The Good Prince (Warhammer Fantasy)

[Voikirium]

Old World News Turn 7

Bretonnia

Fallen Forests: The colonization of the Forest of Châlons marches apace, manifold knights heading to the banner of Duke Alberic-- less, perhaps, than those that head to the Prince's march, but still many.

Carcassonne Called: Maullobaude's raiders have ridden south over the Irrana Mountains and through the passes, seeking to claim booty and loot from the locals-- as well as the Arbalests. Though they are a proudly warrior people, the Carcassanonnians have been sore pressed by orcs evading both Grimgor and your raids-- manifold border fiefs are unmanned.

Duke Huebald, the greatest warrior of that Dukedom, does lead the offense against these intruders.

A Duke's Death: Duke Huebald's forces were marching to meet with local mountain men to gain intelligence about the invaders when, from nowhere, they appeared-- an army of black knights and mercenaries, shooting from the slope and from the hill, slaughtering all.

Seeking to preserve his force, Duke Huebald had them retreat and challenged the dark knights of Mousillon to battle him. Mallobaude himself, your own brother, did heed the call.

The two fought for hours-- Huebald, mighty duelist, did fight the darkness well, and several times did his Silverine blade smite whatever it was Mallobaude has become.

In the end, though, he died-- slain as he lived, fighting for the defenseless.

His sons together-- Badwin, Bertrand, and Lambard-- do travel from their fiefs to the city Carcassonne to see who shall be his heir; meanwhile, your father has raised his own vassals.

It seems once again that Bretonnia is to save Estalia.

[Bretonnia Enters Estalian War, Aid to Errantry War Reduced]

The Empire

Plague: A virulence wracks its way through the Imperial city, Altdorf-- though it pales in comparison to some of the greater diseases which have ravaged the Empire, this one has...potential.

The Emperor-- Ill: His Imperial Magnifence Karl Franz the First, Protector of the Empire, Defier of the Dark, Emperor Himself and the Son of Emperors, has fallen ill with this plague. For twenty some years has the Empire revolved around him in many ways, his force of will making it so; with his hammer in one hand and friendship in the other he has rebirthed Sigmar's Empire in many ways.

Yet the work is not done, and to have him dead may cripple it when the Empire can least take that.

Goblins Die: So enraged was he to hear of his father's condition that the Imperial Prince ordered his men to storm Grashnak's lair in a tide of cannons and magic which burst open the whole thing-- simply so he might see to his father. Though it was costly in both lives and wealth, victory was taken-- and the peak pass to the Empire, as well; the whole Desolation of Drakenmoore, as well as the Blasted Wastes, now lie open to the Empire.

Sylvania Freed: Sylvania is a dark place, yes-- but it is the home of people-- people quite willing to fight for it. The new Domnitor of Sylvania, Constantin Lucas-- formerly just a soldier's son-- met the forces of Stirland on the River Eisig. Twice outnumbered, the Sylvanians were crudely armed and armored-- only a handful of cannons, a few hundred guns, against the professional, veteran forces of Stirland.

And yet Constantin's army swept his opponent's away. You don't know how-- reports have been...muddled, at best-- but the force Constantin assembled cast down his opponents, and even now marches to Wurtbad, in the name of a free Sylvania.

Albion Battle: The Bretons and the Imperials made an uneasy peace for the moment to deal with the Dark Elves, and deal they are. Though they are much outnumbered, the Dark Elves on Albion are the most vicious, murderous sort of their society, which is itself fairly murderous.

Still, they are winning-- just, with a lot of corpses.

Estalia

Momentum Stalled: After the Arabyan invasion, the Knights of Estalia swore never again to allow their homes to be invaded and conquered by foreign foes.

So they fight like lions, mightily meeting the foe in war-- and finally, months after he landed, Mallobaude's momentum has halted, stopped at the Rivers Guadariz and Tarmos. Things lie on a needle's edge-- enough force, one way or the other, could decide the fate of the peninsula.

Seperatists Stir: Claimants to the long unified titles of Magritta and Cantonia, now held by the king of Novareno, have arisen, along with small armies, to push their claims-- no doubt incited by your brother. While neither on their own poses much of a threat, together they are an unwelcome distraction from fighting off the Invaders.

King of Estalia: Your friend, Amilcar, had made it very clear that he will no longer accept the division of Estalia into so many arguing war lords and not a united kingdom. As everyone who might protest too loudly is dead-- except for Mallobaude-- you believe he may do it-- might, in fact, unite Estalia long centuries after it was broken apart by Myrmidia's death.

Tilea

The Great Transmission: Wealth, knowledge, and ideas of the Far East are beginning to flood back in great amount to Tilea from those mercenaries presently employed by the Empire of Cathay. Construction techniques, rare porcelains, raw gold itself-- all is making the journey west.

A Single Currency: The states of Estalia, after long negotiation, have finally agreed to the use of a single currency-- the Myrmidian Coin-- for external trade, much simplifying matters.

The Kingdom of Aquilas Falls: Consisting mostly of the many islands near Estalia, the last king of Aquilas is dead-- killed by an orcish ambush-- and his has fallen to civil war; too, there are whispers that the Empire may seek to intercede-- or at least, those nobles descended of him might.

Kislev

Peace: Things are not currently on fire.

