- Pronouns
- He/Him
Except she wasn't. She was smaller and less special because of her mate's access to Magnus' resources and attention.
She won because she was more vicious.
Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism
- Thread starter torroar
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- warhammer warhammer fantasy fantasy intrigue happens male protagonist ck2 quest belief stronk count of cannons drunken wisdom foes in the shadows graf of guns (guns) if you have a question check the front page first it begins... mountain vietnam ogres paranoia rising unseen enemies everywhere use the search function before asking waifu wars wake the bull
She won because she was more vicious.
Massgamer
Advance toward the Future
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True, can't deny that! Just like her pack leader, lol.
What Sigismund had in size, magical upgrades, and superior training, Oskana made up for in battle experience, willingness to potentially hurt herself in order to win, and, as said, viciousness.
Magnus loves his griffon and does regularly fly with him, but doesn't go out for battles nearly as much, only going out for big ones that Magnus personally takes part in, which is much less often compared to Freddy.
For better or worse, Oskana is undeniably an Ostland Gryphon. As shown in her POV. interlude, especially.
She considers herself just one more big winged four-legged daughter of her Pack, and has learned well from watching them spar and from joining in on occasion herself. Pain and risk are necessary for victory, especially against foes that are technically stronger than you such as how the one she mated with was in fact stronger than her. But he had not yet learned how to fight on even if his wings were broken, how to struggle and fight down to the wire and beyond it as was necessary. Yes, he had a good amount of combat experience, the finest of foods and care, aid from a bevy of trainers, and the personal attentions of multiple Patriarchs/Matriarchs.
But Oskana fought like not just her life but all that she loved was on the line, and her opponent did not. Plus, she was pissed off about this whole 'Pack Leader of all Pack Leaders bullshit' that the two-leg that was the supposed master of the other gryphon was. If she could talk, the phrase 'Emperor my ass' would have definitely come out of her. Yes, he was irritated that she dismissed him, considered him lesser, but she was just shy of lethally pissed off. She also was more experienced in fighting, yes, but also in dealing with a gryphon heat, while the younger gryphon was not.
She knows no other Pack Leader than her father Frederick and her mother Natasha, and again, for better or worse, she's a real Ostlander gryphon.
She considers herself just one more big winged four-legged daughter of her Pack, and has learned well from watching them spar and from joining in on occasion herself. Pain and risk are necessary for victory, especially against foes that are technically stronger than you such as how the one she mated with was in fact stronger than her. But he had not yet learned how to fight on even if his wings were broken, how to struggle and fight down to the wire and beyond it as was necessary. Yes, he had a good amount of combat experience, the finest of foods and care, aid from a bevy of trainers, and the personal attentions of multiple Patriarchs/Matriarchs.
But Oskana fought like not just her life but all that she loved was on the line, and her opponent did not. Plus, she was pissed off about this whole 'Pack Leader of all Pack Leaders bullshit' that the two-leg that was the supposed master of the other gryphon was. If she could talk, the phrase 'Emperor my ass' would have definitely come out of her. Yes, he was irritated that she dismissed him, considered him lesser, but she was just shy of lethally pissed off. She also was more experienced in fighting, yes, but also in dealing with a gryphon heat, while the younger gryphon was not.
She knows no other Pack Leader than her father Frederick and her mother Natasha, and again, for better or worse, she's a real Ostlander gryphon.
MrRobot
In doubt there's always the Sun!
Basically her personality is loud brash, with very litle response to fear, have a pridefully streak a mile long and likely think that saying a variation of "fuck you" is acceptable greeting.
It's is perfectly in line with the Ostolander standard, and make it incredibly attractive in murderchicken standards.
It's is perfectly in line with the Ostolander standard, and make it incredibly attractive in murderchicken standards.
Massgamer
Advance toward the Future
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I'm curious how Oskanna and Sigismund view each other after having mated and laying two eggs together, each one raising one of their children on opposite ends of the Empire.
Do they respect each other now, in a griffin kind of way? Has Sigismund learned from their dominance fight? Would they not be against mating again, but only after a rematch?
