Kairos123
Insomniac Extraordinaire
Yes, it looks like I underestimated it. Expanding the Cathay ring should be a focus, as at Heavy it unlocks Ind which we have little to nothing on.
From a Dead World (Skaven Quest)
- Thread starter Xantalos
- Start date
- Fantasy
- Pronouns
- He/Him
And the Light one in Mourne will help a bit in making it easier, too.
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Oh, believe you me the enforced action economy is the only reason y'all haven't conquered a third of the planet by this point
Apologies for the forthcoming ramble, but I'm partial to them and it's needed to trigger the OP thread alert thing, so two birds one stone. I got the suggestion a little bit ago that maybe I oughta try out releasing the update in parts as I complete those segments, to give discussion more to chew on and to prevent the thread from drying up like the annual drought every time I retreat into my writing cave. I've been kinda vaguely considering maybe trying something like this for a while, but it got put to words by that, and truth be told I kinda like the idea. This sounds incredibly egotistic because it probably is, but I enjoy rereading this thread because I like reading about people discussing and enjoying something I made, and obviously more frequent postings by me means more discussion, which hopefully would mean more inspiration fuel for me and thus faster updates (pipe dream Xan, pipe dream). Plus I've noticed most quests *glances admiringly at Dynamic Alcoholism* tend to get more popular from smaller, more frequent updates than larger, infrequent ones.
However, since you guys are the other vital half of the machinery running this thing, I wanna consult your opinions before I say yea or nae. It'd work like this if I do it: the structure of the updates would be basically unchanged, I write them as normal since I basically split them up into sections anyways, but I post them as I finish them. I'll probably temporarily threadmark them since there'll be a lot of segments and then collate them all in one big post when I'm done and permanently threadmark that one.
Possible Pros to this:
- more commentary since I'm updating more often
- possible ego-boosted update quickening
- thread doesn't go into semiannual hibernation *all* the time
- you get more time to speculate on uses for the goodies I give you
Possible Cons:
- Posting in sequence like this might ruin the surprise (or intensify the suspense maybe)
- No voting options in the posts so it might be a bit noninteractive
- My writing schedule can sometimes be inconsistent as fuck so there might be delays in posting regardless
- My writing schedule is still slow as fuck so posting would be faster, but not what most quests call fast
So thread, I ask you. You wanna do this? Not a formal vote unless it gets to a really large number of people, just a general opinion consult. I've got ... 3 segments stored up right now, so if it goes ahead I can space out the posting of those to give me time to make headway on the next part. Whaddaya think? Sure? No? Lemme know.
Last edited:
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I rather desire it. Even with highly inconsistent updating, even a fraction of a part like research, or development, or combat can provide months of discussion so long as people put forth the effort. And we've some dedicated guys here.
Kairos123
Insomniac Extraordinaire
Outside of my own desire, it would probably be good for the quest as a whole. Quests that have active discussion are seen more on the front pages of the quests forum, which in turn inspires more interest as more people see it.
It's funny because I usually advocate the opposite, with at least 1k words in an update. You...have a very unique problem in your update's word count and that certainly isn't a lack of content. The only other person I've ever seen with the same problem is Avalanche of BAHHSCQ fame. In the end I'd say stick with what you are comfortable with, but more to talk about would be nice.
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
I requested it, but I guess stick with your comfort level. OTOH, if more feedback from posting smaller parts helps you write future parts faster...?
The only caveat I guess would be if working on a 'later' part sometimes influences you to go back and change an 'earlier' part. But since there would still be no voting options, I don't think edits after the fact would be untoward.
The only caveat I guess would be if working on a 'later' part sometimes influences you to go back and change an 'earlier' part. But since there would still be no voting options, I don't think edits after the fact would be untoward.
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
I'd considered that, but even if it does happen I can just inform you guys of what part I did rewrite and how since I'm still keeping all the parts on one large document.
