The Battle of Three Armies Aftermath
You are going to die here. But it wasn't so bad. The bed was immensely comfortable, so that was good.
"-SO FUCKING IDIOTIC THAT YOU COULD EVEN
THINK THAT I-,"
It wasn't warm though. Not even close. That was visually evident in how ice had grown over the dressers, layered itself over the windows until there was more ice than glass, and the sort of misty whiteness that areas of intense coldness could get. Was there a name for that? Or was it just called 'mist' or 'fog'. You couldn't be sure. Eh, there's probably a specific term for it.
"-TO
KILL YOURSELF YOU STUPID-,"
Urgdug, that traitorous bastard, had been 'convinced' to go somewhere else in the Imperial Estate. Then again, you could understand. The rest of the ogres in the army had dragged him off so that they could go purchase potentially every piece of food remaining in Nuln that could be purchased and have a grand feast in his honor. For all that Urgdug did not care for the Great Maw, and how its worship was if not suppressed than poorly understood and often left on the wayside, one thing that shall forever remain part of ogre culture and life is the need to throw a feast after every major event.
"- TELL MYSELF THAT YOU'LL BE FINE ONLY FOR YOU TO JUMP UP AND DO
LITERALLY-,"
In any case, you could die knowing that something interesting had been discovered. Or rather, perhaps not discovered, but rediscovered. If someone has a specific talent, but they let it fall by the wayside due to not unsubstantiated proof that they will never advance beyond a certain tier, only to return to it later from the bottom up, they can sometimes learn that just because they did not reach the same level out of pure talent they could do it out of sheer work. Like, say, several hours a day working alongside two precocious and talented children who also happened to be genius's. Perhaps it was competiveness. Perhaps it was just returning to the basics and truly and gruelingly running through them.
Maybe it was the pure rage at what you had nearly done which broke the 'wall' as it were.
"Natasha," you weakly said.
Immediately the tirade stopped, and the whirlwind of ice and frost and
anger which had surrounded your wife since she stalked into the wing of the Imperial Estate where you were still laid up in bed faded. The ice and cold filling the room did not fade, nor did the foot long and dagger sharp icicles which had dangerously grown upon the ceiling and shook ominously with every stomp of your wife's foot.'
"What."
When one thinks of the word glacially, they usually meant it in the manner of slow. A slow moving thing. When you thought of the word glacially, you meant to evoke the concept of a multi-thousand ton block of ice and death looming high above you with a certain amount of finality and inevitability of crushing and excruciating death. In that manner, you could somewhat describe your wife's tone as 'glacially'.
"I'm sorry….and I love you?"
She glares down at you imperiously from your bed, eyes glowing with power of which every new particle had been clawed out of seemingly nothing by a backbreaking training regimen and pure rage. Rage born out of concern and love…you hoped. The dress she wears is quite conservative, the usual light blues and whites having been subsumed beneath funeral black silk and lace.
Natasha takes a step forward, and her eyes glow more. You would draw back if you could, but the bed seems resistant to your efforts, especially given that the mattress itself has grown hard from the sheer cold pumped into it. Your partially blue lips quiver as you look up helpless at her, and you manage to shrink down about an inch more into a ball as she steps closer. Then, right when you knew your death was here…she leans down and kisses you softly, her forehead delicately knocking your own.
"I know. Do you want the cold to go away?"
"Yes please."
The ice throughout the room abruptly began to withdraw, with a strange shrieking noise and a cacophony of crushing and strange whirling sounds. The heat of the room did not quite return immediately, but the difference was noticeable the moment your bed returned to being slightly squishy. You looked up to your beautiful and thankfully non-murderous wife as she stood in the center of the room, her hands raised above her head as all the ice on the windows, walls, and chandelier lifted off and then crushed into a ball. Your brain tried to parse this fact, as a substantially larger volume and mass disappeared into something the size of a baby, but then you quickly dismissed the thought train with the knowledge that you literally could not understand magic.