Its very interesting to consider their intelligent but still non-humanoid mindset after all, since most beyond the Amber Wizards, Wood Elves, and other masters of the Brown Wind could never truly get them.
Do they respect each other now, in a griffin kind of way? Has Sigismund learned from their dominance fight? Would they not be against mating again, but only after a rematch?
Its very interesting to consider their intelligent but still non-humanoid mindset after all, since most beyond the Amber Wizards, Wood Elves, and other masters of the Brown Wind could never truly get them.
- Pronouns
- He
So, oskana is a brash tomboy?
Cause we need more tomboys around here
Cause we need more tomboys around here
Honestly,i am curious how orcs and beastmen managed to provide food and water for so many mouths and how orcs deal with the massive amounts of dead orcs who remain on the battlefield after one of theier failed assaults and if those bodies dont make the next assault harder.Also i wonder how orcs deal with the low temperature in the mountains and where did they find enough room to deploy theier forces without lining them for kilometers.They after all fight in the mountains,where large,open spaces are quite rare.
Massgamer
Advance toward the Future
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There's a whole thing on wikia, but greenskins are basically space mushrooms who constantly shit out spores that can grow nearly anywhere and provide a whole ecosystem to support themselves, including growing food to feed themselves when they aren't raiding and hunting themselves, when they don't cook and eat each other since, once against, space mushrooms.
If greenskin bodies aren't properly disposed of after being killed, usually via burning, they give off a ton of spores and can pop out more greenskins weeks or even days later.
Greenskins are some of the most perfect killing machines, who can live and fight near anywhere.
Beastmen, meanwhile, breed nearly as much as skaven or are the product of mutated animals and people, who survive in deep primeval parts of forests, hunting and eating each other to survive.
Keep in mind all Destro forces have powers and abilities that make what would normally not be a sustainable force and makes it work, with greenskins literally reshaping reality on a small-scale if enough them are grouped together and believe the same thing while Chaos in general cheats.
You think things are bullshit now? When Chaos first entered the world it was a whole lot worse until high elves made Vortex to suck most of magic out of it so daemons couldn't just spontaneously appear in physical world whenever they wanted to.
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she's a warrior princess 👸 💅🗡️
Man, I'd love to see his recollection of the milf that put him in his place and left her with an egg. I wonder if they'll ever meet again
As described in the omake, the coupling can only occur after dominance has been achieved by one or the other party. For Gryphons, there must always be a top. Oskana doesn't respect Sigismund very much, Sigismund learned to respect her, but they would have to fight before mating again regardless.
Eat each other, drink the blood, sup from the wells, the groundwater that can be dug through and for. Also greenskins can make fungus beer from the virulent mushrooms what grow up in their caves, liquid mashed up mushrooms as necessary. Beastmen eat and drink and shit, sure, but they also don't have entirely natural physiology, sometimes their fur gets so nasty and matted and filth-strewn it basically becomes its own set of armor. They can sometimes literally be propelled purely by bloodgreed and rage and Chaos energies to rampage for days and days and days without resting or properly eating or drinking. The same for greenskins. They'll fight for days and nights continually sometimes - because there is nothing that nourishes greenskins like the literal psychic metaphysical WAAAAGH!! energies they get from fighting. There's not a huge amount of food and water up there just outside the gates of the Everpeak, but Beard Burner only quit the siege because his boys were getting bored after the rams kept doing nothing.
They did not quit the field because of physical supply shortages, but because of WAAAAGH!!! energy shortages as the fight petered out into something boring and slow and drawn out where they were just sitting around. Now, greenskins enjoy a good bit of mindlessly smashing things, they like doing that a lot. But there's a difference between mindlessly smashing things and mindlessly trying to smash something that refuses to be smashed. The latter makes the greenskins get tired, frustrated, bored, and thus a lot less actually WAAAAGH!! and fighty. Now, if the gates finally get broken open, oh boy will all of that surge right back into the fore, because that is how the mobile mushrooms do, but if it doesn't...yeah.