And well dang, that's a response more overwhelmingly positive than I expected. Unless there's a sudden outburst of 'nah' for whatever reason, I suppose I'll have the first part out within a few hours.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
End Times 2 Results - R&D Part 1: The Legacy of Great Minds
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Gates of War
The Dark Lands
The sprawling complex centered around the Gates of War hummed with activity. Munitions were loaded, forges blared as war material was pumped out in stupendous amounts, and the warren of tightly-packed barracks tunnels echoed with shouts and clatter as drill officers gleefully ran fresh recruits through their paces, working them to the bone and beyond. Trouble brewed in the south, and the USA marched to war, lead by the Warlord-General herself. She was regarded by the entirety of the Army with a mixture of admiration and terror, and the prospect of marching on campaign with her drove their ranks into a near-frenzy of preparation. Every Army rat in the Gates had their minds set on this goal, save for three, who were engaged in a matter far more personal, and for differing reasons for each, painful.
"Move-move, shitlings!" The voice of Sleek Sharpwit lashed out like a bullwhip. "No stop-stopping or you will do more! To the top-top!"
The two skaven he was haranguing were currently in the process of laboriously dragging themselves up the inner stairwell of the Gates of War. It was a tight spiral staircase that led from the very bottom of the edifice to the top, allowing those within to quickly make their way to any part of the fortified kill-zone. For the dawi-zharr, who had possessed stamina outmatching their physical frames, going from the bottom to the top was a trivial matter. For a skaven, however, it was a wholly exhausting matter. By the time they finally ascended the stairs and collapsed at Sleek Sharpwit's feet, their limbs barely even moved from their conscious input. This was not what they had expected.
Those among the USA who proved to have an aptitude for leadership were pressed into service in the Officer's Academy, where they learned of how to effectively lead their underlings and best spend the currency that was their lives. The Academy itself was not housed in one building, but was a semi-informal program that had spread amongst the command staff of the USA as a useful way of ferreting out new leaders. As such, there was no set curriculum, and its practices were always being refined and revamped. It was still used on such a large scale that it served the purpose of producing disciplined leaders more than adequately, as it had with Krasskik and Skrazz.
The two of them had sprung from the same litter but seemed polar opposites - Krasskik was built formidably and was greatly skilled in melee combat - he quickly picked up the name Redeye for his aggression and skill at fighting. Skrazz, on the other paw, was born thin and scrawny, forced to rely on his cunning to get food and survive the malicious attentions of his kin. He picked up the name of Keensnout, as he seemed to be able to sniff out opportunities in any particular moment and capitalize upon them. Both found their way into the USA during the campaign in the Vaults, distinguishing themselves sufficiently that they were sent for officer's training. There they performed well, excelling in their training sufficiently that they were noted by Sleek, who promptly plucked them out and put them under his personal tutelage. This proved to be both boon and bane to the upcoming skaven. They did excel under Sleek's tutelage, even with the old skaven becoming increasingly debilitated by his sheer age. However, he was a merciless taskmaster, and even Krasskik often found himself near fainting from the punishments Sharpwit levied upon them when they made a mistake.
Sleek strained their minds even more so than their bodies - he had them examine records of past battles and campaigns and point out errors in the actions taken by the head of the army and substitute in their preferred actions. This quickly escalated until the two of them were regularly conducting fictional campaigns against Sleek in an intricate tabletop simulation they cobbled together, the both of them regularly losing to the ancient skaven despite their forces outnumbering his twice over. Sleek had them study military theory in books stolen from human nations and collaborated with them to form the core of an entirely new curriculum for the Academy, which he tested extensively on them. As they made progress on assembling the various facets of the new program, they continued to be tested in Sleek's hellish war-games.
Krasskik turned out to have a strategically focused mind - he was often too aggressive and prone to overcommit his forces in battle itself, but he was gifted at looking at the larger picture of a campaign and determining an optimal move. Skrazz, surprisingly, had more of a head for tactics - his well-honed instincts and nose for opportunity let him zero in on vulnerabilities in his enemy's forces, but he was altogether too focused on the present moment to be really skilled at the strategic aspect of running an army. Of course they were both outmatched entirely by Sleek, who ran rings around them on every level of command, no matter how much the two of them coordinated their efforts.
