Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism

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[X] Yes: This is a chance to salve the wounds that Natasha takes every time you go out to battle. To ease her mind is worth much.
[X] Bedrock: The greatest possible magnitude of this proposed bond, emotions can be more freely felt and shared, as well as more defined distance and direction. Only the elves with the truest and strongest love ever made this choice in the distant past.

Fuck it, consequences be damned.
 
flotter said:
What's the logic behind behind voting for flowers above?
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Well, from my perspective, some see it as the right thing to do. I don't really understand the logic behind it being the right thing to do.

Flowers Above is the runner up, so it has a chance of beating the leading option. Not really though, if it does win, there's no guarantee Natasha would choose a choice that isn't the most severe. More of a luck of the draw, or torroar already knowing what Natasha would choose.

Finally, there's the idea that Natasha choosing is more acceptable of a consequence for the players who do not want the most severe option to win. Or just don't want to make the choice.

edit: If those voting for topsoil and flowers above combined their votes, they be a lot closer to overcoming bedrock.
 
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flotter said:
What's the logic behind behind voting for flowers above?
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torroar said:
"If you don't want to, I'll understand. This is...far in excess of what I'd imagined."

You can't help but tilt your head as you look back down at her.

"Really? And what was it you were imagining?"

"To be honest?" She shrugs. "A plant. That would, I don't know, be healthy when you were alive and fall fallow when you were hurt, and so on."
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Quote related might be relevant.

The ritual seems to be more... involved than Natasha was expecting.
 
I'm curious if the bond is something that is obvious to see with witch sight or something, or if really subtle kinda like makeup of Freddy's soul to anyone besides those who can see it easily like master mages/cultists of death gods.

Heh, if Death Twins ever see it I wonder if they will squee in joy about it. :p
 
[X] Yes: This is a chance to salve the wounds that Natasha takes every time you go out to battle. To ease her mind is worth much.
[X] The Flowers Above: Let Natasha choose. Whichever she chooses, you will accept. This is something that she did not expect, but seems interested in, enough that you are sure she'll make the right choice. The right choice being whichever choice she makes, that is.
 
Qeqre said:
Quote related might be relevant.

The ritual seems to be more... involved than Natasha was expecting.
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I figure Natasha would probably be comforted by Freddy expressing an opinion here, rather than going "Well it's your show, do as you want."

This is different from the other choice some are comparing it to; because that time, we sort of interrupted and spoke first. (That's how it worked out, basically.) Especially because this time around, there was dialogue and discussion happening first, and both have been talking about their problems and desires.

Here, our expressing an opinion could actually be reassuring to Natasha.

She didn't know exactly what form it would take. She is less sure what Frederick would want or be comfortable with.

I think, if we bounce the choice back to her, she might be more conservative or uncertain about it. Whereas if Frederick expresses his desire/willingness to just back her fully here, she'll probably be quite happy with that too anyway.


Anyway, I'm voting Bedrock because I want them to have a magical bond that's appropriate in terms of magical strength to the level of love they feel for each other. As well as several other reasons, like curiosity and interest, wanting to see the possibilities of what can be done with it.

Also, just...

Who knows how long these two will have left together, eh?

We could both be dead and gone by this time next year.

So, in the who-knows-how-long they'll have together... let's give them the closest bond we can. Let's let them experience it.
 
[X] Yes: This is a chance to salve the wounds that Natasha takes every time you go out to battle. To ease her mind is worth much.
[X] The Flowers Above: Let Natasha choose. Whichever she chooses, you will accept. This is something that she did not expect, but seems interested in, enough that you are sure she'll make the right choice. The right choice being whichever choice she makes, that is.

"I'm willing to go for the third level, but this is supposed to be a nice thing for you." -what I imagine frederic saying to go with this option.
 
Look, whichever we choose the relationship will move forward in a positive direction. You can look at any option and make a case for why it would be received best
 
Garlak said:
I figure Natasha would probably be comforted by Freddy expressing an opinion here, rather than going "Well it's your show, do as you want."

