I have, but it's meant to be a metaphor. When you call someone a blockhead, that's not an indication of their resistance to head trauma (or so I thought).
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 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
I have, but it's meant to be a metaphor. When you call someone a blockhead, that's not an indication of their resistance to head trauma (or so I thought).
- Location
- Somewhere
With the greenskins of the Old World being younger boyz, I wonder where is the sea knowledge and population source of the "Greenskin Pirate Boyz" coming from. The coast of the Empire of Man is unlikely, maybe Norsca with the pullback from the coasts.
Nordland is crossed out, Ostland is crossed out, Albion is crossed out.
Ulthuan = ???
Rest of the Old World = ???
Ulthuan might have a greenskin infestation?
If there are greenskins with a Low presence in the sea of claws. There are greenskins missing a fight at Salkalten because they are.... hmmmm. Old greenskins of great cunning that did not join up in the Quiet Whaaagh? Young greenskins able to hold logic above fighting a fight of hopeless odds? Not there in the Sea of Claws?
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There are islands here and there in the Sea of Claws. One was once considered to be used as the warded burial site of the Everchosen Asavar Kul's body before Aurelion successfully argued that it would be better to just destroy it as much as possible.
Additionally, as noted by previous scouting, the coastlines of Norsca are largely free of Norscan presence, as they've mostly gone into the interior for some ~mysterious reason~. Further islands also exist out in the great ocean, not just Albion, not just Ulthuan. Plenty of various islands, coves, etc. Hidden places, unsunken temples, from large sandbars to places with trees and animals and other things. Many of them are used by pirates as places to put treasure. Others hold ancient texts and artifacts from civilizations gone by. Others are places of secret power for the Chaos Gods, for Stromfels, anchorages for the skaven, and so on.
Some islands move, or show up in different spots, etc.
Additionally, as noted by previous scouting, the coastlines of Norsca are largely free of Norscan presence, as they've mostly gone into the interior for some ~mysterious reason~. Further islands also exist out in the great ocean, not just Albion, not just Ulthuan. Plenty of various islands, coves, etc. Hidden places, unsunken temples, from large sandbars to places with trees and animals and other things. Many of them are used by pirates as places to put treasure. Others hold ancient texts and artifacts from civilizations gone by. Others are places of secret power for the Chaos Gods, for Stromfels, anchorages for the skaven, and so on.
Some islands move, or show up in different spots, etc.
Yes, and if you find one that's shaped like a skull you get a bunch of money at the low low cost of fighting a pirate coast army :/
Not really what I was thinking of.
More towards the thing from the Gotrek and Felix story 'Red Hand's Daughter' or whatever it was. A jungle island, a big temple complex, vast riches, a bound and intelligent fire elemental being, big ol' gem, a life-extended Chaos witch who looked like a young woman, lies, treasure maps, etc.
There might well be some skull-shaped coves or whatever, but Mallus geography is weird anyway.
More towards the thing from the Gotrek and Felix story 'Red Hand's Daughter' or whatever it was. A jungle island, a big temple complex, vast riches, a bound and intelligent fire elemental being, big ol' gem, a life-extended Chaos witch who looked like a young woman, lies, treasure maps, etc.
There might well be some skull-shaped coves or whatever, but Mallus geography is weird anyway.
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- Location
- Titan
A few islands probably move around eating each other, new islands rise, old ones sink, like the Mountains of Mourne. Maybe at the other end of the planet from the Great Maw.
I bet no few islands are actually giant sea creatures that have just chosen to hang out on the surface for a bit.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I believe he's making a reference to the Maelstrom.
Which, incidentally, to anyone with the following impression, is not a creation of Total War Warhammer.
Everyone gangster until the island rolls over
Malagor and his incredible horde of Beastmen is in the Drakwald. That's the epicenter of his portal network. You don't believe me? Go back and read the Beastmen side stories.
- Location
- Germany
Could the Beasttide and it's consequences influence the Cult of Taal? Especially in regards to the dawning fallout with the Cult of Rhya?
Not sure whether it will benefit them (Taal has been neglected and could therefore not protect our forests), or worsen a possible schism (sign of Taal's weakness or the Cults errors).
Of course, rhat assumes that Talabecland survives more or less intact. Not a Hochland situation, but given the amount of forests, the historical enmity between the province and Beastmen and the Beastpaths/Portals, we might see some serious damage.
Not sure whether it will benefit them (Taal has been neglected and could therefore not protect our forests), or worsen a possible schism (sign of Taal's weakness or the Cults errors).
Of course, rhat assumes that Talabecland survives more or less intact. Not a Hochland situation, but given the amount of forests, the historical enmity between the province and Beastmen and the Beastpaths/Portals, we might see some serious damage.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Could it, yes. That's all I can say for certainty.
