Sympathy for the Forsaken: A Warcraft-AU CK2 Quest
- Thread starter mcclay
- Start date
- Fantasy
- Location
- United States
Okay, you convinced me. Also you want to negotiate with the Murloc's next turn?
[X] Plan Building Up the Avalanche
I suspect Solace will need more actions, but barring that, sure.
- Location
- New Jersey, USA
[X] Plan Building Up the Avalanche
Varder
Tired Cultist
- Location
- Hell
I like that. Though what do you think about getting more troops? We need to deal with the monastery and we need better troops for that.
Also, kinda want to finish all our advisors on a personal front, but I understand the appeal of a flying ranged hero. So long as we speak to Belmont and Aesth-something immediately afterwards.
Money where~
Troops raise upkeep really fast.
- Location
- Reno
- Pronouns
- They/Them
No, everyone in Undercity would really prefer if the main army keeping out the direhounds, wandering Scarlet and other nasties was kept online.
Varder
Tired Cultist
- Location
- Hell
I meant not now, but in general. Is that a possibility in the future?
- Location
- Reno
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Highly unlikely but maybe. I'm not gonna lie, there is never really gonna be a time where you will want a smaller military.
To be fair, even in Canon, Azeroth is constantly dealing with various threats, world ending to more low level. They times of peace, but they became more and more short lived as time went on. Here, the world is even more trash, and wreck, so we always going to upkeep the military,
Becoming a Army with a Nation isn't a bad idea, and even a great idea.
- Location
- Reno
- Pronouns
- They/Them
There are some broken ones laying around, but without Abominations to pull them they're kinda useless.
- Location
- Argentina
So first we use abominations, then we use meat wagons. That's the undead tech tree, I see.
And we need to investigate the plague to develop biochemical weapons, if we ever want to go that way?
- Location
- Reno
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Aye. Without knowledge of the Plague creation of the Blight and other weapons along that line are pretty much impossible.
At the very least, having in-depth knowledge of the Plague would be incredible and important.
Actually creating the Blight is another. That's stuff is nasty.
Valkur
The True Valkyria, Valkur!
- Location
- Fólkvangr
Out of context but I just saw some WC3: Reforged Gameplay and damn they found a way to screw it up. In one scene Arthas kills Sylvanas in one of the most iconic moments of the game and raises her. To which, Kel'Thuzad says 'We must hurry or she'll send for runners!'.
I'm officially taking Warcraft for now on based on what fans make because I can't count on the company.
I'm officially taking Warcraft for now on based on what fans make because I can't count on the company.
- Location
- Argentina
I feel you. I follow the story, but I disagree with most of what happened after Wrath
Valkur
The True Valkyria, Valkur!
- Location
- Fólkvangr
It feels like i'm waiting for some rich nerd who hasn't done anything in 10 years to do SOMETHING. At the moment, i'm contemplating to never buy WC3: Reforged in my life. Its not even finished and I wish Blizz would take it all back and fix the game they made 10 years ago. Just...ugh.
Feels like Age of Sigmar all over again.
So apparently her sending runners is canon. So maybe its not all bad. I'll have to play it. Maybe when I get money.
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I was so hyped for Reforged at the start.
Now? It is an massive waste and disappointment in what made Warcraft so famous and popular, and created the foundation for World of Warcraft in the first place, be simply dropped and dropped so badly.
Now? It is an massive waste and disappointment in what made Warcraft so famous and popular, and created the foundation for World of Warcraft in the first place, be simply dropped and dropped so badly.
I told Mcclay I'd vote here once
I am doing so
[X]Going Batty: Varimathras has become something of a reluctant expert on the handling, care and taming of dire bats within the Undercity. Sylvanas has wanted a flying furry friend for a long while and the dreadlord has finally been bullied and badgered into helping her tame one. The process of getting a flying mount to obey the powerful Banshee Queen, backed up by a terrifying former member of the Burning Crusade can't be that hard, right? Time: 1 Turn CoS: 60% Reward: +Relationship between Sylvanas and Varimathras, Bat Mount Get, Hilarity Ensuing
this sounds funny to me
I am doing so
[X]Going Batty: Varimathras has become something of a reluctant expert on the handling, care and taming of dire bats within the Undercity. Sylvanas has wanted a flying furry friend for a long while and the dreadlord has finally been bullied and badgered into helping her tame one. The process of getting a flying mount to obey the powerful Banshee Queen, backed up by a terrifying former member of the Burning Crusade can't be that hard, right? Time: 1 Turn CoS: 60% Reward: +Relationship between Sylvanas and Varimathras, Bat Mount Get, Hilarity Ensuing
this sounds funny to me
Valkur
The True Valkyria, Valkur!
- Location
- Fólkvangr
Won't you stay? We're about to have Cookies from The Brittle Bones Bakery.
Turn 5 Results
- Location
- Reno
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Turn 5 Results
Nathanos Blightcaller looked over the recently slept in bed, taking time to allow every last small detail to come into view. "I'd say a girl, around 18. Blond hair, medium build, got up quickly in the night."
Sylvanas nodded at his assessment, it having mirrored her own. "Judging by the silver hair in the other bed I'd assume that Melrache wasn't bullshitting us. Old man and his daughter, overseeing the front." She turns to look at Belmont and Varimathras; who had come here along with the rest of the council, minus Aelthalyste. "Is there any record of a High Priest with a blond daughter in the Church of Lordaeron; one heavily involved in the Order of the Silver Hand."
