Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism

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Qeqre said:
Old GW: "So people have a lot of old miniatures. We should make rules for their African tribal miniatures so they can field them against the generic demon miniatures. That way more people will play our game."
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That is cynical enough that it might just be the logic behind it. Plus their racism on top of that, but I assumed that was assumed.
 
Valerian said:
There is another advantage to mercs. In battle sequences, they have a good chance of bearing the brunt of a bad roll instead of our army.

Enemy breaks through a section of the line, mercs move to fill it and die standing while our forces reorganize. That kind of thing.

Doing that usually wipes out the merc unit, but they go down mitigating a hit that could jeopardize the battle or campaign. I like to think of them as extra lives for our Army.
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I know the advantage of mercs, what I'm questioning is do we really need to hire a new one every turn.

It's still costly and takes up a permanent cost until we dismiss them/ the merc goes off/ they get wiped to a man, as it is, I prefer if we hold off hiring for the moment so we can build up some funds to use it in other things. While I can see the usage since there's gonna be a war coming soon, I prefer we focus those funds in prepping our foundations first before deciding to hire more mercs.

As the proto plan showed, we got tons of options that take gold in turns or a whole lump sum and I just feel like we should do those first rather hiring more mercs. Our treasury is full right now and mercs can always be hired later (Barring unless there's some legendary merc available.).
 
I still kinda want to possibly sent up our own merc company made up of people from our army that can go out into world to collect money for province and be called back if need, like the Kislev gryphon legion.

Ideally we'd make said company out of ogres, some artillery units, etc.
 
Turn 36 Rumor Mill
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    • Turn 36 Rumor Mill​

    The fighting at Festermarsh was, to put it simply, intense. It had been a while since you'd fought alongside the entire Army of Ostland as a single combined force. Pleasingly, you didn't have to shake off too much rust to get back into it. By the time you'd actually marched over to Ostermark for the Trident Meeting you'd forced your body back into shape, as had Natasha. It was also a welcome return to form for Urgdug, who similarly hadn't actually fought alongside you in a while too, not in something actually major. He was furious when you told him about Laurelorn, and you have to admit there were more than few places there that he would definitely have helped. And not just as a fighter either, but as just one more friendly face amongst a sea of sneering elves. Even now, as you returned to Wulfenburg, you are still thinking on the sheer carnage there. When you fought in Karak Ungor, the skaven always fled towards the end, retreating where and when they could, always preserving just a few of themselves. With the dwarfs collapsing the tunnels so completely, they had been entirely bereft of that option, and had resorted to the bestial instincts of their kind. Like the rats that they were abominable bipedal versions of, they had fought viciously up until the end. You'd never seen so many skavenslaves, though, at least not at once. You literally lost count of how many of them you killed with Brain Wounder. That almost never happens, ever. Quite possibly more skaven individually than your total in Karak Ungor. Truly, a horrifying thing to imagine boiling up and ravaging the countryside. Ordinary citizens would surely perish if faced by such a horde, malnourished and ill-equipped as they'd been. And that didn't even include the actual clan rats or stormvermin. Or their war machines. Or mutant abominations.

    Still, marching back through the snows of an Imperial winter helped settle you, at least. Heavy cutting winds that can chill the bone are good for making one focus.

    "That was a good fight," Urgdug grunts happily, digging at his teeth with a horse's femur bone sharpened into a tooth pick.

    "I'm not sure if I would call any fight like that 'good'," you shake your head, "But the result definitely is. The world could always do with less skaven."

    And beastmen. And greenskins. And druchii. And Chaos worshippers.

    "At least Ortrud and Stehphan were...understanding," Natasha sighs as she fiddles with her gloves.

    That had indeed been a relief, even if the initial reaction was probably something you should have expected. To someone who could not know the signs of the Widow's favor, the changes wrought upon Natasha are dangerously close to being accusations of mutation. Iron nails, an inhuman bestial eye, these were simple but reasonable markers to assume that the influence of Chaos had fallen upon a person enough to warp their body. And, as the saying goes, to warp the body is to warp the soul. But after several explanations, and a promise to send more religious information on the Cult of the Widow, Ortrud calmed down a bit. Stephan was about as accommodating, though only because he was more used to bodily changes being wrought upon those around him by way of the Winds of Magic. Thankfully, your friendship with them ensured that they do not regard Natasha with fear. The same cannot be said of some of the more common soldiery, at least in Ostermark. Frankly, if he hadn't been acknowledged by the Ar-Ulric, you know that Logan could easily have been equally distrusted and feared. As it is, it only adds to the mystique of the Widow and her priestesses once you'd spent more than half of your time not spent fighting and preparing to fight on the march. Whether they decided to say they believed you out of fear or respect, you don't know or care. What matters is that the Witch Hunters, who by way of their fellows currently in the Army of Ostland, acknowledge it and stay the hell away from her. You already saw some of them staring at her and muttering, only to quickly retreat the moment they noticed you looking.

    "Ah, home," you sigh gustily, dismounting from your horse in the snow-covered courtyard of Castle Wulfenburg.

