- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Thanks for explaining it so well!!👍
Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism
- Thread starter torroar
- Start date
- Mature
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- 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 (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
deadcrystal
Slaaneshi Cultist
- Location
- The Warp
As a general rule competition for the position of Emperor should be understood not as 'who has the most support', but rather 'who has the least opposition'.
Magnus is kind of the big exception, but with the system of voting being what it is this has quite frequently led to a succession of weak Emperors who don't achieve much whilst the Elector Counts run around doing whatever they want and warring on each other.
- Location
- Germany
What is the political situation for Alexandra? It is quite obvious, that she intends to work for the Tzarina, likely even until after her reign is secured. But she hasn't been married, yet. Who is officially in charge of this matter? Frederick (even if he wouldn't do so without consulting Alexandra and Kattarin) and Natasha or Kattarin?
Would her children carry the Hohenzollern name and have a potential claim on Ostland or would she have to discard all relation, if she decides to stay in Kislev permanently?
The sheer length of her absence and her dubious position in the court of the Tsarina puts this whole matter into a weird area.
Would her children carry the Hohenzollern name and have a potential claim on Ostland or would she have to discard all relation, if she decides to stay in Kislev permanently?
The sheer length of her absence and her dubious position in the court of the Tsarina puts this whole matter into a weird area.
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- Location
- Somewhere
Alexandra is nearly 37.
Anyways, the political situation of Alexandra is aide to the Tzarnia of Kislev. Think of her as Kattarin's Intrigue Advisor until Alexandra retires, which is likely to be after the Kislev civil war concludes. If Alexandra does retire from helping Kattarin.
The marriage political situation is Alexandra's choice, as her and Anna are Freddy's favorite children, "daddy's little princesses", so they get more freedom and over-protective dad reactions from Freddy than usually seen from him. The QM, a long time ago, said that age for an ice witch could lead to preserving their bodies, so theoretically Alexandra might be able to have kids far later than is the norm. So far though, Alexandra's possible choices are not routes she wants to pursue plus a lot is happening in Kislev, and Alexandra is always over-working herself(ledstali).
Dmol8
The Undead Unhinged Lunatic of the Web
- Location
- Belgrade,Serbia
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Of fucking course they did that. For grimdark there is only one joke worth telling over and over again.
No. Just deeply depressed.
Because for that Frederick would have to defeat all the Four Deaths of Heroes.
He defeated the Death of Will back in Karak Ungor somewhere between when he got up from the dead and was blessed with Sigmar's Mien and beating Skultaker and convincing the Slayer Prince to not be a new Slayer King.
And if Accursed Albion ends with none of the heirs dying Frederick will have defeated the Death of Weight with his actions in Marienburg. If one of the heirs dies we will need to take a few more actions, but this one is in the bag.
Then there is the Death of Wander or as it is otherwise known the Archer EMIYA package. In the case of the post Great War Against Chaos Empire under Magnus the Pious it is the same task for every Elector Count: Have some level of positive relationship Every Elector of the Empire (including the Moot and Talabecland), make room for all members of the Empire and fully integrate all the Wizards and the Empire-wide Priesthoods (Including Ranald's). We're getting there, but we lifting up a full on extra Empire-wide Priesthood and we are nowhere near done with all of the Order Gods and we have two Electors hating our guts on principle.
Then there is the really hard task that comes last, but can be done alongside the others, which is the Death of Fate. In Frederick's case it is uplifting Ostland itself into a peer power to the other Imperial Provinces (which we may have already done), taking the Forest of Shadow and keeping it (already done and in progress), resisting the monotheistic invasion of Sigmarites into Ostland trough the Witch Hunter legitimization by Magnus the Pious (so far resisted and then some with the polytheism renaissance in society and Frederick going from unpious to very pious over the course of the quest), being a peer to Middenland (done and being kept) and having Frederick survive his prophesied fight with the Bull.
As you can see the only reason we can't be the Emperor is because our relationship with Talabecland is permanently in the gutter. Everything else we can fix/do during the next 20-30 turns before Frederick dies.
And before you come at me for this one @Simon_Jester just keep in mind that this system of deaths started with freaking Heracles back in Ancient Greece (each of his mortal wives represents one: Megara/Will, Omphale/Wander and Deianira/Weight, Heracles didn't have a Death of Fate as the tropes were unbuilt at that point and in fact the Four Deaths of Heroes are built on the basis of the Myth of Heracles with Hebe "filling" in the Death of Fate in works that were inspired by the myth) was referenced and used in King Arthur (Who triumphs over the Death of Weight with the Knights of the Round Table and is usually implied to have already defeated the Death of Will when he draws the Sword in the Stone, but "dies" to the Death of Wander) to even modern day works (Conan the Barbarian usually faces the Deaths in some way in every iteration with the most blatant if simplistic being the story the Three Deaths of Conan, be warned that story is racist against Black People). It's just that the system is usually unnamed and I'm translating names I heard in Serbia.
Mention the idea of chosen family some related by blood and some not earned over the duration of the story that helps each other with their problems and most people know what you are talking about pointing out how popular such an idea is in stories (Well modern stories and still mostly sometimes on the more bright side of storytelling). Point out that it's about sharing the burdens among allies and people will nod along. What doesn't get talked about is that this is the Victory over the Death of Weight since the Weight is Life itself in all it's Pain and Living It instead of just Surviving day to day. Deianira kills Heracles with the Hydra Venom by being tricked into using it as a Love Potion/Bonding because there is not enough sharing of life between them for her to not be worried about her marriage, in fact it was the opposite considering that Heracles got enamoured with Iole at that point. The symbolism for this one is around Hearths and Fires and the Ancient Greeks considered the sequence of events good since they got a God of Young Men/Unknown Soldiers (well the Unknown Soldiers is a modern concept, but it's the closest one to the one Heracles was worshiped as a God of War for except for the fact that he was worshiped precisely because he did not have a Tomb) out of it instead of just another Hero. It's also the first of the Three Deaths of Conan.
Mention the idea that people change the world through their will and most people say it's obvious. Point out that it takes monumental effort, strength of character and luck/destiny/divine favor to use one's will successfully and people will usually agree. What doesn't get talked about is that this is the Victory over the Death of Will and that it is the basis for the concept of the Hero's Journey and that it is needed for our modern day definition of a Hero. Megara dies because of Heracles' Hera induced Madness either directly or she just disappears after the death of her children. Heracles gets assigned his
Mention the concept of Evaporation and most people will just be confused. Point out that this is the idea of people being so lost and rootless that they are not sure of who they themselves are and disappear into society away from their social circles and people will still be confused. Point to any of these: Teenage Runaways, Bail/Parole Jumpers and Debt Dodgers; and people get some idea of what is being talked about. This is the Death of Wander: to disappear into the underworld of a society because you can't take the pressures of it for whatever reason and then die there. Victory over this Death of Heroes comes from putting down roots that bind one to who one is in the world and then fighting to have those same roots neither choke oneself nor wither and be lost to wind. Heracles' fight with this Death was considered a comedy in Ancient Greece since he gets stuck wearing women's clothing, doing women's work and holding wool for women while they wove it under Omphale for a year while she uses his thick Olive-wood Club for her entertainment. She marries him after he is a free man and they have children. This is during the time the crew of the Argonaut is looking for the Golden Fleece so Heracles gets involved with them and on the side he beats up the God Pan for trying to bed Omphale at one point. The symbolism of this one is about Exaptation and Tenacity as one endures the horrors of the world while remaining true to themselves. This one bears a little more clarification as the horrors in question are of duty to the people around you to which you are connected to whether you want to be or not. Mordred is the evaporated child of King Arthur by the time of his rebelion and this is the third of the Three Deaths of Conan.
Mention the concept of fulfilling one's Fate to people and they will start talking about some sort of fantasy. Point out that the concept of Fate is about the reactions the Humanity/Society/World has towards one and one's own weathering of them and you lose most people. But this is what is being talked about when talking about the Death of Fate: The reactions of the various parts of Existence and how they are lethal to a person. The Death of Fate consists of reactions one inherited with their birth (including stuff from their parents, their homeland, their moment of birth, ect.), reactions one inherits with how they live their life and reactions one inherits with their various stations in life. Victory over this Death of Heroes comes through facing all the reactions and living trough them to continue on beyond the reach of Existence's reach. This one once won means that the Hero is now capable of choosing their own Fate, of choosing what reactions Existance will have to their actions. Heracles, as already mentioned, doesn't have this one since he died on Weight. King Arthur never reached this one either, but Merlin's death/imprisonment/stasis is always some form of this Death of Heroes. This is the Death that kills Conan's enemy in the Three Deaths of Conan for convoluted reasons.
Hope I did a good enough job explaining this time.