They grew more skilled with practice as time dragged on, of course, but as their skills grew, Sleek's health deteriorated. When they had first met the venerable rat he had been remarkably frail, to put it politely. He had only one eye, a great mass of scar tissue covering near half his head, and his other eye was so clouded with cataracts it was nearly totally obscured. His skin was pockmarked and hung so loose on his frame it was nearly falling off, and had less fur than a newborn covering it. He was scrawny and his legs trembled as he walked around on his rickety crutches, and his teeth had long ago been replaced with crude prosthetics. But somehow, through spite perhaps, he had retained his keen mind and even kept up with Krasskik and Skrazz in the sparring matches he regularly made them engage in. The decrepit skaven was a canny fighter, and despite their youth and skill neither of the two could best him. But as time passed, Sleek grew frailer. He coughed up blood, his fingers and toes lost circulation, he lost weight at a rapid pace, and he barely ate or drank. He took to wheeling around in a chair instead of walking, and no longer possessed the energy to actively bellow at Krasskik and Skrazz while they performed their mandatory exercise - instead he had a subordinate carry around a squeaker with prerecorded rants. This finally came to a head one day as his concentration wavered enough for his two underlings to finally eke out a victory against him in their war-games. As Krasskik leapt up from his seat and began gloating, Sleek's withered head wavered and then slumped down on the table with a quiet thunk. As Skrazz's head snapped to look his erstwhile mentor, the Sharpwit's unconscious form slowly oozed out of his chair until it collapsed, sprawling, on the floor.
Krasskik and Skrazz turned to look at one another, then to Sleek's body, then back to each other. Sharpwit had put the both of them through hell, driven them to the limits of their mind and body, and hurled enough abuse at them that any random clanrat would have run or backstabbed him long ago. It would be simplicity for them to simply leave and head back to their quarters, to claim that Sleek had been fine when they left. It would certainly require far less effort than getting him help - the old bastard had lived more than twice as long as any skaven normally would, it was a miracle his body hadn't fallen apart by now. The Horned Rat would be truly grinning if he could even survive whatever had gone wrong in his frail form, let alone recover.
Without a word exchanged, the two of them made their way to Sleek and lifted his prone form up between them. Any ordinary skaven would do the sensible thing and leave Sleek to his fate, but they were not normal skaven. They were Army rats, and they had had the importance of rank nailed into their skulls.
They made their way into Horripila's section of the makeshift city, Sleek's disheveled frame hanging from Krasskik's broad shoulders. If anyone could help the old skaven, it was the doktors of that clan. They'd heard Sharpwit rambling about something Horripila-related several times before in any case, so there was a good chance the old rat had prepared some contingency for himself.
Their suspicions were quickly fulfilled when several high-ranking doktors directed them into the interior of the camp with only a few attempts to harvest Sleek's flesh for examination, claiming that an agent of the Council of Thirteen was expecting them. Their steps quickened as they made their way deeper into the maze of white sheets and sterile tunnels.
They were ushered down into the earth, making their way past experiments and robed researchers. The glimpses they caught of whatever odd things the medics were doing were confusing, exacerbated by the fact that they only caught glimpses of the procedures they were testing out. In one room, a wailing clanrat was chained to the wall while being doused with boiling water taken from a nearby cauldron. In another, a large group of unfortunates had had their fur shaved off and were all carefully stepping across a floor studded with rusting nails. In yet another, groups of skaven were restrained and had metal tubes running between them, channeling blood between the test subjects. These and many more obscure tests flashed by the eyes of Krasskik and Skrazz as they hurried down through Horripila's network of tunnels.
They were gradually ushered into a large chamber that stank of ammonia and ozone and was lit by the buzzing glow of consoles and indicator lights. Dominating the center was a structure of glass and steel, a ten foot tall egg-shaped structure bolted into the ground and with a large number of bulky tubes and cables extending from the back. The front was transparent, revealing an interior filled with a transparent gel, shot through with wicked needles at certain intervals. The whole apparatus hummed quietly, but seemed to be inactive. Button-saturated consoles and flickering monitors ringed the pod and filled up effectively the rest of the room. The chamber seemed to have been dug out and designed around the pod itself, with everything in the chamber feeding back into it in some way. A large amount of bespectacled skaven in white robes bustled about quietly, checking readings on monitors and adjusting knobs after conferring with each other. They paid neither Krasskik, Skrazz, nor Sleek any attention.
