Karak Ungor 27
You are not a priest of Sigmar, just a man with faith. Yet you've seen undeniable proof of the power of His followers before. For goodness sake a full pound of the various talismans and necklaces that are draped across your father's body are brightly glowing with the power of the hammer wielding god. That and you've seen the shields of burning gold that appear when goblin shamans have attempted to strike them. Light that cascaded over torn flesh and left little but scars behind and sometimes even less. Blasts of holy fury which boiled the blood and scorched the flesh of those who would stand against the Warrior Priests.
Dwarves are forever going to be a fair bit more insular than humanity. It is in their nature. When they arrived back at the supply keep – this place
really needs a name – they set to their own little sectioned off portions. Tents went up, and though there is a fair bit more of conversation and walking back and forth between your people it is not particularly expansive in its interconnectedness. A shame but that is simply the way things are. Princess Fenna and Anna are busying themselves with Sven's book and its secrets while Gorrin and his fellows are deep within the set up distillery and speaking in the dwarf tongue.
Without a major need to talk to anyone about anything beyond simple cursory conversation you elect to partake in something that might have more immediate and tangible results. Or maybe not, one cannot just
assume that they will have the favor of the Gods in anything they do for certain. Unless, perhaps, one were a priest of the faith. The Grand Theogonist, for instance, likely doesn't doubt for a second whenever he utilizes his conduit to Sigmar to do things. In any case…your choice seems a simple one. In the absence of possessing any magic yourself or the ability to heal things as the priests do all that remains for you to aid your father is to pray.
And pray you shall.
When you arrive at your father's tent, you boggle slightly at even more charms being placed upon his body. Sir Roland mused as he made his way to the sparring yard that it was oddly like certain people in Bretonnia would treat the bodies of the legendary Grail Knights save for the fact that it was most certain that your father is alive. Yet unexpectedly there is another within the tent. A faint split second of concern spikes through you enough to grasp at
Brain Wounder along your side before you strain your eyes through the low lighting to see that it is just some of the Priests of Sigmar. Ten new Warrior Priests had arrived with the reinforcements your mother had sent so it is not unexpected that you wouldn't recognize each one of them.
Said two priests look up from staring down at your father, rather startled, at your sudden entrance but relax upon seeing who it is. Well, one does, the other seems entirely entranced at seeing so many holy icons being placed on your father.
"Ah, my apologies my lord," the more attentive one stammers, which is rather strange to see from a warrior priest.
"It is no trouble…," you trail off, looking expectantly at him.
"Ah, Oswald, Oswald Huss, sir," he bobs his head.
"Greetings, Oswald Huss," you bow slightly while forming the sign of Sigmar with your hands. "Your companion seems rather…distracted."
He hasn't even looked up, instead holding his hands out over your father while murmuring. Faint light curls over his hands as the priest hums. Oswald rubs his forehead with the back of his hand before swatting at his companion.
"Pay attention Kurt," he hisses.
Finally, 'Kurt' looks up, and blanches at seeing you. Or perhaps at his lack of respect though you aren't one to demand it from people. One only earns respect, those who demand it aren't worth what they speak of.
"I-oh! I apologize, herr Hohenzollern. I meant no offense. But merely
seeing what our brothers have done in the meantime is…quite inspiring."
"It does my heart good to see the Gods of the Empire granting my father any favor at all, Sigmar especially," you chuckle. "But I am sure that you have must to speak of with your companions?"
Left unsaid is that you quite clearly wish to be alone with your father.
"Of course, we are just…very out of sorts being this far underground. I don't see how the dwarves could live like this as they have for so long," Oswald coughs nervously as he begins dragging his companion out.
"Sigmar, Ulric, Taal, Manaan, so many…," Kurt murmurs in a dazed manner as they exit.
You cannot help but smile slightly. Even the priests can be dazzled by the gods it seems.
Then you look at your father, and the smile fades.
All the powers of the Gods indeed, all represented here save for their darker peers…or at the least tricksters and thieves you do not need as in Ranald. The power of a Jade Wizard Lord, and her associates. More than ten Warrior Priests of Sigmar, and all the expertise of Shallya's acolytes. What more could a single prayer from you possibly do? You are not the Grand Theogonist or the Arch Lectors – though if anything you are quite certain that even in such positions that men are not infallible if such filth such as
Jung are capable of making it – you are just…you. Just Magnus von Hohenzollern. Not even the great hero Frederick, the Steel Bull.
…you are just one man, not even past your second decade. So you will allow yourself the impetuousness of youth and pray over your father anyway. The stone is hard but luckily you haven't yet taken off your armor so with a heavy metallic thump you fall to your knees.
Then you pray.
"Sigmar, watch over my noble father…."
(Praying To Sigmar: 93/100)
You can't say if anything actually happened. Still, for the whole day, you remain in prayer. Occasionally rising to relieve yourself and get yourself fed and watered, but you always return to continue. The Light of Summer, carefully placed on your father's neck alongside the various other necklaces and pieces of religious iconography, lit up in a brief flash occasionally that almost blinded you the first few times as the strange magic of the Wood Elves went to work. But that is
not Sigmar's light. You know the difference, especially after fighting in battle alongside the Warrior Priests themselves. At the same time you can't say that you feel as if this was a pointless exercise. The point of faith…isn't just pulling a trigger on a handgun and having something immediately happen.
