Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism

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Derkan said:
For the previous family name of Roland… I think that since Sandrine is a woman' s name, it is probably Genevieve middle name and not part of her or Roland family name.
Unless Rolan is a woman in disguise, because Sandrine du Pointe du Lac Dieudonné is a grammatically correct woman's name with Sandrine as a woman's first name and the rest as the family name.
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Genevieve's full name is that, yeah, with Dieudonné being her last name. Not sure why a slightly different middle name can't be a part of it, though. Might change it, might not. Maybe Sandrine is the name of a famed Prophetess and they keep it as part of the family name out of holy respect for one of great servants of the Lady of the Lake or something.
 
I can confirm in case of long multiple names a female name is sometimes used especially if it is a religious one or if the name is a frequent in use in the family here in Europe for example my own fathers middle name is andreas Maria
 
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Spikes, Horns, and Stone 12
  • Threadmarks
    • Spikes, Horns, and Stone 12​

    It is a wretched decision to make, and yet it must be made regardless.

    The pros and cons of retaining Oskana and a Pegasus in wakefulness blur back and forth in your mind, weighing them as if you were Verena Herself. Or, more likely, Myrmidia, given the possible strategies and tactics that either choice would involve. To reduce Hultressa's ability for spontaneity, given her curious reputation and status amongst the Druchii. To draw ever more attention to the ruins where your wife and other allies now reside, requiring daily visits to keep them topped up with pure magical energies. These are things that, in the end, you decide against. For all that human wielders of magic will possibly continue to be dismissed or denigrated by the majority, and for all that Natasha will never lose the sure and factual knowledge that she is less powerful than her sister, your wife is not truly so meager in the breadth and skill of her powers. Whether brought by the Widow's Grace or her will alone, you know that Natasha will not fail in learning the spells required to wake the beasts should the need arise.

    It will, too. Eventually.

    But not yet.

    Not while there is much to do, much to destabilize, much to destroy or steal or attack.

    Sitting here on a torture slab, drinking Druchii blood-wine, almost shoulder to shoulder with a traitorous Druchii Sorceress certainly has a way of forcing one to be mentally flexible.

    "I cannot think of another either," you admit, getting a curt nod from the sorceress that has thus far allowed you to ruminate on your thoughts. "There are benefits to both options, but in my opinion, the greater way to reduce risk for us while retaining their capabilities in the future is to ensure they can survive to that point."

    "Exactly my thinking," Hultressa muses, taking another deep pull from the bottle of wine in her hands. "I cannot return to them tomorrow, two visits within such a short amount of time will draw eyes, no matter the practicalities of wanting multiple inspections of my new property."

    "Truly?" You raise an eyebrow. "It's that bad?"

    "Every act, every motion, every word, every twitch," she slowly swirls the bottle in one hand while she looks you dead in the eyes. "All is scrutinized. All such things communicate far more than the simple civilizations of man have yet to grasp."

    You know this already, of course, thanks to your tutoring with Sadrina. And she knows it too, you just think the slightly tipsy Sorceress is merely emphasizing the fact.

    "And surely having to read into every single minute movement of everyone and all things, eyes going bloodshot over someone taking the smallest deviation from expectation or routine, is the better way to live?" You ask her, tilting your head to the side with a sardonic look on your face.

    Hultressa's bemusement fades slightly, in fact a flash of something truly sour appears there before that too is cloaked in a mask of contempt.

    "It is the only way the elves seem to know how to live," she mutters bitterly before rolling her eyes. "The Asur are not free from this, or did your Handmaiden teacher instruct you otherwise?"

    "You know full well that she didn't," you shrug, glancing away from the Sorceress who goes back to contemplating her bottle. "Don't know much about the Asrai, on that front, though given they also have princes and nobles and such, I wouldn't expect that they've abandoned such things."

    Hultressa makes an audible noise of disgust, shaking her head back and forth.

    "How…tiresome," she scoffs before sighing wistfully, glancing up at the black shadows which obscure the ceiling. "There are some who find it exciting. The deadly dance of politics and image, status and positioning. The most delicious of wines, for all that it is often the most fatal of poisons."

    "But not you?" You glance back at her, surprised to see that she keeps her eyes upwards rather than sneering back at you. "Or did you just get tired of it after a thousand years?"

    She sniffs, drinks some more wine, and then lowers her eyes to stare at the doors through which the rest of the Tor of Dominion lies.