    At about the same time, the doors to the castle open and out spills the entire Hohenzollern Herd, young and old. At their head, striding with more confidence and strength than you've ever seen him before, is your heir. These past few months of leadership and ruling have been good for him, you've decided, the chains and weights of leadership settling comfortably on his shoulders. It is a good thing to see, and one that makes you infinitely proud to be his father.

    "Father!" Magnus says happily, "You've returned!"

    "Ah, Magnus!"

    After a hard fight, a squeezing hug is more than in order. The two of you hold for a few seconds before the rest of the Herd reaches you, and only then does he release you, looking you up and down while the younglings wrap themselves around your greaves and boots. Others, like Ori and Trudi, or especially Tasha, try to hold back and act mature and overly respectful. Then their parents gently push them forward and give them permission to be the children and young men and women they are to join in. Laughter and babbling words are exchanged at such a rate between your family members that it's largely incomprehensible save for the relief and joy of living and being with one another. Which, frankly, is more than enough. Though you do note how Freya and Stephanie sharply prod and pull at their siblings in order to let Wolfila through, their brother toddling far more uncertainly than any others just to be able to join in. There are many hugs exchanged, the swarming such that everyone gets considerably entangled before Urgdug lifts the ball of Hohenzollerns up and joins in. After the bout of delighted squealing and breathless laughter that brought you, all were released, the tension of waiting for news or in-person returns from battle finally leaving everyone present.

    "Magnus, I see you've kept everything in order," you pat him on the shoulder. "I trust all is well?"

    "Of course, I was in charge after all," he puffs his chest out slightly.

    "Hah, good lad," you then completely overpower his own considerable strength and ruffle his hair to his loud protests and the laughter of all. "Well then, anything major to report while we were gone?"

    "Only one," he says gruffly, straightening out his doublet and gesturing to the castle doors, from which a familiar face emerges. "She arrived only a few hours before you did."

    "Hello!" Sadrina, Handmaiden of the Everqueen, waves to you cheerfully as she walks out into the open.

    She is no longer dressed in her martial aspect, but rather a far more subtle traveling dress.

    "I...Sadrina?" You say after a moment. "Not that I am unhappy to see you...but...,"

    "Oh, don't worry. I'm not here to drag you into anything new or dangerous," she titters before growing a bit more serious. "I'm here as a messenger. The Phoenix King was most displeased to hear of the Black Arks, and sent his ships to investigate Albion."

    Ah! That's actually quite the heartening news. Or at least, it would have been, were it not for her next words.

    "Unfortunately, there were none to be found," she sighs, shoulders slumping before straightening them as she looks back up at you. "I'm sorry, Frederick."

    "But...," you struggle to find the words. "I...they weren't lying...,"

    "Oh no," she waves her hands for a moment. "They found definite signs of the Black Arks being there, even as recent as a month before they got there, but the problem with Black Arks is that they are terribly mobile for something so large."

    Damn it. There went your good mood.

    "Is there...is there any way to track them?"

    Sadrina purses her lips and waggles a hand in the air, even as the rest of the Herd looks on. Some of them look absolutely entranced by seeing an elf, others at least attempt to appear less affected.

    "Yes, but it is difficult. Sorcery, blessings of the Gods, sacrifices, and so on, makes it quite a difficult thing to do if they are concentrating on going unseen and unfound," she says sadly. "As it is, considerable expense was put forth to assemble the fleet so quickly, and to have found nothing is a bit...distressing amongst the courts. Apologies," she says with what seems like real sincerity.

    "I...I see. Well, I apologize for troubling Ulthuan so," you say coolly. "Is that all you were sent for?"

    The Handmaiden blinks.

    "What? Oh, no, I am one of Her Serenity's eyes and ears outside of Ulthuan. And if there is anything that we've learned through Laurelorn, it is that She must be better informed as to the outside world. I was one of the ones chosen to fulfil such a task," she says with unmistakable pride. "That means I will be journeying through much of the northern lands of the Empire for the foreseeable future, until and unless recalled."

    For an elf's lifespan, that could mean a century or more of wandering and watching, reporting back to Ulthuan. Yet she says it with unshakable stoicism and oddly earnest cheerfulness.

    "I do not require lodgings or the like, I receive a regular stipend to pay for such things," she pats the messenger bag slung over her shoulders, "I merely wished to convey my gratitude once more for your deeds, and to let you know I'll be passing by now and again."

    You and the rest of the Herd look around at one another, then back to the elf. Traditionally, celebrations after returning from campaign was strictly a family and close friends affair. At the same time, you know for a fact that it would be better to commit to warm relations than not, especially with what you've experienced most recently.

    "Well...have you eaten yet?"

    Sadrina tilts her head to the side.

    "Pardon?"

    Natasha, naturally, immediately picks up on what you're going for.

    "Usually after a Hohezollern gets back from a deployment, whether patrols or otherwise, we celebrate at the Grand Kitchen. Would you like to come?" She asks politely.

    Sadrina may or may not have been hoping for just such a thing, considering her experience as a Handmaiden, but for the moment you'll accept her smile as honest.

    "I would be delighted to partake, as well as learn of this...Esmeralda."

    Due To Various Actions/Interactions, Have Gained Access To Restricted Elven Rumor Mill.

