- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
large scale raiding on horse mostly
The Good Prince (Warhammer Fantasy)
- Thread starter Voikirium
- Start date
- Fantasy
Casting Down the Broken Crown
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Casting Down the Broken Crown
The great inner fortress of Khypris shook, rattled by ten-thousand marching feet. The poor, the downtrodden, the dispossessed walked together, thousands strong. Helot, merchant, fishermen, it mattered not. Man or woman, arm in arm. All came, through street and field, from forge and fire, field and fountain. Some had hoes, some held torches, clubs, pitchforks and scythes, some bows. A few had nothing greater than rocks, snagged from city street or field. But they had no fear.
For at the front was a champion. No, not of Myrmidia, nor Sigmar neither, nor the Lady Breton. No, she was the champion of Shallya.
And the whole world seemed open to her.
As they marched behind fair Lisanor, the lost daughter, and as they grew, the arrayed force seemed simply to shrink. First the Akritoi dissolved, returning to their homes, afeared more of Orcs than of men-- or, for that matter, of women. Their javelins lay as fallow as field, their arrows unfired, their swords resting in their sheathes.
Next, pronoiars flew to mansions untouched, betraying the betrayer who first had given them their lucre for their souls-- a lesson imparted in trusting the untrustworthy. Those that fled not joined the crowd, bolstering it in steel and will.
Finally flew the cataphracts, swift hooves striking stone floors. On their heels a rain of arrows, striking and stinging.
And so the way was unbarred, opened quick for that crowd over long months rallied to the aid of that woman, Lisanor the Abandoned, Lisanor the Exile, Lisanor the Healer.
Rams, fashioned of the tallest trees of the Prince's own grove afar of the city, were brought up, struck once, twice, thrice on that old orchicalum gate-- and they fell, opened, the great bar shattered in twain-- so terrible even twisted Tzeench could not remake what was unmade.
The palace was all opulence, grand and golden. Floors of paved marble held the weight of great columns lifting high balconies and a tall roof, vaulted-- covered in vain images of Emperors long passed. Statues in black iron, cold steel, bearing vain Aristomache in terrible visage, tall as the man and twice as worth, were borne and gold plinths. Silk flags flowed from gold strings, bearing proud symbols-- the Heraldry, the crown, the gods they worshiped-- in cruel form and cold countenance.
At center by throne of carved stump stood Aristomache, that crowned king unglorious, in princely panoply. "I and my men will not die so easy."
"I think your men have no plans to die at all."
He turned, that prince, and saw then that his men, his warriors, his picked right left, had betrayed him, drawing then sword and shield or else abandoning their panoply of war in favor of flight.
"Now begone, cruel thing, of unjust desire, and return not here-- or awaken cruelest ire."
"Slay me."
"Nay. Not you, not ever."
"Take not my blood, and regret it forever."
"I'd regret it much less than to heap you on pyre."
And with that he left, afeared for his honor-- and so passed the last son of conquerors, centuries undone in work of months.
--
IDK, I hit a mood.
Also, Old World News should be up, you know, like, soonish.
The great inner fortress of Khypris shook, rattled by ten-thousand marching feet. The poor, the downtrodden, the dispossessed walked together, thousands strong. Helot, merchant, fishermen, it mattered not. Man or woman, arm in arm. All came, through street and field, from forge and fire, field and fountain. Some had hoes, some held torches, clubs, pitchforks and scythes, some bows. A few had nothing greater than rocks, snagged from city street or field. But they had no fear.
For at the front was a champion. No, not of Myrmidia, nor Sigmar neither, nor the Lady Breton. No, she was the champion of Shallya.
And the whole world seemed open to her.
As they marched behind fair Lisanor, the lost daughter, and as they grew, the arrayed force seemed simply to shrink. First the Akritoi dissolved, returning to their homes, afeared more of Orcs than of men-- or, for that matter, of women. Their javelins lay as fallow as field, their arrows unfired, their swords resting in their sheathes.
Next, pronoiars flew to mansions untouched, betraying the betrayer who first had given them their lucre for their souls-- a lesson imparted in trusting the untrustworthy. Those that fled not joined the crowd, bolstering it in steel and will.
Finally flew the cataphracts, swift hooves striking stone floors. On their heels a rain of arrows, striking and stinging.
And so the way was unbarred, opened quick for that crowd over long months rallied to the aid of that woman, Lisanor the Abandoned, Lisanor the Exile, Lisanor the Healer.
Rams, fashioned of the tallest trees of the Prince's own grove afar of the city, were brought up, struck once, twice, thrice on that old orchicalum gate-- and they fell, opened, the great bar shattered in twain-- so terrible even twisted Tzeench could not remake what was unmade.
The palace was all opulence, grand and golden. Floors of paved marble held the weight of great columns lifting high balconies and a tall roof, vaulted-- covered in vain images of Emperors long passed. Statues in black iron, cold steel, bearing vain Aristomache in terrible visage, tall as the man and twice as worth, were borne and gold plinths. Silk flags flowed from gold strings, bearing proud symbols-- the Heraldry, the crown, the gods they worshiped-- in cruel form and cold countenance.
At center by throne of carved stump stood Aristomache, that crowned king unglorious, in princely panoply. "I and my men will not die so easy."
"I think your men have no plans to die at all."
He turned, that prince, and saw then that his men, his warriors, his picked right left, had betrayed him, drawing then sword and shield or else abandoning their panoply of war in favor of flight.
"Now begone, cruel thing, of unjust desire, and return not here-- or awaken cruelest ire."
"Slay me."
"Nay. Not you, not ever."
"Take not my blood, and regret it forever."
"I'd regret it much less than to heap you on pyre."
And with that he left, afeared for his honor-- and so passed the last son of conquerors, centuries undone in work of months.
--
IDK, I hit a mood.
Also, Old World News should be up, you know, like, soonish.
Old World News Turn 4
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Old World News Turn 4
Bretonnia:
Mousillon Writhes: The dark Dukedom of Mousillon, once land of Landuin the Perfect, now a dark and fetid land, burns. Mallobaude, the nearest thing to a duke in that land, rages at the defeat of his right hand, Vortigern de Rais, as well as the frustration of his supposed plan to assail Estalia. While he's not wise to turn aside at once from the fight, even he in his cruel idiocy must recognize the awful position he is in.
Singing Ghosts: Sailors report singing ghosts on the path to Mousillon. This is probably not good.
Imperial:
An Outstretched Hand: The Emperor has decreed that, for too long, the Empire has been placed on the backfoot-- defensive and vulnerable. And so he has set to work undoing that, in two major pushes.
First, he has begun colonization of the Great Forest, and the lesser forests of the Empire-- offering supplies to start houses, farmsteads, cities to anyone willing to pledge their loyalty to the Empire. In this he attempts to harness the manpower of the stream of Refugees from the east-- of the Great Steppes predominately, though there are other-- and so has grown the stream to a flood as thousands if not millions of new citizens arrive in his Empire. Fighting Beastmen herds, Orcish hords, and Bandits, dozens of settlements have sprung up in the dark. Three, in particular, are poised to become the beating heart of Imperial Civilization in those forests: Schwartzwatche of the Forest of Shadows; Starkhall of the Great Forest, in Stirland; and Drachengift, in the Drakwald of Middenland.
Secondly, he has married his son to Atlefitz, queen of the Sydigoths, gaining, effectively, that small kingdom-- and control of the trade routes that pass from the East into the Empire.
Tilea:
Sartosa Besieged: The forces of Remas have landed on the Island of Sartosa, whence the Pirates rest after long days of murder, thievery, and butchery. Longly have Military Theoreticians questioned whether the viciousness of the pirates would outweigh the discipline of the professional soldiers. It seems, at least in this case, that discipline outweighs viciousness, as while it has been hard going for the Remans, they are no doubt winning-- if not unassailably so, yet.
Cathay:
The Great Steppe: The situation in the Great Steppe does not necessarily develop in Cathay's favor. Vast hordes of Hobgoblins rise again and again, nearly numberless-- even that strange state, so far to the East, is stressed in dealing with them. The Army of Cathay is pressed to find the raw manpower to face them down.
Therefore, the Dragon Emperor has legitimized a band of ten of his finest officials to seek out and hire mercenaries from abroad to fill that pressing need. Ronin from Nippon, the Landsknechte of the Empire, Condottiero of Tilea, Breton Buccaneers, Corsairs of Ind, and Estalian Explorers have all made their way to the Middle Kingdom, with plans to expand the net further-- to the Southlands and the New World, with rumors of Ogres and Amazons. Nearly instantly, these men have been placed into war against the Goblin scourge, garrisoning newly constructed forts, as well as striking out against the wandering bands.
Yes, a man can make a fortune-- if he is willing to give up security and home.
Bretonnia:
Mousillon Writhes: The dark Dukedom of Mousillon, once land of Landuin the Perfect, now a dark and fetid land, burns. Mallobaude, the nearest thing to a duke in that land, rages at the defeat of his right hand, Vortigern de Rais, as well as the frustration of his supposed plan to assail Estalia. While he's not wise to turn aside at once from the fight, even he in his cruel idiocy must recognize the awful position he is in.
Singing Ghosts: Sailors report singing ghosts on the path to Mousillon. This is probably not good.
Imperial:
An Outstretched Hand: The Emperor has decreed that, for too long, the Empire has been placed on the backfoot-- defensive and vulnerable. And so he has set to work undoing that, in two major pushes.
First, he has begun colonization of the Great Forest, and the lesser forests of the Empire-- offering supplies to start houses, farmsteads, cities to anyone willing to pledge their loyalty to the Empire. In this he attempts to harness the manpower of the stream of Refugees from the east-- of the Great Steppes predominately, though there are other-- and so has grown the stream to a flood as thousands if not millions of new citizens arrive in his Empire. Fighting Beastmen herds, Orcish hords, and Bandits, dozens of settlements have sprung up in the dark. Three, in particular, are poised to become the beating heart of Imperial Civilization in those forests: Schwartzwatche of the Forest of Shadows; Starkhall of the Great Forest, in Stirland; and Drachengift, in the Drakwald of Middenland.
Secondly, he has married his son to Atlefitz, queen of the Sydigoths, gaining, effectively, that small kingdom-- and control of the trade routes that pass from the East into the Empire.
