I don't know a talent by that name but at a guess you're probably referring to the trait 'Might of the Crimson Keep'. That's just an innate trait you get from being a memeber of the Kastelai vampiric dynasty. Once per turn, when you kill a creature, you can move or charge as a free action.
Unlikely Heroes (AoS Soulbound)
- Thread starter Maugan Ra
- Start date
I don't know a talent by that name but at a guess you're probably referring to the trait 'Might of the Crimson Keep'. That's just an innate trait you get from being a memeber of the Kastelai vampiric dynasty. Once per turn, when you kill a creature, you can move or charge as a free action.
deathofrats0808
Don’t think of it as dying; just as leaving early
- Location
- Earth
Drakmer has a slightly different version of that. Instead of charge or move, he can charge and/or attack, and he does double damage to swarms when charging.
- Location
- London, England
I'll be honest that one was on me getting the name wrong. Drakmer has Might of the Crimson Keep, though personally I made it "charge or attack" rather than "charge or move", because that was easier to remember and doesn't require me to fuss about with which zone he's in as much.
He also has Rider of Ruin, the core talent of a Blood Knight, which is where he gets the double damage to swarms.
Honestly most of the details like what specific talent he has aren't important, what matters is that he is a murder blender.
He also has Rider of Ruin, the core talent of a Blood Knight, which is where he gets the double damage to swarms.
Honestly most of the details like what specific talent he has aren't important, what matters is that he is a murder blender.
X. Free City
- Location
- London, England
The outer districts of Greywater Fastness were at once cramped and sprawling, straining at their limits with great towering pillars of metal and stone. Each played host to a hundred different residences or more, and save for the single wide 'spoke' road that ran through the middle of them all, none were separated from their neighbour by more than a half dozen paces. Denied the use of the cramped streets, the inhabitants moved from one block to the next via a myriad of arches, bridges and automated walkways, all of which Lieutenant Steelwater navigated with a native's casual ease. Soon they arrived at the Old Blunderbuss, a hostelry run by an old battleaxe of a woman by the name of Miss Büchsen.
"You, vampire," she said, her wrinkled face set in a ferocious scowl as she squared off against Sir Drakmer, "Rissa here tells me you're on our side, but no eating people under my roof, you hear?"
"My lady, I would never dream of violating your hospitality," Robyn said earnestly, removing his winged helmet so that the old woman could see the sincerity of his expression, "On my oath as a knight, none here shall come to harm by my hand or any other."
That was apparently enough to satisfy the woman, and after a brief discussion with the Lieutenant - who she seemed to know well, Thystra noted, though that could mean any number of things - she snapped out a series of rules and regulations before assigning everyone to a room. The sorceress wondered vaguely what the penalty would be for disobeying, perhaps by skipping out on the communal meals, but the beautifully maintained firearm over the main desk gave her at least an inkling.
With accommodation sorted and something resembling a plan in place, the time had come to part ways with Terzo Heinz and his crew. The others were happy to merely shake hands and agree to drink for the fallen in the future, but Thystra spared a moment to take her beau aside and wish him well, brushing the palm of her hand against his stubbled jaw.
"I might get cashiered for losing a cog-fort anyway," the Captain said with forced good cheer, as they stood apart from the others behind the privacy of a support column, "Which I guess would make the next step easier."
"There's a place for you with me regardless," Thystra reassured him in a quiet voice, and was mildly surprised to find she meant it. He'd proven himself a competent and level-headed officer a dozen times over during the evacuation and afterwards, and if the Engineers didn't want him she'd be more than happy to profit from their mistake. "Now, get going before anyone notices you swooning like a lovestruck teen."
Terzo flushed at that, but she had kept her voice soft and fond, and in the end he just shook his head and headed off. Privately, Thystra rather hoped he wasn't doing anything so foolish as falling in love. Attraction was easy to work with, but love made men jealous and difficult to control, and she had not the leeway to play such games. Still, such thoughts were for later, and she made her way first to the baths and then to her assigned room with a vaguely embarrassing eagerness. Part of her expected to have a hard time sleeping, given the constant roaring and rumbling she could feel through the dormitory walls, but no sooner had her head hit the pillow than sleep stole up upon her.
When she woke the next day, the first challenge before her was one of clothing. She had entered the city with nought but a once-fine dress, after all, and that had been stained and ruined beyond repair by days spent trekking through a poisoned wilderness. Thankfully a quiet word to Miss Büchsen provided a solution, for the old woman had an entire wardrobe filled with warm and practical clothing suited for every kind of build in the back of the hostelry. At first Thystra was surprised, and then it all clicked into place.
"Most of your guests cannot go home, can they?" she said quietly to the old woman, even as she picked out a plain dress in dark blue for herself. Quietly, she wondered what it meant that Lieutenant Steelwater had directed them here, or that she was on such friendly terms with the owner.
"I don't ask," the landlady replied, her brisk tones a warning as much as a dismissal, "and nobody else does either, lest my blunderbuss go asking some questions of its own."
She was the last one to arrive for breakfast, finding the rest of her party occupying a single table at the end of the dining hall. Rissa Steelwater sat nearby, her meticulously polished rifle gleaming faintly from its position propped up against the wall within arms reach, and when Thystra approached it was to see the officer rolling a small coin back and forth across her knuckles. A flick of the wrist made the trinket disappear, and another brought it back again, all to the delighted whispers of a small group of children nearby that the Greycap was pretending not to notice.
"Morning, love," she said as Thystra approached, touching the rim of her cap with one hand in quick salute, "good news, I've been assigned as your liaison officer. Seems the captain figured I was volunteering to take responsibility for you, on account of how I unbarred the gate and ordered the cover fire and such."
"For which we were most grateful, I assure you," Thystra replied with a nod, taking her seat and picking a bowl of some strange grey slop from the bench. "Have your superiors arranged to speak with us, then?"
"Next meeting of the Conclave is in three days, so you've been invited to speak then," the Lieutenant replied briskly, shrugging at the slight start of surprise. "They only meet every two weeks, save for emergencies, and Greywater ticks o'er just fine without them. The Council of the Forge handles most of the local stuff anyway. Still, look on the bright side - you've got a chance to get familiar with our fair city before you go speaking to the high muckety mucks who run the place."
"Delightful," Thystra murmured, taking a mouthful of her assigned gruel. It somehow managed to not taste of anything at all, which she supposed was probably better than she had feared. "I'll be sure to take advantage of the opportunity."