Belmont shrugged by Varimathras stepped forwards. "Yes Dark Lady. The records of the Silver Hand were sealed, but the pitiful wards were no match for my magics. It mentioned that a Benedictus Voss, no relation to the Archbishop Bendictus, was the head confessor of North Shore Monastery and a firm supporter of the Silver Hand; as well as part of the 'New Haven Faction', whatever that means."
Vellcinda seems to perk up at that. "Oh, I know about this! The New Haven Faction were a bunch of nobles from New Avalon, Haveshire, Tyr's Hand and the surrounding area. Big on the Light, big on the supremacy of the King. Hated the elves for controlling the southern Eversong, hated the Dwarves for buying up so much debt from Lordaeron, hated mages for 'dabbling in the diabolic' ,hated the Gnomes for being annoying and hated the Trolls cause everyone else hated them. They were constantly at odds with the merchants of Stratholm, mages of Dalaran and the more moderate clerics in the Church. Wanted to remake the Empire of Arathor was Lordaeron as its head. Everyone thought they were just crazies until the First and Second Wars hit. After that they got super popular; Blackstone was their man in the south I think."
Sylvanas chewed on this information for a while. "And then when the Plague hit and the Scourge marched on Lordaeron, the survivors formed the Scarlet Crusade and over took the moderate clerics in the Silver Hand."
Vellcinda nods and Sylvanas sighs. "Yeah! I heard that New Haven province was pretty much untouched by the Plague too; Tyr's Hand never fell and the Scourge just eventually went around it. Even if the Crusade has its physical head quarters in Stratholme, assuming they still hold the old Bastion, most of their support is gonna come from there."
Sylvanas said nothing and just stared up at the looming Scarlet Monastery for a while. "Nathanos," she said after a second, "What do you think our odds are?"
The Ranger-General scowls. "Bad. Most of our army is a bunch of former farmers and burghers given whatever sharp objects they could find. The Hand will do well there, but they won't be enough to swing the battle, and the Nightmare's horses will be useless in the cramped inner halls. If you, me, the Dreadlord, Aelthalyste and Belmont all take the field we might be able to do it; but we'll pay dearly in blood."
Sylvanas sighs and looks to Vellcinda. "What news from the Blighted Council."
The cheery undead simply shrugs. "They're trying their best not to think about Northshore. They really, really want Brill up and running so that we can start making some money and get the resettling program underway. Taking Solliden, the Mills and Vandermar would be nice; but after Brill is rebuilt they would really like their own chambers so they can start really getting stuff done."
The Banshee Queen nods and wishes dearly that alcohol did little more than sit uselessly in the stomach of the undead. "I will think over the attack on the Monastery. For now let us try to rebuild the economy and see what we can do."
Martial (Choose 2) - Nathanos Blightcaller is Champion of the Banshee Queen and Ranger General of her armies. Under his watchful eyes he seeks to bring up the status of the Forsaken military from a ragtag group of walking corpses in rags and tatters to something resembling a professional army. Blightcaller is a master of using special forces and highly trained individual units to accomplish objectives. This elven approach to war makes him focus less on the mainline units of the Forsaken army.
[x]Last of the Rot Hide: While the cruel intelligence behind the Maggot Eye Clan fell at Fenris Isle, a group of them had actually made their way all through Tirisfal up to Garren's Haunt before that. A terror to the surrounding farms and the Scourge outposts in Brill and Agmand Mills, they are now on the frontier of the Forsaken advance. Taking Garren's Haunt would provide an outpost for control over many of the northern farmsteads, as well as a base for strikes at Agmand Mills. Time: 1 Turn Costs: Potential Unit loss CoS: 75% Reward: Rot Hide wiped out, Garren's Haunt taken
Thankfully, the last few remaining Rothide are not a particularly hardened foe for the Forsaken to deal with. While techinally part of the Scourge, it seemed there was little love lost between the disciples of Thule and the Scourge enclave stationed up at Agmand Mills. Garren's Haunt, a former series of farmstead's and fields owned by a minor merchant family. As such while the gnolls had fortified the main farmhouse, their attempted defense turned into a rout as the underquipped and trained but battle hardened Forskaen militia met them in the dying wheat fields. Gnolls, espeically undead ones, are not known for their carpentry so the farm house was quickly breached and taken over after a few minutes of brutal indoors combat. The final blow against the gnoll leader Maggot Eye, a towering speciem who commanded his tribe through sheer force of will, was landed by a young undead warrior named Darthalia. Nathanos notes that she and some other canidates among the militia might make good commanders when the Army of Undercity is reformed. Along with a small trove of supplies and hoarded gold; piles upon piles of corpses were found in the basement. While Maggot Eye may not have gotten along with Agmand Mills, it seems that the rotting creature still understood the value of diplomacy and was trading corpses for food. A worrying prospect, but one that has now been shut down.
Reward: Rot Hide wiped out, Garren's Haunt taken, 120 Gold
Thankfully, the last few remaining Rothide are not a particularly hardened foe for the Forsaken to deal with. While techinally part of the Scourge, it seemed there was little love lost between the disciples of Thule and the Scourge enclave stationed up at Agmand Mills. Garren's Haunt, a former series of farmstead's and fields owned by a minor merchant family. As such while the gnolls had fortified the main farmhouse, their attempted defense turned into a rout as the underquipped and trained but battle hardened Forskaen militia met them in the dying wheat fields. Gnolls, espeically undead ones, are not known for their carpentry so the farm house was quickly breached and taken over after a few minutes of brutal indoors combat. The final blow against the gnoll leader Maggot Eye, a towering speciem who commanded his tribe through sheer force of will, was landed by a young undead warrior named Darthalia. Nathanos notes that she and some other canidates among the militia might make good commanders when the Army of Undercity is reformed. Along with a small trove of supplies and hoarded gold; piles upon piles of corpses were found in the basement. While Maggot Eye may not have gotten along with Agmand Mills, it seems that the rotting creature still understood the value of diplomacy and was trading corpses for food. A worrying prospect, but one that has now been shut down.
