Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism

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So here's a question...if she ruled for 150 years how in God's name was her son still kicking when he offed her if he was born before she became a vamp? Or did she have him after she became a vampire, I thought vampires couldn't reproduce that way, let alone give birth to a completely normal child.

I kinda feel sorry for Pavel's father...that guy must have had some incredible blood pressure to keep it up for a Lahmian Ice Witch Vampire, not to mention the fecundity of a goddam rabbit if he got her pregnant after being vamped.
 
Turn 1 Rumor Mill
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    • Ostland Clearing Expedition #1/ Rumor Mill For Turn 1
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    Outskirts of Birkeweise, Ostland Army Camp

    You have no true idea how it is that for all your life up until this point Jegow was left untouched by the predations of the inhuman denizens of the Forest of Shadows. As Elector Count you have been made aware of just how terrible life is in Ostland. You knew objectively that life in Ostland was awful, it's a gloomy forest that is filled with beastmen and greenskins and everyone knows that every hour is the hour you might die. Thus the drinking. Now, however, you have seen the horrors that lurk in your lands.

    Beginning in late summer and now into late fall, you have led your army in a concerted effort of clearing out the forests as best you can. In that time you have been assaulted by and have assaulted four different warbands of gors and ungors, and at one point you ran into a wild tribe of forest goblins. So far, casualties have been surprisingly light, but you cannot afford to let yourself be fooled. There are more mutants and greenskins in Ostland than there are humans, that is a fact which has been true for decades and isn't about to stop just because you decided to shove greatswords and ogre warriors down their throats in a meandering path throughout the forests. Not that it hasn't been good to get out there and do some real work with your hands. It isn't the same thing as forging a sword, but it has at the very least provided you with some pistol practice. And the gratitude on the villagers lives who you saved is actually quite nice. Husbands and wives, along with their children, can be assured that with you at the head Ostland may be at least marginally more safe to live in.

    Wives…you don't frown, precisely, at the thought. You are fully aware of the need to get married and have a child. But the choice you made, the Romanov woman, you know for a fact that it's going to cause problems. You don't precisely share the horror and poop-spewing fear of magic that so many others do. The Witch Hunters on the Privy Council twitched heavily when you made your decision, especially Eizenhorn. The Ulrican priest was also most unhappy. So was Father Leopold.

    The Witch Hunters shame at their failures and the embarrassment of their organization as a whole has apparently run out. You could only rely on them acting as they had previously for so long and now they have returned to looking at you alongside everyone else with the paranoid eye. Perhaps if you had chosen a different wife you would be able to say differently, but they could only be stretched so far before snapping back.

    You weren't about to try and spend the effort to get some woman who seems determined to run off and die somewhere far from home to like you and stay in Ostland. And as for your other choice, well…hmm. Ortud seems like a nice girl, but you don't know if you would click with her. Besides, she's doing quite well for herself in Ostermark, if the tales are to be believed. No reason to force her into the depression swamp that is your province.

    Bah, it's all enough to drive you to drink. So you do.

    You're several cups in at that point and only just beginning to sway when you hear one of your guards stopping someone from coming into your command tent. The elite warrior steps in at your urging, bringing with them one of your scouts.

    "Count Hohenzollern," the scout salutes, an action which you return. "I bring news. Our border town of Schönfeld may be under assault soon."

    That's not good. Schönfeld is your main land connection with Kislev. The same nation which you just married the younger sister of the recently risen Tzarina Kattarin.

    "Are you sure?"

    The scout pauses to take a long pull of his hip flask, the equivalent of an Ostlander taking a breath, then answers, his breath puffing out in the chill air. This far north, fall is as cold as winter in the south.

    "Aye, my Lord. It's the only large settlement in the immediate area, and the Forest of Shadow's does not stretch this far. Me and some others watched the move for a while. There's only one place they could be going, and that's Schönfeld."

    Well. That tears it you suppose.