This is different from the other choice some are comparing it to; because that time, we sort of interrupted and spoke first. (That's how it worked out, basically.) Especially because this time around, there was dialogue and discussion happening first, and both have been talking about their problems and desires.

Here, our expressing an opinion could actually be reassuring to Natasha.

She didn't know exactly what form it would take. She is less sure what Frederick would want or be comfortable with.

I think, if we bounce the choice back to her, she might be more conservative or uncertain about it. Whereas if Frederick expresses his desire/willingness to just back her fully here, she'll probably be quite happy with that too anyway.


Anyway, I'm voting Bedrock because I want them to have a magical bond that's appropriate in terms of magical strength to the level of love they feel for each other. As well as several other reasons, like curiosity and interest, wanting to see the possibilities of what can be done with it.

Also, just...

Who knows how long these two will have left together, eh?

We could both be dead and gone by this time next year.

So, in the who-knows-how-long they'll have together... let's give them the closest bond we can. Let's let them experience it.
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When Freddy interrupted during the baby dilemma, it kind of implied he didn't trust Natasha to:
A) have the strength of will to risk baby Logan dying(potentially allowing his mutations to fester and damn his soul).
B) be willing to trust in the slim chance of Ulric saving the baby's soul instead of killing it like the other three.

Which was all the more offensive because Freddy wasn't there when Natasha had to perform a post-partum abortion on the mutant babies and because it had been less than a full year before the two reunited to find the other suddenly a lot more religious than before.
It actually pissed her off to the point where she developed her "nigh indomitable will" trait.

One could counter-argue that Flowers Above means expressing the opinion of being fine with every level. And that deliberately choosing to trust Natasha to make the right choice would make up for not trusting Natasha on the matter of tossing the baby into the fire.
 
[X] Yes: This is a chance to salve the wounds that Natasha takes every time you go out to battle. To ease her mind is worth much.
[X] Subsoil: The middle tier, truly strong emotions might pass through the bond, as well as a vague sense of direction but no real scale of distance. A method of some Saphery mothers started in the era before Malekith to keep watch on more unruly children.
 
[X] Yes: This is a chance to salve the wounds that Natasha takes every time you go out to battle. To ease her mind is worth much.
[X] Bedrock: The greatest possible magnitude of this proposed bond, emotions can be more freely felt and shared, as well as more defined distance and direction. Only the elves with the truest and strongest love ever made this choice in the distant past.
 
[X] Yes: This is a chance to salve the wounds that Natasha takes every time you go out to battle. To ease her mind is worth much.
[X] Bedrock: The greatest possible magnitude of this proposed bond, emotions can be more freely felt and shared, as well as more defined distance and direction. Only the elves with the truest and strongest love ever made this choice in the distant past.
 
[CANON] Feathers, Fury, Family - torroar
  • Sidestory
    • Feathers, Fury, Family​

    The pack leader does not fly.

    He is too small. Too slow. Too heavy, but with no wings to lift him.

    When she was born, squawking and screeching into the open air, she was faced by a blurry crowd of fleshy things. Tall and big, but only at the time. Now she knew better. She was bigger than any of them. Well. Most. The Big One was able to grasp and tug and pull, to throw and lift with an ease that prickled at her pride every single time. But back then, she was so small that the her that was now could have eaten herself easily. In a single gulp, not even a bite from the beak needed. But she had screeched, and screamed, and it was the pack leader who had fed her first. Had clutched her to his warmth. The hunting instinct had activated for the first time then as well, as a piece of vulnerable warm flesh had exposed itself.

    Later, of course, she would learn that this was not acceptable.

    But she was just out her shell, then.

    Then he had gone away, soon after, and it was the Cold One who had taken her under her not-wings. The blows quickly escalated to causing just enough pain to discipline when required, but never enough to cause permanent harm. The bigger she got, the hungrier she was, the more she yearned for the skies. But she could not, she was not allowed. To range too far could bring too much danger to those the pack considered theirs to protect. From her. Fresh, hot, screaming, flailing meat was always preferable to the limp cold sacks that were offered in the early days. She'd learned to enjoy the charred meat of the lumpy thing that the Cold One had chained up to pull from, access to ready and regular food was something that even her young mind could appreciate.

