Winning Votes:
[X] Meritocracy
[X] Rival Cults
Turn 3: 1760 (Phase I)
"To our soldiers!" Demitri cried, raising his glass.
"To our soldiers!" The rest of the room responded in kind.
Glasses emptied down throats, slammed against the table in a chorus of celebration and were promptly refiled.
"To our Empress!" Gustavus called, raising his glass.
"To our Empress!" The cry resounded within the meeting room.
Once more glasses were emptied and refilled.
"A toast I thought I would never give, but here it is! To the French!" Adrik laughed as he raised his hand, sloshing a bit of alcohol here and there.
More laughter echoed around the table as, belatedly, a few scattered cries repeated the chant.
Merriment abounded as the various men and scant few women sang patriotic songs and drank themselves into oblivion, while a select few left the party's epicenter and sequestered themselves off to the side. Viktor, Demitri, Gustavus, and the not-so-young-anymore-Adrik sank into a set of plush chairs as one pulled the cork from a wine bottle and poured out generous glasses for each of them.
"Perhaps partake a bit more sedately," Gustavus cautioned, then nodded to Demitri specifically. "Especially you, Headmaster. You have duties on the morrow and it would uncouth of us to disappoint our students."
The man snorted and allowed himself a sip of the poor wine they'd opened. The 'good stuff,' so to speak, was being enjoyed by those at the main table. The goblets of uncut vodka they'd poured for toasts would have to tide them over. Plans needed to be made, after all, and while some amount of poison might clear reservations within the mind, too much would dull the wits.
Still, they were Russian, and grape-piss like this would hardly make a dint in their sobriety.
"So do you think it's true what they say?" Adrik paused, then clarified. "About Wolfe, I mean?"
"How he's rotting inside a wolf's stomach?" Viktor sneered, then barked a cruel laugh. "Funny that. Proof, maybe, that the world enjoys a good laugh at someone's expense."
Demitri was silent as the others chuckled darkly. Eventually, he spoke. "In my travels... I've heard things."
"Oh?" Viktor asked, raising an eyebrow.
Demitri nodded. "People who venture into the wilds of the north in the New World... they've seen things that they swear are not natural to this reality."
Keen eyes looked on the Headmaster with new interest.
"You think there's more to what happened during the siege than simple wolves then?" Gustavus asked.
Demitri nodded. "The English soldiers... word has it that many say the 'wolves' they saw were more of ice and shadow than of flesh, and one tale even has a beast shifting its flesh back to that of a man when it was slain."
"Then we know it cannot be true," Adrik scoffed. "As if mortal men would have a chance at slaying something of the beyond."
Viktor scoffed back. "Do not speak of what you don't know, boy. You're yet too young to have heard a horror scream once it was set on fire. There is a reason why the Catholics much-loved the flame for use on witches."
Adrik scowled, but leaned back. "You think enough shot would down something like we speak of?"
Demitri sighed. "Were Old Zakhar with us still, he might tell some tales."
"Part of me wonders if the old bastard is actually gone," Gustavus admitted lowly, his eyes scanning back to the empty chair they'd draped with funerary cloth. "I thought he'd outlive us all with the way he was going."
There was a moment of respectful silence.
"More to the point, though, I do think it might have been creatures of the beyond which harried the English through their siege of Quebec and tore out the throat of their commander." Demitri stared contemplatively into his half-empty wineglass. "What worries me is the numbers in the rumors I've heard from my connections. Thirty, conservatively. Like, more. To me, that speaks of a planned course of action by some unknown party."
This time it was Viktor who turned a skeptical eye to the man. "Really? And who do you called the creatures up, the French?"
"The natives are more likely," Gustavus stated suddenly, his face a scowl.
Another moment of quiet consideration swept over the small group, punctuated by the ringing of an off-key song in the background.
"Should your sister be drinking like that?" Viktor asked, tilting his head at the woman in question as she danced sloppily with a rough-looking man.
Adrik waved the older man's concerns off. "She's pregnant, not ill. Besides, plenty of women drink when they are newly widowed."
Demitri rolled his eyes. "Not nearly so joyously. The husband had little family to contest her inheritance, yes."
Adrik nodded, taking another sip himself. "We selected him carefully, worry not."
"Still, hopefully the poor idiot with her knows better than to attempt to bed her," Gustavus took a swig and turned back to Adrik. "No offense, of course."
