[X] Plan: Logistics is King
Warhammer Fantasy: A Princess of the Borderlands
- Thread starter Tekomandor
- Start date
- Fantasy
- Pronouns
- He/They
I'm not that scared of having to buy gunpowder for a smallish force when we are coming from the sea and are promised enough money to contract hundreds of soldiers, and the Handgunners and Ortiz's retinue bring us some critical capabilities: artillery and a priest of Myrmida. If we're dealing with a land full of small princes and presumably small castles, even small cannons are really valuable; and if we're building a human settlement and army from nearly scratch, so is Isabella Ortiz herself. While "A Well-Rounded Force" isn't actually that well-rounded, what it does buy is a heavy infantry core and those two key capabilities, which will all be hard to come by in the poor Borderlands, while its lack of lighter troops will be more easily remedied if we successfully come to rule over populated land and/or hire locals.
[X] Plan: A Well-Rounded Force
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2250, Landing Part II
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
2250, Landing Part II
The fleet that sets off from Marienburg is a motley one. A pair of human ships packed full of mercenaries, settlers, and assorted hangers-on accompanied by a majestic eagleship; starwood hull glittering in the early-morning sun. Your own hawkship, a much smaller vessel, seems almost lost among the forest of sails.
Galerion cups his wing around you protectively as the cold wind blows your ships out to sea. Both of you are used to the cold, to the snow-capped mountains of Eatine and the ice-cold seas, but you appreciate the warmth all the same. You can hear his heartbeat as you lean against him, far faster than your own.
"So we are off once more, old friend. To new lands, though I cannot say they will match up to Grand Cathay or Lustria," you say to Galerion, who inclines his head towards you.
"Perhaps you are right. Perhaps. Finubar is a wise king, and there is much he sees that I do not. Perhaps he thinks being sent to the most remote end of the Old World will keep me -" you begin, but you do not want to say it.
The memory of that night is still raw and ragged, even months later. The guilt gnaws at you. Why did you not spot it sooner? Why did you not know what your father was doing?
Were you so busy, you wonder, wandering the seas that you could not spare the time to return home and see what was wrong?
Galerion makes a mournful noise as you stew in your guilt, and you know that he alone can understand. That night, he too became a kinslayer.
You stand and try to shake off the thoughts weighing you down. There is much to do, and if there is much to do you will not be so able to think about your guilt. Your hawkship is at the head of the small convoy, and its crew are well trained. They do not need your guidance to sail out of Marienburg, but there are always knots to be tied or ropes to be pulled.
As you assist in all the tasks a ship requires to sail, you are dressed much like the common sailors. Your shirt and breeches might be slightly finer, but after a month at sea on the way here - not by much. They have all sailed with you from one end of the world to another. Some have come and gone, but not many. These men and women have faced Nipponese pirates and Druchi corsairs alongside you, braved storm and snow and worse.
Everyone aboard the hawkship is hard at work manning the sails, or otherwise maintaining the ship, even your Eagle Knights, save two people. Vadac, the colonial, sits uneasily by the prow. His people were strangers to the sea, so you could begrudgingly permit him that. The other...
Eydis will need to save her strength if her magic is to be called on. She leans against the side of the ship, looking out at the slowly fading image of Marienburg. Her golden hair, braided in the manner of her father's homeland, flutters in the wind. She wears robes of deep blue, almost as dark as her skin, embroidered with runes of warding and power. Thin bits of ithilmar armour - bracers, and a mail shirt beneath the outer layer of robes - are all that protects her. Steel, as fine as any elf could forge, would prevent her from working magic. Only ithilmar would not.
"You did not have to come with me," you say to her as you approach. She smiles up at you, her violet eyes alight with mischief.
"But I've come with you on all your other misadventures," she says.
"I don't think this is the same as sneaking into the kitchen at midnight, Eydis," you say.
"Ah, but it's not that different from sailing to Cathay. But what a fun time we had there, after that business with the pirates," she says.
You try not to smile and mostly succeed.
"Ah, and with you stuck out in the ass end of the world, nobody will want to marry you!" Eydis says.
It shouldn't be funny. It should be an awful reminder of what you've lost... and yet you can't help but laugh.
"And you always said it'd happen to me eventually," you say.
Then there is a call from the crew, and you have more time to reminisce about your childhood.