- Location
- Africa
hopefully faith in Taal take a few major blows and forces his cult to consider reformation to maintain relevance and shed their more backwards and stupid values like their primitivist and Luddites ways
- Location
- Africa
perfectly doable though don't expect tropical weather then again don't discount tropical weather either since supernatural weather is a thing that can happen due to magic and all that , but such a watch point would be iffy ,first it would take a massive amount of gold to develop and fortify more than on the main land due to the logistics cost of moving so much material for construction , it would require its own dedicated fleet and the worst part is if a black ark shows up then its a complete write off since we still don't have defenses to 100% fend one off nor can we expect aid to arrive before they are done depopulating the island and razing everything to the ground
If the Trident had 4 or 5 members (talabecland/Middenland) what would it have been called?
- Location
- A Pit Of My Own Making
- Pronouns
- He/Him
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....Kislev?(jk)
MrRobot
In doubt there's always the Sun!
About that. Taal's ludite ways are kinda axiomatic to the cult, the change that could be happening is that they got back to their lane and stop trying to enforce "taal's survival guide for the wild places" in Reyla's domains such as farming.
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A Dynasty of Frost and Sorrow - The War of Bitter Ice, Part 10
GM NOTE: Eagle-eyed readers who know the Imperial Calendar will be able to tell when this is taking place compared to the 'Main' stuff.
"So!" She sneered down at him, a nimbus of the Widow's grace surrounding her with a blue and black glow, "Let's try that again. Who, precisely, was it that was corrupting Kislev with unnatural foreign influences?"
He did not respond in anything but confused gibbering, but then, a true interrogation will be able to take place later on. A snap of her fingers has some of the Kreml Guard advance and take the man into custody, carefully checking him over for hidden blades or poisons he might use to free himself. Alexandra sighed, running a hand through her blood-crusted hair before the Ledstali finished reforming, the material pausing for its master to do so before continuing to regenerate. The well-furnished desk was in splinters. The bottles of kvas and vodka splattered about the floor, mingling with the blood of the slain. Some of the chairs were salvageable, as well as about half of the finery that had been present approximately half an hour ago. She turned then and glanced at the frozen block which surrounded her would-be killer, the vampire's face frozen in a rictus of surprise and pain.
"My Lady?" One of the Kreml Guard murmured, seeing where she was looking. "Shall we…-,"
"No," Alexandra shook her head. "No. Not yet. After all," she reached up and with both hands grasped the 'mask' of frozen blood across her face and tore it off, revealing a cleansed and only slightly reddened face, "We no longer need rely solely on our own expertise."
With that, she threw the tent's flap own and strode back out into the blisteringly cold winds of the oblast to behold the smoldering remains of the latest attempt at peace and was immediately assaulted by a babbling cacophony of words.
"My Lady-,"
"Lady-,"
"My Lady!"
"Regent-,"
"My Lady, I-,"
Alexandra raised a crimson-crusted hand and deliberately formed it into a crunching fist. The words ceased, allowing her to properly survey them all. Half a dozen heavy-set Boyars, all of them dressed for war, all with a number of subordinate Druzhina with them. Almost all of the nobles were heavy with fat and muscle both, as befitting those who had managed to thrive for one reason or another in Kislev's lands. Thick beards and drooping mustaches, a few scarred bald pates and two with heads flush with dark black hair but otherwise cleanshaven faces. Alexandra looked at none of them, and instead focused her attention on the ruddy face of another man, dressed in far lesser quality furs and armor. His single two-handed axe had tasted blood, but the blacksmith in her made her frown at the chipping on its edge.
"Ataman Baichu," she inclined her head respectfully. "My deepest apologies for the violence we have brought to your stanitsa this day."
The Ungol's lips pursed as he glanced about at the carnage upon the Oblast. A good amount of fighting had been done here this day, and all things considered it was definitely a good thing she had committed the mercenaries to preventing the small stanitsa of Smolevo from being damaged during it. A small number of the Boyars and Druzhina bristled as she gave first acknowledgement to the Ataman, and they would have to be watched in the future, but the majority accepted it as a matter of course. Atamans were Atamans, and this was Kislev. In the distance, she could see many of the mercenaries still milling about, keeping the perimeter, even if it was not with even a modicum of the discipline she would prefer.
"The wise women said that blood would be spilled," he eventually grunted. "I wish for peace for Kislev…but on this day, it was not yours and your banner which broke the sacred bonds of hospitality."
At that, all present spat upon the ground, with another round of grumbling rising up into the frigid air.
"Blasted Bohka!"
"Traitors!"
"Filth!"
"Indeed!" Alexandra spoke over them all. "An affront to the Widow, to Ursun, to Salyak, to Tor, and most of all – Dazh!"
Many heads nodded, and for a moment all were mostly quiet as they murmured various prayers. Alexandra joined them in their piety, for it was only a short pause.
"In all honesty, Ataman, I agree with you. This is a poor war, that we should be spilling each other's blood rather than that of the nation's true enemies," she stated, the cold seething anger in her spilling out in her words.
Beneath her, the snow began to crystallize and harden into packed ice.
"The Regent speaks truly," the Boyar Tordimir Shalaev says with a snort and shake of his head. "The mercenaries have stoppered up the greenskins in the east. We have pushed back the anarchists and traitors from the Southern Oblast entirely, and still they contest us!"