The Elder Races

Eight-Peaks Saved: A coalition of Dwarfs and their allies made their last stand against the foul Skaven Queek, managing just in the knick of time to remove the obstacles from their road and so make it to that field of battle. On the one hand, their positioning was good, pinching the Skaven forces in between the arriving force and the solid dwarf line.

On the other hand they were mightily outnumbered, 15:1; and too, the Skaven had their Queek-- who was death on the field.

The battle raged for nine days and nine nights, an inauspicious number indeed. But in the end, a charge of dwarfs and of elves managed to open the lines enough for might Tyrion and Teclis, as well as Belegar, to fight Queek and to kill him; as well as to break the Skaven forces present-- well enough broken, in fact, that the allied forces marched into their burrows in Eight-Peak, filling them with fire and death-- the goblins, too, already dead.

On the one hand, Karak Eight-Peaks is reclaimed; huzzah, for many ancient grudges are fulfilled! But, only a tenth of those Dwarfs who marched out with King Belegar do still live; it will be many moons until the Dwarfs are ready for another such effort.

Lizardmen

Death: None knows exactly what transpired in Naggaroth these weeks.

What you do know is that there were reports of Nehekarans as well as Lizardmen making their way north, and the three terrible empires clashing on the western shore-- but the magics have proven so terrible, so mighty, that no-one is quite sure what exactly happened, though they are reasonably comfortable saying the Lizardmen won; for they feel as though something long lost has reawoken.

 

[Voikirium]

Bretonnian Rebuild Trebuchet



Source

"Death! It is death. A snarling wolf at our gate these Bretons have constructed for themselves."
-Farida Faez, Daughter of Sultan Jaffar

Any nation may build a trebuchet, and not with too much difficulty either-- the physical qualities controlling its function are easily understood, and simple materials may be used to construct them.

However, only the Bretonnians would or could build Le-Loup-de-Guerre.

A mighty siege engine, capable of hurling missiles weighing 300 pounds up to 200 yards, at speeds of 120 miles. Three master carpenters and fifty fit laborers require three months to build the thing; to haul it requires thirty wagons pulled by draft animal. The engine's height is 300 feet. A single shot can bring down an entire castle wall. Wheels allow it to be somewhat maneuvered, though slowly-- any quick movement requires disassembly.

Though the first designs for it are shrouded in mist, records say that King Louis the Righteous ordered the construction of five of them for the Crusades-- the first such construction. They were tested in the lands of Estalia and found more than adequate to the task at hand, bringing down the gatehouse and attached wall of several fortresses. Further, the mighty stones they fling can tear great, bleeding holes in the marching lines of infantry-- though its use against faster troops is suspect.

In the 14th century, a method of flinging flaming ammunition-- without risking damage to the delicate parts of the war-machine-- was invented by Richard de Costello, during one of the many expeditions to Albion, to aid in removing the Firmir from their holes-- all of which are mightily fortified and hidden in dire swamp terrain.

Still, Dark Elves, Imperials, Orcs, and all others who would assail Bretonnia have learned to fear the wolf's bite.
--
Small thing.

Sorry to say, there probably won't be another turn proper until after next Thursday, when I take my last final.

 

[Voikirium]

Turn 8: The War Horn Blows

Maille glints in the desert sun, shining bright under the blue sky. Lances flash, punch through throat, open hearts and crack ribs-- split the lung, break the spine. Else arrows fly through the air, flashing once under the light before punching through eyes and heads. There is counterfire, too-- arrows fly heavy and fast, and leave your soldiers like pincushions, though the crudely fashioned iron heads fail to make it all the way through. You resemble porcupines more than anything else, so thickly stuck with this cheap wood and this splintered scrap of cheap beaten ore and unskillfully worked metals.

And you? Like the Lady's wrath you fight, your blue and white jupon unstained by greenskin blood. Again and again your blade rises and falls, your lance lying broken and shattered in the cleaved trunk of one of the Night Goblin chiefs. Honor neighs his fury; the old beast moves his hooves like hammer and maul, crushing skulls, breaking ribs, shattering elbows-- where he moves, the goblin falls. Edwige flies your banner, and you know Roberte and Magali are there too-- both in their thick, strong-made, blued-maille-- swords flashing in the sun, rising and falling as sure as the river current or the ocean rapid.

The Greenskins are coming. This, the vanguard, was weak-- a probing attack, to find your weakness.

He will find nothing but steel-- but even steel can break, if pressed enough. And they do plan on pressing you-- in the end, you expect that Grimgor will outnumber your forces much-- perhaps by so much as ten-fold, when all's said and done. Of course, there is one large difference between your men and Grimgor's forces.

They want to be here. They want to fight to protect their home. They want revenge for the losses at Mortensholme. They want, in short, to end this cruelty, here and now. Meanwhile, everything you've seen in the Badlands suggests the largest part of the Greenskin army will consist of gnoblars, snotlings and goblins of one sort or another, pressed into service to soak up damage and exhaust you.

Then the orcs will deliver the killing blow.

Unless, of course, you kill them.

Which you will.

Still, more troops would help.

As the battle ends and the goblins are heaped upon a pyre to burn, you can't help but wonder where you're going to find them at.

