Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism
- Thread starter torroar
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- United States
Because it is the only option that nobody else chose to do. Also, Logan doesn't have the abilities to significantly contribute to other two options, and splitting up allows the party to cover more ground. Finally, we desperately need intel on the Warbosses, because this siege will never break until they are killed.
Massgamer
Advance toward the Future
- Location
- The Future
I argue he is more useful backing Regina up and giving thoughts on warmachines too myself. Logan is no rogue and I have no doubt that the Warbosses have really sneaky gits guarding them at all times.
- Location
- Somewhere
The argument being used is "Acquire everything, because everything has value, and Logan isn't going to affect the outcome greatly unless Logan goes on the "Scouting Leadership" action".
The assumption is that there will be valuable information, and that this won't lead to a sabotage action, but just be a fact finding mission. Scouting leadership is variable in value. Risk is plausibly variable as well, Regina's actions could cause a distraction for Logan to exploit.
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- Location
- Underground
Marlin 1:
So possible sabotage opportunities for all three, if somebody is there and rolls go well. Bit we only get the chance to sabotage something around he leaders if we take that option. While Regina and Cloudhorn/Genevieve have chances on their own too.
Torroar: If there's some faulty assumptions going around or IC context not being realized...providing facts is just that. Providing facts. I can't recall you ever expressing an opinion on which option you prefer in a vote, let alone one in progress. So in your shoes I wouldn't sweat it. But your prerogative on sharing or not.
Mass: Logan's no engineer or dawi expert. He won't have much to add about the machines.
Marlin: leaning more toward assuming scouting is the most we'll be able to do. But if opportunity knocks, sure why not.
That said, depending on how things go there could be opportunities for sabotage with all three if things go well. There will be that chance at two targets no matter what. But there will only possibly be that opportunity with the leadership if we choose for somebody to go there.
You'll miss all the home runs you don't swing for.
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I mean, it's not that. Only faulty assumption I saw was that any choice was a sure bad ending, and I corrected that. Beyond that, I can't give more in-depth IC information about the state of the enemy war camp and what is and isn't going on inside of it. It's a balancing act, as well, because I can say that there's more danger one direction than another, but I'm not going to specify and give inside detailing on that. I was just noting I didn't want to say anything like 'oh, but perhaps this this and this might be here' or whatever. I mean, I already know what might/will begin happening, it's an active situation after all.
Yeah, no worries.
- Location
- Somewhere
Regina is not a known engineer or dawi expert either. Logan brings his axe, his genius trait, his status as a Priest of Ulric, and his ability to see the winds. With Logan, Regina can find dhar power sources, or siege engine sabotage opportunities, such as weakening part of the structure rather than obliterating the whole machine, releasing bound-daemons might be a option. Logan's participation may also speeds Regina's efforts up, so that Regina can do the most effective damage with the people available in the shortest time possible. Or at minimum acquire information on many of the siege equipment available in the area they explore, as the location for the siege weapons is likely massive for one person to count. Hmmm, not sure if the Whaagh, has less than 50, or more than 50, siege engines.
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[X] Scouting Leadership: Logan knew that the WAAAGH!! was being led in a strange manner. He was not stupid enough to think that he could properly try and take out a Warboss all on his lonesome, but any information about them and their current doings could be valuable. It would not be the first time that Logan has had to be a lone wolf, though it was as ever more dangerous to be so than almost any other possibility.
- Location
- United States
We just need nine more votes and we'll have a tie.
Sadly, I only have the one vote. I would really love to be able to provide the empire/dawi with some perspective on the command structure, its necessary for any potential decapitating action, which I believe may be the only way to beat the horde. There may be another chance for it, or there may not. Hopefully we don't have to deal with the Greentide and Beasttide at the same time.
- Location
- Underground
She's spent all her time with the dawi for how many years now? Living with them, fighting alongside them, seeing their stuff up close and knows what it does. She's also faced everything they've faced in all that time. She's not an engineer, no. But I think we can consider her a dawi expert at least.