The only woman amongst the Boyar's ranks, Lusha Lyakhova, snorted.
"Erengrad's banners rise and fall in support of any number of sides depending on how the wind blows," she grumbled. "The lands that stretch between her and Praag are lost to us, and held solely by the traitors," though there she paused and inclined her head to Alexandra, "A tactical success, on your part, Regent, to allow them to bleed themselves against the monstrosities pushing out of the Troll Country. But-,"
"But it is still territory held by the Bohka banner and their supporters, yes," Alexandra noted, her words clipped. "And as they defend the people, their support rises – just as our cause does in the course of cleaning the board of greenskins and anarchists both."
There would be a reckoning, at some point, for the slain and imprisoned Verenans and Ranaldians left in the wake of this. A reckoning for their Cults, certainly, for fostering such creatures.
"And yet," she continued, "We cannot stop. The Grand Temple has been returned to us, yes, but we cannot rest on our laurels. There remains far too much to do."
That was putting it lightly. Through hard effort, subterfuge, and outright force on more than a few occasions, the Grand Army was no longer as fractured as it had been, with more than third of it marshalling proper under the Romanov Banner. A fourth was lost to the fighting, with proper tallies of who and why and where and when something for later, if it was ever done at all. More mercenaries than she would have liked had flipped to the Bohka, for one reason or another, but there were plenty more of them still fighting for her. The Roppsmen Rebellion had been crushed, utterly, but by the Bohka, not the Romanovs. The traitorous Dolgans, on the other hand, had been hers to obliterate, and in doing so she had garnered the aid and numbers of the loyal Dolgan to her forces. The skaven were harder to keep track of, by their very nature, but her agents were reporting somewhat successful curtailing of the rat-men's movements.
But none of that mattered, not truly, compared to the overarching purpose of doing any of this.
"See to your forces, my friends," she ordered, "I want us ready to move within the next three hours."
Hands were raised over hearts, thumping against armor, and then she was left alone with her stewing thoughts. It was all in flux. All still in flux. She had more of the Grand Army. They had more of the mercenaries. She was fighting off the greenskins, they were fighting off the beastmen. Back and forth, back and forth, in victory, in failure, in support, in dismissal. Truly, it was a success enough that she managed to convince a number of the Ungols years ago to remain neutral when the inevitable came to pass. That some had chosen to throw their lot in with the Romanovs outright was a blessing on top of that. Not that she could rely on them, at the moment, given that the Bohka had planted themselves all along the border of the Northern Oblast. For the security of the nation, of course. The nation that would be all the better for their leadership once the 'corrupt, tainted Romanovs' were brought low.
Given what she had learned of their leadership, she was far from convinced as to their reasoning.
"Now then," she murmured, breathing in the cold air and letting the Grace of the Widow flow through hand around her. "Time for some real answers."
A twitch of her will, a chain of ice, and soon enough she was bodily hauling the entombed vampire with her towards the stanitsa. Or, more specifically, a building on the outer edges of the settlement, one that had been loaned by the Ataman. Another week and it would have been given out to a couple or family that required it, or perhaps relegated to a storehouse if the populace was not great enough. For now, though, it more than sufficed for the purposes of those who were within. Ice and snow flowed in accordance with her desire, allowing her to haul the ice block without difficult, or even without overmuch sinking down into the snowdrift. The closer she approached, the more her nose wrinkled. The freezing air did much to reduce stench, but the fact of the matter was that ogres were simply capable of extruding smells far in excess of even the most poorly hygienic troops in her forces. Salyak demanded cleanliness when possible, which helped, but the ogres clearly had no desire whatsoever to hear Her teachings. They were caked with blood, gristle, and bits and chunks of meat.
None of them Kislevite, thankfully.
It was good she had dedicated the majority of the mercenaries to the settlement's direct defense while the ill-fated truce had been attempted just outside. If nothing else, because the various other mercenaries would keep an eye on the ogre band. It was to those that Alexandra nodded as she passed them, seeing men of Araby, of the Empire, of Bretonnia, of Tilea and Estalia, and of further places still. By now, her reputation in battle and in command was more than well-secured, for she stood at the head of a combined force that dwarfed that of some of the smaller provinces of the Empire. That, as well as being the overall paymaster, had secured their respect and loyalty. For a time, at least. They were, after all, mercenaries.
Two more Kreml Guard, some of her most trusted, stood in front of the doors. More importantly, a pair of Widow Priestesses were also present, the Widow's Grace strong in them.
"My Lady," all four saluted and bowed to her.
"Have there been any untoward developments?" She asked, glancing between them.
"None, my Lady," the more powerful of the Priestesses spoke, a thick skull-pattern of permanent rimed frost on her face glinting in the sunlight. "I must confess, however…their wielding of the Winds…it is strange to feel, even at a distance."
"True enough," Alexandra nodded slowly, "But such is the ways of the rest of the world. These ones do not possess the Widow's Grace, but they are powerful regardless."
The Priestess nodded before glancing at her companions and back at her.