And yeah, sure, things can get cold, but unless it's full on Ice Queen sending freezing storms at Grimgor Ironhide directly and maintaining them for days and weeks at a time level stuff, orcs are normally fine. Goblins might suffer a bit more, though.
If we were to anthropomorphize them, Oskana would a slightly shorter, slightly smaller northern barbarian woman who is heavily muscled with ale brown skin, scars, a bit of extra heft, who heavily drinks beer and ale - she does do this literally as a gryphon, except its from barrels. Much more strongwoman physique than pure aesthetic bodybuilder. She was also older than him, so maybe something thirties to forties. She spent a lot of time preening and preparing herself beforehand, so she'd probably have her hair looking surprisingly clean and neat.
Sigismund would be a pure white, like, stark, albino style white, young man who is built way more like a bodybuilder. Aesthetically pleasing, very little bodyfat, and zero scars at all. Very broad and tall. And yes, much younger than her, so something like early twenties. Body language would differ between them very much, of course, as he'd be quite chest out and chin up pride with a bit of disconcerted expression on his face, and she'd be looking down on him despite physically looking up at him. And then she'd start walking away, he'd protest and throw a punch, and we're off to the races with her wheeling around to kick him in the balls and uppercut him at the same time as the fight proper begins.
And yes, he is stronger than her, maybe even a bit faster, but his reaction and action times are just slower than hers in a matter of pure experience and hard won skill.
MrRobot
In doubt there's always the Sun!
Less a tomboy and more a full fledged muscle-bound female barbarian.
- Pronouns
- He
Were not their eggs gathered at the same time? How is she older?
Or am I thinking of some different griffin?
MrRobot
In doubt there's always the Sun!
If you really belive that in you heart of hearts, who I'm I to tell you otherwise?
Are there plans for Oskana and Sigismund to mate again? Might be a little too expensive for Ostland, but Magnus should be able to afford it, and could really trade for a bunch of political capital via griffin eggs. Even those people who don't like Frederick are very unlikely to take that so far as to not want a griffin born of his.
- Location
- Somewhere
Gathered at the same time yes, but the hatching was at different times. To hatch they need specific conditions and you can apparently delay hatching time.
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- Pronouns
- He
Also, torroar, i love this description of her
Big fan of tomboys, this one here is.
Probably because of my boyfriend, the mannishly behaving women appeal the most to me
... So . Whose gonna jump on getting this drawn? Case we can ALL agree we want to see that.
funny little thing it is. really enjoing is the kind of story where a manly man has a tomboy daughter or few.
... Mayby Albionise will enjoy their stay in Ostland..
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'm not one for anthropomorphism of existing animal characters myself. Their charm comes from their bestial nature, not making them human in thought and mind.
Or applying anime tropes and conventions to Warhammer.
- Location
- Winchester
Been re-reading bits, and this amused me.
I know he lived due to bad rolls essentially non-lethally incapacitating him, but man. Go figure huh?
I know he lived due to bad rolls essentially non-lethally incapacitating him, but man. Go figure huh?
- Location
- United States
They will likely stay at least since they can't go home, same for the Cathayans and Indis. Salkalten might become a mini Marienburg at this right.
Spikes, Horns, and Stone 23
Spikes, Horns, and Stone 23
Eldyra watches you in a mixture of confusion for every step forward you take and that same barely restrained violence with which she regards the Druchii. Her grip on Death Thorn is completely unmoving and firm, and she even follows after you for a few unconscious steps as she tries to keep shoulder to shoulder with an ally out of pure instinct. But even that falters, ever so slightly, as you take a deep breath and directly wade into the ongoing screaming match held between Hultressa and Gwendolyn. You do not doubt that both mother and daughter comprehended your approach, but it definitely isn't at the top of their lists of concerns. The flowing of Druhir that is going between them is too fast, too complex, for your basic understanding of the language to properly comprehend fully. But you don't need to comprehend it literally, for the language itself no matter how tainted by darkness is still a dialect of Eltharin whereupon the very words themselves spoken in the air can twist and change in the ears and mind from intent and purpose. Emotion can be conveyed in any language, of course, but Eltharin takes it a step further than you can normally manage with Reikspiel in any dialect. So you are very much aware of the pain, the fury, the grief, the worry, the defiance, and buried beneath all of it is the stark and unbridled love for each other. But the longer they talk, the longer they scream, Dhar beginning to seep unbridled from the sorceress and a different hue of darkness brought about by unholy energies is bubbling up from within Gwendolyn's own eyes.