He may well be able to help Regina with sabotage, if circumstances allow. But Regina is highly capable all around. She can and probably has done things solo.
So it's Logan giving a boost to her efforts, but it definitely costs any chance of any knowledge about the leaders or sabotaging them at all.
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- He/Him
If it's what you want!
I love that
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I certainly have nothing against it. Even if we do get some valuable information from the other paths, the nature of this side of the quest is such we won't be able to try and metagame with it. And I'm certainly interested in a "first hand" look at more of your stuff.
- Location
- United States
That sounds like a fun idea. We get more content, and you can get brain juices flowing.
Agreed, somes like a pretty fun idea, though where would you even begin to write about alternative paths? Weve gone down a lot of stuff over the past 9ish years? Though, I guess as a good road to work down on, what would our path have been as picking Middenland? Would we have had to deal with Dieter Helsnicht, like in the same way it was presented in-quest with Zacharius the Everliving, as the Ancestral Foe of the Todbringers that constatnly tries to fuck up the holdings of the province out of spite and delusions of Granduer of ruling the province as is own undead kingdom?
- Location
- Winchester
I think when he said other paths, he meant either the other choices from this vote, or the character select choice where we went for Logan (the other options being Magnus and Alexandra)
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- Location
- United States
I think this one seems better. It allows us to see what our other kids are up to, and the choices they default to when not under our control. It also, prevents us from getting meta knowledge that could influence the choices we make as Logan.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It's Torroar's choice, so I'm not really so sure there's a "better" option.
We wouldn't be able to act on meta knowledge and influence the choices anyway, not with how things are being handled. There's no write in option, for example.
Massgamer
Advance toward the Future
- Location
- The Future
That sounds fun, lets you explore 'What If...' scenarios.
Only if you want to of course, your fun comes first.
[CANON] Non-Violent Applications - torroar
Non-Violent Applications
2337 IC
The Ostland School of Gunnery and Engineering never slept, not really. At every hour, of every day, the engineers were painstakingly creating or maintaining units from their current catalogue of creations, or arguing and debating over potential new ones. Even though it was Fourth Shift, past midnight before the sun had even begun to try and creep over the horizon, it rumbled on. In one of the chambers, a group of engineers were theorizing on Wing-Suit designs to try and both achieve lighter frames but retain flight capabilities without any loss in propulsion or maneuvering. Or, in one heavier set woman's case, how to improve their lift capabilities so that the soldiers strapped into them could either carry more armor or more ammo for their crossbows. In another chamber, a Master Engineer with a good amount of black dividers in their white mohawk was stalking back and forth behind a group of juniors that were crawling all over a cannon that lay on a large sheet in front of them. Or, at least, what had once been a cannon. The humongous crack which ran down its length had split it in half, something which the sweating and red-faced younger engineers were currently being thoroughly grilled about. They had been the ones overseeing its casting and installation onto the wheelbase after all. There were Doomspheres, Deathspinners, volley cannons, great cannons, dash cannons, and more. To build, to maintain, to try and improve, this was the lot of all those who achieved the state of even junior most engineers - freshly shaved head and all - to the heavy-headed multi-foot high mohawks of the Master Engineers. High and low, all would work on the assembly lines, the disassembly chambers, and would have the opportunity to engage in the debates over everything else. However, so too was it also known that at least two black bands would need to be added to one's mohawk before they could even begin trying for a private sleeping chamber, within which they could try and create their own custom designs all on their lonesome rather than by committee.
