Gems in the Wastes (Exalted/Warhammer Fantasy/CK2)

[theflyingbiscuit]

Fishies:

---

Larry was a happy fish. He waits out in the cove with the rest of his shoal. He once was picked up by some weird monkeys, but that was a long time ago and he feels much better for it. Before he had to worry about staying alive, but now is the time for living. No longer does he have to worry about being someone else's food.

He pops up to the surface to smell for some food. He doesn't need to eat, but that is no way to live for a happy fish. Long ago before his change it used to be so easy to get some food. Now he can go moons between food. It's a shame that what little food he usually smells is on land but that is …

Wait, is that FOOD!

He turns around and barks for the rest of his shoal. It's time to hunt.

He looks along the surface to spy the food. Seems to be a large flock passing overhead. He swims out to the forming hunting school.

He follows along and rams into the bottom of the leading member of the flock. He always gets annoyed at how hard he has to hit it, but that makes the eating better. The surface skimmer is going to go down but no time like the present. He sniffs the inside, finding less edible than he was hoping for.

Unfortunate.

He pulls back and lets the skimmer sink. If it was only edibles in the skimmer, he would go for the food now, but here it's best to let the food spread out a bit more. He swims away and waits. As the food starts to swim up he spots the first morsel and goes for the bite. Hmm, chewy.

…

Farald Friedel ran and emerged on the shore of the city, out of breath and terrified. He looks behind him at the small dark elf fleet that he had been imprisoned on for months. The ruins of ships and blood in the water casts a grim image.

He may have gone from slave to almost fish food, but at least he is fine now.

"By Sigmar, what was that!" He says to no one in particular.

"Ah, I see you met the local wildlife." A pedestrian says looking out into the water with a sense of mild interest.

"Local … I was almost eaten by one of those!" He says pointing to the large brown fish that are currently feasting on the slower to arrive Dark Elf ships.

"Nonsense, those fish only eat elves. If they didn't you would be dead. They probably sniffed you and let you go." The man says putting his basket down.

"So it wasn't full." He says feeling a little more relieved.

"I don't think they can get full. You just don't qualify as edible."

Farald returns to deep breathing now that the adrenaline has worn off.

"What was the brown shine on their scales, it looked almost like ...." Farald asks

"Bronze"

"Yes, but …"

"No, I mean the fish are actually made out of bronze."

"So your shore is infested by bronze elf-eating fish capable of sinking and eating a fleet, crew by crew and you are not concerned about this?" Farald asks skeptically.

"No, because we are not elves so there is no need to worry." The pedestrian continues.

"Don't you think you should be worried about eating the other elves?"

"What other elves?"

"The good elves"

"This city has been here for five years. If there are good elves, I would hope to have seen them by now. Now let's get you up to immigration. They are going to want to see you."

…

Farald Friedel sits at immigration, it's a small office fitting for a city that rarely gets visitors. The sitting room out front is decorated not so much lavishly, as designed to be easy to clean, especially for water based stains.

The only members here consist of non-elfs that were from the dark elf fleet and one out of place teenager who appears both dry and sitting at the clerk's table.

He wondered what she was doing immigrating considering how nicely dressed she was. (How did she color her hair like that anyway?) Either way she was really spending her time looking around.

"Next." He stood up as the girl walked out of immigration.

"Before we get started, could you draw a map of the world?" The clerk tells him.

"Huh"

"Management is trying to get an accurate map of the world. The simplest way is to ask everyone who comes in to draw one. Not like we often get visitors over here."

"Because of the bronze man eating fish."

"Not surprised you saw them, most immigrants do, but they are elf-eating fish. Actually the reason is likely the semi blockade from the Elves. Anyway, here is a quill and paper.

Farald draws a map of the Empire and the surrounding lands as he knows.

"About expected, but thank you." The clerk puts it on the top of a small pile. Right on top of the confusing scribble from the girl before him.

"Now that that is done, what is your name?" The clerk asks pulling up the sheet of paperwork.

"Farald Friedel."

"Age?"

"27, 28 next month"

"Previous occupation?"

"Fisherman"

"Do you want to continue being one?"

"... No"

"Is that because our cove is filled with a swarm of elf-eating bronze fish?"

"Yes. They aren't going to change to be more man-eating are they?"

"I don't expect so, but don't worry, eventually you get used to them. Have you any experience farming?"

"No, my parents were both fishermen."

"Shame, you don't want to use the experience."

"What about the army? You guys have to have an army considering the location." Farald asks, hoping for any job away from the sea.

"Defenses are holding up well enough that they don't need to recruit right now. We do have openings for the navy."

"No."

"It's actually a desired job around here." The clerk says.

"Really?"

"Prestige, surprisingly little work, and most of the danger is taken up by the elf-eating fish. What about …" The clerk continues...

---

Just something I typed out quickly for a working.

Oh, could we get a city sheet?

edit: Removed an explanation from the girl's scribbles.

 

[theflyingbiscuit]

But who?

​

---

A woman walks into the ministry of records. The smell of paper and tent flaps permeate the air.