    "Both," she eventually says. "I partook as necessary to survive, to keep myself safe and alive, and yes," she rolls her free hand in the air for a moment, "To increase my wealth, my power. But I never enjoyed it, as some do. But even then, I never felt it my calling."

    Your mind slowly works along, and a question finds itself bubbling to the surface.

    "You said you have some scant memories of Tiranoc," you say as blandly as possible, but even then it provokes Hultressa into twisting about on you, eyes abruptly glimmering with dark power, a nimbus of Dhar starting to sketch itself into reality behind her head.

    "Tread carefully, Frederick von Hohenzollern," she says, the words soft as a pillow pressed down over a dying man's face.

    "I merely mean to ask," you raise up your hands, palms forward and empty after placing your wine bottle next to you. "If you remember enough to know if you were destined for court, or otherwise."

    It takes a long moment for the Sorceress to process your question, breathing in deeply and exhaling sharply. After which the dark power swelling from her fades away, her body slumping slightly as she turns away from you and props up her chin with her fist, elbow on her thigh.

    "I don't think so," she eventually tells you, her gaze gone far distant. "If I was, I was not a highly valued child, given the lack of guards. No," her words grow quieter. "I wandered the coastline, picking sea shells out and admiring the gleam. I played amongst the branches of the trees, clambered over paths in the mountains. A fisherman or shepherd's daughter, perhaps."

    You don't dare speak as she reminisces, not when it feels and sounds as if she is having to draw barbed and rusted steel arrow heads placed somewhere in her heart. Each word, no, each thought and memory, is dragged painfully upwards to behold in the light of the modern day. She cannot even be fully certain of the truth of all those words, either. So many years, a gulf of time enough to wipe away whole generations' worth of memories for humanity. Though you do not know the precise amount of time she spent as an Asur on Ulthuan before she was taken by the Druchii, you suspect it was less than three, perhaps two decades.

    "One more thing to hate the Druchii for then," you shrug, making her glance at you with a faint widening of the eyes. "Means you wouldn't have to deal with as high stakes bull shit otherwise."

    A rasping whipcrack of a laugh escapes her before she shakes her head.

    "Perhaps. Or perhaps the White Tower would have taken me in, propelling me into the higher ranks of society regardless," she snorts before the brief amusement dissipates. "But enough of this. I have information for you, and you will have to make decisions with me."

    "Oh?" You ask, blinking as she stands up, placing a now empty bottle to the side, and then sits down on the torture slab opposite you so that you are both facing each other properly.

    "I am sure you are aware of your friend and ally Roland d'Mousillon?" She asks, arms propping her up from just behind herself on the slab. "About his origin and history?"

    "Aye, I am," you nod, "Younger brother of Maldred the Mad, Questing Knight, used to be Parravoni before his family got installed into the Ducal Dynastic position over Mousillon. Other things," you mutter at the end.

    You have never seen Charlemagne, but you have a feeling you'd know him on sight. As a favor to Roland, you'd already promised yourself that you'd try to put the twisted mockery of a knight down so that Roland doesn't have to weather the burden of killing his own son.

    "Good," she nods, "And of course your wife needs no introduction not you, nor her abilities and worth."

    "Of course not," you say back, squinting slightly. "I've a feeling you're leading somewhere, given that Oskana and the Pegasus shall be slumbering soon."

    "Indeed," she smirks. "Are you aware that Jaques Blanche – ah," she pauses, lips twitching into a smirk. "So you are aware that he is a she, then?"

    "It came out as we were charging the Ark, aye" you sigh. "I think all the Whitewings are women, actually. Which would certainly bother some down in Bretonnia despite them never actually calling themselves knights that I can remember at the moment."

    At the moment, part of you still can't decide if it was a mistake or not. On the one hand, Tullaris Dreadbringer is dead, avenging unknowable amounts of murdered and tortured victims. On the other hand, you're now in the position your end, bantering with a Druchii Sorceress with your allies and wife all in deplorable circumstances of their own.

    "Mmm," she purses her lips, crossing and uncrossing her legs idly. "Are you aware that she is the bastard daughter of the former Duke of Parravon, the younger sister of the current Duke of Parravon, then?"

    That does, in fact, manage to give you pause. Your surprise is more than evident enough, and you can't help but note that there is clearly something in Hultressa that deeply enjoys it as she lets loose a little laugh that is unmistakably undercut by a speck of cruel amusement.