"And…as well…,"
"I would stymie whatever words you think to say next, sister," Alexandra said sharply. "These are mercenaries, yes? Which we have made great use of in the past, current, and will likely do so in the future. Their price is acceptable to the Dynasty, make no mistake of that."
"I…of course, Regent," the Priestess stammered, lowering her head beneath her baleful blue gaze.
"They are mercenaries," Alexandra repeated, glaring at the four guards. "That is all they are."
Silence and nods, followed by even deeper bows, followed her words. Alexandra did not speak to them again, instead simply pushed past them and through the doors into the home. The windows had been covered with thick blankets, and the fire itself was but embers. That sight of that almost made her cluck her tongue in distaste, but it was in the end a minor thing that could swiftly be remedied. She had far more important things in mind as she inhaled deeply in the slightly stale air, looking at the current occupants. Three of whom were laid out on tables, the smell of rancid old blood and worse viscera filling her nose more than anything else. They writhed still, silver stakes slammed through wrists and ankles, strange black ropes in nooses around their throats and binding their torsos and limbs further. An unconscious man slumped in a chair, blood still dripping onto the ground from his various torture wounds. Alexandra did not focus on them for long. Instead, she looked towards the causes of such carnage, and could not help the smile made its way onto her face, nor the joy that sprung freely in her heart.
"And hello again," she said softly. "As I feared, the talks did not go well."
"That seemed evident by the cannon fire and screams," the older woman drawled as she toweled off her hands.
"Efforts at peace and reconciliation were not successful, yes," Alexandra sighed, "But what of yours?"
Similarly covered in gore as her, albeit from different sources, she received the amusing sight of two pairs of purple eyes crinkling in amusement.
"Not too-,"
"Bad. We-"
"-have learned-,"
"-some interesting things."
Alexandra raised her eyebrows.
"Oh? Do tell, my sisters, do tell."
Agatha and Alisa gestured in unison towards the vampires, and when they spoke next, it too came in perfect unison without flaw as one.
"Your interrogation efforts were not entirely in vain, they led you this far, but you did not have access to the same particular abilities as we do. We have learned more. The plans of this grouping have gone to pieces," they both shrugged their left shoulders while their master finished toweling off.
"To pieces?" Alexandra glanced down at them.
The vampires could not glance back, all three of them missing eyes as they were, but she couldn't help but note that one had strange dark colored plants in their eye sockets, the second with silver coins that made for sizzling noises where they rested, and the third had one eye socket full of sawdust and the other with a bulb of garlic.
"The initial plan was for slow infiltration, subversion," the twins spoke once more, "Their plans were accelerated unnaturally due to the presence of the skaven. The skaven wished for the Tzarina as well, but for different purposes."
Alexandra's heart seized slightly in her chest, but she forced herself to keep breathing.
"Continue," she said through gritted teeth.
"Apparently, some of the Masters Moulder desire to experiment upon your kind," they both pointed at her with their right index finger, "To examine the change in the magic – from Ice Magic to…something more openly touched by…divinity," they both shifted uncomfortably in the exact same way.
Her heart began to beat harder, each breath now releasing cold puffs of misty air.
"They…they…what?" She could not even say the potential blasphemies rattling around in her mind.
"Vampires claim they saved her," the twins blinked a single time at the exact same time. "From the skaven. Who were helped by the Yellow Fang, who were tricked…by vampires?"
"It would not be the first time that vampires have worked against other vampires," the elder wizard finally spoke up again, examining her nails to ensure their cleanliness. "Rivalries, hatreds, insults, such things can fester for them for centuries or longer. Is it truly so great a surprise such a thing could happen?"
Alexandra hissed quietly.
"This, we know. But more to the point," she gestured at her assorted prisoners. "I have gathered these vampires in my efforts to locate the Tzarina, but are you saying-,"
"They lost her," the twins nod, making Alexandra immediately have to force herself from screaming aloud. "To the skaven. Eshin contractors, apparently."
"And where," she snarled, furious now at the vampires even more for their incompetence on top of everything else. "Are they?!"
"Heading north, last they heard, and we have some clues as to their path to a certain point," the twins looked past her and towards the latest prisoner. "But maybe that one has more information."
North.
Bohka territory. Beastman territory. Skaven territory. Where her information network was weakest, where the enemy was strongest. The Northern Oblast, impossible to fully claim by anyone, even the forces of Chaos. There were bands of Norseman up there, even, though they had been more sparse than usual in the past few years. It didn't help that she now had a reason behind some of the disappearances. Sometimes the Oblast took what it would from the people of Kislev, in one fashion or another. Sometimes she herself had been responsible for some of those disappearances. But not all of them. How many had the skaven taken? How many would they continue to take? Too many, and too many, if they could not be stopped.
"You can have her," Alexandra growled as she slid the ice block forward. "And please, work quickly."
"Of course," they nodded with furrowed brows.