It must stop.
Nevertheless, when you put one hand each upon their shoulders, you do have to immediately restrain the animalistic response that some old part of your mind orders as they whirl upon you with murderous outrage.
Luckily, you've learned more than a few lessons from going after different warherds, bandit groups, greenskin mobs, and more in the forests. Never go after two separate forces at the same time if you can avoid it. If you can't, do your best to keep the two divided from another somehow.
"Your mother is right," is the first thing you say, and immediately Hultressa inhales sharply and whirls back to her daughter triumphantly, the lone combatant now buoyed by an ally's presence.
By comparison, Gwendolyn's expression is utterly heartbroken as she stares at you.
"B-but-," she tries to rally, but you are there before she can finish or worse for Hultressa to start in just as aggressively as before.
"I know you want to help," you say more gently, and then very carefully shake Hultressa's shoulder, the faintest pressure having her put her daughter back down so that her feet are on the carpet once more. "I know that," you reiterate, going down to one knee to meet her eye to eye. "And you are so, so stunningly brave and incredible for that."
By now, the unholy power of Khaine has faded from her, quite possibly even repulsed by the fat tears which begin to shimmer into being in her eyes. All the determination, the anger, the fuel, is draining out of her quickly now that you've entered the conversation and worse, against her. You've seen the kind of shaking that is just beginning to come over her before. Every word that she tries to get out can't, is choked instead, as her mouth and her lungs and her emotions all become entangled against her wishes. So instead of saying another word, you instead first reach forward and embrace her instead, hugging her close. It is an awkward thing, especially given by the confused squawk from Hultressa as she hadn't actually let go of Gwendolyn with her own arms, but she'll just have to tolerate an embrace which by necessity involves her. No sooner has Gwendolyn's face gently pressed to your shoulder that the first sob finally manages to tear its way out of her lungs, whole body almost convulsing with it. What comes next is plainly inarticulate babbling. Inarticulate, but not unintelligible. At least, not to you. She wants to help. She wants to be free of Khaine. She wants to be better, she knows what better can be, she's seen it from afar, but the God of Murder has had a hand on her throat since before she was even born. The chance, the true chance for escape, for freedom, is closer than it ever has been before, and whether because of Khaine directly or the fact that the God's influence upon her life has forced her to mature far past her years, lets her see that chance even more keenly and fully than a child should. And yet, with that same damned mixture of youth and maturity, childishness and an arch-killer's impulses, she leapt for it. She had to.
But you don't need to tell her any of that, and you've the sad thought that on some level she will either come to realize all of this about herself in time, or perhaps already has.
Instead, you just hold her close as she sobs.
"But I – but I – but – but," is about as far as she gets before it degenerates again into nothing but pure emotion.
"I know," you inform her quietly, "I know. You are so very, very brave."
Gwendolyn wails into your chest before Hultressa lets loose a sharp exhale through her nose and then suddenly the embrace becomes far more natural, and Gwendolyn is squished slightly between the two of you. She shudders and shakes as all the bravery and willfulness that she hoped to throw against the power and influence of none other than Khaine himself is released. The tiny death grip she'd kept on her own determination is loosened, and with that release comes so very much more. If it had been reinforced, if you'd added your support to all of it, she might well have crystallized something there instead. But, just as possible, she might have found all that determination thrown forward and then found herself failing. It is not the first time you've spoken of defiance against the Gods, not even the Elven ones, but that does not mean you are completely ignorant of just how much of a task such a thing could truly be. You are quite painfully aware of what even a small iota of the pain that could be brought from on high in doing so. In this case, you have very much weighed the odds. It is possible it would work. It is possible. Many things are. And you and Natasha have already come to an agreement on just what escaping the Ark might entail – of who might well die in the aftermath. Slaves who by all right should have been allowed to breath in air as freedmen for the rest of their lives. Children, even younger than Gwendolyn, who could not possibly yet be aware of the full horror of their existence and what is expected of them and what will be done to them. Something you are even more aware of now, thanks to Hultressa.