    Old World Rumor Mill​

    Nordland Shrinking: In what may be one of the most radical moves ever made in the history of the province, Nordland has willingly shrunken itself. After decades of rebuilding and resettlement efforts, Stephan von Kessel has elected to sign a new treaty with the Wood Elves of Laurelorn, one surrendering almost all territory west of the River Saltz. A shocking move if there ever was one. In the past, he already surrendered the claims of Nordland to the Middle Mountains, though honestly those in the past were only ever put into place by the most overly ambitious Counts and nobility. The surrendering of the lands west of the river, however, is no small feat. The towns of Zweedorf, Dietershafen, Ueblingen, Schlaghügel, Hargendorf, and Pugsblatter are being abandoned! Or, at least, that is what the ignorant in the south say. Anyone living in Nordland today knows very well that all six of those settlements and other lesser peers have already been left fallow for years. After all, they were among those first to fall when Gruber revealed his true colors, having already been ravaged by Norscans coming south during the Great War Against Chaos. None survived the fighting back then, and since then those who fled were resettled successfully elsewhere. That is literally more than three decades of them being left as ruins of no particular interest or value other than as hiding places from the law. The Köhler family was wiped out by the Norscans and Gruber both, their ancestral home of Dietershafen burned past the foundations. The Von Hargenfels, the family which ruled most of the other settlements, died out with their chosen master in Gruber during the war which saw both brought to justice. For now, Count Kessel appears to believe far more in focusing intensely on building up the defenses and infrastructure of those settlements he does seem keen to maintain, from Frote to Gelting. The Silver Hills also remain in his possession, though the Misty Hills do not. Nobles of the province are also quick to point out that Nordland still claims much of the Middenheim-Erengrad road, with tolling stations and watch posts still constructed there to ensure there are no 'mistakes' in territorial borders on the part of Middenland. As it is, it seems that neither the provinces of Westerland or Middenland wish to try and take advantage of this, or to push ancestral claims on Laurelorn at the moment. As a result of this treaty, Nordland has shrunk to become the smallest province of the Northern Trident, now of more equal size to Hochland or, more amusingly, the Moot. They remain fierce fighters, however, as evidenced by continued and intense efforts to battle beastmen and greenskins alike, as well as the Norscans when they sail south.

    Grand Tournament of Aquitaine Announced: In an effort to buoy the spirits of the people of Bretonnia and to distract them from the ongoing troubles with the plagues of Mousillon and the disastrous actions of Parravon last year, King Gaston has announced a grand tournament to take place next year outside of his own castle within the dukedom of Aquitaine. It shall feature not only jousting, but the melee, and even an archery contest so that those lesser and ignoble creatures who must rely on such things might find some worth with their skills. There will be a variety of games and other minor contests of skill aplenty, and large stores of wine from Bordeleaux. Alms shall be given out, or so it is said, along with a grand relief on taxation for many in order for much of the year to strengthen the peasantry and nobility alike. King Gaston has opened the tournament not only to the folk of Bretonnia but even to foreign warriors, that they might be stunned by the incredible abilities of the land of chivalry! Already, the tournament grounds are taking shape, a massive construction to allow multiple jousts and melees to take place at the same time. The top winners of the more major contests will be richly rewarded, the purses being purportedly quite large indeed, even for the archery contest!

    Red Gold: Who hasn't heard of Otto Steinroth, the Red Pirate of Marienburg? Of course, the man himself would insist he is but a privateer, though just who he is a privateer for appears to vary wildly depending on which of the merchant houses are able to hire him at a certain point in the year. Otto Steinroth only further increased his legend this year, sailing back into harbor with an enormous corpse being towed behind his small owned fleet. It was, despite everything, one of those rarely seen and occasionally thought of a mythical creatures known as a behemoth, beings of the deep sea larger even than a three-point baleen whale! This creature apparently came across Steinroth as he visited the New World and was crossing back to the Old, yet failed to anticipate that the half-Norscan Marienburg native had loaded his ships with cannon and harpoon enough to fell it! As it is, on sheer novelty alone, folk of the city flocked to see the corpse, including numerous artists and scholars who wished to study the creature before rot inevitably took it. Of course, most amazing was when the beast's stomach was slit open, unleashing a crushing mound of gold and treasures gathered up there after who knows how long as a plague upon the seas. So much so that it literally killed those who came too close as the stomach was being opened under the weight! There were idols of Lustria, of the Southlands, of Ind and elsewhere, coinage of even far off Cathay! The Red Pirate then immediately turned the cannons of his ships towards the crowds to prevent them from claiming even a single coin of his serendipitous bounty, and soon enough the gold was hauled onto his ships, to the banks within the city under his accounts, and elsewhere! The sheer wealth on display was staggering, and all of it went to Otto and his men! Of course, after those tense hours had passed, Otto elected to use his newfound wealth to throw a party which quickly took up the entire docks of Marienburg in celebration, a party that lasted an entire week! After which he gave an enormous donation to the Temple of Manann and put further funds towards the repair of the docks, gaining him acclaim and approval from all who draw their wealth from the seas in any measure. Even that much apparently did not even make a dent in his blood-stained gold from the behemoth's gullet. Many say that Otto could easily retire now and live like a king for the rest of his days, but only time will tell if he will do so.