Oh I bet. Still we should ask her if she is interested in anyone the next time she is resting in Ostland.
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
@torroar, since you said it's alright...
De Store Hunde [Race: Human] [Origins: The Old World] [Description: The...unwanted...sons and daughters of Norscan raiders, living outside of Norsca, gathered together under Villum "The Hound" in a fleet of five great longships. They fight in Norscan style at sea, with a particular vive for fighting the tribes that attacked their real homes. To avoid friendly fire in battle, rather than the dragons of Norsca their figureheads are shaped like the heads of dogs.] [Numbers: 5 Drakkar Longships, 1 Villum "the Hound"]
De Store Hunde [Race: Human] [Origins: The Old World] [Description: The...unwanted...sons and daughters of Norscan raiders, living outside of Norsca, gathered together under Villum "The Hound" in a fleet of five great longships. They fight in Norscan style at sea, with a particular vive for fighting the tribes that attacked their real homes. To avoid friendly fire in battle, rather than the dragons of Norsca their figureheads are shaped like the heads of dogs.] [Numbers: 5 Drakkar Longships, 1 Villum "the Hound"]
- Location
- Somewhere
That's a question for after next turn, after the EM, after the Beast-Tide, after the pieces are picked up in the epilogue of the Beast-Tide (Assuming Magnus, or the other two heirs, are not killed in Albion). Hopefully, and after the players finally make diplomatic contact with Reikland. Two turns in a row of failure, I'm frustrated.
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well yah we got a lot of other things to do, but surely speculation in long term can't hurt?
- Location
- Germany
The guy got forcibly retired by Magnus and has no opition but to embrace the sweet relief of death. We could try it with his heir during the next Elector's Meet, but I'm not hoping for much.
We could help them out, should the Beasttide hit them hard and we have no further dangers in Ostland or the Northern Trident.
It might get us some credit, but considering that we Reikland, Hochland and Middenland are the most likely targets, we should concentrate on us.
Marienburg or rather it's theological side, is a much more interesting prospect and would neatly cut out the economic powerhouse of our political rivals.
But instead of focusing on our rivals, I would cultivate our friends. Stirland, Averland and Wisseland are the real options. Reikland is slightly pro Middenland and will likely be more so after the war.
It's politically unsound to make your rivals like you. It's not even necessary. Just get 2-3 more provinces in our camp and they can cry all they like.
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So Frederick is essentially Ollanus Pius in this poem for Dawi ?
Somewhere in the universe a coin flip lands on its side.
Somewhere in the universe a drop of water saves a life.
Somewhere in the universe a pebble stops a landslide.
Maybe it is because someone believed hard enough.
Maybe it is because everything is secretly fair.
Maybe it is because the universe is a vast place.
Yesterday, I was very cold.
Yesterday, I was very hungry.
Yesterday, I wanted to run away.
Today, I am going to believe hard enough.
Today, a pebble will stop a landslide.
Today, I am not going anywhere.
Somewhere in the universe a drop of water saves a life.
Somewhere in the universe a pebble stops a landslide.
Maybe it is because someone believed hard enough.
Maybe it is because everything is secretly fair.
Maybe it is because the universe is a vast place.
Yesterday, I was very cold.
Yesterday, I was very hungry.
Yesterday, I wanted to run away.
Today, I am going to believe hard enough.
Today, a pebble will stop a landslide.
Today, I am not going anywhere.
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- Location
- The internet
Fredrick is sufficiently accomplished that he'll be a serious candidate. Gunther isn't likely to be one, frankly. He's Magnus's brother, yes, and well liked by the Cult Of Ulric, but he's angered both the Cult of Sigmar, and the Northern Trident. And the Northern Trident contains the traditional Ulcran base of support that they use politically.
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
Uh...I think this is one of those weird Serbian-only fiction concepts where you have a headcanon list of things that nobody else has ever heard of, and then there's all this massively detailed analysis and correspondences connected to it. Which, again, no one else has ever heard of here.
Although this one sounds a bit less weird than usual, like it's actually a relevant and interesting way to analyze heroic myths!
But I'd appreciate it if you'd actually explain clearly what these "Deaths" of "Will/Weight/Wander/Fate" actually mean, and WHY you think it is somehow significant or necessary that Frederick 'overcome' all of those things.
Like, lead with that next time, begin with an explanation of the concept, because your audience has never heard of it and will mostly gloss over the long essay you write that constantly namedrops things they've never heard of before. I can tell you're trying to do it here, but... not so much.
See, the thing is, if you reason metaphorically enough, you can always find connections or examples of any pattern. The human brain is very good at taking a random jumble of miscellaneous things and selectively picking out the bits that fit a pattern, then ignoring all the stuff that doesn't fit the pattern.
So FIRST clearly describe the pattern itself, in a clear, concise manner THEN start talking about things that it fits into.
I mean, from the sound of it, the "deaths" are literal or metaphorical bad ends a heroic protagonist can come to, revolving around:
1) Failure to overcome challenges or trials (Will)
2) Fading into obscurity (Wander)
3) Being crushed by external social circumstances (Fate)
4) Uh... something something lifestyle something (Weight)
Do I have that right? Because you're trying to 'define' this stuff in a rather awkward way.
Ekzentric Lohner
I miss Wildstar...
We did try reaching out to his heirs early on. The letters were returned unopened, and in one case covered with wards against evil things.
I don't think Fred's likely to get anywhere.
Wait. Probably until both Freddy and Adolf are dead, maybe one generation more.
Restalaan
What do you mean i am not a real cowboy?
We are prob not going to touch Talabec elector count family diplo until a generation or two.
100% will help them out no matter what and give support to them to mend the civilians opinion but in regards to their family? No.
(Which, we prob see a chance with Beastman Normandy coming soon)
100% will help them out no matter what and give support to them to mend the civilians opinion but in regards to their family? No.
(Which, we prob see a chance with Beastman Normandy coming soon)
Accursed Albion 7
[X] Plan Lets listen to the Gods
-- [x] Remain As One: In this foreign land, you cannot afford to break apart. You can only pursue one of the following. Cohesion might suffer amongst the Albionese, however, as some clearly wish to follow Aberfa's directives.
-- [x] Retake The Pillar of Og-Agog: The central meeting point of all the tribes of Albion, before the Fimir took it. It is the holy rallying point of all, kept in the scaled hands of the Fimir for many decades now. It is more heavily fortified than any Fimir castle so far, being one of the first places the Fimir took after they recovered somewhat from the battle where Boudicca fell.
Ever since coming to Albion, Magnus had gained a new appreciation for just how powerful adverse weather could be. Though it had been less than a week since their arrival, he could not help but imagine that it truly did rain every single day in Albion. The pale complexion of its people was more than that of even Norscans or Gospodars, yet they were not albinos in the slightest. As such, the reaction to his words were something that he could not have imagined before. The pale scarred face of Mardudd almost seemed to swell in his fury, pale skin reddening thoroughly, even more so than when he was in the midst of battle. Thunderous did not cover it in the slightest. It took another moment for those who were even less fluent in Reikspiel amongst his contingent to understand just what had been said, and yet soon they too began to grow furious. Meanwhile, on Aberfa's side, eyes widened and stances opened up slightly as they realized that they had the outsider's support. The Chieftain's daughter foremost of them all tilted her head back and barked with a laugh before spitting something in Albish towards her father, making the man turn his fury away from Magnus and onto her instead. The rising tension in the air had been cut by Magnus stark words, but it began to rise once again, slowly, as the two tersely conversed alone, without shouted or even murmured aid from their supporters.
It ended, eventually, with Mardudd's entire body trembling, the man who could have stood taller than the Steel Bull slamming a fist onto the hard stone and then jabbing his already bruising hand towards the entrance to the hall, the large slab of stone that the Fimir used as a crude door now leaning against a wall nearby. Aberfa tossed her head and damp hair with a slap against her back and jerked her chin at those nobles who had supported her, the Oracle and her Maidenguard following along behind. Mardudd then turned to a wary trio of Imperials, both Reinhardt and Mena having risen and joined shoulder to shoulder with Magnus while shifting their feet to circle ever so slightly so that they were facing larger angles of potential attack. The Chieftain opened his mouth once before snapping it shut, a vein pulsing angrily on his forehead.
"Out," he finally growled. "Get. Out. You, me," he pointed at himself then Magnus, "No friends. Save my life, my arm," he slapped the limb as if it offended him now, "But you challenge me? In my lands? On my home? Out, Empire boy, out," he snarled.
"Chieftain Mardudd-," Magnus began even as he took a cautious step backwards.
"OUT!" The larger man roared, hand falling to the hilt of his claymore where it rested on the table. "You think I do not see her eyes?" He tilted his head at the retreating back of Aberfa, her head held high, "She think me old, weak, stupid!? She think now, now, is time to make moves!?"