Vadac speaks to you for the first time after the tavern a few days into the trip. The Eonir has been silent for days, looking out at the sea and alternating between brooding and looking seasick.
"I was surprised you hired me," he says one morning. He does not address you as he should, but then he does not recognise the rightful king of all elves; he whom the Emperor of Heaven has chosen - so it is only to be expected.
"Why?" you ask, matching bluntness with bluntness.
"It suggests that you wish to actually succeed, rather than wait out whatever crime has landed you this task. Gunpowder, Eonir... I did not think a Princess of Ulthuan would approve of such things," he says.
"Approve or disapprove is beside the point. My task has been given to me by my king, and I will carry it out with the best tools I can find," you reply.
It is true that the force you have assembled is not one that sits entirely comfortably with you. Vadac is at least an elf, and the colonials are excellent woodsmen. The humans... they stink of gunpowder and oil, they stink of smoke and change. You can smell the magic on the noblewoman too, even if humans do not understand what it is their priests truly do.
You take a moment to thank Hoeth that you are not so ignorant. It is only by the grace of Isha and the blessing of Lileath that you can perform true magic safely. To divide divine from arcane is to invite doom upon both.
Still, Lady Ortiz is not a hedge witch so it is unlikely that she will explode into gibbering horrors at an inopportune moment. Her Goddess is not well known to you - you are familiar with the gods of Sigmar's realm, especially the ones that parallel your own. You know Shayla, who echoes Isha, and of Manann who echoes Mathlann. You know Sigmar, of course - but Lady Ortiz's goddess is a southern goddess.
"I wonder what there could be in the Border Princes for a man such as him to bother himself with?" Vadac asks.
"Nothing," you say. A part of you is tempted to explain your King's reasoning, but after a moment Vadac moves on.
Galerion touches down on the larger of the two human ships with only the slightest jolt. You unbuckle yourself from the saddle, the riding saddle rather than the barded war saddle today. Galerion does not need reigns, but he knows that the collection of straps and buckles will keep you safely attached to him.
The crew and passengers alike of the human ship look at you with wide eyes. The crew are Marienburgers, but most of the passengers are Wastelanders, or Estalian. They have not seen an eagle twice the size of a horse before. Some looked fearful, others seemed awed. There was not always a distinction between the two.
"My - my lady is waiting for you... Your Highness?" one of the Estalian officers asks. He's a young man if your guess is right. Perhaps twenty years - twenty years old and leading men into battle! The term of address is roughly correct - as far as the crude tongues of humans are concerned.
"Show me the way," you order, and the man nearly falls over himself to rush curious onlookers out of the way. Most of them are not the soldiers you hired - they are their hangers-on - their wives, their husbands, their whores and cooks and squires. More are simply the sort of settlers one needs to build a town.
You have to stoop down to not ram your head into the ceiling as you go below decks on the human ship. You have only been aboard them briefly, usually in the thick of battle. There is no blood to slick the deck of the human ship, nor can you hear the din of battle.
The young officer opens a somewhat finer-looking door, and you enter the large cabin at the rear of the ship. Lady Ortiz sits at a well-made wooden table, with what looks to be most of her officers. Some kind of meal sits half-eaten in bowls, and wine sits well more than half-drunk beside it.
"Ah, she is here!" one drunkard shouts.
"Do not disrespect her Highness like that, or have you forgotten whose gold you paid that delightful - ah, that is, your Highness, I am pleased we will be able to talk. Rest of you, out! Out!" Ortiz shouts.
Her officers quickly depart with all the food, though Ortiz whacks away the hand of one who tries to take the wine.
"Care for a drink?" she asks. You look at the bottle. Elf-wine, but a common vintage, grown mostly for export.
"A little, thank you," you say, as you sit gingerly in one of Ortiz's expensive-looking chairs. Human chairs were rarely tall enough for you.
"I recognise that look, Your Highness. It's the same look my regal Aunt gave us whenever we tried to pass off swill too common for her, but she still wanted a drink," Ortiz says.
"I grew up only a dozen miles or so from this vineyard," you say.
"Which says nothing at all about its quality. I see what they say about the silver tongues of Elves is true," Ortiz says. She lounges backwards, her corset somewhat loosened and her clothes dishevelled. Her armour hangs on a stand behind her, blackened steel and gilt edges. A collection of weapons rings it - handguns, spears, swords. All finely made, as far as human work went.
