Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism
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The Night Of - CuriousStranger
This shit is a goldmine.
2342 IC
---
The portmaster of Salkalten tugged at his beard nervously, staring as his direct liege, Prince Waldemar took a long draught of whatever was in his goblet before taking it down with a hearty burp. The other lords in the room did much the same. Chief among them was Magnus von Hohenzollern, the heir to the current Elector Count, and a symbol of divine authority. Especially when the man was large, in charge, and right in front of his face.
"If I am to understand you correctly," he said carefully, cringing before each Lord. "You wish to gather your troops and head off to Albion with the latest convoy, due to leave tomorrow… or rather this morning."
Magnus nodded. "Aye."
"…All of your troops?"
The Heir scowled. "Don't be a fool man, just those in well enough condition and in an amount that won't weaken our maneuvers."
Military strategy was far beyond anything the portmaster was familiar with, but he was heartened that this insane order appeared at least slightly tolerable. Egged on by the unrelenting stares around him, he lifted his own goblet, one that had been thrust into his hands when the men and lady had entered the room. Buying time, he lifted the goblet to his mouth, keeping his lips shut and faked a deep swig. The others seemed to be too drunk to notice that the liquid levels in his cup hadn't gone down.
"There really isn't enough room," he started, praying the objection wouldn't end with him tossed into the gaols.
"Remove the supplies, send them to the warehouses and fields we've been encamped in, I'll draft a letter to Wulfenburg for them to be picked up timely and sent out as additional supplies to the lines we'll be disrupting with our movements, and they'll be no concern of yours within the week!"
The portmaster licked his lips. "The Albionese are expecting swords and armor."
Magnus von Hohenzollern took a step forward. "Is this not steel?" he asked, revealing the enchanted blade Brain Wounder, his fingers drumming a tattoo on its hilt. "Is this not armor?" he asked, tapping on his breastplate.
The portmaster gulped. "If we are to do this without delaying tomorrow's convoy, we will have to move very quickly, and we will have to rouse men. Sober men."
The sole lady in the room sniggered. "My boys will help, as will the others. And enough drunk hands equal sober ones."
"That may be so milady, but seawork is a different beast than that of the land. We have enough sailors, but we will need to call on riders to rush to the outlying farms to request extra food. Old hands who will know where to move all the new supplies and exchange the old ones."
His Prince interrupted him. "The whole of Salkalten is awake tonight. Find them and use them. And drink damn you! Unless your cup is magic, it hasn't drained an inch. Hell, take a bit more as a penalty!" The Portmaster stared as his prince unclasped a flask and drained a good portion of the Ostka inside into the ale, filling the goblet to the brim."
The Portmaster's lips twitched, his eyes flicking at the unmoved faces before lifting the goblet and downing it in one long gulp. The Lords looked impressed. They shouldn't have been. Sailors could outdrink anyone. "Then let's get started."
---
"THAT MEAT IS RANCID FOOL AND I WON'T HAVE THESE GOOD MEN AND WOMEN CHOKING ON IT! DAMN YOUR MISERABLE HIDE YOU GREEDY BURGHERS! WORSE THAN VULTURES I SAY. SALT PORK BY THE BARRELS AND GOOD ONES TOO!" the Portmaster screamed until the cringing purser bolted away. He lifted his goblet and took another swig as he organized the incoming transports. Casks filled with fresh water, butter, meat, and sauerkraut. Across the room, Magnus von Hohenzollern signed the latest dispatch and handed it to the unsteady messenger. He gave a jerky salute, turned, and walked right into a wall. To his credit, it only took two course corrections until he left the room, and his Lord was either magnanimous enough to ignore the faux pas, or so in his cups he hadn't noticed.
Lord Reinhardt meanwhile had vomited onto his boots and had the sinking realization that he was doing something stupid. He contemplated giving voice to the thought as he took a passed flask and gave thanks to the kind stranger, before downing its contents in one gulp. He'd been… doing something. Helping Mena with something. A last hurrah. A wineskin filled with something of Bretonnian vintage was handed to him in place of the empty flask. As the sweet wine filled his tongue, he let his thought go. If it was important, it would come back to him later.