Reward: Rot Hide wiped out, Garren's Haunt taken, 120 Gold
Stewardship (Choose 1) - Varimathras is a Dreadlord, one of the great demon commanders of the Burning Legion. Forced into Sylvanas's service during the Third War he now is the Majordomo of Undercity and in charge of the running of the Forsaken as a whole. While not widely liked or trusted by the undead, Varimathras has managed to gain a measure of grudging respect for making sure that the Forsaken have food, shelter and the semblance of an economy. He is quick to note that you are running quite the deficit and the treasure you looted from the Lordareon Royal Vault will not last for much longer.
[x]Recreating Brill-iance: Brill, once the jewel of Tirisfal, has suffered greatly at the hands of the Scourge. The intial attacks and riots left a great deal of the city burning, and the subsequent years of disuse and misrule has left the city a shell of its former self. However where there is a will there is a way. Forsaken settlers, tired of living in the cramped conditions of Undercity, are prepared to move out and help rebuild Brill in their own image. It will take time and money, but the results will be worth it. Time: 2 Turns Cost: 200 Gold CoS: 80% Reward: +100 Trade Income, Brill Restored, Stewardship Options unlocked
A stream of undead pour out of Undercity, under the careful guard of some of the Forsaken's militia forces. With bats moving construction supplies in ahead of time the settlers are able to quickly start construction on new buildings and expanded tunnels in Brill. Based out of the old Gallow's End Tavern, the Forsaken of Brill are happily taking to life in a slightly smaller urban area than the bustling Undercity.
LOCKED FOR 1 TURN
A stream of undead pour out of Undercity, under the careful guard of some of the Forsaken's militia forces. With bats moving construction supplies in ahead of time the settlers are able to quickly start construction on new buildings and expanded tunnels in Brill. Based out of the old Gallow's End Tavern, the Forsaken of Brill are happily taking to life in a slightly smaller urban area than the bustling Undercity.
LOCKED FOR 1 TURN
Diplomacy (Pick 1): Vellcinda Benton, a former scullery maid, was one of the first zombies to regain their minds in Tirisfal. A symbol of hope and freedom she gathered together a mass following and became incredibly popular among the average Forsaken citizen. In another life she might have been the Forsaken's Dark Lady, but instead she serves you a liaison to the people and the other powers of Azeroth. Such that there are.
[x]Solace at Solliden: Scouts out of Brill have reported the movement and lights in the distant village of Solliden. While once just one of many tiny farming villages in Tirisfal, it looks like a band of humans have gathered in the village. Vellcinda is bouncing off the wall at the prospect of doing actual diplomacy with someone, but the rest of the Council are less excited. After all, humanity has proven hateful towards the Forsaken before. Why should that change now? CoS: 45% Cost: 20 Gold Time: 1 Turn Reward: Solliden felt out for diplomacy? Hopefully Nothing Goes Wrong
86 vs 69 = Success
A crow cawed over head, cutting through the dark gloom of Tirisfal as the procession of undead approached the wooden palisade of Solliden. Villagers watch warily from over their parapet of the crude fortification as the rotting flesh and exposed bone of the oncoming group became visible. Such a group would normally elicit a call to arms and the firing of bow and sling; but these undead did not seem hostile. There was a glint of intelligence in the eyes of the lead corpse, a young woman in the tattered dress of a Lordaeron servant woman, that stayed their hand.
With this opening Vellcinda, the woman in quest, waved up at the grim faced men and women manning the palisade. "Hello there, people of Solliden! We are representatives of the Forsaken of Undercity; a group of free undead under the command of Queen Sylvanas Windrunner. We've come in peace, bearing supplies and gifts ease your burdens!" As she beamed up at them the villagers argued and discussed the situation among themselves. While too far away for anything to be heard clearly, voices were being raised and after a while a few of the men raised their hands in the air in frustration and walked away.
A stern faced woman, more than likely a farmers wife before the Plague, peers down at Vellcinda, clutching her spear tightly. "Forgive us but that seems little hard to believe. Walking corpses not following the Scrouge sounds like horseshite." She narrows her eyes at the boxes of supplies the undead had brought with them. "Expecially considering that the fucking Plague spread through grain. How are we to be sure you aren't trying the same shit for some necromancer ponce just behind a tree?"
Vellcinda shrugs and nods at one of her accompanying militia men. The undead opens up the crate to show off tightly packed mushrooms. "Dire bat meat and mushrooms, along with mushroom wine and water we've purified to the best of out abilities. The Plague was spread through grain and that grain looked terrible after getting infected. You are free to inspect everything we give you; though the bat meat might look a little weird."
The woman takes a moment to think before sighing. "Fuck me. This'll piss of the Father something awful. But fuck it, I'm tired of eating pumpkins for every meal and I'm not going to turn away the chance for a reprieve from attacks, come on in." One of the men next to her half lunges forwards in anger, but she smacks him hard in the chest with one gauntlet'd hand. "I'll send word that you're not to be touched while in the village. Just don't go around starting shite either."