Tilea:
Sartosa Besieged: The forces of Remas have landed on the Island of Sartosa, whence the Pirates rest after long days of murder, thievery, and butchery. Longly have Military Theoreticians questioned whether the viciousness of the pirates would outweigh the discipline of the professional soldiers. It seems, at least in this case, that discipline outweighs viciousness, as while it has been hard going for the Remans, they are no doubt winning-- if not unassailably so, yet.
Cathay:
The Great Steppe: The situation in the Great Steppe does not necessarily develop in Cathay's favor. Vast hordes of Hobgoblins rise again and again, nearly numberless-- even that strange state, so far to the East, is stressed in dealing with them. The Army of Cathay is pressed to find the raw manpower to face them down.
Therefore, the Dragon Emperor has legitimized a band of ten of his finest officials to seek out and hire mercenaries from abroad to fill that pressing need. Ronin from Nippon, the Landsknechte of the Empire, Condottiero of Tilea, Breton Buccaneers, Corsairs of Ind, and Estalian Explorers have all made their way to the Middle Kingdom, with plans to expand the net further-- to the Southlands and the New World, with rumors of Ogres and Amazons. Nearly instantly, these men have been placed into war against the Goblin scourge, garrisoning newly constructed forts, as well as striking out against the wandering bands.
Yes, a man can make a fortune-- if he is willing to give up security and home.
Turn 5: The Force and Fury
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The manor is much smaller than the palace of Courronne. Barely 60 feet tall, its walls are simple hardwood. There is only a single garden, a greenhouse of sort; two libraries, of less than 800 books each; a single kitchen and dining hall, only suited for perhaps fifty men at a time; and a throne room of a simple oaken, padded chair, with slate gray floors, and brutally carved stone pillars rather than the graceful, arching columns lovingly crafted by the finest workmen of the country. The rugs, banners, and drapes are of wool, instead of fine silk. No gold-worked tapestries, no fine Cathayan porcelain.
Yes, it is much the more austere than that slice of paradise.
But its halls are still labyrinthine enough, its depths dark enough, its unexplored corners mysterious enough, that it takes you six hours-- six hours-- to find your crying ward, the day he disappears. He is sitting in some unused servant's path, a hidden hall leading from the kitchen to some guestchambers.
Wordlessly, you lift the crying boy onto your lap, letting him hug you. These tears are earnest tears, and whatever little fear you may have had-- that the boy was some Norscan plot to infiltrate your realm, a hidden agent of Chaos-- die to the blows of his lamentations.
For what feels like hours you rest there, just the two of you.
"Does...does it ever stop hurting, like this?"
"No. But...but you get stronger. Inured. You process it, and it loses the ragged edge." Unbidden images of Lyonessian knights, heaped on a pyre to stop the mundane plague carried by those filthy Northmen bastards, play-- you are sixteen again, powerless, watching them die.
And then it passes. "It happened. You cannot change it. What you can do...is decide it is the floor. And not the ceiling. And you can get on with it."
Martial: Edwige has taken one of the Norscan suits of armor for herself-- apparently, her old set was broken in that last battle, though she has at least lost no more limbs or other organs.
Still, there's something grimly funny to it.
(Pick 2)
[] Vampires Bite: So, Sonnental! The mythical city of the damned, it is home to an aristocracy of Lahmian Vampires who are currently, you know, feeding on the living and torturing the innocent and just not, generally, being particularly decent rulers or people. They have been safe because no-one knows where they are, those few who manage to escape usually too delirious and afraid to lead a party back to the town.
Edwige is insulted on your behalf that these Lahmians believe they can buy you with cheap power and cheaper sex, as though you were not a prince of Bretonna. Slander and insult. She'll lead a party to find the city, kill the vampires, and reclaim it and all the people within.
Cost: 10 Gold
[] Norscan Blood's Call: You know there are greenskin settlements within the forests. Minor camps, mining camps (hah), and so on with wealth ripped from these lands. Perhaps it is the Norscan within the blood of all Lyonesse speaking, but raiding their camps for necessary supplies and so on could be helpful. If nothing else, you can slaughter their spider-riders now and save everyone a world of trouble.
Cost: Free
[] 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
[] Basilius Bashing: The deposed Basilius has gathered an army of warriors to attempt to reclaim his crown. He has sworn he will tear down the walls of the city. He accuses you of being a war-and-whore monger. He accuses you of being a foreign invader-- ignoring, of course, that he was educated in the Empire, fought in the Empire, spoke Reikspeil in his court, and all but worshiped Sigmar. He accuses you of being bewitched by Lisanor-- perhaps the closest thing to accurate among every burbling word that has come out of his mouth.
All of these you could forgive-- it is, after all, expected that lesser men should rant upon failure.
He has threatened Lisanor. By no means, with a quick death.
This, you might overlook-- for Lisanor herself has asked you to, in the name of peace.
But then...he threatened your son.
For this, he will not see the dawn.
Cost: 500 Gold
Reward: Decisively deal with this...pretender. (No miniturns)
[] 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)
[] Carcassonnian Cousins: Estalia has a small, but not unnoticeable community, of Lady worshipers born from Carcassonian parents mostly-- many of whom are also bored and desperately searching for a purpose in life. Though the knightly traditions of that place are strange in some ways, by and large they are closer than the Empire; further many no doubt would come to your call and fill your ranks with good soldiers in some of the finest steel the Old World can offer, bringing with them too footsoldiers.
(Costs: 20 Prestige)
[] 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:???
[] Calme Toi: The Dukes of Aquitaine, Bordeleaux, and Bastonne bicker over whom should be allowed, legally, to take control of and colonize the Forest of Chalons. Over the centuries this was mostly an intellectual endeavor of little practical worth. However, all three duchies are now headed by vigorous, mighty souls-- including the Duc Alberic, who seeks to utilize the resources therein to reinforce his Dukedom in case of Mousillon attacking; the Duc Armand, a Grail Knight who has taken to administrating the lands personally and with extreme prejudice; and Duc Bohemond, who mostly seeks to use it as a massive hunting ground for nobles and peasants-- though, it must be said, that is still a massive improvement over what it currently is.
They turn to you to arbitrate the dispute, for though young it is a matter you have no personal stake in-- excepting your friendship with Robert, though as he does not give a damn either way you cannot really, either.
[] A Royal Aid: Your father would be willing to listen to your advice on the matter of Tileans-- to some extent, certainly. Undoubtedly enough to help the Sartosa campaign and more recognition to Remas, if nothing else. And if he personally took the field...well. There have been less fair fights than 'the deadliest man in the Old World vs a bunch of drunkard thieves with loose morals', probably, but you'd be hard pressed to name them.
Cost: 1 Royal Favor
Reward: Republic of Remas Firmly in your favor, very friendly, allied to you, willing to aid in Badlands campaign.
[] Doing it the Hard Way: You will not run back to daddy again. You'll do it the hard way-- send weapons, supplies, men to the Sartosan campaign, and intensify your efforts to aid your new allies. What it lacks in panache, it makes up for in practicality-- seriously, sending Louen Leoncouer to fight pirates is like killing a mosquito with a trebuchet.
Cost: 125 Gold
Reward: Even more positive opinion, Remas tied to you more
[] 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. Therefor, 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.
[] You can suggest something else, though Lisanor might not like it.
Write in, -Opinion, Gold decided on later
Stewardship: Robert walks into your monthly meeting holding his son near to him. So that's a thing now. Perhaps you should set up a play date?
(Pick 1)
Walls of Stone and Walls of Will: Edwige has suggested repairing the walls. The most difficult-- but also most helpful-- task, you can expect it will be a good symbol of your strength, though it will take more time than most. Right now they'd suffice to deter bandits, but not much else.
[] Architectural Aid: There's going to be a lot of construction. First, of course, you'll be rebuilding after all the damage the goblins have done. Also, of course, the largest part of why many knights join Errantry Wars is to establish fiefdoms and gain land, which they will not otherwise gain-- also, of course, to save people from, you know, dying in misery but the land helps too. Having a proper construction service ready would be incredibly forward thinking and helpful, and there are several people you could think to call.
(Cost: 40 Gold, 10 Upkeep, Optional: []Write-in Nation to ask, Defaults Bretonnia, cannot be Empire, Kislev, or Norsca)
[] 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.
Cost: 800 Gold, 4 Months
[] "A Gun Is A Coward's Weapon": Well, you're in a little bit of a pickle. It seems, unknown to you, that the former masters of both Aldium and Mortensholm had gun foundries-- small production facilities for bombards, hand-cannons, the most advanced item likely a mortar.
You don't want the fucking things-- you're not nearly enough of a coward to need guns-- but just destroying them would be dangerous, not to mention likely corrosive to the environment. Fortunately, an offer has come to you: Annemaria Leitdorf, one of the claimants of Averland, seeks to strengthen her position before the matter is finally put to rest. By acquiring a number of blackpowder weapons as well as further industry with them, she hopes to force the other claimants to recognize her at the summit held next month-- and then, perhaps, to fortify the Blackfire Pass.
It's likely as not she's trying to screw you with the price-- but as unlikely as it is, it's not impossible that there is an honest Imperial. Even if she isn't, it's not as if you can use them for anything else.
Cost: -100 Prestige (Imagine, making money off of cannons)
Reward: +500 Gold
[] Protecting the Sick: Lisanor and the Physician's Guild have prepared a tag-team response to help heal the sick in your lands. While normally the two bicker, here and now they see burned out warehouses and homes and have decided to fight no longer.
In this version, you would be handing off leadership in this regard to Adelhard de Grenouille, the head physician, and the Physician's Guild.
Cost: 50 gold
Reward: Healing for town's people
[] You can suggest something else, though Robert might not like it.
Cost: To be decided
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)
[] Purification: There are still greenskin shrines standing in your lands! Burn them, shatter them, crush them-- and all in the name of the Lady. Then have Emma go over them for good measure.
Cost: 250 Gold
[] Fr- er, Bretonnia Means Freedom: Despise the slaver with all of your heart. Such was spoke in olden days by the Fay Enchantress, before her first rebirth.