    "In fact, the whole of the Whitewings are bastard daughters of 'nobility' in that land, those who deign to call themselves the 'pinnacles' of knighthood," she scoffs at that, elven arrogance on full display before her face goes utterly blank.

    Her gaze dips for a moment to her own body, then to a hand that she brings up to examine close to her face before she looks back up to you while that hand becomes a tight, white-knuckled fist.

    "Unacknowledged, unacceptable, unyielding in their desire to make their own ways in life despite the culture forced upon them. I can understand that sort of thing," she adds. "Regardless," she tosses her hair. "She has some moderate skill in disguise and subtlety, and more importantly a willingness to use them, unlike the other 'knight'."

    Hultressa then straightens, bringing her hands together in a loud clap. When she pulls her hands apart, a glowing group of different shapes arises, a group which she then hefts up to levitate between the two of you. An imperfect circle forms around the symbols next. You are well on your way to almost drunk by this point, given how many full bottles of elven wine you've had, but you are nowhere near drunk enough to not recognize the placement of the symbols and the shape she has magically drawn for you. Sure, you only saw it one time, whilst flying at high speeds with most of your focus on a single target, but it wasn't something you were liable to forget.

    "The Ark," you say rather than ask. "Those…places of interest then?"

    "In a manner of speaking," Hultressa nods before raising up one finger. "The arenas. The food production sites – food pyramids I suppose."

    The arenas, you recognize as pentagons. The pyramids, rather obviously, she has represented with triangles. The square she did not mention, but she doesn't need to. You remember seeing that ominous statue and temple placed in that general location.

    "Was sort of expecting a more detailed map of the entire Ark, multi-dimensional and everything," you note, which makes Hultressa roll her eyes.

    "This serves our purposes well enough," she huffs before adding a few more symbols, tiny circles this time. "These," she taps them, "Are the entrances for the aquaculture food production sites as well."

    Your eyes zero in on one circle in particular.

    "Ah, you noticed," she taps the circle you are staring at. "This entrance is located nearest to where your wife and the others currently are. Which is why I recommend leaving it alone, lest it draw too much attention to them."

    She's right. A tempting target, but the nearness makes it a bad prospect for a first go around, obviously. But it isn't like there aren't other entrances, a number of them along the docks which ring the northern third of the Ark. The salt-water chambers, then. The others, elsewhere in the Ark, are the brackish and freshwater ones as described to you previously.

    "The big question, then," Hultressa stares up at the symbols in front of you. "With the assets we have at hand – your wife and the two Bretonnians, as well as myself – is how to apply them."

    "What about the water purification system?

    Hultressa's mouth forms an 'o' before her brow furrows.

    "How do you…,"

    "A place this big, with so many people, can't possibly survive on water in barrels alone," you shake your head, pausing as Hultressa gives you a considering look. "Not without all the Sorceresses doing that and that alone. Not enough for farms and more besides."

    She frowns, brow rising in the same motion, before shaking her head.

    "Bold, Frederick von Hohenzollern. Too bold," she tosses her hair before pinning you in place with her stare. "You are correct. There are special methods and designs to purify the waters of the sea for consumption and use. On a sea-going city-state, that is a matter of course."

    Then she unfurls one hand, palm facing up, and quirks her lips slightly.

    "Pray tell, then, is it not true that controlling such a supply is even more vital than just water alone, given that elf or human saltwater cannot be drunk for sustenance?"

    "Of course," you nod.

    "Then who do you think controls such a thing?" One eyebrow raises. "Such a bargaining chip? Such…power, over the myriad teeming hordes of a Black Ark?"

    Ah.

    "It's here isn't it," you grunt, massaging your temples. "Here at the Tor of Dominance."

    "Correct," she bares her teeth at you in her grin, her upraised hand twisting into a slender pointing finger directly downwards. "The lower levels of the Tor of Dominance, situated as it is directly upon the waters of the sea which flow in and out through specially designed sluice gates, have what you speak of."

    She then bounces in place, clapping like a child, were it not or the incredulous look on her face.

    "Can you imagine how heavily guarded one of the most important places in all the Ark is, Frederick von Hohenzollern? This place which grants so much power to the Ark Master? Especially on an Ark such as this, dominated by Ghrond's nature as it is?"

    "I get it," you tell her with another grunt. "Suicide to attack or try to sabotage."