"I wished to speak to you about our impending arrival. It is only a week or so's sailing now, and after we take our destination, we will need to move quickly," you say, as you take a sip of the elfwine. It is broad and uncomplicated, but that is not the same thing as bad.
"And where are we landing, your highness? I can hardly betray any confidences now we are so far from civilization, can I?" Ortiz asks.
"An old lighthouse, built by my people. Once we cleanse the filth squatting there, we will establish a port in the bay it overlooks and a settlement clustered around it. The lighthouse itself will be off limits to humans, but there should be ample space to begin construction of dwellings for your people," you say.
"And you've made it clear to that Reiklander brute that he's not to blow it up with cannons, yes?"
"The initial landing will not be complicated - we will have two hundred Sea Guard aiding us. It is what comes next that you will be crucial for. You and Captain Hochstrasse must maintain order in the human sections of the settlement," you say.
"I assumed that was why you hired me, no? Hochstrasse is a soldier with pretensions. I am a noblewoman, true of blood and blessed by the divine. These rabble... they will grumble, but I will keep them in line," Ortiz says.
Before you're able to respond, one of her officers rushes after flinging open the door. He's breathing hard, and you can see how tense he is.
"My lady, we've sighted longships on the horizon!" he says. Ortiz looks at you.
You are just grateful that your riding saddle still had a sheathe for your sword, and that its bags contained....
[x] Your cloak, woven from phoenix scales. Enchanted with the power of a Forstheart phoenix, it slows down those who would mean to harm you.
[x] Your necklace, a slim pendant of Ithilmar and sapphires. It was said to have been blessed by Lileath before the poles fractured and daemons poured into the world. It allows you to 'hand off' a spell to be sustained by the enchantments on the necklace.
[x] Your ring, forged on the Anvil of Vaul to give its wielder greater power over fire. Aqushy bends easier to you whilst wearing it, and it has some power of its own.
The fleet that sets off from Marienburg is a motley one. A pair of human ships packed full of mercenaries, settlers, and assorted hangers-on accompanied by a majestic eagleship; starwood hull glittering in the early-morning sun. Your own hawkship, a much smaller vessel, seems almost lost among the forest of sails.
Galerion cups his wing around you protectively as the cold wind blows your ships out to sea. Both of you are used to the cold, to the snow-capped mountains of Eatine and the ice-cold seas, but you appreciate the warmth all the same. You can hear his heartbeat as you lean against him, far faster than your own.
"So we are off once more, old friend. To new lands, though I cannot say they will match up to Grand Cathay or Lustria," you say to Galerion, who inclines his head towards you.
"Perhaps you are right. Perhaps. Finubar is a wise king, and there is much he sees that I do not. Perhaps he thinks being sent to the most remote end of the Old World will keep me -" you begin, but you do not want to say it.
The memory of that night is still raw and ragged, even months later. The guilt gnaws at you. Why did you not spot it sooner? Why did you not know what your father was doing?
Were you so busy, you wonder, wandering the seas that you could not spare the time to return home and see what was wrong?
Galerion makes a mournful noise as you stew in your guilt, and you know that he alone can understand. That night, he too became a kinslayer.
You stand and try to shake off the thoughts weighing you down. There is much to do, and if there is much to do you will not be so able to think about your guilt. Your hawkship is at the head of the small convoy, and its crew are well trained. They do not need your guidance to sail out of Marienburg, but there are always knots to be tied or ropes to be pulled.
As you assist in all the tasks a ship requires to sail, you are dressed much like the common sailors. Your shirt and breeches might be slightly finer, but after a month at sea on the way here - not by much. They have all sailed with you from one end of the world to another. Some have come and gone, but not many. These men and women have faced Nipponese pirates and Druchi corsairs alongside you, braved storm and snow and worse.
Everyone aboard the hawkship is hard at work manning the sails, or otherwise maintaining the ship, even your Eagle Knights, save two people. Vadac, the colonial, sits uneasily by the prow. His people were strangers to the sea, so you could begrudgingly permit him that. The other...