This time, the laugh that came from Mardudd was nothing like the jovial noises of before and was something low and dark. Something ugly.
"We," he thumbed at his chest, "Will go west. Fight right. Go, go die Empire for my sneak daughter. I old, but not that old," he sneered with bared yellowed teeth, "Have other sons, other daughters."
"I think it's time to go," Reinhardt said gently, tugging on Magnus' shoulder.
"Too right," Mena muttered, fingering the leather loop that her axe hung on, the enchanted rubies in her gauntlet seeming to flare in tandem with the thoughts of their master. "Let's get out of here, maybe he'll cool off in the rain."
"I…you're both right," Magnus sighed.
It was an unfortunate truth of any soldier's life that successfully bunking down for the night was never a truly guaranteed affair. The veterans of Ostland, for certain, were well used to having to awaken rapidly and cast off the chains of sleep and make ready to move. The taken Fimir castle had seemed a good shelter against the ever-present weather, but a shelter filled with belligerent and furious Albionese was no shelter at all. As such, most were willing to get a move on at high speed once the situation was explained to them. Around them, too, the Imperials watched as the Clan Glyldŵrlyr fractured around them. Aberfa did her best, arguing to those outside of her most immediate supporters, and soon enough Mardudd came around to do the same, their separate noble contingents doing the same. Magnus found himself in the unenviable position of once more organizing their small force to both wakefulness and prepare them for an unforeseen departure.
(Heiress Arguments: 68+Imperial Support(10)-Mardudd Pushback(20)=58/100)
"I can't make sense of it," Reinhardt remarked as he rolled out a kink in his right shoulder.
"What do you mean?" Mena asked him from atop her horse, exhaling sharply as she tried pointlessly again to wipe her wet hair off her face.
"The…," he gestured to the groups of shouting Albionese, some getting into fistfights, others simply throwing up their hands, resulting in some shuffling from either Aberfa's group or Mardudd's. "All of this. It would be one thing if it were the elders versus the youth, or perhaps a group of more personally loyal elites joining Aberfa, but…it's not."
"You heard him," Mena snorted. "Aberfa's apparently been straining at the yoke for a while now."
"Mmm. I do not know, I don't think I fully agree with his supposition of this being some treacherous move to advance her position in the Clan," Reinhardt shook his head.
The knight and the warrior's conversation was momentarily interrupted by a peal of ear-splittingly loud thunder and a new buffeting sheet of rain, and it took a moment before the ringing in said ears stopped.
"Fucking…ow," Mena snapped. "I'm amazed the people of this place aren't all deaf or dead. Anyway, what the hell were you talking about?"
Reinhardt worked his jaw for a moment before answering, shifting his sword so that it rested on the opposite shoulder.
"We represent an outside factor, and if she genuinely thinks that we can retake this…Pillar of theirs, it could be a significant change in the war they've been fighting all this time. Besides which," he pointed to where Aberfa was currently talking rather forcefully at the Albionese who wielded their monstrously sized longbows, "I don't get the sense that this is some sort of sacrifice play. What would be the point? To get us all killed and yank our gear? They don't even wear full plate as a general practice, it seems, despite us – Ostland I mean – providing it."
"Mmm," Mena mused for a moment, scratching idly at her cheek. "Can't it be both?"
Reinhardt's head jerked slightly as he blinked up at her.
"What?"
"Maybe she really is pure good in her heart," Mena answered, stretching her hands above her head until there was a dull pop in her back. "Maybe she really does want this because it's the best thing for Albion – in her eyes at least. But why can't it be a power play too? Hell, if she's right, then she just made her dear old dad look like a fucking idiot in front of the others, and she comes up with a nice big victory too."
The Ostermarker just stared up at her.
"What?" She eventually snapped.
"Sorry," Reinhardt raised his hands, palms facing her in surrender. "Just…that's some interesting thinking," he said with a ghost of a smile.
"I – oh fuck off, I can study things too, you know," she rolled her eyes. "You think I was too busy winning arm-wrestling contests and drinking to not hear you and Mags babble to one another all these years? For Ulric's sake, Reinhardt, after this, no matter how this goes, if I'm alive then I'll be stuck at court for just about ever," she sighed, the fire in her voice winking out with her last words, her shoulders slumping.
"Hey, no," Reinhardt placed a hand on her foot in the stirrup and waggled it, making her look up at him. "Don't."
"Is Mena getting sad again?" Magnus said as he walked over, looking between the two.
"Why don't both of you bugger a bear," Mena snarled as she kicked Reinhardt's hand away. "I'm fine."
She was not, however, able to escape the steady compassion in the knight's eyes.
"No, you're not," he said gently but loudly enough to be heard over the rain.
"And that's okay," Magnus finished, coming to stand next to Reinhardt, hands on his hips and eyebrow raised as he looked up at Mena.
"I-,"
"You are not alone," Reinhardt tapped a hand against her leg, reaching any higher being an awkward movement due to his height. "And you won't be alone even once you step out of the forests and into the court."
"You're plenty intelligent," Magnus added, one hand on the hilt of Brain Wounder and the other looping a thumb against is belt. "And I'm not going to let you tell yourself otherwise. You applied a masterful usage of irregular battle tactics to kill thousands of beastmen and greenskins over the years, you memorized the religious texts of not just Ulric but Sigmar in case of need for insult or defense, and over the past few months in Ostland you proved your mind is as sharp as that axe of yours."
Indeed, Mena was not the same sort of tactician or leader as Reinhardt or Magnus. Magnus had had to learn everything, dragging his competence and knowledge upwards with experience and lessons from his father as well as texts aplenty. Reinhardt had been taught by his mother and by his father, learning lessons not just as a knight but the stories of mercenaries as well. But he commanded small knightly groups, not full armies, nor larger bands such as Mena did. And as for the lupine Sea Eagle, there was but one conclusion that Magnus had come to after fighting alongside her so closely for those months in Ostland – she was, if anything, the same sort of instinctual leader, fighter, and organizer that his father was. Barely noticing the effort it took to run logistics, not because she did so poorly, but because it was simply something done as a matter of course without difficulty. Leading and commanding, dividing and recombining, and cycling charges in battle with skill and remarkable command. A genius, in fact. Just one that had not yet had the chance to apply herself to things outside her initially chosen course in life.
"You know he's right," Reinhard said, his chin almost knocking his gorget with how deep he was nodding. "You're a warrior. The court is just another battlefield, and you'll master it like every other."
"…I'll be organizing my wolves," she muttered after a moment and lightly kicked the horse beneath her into action. "Tell me when it's time to go."
Reinhardt and Magnus watched her go with frowns and shaking heads.
"Lots of rain today, huh?" Reinhardt said quietly, just loud enough for Magnus to hear.
"Yeah," Magnus nodded, one fist clenching and unclenching. "When we get back…,"
"I know."
In the end, Clan Glyldŵrlyr had split down the middle, it seemed, with half remaining back at the Fimir castle and half gathering up with Aberfa in the lead. After all of the Albionese that seemed willing to follow her had gathered up next to the Impeirals, Aberfa launched into a fiery speech in Albish. It did not do much for the Imperials, but there was much gesticulating and what sounded like angry invective there. She pointed towards the north, then back to the castle where Mardudd sullenly remained out of the rain, the massive slabs of stone which acted as gates were angrily dragged back into place by teams of a dozen each until it was blocked off once more. Aberfa concluded her speech by withdrawing some form of colored paste from a pouch at her waist, slathering it across her face until all was obscured beneath it rather than just half. This, it seemed, was a grand gesture of some sort, going by the shock in the Albionese contingent that broke out into cheers.
Only then did she walk over to where the Heirs of the Trident waited, her claymore tied to her back with leather thongs and small bits of chain.
"Hey, Empire man," she said, her eyes for once looking at Magnus instead of Reinhardt. "Hard choice, ey? Good one, I think."
With the dark blue now covering all of her intensely pale face, her stormy grey eyes almost seemed to transform into glittering black.
"I hope so, Aberfa, or we may have made a great bit of difficulty for ourselves," Magnus replied with a consternated look back at the castle.
"Hard either way," Aberfa waved it away. "We go north now, eh? Head to Pillar. You will see from far, far away. Even in cloud, in rain, in mist. Tall. Like mountain, but," she brought her hands together around her waist. "Like starved man, ey?"
Magnus could only nod at her words in an effort towards expediency. What he had not expected, however, was how quickly the blue paste she'd pressed against her face was washing away in the rain – while simultaneously leaving the skin beneath thoroughly dyed. Either the skin of the Albionese were remarkably porous, or whatever they made their colors from were odd indeed.
"Then we go!"