Martial: Your army must be grown. The retinues must swell, the forces arrayed at your side be made flawless. Grimgor comes-- nothing less is acceptable.
(Pick 2)

[] Fortarc: You'd be dead if that orc had brought another wyvern rider. You need some way to ground such beasts, that you might face them in honorable combat instead of having them gang up on you like common bandits. A hundred bolts of silverine-tipped, armor-piercing death roaring through the skies would probably suffice. Training an Arbalest isn't that hard-- you'd estimate a month? Particularly considering there are Tileans now in the city, who can both fill the ranks and help train your men. You'd say by the end of the month they'll be green, but still-- workable.
Cost: 400 Gold

Reward: 10 Units of Arbalests

[] Contract: You can call up thousands of archers, sure, but the number wobbles and varies and...ulgh. It's annoying, particularly considering what your greater duty out here is. Which is when one of your Khyprisian subjects gives an idea: contracts. Specifically, hire a small core of men-- say, 500-- to be, at least, regulars? Training on the seventh day and so on, in return for extra wages-- higher, even, than the usual offered to Bowmen-- coming with you on campaign no matter the season-- and too, there are other niggling thoughts in your head.

It's new, and different-- but also, certainly, bold.
Cost: 400 Gold, permanent Upkeep

Reward: 50 Units of Bowmen with Villein Officers

[] A Fine Tourney: While the infantry line has never been as weak as the Imperials would have you believe, the strength of Bretonnia has always been in its cavalry-- in the pounding of hooves on the sand and the crash of lance through leather; in the braying of beasts in the air and the hippogriffs cry in air. Why meddle with a good thing?

Instead, throw constant tournies, to both sharpen the skills of your knights to the highest level-- and to act as recruitment for new knights seeking their fortunes in your land.
Cost: 300 Gold

Reward: Knightly Recruitment Drive, +Improvement to Knight Quality

[] Beasts of the Sky--Hippogriff Riders: Fine beasts, terrible beasts-- as wrathful as you could ever desire, ever ravenous for Orc flesh, unwilling to flee from any battle, and more vicious than 10,000 Dragons, the Hippogriff is a frightful beast indeed. Your father has entire retinue of knights trained in riding them, and more are born every day from his menagerie. Honor is getting long in the tooth for battle-- your father has already nearly lost one child; he would not desire to lose another.

You will ask him to send a full contingent-- 160 Knights-- as well as a suitable beast to tame and train.
Cost: 1 Royal Favor

Reward: Royal Hippogryph Contingent (160 Royal Hippogryph Knights), 1 Hippogryph Hatchling

[] Beasts of the Sky--Pegasi Riders: Lisanor does find Hippogriffs a somewhat frightening beast--particularly when she is with child. More than that, she and even you feel some companionship with Pegasi, much the nobler beasts. Smarter than Hippogriffs, if not quite as strong or as savage-- or for that matter, as terrifying-- this is made up for by said Pegasi being more even tempered, easily trained, and easily fed.

On the other hand, Hippogriffs do make cleaning up after the battle easier...
Cost: 1 Royal Favor

Reward: Royal Pegasi Contingent (480 Royal Pegasi Knight), 1 Pegasus Hatchling

[] Ride With Donat: Sir Donat is, no doubt, a doldrums idiot with all the virtue, self-awareness, and depth of mind of a pancake; the wisdom of youth and the energy of old age; the charisma of an ugly gold fish. But he does still reign in Lexopos, where iron can be pulled out with your bare hands and the horses are quick and smart. So, much as it pains you to say it, it looks like you're stuck helping him.

A massive band of goblins has infested his lands. Remove them, and he will join you.
Cost: 500 Prestige (Imagine, helping somebody you detest)

Reward: Lexopos becomes a vassal

[] You can suggest something else, though Edwige might not like it:
Write in, -Opinion, Gold decided on later

Diplomacy: Your wife, being ambitious, decisive, and well-known for having your ear, has, obviously, traveled in many the same circles as other ambitious, decisive individuals. This is, in fact, part of why the Tileans came to you-- it seems many of their generals were once healed in the same temple as Lisanor volunteered in, and as such they know at least a little of her...as do many other movers and shakers throughout the Old World.
(Pick 2)

[] Southland Sons: Ouati, the Southlander prince, has been tight lipped about his home country except that it is a mighty empire, perhaps even rivaling that thing of Sigmar's to the east. You could ask him about it; or some of the traders?
Cost:???

Reward:???

[] Imperial Tendencies: You are not an Empire-- that is to say, you don't want to stick your flag on bits and pieces of land just because they exist. However, the Borderlands are yours. The Lady has told you to unify them, and you will not fail. Making this more clear to the other Great Power in your neck of the woods, the Empire, through their princess currently in your city would probably help make things at least a little bit more pleasant.
Cost: 50 gold

Reward: Empire less inclined to try and Empire in your neck of the woods, for at least the time being

[] Albion Conference: Albion is...well, eight years of war has somehow made the place more pleasant than when you all first arrived. You have no great interest in the place. That said, apparently a coalition of Breton and Albion warriors has been making life hell for the other powers on the Isle, greenskin, dark elf, Norscan, Firmir, and the Empire alike. If it doesn't in a skirt or on a horse, they've been killing it (except the lizardmen, because the lizardmen usually kill them).

You don't particularly want to conquer Albion. But they don't know that. The Imperials do want to conquer Albion, and you can be sure of that-- it's one of their only sources of various metals, gunpowder components, and at least three gold mines. Therefore, having you swear an oath not to, say, parley that Breton warrior and his band of misfits into an attempt to take the isles is probably worth some concessions. At least a tit-for-tat, of them promising not to attempt to meddle in the borderlands.

