[x] Rosmalen tried to kill you, and let dozens more men die than needed to die.
Gonna be interesting how this all develops.
Edit: also i love how all of our 6 brothers in arms have their very distinct personalities and convictions. Also how they thought they could make the walking mountain of muscles do something he doesn't want to
Edit: also i love how all of our 6 brothers in arms have their very distinct personalities and convictions. Also how they thought they could make the walking mountain of muscles do something he doesn't want to
I would recommend making a dramatis personae for all these dudes, just so that we can keep the names straight. Though it's probably not necessary quite yet.
This vote was so lopsided that I rolled the results yesterday, and already started writing. Unfortunately, it's also Raid/M+ week in WoW, and my time is at a premium, so the next update might be a hot minute.
Scheduled vote count started by Minyette06 on Dec 13, 2022 at 4:05 PM, finished with 19 posts and 16 votes.
[X] Rosmalen tried to kill you, and let dozens more men die than needed to die.
Hey remember when I said that next update would be a hot minute? Lets call it an even lukewarm minute eh?
-
There was a flicker of temptation in you to push for bringing both Herminia and Rosmalen to task. While Misha might have been Izek's heir, it was those two that held the vast majority of political power in the town. If you wanted to rise to the top of Meissen, you would need to deal with or find an accord with both.
But it was only a flicker, your station in Meissen was ill-defined at best, and Misha's was poorly held. Stretching that beyond what was necessary was gambling with dice you did not have. More liable to backfire and leave you at the mercy of Herminia and Rosmalen's more established power base. Like raiding the Empire's coast, if their armies were united, then you had a rare hope of victory, but if you picked and prodded at the right villages, you would leave them split and confused. Divided and conquerable.
So, with your political situation as precisely dissected as the man whose gut slime was still coating your hand, you set your mind to focus on the much more realistic goal of solely bringing Rosmalen into line.
You turn to Misha, open your mouth and "Rosmalen bad." Spill your spaghetti all over yourself.
"Yeah." He agrees almost instinctively before seemingly registering the words and giving you a long, unsure look. "Rosmalen bad?"
"His swordsmen... well, they did help last night, and without them, the town would have fallen, but none of them died, so they did it badly." What the fuck was your mouth doing, and how did you get it to stop?
"They didn't die, so they... fought badly?" Misha's voice raises into an almost uncomfortably high upward inflection. "Norscan, when you fight something, are you... trying to die? Because I don't know if that makes you terrible at fighting because you're still alive or… incredible? How are you alive?"
"No, no, see, if they were there at the right time, some of them would have died, but the undead would have died too, and the militia would have probably died less." Okay, that was more in line with something reasonable to say. Not as eloquent as you should be for a public, religious speaker, but at least you were not saying things that were entirely bad-brain.
"Probably? Hold on, sorry I'm asking the wrong question. Norscan, are you alright?" For a moment, you are touched by the display of concern and feel a sliver of pride that your current lack of eloquence was noticeable compared to your usual verbose self. Maybe he was on to something if he was thinking about a concussion. Maybe you had been hit during your fight and had not kno- "Because thoughts of self-harm are very common in the borderlands, and while I would be endlessly happy if you just dropped dead, Salyak believes in treating all injuries, including the self-inflicted of the mind."
Oh, he was still on about thinking you were trying to die in combat and just failing to. "I'm not currently trying to die?" Why did you phrase that like a question? Are you being possessed?
"Currently?" Misha gives you a long look, studying you from head to toe. "Does it have to be in combat, then? An emulation of those dwarf dickheads with goofy-looking orange hairstyles?"
For fucks sake, you groan to yourself as you palm your face with your hand. The hand you had not washed yet. You freeze as the blood and what you could only describe as intestine slime is smeared across your face.
"Ha, you're a fucking idiot." It took a… great well of deeply held willpower to resist the urge to flick the gutslime at the awkward boy. "Enjoy your pink eye."
You sigh and deliberately do not say, "Misha, you know no one likes you, right?" Because that would be counterproductive, and the mildly offended look that crossed his face told you that you failed in the simple task of just shutting the fuck up.