But you feel better, and if you let yourself then you can perhaps see a slightly easing of the near constant rictus of pain on your father's face. A thought strikes you then, as you consider Sigmar and the rest of the Gods represented here. Certainly much of this is the work of the priests, but the well wishes of many a soldier to the man who slew Zacharias the Everliving are present as well in their own myriad ways. Several dozen good luck charms, for instance. But…
It's quite a bit, isn't it?
Almost an uncomfortable amount of weight. You know that if the actual healers in here they would probably tell you not to mess about with anything here but…well. They aren't here right now. They can't be watching over him every hour of the day – that is the purview of the Greatswords. As such, you shift away some of the charms that have been laid upon the voluminous amount of bandages all over him, and tug away some of the necklaces that are practically crushing his throat with their collective weight – not removing them entirely, just…loosening the burden on your father's flesh.
Just an impulse decision, but one that you cannot help but think is the right one.
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Little else is done for the night, save for a bit of sparring with some volunteer soldiers who want to see if you really are all you're cracked up to be – soldiers who were apparently near the back of the charge and did not see you personally fight. Even now your twisted victory at the Gates in the Upper Deeps stains part of your reputation. But by the end of it those same soldiers are battered and nearly broken on the ground and you are not. Few are incapable of denying your abilities and worth now – which is nice…but you don't take a great flush of pleasure from it either. Not like you would have before.
Sigmar, what pride you had when you started this campaign.
In the morning, after a short breakfast, you turn to those same sparring yards again. There are still a few faint kinks in your wrists and torso from where the knives struck you. Healed as they may be now the scar tissue still tugs oddly at the very edge of your rather well-honed senses. Better to work it out now so that every single movement you may make on the battlefield is as smooth as possible. It is only a small amount of difference – but you know well that even small differences can mean the difference between life and death.
It is only an hour or so of that before someone intrudes.
"Hoy! Magnus me manling!"
Chuckling, you rise from the three swordsmen who you had just laid out onto their backs and turn to Princess Fenna as she approaches.
"Princess," you bow slightly before wiping the sweat from your brow. "Was there something you needed?"
"Ehhhhh," she shrugs, "Jus' wanted t' ask something, that uh…that little feller, yer know 'im?"
"Little fellow…," you raise an eyebrow in question.
"Anna's little feller. Came in on th' last supply train from th' Gates, 'e calls 'imself Samewise. Ya ken him?"
Ah.
"You mean my sister's personal assistant. I was wondering when he would recover."
Such a plucky young halfling. He'd ridden himself unto exhaustion just getting to the Gates, passing through the numerous checkpoints that the dwarves had set up behind them as they passed deeper into the hold. Still if he had not arrived with his messages, delivered to you in one of those rare moments of clarity when the poisons burned through you, you might not have finally allowed Lady Wolfgang to truly use her powers to their fullest extent. With a throne of vines surrounding her and her whole body thrumming with magic…well.
Best remembering that it is
because of that you are here at all.
"Yeah, well, 'es…'es odd, yeah?"
"A little," you concede, "His loyalty to her is rather astonishing, for someone who hasn't even known her his whole life."
"Yeah, well, 'es all…depressed now, and I ain't having that cloud o' negativity in me baby. She needs positive thoughts ta go, yeah?"
Ah, Samwise. He is probably horrified at what happened to your sister. To be fair, you were as well – still are somewhat when you think about it.
"I understand your frustration," you shrug, "But he knew her…before."
"Afore what?"
"She was…mmph," you stutter to a halt.
How to explain to Princess Fenna who Anna was? The Master Engineer of Ostland that met the mad princess for the first time was not the same one that entered Karak Ungor.
"Different. Her magic…"
"Oooh," Fenna nods before shaking her head, "You humans and yer magic. Ye can't trust that stuff, yeah? I 'member now, the stories her little children be talking about."
"Yes. She was certainly more fiery…before."
"Mmph. So I got here just in time to
not meet her, yeah? Instead I get the her what got bamboozled by her own magic."
"Indeed," you sigh heavily.
"S'untrustorthy. Ye can't rely on magic, yeah? Anyway, just wanted to ask. My baby's good, but I didn't know if I could just trust some…not-a-dwarf to be inside 'er alongside with me n' Anna."
Then she's leaving.
Princess Fenna seems conditioned to just leave when she finds a conversation done apparently.
Nothing you can do about
that.
A few hours later find the resupply done. The Throng of Zhufbar is readying itself to move out, and the Army of Ostland alongside them. Where you go next is up to you, as while you could begin working through the tunnels and paths once more to clear the foes from them there
has been no news from the Runeforge nor the Great Hall. That on its own is not necessarily a damning fact but Princess Fenna was not entirely capable of hiding the flicker of concern that ran through her voice when you spoke to her about it. Her dwarves nonetheless are heading out to begin blocking tunnels – now that surely many of the foes on this level have been slain – and collapsing goblin and skaven built caves.
You can do the same, with dwarf engineers provided to you to assist…but you don't
have to do so.
Runelord Kragg and King Stonehammer remain at their objectives – hopefully. They may not need your assistance…or perhaps they
do.
It is up to you, while Anna and Samwise take up with Princess Fenna once more.
Choose The Army of Ostland's Next Move:
[] Continue As Before – Clearing out goblins and skaven from the greater parts of this half of the Middle Deeps. With engineers provided by the dwarves, you can set about closing tunnels and breaking down enemy caves entirely to shut them out once and for all.
OR
[] March To Aid…(Choose One)
- [] King Stonehammer [The Great Hall of Karak Ungor]
- [] Runelord Kragg the Grim [The Runeforge]