Only problem is, your father may not be thrilled by the thought of this promise. Still, he owes you enough to, at least, accept it.
Cost: 1 Royal favor

Reward: Some sort of treaty with Empire (North), undoubtedly slanted in your favor.

[] The Republic's Reputation: The Republic of Remas may be small-- but it has many soldiers, and is friendly to you. Though much of its military is currently in Sartosa, there may be something they can do to help you-- the same way you are helping them.
Cost: 50 Gold

Chance Of Success: 50%

Reward: Aid from Remas

[] Asur Trade: The High Elves have longly considered Bretonnia-- and longly been considered by Bretonnia-- friends.. They like pretty shit, you like pretty shit; they have wizards of unimaginable power, you have wizards of unimaginable power; their navy is number 1, yours is number 2, with both fulfilling much the same purpose; so on and so forth. However, trade between your people has been limited, at best, due to the Marienburgers being Marienburgers.

Fortunately, they are unlikely to be relevant very soon, the lawbreaking dipshits. Send an envoy to make contact with Ulthuan.
Cost: 125 Gold

Chance Of Success: 80%

Reward: Start Trading with Asur

[] Asrai Trade: The Wood Elves are much the kinder than the Empire claims-- but that does not make them friendly. Shrouded in mystery, they say the Wood Elves and Bretons once were allies, strong and fast-- but if so, that has long faded. Your neighbors are a fearsome bunch-- but there is a benevolence to them.

In any case, even they must desire something. However, they trade with noone on a large scale-- only a few merchants, plying the larger cities; what they might desire is not obvious to you or to anyone, though with your luck it will be something utterly innocuous and obvious in hindsight.
Cost: 250 Gold

Chance Of Success:40%

Reward: Trade with Wood Elves

[] The Sudomez: The south of Bretonnia is inhabited by an adventurous bunch, known as the Sudomez. They desire land, glory, and honor. There is plenty of all three in the Borderlands-- but that knowledge has not spread as far as you'd like. There is, however, a tournament happening within Carcassonne which will have visitors from the whole part of that realm. From as far north as Aquitaine they will come, for it is a tourney to celebrate the Duke's son's birthday. There will be merrymaking, fests, hunts, Goblin battles and more. It will also be expensive for the nobility, in order to fund the common contingent.

You will go, and represent yourself, and hire these men to the cause; and all will be well.
Cost: 300 Gold

Reward: Large, one time boost of knights and soldiers


Stewardship: The cities must be repaired, and prepared, for Orcish aggression. While they must recover from the body blow you handed them, when their vengeance comes it will be...terrible.

Hon-Hon-Hound: This new armor Asger has invented is fantastic-- but he needs to teach others how; to build forges; and to ready the logistical trail necessary for large-scale production. Though the starting cost will be huge, it is worth it: imagine a whole charge of Bretonnian knights, clad in plate, bullets bouncing from both steel and mystic love. You could shred a dwarf gunline like cheap parchment, never mind crashing through orcish nonsense-- it would be a slaughtering ground of green bodies and broken stone, a feast for crows never before seen at the hands of Breton men.

And to think, all of this started because you couldn't stop getting stabbed.
(Locked for 2 more turns)


Heldegrad Repairs: So it turns out the letters you received before you left for Norsca were from Heldegrad, a small city to your west. It seems a Tong Warlord had taken overlordship of the town, old and withered enough to be afraid of a true warrior, a true challenge-- but not so old and withered that the town could defeat him without terrible losses.

However, Sir Leroche could. The damage, though, was still severe-- better, in the long run, then feeding their children to the thing, but bad. The city has pledged itself to you, taken Sir Leroche as its knight. It requires...rebuilding.
(Locked for 1 more Turn)

Piety: Emma no longer sees on this lowly temporal plane-- rather, her sight, now is defined by the winds of magic and the blessing of the Lady.
(Pick 2)

[] Don't You Lie: Tielo Von Untergard, an Imperial explorer, reports that he has found, in the ancient city of the Amazons, some sort of Bretonnian artifact. You doubt it, but it's not impossible-- just, at worst, quite nearly so. Even if it isn't true, it may be an interesting piece.
Cost: 100 Gold

Chance of Success:???

Reward: Artifact

[] Imperial Artifacts: The Empire once extended its reach even this far south, though they are long gone now. While you have no love of the Empire's gods, you do not think there is anybody on the planet who deserves to have their sacred places plundered and kept of them (Greenskins and Norscan don't count, on account of they have no sacred places). Beyond that, it will help you make friends with these imperial Braggarts.
Cost: 100 Gold

Chance of Success: 50%

Reward: Improved Imperial Opinion, Potential Minor Imperial Favor

[] Breton Artifacts: When the Empire expanded, it also expanded into Bretonnia-- and much of your people's culture and artifacts were brought here, their symbols of the gods. Plenty of these artifacts made their way into the former Lichtenstein, then abandoned once the Empire retreated into the Imperial Core. While most artifacts in the core have been recovered, few Bretonnians have maintained as long lasting a grip on so much of the Borderlands.