Solliden is clearly a town grown far beyond its original carrying capacity. What was once just a simple that was mainly used for a farmers market and really only had two or three main buildings was now a crowded hovel. The surroudning farmers and field workers had moved into the safety of the town as the walls were put up. The walls abutted right up against the backs of the tightly packed buildings; about two layers of newly made wooden bunkhouses around the square; and any other free space was filled with rickety lean toos and tents. The tents spread out into the main square, with only latrines and irrigation ditches sperating one jumble of cloth and wood from their neighbors. The folk of Solliden looked out at the undead with open disgusting and fear, most people shirnking back into their shelters, grabbing whatever makeshift weapon they could fine. The only stone building was a squat little Church of the Light, which now had the red and gold version of the Cross of Light hanging over the door. From out of the only two story building in town came three men and their bodyguards: what looked to be the mayor, his secretary and the local priest; garbed in the vestments of the Crusade. They joined with the woman from above the gate, who was now evidently the captain of the guard, and had a low conversation in the fast moving, garbled Common dialect of the rural folk of Lordaeron.
Finally the mayor, a tall, tired looking man with calloused hands and a blacksmith's apron over his clothing, spoke. "You are the...free undead, yes?"
"Butchers and murderers! Even if they are free of the curse, which I find entirely unlikely, they and their elf witch queen have the blood of many good men and women of the Light on their hands!" The priest growled out at Vellcinda and her people, hate clear in his eyes.
The Forsaken spokeswoman smiled beatifically and held up her hands. "We stopped next to a stream earlier, so I can assure my hands are free of any and all blood." She schools her face and looks at the mayor. "But yes, we are the Forsaken. When the Lich King's power began to fade Queen Sylvanas threw off his bonds and gathered as many of us as she could to build a new society. We have been fighting against the Scourge and, yes, the Scarlet Crusade out of self defense."
"Self defense! You put one of the most holy places in Loraderon to siege and call it self defense! It was bad enough that the stink of the undead filled our formerly glorious capital, but now we cannot even pray at our Monastery." Around them many people nod sullenly, the priests words reaching a sense of hopelessness and tired anger.
"If I recall right it was the Crusade who first started burning the citizens of Undercity when they ventured out into Tirisfal alone. We would have happily opened a dialogue, as we are doing now, had you not attacked us first."
The mayor quickly intervened before the priest could speak again. "Yes, a dialogue. I cannot say the food isn't nice, but I would like to know why you're here." Underneath his rough voice was a clear intelligence backed up by steel. This was a man who had not yet been broken by the horrors around him.
Vellcinda quickly nodded. "A fair question. We mostly wanted to show that we were not hostile to the people of Solliden and to see what aid could be given. While you may not trust me, the Forsaken are not strangers to hard and desperate living. I personally would like to help draw our two peoples closer together, but I can settle for just planting the seeds of friendship."
The priest began to mutter and grumble but the mayor gave the shipment of food a long look. "It would take a goddamn lot to clear up the feelings of my people, but this is a good start." He sighed and shook his head. "At least you aren't asking for bodies. The Crusade gave us food too, but took away our youth to go fight elsewhere."
"To go fight for a just cause! To go retake our homeland! And they gave much more than food, they gave use spirtual succor in these dark times! To even think of treating with these ro-!" The mayor cut off the priest with a look.
"And the Crusade hasn't come here in quite some time. I can see how the winds are blowing." He tuns to look at Vellcinda. "You will have your peace, and will probably buy our friendship too if the food continues. Theres a room in the cellar thats too bad even for the refugees to stay in. If you're as used to hard living as you say, then I don't think it would be a problem for one of you to stay there to help make sure any misunderstandings are smoothed out."
As the priest groans in anger Vellcinda simply smiles a toothy smile. "I think that will do me just fine."
Reward: Contact with Solliden, Non-Aggression pact and embassy established, Diplomacy options unlocked, Scarlet Conversion stopped for 2 turns.
86 vs 69 = Success
A crow cawed over head, cutting through the dark gloom of Tirisfal as the procession of undead approached the wooden palisade of Solliden. Villagers watch warily from over their parapet of the crude fortification as the rotting flesh and exposed bone of the oncoming group became visible. Such a group would normally elicit a call to arms and the firing of bow and sling; but these undead did not seem hostile. There was a glint of intelligence in the eyes of the lead corpse, a young woman in the tattered dress of a Lordaeron servant woman, that stayed their hand.
With this opening Vellcinda, the woman in quest, waved up at the grim faced men and women manning the palisade. "Hello there, people of Solliden! We are representatives of the Forsaken of Undercity; a group of free undead under the command of Queen Sylvanas Windrunner. We've come in peace, bearing supplies and gifts ease your burdens!" As she beamed up at them the villagers argued and discussed the situation among themselves. While too far away for anything to be heard clearly, voices were being raised and after a while a few of the men raised their hands in the air in frustration and walked away.
A stern faced woman, more than likely a farmers wife before the Plague, peers down at Vellcinda, clutching her spear tightly. "Forgive us but that seems little hard to believe. Walking corpses not following the Scrouge sounds like horseshite." She narrows her eyes at the boxes of supplies the undead had brought with them. "Expecially considering that the fucking Plague spread through grain. How are we to be sure you aren't trying the same shit for some necromancer ponce just behind a tree?"
Vellcinda shrugs and nods at one of her accompanying militia men. The undead opens up the crate to show off tightly packed mushrooms. "Dire bat meat and mushrooms, along with mushroom wine and water we've purified to the best of out abilities. The Plague was spread through grain and that grain looked terrible after getting infected. You are free to inspect everything we give you; though the bat meat might look a little weird."