    "Get me my Runefang. And my hammer."

    Your camp had uprooted itself within the day, and the Army of Ostland began to move.

    Approaching Schönfeld, A Relatively Short Time Later

    It's not that you don't feel a touch of almost boyish excitement whenever you hold the priceless piece of craftsmanship that is Brain Wounder, but you can't help but want a secondary weapon. Said weapon is your hammer. To be sure, it was meant for forging, but it's perfectly good at cracking skulls as well. The head does seem to be one of the first parts of a foe which you attempt to strike with the thing. Perhaps it says something that both of your melee weapons are centered around it by name and deed.

    Rubbing your hands together to warm them, you frown. The scouts hadn't been wrong, they had discovered a truly substantial group of beastmen. The tracks were easy to follow out on the open ground, whereas in the forests where the creatures normally resided they were unnaturally able to disappear into the trees. Yet the longer and longer your marching army went without actually finding any living sign of the creatures, your unease grew. The normally substantial drinking that your people partook in intensified, as did your own.

    "Hark! Look there!" a forward scout cried out in alarm.

    The reason for said alarm grew evident when you got closer to where the scout had stopped. The army behind you shifted back and forth as you simply stared. You had found the beastmen. There were no great plumes of smoke rising into the sky from the ashes of a burnt and destroyed or even just regularly under attack Schönfeld. No screams of terror of a settlement of your people under attack. The latter was supposed to be a good thing. A great thing. But the world has apparently decided to somewhat taint the normally wondrous occasion.

    Because more than the beastmen, there was most certainly ice. Great plumes of the stuff, rising into pillars of which some reached ten feet high. Within them were the terror stricken corpses of gors and ungors. A wide sweeping wave of spikes made of the glistening frozen water had impaled a good twenty of the creatures, spearing them all over. Yet not all of the beastmen had been killed in this manner, there were clear signs of regular fighting where the creatures had apparently run into something that their primitive clubs and weapons could not affect.

    Cries go out across the scouts then, and you feel the chill in the air stronger than ever. Striding out of Schönfeld, essentially your gate to Kislev, comes a group which just about matches the size of your expedition of Greatswords and army elements. You couldn't just run around with all ten thousand men on a single expedition, they were needed to guard the roads and Wulfenburg and so on.

    Black robes swirl in a sudden gust of wind, revealing the similarly colored armor beneath. There are large and exceptionally well crafted halberds in their hands and swords at their sides. In lockstep, they march forwards in a finely disciplined block as they approach. If it weren't for the drink suffusing you and most of your people, you might actually be a bit scared. Just another of the benefits of Ostka. The banners of Ostland begin to flap back and forth in the new cold wind which seems to blow across the whole of the area. However, eventually they stop, just scantly within range of your archers. The head of the formation, whose armor seems just a tad more ornate than the others, breaks from the direct center of the front of the block and advances.

    "You carry the banners of Ostland! Do you serve the one known as Count Hohenzollern?" the man bellows in a surprisingly loud voice. It takes you a moment to puzzle through his accent though.

    "Aye, they do serve me!" you call back.

    It's hard to tell at this distance but you think that tall, black, and imposing individual stiffens slightly in surprise.

    "You are the Count?"

    "I am! Who, precisely, are you?"

    "    I am Boris Ivanov, Captain of My Lady's Kreml Guard."

    Even as you mull over his words and silently repeat 'My Lady' the apparent Captain Ivanov makes a sharp gesture with his hands. The block of what you must assume to also be Kreml Guard shifts, and rotates in unison to transform from a solid square to seemingly slide open at the center. They bow their heads in deference at-

    Your breath catches.

    One of the most beautiful women you have ever seen walks out of the center of what you now realize was a protective block. Much like your own Greatswords surround you. Her hair flows out behind her in a luxurious river of a hue you could only imagine as having come together by melding white gold and silver. She wears a dress that looks like woven ice and sapphires, and if what your brain is rapidly beginning to suspect is true, it might actually be. Her skin is literally flawless, but it is her expression which gives you pause. It isn't disdain. Or arrogance, or grief or any other myriad of things. It is, in fact, one that you remember from looking in the mirror.