Off they went indeed. The only difference between night and day at the moment was the slightest difference in the available light. It seemed that the rays of both sun and moon still struggled to pierce the ever present clouds that clung to the roof of Albion. Soon enough, the relentless pace set up by the Albionese accompanied by the doughty troops of the Empire saw the castle disappear into the distance. On the way, they passed by small hillocks of raised ground, but for the most part they departed even from the large marshes and swamps that had characterized much of the outer areas of Albion the further they headed towards the interior. Here, the lands were flat and windswept, with little impeding their progress but little to protect them from their environment either. After a few hours of that, the Albionese eventually unfurled rough but thick stitched together leather tarps, stringing them together with stakes at another hillock area, creating a somewhat sturdy shield from the rain above in the areas between the raised mounds of earth. It was neither comfortable nor pleasant, and the water-logged horses of the Empire were increasingly clearly unhappy about it – something so apparent that not even the Amber Wizards needed to mention anything.
Though, of course they did.
"So," Aberfa said as she came to them in the now absolute dead of the night, many restlessly attempting to sleep amidst the damp. "Pillar, ey?"
Fires had been created, though they smelled terribly and were evidently of the dried and prepared dung variety, but warmth was a welcome thing on the plains of Albion regardless of the source. It was around one of these that the Heirs sat, talking into the night, and all three glanced up at Aberfa as she arrived, for once the large woman moderating the volume of her voice.
"I heard that two clans were wiped out last time an attempt was made to reclaim it?" Magnus asked immediately.
"Ach…yes," Aberfa paused, scratching at her thick neck, "Father is just upset because it was cousins who died out," she shrugged.
"Could you…elaborate on that?" Reinhardt said after a moment of the Albionese woman standing there idly.
"Sure," Aberfa motioned and then sat down in the opened spot near the fire. "So, many more tribes, ey? Like…," her face screwed up and then lit up, "Okay, so, back before Boudicca, we had," she opened her hands wide and then began visibly tapping each finger over and over until she'd pantomimed twenty, "That many clans, ey? Some no come back after battle, too many dead, so marry into others, ey?"
She tapped at several of the clan symbols she'd carved into her left arm.
"Some, taken in by other clans. Others, stubborn, hermits, old men, old women, die out," she snorted and shook her head. "Stupid. Each clan, responsible for Oghams in lands, ey?" She blinked at them until they nodded in comprehension. "So less clans, but more land…more responsibility. Holy duty, from Ancient Ones."
"What of the Druids and Oracles?"
"Eh," Aberfa waggled a hand in response to Magnus' question. "The ones that Ancient's gaze upon, Druids come to. Have ways, watchers, make sure all go to Druids," she then paused and tapped at her chin. "Unless Oracle comes and claims for new apprentice."
"Question about that," Mena raised a hand before plopping it back into her own lap. "How does that Maidenguard work, then. Are all Oracles women?"
Aberfa chuckled and shook her head.
"No. Me? Thought all Oracles dead," she paused to glance at the part of the camp where the Maidenguard and their charge had settled, near but distinctly apart from the others. "Guess not. Maidenguard, probably Oracles makes sure get recruited."
"Yes but why Maidenguard?" Mena pressed. "Wouldn't diversifying recruitment pools…," she trailed off at the blatant look of incomprehension on Aberfa's face. "Why not men too?" She said instead.
At that, the Albionese woman choked off a laugh that threatened to wake others nearby.
"Silly Empire woman, you not know?" Aberfa raised an eyebrow before pointing with both hands right at Magnus and Reinhardt's crotches. "Men think with little head too much. Blood goes wrong places, when should always be here," she pointed now with both hands at her temples, "Especially if on important guard duty for holy Oracles." She then tapped her temple while letting the other hand fall atop her thigh. "Can't be stupid from little head if no little head to bark."
Red inflamed the cheeks of the men while Mena struggled not to laugh herself.
"I…see. I suppose that makes sense," she chortled quietly.
"Yes, well," Reinhardt cut in, looking steadfastly upwards to the sky in search of Verena. "The other clans and the last assault on the Pillar?"
Aberfa's good mood subsided, but only slightly.
"South, used to have five Clans left, by time of attack on Pillar, many years after Boudicca," Aberfa launched into the tale easily. "Gova and Tadin, closest to Pillar. Regular Fimir attacks. Dying. Can't leave, fail duty, ey? Instead, try to go for attack."
She looked at them and then shrugged.
"Went bad. You saw castles, ey? Took some, ey?" She jerked her thumb back the way they came. "Those small. New. Two," she raised her fingers, "Big strong, ey? For Fimir. Strongest, biggest, most, back in that city. Many," she spat to the side. "Too many for us, even if all three clans come together. Even with you, Empire," she pointed at them. "Little less at Pillar," she closed her index and finger together until they were almost touching. "Better chances, ey?"
Magnus' lips pressed together so thin they became nearly a line while Reinhardt slowly but deliberately clapped a hand to his face. Mena lolled her head backwards and wordlessly cursed for a moment.
"That's…okay," Magnus said with somewhat controlled calm. "So…what are we looking at. One really, really big castle?"
Aberfa shook her head with a tight grin.
"Four," she said while crossing her arms.
This time, Mena sputtered, Reinhardt placed his second hand against his face, and Magnus' calm took a bit of a fracture.
"Then lines, ey?" Aberfa spread her arms to the sides, "West, east. To cliffs, ey? Make sure no tribes can go north, or go south. My father, he lies to you, ey?"
"What do you mean?" Magnus said, seizing upon that, seeing as the rest of it was nearly too much to try and think about at the moment.
"He says, 'we not know if other tribes even up there'," the woman said with a bad mockery of her father's voice. "No. Druids," she looked in the direction where Lear remained, the Druids themselves splitting their numbers in half to go with each group. "They talk, ey? They bring word, because they can fly high, sneak past magic eyes of Dirachs and Mearghs. But father," she slapped her thigh, angry eyes narrowing, "He says no, too much risk, just because messengers die when trying. But other tribes? Yes," she nodded firmly. "They live. They not have Fimir city sitting on ass, ey? Fimir make city, take Pillar, spread out slow, build up babies, spread out, make new castle, build up babies, again and again. But have to go further and further from city every time."
Finally, she sat back, her anger twisting her blue-painted face almost monstrously before she sighed and slumped ever so slightly, her words becoming somber for the first time since they'd met.
"Three clans left in south. Dying. Fimir, they squeeze," she raised her hands up and wrapped them around a phantom throat and began doing just that. "Every year, they squeeze. Not every year hard, but not need to be. We fuck, ey? Make babies our own," she placed a hand on her lower stomach. "But our babies, if they live, they get big and strong as me or father. But their babies," she waved her hand towards the middle distance, "They grow up at weakest to be Fimir. Big, strong, skin like stone, tear men apart easy with hands and claws. Without Claymores, or Longbows, very hard for regular baby to become warrior. Even then, five at least to take one. Not good numbers, ey?"
"So…you need to do something to stop that," Magnus said into the ensuing silence. "Something big."
"Yes," Aberfa hissed. "Father, he think fight, take back Oghams…and then what? And then what?" She slapped at her thigh again, this time holding her hand there and grinding the heel of her hand into the muscle there. "No. We fight, we fight to keep fighting. The Druids, they will scout tomorrow, ey? Oracle might help, might not. But you," she looked at them all, "You have Aberfa's thanks, ey?"
"Save it for after we win," Mena drawled, rolling onto her back and interlacing her fingers behind her head.
Aberfa grinned.
"This sounds good, ey?"
(Druidic Scouting: 53+15(Oracle's Providence)=68/100)
"So," Aberfa said as the Druids finished speaking. "Like say before. Four castles. Big. Many Fimir. But, not cluster together, ey?"
"Each of the smaller castles took our entire force to take on," Mena huffed, "Are we sure this isn't too much to take on?"
Greimne spoke up at that point, her Albish a rapid babble.
"Druids and Oracle say weather on our side, for once," Aberfa replied, "Maybe. Fimir, they love their mist and fog, ey? Think they are only masters of mist worth having," she spat to the side. "Wrong. But if we good, we quick, we smart, can do it. You wonder why Fimir all stuck up inside castles instead of raid, of fight, of kill, ey?"
Magnus shared a glance with his friends. It was something that they had just begun to wonder about.
"Is because is coming up on day of Boudicca loss, ey?" Aberfa did not smile as she spoke those words. "The Fimir, they feast in homes, celebrate," she growled. "Biiiiig parties, because laugh at Boudicca. Distracted. Good for us, ey?"