    Shallya and Lady Alike: The Cult of Shallya's base in the Old World is in Couronne, and it is from there that they have marshalled a great effort in personnel and material towards trying to contain the plague that has emerged out of Mousillon. Priestesses with wagons of medical supplies and volunteering knights errant have shown up at all major checkpoints to further check over those entering or leaving the wasteland of a former dukedom. Others are actually going within, their only guards those knights brave enough to swear themselves to their defense, despite the dark rumors of Mousillon. They have been joined in their efforts by none other than the Fey Enchantress herself and a large number of Grail Damsels, many of whom begged leave from their advisory positions across the land of Bretonnia in order to answer the call. Surely, with the favor of both Shallya and the Lady of the Lake, the plagues of Mousillon shall be ended soon! Or, at least, failing that, contained to those blasphemous wretches that still deign to live there rather than in a proper dukedom with a proper duke…

    Famines Continue To Recede In Tilea: The failure or success of a single year's harvest can often be the difference between famine and abundance. Years and years of continued destruction of the harvest by way of a plague of vermin eating all of the grain and ruining other foodstuffs will take time to recover from. These two facts remain true, even now, but it seems that with the guidance of the Acciai-Vega that the famines may finally be beginning to recede in permanency. Of course, given the decades Tilea has suffered, such words are well scrutinized, and concluding on their truth will take some years yet. For now, the merchant princes have elected to invest in the construction capabilities of the dwarfs to construct new granaries across the land that are considerably more vermin-proof than the current ones. Even in Remas, ruled as it is by the elf Asarnil the Dragonlord, similar efforts are being made, though he instead elected to commission masons and architects from Ulthuan. Additionally, cats, the forever-foes of rats and mice alike, are being imported from across the Old World, though mindful of replacing one quadrupedal plague for another the cats are required to be rendered impotent before being released. It may seem a bit ridiculous to spend money on such things, especially in such times, but after decades of starvation at the hands of vermin, extreme measures are clearly being taken seriously by the Merchant Princes.

    Accounting For The Arcane: It has been over thirty years now since the formation of the Colleges of Magic. Fearsome and terrifying in the extreme, as all magic is! Whether one is Ulrican or Sigmarite, there is a natural fear of magic – for the dark forces of the arcane have been a bane to the Empire since time immemorial. Someone tainted by magic is a pox for all and sundry nearby, for they are conduits of terror no matter what they say, with curdling of milk and despoiling of foodstuffs being the least of the side-effects of their presence. But at the same time, they were direly needed during the Great War Against Chaos. It was the wisdom and faith of the Emperor that magic could be harnessed for the betterment of the Empire. Yet what do we, the common people truly know of them? Of the Bright, and their blazing powers which burn beastmen and greenskins as well as humans, fiery in temperament as their own magic, we know. The recent Vampire War has brought the Amethyst College into a position of stark relief, as they ruthlessly work to stamp out all undead and necromancers within our borders – as well as the Light College due to their own purifying works in Sylvania. The Gold College appear to be great scholars of the natural world, but tales exist of one of their kind simply melting the armor off a group of bandits who sought to assault a caravan in the Reikland. The nearly feral members of the Amber College – practically throwback shamans to the days of the tribes are mysterious, but rumors abound of them suddenly appearing to rescue doomed travelers or patrols in danger of being overwhelmed by the myriad threats of the forest. But so too are there tales of wizards, wracked by their own powers, unleashing bursts of deadly magicks and boiling the blood of those around them when they slip for but a second! And those who eat too much of Jade magic-tainted grains go mad, mutate, and worse! Wizards whose own innards are replaced by lava, or purple dust, or otherwise! And what about the Celestial College! It is whispered that the nobility of the south make use of their supposed future-telling services regularly, but there are few signs of it! Why, I heard from a mate of mine that Gräfin Sieglinde von Bildhofen went to them in Altdorf at the last Elector's Meet, and came out practically laughing mad afterwards – but that Count Rommel went in and came out all white-faced and grim! What's up with that? And do they offer their future-telling services to the common folk! No, of course not. Hah, if anything, that makes them more human than ever, cause there ain't nothing more human than being greedy bastards! And one only needs hear the tales of Ubersreik once to remember to be afraid!

    Joint Military Exercises In The North: There are many threats to the Empire, this is known. But what is rare is full cooperation that is done smoothly and without issue. As such, it is perhaps no wonder that the forces of the Northern Trident sought to enact some military exercises this year with combining their forces to work out the kinks for when the inevitable comes to pass and another large threat comes into being that cannot be faced with but one army alone. This year, such an exercise was done, drilling troops in the relatively empty central hills of Ostermark. Some are envious that the connections to the dwarfs held by the Northern Trident allowed them to entice the Throngs of Karak Ungor and Karak Kadrin to join in as well. By all reports, the exercise was even more successful than the initially assumed, combatting a massive beastmen herd that had been making use of that very same desolate nature of the Bleak Moors that the exercises had been relying on to not cause undue distress to others. Sadly, the province of Nordland was unable to contribute, its forces mainly focused on its coastline, though it is known that the Count of Nordland managed to come and observe. Quite a lot of force concentration, but an appreciable one. The Generals of the Empire, and those of the nobility who aren't idiots, know that drilling the troops hard is only ever a good thing – the more blood, sweat, and tears shed then are ones not shed in actual battle.