    "Perhaps, perhaps not," she makes a cutting motion in the air. "The immediate repercussions are my concern," her eyes flick towards the inner chambers of her abode. "If it is an act of desperation, of immediate need, perhaps. But as an opening act? No. Too risky, without any assurance of escape afterwards."

    "Fair enough," you fold your arms over your chest. "So we'll table that as a target for now. That leaves us with the aquaculture centers, the arenas, and the actual food pyramids."

    "Arenas are closed at the moment, though I've little doubt they'll be reopening soon to placate the masses – new and old – that all will return to normalcy if only we give Alyssa a few decades," Hultressa says, working her jaw for a moment as she grinds her teeth. "We could try inserting your little 'knights' into it as infiltrators, but which arena changes things. Not to mention," she pauses and raises a hand into the air only to clench it tight. "If our goal is for them to stir up a gladiatorial rebellion, that may well prove difficult."

    "But not impossible."

    "No," she admits with a sigh. "But difficult. Not to mention, with things on the Ark as they currently are, anything less than all three arenas rising up in tandem would end with them being crushed. Now, personally," she places a hand against her chest, "I am willing to sacrifice the gladiators of one of the Arenas to cast down a House and strike a blow against Alyssa. The question then, are you? Are your companions willing to act out such a ploy, knowing its results?"

    For a brief moment, the Elector Count in you cries out in anguish. The idea of sacrificing so many is abhorrent!

    But then the rest of that same Elector Count, silences such cries.

    Sometimes, sacrifices must be made.

    And though sometimes many forget, or somehow remain ignorant, you know well enough the value of being ruthless on occasion. Natasha, who may well be slumbering at the moment, is the same. Kislev and Ostland have thrown generations into combat again and again, have sacrificed so much, so many times. And have rebuilt afterwards, as necessary. Though it may be a bleak mark on your soul, you cannot say that you would be utterly unwilling. The same, however, you know cannot necessarily be said of Roland or Jacqueline. The latter may well be a liar and scoundrel by the measures of some, but there is a steel-shod skeleton of morality she and the rest of the Whitewings retain.

    Though to be frank, such an act might well be unnecessary, depending on how events go.

    "We shall see what must be done," is your answer. "Can gladiators be transferred from arena to arena?"

    "On occasion, if properly sponsored," Hultressa says, clucking her tongue. "You put much faith in the talent of these Bretonnians and your wife to stir the spirits of those the Druchii have spent much time and energy on beating low."

    "Ah," you raise a finger, "But if you remove all spirit from them, how much of a good fight can they really provide?"

    "Another truth," she inclines her head to your point. "Still. Such measures will take time. Time we may not have. The longer we wait, the more Alyssa will stabilize the Ark and her rule."

    "You have another plan, then?"

    Hultressa reaches up to the floating imagery and taps one finger against the pyramids, and then another against the aquaculture entrances.

    "Strike now, and begin destabilization immediately," she says. "Your wife's abilities are uniquely suited for sabotaging the aquaculture centers. The larger Bretonnian, Roland, would be eagerly accepted as a worker slave in one of the pyramids. With my sponsoring his…donation, I could ensure his placement in any of them. Methods of sabotage can be extrapolated from there, no?"

    "I did have some ideas for some black powder bombs," you mutter, making Hultressa tilt her head to the side.

    "Oh?"

    "This Ark has anti-magical defenses all over the place. I have a feeling it has less purely 'mundane' devices," you offer, to which a contemplative look appears on Hultressa's face. "I just need sulfur, saltpeter, charcoal, maybe a few other things."

    "This…is true, yes. Yes, that could have some valuable effect," she cups her chin. "But that, too, takes some time for procurement and production I'd imagine."

    "A bit, sure," you nod. "I mean, it's not like we can just go around slaughtering Druchii in alleyways and corners."

    "Not right now, no," she shrugs casually before continuing to stare at the floating images of potential targets. "Too obvious, too open, too easy to get caught and traced back to us."

    "Any of the three targets are possible in their own way," you proclaim. "It just depends on how we plan to deal with them."

    "Splitting up our assets towards different tasks is possible, but not necessarily wise," Hultressa blinks rapidly before glancing back to you. "They are quite few at the moment, and if they are isolated then there are a great many failure points. I would suggest we keep them concentrated as a group, at least for now."