"Your mother knows how brave you are," you insist, and then glance over at Hultressa, her face less than an inch away from your own and her arms partially entwined with yours at the moment.
"I do," she say promptly, catching on to your meaning immediately, and squeezing Gwendolyn just a tiny bit as she says it. "I do. Daughter, you are so brave, so strong," she whispers fiercely into her hair.
"But in this case, this one case…you don't need to do this," you add, and both of you have to hold onto the child as she shakes a bit harder. "You don't. I know you want to help. But in this case, this one case, we just aren't going to risk you like that."
Despite the hug, Gwendolyn manages to suck down a single choking breath and speak again.
"But what if-,"
"We'll figure it out," you say immediately.
"It doesn't matter," Hultressa says at the same time.
"But-," she tries again, and this time you squeeze her a bit more, and this time Hultressa joins in.
Gwendolyn lets out the tiniest squeak as you both do it.
"You are not going to be risking yourself. Not in this way. Not this time," you murmur.
"I…," Hultressa begins, only to pause as you stare at her pointedly.
You know for a damn fact that she was about to say something akin to I will not allow it or the like. But that is not what her daughter needs from her right now. And now that she is calming down herself, you know that she realizes it as well.
"I will not risk you, Gwendolyn," she says quietly instead. "I will not. I cannot. We have other avenues, other assets. Your willingness to sacrifice is admirable, but there comes a time to know when a sacrifice is truly needed. Do you understand?"
The answer is not quick in coming, but eventually it does come.
"…okay," Gwendolyn whispers.
"Okay?" You ask her again.
"Okay," she mumbles again.
"Okay," Hultressa sighs, and then and only then does the three-way hug break up, letting you extricate yourself and withdraw slightly so that a now calmed sorceress can quietly stroke her daughter's hair back down.
Only then do you finally withdraw, breathing a small sigh of relief yourself as you end up leaning against one of the end tables near one of the couches, and then notice Eldyra's unblinking stare. For a wonder, Death Thorn has been lowered with its tip down towards the ground, her grip firm but looser on the hilt than it was before. She is staring at Gwendolyn and Hultressa at the moment, but no sooner had you looked her way does she turn those still unblinking eyes towards yourself. A storm of confused emotions are in her grey eyes, the half-hostile and half-exhausted body language. She's not even breathing particularly hard anymore, but neither has she managed to come even close to the measured martial breathing exercises that she's been desperately trying and failing to execute since first waking up. She is an Asur, and they are Druchii, and you know perfectly well at this point that they can feel peaks and valleys of emotion on average that humans could struggle to match outside of truly exceptional circumstances. But in this moment, you would judge that even Eldyra herself does not quite know what she is feeling.
What she has seen, what she has experienced, what she is now seeing and experiencing, all coupled with a history which stretches over twice the length of the Empire's?
You can only imagine how bewildering it is for her, in this moment.
Something that must grow only more so as a now exhausted Gwendolyn quietly accepts being sent away by her mother presumably to return to her room. Hultressa does not even throw a second glance back to you or Eldyra, she simply scoops up her daughter gently in her arms and walks away. Leaving you and Eldyra alone. But even then, none of you actually speak. Instead, you sigh, run a hand through your hair and then through your beard, and promptly sit back down at the table. The movement appears to startle the Asur, but the sheer mundanity of you picking up a fork and spoon again triggers something in her that lets her put the sword down fully. She still keeps it close, unsheathed even so that she can spare herself the loss of less than a second if it's needed, but with small jerky movements Eldyra sits down as well and slowly begins to eat. Neither of you say another word as you clean your plates, nor when you go and grab a bottle of wine for yourself. Something tells you that she might not be too eager to drink Druchii wine, but she drinks it nonetheless with only a short two second pause after the first sip.