Now you hear tell of a group of Bretonnians who seek to lead a Great Liberation in Kislev. Grail Knights, Damsels, Prophetesses, Paladins, and the common man alike working together to free those in bondage. Every strategy and tactic, ranging from manumission to raids to spirited fleeing in the night, will be used. They're going to hit the slavers where it hurts most-- the wallet.
Your direct presence is neither feasible nor requested-- but your money, your resources, in the service of religious good? That much is.
Cost: 150 Gold
[] Shallya Protects the Sick: Lisanor and the Physician's Guild have prepared a tag-team response to help heal the sick in your lands. While normally the two bicker, here and now they see burned out warehouses and homes and have decided to fight no longer.
In this case, Lisanor would take the lead.
Cost: 50 gold
Reward: Healing for Citizens
[] 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, unlikely. Even if it isn't true, it may be an interesting piece.
Cost: 100 Gold
Reward: Artifact
Personal: It seems things are proceeding to a certain plan.
(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!
Cost: 50 Gold
Reward: Much glory, much loot, much renown
[] Publishing It: You made plenty of notes on how to carry out your Chevauchee-- dozens of pieces of parchment, journals, and inkwells were sacrificed, plotting out logistical trains, tropp numbers, maneuvers, and so on. The Imperial War College, Myrmidian Academy in Carcassonne, and even a collector from Nippon-- are all interested in purchasing a collated edition. It should also be considered that looking back over said notes may sharpen your grasp on war even more, as you compare what happened in the field-- where mistakes were made-- with the purest theory and sharpen that theory.
Cost: free
Reward: Gold, slight chance to increase Martial
[] Duel to the Death: Apparently, an orc warlord has challenged Augusta to a duel. Honor insulted, she is of course planning to go. However, she would like you to be her second in case of treachery.
Cost: Free
Reward: Aid Augusta
[] 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: ???
--
Just realized I forgot to do the whole, like, taxes/damsels thing last turn, will get that done tomorrow
Yes, it is much the more austere than that slice of paradise.
But its halls are still labyrinthine enough, its depths dark enough, its unexplored corners mysterious enough, that it takes you six hours-- six hours-- to find your crying ward, the day he disappears. He is sitting in some unused servant's path, a hidden hall leading from the kitchen to some guestchambers.
Wordlessly, you lift the crying boy onto your lap, letting him hug you. These tears are earnest tears, and whatever little fear you may have had-- that the boy was some Norscan plot to infiltrate your realm, a hidden agent of Chaos-- die to the blows of his lamentations.
For what feels like hours you rest there, just the two of you.
"Does...does it ever stop hurting, like this?"
"No. But...but you get stronger. Inured. You process it, and it loses the ragged edge." Unbidden images of Lyonessian knights, heaped on a pyre to stop the mundane plague carried by those filthy Northmen bastards, play-- you are sixteen again, powerless, watching them die.
And then it passes. "It happened. You cannot change it. What you can do...is decide it is the floor. And not the ceiling. And you can get on with it."
Martial: Edwige has taken one of the Norscan suits of armor for herself-- apparently, her old set was broken in that last battle, though she has at least lost no more limbs or other organs.
Still, there's something grimly funny to it.
(Pick 2)
[] Vampires Bite: So, Sonnental! The mythical city of the damned, it is home to an aristocracy of Lahmian Vampires who are currently, you know, feeding on the living and torturing the innocent and just not, generally, being particularly decent rulers or people. They have been safe because no-one knows where they are, those few who manage to escape usually too delirious and afraid to lead a party back to the town.
Edwige is insulted on your behalf that these Lahmians believe they can buy you with cheap power and cheaper sex, as though you were not a prince of Bretonna. Slander and insult. She'll lead a party to find the city, kill the vampires, and reclaim it and all the people within.
Cost: 10 Gold
[] Norscan Blood's Call: You know there are greenskin settlements within the forests. Minor camps, mining camps (hah), and so on with wealth ripped from these lands. Perhaps it is the Norscan within the blood of all Lyonesse speaking, but raiding their camps for necessary supplies and so on could be helpful. If nothing else, you can slaughter their spider-riders now and save everyone a world of trouble.
Cost: Free
[] 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
[] Basilius Bashing: The deposed Basilius has gathered an army of warriors to attempt to reclaim his crown. He has sworn he will tear down the walls of the city. He accuses you of being a war-and-whore monger. He accuses you of being a foreign invader-- ignoring, of course, that he was educated in the Empire, fought in the Empire, spoke Reikspeil in his court, and all but worshiped Sigmar. He accuses you of being bewitched by Lisanor-- perhaps the closest thing to accurate among every burbling word that has come out of his mouth.
All of these you could forgive-- it is, after all, expected that lesser men should rant upon failure.
He has threatened Lisanor. By no means, with a quick death.
This, you might overlook-- for Lisanor herself has asked you to, in the name of peace.
But then...he threatened your son.
For this, he will not see the dawn.
Cost: 500 Gold
Reward: Decisively deal with this...pretender. (No miniturns)
[] 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)
[] Carcassonnian Cousins: Estalia has a small, but not unnoticeable community, of Lady worshipers born from Carcassonian parents mostly-- many of whom are also bored and desperately searching for a purpose in life. Though the knightly traditions of that place are strange in some ways, by and large they are closer than the Empire; further many no doubt would come to your call and fill your ranks with good soldiers in some of the finest steel the Old World can offer, bringing with them too footsoldiers.
(Costs: 20 Prestige)
[] 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:???
[] Calme Toi: The Dukes of Aquitaine, Bordeleaux, and Bastonne bicker over whom should be allowed, legally, to take control of and colonize the Forest of Chalons. Over the centuries this was mostly an intellectual endeavor of little practical worth. However, all three duchies are now headed by vigorous, mighty souls-- including the Duc Alberic, who seeks to utilize the resources therein to reinforce his Dukedom in case of Mousillon attacking; the Duc Armand, a Grail Knight who has taken to administrating the lands personally and with extreme prejudice; and Duc Bohemond, who mostly seeks to use it as a massive hunting ground for nobles and peasants-- though, it must be said, that is still a massive improvement over what it currently is.
They turn to you to arbitrate the dispute, for though young it is a matter you have no personal stake in-- excepting your friendship with Robert, though as he does not give a damn either way you cannot really, either.
[] A Royal Aid: Your father would be willing to listen to your advice on the matter of Tileans-- to some extent, certainly. Undoubtedly enough to help the Sartosa campaign and more recognition to Remas, if nothing else. And if he personally took the field...well. There have been less fair fights than 'the deadliest man in the Old World vs a bunch of drunkard thieves with loose morals', probably, but you'd be hard pressed to name them.
Cost: 1 Royal Favor
Reward: Republic of Remas Firmly in your favor, very friendly, allied to you, willing to aid in Badlands campaign.
[] Doing it the Hard Way: You will not run back to daddy again. You'll do it the hard way-- send weapons, supplies, men to the Sartosan campaign, and intensify your efforts to aid your new allies. What it lacks in panache, it makes up for in practicality-- seriously, sending Louen Leoncouer to fight pirates is like killing a mosquito with a trebuchet.
Cost: 125 Gold
Reward: Even more positive opinion, Remas tied to you more
[] 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. Therefor, 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.
[] You can suggest something else, though Lisanor might not like it.
Write in, -Opinion, Gold decided on later
Stewardship: Robert walks into your monthly meeting holding his son near to him. So that's a thing now. Perhaps you should set up a play date?
(Pick 1)
Walls of Stone and Walls of Will: Edwige has suggested repairing the walls. The most difficult-- but also most helpful-- task, you can expect it will be a good symbol of your strength, though it will take more time than most. Right now they'd suffice to deter bandits, but not much else.
[] Architectural Aid: There's going to be a lot of construction. First, of course, you'll be rebuilding after all the damage the goblins have done. Also, of course, the largest part of why many knights join Errantry Wars is to establish fiefdoms and gain land, which they will not otherwise gain-- also, of course, to save people from, you know, dying in misery but the land helps too. Having a proper construction service ready would be incredibly forward thinking and helpful, and there are several people you could think to call.
(Cost: 40 Gold, 10 Upkeep, Optional: []Write-in Nation to ask, Defaults Bretonnia, cannot be Empire, Kislev, or Norsca)
[] 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.
Cost: 800 Gold, 4 Months
[] "A Gun Is A Coward's Weapon": Well, you're in a little bit of a pickle. It seems, unknown to you, that the former masters of both Aldium and Mortensholm had gun foundries-- small production facilities for bombards, hand-cannons, the most advanced item likely a mortar.
You don't want the fucking things-- you're not nearly enough of a coward to need guns-- but just destroying them would be dangerous, not to mention likely corrosive to the environment. Fortunately, an offer has come to you: Annemaria Leitdorf, one of the claimants of Averland, seeks to strengthen her position before the matter is finally put to rest. By acquiring a number of blackpowder weapons as well as further industry with them, she hopes to force the other claimants to recognize her at the summit held next month-- and then, perhaps, to fortify the Blackfire Pass.
It's likely as not she's trying to screw you with the price-- but as unlikely as it is, it's not impossible that there is an honest Imperial. Even if she isn't, it's not as if you can use them for anything else.
Cost: -100 Prestige (Imagine, making money off of cannons)
Reward: +500 Gold
[] Protecting the Sick: Lisanor and the Physician's Guild have prepared a tag-team response to help heal the sick in your lands. While normally the two bicker, here and now they see burned out warehouses and homes and have decided to fight no longer.
In this version, you would be handing off leadership in this regard to Adelhard de Grenouille, the head physician, and the Physician's Guild.
Cost: 50 gold
Reward: Healing for town's people
[] You can suggest something else, though Robert might not like it.
Cost: To be decided
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)
[] Purification: There are still greenskin shrines standing in your lands! Burn them, shatter them, crush them-- and all in the name of the Lady. Then have Emma go over them for good measure.
Cost: 250 Gold
[] Fr- er, Bretonnia Means Freedom: Despise the slaver with all of your heart. Such was spoke in olden days by the Fay Enchantress, before her first rebirth.
Now you hear tell of a group of Bretonnians who seek to lead a Great Liberation in Kislev. Grail Knights, Damsels, Prophetesses, Paladins, and the common man alike working together to free those in bondage. Every strategy and tactic, ranging from manumission to raids to spirited fleeing in the night, will be used. They're going to hit the slavers where it hurts most-- the wallet.
