- Pronouns
- He/Him
My spiteful side is looking forward to seeing how the Witch Hunters try and react to the new library.
Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism
- Thread starter torroar
- Start date
- Mature
-
- Tags
- warhammer warhammer fantasy fantasy intrigue happens male protagonist ck2 quest belief stronk count of cannons drunken wisdom foes in the shadows graf of guns if you have a question check the front page first it begins... mountain vietnam ogres paranoia rising unseen enemies everywhere use the search function before asking waifu wars wake the bull
Massgamer
Advance toward the Future
- Location
- The Future
I mean, its under new leadership who is at least a little open-minded and not seeking to upset Freddy so doubt other than a few mean glares won't do anything overt without proof of wrongdoing. Freddy does agree in not holding tainted knowledge after all so won't like Verenans doing that.
I am honestly curious if we can't attempt to do some joint actions with Witch Hunters in province now since while they are mostly independent organization their current captain could be open to idea of working more closely, even using wizards when needed.
I think if we were going to do something like that, we would be better off setting up a different knightly order for it, a small dedicated one. Go out and look for a breeding population of them and set it up for nobles only (as they'd be the only ones who could afford to care for such a thing). That could work out pretty awesomely demigryph knights are scary as hell in combat.
Pretty much the entire reason Marlissa isn't dead for treason is because she's more open minded and because she knows how thin the ice she's on is. She won't try anything, but I do look forward to spitting in their face with this.
- Location
- Africa
there are enough top tier magic users and raw magical power concentrated in that place to bring to bare cataclysm grade magic which is a step above even battle magic and is so powerful that normally it can only be cast during a storm of magic so raw numbers will not be enough for the beastmen to take the fulcrum
You're still thinking that Malagor knows all and wants to focus down Ostland. Which is player conceited as hell given we have ten other provinces with targets equally as valuable and viable. On top of that you are assuming Malagor has perfect knowledge of everything in ostland, which is again, kinda off. Because he's a beastman, as a general rule they do not infiltrate like the skaven, chaos or vampires. So he's not liable tohear about it unless Aurelion has been super lax in keeping the magical signature down. Frankly i'm more worried the dark elves would use the chaos to grab it via either a stealthy insertion of agents and materials or via beaching a dark arc or two and then invading with armies, plural. The beastmen are not going to prioritize it unless Malagor himself comes or unless he has another spellcasting hero who senses it, and even then Aurelion would be more likely to an hero and take the fulcrum with her than let them have it, becuase the beastmen are NOT subtle.
As for Bugman's it IS a secondary target at best, This is Malagor trying to break the empire, not the swarves, and every centigor is going to be gunning for wulfenburg HARD. I'm actually even less worried about it than i am the Fulcrum given the defenses it has are ludicrous to even the Dawi. Anything short of the doom stack focusing on it is going to make an attack on it take horrendous losses at best. Plus it's close enough to Wulfenburg that any tactician not with a grudgeboner for dwarves would target us first. Couple that in with the fact we cheesed off one of the major beastman substrains? Not actually worried.
I agree with you on the iceflame but we really cannot afford to commit their first without a major attack pointed at it. We've cleansed the beast paths near it, so hopefully a large attack would be seen and the defenses there would hold until we can get the army to reinforce. Given Ostland's position though i doubt more than two major forces will be sent by the beastmen. The real scary part is if the dark elves decide to try and slip a knife or a full bore sword into our backs while we're otherwise tied up.
Heresy
My Brother’s Keeper
- Location
- nowhere everywhere
I was actually thinking about that too. We could probably even get it subsidized by another knightly order like The Knights of Taal's Fury who might like the idea of expanding a second branch up north to help guard the newly liberated Forest of Shadows.
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
...What are you talking about?
I mean. I'm not talking about planning turns, I'm not saying "let's do this specific combination of things we only know to try because of the OOC knowledge."
I'm just saying "we know a big thing is coming, let's not count our chickens before we figure out whether or not the beastmen will burn down the chicken coop."