    Shore Purgings: The entire Old World that touches large rivers and the ocean know of Manann and to a lesser extent his foe Stromfels. All pay heed to Manann, and only the greatest of fools would dare weigh anchor without paying their respects. Now, all those who rely upon the deep and wide waters know of the Holders of the Shore thanks to their zealous burnings. And now, the Holders of the Shore are being hunted down. By the Cult of Manann's own special brand of inquisitors, the Foamborne. By the Witch Hunters of the Empire. The Grail Damsels of Bretonnia. Priests and Priestesses of Verena working in unison with representatives of Manann in Tilea. When the shores were burnt, there were lives lost, both then and in greater scope. Entire livelihoods of merchant houses were lost. Captains who had just purchased their boats were out their life savings. The hatred simply cannot be understated for them. On Sartosa, the Holders of the Shore and quite likely a considerable amount of those innocent of those crimes in particular were hung from gibbets while being shot as target practice. In Araby, the zealots were found out by the sorcerers of that desert nation and enslaved, sold to the deep desert dwelling tribes that they might live out the rest of their presumably short lives as far away from their beloved holy waters as possible. But most disconcerting, in the Empire at least, was the brutal slaughter at the hands of the Witch Hunters in the province of Ostland. Historically, the Cult of Sigmar most often shows its friction with the Cult of Ulric, but this has led to new arguments and a practical firestorm of angry unease between the Cult of Sigmar and the Cult of Manann, the two ancient cults exceedingly unhappy with one another now, leading to arguments between priests that are loud enough to wake the dead. There are rumors that this conflict came to be at the hands of the Steel Bull, who pushed the Witch Hunters to their most zealous heights in hunting down the Holders of the Shore. Other Cults are murmuring about the overreach of the Witch Hunters, of the potential for fatal prosecution by any of the Cults by Sigmarites, which resulted in a total breakdown at the annual Grand Conclave of the Cults in Nuln, to the point that even the Emperor could not quell it and was forced to end the session early. One can only hope that the brewing issues between the Cults of the Empire will not flare up too badly, like the wars fought between some of them in the Empire's earlier history.

    Talabecland Beastmen Troubles: In Talabecland, two warherds fighting amongst each other nearly reached the Green Hills, that luscious place of nature blessed by Taal. The damage to the land was minor, all things considered, but the brutality exhibited by the two warherds was monstrous to see. One group, populated heavily by centigors, quickly surrounded and tore apart the other, slaying the minotaur at the head and then roping up the survivors and disappearing back into the western forests. Despite the army of Talabecland attempting to pursue them, the forests quickly grew too thick for them to pass, the darkest depths of those places never seeing human touch even before Sigmar's time. Patrols have been doubled amongst the southern provinces to watch for the beastmen, but who knows how effective it will be.

    Sea of Claws 2340 Report: One could be forgiven for thinking that the acts of the Holders of the Shore would ensure terrible harm to the coastlines of the world. And, for the most part, this is true. Numerous coastal villages in Westerland were found emptied out of their people, the people all taken away without any sign of fighting or resistance. Along the coasts of Bretonnia, it is whispered that certain enterprising rapscallions entered the waterways to penetrate deep into fallen Mousillon to pick over the remains of that ransacked city. But in the Sea of Claws, Manann was with the Empire! A strong and glorious denouncement of the Holders of the Shore, for the ships of Nordland and Ostland struck out against pirates and raiders alike, though none were of Norscan descent, and held strong. The yearly checks revealed that not a single village fell, nor was attacked, but not for lack of trying. This was the year of the war galleys, whose close coastline patrols were a doughty shield against the predations of the mad, the evil, and the inhuman. Rebuffed by the war galleys, more than one druchii ship was forced to retreat to open waters, at which point they were hunted down by wolf ships, in one case an Ostland Greatship, and in another then naval mercenaries also hired by Ostland. But of course, that was not all. A frankly enormous fleet of ships arrived in the Sea of Claws this year...of Asur make! They plunged past and west of the Sea of Claws, and for some reason headed towards the benighted and mysterious Isle of Albion. They docked at no Imperial port, not even Marienburg, and were unseen for several days before returning back to Ulthunan, seemingly unharmed and untouched! Odd, but such are the ways of the elves. Overwhelming Order Victory Despite Holders of the Shore. Ostland Victory. Kislev Victory. Asur Fleet sailed to Albion, then left, effects/results unknown.

    Kislev Rumor Mill​

    Kurgan Allowed To Settle In Southern Kislev: Madness, insanity, blasphemy! How many generations have we fought the kyazak, how many sons and daughters have we lost to the raping and pillaging of the servants of the Dark Gods? And now they are simply being let in! Escorted by the Gryphon Legion no less! Past Praag, thank the Gods, but allowed to settle in the more fertile lands of the south. How could the Tzarina allow this, the boyars allow this!? Yes, Dolgan tribesmen have been in Kislev for generations, but these were those who long ago gave up the Dark Gods, and they are a dying breed anyhow! These are fresh transplants! How can they be trusted? They can't! Oh, she assures us that her special religious police will ensure the transition is full, but all it takes is one, isn't it? How long will it take before these kyazak get tired of tilling her fields, of working her farms, and desire to raid once more! Now they are closer than ever to the Empire, so what will we do if they cross the border and bring the wrath of the south upon us when we are already beset by foes! Bah!