Your direct presence is neither feasible nor requested-- but your money, your resources, in the service of religious good? That much is.
Cost: 150 Gold
[] Shallya Protects the Sick: Lisanor and the Physician's Guild have prepared a tag-team response to help heal the sick in your lands. While normally the two bicker, here and now they see burned out warehouses and homes and have decided to fight no longer.
In this case, Lisanor would take the lead.
Cost: 50 gold
Reward: Healing for Citizens
[] 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, unlikely. Even if it isn't true, it may be an interesting piece.
Cost: 100 Gold
Reward: Artifact
Personal: It seems things are proceeding to a certain plan.
(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!
Cost: 50 Gold
Reward: Much glory, much loot, much renown
[] Publishing It: You made plenty of notes on how to carry out your Chevauchee-- dozens of pieces of parchment, journals, and inkwells were sacrificed, plotting out logistical trains, tropp numbers, maneuvers, and so on. The Imperial War College, Myrmidian Academy in Carcassonne, and even a collector from Nippon-- are all interested in purchasing a collated edition. It should also be considered that looking back over said notes may sharpen your grasp on war even more, as you compare what happened in the field-- where mistakes were made-- with the purest theory and sharpen that theory.
Cost: free
Reward: Gold, slight chance to increase Martial
[] Duel to the Death: Apparently, an orc warlord has challenged Augusta to a duel. Honor insulted, she is of course planning to go. However, she would like you to be her second in case of treachery.
Cost: Free
Reward: Aid Augusta
[] 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: ???
--
Just realized I forgot to do the whole, like, taxes/damsels thing last turn, will get that done tomorrow
Last edited:
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
might want to edit the martial just a bit, you having it starting 2 times
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
[x] plan: lets put on a good show
[x] Norscan Blood's Call:
[x] Contract
kick out more ork and getting the bowmen fix in place might be a good thing
[x] Doing it the Hard Way:
[x] Carcassonnian Cousins:
don`t need king dad to steal all the glory. at the same time we build some bridges with the nobels
[x] Protecting the Sick:
[x] Purification:
[x] Shallya Protects the Sick:
save healty ppl make for happy productive ppl
[x] Lead More Raids:
[x] Duel to the Death:
more dead ork and things and back an ally in an honor duel sure why not
i think we can pay for all of that and i would not mind getting a head start on things with setteling the borderland into our lands as much as we can.
small edit
[x] Norscan Blood's Call:
[x] Contract
kick out more ork and getting the bowmen fix in place might be a good thing
[x] Doing it the Hard Way:
[x] Carcassonnian Cousins:
don`t need king dad to steal all the glory. at the same time we build some bridges with the nobels
[x] Protecting the Sick:
[x] Purification:
[x] Shallya Protects the Sick:
save healty ppl make for happy productive ppl
[x] Lead More Raids:
[x] Duel to the Death:
more dead ork and things and back an ally in an honor duel sure why not
i think we can pay for all of that and i would not mind getting a head start on things with setteling the borderland into our lands as much as we can.
small edit
Last edited:
- Location
- Germany
OK, 839 gold.
I want to get rid of Basilius. Having some pretender running around and threatening to retake the city is not good for the stability of Bohort's reign. Oh, and he insulted Lisanor. Unfortunately this costs 500 gp, which constrains our other choices.
Norcan Blood's Call doesn't cost anything and kills Greenskins. I would like to cement our good relationship with Remas, and less pirates is good for everyone (well, except the pirates), so Doing it the Hard Way. We should try to forestall trouble in Bretonnia, so let's try to get the three Dukes to calm down with Calme Toi.
Ugh, I'll bite the bullet and sell guns to Averland, because it is the only way we can afford Basilius Bashing and Purification, and I definitely want to do both, even if "A Gun Is A Coward's Weapon".
Purification because Greenskin shrines need to be destroyed and of course Shallya Protects the Sick.
Lead More Raids to kill more orcs, and we need to protect Augusta in her Duel to the Death.
Overall cost is 475 gp.
[X] Plan Gingganz
-[X] Norscan Blood's Call
-[X] Basilius Bashing
-[X] Doing it the Hard Way
-[X] Calme Toi
-[X] "A Gun Is A Coward's Weapon"
-[X] Purification
-[X] Shallya Protects the Sick
-[X] Lead More Raids
-[X] Duel to the Death
I want to get rid of Basilius. Having some pretender running around and threatening to retake the city is not good for the stability of Bohort's reign. Oh, and he insulted Lisanor. Unfortunately this costs 500 gp, which constrains our other choices.
Norcan Blood's Call doesn't cost anything and kills Greenskins. I would like to cement our good relationship with Remas, and less pirates is good for everyone (well, except the pirates), so Doing it the Hard Way. We should try to forestall trouble in Bretonnia, so let's try to get the three Dukes to calm down with Calme Toi.
Ugh, I'll bite the bullet and sell guns to Averland, because it is the only way we can afford Basilius Bashing and Purification, and I definitely want to do both, even if "A Gun Is A Coward's Weapon".
Purification because Greenskin shrines need to be destroyed and of course Shallya Protects the Sick.
Lead More Raids to kill more orcs, and we need to protect Augusta in her Duel to the Death.
Overall cost is 475 gp.
[X] Plan Gingganz
-[X] Norscan Blood's Call
-[X] Basilius Bashing
-[X] Doing it the Hard Way
-[X] Calme Toi
-[X] "A Gun Is A Coward's Weapon"
-[X] Purification
-[X] Shallya Protects the Sick
-[X] Lead More Raids
-[X] Duel to the Death
- Location
- Germany
@King50000, Walls of Stone and Walls of Will is something that we have already started last turn and that needs two turns to complete. It doesn't have to be picked again.
- Location
- California
[X] Plan Strengthening our Fiefdom
Turn 5: the Force and Fury results
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The manor is much smaller than the palace of Courronne. Barely 60 feet tall, its walls are simple hardwood. There is only a single garden, a greenhouse of sort; two libraries, of less than 800 books each; a single kitchen and dining hall, only suited for perhaps fifty men at a time; and a throne room of a simple oaken, padded chair, with slate gray floors, and brutally carved stone pillars rather than the graceful, arching columns lovingly crafted by the finest workmen of the country. The rugs, banners, and drapes are of wool, instead of fine silk. No gold-worked tapestries, no fine Cathayan porcelain.
Yes, it is much the more austere than that slice of paradise.
But its halls are still labyrinthine enough, its depths dark enough, its unexplored corners mysterious enough, that it takes you six hours-- six hours-- to find your crying ward, the day he disappears. He is sitting in some unused servant's path, a hidden hall leading from the kitchen to some guestchambers.
Wordlessly, you lift the crying boy onto your lap, letting him hug you. These tears are earnest tears, and whatever little fear you may have had-- that the boy was some Norscan plot to infiltrate your realm, a hidden agent of Chaos-- die to the blows of his lamentations.
For what feels like hours you rest there, just the two of you.
"Does...does it ever stop hurting, like this?"
"No. But...but you get stronger. Inured. You process it, and it loses the ragged edge." Unbidden images of Lyonessian knights, heaped on a pyre to stop the mundane plague carried by those filthy Northmen bastards, play-- you are sixteen again, powerless, watching them die.
And then it passes. "It happened. You cannot change it. What you can do...is decide it is the floor. And not the ceiling. And you can get on with it."
Martial: Edwige has taken one of the Norscan suits of armor for herself-- apparently, her old set was broken in that last battle, though she has at least lost no more limbs or other organs.
Still, there's something grimly funny to it.
Vampires Bite: So, Sonnental! The mythical city of the damned, it is home to an aristocracy of Lahmian Vampires who are currently, you know, feeding on the living and torturing the innocent and just not, generally, being particularly decent rulers or people. They have been safe because no-one knows where they are, those few who manage to escape usually too delirious and afraid to lead a party back to the town.
Edwige is insulted on your behalf that these Lahmians believe they can buy you with cheap power and cheaper sex, as though you were not a prince of Bretonna. Slander and insult. She'll lead a party to find the city, kill the vampires, and reclaim it and all the people within.
Needed:??? Rolled: 84
- The hounds dine on vampire flesh. Flaming arrow and shining sword do pierce the breast of vampire foul; their blood is shed, their halls of power broken.
Still, it was not painless-- not in part, or in little. A hundred men die, to free those victims of Sonnetal; their blood feasted, their bodies broken. Emma saves who she can, unleashing spells of a fury that does curl the flesh and burn the soul of those animals, the very wrath of the Lady; but, still. It has its cost.
Edwige has taken command of that city, made it her demesne. The smallest of the settlements under your control, it is, however, one filled to the brim with stolen treasures-- that may be either returned or kept, depending.
Still, that comes later.
Reward: Sonnetal Taken, +100 Prestige
Norscan Blood's Call: You know there are greenskin settlements within the forests. Minor camps, mining camps (hah), and so on with wealth ripped from these lands. Perhaps it is the Norscan within the blood of all Lyonesse speaking, but raiding their camps for necessary supplies and so on could be helpful. If nothing else, you can slaughter their spider-riders now and save everyone a world of trouble.
Rolled:48
- You find less success in this than you did in your larger raid in the Badlands-- you cannot simply burn all the forests down, and caves burn not at all. Still, you do find some measure of success-- a breeding ground of giant spiders, one which all the forces of greenskins, from Hobgoblins to Night Goblins is burnt to the ground, the vicious beasts within burned as well. Also, you rescue several camps worth of slaves. Most return to their metropoles, but several are merchants-- and so promise to turn business towards you and yours.
Reward: +100 Gold
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.
Calme Toi: The Dukes of Aquitaine, Bordeleaux, and Bastonne bicker over whom should be allowed, legally, to take control of and colonize the Forest of Chalons. Over the centuries this was mostly an intellectual endeavor of little practical worth. However, all three duchies are now headed by vigorous, mighty souls-- including the Duc Alberic, who seeks to utilize the resources therein to reinforce his Dukedom in case of Mousillon attacking; the Duc Armand, a Grail Knight who has taken to administrating the lands personally and with extreme prejudice; and Duc Bohemond, who mostly seeks to use it as a massive hunting ground for nobles and peasants-- though, it must be said, that is still a massive improvement over what it currently is.