---
The seaman swore as the ornery horse bucked and rocked against him. "Bastards won't go on the ship!"
The knight who had been shanghaied into loading the horses left the hold to a look. "Yeah that's one's always had a temper. Ah well, if they won't get on, they won't get on. Leave them and take the ones cooperating."
The seaman stared. "What about all the feed we just loaded? That's too much for the horses on board!"
The knight looked back at the dozens of men using the feed as impromptu beds while the already loaded horses ate around their unsightly forms. "They're well in use."
---
The ship's cook swore as he stashed victuals and turned to the sight of two drunken Greatswords in his galley. "You bastards! You have your own food, let that go!"
The Greatswords had indeed been dining on honeyed shanks of meat, but they had dropped them in favor of inspecting the the salt cod. "Thisss is… wood? Firewood? You put fires on ships?" One slurred.
"Don't be a daft idiot man. Wood burns. Ships are made of wood. Of course ships don't have fires on `em."
For a half-second, the cook debated telling them about cookfires to make the stews and soups the sailors survived on before swearing at them once more.
The Greatswords, long inured to such things, bit down. "This is…"
"Hard as a rock."
"Pure salt."
"You'd need a tankard of ale to make even a nibble edible."
The Greatswords turned to stare at the cook. "You lot `re legends man."
The cook had enough. He waved a cleaver at them, uncaring about their own swords. "GET OUT OF MY GALLEY!"
---
There should have been a speech. Or some grand gesture to mark the occasion. Instead, what the trading flotilla had instead were cargo holds full of passed out soldiers who would soon regret their actions that night. The ships moved out of the harbors. The seaman laid down their ropes, rubbed their hands, and took more drinks.
The Portmaster looked upon his domain and found it good. He took another swig of his goblet, feeling proud. He'd moved some 2800 men and women, tons of cargo, and sent them off in hours. A miracle of manpower and organization. It would be one for the history books, a true sample of what Humanity could accomplish. He wondered if the history books would mention just why the event had come about.
The Night Of
2342 IC
---
The portmaster of Salkalten tugged at his beard nervously, staring as his direct liege, Prince Waldemar took a long draught of whatever was in his goblet before taking it down with a hearty burp. The other lords in the room did much the same. Chief among them was Magnus von Hohenzollern, the heir to the current Elector Count, and a symbol of divine authority. Especially when the man was large, in charge, and right in front of his face.
"If I am to understand you correctly," he said carefully, cringing before each Lord. "You wish to gather your troops and head off to Albion with the latest convoy, due to leave tomorrow… or rather this morning."
Magnus nodded. "Aye."
"…All of your troops?"
The Heir scowled. "Don't be a fool man, just those in well enough condition and in an amount that won't weaken our maneuvers."
Military strategy was far beyond anything the portmaster was familiar with, but he was heartened that this insane order appeared at least slightly tolerable. Egged on by the unrelenting stares around him, he lifted his own goblet, one that had been thrust into his hands when the men and lady had entered the room. Buying time, he lifted the goblet to his mouth, keeping his lips shut and faked a deep swig. The others seemed to be too drunk to notice that the liquid levels in his cup hadn't gone down.
"There really isn't enough room," he started, praying the objection wouldn't end with him tossed into the gaols.
"Remove the supplies, send them to the warehouses and fields we've been encamped in, I'll draft a letter to Wulfenburg for them to be picked up timely and sent out as additional supplies to the lines we'll be disrupting with our movements, and they'll be no concern of yours within the week!"
The portmaster licked his lips. "The Albionese are expecting swords and armor."
Magnus von Hohenzollern took a step forward. "Is this not steel?" he asked, revealing the enchanted blade Brain Wounder, his fingers drumming a tattoo on its hilt. "Is this not armor?" he asked, tapping on his breastplate.
The portmaster gulped. "If we are to do this without delaying tomorrow's convoy, we will have to move very quickly, and we will have to rouse men. Sober men."