Unless I am grievously misunderstanding something, you want us to "brace" for the beast men army we learned about from the interludes. You later clarified this statement by saying it was a psychological bracing; that we shouldn't plan too big.
I disagree with this attitude on the grounds that it was adopted as a result of information we didn't get in a story post and that it's not really conductive to discussion in the thread. What's the point of saying we should prepare to throw money into infrastructure after the beast war? We don't know what will be hit, we don't know what we'll have to rebuild. There's point in discussing that so I'd like to get you to stop. Does this clarify my position?
Last edited:
MasterDrakus
DEUS SOL
- Location
- Minas Gerais, Brazil
At least we will get to build all those cool defenses we made, imo it will be fun to see them being tested.
Marvelous Marienburg .50
[]Yes
[] Bedrock
Marvelous Marienburg .50
"I…," you trail off for a moment, a sudden need to explain yourself seizing you for some reason. "There are times," you murmur, "In battle. My anger…it…,"
"We are wrathful folk, Frederick," Natasha places a finger against your lips while a smile lifts the corners of her own. "The blood of Udose berserkers and slaughtering Khan-Queens run through our blood, and in our children. We live in a world filled with madness, monsters, and injustice – how could we not be wrathful?" Then Natasha tilted her head back down to face Yhanna, her back still pressed coldly against your chest. "This…connection. We can, with practice, silence it? Temporarily? If one or the other is under such extreme duress that it might mentally cripple the other?"
Yhanna blinks, her irises rotating counterclockwise in the left eye and clockwise in the right, a finger coming up to tap at her chin while she maintains her grip on her staff in the other hand.
"That…could be a threat, yes. Sympathetic connections are simultaneously beneficial and harmful, depending on usage and the forces acted upon them," she says in a drawl. "The blood of a sought victim, for instance, could let for easier cursing and magically affecting. A threat for you, Frederick, given the…amount of it, you've no doubt shed around a goodly portion of the Empire."
A jolt of fear sparks through you at that, but you do not let it show on your face. Which is easy, as most of your front has gone numb at this point from prolonged contact with Natasha's freezing cold body.
"Well thank you for that absolutely horrifying thought," you tell her dryly.
"Would you prefer that I not have said anything?" She responds just as dryly, a delicate eyebrow raising. "And just waited around until tiny cutting blades of force formed inside your veins, cutting you apart from within?"
Her four students seem to have absolutely no idea at all of how to take the sheer casualness of this formerly grave situation.
"Er. Is that-,"
"There are spells that could achieve such things, yes," she answers with a firm nod, gripping her staff with both hands for a moment before the other sweeps down to hang at her side. "But we aren't discussing such things, are we?"
Ah. Right. You can feel all eyes present turn on you again.
"Right. Well," you cough slightly.
"Frederick, if you don't-,"
"I do," you interrupt Natasha by kissing her forehead and tightening your arms around her. "I do. I just wanted to be sure you would be comfortable with us occasionally being a bit more in each other's heads than usual."
"Of course I would," Natasha wriggles her shoulders about before settling against you once more. "I was the one concerned that-,"
"Well just in case-,"
"Have we made a decision?" Yhanna says with a slightly raised voice. "I informed you that this was done with certain elven couples in millennia past, yes? Even we elves require time alone, to recuperate, to think and be alone with our thoughts – as I stated earlier this is no abominable inseparable melding," she purses her lips at the two of you. "It is not every iota of thought, every spare impulse, which is carried along, nor is it words or conversation. And, again, with practice once the bond is forged, you might close it for the most part," she rolls her eyes as she says the last bit. "More freely shared and felt does not mean that you will know precisely the moment her bladder is full and the minute it begins to empty and she will not know the moment you let out a particularly satisfactory fart."
The last time you saw wood elves look so scandalized, it was about the time you accused a maddened and half-dead Mage-Queen she was acting like a shit of a Phoenix King. This time it's four students looking upon their master. Yhanna doesn't miss this, either, somehow making a half turn into a superbly ominous swoosh of her robes to face them with a starkly imperious look on her face.