    But then the pack leader returned. Changed. But strong. Fierce. Commanding.

    And on life went.

    The pack grew. The pack grew much.

    As did her mind, long after her body had reached its hefty and healthy weight.

    She could, suddenly, taste the sky on her tongue, feel its breath on her wings. So long, however, that one of the pack was astride her. A small price to pay, a pricking of pride that was meaningless in the long run. She was still not allowed to hunt the bustling herds of prey below, but that only meant there was more to hunt elsewhere. And hunt they did. Every season, every year. There were many things to hunt and kill in the forests, in the roads, upon and around and in the valleys of the peaks that called to her.

    The furred and horned ones.

    The green ones, big and small.

    And, on occasion, ones that were of the pack but were not.

    Crunch.

    Snap.

    Her beak had slashed and torn and ripped through flesh, snapped bone, cracked the shiny hard material that occasionally coated them. Her talons had done the same, even letting her dig deep into the back of the large grunting prey which were often ridden beneath the bigger green ones and fling them to the side. Throughout it all, she had killed and hunted as was her wont, as part of her pack. In time, she knew their names for what they were. Frederick. Natasha. Urgdug. On and on they went, but she learned them all the same. For they were pack. Sometimes it would be one who rode, other times it would be another. The pack leader was most often, but other times he would ride with his mate, or some of his chicks, squabbling little things that they were.

    But never the Big One. Never him. Too big, too big by far.

    She wasn't stupid. Her kind could not be. This, she knew, even before she saw another of her kind. It was simply the truth, something that she had been born with. She was strong, and fast, and touched the sky in a way most others could not, and for that they were lesser in existence. In some ways, at least. In others, the pack was better than her. But only a few things. It was not her fault that they formed doorways and passages that were too small for her magnificence to push through easily. She learned as she lived, commands and phrases taught over time becoming ingrained within her. It was the way of things. They were her pack, and the pack leaders of Frederick and Natasha, and they were more than that. They were the first. The raisers, the protectors, the feeders.

    Father was Frederick. Mother was Natasha. This, she had learned, even if they could not fly.

    What else did you call the ones who raised, who fed, who armored and healed, who cooed and held when she had been distressed?

    So no. She was not stupid.

    Many things, she had seen, in her life. She was no young chick, not anymore, but neither was she yet weakened by age, as she had seen much prey become as time stretched on. Her feathers and fur were still shiny and fine, the razored edges of her beak were not chipped or worn, and her talons and claws still grew strong.

    She had witnessed the silver fire, and had smelt the winter on the breath of the wolves which faced her in that place, a cold that was at once familiar and yet not compared to the one who was Natasha.

    She had fought the horror that had burst from the darkness in the trees, that which had dared devour Father who was Frederick. Such anger she had felt that day, the crystal clear vision clouding with an all pervasive red and hateful strength. The enormous heart that pounded through her noble breast had practically begun to shake her body apart before the horror had been cut apart from within, slain by that which it had foolishly thought was prey.

    Stupid thing.

    Pack was not prey.

    Pack was never prey.

    But then, something changed. She was led away by not-pack. But told, quite sternly by the pack leader, to do so.

    She did not like this.

    She did not like it at all.

    Her travel was uncomfortable, they would not let her taste the sky. She bit through the chains they dared to bring forth and would have torn their moving wooden cave to pieces before the speaker arrived. Clad in fur and feather, but still was not one of her kind, yet could speak as if he was. Irritating, but such was all things. The sun would be too bright, the black clouds from her pack's lands would clog her throat when she did not fly around them, the wind not perfectly aimed to lift and guide her. The wooden cave was too small, the shiny shelled ones too twitchy to not be prey. But she did not harm them. The flying two-leg had explained, word and intent startlingly clear more than any other, even those from the pack.

    She was being brought to a potential mate.

    A shock!