The sole lady in the room sniggered. "My boys will help, as will the others. And enough drunk hands equal sober ones."
"That may be so milady, but seawork is a different beast than that of the land. We have enough sailors, but we will need to call on riders to rush to the outlying farms to request extra food. Old hands who will know where to move all the new supplies and exchange the old ones."
His Prince interrupted him. "The whole of Salkalten is awake tonight. Find them and use them. And drink damn you! Unless your cup is magic, it hasn't drained an inch. Hell, take a bit more as a penalty!" The Portmaster stared as his prince unclasped a flask and drained a good portion of the Ostka inside into the ale, filling the goblet to the brim."
The Portmaster's lips twitched, his eyes flicking at the unmoved faces before lifting the goblet and downing it in one long gulp. The Lords looked impressed. They shouldn't have been. Sailors could outdrink anyone. "Then let's get started."
---
"THAT MEAT IS RANCID FOOL AND I WON'T HAVE THESE GOOD MEN AND WOMEN CHOKING ON IT! DAMN YOUR MISERABLE HIDE YOU GREEDY BURGHERS! WORSE THAN VULTURES I SAY. SALT PORK BY THE BARRELS AND GOOD ONES TOO!" the Portmaster screamed until the cringing purser bolted away. He lifted his goblet and took another swig as he organized the incoming transports. Casks filled with fresh water, butter, meat, and sauerkraut. Across the room, Magnus von Hohenzollern signed the latest dispatch and handed it to the unsteady messenger. He gave a jerky salute, turned, and walked right into a wall. To his credit, it only took two course corrections until he left the room, and his Lord was either magnanimous enough to ignore the faux pas, or so in his cups he hadn't noticed.
Lord Reinhardt meanwhile had vomited onto his boots and had the sinking realization that he was doing something stupid. He contemplated giving voice to the thought as he took a passed flask and gave thanks to the kind stranger, before downing its contents in one gulp. He'd been… doing something. Helping Mena with something. A last hurrah. A wineskin filled with something of Bretonnian vintage was handed to him in place of the empty flask. As the sweet wine filled his tongue, he let his thought go. If it was important, it would come back to him later.
---
The seaman swore as the ornery horse bucked and rocked against him. "Bastards won't go on the ship!"
The knight who had been shanghaied into loading the horses left the hold to a look. "Yeah that's one's always had a temper. Ah well, if they won't get on, they won't get on. Leave them and take the ones cooperating."
The seaman stared. "What about all the feed we just loaded? That's too much for the horses on board!"
The knight looked back at the dozens of men using the feed as impromptu beds while the already loaded horses ate around their unsightly forms. "They're well in use."
---
The ship's cook swore as he stashed victuals and turned to the sight of two drunken Greatswords in his galley. "You bastards! You have your own food, let that go!"
The Greatswords had indeed been dining on honeyed shanks of meat, but they had dropped them in favor of inspecting the the salt cod. "Thisss is… wood? Firewood? You put fires on ships?" One slurred.
"Don't be a daft idiot man. Wood burns. Ships are made of wood. Of course ships don't have fires on `em."
For a half-second, the cook debated telling them about cookfires to make the stews and soups the sailors survived on before swearing at them once more.
The Greatswords, long inured to such things, bit down. "This is…"
"Hard as a rock."
"Pure salt."
"You'd need a tankard of ale to make even a nibble edible."
The Greatswords turned to stare at the cook. "You lot `re legends man."
The cook had enough. He waved a cleaver at them, uncaring about their own swords. "GET OUT OF MY GALLEY!"
---
There should have been a speech. Or some grand gesture to mark the occasion. Instead, what the trading flotilla had instead were cargo holds full of passed out soldiers who would soon regret their actions that night. The ships moved out of the harbors. The seaman laid down their ropes, rubbed their hands, and took more drinks.
The Portmaster looked upon his domain and found it good. He took another swig of his goblet, feeling proud. He'd moved some 2800 men and women, tons of cargo, and sent them off in hours. A miracle of manpower and organization. It would be one for the history books, a true sample of what Humanity could accomplish. He wondered if the history books would mention just why the event had come about.
