Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism

Since the conversation has died down I figure I might as well post this.
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Honied Capon
Take a whole capon and rub it down with salt and two tablespoons of melted butter. Cook in an oven for until the juices run clear when you pierce the thigh, and the breast is no longer pink. While the chicken is roasting combine 1 cup of cider vinegar, ¾ cup of honey, one or two teaspoons of chopped mint, ½ cup of currents, raisins, dried cherries, etc. and one tablespoon of butter in a saucepan and simmer until the dried fruit plump and the sauce reduces to half of its volume. When the capon is done spread half the sauce and fruit over the bird and reserve the other half to serve as gravy.

Leek Soup
Place 2 cups of broth in a saucepan. Add six threads of saffron if possible, bastard saffron if not and bring the liquid to a boil. Add 1 chopped leek, 1 ½ cups of mushrooms salt and if available ¼ teaspoon each of ground ginger, black pepper and simmer for a few minutes, then serve.

Fingerfish
Take small fish such as sardines and rinse them in cool water, then dip them in cornmeal and coat them thoroughly. Heat oil in a skillet over a medium high heat. Fry the fish until they are lightly golden on both sides and sprinkle with salt and serve.

Beans and Bacon
Cook four slices of bacon in a skillet over a medium high heat. When it is done to taste transfer to a separate plate and leave the bacon grease in the pan. Sauté one small onion and one clove of garlic in the bacon drippings until soft. Over a medium heat add the bacon and a cup of dried beans that have been soaked overnight. If possible, add ½ teaspoon of poudre douce. Stir until all ingredients are hot and serve immediately

Rabbit Stew
Heat two tablespoons of butter in a pan and fry a minced onion, then transfer it to a pot large enough to hold the bones from a rabbit. Clean the usable meat from a rabbit and lay it aside leaving the legs whole. Break down the remaining bones and put them in the pot with the minced onion. Add enough water to cover and bring it to a boil, reduce it to a simmer and cook until the meat starts to fall off the bone. Strain out the bones and onion and reserve the broth. In a separate bowl mix two slices of stale bread with a few ladlefuls of the broth. I add salt to taste, 1 tablespoon of red wine vinegar and if practicable ¼ teaspoon of ground ginger, 1​/8​ teaspoon of mace, a pinch of cloves. Add ½ cups each of finely chopped carrots and cabbage and cook until the vegetables are soft. In a medium pan, brown the rabbit meat with the two tablespoons of butter. Deglaze the pan with a cup of ale, then add both the meat and the ale to the stewpot. Bring the stew to a boil and then serve.

Honey Biscuits
Mix flour and salt. Rub five tablespoons into the flour till the dough has the texture of course breadcrumbs. Gradually stir in just enough cold water that the dough sticks together. Be careful to not overwork it or add too much water. Roll the pastry into ¼ inch thickness and cut into circles about two inches across. Fry the pastry in a pan coated with a little oil or butter over medium heat, until lightly brown and crisp, this should be done in a few minutes. Meanwhile place honey into a saucepan and slowly bring it to a boil. Brush the pastries with the hot honey and if possible, sprinkle with cinnamon.

Pease Porridge
Put two cups of dried split peas in a large pot and add six cups of water. Place over medium high heat. Add one sprig each of fresh parsley, thyme, and mint and 12 pealed whole pearl onions. Parboil the herbs for around three minutes and the onions until they are soft. Use a slotted spoon to remove the herbs and onions from the pot and set the onions aside. Press the herbs dry and chop them finely. Cook the peas until they are soft, should take from half an hour to two thirds of an hour. Drain the peas. Place the cooked peas in a small saucepan and add the onions, herbs two tablespoons of oil, a pinch of salt and if possible, half a teaspoon of saffron, if not bastard saffron will suffice. Cook over medium heat for five minutes, stirring constantly to prevent sticking and serve.

Onions in Gravy
Clean and peel ten ounces of pearl onions. Cut some of the onions and set the remaining whole onions aside. Place a tablespoon of honey into a deep frying pan over medium heat, along with a tablespoon of butter, a sprig of finely chopped fresh savory herb, and quartered onions. Make sure that the onions are covered in the honey and butter mixture, then cook until the onions begin to turn a nice golden brown, stirring all the while to make sure they don't burn. Add 1​/3 ​cup of cider into the pan in three splashes, pausing for the liquid to heat between each splash. Sprinkle one tablespoon of flour over the pan and stir to make sure it incorporates into the gravy. Then add three cups beef stock and the reserved whole onions and bring the mixture to a simmer. Continue to cook, stirring occasionally, for at least five minutes, then reduce until it has reached a consistency desired and add salt to taste and serve.

Turnips in Butter
Take three large turnips and peel them and cut them into pieces. Put the turnips, 3 ½ cups milk and three sprigs thyme into a large saucepan and simmer over medium heat until the turnips are tender enough to stick a fork through with little resistance. Drain the turnips, reserving the liquid. Discard the thyme. Mash the turnips using a potato masher, melt in ½ cup of butter, add two cloves of chopped garlic, and continue mashing. Add two cups of the reserved liquid and combine until a uniform consistency is achieved. Season with salt, and if available pepper, and serve.

Potato Pancakes
Peel and grate potatoes and a small onion. Place the grated potatoes in a clean towel and wring out the liquid. Place the drained potatoes in a medium bowl with the onion, flour and salt and work it into a tacky mixture. Heat a few tablespoons of oil, safflower oil is ideal, into a pan over a medium high heat and place 1​/3​ to ½ cup of the mixture into the hot pan and flatten into pancakes with the back of a spoon. Fry on both sides for a few minutes, until the pancakes are golden and serve.

GM NOTE: I apologize for chunky slowness of uploading. Tried to keep it short, but uh...failed. Ended up going in more depth than I originally planned on topics chosen while going after the rest of the Clan's Oghams. Oh well, here it is now, yeah?


"The would-be queen was born to Icenai on edge of the Rhostir Llwm," Mardudd regaled them on the march after Mena had decided to ask of the woman, all of them marching at the very tip of the column surrounded by guards and nobles on all sides. "Not strong tribe. Not weak tribe. Just…," he splayed his hands and let the rain crash down on his palms. "A tribe, eh?"

"Back then, many more, ey?" Aberfa added as she stretched until something in her back gave a muted pop. "More us. More them. People. Fimir."

"Yes," Mardudd nodded to his daughter. "Oracles not in hiding. Giants not running and staying in Causeway, eh? Better…worse…," he mimed weighing invisible weighs with his hands. "Hard to say, eh?"

The roads of Albion were nothing impressive when it came down to it. They were, all of them, simply packed dirt as near as Magnus could tell. They were breaks and channels driven into the wet grasses by simple virtue of constant movement in the past. But even that was slowly being overtaken by the grasses once more. A Priest of Taal might call it nature reclaiming its own. But Magnus could see the tightness in Mardudd's face as he spoke, the curiously wistful tone of Aberfa's words. The paths that the Albionese had steadily carved into the very ground itself were being washed away and overtaken because they no longer walked the isle as they used to.

"Either way," Mardudd shrugged. "Sometimes, Oracles come out, they bless births, eh? Like Druids. Specials. Good births. Destinies," he says gravely before grinning toothily. "Boudicca? Neither. No special blessing from Oracles, telling greatness as babe, eh? No Druid claiming she for gifts, to take and mold in the training. Just…Boudicca, eh? Sun did not break through clouds, rest of the Gods did not make signs."