    Slight contempt, not directed at anyone in particular but at the world, with a dollop of weary acceptance at the deplorable state of the world. A faint band of steely, or perhaps in her case icy, determination.

    You don't know quite how you found your way onto the field between your two groups. But she pushes past her Captain just as you slip through and around your own guards. Eventually, the two of you meet, as Greatswords and Kreml guards try to hover over you like protective mothers without intruding too terribly while also being close enough to attack one another should the occasion turn violent.

    "You are Count Hohenzollern?" she asks flatly.

    "I am."

    "Prove it."

    You raise an eyebrow and turn your head slightly to point at Brain Wounder.

    "Hmm. Point," she says with a nod before offering her hand. "I am Natasha Romanov. We are to be wed."

    You bend down to kiss the top of her hand, and come away with numb limbs from the cold. Her nose wrinkles.

    "You smell like a brewery."

    "Is that going to be a problem?" you ask sardonically. Of course it would be. You're the heaviest drinkers in the Empire, of course everyone else would find your smell and habits distasteful. Except maybe ogres and dwarves.

    In response she snaps her fingers and Captain Ivanov marches over before producing a jet black metal flask that is more than twice the size of your own. This time it is your nose which wrinkles when she opens it, the ridiculously potent scent nearly bowling you over. A scent you at the least recognize. Natasha inhales deeply of the smell before sighing in something that could be considered content.

    "Is that…?"

    "Dwarvish, yes."

    Then you watch as she upends the flask, swallowing dwarven made alcohol for a solid ten seconds before stopping. Not because she was done, but because the flask was now empty if the ease by which she tossed it back to Ivanov was any indication.

    "No problem. Are we going to go back to your home or am I to be sequestered here, all alone and distant from the rest of your peoples."

    "You'll…return with us, I suppose. You were not supposed to be coming for another month, I thought."

    She shrugs.

    "My sister wanted me gone sooner. Now that Kattarin is Tzarina she would like it if I stopped talking to the rest of the court behind her back and in front of her face. She doesn't like how they listen to me over her sometimes."

    Oh. You were hoping that by marrying Natasha that your relations with Kislev would improve, not take a dive due to sibling rivalry.

    "I…see. Let us be off then, I suppose?"

    "Yes."

    Gain: Natasha Romanov, younger sister of Tzarina Kattarin. A relatively powerful Ice Mage, she brings with her a set of the elite Kreml Guard, sworn to protect the Tzarina herself, her family, and the Palace at Kislev. In addition come a small amount of Kislev Kossars.

    x1 Natasha Romanov, Journeyman Ice Mage
    x300 Kreml Guard (Great Attack, Extreme Defense, Decent Mobility.)
    x500 Kossars (Good Attack, Decent Defense, Great Mobility)



    Rumor Mill:​

    All Hail Count Hohenzollern: It has been 2304 years since Sigmar founded the Empire. Under the heroic and beloved Magnus the Pious, the forces of Chaos have been beaten back once more! While the Emperor rebuilds his home of Nuln and the former capital of Altdorf, the dastardly forces of Chaos struck once more. Despite it being two years since the victory at Kislev, the remnants of that great and terrible army continue to plague the northern territories of the Empire as well as the nation of Kislev. One of the most recent casualties was the majority of the Hohenzollern family, leaving the tenth son, Frederick Hohenzollern, as the new Elector Count of Ostland. The largely unknown young man is said to have been exiled to a remote village early in his life, prompting many a question from Nordland and Hochland as to the boys viability as Count. Both provinces have offered to send advisors to assist the untested and likely bereaved Count who has up until this point had no presence in Ostland's court.