"What, precisely, is your plan," Mena asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Druids, they work to make sure Dirachs cannot call to other Dirachs, ey? Each castle, made alone for fight," Aberfa gestured towards Lear and his fellows. "Oracle watch skies and listen to Ancient Ones in case of problem. We," she gestured at them all, we make sure Fimir in castle dies. You wizards, you good, ey? Oghams around Pillar, held by Fimir, but more spread out. More far. Pillar, it different. Open land. Holy land, same but not like Ogham, ey?"
"She speaks the truth. The Winds are somewhat calmer," Magister Carlotta noted, "Not wholly, obviously, but noticeably compared to nearer to the Oghams themselves."
"Tell me, Aberfa," Magister Alric spoke up, drawing looks. "Are there any stories of dragons in this land?"
"I not know this word," she tilted her head. "Explain. Is beast?"
"Only somewhat. Large, scaled, like the Fimir perhaps, but winged as well. Breathers of fire."
"Ah," Aberfa's eyes widened. "Yes. Dreigiau, maybe. But not fire. Lightning from the storm lives in hearts, not fire. Stories, yes, live in Beast Peaks maybe. Or all dead," she shrugged. "Why?"
"Master," one of the journeymen said, stumping forward with their staff. "The risk is-,"
"Acceptable," Alric cut them off. "We do not have time to waste in this land, not when there is work to be done in the Empire."
Magnus, of course, knew that the Magister Alric had once shown the ability to assume the form of the legendary creatures, but he'd not seen it himself. The stories told to him of Laurelorn and Athel Loren, furthermore, made him wary of those willing to risk it. By all accounts, and the rumors they'd heard, it was entirely possible that after a time that the one known as Morai-Wen had fallen to the instincts of her form once trapped in it.
"Ey, ey, ey, Empire wizard," Aberfa scoffed in disbelief. "You say you become Dreigiau? Only High Etlikin can become Greater Beasts."
"I am a Magister of the Amber Brotherhood, Aberfa of Clan Glyldŵrlyr," Alric drew himself up, his bestial slitted eyes faintly glowing. "Carlotta is a Magister of the Jade College. You have seen her power, do you doubt it?"
Aberfa drew back before cutting her eyes towards the Jade Magister.
"If control? No."
"I do not possess her skills at healing the body. My skills lie elsewhere," Alric tapped his staff upon the ground. "In healing and protecting nature…and defending it from despoilers. If she is Atlikin, then I am Etlikin, understand?" he tapped his claws against the staff's shaft as comprehension dawned on Aberfa's face. "These castles. They are not airtight, but they are closed off enough." Alric then glanced at Magnus. "You have command of us, Prince Hohenzollern, and so I come to you. Allow me this, to improve our chances in battle. I shall scorch the innards of their precious home in a manner that even Patriarch Tarnus would be proud of."
"Fire, admittedly," Magister Smokewrought mused, "Is quite effective in…enclosed spaces. The Fimir are slimy creatures, but with enough fire, anything is possible."
Aberfa, for her part, simply quietly spoke with the Oracle who eventually shrugged back at her.
"Oracle says might work, might not work, but much danger either way. We move in close, Dreigiau or not," she said doubtfully towards the Magister before looking to Magnus. "We open doors. We kill, ey? Might be less happy to come out and face us, can't use horns to announce or other castles might let come running anyway. What think, Empire man?"
"You think we can get that close without them noticing?"
"No one to know unless we try," she shrugged. "Druids, they try, ey?"
Magnus frowned and glanced to Mena and Reinhardt.
"Thoughts?"
"Tight quarters means we can't encircle them on an open field, or even make use of cavalry properly," Reinhardt supplied. "It would be a departure from the successes we've had before up until this point. We'd have to leave our horses outside, vulnerable. Their enchanted weapons and what we possess is one thing, but the vast majority of our troops might not be able to function as well without being able to crowd their blows on targets."
"It also means that they can't get full use out of their numbers," Mena offered. "Can't rush us with hundreds of their bastard selves if they have to squeeze through their own hallways. Ulric's teeth, but if those ballista's made of flesh they call archers can get a line going and a wall can hold the Fimir back it'll be plain death for them, no two ways about it."
"Hmm."
Magnus rubbed at his chin and then looked to Alric, then Aberfa.
The Pillar of Og-Agog Awaits, But Decisions Must Be Made Before Reaching It:
Moratorium 12 Hours
[] Allow Alric: The ability of a dragon to cause destruction is literally legendary. It may be dangerous, and difficult, and risky, but the benefits in battle could be quite extreme. Entire hallways might be drowned in fire, or he might be able to assault the castle in other ways as well.
[] Deny Alric: Carlotta was one thing, with healing of others. Alric is another entirely. Yes, he is one of the few in the Amber Brotherhood to manage the transformation, others of his peers incapable of doing so, but magic in this land as of yet remains more unpredictable than in the Empire.
[] Aberfa's Plan: Approach the castle, tear down the doors, use the Druids to block attempts at communication while the Imperial Wizards aid in the interior. It sounds simple, but so does lifting a thousand pounds onto one's back.
[] A Different Plan: Come up with something different. Is there a better way? (Write-In)
Clan Glyldŵrlyr Forces
Heiress Aberfa (Claymore, Axe, Half-Plate)
3 Etlikin Druids Lear, Iona, Cu
130 Albion Nobles (Half-Plate, Claymores, Axes)
50 Albion Mounted Nobles (Half-Plate, Claymores, Axes)
200 Albion Light Cavalry (Javelins, Spears, Axes, Chainmail/Leathers)
430 Albion Heavy Infantry (Halberds, Spears, Swords, Axes, Half/Quarter-Plate)
500 Albion Skirmishers (Javelins, Slings, Swords, Chainmail/Leathers)
250 Albionese Longbowmen
Oracle's Forces
Oracle Greimne
300 Maidenguard (Leather And Bronze Chainmail, Spears, Short Swords, Bronze Shields)
Imperial Forces On Albion
Magnus Redfist, the Screaming Bull, Heir of Ostland, wielding Runefang Brain Wounder
Mena von Kessel, the Blue Wolf, Heir of Nordland, wielding enchanted items Flammenfaust (Gauntlet) and Flammenwulf (Axe)
Reinhardt Hertwig, the Silver Manticore, Heir of Ostermark, wielding standard issue Imperial Zweihander
1 Amber Magister Alric, 5 Amber Journeymen
1 Jade Magister Carlotta
1 Jade Journeyman Boris
1 Bright Magister Casparan Smokewrought
1 Bright Journeyman Henry
1 Bright Journeyman Nicolas
1 Bright Journeyman Luthor Feuerstag
1 Bright Journeyman Helmut Cinderblade
1 Bright Journeyman Jovi Grabner
1850 Blue Wolves, Lightly Armored Cavalry/Skirmishers (Melee Equipment Varies Heavily. All Possess Shortbows, 500 Possess Crossbows) [200 Without Mount]
175 Ostland Greatswords
498 Knights of the Everlasting Light (Only 100 Have Horses)
-- [x] Remain As One: In this foreign land, you cannot afford to break apart. You can only pursue one of the following. Cohesion might suffer amongst the Albionese, however, as some clearly wish to follow Aberfa's directives.
-- [x] Retake The Pillar of Og-Agog: The central meeting point of all the tribes of Albion, before the Fimir took it. It is the holy rallying point of all, kept in the scaled hands of the Fimir for many decades now. It is more heavily fortified than any Fimir castle so far, being one of the first places the Fimir took after they recovered somewhat from the battle where Boudicca fell.
Accursed Albion 7
Ever since coming to Albion, Magnus had gained a new appreciation for just how powerful adverse weather could be. Though it had been less than a week since their arrival, he could not help but imagine that it truly did rain every single day in Albion. The pale complexion of its people was more than that of even Norscans or Gospodars, yet they were not albinos in the slightest. As such, the reaction to his words were something that he could not have imagined before. The pale scarred face of Mardudd almost seemed to swell in his fury, pale skin reddening thoroughly, even more so than when he was in the midst of battle. Thunderous did not cover it in the slightest. It took another moment for those who were even less fluent in Reikspiel amongst his contingent to understand just what had been said, and yet soon they too began to grow furious. Meanwhile, on Aberfa's side, eyes widened and stances opened up slightly as they realized that they had the outsider's support. The Chieftain's daughter foremost of them all tilted her head back and barked with a laugh before spitting something in Albish towards her father, making the man turn his fury away from Magnus and onto her instead. The rising tension in the air had been cut by Magnus stark words, but it began to rise once again, slowly, as the two tersely conversed alone, without shouted or even murmured aid from their supporters.