As they'd learned on the march, not every Ogham circle in the lands of Mardudd's people were held by the Fimir. Merely most. At one point, they witnessed one such place, a genuine tornado of dark grey and black funneling down out of the skies directly into the center of the stone circle, crackling with fire and lightning shot through its body. It lasted for only a minute before fizzling out, and according to the Wizards it had looked like some sort of combined working of considerable power. After which point a quartet of new Druids flew out from the circle in the form of birds and joined the Druid Lear. These were, apparently, of the aforementioned Etlikin variety.

"Second daughter of Icenai Chieftain, man named Owain. Third child. Grew up strong, fast. Chariot rider. Beasts, chained by greenskins, used in attack, eh? Kill many. But not Boudicca."

"Not Boudicca!" Aberfa echoes with a fierce cry, pumping a heavy fist into the sky before continuing in a stream of melodic Albish that was clearly some sort of song or another for a full verse.

"Yes, yes," Mardudd waves her down. "Father, brothers, mother, sisters, dead. So, Boudicca is left, eh?" He clenched a fist and raised it just in front of his face. "Angry. Rallies Icenai. Rallies Tairsiu, rallies Núadun, the Connmacht. All tribes of east and north. Then…the beasts…ah," Mardudd paused in his words and pointed towards a stone circle in the far distance, the darkness of the clouds receding just enough to give them visibility.

(Coastal Ogham Approach: 41/100)

It stood atop a sharply curved cliff, the largest of the stones sunken into the earth to reach perfect geometric congruence with the rest of its fellows. Nearby stood a familiar gargantuan pile of stone and refuse that made of a Fimir castle. Contrary to the castle in the past, several Fimir were visibly marching about on the wet plains and given how they began thumping back to their castle, crude but loud horns going up along the way, they had been spotted. There were no swamps to creep through here, no soggy rotten forests to try and bypass. It was open upon the plains and over the cliffs, and in this case, the weather had not been on their side.

"Shite," Mardudd barked before barking about in Albish.

"Form up, form up!" Magnus called to his own troops. "What about the Ogham!?"

"We go, we fight, they block, we go," Mardudd shouted back.

Fimir and Albish horns began blowing in tandem as all frantically tried to set up.

(Coastal Ogham Reclamation: 73/100)

The Fimir were not caught unawares this time. At the same time, the Albionese hadn't had the time to form up and prepare themselves fully well in advance. Thus, as they frantically set themselves to forming in Imperial-style blocks with more traditional mobs of skirmishers, it was the Imperials themselves who decided to step forward. Or rather, it was the wizards. They had had quite enough of struggling to master their powers, again, despite graduating fully from the Magic Colleges. First to step forward was Magister Smokewrought. When he raised his fists and slammed them down, a wall of spiked cylinders of flame erupted into being, arresting the momentum of a considerable portion of the incoming Fimir charge rather suddenly, at least before the fulminating cage's component parts exploded violently. Next was Magister Alric, who tried…something…before it dissipated and he spat in anger. Finally, then, was Magister Carlotta, who for all that she professed she was not truly endeared towards combat, seemed to have made more progress towards grasping the anarchic gales of Albion than any of the others. As such, when she raised her hands high and then brought them down, speaking but a single word, the earth swallowed many of the Fimir, becoming as mud and muck before hardening practically into stone.

Leaving them to be crushed and trampled first by their brethren who could not arrest their own momentum, and then be easy targets to be ridden over by the cavalry who came from the flanks. This time, the Albionese were the ones who charged, taking advantage of the staggered and broken Fimir lines. They were large creatures, yes, but the Albionese were fierce and well equipped with steel. The Druids had headed directly towards the Oghams, and there, after Magnus, Mardudd, and a few others had broken away, the battle was nearly over. There was only one Dirach at the Ogham this time, yet the sphere from before remained, though this one was remarkably smaller than the others. Brain Wounder claimed the lives of five of the Fimm who guarded the Dirach, but it was the Druids who saw to the Dirach itself, two shackling it with magic before two others transformed into utterly monstrous creatures that looked akin to black horses with the forepaws of a lion with wickedly fanged maws – maws which were used to great effect in tearing the Dirach apart.


"What were those…things?" Magnus asked Mardudd as the battle wound down to an end. "That the Druids turned into?"

"Eh? Oh. Pooklaig," Mardudd said with a shrug before seeing Magnus' baffled look. "Beast. Albion, many beasts, eh? Used to be, at least, before Boudicca. Pooklaig one, others. Claws, fangs. Some scales, some fur, some…," the Cheiftain's face twisted up as he searched through his limited lexicon. "Beasts. Terrible things. Big problem, for everyone," he nodded towards both the Fimir and the tribesman. "Monsters. Came when the rains did. Raiders. Hunters. Killers. Everyone," he circled his index towards the skies.

"Boudicca hunted them, ey? Greenskins, Fimir, loved taking. Made worse. Used," Aberfa said as she overheard, walking over as the rains washed the gore from her mostly naked body save for the blue paint splashed and marked across it. "Big…good," she raised her hands wide before stopping. "Big good for greenskins, Fimir. Boudicca said no more," Aberfa slammed her fist into her palm. "Take. Kill. No good for enemies, ey?"

The bodies of many of the Fimir were still stuck in the ground, many of them still struggling to free themselves. The nobles with their enchanted claymores took their time hacking them to death. It was amongst that field of dead and dying that they found themselves in, the rest of the Fimir not managing to make it to the castle before the Blue Wolves had cut them off. That was not to say that the Albionese had not taken casualties, of course. It was inevitable. But for the first time, the Imperials had suffered some of their own as well. A number of the Blue Wolves had their mounts struck from beneath them, the long reach of the Fimir letting them hack at the lightly and in some cases completely unarmored horses, forcing the surviving Blue Wolves to fight from their own two feet.

"Divesting the enemy of important strategic resources," Reinhardt mused as he walked along with them, "Wise."

Aberfa blinked at him in blatant incomprehension at the more sophisticated Reikspiel.

"No beasts for Fimir, for greenskins, is good, ey?" She said after a moment. "Yes?"

"Ah…yes," Reinhardt coughed. "Yes."

"Clear bodies, eh! Can finish story later tonight," Mardudd interrupted.

It was grisly work which occupied them for the next few hours until they could once more take shelter in the Fimir's home. Only then, once everyone was beginning to actually dry themselves a modicum, did Mardudd elaborate further on the feats of Boudicca.

"Rallied more tribes. More and more. Cleared beasts," Mardudd went on. "Eastern tribes strong, eh? Open fields. Easy to maneuver around Fimir on chariot, on horse, when needed. Kept them out good. Icenai become strong. Make Tairsiu strong, Núadun, Connmacht," he tallied with his fingers. "Starts getting noticed, eh? Brùs, strongest clan, guardians of the Great Ogham, even send some over to see what the news is. Get impressed, eh? Listen to her."

So it went. A tale that was starkly similar to that of Sigmar and of Gilles the Uniter. Mardudd's grasp of Reikspiel was not perfect. But it did not need to be. He described how fiercely she fought, clearing the eastern reaches of Albion from the grasp of the greenskins and the Fimir, outright exterminating the strange beasts. Magnus was swift to realize that their word 'beasts' did not truly encompass what the creatures were, much as how the closest they could manage to describe the abominable Chaos Spawn simply as 'a Twisted'. These were mutated creatures of madness, of destruction, chained and forced into service at the hands of both forces. Boudicca hunted them all, even plunging into the most poisonous and dangerous bogs and marshes, places where even the Fimir were shy to enter the depths of, save to try and steal away the younger beasts for training. But Boudicca never once countenanced trying to tame them, and instead killed – smashing eggs and killing young as well as their parents in their very lairs.