"I told you that I was coming as a friend and ally, not as the High Spellweaver of Laurelorn, Lady of the Sunweaver Kindred, Master of Yn Edryrl Ladrilalilecail," she scolds them sternly before turning back to you and Natasha, severity of her face lessening as she relaxes once more.
"The third, then," you declare, feeling Natasha ironically freeze slightly in your arms at your words.
"Frederick are you sure?" She asks, reaching up to cup your face again and draw your head down slightly to look into her eye directly, the other covered by the eyepatch.
"Of course. Do you not want to-,"
"Of course I want to," she says quickly, "But I don't want you to feel pressured or-,"
"Oh, the horror, of being able to tell when my wife is truly mad when she says she isn't," you joke, only for Natasha to drive both of her elbows into your torso, just above your stomach at the point where it becomes pectorals.
"I'm being serious," she says hotly, but you can see the blush on those pale cheeks, and they are definitely not from anger.
"And I am too," you tell her gently, running a thumb across her lips, another finger tucking some of her hair back behind her ear, uncaring of the straw-like and aged texture of it. "My only fear is for others trying to abuse it, never what it might bring between us from one another. If your Widow tries to hook me at all, or if Sigmar does the same to you, we'll handle it. If others attempt to turn it upon us, we shall fight to prevent it, or if failing in that, survive it."
Very deliberately, you tug the eyepatch loose, and hear her gasp quietly and flinch as if to pull away from you – but your embrace does not release her but instead spins her about, and there she remains, eyes closed, not looking at you. Her face is practically buried in your chest, all while you run your hand over and through her hair, purposefully crossing from the bands of 'normal' hair to those clearly altered by her channeling of the Widow.
"I do not fear what may lie in your mind, or your soul," you declare calmly. "I love you, all of you, within and without. You cannot make me disgusted, afraid, or hateful to any facet of you, now, or in the future, and I can but hope you feel the same for me."
That, finally, gets her to open her eyes. Both of them, one the familiar sharp sky blue, the other a glowing red orb with white lines to mark pupil and iris. You don't look away, and you don't blink.
"So yes. I will accept this bond, and of the highest magnitude, because from the start when I was a drunken sot of an exiled prince of Wulfenburg until I am a decrepit bag of sagging skin and aching bones made hairless and toothless by time and even until the day when I am lowered into a tomb or burnt to ashes, you, Natasha von Hohenzollern, have all my love. Forever."
She swallows for a moment before reaching up on her toes and kissing you deeply.
"Forever," she says softly…and happily, both eyes becoming slightly watery.
"I've made my choice," you tell her and then look up at Yhanna, nodding. "I've made my choice. But only if it's the same as yours."
"I didn't know if you would," Natasha admits, pressing her cheeks against your chest and just sighing. "I should have, though. I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about," you say as you place your chin atop her head again and keep looking at Yhanna. "So…how does this work?"
"Well I'll need some time to put the ritual together," Yhanna says as she plucks the pouch in question forth and waves her students to the side while approaching you. "But, as I said, the first step is to drench in the essence of those who shall be bound together."
At that, Natasha pulls her head up and shares a small grin with you, stepping away so that you can approach Yhanna shoulder to shoulder.
"Well, it's not like either of us fear shedding a bit of blood," you say with a rueful grin.
"On that, I have no doubt," Yhanna smiles before unstringing the pouch and opening it slightly in front of you.
An incredibly pungent smell hits you, something that so earthy that it is just shy of being indescribable. Natasha and you just look at one another, smiling quietly, as you let your palms be cut open, squeezing tightly to fill the pouch's contents with your mingled blood. A moment is all it takes, though it does somehow leave you more tired than losing that much blood should have, and a moment after that Yhanna passes her hands over your own with a faint but familiar healing glow and the pain and tiredness is past you.
"It was a pleasure to see you both," Yhanna says with a polite bow to you. "But the sooner I get started on this, the better off we'll be when it comes down to performing it."