For Anna von Hohenzollern, who had inherited the personal rooms of the Master Engineer of the School, and was first and greatest of the students of Founder Bronzeheart, there were a great many scrawled ideas indeed. Entire books had been written and drawn in, ideas and ideas of ideas, with stacks of papers carefully bound up in little stacks. Not all of it was even on parchment, much was on vellum, wax papers, carved into wood blocks and bricks, and more. Sometimes, it was simply a fact that one would run out of 'easy' writing materials when out on campaign whether short or long, and would have to improvise if they truly wished to ensure their idea was recorded. A great portion of it was entirely nonsensical, with multiple notations about the lack of possessing the proper resources to even see the design partly through. Lacking access to certain lighter but functional metals in sufficient quantities, or in other cases lacking access to sufficient quantities of heavier materials such as gromril. Some ideas were pinned to the walls, with larger designs requiring many papers strung together so that larger overarching diagrams could stretch beyond otherwise limited confines. Particularly prominent was an abominable looking quad-barreled handgun with questions on how to insert sufficient powder, ammo depositing, barrel connections, and more.
The bedroom was large indeed, large enough to have easily accommodated an entire house of a small and poorer family out in the countryside. There were four desks, a large bed, a small kitchen, and aside from the doors leading to the rest of the school proper a separate connected personal armory, wardrobe, and bathroom. Somewhat more incongruous to the rest of it all, in an area of the main chamber that had been cleared out from the stacks of notes and odd bits and bobs of machinery, was another bed. This, of course, was much smaller, and more accommodating for a young child. It possessed far more vibrant colors in its bedding and blanket than the larger bed in the exact center of the room, the riot of greens and purples and reds all the more distinct against the relatively muted greys and blacks which made up the rest of the room's aesthetic. Many pillows lay there in a pile, forming more of a nest than anything else, with an exactingly made cloth bull stuffed with goose down sat triumphantly at the highest peak.
From within that nest, a young girl sat, peering about the room with all the highly controlled stillness and caution that a mind and personality stretched to accommodate and imitate her mother's own could craft. Which, to hear the honest opinion of many in the School and beyond, was beyond simply uncanny. Not that the older woman currently working a wrench against a pile of metal and gears cared. She noted it, certainly, but she quite literally could not care. It was only Anna von Hohenzollern's multiple mental models which, admittedly, were based upon her previous years and observations of those around her, which provided the idea that if she could feel anything about it, she would be simultaneously offended on her own parenting ability's behalf and embarrassed that they would be right.
"Mother," Natasha von Hohenzollern the younger - colloquially called Tasha despite the fact that there was a great many things to differentiate the girl from her namesake - called out from her nest of pillows with exactingly precise enunciation and volume.
"Speak," Anna responded, her tone flat and words as customarily dead and short of all emotion as they ever would be. "Do you require sustenance, daughter?" She asked before letting loose a single grunt of effort as she torqued the wrench and the entire pile of metal collapsed fully into component parts.
Which was well. It was always worth it to try and salvage as much material as possible whenever a Doomsphere exploded. Statistically far more was able to be reclaimed than should have been likely given the sheer violence that was inflicted whenever said explosions occurred.
"No, thank you. I do not need any more food or water at this time. My question pertains to the designs around us," Natasha said in the same clipped and careful voice.
A slight pause, a shift in the pillows, usually meaning that Natasha was now facing her. A quick check on the mental models, and Anna flicked her eyes up to see that she was correct.
"Elaborate," Anna nodded to her daughter before turning back to pick through the pile and begin dividing what would be re-used immediately and what would need to be melted down for a more in depth reclamation.
"Why are they all weapons?"
Anna did not frown, she could not feel distress that her mental models had run into something they could not immediately supply an answer to fast enough to not allow observation of the delay in her mind to her mouth. Though one model suggested that if she could, she would. Straightening from her seat, she turned, mohawk not wavering or waggling in the air in the slightest as she did so, to face her daughter. The little girl was looking right back at her with the same unwavering and unblinking look. Presumably, one model stated, it might be considered either disturbing or adorable to have a child looking so seriously at another person. Regardless of that, Anna saw no real point in dismissing her child's question or words, despite the fact that often in other families beyond the Hohenzollerns she saw many such examples. What was the point of simply telling a child to be silent, when their curiosity at such a young age if even somewhat properly rewarded would ensure proper education on the subject in question moving forward in their life? Only when the questions approached topics that were, usually, considered 'too mature' for the time and therefore not to be rewarded until a pre-determined stage of mental and emotional maturity, did Anna see a point to such parental behavior.