They turn to you to arbitrate the dispute, for though young it is a matter you have no personal stake in-- excepting your friendship with Robert, though as he does not give a damn either way you cannot really, either.
- You have agreed to arbitrate the meeting, and will be traveling to noble Brionne, who has no great interest in the Forest of Chalons except the interest all Duchies have-- namely, keeping it from continuing to spawn abominations which feast on men's souls, devour your hearts, and send what's left to their dark gods or necromantic masters.
As it will be an occasion of some pomp, it feels fair to note it in greater detail.
(There will be a single vote, later)
Doing it the Hard Way: You will not run back to daddy again. You'll do it the hard way-- send weapons, supplies, men to the Sartosan campaign, and intensify your efforts to aid your new allies. What it lacks in panache, it makes up for in practicality-- seriously, sending Louen Leoncouer to fight pirates is like killing a mosquito with a trebuchet.
Needed:??? Rolled: 98
- You will not call upon your father. You will not. But you are not so above calling on aid at all.
Longly have the Elves of Ulthuan and the Men of Bretonnia been friends-- warriors alike, fierce and honorable. They have stood with you, against the Empire, the Orcs, Skaven and worse; you have stood with them against Chaos, Dark Elves, the Undead and worse. Mere pirates are little threat, but they do offend you both.
So, you ask the elves to come with you, to battle the scourge of seven seas-- to bring Sartosa to heel, to make the world a better place in fire and blood and war.
While there were no dragons to spare in fighting on Remas, manifold Dragon Princes did come to hear such vigor of rhetoric. Nobly shining, blades a flashing, steeds lithe and swift, they did ride at side of your knights and of the Tileans; the three of you fell upon the pirates like death, and did do battle. You yourself broke open the gates of the city, did fight the Pirate King's champion and cut his head from his shoulders, sending the body into the tumultuous melee below.
The Elves, meanwhile, did break their artillery, such was their swiftness to outspeed the pounding fire from those cowards' tools. Many noble deeds were done that day, and in the end the island fell to the Reman Republic, long might it endure.
Reward: Reman Republic allied, Diplomatic Options with High Elves Opened
Stewardship: Robert walks into your monthly meeting holding his son near to him. So that's a thing now. Perhaps you should set up a play date?
Walls of Stone and Walls of Will: Edwige has suggested repairing the walls. The most difficult-- but also most helpful-- task, you can expect it will be a good symbol of your strength, though it will take more time than most. Right now they'd suffice to deter bandits, but not much else.
- The walls are repaired to their old state-- still not quite the best, but certainly an improvement from having holes in them.
Reward: Walls Fixed
Architectural Aid: There's going to be a lot of construction. First, of course, you'll be rebuilding after all the damage the goblins have done. Also, of course, the largest part of why many knights join Errantry Wars is to establish fiefdoms and gain land, which they will not otherwise gain-- also, of course, to save people from, you know, dying in misery but the land helps too. Having a proper construction service ready would be incredibly forward thinking and helpful, and there are several people you could think to call.
- Several architects from Bretonnia send designs in a form of competition for your patronage. Most are simple, basic, austere designs, for motte-and-bailey castle, ringed towers, etc. One does remember, though, that there is more to life than battle, and the hunt for blood, and so sends in a design for a house-- a pleasant little thing, which well uses its space. A peasant from Courronne, his name is Barnabé.
The first thing he does is start reading the intriguing, long lost architectural designs from the Myrmidian Empire.
Reward: Bretonnian Architectural Aid Acquired
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.
Purification: There are still greenskin shrines standing in your lands! Burn them, shatter them, crush them-- and all in the name of the Lady. Then have Emma go over them for good measure.
- These shrines are all lowly things, little compared to that evil pit you did cleanse in the Lady's name: Cheap shit totems, harshly carved effigies of orcs, piles of loot that hum with a lowly evil. None are quite so terrible as to frighten-- but leaving the foes of all men succor, here, would be the most unwise move.
Still, at this point Emma and your men have begun hunting them themselves.
Reward:Shrines burned, destroyed, etc.
Fr- er, Bretonnia Means Freedom: Despise the slaver with all of your heart. Such was spoke in olden days by the Fay Enchantress, before her first rebirth.
Now you hear tell of a group of Bretonnians who seek to lead a Great Liberation in Kislev. Grail Knights, Damsels, Prophetesses, Paladins, and the common man alike working together to free those in bondage. Every strategy and tactic, ranging from manumission to raids to spirited fleeing in the night, will be used. They're going to hit the slavers where it hurts most-- the wallet.
Your direct presence is neither feasible nor requested-- but your money, your resources, in the service of religious good? That much is.
- The Bastards of Bretonnia, they call themselves. They attack ships bearing slaves, raid estates, manumits, whatever is required to end that scourge of man. Tensions have begun to grow in Kislev of it; but, then, perhaps tensions should grow there? In any case, your aid is much appreciated, and the Bastards of Bretonnia thank you for it.
Reward: Establish anti-slavery societies in Kislev
Personal: It seems things are proceeding to a certain plan.
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!
Needed:??? Rolled:70+5=75
- The orcs learn fast, to whoop in their blood frenzy, when you arrive. They know that war and death follow at the right and left hand of the Prince Colombe. That the white sands shall stained swiftly red and green. That fire and smoke and gory ruin is upon them, that they shall be tested.
But none of them, not a one, is smart enough to run. Instead, they stay, and they die, and they die, and they die, a feast of vulture and wolves who grow fat on their flesh, fatter and fatter.
You do not get as far entrenched as you did last time, for Grimgor returns in the middle of your excursions, and so you flee not equipped to face him there, though your bags and saddles are full of booty. Your ships leave the shore just before he could hope to catch you.
The two of you lock eyes, just once.
And that is enough to determine everything. You have seen what lies in his eyes; and if his head is not mounted on your wall, he will kill everything.
Reward: +400 Gold, Saw Grimgor for first time
Duel to the Death: Apparently, an orc warlord has challenged Augusta to a duel. Honor insulted, she is of course planning to go. However, she would like you to be her second in case of treachery.
- On the bloodstained sands, watched by their pathetic kind the orc and the Imperial did meet...
(More later)
--
So, Diplomatic Meeting, Duel, then Old World News
Yes, it is much the more austere than that slice of paradise.
But its halls are still labyrinthine enough, its depths dark enough, its unexplored corners mysterious enough, that it takes you six hours-- six hours-- to find your crying ward, the day he disappears. He is sitting in some unused servant's path, a hidden hall leading from the kitchen to some guestchambers.
Wordlessly, you lift the crying boy onto your lap, letting him hug you. These tears are earnest tears, and whatever little fear you may have had-- that the boy was some Norscan plot to infiltrate your realm, a hidden agent of Chaos-- die to the blows of his lamentations.
For what feels like hours you rest there, just the two of you.
"Does...does it ever stop hurting, like this?"
"No. But...but you get stronger. Inured. You process it, and it loses the ragged edge." Unbidden images of Lyonessian knights, heaped on a pyre to stop the mundane plague carried by those filthy Northmen bastards, play-- you are sixteen again, powerless, watching them die.
And then it passes. "It happened. You cannot change it. What you can do...is decide it is the floor. And not the ceiling. And you can get on with it."
Martial: Edwige has taken one of the Norscan suits of armor for herself-- apparently, her old set was broken in that last battle, though she has at least lost no more limbs or other organs.
Still, there's something grimly funny to it.
Vampires Bite: So, Sonnental! The mythical city of the damned, it is home to an aristocracy of Lahmian Vampires who are currently, you know, feeding on the living and torturing the innocent and just not, generally, being particularly decent rulers or people. They have been safe because no-one knows where they are, those few who manage to escape usually too delirious and afraid to lead a party back to the town.
Edwige is insulted on your behalf that these Lahmians believe they can buy you with cheap power and cheaper sex, as though you were not a prince of Bretonna. Slander and insult. She'll lead a party to find the city, kill the vampires, and reclaim it and all the people within.
Needed:??? Rolled: 84
- The hounds dine on vampire flesh. Flaming arrow and shining sword do pierce the breast of vampire foul; their blood is shed, their halls of power broken.
Still, it was not painless-- not in part, or in little. A hundred men die, to free those victims of Sonnetal; their blood feasted, their bodies broken. Emma saves who she can, unleashing spells of a fury that does curl the flesh and burn the soul of those animals, the very wrath of the Lady; but, still. It has its cost.
Edwige has taken command of that city, made it her demesne. The smallest of the settlements under your control, it is, however, one filled to the brim with stolen treasures-- that may be either returned or kept, depending.
Still, that comes later.
Reward: Sonnetal Taken, +100 Prestige
Norscan Blood's Call: You know there are greenskin settlements within the forests. Minor camps, mining camps (hah), and so on with wealth ripped from these lands. Perhaps it is the Norscan within the blood of all Lyonesse speaking, but raiding their camps for necessary supplies and so on could be helpful. If nothing else, you can slaughter their spider-riders now and save everyone a world of trouble.
Rolled:48
- You find less success in this than you did in your larger raid in the Badlands-- you cannot simply burn all the forests down, and caves burn not at all. Still, you do find some measure of success-- a breeding ground of giant spiders, one which all the forces of greenskins, from Hobgoblins to Night Goblins is burnt to the ground, the vicious beasts within burned as well. Also, you rescue several camps worth of slaves. Most return to their metropoles, but several are merchants-- and so promise to turn business towards you and yours.
Reward: +100 Gold
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.
Calme Toi: The Dukes of Aquitaine, Bordeleaux, and Bastonne bicker over whom should be allowed, legally, to take control of and colonize the Forest of Chalons. Over the centuries this was mostly an intellectual endeavor of little practical worth. However, all three duchies are now headed by vigorous, mighty souls-- including the Duc Alberic, who seeks to utilize the resources therein to reinforce his Dukedom in case of Mousillon attacking; the Duc Armand, a Grail Knight who has taken to administrating the lands personally and with extreme prejudice; and Duc Bohemond, who mostly seeks to use it as a massive hunting ground for nobles and peasants-- though, it must be said, that is still a massive improvement over what it currently is.