    Blight Bursting: Of course the rumors were true, you dolts! Why else would the Tzarina travel in a pulk of elite troops, led by none other than her Royal Aid? Yes, they had to cut their way through greenskins and beastmen and other foul things, but they are of Kislev! The enemies fell before them, for they carried the Tzarina's favor with them! And, yes, the Tzarina herself entered the Blight with a cavalcade of priests and priestesses of the Gods! And yes, because everyone in Kislev City saw it, she returned with a mountain of wealth, purified of any curses that might or might not have been present. Ancient gold, old treasures, and the like, left over thousands of years, built up over time! Glorious! Even better was her charity, the Tzarina riding through the streets from within a carriage made of ice from which she gave out alms to all, freely able to reward the people when it would have been easier to keep it all in her coffers. What? Daemons in the Blight? No, that's ridiculous. And even if there were, which they weren't, the Rose of Kislev City saw them off. Of course, now that the tales have been proven true, everybody is going to be trying to get in there, to find what might be left. I hear even the Bohka are getting in on it, hah!

    Karaz Ankor Rumor Mill​

    The High King's Generosity Flows: Traditionally, the standard dwarf warrior is anything but. For these dawi who form the basic close combat fighting unit of the dwarfen Throng are recruited from amongst the hold of which the throng originates. From bakers to masons, smiths and minters, they come. Customarily, they are garbed in strong heavy mail and stout steel helmets with strong shields and axes. Of course, matters vary wildly from hold to hold, and with the dawi involved. In time, as they gain wealth for themselves in their individual occupations, age into longbeards, they might get finer weapons and armor. Or, if they find a singular talent for warfare perhaps they might be pulled into the ironbreakers, and granted their gromril plate! But yes, generally it is mail and a helmet with a shield to protect them. It's certainly worked well enough since time immemorial! But, perhaps not now, hmm? For pulling deep from the royal clan's coffers, the High King commissioned something anew when the Great Throng first came to rest at the Everpeak. With it breaking apart, the throngs rushing home to defend their holds, the order was not yet complete! Now it has been, and the throng of the Everpeak is the one to gain from it. It, of course, being a massive order for finely wrought and well-articulated steel plate armor to be forged for the warriors of Karaz-a-Karak! A titanic order, a massive one, wealth enough to beggar the whole of the umgi Empire, surely! But the dawi have been mining and stockpiling their vaults since before Sigmar, and so this was even possible at all. Now, able to be seen shining in the morning sun, the various dwarf warriors of Everpeak drill under the watchful eye of ironbreaker trainers to learn how to fight and kill as they do! It is not gromril armor, of course, there would never be enough for such a thing, but steel? Steel can be done, and was done for that matter!

    The Eldest Runelord Returns To Everpeak!: It is very rare for Kragg the Grim to leave Karaz-a-Karak, this is true. It was the first time in over four and a half centuries when he left to participate in the reclamation campaign of Karak Ungor. So his recent trip to Thunder Mountain was a great surprise – and worry – to many! Should his vast knowledge of runes be lost, there would be none who could possibly have matched his knowledge of runecraft, not even his wife! It would be a tragedy of the highest order for the Karaz Ankor. But this is not a tale of woe, but of wonder! For Kragg the Grim returned to Everpeak at last from his expedition at Karag Dron, once the wondrous place of creation of the legendary Anvils of Doom. Its ancient workshops were destroyed by the battle between the legendary Kurgaz Stonebeard, one of the finest of the ancient runesmiths, and the dragon Drelgithrex, who sought to make use of the mountain as its new nest. Though Kurgaz slew the creature, he was slain in turn, and so were a great many of the best runesmiths at the time. Since then, no new Anvils of Doom have ever been created, and indeed only some of the holds of the Karaz Ankor can claim to have one at all! Perhaps…no longer, however. Responding to a secretive communication brought by but a single ranger, a large detachment of the most elite ironbeards and irondrakes, with quarreler and ranger support, was sent out through the Underway under the leadership of none other than Angkra Ten-Braids, the Grim's own wife! A Runelord in her own right, of course. But few could have possibly anticipated the results of their return. Bloodied and battered by the ongoing chaos filling the Underway, they nevertheless managed to return with two wondrous things! Apparently, deep within the caverns of Karak Dron, he found the shattered remains of an Anvil of Doom, buried within the collapsed workshops there, and from the painstakingly collected fragments of three separate and otherwise utterly shattered Anvils he successfully forged one anew! It was a work of great peril, for he needed to reach the heart of the mountain itself, withstanding conditions and temperatures that few but one so stubborn as he could possibly survive, let alone create wonderment! The new Anvil of Doom was carefully examined by his own wife, as well as the Runelords Magdi, Skaldgrim, and Valya, and none of them could deny that it was a fully functional Anvil of Doom, one of appreciable make. Kragg was quick to stress that he only managed it due to using the portions of the shattered Anvils left in the mountain, that it was not a wholly new creation due to the salvaged components, but even so the presence of a new Anvil has set the longbeards to joyous song and celebration. Runesmiths across the Karaz Ankor will no doubt raise a tankard of ale at the news! The second item, or items, were of a far more somber nature. Many runesmiths, both Runelords and beardling apprentices, died in the fall of the mountain, never to be returned to their clans and holds for burial and proper entombment. No longer. While some were simply unrecoverable due to the vagaries of time, most however could be found. Found within the heart of the mountain, the slain corpse of Drelgithrex was excavated and recovered as well, the body of none other than Kurgaz Stonebeard still lodged in its jaw, the venerable Runelord's personal az still stuck through the dragon's eye and presumably into the brain. Though they were both long, long dead, entombed together as the tunnels collapsed on top of them, and then baked by the residual heat for many years, much still remained. All of Runelord Stonebeard's raiment was recovered, some of the finest rune-forged gromril weapons and armor that has ever existed. The corpse of the elder magma dragon had rotted away, but its bones remained strong, and some even murmur that because of their origin and the nature of Karag Dron itself has lent the bones a constant uncooling residual heat. Either way, Kragg was given a hero's welcome, as were the many honored dead he has returned home. Yet he did not appear to care much for the feasting, as he quickly returned to the Underhalls to continue to work. Admittedly, even that ancient dawi could not escape his wife's appreciation, a wife who proudly announced another pregnancy as the year comes to a close.