"None taken. Still, if he doesn't know better, he's not fit to be amongst us," Adrik nodded.
"He survived the trade caravan we convinced to venture to that remote village and brought back valuable testimony," Demitri stated. "A bath, a shave, and a clean set of clothes made a new man of him, and he is good enough to direct what paltry watchmen we employ on the campus." Really, in the former merchant's opinion, raising up the hired thug with a murder record was a calculated risk wherein they stood to gain much and lose little. If he proved stupid enough to inflate his head with his new position, they would simply poison him and find a use for the corpse.
"Speaking of," Adrik began, "have we reached a consensus regarding what we will do about them?"
"It's of little consequence, truthfully," Gustavus shook his head. "They're worshipers of those forgotten and sunken creatures some ancient texts call 'Deep Ones.' It is unlikely they will become a problem until the stars begin to come right-"
"Whatever that truly means," Viktor grunted.
Gustavus glared at the man and continued. "-after which, I doubt any of us will be able to contest their will, should the ancient sleeping-dead Old Ones begin to rise."
"...they might have something worthwhile to trade for," Adrik opined.
Viktor appeared skeptical, but Gustavus nodded. "It's an avenue we can approach, I suppose. They
did kill the rest of the trade caravan our proxy was foolish enough to convince..."
"We would do much the same," Demitri pointed out.
"I think..." Gustavus hesitated, before beginning to lay out a course of action.
-Applied Magicks:
"We have at our fingertips the potential to revolutionize the empire and create from it a greater power than the world has ever known. Our current abilities are somewhat lacking, but there are goals we could reasonably achieve if we are careful. Ritual magic need not be overt, the process of alchemy can be kept from prying eyes, and astrology has become more and more simple superstition. We must rely on the growing disbelief of the supernatural to shield us from discovery instead of allowing fear of discovery to stop us from accomplishing our goals."
-Deep One Worshipers:
"Now that we know about the potential threat that rests nearby, we should decide how to deal with them. It's within the realm of possibility that we could make trading partners of them, but that would be a lengthy endeavor given their warranted distrust of others. Alternatively, though, there's the old standard of simply wiping them out and picking through the pieces left over... at least, if we had any militarized group to do so with. Perhaps... we could simply observe them long-term and see what their aims and goals are?"
-Enhance Establishment:
"We now have a form of camouflage, yes, and it is providing us some small amount of income. Still, it could be so much more. The Empress' favor has allowed us the chance to carve out a more defined niche in the imperial culture. Perhaps we might select a specialization for our university so as to better cultivate a specific manner of skill and talent that we might achieve our ends in a more efficient manner?"
-Recruit:
"Many hands make light work, as the saying goes. Surely any and all of these tasks will be easier should we grow in number. Gathering more expertise, talent, and influence from seeking out like-minded individuals will be extremely profitable for our group."
-Research:
"There will be time aplenty for such worldly concerns later. We gathered to advance the reach of our works and it is that we should commence with. Some may call it naive or foolish, but should we be so concerned with protecting a group which has accomplished so little worth protecting?"
-Court Favor:
"What we can currently achieve are mere parlor tricks compared to what is, eventually, possible. This we understand, yes, but others less informed might see them as the achievements of mundane wonders. Passing off piercing supernatural insight as simple genius, for example, is well within the realm of possibility. The most pressing caveat would be how our members go about presenting our... talents to their audience."
[ ] Leadership
[ ] Applied Magicks
[ ] Deep One Worshipers
[ ] Enhance Establishment
[ ] Recruit
[ ] Research
[ ] Court Favor
Results: The Institute remains in good standing with the Russian Imperial Government as the Seven Years War rages on in Europe and across the world. Fortunes in Europe are somewhat mixed, even as George II of England has signed a peace treaty with France to preserve Hanoverian sovereignty and his claim to the throne of the region. Frederick the Great has been pushed into an apparently untenable position surrounded on all sides by enemies, but is far from defeated even as the inevitable Russian advance is stymied by complications in their supply train.
Abroad, English actions in Canada have failed to produce results after a disastrous encounter with a supernaturally large and agile pack of monstrous wolves. In India, though, their luck is much better as it appears English forces will win the day. Although the war is far from concluded and there does not seem to be a full treaty on the horizon anytime soon, unless the winds change, it is nearly certain that England will fail to secure dominance in North America and that France will maintain its colonial holdings and prestige.
ONE HOUR MORATORIUM! Do Not Vote For One Hour!