"You're not supposed to come out and say it." The not quite a boy but certainly not a man pouts, but you ignore that to keep your mouth firmly shut as you walk over to the kettle he had used to clean his hands. You hiss as you pour the water over your hands, and it washes away the slime as steam rushes up your forearm.
But thankfully, it seemed the heat had some form of focusing effect because when you turned back to face Misha, you did not immediately stick your foot sideways into your mouth. You take a deep breath. "The plan last night was for the militia to hold Meissen's front gate long enough for the bulk of the undead to commit before pulling back to prepared firewalls made of collapsed houses."
"I vaguely remember something to that effect." Now that you were no longer spilling your spaghetti so effusively over yourself, Misha seemed less interested, the dark-haired south-born Kislevite walking over to the man who the two of you had just been deep inside together and beginning an examination.
"There was never meant to be a pitched battle at the gates; Rosmalen should have had his men in position early and pulled the Militia back at the first sign of a proper battle unfolding." You wipe some of the… external gutslime from your face and scowl at it for a moment before washing your hands again.
"The two of you talked about holding the swordsmen in reserve for when the walls fell; if you're too dumb to understand that might have meant you were left at the gates alone, then I can't help you being fucking stupid." There was an edge to Misha's words now, one that if you were just less insightful, you would be willing to call annoyance. But at that moment, you could tell it was just well-masked fear.
Misha, perhaps more than you, understood the implications of what you were saying.
"I'd be willing to agree if the walls were pressured. It would be overly cautious, but I could understand." Misha peels open the man on the surgery table's eye and takes a very long moment to examine his iris. "How many men have you treated from the walls, Misha? When was the last?"
"Eleven forty-eight last night. Mild leg lacerations and a non-severe partially severed foot." The response was immediate, almost instinctual in a way. Just about out of Misha's control if the way he cringed in on himself was to be judged.
"We were still fighting at the gates long past midnight." You press, sensing what might not be a moment of weakness but a moment of pressure. Not sure what you would get from it, but knowing that something would shift.
"And?" Misha's voice goes low as he stills above the unconscious man, and as his shoulder hunch and his body lowers, it almost casts him as some form of spider looming over paralysed prey. "Rosmalen owns the swords here, Norscan, and I barely have my decrepit father's ear. So what if you were left to die? Why do you think it matters? The game's been played out, and we're just waiting for the end."
Misha's breaths are heavy as he finishes his tirade, and his blues are dark with something bordering on helplessness when he looks over his shoulder. The two of you just stare at each other for a long moment before Misha's eyes slunked away to fall on his patient. "My advice, Norscan, is to have an exit plan, and your bags packed. Now fuck off, I have lives to save."
You continue watching for a moment longer as he crushes something into the man's mouth before walking out of the tent, yelling something.
That was… not what you had expected from the endlessly caustic Misha, but you suppose it did frame the way he just continued burning everything around him until it burnt him in turn into perspective. For all he was in this rat race, he was checked out mentally. Convinced he was out of it and just waiting for his queue to exit the stage while entertaining himself however he cared to; no matter how it ruined his own position.
But that left one question. Why was he still here, beyond the relative comfort? A healer of any skill was as in demand as the most peerless of warriors; if he cared to peddle that, he could find a cosy position among any court across the old world.
"Asavar?" The voice of Manfredo Di Muzio distracts you from your thoughts, and your eyes shift from where they had unconsciously fallen to Misha's unconscious patient, to glance at the entrance to the tent.
"I thought I told you to stay in the house for a medical examination." The pale, slumped man just shrugs and makes a complex gesture with his hand, and you have no idea what it means.
"There is a slight issue with that." He holds his fingers up in a pinch before gesturing for you to follow. You do so, falling into step beside the lanky man in a moment. "The nurses have, ahhh, kidnapped Sigric?"
You pause as the two of you step out of the tent into a stretch of once well-maintained grass. "What?"
"Three of the nurses have taken Sigric… upstairs." The man looks as baffled as you feel, awkwardly shuffling his feet. "I believe they are, ah, making him a man for his bravery. But there are no other nurses to do the examination."
"Three nurses just stopped doing their work and…" You make an awkward gesture, unsure of what to really do with your hands.
"They said it was for a deeper examination then ah… the noises started." The two of you stand in an uncomfortable silence as you try and figure out how you were supposed to respond to that.