    Bloody Diversions: Only a year ago, a massive war raged outside the Deeps of just about all of the Old Holds, one fought between greenskins and skaven alike. The former seemed eager to travel south towards Karak Eight Peaks. The skaven seemed eager to ambush and kill them as they did so. Now things have changed. The skaven have shifted things up. The ratmen are, by the reckoning of the reports of rangers watching in the Underway, swarming Karak Eight Peaks from beneath. A terrible vermintide rushes upwards, all the while well armored and equipped stormvermin formations continue to slaughter the greenskins traveling underground with night runner support. The ones attacking Karak Eight Peaks number in the tens of thousands per push, many the clear variety of that wretched race known as skavenslaves, the absolute lowest on the rung of skaven society. Unarmored, emaciated, likely diseased, and given weapons that range from nothing but their own weak claws to rusty cleavers and splintering spears. Yet on sheer numbers alone, the vermintide began to breach to the surface. But something curious was noted, as better equipped clan rats and even notable formations of stormvermin joined the vermintide currently waxing into the peaks. All of them appeared thinned, not just the skavenslaves, all near or completely rabid from the all-consuming hunger known to afflict their misbegotten race. Clearly, one or more skaven clans are going hungry for some reason, enough to be willing to sacrifice more than – on highly conservative estimates - a hundred thousand skaven within a month to ensure that their treacherous elites will not starve. Of course, what else could be expected from the skaven than to dispose of so many as nothing other than trash to choke their enemies to death with? It is a common tactic, to reduce pressure on the 'more important' members of their clans than to get rid of those otherwise using those resources. Of course, how could we of the Karaz Ankor know such things? Why, because a ranger has dared to enter the Eight Peaks once more. None other than the famous – or perhaps infamous – brother of Ranger Lord Frostbeard who was tragically lost in Karak Ungor. Algrom Shadowbeard, of Clan Frostbeard, has returned from the wilderness to send reports back to the Everpeak. Not-quite-exiled in the past for his actions pursuing vengeance against the enemies of the Karaz Ankor passing even beyond the pale that could be accepted by Clan Frostbeard! Poison, sure, traps and triggered avalanches, of course! Tricking trolls or ogres into killing goblins or skaven, clever and laudable by other rangers. But…the other things…no. We dare not even speak of them now. His dishonor would have had him declared a slayer, but one cannot be forced into such an act, and to hear Algrom Shadowbeard tell it, he felt and feels no shame for what he does in the name of vengeance. Either way, he is the only ranger able to delve into Karak Eight Peaks and return, and so his reports are all we have to go on for the events there. And as he is not quite Unbaraki, his oaths of truth behind his reports must for now be believed. For now, all other ranger reports are on the greenskins continuing to pour out of the Bonelands and elsewhere in the Old World as they tumble their way south through the Border Princes and other umgi nations. Rather distressingly, Karak Eight Peaks is being referred to as the 'Blood Bowl' by the greenskins now, much like how they renamed Karak Ungor and Karak Drazh as Red Eye Mountain and Black Crag respectively. A rare and unhappy category of unwelcome prestige.