"Of course," you and Natasha nod back, still not having let go of one another. "Safe travels and good fortune to you and the rest of the Asrai of Laurelorn."
The first portion gets a brilliant smile from Yhanna before it twists into a confused frown.
"Oh that…ah," she blinks rapidly, snapping the fingers of her free hand. "Yes. You wouldn't…mmm. We aren't calling ourselves Asrai any longer," she explains calmly.
"O-oh?" You jerk your head back slightly. "Really?"
"It was the matter of a good few years of debate," Yhanna nods vigorously, "Every Lord and Lady of every Kindred had to agree, across all of Laurelorn. Long enough for the Lady to remarry and sire a son and daughter."
"Woah! Hold on now," you protest, Natasha sharing your bug-eyed surprise. "It hasn't…when did…years," you trail off, a familiar pounding beginning to appear in your skull. "Is…but...this is more of that time…season…deep forest business, isn't it," you sigh.
Yhanna doesn't quite giggle, it's more of a polite noblewoman's titter.
"Laurelorn is not so timeless as Athel Loren, Frederick, but there are…places, perhaps, where it might seem that way," she says instead of actually answering your question.
"Long enough for the Glade Lord to birth two more children," Natasha says, eyebrows climbing towards her forehead. "Is Kyrian taking to that well?"
All four of the spellweavers actually pause in their continuing shock at their mentor being casual to exchange several meaningful looks – looks that are, it seems, universal when it comes to especially leery topics being discussed.
"He's still Naraiel's heir," Yhanna says with a shrug before clearing her throat and gesturing vaguely back to the trees. "Regardless, it is time we were off, I think. Good fortune to you and yours, Frederick, Natasha," she nods again to you and Natasha each.
That said, the rest of the spellweavers begin to trundle behind her as she heads to the same large fir that she emerged from.
"Yhanna!" You call out after her, making her turn slightly.
"Mmm?"
"So if you aren't Asrai…what are you calling yourselves?"
Yhanna smiles, her eyes seeming to almost literally dance in the sockets.
"We are the Eonir, Frederick. We are our own people and have been for some time. Now we are simply admitting it openly."
And with that, she steps into the tree with her students, and is gone.
"I…father, I cannot…," Magnus finally trails off, choking slightly as he tries to find the words.
He's been like this since the ceremony where you bequeathed the Runefang onto him for the entire year. It was one thing when it was out of nowhere, and in front of the court who were of course set to whispering and wondering, but it's been more than half a week since then. He's planning on leading the hunt for the beastmen this year, you know that much, and you also know that he's planning on using the symbol of authority you've given him to invite over some of the other members of the Trident. Frankly, you applaud the initiative. Ortrud just called you and Stephan over for Festermarsh, and now Magnus is calling upon his fellow heirs and someday fellow Elector Counts to do the same for this. Increasing diplomatic unity and also adding some more martial strength to the matter. Good on him. The only issue is, now that you're actually leaving, he seems to be struggling with the fact that you aren't taking the Runefang with you. Which, to be fair, you've literally never done before in his life. Stepping out of the castle down into the city without it is one thing, leaving the province entirely is another.
"I swear I shall do you proud."
"I know you will," you tell him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "As long as that," you look down at Brain Wounder on his hip, "Goes into or through a lot of beastmen, greenskins, mutants, druchii, Norscans, daemons, skaven, or Fimir, you'll have done me proud," you say with a smile before patting his shoulder again and stepping away.
He nods fiercely at your words and, waving goodbye to the rest of the Herd, mounts up on his horse and prepares to ride out of the city. Only then do you turn back around to look upon those who are traveling with you to Marienburg. You could make it a blisteringly brisk trip, with none but you and Oskana flying over to the city, but you suspect that this would give both Natasha and your Greatswords an apoplexy. The Matriarch with whom you are meeting has stated that she 'understands' that the roads are quite dangerous in the Empire, and says that you may bring whatever size escort you think you require. At the same time, you aren't an idiot enough to try to march an entire army up to Marienburg's gates. You also know that Evangeline Hertwig, Sword of Justice and a quite formidable woman herself, will be in the merchant city along with at least some of her Owls. You aren't trying to make any more enemies there than necessary.