Your father would be grave happy if you were to recover some of these artifacts. As would Emma, which is also probably a good idea.
Cost: 100 Gold

Chance of Success: 60%

Reward: 1 Royal Favor

[] Lost Treasure: Marcel de Parravon, of the Ducal Family of Parravon (Surprise of Surprise), died about thirteen years ago against the Lizard Beastmen of Lustria while attempting to colonize a land for your people there, Bregonne. It was a stupid plan, a bad plan, one utterly unthoughtthrough and dishonorable. However, he had with him one of the artifacts of your people, an enchanted shield once borne by Agilgar into battle.

Though the trek be dangerous and the Lizardmen foul, reclaiming that shield would be a great deed.
Cost: 100 Gold

Chance of Success: 35%

Reward: Recover Shield of Agilgar

[] Behind Enemy Lines: The Damsels by themselves are a fearsome force. Together? They can break the world. They, along with Emma, have requested your assent to head into the badlands and unleash the whole might of the Lady on their foes-- the Beastcallers shall turn the animals against the orcs, their boars and their wolves. Emma shall unleash the lightning, feed them to the storm, the winds of time opened to her view. And the healer? Where once she closed wounds, now she will open them.
Cost: 100 Gold

Chance Of Success:50%

Reward: Damsels wreck some shit.


Personal: Grimgor is coming. This you know, undoubtedly and without question. You, not the Generic You but You, Bohort de Courronne, son of Louen Leoncouer and foe of evil, must be ready for what is to come.
(Pick 2)

[] Lead More Raids: Slaughter more orcs. Drive deep into the Badlands, save as many as you can, burn and liberate. Much loot, much glory, and much renown awaits you and your body of handpicked men there! You have already stung his ugly face-- it's not as if he can become much more wrathful. Hell to him-- you're going to fight him, weaken him, more, here and now.
Cost: 50 Gold

Chance of Success: 90%

Reward: Much glory, much loot, much renown

[] Curious About Cathay: Shui Tu, one of the explorers/court officials the Emperor of Cathay has sent to hire an army of mercenaries, is currently traveling through the Borderlands. Why not see if he would like to stop and chat? It is not often, after all, that someone from that strange land makes it so far west.
Cost: 100 Gold

Reward: ???

[] Spend Time With Lisanor: She is your wife. You were gone throughout her whole pregnancy. That simply is not kosher, does not fly, and aught not be left unchallenged. Spend extra time with her now.
Cost: Free

Reward: Spend More time with wife, ???

[] Training: You have a fancy new magic sword. While, by most qualities, it is simply a fancy magic sword, it feels as though there is something you are not understanding, do not comprehend, some hidden power within that you have not grasped.

More time spent wielding it in training might help.
Cost: Free

Chance Of Success:???

Reward: Greater Grasp of the Sword???

[] Myrmidian Tutelage: Viktoria has offered to train you some in the arts of Myrmidian warfare. While you do not think you need it, as such, a larger toolbox of tactics and strategies can only be helpful in the darkness to come with the greentide. If nothing else, they certainly have a finer grasp of crossbow tactics and their use in war then you do.
Cost:50 Gold

Reward: Train in Myrmidian Tactics

 

[Voikirium]

Turn 8: The War Horn Blows
2524, Month 2

Maille glints in the desert sun, shining bright under the blue sky. Lances flash, punch through throat, open hearts and crack ribs-- split the lung, break the spine. Else arrows fly through the air, flashing once under the light before punching through eyes and heads. There is counterfire, too-- arrows fly heavy and fast, and leave your soldiers like pincushions, though the crudely fashioned iron heads fail to make it all the way through. You resemble porcupines more than anything else, so thickly stuck with this cheap wood and this splintered scrap of cheap beaten ore and unskillfully worked metals.

And you? Like the Lady's wrath you fight, your blue and white jupon unstained by greenskin blood. Again and again your blade rises and falls, your lance lying broken and shattered in the cleaved trunk of one of the Night Goblin chiefs. Honor neighs his fury; the old beast moves his hooves like hammer and maul, crushing skulls, breaking ribs, shattering elbows-- where he moves, the goblin falls. Edwige flies your banner, and you know Roberte and Magali are there too-- both in their thick, strong-made, blued-maille-- swords flashing in the sun, rising and falling as sure as the river current or the ocean rapid.

The Greenskins are coming. This, the vanguard, was weak-- a probing attack, to find your weakness.

He will find nothing but steel-- but even steel can break, if pressed enough. And they do plan on pressing you-- in the end, you expect that Grimgor will outnumber your forces much-- perhaps by so much as ten-fold, when all's said and done. Of course, there is one large difference between your men and Grimgor's forces.

They want to be here. They want to fight to protect their home. They want revenge for the losses at Mortensholme. They want, in short, to end this cruelty, here and now. Meanwhile, everything you've seen in the Badlands suggests the largest part of the Greenskin army will consist of gnoblars, snotlings and goblins of one sort or another, pressed into service to soak up damage and exhaust you.

Then the orcs will deliver the killing blow.

Unless, of course, you kill them.

Which you will.

Still, more troops would help.

As the battle ends and the goblins are heaped upon a pyre to burn, you can't help but wonder where you're going to find them at.

Martial: Your army must be grown. The retinues must swell, the forces arrayed at your side be made flawless. Grimgor comes-- nothing less is acceptable.

Fortarc: You'd be dead if that orc had brought another wyvern rider. You need some way to ground such beasts, that you might face them in honorable combat instead of having them gang up on you like common bandits. A hundred bolts of silverine-tipped, armor-piercing death roaring through the skies would probably suffice. Training an Arbalest isn't that hard-- you'd estimate a month? Particularly considering there are Tileans now in the city, who can both fill the ranks and help train your men. You'd say by the end of the month they'll be green, but still-- workable.