    Grand Structures In Altdorf: Sources from the former capital of the Empire say that the legendary and heroic elf mage Teclis of Ulthuan has been constructing eight vast structures on request by the Emperor in Altdorf. The purposes of these structures is unknown at this time, though the incredible displays of magic that Archmage Teclis has sent nervous titters throughout the southern provinces and weary grumbling in the northern ones. The vast majority of people believe in the Emperor's words when he says that the structures shall be part of a grand new part of the Empire for all times to come.

    Smoke From The Middle Mountains: Though the Middle Mountains have been under the supposed aegis and governorship of not just one but three provinces – Ostland, Hochland, and Middenland, actual control over the range has always been tenuous at best. Utterly infested as they are with greenskins and beastmen, it is said that no men truly control the mountains. The recent news is foreboding, as guards on the borders of all three of the previously named provinces have spotted great columns of smoke rising up from the mountains in large numbers. The origin of the smoke is unknown.

    First Grand Conclave Concludes: It was the will of the Emperor, Magnus the Pious, he who unified the Empire once more and struck down the Everchosen Kul, that the priests of the Empire's Gods come and meet. The cults have never truly been peaceful, for this is not a peaceful world. When they rarely come together and agree on some topic, there is always another upon which they will willingly bicker and fight about. And lo, there has been too much bloodshed amongst the Empire when the cults go to war against one another. Sometimes even against themselves. But under noble Magnus' eye, perhaps this will change. Every five years, so has the Emperor decreed, they will come - chosen representatives of the cults - to Nuln. There, they shall work out their issues one way or another. In fact, it is not theological discussion that shall be the topic at all, but rather pressing matters, the common issues, day-to-day problems, that shall be earnestly investigated. Including how they affect the Empire itself. One can only hope that the Emperor will be able to keep the peace amongst them!
     
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    • torroar said:
    One of the most beautiful women you have ever seen walks out of the center of what you now realize was a protective block. Much like your own Greatswords surround you. Her hair flows out behind her in a luxurious river of a hue you could only imagine as having come together by melding white gold and silver. She wears a dress that looks like woven ice and sapphires, and if what your brain is rapidly beginning to suspect is true, it might actually be. Her skin is literally flawless, but it is her expression which gives you pause. It isn't disdain. Or arrogance, or grief or any other myriad of things. It is, in fact, one that you remember from looking in the mirror.

    Slight contempt, not directed at anyone in particular but at the world, with a dollop of weary acceptance at the deplorable state of the world. A faint band of steely, or perhaps in her case icy, determination.

    You don't know quite how you found your way onto the field between your two groups. But she pushes past her Captain just as you slip through and around your own guards. Eventually, the two of you meet, as Greatswords and Kreml guards try to hover over you like protective mothers without intruding too terribly while also being close enough to attack one another should the occasion turn violent.

    "You are Count Hohenzollern?" she asks flatly.

    "I am."

    "Prove it."

    You raise an eyebrow and turn your head slightly to point at Brain Wounder.

    "Hmm. Point," she says with a nod before offering her hand. "I am Natasha Romanov. We are to be wed."

    You bend down to kiss the top of her hand, and come away with numb limbs from the cold. Her nose wrinkles.

    "You smell like a brewery."

    "Is that going to be a problem?" you ask sardonically. Of course it would be. You're the heaviest drinkers in the Empire, of course everyone else would find your smell and habits distasteful. Except maybe ogres and dwarves.

    In response she snaps her fingers and Captain Ivanov marches over before producing a jet black metal flask this that is more than twice the size of your own. This time it is your nose which wrinkles when she opens it, the ridiculously potent scent nearly bowling you over. A scent you at the least recognize. Natasha inhales deeply of the smell before sighing in something that could be considered content.

    "Is that…?"

    "Dwarvish, yes."

    Then you watch as she upends the flask, swallowing dwarven made alcohol for a solid ten seconds before stopping. Not because she was done, but because the flask was now empty if the ease by which she tossed it back to Ivanov was any indication.
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    You know what I think we're gonna get along just fine with our wife.

