You pick up your weapons, axe remade, hammer rediscovered, and walk out.
The cloak does not keep out the cold as well as it used to.
Equipped:
[Armor] War Plate.
Forged in joy, tempered in grief, worn in battle. [Master Rune of Gromril, Rune of Fortitude, Rune of Impact.]
[Weapon] Rune hammer.
Good for hitting, good from crushing. [Master Rune of Conduction, Rune of Fire, Rune of Striking]
[Weapon] Rune axe.
Good for cutting, for slicing. [Rune of Cleaving, Rune of Daemon Slaying, Rune of Fury.]
[Talisman] Ruby and Diamond Amulet.
No magic shall harm me, girded in her gifts. [Rune of Spelleating, Rune of Spellbreaking, Rune of Warding. Combo: Conversion. The spell is broken, the spell is eaten, the power is used to shield you.]
[Banner] Ruby Cloak.
Deep red silk, edged with purest down. A reminder of brighter, warmer days. Later engraved in grief. [Master Rune of Valaya, Rune of Sanctuary, Rune of Determination. Combo: Daemonward. You will not run, you will not hide, you will not fail again.]
…
The assembled Thanes and ranking members of the hold rise with your entrance. Many of them nodded to you and your master wrought armour.
"Rhunrikki, the rangers have reported that the group of trolls that assaulted the caravan has merged with a horde of the creatures at a location a week's march to the southeast some dwarfs are calling 'The Dragon's Maw.' Best estimates have the horde at over half a thousand snow trolls, and around a hundred Ice trolls," one thane reports, finger pointed to an ivory marker put down on the map.
You nod, a slow exhale escaping your nose.
"Any theories as to why the beasties are grouped up like this?" A thane asks the group.
"No food sources nearby from what the rangers saw, at least not one big enough to sustain a group this size. No Warpstone either. Doesn't make a lick of sense." Another responds, shaking their head.
"Clearly there's something or someone keeping them in line, rangers reported no signs of the usual troll on troll violence. Just all of them standing there, that and the assault on the caravan mean something with enough of a brain for dishonourable tactics is in charge," An older Thane says, his sound logic and prodigious beard drawing nods and grunts of approval.
"So it seems," you finally decide to speak up, "we have over half a thousand trolls at the beck and call of an as-of-yet unseen master. With us being so far north we cannot ignore the possibility of
Daemons, this sort of mischief is just the kind they'd dabble in," you finish gravely.
Murmurs erupt amongst the assembled thanes and masters.
"What of the throng?" you ask after waiting for the noise to die down.
"A thousand Warriors, four hundred Longbeards, six hundred quarrelers and a thousand miners can be spared in terms of general infantry Rhunrikki." A younger Thane answers.
"For artillery the Engineers Guild has, to my shame, only twenty Bolt Throwers and five Grudge Throwers to spare for the endeavour. We dare not strip the ones placed on the walls in case of attack while we are gone," the local Guild Master adds.
"And among the runesmiths, only twenty of us can be spared for the assault without compromising the hold's defences," you finish.
You look around at the assembled group of leaders, taking their histories, beards and knowledge into account before deciding that it is a waste of time and instead simply ask.
"Who is the ranking lord?"
They look at you oddly.
You look back, eyes narrowed.
A few Thanes nervously look down.
"Ah, going by the size of the contribution to the hold's prosperity, age, and experience," the young thane starts-
"As well as owning the Gromril Mine," another older thane adds in quietly.
"-
You are by tradition, at least until a council of the eldest members of the hold decides the kingship, the ranking Lord, Rhunrikki." the youngster finishes.
You blink.
This is what you get for not paying enough attention to the local politics you suppose.
...
Do you accept command of the Throng?
[ ]
No: You don't have the intimate knowledge or know how to lead a throng. Leave this to the thanes to sort out.
The Eldest Thane of the hold will lead the Throng.
[ ]
Yes: By tradition, you would be the ranking lord, in charge of leading these stout dwarfs in battle. It is not one you will shirk.
Where will you be within the army?
Like Total War Warhammer a runesmith can "cast" runes of warding, protection or wrath and ruin by striking a rune. Not as effective as if you had an Anvil of Doom, but still potent if more limited in scope and range. Now, I'm not gonna elongate the battle by having you decide when to do that, Snorri knows at least that much. In mechanical terms, it'll be a bonus to army rolls. The closer to the front, the stronger the bonus but the more limited the placement of it, as opposed to free placement but weaker bonus if you end up in the reserve.
[ ]
Vanguard: You will be at the forefront of the battle. A powerful symbol to rally around and where you can deal the most punishment. You'll be focused solely on murder blending your way forward like only a heavily armoured Dwarf with a Grudge can.
[ ]
Centre: From here you can cast protective or offensive runes with greater ease but also be ready to serve as rapid reinforcement to the frontlines. You won't know what's happening with the battle everywhere as accurately.
[ ]
Reserve: You will be held back as an offensive force, instead you will have the best possible view of the battlefield and the ongoing tactical situation as well as be able to reinforce as needed, though it will take time to get there.
AN: So begins the battle turns. Now, if you do decide to lead the throng you'll be given choices over overall strategy and order of battle, but I won't let you go full RTS. For one thing, Snorri doesn't have the know-how necessary to think that deeply and will trust the Thanes to know what they're doing. For another, that would be incredibly tedious for me to write.
From the player's perspective, you'll be allowed to use write-ins but they can't exceed let's say 80 words. Don't try to micromanage too much, give me a general plan with enough detail as to what units should be doing what and I'll accommodate you as best as I can.
Something like:
[Y] "Warriors will lead the vanguard with miners in reserve and longbeards to be held and deployed whenever an Ice troll is spotted. Quarrellers will focus down the regular trolls from the flanks while the Artillery will prioritize removing the ice trolls. Runesmiths will be interspersed throughout the army to provide support with an emphasis on taking down the Ice Trolls."
FAQ: Do you have an Anvil of DOOM?
A. No, you're a footslogging runelord currently.
FAQ: Do you have a weapon solely for killing trolls?
A. Snorri has his rune axe and rune hammer, which are armed to deal with the widest array of foes possible.