"Impressive, is it not?" A voice echoed from above. The duo craned their heads to look, and beheld a grotesque figure, bulging with misshapen muscle. It was obscured in the shadows lurking at the top of the chamber, but a green beacon shined out from roughly where its head was, and a third distended arm extended from its side, swaying as it moved. When it chuckled, a faint splatter could be heard as something made its way past the lips of the creature speaking. "And look-looking at Sleek there, it's a good-good thing I spent so much of my time here. I've seen dead-things look more alive than him." He chuckled once more, a rumbling blurble echoing from within his guts.
The Army rats looked at each other uneasily, and then back up at the bloated skaven. "You are the Council agent, yes-yes?" Skrazz ventured.
"This was simply an interesting diversion, but yes-yes, the Council did ask-ask me to do it," the shrouded figure answered. "You may call-call me Throt, and you would be better served by placing your owner inside the pod rather than skit-skratching at my feet. Time delayed is time he is less-less likely to survive the procedure in." Throt's grotesque third arm stretched out freakishly far and pressed a glowing green button on a console, causing the pod's glass exterior to lift up and out, exposing the interior. Relieved to finally see an end to this ordeal, the duo hefted Sleek's body up and carried it towards the pod.
Exhausted, withered muscles surged with a manic burst of activity as Sleek's arms, more bone than muscle, shot out and grabbed both Krasskik and Skrazz by the snout. His emaciated claws bit deep into their sensitive flesh, and for once in a long while his eyes were alight with an inner fire. He drew himself close to their ears and attempted to say something, only to hack and cough from deep within his chest. He spoke once more, every word sounding as if it had been dragged under a blender cart. "Remember ... me," he rasped, the words hardly audible though his muzzle was directly next to their nears. "Do not ... forget... who I was. Who..." His breath failed him and he spent several seconds wheezing heavily. He spat up blood and rasped out three more words before falling silent and limp once more.
"Who ... I ... am."
Sleek Sharpwit spoke no more as his underlings inserted him into the skalm-filled pod, which resealed itself and rotated to a horizontal posture once he was inside. Resembling an elaborate coffin, it slowly lowered into a recess in the floor as Throt and the surrounding technicians tuned dials and activated various subsystems. The chatter of research jargon filled the air as the clade of skaven recruited for this project turned their attention toward ensuring the survival of the second-in-command of the USA.
Within the pod, metallic restraints clamped over Sleek's limbs as he was slowly submerged in skalm. The substance would help prevent his body from degenerating any further and keep any contaminants out during Sleek's stay in suspended animation, but the process itself required something else. Fortunately, Throt had not been idle while Sleek trained his underlings, and in tandem with a stroke of luck from another research project halfway across the Under-Empire, he had devised something that would do the trick.
The pod scanned Sleek's malnourished form and located several points in his blood vessels and nervous system. It carefully inserted long needles into each of these points, the pod whirring as it did its work. Through the needles was injected a very specific mixture of several types of paralytic venom distilled from exotic creatures around the world, including the feared pain snail and several strange creatures newly recieved from the Nippon stocks, and liquefied dragon ogre tissue, which had been obtained from another research project currently under way. This serum was carefully pumped into Sleek's body, researchers monitoring the ancient skaven's vital signs and how the venom was affecting him. When the optimal level had been reached at last, the signal was given to Throt, who nodded in satisfaction. Turning about, the mutated researcher reached out to a very specific lever and, with a sense of gravity, pulled it down.
Generators around the room lit up and channeled their energy into the central pod. Within Sleek's body, electricity was channeled in through the needles perforating his form, causing him to twitch and writhe within the restraints. The infusion of electricity into the venom mixture reacted with the dragon ogre essence in a way that had intrigued Throt when he first observed it - they passed the charge to the body tissues around them somehow without the current harming them. They even passed the qualities of the venom into those tissues somehow in the same manner, contravening every established biological law, and a few defining principles of common sense. Through extensive testing, Throt had found that this specific mixture of venoms, at a certain balance and with a specific level of electricity applied, effectively halted all forms of biological activity, including the age-induced degeneration that was afflicting Sleek. Were he able to feel anything he would be in immense pain, as his entire body was effectively infused with an immense charge of electricity, but since he had lost consciousness beforehand he was locked in a dreamless stasis for as long as power was sustained to the pod. Throt grinned as he looked upon his creation. The Underlord would surely be pleased with his expertise, he was sure of it.