-/-
As it turned out, the Lieutenant's words upon their arrival had captured Greywater's character with remarkable efficiency. The city's business was war, the preparation and prosecution of conflicts both near and far, and that business consumed it utterly. The great cyclestone mines beneath the city's heart fuelled the foundries and factories of the Inner Ring, keeping the machinery of industry churning without pause every second of every day, while shifts of workers were brought in from their outer ring domiciles by automated conveyor belts on a churning cycle of tidal movement. And above it all, in their gilded halls and stained-glass windows, the Steam Lords of the Great Axel kept careful watch over their city, tinkering with schedules and production ratios with the cold hunger of engineers.
Thystra had to admit, it was almost impressive just how thoroughly Greywater absorbed its people in the machinery of war. A citizen would rise to the thunder of the wall guns, offer morning prayers to Sigmar for victory in some place they had never seen, spend their day forging weapons and armour in great soot-stained factories, report to their local barracks for militia training and then, at last, go home to enjoy drink and bloodsport at the local taverns. Even the coins were made from old bullet casings, and in spending them, the worker earned for themselves a sense of patriotic righteousness that kept them going for another day.
The Lieutenant's Greycaps were the largest Freeguild in the city, but they were far from the only souls under arms. Every neighbourhood and factory-complex seemed to boast its own company, dozens of units with their own heraldry and identity tightly entwined with the community and their industry, and they were universally equipped and drilled to a standard that the soldiers of other Free Cities could only dream of matching. The local Collegiate Arcane specialised in war magics, the Ironweld Arsenal produced enough steam tanks to equip a regiment, and then of course there were the Stormcast.
Thystra had heard of the Anvils of Heldenhammer before, of course. As a child of Lethis she had grown all too familiar with the sombre guardians, heroes reclaimed from death by Sigmar's hand and sent back into battle for the sake of the living and dead alike, but she had always known them to be a reclusive lot. Indeed, what she heard from the people of Greywater seemed to match that impression, for outside times of active battle the local contingent of the Stormhost rarely strayed beyond the mausoleum-fortress of Gravenstone at the city's heart, but on the second day of her stay she found the grand exception. Buried deep within the industrial districts of the Inner Ring there was an intersection, a place where stone walls and cobbled streets still bore the marks of some terrible violence. Stone walls and cobbled streets had been split apart or shattered like glass, and in the cracks and crevices left behind there now glowed deposits of brilliant white crystal, pulsing softly with a pale and soothing light. This place alone in all of Greywater played host to a Stormcast garrison, and as she approached she wondered what it was that drew the lightning-forged heroes from their fortress to stand vigil.
"Hail, Liberator," Sir Drakmer said boldly as they approached, speaking without any of her reservations or the quiet awe of the local passers-by, "What cause sees your kind stand guard over an humble street like this?"
Silently, the nearest of the Stormcast turned towards them. His movements seemed slow, almost languid, but Thystra knew better than to take such impressions at face value. She'd seen the Anvils of Heldenhammer in battle before, waging war against the dead hosts of Nagash outside her home city. The man behind that night-black skull mask was not to be underestimated, nor disrespected.
"Vampire," the towering figure said calmly, "You defile this holy place with your presence."
"I am Soulbound, Liberator, and by the very same god that plucked you from Nagash's crypt and forged you into new flesh," Drakmer replied, smiling with a kind of wicked glee as the Stormcast rounded on him entirely, "As is my companion."
"Good knight," Thystra hissed, falling silent as the Stormcast's hidden gaze fell upon her. The reforged hero seemed to study her for a moment, then his gaze dipped to her waist, where she had hung an icon of bone and black feathers earlier in the day. Well, white feathers stained with soot, which was about all she was able to find in this city, but the intent was the same.
"A child of Lethis?" the Stormcast said, sounding slightly surprised, and when Thystra nodded tersely he made a brief hum of consideration. "Very well. When the Necroquake broke the realms and the hungry dead rose to consume all life, this intersection was where High Magister Chimry Hissrian gave her life. The magic she conjured with her sacrifice stalled the undead long enough for the defenders to rally, saving millions. We hold vigil to honour her action, and to commune with her spirit."
Blinking, Thystra looked back at the broken street and the glistening crystal within the ruins. She had considered some manner of magical catastrophe, but the scope of what remained even after decades suggested something more akin to a bomb or sundered realmgate, not a single woman's work. And to commune with her spirit… was the High Magister yet alive, in some strange sense? Imprisoned within the crystal, held back from Shysh's embrace by her final act of sacrifice?
"A worthy deed," Sir Drakmer said, his voice somewhat less flippant, "If I may, perhaps you could advise my companion on battle techniques befitting a sorceress. Our work is dangerous, and every additional insight valuable."
"That may be among the least subtle suggestions I have ever heard, sir," Thystra murmured, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, "But your concerns are noted."
"I have heard that you won through the encircling ratmen," the Stormcast said in his sonorous voice, "A worthy deed that demands respect. Very well. Let us begin with the basics…"
-/-
In Thystra's experience, those who made their livings through manual labour were among the most enthusiastic revellers when the work ended, and Greywater did little to disprove that impression. The Great Axel had its soaring ballrooms and exotic menageries, but the common folk of the Outer Ring preferred their entertainment to be far more vibrant and visceral. In pubs and eateries and fighting pits the Grits of Greywater blew off the stress of a hard day's work with wild celebration and ceaseless indulgence, shunning the more quiet and contemplative pastimes in favour of something that could drown out the constant thunder of guns and rumble of factories. More than once she saw signs advertising discounts to members of a particular free guild or employees at a particular factory, signs she suspected indicated businesses owned by the same Steam Lord who paid the clientele their wages in the first place.
Still, whatever she thought of the Grits and their pastimes, it was hard to argue that the citizens were well served for variety. Even in just a couple of days of exploration, Thystra passed hundreds of different establishments open and catering to tired workers and those on their day off, some of which went so far as to employ rosy-cheeked youngsters with giant crooks to quite literally hook potential customers off the walkways and in through the doors. Unused to such crude diversions, she took to inviting the other members of her binding with her on her explorations, and none took to it more readily than Snagga Sharpfang.
Watching the Orruk work was genuinely fascinating, in an educational sort of way. He could not have been more obviously different from the hard-faced, soot-stained workers around him whenever they walked into a new establishment, but somehow his cheerful bombast and willingness to thump anyone who got in his way managed to win friends where she would have expected sour-hearted foes. Somehow, he was adapting himself instinctively to the general mood and feel of every new place they went, changing his approach and attitude without ever once losing the sense of heartfelt sincerity, and soon even the most cynical and clannish of Grits was laughing right along with him, daring their hands at arm wrestling or chanting as he danced to some strange howling music.