Then she visited the southern tribes, those such as the Matholwyr, the Nudd, and of course the Glyldŵrlyr. But more than that, apparently. There were also the Kernow, the Silun, and more.

Or, at least, there used to be. Mardudd had grown somber indeed when Reinhardt brought the question forth.

"Gone, Empire man," Mardudd had shaken his head. "Gone, now."

Everywhere Boudicca rode, she had scoured the land of the beasts that had plagued them for so long. The descriptions brought to mind all manner of things. Tentacled wolves the size of ogres. Pooklaig, the equine-like creatures. Something that definitely sounded like at least a few chimeras. Manticores of sizes that beggared belief, compared to conventional knowledge. Reptilian beasts with six limbs and jaws that could snap through stone and steel with ease, ambush creatures that bled burning red blood that was toxic to the touch. In doing so, she gathered members of the tribes all across Albion to her side. She had even, it was said, made good friends with the giants who once roamed the land freely, with their very leader, in fact.

"The Giants had a leader?" Mena had said as she'd nearly dropped her bowl of thin soup. "Like…a real one? How…what?"

Mardudd had frowned at her, as had Aberfa and a number of the other nobles.

"Yes? King of Giants, Cormagg. Why would giants not have leader?" He said with a laugh, one shared by the rest of the tribesmen.

Magnus stared at the man, his mind whirling as he tried to imagine a giant…king.

"Don't know who King is now, though. Giants gone to Causeway, their home in the north," Mardudd added.

"…huh."

The Imperials were all quite quiet after that.


(Swampy Ogham Approach: 40/100)

"Eventually, though," Mardudd said as they slowly sloshed their way through the enormous marsh. "Greenskins and Fimir, they get mad, eh? Boudicca, she attacks them too, sometimes."

"Less and less beasts, though, so Boudicca, she turns right back to them, ey?" Aberfa chortled as she ducked from a hissing serpent as thick as her forearms and then grasped it by the head, biting it off and spitting it into her hand before throwing it into the distance.

The lengthy body she looped around her neck and began eating raw as Reinhardt and Mena watched, the former in horror and the second in fascination. Magnus only glanced before looking back to Mardudd. Around them, the Albionese marched, all of them working extra hard to keep a close eye on the dismounted Blue Wolves. The Ogham they approached was inapproachable by any means. No horse, and certainly no chariot or wagon, could possibly reach the inner confines. It was slow going, for certain. And, unfortunately, it was a place where they lost a handful of knights, for despite stripping to half-plate once more, Albion itself was most unforgiving.

"Greenskins, she targets first. Hated them more," Mardudd said. "For killing family, yes? Drives them. Surrounds. Lets run, eh? Run away to their holes. Deep in marshes, deep in fens, taken from Fimir ages ago, eh? Before? No one would follow. Too dangerous. Too many Beasts. Sickness. Poison. Greenskins, ambush, eh?"

By now, Aberfa had devoured more than half of the snake, stripping the meat from the bone expertly with her teeth, but that did not stop her from interjecting once more.

"Boudicca, she doesn't care. She goes anyway. With will, eh?" The towering Albionese woman clenched her free fist so tight the knuckles popped in front of her face. "Giants, dig marshes to make poison waters go out, washed away by rain, ey? Fenbeasts, take ambushes. Then Boudicca, she bring Druids and Oracles and Maidenguard and rest. Go deep. Hunt down. Then?" Aberfa snapped her fingers, eyes flashing in the dim light coming down through the branches. "She make like them," she pointed to the Bright Wizard.

"She burned them out," Magnus breathed out slowly.

"Wow. That's…," Mena said quietly, shaking her head in disbelief. "All of them, really?"

"Oh yes," Mardudd nodded vigorously. "Took time, eh? Many dead. But Albion…," he chuckled darkly. "She is home, eh? But she not goes on forever, eh? Beaches. Into waters. Runs them down. Can't hide. They try, eh? Flee into Fimir places. Die there too. Reach waters, giants throw boulders, break ships. Run into swamps, Boudicca follows."

Aberfa chooses that moment to hiss out something in Albish, getting an approving nod from Mardudd.

"Eh, Empire people. Word for chasing, but not sleeping. What is this?" Mardudd turned to Magnus as they pushed through the branches and hacked a few roots here and there to allow passage. "Forever hunt. Never stop, eh? Mean, very mean to enemy. Awful to enemies, eh?"

"Relentless," Reinhardt offered at the same time that Mena offered 'Unrelenting'.

"Ruthless," Magnus said after a moment.

"Mmm. Re-lent-less," Mardudd sounded it out. "Ruth-less. Mmm. We call her Boudicca y Di-baid. She never tire, eh?"

"All wish to be never tired like Boudicca," Aberfa adds as they finally hacked their way through to the clearing ahead.

The Fimir had sensed their coming, it seemed. A quartet of Dirachs stood around a sphere at the center of the circle, and a giant blade of almost invisible shadow cleaved through the marsh and nearly through a great number of bodies, instead catching only a few Albionese and collapsing them into piles of shredded meat. The Fimir did not wait any longer than a few seconds after its passage to begin charging forward, their bulks letting them push through the marsh and its divots and pits with brutish ease.

(Swampy Ogham Assault: 90-10(Bad Approach)=80/100)

But the Albionese and the Imperials did not pause. They did not hesitate. Instead, the Druids flew overhead and dropped atop the Dirachs directly, and for once, neither Magnus nor Mardudd were able to aid them for the whole of the battle. Instead, the battle line was drawn directly at the edge of the clearing. Hulking Fimm stomping heads and shoulders above their lesser kin, swinging about maces, swords, and axes that were the length of entire human bodies and then some to clash against the warriors of Albion and the soldiers of the Empire. Stinking waters, mosses, and mud splashed and erupted far more than blood could spurt or bone could break. Several trees were felled outright from the wild swings of some of the more injured Fimir. It was the Druids who won out, however, managing to withstand the magics of the Dirachs and then turn their own upon first the accursed sorcerers and then the Fimir still attacking the others from behind. As the rest of the Albionese were able to skirmish their way to the flanks and rear, the Fimir found themselves surrounded, and for all that they violently resisted unto the very end, they could not avoid their fates to be slain and let to rot into the boggy waters.

None came walking out of that swamp looking particularly pleasant, but the cold rains helped wash most of it away by the time they could retreat to the previous castle, the Fimir they'd just slain not yet having finished constructing one of their own just yet.


"Then, Boudicca, she goes west, eh? West and north. Speak to Causeway tribes, near the Beast Peaks and the Causeway. The Urdovi south, the MacKellen north. Even," Mardudd paused, leaning in over his haunch of roasted horse meat, "The Giants themselves, eh? Only Druids, Oracles, and Boudicca ever enter Causeway, in all time," he leaned back and slapped his knee.