Two hero units generated! See threadmark.
- Krasskik Redeye, specializing in strategic warfare. 2/3 progress.
- Skrazz Keensnout, specializing in tactical warfare. 2/3 progress.
Sleek Sharpwit has been successfully placed in suspended animation thanks to the efforts of Throt the Unclean! See heroes threadmark.
Basic Hygiene has been upgraded to Hygiene! See Technology threadmark.
The Dark Lands
The sprawling complex centered around the Gates of War hummed with activity. Munitions were loaded, forges blared as war material was pumped out in stupendous amounts, and the warren of tightly-packed barracks tunnels echoed with shouts and clatter as drill officers gleefully ran fresh recruits through their paces, working them to the bone and beyond. Trouble brewed in the south, and the USA marched to war, lead by the Warlord-General herself. She was regarded by the entirety of the Army with a mixture of admiration and terror, and the prospect of marching on campaign with her drove their ranks into a near-frenzy of preparation. Every Army rat in the Gates had their minds set on this goal, save for three, who were engaged in a matter far more personal, and for differing reasons for each, painful.
---
"Move-move, shitlings!" The voice of Sleek Sharpwit lashed out like a bullwhip. "No stop-stopping or you will do more! To the top-top!"
The two skaven he was haranguing were currently in the process of laboriously dragging themselves up the inner stairwell of the Gates of War. It was a tight spiral staircase that led from the very bottom of the edifice to the top, allowing those within to quickly make their way to any part of the fortified kill-zone. For the dawi-zharr, who had possessed stamina outmatching their physical frames, going from the bottom to the top was a trivial matter. For a skaven, however, it was a wholly exhausting matter. By the time they finally ascended the stairs and collapsed at Sleek Sharpwit's feet, their limbs barely even moved from their conscious input. This was not what they had expected.
Those among the USA who proved to have an aptitude for leadership were pressed into service in the Officer's Academy, where they learned of how to effectively lead their underlings and best spend the currency that was their lives. The Academy itself was not housed in one building, but was a semi-informal program that had spread amongst the command staff of the USA as a useful way of ferreting out new leaders. As such, there was no set curriculum, and its practices were always being refined and revamped. It was still used on such a large scale that it served the purpose of producing disciplined leaders more than adequately, as it had with Krasskik and Skrazz.
The two of them had sprung from the same litter but seemed polar opposites - Krasskik was built formidably and was greatly skilled in melee combat - he quickly picked up the name Redeye for his aggression and skill at fighting. Skrazz, on the other paw, was born thin and scrawny, forced to rely on his cunning to get food and survive the malicious attentions of his kin. He picked up the name of Keensnout, as he seemed to be able to sniff out opportunities in any particular moment and capitalize upon them. Both found their way into the USA during the campaign in the Vaults, distinguishing themselves sufficiently that they were sent for officer's training. There they performed well, excelling in their training sufficiently that they were noted by Sleek, who promptly plucked them out and put them under his personal tutelage. This proved to be both boon and bane to the upcoming skaven. They did excel under Sleek's tutelage, even with the old skaven becoming increasingly debilitated by his sheer age. However, he was a merciless taskmaster, and even Krasskik often found himself near fainting from the punishments Sharpwit levied upon them when they made a mistake.
Sleek strained their minds even more so than their bodies - he had them examine records of past battles and campaigns and point out errors in the actions taken by the head of the army and substitute in their preferred actions. This quickly escalated until the two of them were regularly conducting fictional campaigns against Sleek in an intricate tabletop simulation they cobbled together, the both of them regularly losing to the ancient skaven despite their forces outnumbering his twice over. Sleek had them study military theory in books stolen from human nations and collaborated with them to form the core of an entirely new curriculum for the Academy, which he tested extensively on them. As they made progress on assembling the various facets of the new program, they continued to be tested in Sleek's hellish war-games.