"Can I ask how you managed that? I thought only masters of your craft could manage the whole 'carry Winter within you' sort of thing. Did you pop over to Kislev for a bit of training when I wasn't looking?"
The ball continues to rotate as the ethereal cold mist begins to swirl upwards, but Natasha looks down at you, the light faded from her frame now almost entirely.
"Yes, actually. I approached my old teachers about instructing our daughter in the future when they inevitably eclipse me, and after you left I went to Kislev City."
Your eyes widen.
"You went to a foreign nation without telling me?!"
"I went to my
homeland for a
month," she replies coldly to which you wince. "I was unaware that you had to know my every movement, Frederick. I had the Kreml Guard and traveled to Kislev City under full escort. During
winter. You do remember how I instructed you on how our power waxes and wanes with the seasons? I had little to fear with everyone's attentions on the south."
You worry your lip for a moment as she dismisses the ball and with it the rest of the ice. The room has already begun warming up considerably and it only grows warmer when your wife relights the roaring fireplace. Turning, she comes and lightly sits at the edge of your bed, taking care not to exacerbate your currently very weakened state. Then she lightly swats your tender chest, and tightly smiles at your hiss of pain. Her cool fingers then begin slightly massage your shoulders.
"I've been teaching our daughters from the bottom up for six hours a day, and four more dedicated to theory and…visiting the temples like you asked. It is considerably more training than I had managed beforehand. As for how I 'broke' through to a higher level…it doesn't work like that Frederick."
At your quizzical expression she whistles a strange tune, and the doors to your room open.
"О! как ребенок он!" an older woman says cheerily.
You blink in surprise at the sight of the sister Ice Mages Veronika and Valentina. They look a much better sight than they did so long ago, weeping and impotently furious at the death of their friend. It has been a few years since then, and their spirits appear to be much higher than before. Dressed similarly to your wife, they nonetheless carry with them a noticeable chill that you only just now realize your wife had worn like a cloak, now discarded into nothingness. They chatter something again before your wife does the same, and in unison the sisters roll their eyes.
"Fine, we shall speak in the language of the south if we
must," one says with a long suffering tone in her voice. You…aren't actually sure which sister is which. They have a disturbing habit of moving back and forth, switching positions but retaining the same voice and tone.
"Be enlightened!" the other says, pointing her finger dramatically at you. "It is not so hard for us to summon the Winter down into places we cannot see so long as the молодой бабушкой peppers in the right phrases for us to hear!"
"You two…are
drunk," Natasha says with annoyance. Both sisters, Master Ice Mages with over two decades of experience, titter like children.
"Yes. We. Are. That delightful brute named Urgdug shared his brew with us. Did you know he made it himself?" one of them says, swaying ever so slightly.
"Oh, we were worried at first, as
normal ogre brew is full of honeycombs and hornets and melts the short folk from the inside, but his was just…
delicious," the other says, swaying in time with her sister.
Natasha stamps her foot petulantly.
"I organized this, and the whole time you were drunk in the hallway?!" she half-yells. "He could have died!"
"I've slaughtered hundreds of marauders while drunk, this was nothing!" One of them says before swaying again and falling into a chair. "My word, I really am drunk," she murmurs wonderingly.
Hands rubbing her temples, Natasha turns away in shame.
"I…never spoke to them much beforehand, are they
normally like this?" you whisper to her.
"
No. Normally they are a two of the most exacting and severe bitches I ever had the misfortune to be taught by. They found you a silly and strange Arabian monkey in armor when they first met you, and only revised their opinion after you'd slain Gruber. When they are
drunk," she says, raising her voice at the two sisters who have both managed to get to a standing position again, "they transform into bumbling...bumblers!"
"That's not true!" "It's absolutely true."
Both sisters look at one another in surprise at falling out of sync for the first time since arriving, and begin laughing. Natasha sighs.
"Different people, different drunks," you say, reciting an Ostlander proverb. Your wife nods before lightly and carefully shoving you aside in the bed so that she can sit more comfortably next to you.