She left her youngest sisters to their work, escaping out into the cold but moving air, letting it flow around her. Rage. Sorrow. Disgust. Hatred. Self-Loathing. The pain of it all threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to bow to it. Instead, she let it fall upon her, seep through her, and then she girded her mind and soul with ice. Her world became colder, yes, but clearer. A clarity she required, lest panic and less worthy emotions worm their way into her. The situation was chaotic, in flux, but she remained in control of herself. Of her forces. Of her resources. And she would continue to control herself, and them. It was the only way forward. The Kreml Guard, her fellow Priestesses of the Widow, the mercenaries, all of them shied away as a nimbus of dark blue light bloomed from her.
It was all about control.
"Okay," she rasped, eyes opening through a thin layer of ice that had grown across her face once more. "Okay."
One particularly courageous soul managed to speak.
"…Regent?"
"Prepare yourselves," Alexandra barked. "And make ready to march."
In the Empire, it would be considered the middle of Pflugzeit, with winter's grasp fading away. But here in Kislev, Alexandra felt as cold as she ever had.
The Cold-Blooded Path – The Grand Temple has been retaken, but your meeting with what you had hoped would be a traitor amongst the Bohka was not nearly so successful. It was a trap! Both by the Bohka, and a vampire hidden amongst their number. Further information will come as you discover whether or not he was a dupe willingly or unknowingly. The unexpected aid from your sisters Agatha and Alisa, along with their master Magistrix Draken, have allowed you to extract far more information from the vampires than your own efforts. That they managed to secure the aid of some of the ogres formerly besieging Karak Kadrin have also bolstered your forces. The news, unfortunately, it not particularly good. The vampires clearly underestimated the skaven, who appear to have had their own interest in the Priestesses of the Widow, and prior to them, their former incarnations in the Ice Witches. Most distressing news. Yet now you are onto them once more. If they desire subjects, then she will still live. She is being taken north, but progress is assuredly slowed by the chaos enveloping the nation, even for skaven or vampires.
She must still live.
She must.
Strategic Pathing (Choose 1):
[] Storming West – Erengrad must be properly retaken. It wavers in uncertainty now but must be solidly resworn under the Romanov banner once more. And once there, you can launch forth into the north with far greater supply and force than otherwise.
[] Strike Praag – Praag is the heart of Bohka power at this point. It is their greatest military concentration outside the cordon they are maintaining in Troll Country. Shatter it, and their cause is shattered. You will be able to act far more freely, then, without having to worry of Bohka pulks biting at your sides.
[X] Something Else – (Write-In)
Other Choices (Choose 3)
[] Continue Entreaties to…
A Dynasty of Frost and Sorrow - The War of Bitter Ice, Part 10
Crimson gore covered her from head to toe, already hardening and crystallizing into a new gleaming red atop the Ledstali. Her eyes were wide, bloodshot, with deep purple-black bruises surrounding them. Her helm was already reforming, the hammer that had nearly caved her head in now sitting on the snow-covered ground with the hand and forearm that still clutched it. The thick, discolored rotten blood spurted unnaturally from it. Alexandra sneered down at it, then cracked her neck from side to side. In front of her, still on his backside, sat the Bohka. He was practically as pale as the vampire she'd just disarmed, his long drooping mustache clinging to his face thanks to the blood coating him as well. He certainly trembled a lot more than the frozen vampire.
"So!" She sneered down at him, a nimbus of the Widow's grace surrounding her with a blue and black glow, "Let's try that again. Who, precisely, was it that was corrupting Kislev with unnatural foreign influences?"
He did not respond in anything but confused gibbering, but then, a true interrogation will be able to take place later on. A snap of her fingers has some of the Kreml Guard advance and take the man into custody, carefully checking him over for hidden blades or poisons he might use to free himself. Alexandra sighed, running a hand through her blood-crusted hair before the Ledstali finished reforming, the material pausing for its master to do so before continuing to regenerate. The well-furnished desk was in splinters. The bottles of kvas and vodka splattered about the floor, mingling with the blood of the slain. Some of the chairs were salvageable, as well as about half of the finery that had been present approximately half an hour ago. She turned then and glanced at the frozen block which surrounded her would-be killer, the vampire's face frozen in a rictus of surprise and pain.
"My Lady?" One of the Kreml Guard murmured, seeing where she was looking. "Shall we…-,"
"No," Alexandra shook her head. "No. Not yet. After all," she reached up and with both hands grasped the 'mask' of frozen blood across her face and tore it off, revealing a cleansed and only slightly reddened face, "We no longer need rely solely on our own expertise."
With that, she threw the tent's flap own and strode back out into the blisteringly cold winds of the oblast to behold the smoldering remains of the latest attempt at peace and was immediately assaulted by a babbling cacophony of words.
"My Lady-,"
"Lady-,"
"My Lady!"
"Regent-,"
"My Lady, I-,"
Alexandra raised a crimson-crusted hand and deliberately formed it into a crunching fist. The words ceased, allowing her to properly survey them all. Half a dozen heavy-set Boyars, all of them dressed for war, all with a number of subordinate Druzhina with them. Almost all of the nobles were heavy with fat and muscle both, as befitting those who had managed to thrive for one reason or another in Kislev's lands. Thick beards and drooping mustaches, a few scarred bald pates and two with heads flush with dark black hair but otherwise cleanshaven faces. Alexandra looked at none of them, and instead focused her attention on the ruddy face of another man, dressed in far lesser quality furs and armor. His single two-handed axe had tasted blood, but the blacksmith in her made her frown at the chipping on its edge.