They turn to you to arbitrate the dispute, for though young it is a matter you have no personal stake in-- excepting your friendship with Robert, though as he does not give a damn either way you cannot really, either.
- You have agreed to arbitrate the meeting, and will be traveling to noble Brionne, who has no great interest in the Forest of Chalons except the interest all Duchies have-- namely, keeping it from continuing to spawn abominations which feast on men's souls, devour your hearts, and send what's left to their dark gods or necromantic masters.
As it will be an occasion of some pomp, it feels fair to note it in greater detail.
(There will be a single vote, later)
Doing it the Hard Way: You will not run back to daddy again. You'll do it the hard way-- send weapons, supplies, men to the Sartosan campaign, and intensify your efforts to aid your new allies. What it lacks in panache, it makes up for in practicality-- seriously, sending Louen Leoncouer to fight pirates is like killing a mosquito with a trebuchet.
Needed:??? Rolled: 98
- You will not call upon your father. You will not. But you are not so above calling on aid at all.
Longly have the Elves of Ulthuan and the Men of Bretonnia been friends-- warriors alike, fierce and honorable. They have stood with you, against the Empire, the Orcs, Skaven and worse; you have stood with them against Chaos, Dark Elves, the Undead and worse. Mere pirates are little threat, but they do offend you both.
So, you ask the elves to come with you, to battle the scourge of seven seas-- to bring Sartosa to heel, to make the world a better place in fire and blood and war.
While there were no dragons to spare in fighting on Remas, manifold Dragon Princes did come to hear such vigor of rhetoric. Nobly shining, blades a flashing, steeds lithe and swift, they did ride at side of your knights and of the Tileans; the three of you fell upon the pirates like death, and did do battle. You yourself broke open the gates of the city, did fight the Pirate King's champion and cut his head from his shoulders, sending the body into the tumultuous melee below.
The Elves, meanwhile, did break their artillery, such was their swiftness to outspeed the pounding fire from those cowards' tools. Many noble deeds were done that day, and in the end the island fell to the Reman Republic, long might it endure.
Reward: Reman Republic allied, Diplomatic Options with High Elves Opened
Stewardship: Robert walks into your monthly meeting holding his son near to him. So that's a thing now. Perhaps you should set up a play date?
Walls of Stone and Walls of Will: Edwige has suggested repairing the walls. The most difficult-- but also most helpful-- task, you can expect it will be a good symbol of your strength, though it will take more time than most. Right now they'd suffice to deter bandits, but not much else.
- The walls are repaired to their old state-- still not quite the best, but certainly an improvement from having holes in them.
Reward: Walls Fixed
Architectural Aid: There's going to be a lot of construction. First, of course, you'll be rebuilding after all the damage the goblins have done. Also, of course, the largest part of why many knights join Errantry Wars is to establish fiefdoms and gain land, which they will not otherwise gain-- also, of course, to save people from, you know, dying in misery but the land helps too. Having a proper construction service ready would be incredibly forward thinking and helpful, and there are several people you could think to call.
- Several architects from Bretonnia send designs in a form of competition for your patronage. Most are simple, basic, austere designs, for motte-and-bailey castle, ringed towers, etc. One does remember, though, that there is more to life than battle, and the hunt for blood, and so sends in a design for a house-- a pleasant little thing, which well uses its space. A peasant from Courronne, his name is Barnabé.
The first thing he does is start reading the intriguing, long lost architectural designs from the Myrmidian Empire.
Reward: Bretonnian Architectural Aid Acquired
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.
Purification: There are still greenskin shrines standing in your lands! Burn them, shatter them, crush them-- and all in the name of the Lady. Then have Emma go over them for good measure.
- These shrines are all lowly things, little compared to that evil pit you did cleanse in the Lady's name: Cheap shit totems, harshly carved effigies of orcs, piles of loot that hum with a lowly evil. None are quite so terrible as to frighten-- but leaving the foes of all men succor, here, would be the most unwise move.
Still, at this point Emma and your men have begun hunting them themselves.
Reward:Shrines burned, destroyed, etc.
Fr- er, Bretonnia Means Freedom: Despise the slaver with all of your heart. Such was spoke in olden days by the Fay Enchantress, before her first rebirth.
Now you hear tell of a group of Bretonnians who seek to lead a Great Liberation in Kislev. Grail Knights, Damsels, Prophetesses, Paladins, and the common man alike working together to free those in bondage. Every strategy and tactic, ranging from manumission to raids to spirited fleeing in the night, will be used. They're going to hit the slavers where it hurts most-- the wallet.
Your direct presence is neither feasible nor requested-- but your money, your resources, in the service of religious good? That much is.
- The Bastards of Bretonnia, they call themselves. They attack ships bearing slaves, raid estates, manumits, whatever is required to end that scourge of man. Tensions have begun to grow in Kislev of it; but, then, perhaps tensions should grow there? In any case, your aid is much appreciated, and the Bastards of Bretonnia thank you for it.
Reward: Establish anti-slavery societies in Kislev
Personal: It seems things are proceeding to a certain plan.
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!
Needed:??? Rolled:70+5=75
- The orcs learn fast, to whoop in their blood frenzy, when you arrive. They know that war and death follow at the right and left hand of the Prince Colombe. That the white sands shall stained swiftly red and green. That fire and smoke and gory ruin is upon them, that they shall be tested.
But none of them, not a one, is smart enough to run. Instead, they stay, and they die, and they die, and they die, a feast of vulture and wolves who grow fat on their flesh, fatter and fatter.
You do not get as far entrenched as you did last time, for Grimgor returns in the middle of your excursions, and so you flee not equipped to face him there, though your bags and saddles are full of booty. Your ships leave the shore just before he could hope to catch you.
The two of you lock eyes, just once.
And that is enough to determine everything. You have seen what lies in his eyes; and if his head is not mounted on your wall, he will kill everything.
Reward: +400 Gold, Saw Grimgor for first time
Duel to the Death: Apparently, an orc warlord has challenged Augusta to a duel. Honor insulted, she is of course planning to go. However, she would like you to be her second in case of treachery.
- On the bloodstained sands, watched by their pathetic kind the orc and the Imperial did meet...
(More later)
--
So, Diplomatic Meeting, Duel, then Old World News
Last edited:
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
looking good so far.
still having the eye of grimgor on us doesn`t feel great for i do not think we are anywhere close to ready for him!
still less vampires, less orks, new "friends" with elves. a strong remas and maybe some friends in bretonia and we might be able to get a force togeter to if not kill him out right at least get him a good fight he can fall back from?
still kind of shocked that those elves showed up out of no where really.
still having the eye of grimgor on us doesn`t feel great for i do not think we are anywhere close to ready for him!
still less vampires, less orks, new "friends" with elves. a strong remas and maybe some friends in bretonia and we might be able to get a force togeter to if not kill him out right at least get him a good fight he can fall back from?
still kind of shocked that those elves showed up out of no where really.
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
ah oh well removed some flavor but still pretty much the same thing happend anyway so not so bad.
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
cool, cool, take your time.
good luck with the project by the way
Diplomatic Meetings
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Diplomatic Consul
The lands of Brionne are considered some of the most beautiful of all Bretonnia-- the crowning jewel, well worth the fighting for.
Though your own tastes run to more rugged cliffs, writhing seas and fine, to keep things cool-- you can see the appeal. White marbled castles-- expensively garnished, in silk and in gold, in oak mighty worked and in steel elf-made-- dot the landscape as you travel to meet the group, rising from noble forests that are not, amazingly, filled with horrible beasts. Villages are picturesque, huge sums spent on ensuring that the emissions of beasts are removed from the streets, offensive to all; on walls of brightly painted granite, reds and blue and gold alike; on streets of paved stone and brick worked by the finest engineers of Bretonnia. All of this, in a landscape of gentle grasslands and fine forests, much friendlier than the things of Kislev.
On the one hand, the spirit of Bretonnia lives here-- everything intellectual about your people has its roots here, spreading outward. Splendorous gold and jewels from the New World come here, your window into the wider world-- Ulthuan, Lustria, the Far East, all learned of here. There are more poets than rain drops in the storm, more academies of arts than beastmen in the wild. If there is, in the world, a place worth fighting for, it is this.
On the other hand, while a Bretonnian is a Bretonnian-- and therefore capable of slaughtering a dozen orcs with their bare hands-- spending so much time on art leaves them with less to practice for war. So much gold spent on fine uniforms and well-crafted walls leaves less money for more practical accoutrements on their castles-- some built as though this were still the golden age of Gilles! It is, therefore, less than surprising that Brionne is the diplomatic heart of Bretonnia-- war would devastate them.
Nowhere is this dichotomy more personified than in the Duke himself, Theodoric.
On the one hand, he is at least 50% of the reason there are no terrible monsters in Brionne. He campaigns constantly, giant axe that even he, with his grand stature, can only wield with two hands, always at his side; you could barely lift the thing last you tried, though you were sixteen. His rage on the field of battle would shame Khorne himself; his skill at arms outdoes even the bloody witches of Khaine. If beastmen pelts were wearable, no doubt every single peasant of Brionne would be so attired, so many of the beasts has he slain. Only two men in the kingdom have defeated him in single combat-- your father, and Duke Bohemond.
On the other hand, he is also something of a poet. His skill with the quill is fine enough that all minstrels feel no great shame in praising it. His fine castle is all pearls and oak, his bed chamber crafted entirely of marble and granite by imported elven architects. His armor was handcrafted by the finest Bretonnian smiths, and alone cost a wagon's load of gold. A dozen artists fill his court, ranging from Breton trobadours to Imperial printers to Tilean painters, with dozens more throughout the various hunting lodges and minor estates he has gained through the years.
Above of all those things though?
He is a massive fucking man-whore, which explains how the entire party of knights he sends to meet you at the halfway point are all his sons, each of them with the red band of bastardry through their heraldry.
It is a shame; but you are not here to complain of his moral failings, but only instead to make peace between his fellow dukes before they can bring all things down in flames.
Escorted by his sons, each clad in the finest armor, all chain and fine shields and sharp swords, you make your way to Brionne the town. If anything untoward had hoped to attack you, it flees at the sight of thirteen knights, a sad boy, and a priestess.