Thystra, meanwhile, found herself rather less welcome, the subject of any number of suspicious glares and hateful whispers. At first she thought it was something about her manner, but eventually it became clear that it was the simple fact of her race that was turning the locals against her - aelves were assumed to be in league with Queen Alarielle, who the Grits regarded as perhaps a hair's breadth from an outright enemy, and by extension the Sylvaneth who wanted them all dead. She was able to defuse the situations when they arose, through a silver tongue and quiet cantrip, but that she would have to make the effort where a half-naked Orruk found open hearts and laughter rankled.
(Privately, she thought of Rissa Steelwater, who hid her pointed ears beneath shoulder-length hair and a flat cap, who stayed on first-name basis with the woman who ran a hostelry for the homeless and outcast.)
-/-
On the third day, they were summoned as promised to stand before the Great Conclave of Greywater Fastness, there to make their report and hear the government's decision. Lieutenant Steelwater led them through the city and into the depths of the Great Axel, where a twisting labyrinth of tunnels and corridors sprouted randomly into cloistered archives and soaring debating chambers. There, in a section of the mighty spire known as the Gryphon Hall, they were allowed to take their seats and watch the twenty four members of Greywater's official government perform their duties.
In truth, much of it seemed routine to the point of mundane. Laws and edicts were proposed and then voted on with scarcely a debate, all beneath the watching eyes of the upper gallery, where richly appointed industrialists and bored looking secretaries kept a beady eye on the proceedings. Even in those cases where the votes were not unanimous, few seemed surprised or overly invested in the outcome.
Thystra tests Guile to read the mood, DN4:3 - 3(4); 6; 4; 1 - Pass.
It would be easy, Thystra thought, to regard the Grand Conclave as nothing more than puppets, dancing on strings to the tune of the Steam Lords. Certainly, those industrialists already controlled most of Greywater - they ran the factories that justified the city's existence, employed the majority of its inhabitants for scrip and clawed it right back via the residences and places of luxury they owned. Of course they thought of the Conclave as their loyal servants, the public face of democracy that made their rule acceptable to the rest of Sigmar's Empire. Certainly, when she looked at the Duradin whose bench proclaimed him to be Gorring Ivarsson, the elderly High Patriarch who was supposed to lead and rule the Conclave in Sigmar's name, she saw nothing more than a supine sycophant… but when she looked a little deeper, the truth became clear.
At least some of the Conclave resented the influence of their supposed masters, dreaming of freedom and working to resist their chains. She could see it in bitter glances and tightly clamped jaws, hear it in clipped words and contemptuous snorts. There were not enough of them to shake off the Steam Lords' control entirely, but they were not unorganised - if she had to guess, Thystra would have named the plump looking human male in stylish clothes as their leader, a man by the name of Onduran Emblyn who hid a defiant glare behind polished spectacles and a neatly trimmed beard.
And then there were the war hawks. She was willing to bet that the Steam Lords regarded women like Astrid Taverr as their agents by another name, relying on the muscular redhead to support their motions even as she spat vitriol and spoke her mind, but Thystra rather thought the representative was more akin to the gryphon they were riding. The ex-soldier and her faction would follow whoever promised them war and strength and pride, and the second it looked like the Steam Lords could no longer provide that, Taverr would eat them all alive. Honestly, it was all very nostalgic.
Eventually the business of the day concluded, and with a click of her heels Lieutenant Steelwater called them down to the floor to address the Conclave directly.
"Ha! So you're the ones who punched through the encirclement, eh?" Astrid Taverr said with a rough laugh, grinning down at them from her bench and ignoring the outraged splutter from the High Patriarch as she cut him off, "Damn fine work. My friends in the Guilds tell me your little stunt through the ratmen into disarray, spoiled their do-or-die attack before it even got off the ground."
"The siege is broken then, councillor?" Thystra asked, accepting the implied credit with a smile. She didn't know enough about siege warfare to tell how accurate the other woman's supposition was, but it stood to reason that the Skaven would only be able to maintain the encirclement for so long. Eventually, they would lose the strength to win and would be forced to pull back.
"Aye, and we've full stockpiles ready to go out just as soon as the One Road is clear again," Gorring Ivarsson broke in, brushing a hand through his long white beard as he glared at the human woman that had usurped his speaking rights, "Enough to make up for the shortfall and then some. So when you return to your masters, let none say that the Forges of Greywater ever fall short of their duties!"
"I am pleased to hear it, High Patriarch," the sorceress said smoothly, keeping her smile on her face, "However, it was the intent of my Binding and I to remain in Greywater, at least for the present, that we might assist in some small way with… whatever problems may yet arise."
Ivarsson frowned at her for that, but before he could retort he was again interrupted, this time by the dapper form of Onduran Emblyn.
"I am sure a written report would suffice, in that case," the councillor said, smiling broadly as he peered down at her with clear interest in his dark eyes, "And doubtless individuals as capable as yourself can make a place for yourselves here."
Thystra smiled, inclining her head to him. Yes, she rather thought Onduran had a few ideas on what kind of place she ought to be occupying. Even aside from his prurient interests, the Councillor would be only too happy to introduce another faction to his political games, something he could use to break the stranglehold of the Steam Lords in one way or another.
"Naturally, councillor," she said smoothly, "This august body need not worry itself overmuch on our account. We shall aid where we can, and stand ready to answer your call."
And if in the course of her loyal service she strengthened her own hand for days yet to come, well… that was only to be expected, even commended. And if anyone disagreed, well, that was their mistake to make. Quietly.
Now if only the Skaven could all just go away…
"You, vampire," she said, her wrinkled face set in a ferocious scowl as she squared off against Sir Drakmer, "Rissa here tells me you're on our side, but no eating people under my roof, you hear?"
"My lady, I would never dream of violating your hospitality," Robyn said earnestly, removing his winged helmet so that the old woman could see the sincerity of his expression, "On my oath as a knight, none here shall come to harm by my hand or any other."
That was apparently enough to satisfy the woman, and after a brief discussion with the Lieutenant - who she seemed to know well, Thystra noted, though that could mean any number of things - she snapped out a series of rules and regulations before assigning everyone to a room. The sorceress wondered vaguely what the penalty would be for disobeying, perhaps by skipping out on the communal meals, but the beautifully maintained firearm over the main desk gave her at least an inkling.
With accommodation sorted and something resembling a plan in place, the time had come to part ways with Terzo Heinz and his crew. The others were happy to merely shake hands and agree to drink for the fallen in the future, but Thystra spared a moment to take her beau aside and wish him well, brushing the palm of her hand against his stubbled jaw.
"I might get cashiered for losing a cog-fort anyway," the Captain said with forced good cheer, as they stood apart from the others behind the privacy of a support column, "Which I guess would make the next step easier."