She walks up to the front desk.

"Hello, I have a question about the gods. Where are the records of divine insignia and symbology?" The woman asks the librarian.

"Aisle six, left shelf, bottom right."

"Thank you."

She goes to the records.

…

"Not the smith gods, not the war gods, maybe something with protection? … Vermin extermination?"

---

As a member of the mining team of new Uluiru, sometimes she has to look in dark caves for ore. Usually this is a quiet job.

The large rat thing hissed at her before giving chase.

This is not one of those days.

She grabs her ax and runs screaming in terror as a huge number of footsteps sound out behind her.

Good news: the mine is decent with copper and iron. Bad news: she has no idea how many disturbingly large rats there are here.

She turns around the corner ax coming out at a rat that jumped at her, scoring a lucky kill and letting her pass.

She erupts out of the hole in the ground, the cold air hitting her face making her contemplate her life choices. She turns the ax on the roof of the cave, hopeful that it would knock down the roof of the cave. Rocks jostle and fall, partially blocking the cave.

She waits. A rat attempts to jump over the rock, and she swings the ax down, slaying a second rat, its death squeak signaling to its comrade to reconsider.

Again, a rat jumps and again it perishes. She wonders how many more will have to fall before they get the picture. She can't retreat or she will be surrounded.

She senses something off in the air and pulls back swinging the ax to the side, dodging the projectile and killing another rat.

She turns to the side and sees a ratman with some sort of rod in his hands and his compatriots armed with crude swords beside him.

"Kill the man-thing!"

More life evaluation occurs.

---

"Maybe it has something to do with the red. Love, no that does not sound right. Maybe medical, the old hospital had a red floor until the complaints came in, … no that would not follow the context. Maybe it's unrelated to the context and that was just the right time, like the dragons."

A librarian assistant (where does she get that hair coloring from?) comes over.

"Hello, you look like you might need some help." She says, her accent makes her sound a little hoarse.

"Yeah, I saw a symbol in a … dream and was trying to find whose god it belongs to." The woman asked.

"Have you tried asking around?"

"It's a bit of a strange question to ask people."

"What was the context of this dream?"

"Are you trying to determine what a dream means?" The woman asks skeptically

"It happens, but ok, could you trace it out and I could help you look."

She does so, thankful that the symbol consists of easy straight lines.

"Any idea of the color?"

"Red."

"...Yeah, I don't recognize it. Well, I will start over here." The assistant says pointing to the other side of the divinity section of the ministry.

The librarian tries to help her to find the symbol.

---

Stuck between a rock and a hard place she kicks the next rat back into the hole as it jumps, dodging the next projectile. The rat sails backward blocking the hole for a second as she sprints into the woods chased by the ratmen. Far off ahead she can hear large footsteps.

As she approaches the footsteps the rats start to break off the chase and she soon sees why. In the center of a small clearing are a fair few corpses of ratmen, surrounding a large rat monstrosity. Its claws thick with the blood of its recent victim.

'Best to hide. I can sneak off after.'

Unfortunately, that is undercut by being covered in rat blood and out of breath. The rat ogre turns to her and roars.

---

Several hours have passed in the ministry of records.

"All right it's time to close up now." The librarian calls for the ministry to close.

The librarian assistant returned to her actual job an hour ago.

"Did you find anything?" The librarian assistant asks.

"Nope. I think it might be an obscure god of personal protection."

"Well, if you ever figure it out, do come by so we can add it to our records."

---

The rat monster charges, and she returns the charge.

At the last possible moment, she sidesteps the charge and holds the ax allowing the momentum of the monster to give itself the wound. With a followup attack on it's back that is light meaningful wound, but spreads more blood onto the field, new light is shed on this situation.

Literally it seems the area now has a soft red tinge, and she feels greater power flowing through her. The ogre takes a swipe at her again, but this time there is no dodge. She swings her ax with new force and takes its arm off at the elbow. It pauses in shock just long enough for her to take its second arm off.

She jumps in the air jumping to swing her ax down on its shoulder, coating more of the field in blood. It attempts to lunge at her in vain hope.

With a final swing she decapitates the rat monster and holds her ax up to the sky in victory. The ratmen reveal themselves to have been hiding in the trees surrounding the clearing and take flight. She stands alone in a field covered in blood. Power coursing through her she knows that she has Exalted.

'But by who?'

---

On her way home she looks in a pond and sees the symbol on her forehead. the symbol of the new power in her body:

Spoiler: Symbol

"Whose symbol is this?" She asks

---

"BLAST YOU TZEENTCH! THESE THINGS ARE DEFECTIVE! MY DIVINE POWER LATCHED ON TO A KILLER OF VERMIN AND WHAT DOES SHE DO WITH POWER COURSING THROUGH HER!? SHE GOES AND READS IN A LIBRARY!! WHERE IS THE BLOOD!?"

---

AN:
Funny thing, the exaltation gives very few hooks on manipulating the exalted in question. They are more resistant to corruption then the average mortal.