    How long had she lived? Many seasons, yes, but had never tasted the sky with another of her kind. Had begun to wonder, in fact, if she ever would. In her heats, she would claw and bite into raw boulders and stone, turning chunk of rock to gravel and dust. She would fly, she would kill, squawk and scream. In those times, such shameful behavior was let to run its course by the rest of the pack, who in the haze of heat became not-pack, became once again prey. Every time she had rebelled against the concept, of something that could drive her into madness, and yet there was nothing for it. Until now. Suddenly, she wondered if her coat truly was as shiny as it could be, as clean as possible. Was her plumage beautiful enough, or were there broken feathers that she could not see? She ate the screaming prey that was thrown to her, and occasionally some of the green creatures, but never the horned and furred. The latter were not worth the bite anyhow, given how their very meat stank.

    The speaker of the 'Amber' Pack told her that she was fine – but how could she trust one not of the pack completely? She could not, obviously.

    Days, many days of careful preening upon the deck of the moving wooden cave – the 'ship' as the not-pack speaker told her. Speaking was so much easier when the words could be understood on behalf of both parties.

    Then she had come south, the wind and air tasting even worse than her own territories – the belching stacks of 'Nuln' more established and older than those of home. 'Wulfenburg', as the Amber Pack member had informed her. Good. Good to have and know the name of home as more than just the Lowlands With Smoke. She was led inward, many 'armor-clad' guarding her towards a towering roost and nest which dwarfed her own. This did not please her. It was an affront to her pride that her own nest was smaller and less elaborate. Irritating as it was, it only got worse once she was led into the 'courtyard' – many new terms and words that she had only understood the concept of previously before the Amber Pack had used his 'magic' to speak to her.

    Because it was there, at the center of the 'palace' which was far too big compared to her home 'castle' did she meet him.

    Where her fur was brown and had a fine enough sheen to it, seamless with her feathers, the new one was stark white. Like snow, but even more so somehow. She could taste the magic on the air, the other gryphon practically reeked of it. She had tasted the powers of the green pack, who had helped heal her when she was hurt, even helping regrow feathers. The Amber Pack were familiar to her as well, those who slunk through the woods and forests and the one that had traveled south with her. But there was something else as well. It was…acrid, almost. Stinging, but distantly. It reminded her of the smells of certain places of the personal domain of her pack mate with the black and white crest. Clean. Too clean, somehow.

    Purified, the Amber Pack member speculated when she described it to him. Perhaps a result of something called Hysh. Whatever that was.

    It felt right enough, she supposed.

    Words, words words words, spoken amongst all the two legs. All of them featherless and furless, for the most part. Some had fur on their faces, on the tops of their heads, but the one who seemed in charge was one almost entirely without it. Especially on the head. The Pack Leader of all Pack Leaders, or so the Amber Pack member said. 'Emperor'. Stupid words. She wasn't stupid. Her father did not have another pack leader, he was the pack leader. This was an exchange on another territory, that was all. So she looked upon her potential mate and was looked upon in turn. She felt the heat pooling in her. They had brought her at just the right time, but she'd had years to control herself. Immediately, she could recognize that the one in front was younger than her. Irritating. Very irritating. The two legs began to talk amongst themselves, and she could taste the power of many of them. The true Pack Leaders of the Amber Pack, the Jade Pack, and even the new Pack, the ones that tasted of too-clean air. All of them subservient to the one that was claimed to be Pack Leader to her Pack Leader. Too much talking, and without the 'spell' to help her understand, she could not. She did not care to anyway.

    Very, very irritating.

    It began, as all gryphon communication did, with screeching.

    Interrogatives, of course.

    Who was the one before her, who deemed himself worthy of her presence?

    Who was she, who dared present herself as if she were the superior?

    Names were exchanged, as were accomplishments. Her beak could not grin, but she squawked and chirped in superior amusement as the lesser was firmly established. She had hunted with her pack every year, every season, by both father and lesser packmates. She had ripped and torn apart enormous creatures, things that were too strong to even properly be considered prey, the furred and horned ones especially. Had this one done the same? No. He could not, the other gryphon declared reproachfully, he was too important to risk frivolously. He had fought, yes. Hunted, yes. Battled, yes. But not at all like her, not so eagerly.