It was, however, a noted distinction between the Hohenzollerns and other families on the subject of violence, weaponry, and intimate familiarity therein.
"Because that is the most commonly required product of the school given the violent nature of the world," Anna answered, pointing at the quad-barrel handgun which was rapidly approaching the severely outdated and long bypassed blunderbuss of yore. "The standard handgun is capable of putting down one, perhaps two, rarely three lightly armored goblins. Or the same for humans. Heavier armor, however, requires better placed shots or to be shot at closer range. Entities with larger bodies, or greater armor, require more firepower to punch through, and artillery cannot be used on each single entity that an enemy may possess."
Explanation over with, Anna turned back to her pile, tugging out a half-melted gear with one finger while with the other she removed a smaller one that was by contrast completely intact.
"Does the school only ever make weapons?"
A handful of screws would be workable, but the majority of them clearly been badly stripped by the explosion ejecting them from their place. None of the springs had survived, which was completely understandable.
"Not necessarily. There are non-military applications for Wing-Suits and cyclers, though these have received less priority in development," she announced. "The printing press, on the other hand, has no immediate combat applications unless one was an ogre and picked one up to use as a bludgeon."
There was the spark of something, somewhere floating around in the grinding clockwork of her mind, about another use for the deathspinner, but it simply wasn't there yet. She let it lie. It would drift along, in and out of her consciousness, and there would either be something as a result or not. Only her subconscious, her dreams, transmitted and reacted in accordance to more than than her conscious state. And even then they were not unaffected by her altered soul. If anything, nine times out of ten, her dreams were simply an extension of her waking periods, working through issues and proposing hypothetical scenarios and further hypothetical resolutions to said scenarios.
"Have you ever made something without immediate combat applications, mother? Or, by intent at least?"
Anna paused, and blinked once, and then turned around on her stool.
"Have I caused you distress by having you bed in my chambers, surrounded by such things?" She tilted her head as she looked her daughter up and down, immediately catching the flush on still chubby cheeks and momentary widening of eyes before the child did their best at moderating herself. "You can still take up my offer to be housed at Castle Wulfenburg-,"
"No!" Natasha yelped, eyes bugging out slightly before she took a long deep breathe and inhaled and exhaled slowly. "No," she repeated, once more at moderate volume. "I apologize for interrupting and raising my voice unnecessarily, mother."
"Forgiven," Anna shrugged as she blinked languidly. "Now elaborate with regards to your questioning."
Natasha puffed her cheeks in and out as she breathed carefully and marshaled her thoughts.
"I was wondering if you, specifically, had invented anything which was not immediately meant for combat purposes," she say slowly and carefully.
Anna straightened and began to flip backwards through her memories. She had certainly made a few 'big name' inventions, here and there, but the vast majority of her work were modifications and testing for the most absolute minute improvements here and there. Nothing which would be worth making a larger, more prominent note of in any grander annals or more grandiose rumor mills, but important nonetheless. For all of that, she had known what the likely conclusion would be the moment the question had been asked, but due diligence demanded that she make sure. Even the creation of the cyclers had been immediately intended for something military related, whether as scouts or messengers or the like, it simply needed more refinement and testing.
"I have not," she answered her daughter, letting loose another short and aborted shrug. "Does this distress you?"
"...no, mother. I was simply curious," Natasha said after a moment, hunching down further in her nest, and blinking rapidly once she was - incorrectly - sure that her mother could not see the faint disappointment on her face.
Multiple mental models collided into one another while delivering the same general conclusion.
"Do you desire me to?"
Natasha stilled.
"Uh."
"Natasha," Anna said, the rebuke clear despite her voice being no more firm or softer than before.
"I just wanted to know if you...could," Natasha dragged the last word out of her own mouth with no small effort.
Anna blinked at her daughter and then swept the pile off the desk she was working out and pulled out some quills, ink, and parchment instead.