"There's a place for you with me regardless," Thystra reassured him in a quiet voice, and was mildly surprised to find she meant it. He'd proven himself a competent and level-headed officer a dozen times over during the evacuation and afterwards, and if the Engineers didn't want him she'd be more than happy to profit from their mistake. "Now, get going before anyone notices you swooning like a lovestruck teen."
Terzo flushed at that, but she had kept her voice soft and fond, and in the end he just shook his head and headed off. Privately, Thystra rather hoped he wasn't doing anything so foolish as falling in love. Attraction was easy to work with, but love made men jealous and difficult to control, and she had not the leeway to play such games. Still, such thoughts were for later, and she made her way first to the baths and then to her assigned room with a vaguely embarrassing eagerness. Part of her expected to have a hard time sleeping, given the constant roaring and rumbling she could feel through the dormitory walls, but no sooner had her head hit the pillow than sleep stole up upon her.
When she woke the next day, the first challenge before her was one of clothing. She had entered the city with nought but a once-fine dress, after all, and that had been stained and ruined beyond repair by days spent trekking through a poisoned wilderness. Thankfully a quiet word to Miss Büchsen provided a solution, for the old woman had an entire wardrobe filled with warm and practical clothing suited for every kind of build in the back of the hostelry. At first Thystra was surprised, and then it all clicked into place.
"Most of your guests cannot go home, can they?" she said quietly to the old woman, even as she picked out a plain dress in dark blue for herself. Quietly, she wondered what it meant that Lieutenant Steelwater had directed them here, or that she was on such friendly terms with the owner.
"I don't ask," the landlady replied, her brisk tones a warning as much as a dismissal, "and nobody else does either, lest my blunderbuss go asking some questions of its own."
She was the last one to arrive for breakfast, finding the rest of her party occupying a single table at the end of the dining hall. Rissa Steelwater sat nearby, her meticulously polished rifle gleaming faintly from its position propped up against the wall within arms reach, and when Thystra approached it was to see the officer rolling a small coin back and forth across her knuckles. A flick of the wrist made the trinket disappear, and another brought it back again, all to the delighted whispers of a small group of children nearby that the Greycap was pretending not to notice.
"Morning, love," she said as Thystra approached, touching the rim of her cap with one hand in quick salute, "good news, I've been assigned as your liaison officer. Seems the captain figured I was volunteering to take responsibility for you, on account of how I unbarred the gate and ordered the cover fire and such."
"For which we were most grateful, I assure you," Thystra replied with a nod, taking her seat and picking a bowl of some strange grey slop from the bench. "Have your superiors arranged to speak with us, then?"
"Next meeting of the Conclave is in three days, so you've been invited to speak then," the Lieutenant replied briskly, shrugging at the slight start of surprise. "They only meet every two weeks, save for emergencies, and Greywater ticks o'er just fine without them. The Council of the Forge handles most of the local stuff anyway. Still, look on the bright side - you've got a chance to get familiar with our fair city before you go speaking to the high muckety mucks who run the place."
"Delightful," Thystra murmured, taking a mouthful of her assigned gruel. It somehow managed to not taste of anything at all, which she supposed was probably better than she had feared. "I'll be sure to take advantage of the opportunity."
-/-
As it turned out, the Lieutenant's words upon their arrival had captured Greywater's character with remarkable efficiency. The city's business was war, the preparation and prosecution of conflicts both near and far, and that business consumed it utterly. The great cyclestone mines beneath the city's heart fuelled the foundries and factories of the Inner Ring, keeping the machinery of industry churning without pause every second of every day, while shifts of workers were brought in from their outer ring domiciles by automated conveyor belts on a churning cycle of tidal movement. And above it all, in their gilded halls and stained-glass windows, the Steam Lords of the Great Axel kept careful watch over their city, tinkering with schedules and production ratios with the cold hunger of engineers.
Thystra had to admit, it was almost impressive just how thoroughly Greywater absorbed its people in the machinery of war. A citizen would rise to the thunder of the wall guns, offer morning prayers to Sigmar for victory in some place they had never seen, spend their day forging weapons and armour in great soot-stained factories, report to their local barracks for militia training and then, at last, go home to enjoy drink and bloodsport at the local taverns. Even the coins were made from old bullet casings, and in spending them, the worker earned for themselves a sense of patriotic righteousness that kept them going for another day.
The Lieutenant's Greycaps were the largest Freeguild in the city, but they were far from the only souls under arms. Every neighbourhood and factory-complex seemed to boast its own company, dozens of units with their own heraldry and identity tightly entwined with the community and their industry, and they were universally equipped and drilled to a standard that the soldiers of other Free Cities could only dream of matching. The local Collegiate Arcane specialised in war magics, the Ironweld Arsenal produced enough steam tanks to equip a regiment, and then of course there were the Stormcast.
Thystra had heard of the Anvils of Heldenhammer before, of course. As a child of Lethis she had grown all too familiar with the sombre guardians, heroes reclaimed from death by Sigmar's hand and sent back into battle for the sake of the living and dead alike, but she had always known them to be a reclusive lot. Indeed, what she heard from the people of Greywater seemed to match that impression, for outside times of active battle the local contingent of the Stormhost rarely strayed beyond the mausoleum-fortress of Gravenstone at the city's heart, but on the second day of her stay she found the grand exception. Buried deep within the industrial districts of the Inner Ring there was an intersection, a place where stone walls and cobbled streets still bore the marks of some terrible violence. Stone walls and cobbled streets had been split apart or shattered like glass, and in the cracks and crevices left behind there now glowed deposits of brilliant white crystal, pulsing softly with a pale and soothing light. This place alone in all of Greywater played host to a Stormcast garrison, and as she approached she wondered what it was that drew the lightning-forged heroes from their fortress to stand vigil.
"Hail, Liberator," Sir Drakmer said boldly as they approached, speaking without any of her reservations or the quiet awe of the local passers-by, "What cause sees your kind stand guard over an humble street like this?"
Silently, the nearest of the Stormcast turned towards them. His movements seemed slow, almost languid, but Thystra knew better than to take such impressions at face value. She'd seen the Anvils of Heldenhammer in battle before, waging war against the dead hosts of Nagash outside her home city. The man behind that night-black skull mask was not to be underestimated, nor disrespected.
"Vampire," the towering figure said calmly, "You defile this holy place with your presence."
"I am Soulbound, Liberator, and by the very same god that plucked you from Nagash's crypt and forged you into new flesh," Drakmer replied, smiling with a kind of wicked glee as the Stormcast rounded on him entirely, "As is my companion."
"Good knight," Thystra hissed, falling silent as the Stormcast's hidden gaze fell upon her. The reforged hero seemed to study her for a moment, then his gaze dipped to her waist, where she had hung an icon of bone and black feathers earlier in the day. Well, white feathers stained with soot, which was about all she was able to find in this city, but the intent was the same.