    You know that she's not necessarily wrong on that point. If it is just Roland, just Jacqueline, just Natasha, and they were to be discovered for one reason or another…

    "Well, let's think," you murmur to yourself. "We could also try setting the docks ablaze...but we would also want ships to escape with if possible."

    "In the end, escape will not be accomplished in a day," Hultressa shakes her head. "You must be prepared for at least some measure of time to pass before we can extract ourselves from this tainted isle."

    Assets Currently Relocated, Resting, Prepared For Action Next Day As A Result

    Path Forward Choice
    [] Plan For A Single Target [Describe Initial Thoughts, Plan, Methodologies, Asset/Ark Agent Usage]
    -[] Aquaculture Sites
    -[] Food Pyramid Sites
    -[] Arena Sites

    OR

    [] Plan For Multiple Targets
    -[] Aquaculture Sites [Describe Initial Thoughts, Plan, Methodologies, Asset/Ark Agent Usage]
    -[] Food Pyramid Sites [Describe Initial Thoughts, Plan, Methodologies, Asset/Ark Agent Usage]
    -[] Arena Sites [Describe Initial Thoughts, Plan, Methodologies, Asset/Ark Agent Usage]

    Sites Currently Untenable
    - Temple of Khaine
    - Tor of Dominance
    - Tor of Dominance Water Purification Chambers

    Ark Agent: Sir Roland Martel d'Mousillon (Formerly Sandrine du Pointe du Lac Dieudonné), Questing Knight of Bretonnia
    The last living relative of Maldred the Mad, and the traitorous Duke's younger brother, Roland d'Mousillon and his brother were formerly Parravoni nobility elevated to the task of taking charge of the faltering ducal state of Mousillon by decree of the Royarch of Bretonnia and Fay Enchantress. Both brothers married, and subsequently swore to Quest for the Grail to restore honor and purity to Mousillon. In this, they failed. Maldred fell to insanity and darkness, coupling with the evil witch Malfleur, and enacted the dishonorable Affair of the False Grail which saw much of Mousillon corrupted and razed. Exiled in the aftermath from all of Bretonnia for his own safety from his enraged countrymen by the Fay Enchantress, despite fighting alongside the armies of good against his brother, Roland d'Mousillon has spent multiple decades ranging across the whole of the world. He has crossed every continent, braved the edges of the northern Chaos Wastes, plumbed the depths of the world beneath the tunnels of the dawi, and has fought against evil and injustice the whole of the way in his quest for the Grail. A scarred monolith of a man, he is the towering result of many generations of only the finest of nobility marrying, decades of combat, training, and genuine acts of heroism. In the course of his quest, he has taken many a wound and gained many a scar, managing to remain alive through the esoteric efforts of healers, shamans, wizards, priests, alchemists, and quite possibly the Lady of the Lake herself. Immensely strong, dextrous, and not unintelligent, it is exceedingly difficult for his movements to be disguised at the best of times especially when his uniquely scarred appearance is included. Though he is a near peerless combatant, he often shies away from the most dishonorable tactics, believing quite strongly in the tenets of chivalry and the Lady. However, perhaps as a result of his decades of globetrotting, he is somewhat more flexible than one would expect. Not that much, but some. Additionally, said experience has created a linguistic polyglot and familiarity with many cultures and civilizations. While he has some experience in cloaking himself, approaching the towers of evil wizards in darkness and quiet to rescue maidens, he is no master saboteur, and should not be expected to act as such.
    + Heroic Fighter
    + Multicultural Knowledge
    + Polyglot
    - Unmissable Stature
    - Unskilled Saboteur
    - Well-Principled Knight (Reduced Inflexibility)