"I have not tried. I now shall. Would you like to observe?"
Multiple mental models agreed that it was a good thing that her daughter sprang up from the nest and scurried over, little shift swishing in the air while carrying her stuffed bull.
"May...I sit in your lap?" Natasha looked up at her, eyes curiously managing to seem larger despite that being physically unlikely to have changed.
"Yes," Anna shrugged, and felt as soft fingers and toes dug into her slightly as Natasha clambered up, sitting the bull in her own now much higher lap.
"Now what do you do?" Natasha asked her, hair tickling at Anna's chin.
"One theorizes, thinks, and eventually tests."
There was only surface level comprehension on the child's face. It would improve in time.
"Let us theorize on potential issues that a civilian might encounter that could be solved by machinery."
There were already several, now that Anna had redirected her thinking in that track, but she was relatively sure that this would be considered a 'bonding experience' for Natasha and would furthermore allow her to develop her own mind.
"Um...a baker...needs to bake more bread?"
"An improved oven," Anna wrote the question out on the sheet. "Possible solutions would include increasing size of the oven, heating length or power, but 'needing to bake more bread' could require supply issues that we could not simply solve. That would require more agricultural improvement. Possibly wider plows...," Anna trailed off, and then scrawled on the paper at high speed as Natasha watched.
'Improved supply of water - applications agricultural and non-agricultural. Investigate. Diverted minor rivers, canals, larger earthmoving project. Investigate pumping as a technology and system, correspond with dwarfs.'
"That may be a larger project, which could take a lot of time," Anna said before resting her chin atop her daughter's head. "Let us theorize on a smaller project, with a smaller completion time."
Natasha did not shake, or shudder, but she did go still in her lap. Curious.
"I am not pressuring you," Anna informed her, which only made the girl tense. "Natasha," she said, raising her voice a single shade. "I require your total comprehension of the fact that I am not pressuring you, merely informing you."
It took a moment, as it always did, for Natasha's mind to wrestle down the more illogical aspects of being human.
"I...I understand. May I request more specific parameters?"
"You may," Anna said.
"What sort of application should we pursue?"
"That is up to you. Consider a small-scale improvement you could make to a larger group of people. To ease theorization, focus upon a single group or type of occupation. Such as 'farmer', 'baker', and so on."
And so Natasha thought, and Anna thought, and they thought together.
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2337 IC
"Chef, Chef!"
Hagrid Baggins glanced up as the door to his office was not quite slammed open. He glowered at the line cook who had just entered without a single knock, and rolled the stem of his pipe in his mouth so that it was towards the corner. He blinked, once, from behind his reading glasses as he went through a variety of reports from each of the different organizations and efforts he was involved with. The young chef in front of him, Bolly Greensgrape, was barely past his fourth decade of life, and if he was going to make a habit of barging in unannounced Hagrid had no idea if he'd ever actually make it past line cook. Either that or he'd end up with a bolt in the head after going through the wrong door at the wrong time when the wrong people were speaking privately.
"Yes, Greensgrape?" He asked, puffing on his pipe.
"Chef Baggins, they've...the Hohenzollerns are here?"
At that, Hagrid raised an eyebrow and sat back in his comfortable chair, glancing at one of the larger rectangular boards on his walls. This one in particular being the Patron Meal Schedule, carefully annotated and kept track of.
"Rather off-schedule," he mused. "Normally the Count would inform us if something like this would be happening."
"Er, no, I mean...," Greensgrape rubbed at the back of his head, and Hagrid sighed and rubbed at his temples.
"Get to the bloody point, lad," he groused at the younger halfling, "I'm not getting any younger here."
"It's just two of them, Chef Baggins," Greensgrape clarified. "The uh...the one with the," he motioned at the top of his head. "And her daughter, I think. And they didn't ask for a table, they just...went into the kitchen?"
Hagrid blinked and a smile came across his face.
"Well, isn't that nice."
"Chef?"