"A child of Lethis?" the Stormcast said, sounding slightly surprised, and when Thystra nodded tersely he made a brief hum of consideration. "Very well. When the Necroquake broke the realms and the hungry dead rose to consume all life, this intersection was where High Magister Chimry Hissrian gave her life. The magic she conjured with her sacrifice stalled the undead long enough for the defenders to rally, saving millions. We hold vigil to honour her action, and to commune with her spirit."
Blinking, Thystra looked back at the broken street and the glistening crystal within the ruins. She had considered some manner of magical catastrophe, but the scope of what remained even after decades suggested something more akin to a bomb or sundered realmgate, not a single woman's work. And to commune with her spirit… was the High Magister yet alive, in some strange sense? Imprisoned within the crystal, held back from Shysh's embrace by her final act of sacrifice?
"A worthy deed," Sir Drakmer said, his voice somewhat less flippant, "If I may, perhaps you could advise my companion on battle techniques befitting a sorceress. Our work is dangerous, and every additional insight valuable."
"That may be among the least subtle suggestions I have ever heard, sir," Thystra murmured, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, "But your concerns are noted."
"I have heard that you won through the encircling ratmen," the Stormcast said in his sonorous voice, "A worthy deed that demands respect. Very well. Let us begin with the basics…"
-/-
In Thystra's experience, those who made their livings through manual labour were among the most enthusiastic revellers when the work ended, and Greywater did little to disprove that impression. The Great Axel had its soaring ballrooms and exotic menageries, but the common folk of the Outer Ring preferred their entertainment to be far more vibrant and visceral. In pubs and eateries and fighting pits the Grits of Greywater blew off the stress of a hard day's work with wild celebration and ceaseless indulgence, shunning the more quiet and contemplative pastimes in favour of something that could drown out the constant thunder of guns and rumble of factories. More than once she saw signs advertising discounts to members of a particular free guild or employees at a particular factory, signs she suspected indicated businesses owned by the same Steam Lord who paid the clientele their wages in the first place.
Still, whatever she thought of the Grits and their pastimes, it was hard to argue that the citizens were well served for variety. Even in just a couple of days of exploration, Thystra passed hundreds of different establishments open and catering to tired workers and those on their day off, some of which went so far as to employ rosy-cheeked youngsters with giant crooks to quite literally hook potential customers off the walkways and in through the doors. Unused to such crude diversions, she took to inviting the other members of her binding with her on her explorations, and none took to it more readily than Snagga Sharpfang.
Watching the Orruk work was genuinely fascinating, in an educational sort of way. He could not have been more obviously different from the hard-faced, soot-stained workers around him whenever they walked into a new establishment, but somehow his cheerful bombast and willingness to thump anyone who got in his way managed to win friends where she would have expected sour-hearted foes. Somehow, he was adapting himself instinctively to the general mood and feel of every new place they went, changing his approach and attitude without ever once losing the sense of heartfelt sincerity, and soon even the most cynical and clannish of Grits was laughing right along with him, daring their hands at arm wrestling or chanting as he danced to some strange howling music.
Thystra, meanwhile, found herself rather less welcome, the subject of any number of suspicious glares and hateful whispers. At first she thought it was something about her manner, but eventually it became clear that it was the simple fact of her race that was turning the locals against her - aelves were assumed to be in league with Queen Alarielle, who the Grits regarded as perhaps a hair's breadth from an outright enemy, and by extension the Sylvaneth who wanted them all dead. She was able to defuse the situations when they arose, through a silver tongue and quiet cantrip, but that she would have to make the effort where a half-naked Orruk found open hearts and laughter rankled.
(Privately, she thought of Rissa Steelwater, who hid her pointed ears beneath shoulder-length hair and a flat cap, who stayed on first-name basis with the woman who ran a hostelry for the homeless and outcast.)
-/-
On the third day, they were summoned as promised to stand before the Great Conclave of Greywater Fastness, there to make their report and hear the government's decision. Lieutenant Steelwater led them through the city and into the depths of the Great Axel, where a twisting labyrinth of tunnels and corridors sprouted randomly into cloistered archives and soaring debating chambers. There, in a section of the mighty spire known as the Gryphon Hall, they were allowed to take their seats and watch the twenty four members of Greywater's official government perform their duties.
In truth, much of it seemed routine to the point of mundane. Laws and edicts were proposed and then voted on with scarcely a debate, all beneath the watching eyes of the upper gallery, where richly appointed industrialists and bored looking secretaries kept a beady eye on the proceedings. Even in those cases where the votes were not unanimous, few seemed surprised or overly invested in the outcome.
Thystra tests Guile to read the mood, DN4:3 - 3(4); 6; 4; 1 - Pass.
It would be easy, Thystra thought, to regard the Grand Conclave as nothing more than puppets, dancing on strings to the tune of the Steam Lords. Certainly, those industrialists already controlled most of Greywater - they ran the factories that justified the city's existence, employed the majority of its inhabitants for scrip and clawed it right back via the residences and places of luxury they owned. Of course they thought of the Conclave as their loyal servants, the public face of democracy that made their rule acceptable to the rest of Sigmar's Empire. Certainly, when she looked at the Duradin whose bench proclaimed him to be Gorring Ivarsson, the elderly High Patriarch who was supposed to lead and rule the Conclave in Sigmar's name, she saw nothing more than a supine sycophant… but when she looked a little deeper, the truth became clear.
At least some of the Conclave resented the influence of their supposed masters, dreaming of freedom and working to resist their chains. She could see it in bitter glances and tightly clamped jaws, hear it in clipped words and contemptuous snorts. There were not enough of them to shake off the Steam Lords' control entirely, but they were not unorganised - if she had to guess, Thystra would have named the plump looking human male in stylish clothes as their leader, a man by the name of Onduran Emblyn who hid a defiant glare behind polished spectacles and a neatly trimmed beard.
And then there were the war hawks. She was willing to bet that the Steam Lords regarded women like Astrid Taverr as their agents by another name, relying on the muscular redhead to support their motions even as she spat vitriol and spoke her mind, but Thystra rather thought the representative was more akin to the gryphon they were riding. The ex-soldier and her faction would follow whoever promised them war and strength and pride, and the second it looked like the Steam Lords could no longer provide that, Taverr would eat them all alive. Honestly, it was all very nostalgic.
Eventually the business of the day concluded, and with a click of her heels Lieutenant Steelwater called them down to the floor to address the Conclave directly.