"Sabine," you say as you spy the red-haired woman come almost tumbling out of the castle gates, "Have you reconsidered-,"
"I am sorry Count Hohenzollern, I mean, Frederick, I mean father-in-law, but I am endeavoring to ensure that this grand opening goes through successfully and I quite simply cannot dedicate the time and effort it would take to be elsewhere than the arena and the gambling house and I'm sorry but I really must be going," she blurts out in a rapid, breathless stream before shoving her armfuls of paper and scrolls into a nearby waiting carriage. "Good day, and be safe in Marienburg!" She calls out as she leaps upon the carriage herself and cracks the whip on the horses, sending herself speeding down into the city.
"Well then," you say more to yourself than anyone else.
"WARK!" Oskana says from nearby where she's paused from preening a beset looking Octaine, the younger gryphon simply accepting as his mother picks and prods at his feathers with her beak and talons.
"Yes, thank you," you wave at her before turning away. "Now then, let's get going, shall we?"
Who Is Frederick Bringing With Him To Marienburg?
Moratorium For 12 Hours
[] Write-In Accompaniment For Frederick
EX: 100 Greatswords/Natasha + 100 Greatswords / Natasha + Urgdug + 50 Greatswords / Natasha + Urgdug + All Maelstrombringers + 50 Greatswords / ETc.
Note: Remember to be reasonable about it, yeah? This is, nominally, an allied city of the Empire with the Sword of Justice + Owls present. 3 of the Great 10 Houses are anti-Ostland, the other 7 are not. At the moment.
[] Bedrock
Marvelous Marienburg .50
"I…," you trail off for a moment, a sudden need to explain yourself seizing you for some reason. "There are times," you murmur, "In battle. My anger…it…,"
"We are wrathful folk, Frederick," Natasha places a finger against your lips while a smile lifts the corners of her own. "The blood of Udose berserkers and slaughtering Khan-Queens run through our blood, and in our children. We live in a world filled with madness, monsters, and injustice – how could we not be wrathful?" Then Natasha tilted her head back down to face Yhanna, her back still pressed coldly against your chest. "This…connection. We can, with practice, silence it? Temporarily? If one or the other is under such extreme duress that it might mentally cripple the other?"
Yhanna blinks, her irises rotating counterclockwise in the left eye and clockwise in the right, a finger coming up to tap at her chin while she maintains her grip on her staff in the other hand.
"That…could be a threat, yes. Sympathetic connections are simultaneously beneficial and harmful, depending on usage and the forces acted upon them," she says in a drawl. "The blood of a sought victim, for instance, could let for easier cursing and magically affecting. A threat for you, Frederick, given the…amount of it, you've no doubt shed around a goodly portion of the Empire."
A jolt of fear sparks through you at that, but you do not let it show on your face. Which is easy, as most of your front has gone numb at this point from prolonged contact with Natasha's freezing cold body.
"Well thank you for that absolutely horrifying thought," you tell her dryly.
"Would you prefer that I not have said anything?" She responds just as dryly, a delicate eyebrow raising. "And just waited around until tiny cutting blades of force formed inside your veins, cutting you apart from within?"
Her four students seem to have absolutely no idea at all of how to take the sheer casualness of this formerly grave situation.
"Er. Is that-,"
"There are spells that could achieve such things, yes," she answers with a firm nod, gripping her staff with both hands for a moment before the other sweeps down to hang at her side. "But we aren't discussing such things, are we?"
Ah. Right. You can feel all eyes present turn on you again.
"Right. Well," you cough slightly.
"Frederick, if you don't-,"
"I do," you interrupt Natasha by kissing her forehead and tightening your arms around her. "I do. I just wanted to be sure you would be comfortable with us occasionally being a bit more in each other's heads than usual."