The woman takes a moment to think before sighing. "Fuck me. This'll piss of the Father something awful. But fuck it, I'm tired of eating pumpkins for every meal and I'm not going to turn away the chance for a reprieve from attacks, come on in." One of the men next to her half lunges forwards in anger, but she smacks him hard in the chest with one gauntlet'd hand. "I'll send word that you're not to be touched while in the village. Just don't go around starting shite either."
Solliden is clearly a town grown far beyond its original carrying capacity. What was once just a simple that was mainly used for a farmers market and really only had two or three main buildings was now a crowded hovel. The surroudning farmers and field workers had moved into the safety of the town as the walls were put up. The walls abutted right up against the backs of the tightly packed buildings; about two layers of newly made wooden bunkhouses around the square; and any other free space was filled with rickety lean toos and tents. The tents spread out into the main square, with only latrines and irrigation ditches sperating one jumble of cloth and wood from their neighbors. The folk of Solliden looked out at the undead with open disgusting and fear, most people shirnking back into their shelters, grabbing whatever makeshift weapon they could fine. The only stone building was a squat little Church of the Light, which now had the red and gold version of the Cross of Light hanging over the door. From out of the only two story building in town came three men and their bodyguards: what looked to be the mayor, his secretary and the local priest; garbed in the vestments of the Crusade. They joined with the woman from above the gate, who was now evidently the captain of the guard, and had a low conversation in the fast moving, garbled Common dialect of the rural folk of Lordaeron.
Finally the mayor, a tall, tired looking man with calloused hands and a blacksmith's apron over his clothing, spoke. "You are the...free undead, yes?"
"Butchers and murderers! Even if they are free of the curse, which I find entirely unlikely, they and their elf witch queen have the blood of many good men and women of the Light on their hands!" The priest growled out at Vellcinda and her people, hate clear in his eyes.
The Forsaken spokeswoman smiled beatifically and held up her hands. "We stopped next to a stream earlier, so I can assure my hands are free of any and all blood." She schools her face and looks at the mayor. "But yes, we are the Forsaken. When the Lich King's power began to fade Queen Sylvanas threw off his bonds and gathered as many of us as she could to build a new society. We have been fighting against the Scourge and, yes, the Scarlet Crusade out of self defense."
"Self defense! You put one of the most holy places in Loraderon to siege and call it self defense! It was bad enough that the stink of the undead filled our formerly glorious capital, but now we cannot even pray at our Monastery." Around them many people nod sullenly, the priests words reaching a sense of hopelessness and tired anger.
"If I recall right it was the Crusade who first started burning the citizens of Undercity when they ventured out into Tirisfal alone. We would have happily opened a dialogue, as we are doing now, had you not attacked us first."
The mayor quickly intervened before the priest could speak again. "Yes, a dialogue. I cannot say the food isn't nice, but I would like to know why you're here." Underneath his rough voice was a clear intelligence backed up by steel. This was a man who had not yet been broken by the horrors around him.
Vellcinda quickly nodded. "A fair question. We mostly wanted to show that we were not hostile to the people of Solliden and to see what aid could be given. While you may not trust me, the Forsaken are not strangers to hard and desperate living. I personally would like to help draw our two peoples closer together, but I can settle for just planting the seeds of friendship."
The priest began to mutter and grumble but the mayor gave the shipment of food a long look. "It would take a goddamn lot to clear up the feelings of my people, but this is a good start." He sighed and shook his head. "At least you aren't asking for bodies. The Crusade gave us food too, but took away our youth to go fight elsewhere."
"To go fight for a just cause! To go retake our homeland! And they gave much more than food, they gave use spirtual succor in these dark times! To even think of treating with these ro-!" The mayor cut off the priest with a look.
"And the Crusade hasn't come here in quite some time. I can see how the winds are blowing." He tuns to look at Vellcinda. "You will have your peace, and will probably buy our friendship too if the food continues. Theres a room in the cellar thats too bad even for the refugees to stay in. If you're as used to hard living as you say, then I don't think it would be a problem for one of you to stay there to help make sure any misunderstandings are smoothed out."
As the priest groans in anger Vellcinda simply smiles a toothy smile. "I think that will do me just fine."
Reward: Contact with Solliden, Non-Aggression pact and embassy established, Diplomacy options unlocked, Scarlet Conversion stopped for 2 turns.
Intrigue (Choose 1) - Commander Belmont was a student of Ravenholdt Manor in life and death has only strengthened his love of all things shadowy and underhanded. A prime example of a Rogue he has quickly risen to the top of the local Thieves Guild, naming it the Undercity Lodge of the Ravenholdt and working to secure a home for his new people. A master of infiltration and information gathering, Belmont hopes to see the Forsaken dominate the information game in Lordaeron.
[x]Scarlet Codes: The capture of Scarlet Crusade notes during the latest taking of a Crusader outpost has given the Forsaken a chance to get a look at the inner workings of the secretive order. The actual command strucutre and size of the Crusade is not known, and while these letters won't give a full picture, they will give Belmont a lot more to work with than he had before. The main worry of the Forsaken is if the Crusade exists outside of Tirisfal, and these letters will hopefully shed light on that mystery. CoS: 70% Time: 1 Turn Cost: 100 Gold Reward: Information on the Crusade
75 vs 20 = Success
With the codes gained from all four outposts, along with a greater familiarity with humans following the successful peace at Solliden, the shape of the Scarlet Crusade becomes easier to trace. As was feared the Crusade exists in far more than just Tirisfal. While the Scarelt Monastery is one of their most important religious centers, further east lies the main bulk of their domain. The former baronies of Heathglen, Darrowmere, Stratholm and New Avalon are under varying levels of Scarlet control. While constantly feuding with the various splintered Scourge factions the Crusade maintains many strongholds in these lands. Stratholm is home to the de jure head of the Crsuade, but the barony of New Avalon is their real place of strength. Almost untouched by the Plague, New Avalon, codenamed the Scarlet Enclave by Belmont; is where the bulk of their population and military strength lies.