"Ha! So you're the ones who punched through the encirclement, eh?" Astrid Taverr said with a rough laugh, grinning down at them from her bench and ignoring the outraged splutter from the High Patriarch as she cut him off, "Damn fine work. My friends in the Guilds tell me your little stunt through the ratmen into disarray, spoiled their do-or-die attack before it even got off the ground."
"The siege is broken then, councillor?" Thystra asked, accepting the implied credit with a smile. She didn't know enough about siege warfare to tell how accurate the other woman's supposition was, but it stood to reason that the Skaven would only be able to maintain the encirclement for so long. Eventually, they would lose the strength to win and would be forced to pull back.
"Aye, and we've full stockpiles ready to go out just as soon as the One Road is clear again," Gorring Ivarsson broke in, brushing a hand through his long white beard as he glared at the human woman that had usurped his speaking rights, "Enough to make up for the shortfall and then some. So when you return to your masters, let none say that the Forges of Greywater ever fall short of their duties!"
"I am pleased to hear it, High Patriarch," the sorceress said smoothly, keeping her smile on her face, "However, it was the intent of my Binding and I to remain in Greywater, at least for the present, that we might assist in some small way with… whatever problems may yet arise."
Ivarsson frowned at her for that, but before he could retort he was again interrupted, this time by the dapper form of Onduran Emblyn.
"I am sure a written report would suffice, in that case," the councillor said, smiling broadly as he peered down at her with clear interest in his dark eyes, "And doubtless individuals as capable as yourself can make a place for yourselves here."
Thystra smiled, inclining her head to him. Yes, she rather thought Onduran had a few ideas on what kind of place she ought to be occupying. Even aside from his prurient interests, the Councillor would be only too happy to introduce another faction to his political games, something he could use to break the stranglehold of the Steam Lords in one way or another.
"Naturally, councillor," she said smoothly, "This august body need not worry itself overmuch on our account. We shall aid where we can, and stand ready to answer your call."
And if in the course of her loyal service she strengthened her own hand for days yet to come, well… that was only to be expected, even commended. And if anyone disagreed, well, that was their mistake to make. Quietly.
Now if only the Skaven could all just go away…
Article: With her Master of Disguise talent, Thystra is capable of maintaining a second identity within Greywater, separate from her public persona as a beautiful and inspiring heroine. What identity does she choose to establish?
(Success is guaranteed on all of these - the question is how Thystra chooses to present herself)
[ ] Steam Lady
Membership of the Council of the Forge changes all the time, political prospects changing with the prosperity of its members. With stolen wealth and enchanted allies, Thystra presents herself as an up-and-coming young industrialist, seeking entrance to the halls of power.
[ ] Éminence Grise
Thystra does not have the time to arrange election to the Conclave, but she can certainly insinuate herself into the retinue of an existing councillor and speak through them. Political influence, access to the halls of power and a useful cutout all in one.
[ ] Queen of the Underworld
Greywater has its criminal element, of course, chiefly smugglers and black marketeers with a number of deniable mercenaries hired by the Steam Lords. Thystra identifies and takes over one such cabal, sweet-talking her friendly blood knight into assisting with the necessary violence.
[ ] Write in
-/-
In addition to the above, Thystra has time to pursue a downtime endeavour as she gets established in the city. Choose one of the following:
[ ] Make Connections
- [ ] Specify target (optional write-in)
Thystra strikes up a relationship with someone of importance in Greywater, from a prominent politician to a specialist tradesman or known priest or other official.
[ ] Learn a Spell
Thystra spends time refining her magical ability, expanding her repertoire. Learning an existing spell is certain, attempting to design a custom spell requires a series of Channelling checks; there will be a follow up vote to decide which course you take.
[ ] Seek Lost Lore
Thystra delves into risky areas of study and seeks the forgotten secrets of Greywater Fastness and its surrounding area. She is guaranteed to find at least one piece of interesting and actionable intelligence.
[ ] Greycap Training
Thystra ingratiates herself with the largest and most effective of Greywater's Free Guilds, learning how they are organised, their preferred methods, and making sure they feel positively about her.
[ ] Gather Minions
Thystra spends her time charming, bribing and enchanting her way to mastery over a number of followers, precise details dependent on a series of relevant rolls. This represents rank-and-file pawns and minions rather than notable lieutenants and the like, who require more focused effort.
- Location
- the Republic
- Pronouns
- He/They
We have to save this city from the insidious and thoroughly evil force threatening it and its people, the most terrible in all the realms.
No, not the Skaven. Capitalism.
No, not the Skaven. Capitalism.
HalfTangible
Only half sane (it's less cringe)
- Location
- Valkyrie, Primus
- Location
- being near locations is my passion.
[ ] Learn a Spell
Thystra spends time refining her magical ability, expanding her repertoire. Learning an existing spell is certain, attempting to design a custom spell requires a series of Channelling checks; there will be a follow up vote to decide which course you take.
@Maugan Ra Would you or someone else be able to point to some guidance on this or would that be better served with people making suggestions for you to respond to?
@ thread: I think that we are best served in the medium and long term with expanding our personal capabilities in battle.
Looking at the bolded bit of the following:
"Mystic Shield (DN5:1) - Target creature within Medium range. Their defence rises one step for one round, +1 round per extra success."
I'd hope for a DN5:2 or DN6:1/DN6:2 armour spell that can last for longer; a prep spell that is attempted before combat - or considering our Ahnika's or Snagga's (and our own) somewhat lower defence, an aoe-debuff on a horde of lesser foes, or perhaps some sort of aoe "confusion" spell that causes infighting for when there is no target stronk enough to be worth attempting Enslave on.
Failing that, a group invisibility/stealth spell seems useful in many circumstances.
Thystra spends time refining her magical ability, expanding her repertoire. Learning an existing spell is certain, attempting to design a custom spell requires a series of Channelling checks; there will be a follow up vote to decide which course you take.
@Maugan Ra Would you or someone else be able to point to some guidance on this or would that be better served with people making suggestions for you to respond to?
@ thread: I think that we are best served in the medium and long term with expanding our personal capabilities in battle.
Looking at the bolded bit of the following:
"Mystic Shield (DN5:1) - Target creature within Medium range. Their defence rises one step for one round, +1 round per extra success."
I'd hope for a DN5:2 or DN6:1/DN6:2 armour spell that can last for longer; a prep spell that is attempted before combat - or considering our Ahnika's or Snagga's (and our own) somewhat lower defence, an aoe-debuff on a horde of lesser foes, or perhaps some sort of aoe "confusion" spell that causes infighting for when there is no target stronk enough to be worth attempting Enslave on.
Failing that, a group invisibility/stealth spell seems useful in many circumstances.
They're the same picture.