Krasskik turned out to have a strategically focused mind - he was often too aggressive and prone to overcommit his forces in battle itself, but he was gifted at looking at the larger picture of a campaign and determining an optimal move. Skrazz, surprisingly, had more of a head for tactics - his well-honed instincts and nose for opportunity let him zero in on vulnerabilities in his enemy's forces, but he was altogether too focused on the present moment to be really skilled at the strategic aspect of running an army. Of course they were both outmatched entirely by Sleek, who ran rings around them on every level of command, no matter how much the two of them coordinated their efforts.
They grew more skilled with practice as time dragged on, of course, but as their skills grew, Sleek's health deteriorated. When they had first met the venerable rat he had been remarkably frail, to put it politely. He had only one eye, a great mass of scar tissue covering near half his head, and his other eye was so clouded with cataracts it was nearly totally obscured. His skin was pockmarked and hung so loose on his frame it was nearly falling off, and had less fur than a newborn covering it. He was scrawny and his legs trembled as he walked around on his rickety crutches, and his teeth had long ago been replaced with crude prosthetics. But somehow, through spite perhaps, he had retained his keen mind and even kept up with Krasskik and Skrazz in the sparring matches he regularly made them engage in. The decrepit skaven was a canny fighter, and despite their youth and skill neither of the two could best him. But as time passed, Sleek grew frailer. He coughed up blood, his fingers and toes lost circulation, he lost weight at a rapid pace, and he barely ate or drank. He took to wheeling around in a chair instead of walking, and no longer possessed the energy to actively bellow at Krasskik and Skrazz while they performed their mandatory exercise - instead he had a subordinate carry around a squeaker with prerecorded rants. This finally came to a head one day as his concentration wavered enough for his two underlings to finally eke out a victory against him in their war-games. As Krasskik leapt up from his seat and began gloating, Sleek's withered head wavered and then slumped down on the table with a quiet thunk. As Skrazz's head snapped to look his erstwhile mentor, the Sharpwit's unconscious form slowly oozed out of his chair until it collapsed, sprawling, on the floor.
Krasskik and Skrazz turned to look at one another, then to Sleek's body, then back to each other. Sharpwit had put the both of them through hell, driven them to the limits of their mind and body, and hurled enough abuse at them that any random clanrat would have run or backstabbed him long ago. It would be simplicity for them to simply leave and head back to their quarters, to claim that Sleek had been fine when they left. It would certainly require far less effort than getting him help - the old bastard had lived more than twice as long as any skaven normally would, it was a miracle his body hadn't fallen apart by now. The Horned Rat would be truly grinning if he could even survive whatever had gone wrong in his frail form, let alone recover.
Without a word exchanged, the two of them made their way to Sleek and lifted his prone form up between them. Any ordinary skaven would do the sensible thing and leave Sleek to his fate, but they were not normal skaven. They were Army rats, and they had had the importance of rank nailed into their skulls.
They made their way into Horripila's section of the makeshift city, Sleek's disheveled frame hanging from Krasskik's broad shoulders. If anyone could help the old skaven, it was the doktors of that clan. They'd heard Sharpwit rambling about something Horripila-related several times before in any case, so there was a good chance the old rat had prepared some contingency for himself.
Their suspicions were quickly fulfilled when several high-ranking doktors directed them into the interior of the camp with only a few attempts to harvest Sleek's flesh for examination, claiming that an agent of the Council of Thirteen was expecting them. Their steps quickened as they made their way deeper into the maze of white sheets and sterile tunnels.
---
They were ushered down into the earth, making their way past experiments and robed researchers. The glimpses they caught of whatever odd things the medics were doing were confusing, exacerbated by the fact that they only caught glimpses of the procedures they were testing out. In one room, a wailing clanrat was chained to the wall while being doused with boiling water taken from a nearby cauldron. In another, a large group of unfortunates had had their fur shaved off and were all carefully stepping across a floor studded with rusting nails. In yet another, groups of skaven were restrained and had metal tubes running between them, channeling blood between the test subjects. These and many more obscure tests flashed by the eyes of Krasskik and Skrazz as they hurried down through Horripila's network of tunnels.