Annatar
Lord of Gifts
- Location
- Pittsburgh
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They/Them
Epilogue 1.
Modus_Tollens
SCREAMING AT THE APOCALYPSE
- Location
- ALSO SCREAMING.
I have to wonder about what a cut rate dawi runesmith would be like. I know they are far better than humanity at quality control, in terms of both craft and craftsmen, but you would think that they would still produce some mighty fine fuckups born from and relegated to bumfuck egypt locales where they can't hurt anyone. Their version of Discworld's 'Bloody Stupid Johnson'.
I'm not saying we commit such a cruelty to Albion, it would certainly be worse than doing nothing at all, but there should be some asshats that the other dawi would literally wrap in chains and haul to the ship for us.
Restalaan
What do you mean i am not a real cowboy?
That is actually a good prospect, though that would depend on the dawi in question if they feel its worth it.
The other option I thought of in supporting the Albion is exporting our ogres to them. Get them to be exptatriates and become the local albion ogres.
Granted, problems that definitely will crop up is food and tension. Ogre needs a lot of food and Albion is anything but that. Even eating the grass and local animals aside, they wont be able to get into a meaningful number.
The tension problem is well, ogres and giants. Not sure how the latter will react tp the former since the Ogres won the sky war and is responsible for driving the giants into their current state. More so when the druids got some deep connection with the giants so I doubt the Ogres will be well received (also nevermind the confusion since Fimirs are nearly the same size as Ogres and in this poor visible area, friendly fire is also definitely possible.).
Massgamer
Advance toward the Future
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- The Future
I for one support sending dwarf slayers and taalite ogres to Albion if that is a potential option we can swing, the latter especially since they would likely be able to form a balance with new environment in general and maybe handle food needs from eating fimir since unlike beastmen they aren't heavily mutated and stuff.
Speaking of food, like mentioned earlier we can always export excess food we have at a slight loss to Albion to support people there so they don't have to worry about growing food for time being and focus more on the fimir in general. Bad habit to keep up forever to be fair, but still possible.
Can always export religion and priests as well to population since having more gods to call on for aid always useful, and cults would love new members. I think Albionese would like Taal, Rhya, and Ulric for example, maybe Sigmar too.
Speaking of food, like mentioned earlier we can always export excess food we have at a slight loss to Albion to support people there so they don't have to worry about growing food for time being and focus more on the fimir in general. Bad habit to keep up forever to be fair, but still possible.
Can always export religion and priests as well to population since having more gods to call on for aid always useful, and cults would love new members. I think Albionese would like Taal, Rhya, and Ulric for example, maybe Sigmar too.
The Ostlanders have no reason to dissuade them, especially after their big victories this year. They probably think it's as good a time as ever to try.
Would not rice be able to grow in some of this, or is the temperature wrong or something?
I know rice often loves its water....
A dawi's "failures" are probably still really solid crafts to a human.
You'd never get a runesmith willing to mass churn out hastily made garbage that's only reliable by human standards, however.
But...lets say you did through some sort of ROB induced contrivance. You wouldn't want to send their off casts to a place like albion, which is EXACTLY where even a minor mistake in a dwarven rune could prove disastrous due to CONSTANT magical exposure, while minor mistakes on swords used in, say, araby or ostland would be perfectly fine, due to simply not being exposed to the conditions in which the subtle flaws would actually matter.
Restalaan
What do you mean i am not a real cowboy?
Rice can still not grow due to overflooding of water, the water paddy fields are done through controlled method. For Albion, it is prob going to under the water constantly. That also being said, the prime land are currently under control by the Fimir while the locals only got the scraps.
Massgamer
Advance toward the Future
- Location
- The Future
In regards to all these Beast-Paths we have discovered, since putting forts on them likely would be a bad idea since they would neither be overwhelmed or beastmen would make new paths around them could we instead trap them a great deal? Like puts tons of our landmines on them so disrupt large movements while people stand watch a good distance away? They can signal army that they need help cause... well I assume all the explosions will be a good warning.