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- Location
- London, England
There's an entire subsystem for creating your own spell, I'm afraid, which is probably too complex to really go over in a thread post. You can totally modify an existing spell though.
At a glance, you could make a version of Aethyric Armour that targeted everyone in a zone as a DN5:3 spell. Or you could drop it back to 5:1 by making it only the zone you were currently in, limiting the range aspect.
When it comes to duration, Soulbound is pretty damn strict - combat spells can only measure their duration in rounds. That said, you'll notice that you've not had a combat go more than three rounds yet, and that with Mettle you can take an extra action in a turn, which includes casting a spell. Keeping up Aethyric Armour or other buff spells or effects is easier than you might be supposing.
Xilentxium
Existential Crisis Management
- Location
- Temperate Regions
[X] Queen of the Underworld
Greywater has its criminal element, of course, chiefly smugglers and black marketeers with a number of deniable mercenaries hired by the Steam Lords. Thystra identifies and takes over one such cabal, sweet-talking her friendly blood knight into assisting with the necessary violence.
Girlboss time.
As for new spells, I suggest Pit of Shades, it's a bit tough to pull off but removing someone from the field for at least 1 round is some good control
Arcane Barrier and Ward are also good for utility spells.
Additional Spicy Suggestions would be The Withering (it's hard to pull off with needing a 5:5 but it reduces a target's Melee, Accuracy, and Defence by one step and their dice pool by 1 for all tests) and Mindrazor (Fool reality itself and give ANY number of weapons in range armor piercing and bonus damage against Frigthened enemies) both from the Order of Champions splat.
Greywater has its criminal element, of course, chiefly smugglers and black marketeers with a number of deniable mercenaries hired by the Steam Lords. Thystra identifies and takes over one such cabal, sweet-talking her friendly blood knight into assisting with the necessary violence.
Girlboss time.
As for new spells, I suggest Pit of Shades, it's a bit tough to pull off but removing someone from the field for at least 1 round is some good control
DN = 5:3 Target: 1
Range: Medium Duration: 1 round
Test: DN 4:S (Mind+Determination)
Overcast: +1 round per additional successes
You open a rift to the infamous Pit of Shades. You send your terrified foes screaming through the portal,
plummeting to a shadowy no-place filled with the incessant wailing of 'those who dwell beyond'. Choose
a Large or smaller creature within Medium Range. A swirling black pit appears beneath them and they are
pulled in, disappearing until the start of your next turn. Each additional success extends the duration the creature
is trapped in the pit by 1 round.
At the end of the duration, the creature reappears, falling Prone where they were pulled into the pit. They suffer
Damage equal to the number of rounds they were in the Pit of Shades. This Damage ignores Armour. Additionally,
the target must make DN 4:S Mind (Determination) Test or be Frightened of you for 1 day.
Range: Medium Duration: 1 round
Test: DN 4:S (Mind+Determination)
Overcast: +1 round per additional successes
You open a rift to the infamous Pit of Shades. You send your terrified foes screaming through the portal,
plummeting to a shadowy no-place filled with the incessant wailing of 'those who dwell beyond'. Choose
a Large or smaller creature within Medium Range. A swirling black pit appears beneath them and they are
pulled in, disappearing until the start of your next turn. Each additional success extends the duration the creature
is trapped in the pit by 1 round.
At the end of the duration, the creature reappears, falling Prone where they were pulled into the pit. They suffer
Damage equal to the number of rounds they were in the Pit of Shades. This Damage ignores Armour. Additionally,
the target must make DN 4:S Mind (Determination) Test or be Frightened of you for 1 day.
Arcane Barrier and Ward are also good for utility spells.
DN = 5:1 Target: Zone
Range: Self Duration: 1 round
Overcast: +1 round per additional successes
You create a magical barrier, such as a wall of ice or shimmering arcane energy, which prevents creatures from
entering or leaving your Zone until the start of your next turn. Each additional success extends the duration by 1
round. A creature can use an Action to make a DN 4:S Body (Might) or Soul (Determination) Test to force their way through the barrier.
Additionally, the Arcane Barrier disrupts ranged attacks. A creature's Accuracy is decreased one step when making a ranged attack into or out of the Zone. The barrier has no effect on spells.
Range: Self Duration: 1 round
Overcast: +1 round per additional successes
You create a magical barrier, such as a wall of ice or shimmering arcane energy, which prevents creatures from
entering or leaving your Zone until the start of your next turn. Each additional success extends the duration by 1
round. A creature can use an Action to make a DN 4:S Body (Might) or Soul (Determination) Test to force their way through the barrier.
Additionally, the Arcane Barrier disrupts ranged attacks. A creature's Accuracy is decreased one step when making a ranged attack into or out of the Zone. The barrier has no effect on spells.
DN = 4:1 Target: Zone
Range: Short Duration: 1 hour
Overcast: +1 hour per additional successes
You impart vigilant magic into a location to protect the area from trespass. Spend 10 minutes to enact a simple ritual and choose an area within your Zone. The targeted area may be any size up to the entirety of the Zone. For 1 hour, when a creature enters or leaves (one or both at your discretion) the targeted area, a magical alarm sounds. You decide the volume and specific sound generated, though it is typically a noise suitable to your lore (wailing Shysian spirits, roaring Ghurite beasts, Azyrite peals of thunder, screeching Chamonite metal, etc.). You may select specific creatures or types of creatures (i.e. Mortals, Beasts, etc.) that will not trigger the ward. Additionally, you can set a watchword creatures may speak to avoid triggering the alarm when breaching the area's boundaries.
Each additional success adds 1 hour to the duration.
Range: Short Duration: 1 hour
Overcast: +1 hour per additional successes
You impart vigilant magic into a location to protect the area from trespass. Spend 10 minutes to enact a simple ritual and choose an area within your Zone. The targeted area may be any size up to the entirety of the Zone. For 1 hour, when a creature enters or leaves (one or both at your discretion) the targeted area, a magical alarm sounds. You decide the volume and specific sound generated, though it is typically a noise suitable to your lore (wailing Shysian spirits, roaring Ghurite beasts, Azyrite peals of thunder, screeching Chamonite metal, etc.). You may select specific creatures or types of creatures (i.e. Mortals, Beasts, etc.) that will not trigger the ward. Additionally, you can set a watchword creatures may speak to avoid triggering the alarm when breaching the area's boundaries.
Each additional success adds 1 hour to the duration.
Additional Spicy Suggestions would be The Withering (it's hard to pull off with needing a 5:5 but it reduces a target's Melee, Accuracy, and Defence by one step and their dice pool by 1 for all tests) and Mindrazor (Fool reality itself and give ANY number of weapons in range armor piercing and bonus damage against Frigthened enemies) both from the Order of Champions splat.