The Albionese were practically joyous, at this point, given how the past few days had gone. Less than a week of fighting had allowed them to reclaim multiple Oghams, and while Magnus knew that Mardudd had planned on doing it all on their lonesome, the aid of the Imperials had been extremely valuable. And Mardudd knew it too. The weapons granted, the casualties lessened, the numbers and speed aided, all of it had let the tribe accomplish something that they had scarcely imagined doing. Small conversations with Aberfa and others had been proof enough of that. For the first time in a long time, perhaps quite a while indeed, the Albionese were facing the Fimir in open battle…and they were winning.

"That when the people, they start saying the Gods bless her, ey?" Abefa added as she tore into her own haunch.

"Oh? And what Gods are those? We haven't really discussed them at all," Reinhardt said politely as the large woman bumped him with her shoulders. "The Gods of Albion, I mean."

"Ach," Mardudd huffed before rubbing at his chin. "The Gods, eh. Yes. There is the Sun, eh? Hext."

Sun worship was not particularly unheard of when it came to the primitive tribes of the distant past, this Magnus knew, but it was still somewhat surprising to hear someone admit to doing so in the here and now.

"Hext is weak, though," Aberfa snorted. "Can't break through Unkis' clouds, or make Anchyr's mists break."

"Hext…is the sun," Mena said at that point, head tilted. "And…Unkis is…,"

"Cloud. Water. Unkis strong, eh?" Mardudd chuckled. "Unkis everywhere, all the time. But the Mists, they are Anchyr's breath, eh? Druids call upon Anchyr when working them."

"Not like Tlang," Aberfa interrupted, flexing her arms upright as she did it to emphasize the scarification which had been put to use putting glyphs onto her biceps. "Tlang, ey?" She repeated while pointing out one of the glyphs in particular a few inches away from Reinhardt's face. "Strong. Hext, sun. Unkis, water. Anchyr, mists. But Tlang? Tlang fighter. Warrior. Killer."

"Before," Reinhardt said as he finished gnawing on his jerky and steadfastly did not pull back from the nearness of the woman looming over him. "You both mentioned divisions amongst the Druids. 'Etlikin' and 'Atlikin', right? Does that have to do with the Gods too?"

He had to speak up as some of the Ostland Greatswords began singing a song, drunk as they were on offered Albix. The Albionese had no idea what the words meant, but a tune, some alcohol, and soon enough they were joining in as best they could, ululating on tempo if nothing else.

"Ah, yeah," Mardudd nodded. "Etli and Atli, brothers, eh? Etli, fighter, and Atli, healer. Oracles, they are Druids too, eh? Sort of," he waggled a hand, "Kiskin, guess can say, because Unkis. Seers, future-sight, eh? In hiding though, all hiding," he shrugged and sighed. "Some say Oracles are dead. Fimir kill them, eh?"

"Father is true," Aberfa said after noisily drinking a crude iron cup of its albix. "He never saw Oracle. I never saw Oracle. No on has. Long time. Gone after Caerniwlatgas."

Caerniwlatgas. An actual city of the Fimir. The concept still boggled Magnus' mind.

"Anyway," Mardudd said, "Boudicca, she rallies all, eh? Across all island. Manages to goad last of greenskins into fight at…mmm, closest word is Fields of Battle. Ancient place, far to north of here."

"Tribes not for fighting tribes," Aberfa said quietly, her boisterousness draining out of her as she spoke, her eyes locked onto something in the middle distance. "Duels, bride stealing, husband stealing, little," she said while just barely not pressing her forefinger and thumb together. "But sometimes, gets big. Too big. Druids say 'once and for all, end', for big things."

Mena blinked slowly as she absorbed the information, running some fingers along the length of her gauntlet.

"I thought the Druids don't help out if fights get too big?"

"Yes," Mardudd says seriously. "But in Fields of Battle, they make fight happen," he puffed his chest out and glared at some invisible foe before speaking in a more imperious tone. "If you want to fight, come fight. Here," he pointing straight down. "Only here. Not at Ogham. Not at village. Here. Not at Pillar of Og-Agog. Here," he exhaled and slouched somewhat. "Make fight, kill, die. Many. Take fire of stupid, and drown in blood, every time. Holy place."

He remained silent, and contemplative, for long enough that Aberfa chose to take up telling the tale.

"Boudicca, she pushes greenskins out everywhere else. Burns holes. From big," she raised one hand as high as possible, "To smallest. Even smaller smallest," she held her hand practically against the floor as she spoke before straightening. "They rally. One last fight…," and there Aberfa grinned with her cracked and yellowed teeth, tongue poking through one of the knocked through gaps. "And Boudicca, she pushes them into Ochness. Holy lake, ey? And they fight, and they scream, and Buuhn-yip takes the rest."

"Buuhn-yip?" Mena asked.

Aberfa nodded, her grin turning especially bloodthirsty.

"Ancient. Powerful. Rules Ochness. Beasts only live in Beast Peaks now, eh? Because Boudicca. Help feed, clothe giants, but not bother anyone else ever. Greenskins, hunted, burned, last pushed into Ochness. Hehe, because Boudicca, ey? Then," she tapped a finger against her nose. "People say, maybe Boudicca blessed by Tlang. Rides chariot, just like Tlang, ey? Blessed by all the Gods, maybe. But then," Aberfa's face fell. "News, comes. Great Ogham, to south, is taken, eh? The Xokh, Chieftain of Druids, all Druids, he dies. New Xokh comes running to Boudicca, ey?"

Magnus did not dare speak, Mena's own fidgeting stilling, while Reinhardt watched in calm silence. Aberfa, who towered above them all, whose hands could be as shovels, whose arms could likely squeeze a bear to death, whose thighs could likely crack rocks, shrunk in on herself as the tale of Boudicca rushed towards its conclusion.

"All come to Pillar of Og-Agog. Heart magic. Gathering. Very, very middle of all Albion," she went on, looking into the fires that sat in front of them all. "Used to be gathering place, was, back then, ey? Festival. Compete. Spears, strength, chariots. Tlang on top, ey? On his chariot. Xokh names Boudicca Queen. Only Xokh can do this," she grunts. "All tribes, they say yes. Boudicca, she gets crown, yes? Very special. Shining black. Because Fimir," Aberfa's fists clench so tight the knuckles turn white for a moment before she breathes and loosens them. "While Boudicca, she clears beasts, she runs down all greenskins, the Fimir, they grow strong. Too strong. Gather together. Take places where greenskins burnt out."

The Albionese warrior woman looked them in the eyes, one at a time.

"They take Great Ogham. West, south of here. We, our tribe," she tapped one of the glyphs carved into her own skin. "Glyldŵrlyr? We east of it. Matholwyr north of it. Nudd west and south. Used to be many others. Many killed in those days, when Fimir take Great Ogham. Kernow, Silun, Ceangyri, Emylg, others."

She tapped out different sigils as she spoke, each of them having surely been painfully cut into her skin, repeatedly, to make them permanent. The symbols for the Glyldŵrlyr, Matholwyr, and Nudd had been treated to remain stark white, there were a number of others outside the bright blue glyphs representing the Gods of Albion, ones that were inked darkly, such as the Kernow and the Silun tribes.

Dead tribes now, it seemed.

Though they were crude things, Reinhardt was extremely close due to her taking the seat right next to him. As such, he could see them all quite clearly. For some, he could not be certain if they were joined or not, the gaps not mathematically precise or well kept, but as near as he could tell, there were a considerable number of symbols which clearly designated those that had suffered unfortunate fates.

Too many.