I don't think we have tech for landmines and they could just go around them as well
we do I think they are in fact called boom disks. It's on the front page if your curious.
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oh thanks!
YES
LANDMINES ON THE BEAST PATHS
TRIP WIRE DOOMSPHERES
Oh god I love that idea
LANDMINES ON THE BEAST PATHS
TRIP WIRE DOOMSPHERES
Oh god I love that idea
AzraelvonGruber
probably should put something here...
- Location
- somewhere in France
Not sure we can cover All of the path but having some traps would be quite nice
i mean, if we hear somme " KABOUM" in the forest we will know that the Beastmen are coming
i mean, if we hear somme " KABOUM" in the forest we will know that the Beastmen are coming
Problem. We simply don't have enough landmines. We saw that during the battle of the Bloodfane. And even if we do all that happens is the useless Brays go first or things that can tank those hits. To truly defeat the Beastmen we must capture each and every beastpath and rip and tear until it is done.
The thing is, you don't have a modern or even sub-modern factory to pump out boom discs. They're not mass-manufactured by an assembly line. They're artisanal hand-crafted bespoke explosive discs that can be buried in the earth and are triggered by pressure atop them.
If you wanted to produce a truly significant quantity of them, you would have to take engineers off of other projects to focus purely on the building. I.E. Remove a Research Action from the Turn Proceedings while undergoing a yearly cost of production of a certain amount of gold crowns per turn. You know, because black powder isn't ultra mega cheap.
If you wanted to produce a truly significant quantity of them, you would have to take engineers off of other projects to focus purely on the building. I.E. Remove a Research Action from the Turn Proceedings while undergoing a yearly cost of production of a certain amount of gold crowns per turn. You know, because black powder isn't ultra mega cheap.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
No you don't. It's still highly unfeasible or not worth it, but it's not the whole forest.
Restalaan
What do you mean i am not a real cowboy?
I think best way is to keep patrols and arrange troop details around the beast path.
Besides, there might be more, we rolled just decently and still found 3 path that are close to our base. Who knows how many beast path are still out there.
Besides, there might be more, we rolled just decently and still found 3 path that are close to our base. Who knows how many beast path are still out there.
Massgamer
Advance toward the Future
- Location
- The Future
Well there goes that idea. Understandable certainly, but still sad.
Planting fortresses on paths bad idea like said since beastmen could overwhelm them/just make new paths around them, same with just trying to destroy path itself really. Guess all we can do is just keep watchers on paths and make sures armies can react quickly to large beastmen movements. Still doesn't feel good letting enemy effectively have hidden highways running through our land.
For more passive defense we can do what we can to increase Taal worship in province since that would get more of his Templar warriors to set up shop and actively hunt down beastmen, greenskins, giant spiders, etc that live in wilds. Maybe the Eonir are interested in sending a kindred or two into Forest of Shadows, though super unlikely despite warming relations.
Planting fortresses on paths bad idea like said since beastmen could overwhelm them/just make new paths around them, same with just trying to destroy path itself really. Guess all we can do is just keep watchers on paths and make sures armies can react quickly to large beastmen movements. Still doesn't feel good letting enemy effectively have hidden highways running through our land.
We found four. The Nordland-Ostland, Ostland-Hochland, Ostland-Talabecland, and the Middle Mountains-Wulfeburg paths. Do agree we should search for more when possible, but those are likely biggest ones in general and what are left are relatively minor paths that shift constantly.
For more passive defense we can do what we can to increase Taal worship in province since that would get more of his Templar warriors to set up shop and actively hunt down beastmen, greenskins, giant spiders, etc that live in wilds. Maybe the Eonir are interested in sending a kindred or two into Forest of Shadows, though super unlikely despite warming relations.
- Location
- Somewhere
The largest path found yet is the Middle Mounatins to Wulfenburg path. People were saying that the most likely biggest paths were already found before the turn 38 results with the leftovers being relatively minor. If we can still look for a major beast path, and the result still says at least one major beast path will be found, then we have not found all of the major beast paths. Not a single major beast path is minor.