"Perhaps. In any case, if you wish your daughters to fully be able to continue their education in their powers, you need to make a decision. We may have to send them to Kislev for further training…or you can try to convince a teacher to come from Kislev," she says meaningfully tilting her head in the direction of the sisters. "I can handle their education, their…religious exposure as you requested, and everything else…everything but the divide between what
I can do and what these two can do. And no matter what I think of them, they
are some of the best, and you can be assured of our daughters safety if they learn at their feet. They are…after all…my aunts, and thus rate Kreml Guard of their own."
This is just one of many reasons you love your wife. She finds ways to just…steer opportunity into your face. Well, she has to do it that way; otherwise it would pass by you entirely. Based on her sour expression, she is putting aside her own experiences with her own family for this opportunity as well. But, as you've learned at this point, much of your wife's problems in the court of Kislev the sheer gulf in difference between her and the Tzarina, though not entirely.
=========================
[] Stay In Ostland A While: Veronika and Valentina are Master Ice Mages, and skilled specifically at the art of instruction. If you were able to convince them to stay in Ostland awhile, it would rapidly accelerate your daughters magical education in shorter amounts of time, simultaneously granting your wife even more time to educate your daughters in more mundane matters…as well as religiously. Also, you'll have two Master Ice Mages who by virtue of living in Wulfenburg would greatly enhance its continued survival in a world that seems determined to ruin all good things. As aunts of your wife, this would also probably further your connection to the frozen north. 50% Chance of Success.
[] That's a Problem For Later: Think about it later, when you are not currently bedridden. Your wife predicts that by fourteen your daughters will eclipse her. You have plenty of time to come to a decision, you don't need to do it right now. 100% Chance of Success
============================
Hmm. Something to consider indeed. Regardless, after another minute Natasha shooed them out so that she could spend some alone time with you. And matters, predictably for a Kislevite and Ostlander sharing a room, grew grim. You inquired as to the state of your forces, and received a sobering report. Despite taking less casualties than anyone else, you were not left unscathed. The Warboss Gorebash had escaped to the south, though on his journey the news was somewhat heartening that he ran into a few war herds of beastmen on his path, reducing his forces further. Magnus yet lived, and none of the Elector Counts had been slain either, though Count Rommel lost a leg. Not to mention that Drakenhoff left nothing of his body behind save for the blade of Solland.
Thankfully he possessed a wide ranging family throughout the Reikland, his youngest grandchild already having joined a knightly order. That bloodline was thicker than some rivers you knew. A few Wizards fell, but the most powerful of the Colleges who participated in the battle remained alive. You frowned to hear that Aurelion was left in a coma, though both Loremasters kept watch over her for now. Apparently Teclis had decided that if his student was going to make the effort to actually keep up connections with humans then she was going to accompany him as he did so as well.
Then…you came to the matter of your injuries. It had been a close thing.
Very close. So close that despite the best efforts of the magic users available and the priests, some damage remained. Perhaps a last malevolent assault on your person by the now dead Bloodthirster, perhaps it was from the magic itself. You cannot know. For all that you are indeed greatly weakened, you don't always…feel, the pain, that you should. Part of your body has grown numb, specifically your left hand and parts of your legs. They haven't stopped working, they work perfectly well, it's just…you don't always feel them. They predict that it will have little effect on your fighting abilities or real health, but you aren't so sure. If you can't know that part of you is in pain for good reason…you could end up doing far more damage to yourself than you otherwise would.
As a result of having been exposed to malevolent warp energies to the extent you have and sustaining the levels damage dealt to your body and despite the immense amounts of magic pumped into you has resulted in minor nerve damage. On the other hand, you have clearly accepted the dangers of doing such things, and know that you would likely do so again. Your bravery cannot be denied by anyone, least of all yourself. Gain Trait: Bravery – Facing some of the greatest horrors in the world has worn away the ability of fear to control you. You may experience the emotion, but never again will it be capable of locking down your body and mind. (+2 Martial) Gain Trait: Numbness – You don't always feel your left hand or legs, which can result in gaining and exacerbating damage to them if you do not realize it. Functionality itself has not been damaged, but caution will be required forevermore in the future. On the other hand, you may be able to push harder than pain would allow you to do.