- Finely worked chain hauberks are crafted in your smithies, pounded out day and night, all shining and silvered in the bright Border sun. Massive shields are carved from oak, hardened in the furnace, lacquered blue and white and painted with dove or the grail, and well made likeness of the Lady as described from your falling to the pit. Helms and gorget are crafted in Araby during one of your trading expeditions, freeing the forges of your home-- they are forged in the Tilean style, open faced but excellent for shooting. Daggers, too, are distributed in case of catastrophe-- their blades are blued and purpled, of all things, a shipment from Remas.

And yet none of that matters without the crossbows, the Arbalests themselves. And they are magnificent.

Ordered from the fine workshops at Carcassonne, they are more expensive than all the armor combined.

And yet...

Well, when the first shipment arrived one of the unnamed workers of the university strapped a hunk of wyvern skin to a log. He fired a dark elf crossbow at the thing, and it gouged a single scale out. Not much damage, in the grand scheme of things.

Next, he replaced the skin and grabbed one of the arbalests, and fired once more at the wyvern hide. It pierced the scales, and the silverine tip was buried into the log.

Suffice to say, the purchase is well worth it.

The training of the men goes apace as well, the Tileans earning their wages

Reward: 10 Units of Arbalests

Ride With Donat: Sir Donat is, no doubt, a doldrums idiot with all the virtue, self-awareness, and depth of mind of a pancake; the wisdom of youth and the energy of old age; the charisma of an ugly gold fish. But he does still reign in Lexopos, where iron can be pulled out with your bare hands and the horses are quick and smart. So, much as it pains you to say it, it looks like you're stuck helping him.

A massive band of goblins has infested his lands. Remove them, and he will join you.

- As Peace Tide came and with it the campaigning season, there came too a war, and a host of Bretons did part too it.

And there could be seen the steel Bohort at its head. Robust was his form, tall, broad at the shoulder, and thick at the hips and the arms and the legs. His armor was all steel, a breastplate of some thickness; too the gauntlets of his right and left hand, and the plates that rested on his thighs, his bascinet of hounds; and upon his legs were greaves of steel and too his hair as well, still short as it was from his meeting with the Lady, the color of steel polished to sheen. At his right hand he bore his bastard sword, Arete; at his left his lance of oak and of steel, or his shield also of oak and steel. Over this he wore a jupon, quartered, the top right and bottom left pure white, the top left and bottom right a noble dark blue; in the blue was sewn the dove of his wife, in the white the grail of his Lady. His horse was young, a sireling of the old beast Honor. He, Chevalrie, was a deep black, a quick vicious half-breed between an Arabyan mother and Breton father.

This was how the Prince Bohort went to war. And with him he brought fire. His host marched into Lexopos, that long lost land, and it lay siege to manifold goblin hosts; their fastnesses were brought lowly, burned and scourged from the land. Their sorcerers were hung from the neck, or slain on the field of battle, most often by the Prince; their chieftains were beheaded, their bodies left to molder in the justice of the sun. The pits of them grew heaping, and when set alight did burn for four days and three nights until consumed by ash.

So it was that the Prince Bohort made his way west; and entered into the city of Zvorak, and received the submission of the Duke Donat; and too, an envoy from his east...

-The Annals of the Prince, as recorded by Lisanor de Courrone

Reward: Gain Allegiance of Lexopos, and of Duke Donat, ???

Diplomacy: Your wife, being ambitious, decisive, and well-known for having your ear, has, obviously, traveled in many the same circles as other ambitious, decisive individuals. This is, in fact, part of why the Tileans came to you-- it seems many of their generals were once healed in the same temple as Lisanor volunteered in, and as such they know at least a little of her...as do many other movers and shakers throughout the Old World.

The Republic's Reputation: The Republic of Remas may be small-- but it has many soldiers, and is friendly to you. Though much of its military is currently in Sartosa, there may be something they can do to help you-- the same way you are helping them.
Needed:50 Rolled:8

- There just...isn't, anything, they can do. Not with the threat so vague and so many problems closer to home.

Damn.

The Sudomez: The south of Bretonnia is inhabited by an adventurous bunch, known as the Sudomez. They desire land, glory, and honor. There is plenty of all three in the Borderlands-- but that knowledge has not spread as far as you'd like. There is, however, a tournament happening within Carcassonne which will have visitors from the whole part of that realm. From as far north as Aquitaine they will come, for it is a tourney to celebrate the Duke's son's birthday. There will be merrymaking, fests, hunts, Goblin battles and more. It will also be expensive for the nobility, in order to fund the common contingent.

You will go, and represent yourself, and hire these men to the cause; and all will be well.

- You march with a strong retinue of a hundred men-- only ten less than Duke Huebald himself.

You fight with either the lance or the sword, and never the shield.

In the melee, you fight alone.

You hear the whispers, at first. Of Courronnian arrogance. Of your over inflated ego after an easy victory. Of poor taste born of a peasant wife.

They stop talking of arrogance when you win.

They stop speaking of easy victory when you return with the most goblin loot, tied in bags around your waist.

They stop speaking of your wife when you mark your lance with the number of red bands in the tourney.