"Of course I would," Natasha wriggles her shoulders about before settling against you once more. "I was the one concerned that-,"
"Well just in case-,"
"Have we made a decision?" Yhanna says with a slightly raised voice. "I informed you that this was done with certain elven couples in millennia past, yes? Even we elves require time alone, to recuperate, to think and be alone with our thoughts – as I stated earlier this is no abominable inseparable melding," she purses her lips at the two of you. "It is not every iota of thought, every spare impulse, which is carried along, nor is it words or conversation. And, again, with practice once the bond is forged, you might close it for the most part," she rolls her eyes as she says the last bit. "More freely shared and felt does not mean that you will know precisely the moment her bladder is full and the minute it begins to empty and she will not know the moment you let out a particularly satisfactory fart."
The last time you saw wood elves look so scandalized, it was about the time you accused a maddened and half-dead Mage-Queen she was acting like a shit of a Phoenix King. This time it's four students looking upon their master. Yhanna doesn't miss this, either, somehow making a half turn into a superbly ominous swoosh of her robes to face them with a starkly imperious look on her face.
"I told you that I was coming as a friend and ally, not as the High Spellweaver of Laurelorn, Lady of the Sunweaver Kindred, Master of Yn Edryrl Ladrilalilecail," she scolds them sternly before turning back to you and Natasha, severity of her face lessening as she relaxes once more.
"The third, then," you declare, feeling Natasha ironically freeze slightly in your arms at your words.
"Frederick are you sure?" She asks, reaching up to cup your face again and draw your head down slightly to look into her eye directly, the other covered by the eyepatch.
"Of course. Do you not want to-,"
"Of course I want to," she says quickly, "But I don't want you to feel pressured or-,"
"Oh, the horror, of being able to tell when my wife is truly mad when she says she isn't," you joke, only for Natasha to drive both of her elbows into your torso, just above your stomach at the point where it becomes pectorals.
"I'm being serious," she says hotly, but you can see the blush on those pale cheeks, and they are definitely not from anger.
"And I am too," you tell her gently, running a thumb across her lips, another finger tucking some of her hair back behind her ear, uncaring of the straw-like and aged texture of it. "My only fear is for others trying to abuse it, never what it might bring between us from one another. If your Widow tries to hook me at all, or if Sigmar does the same to you, we'll handle it. If others attempt to turn it upon us, we shall fight to prevent it, or if failing in that, survive it."
Very deliberately, you tug the eyepatch loose, and hear her gasp quietly and flinch as if to pull away from you – but your embrace does not release her but instead spins her about, and there she remains, eyes closed, not looking at you. Her face is practically buried in your chest, all while you run your hand over and through her hair, purposefully crossing from the bands of 'normal' hair to those clearly altered by her channeling of the Widow.
"I do not fear what may lie in your mind, or your soul," you declare calmly. "I love you, all of you, within and without. You cannot make me disgusted, afraid, or hateful to any facet of you, now, or in the future, and I can but hope you feel the same for me."
That, finally, gets her to open her eyes. Both of them, one the familiar sharp sky blue, the other a glowing red orb with white lines to mark pupil and iris. You don't look away, and you don't blink.
"So yes. I will accept this bond, and of the highest magnitude, because from the start when I was a drunken sot of an exiled prince of Wulfenburg until I am a decrepit bag of sagging skin and aching bones made hairless and toothless by time and even until the day when I am lowered into a tomb or burnt to ashes, you, Natasha von Hohenzollern, have all my love. Forever."
She swallows for a moment before reaching up on her toes and kissing you deeply.
"Forever," she says softly…and happily, both eyes becoming slightly watery.
"I've made my choice," you tell her and then look up at Yhanna, nodding. "I've made my choice. But only if it's the same as yours."
"I didn't know if you would," Natasha admits, pressing her cheeks against your chest and just sighing. "I should have, though. I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about," you say as you place your chin atop her head again and keep looking at Yhanna. "So…how does this work?"
"Well I'll need some time to put the ritual together," Yhanna says as she plucks the pouch in question forth and waves her students to the side while approaching you. "But, as I said, the first step is to drench in the essence of those who shall be bound together."