"Boudicca, she says okay, ey?" Aberfa lowered her arms until her forearms rested upon her thighs, hands hanging limply. "Rallies everyone. King of Giants. Druids. Oracles. Tribes, all follow," she glanced at Magnus. "Even Sidhe, ey? Spirit-fleshed. Fire. Water. Stone. Air. Rare, ey? But Boudicca, she talks, she friends them. No magic to bind, just words. They come with too, help in fight. March on Fimir, but find out…all Fimir gone from places. All have gone south, to Great Ogham. No flank. No skirmish. No clan-at-a-time. No cut off, no ambush, no running," she speaks dully. "Only one place. But Great Ogham. Cannot let alone, ey?"

Aberfa raised both hands and clenched them before knocking her knuckles together.

"One way. One fight. Big," she said slowly. "Biggest. Giants, tear at new walls. Fenbeasts. Chariots through holes. Horses. Rushing. Fighting. Killing. All Fimir on island. The Fimir, they bind many, many spirits. Daemons. Release. Dhar-Meargh, Fimir Queen, she binds something big, ey? Many somethings? No one knows what. Powerful. Whole tribes die, but whole Fimir Clans too," she said while repeatedly knocking her hands together with solid thuds, bruising herself for emphasis. "So much killing, storm raging, last of captured beasts released. Big daemon released, ey? Huge. Red wings of death. Cormagg, King of Giants, he fights it, ey? Kill each other. Fighting goes on for nine days, nine nights, no stopping."

Mardudd seems to reawaken at that point, just as Aberfa's words fail her, one hand coming to clasp comfortingly on one of Aberfa's shoulders. She leans into it before hanging her head. The Chieftain paused before taking up the tale.

"On ninth night, Mearghs run away to Great Ogham. All. Dhar-Meargh. Bad ritual, Druids say. Xokh, Druids, Oracles, they leave, charge to Great Ogham. Leave Boudicca alone to fight Dirachs. No protection. Boudicca, she kills many, eh? So many…but not all. Not enough," his voice is rough, even as he wets it with a deep drink of albix. "They Twist her. She becomes…Chaos Spawn, like you Empire say. Bigger than any the stories say of the Twisted. But Boudicca, she keeps killing, eh? Rest of Dirachs, at least, before turning on us. On everyone. Big boom at Great Ogham. Lights. Fire," he waves a hand in an attempt to try and illustrate before giving up on it. "It all falls. Ancestors run, cowards," he growls. "Break. Go back to homes. Try to rally. The Giants, they go back to Causeway, drag Cormagg, grieve. Xokh dies. Oracles run to hide. Druids run to hide. All go hide."

"But," Aberfa says, her head coming up again, a sad smile on her face. "So many die, ey? So many Fimir, can't come and kill us all either. Takes many years to start fight again."

"But Fimir, they push us out. Wipe out more tribes. Start taking Oghams. Not break Pillar, but take, keep from us. Like all else. Now, they cut island in half. North from south. South from north. You," Mardudd pointed at Magnus. "You come in south. Maybe bad, maybe good, ey?"

"This…Great Ogham," Mena said after a moment. "Do you mean for us to try to-,"

"No," Mardudd said, shaking his head vigorously. "No, no, no. You think us strong? Many? No, no, not like before," he said as Aberfa shook her head as well. "Nowhere enough. We not even know what tribes remain in north."

"But…won't the Fimir notice that we're retaking the Oghams here in the south, especially if Caerniwlatgas is here in the south with us?" Reinhardt said quickly.

Both Aberfa and Mardudd tilted their heads in unison as they looked at him.

"We have to protect Oghams," Aberfa said slowly, as if to a child. "It is the way. The only way."

"…but…," Reinhardt paused at their looks and sighed. "I see."

"Fimir, they spread out, eh?" Mardudd said after a moment. "Have to. Caerniwlatgas is strong. Too strong for us. But it is as full of dead as it is living, eh? Because Boudicca."


(Open Plains Ogham Approach: 63/100)
(Open Plains Ogham Assault: 97/100)

The next Ogham taken was swift. It couldn't not be. Unlike the other, nestled atop the cliffs with slight curves to the land, or one that was so drowned in the swamps as to prevent anything other than infantry approaching it, the last of the Oghams within the lands claimed by the Glyldŵrlyr was sat upon the open plains. It was, surprisingly, in a bit of a drizzle, rather than the blowing storms of the past few days. The Fimir castle was sat quite close to the Ogham itself, but this time the Fimir appeared to have decided that the lack of trees or other cover meant they could all take up place in the castle proper. Save for the Dirachs, of course. The Druids, joined by another of their fellows, fell from the skies and assaulted the Dirachs, distracting them long enough for Magnus and Mardudd's nobles to approach while the rest of the force struck the castle. In what was slowly becoming typical, the monstrous Fimir boiled out of the castle in great number before charging towards the enemy. The Fimm split off to try and reach the Ogham to protect the Dirachs, only to be struck from the sides by the Blue Wolves, cut off and surrounded almost immediately. Also importantly, the Wizards of the Empire were increasingly becoming familiar with casting magic upon Albion, to the boon of their allies and detriment of their enemies.

The fight went about as well as it could, all things considered, especially once Magister Carlotta took to healing the wounded.

It began, and ended, remarkably swiftly.

Which gave time for the Imperials to gaze to the southwest, a sense of terrible foreboding coming upon them all, a chill crawling along their spines that had nothing to do with the wind or rain.

"There, far away, that is Caerniwlatgas," Mardudd spoke to them, his claymore stabbed partially into the ground.

None of the three Heirs could see it, not really. The clouds, the mists, the rains, the darkness, it meant they could not even come close to seeing it truly. But that did not meant that, at a disturbingly certain point along the horizon, there was an inherent sense of disquiet. Like the buzzing along ones skin and in one's head when near one of the Oghams, but both more so and oddly inverted. Or perhaps twisted would be the better word.

"You have my thanks, Empire," Mardudd said after a while as they all gazed south. "Without your...wizards...and your steel, fight would have been much worse. Very worse, eh?"

"You would have tried anyway, without any of it, I think," Magnus responded, glancing at the larger man. "Am I right?"

"Yes," Mardudd nodded firmly. "It is the way. Our way. Our purpose. Still. Figured I'd die trying, eh? Didn't. Surprised me," he chuckled before stopping, a frown appearing upon his face. "Bad times we live in. Fimir always pushing. More every generation. Take Oghams. Some, we take back. But not all. And next generation, lose more, eh? Always more."

"At least it wasn't all at once," Mena says, looking at him. "It sound like Boudicca managed to kill enough of them that they couldn't marshal enough for a cross-island cleansing, even now. And how many years ago was that?"

Mardudd scrunched his face in thought before answering.

"This year...I think it is nine tens and eight years ago...this year makes nine tens and nine years."

"Hell of a killing ground, yeah," Mena nodded.

"Why did you call us over here, Mardudd? We could have discussed this in the castle," Magnus asked.

"Does it have to do with the Druids?" Reinhardt said, making the other two Heirs look at him. "Every time we retook an Ogham, they seemed pissed about those...Fimir...balls. Spheres. Magnus, you got close to a few of them, right?"

Magnus shuddered.

"Each one felt like it was making the air bad, tainting it, like when a necromancer casts a spell or something. Or an insane sorcerer. Or, I don't know, a shaman of the beastmen?"

The fact that Magnus had, in fact, faced all of those things, and yet could not pick which better exemplified the unclean sensation he felt bothered him.