    Ark Agent: Jacqueline Blanche (Illegitimate d'Parravon, Illegitimate Letard Family Member, Illegitimate Dame, Pegasus Rustler), Whitewings Leader
    The current leader of the Whitewings mercenary group, Jacqueline Blanche was born into the accursed realm of bastardry. Worse, she is the daughter of no less than Jasperre Letard, the now dead Duke of Parravon who enacted the Third Parravon War out for the most wretched of reasons, and sister of the currently living yet maligned Duke Jerrod Letard. As a woman beneath that most hidebound and curmudgeonly conservative Dukes in all of Bretonnia, Jacqueline lived through a poor childhood indeed. Any acknowledgement of her existence would malign the Duke's honor and prestige, yet neither could her innocent life simply be snuffed out. Instead she was kept away from the main castle, in a shack within the city of Parravon itself, with a single maid. So it was that she scrabbled and fought for every moment, every penny, simply to make it out and away from the city she was effectively shackled to. Graduating from effective orphan to street urchin to rogue, her life changed again when she sought to pickpocket a band of taciturn knights passing through, only to be caught. The leader of the band somehow saw through the disguise she was wearing to conceal her identity and gender, and took her aside. Up until then, learning to disguise herself as a boy was only a matter of course, if only to be taken more seriously as well as protect herself from certain dangers an unattended young girl need be wary of in the back streets. That knight who caught her turned out to be a woman, also in disguise, named Amelie Blanche, a bastard daughter of a Carcassonne knight. In fact, all of their small band of were of similar circumstances. They soon discerned the child's circumstances, and made an offer. And so Jacqueline Letard d'Mousillon disappeared, and Jaques Blanche joined the Whitewings as a squire and future member. Circumstances of how they acquire their mounts aside, the Whitewings have generally held themselves to a relatively high standard of morals and honor. Yet, being women of course, by the standards of many in Bretonnia they cannot be true knights, nor share in the path and glory of true chivalry. So while they have refused dishonorable causes and despicable requests, they are far more willing to bend on matters of how they accomplish the causes they do take up. After all, they spend their lives in disguise, lying to the world though never to each other. Though they still swear by the Lady, on occasion, it is more akin to a 'woman's agreement' with a wink and shrug than anything else, and they know that they are undeserving of Her true grace most of the time. Despite that, each of the Whitewings are superbly skilled combatants and knights, with leadership granted by merit and skill alone. Consider, then, that Jacqueline Blanche currently stands as the leader of the Whitewings.
    + Heroic Fighter
    + Mistress of Disguise
    + Un-Innocent Saboteur
    - Shell Shocked At Losses
    - Used To Squad-Based Tactics, Not Individual Work
    - Better Mounted Combatant Than On Foot

    Ark Agent: Natasha von Hohenzollern (formerly Romanov), Countess Hohenzollern, Wielder of the Widow's Grace
    You know damn well who your wife is. She is not, nor will ever be as powerful as her sister Kattarin outside of a very specific set of divine circumstances, but that does not mean she is particularly weak. She is more than equivalent to an Imperial Magister with Ice Magic, and is no slouch when it comes to combat without her magic as well. Born of Kislev, spending her life at your side and in Ostland, she does not shy away from almost any tactic or strategy to accomplish a goal. The only difficulty would be that her own magically talented nature will no doubt make her stand out more to the substantially more magically sensitive elves if they grow particularly wary. At the same time, her particular brand of magic is quite versatile on a sea-going city-state.
    +Heroic Fighter
    +A Ruthless Mother
    +Powerful Ice Magic
    -Specifically Unique Asset
    - Irreplaceable
    - Easier For Elves To Detect


    View: https://imgur.com/a/xOrH3CL

    Triangles / Food Pyramids
    1. Fulmination of Deprivation [Luxury Foods, Base Foods, Orchard]
    2. Cage of Bones And Graves [Luxury Foods, Base Foods, Orchard]
    3. Glorious Fields of Pain [Luxury Foods, Base Foods, Orchard]
    4. Torturous Rise of Ecstasy [Solely For Druchii Consumption, Livestock, Most Heavily Guarded]

    Arenas
    1. Crimson Thorn [Owned by House Direblaze – Monstrous Beasts, Lizardmen]
    2. Ring of Gore [Owned By House Spitethorn – Sheer Numbers In Fights]
    3. Path of Glory [Owned By House Cruelbarb – Uniqueness/Questions of Pain/Variety]

    Aquaculture Centers
    Dark Blue – Saltwater
    Bright Blue – Freshwater
    Middle Blue - Brackish
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • I'm very much of the inclination to start things off by hitting a single target first to immediately destabilase things on the ark then move towards hitting multiple targets.
     
    Who owns which Food Pyramids/Aquaculture Centers? I can't imagine the ruler could own all of them, if we targeted a specific family and weaken them could we increase the tension/infighting?
     
    It wouldn't be hard for a slave rebellion starting at the Ring of Gore to spill into the Cage of Bones and Graves, would it?
     
    Great Chapter Torroar! Thank you!