 

[DragonParadox]

An Unexpected Lesson ​

Lozik Dreadtaker was not the oldest, nor the most skilled of beastmasters, certainly he was not among the most wealthy in gold or blood relations, but he was hungry for more and in the realm of the True Elves that was what counted the most. Fortunes and glories came into the world as Khaine had given that his people did: screaming and covered in blood. But Lozik was not an infant, two hundred turnings of the seasons he had seen and many of his peers had he watched broken by their superiors for failed acts of treachery, or worse devoured by beasts beyond their skill to tame. A head on a spike still had eyes at least unlike a pile of manticore shit. So forging together raw ambition and the lessons of hard won experience he had decided to turn all his skills to raising a single great beast, even young as he was and train it to exemplary standards. All the might and viciousness of a hydra able to be used with precision, with skill, almost with artfulness. Ah he could see it now, they would call him something tasteful and subtle like Silk-Hand, something to make the ignorant question and the wise quake when asked.

Why Night Scale was better trained than some of the dogs at his parents estate growing up, certainly more so than some of the two legged beasts of the fields. Still he would not want the beast to think he had grown soft or forget the caress of the whip. He would have to conspire some way to get one of the more foolish of his compatriots to feed themselves to the hydra so that he could punish it. A dare maybe... No, he would offer an apprenticeship to anyone who managed to feed the hydra while losing no more than half a hand. The implication being that the beast was more likely to maim than kill. One would think no one would be stupid enough to believe that but sometimes Lozik wondered if some of these bumpkins weren't more stupid than the beasts he wrangled.

"Slave!" he shouted to one of the ragged barbarians that followed the army, poor service, but better than none at all and at least no one would object if there was one fewer of them when their masters' wrath came upon it. "Slave! More wine!"

The wine tasted like shit, but victory would be sweeter.

***​

Hunger... All it had ever known was Hunger since it had crawled from the wet place onto the dry place since it had eaten its siblings and made them a part of itself. Long it had feasted under the twilight skies under the mountains where the distant northern sun never reached, but it had not been cold, not then. The heat of the earth rose up in bubbles of brimstone and pitch and It-That-Was-Many had bathed in the warm waters and the Hunger was less. Then the two-leg had come with the whip and the silent voice, then it had learned pain that was greater than the Hunger, for it could not eat the two leg, but the two-leg could drink its pain. It learned wrath.

Night Scale, that was what Him-of-the-Whip called It-That-Was-Many who in solitude had not needed a name and he brought it to the pit and raised it to bear cruel barbs of iron and Night Scale ate some of the two legs which tasted sweet. But the pain was bitter and sharp, it lingered. It-That-Was-Many learned to eat them less, feeding the Hunger instead with other things, fur-things and mental-things and bright-things too, they tasted of the Bright Beyond where the Hunger bloomed so Night Scale learned cunning.

Out from the shadow of the mountain it was driven, until it could almost be said to regret the pit of pain. At least that was warm. Towards the Bright and away from the sun it was driven. Into the cold lands, the dry lands it was driven. So its wrath grew and some of the two-legs it devoured even knowing the pain that would come, it spread the pain.

Why? Why drive it here? What was here that was worth feasting? Night Scale wondered dimly, for in its long years of captivity it had learned that the two-legs were not just smaller than itself, but also weaker, to the Bright and the ones that lived in it, to the cold. Only the dry they seemed to love and that it could not understand. Were they not made of meat and blood in its mouth? So they tasted at least. It-That-Was-Many learned to wonder.

There was a song on the wind, teasing at its thoughts, a song in the Bright as leaves were on water, but not of the Bright, floating atop it. It spoke of many things warmth and water over scales running, meat red and filling. The song promised an end of Hunger, but It-That-Was-Many did not believe in such things. It promised vengeance. The screams... the screams of the two-leg who ate pain, it would be eaten. It would be good.... good for the singer as well? So It-That-Was-Many learned to bargain.

Yes... yes... Pain and death and feasting upon Him-of-the-Whip and those all about him and then sleep until more come. Thus the Huger would be less. It-That-Was-Many found that it could believe in less Hunger. So It-That-Was-Many learned to hope. In its dreams the sun rose, the warmth sank into its bones and it became other than it had been.

OOC: Since Hydra terminology may be a bit obscure above the Bright-Beyond is the Aethyr, as a creature born of Chaos in the Far North of the world the Hydra has a vague sense of the magic around it and where it is thicker.

 

[Critian Caceorte]

A flash of divine knowledge has passed through my brain, and I must relay this revelation to you all. It is information of the highest importance, hence why I have tagged it as such.

The newly initiated Greatest Sorceress of Uluiru uses her newfound mystical might for the greatest of purposes: to give herself the coolest haircuts known to man.

Hundreds flock to see the sight of her long sky-blue locks floating in the wind. Abioye seethes in jealousy at not thinking of this idea before. Sango is confused as to why anyone would want to sorcerously alter their hair intentionally. Gwai simply puts his head into his hands. The world trembles in awe.