The town itself is, perhaps, as you might have expected-- ancient walls, with fine murals of knights, protect the city itself. Carved sculptures of heroes of ages past-- the Grail Companions, the Enchantress, and the dukes of long ago-- are carved in consistent variables.
The gatehouse is a mighty, towering thing, rounded, with a roof of shingled gold and walls of fine marble. The streets through the city, too, are not made of anything so banal as marble, or granite, or lowly brick-- but instead of pure ivory, bought from Amazonian traders. The manors of Household Knights are made of good, strong stone, marble and granite; even the lowliest peasant house is made of beautiful white walls and good strong oak.
But all of that pales in comparison to what you see at the heart of the city, surrounded by the walls of the castle proper: a gigantic statue of the Lady, carved in pure ivory. In one hand, she holds a fine chalice of pure gold (!), with massive rubies encrusted around the rim. In her other, there lies a sword of greenest jade-- the Dolorous Blade, her gift to the Green Knight. The light catches on it in a mysterious shimmer that does lights even the darkest places of the city proper. A tiara made of pounded platinum, encrusted with jewels of a thousand lands, rests on her lovely face. Merely to be under its light fills you with a new confidence, benevolence, honor.
C'est la Dame Victorieuse, et rien ne peut la lutter!
All else pales in comparison to that, even the lovely hall of Duke Theodoric. That said, the seats he has laid out for all of you are comfy, and the silks are bright, and the food seems good; certainly, the singer, a blond haired woman, does sound heavenly.
The duke himself enters, too. He wears his armor.
("An attempt, no doubt, to impress upon you his own warrior's virtue", according to your wife)
"Prince Bohort, welcome to my home! I hope you have found all things suitable?"
"Yes, this is a fine home indeed, Sir Theodoric. Tell me, have you news of when the Dukes may arrive?"
"Early tomorrow, I believe. For now, avail yourself of my hospitality-- my home is yours."
"Thank you, sir. I believe, though, that my wife and I are terribly tired; therefore, we shall take our leave after supper."
"Sir Bohort, might I stay up a bit later?"
You look to your charge, and nod. The boy needs friends who aren't twice his age.
And with that you get to the business of eating. Honey rolls, so freshly baked they steam in contact with the cool autumn air. Roasted boar, slathered with a dozen spices of far Ind-- meat so tender, so soft, it falls apart to your fork and hand alone, no knife needed nor none requested. Fresh apples, crisp, are served with every course; as is fine wine, sweet as you prefer. How Theodoric learned, you don't know; but you do find it refreshing, after so long drinking the spice wines of the Borderlands.
As you said, you go to bed right after you finish eating-- though sleep comes...later.
--
"I missed you, you know. Six months without my wife...", you trail off, laying kisses up and down her shoulder.
"Not that I don't enjoy this, but you do need to get ready-- I think I just heard the other Dukes arriving."
Pouting, you throw on some of your finer clothes-- red woolen tunic, green silken hose, and fine shoes made of darkest leather, clasped with a brass line. Looking in the mirror, though, you realize something: Someone has sewn a white dove into the front of the tunic.
Ah well, it's not like your being married or loyal to your wife is all that new to anyone.
And so, heading downstairs, you find the three dukes.
Sir Bohemond. Father of your nearest vassal, he must be near your father's age-- and like father, he does not look a day over the middle age when he drank from the Grail. His hair is still shiny, fiery red , the color of dargon's fury, just like Gilles; his eyes clouded skies, much the same. He is dressed the same as he ever was, still in his fine dwarf plate. The Beast Mace of Bastonne, head of shining meteor's iron worked by the finest Dwarf Runesmiths, shaft carved of a dragon's thigh bone, still gleams gently in the light of the sun that streams in through stained glass windows. He smiles to see you-- "Hail, conquering hero! Bane of Greenskins! Father of a fine son!" He thrusts a package in your hands, a wedding gift for Robert.
Duke Alberic. A grim faced man, no question-- the only one not a Grail Knight of this group, so deep his responsibilities do weigh on him-- though he should like nothing more than to go on the quest, he cannot until his eldest son, Frermund, either returns from his own quest, or is known dead. His hair has begun to turn gray at the temples, not a wholesome sign-- though there is little doubt in your mind that he could kill you and the Grail Knights, separately, if not together. Indeed there are some whispers that he may plan his whole incursion and conquest of the forest simply to lure his son back.
Then there is Duke Armand. No doubt the newest Duke here, he is a Grail Knight, brave and true; unexpected to inherit as the youngest son, he was unprepared; however he has vigorously taken to rule, personally seeing to many of the problems of his Dukedom, ranging from cruel nobles to monstrous incursion to improperly collected taxes. The Standard Bearer of Bretonnia, he is perhaps the one you know most intimately, having battled at his side with your father during the Storm of Chaos; though you are not friends, he is a good, noble man, without viciousness in his heart towards his fellow man. That might be a problem in Aquitaine, with its many noble feuds-- it would not surprise you to discover that at least a side goal of his desire to conquer the forests may also be to bind together the bickering nobles, so they start killing evil instead of each other.
As they each have a claim of utterly equal strength-- "we are decent people, and would like to stop the depredations of the beasts of the Forest of Chalons by conquering it in the name of liege and Lady"-- what the question will come down to is what they plan to do with the Forest, once they've taken it.
As you are going to be living with the results longer than they are-- hopefully-- you have been given authority to decide the matter, for which the king thanks you.
[] Duke Bohemond: He does, yes, plan to turn the forest into, essentially, a giant hunting reserve for knights. But it shall be more than that-- for was Bastonne not the land of Bertrand the Brigand? Inspired by those well-told stories, Bohemond plots to turn the lands of the forest into a land fit to train manifold fine archers, educated in hunts against fearsome beasts-- bowmen, villeins, arbelists, all taught there, and all fearsome warriors.
[] Duke Alberic: The Duke Alberic has always had the finest knight in his household-- and this shall be no exception. He shall build in the forest lands a grand training ground for knight: fine chapels, seminaries, monasteries, and all other sorts of things useful to the education and armament of a holy warrior. No doubt it shall be, in time, a home to a great number of Paladins, Grail Knights, so on and so forth; the heroes of your land shall be built, educated, and housed there, in great numbers.
[] Duke Armand: The wealth and power of the elves is the sea-- and so too might be the wealth and power of Bretonnia! Using the lumber and metals from the forest, he shall found a new fleet, armed and equipped in finest manner, with many soldiers. Beyond trade, it shall serve to protect the lands of Bretonnia from mere pirates, as well as patrolling the seas for Druchii, Norscans, Orcs, and worse. Too it shall be a fine aid against your brother's invasion.
--
Please vote for one.
There will be rewards specific to each, but as you are a knight untainted by thoughts of greed and avarice, I did not include them-- best not to tempt you to obey your lower impulses.
The lands of Brionne are considered some of the most beautiful of all Bretonnia-- the crowning jewel, well worth the fighting for.
Though your own tastes run to more rugged cliffs, writhing seas and fine, to keep things cool-- you can see the appeal. White marbled castles-- expensively garnished, in silk and in gold, in oak mighty worked and in steel elf-made-- dot the landscape as you travel to meet the group, rising from noble forests that are not, amazingly, filled with horrible beasts. Villages are picturesque, huge sums spent on ensuring that the emissions of beasts are removed from the streets, offensive to all; on walls of brightly painted granite, reds and blue and gold alike; on streets of paved stone and brick worked by the finest engineers of Bretonnia. All of this, in a landscape of gentle grasslands and fine forests, much friendlier than the things of Kislev.
On the one hand, the spirit of Bretonnia lives here-- everything intellectual about your people has its roots here, spreading outward. Splendorous gold and jewels from the New World come here, your window into the wider world-- Ulthuan, Lustria, the Far East, all learned of here. There are more poets than rain drops in the storm, more academies of arts than beastmen in the wild. If there is, in the world, a place worth fighting for, it is this.
On the other hand, while a Bretonnian is a Bretonnian-- and therefore capable of slaughtering a dozen orcs with their bare hands-- spending so much time on art leaves them with less to practice for war. So much gold spent on fine uniforms and well-crafted walls leaves less money for more practical accoutrements on their castles-- some built as though this were still the golden age of Gilles! It is, therefore, less than surprising that Brionne is the diplomatic heart of Bretonnia-- war would devastate them.
Nowhere is this dichotomy more personified than in the Duke himself, Theodoric.
On the one hand, he is at least 50% of the reason there are no terrible monsters in Brionne. He campaigns constantly, giant axe that even he, with his grand stature, can only wield with two hands, always at his side; you could barely lift the thing last you tried, though you were sixteen. His rage on the field of battle would shame Khorne himself; his skill at arms outdoes even the bloody witches of Khaine. If beastmen pelts were wearable, no doubt every single peasant of Brionne would be so attired, so many of the beasts has he slain. Only two men in the kingdom have defeated him in single combat-- your father, and Duke Bohemond.
On the other hand, he is also something of a poet. His skill with the quill is fine enough that all minstrels feel no great shame in praising it. His fine castle is all pearls and oak, his bed chamber crafted entirely of marble and granite by imported elven architects. His armor was handcrafted by the finest Bretonnian smiths, and alone cost a wagon's load of gold. A dozen artists fill his court, ranging from Breton trobadours to Imperial printers to Tilean painters, with dozens more throughout the various hunting lodges and minor estates he has gained through the years.
Above of all those things though?
He is a massive fucking man-whore, which explains how the entire party of knights he sends to meet you at the halfway point are all his sons, each of them with the red band of bastardry through their heraldry.
It is a shame; but you are not here to complain of his moral failings, but only instead to make peace between his fellow dukes before they can bring all things down in flames.
Escorted by his sons, each clad in the finest armor, all chain and fine shields and sharp swords, you make your way to Brionne the town. If anything untoward had hoped to attack you, it flees at the sight of thirteen knights, a sad boy, and a priestess.
The town itself is, perhaps, as you might have expected-- ancient walls, with fine murals of knights, protect the city itself. Carved sculptures of heroes of ages past-- the Grail Companions, the Enchantress, and the dukes of long ago-- are carved in consistent variables.
