Revolt-Revolution, Yes-Yes! (CK2 Skaven Post-Revolution Quest)

Turn 17 Results--Improving Society Somewhat

It was a long, annoying process, and so of course he was sent to do it. He was the person who was always asked to do these things, though at least there was a Dwarf to back him up. Shakalk Snotnose sniffled and considered the pipes in front of him. They hadn't really begun to decay per se, but all of the pipes near where the forges were going really did seem like they were running through pretty fast. "It's the heat," the dwarf grumbled. "And probably the foul air and the Warpstone too."

"We can reinforce-replace that," Shakalk declared with a nod, biting and nibbling at his tongue so much that he felt himself drawing blood. He didn't care either way, because what was a little blood to go with the sweat and tears? He flicked his tail a little bit and thought about it. "Maybe add some more-something to hold it together? But we just gotta keep on working with it."

"Are you going to add internal plumbing?" the Dwarf asked.

"Yes. This is plumbing and it is interior-internal."

"For water to be carried to be poured or drank," the Dwarf said, with a sneer. "But you still defecate in caves."

He looked at the hoity-toity dwarf with confusion. "Where else would you shit-poop? Outside is even crueler-harsher."

The Dwarf had no answer to this, because of course there weas no answer. His logic-reason was flawless, which is why he kept on benign asked to do things like this. Quality-control on manufactured arms, anything that let him gaze-peer at something and figure out what was wrong. The answer was often most things, but unlike the dwarf he didn't grumble, he skittered-sniffled, and that was so much better. There was no sarcasm there, it was obviously much-much better, yes-yes. He was about to say as much when someone came stumbling by, covered in blood. He shrugged and thought: oh yes, this tracks. Yes it was a Skaven, but so-so? As long as nobody was screaming for help, it was probably fine… unlike this pipe, no-no, this pipe is horrible-decaying and needs to be replaced.

Do not unlock the option for getting toilets or an explicit sewer system, because why would you need that?

---

"And so you came here?" the healer asked, confused. The woman's face was scrunched up and the agent, a slender Skaven who was covered in blood, nodded.

"Yes-yes, you would not ask questions."

"About… what?"

"Exactly-precisely!"

"No, I don't even know what to ask questions about," Gwendolin asked, considering the speck of a rat before her clinging onto the sheets. "This is meant to care-tend to the sick and ill and those in need of this… not merely to every single person who tramps in."

"Was talking to the tramps-losers," the Skaven muttered. "They stabbed me."

"They. Stabbed you."

"Yes. Didn't seem convinced-swayed by my deception-lies," the Skaven said.

Really, was there any doubt that this little rat probably deserved it? The tramps-losers, who even was he talking about? Or she? Skaven were hard to tell apart, sometimes, not that this seemed to stop more than a few humans from thinking about the great differences… and to be fair, they did have breasts. It's just that often enough they paid it all little mind, and they were slim enough that you didn't see many Skaven… well, Skaven other than the broodmothers with much there. But so it went. "Right, we'll get you patched up."

Floating World actions unlocked… but wow that roll means there's some hostility you're going to have to get around.

---

Sarry Inkclaws had come for a visit. Praise Shallya that this was getting more attention. Adelaide was sure that before too long more would show up, all of them seeking to do the same thing, a thing she fully understood as much as she disliked it. Sarry was doing it out of kindness, but anyone who wanted to get attention or focus of being a generous soul.

"The way making it functions here is… the 'letter' looks a little like the sound, or what your tongue does. See--" Sarry Inkclaws stuck out her tongue and showed it moving into a ridge for the sound that was a little like an 's'. "Or a closed mouth, which makes the mmm sound." The woman in front of her dwarfed her like an Ogre to a dwarf, a huge woman in a shapeless dress, a Broodmother who was still flabby and likely would be until they day she died. But she was watching Sarry with attention and interest.

"Try to draw it."

The Broodmother did just that and held it out. "Like… this?" she asked, in a slow voice, but not a dull one.

"Close, bit at top is not quite-there, but good-great job," Sarry encouraged. Nonetheless, the other Skaven chitters angrily, big fist pounding on a huge thigh for a moment of stress and fear. "No really-truly, you've been making great progress. You can read-parse even entire pages of text, and not even Skaven can do that-much. And we'll work on writing your name once we get these down a little more."

From what Sarry described, Larla, whose name was chosen at random, could read up to a full page but seemed to be doing so by memorizing what words looked like in the weird Cathayan-like form it was in, and then stringing it together, and now she was having to be taught the individual-parts, the way one is supposed to learn it. Once she learned that, she'd presumably be fully-literate and able to read and write all things.

"Okay… I… see-understand," Larla said, her jowls working nervously as she chewed on something she'd been eating. Her teeth grew faster than that of most Skaven, and indeed her whole body seemed hyper-charged and transformed. "I'll work… labor, yes-yes." She said it with a blink and a frown as she turned back down to the slate. "Farla says. She wants to train-practice steel."

"O-oh… I see," Sarry said, nervously. "She, I'm not in charge-control, but I'll tell them?"

Some of the Broodmothers were laying around, miserable and hungry and confused, but others were already doing things like hauling carts or water for the house, and a few were beginning to practice hitting things, seeming to enjoy the feeling-sensation of being able to get strong. They started out weak and bloated, but strength didn't bring thinness but instead the kind of thick Ogre-strength that made them the equal of any of the Rat Ogres… or at least, it would if they got in training. She didn't know how to feel about violence, but it was true and remarkable: they were finding their place in the world, even those who were lowest-surliest. Even those who laid around now were ;talking-chatting;, learning the basics of speaking, if slowly. Larla had gotten the furthest, but even she sometimes had moments where her thoughts seemed to slip and tumble away, leaving her staring for a while before they returned and she figured out what she would say.

It was many things… but one of those things was: a start.

There is not great reward for not being a terrible person, and to be quite honest no particular penalty for failure beyond the imperfect and the grand… but take a minor reward, just cause I like you guys:

[] [Reward] Broodmother's Boon (Labor): Broodmothers who have gotten involved in the basic business of physical labor can provide something to the community… and do so without simply being exploited. +1 to all Stewardship Actions.
[] [Reward] Broodmother's Boon (Diplomacy): The story of the Broodmothers is strange, but it can be turned around and used, if one is cynical enough… cynical, and yet idealistic. +2 to Diplomacy with Skaven polities.
[] [Reward] Broodmother's Boon (Hooked On Phonics): There is something to be said for education, for being able to learn, and for the little rewards that come with it. +1 to all Learning actions and Stewardship actions that have to do with spreading knowledge.
[] [Reward] Broodmother's Boon (The Least Of Us): The success of this is a sign and symbol for some, a hope that perhaps all can be productive-citizens through care and attention. Reduce somewhat the stigmas against those currently unable to work.
[] [Reward] No rewards necessary, perhaps the good of doing the right thing warms me enough.



A/N: You done good.