It ended, eventually, with Mardudd's entire body trembling, the man who could have stood taller than the Steel Bull slamming a fist onto the hard stone and then jabbing his already bruising hand towards the entrance to the hall, the large slab of stone that the Fimir used as a crude door now leaning against a wall nearby. Aberfa tossed her head and damp hair with a slap against her back and jerked her chin at those nobles who had supported her, the Oracle and her Maidenguard following along behind. Mardudd then turned to a wary trio of Imperials, both Reinhardt and Mena having risen and joined shoulder to shoulder with Magnus while shifting their feet to circle ever so slightly so that they were facing larger angles of potential attack. The Chieftain opened his mouth once before snapping it shut, a vein pulsing angrily on his forehead.
"Out," he finally growled. "Get. Out. You, me," he pointed at himself then Magnus, "No friends. Save my life, my arm," he slapped the limb as if it offended him now, "But you challenge me? In my lands? On my home? Out, Empire boy, out," he snarled.
"Chieftain Mardudd-," Magnus began even as he took a cautious step backwards.
"OUT!" The larger man roared, hand falling to the hilt of his claymore where it rested on the table. "You think I do not see her eyes?" He tilted his head at the retreating back of Aberfa, her head held high, "She think me old, weak, stupid!? She think now, now, is time to make moves!?"
This time, the laugh that came from Mardudd was nothing like the jovial noises of before and was something low and dark. Something ugly.
"We," he thumbed at his chest, "Will go west. Fight right. Go, go die Empire for my sneak daughter. I old, but not that old," he sneered with bared yellowed teeth, "Have other sons, other daughters."
"I think it's time to go," Reinhardt said gently, tugging on Magnus' shoulder.
"Too right," Mena muttered, fingering the leather loop that her axe hung on, the enchanted rubies in her gauntlet seeming to flare in tandem with the thoughts of their master. "Let's get out of here, maybe he'll cool off in the rain."
"I…you're both right," Magnus sighed.
It was an unfortunate truth of any soldier's life that successfully bunking down for the night was never a truly guaranteed affair. The veterans of Ostland, for certain, were well used to having to awaken rapidly and cast off the chains of sleep and make ready to move. The taken Fimir castle had seemed a good shelter against the ever-present weather, but a shelter filled with belligerent and furious Albionese was no shelter at all. As such, most were willing to get a move on at high speed once the situation was explained to them. Around them, too, the Imperials watched as the Clan Glyldŵrlyr fractured around them. Aberfa did her best, arguing to those outside of her most immediate supporters, and soon enough Mardudd came around to do the same, their separate noble contingents doing the same. Magnus found himself in the unenviable position of once more organizing their small force to both wakefulness and prepare them for an unforeseen departure.
(Heiress Arguments: 68+Imperial Support(10)-Mardudd Pushback(20)=58/100)
"I can't make sense of it," Reinhardt remarked as he rolled out a kink in his right shoulder.
"What do you mean?" Mena asked him from atop her horse, exhaling sharply as she tried pointlessly again to wipe her wet hair off her face.
"The…," he gestured to the groups of shouting Albionese, some getting into fistfights, others simply throwing up their hands, resulting in some shuffling from either Aberfa's group or Mardudd's. "All of this. It would be one thing if it were the elders versus the youth, or perhaps a group of more personally loyal elites joining Aberfa, but…it's not."
"You heard him," Mena snorted. "Aberfa's apparently been straining at the yoke for a while now."
"Mmm. I do not know, I don't think I fully agree with his supposition of this being some treacherous move to advance her position in the Clan," Reinhardt shook his head.
The knight and the warrior's conversation was momentarily interrupted by a peal of ear-splittingly loud thunder and a new buffeting sheet of rain, and it took a moment before the ringing in said ears stopped.
"Fucking…ow," Mena snapped. "I'm amazed the people of this place aren't all deaf or dead. Anyway, what the hell were you talking about?"
Reinhardt worked his jaw for a moment before answering, shifting his sword so that it rested on the opposite shoulder.
"We represent an outside factor, and if she genuinely thinks that we can retake this…Pillar of theirs, it could be a significant change in the war they've been fighting all this time. Besides which," he pointed to where Aberfa was currently talking rather forcefully at the Albionese who wielded their monstrously sized longbows, "I don't get the sense that this is some sort of sacrifice play. What would be the point? To get us all killed and yank our gear? They don't even wear full plate as a general practice, it seems, despite us – Ostland I mean – providing it."
"Mmm," Mena mused for a moment, scratching idly at her cheek. "Can't it be both?"
Reinhardt's head jerked slightly as he blinked up at her.
"What?"
"Maybe she really is pure good in her heart," Mena answered, stretching her hands above her head until there was a dull pop in her back. "Maybe she really does want this because it's the best thing for Albion – in her eyes at least. But why can't it be a power play too? Hell, if she's right, then she just made her dear old dad look like a fucking idiot in front of the others, and she comes up with a nice big victory too."
The Ostermarker just stared up at her.
"What?" She eventually snapped.
"Sorry," Reinhardt raised his hands, palms facing her in surrender. "Just…that's some interesting thinking," he said with a ghost of a smile.
"I – oh fuck off, I can study things too, you know," she rolled her eyes. "You think I was too busy winning arm-wrestling contests and drinking to not hear you and Mags babble to one another all these years? For Ulric's sake, Reinhardt, after this, no matter how this goes, if I'm alive then I'll be stuck at court for just about ever," she sighed, the fire in her voice winking out with her last words, her shoulders slumping.
"Hey, no," Reinhardt placed a hand on her foot in the stirrup and waggled it, making her look up at him. "Don't."
"Is Mena getting sad again?" Magnus said as he walked over, looking between the two.
"Why don't both of you bugger a bear," Mena snarled as she kicked Reinhardt's hand away. "I'm fine."
She was not, however, able to escape the steady compassion in the knight's eyes.
"No, you're not," he said gently but loudly enough to be heard over the rain.
"And that's okay," Magnus finished, coming to stand next to Reinhardt, hands on his hips and eyebrow raised as he looked up at Mena.
"I-,"
"You are not alone," Reinhardt tapped a hand against her leg, reaching any higher being an awkward movement due to his height. "And you won't be alone even once you step out of the forests and into the court."
"You're plenty intelligent," Magnus added, one hand on the hilt of Brain Wounder and the other looping a thumb against is belt. "And I'm not going to let you tell yourself otherwise. You applied a masterful usage of irregular battle tactics to kill thousands of beastmen and greenskins over the years, you memorized the religious texts of not just Ulric but Sigmar in case of need for insult or defense, and over the past few months in Ostland you proved your mind is as sharp as that axe of yours."
Indeed, Mena was not the same sort of tactician or leader as Reinhardt or Magnus. Magnus had had to learn everything, dragging his competence and knowledge upwards with experience and lessons from his father as well as texts aplenty. Reinhardt had been taught by his mother and by his father, learning lessons not just as a knight but the stories of mercenaries as well. But he commanded small knightly groups, not full armies, nor larger bands such as Mena did. And as for the lupine Sea Eagle, there was but one conclusion that Magnus had come to after fighting alongside her so closely for those months in Ostland – she was, if anything, the same sort of instinctual leader, fighter, and organizer that his father was. Barely noticing the effort it took to run logistics, not because she did so poorly, but because it was simply something done as a matter of course without difficulty. Leading and commanding, dividing and recombining, and cycling charges in battle with skill and remarkable command. A genius, in fact. Just one that had not yet had the chance to apply herself to things outside her initially chosen course in life.
"You know he's right," Reinhard said, his chin almost knocking his gorget with how deep he was nodding. "You're a warrior. The court is just another battlefield, and you'll master it like every other."
"…I'll be organizing my wolves," she muttered after a moment and lightly kicked the horse beneath her into action. "Tell me when it's time to go."
Reinhardt and Magnus watched her go with frowns and shaking heads.
"Lots of rain today, huh?" Reinhardt said quietly, just loud enough for Magnus to hear.
"Yeah," Magnus nodded, one fist clenching and unclenching. "When we get back…,"
"I know."
===============================================================
In the end, Clan Glyldŵrlyr had split down the middle, it seemed, with half remaining back at the Fimir castle and half gathering up with Aberfa in the lead. After all of the Albionese that seemed willing to follow her had gathered up next to the Impeirals, Aberfa launched into a fiery speech in Albish. It did not do much for the Imperials, but there was much gesticulating and what sounded like angry invective there. She pointed towards the north, then back to the castle where Mardudd sullenly remained out of the rain, the massive slabs of stone which acted as gates were angrily dragged back into place by teams of a dozen each until it was blocked off once more. Aberfa concluded her speech by withdrawing some form of colored paste from a pouch at her waist, slathering it across her face until all was obscured beneath it rather than just half. This, it seemed, was a grand gesture of some sort, going by the shock in the Albionese contingent that broke out into cheers.
Only then did she walk over to where the Heirs of the Trident waited, her claymore tied to her back with leather thongs and small bits of chain.