You both make your way through the bottle by the time that Hultressa finally returns, her features entirely composed and controlled, and then sits down and finishes eating herself.
A snap of her fingers causes one of the terrors to step closer, and though Eldyra freezes entirely for a brief period, all it does is take up a fourth plate for itself delicately balanced between the daggers that replaced its fingers and then disappears into the corridors once more.
"Once upon a time," Hultressa begins without warning, "I thought to try and introduce her to a pet. A small animal. Something to…show the Everqueen that she was not beyond salvation."
She says all of this without looking at either of you, instead choosing to just about bore a hole through the wall she's looking at. Eldyra also very carefully isn't looking at her, and instead is glaring a hole into a different wall.
"Nothing that wouldn't be easily missed, nothing that could in any right be considered 'sinister' or the like," Hultressa snorts, manicured hand forming cupping her chin as she rests the elbow in her other hand. "No snakes. Nothing reptilian. No corvids. Instead, I got her a bird. A colorful thing, sourced from one Lustrian raid or another – a parrot. Beautiful. Colorful. Intelligent. Even capable of speaking a few words."
A small exhale escapes her nose.
"She loved it. She named him Denla."
The Eltharin word for freedom, fulfillment, and emptiness, and yet you can easily hear which of the three meanings it was named for.
"…and it went wrong," you state, to which Hultressa nods. "One of those…episodes?"
Only then does the cold purple and black of her eyes slide off the wall and towards you.
"I returned from…oh it doesn't matter," she murmurs, blinking once. "She'd eaten it. Alive. With her bare hands and teeth. She was sobbing, screaming at herself, covered in its own feathers and blood."
You wince in sympathy, Eldyra next to you twitching slightly.
"That was the first time I had to stop her from killing herself," Hultressa continues distantly, the glimmering dark purple of her eyes growing emptier and emptier with each word until they are as yawning pits. "We tried again. Something simpler. A mere poultry bird, fat and harmless. She didn't dare name it – and then it happened again to it regardless, another time when Screamtaker called for the whole of the Coven to attend her as we raided some Fimir stronghold or another in Albion," she sighs. "After that we started bringing in creatures she knew she was going to kill, could accept killing."
A slow inhale from Eldyra doesn't make Hultressa's eyes twitch away from yours.
"Not all of them were animals," Eldyra says, eyes now falling to stare down at the empty plate in front of her. "Were they?"
"No, Eldyra of Tiranoc, they were not," Hultressa answers as she keeps looking at you. "Slaves that had been held all their lives, slaves that had been the worst brutalized, slaves that had been sent to the brothels as children, gladiators that had lived too long…those who knew that there would be no other freedom than that found in the grave."
"You…," Eldyra's voice peters out as her hands tremble around the fork and knife still in her hands. "You…you gave…,"
"Some Fimir as well," Hultressa goes on as if she didn't hear it, "Some monstrous beasts. And of course, a few Druchii now and again. The ones who failed their masters in some way or another."
This, again, appears to draw Eldyra up short as the smallest of smiles appears on Hultressa's face.
"Why, she's likely killed more Druchii than most any other Asur her age by comparison," the sorceress adds before she finally straightens in her chair and then places her hands palms flat against the table, gaze sharpening as she glances between you and Eldyra. "She must not go to the Temple of Khaine, do you understand? She has grown stronger in heart and mind, able to resist it more, to even…begin to control it sometimes but…," she shakes her head vigorously. "Not yet. Not now. If the Crone is kind," she pauses to scoff at about the same time that Eldyra does, causing the latter's mouth to click shut immediately afterwards, "Then it will never come to pass at all."
"I get it," you say. "And I'm sure she will too. But that does, of course, leave us with what we're supposed to do beforehand without the access she would have given us."