"Ataman Baichu," she inclined her head respectfully. "My deepest apologies for the violence we have brought to your stanitsa this day."
The Ungol's lips pursed as he glanced about at the carnage upon the Oblast. A good amount of fighting had been done here this day, and all things considered it was definitely a good thing she had committed the mercenaries to preventing the small stanitsa of Smolevo from being damaged during it. A small number of the Boyars and Druzhina bristled as she gave first acknowledgement to the Ataman, and they would have to be watched in the future, but the majority accepted it as a matter of course. Atamans were Atamans, and this was Kislev. In the distance, she could see many of the mercenaries still milling about, keeping the perimeter, even if it was not with even a modicum of the discipline she would prefer.
"The wise women said that blood would be spilled," he eventually grunted. "I wish for peace for Kislev…but on this day, it was not yours and your banner which broke the sacred bonds of hospitality."
At that, all present spat upon the ground, with another round of grumbling rising up into the frigid air.
"Blasted Bohka!"
"Traitors!"
"Filth!"
"Indeed!" Alexandra spoke over them all. "An affront to the Widow, to Ursun, to Salyak, to Tor, and most of all – Dazh!"
Many heads nodded, and for a moment all were mostly quiet as they murmured various prayers. Alexandra joined them in their piety, for it was only a short pause.
"In all honesty, Ataman, I agree with you. This is a poor war, that we should be spilling each other's blood rather than that of the nation's true enemies," she stated, the cold seething anger in her spilling out in her words.
Beneath her, the snow began to crystallize and harden into packed ice.
"The Regent speaks truly," the Boyar Tordimir Shalaev says with a snort and shake of his head. "The mercenaries have stoppered up the greenskins in the east. We have pushed back the anarchists and traitors from the Southern Oblast entirely, and still they contest us!"
The only woman amongst the Boyar's ranks, Lusha Lyakhova, snorted.
"Erengrad's banners rise and fall in support of any number of sides depending on how the wind blows," she grumbled. "The lands that stretch between her and Praag are lost to us, and held solely by the traitors," though there she paused and inclined her head to Alexandra, "A tactical success, on your part, Regent, to allow them to bleed themselves against the monstrosities pushing out of the Troll Country. But-,"
"But it is still territory held by the Bohka banner and their supporters, yes," Alexandra noted, her words clipped. "And as they defend the people, their support rises – just as our cause does in the course of cleaning the board of greenskins and anarchists both."
There would be a reckoning, at some point, for the slain and imprisoned Verenans and Ranaldians left in the wake of this. A reckoning for their Cults, certainly, for fostering such creatures.
"And yet," she continued, "We cannot stop. The Grand Temple has been returned to us, yes, but we cannot rest on our laurels. There remains far too much to do."
That was putting it lightly. Through hard effort, subterfuge, and outright force on more than a few occasions, the Grand Army was no longer as fractured as it had been, with more than third of it marshalling proper under the Romanov Banner. A fourth was lost to the fighting, with proper tallies of who and why and where and when something for later, if it was ever done at all. More mercenaries than she would have liked had flipped to the Bohka, for one reason or another, but there were plenty more of them still fighting for her. The Roppsmen Rebellion had been crushed, utterly, but by the Bohka, not the Romanovs. The traitorous Dolgans, on the other hand, had been hers to obliterate, and in doing so she had garnered the aid and numbers of the loyal Dolgan to her forces. The skaven were harder to keep track of, by their very nature, but her agents were reporting somewhat successful curtailing of the rat-men's movements.
But none of that mattered, not truly, compared to the overarching purpose of doing any of this.
"See to your forces, my friends," she ordered, "I want us ready to move within the next three hours."
Hands were raised over hearts, thumping against armor, and then she was left alone with her stewing thoughts. It was all in flux. All still in flux. She had more of the Grand Army. They had more of the mercenaries. She was fighting off the greenskins, they were fighting off the beastmen. Back and forth, back and forth, in victory, in failure, in support, in dismissal. Truly, it was a success enough that she managed to convince a number of the Ungols years ago to remain neutral when the inevitable came to pass. That some had chosen to throw their lot in with the Romanovs outright was a blessing on top of that. Not that she could rely on them, at the moment, given that the Bohka had planted themselves all along the border of the Northern Oblast. For the security of the nation, of course. The nation that would be all the better for their leadership once the 'corrupt, tainted Romanovs' were brought low.
Given what she had learned of their leadership, she was far from convinced as to their reasoning.
"Now then," she murmured, breathing in the cold air and letting the Grace of the Widow flow through hand around her. "Time for some real answers."