DN = 5:5 Target: 1
Range: Medium Duration: 1 round
Overcast: +1 target per additional success, or +1 round per additional success
You need only a sceptical look and a bit of sorcery to wrack someone with self-loathing and hopeless doubt. Choose
a creature you can see within Medium Range. Until the start of your next turn, the target's Melee, Accuracy, and Defence decrease one step, and its dice pool is reduced by 1 for all Tests. Each additional success extends the duration by 1 round. Alternatively, you may choose another target per additional success.
Range: Medium Duration: 1 round
Overcast: +1 target per additional success, or +1 round per additional success
You need only a sceptical look and a bit of sorcery to wrack someone with self-loathing and hopeless doubt. Choose
a creature you can see within Medium Range. Until the start of your next turn, the target's Melee, Accuracy, and Defence decrease one step, and its dice pool is reduced by 1 for all Tests. Each additional success extends the duration by 1 round. Alternatively, you may choose another target per additional success.
DN = 6:1 Target: 1
Range: Short Duration: 1 round
Overcast: +1 round per additional successes
A subtle, powerful enchantment momentarily deceives reality itself, subverting the fact that armour would normally
hinder the points and edges of your allies' weapons. Choose any number of Piercing or Slashing weapons within Short
Range. Targeted weapons ignore Armour for the duration. Additionally, when these weapons Damage a Frightened
creature, they inflict +1 Damage as the victim's terror lends credence to the deception. Each additional success extends
the duration by 1 round.
Range: Short Duration: 1 round
Overcast: +1 round per additional successes
A subtle, powerful enchantment momentarily deceives reality itself, subverting the fact that armour would normally
hinder the points and edges of your allies' weapons. Choose any number of Piercing or Slashing weapons within Short
Range. Targeted weapons ignore Armour for the duration. Additionally, when these weapons Damage a Frightened
creature, they inflict +1 Damage as the victim's terror lends credence to the deception. Each additional success extends
the duration by 1 round.
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Queen of the Underworld
[X] Gather Minions
This is something Thystra is well suited for, and many attempts to subvert Greywater are sure to come through the underworld's channels.
[X] Gather Minions
This is something Thystra is well suited for, and many attempts to subvert Greywater are sure to come through the underworld's channels.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Éminence Grise
[X] Gather Minions
Minions! Minions Get!
Also I'm not bothered which factino we take for our second identity provided its not being a capitalist. We would then have capitalist insentives which would interfere with out other duties. Both other identities are easier to drop or give to a subaltern later when we move on.
[X] Gather Minions
Minions! Minions Get!
Also I'm not bothered which factino we take for our second identity provided its not being a capitalist. We would then have capitalist insentives which would interfere with out other duties. Both other identities are easier to drop or give to a subaltern later when we move on.
- Location
- the Republic
- Pronouns
- He/They
[X] Queen of the Underworld
[X] Greycap Training
I think I prefer Thystra properly taking charge of things instead of being an advisor or puppeteer, plus her being a crime boss sounds cool as hell.
As for the Greycaps, I like Rissa and want to see more of her.
[X] Greycap Training
I think I prefer Thystra properly taking charge of things instead of being an advisor or puppeteer, plus her being a crime boss sounds cool as hell.
As for the Greycaps, I like Rissa and want to see more of her.
Tabascoheath
Unkempt, Evil-eyed Charlatan, and Pseudo-Mystic
- Location
- Your Nearest Orbital Habitat
[X] Steam Lady
[X] Gather Minions
[X] Gather Minions
- Pronouns
- He/Him
What authority exactly do we have as Soulbound of Sigmar acting on a mission from said god (or a god's soldier) in said god's city?
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
[X] Queen of the Underworld
[X] Éminence Grise
[X] Greycap Training
[X] Gather Minions
[X] Éminence Grise
[X] Greycap Training
[X] Gather Minions
- Location
- London, England
Legally speaking your power is limited, especially since your mission was to find out what was causing the loss of shipments and then either solve it or report back. So you could reasonably take actions aimed at removing the Skaven threat, but it wouldn't grant you actual authority over the Conclave or the like.
Practically speaking you've got a massive degree of soft power, on account of being actively singled out by Sigmar as someone worth trusting and listening to. This is why, for example, "Greycap Training" is an option - you're a random civilian who showed up like three days ago, but if you turn up at their HQ and ask to be given the tour, they'll oblige you.
[X] Queen of the Underworld
[X] Gather Minions
We have but a single minion, not even our own group recognizes our rightful place as their unquestionable leader, this is unacceptable and must be remedied right away.
Also, the underworld probably gives us the most ability to forget about it and come back later, since it works more on reputation and less on cash and/or votes
[X] Gather Minions
We have but a single minion, not even our own group recognizes our rightful place as their unquestionable leader, this is unacceptable and must be remedied right away.
Also, the underworld probably gives us the most ability to forget about it and come back later, since it works more on reputation and less on cash and/or votes
[X] Queen of the Underworld
[X] Greycap Training
[X] Gather Minions
Also, @Maugan Ra, does thrystra know of any covens operating in the city?
[X] Greycap Training
[X] Gather Minions
Also, @Maugan Ra, does thrystra know of any covens operating in the city?
- Location
- Dethklok
[X] Seek Lost Lore
I was wondering, what do people in Greywater eat? I mean the city is in the middle of a swamp, so it's not as if they can have fields and orchards just outside and further out it'sWood Elves Sylvaneth who hate their guts. Are they importing everything through the One Road?
I was wondering, what do people in Greywater eat? I mean the city is in the middle of a swamp, so it's not as if they can have fields and orchards just outside and further out it's
- Location
- London, England
More or less.
There's a number of different agrichambers across the city, where plants, flowers and other crops grow beneath metal and glass domes, fed by filtered rainwater. These mostly provide enough greens that the populace don't suffer from major vitamin deficiencies, but the popular belief is that in a true time of need they could be converted to grow cereals and thus make Greywater self-sufficient if everyone tightens their belt a bit.
Thystra is fairly certain this wouldn't work. She's no farmer, but she's picked up on how everyone talks about the option in terms of "well obviously" and "if we needed to", never in terms of "emergency policy" or "law". She's also seen how large the market districts are, and the size of the warehouses set aside for imports.
Greywater obviously has stockpiles and reserves which it is currently using, but if the One Road were severed and not regained, the city would starve.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I would have to check my books, but are there no Realmgates in the city?
Cassiemouse
Market Atheist
[X] Steam Lady
[X] Queen of the Underworld
[X] Greycap Training
[X] Gather Minions
[X] Queen of the Underworld
[X] Greycap Training
[X] Gather Minions
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