"Hey, Empire man," she said, her eyes for once looking at Magnus instead of Reinhardt. "Hard choice, ey? Good one, I think."
With the dark blue now covering all of her intensely pale face, her stormy grey eyes almost seemed to transform into glittering black.
"I hope so, Aberfa, or we may have made a great bit of difficulty for ourselves," Magnus replied with a consternated look back at the castle.
"Hard either way," Aberfa waved it away. "We go north now, eh? Head to Pillar. You will see from far, far away. Even in cloud, in rain, in mist. Tall. Like mountain, but," she brought her hands together around her waist. "Like starved man, ey?"
Magnus could only nod at her words in an effort towards expediency. What he had not expected, however, was how quickly the blue paste she'd pressed against her face was washing away in the rain – while simultaneously leaving the skin beneath thoroughly dyed. Either the skin of the Albionese were remarkably porous, or whatever they made their colors from were odd indeed.
"Then we go!"
Off they went indeed. The only difference between night and day at the moment was the slightest difference in the available light. It seemed that the rays of both sun and moon still struggled to pierce the ever present clouds that clung to the roof of Albion. Soon enough, the relentless pace set up by the Albionese accompanied by the doughty troops of the Empire saw the castle disappear into the distance. On the way, they passed by small hillocks of raised ground, but for the most part they departed even from the large marshes and swamps that had characterized much of the outer areas of Albion the further they headed towards the interior. Here, the lands were flat and windswept, with little impeding their progress but little to protect them from their environment either. After a few hours of that, the Albionese eventually unfurled rough but thick stitched together leather tarps, stringing them together with stakes at another hillock area, creating a somewhat sturdy shield from the rain above in the areas between the raised mounds of earth. It was neither comfortable nor pleasant, and the water-logged horses of the Empire were increasingly clearly unhappy about it – something so apparent that not even the Amber Wizards needed to mention anything.
Though, of course they did.
"So," Aberfa said as she came to them in the now absolute dead of the night, many restlessly attempting to sleep amidst the damp. "Pillar, ey?"
Fires had been created, though they smelled terribly and were evidently of the dried and prepared dung variety, but warmth was a welcome thing on the plains of Albion regardless of the source. It was around one of these that the Heirs sat, talking into the night, and all three glanced up at Aberfa as she arrived, for once the large woman moderating the volume of her voice.
"I heard that two clans were wiped out last time an attempt was made to reclaim it?" Magnus asked immediately.
"Ach…yes," Aberfa paused, scratching at her thick neck, "Father is just upset because it was cousins who died out," she shrugged.
"Could you…elaborate on that?" Reinhardt said after a moment of the Albionese woman standing there idly.
"Sure," Aberfa motioned and then sat down in the opened spot near the fire. "So, many more tribes, ey? Like…," her face screwed up and then lit up, "Okay, so, back before Boudicca, we had," she opened her hands wide and then began visibly tapping each finger over and over until she'd pantomimed twenty, "That many clans, ey? Some no come back after battle, too many dead, so marry into others, ey?"
She tapped at several of the clan symbols she'd carved into her left arm.
"Some, taken in by other clans. Others, stubborn, hermits, old men, old women, die out," she snorted and shook her head. "Stupid. Each clan, responsible for Oghams in lands, ey?" She blinked at them until they nodded in comprehension. "So less clans, but more land…more responsibility. Holy duty, from Ancient Ones."
"What of the Druids and Oracles?"
"Eh," Aberfa waggled a hand in response to Magnus' question. "The ones that Ancient's gaze upon, Druids come to. Have ways, watchers, make sure all go to Druids," she then paused and tapped at her chin. "Unless Oracle comes and claims for new apprentice."
"Question about that," Mena raised a hand before plopping it back into her own lap. "How does that Maidenguard work, then. Are all Oracles women?"
Aberfa chuckled and shook her head.
"No. Me? Thought all Oracles dead," she paused to glance at the part of the camp where the Maidenguard and their charge had settled, near but distinctly apart from the others. "Guess not. Maidenguard, probably Oracles makes sure get recruited."
"Yes but why Maidenguard?" Mena pressed. "Wouldn't diversifying recruitment pools…," she trailed off at the blatant look of incomprehension on Aberfa's face. "Why not men too?" She said instead.
At that, the Albionese woman choked off a laugh that threatened to wake others nearby.
"Silly Empire woman, you not know?" Aberfa raised an eyebrow before pointing with both hands right at Magnus and Reinhardt's crotches. "Men think with little head too much. Blood goes wrong places, when should always be here," she pointed now with both hands at her temples, "Especially if on important guard duty for holy Oracles." She then tapped her temple while letting the other hand fall atop her thigh. "Can't be stupid from little head if no little head to bark."
Red inflamed the cheeks of the men while Mena struggled not to laugh herself.
"I…see. I suppose that makes sense," she chortled quietly.
"Yes, well," Reinhardt cut in, looking steadfastly upwards to the sky in search of Verena. "The other clans and the last assault on the Pillar?"
Aberfa's good mood subsided, but only slightly.
"South, used to have five Clans left, by time of attack on Pillar, many years after Boudicca," Aberfa launched into the tale easily. "Gova and Tadin, closest to Pillar. Regular Fimir attacks. Dying. Can't leave, fail duty, ey? Instead, try to go for attack."
She looked at them and then shrugged.
"Went bad. You saw castles, ey? Took some, ey?" She jerked her thumb back the way they came. "Those small. New. Two," she raised her fingers, "Big strong, ey? For Fimir. Strongest, biggest, most, back in that city. Many," she spat to the side. "Too many for us, even if all three clans come together. Even with you, Empire," she pointed at them. "Little less at Pillar," she closed her index and finger together until they were almost touching. "Better chances, ey?"
Magnus' lips pressed together so thin they became nearly a line while Reinhardt slowly but deliberately clapped a hand to his face. Mena lolled her head backwards and wordlessly cursed for a moment.
"That's…okay," Magnus said with somewhat controlled calm. "So…what are we looking at. One really, really big castle?"
Aberfa shook her head with a tight grin.
"Four," she said while crossing her arms.
This time, Mena sputtered, Reinhardt placed his second hand against his face, and Magnus' calm took a bit of a fracture.
"Then lines, ey?" Aberfa spread her arms to the sides, "West, east. To cliffs, ey? Make sure no tribes can go north, or go south. My father, he lies to you, ey?"
"What do you mean?" Magnus said, seizing upon that, seeing as the rest of it was nearly too much to try and think about at the moment.
"He says, 'we not know if other tribes even up there'," the woman said with a bad mockery of her father's voice. "No. Druids," she looked in the direction where Lear remained, the Druids themselves splitting their numbers in half to go with each group. "They talk, ey? They bring word, because they can fly high, sneak past magic eyes of Dirachs and Mearghs. But father," she slapped her thigh, angry eyes narrowing, "He says no, too much risk, just because messengers die when trying. But other tribes? Yes," she nodded firmly. "They live. They not have Fimir city sitting on ass, ey? Fimir make city, take Pillar, spread out slow, build up babies, spread out, make new castle, build up babies, again and again. But have to go further and further from city every time."
Finally, she sat back, her anger twisting her blue-painted face almost monstrously before she sighed and slumped ever so slightly, her words becoming somber for the first time since they'd met.
"Three clans left in south. Dying. Fimir, they squeeze," she raised her hands up and wrapped them around a phantom throat and began doing just that. "Every year, they squeeze. Not every year hard, but not need to be. We fuck, ey? Make babies our own," she placed a hand on her lower stomach. "But our babies, if they live, they get big and strong as me or father. But their babies," she waved her hand towards the middle distance, "They grow up at weakest to be Fimir. Big, strong, skin like stone, tear men apart easy with hands and claws. Without Claymores, or Longbows, very hard for regular baby to become warrior. Even then, five at least to take one. Not good numbers, ey?"
"So…you need to do something to stop that," Magnus said into the ensuing silence. "Something big."
"Yes," Aberfa hissed. "Father, he think fight, take back Oghams…and then what? And then what?" She slapped at her thigh again, this time holding her hand there and grinding the heel of her hand into the muscle there. "No. We fight, we fight to keep fighting. The Druids, they will scout tomorrow, ey? Oracle might help, might not. But you," she looked at them all, "You have Aberfa's thanks, ey?"
"Save it for after we win," Mena drawled, rolling onto her back and interlacing her fingers behind her head.
Aberfa grinned.
"This sounds good, ey?"
===================================================================
(Druidic Scouting: 53+15(Oracle's Providence)=68/100)
"So," Aberfa said as the Druids finished speaking. "Like say before. Four castles. Big. Many Fimir. But, not cluster together, ey?"
"Each of the smaller castles took our entire force to take on," Mena huffed, "Are we sure this isn't too much to take on?"