At that, Natasha pulls her head up and shares a small grin with you, stepping away so that you can approach Yhanna shoulder to shoulder.
"Well, it's not like either of us fear shedding a bit of blood," you say with a rueful grin.
"On that, I have no doubt," Yhanna smiles before unstringing the pouch and opening it slightly in front of you.
An incredibly pungent smell hits you, something that so earthy that it is just shy of being indescribable. Natasha and you just look at one another, smiling quietly, as you let your palms be cut open, squeezing tightly to fill the pouch's contents with your mingled blood. A moment is all it takes, though it does somehow leave you more tired than losing that much blood should have, and a moment after that Yhanna passes her hands over your own with a faint but familiar healing glow and the pain and tiredness is past you.
"It was a pleasure to see you both," Yhanna says with a polite bow to you. "But the sooner I get started on this, the better off we'll be when it comes down to performing it."
"Of course," you and Natasha nod back, still not having let go of one another. "Safe travels and good fortune to you and the rest of the Asrai of Laurelorn."
The first portion gets a brilliant smile from Yhanna before it twists into a confused frown.
"Oh that…ah," she blinks rapidly, snapping the fingers of her free hand. "Yes. You wouldn't…mmm. We aren't calling ourselves Asrai any longer," she explains calmly.
"O-oh?" You jerk your head back slightly. "Really?"
"It was the matter of a good few years of debate," Yhanna nods vigorously, "Every Lord and Lady of every Kindred had to agree, across all of Laurelorn. Long enough for the Lady to remarry and sire a son and daughter."
"Woah! Hold on now," you protest, Natasha sharing your bug-eyed surprise. "It hasn't…when did…years," you trail off, a familiar pounding beginning to appear in your skull. "Is…but...this is more of that time…season…deep forest business, isn't it," you sigh.
Yhanna doesn't quite giggle, it's more of a polite noblewoman's titter.
"Laurelorn is not so timeless as Athel Loren, Frederick, but there are…places, perhaps, where it might seem that way," she says instead of actually answering your question.
"Long enough for the Glade Lord to birth two more children," Natasha says, eyebrows climbing towards her forehead. "Is Kyrian taking to that well?"
All four of the spellweavers actually pause in their continuing shock at their mentor being casual to exchange several meaningful looks – looks that are, it seems, universal when it comes to especially leery topics being discussed.
"He's still Naraiel's heir," Yhanna says with a shrug before clearing her throat and gesturing vaguely back to the trees. "Regardless, it is time we were off, I think. Good fortune to you and yours, Frederick, Natasha," she nods again to you and Natasha each.
That said, the rest of the spellweavers begin to trundle behind her as she heads to the same large fir that she emerged from.
"Yhanna!" You call out after her, making her turn slightly.
"Mmm?"
"So if you aren't Asrai…what are you calling yourselves?"
Yhanna smiles, her eyes seeming to almost literally dance in the sockets.
"We are the Eonir, Frederick. We are our own people and have been for some time. Now we are simply admitting it openly."
And with that, she steps into the tree with her students, and is gone.
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"I…father, I cannot…," Magnus finally trails off, choking slightly as he tries to find the words.
He's been like this since the ceremony where you bequeathed the Runefang onto him for the entire year. It was one thing when it was out of nowhere, and in front of the court who were of course set to whispering and wondering, but it's been more than half a week since then. He's planning on leading the hunt for the beastmen this year, you know that much, and you also know that he's planning on using the symbol of authority you've given him to invite over some of the other members of the Trident. Frankly, you applaud the initiative. Ortrud just called you and Stephan over for Festermarsh, and now Magnus is calling upon his fellow heirs and someday fellow Elector Counts to do the same for this. Increasing diplomatic unity and also adding some more martial strength to the matter. Good on him. The only issue is, now that you're actually leaving, he seems to be struggling with the fact that you aren't taking the Runefang with you. Which, to be fair, you've literally never done before in his life. Stepping out of the castle down into the city without it is one thing, leaving the province entirely is another.