A twitch of her will, a chain of ice, and soon enough she was bodily hauling the entombed vampire with her towards the stanitsa. Or, more specifically, a building on the outer edges of the settlement, one that had been loaned by the Ataman. Another week and it would have been given out to a couple or family that required it, or perhaps relegated to a storehouse if the populace was not great enough. For now, though, it more than sufficed for the purposes of those who were within. Ice and snow flowed in accordance with her desire, allowing her to haul the ice block without difficult, or even without overmuch sinking down into the snowdrift. The closer she approached, the more her nose wrinkled. The freezing air did much to reduce stench, but the fact of the matter was that ogres were simply capable of extruding smells far in excess of even the most poorly hygienic troops in her forces. Salyak demanded cleanliness when possible, which helped, but the ogres clearly had no desire whatsoever to hear Her teachings. They were caked with blood, gristle, and bits and chunks of meat.
None of them Kislevite, thankfully.
It was good she had dedicated the majority of the mercenaries to the settlement's direct defense while the ill-fated truce had been attempted just outside. If nothing else, because the various other mercenaries would keep an eye on the ogre band. It was to those that Alexandra nodded as she passed them, seeing men of Araby, of the Empire, of Bretonnia, of Tilea and Estalia, and of further places still. By now, her reputation in battle and in command was more than well-secured, for she stood at the head of a combined force that dwarfed that of some of the smaller provinces of the Empire. That, as well as being the overall paymaster, had secured their respect and loyalty. For a time, at least. They were, after all, mercenaries.
Two more Kreml Guard, some of her most trusted, stood in front of the doors. More importantly, a pair of Widow Priestesses were also present, the Widow's Grace strong in them.
"My Lady," all four saluted and bowed to her.
"Have there been any untoward developments?" She asked, glancing between them.
"None, my Lady," the more powerful of the Priestesses spoke, a thick skull-pattern of permanent rimed frost on her face glinting in the sunlight. "I must confess, however…their wielding of the Winds…it is strange to feel, even at a distance."
"True enough," Alexandra nodded slowly, "But such is the ways of the rest of the world. These ones do not possess the Widow's Grace, but they are powerful regardless."
The Priestess nodded before glancing at her companions and back at her.
"And…as well…,"
"I would stymie whatever words you think to say next, sister," Alexandra said sharply. "These are mercenaries, yes? Which we have made great use of in the past, current, and will likely do so in the future. Their price is acceptable to the Dynasty, make no mistake of that."
"I…of course, Regent," the Priestess stammered, lowering her head beneath her baleful blue gaze.
"They are mercenaries," Alexandra repeated, glaring at the four guards. "That is all they are."
Silence and nods, followed by even deeper bows, followed her words. Alexandra did not speak to them again, instead simply pushed past them and through the doors into the home. The windows had been covered with thick blankets, and the fire itself was but embers. That sight of that almost made her cluck her tongue in distaste, but it was in the end a minor thing that could swiftly be remedied. She had far more important things in mind as she inhaled deeply in the slightly stale air, looking at the current occupants. Three of whom were laid out on tables, the smell of rancid old blood and worse viscera filling her nose more than anything else. They writhed still, silver stakes slammed through wrists and ankles, strange black ropes in nooses around their throats and binding their torsos and limbs further. An unconscious man slumped in a chair, blood still dripping onto the ground from his various torture wounds. Alexandra did not focus on them for long. Instead, she looked towards the causes of such carnage, and could not help the smile made its way onto her face, nor the joy that sprung freely in her heart.
"And hello again," she said softly. "As I feared, the talks did not go well."
"That seemed evident by the cannon fire and screams," the older woman drawled as she toweled off her hands.
"Efforts at peace and reconciliation were not successful, yes," Alexandra sighed, "But what of yours?"
Similarly covered in gore as her, albeit from different sources, she received the amusing sight of two pairs of purple eyes crinkling in amusement.
"Not too-,"
"Bad. We-"
"-have learned-,"
"-some interesting things."
Alexandra raised her eyebrows.
"Oh? Do tell, my sisters, do tell."
Agatha and Alisa gestured in unison towards the vampires, and when they spoke next, it too came in perfect unison without flaw as one.
"Your interrogation efforts were not entirely in vain, they led you this far, but you did not have access to the same particular abilities as we do. We have learned more. The plans of this grouping have gone to pieces," they both shrugged their left shoulders while their master finished toweling off.
"To pieces?" Alexandra glanced down at them.
The vampires could not glance back, all three of them missing eyes as they were, but she couldn't help but note that one had strange dark colored plants in their eye sockets, the second with silver coins that made for sizzling noises where they rested, and the third had one eye socket full of sawdust and the other with a bulb of garlic.
"The initial plan was for slow infiltration, subversion," the twins spoke once more, "Their plans were accelerated unnaturally due to the presence of the skaven. The skaven wished for the Tzarina as well, but for different purposes."
Alexandra's heart seized slightly in her chest, but she forced herself to keep breathing.
"Continue," she said through gritted teeth.
"Apparently, some of the Masters Moulder desire to experiment upon your kind," they both pointed at her with their right index finger, "To examine the change in the magic – from Ice Magic to…something more openly touched by…divinity," they both shifted uncomfortably in the exact same way.