    As for the vote, personally, I feel like hitting 3 or more once is too risky, but the impact of only hitting 1 would get counterbalanced by Alyssa's own actions. Because the enemy can also act.

    As for which of the 3 to hit, I feel like the arenas should be delayed a while so that the then hopefully more destabilized ark can't mount a response as fast and the rebellions can do more damage while sacrificing fewer slaves,

    Doing the arenas too early will just lead Alyssa to crush the rebellion rapidly, showing off her control and power, thereby stabilizing the ark more with shock and awe.
     
    TheGrape said:
    Who owns which Food Pyramids/Aquaculture Centers? I can't imagine the ruler could own all of them, if we targeted a specific family and weaken them could we increase the tension/infighting?
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    No specific family.

    As sort of displayed with the fact that the Tor of Dominance has the main water purification chambers in its sublevels, there are specific methods or 'levers' built in so that the Ark Master can exert undue amounts of influence on the rest of the Ark beyond just personal power/might/etc. It is Alyssa's new cabal and Coven, as well as those appointed by such, who are in command/control of those areas, because having food and water on a floating city-state island are of incredible value.

    Therefore, by striking them, you are striking at places under technical control of Alyssa, downwards through her coven, and those specific Druchii either pushed into those positions or 'allowed' to retain them after being installed under Screamtaker, or even earlier depending on their age.

    As noted in a previous update, the Deep Dwellers are the really weirdos of Druchii society on the Ark who remain out of the sun basically forever, fiddling/running/maintaining the water chambers for aquaculture purposes. They're their own little faction, who are nominally under the control of the Ark Master.
     
    Verthack said:
    Doing the arenas too early will just lead Alyssa to crush the rebellion rapidly, showing off her control and power, thereby stabilizing the ark more with shock and awe.
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    I think we should fake the malfunction of the one or 2 of Aquaculture Center with Natasha's magic depending on how it works it freezing could make for a good sight that it malfunctioned because of the fight... or because someelf decided to weaken their zone of control. Later we strike the other side of the Black arc to fake an in-fighting. With Roland staying and guarding the mounts for now. While our ladies fake being men and because it is known that there aren't any male wizards from kislev the suspicion could fall on the druchii.
     
    Massgamer said:
    These sound best for first targets. I'd say the saltwater one first since that is uses the most available source of water to dark elves right now.
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    I think that the opposite would be a better option, striking salt water would make Water Purification Chambers more valuable, while striking fresh water would make the demand for fresh water fall drastically, which is also kinda bad because Alyssa controls the price of water so giving her an easy win of cutting the price down would be bad, but on the other other hand self sabotage for an easy win is druchi style.

    Thus I think that striking Brackish ones which require both fresh and salt water would work best for us because the price of food rises while the price of water only falls slightly which could raise a suspicion in the durchi.

    Thus I think we should go with striking a fresh one first followed by brackish one nearby to fake not only that Alyssa tried to force a lower price of water for good will and food for money, but she did too much collateral damge.
     
    I think setting off a bunch of slave rebellions first would be a good idea as that gives cover for who gets blamed for the following strikes.

    Maybe something like setting off first:
    1. Crimson Thorn [Owned by House Direblaze – Monstrous Beasts, Lizardmen]
    3. Path of Glory [Owned By House Cruelbarb – Uniqueness/Questions of Pain/Variety]
    In order to draw in the guards.

    Then a breakout from:
    2. Ring of Gore [Owned By House Spitethorn – Sheer Numbers In Fights]

    Or alternatively hit a bunch food sites in order to draw off guards over a series of days, then set off 1. and 3. to draw the rest, then set off 2. and try to seize the docks with them and GTFO with the city to messed up to pursue.
     
    Does anyone recall if Hultressa previously mentioned knowing specifically where the other white wings and Kerillian are (Sadrina is at the Tor, I think). I'll check, but if somebody remembers that would save time.

    If so, maybe one type of destabilization might help future efforts to retrieve them more than others.

    If we're going to ultimately escape the Ark, we need more help.

    Edit: no clear indication of where Kerellian might be held. There was a brief mention that the white wings would possibly be sacrifices for the cult of Khaine, sent to the brothels, or the arenas.
     
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    With Natasha we don't need to actually enter the Aquaculture places, we just need to freeze the pipes, and things will blow by themselves.
     
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    I speak in abstract but a deception would ideal unless you can pit them against each other, dread manipulator Kissinger is dead many things are possible now.
     
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