"I swear I shall do you proud."
"I know you will," you tell him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "As long as that," you look down at Brain Wounder on his hip, "Goes into or through a lot of beastmen, greenskins, mutants, druchii, Norscans, daemons, skaven, or Fimir, you'll have done me proud," you say with a smile before patting his shoulder again and stepping away.
He nods fiercely at your words and, waving goodbye to the rest of the Herd, mounts up on his horse and prepares to ride out of the city. Only then do you turn back around to look upon those who are traveling with you to Marienburg. You could make it a blisteringly brisk trip, with none but you and Oskana flying over to the city, but you suspect that this would give both Natasha and your Greatswords an apoplexy. The Matriarch with whom you are meeting has stated that she 'understands' that the roads are quite dangerous in the Empire, and says that you may bring whatever size escort you think you require. At the same time, you aren't an idiot enough to try to march an entire army up to Marienburg's gates. You also know that Evangeline Hertwig, Sword of Justice and a quite formidable woman herself, will be in the merchant city along with at least some of her Owls. You aren't trying to make any more enemies there than necessary.
"Sabine," you say as you spy the red-haired woman come almost tumbling out of the castle gates, "Have you reconsidered-,"
"I am sorry Count Hohenzollern, I mean, Frederick, I mean father-in-law, but I am endeavoring to ensure that this grand opening goes through successfully and I quite simply cannot dedicate the time and effort it would take to be elsewhere than the arena and the gambling house and I'm sorry but I really must be going," she blurts out in a rapid, breathless stream before shoving her armfuls of paper and scrolls into a nearby waiting carriage. "Good day, and be safe in Marienburg!" She calls out as she leaps upon the carriage herself and cracks the whip on the horses, sending herself speeding down into the city.
"Well then," you say more to yourself than anyone else.
"WARK!" Oskana says from nearby where she's paused from preening a beset looking Octaine, the younger gryphon simply accepting as his mother picks and prods at his feathers with her beak and talons.
"Yes, thank you," you wave at her before turning away. "Now then, let's get going, shall we?"
Who Is Frederick Bringing With Him To Marienburg?
Moratorium For 12 Hours
[] Write-In Accompaniment For Frederick
EX: 100 Greatswords/Natasha + 100 Greatswords / Natasha + Urgdug + 50 Greatswords / Natasha + Urgdug + All Maelstrombringers + 50 Greatswords / ETc.
Note: Remember to be reasonable about it, yeah? This is, nominally, an allied city of the Empire with the Sword of Justice + Owls present. 3 of the Great 10 Houses are anti-Ostland, the other 7 are not. At the moment.
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
- Location
- Texas
So I think Urgdug, Maelstormbringers and 50 Greatswords.
Note that while Frederick is capable of intellectually acknowledging the beauty/handsomeness/attractiveness of other individuals, based on contemporary standards of his time, the only other time I can think of right now that he's been even vaguely attracted to someone else was Kattarin because she reminded him so strongly of Natasha, only to quickly grab onto and examine that thought and then banish such feelings entirely because she wasn't Natasha.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Mmm....you could, I suppose. There are some private luxury stables she could get posted in, no doubt in a place like Marienburg.
- Pronouns
- It/They
I aint trusting this to not turn into a clusterfuck at the slightest oppurtunity.
Bring Urgdug and his bros, bring some of the great swords... were bringing Oskana too right?
Hell bring some halflings along, im sure they can tell if food has been poisoned by smell alone!
Bring Urgdug and his bros, bring some of the great swords... were bringing Oskana too right?
Hell bring some halflings along, im sure they can tell if food has been poisoned by smell alone!
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LiamOfOrmonde
67% lewd. Oh my!
- Location
- Florida Sometimes
I'm thinking Urdug, Natasha, the great swords, 40 champions of Ostland, and 20 Steelbacks. Thoughts?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The Maelstrombringers are Urgdug's personal squad, they'll probably do well with him.
But there is more than just Marienburg. We also have to get there. The Empire's roads and forests aren't going to stop being dangerous.