Thankful to let the topic rest, at least for a while, Hultressa nods, brows furrowing in thought.
"I will focus my efforts upon the pyramid. More bombs, other manipulations," she nods to herself. "I can also begin making approaches elsewhere, start making pretenses at rebuilding my retinue which your allies in Nordland slaughtered."
Eldyra just blinks at that, glancing at you.
"If you didn't want them dead, you shouldn't have sent them. Stephan takes keeping his province protected seriously," you point out, and Hultressa just gives a single shouldered shrug.
"True, but if I did not send them, my increasing lack of contributions would have been suspicious as well," she then gives a truly exasperated sigh. "Such a waste of blood and souls to bind them to my service. But that doesn't mean that others might not be willing to join me – if I were asking them legitimately. The cover would be important enough, however," she tacks on.
"What do you mean?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.
Hultressa flips her hair with one hand before answering.
"The more evidence there is behind me rebuilding a retinue, the easier it will be for me to bring forth others with me," she points out, looking at you pointedly. "Guards. Slave. Aid, of a sort."
"You would put a collar around his neck?" Eldyra interjects harshly, reaching out to protectively place a hand over your chest.
"If it would let him inside the Temple, to help in rescuing a Handmaiden of the Everqueen? Yes, yes I would," Hultressa nods firmly. "I have, will, and would do worse. I can malform his physiology somewhat, make him play pretend as a terror," she looks you up and down. "I could try and mask his mind and soul behind an outer broken shell, a slave in truth."
Outrage does not suffice to describe the look that Eldyra throws at the sorceress.
"The more time I dedicate towards it, I might be able to bring in others, perhaps your vampiric friend. Your wife…no," she shakes her head. "Her magic would mark her out too easily, especially after any lingering remnants left behind at the aquafarms she destroyed. She will have to remain behind the wards."
Something in you eases that you hadn't actually felt tighten.
"What of Roland?" You ask instead. "Jaqueline?"
"The Bretonnians? Hmm. Yes. One or the other," she waggles a hand back and forth in the air, sucking some air through her teeth, an act that has Eldyra recoil slightly from her. "Oh for goodness sake, Asur, do you expect me to act the haughty and refined mage at all times? I am in my own home," she says with a rude noise following it before glancing back at you. "I will not have an infinite amount of time to build up the supposed profile of what I seek. You, I can bring, I might well need you more than any other to convince the Handmaiden to come with me. The vampire…perhaps. After that, the Bretonnians, one or the other."
"But the more you do, the less bombs in the pyramid, the less prepared it is for destruction," you seize upon the conclusion before she speaks it, and are granted a nod in return.
"Precisely. You know them more than I, however, so-,"
"What about me," Eldyra interrupts, eyes narrowed. "I…I will not let a Handmaiden go without my blade in a place such as this!"
It does not appear to please her that you and Hultressa end up glancing at each other.
"What?"
"Eldyra," you begin slowly. "You…just woke up. You're not quite…,"
"I maintained your physical state perfectly," Hultressa says it more plainly, not even a boast for her, it seems. "Your mind is another matter altogether."
"How dare you," Eldyra hisses, one eye twitching as the rest of her starts to jitter again. "I…am a warrior and Princess of Ulthuan and Tiranoc and…and…," she trails off, breathing harder and harder, each one stuttered and uneven.
"And you are in no state for the matter with which we are concerned," Hultressa says calmly, folding her hands into her lap. "We will be surrounded by your tormentors, attending a slave auction, and you would have to restrain yourself utterly from striking out until the right moment. Your blade is damaged besides," she nods towards Death Thorn, making Eldyra clutch tighter at it protectively. "You will be better served recuperating here, and be much safer here, with my daughter."
"Frederick, tell her," Eldyra says stubbornly, turning to glance at you. "I am…I can…!"
Eldyra's twitching is growing worse even as she speaks, teeth almost clacking against each other with it.
"This is not the court of the Seafarer," you say softly, and her eyes widen even as her pupils seem to shrink a bit. "And we are not denying your desire to serve in the name of the hero Eldyr. I am your friend, asking you to rest and recuperate after much pain and sorrow."