Within Tirisfal the Crusade is headed by two figures: The Grand Inquisitor Sally Whitemane and the son of Ashbringer, Renault Mograine. Whitemane is a complete unknown, with Belmont only finding scattered references to a peasant family by the same name in the Royal Archives; but Mograine is a much bigger worry. Alexandros was a fearsome warrior and well known for his slaying of many, many Scourge forces during the Plague. If his son has even the slightest bit of his martial capacity then attacking the Monastery will be a terrible undertaking indeed. Perhaps most worring is the utter lack of Alexandros in the letters. Where the Ashbringer and his terrible sword have gone, none can say.
Reward: Knowledge of SM last bosses, Scarlet Crusade in Plaguelands.
75 vs 20 = Success
With the codes gained from all four outposts, along with a greater familiarity with humans following the successful peace at Solliden, the shape of the Scarlet Crusade becomes easier to trace. As was feared the Crusade exists in far more than just Tirisfal. While the Scarelt Monastery is one of their most important religious centers, further east lies the main bulk of their domain. The former baronies of Heathglen, Darrowmere, Stratholm and New Avalon are under varying levels of Scarlet control. While constantly feuding with the various splintered Scourge factions the Crusade maintains many strongholds in these lands. Stratholm is home to the de jure head of the Crsuade, but the barony of New Avalon is their real place of strength. Almost untouched by the Plague, New Avalon, codenamed the Scarlet Enclave by Belmont; is where the bulk of their population and military strength lies.
Within Tirisfal the Crusade is headed by two figures: The Grand Inquisitor Sally Whitemane and the son of Ashbringer, Renault Mograine. Whitemane is a complete unknown, with Belmont only finding scattered references to a peasant family by the same name in the Royal Archives; but Mograine is a much bigger worry. Alexandros was a fearsome warrior and well known for his slaying of many, many Scourge forces during the Plague. If his son has even the slightest bit of his martial capacity then attacking the Monastery will be a terrible undertaking indeed. Perhaps most worring is the utter lack of Alexandros in the letters. Where the Ashbringer and his terrible sword have gone, none can say.
Reward: Knowledge of SM last bosses, Scarlet Crusade in Plaguelands.
Learning (Choose 1) - No one really trusts Grand Apothecary Putress all too much. A former alchemist in service to the last king of Lordaeron, Putress fell victim to the Scourge during Arthas's butchering of Capital City. Before he died Putress has been part of the royal effort to understand and combat the Plague of Undeath and carries that knowledge with him into death. While most of his attention is focused on the Plague his alchemical genius can be put towards other efforts easily enough
[x]Prognosis: Even a year later no one, not even its victims, truly understand how the Plague of Undeath functions. It blights the land, body and soul in the way a normal disease, or even most magical ones, cannot. If the Plague is to reversed, or re-purposed for use by the Forsaken, it must be understood at a base level. Doing so will take time and gold, but Putress has a series of tests lined up to look for baseline results CoS: 70% Time: 2 Turns Cost: 200 Gold Reward: Phase 1 of Plague Tests Done
The first test have begun and the results are fairly promising. Using a mixture of plants, animals and even a few captured creations Puttress has begun to come a long way in figuring out exactly how the Plague works. The baseline results are being listed down and the alchemist is sure that soon he will a complete understanding of the most basic aspects of the disease.
LOCKED FOR 1 TURN
The first test have begun and the results are fairly promising. Using a mixture of plants, animals and even a few captured creations Puttress has begun to come a long way in figuring out exactly how the Plague works. The baseline results are being listed down and the alchemist is sure that soon he will a complete understanding of the most basic aspects of the disease.
LOCKED FOR 1 TURN
Piety (Choose 0, 1 Locked In) - There is no formal head of the Cult of Forgotten Shadows, but Aelthalyste is the spirtual leader of the faith in all but title. Formerly a High Elf native of Stormwind, Aelthalyste fell into the company of the heretic Natalie Seline and was an eager disciple of the rogue bishop until her murder by the Church. Aelthalyste fled north to Lordaeron and hide some scraps of her works in the sewers of the Undercity. After being killed by Arthas during the sacking of Capital City she reemerged to spread the teachings of Seline and bring about the balance between Light and Dark.
[x]Conclave of the Dark: The Cult is a new religion, having no structure and no organized doctrine or orthodoxy. While fine for a underground heretical sect, this is less acceptable for a state religion meant to prop up the image of the Forsaken. A Conclave must be held to determine how the Cult should function and what its beliefs and strictures are. CoS: 55% Time: 2 Turns Cost: 100 Gold Reward: Cult Given Structure, Less Chance of Harmful Heresy emerging, Less Confusion Among Forsaken Populace
The Conclave is, at least, over. The general exodus of priests and religious scholars from Undercity back into the countryside has begun. What they have left is a unified Cult. The conclave unified the writings of Natalie Seline and her followers into the Tome of Forgotten Shadows, which has been adopted by the Cult as its main religous text. Focusing on balance, the doctrine of the Cult strives to find a stable place in all things. While originally just darker versions of the original virtures of the Light, the Three Virtues of Respect, Power and Tenacity have taken on their own life and meaning. In the Cult of the soul and its connection to the world around it are what matters most. As long as you remain able to seek power and growth you have purpose. Death and any other state that would render one unable to do such a thing are too be avoided. All other creatures are on their own path in the world and must be treated with respect, even if you must fight them. The body is merely a tool for the soul to grow and when the soul has left is little different from any other hunk of meat.