"Is Sigric… that handsome? Purely from an academic perspective, he's not bad looking…." It was difficult to put a finger on, especially with the stark gaunt on everyone's faces due to the siege, but there was something you had to admit about Sigric that was pretty good-looking. Manfredo's face turns thoughtful, and he rubs at his chin.
"Purely from a platonic viewpoint, he does have very well-formed cheekbones." You take a moment to visualise the other man - your brother in arms - and hum in agreement.
"Purely from the place of another man to another man. His cheekbones are really well-formed. With his strong jawbone, the boy just oozes a subtle strength, right?" The lanky man nods slowly, grey eyes distant from his own visualisation.
"Purely from the viewpoint of someone impartial, I suppose the lopsided smile is charming too, crooked in that lovable rascal way." Your first thought when he had started talking to the woman in the house was that his smile was charming, so that definitely tracked. "A thought occurs, Asavar. Sigric is a very pretty boy. Er, purely from an outside perspective."
"You said the nurses kidnapped him?" Manfredo nods, and you look towards the cored-out house being used as a central hospital. "What is the bet this is going to happen… a lot."
"I'd be willing to put a few thousand on it happening again." You glance over to him; that was way more money than you expected anyone but a border prince to be able to throw around in the borderlands.
"You have that much money?" He shakes his head and gives you an almost cheeky shrug if it was not so restrained. "Fair enough, it would be easy money. Let's go… r-rescue?"
"I suppose there is possibly a perspective where it would be rescuing him." The two of you pause at the entrance to the house as a loud breathy scream bounces through the halls. There was a moment of pure connection as the two of you wondering if there was a perspective where interrupting could constitute a rescue.
"This is going to be awkward as fuck." Manfredo nods in commiseration and pats you on the shoulder, probably the only one of the six men who had become your brothers who could do that comfortably.
"ASAVAR, I AM GOING TO PULVERISE YOUR BALLS INTO A CUNT AND THEN FUCK IT." Well, it seems that Misha also just became aware of what happened.
You sign and hang your head. Of fucking course.
-
Herminia was the beating heart of commerce for Meissen, and the beating heart of its administration, and its judicial system, and practically Meissen's functional existence as a polity. She wore many hats, both out of necessity as Izek's health declined and because she was a competent woman in the borderlands.
Most of those hats had fallen by the wayside as the siege set in. Meissen did not have the resources to punish crime, could not support Merchants leaving or entering, nor could they do anything resembling public work. Added to that, the great economic equaliser of death, much of her power was in the past tense.
It was likely that when the siege ended properly, and life resumed, she would hit the town like a resurgent wave. Possibly even centralising more power underneath her as she cored out 'old' institutions that had been broken by the siege.
Until that happened, Herminia operated mostly off the fact she was perceived as powerful. Which was a more effective leverage than most people would think. Stride into the middle of a war camp with enough confidence; no matter how you look, few would dare to lash out at you.
Of course, there was more beyond that. Herminia was Izek's most trusted subordinate, and often the first hour of Izek waking would be spent with Herminia reporting on the previous day and offering her advice before carrying out his orders. Then there was the fact people expected her to be a key player in what came next, and the perception of future favour was an investment many liked to play for.
But again, her ability to carry out those orders, and curry that favour, came from the perception of her… You pause out front of the large storehouse that you had been told Herminia had spent most of the night in, one of the many designated 'safe' houses throughout Meissen. It was probably not too much of a stretch to say this was where she was trying to produce ammunition for the hunters too.
And where she had given you what was likely to be the sharpest blade to cut that perception of her to pieces. Herminia did not fail; even the slightest implication that she did would see her anger in full force. Rosmalen's errant comment about the appearance of walls saw her testing the edges of Izek's thinned patience, however slightly that was.
A bald-face failure like this - at least, you suspected it was a failure and not the burgeoning malevolence of Rosmalen - would flick the bottom floor out of the house of cards that the transitory state her power had taken during this siege.
It was likely that she herself would understand the situation as well, if not better than you. So the question in your own mind came to something rather simple, how were you planning to leverage this knife at the throat of her reputation.
[] A favour for a favour.