They were gradually ushered into a large chamber that stank of ammonia and ozone and was lit by the buzzing glow of consoles and indicator lights. Dominating the center was a structure of glass and steel, a ten foot tall egg-shaped structure bolted into the ground and with a large number of bulky tubes and cables extending from the back. The front was transparent, revealing an interior filled with a transparent gel, shot through with wicked needles at certain intervals. The whole apparatus hummed quietly, but seemed to be inactive. Button-saturated consoles and flickering monitors ringed the pod and filled up effectively the rest of the room. The chamber seemed to have been dug out and designed around the pod itself, with everything in the chamber feeding back into it in some way. A large amount of bespectacled skaven in white robes bustled about quietly, checking readings on monitors and adjusting knobs after conferring with each other. They paid neither Krasskik, Skrazz, nor Sleek any attention.
"Impressive, is it not?" A voice echoed from above. The duo craned their heads to look, and beheld a grotesque figure, bulging with misshapen muscle. It was obscured in the shadows lurking at the top of the chamber, but a green beacon shined out from roughly where its head was, and a third distended arm extended from its side, swaying as it moved. When it chuckled, a faint splatter could be heard as something made its way past the lips of the creature speaking. "And look-looking at Sleek there, it's a good-good thing I spent so much of my time here. I've seen dead-things look more alive than him." He chuckled once more, a rumbling blurble echoing from within his guts.
The Army rats looked at each other uneasily, and then back up at the bloated skaven. "You are the Council agent, yes-yes?" Skrazz ventured.
"This was simply an interesting diversion, but yes-yes, the Council did ask-ask me to do it," the shrouded figure answered. "You may call-call me Throt, and you would be better served by placing your owner inside the pod rather than skit-skratching at my feet. Time delayed is time he is less-less likely to survive the procedure in." Throt's grotesque third arm stretched out freakishly far and pressed a glowing green button on a console, causing the pod's glass exterior to lift up and out, exposing the interior. Relieved to finally see an end to this ordeal, the duo hefted Sleek's body up and carried it towards the pod.
Exhausted, withered muscles surged with a manic burst of activity as Sleek's arms, more bone than muscle, shot out and grabbed both Krasskik and Skrazz by the snout. His emaciated claws bit deep into their sensitive flesh, and for once in a long while his eyes were alight with an inner fire. He drew himself close to their ears and attempted to say something, only to hack and cough from deep within his chest. He spoke once more, every word sounding as if it had been dragged under a blender cart. "Remember ... me," he rasped, the words hardly audible though his muzzle was directly next to their nears. "Do not ... forget... who I was. Who..." His breath failed him and he spent several seconds wheezing heavily. He spat up blood and rasped out three more words before falling silent and limp once more.
"Who ... I ... am."
Sleek Sharpwit spoke no more as his underlings inserted him into the skalm-filled pod, which resealed itself and rotated to a horizontal posture once he was inside. Resembling an elaborate coffin, it slowly lowered into a recess in the floor as Throt and the surrounding technicians tuned dials and activated various subsystems. The chatter of research jargon filled the air as the clade of skaven recruited for this project turned their attention toward ensuring the survival of the second-in-command of the USA.
Within the pod, metallic restraints clamped over Sleek's limbs as he was slowly submerged in skalm. The substance would help prevent his body from degenerating any further and keep any contaminants out during Sleek's stay in suspended animation, but the process itself required something else. Fortunately, Throt had not been idle while Sleek trained his underlings, and in tandem with a stroke of luck from another research project halfway across the Under-Empire, he had devised something that would do the trick.
The pod scanned Sleek's malnourished form and located several points in his blood vessels and nervous system. It carefully inserted long needles into each of these points, the pod whirring as it did its work. Through the needles was injected a very specific mixture of several types of paralytic venom distilled from exotic creatures around the world, including the feared pain snail and several strange creatures newly recieved from the Nippon stocks, and liquefied dragon ogre tissue, which had been obtained from another research project currently under way. This serum was carefully pumped into Sleek's body, researchers monitoring the ancient skaven's vital signs and how the venom was affecting him. When the optimal level had been reached at last, the signal was given to Throt, who nodded in satisfaction. Turning about, the mutated researcher reached out to a very specific lever and, with a sense of gravity, pulled it down.
