Moratorium For 1 Hour.
Elector's Meet of 2343 IC
It is a grim winter which greets your face as you prepare for your travel south. The past few winters, in fact, seem to have been stronger than usual. You try not to think too hard about the fact that many of the coldest winds blow southwest, directly out of Kislev. Or about how at the Trident Meetings, Ortrud has mentioned that Ostermark is suffering much the same, or how about the tales from the dwarf traders from Karak Ungor speak of chilly winds that even the longbeards are impressed by. You know, as if it is not merely the season and Ulric Himself, but rather Kislev which is propagating such cold weather outward in all directions. There are obviously tales of the most powerful wielders of ice magic creating whole storms before, and you know for a fact that at the very least Kattarin herself is capable of doing so on her lonesome.
But it is grim for reasons beyond the cold, beyond the fell chill winds that are blowing so strongly.
Firstly, the knowledge gained by your investigations this year sits with your poorly, that such numbers of beastmen have moved with impunity within your province is angering. Frankly, you should have set up watchers upon each of the discovered paths long ago, but you simply hadn't been sure if you had the manpower to split and dedicate to such work that wouldn't remove swathes of your state troops from their patrol routes. The numbers were uncertain, but then it is almost impossible to get a truly accurate census of all folk in any Imperial province with utterly mathematic certainty. The people moved where they wished, it was their right, and there were plenty who would duck and cover whenever they felt it necessary. Still, you've at least got some troops in place, for all the good it might do if the beastmen decide to truly take a hard swing.
Secondly, unfortunately returning back in a northeasterly direction, was the traffic and word coming from Kislev. Or rather the lack thereof. Not a single trader, nor a single traveler, has made their way south out of Kislev to your knowledge or that of Ortrud. The border guards have reported none whatsoever, under any purpose at all. There have been no messages from Kattarin, nor from Alexandra. Those who wished to travel to Kislev were unable to do so this year, save solely for those who were delivering previously agreed upon sales of guns and cannons. They were met at the border by Kreml Guard and Winged Lancers of the Gryphon Legion, not allowed past the furthest guard posts. Each exchange was curt in the extreme, passing taciturn to outright rudeness in a few cases. But even that could not prevent your traders and those at the border from noticing several things about such troops. Specifically that their gear and state was not pristine, beyond the normal wear and tear of a hard march. On at least two occasions, the Kreml Guard at the border collecting the requisite war material bore clear battle damage on their armor and arms.
You don't know precisely what's going on in Kislev this year, but there is a cold sense of foreboding about it all. Natasha was particularly perturbed about it all.
But there is more, because of course there is.
The total lack of Norscans along their southern coasts. The massive loss of life in the western Middle Mountains, of lost wizards and mercenaries and state troops of Middenland. The ongoing conflict down in the Bonelands, a nascent WAAAGH!! that seems to continually grow in its danger. The beastmen potentially waxing elsewhere in the Empire. And, of course, the trade wars you willingly engaged in.
At the moment, however, that was not what concerned you.
"What if we just let it run about for a bit?"
"We could just run it along the street, as part of our procession!"
Sat in front of you and Urgdug at the very entrance to the workshops of Wulfenburg was the mighty vapor tank
The Horns, its sibling not yet fully constructed
. It was deathly still, its gluttonous metal stomach silent and full, the heat not yet unleashed. The same could not be said of its crew. All five men and women were babbling over one another. It was easy to see why Anna had decided to delegate upwards to you rather than listen to their arguing any longer. She hadn't had any strong feelings one way or the other, which was normal, but now you were the one who had to deal with it. Rolling your eyes, you reach over and thump Urgdug's thigh with your fist, letting your brother inhale deeply enough to make his armor squeak as his chest expanded.
"
SHUT UP!"
The babbling ceased. Those other engineers who were close enough to be paying attention semi-discretely silenced their feeble fake conversations. The windows rattled, and the sturdiest buildings in Wulfenburg save for Wulfenburg Castle itself seemed to shudder minutely. Dust and sawdust bloomed outwards. A massive swathe of the Wulfenburg School of Gunnery and Engineering fell quiet. You even think you might have spied the tank shifting ever so slightly on their enormous, locked wheels. There is a flush of amusement which rises up from Natasha back at the castle, though that is no doubt only because your own mounting frustration turning to relief at the blessed silence. The two of you trade emanating bemusement for a moment before you pull your thoughts together.
"I understand that being selected to crew and go to battle in the vapor tank is an esteemed position," you call out, ignoring the blood trickling out of your blown out ears and the bloom of the
Light of Summer on your chest. "You have proven themselves in battle already, though of course
Little Guvuar is yet unborn leaving
The Horns unchallenged by a peer. However," you pause as the delicate innards of your ears heal completely to let you fully hear the incredible silence within immediate earshot and the city beyond. "It is not your decision to make what the tanks do, nor where they go, for in truth it is ultimately mine."
Five faces pale as they finally comprehend that they'd just been making utter fools of themselves in front of you for quite a bit too long.
"There are potential benefits, and potential issues aplenty," you shake your head.
You'd already decided on the rest of your escort, this was simply the last matter before you headed south.
Vapor Tank Choice
The proud crew of the Vapor Tanks Corps of Ostland desire to ride their war machine down south to Nuln for the Elector's Meet, though it cannot be stored anywhere but the courtyard of the Ostland Manse in the city. Or, perhaps, within the Nuln workshops…but regardless, the choice is that of the Elector Count himself. They believe it would be a mark of prestige for Ostland to the rest of the Empire, though of course there may be other effects that cannot immediately determined...
[] Bring Tank
[] Do Not Bring Tank
Elector's Meet Escort Choice
[] Small Escort (100 Greatswords, Urgdug, 5 Maelstrombringers)
[] Medium Escort (150 Greatswords, Urgdug, 10 Maelstrombringers)
[] Large Escort (200 Greatswords, Urgdug, 25 Maelstrombringers)
[] Different Escort (Write-In)