With Rosmalen's absence from the field, you were the only one who likely had a full understanding of the ammunition situation, and were in a position to squash it before it spread. Tell Herminia you were willing to consider doing so a favour.
[] We both know what we know.
Blackmail had such a harsh ring to it, but you had done far worse things and technically speaking in the Borderlands it was far from illegal. Threaten Herminia into doing something for you, otherwise you were going to rip her power base to shreds.
[] Have her help you move against Rosmalen in the meeting you would be having once Izek awoke.
[] Have her organise securing, and restricting Rosmalen's access to the towns dwindling food supplies. If Rosmalen wanted to own the swords of the town, then you would show him that swords mean nothing to an empty stomach.
[] Write in
[] An offer, no one refuses.
You, six men, and a few words she needs to keep secret. Walk inside and inform her of the way things would now be. It would be very Estalian of you, but maybe she would appreciate the reminder of home. What you have against her might not weigh heavily enough against submitting, but that was what the six men were for… not like that, you were a follower of the Goddess of Law, and that is morally illegal even if the laws were very lax about it.
-
So, this was meant to be a sort of 'contested roll' where you both needed to meet certain DC's, and beat Misha's roll to not be raked over the coals for other concessions. If you beat those DC's, even if Misha somehow trounced you, you would get the 'general' goal of support against Rosmalen, but might have had to do it on his terms, or agreed to supporting something else he wanted.
Then you rolled 7 for a total of 20. Far below even the lowest DC. So I was like "Oh okay, maybe Misha manages to finesse you into something.
Then he rolled 18 for a total of 20. So the two of you spilled spag at each other for a while.
Note that with " A favour for a favour." It's not something that would be 'immediate' Herminia would be very cautious about trusting you at your word that you would squash it, and would wait a long while before feeling the gratitude needed to feel indebted.
-
One of my old system monkey's was watching me and someone else try to figure out a fiddly piece of this update, and said that they knew it wasn't what we were talking about, but all the impression they were getting from this discussion was Asavar saying "I Fuck". Gave me a bit of a giggle, and so I wrote up this in the discord character cap. Also because I've been plagued by Asavar saying cool one liners as he murders his enemies and this is the most unlikely scene that still has that edge of cool
Your hand closes around the haft of your axe, and as the din of battle slowly crumbles to silence as you claim victory, you approach your foe, as it lay in the limp simulacrum of blood that you had drained from it with a hundred brutal blows.
Desperately the creature attempts to crawl back, and lets it's lips pull back over it's stark ivory fangs in a way that in another circumstance could be called seductive. "I-I can give you pleasures unimagined, the secrets of Neferata would give you a life of eternal bl-." Your hand cuts the creature off, as it closes around it's mouth, and you pull it into the air to hang limply.
"You think eternal pleasure is enough to tempt me?" Your voice is low and full of gravel, as you tighten your grip to cut off any response. "I've slept with Daemonette's that princes of Ind would sacrifice their entire harem's for a moments attention. I've witnessed the deepest depravities of a Keeper of Secrets."
In your other hand, you tighten your grip on your axe. "Pleasures that were ancient when your whore queen was still dribbling from her mothers cunt." Your axe raises into the air besides you, and you tighten your hold as the creature attempts to writhe away from the oncoming death. "Pleasure that makes your offer look like the coquettish flirting of a virgin maiden. I walked away from that pleasure, for the same reason I spit on this offer."
"Do you want to know why creature?" Soulless eyes, desperate for the slightest extra moment of reprieve from death desperately begs for an answer. "Because." You let go of the creature, and as it falls your axe cleaves through it's ribcage, carving deep inside until it paused on it's spine. With the weapon burred in it, you pull the creature close enough to stare you in eyes that grew even more lifeless by the moment. "I Fuck."
We have leverage on her that we are unlikely to get again. Her position is one entirely dependent on her doing her job right and being seen doing her job right. This could ruin her. We should use this to compel her to our side since as we saw, we aren't very good at diplomacy. Better to use what we're good at and what we have.
It's such an awkward point to get such a weird matching set of low rolls. Because if Misha rolled high, and you rolled low you might have still got what you wanted, just on very firmly his terms.
But no, Misha continues to refuse to let anyone roll lower Diplo than him. Equal to is fine apparently.