This worries Natasha immensely, but you reassure her by lightly caressing her face with the very left hand that was left with invisible damage. It was a good day, so you could feel the warmth of her skin in your hand. She leaned into it, sighing sadly, before lightly hugging you. You are not invincible, despite what the alcohol would sometimes have you think.
Once that bad business was over with, the next few hours were spent with Natasha playing with your hair and talking about Ostland, avoiding your more permanent issues for a time. Largely inane topics, about nothing in particular. It was…nice. The room grew positively toasty with the fireplace, and now that your wife was not attempting to put the fear of death into you, she was as warm as the flames themselves.
But it could not last forever, and a knock at your door made both of you look up. Natasha stood, smoothing out her partially wrinkled dress, and underwent the transformation from adorable wife to cold and imperious wife. Striding to the door, she opened it to reveal…Magnus the Pious, standing there with a small smile on his face. You wince at seeing the new scars, and the large bundle of wrappings around his torso. The armor protecting him had apparently been rent apart by the axe of Thorgar, despite the Emperor's final victory.
He raises a hand to stop you from struggling out of the bed, allowing you to thankfully not kill yourself trying to do so.
"Greetings, Frederick. Lady Natasha," he says with a bow, kissing the top of her offered hand. "I came to check upon the hero himself. How are you feeling, Count?"
"Better than expected, especially considering I expected to die," you admit. Natasha glares at you for that, but it's the truth.
"Indeed," the Emperor says with a nod. "I apologize for not being here sooner, but I was delayed by a
cadre of Shallyan Priestesses, as well as plenty of Priests of Sigmar and Ulric besides. It was like trying to wade through an ocean," he finishes ruefully. "I tried to tell them that He girds me and grants me strength enough to walk, but to hear them tell it I shouldn't even be allowed to
sit instead of rest in bed, much less move about."
Chuckling lightly to himself, he comes further into the room and shuts the door.
"Nevertheless, I
did come here for more than that. You were the last man to see one of my greatest and oldest friends alive," he says solemnly, joviality bleeding away. "I…would like to know how his life came to an end."
Ah.
"He saved me," you eventually say simply.
Magnus nods, and no one says anything for some time. It is all that he apparently needs to be said.
"I would grant you a boon, my friend. Alas, the treasury must be used for recovery, Gorebash's rampage did much and the Imperial Steward has threatened to slay me in my sleep should the funds not go to where they are most needed. But the riches of the Empire are more than just in plain gold."
He raises a hand to prevent your immediate protests.
"I did nothing more than-,"
"You slew a Bloodthirster knowing that you would most likely die in the act. Do not try to downplay your efforts Frederick. I admire your bravery and humbleness in that, but in this case I refuse to allow it to affect my decision," he interrupts flatly.
"In any case, I do speak the truth. The Empire is more than its gold. What could I grant you to reward and honor the sacrifice of the north, and your own actions?"
Pushed into it, you actually do consider. What…can be done? If not in funds? And despite Magnus's words, you are not the most humble man in the world. You have
some lofty ideas.
Choose One
[]
The Third Imperial Fleet: Nordland was granted stewardship over the First Imperial Fleet, while Marienburg was granted such over the Second Imperial Fleet. Why not create a third? The Norscans are sure to return soon, and in force. It would be fantastic if you could be granted an Imperial Edict and Charter for stewardship and running of a Third Imperial Fleet. The Sea of Claws could use the ships, your people could use the income, and it would bring a measure of respect and authority to Ostland. Not to mention you'd get an Imperial Stipend, reducing the amount of money you would personally have to spend.