They stop speaking, and start listening.

Listening to your stories of a land threatened by Orcs. Of maidens in need of rescue. Of glory and chivalry, and honor and adventure.

And when you return, it is at the head of a host three thousand strong, a third of that knights, the rest commoners and free men.

Reward: +1000 Knights Errant, +2000 Men At Arms


Stewardship: The cities must be repaired, and prepared, for Orcish aggression. While they must recover from the body blow you handed them, when their vengeance comes it will be...terrible.

Hon-Hon-Hound: This new armor Asger has invented is fantastic-- but he needs to teach others how; to build forges; and to ready the logistical trail necessary for large-scale production. Though the starting cost will be huge, it is worth it: imagine a whole charge of Bretonnian knights, clad in plate, bullets bouncing from both steel and mystic love. You could shred a dwarf gunline like cheap parchment, never mind crashing through orcish nonsense-- it would be a slaughtering ground of green bodies and broken stone, a feast for crows never before seen at the hands of Breton men.

And to think, all of this started because you couldn't stop getting stabbed.

- The facilities are starting to take shape.

Heldegrad Repairs: So it turns out the letters you received before you left for Norsca were from Heldegrad, a small city to your west. It seems a Tong Warlord had taken overlordship of the town, old and withered enough to be afraid of a true warrior, a true challenge-- but not so old and withered that the town could defeat him without terrible losses.

However, Sir Leroche could. The damage, though, was still severe-- better, in the long run, then feeding their children to the thing, but bad. The city has pledged itself to you, taken Sir Leroche as its knight. It requires...rebuilding.

-The rebuilding is done. The streets are restoned, the walls refilled, the homes repaired. Life returns to normal, as much as it ever can-- full rebuilding will take generations, to heal from the trauma of Chaotic rule-- but it is functional once more, and the blood is no more shed upon the streets, no more clogging the sewers.

Reward: Gain Heldegrad

Piety: Emma no longer sees on this lowly temporal plane-- rather, her sight, now is defined by the winds of magic and the blessing of the Lady.

Breton Artifacts: When the Empire expanded, it also expanded into Bretonnia-- and much of your people's culture and artifacts were brought here, their symbols of the gods. Plenty of these artifacts made their way into the former Lichtenstein, then abandoned once the Empire retreated into the Imperial Core. While most artifacts in the core have been recovered, few Bretonnians have maintained as long lasting a grip on so much of the Borderlands.

Your father would be grave happy if you were to recover some of these artifacts. As would Emma, which is also probably a good idea.
Needed:40 Rolled:84

- Within those goblin halls, you find a small library of Myrmidian writings, made in the 5th century by the ancestors of the Sudomez. Very early editions of important texts, theological arguments. Very important.

Enough to earn some more aid from your father at least, if nothing else.
Reward: 1 Royal Favor

Behind Enemy Lines: The Damsels by themselves are a fearsome force. Together? They can break the world. They, along with Emma, have requested your assent to head into the badlands and unleash the whole might of the Lady on their foes-- the Beastcallers shall turn the animals against the orcs, their boars and their wolves. Emma shall unleash the lightning, feed them to the storm, the winds of time opened to her view. And the healer? Where once she closed wounds, now she will open them.
Needed:50 Rolled:20

- The weather turns against you-- you cannot make the journey.

(Failed)

Personal: Grimgor is coming. This you know, undoubtedly and without question. You, not the Generic You but You, Bohort de Courronne, son of Louen Leoncouer and foe of evil, must be ready for what is to come.

Lead More Raids: Slaughter more orcs. Drive deep into the Badlands, save as many as you can, burn and liberate. Much loot, much glory, and much renown awaits you and your body of handpicked men there! You have already stung his ugly face-- it's not as if he can become much more wrathful. Hell to him-- you're going to fight him, weaken him, more, here and now.
Needed:10 Rolled:83

- A stroke of good fortune-- your Arabyan allies discovered one of the ports from which the Orcs were planning to launch their invasion of your lands would be only weakly guarded. A few ramshackle ironhides-- cheap galleys, stolen from humans, layered with scrap metal so thick it should sink the damn boat. Secrecy, rather than force, would protect it, apparently-- or perhaps mighty Grimgor, terrible Grimgor, Grimgor man-bane, made a mistake.

It happens.

In any case, on a hot day, Jarl Runold and his band of Myrmidian Norscans rides south, under your command. 200 Norscans from out of nowhere arrive, and burn, and pillage, and destroy-- the port is burned, a deep, venomous pain to you foe. Their blood turns the seas green, and on your way back your ships are full of the liberated.

If he wants to fight you, Grimgor can come by land.
Reward: +300 Prestige, burned Orc Port to the Ground, rescued slaves

Myrmidian Tutelage: Viktoria has offered to train you some in the arts of Myrmidian warfare. While you do not think you need it, as such, a larger toolbox of tactics and strategies can only be helpful in the darkness to come with the greentide. If nothing else, they certainly have a finer grasp of crossbow tactics and their use in war then you do.

- The myrmidians know war. They know it the way one knows a mother, a father, a brother or a sister.

In particular, they know crossbows. The prime, and best, adopters of their use, they have taken great pains to develop them to their pinnacle. How to deal with the rain, when to concentrate on weight of fire and when on accuracy, so on and so forth. While you are far from an expert, you certainly better positioned to handle this new tool than you were without the training.