"Yes. This is the bad news. I have even more bad too," Mardudd said with gallows humor. "Bad news is...the Glyldŵrlyr Oghams, they are ours, eh? But the Mists, they don't...won't...change. This is bad. Means that Fimir have tighter grip on Mists than we thought."

Magnus shut his eyes, or rather squeezed them shut for a moment, while Mena spat out a curse and Reinhardt muttered an oath to Verena.

"Okay," Magnus said with a calm he did not entirely feel. "And what's the even more bad news?"

"These balls, they are...engh. They take magic, and hold. Do not let go away, into ground, or sky, or anywhere. This is bad, eh? But goes very bad, because Druids, they find more in each castle we are at. Some more...full," Mardudd shrugged. "Some less full. But some, they are gone, but spaces are for them, eh? Means...," he waved his hands around. "Where they go, eh?"

"That...does sound bad, yes," Magnus said after a moment. "Do we...know what they're meant for, or...?"

"Lear thinks so. Had a nightmare after he told me," Mardudd answered promptly. "Says he thinks they gather, use to smash protections at Great Ogham once and for all. Break whatever Xokh did so long ago when he let Boudicca be taken."

"FUCK!" Mena shouted at the skies while Reinhardt hissed wordlessly through his teeth. Magnus closed his eyes, held them shut for a single breath, and then opened them again in defiance of his now much harder beating heart.

"That sounds very, very bad indeed, Mardudd."

"I know, eh?" Mardudd said with wide eyes before settling once more.

Magnus waited a solid thirty seconds before speaking again, his voice now slightly strained.

"And...what is the plan, precisely?"

Mardudd shrugged.

"Was going to try and help Matholwyr and Nudd take back rest of their Oghams. After...I don't know, go at the walls of Caerniwlatgas? Try?"

The Heirs of the Trident glared in unison.

"That's it? Shouldn't-"

"I don't think that-,

"Are you fucking with me?!" Mena's shout overrode both of her friend's own words, in fact staggering Mardudd somewhat. "That's your plan? Charge up to their city and hope for the best!?"

"It's all we have," the Chieftain protested back, arms folded over his barrel chest. "Xokh is in hiding, only Druids speak to them. Oracles in hiding, no one knows where they are. Giants are all hiding in Causeway. No idea how to find Sidhe. Pillar of Og-Agog held by Fimir," he snorted. "Don't even know if other tribes are alive in north. Line of Fimir blocks whole way!"

Mena openly seethed at him, stomping forward before Reinhardt and Magnus placed hands on her shoulders.

"So tell Lear, or Iona, or any of those other Druids who showed up, to go get the Xokh out of his or her or their or whatever out of the hole they've been hiding in!" She raised both her hands to the sky. "Or even try to-to-," she sputtered until a mournful Albish horn blew, causing all four to whip around.

The carnyx was a unique instrument, to be sure, its ability to pierce through the rains of Albion at great distances of considerable value. But Magnus had never heard the tune of notes it played in that manner. Mardudd seemed almost as puzzled as they.

"But...no," the Chieftain said before he tore his claymore out of the ground and began walking towards the source. "Impossible."

"What's impossible," Magnus huffed as he increased his stride to match that of Mardudd. "Mardudd? What's impossible?"

"That is arrival song," Mardudd gestured towards the still playing tune. "Holy arrival song. Only ever heard in practice." An angry look came across his face. "Someone is drunk playing. Or playing joke. Or both."

"Why? What arrival song are you talking about?" Reinhardt asked as he reached them, Mena in tow.

"It says an Oracle has come," Mardudd growled.

The Albionese swarmed out of the castle even as their party approached it once more, but they kept a wide berth of something at the center. Mardudd swore in Albish as they came closer before the man began outright pushing and shoving his way through. Magnus, Reinhardt, and Mena were untouched as they followed in his close wake, at least until they bounced off of his back, finding the man frozen. For at that center stood a woman, draped not in the greens and browns of the Druids they'd met before, and in fact no robes at all. The only clothing she wore was a slit long skirt of hide, dyed and marked with glyphs and symbols, with vibrant blue and white paint marking her torso and face. A circlet of carved bone hung around her head, binding her long wet white hair mostly in place, the rest of it flowing freely down her back. Shining piercings marked her nose and down her arms, while in one hand she grasped a short staff that looked to have been carefully carved out of a particularly long human spine and bound with silver. Surrounding her, on all sides, was a group of flinty-eyed women with grey eyes, hide armor on their bodies while wielding shields and spears. Mardudd had stopped, and the woman at the center seemed to have frozen as well while staring right at him.

It lasted for but a moment before she spoke in Albish to Mardudd, who responded shakily in turn. Their conversation led on for but a moment before he stepped aside, letting the Heirs of the Trident into the woman's view. At their appearance, several of the warrior women pivoted and shifted on their feet to block them off before a single snapped word from their charge stopped them. She stalked forward, skirt and hair stuck to her body by the rains, until she arrived in front of the three of them at which point she reached forward without warning towards Magnus. But before her hand could actually reach Magnus, Reinahrdt had placed a hand against his friend's chest and pushed him back slightly just as Mena's hand grasped the woman's wrist and arrested her momentum. Which, in turn, caused several pairs of grey eyes to narrow and spears to slip forwards and point threateningly at them, a reaction to which had the Greatswords of Ostland stomping forward in their full plate armor. The abrupt violence in the air could have stoppered even Brain Wounder before a bellow from Mardudd stopped them all, leaving only the rain and the sound of harsh breathing.

"Empire Mena," Mardudd said slowly. "Let go of the Oracle, eh? Could lose hand from Maidenguard if don't."

"They're welcome to try," Mena said with deathly calm, her other hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of her axe. "I'll let go if you tell her that she doesn't get to just touch my friend's face."

"Oracles holy," Mardudd said incredulously.

"And unknown magic users or priests making threatening moves without warning are dangerous," Reinhardt responded coolly, his zweihander slowly sliding its flat against his pauldron with quiet metallic scrapes.

Mardudd stared at them before, quite nervously, speaking to the presumed Oracle. Who, in turn, shot her furious gaze from Mena's hand on her wrist to Mardudd. Magnus could not even begin to follow the words that began flowing out of the two of them, with interspersed barking from one of the Maidenguard as well as Aberfa, but he could at least tell tone. Anger featured heavily. A raised chin and flaring nose of assumed superiority. A cowed Mardudd, who nonetheless rallied enough to gesture at the Imperials and make some sort of warning before shaking or nodding his head as what were likely questions came from the Oracle herself. In that time, Magnus found himself examining the woman, eyes skating across her person and skipping the unbound chest entirely. He had seen magical symbols before. Odelia bore strange burning tattoos of Aqshy across her body, and she had told them during one Trident Meeting or another of such similar arcane transformations. He had witnessed them in his sisters and in his mother. The Oracle's eyes were a burning blue, which glowed in the low light of Albion. Perhaps more disturbingly was the fact that this close, she smelled oddly. Everyone smelled of the wet, mud and vegetation soaked by rain mixed with sweat and blood. But not the Oracle. The scent was closer to that of improbably fresh air, outright emanating from her body, just one more thing separating her from the others around them.

"Okay," Mardudd said after a moment. "She says she pull hand back now, if Mena lets go, eh? Nice and easy."

Mena let go almost instantly, but while the Oracle pulled her hand back to her side, Mena's hand remained raised before slowly clenching into a fist that she only then lowered. By that point, the Maidenguard seemed to have decided to focus their glares purely at Mena, rather than at Magnus or Reinhardt.