The gatehouse is a mighty, towering thing, rounded, with a roof of shingled gold and walls of fine marble. The streets through the city, too, are not made of anything so banal as marble, or granite, or lowly brick-- but instead of pure ivory, bought from Amazonian traders. The manors of Household Knights are made of good, strong stone, marble and granite; even the lowliest peasant house is made of beautiful white walls and good strong oak.
But all of that pales in comparison to what you see at the heart of the city, surrounded by the walls of the castle proper: a gigantic statue of the Lady, carved in pure ivory. In one hand, she holds a fine chalice of pure gold (!), with massive rubies encrusted around the rim. In her other, there lies a sword of greenest jade-- the Dolorous Blade, her gift to the Green Knight. The light catches on it in a mysterious shimmer that does lights even the darkest places of the city proper. A tiara made of pounded platinum, encrusted with jewels of a thousand lands, rests on her lovely face. Merely to be under its light fills you with a new confidence, benevolence, honor.
C'est la Dame Victorieuse, et rien ne peut la lutter!
All else pales in comparison to that, even the lovely hall of Duke Theodoric. That said, the seats he has laid out for all of you are comfy, and the silks are bright, and the food seems good; certainly, the singer, a blond haired woman, does sound heavenly.
The duke himself enters, too. He wears his armor.
("An attempt, no doubt, to impress upon you his own warrior's virtue", according to your wife)
"Prince Bohort, welcome to my home! I hope you have found all things suitable?"
"Yes, this is a fine home indeed, Sir Theodoric. Tell me, have you news of when the Dukes may arrive?"
"Early tomorrow, I believe. For now, avail yourself of my hospitality-- my home is yours."
"Thank you, sir. I believe, though, that my wife and I are terribly tired; therefore, we shall take our leave after supper."
"Sir Bohort, might I stay up a bit later?"
You look to your charge, and nod. The boy needs friends who aren't twice his age.
And with that you get to the business of eating. Honey rolls, so freshly baked they steam in contact with the cool autumn air. Roasted boar, slathered with a dozen spices of far Ind-- meat so tender, so soft, it falls apart to your fork and hand alone, no knife needed nor none requested. Fresh apples, crisp, are served with every course; as is fine wine, sweet as you prefer. How Theodoric learned, you don't know; but you do find it refreshing, after so long drinking the spice wines of the Borderlands.
As you said, you go to bed right after you finish eating-- though sleep comes...later.
--
"I missed you, you know. Six months without my wife...", you trail off, laying kisses up and down her shoulder.
"Not that I don't enjoy this, but you do need to get ready-- I think I just heard the other Dukes arriving."
Pouting, you throw on some of your finer clothes-- red woolen tunic, green silken hose, and fine shoes made of darkest leather, clasped with a brass line. Looking in the mirror, though, you realize something: Someone has sewn a white dove into the front of the tunic.
Ah well, it's not like your being married or loyal to your wife is all that new to anyone.
And so, heading downstairs, you find the three dukes.
Sir Bohemond. Father of your nearest vassal, he must be near your father's age-- and like father, he does not look a day over the middle age when he drank from the Grail. His hair is still shiny, fiery red , the color of dargon's fury, just like Gilles; his eyes clouded skies, much the same. He is dressed the same as he ever was, still in his fine dwarf plate. The Beast Mace of Bastonne, head of shining meteor's iron worked by the finest Dwarf Runesmiths, shaft carved of a dragon's thigh bone, still gleams gently in the light of the sun that streams in through stained glass windows. He smiles to see you-- "Hail, conquering hero! Bane of Greenskins! Father of a fine son!" He thrusts a package in your hands, a wedding gift for Robert.
Duke Alberic. A grim faced man, no question-- the only one not a Grail Knight of this group, so deep his responsibilities do weigh on him-- though he should like nothing more than to go on the quest, he cannot until his eldest son, Frermund, either returns from his own quest, or is known dead. His hair has begun to turn gray at the temples, not a wholesome sign-- though there is little doubt in your mind that he could kill you and the Grail Knights, separately, if not together. Indeed there are some whispers that he may plan his whole incursion and conquest of the forest simply to lure his son back.
Then there is Duke Armand. No doubt the newest Duke here, he is a Grail Knight, brave and true; unexpected to inherit as the youngest son, he was unprepared; however he has vigorously taken to rule, personally seeing to many of the problems of his Dukedom, ranging from cruel nobles to monstrous incursion to improperly collected taxes. The Standard Bearer of Bretonnia, he is perhaps the one you know most intimately, having battled at his side with your father during the Storm of Chaos; though you are not friends, he is a good, noble man, without viciousness in his heart towards his fellow man. That might be a problem in Aquitaine, with its many noble feuds-- it would not surprise you to discover that at least a side goal of his desire to conquer the forests may also be to bind together the bickering nobles, so they start killing evil instead of each other.
As they each have a claim of utterly equal strength-- "we are decent people, and would like to stop the depredations of the beasts of the Forest of Chalons by conquering it in the name of liege and Lady"-- what the question will come down to is what they plan to do with the Forest, once they've taken it.
As you are going to be living with the results longer than they are-- hopefully-- you have been given authority to decide the matter, for which the king thanks you.
[] Duke Bohemond: He does, yes, plan to turn the forest into, essentially, a giant hunting reserve for knights. But it shall be more than that-- for was Bastonne not the land of Bertrand the Brigand? Inspired by those well-told stories, Bohemond plots to turn the lands of the forest into a land fit to train manifold fine archers, educated in hunts against fearsome beasts-- bowmen, villeins, arbelists, all taught there, and all fearsome warriors.
[] Duke Alberic: The Duke Alberic has always had the finest knight in his household-- and this shall be no exception. He shall build in the forest lands a grand training ground for knight: fine chapels, seminaries, monasteries, and all other sorts of things useful to the education and armament of a holy warrior. No doubt it shall be, in time, a home to a great number of Paladins, Grail Knights, so on and so forth; the heroes of your land shall be built, educated, and housed there, in great numbers.
[] Duke Armand: The wealth and power of the elves is the sea-- and so too might be the wealth and power of Bretonnia! Using the lumber and metals from the forest, he shall found a new fleet, armed and equipped in finest manner, with many soldiers. Beyond trade, it shall serve to protect the lands of Bretonnia from mere pirates, as well as patrolling the seas for Druchii, Norscans, Orcs, and worse. Too it shall be a fine aid against your brother's invasion.
--
Please vote for one.
There will be rewards specific to each, but as you are a knight untainted by thoughts of greed and avarice, I did not include them-- best not to tempt you to obey your lower impulses.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Duke Armand: The wealth and power of the elves is the sea-- and so too might be the wealth and power of Bretonnia! Using the lumber and metals from the forest, he shall found a new fleet, armed and equipped in finest manner, with many soldiers. Beyond trade, it shall serve to protect the lands of Bretonnia from mere pirates, as well as patrolling the seas for Druchii, Norscans, Orcs, and worse. Too it shall be a fine aid against your brother's invasion.
Strengthening Bretonnia's security seems like the best choice.
Strengthening Bretonnia's security seems like the best choice.
- Location
- Southampton, Great Britain
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Duke Armand: The wealth and power of the elves is the sea-- and so too might be the wealth and power of Bretonnia! Using the lumber and metals from the forest, he shall found a new fleet, armed and equipped in finest manner, with many soldiers. Beyond trade, it shall serve to protect the lands of Bretonnia from mere pirates, as well as patrolling the seas for Druchii, Norscans, Orcs, and worse. Too it shall be a fine aid against your brother's invasion.
- Location
- Germany
To me all the options seem to strengthen Bretonnia's security. The question is just whether we want to defend Bretonnia with bowmen, with knights or with ships. Hmmm, when I doubt I will go with knights and paladins, because honor.
[X] Duke Alberic: The Duke Alberic has always had the finest knight in his household-- and this shall be no exception. He shall build in the forest lands a grand training ground for knight: fine chapels, seminaries, monasteries, and all other sorts of things useful to the education and armament of a holy warrior. No doubt it shall be, in time, a home to a great number of Paladins, Grail Knights, so on and so forth; the heroes of your land shall be built, educated, and housed there, in great numbers.
[X] Duke Alberic: The Duke Alberic has always had the finest knight in his household-- and this shall be no exception. He shall build in the forest lands a grand training ground for knight: fine chapels, seminaries, monasteries, and all other sorts of things useful to the education and armament of a holy warrior. No doubt it shall be, in time, a home to a great number of Paladins, Grail Knights, so on and so forth; the heroes of your land shall be built, educated, and housed there, in great numbers.
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
[x] Duke Armand: The wealth and power of the elves is the sea-- and so too might be the wealth and power of Bretonnia! Using the lumber and metals from the forest, he shall found a new fleet, armed and equipped in finest manner, with many soldiers. Beyond trade, it shall serve to protect the lands of Bretonnia from mere pirates, as well as patrolling the seas for Druchii, Norscans, Orcs, and worse. Too it shall be a fine aid against your brother's invasion.
- Location
- California
[X] Duke Alberic: The Duke Alberic has always had the finest knight in his household-- and this shall be no exception. He shall build in the forest lands a grand training ground for knight: fine chapels, seminaries, monasteries, and all other sorts of things useful to the education and armament of a holy warrior. No doubt it shall be, in time, a home to a great number of Paladins, Grail Knights, so on and so forth; the heroes of your land shall be built, educated, and housed there, in great numbers.
The strength of Bretonnia is in knights and heroes. Additionally, while ships might help against the invasion, that's a single threat and they would be of limited utility against anything that made it to shore.
Most importantly though, Alberic is a bro and it's implied that him doing this would be a possible step towards him being able to go on the quest and become a Grail Knight.
(As an aside, it's somewhat odd that in the update Theoderick is supposedly second only to Louen and Bohemond, but our character thinks Alberic can take Bohemond).
The strength of Bretonnia is in knights and heroes. Additionally, while ships might help against the invasion, that's a single threat and they would be of limited utility against anything that made it to shore.
Most importantly though, Alberic is a bro and it's implied that him doing this would be a possible step towards him being able to go on the quest and become a Grail Knight.
(As an aside, it's somewhat odd that in the update Theoderick is supposedly second only to Louen and Bohemond, but our character thinks Alberic can take Bohemond).