Organizationally the Cult at the ground level is run by Shadow Priests, who are either in charge of a small parish or sent out into the world to pursue their own path of growth. These are not set roles and individuals can switch between them fluidly. Above Shadow Priests are Dark Bishops, who are in charge of of maintaining the spiritual growth of several parishes and expanding the knowledge base and theological growth of the Cult. Finally there are the Shadowseers, elite members of the Cult who are responsible for many Dark Bishops and can be trusted to delve deep into the shadow and the light without being corrupted by either's touches. The Shadowseers, of which there are four at the moment, make up the Grey Council; which runs and cares for the Cult as a whole.
While already there are theological debates and minor splintering happening, Aelthalyste is happy with the results of the Conclave and is sure that this will open up a new avenue for spiritual growth for the Forsaken. It should also be noted that the Shadow tends to be personified as a 'Dark Lady' that looks quite a bit like the Queen of Undercity
Reward: Cult of the Forgotten Shadows doctrine and structure confirmed, Forsaken populace happy, Piety options unlocked, Praise the Shadow!
The Conclave is, at least, over. The general exodus of priests and religious scholars from Undercity back into the countryside has begun. What they have left is a unified Cult. The conclave unified the writings of Natalie Seline and her followers into the Tome of Forgotten Shadows, which has been adopted by the Cult as its main religous text. Focusing on balance, the doctrine of the Cult strives to find a stable place in all things. While originally just darker versions of the original virtures of the Light, the Three Virtues of Respect, Power and Tenacity have taken on their own life and meaning. In the Cult of the soul and its connection to the world around it are what matters most. As long as you remain able to seek power and growth you have purpose. Death and any other state that would render one unable to do such a thing are too be avoided. All other creatures are on their own path in the world and must be treated with respect, even if you must fight them. The body is merely a tool for the soul to grow and when the soul has left is little different from any other hunk of meat.
Organizationally the Cult at the ground level is run by Shadow Priests, who are either in charge of a small parish or sent out into the world to pursue their own path of growth. These are not set roles and individuals can switch between them fluidly. Above Shadow Priests are Dark Bishops, who are in charge of of maintaining the spiritual growth of several parishes and expanding the knowledge base and theological growth of the Cult. Finally there are the Shadowseers, elite members of the Cult who are responsible for many Dark Bishops and can be trusted to delve deep into the shadow and the light without being corrupted by either's touches. The Shadowseers, of which there are four at the moment, make up the Grey Council; which runs and cares for the Cult as a whole.
While already there are theological debates and minor splintering happening, Aelthalyste is happy with the results of the Conclave and is sure that this will open up a new avenue for spiritual growth for the Forsaken. It should also be noted that the Shadow tends to be personified as a 'Dark Lady' that looks quite a bit like the Queen of Undercity
Reward: Cult of the Forgotten Shadows doctrine and structure confirmed, Forsaken populace happy, Piety options unlocked, Praise the Shadow!
Personal (Choose 1) - Sylvanas Winderunner, the Dark Lady of Undercity, Banshee Queen of the Forsaken. She fought against Arthas and at his side and was legendary even before her death as Ranger-General of Silvermoon and one of the Windrunner Triplets. It is through her force of personality that the Forsaken are brought together and by her will and desires that they work. She will not let her people be slaves again.
[x]Going Batty: Varimathras has become something of a reluctant expert on the handling, care and taming of dire bats within the Undercity. Sylvanas has wanted a flying furry friend for a long while and the dreadlord has finally been bullied and badgered into helping her tame one. The process of getting a flying mount to obey the powerful Banshee Queen, backed up by a terrifying former member of the Burning Crusade can't be that hard, right? Time: 1 Turn CoS: 60% Reward: +Relationship between Sylvanas and Varimathras, Bat Mount Get, Hilarity Ensuing
"Well, this was a fucking mistake." Sylvanas groaned as she picked herself up off the straw covered floor of the Bat Roosts.
"He really does not seem to like you, try not glaring at him so much." Varimathras said with more than a little amusment from next to her.
They had been trying for the better part of an half hour to bond Sylvanas with the largest of the Direbats to little avail. While simply riding the creatures as a draft animals was possible, doing so required heavily saddles and equipment. To truly make the most of the beasts as a flying steed in combat a personal connection was needed, a bond that you allow the rider to fly into battle unhindered by any saddle or bridle.
As the bat screeches at her, annoyed by this strange dead woman who kept on trying to jump on its back, Sylvanas had to admit that maybe it had all seemed easier in her head.
"The horses back home would let me on even before they were broken. Hells, Kael always said that I was the only one Al'ar would let pet besides him!"
"Yes, and then you died and were raised as a mostly souless abomination. Animals tend not too like that, Lady Sylvanas." Varimathras was having the fucking time of his life. It had taken him a long while to properly train the dire bats, but now that he did every single person in Undercity who wanted their own personal mount had to come to him. Including his 'beloved' leader. He did not think of himself as overly cruel for his people, but there was a warm glow of satisfaction in his chest everytime Sylvanas was thrown off the bat from a good fifteen feet up in the air. "Try stroking it behind the ears more. You don't want to spook it."