"So...," Magnus spoke into the ensuing silence, the Oracle simply scrutinizing them all. "What, exactly, is happening right now? I thought that you said the Oracles had all gone into hiding, Mardudd?"

"Ah...yeah," Mardudd rubbed at the back of his head before gesturing to the nearby Fimir castle they'd claimed and speaking in Albish to the Oracle, who nodded and began stalking towards it, her Maidenguard following in the path that opened for them. "Guess...this one decided to, uh, come out of hiding, eh?"

"I think this may be a bit more complicated than we were hoping," Reinhardt muttered to Magnus.

"Oh, you think?" Magnus replied sourly.

The Oracle's name, it turned out, was Greimne. And she had come out of hiding because her visions said that she needed to. After everyone had resettled somewhat uncomfortably into the castle, she had explained to Mardudd, who had in turn explained to them, that she her visions had wracked her for days. She had seen a sword with three blades and one hilt. One sword had been made of fire, another made of a metal she had not seen before that was not iron, and the other one of horn. All joined in a hilt soaked in blood and water. A sword that had cut down shadows before shattering apart, swallowed by the shadows that it had sought to destroy. The Oracle's retelling was full of leaping back and forth, barking, ululating in cries and outright singing at points. Mardudd's retelling was, as a result, far less dramatic for all that the man seemed so intensely uncomfortable. He had willingly barked at, argued with, and outright shouted down other Druids, but apparently he was struck - as many of the Albionese were - by the sheer shock of seeing a true Oracle out and about once again. Now they all sat in one of the Fimir feasting chambers, scrubbed down as best as possible, with roaring fires using dried dung cakes as fuel eating from a variety of provisions.

"So...her vision is that we all die. Great," Mena said after Mardudd finished. "Amazing. Good to know."

"Prophecies are not always correct, Mena, even in the Cult of Morr they acknowledge that Doomsayers are not always correct - we are but fallible peoples attempting to ascertain truth from the signs and messages of the Gods," Reinhardt chided, "So it goes even for the Celestial Wizards, they see much, but not all is always clear."

"I'm not going to tell the Oracle that you're calling her holy visions bunk, Empire," Mardudd said while purposefully making his tone jovial. "Maidenguard will poke me full of holes, eh?"

Given that the Maidenguard seemed incapable of not glaring at them all, and that Greimne was looking suspiciously between the Heirs and the Chieftain, it seemed a wise choice, by Magnus' reckoning. Their isolation ensured that they absolutely spoke no Reikspiel whatsoever.

"Of course. My question is, what, precisely, we are supposed to do now?" Magnus said. "The Druids say the Fimir have been gathering magic, binding it, to do something that is undoubtedly bad. But you say that even if we help out the other two tribes of the south, we'll likely surely all die if we try to take down the Fimir city."

"Yeah, does she have anything to tell us other than we'll die?" Mena jerked a thumb at the Oracle, ignoring utterly how the attention shifted towards her.

"I will ask," Mardudd said wearily.

And so began another round of pure Albish while Aberfa leaned over to Reinhardt and the others.

"You know, I wanted to be Maidenguard once. All little girls do. Sacred warriors, ey?" She told them warily. "Used to, at least. Can't join what not there, ey? Sometimes, people say when warrior woman goes missing, she either dead, taken by Fimir, or found by Maidenguard - sent out by Oracle."

"It makes sense," Reinhardt said after shuddering for a second at the middlemost possibility offered, "Or how else could they replenish the Maidenguard over time?"

"Very smart, very handsome," Aberfa grinned down at him. "Shame about wife, eh? Can't steal married man," she said before doing what should have been a swoon but instead looked like a stretch due to her sheer stature.

Mardudd's cough made them both look up.

"Okay. Oracle says...bad times not coming. Bad times here."

Magnus raised an eyebrow.

"Says other Oracles too scared to come out and fight. Just going to hide in holes until world ends," he said, clearly struggling to speak words which put down the supposedly holy Oracles despite being told so by another one of said Oracles. "Says much to be done. Soon."

Mena shared a glance with Reinhardt before both shrugged simultaneously.

"We can't seem to go home until the Fimir stop being able to control the Mists as well as they used to," Mena said. "We've," she pointed at herself and then the other two heirs, "Have children to go home to, and wives and husbands too. So...," she leaned forward, "We're not really willing to just sit around and not try to contribute to such an effort."

"I have an arena opening to be present at," Magnus sniffed.

"My wife's pregnant," Reinhardt added, causing both to turn and look at him, making Reinhardt hunch sheepishly. "Uh. Sorry. Was planning on saying it after we got home."

"Well," Magnus said as he turned back to Mardudd. "Now we're definitely not going to let the Fimir stop us from getting home. What," he glanced pointedly at the Oracle, "Precisely needs to be done to make that happen?"

Mardudd grunted and rubbed at his chin again.

"Need to retake Oghams, eh? Definitely. Let them keep, let them store more magic, bad. But...," he glanced at the Oracle, who glared back. "She says need to bring tribes together. Break the line, north and south come back, eh? This...," he clucked his tongue. "If you have children waiting, should go home," he grunted, looking fondly upon Aberfa and then frowning at Magnus. "Be with family, yes?"

"Except we can't," Magnus sighed. "Not yet."

"Mmm. Bad times are here," Marudd nodded, flinching as the Oracle spoke at him.

"It's a fine thing to say 'reunite the tribes', but it can't possible be so easy," Reinhardt mused. "And I still don't see what we have to do with it."

"The three-headed sword," Mardudd interlaced his fingers, "It flails, it cuts, and is swallowed. It does not strike what it should, is what the Oracle says."

Then Aberfa spoke, tapping her fingers against the stone and speaking in Albish to her father, getting a shocked look from Mardudd before he responded. The Heirs could only watch the back and forth, which terminated in Mardudd slapping the table with his own hand and shaking his head.

"Would anyone like to explain?" Magnus groused, folding his arms across his chest.

"My daughter is being fool," Mardudd sneered, only to get a scoff from Aberfa.

"I said we go north, to Pillar of Og-Agog, free it. Show the tribes tide shifting," Aberfa tossed her head, semi-wet hair whipping about with the motion. "Break Fimir choke on island."

"Last time tribes tried to retake Pillar, lost two of them forever," Mardudd shook his head. "Retake Oghams here in south better."

"Retake Oghams here, retake Pillar there, both make Fimir wake up," Aberfa shot back, looking pointedly at Magnus instead of Reinhardt for once. "Fimir going to notice no more spheres coming from Oghams, fat with magic."

"Retake Oghams here, Druids can fight Fimir here better," Mardudd insisted.

"Fimir been beating Druids here for generations!" Aberfa shouted back.

"Now we beating Fimir!" Mardudd roared, both of them standing now.

At which point they fell into Albish, outright bellowing at one another. This time, however, it was impossible for the Heirs to miss how the nobles were standing up now, shifting where they stood. Some appeared to creep closer to Aberfa, others towards Mardudd. Both Chieftain and daughter pointed repeatedly not just at the Oracle, but at the Imperials present as well, including the wizards who were present within the cavernous castle chamber.