    All Hail Count Hohenzollern: It has been 2304 years since Sigmar founded the Empire. Under the heroic and beloved Magnus the Pious, the forces of Chaos have been beaten back once more! While the Emperor rebuilds his home of Nuln and the former capital of Altdorf, the dastardly forces of Chaos struck once more. Despite it being two years since the victory at Kislev, the remnants of that great and terrible army continue to plague the northern territories of the Empire as well as the nation of Kislev. One of the most recent casualties was the majority of the Hohenzollern family, leaving the tenth son, Frederick Hohenzollern, as the new Elector Count of Ostland. The largely unknown young man is said to have been exiled to a remote village early in his life, prompting many a question from Nordland and Hochland as to the boys viability as Count. Both provinces have offered to send advisors to assist the untested and likely bereaved Count who has up until this point had no presence in Ostland's court.
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    A-ha, nope, not happening.
    They can go fuck right off, if they want to manipulate us.

    We will get Dwarf engineering, Ogre mercenaries and we will wrench ourselves up from the dirt, and reach new heights.

    Torroar is there a possibility of getting closer workings with Talabecland?
     
    I warned them what was going to happen when they decided to bring the Ice Princess to Witch Hunter Central... *watches and figures on a war between the Kreml Guard and the Witch Hunting idiot fanatics any turn now*.
     
    torroar said:
    Because more than the beastmen, there was most certainly ice. Great plumes of the stuff, rising into pillars of which some reached ten feet high. Within them were the terror stricken corpses of gors and ungors. A wide sweeping wave of spikes made of the glistening frozen water had impaled a good twenty of the creatures, spearing them all over.
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    That answers her self defense ability alright.

    Her skin is literally flawless, but it is her expression which gives you pause. It isn't disdain. Or arrogance, or grief or any other myriad of things. It is, in fact, one that you remember from looking in the mirror.

    Then you watch as she upends the flask, swallowing dwarven made alcohol for a solid ten seconds before stopping. Not because she was done, but because the flask was now empty if the ease by which she tossed it back to Ivanov was any indication.
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    We have found our soulmate.
     
    Godogma said:
    I warned them what was going to happen when they decided to bring the Ice Princess to Witch Hunter Central... *watches and figures on a war between the Kreml Guard and the Witch Hunting idiot fanatics any turn now*.
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    Chill, we'll be able to ease tensions between the groups before it comes to that.
     
    You know, I was reading about a interesting method of refining alcohol. You fill a barrel with booze, freeze it, chip out the ice, and then take the frozen alcohol core and melt it. Repeat as necessary. We may get some VERY good booze out of this.
     
    I approve of much in this update.:)
    Natasha is really likeable and seem to be on the same wavelength as Freddy.
    Freddy dual wielding runefang and blacksmith hammer makes so much sense and would make a great warhammer model.
     
    Derek58 said:
    Chill, we'll be able to ease tensions between the groups before it comes to that.
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    bull shit

    Witch Hunters have started wars because of their fanaticism multiple times. They love to burn wizards at the stake and are some of the people who incited the riots when Magnus founded the college in Altdorf at least according to my book. So - if you think we can do better than Magnus the pious at settling them down without killing a few of them you're just deluded.
     
    Godogma said:
    bull shit

    Witch Hunters have started wars because of their fanaticism multiple times. They love to burn wizards at the stake and are some of the people who incited the riots when Magnus founded the college in Altdorf at least according to my book. So - if you think we can do better than Magnus the pious at settling them down without killing a few of them you're just deluded.
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    How often have you played torroar's Quests?
    He DOESN'T GIVE OUT TRAP OPTIONS FOR MARRIAGE.

    And hey, check back earlier in the thread, we could've fixed up the wanderlust, so we can do something here.
    So kindly stop being fucking doom and gloom.
     
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