Hagrid's smile drifted away as he looked at Greensgrape.
"Haven't you ever heard of a mother teaching her daughter how to cook? Even if she doesn't have the passion for it, Anna von Hohenzollern is one of the most technically perfect cooks I've ever seen," he shook his head and pushed past him. "Come on, let's see what's going on."
What was going on was, apparently, quite a bit more of an uproar for the chefs of the Grand Kitchen, Hagrid had to admit as he entered. A good number turned to him at attention, but more were busy staring in absolute shock as a fully grown Executive Chef was in competition with Anna von Hohenzollern of all things. Said Chef was Polls Pocklefeather, one of the largest and most muscular halflings in all of Ostland. The man could lift a Tall Folk barrel of ale over his head without trouble, and his biceps and forearms looked better fits for a Tall Folk than most halflings. For all of that, however, he was sweating and red as he frantically rattled his whisk in a metal bowl to churn eggs to a soft white foam. It was a good whisk, too, gotten in a good deal from a basketmaking concern Hagrid was friends with from fine willow twigs. By comparison, the ever chilly-calm Anna was using some kind of metallic thing of a small handful of thin gears and a twisting lever to do exactly the same thing with exacting speed and evenness. Multiple bowls were set next to her and Polls, but there were more on the Hohenzollern's side.
"What's going on here?" He asked calmly as he beheld the scene.
"Mother is doing final testing," a quiet voice answered from - shockingly - below Hagrid's eyeline, at which point his heart leapt into his throat before he realized it was the dutiful and quiet Tasha von Hohenzollern speaking.
Well. Usually quiet. There was a curious and adorable little band of barely repressed excitement in her voice.
"Final testing?"
"I'LL NOT LOSE TO SOME TECHNICAL DO-WIZARDRY!" Polls shouted. "BRING ME ANOTHER BOWL AND WHISK AND HOLD THE BLOODY BOWLS STEADY!"
As two prep cooks brought said bowls, and more eggs, Tasha answered him.
"A new invention. To help you mix items without requiring basket byproducts for cooking utensils. Slightly more expensive, but we are relatively sure that with a modicum of care and maintenance that they will last longer and will be easier to clean."
Hagrid's mouth parted slightly as he beheld the device in Anna von Hohenzollern's hands.
"I...I see."
And he felt in his old heart a righteous thumping. A better kitchen. A cleaner kitchen. Faster, better, more even cooking. Oh, the whisk makers did their best, but the chaos of nature and randomness of hands won out a lot of the time. Oh, Esmeralda, what a wonder it was.
"Mother is going to win. The Mechanically Assisting Whisk Device is easier on the arms and hands, too. More endurance," Tasha said with a bit of quiet pride.
"Polls is one of our best," he informed her.
"Would you like to make a bet?" She asked innocently while looking up at him.
Hagrid squinted at the child.
"...I've made my life, family, and religion on the promises of the Hohenzollerns being followed through on," he answered with a snort. "I'll not be switching my bets so easily."
"Oh..," she frowned before shrugging. "Okay. Everyone else did though."
At that, Hagrid sighed again and began rubbing at the bridge of his nose.
"Did they?"
"Mother says I can use my winnings to form the beginnings of my own monetary reserves," Tasha said with a toothy grin.
"Oh, Esmeralda," he groaned.
And in the end, Tasha von Hohenzollern did end up walking out with a healthy little purse, a lighter heart, and a smile on her face.
Anna von Hohenzollern simply walked out, her daughter holding her hand, and an exclusive production and distribution agreement signed with Hagrid Baggins of the Grand Kitchen and Cult of Esmeralda. After all, she owned no estates, unlike her non-magically touched siblings. She took no salary at the school, and largely relied entirely upon the school and her family's funding for any projects she might have. It was small scale, for now. Luxury items. Impossible to reproduce on a large scale given the materials and expertise required. But nonetheless, the registration was made in the annals of the school of a new invention.
This one with two Hohenzollerns marked as the creators, a mother and daughter.
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