"What do you two think?" Magnus turned to his friends, trying to ignore the impending schism for a moment. "If retaking the Oghams in this tribe's territory didn't work...,"

"It might if we help the other two tribes. They said the Nudd still controlled most of theirs, though. The Matholwyr apparently have a lot of chariots to contribute as well," Reinhardt said. "Maybe if we can just...affect the mists here, in the south? Enough to get ships out?"

"But if we retake this...Pillar of theirs, we might be able to rally more than just two battered tribes that have been up close and personal with the Fimir city," Mena argued back. "Who knows what other tribes are up there, cut off because the Fimir control the center and the flanks."

"Either way, I think Aberfa might be right. We've been here less than a week, sure, but I have to assume the Fimir are going to notice sooner rather than later that some of their Clans, or Dirachs at least, aren't reporting in," Magnus said while he rubbed his temples.

"I don't know about you two, but I don't think that just leaving is going to work either," Mena shook her head vigorously. "They've been so far up shit's creek, they're damn near at the actual asshole from which the shit itself spews, and they're drifting closer to just dunking in all the way."

"I know that, but even getting reinforcements could help," Reinhardt insisted.

"Reinforcements we might not get! Did you see the docks we hit? They're barely worth the name. A full navy would spend days trying to unload things, even if they could get through the Mists - mists that the Fimir apparently still control I'll remind you!" Mena shook her head again. "Look. Reinhardt. We have a chance here. Do you understand? A true chance, to do good, to help knock back the darkness. Isn't that part of the oaths of your Order, or something?"

Reinhardt sat back and exhaled through grit teeth.

"I'm not trying to say we should just try to run away, I'm just trying to caution against doing anything too crazy. There are only so many of us, after all," he said tiredly. "I asked one of the Druids if perhaps we could use the spheres to try and push us out through the Mists, and the Magisters. They both confirmed they're almost like dwarf runes, storing magic for later and movement - only instead of cleansed magic, it's corruptive Dhar."

"So you agree that, one way or another, we're fighting," Mena pointed out.

"I...can't argue too much against it. I only want us to apply ourselves as best as possible," he rubbed at his eyes. "If what the Druids are saying is true, and the Oracle's presence implies, we seem to be on a tighter schedule than I first imagined. Sorry."

"No, I...I'm sorry," Mena placed a hand atop the Ostermarker's knee and shook it slightly. "I didn't mean to-,"

"It's all right," Reinhardt smiled at her, getting one back in turn.

Then both of them turned to Magnus, who by that point had squeezed his eyes shut in thought. Magnus held them closed for another minute as Aberfa and Mardudd argued, the Oracle now joining in, gesticulating wildly without any discernable pattern. At which point Aberfa slammed a fist against the stone table, and gestured towards the door.

"Empire man!" She turned, glaring now at Magnus and his friends. "Come north with us. Help us retake Pillar. Your steel, your wizards, Fimir not seen, ey?"

"Empire helping retake Oghams," Mardudd growled, "Helping other tribes that have pacts with, eh?"

"Can get help from Matholwyr and Nudd in retaking their own Oghams," Aberfa said to Magnus. "Have told father this, ey? Twenty five years alive, never even seen Pillar. Now have chance to retake, and father scared!"

Magnus breathed in slowly.

"His sword, is good, helps, his Greatswords, good too," Mardudd stubbornly growled. "Can take entering Oghams, if blessed!

"Magnus sword good for killing. Fire fist Mena good for killing. Handsome Reinhardt good for killing. All three good," Aberfa guffawed, an acidic bite to the noise before looking at them. "Come help, ey? Magnus can stay with father, kill Dirachs, even though Dirachs going to be at Pillar too," she rolled her eyes at her father. "More Druids came when we retook Oghams, ey? Send them at others here. Rest go take Pillar of Og-Agog!"

"Split Empire men up, eh? Oh, yes, good, make sure split up and die," Mardudd flapped a hand at them while scoffing. "Best plan ever makes my daughter!"

Magnus breathed out and stood up, silencing both as he opened his eyes.

"Okay. Here's what is going to happen," he said into the quiet.

The Oghams of Clan Glyldŵrlyr Have All Been Reclaimed! But The Mists Remain Closed...And Dark Omens Have Been Witnessed. What Can Be Done? What Should The Soldiers of the Empire Seek To Do? Choose:
Moratorium For 12 Hours.

[] Split Up The Imperial Force: It may be time to split the forces present. This would allow you to pursue two targets at once. This will likely end up splitting the Albionese force as well.
[] Remain As One: In this foreign land, you cannot afford to break apart. You can only pursue one of the following. Cohesion might suffer amongst the Albionese, however, as some clearly wish to follow Aberfa's directives.

AND

[] Retake The Pillar of Og-Agog: The central meeting point of all the tribes of Albion, before the Fimir took it. It is the holy rallying point of all, kept in the scaled hands of the Fimir for many decades now. It is more heavily fortified than any Fimir castle so far, being one of the first places the Fimir took after they recovered somewhat from the battle where Boudicca fell. (If Forces Split, Write-In Forces Allotted To This Course)
[] Aid The Matholwyr And Nudd: The other two southernmost tribes of Albion. Aiding them could add more troops to those that are currently being commanded, for better and for worse. They too have Oghams that have been taken by the Fimir, and reclaiming them could surely only aid the Druids, while also cutting off some of these...Spheres of Darkness from reaching Caerniwlatgas. (If Forces Split, Write-In Forces Alloted To This Course)

Current Forces Available:
Clan Glyldŵrlyr Forces
Chieftain Mardudd (Claymore, Axe, Half-Plate)
Heiress Aberfa (Claymore, Axe, Half-Plate)
6 Atlikin Druids Lear, Iona, Four Unnamed
260 Albion Nobles (Half-Plate, Claymores, Axes)
100 Albion Mounted Nobles (Half-Plate, Claymores, Axes)
400 Albion Light Cavalry (Javelins, Spears, Axes, Chainmail/Leathers)
860 Albion Heavy Infantry (Halberds, Spears, Swords, Axes, Half/Quarter-Plate)
1,000 Albion Skirmishers (Javelins, Slings, Swords, Chainmail/Leathers)
500 Albionese Longbowmen

[It seems that the Clan's forces are liable to split apart between father and daughter. Exact division numbers are uncertain, but will likely change depending on Imperial decisions]

Oracle's Forces
Oracle Greimne
300 Maidenguard (Leather And Bronze Chainmail, Spears, Short Swords, Bronze Shields)

Imperial Forces On Albion
Magnus Redfist, the Screaming Bull, Heir of Ostland, wielding Runefang Brain Wounder
Mena von Kessel, the Blue Wolf, Heir of Nordland, wielding enchanted items Flammenfaust (Gauntlet) and Flammenwulf (Axe)
Reinhardt Hertwig, the Silver Manticore, Heir of Ostermark, wielding standard issue Imperial Zweihander
1 Amber Magister Alric, 5 Amber Journeymen
1 Jade Magister Carlotta
1 Jade Journeyman Boris
1 Bright Magister Casparan Smokewrought
1 Bright Journeyman Henry
1 Bright Journeyman Nicolas
1 Bright Journeyman Luthor Feuerstag
1 Bright Journeyman Helmut Cinderblade
1 Bright Journeyman Jovi Grabner
1850 Blue Wolves, Lightly Armored Cavalry/Skirmishers (Melee Equipment Varies Heavily. All Possess Shortbows, 500 Possess Crossbows) [200 Without Mount]
175 Ostland Greatswords
498 Knights of the Everlasting Light (Only 100 Have Horses)