Greimne spoke up at that point, her Albish a rapid babble.
"Druids and Oracle say weather on our side, for once," Aberfa replied, "Maybe. Fimir, they love their mist and fog, ey? Think they are only masters of mist worth having," she spat to the side. "Wrong. But if we good, we quick, we smart, can do it. You wonder why Fimir all stuck up inside castles instead of raid, of fight, of kill, ey?"
Magnus shared a glance with his friends. It was something that they had just begun to wonder about.
"Is because is coming up on day of Boudicca loss, ey?" Aberfa did not smile as she spoke those words. "The Fimir, they feast in homes, celebrate," she growled. "Biiiiig parties, because laugh at Boudicca. Distracted. Good for us, ey?"
"What, precisely, is your plan," Mena asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Druids, they work to make sure Dirachs cannot call to other Dirachs, ey? Each castle, made alone for fight," Aberfa gestured towards Lear and his fellows. "Oracle watch skies and listen to Ancient Ones in case of problem. We," she gestured at them all, we make sure Fimir in castle dies. You wizards, you good, ey? Oghams around Pillar, held by Fimir, but more spread out. More far. Pillar, it different. Open land. Holy land, same but not like Ogham, ey?"
"She speaks the truth. The Winds are somewhat calmer," Magister Carlotta noted, "Not wholly, obviously, but noticeably compared to nearer to the Oghams themselves."
"Tell me, Aberfa," Magister Alric spoke up, drawing looks. "Are there any stories of dragons in this land?"
"I not know this word," she tilted her head. "Explain. Is beast?"
"Only somewhat. Large, scaled, like the Fimir perhaps, but winged as well. Breathers of fire."
"Ah," Aberfa's eyes widened. "Yes. Dreigiau, maybe. But not fire. Lightning from the storm lives in hearts, not fire. Stories, yes, live in Beast Peaks maybe. Or all dead," she shrugged. "Why?"
"Master," one of the journeymen said, stumping forward with their staff. "The risk is-,"
"Acceptable," Alric cut them off. "We do not have time to waste in this land, not when there is work to be done in the Empire."
Magnus, of course, knew that the Magister Alric had once shown the ability to assume the form of the legendary creatures, but he'd not seen it himself. The stories told to him of Laurelorn and Athel Loren, furthermore, made him wary of those willing to risk it. By all accounts, and the rumors they'd heard, it was entirely possible that after a time that the one known as Morai-Wen had fallen to the instincts of her form once trapped in it.
"Ey, ey, ey, Empire wizard," Aberfa scoffed in disbelief. "You say you become Dreigiau? Only High Etlikin can become Greater Beasts."
"I am a Magister of the Amber Brotherhood, Aberfa of Clan Glyldŵrlyr," Alric drew himself up, his bestial slitted eyes faintly glowing. "Carlotta is a Magister of the Jade College. You have seen her power, do you doubt it?"
Aberfa drew back before cutting her eyes towards the Jade Magister.
"If control? No."
"I do not possess her skills at healing the body. My skills lie elsewhere," Alric tapped his staff upon the ground. "In healing and protecting nature…and defending it from despoilers. If she is Atlikin, then I am Etlikin, understand?" he tapped his claws against the staff's shaft as comprehension dawned on Aberfa's face. "These castles. They are not airtight, but they are closed off enough." Alric then glanced at Magnus. "You have command of us, Prince Hohenzollern, and so I come to you. Allow me this, to improve our chances in battle. I shall scorch the innards of their precious home in a manner that even Patriarch Tarnus would be proud of."
"Fire, admittedly," Magister Smokewrought mused, "Is quite effective in…enclosed spaces. The Fimir are slimy creatures, but with enough fire, anything is possible."
Aberfa, for her part, simply quietly spoke with the Oracle who eventually shrugged back at her.
"Oracle says might work, might not work, but much danger either way. We move in close, Dreigiau or not," she said doubtfully towards the Magister before looking to Magnus. "We open doors. We kill, ey? Might be less happy to come out and face us, can't use horns to announce or other castles might let come running anyway. What think, Empire man?"
"You think we can get that close without them noticing?"
"No one to know unless we try," she shrugged. "Druids, they try, ey?"
Magnus frowned and glanced to Mena and Reinhardt.
"Thoughts?"
"Tight quarters means we can't encircle them on an open field, or even make use of cavalry properly," Reinhardt supplied. "It would be a departure from the successes we've had before up until this point. We'd have to leave our horses outside, vulnerable. Their enchanted weapons and what we possess is one thing, but the vast majority of our troops might not be able to function as well without being able to crowd their blows on targets."
"It also means that they can't get full use out of their numbers," Mena offered. "Can't rush us with hundreds of their bastard selves if they have to squeeze through their own hallways. Ulric's teeth, but if those ballista's made of flesh they call archers can get a line going and a wall can hold the Fimir back it'll be plain death for them, no two ways about it."
"Hmm."
Magnus rubbed at his chin and then looked to Alric, then Aberfa.
The Pillar of Og-Agog Awaits, But Decisions Must Be Made Before Reaching It:
Moratorium 12 Hours
[] Allow Alric: The ability of a dragon to cause destruction is literally legendary. It may be dangerous, and difficult, and risky, but the benefits in battle could be quite extreme. Entire hallways might be drowned in fire, or he might be able to assault the castle in other ways as well.
[] Deny Alric: Carlotta was one thing, with healing of others. Alric is another entirely. Yes, he is one of the few in the Amber Brotherhood to manage the transformation, others of his peers incapable of doing so, but magic in this land as of yet remains more unpredictable than in the Empire.
[] Aberfa's Plan: Approach the castle, tear down the doors, use the Druids to block attempts at communication while the Imperial Wizards aid in the interior. It sounds simple, but so does lifting a thousand pounds onto one's back.
[] A Different Plan: Come up with something different. Is there a better way? (Write-In)
Clan Glyldŵrlyr Forces
Heiress Aberfa (Claymore, Axe, Half-Plate)
3 Etlikin Druids Lear, Iona, Cu
130 Albion Nobles (Half-Plate, Claymores, Axes)
50 Albion Mounted Nobles (Half-Plate, Claymores, Axes)
200 Albion Light Cavalry (Javelins, Spears, Axes, Chainmail/Leathers)
430 Albion Heavy Infantry (Halberds, Spears, Swords, Axes, Half/Quarter-Plate)
500 Albion Skirmishers (Javelins, Slings, Swords, Chainmail/Leathers)
250 Albionese Longbowmen
Oracle's Forces
Oracle Greimne
300 Maidenguard (Leather And Bronze Chainmail, Spears, Short Swords, Bronze Shields)
Imperial Forces On Albion
Magnus Redfist, the Screaming Bull, Heir of Ostland, wielding Runefang Brain Wounder
Mena von Kessel, the Blue Wolf, Heir of Nordland, wielding enchanted items Flammenfaust (Gauntlet) and Flammenwulf (Axe)
Reinhardt Hertwig, the Silver Manticore, Heir of Ostermark, wielding standard issue Imperial Zweihander
1 Amber Magister Alric, 5 Amber Journeymen
1 Jade Magister Carlotta
1 Jade Journeyman Boris
1 Bright Magister Casparan Smokewrought
1 Bright Journeyman Henry
1 Bright Journeyman Nicolas
1 Bright Journeyman Luthor Feuerstag
1 Bright Journeyman Helmut Cinderblade
1 Bright Journeyman Jovi Grabner
1850 Blue Wolves, Lightly Armored Cavalry/Skirmishers (Melee Equipment Varies Heavily. All Possess Shortbows, 500 Possess Crossbows) [200 Without Mount]
175 Ostland Greatswords
498 Knights of the Everlasting Light (Only 100 Have Horses)
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Man, I don't know if you live in a different in a different time zone, but reading this hits different when its the middle of the night.
Massgamer
Advance toward the Future
- Location
- The Future
We should trust Alric since this is his risk to make and its not a lie that should it work out would be huge advantage, especially if it messes with Fimir morale while they are partying.
Aberfta's plan sounds good all things considered, we should keep trusting her since we already fell into her group.
Here is hoping we do so well the chief gets over his anger at us.
Aberfta's plan sounds good all things considered, we should keep trusting her since we already fell into her group.
Here is hoping we do so well the chief gets over his anger at us.
ConfusedCanuck
Where did it all go wrong?
- Location
- Neverland
Great update!
Now I'm inclined to let Magister Alric to transform into a Dragon we need every advantage we can get here so I feel it's worth the risk. And of course I say we follow the plan that's been laid out it is a good one in my opinion.
Now I'm inclined to let Magister Alric to transform into a Dragon we need every advantage we can get here so I feel it's worth the risk. And of course I say we follow the plan that's been laid out it is a good one in my opinion.