Generators around the room lit up and channeled their energy into the central pod. Within Sleek's body, electricity was channeled in through the needles perforating his form, causing him to twitch and writhe within the restraints. The infusion of electricity into the venom mixture reacted with the dragon ogre essence in a way that had intrigued Throt when he first observed it - they passed the charge to the body tissues around them somehow without the current harming them. They even passed the qualities of the venom into those tissues somehow in the same manner, contravening every established biological law, and a few defining principles of common sense. Through extensive testing, Throt had found that this specific mixture of venoms, at a certain balance and with a specific level of electricity applied, effectively halted all forms of biological activity, including the age-induced degeneration that was afflicting Sleek. Were he able to feel anything he would be in immense pain, as his entire body was effectively infused with an immense charge of electricity, but since he had lost consciousness beforehand he was locked in a dreamless stasis for as long as power was sustained to the pod. Throt grinned as he looked upon his creation. The Underlord would surely be pleased with his expertise, he was sure of it.
Two hero units generated! See threadmark.
- Krasskik Redeye, specializing in strategic warfare. 2/3 progress.
- Skrazz Keensnout, specializing in tactical warfare. 2/3 progress.
Sleek Sharpwit has been successfully placed in suspended animation thanks to the efforts of Throt the Unclean! See heroes threadmark.
Basic Hygiene has been upgraded to Hygiene! See Technology threadmark.
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
Man, Sleek has been getting shit done. I knew he was worth the effort to keep alive.
Man, and he has no idea this isn't the end for him.
Man, and he has no idea this isn't the end for him.
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
Hm, one would think the opposite would be the case. Probably not gonna die, no need to work yourself as hard to make an impact.
But that's what makes him nearly unique among Skaven.
Will the two budding Heroes be doing anything in this turn's campaigns?
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
That's amusing balance. The real gem would have been to have a third one be a logistical genius, though, but alas can't have everything.
A couple decades early before they can match Sleek probably, though. XD Though who knows, there's something to be said for accelerated development.
o7
I'm fucking dying over here trying to picture doctor style skaven wearing glasses. That is amazing.
Well, that's serendipitous!
Good job Throt, you kinda creepy mutated weirdo.
@Xantalos Is the suspended animation process not repeatable enough on its own to be listed as a technology?
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Nah, these parts were partially taking place in the timeframe of the campaigns anyhow.
Pretty much, yeah - the fact that they had to travel way underground to get to it was because it needed a bunch of specific components and stuff that took up a lot of space to the point where it took up its own cavern. You could put hero units in suspension if you need to, but it's too dang expensive to even try to spread it out to the unwashed masses.
Kairos123
Insomniac Extraordinaire
I know, right? The United Skaven Army is crazy. I'm more impressed by how much of an old badass he was, both training them while falling apart and that in (what he thought was) his dying moments he got his message across. Really don't want to change him mentally now and am willing to go out of our way to find a procedure that keeps him the same, but younger.
Also, this is what has been changed since the update:
Hygiene is now researched and in effect in any settlement Horripila has a presence in, increasing the population/decreasing the death count.
Both Skaven named in the updated are show with which field they are talented in.
Sleek can't do any actions until we remove him from stasis (pretty obvious, but might as well post it).
I'm fine with this. By the time we want to spread that to the masses we'd probably have multiple procedures to restore a Skaven, making stasis less useful.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
So it's still applicable for important individuals without further research, as was intended?
I was rather surprised their reasoning wasn't "the longer he lives, the longer I get gets training from Sleek Sharpwit"
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
So long as you use the same combination of clans with Throt heading them, yeah.
Kairos123
Insomniac Extraordinaire
To put it a different way, could we throw Throt at it without dice and expect him to pull it off for others as well? Or would we need another dice investment to make it work for a single hero unit. Now that the process is known, would we be able to use it on multiple hero units on the same dice in the unlikely event that multiple are starting to show signs of deterioration?
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Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Oh - yeah, now that the method's known and with your authority value notably increasing what with the Dark Lands starting to kick in in earnest, you can do it again without an authority invested. You might have to invest one if you do it for a bunch at a time though.
Chimeraguard
We do deserve to exist.
So, Dark Lands investment has caused a notable increase in the value of Authority?
Speaking of the Dark Lands, what effect has the spreading of Boots Camps across the Dark Lands had on the USA and the Under-Empire?