Slowly, you ever so carefully reach out and lay your hand atop hers, and the shaking begins to slow.
"And I'm sure, of course, that you have an emergency evacuation protocol of some sort for your daughter?" You say while making sure to keep watching Eldyra.
"Of course. If I needed to die for her to live, I would plunge the dagger in my heart myself," Hultressa answers immediately. "And I would not presume my defenses utterly inviolable, not forever."
"Good," you nod. "If we could bring you…,"
If you weren't quite sure that she would snap and start trying to kill every Druchii in sight. If you weren't worried that being surrounded by so many others might cause her to lock up, to ruin any attempts at disguise or illusion. So many more ifs. You can only think, can only hope, that she won't be so driven as to try and kill Gwendolyn unless the girl strikes first, if Khaine somehow overtakes her again so soon after the last event. But being surrounded by Druchii like that, by sorceresses, by the few remaining Brides of Khaine, by the representatives of the other Cytharai on the Ark, and even more? It's a prospect that you wish you could hope that she would be able to handle outright. And perhaps, she might even be able to. Maybe. But as she is in this moment, today, she can't say that for certain and she definitely knows it as she lets loose another shaky breath and ends up staring into her lap again.
"There's still a few days," Eldyra exhales slowly. "Right? I'll improve. I will improve," she says with admirable determination.
"Perhaps," Hultressa muses, tilting her head from side to side. "I could possibly convince them I have enslaved your soul, and am puppeteering your body as a joke of sorts."
And Eldyra's gone into near rigor mortis all over again.
"Still, the more time I can dedicate to either prospect, the better it is for both," she adds, glancing back at you. "You know your companions better than I, Frederick. If the vampire will aid us, it would be a greater improvement than most mere humans, but the knight is known to me and would be of use when matters become…chaotic."
"But if you can prep the pyramid better, the explosion would be all the more useful as a distraction, and to ruin Alyssa's efforts at authority," you point out, to which the sorceress nods to acknowledge the point.
"Indeed."
Choose For Day 1 of 2 1/2 remaining before Auction:
By refusing Gwendolyn's Choice, you have lost all chances at gaining early entry to the Temple of Khaine and must move outwardly instead. Hultressa can dedicate her time to either increasing the damage dealt to the Pyramid or to making efforts to pretend at rebuilding her retinue so that she can actually bring in other assets - such as Frederick himself, Johanna Fuerbach, Roland, and perhaps even Jaqueline or other Bretonnian slaves. But she cannot do both with equal time and effort, and one must take primacy. Moratorium For 3 Hours.
[] Pyramid - The more bombs, the more confusion amongst the overseers, the more manipulation, the greater the effect when the trigger is finally pulled. The greater the effect, the worse of Alyssa's position on the Ark will be, and the worse the food crisis would become. Hultressa will already be spending time with this, and has done so already, but the more she does, the better the end result - or worse, if you are Alyssa Voidreaper.
[] Retinue - The more effort and time Hultressa puts into this act, the more assets she can actually bring with her to the Auction as her presumed efforts 'work out' in terms of recruitment. Some effort will already be made, enough to bring Frederick, but any other assets will require some time put towards this. Doing so will allow Hultressa to much more strongly justify bringing in others, arming them even as her guards, and so on. Therefore, once you are at the Temple of Khaine, you will have that many more weapons and bodies at hand to aid you.
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- Location
- Australia
Ugg another vote that I'm very uncertain of. Damn torroar your such a evil (read: good) QM.
I'm leaning toward Retinue. But I'm very uncertain.
I'm leaning toward Retinue. But I'm very uncertain.
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'm thinking retinue. Ultimately there doesn't seem to be a solid plan in getting access to Sadrina and others that isn't predicated on entering the auction.
I think that retinue is a better option from a narrative ,standpoint and in case we get lucky and kill most of the leadership we will leave slaves with some food until either Marineburg (if they had a braincell left) or morelikely Asur will find the gutted Black Ark