"I'm going to do more than spook it soon." Sylvanas muttered as she eyed the bat, noting a worringly stubbornly smug gleam in its eye. The Banshee Queen of the undead jumps, lands on the bats back and before she can do what the dreadlord had suggested was thrown off with a "AAAAAAHHH!" as Varimathras struggled not to break down laughing."
Several hours and quite a lot of cursing later the bat finally allowed Sylvanas to ride on its back. The undead elf quickly went from wanting to stab the creature in the neck giggling and laughing with a joy she hadn't felt since she was among the living as she flew around the room. There was something magical about flying, a kind of feeling of freedom that very few other things could replicate. It was enough to make Sylvanas let down her barriers when she pumped her fist in the air after doing a loop around one of the many great beams in the roost. As she pulled up next to Varimathras she was now the one to look unbearably smug. "A fine trick this is. I should think that I'm one of the fastest to tame one of these creatures. After all, it took you the better part of two weeks to do it, yes?"
Before he would have been bitter, but the dreadlord felt some of his barriers going down. "As you say Dark Lady, you have outpaced even myself." he rolled his eyes at her proud head tilt before continuing. "Now, what do you intend to name your steed."
She patted the creature on the neck. "Lirath will do nicely I think."
"A former suitor's name?" Varimathras said, a bit of a sarcasm curling his lips up.
"No, my brother's name." The former levity slunk out of Sylvanas tone as she spoke. "He died in the Second War from an orc attacking." Her face goes meloncholy as she strokes the bat's fur. "He wanted to be a ranger like my siblings and I more than anything."
For a second the burning hunk of fel stone that was the dreadlord's chest cracked and he had to turn away quickly. "Ah I...Did not know you had lost a sibling. You have my apologies."
"Thank you." She replies as they both sit there, lost in thought for a long moment.
Fianlly Varimathras breaks the silence. "I...Do not know if what you made me do can be forgiven." He pauses to take a breath. "But the pain stings less now. I hope both of our brothers have found their peace, whever their souls may be."
Sylvanas, on the back of the golden furred Lirath, rises up from the floor, leaves without saying a word.
"Well, this was a fucking mistake." Sylvanas groaned as she picked herself up off the straw covered floor of the Bat Roosts.
"He really does not seem to like you, try not glaring at him so much." Varimathras said with more than a little amusment from next to her.
They had been trying for the better part of an half hour to bond Sylvanas with the largest of the Direbats to little avail. While simply riding the creatures as a draft animals was possible, doing so required heavily saddles and equipment. To truly make the most of the beasts as a flying steed in combat a personal connection was needed, a bond that you allow the rider to fly into battle unhindered by any saddle or bridle.
As the bat screeches at her, annoyed by this strange dead woman who kept on trying to jump on its back, Sylvanas had to admit that maybe it had all seemed easier in her head.
"The horses back home would let me on even before they were broken. Hells, Kael always said that I was the only one Al'ar would let pet besides him!"
"Yes, and then you died and were raised as a mostly souless abomination. Animals tend not too like that, Lady Sylvanas." Varimathras was having the fucking time of his life. It had taken him a long while to properly train the dire bats, but now that he did every single person in Undercity who wanted their own personal mount had to come to him. Including his 'beloved' leader. He did not think of himself as overly cruel for his people, but there was a warm glow of satisfaction in his chest everytime Sylvanas was thrown off the bat from a good fifteen feet up in the air. "Try stroking it behind the ears more. You don't want to spook it."
"I'm going to do more than spook it soon." Sylvanas muttered as she eyed the bat, noting a worringly stubbornly smug gleam in its eye. The Banshee Queen of the undead jumps, lands on the bats back and before she can do what the dreadlord had suggested was thrown off with a "AAAAAAHHH!" as Varimathras struggled not to break down laughing."
Several hours and quite a lot of cursing later the bat finally allowed Sylvanas to ride on its back. The undead elf quickly went from wanting to stab the creature in the neck giggling and laughing with a joy she hadn't felt since she was among the living as she flew around the room. There was something magical about flying, a kind of feeling of freedom that very few other things could replicate. It was enough to make Sylvanas let down her barriers when she pumped her fist in the air after doing a loop around one of the many great beams in the roost. As she pulled up next to Varimathras she was now the one to look unbearably smug. "A fine trick this is. I should think that I'm one of the fastest to tame one of these creatures. After all, it took you the better part of two weeks to do it, yes?"
Before he would have been bitter, but the dreadlord felt some of his barriers going down. "As you say Dark Lady, you have outpaced even myself." he rolled his eyes at her proud head tilt before continuing. "Now, what do you intend to name your steed."
She patted the creature on the neck. "Lirath will do nicely I think."
"A former suitor's name?" Varimathras said, a bit of a sarcasm curling his lips up.
"No, my brother's name." The former levity slunk out of Sylvanas tone as she spoke. "He died in the Second War from an orc attacking." Her face goes meloncholy as she strokes the bat's fur. "He wanted to be a ranger like my siblings and I more than anything."
For a second the burning hunk of fel stone that was the dreadlord's chest cracked and he had to turn away quickly. "Ah I...Did not know you had lost a sibling. You have my apologies."
"Thank you." She replies as they both sit there, lost in thought for a long moment.
Fianlly Varimathras breaks the silence. "I...Do not know if what you made me do can be forgiven." He pauses to take a breath. "But the pain stings less now. I hope both of our brothers have found their peace, whever their souls may be."
Sylvanas, on the back of the golden furred Lirath, rises up from the floor, leaves without saying a word.
((Sorry that this took so long; this update fought me every step of the way))
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