Her heart began to beat harder, each breath now releasing cold puffs of misty air.
"They…they…what?" She could not even say the potential blasphemies rattling around in her mind.
"Vampires claim they saved her," the twins blinked a single time at the exact same time. "From the skaven. Who were helped by the Yellow Fang, who were tricked…by vampires?"
"It would not be the first time that vampires have worked against other vampires," the elder wizard finally spoke up again, examining her nails to ensure their cleanliness. "Rivalries, hatreds, insults, such things can fester for them for centuries or longer. Is it truly so great a surprise such a thing could happen?"
Alexandra hissed quietly.
"This, we know. But more to the point," she gestured at her assorted prisoners. "I have gathered these vampires in my efforts to locate the Tzarina, but are you saying-,"
"They lost her," the twins nod, making Alexandra immediately have to force herself from screaming aloud. "To the skaven. Eshin contractors, apparently."
"And where," she snarled, furious now at the vampires even more for their incompetence on top of everything else. "Are they?!"
"Heading north, last they heard, and we have some clues as to their path to a certain point," the twins looked past her and towards the latest prisoner. "But maybe that one has more information."
North.
Bohka territory. Beastman territory. Skaven territory. Where her information network was weakest, where the enemy was strongest. The Northern Oblast, impossible to fully claim by anyone, even the forces of Chaos. There were bands of Norseman up there, even, though they had been more sparse than usual in the past few years. It didn't help that she now had a reason behind some of the disappearances. Sometimes the Oblast took what it would from the people of Kislev, in one fashion or another. Sometimes she herself had been responsible for some of those disappearances. But not all of them. How many had the skaven taken? How many would they continue to take? Too many, and too many, if they could not be stopped.
"You can have her," Alexandra growled as she slid the ice block forward. "And please, work quickly."
"Of course," they nodded with furrowed brows.
She left her youngest sisters to their work, escaping out into the cold but moving air, letting it flow around her. Rage. Sorrow. Disgust. Hatred. Self-Loathing. The pain of it all threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to bow to it. Instead, she let it fall upon her, seep through her, and then she girded her mind and soul with ice. Her world became colder, yes, but clearer. A clarity she required, lest panic and less worthy emotions worm their way into her. The situation was chaotic, in flux, but she remained in control of herself. Of her forces. Of her resources. And she would continue to control herself, and them. It was the only way forward. The Kreml Guard, her fellow Priestesses of the Widow, the mercenaries, all of them shied away as a nimbus of dark blue light bloomed from her.
It was all about control.
"Okay," she rasped, eyes opening through a thin layer of ice that had grown across her face once more. "Okay."
One particularly courageous soul managed to speak.
"…Regent?"
"Prepare yourselves," Alexandra barked. "And make ready to march."
In the Empire, it would be considered the middle of Pflugzeit, with winter's grasp fading away. But here in Kislev, Alexandra felt as cold as she ever had.
The Cold-Blooded Path – The Grand Temple has been retaken, but your meeting with what you had hoped would be a traitor amongst the Bohka was not nearly so successful. It was a trap! Both by the Bohka, and a vampire hidden amongst their number. Further information will come as you discover whether or not he was a dupe willingly or unknowingly. The unexpected aid from your sisters Agatha and Alisa, along with their master Magistrix Draken, have allowed you to extract far more information from the vampires than your own efforts. That they managed to secure the aid of some of the ogres formerly besieging Karak Kadrin have also bolstered your forces. The news, unfortunately, it not particularly good. The vampires clearly underestimated the skaven, who appear to have had their own interest in the Priestesses of the Widow, and prior to them, their former incarnations in the Ice Witches. Most distressing news. Yet now you are onto them once more. If they desire subjects, then she will still live. She is being taken north, but progress is assuredly slowed by the chaos enveloping the nation, even for skaven or vampires.
She must still live.
She must.
Strategic Pathing (Choose 1):
[] Storming West – Erengrad must be properly retaken. It wavers in uncertainty now but must be solidly resworn under the Romanov banner once more. And once there, you can launch forth into the north with far greater supply and force than otherwise.
[] Strike Praag – Praag is the heart of Bohka power at this point. It is their greatest military concentration outside the cordon they are maintaining in Troll Country. Shatter it, and their cause is shattered. You will be able to act far more freely, then, without having to worry of Bohka pulks biting at your sides.
[X] Something Else – (Write-In)
Other Choices (Choose 3)
[] Continue Entreaties to…
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- Location
- Canada
First time I beat the alert, thanks for the update. I'l read this in the morning with a cup of coffee and a oatmeal cookie.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thank you for the entirely unexpected gift Torroar.
Edit: Clever. With their training and such in Ind and Cathay and their distinctive Yemarajan aspects, on top of being out of sight and mind of the Old World for years, they can come across as mercenaries and not interfering Imperials.
Edit: Clever. With their training and such in Ind and Cathay and their distinctive Yemarajan aspects, on top of being out of sight and mind of the Old World for years, they can come across as mercenaries and not interfering Imperials.
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