    This, of course, irritated her.

    Risk? Frivolous?

    Idiot!

    The hunt, the fight, defending pack members and helping kill the darkness, these were not frivolous things! Risk was inherent in everything. If the wind turned against them enough, even their wings might not fully protect them!

    Coward, she declared, and turned away to groans of disappointment amongst some of the watchers who could understand what such a move meant. She would not lay an egg with one such as he.

    This finally engendered a spark of something of worth within the other. A soaring leap, faster and stronger than his already bulky frame might have suggested brought them crashing together, and the fight began. Clawing, ripping, tearing, fighting for dominance and control. Immediately, the truth became evident. The other was certainly well cared for, certainly strong, stronger even than she in many respects. This irritated her. But he had not fought like she had. She bit and tore and scrapped, willingly rolling atop her own wings and writhed in a manner that the coward would not, dared not. Foolish! This, she thought with glee as she bit and tore, spilling blood and checking with shoulder and hindquarters as centers of crushing mass and strength. Around them, the two legs were shouting, screaming, waving their arms back and forth. Idiots. This was how instinct sang, how it demanded it. Dominance, control, the clashing of the preeminent pride of the gryphon, how else could they decide who was the superior? The stink in the air rose from many of the two legs, but the Pack Leader of the Amber Pack shouted them down. All this, she noticed while she managed to scramble about and slam her fore-talons upon the other's back, forcing them downwards as he'd begun to lift off, then wrapped them about the joints, held just in the right way to rip and tear free. Her beak, which could snap metal and bone and flesh alike, latched securely around the other's neck.

    Instant cessation, as was meant to be. The other bowed, legs and wings drooping.

    Only then did she leap off, and land, strutting about the area to screech her victory to the world.

    Only then, did she return, kick and shove the other onto their side, not fully onto the back, what was coming could thoroughly damage the wings.

    Only then, she declared with a nip and glare, she would lay with him, and that was how it was going to be.

    Now she bore an egg of her own, a hatchling of her own. The other egg had been left behind, but she accepted this with the aid of ingrained instincts. The world was dangerous. Many times, the nest had to be left behind, and egg would have to survive on its own, hatch on its own, if it was capable of doing so. This new one was given a name by the two legs of her pack, as she herself had received, and was already growing strong. Stronger, even. At full growth, her hatchling would be mightier than she, this she knew, as for all that had been wrong with the one she'd lain with, strength and speed and mind were not one of them. Then more two legs had come, ones with whom she could properly speak with, once more. And they, then, taught her child.

    This irritated her. Why had she not received such things? Already, her son spoke and listened far better than she had. He was not smarter, no, she wasn't stupid, but he simply was taught better. Bah. It didn't matter. He understood what he needed to understand, and still nuzzled beneath her wings despite growing almost to her size soon. Irritating. But she covered him with her wings all the same when it was time to rest, because he was her child. He was her pack. He was soon ready to take others into the sky with him, had bonded well with the rest of the pack. The pack leader would ride him, as would others of the pack, just as with her. It was the way of things. And now that her son was being taught, she could learn as well. She wasn't stupid. She just needed the right words, and to be able to hear them right.

    She was Swift-Soaring-Death-Nest-Defender.

    Her pack called her Oskana.
     
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  • Sidestory
    • That's our girl! This was nice, shining the spotlight on the once baby bird now a alpha female grown. She sure takes after Frederick a lot! Making us proud.
    All the love to Oskana.
     
    Loved this Oskana.

    Really want more of this kind of perspective, too bad we don't have more murder-creatures running around to devour our enemies.
     
    Well damn...I got a bit emotional at the end there. Best Griffon for us indeed. You show them how badass you are gal!

    Thanks for the amazing side story and keep up the good work! I cannot wait what you have in store for us next.

    Can't wait for "Marvelous Marienburg" to truly start later on. The title of the Arc also gave me flashbacks from the previous similarly titled one as well...
     
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