[]
More Than A Blessing: You previously received Magnus's personal blessing to your School of Gunnery and Engineering. But you could have more than that. If he granted an Imperial Charter to it, you would fully equal Nuln in gun and engineering authority. A heady thing, as officially you would be their equal, if not facility wise. More people would be inclined to not disregard the School despite it being in Ostland, and potentially even dwarves. They respect these sorts of things, somewhat at least. They do after all still regard all human engineers with a bit of contempt given the whole 'you cannot even comprehend the height of
our prowess' thing.
[]
Wizardly Items: It will be quite a few years yet before magic is accepted by the religious -and therefore everyone else- folk of the Empire. But you can help with that. You already have through the Jade Wizards. You hear that the Gold Wizards are capable of astonishing things. At extreme cost, but still. Perhaps Magnus can leverage his influence over the institution that
he created with Teclis's assistance to have them make you something? What would they make?
- Write In (Be Reasonable. Seriously.)
[] Sigmar Help Me Damn It: Ask Magnus to personally appeal to Sigmar on your behalf. You've done a lot of crap for him lately and it would be nice if he did the same. A bit blasphemous, but eh. This would grant you one Sigmar-Bound Fate Point, which would do the following -
http://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/posts/2831943/ - while further granting one Fortune Point per turn, which would do
http://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/posts/2832026/ that. This would allow you to essentially defy fate itself, even if the roll crit fails. Say if you rolled a one against the Bloodthirster, you would be able to live through the process.
[]
Something Else: Write-In (Be Reasonable)
Army of Ostland
500 Swordsmen - The workhorse of soldiery, armored and given a sword and shield. (Decent Attack, Decent Defense, Good Mobility)
1,000 Archers - A soldier with a bow and some arrows, little else to say. (Decent Attack, Poor Defense, Good Mobility)
500 Light Cavalry - Lightly armored with decent weaponry. (Decent Attack, Poor Defense, Extreme Mobility)
1000 Pike - Armored decently, wielding a decent long stabbing weapon. (Decent Attack, Decent Defense, Poor Mobility)
500 Ogre - Armored ogres, wielding an assortment of Great Weapons that only they could wield. (Great Attack, Great Defense, Good Mobility)
5,000 Handgunners - A trained marksman wielding a handgun. (Very Good Attack, Decent Defense, Decent Mobility)
25 Ostland Thunderbringer – An armored ogre striding forth wielding a Bull Cannon, a modified design of the Imperial Cannon (Great Attack, Good Defense, Low Mobility)
250 Artillerists - Cannon Swabbers to Master Engineers, They Crew The Big Guns, Ten Men Each- [25 Great Cannons]
300 Greatswords - Plate armor and high quality weaponry combined with supreme experience and skill. ( Extreme Attack, Great defense, Great Mobility) *
*Only 500 per controlled Barony allowed.
Army of the Forest
1000 Swordsmen - The workhorse of soldiery, armored and given a sword and shield. (Decent Attack, Decent Defense, Good Mobility)
2,000 Archers - A soldier with a bow and some arrows, little else to say. (Decent Attack, Poor Defense, Good Mobility)
1000 Light Cavalry - Lightly armored with decent weaponry. (Decent Attack, Poor Defense, Extreme Mobility)
1500 Pike - Armored relatively decently holding a massive pike. (Decent Attack, Decent Defense, Poor Mobility)
5000 Handgunners - A trained marksman wielding a handgun. (Very Good Attack, Decent Defense, Decent Mobility)
250 Artillerists - Cannon Swabbers to Master Engineers, They Crew The Big Guns, Ten Men Each - [25 Great Cannons]
Auxiliaries
25 Knights Griffon (Extreme Attack, Extreme Defense, Great Mobility)
1000 Imperial Foot (Great Attack, Great Defense, Good Mobility)
500 Imperial Foot Handgunners (Great Attack, Good Defense, Great Mobility)
5 Veteran Warrior Priests of Sigmar
Four Cannon