Reward: +5 to Arbalest rolls

 

[Voikirium]

Old World News Turn 8

Bretonnia

A New City: Duke Alberic has established his new capital within the Forest of Châlons-- Montagnebez, made of lumber and timber and already filling with people. It will be a stronghold not easily taken, pinched between slopes of granite to the north, impassible trees to the east and to the west, and a stream at its south.

Pushing West: Duke Huebald's sons have led their ten-thousand men to the aid of Estalia. With many trebuchets, arbalests and mighty knights it has pounded the field and the plain, the forest and the mountain. They have already met the enemy once on the banks of the Tarmos, stopping the enemy's advance east on a wall of spears, shields and swords. It was not a deciding blow to Maullobaude, but many of his forces died, forcing him to withdraw to Nerja.

A Baby Boom: Manifold knights within the Borderlands, under the command of Prince Bohort, have taken spouses-- helping anchor the population of the lands after the slaughter of the orcs.

The Empire

The Emperor Worsens: Karl Franz beats on death's door. By reports, he vomits blood-- his body is scarlet red, and burning to the touch-- and he has not full grasp of his senses. The plague is burning him, destroying him from the inside. A sad end for a valiant ruler.

More Immigrants: More immigrants, now from Estalia, are arriving in the empire-- helping to populate the new cities founded by the emperor in his quest to tame the Great Forest. Starkhall's population jumped has jumped to 50,000; Drachengift, 75,000 people; Schwartzwatche, to 60,000-- and most impressively of all, the Imperial City, Altdorf, has reached the population of 750,000, expanding manifold, with many new districts turned to productive and wholly decent purpose.

More Death: Guerilla actions by the natives of Norsca have intensified against their conqueror, their oppressor, their enemy; and blood stains the snow white. Turns out oppression has bitter fruit.

Estalia

More Cities Fall: Every city west of the Tarmos-- which is very many of them-- has fallen to Maullobaude's vicious forces. Mercenaries, vampires, monsters and ogres do bring them to submission. He also slaughtered the Imperial expedition to Aquitas, which had many of the young nobles of that realm within.

Shame: It would be one thing if your brother had won by virtue of actual superiority-- but it seems more, in this case, that he is winning based off the absolute failures of the Estalians. The troops are fighting well-- however the nobles, not under Amilcar and from his realm, haven proven quarrelsome, ill-tempered, lacking ability, and disunited in purpose, riven by petty political rivalries. It is an insult to those innocent who are dying..

The Seas Run Red: Naval affairs, at least, seem to be favoring Estalia, under the aid of Admiral Jacques Joffre. Though not up to par with the Bretonnian navy proper, the Estalians are at least on the border of second and first rate, and have proven it against the vampirates (Yes, really) that your brother has hired for a navy.

Albion

Death of Knights: The Dark Elves are mighty. Not invincible-- far from that-- but strong, fierce, bloodyminded. Removing them from Albion was always-- always-- going to take blood, and the blood of the brave at that.

But the blood of every Breton there?

Tybault was slain. His knights were slain. The infantry-- slain. The archers-- slain. The Dark Elves were removed, their fastnesses broken-- but they reaved a bloody price from your people. Now there is nothing left to stand against the darkness there.

Or the Empire.

Except the Albion men themselves.

Cathay

Goblins Come: The hobgoblins are coming. And with them they have called the greenskin menace manifold. Goblin tribes are migrating in great numbers from the darkest woods and from the Badlands and from the South to join their kin, called by...

honestly, you don't know.

There are millions of them. Tens of millions, even. Vicious shamans, Night goblins-- maddened animals; spider rider; worse. Blood thirsty.

On the other side?

The might of Cathay. Vast armies under the Dragon Emperor, called to serve. Mercenaries hired from around the world-- Ronin standing side-by-side with landsknecht, boyars plunging deep into lines arrayed around Varu armored in plate, Condottieri talking tactics with warlords. Even a few Bretonnian exiles, questing knights, and miscellaneous others. Too, the might of the actual army, called from every corner of the realm-- sorcerers, warlords, and many millions of souls.

It will be a hell of a fight-- if it weren't so infested with mercenaries, you might want to watch.

Tilea

Fighting Orcs: The Republics of Tilea have begun launching assaults on Orcish ports, seeking the plunder to fill their own coffers with capital.

 

[Voikirium]

Your New Vassals

Duke Donat de Guiscard of Lexopos

(Source)
The Duke of Lexopos, a spoiled idiot and brat who insulted your wife upon meeting her. He doesn't quite seem to be bright enough to have caught the disdain you hold for him. Must be all the in breeding.

Tithe: 300 Gold a month (in raw metals)
Household: 10 Knights of the Realm, 25 Knights Errant, 500 Men at Arms, 1000 Bowmen
Loyalty: Assured

Sir Jacques de Leroche, Prince of Heldegrad

(Source)
A vain, impetuous, vulgar, lustful, atheistical, intemperate, arrogant, disgrace to the title of Paladin. His ruthless animal of a father shipped him off to you in a cloud of despair. However, his skill at arms, as much as it pains you to say, is unquestionable. Certainly the people of Heldegrad love him.

Tithe: 15 Gold
Household: 75 Knights of the Realm, 150 Knights Errant, 2000 Men at Arms, 250 Yeomen, 3000 Bowmen, 150 Villein
Loyalty: Tense