    Sadrina's Ramblings​

    A Wondrous Act, Praise Isha: You would not know the tragic tale of once-noble Gholnaros, as it is a story only those of Ulthuan would know and one they would share rarely. A star dragon, one of the eldest of their kind, tainted by the darkness long ago. Yet the dragon princes could not bear to slay him, only to imprison him, for to slay such once kind and noble creature would be as much a sin no matter what release it could bring, especially since there were chambers enough to imprison him. Thus, Gholnaros was condemned to an eternity of darkness and corruption. Yet, no longer! After recovering from the events in Laurelorn, Her Serenity spent all of this year recovering within the Isle of Rebirth. All the while, her consort and champion in Tyrion of Cothique journeyed south to Caledor, and it is there with some aid of a single young dragon mage, Malinar Sunspear, that he and his noble squire Eldyra managed to subdue the beast nonlethally. Once that was done, before the Caledorians could learn of the vault being opened nor protest it, the dragon was secreted away to Avelorn, escorted to the Isle of Rebirth itself by the Handmaidens of the Everqueen. The Isle is normally forbidden to all men, and so it was the squire Eldyra's task to follow the beast over the sea onto the Isle. None know what rites were undertaken within the Gaean Vale, but the result is known. Gholnaros the Freed soared through the skies to the joyous celebrations of all! This has no doubt gained Avelorn the gratitude of the scions of Caledor, which is quite a prick to their inescapable pride, for though they could not save Gholnaros themselves, they cannot help but give celebration at his return. For now, Gholnaros refuses to rest, instead choosing to explore Ulthuan as he has not been able to do so for far too long. It is too easy to forget that not all great deeds are purchased with death, and that some of the most difficult but worthy acts are ones of mercy. The restoration of an active star dragon? Is an incredible thing indeed.
     
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    • Cool. Access to highly random Ulthuan news.

    Hey, Kragg is back, sweet.


    Aaaaand here comes the bellyaching again, as if the last Meet didn't teach us anything about that which is unseen.
     
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    Seems like both forces of order got a neat bit of regen for their uber assets.

    Over all everything went well, black ark being gone is to be expected.
     
    I'm really glad that Magnus is taking to ruling well. I expected he would, being a seasoned veteran of command and having Sabine to counsel him, but it's always nice to see that reaffirmed.
     
    So the Skaven are taking action against the Orc... nice
    If that Waaaagh could go assault the under-empire i would be quite happy.

    And the Beastmen are "recruiting"... I don't like that. Why, Even with his Hell-portal, does Malagor think he need more cannon fodder ?

    Magnus should be able to calm down the Sigmarites and Maannites... but i think sending him some buggman as an "SORRY" may be a good idea

    I have no idea what the Drucchi are doing... and i don't like that. A sneaky elf is a elf trying to stab you in the back

    Also if Eldira bound herself with the Star-dragon i will be a happy camper
     
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    torroar said:
    Of course, most amazing was when the beast's stomach was slit open, unleashing a crushing mound of gold and treasures gathered up there after who knows how long as a plague upon the seas. So much so that it literally killed those who came too close as th stomach was being opened under the weight!
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    Oh wow.
    torroar said:
    There were idols of Lustria, of the Southlands, of Ind and elsewhere, coinage of even far off Cathay!
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    Uh oh.
    torroar said:
    The Red Pirate then immediately turned the cannons of his ships towards the crowds to prevent them from claiming even a single coin of his serendipitous bounty, and soon enough the gold was hauled onto his ships, to the banks within the city under his accounts, and elsewhere!
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    Smart man. If he's wise, he'll return the Lustrian and Southlands Idols to their owners, instead of waiting for them to reclaim their belongings. (They always do in the end.)

    Was it this warhammer quest or a different one where one of the Nehekharan Kings sailed north to reclaim his treasures, and the Lizardmen destroyed a settlement on the coast of Lustria after someone took golden plaques. Because if it's this one then he'd have no excuse not to know what would happen to him if he kept their stuff.

    Edit: Though this is the pirate who sacked one of Uluthuan's cities, which in turn caused the Burning of Marienburg. So he may not be wise enough to return the idols, and cause Marienburg to burn from a different faction this time.
     
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    Yeah, the centigors in Talabecland make me think we need to take every possible precaution against beastmen next turn. After we killed their dad, they started causing mad shit as far away as Araby and now we hear that they are right next door and just consolidated another herd. Overall the rumor mill suggests that this was a pretty good year for the forces of Order, and it seems that the precautions being taken in Tilea are compounding the issues the skaven are having with feeding themselves, but just because we've had some breathing room does not mean we can relax.
     
    MrLackingSanity said:
    Yeah, the centigors in Talabecland make me think we need to take every possible precaution against beastmen next turn. After we killed their dad, they started causing mad shit as far away as Araby and now we hear that they are right next door and just consolidated another herd. Overall the rumor mill suggests that this was a pretty good year for the forces of Order, and it seems that the precautions being taken in Tilea are compounding the issues the skaven are having with feeding themselves, but just because we've had some breathing room does not mean we can relax.
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    I second that !
    Magnus ( The Emperor) and the dwarf can keep an eye on the nascent Waaaaagh but the Beastmen ? we don't have a Black Pass for them
     
    Dragons in Ulthuan, Dragons in Karaz Ankor, even "by a thin connection) Dragons in Laurelorn.

    By all reports, the exercise was even more successful than the initially assumed, combatting a massive beastmen herd that had been making use of that very same desolate nature of the Bleak Moors that the exercises had been relying on to not cause undue distress to others.
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    Beastmen. Right.
     
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