Eydis will need to save her strength if her magic is to be called on. She leans against the side of the ship, looking out at the slowly fading image of Marienburg. Her golden hair, braided in the manner of her father's homeland, flutters in the wind. She wears robes of deep blue, almost as dark as her skin, embroidered with runes of warding and power. Thin bits of ithilmar armour - bracers, and a mail shirt beneath the outer layer of robes - are all that protects her. Steel, as fine as any elf could forge, would prevent her from working magic. Only ithilmar would not.
"You did not have to come with me," you say to her as you approach. She smiles up at you, her violet eyes alight with mischief.
"But I've come with you on all your other misadventures," she says.
"I don't think this is the same as sneaking into the kitchen at midnight, Eydis," you say.
"Ah, but it's not that different from sailing to Cathay. But what a fun time we had there, after that business with the pirates," she says.
You try not to smile and mostly succeed.
"Ah, and with you stuck out in the ass end of the world, nobody will want to marry you!" Eydis says.
It shouldn't be funny. It should be an awful reminder of what you've lost... and yet you can't help but laugh.
"And you always said it'd happen to me eventually," you say.
Then there is a call from the crew, and you have more time to reminisce about your childhood.
Vadac speaks to you for the first time after the tavern a few days into the trip. The Eonir has been silent for days, looking out at the sea and alternating between brooding and looking seasick.
"I was surprised you hired me," he says one morning. He does not address you as he should, but then he does not recognise the rightful king of all elves; he whom the Emperor of Heaven has chosen - so it is only to be expected.
"Why?" you ask, matching bluntness with bluntness.
"It suggests that you wish to actually succeed, rather than wait out whatever crime has landed you this task. Gunpowder, Eonir... I did not think a Princess of Ulthuan would approve of such things," he says.
"Approve or disapprove is beside the point. My task has been given to me by my king, and I will carry it out with the best tools I can find," you reply.
It is true that the force you have assembled is not one that sits entirely comfortably with you. Vadac is at least an elf, and the colonials are excellent woodsmen. The humans... they stink of gunpowder and oil, they stink of smoke and change. You can smell the magic on the noblewoman too, even if humans do not understand what it is their priests truly do.
You take a moment to thank Hoeth that you are not so ignorant. It is only by the grace of Isha and the blessing of Lileath that you can perform true magic safely. To divide divine from arcane is to invite doom upon both.
Still, Lady Ortiz is not a hedge witch so it is unlikely that she will explode into gibbering horrors at an inopportune moment. Her Goddess is not well known to you - you are familiar with the gods of Sigmar's realm, especially the ones that parallel your own. You know Shayla, who echoes Isha, and of Manann who echoes Mathlann. You know Sigmar, of course - but Lady Ortiz's goddess is a southern goddess.
"I wonder what there could be in the Border Princes for a man such as him to bother himself with?" Vadac asks.
"Nothing," you say. A part of you is tempted to explain your King's reasoning, but after a moment Vadac moves on.
Galerion touches down on the larger of the two human ships with only the slightest jolt. You unbuckle yourself from the saddle, the riding saddle rather than the barded war saddle today. Galerion does not need reigns, but he knows that the collection of straps and buckles will keep you safely attached to him.
The crew and passengers alike of the human ship look at you with wide eyes. The crew are Marienburgers, but most of the passengers are Wastelanders, or Estalian. They have not seen an eagle twice the size of a horse before. Some looked fearful, others seemed awed. There was not always a distinction between the two.
"My - my lady is waiting for you... Your Highness?" one of the Estalian officers asks. He's a young man if your guess is right. Perhaps twenty years - twenty years old and leading men into battle! The term of address is roughly correct - as far as the crude tongues of humans are concerned.
"Show me the way," you order, and the man nearly falls over himself to rush curious onlookers out of the way. Most of them are not the soldiers you hired - they are their hangers-on - their wives, their husbands, their whores and cooks and squires. More are simply the sort of settlers one needs to build a town.
You have to stoop down to not ram your head into the ceiling as you go below decks on the human ship. You have only been aboard them briefly, usually in the thick of battle. There is no blood to slick the deck of the human ship, nor can you hear the din of battle.
The young officer opens a somewhat finer-looking door, and you enter the large cabin at the rear of the ship. Lady Ortiz sits at a well-made wooden table, with what looks to be most of her officers. Some kind of meal sits half-eaten in bowls, and wine sits well more than half-drunk beside it.
"Ah, she is here!" one drunkard shouts.
"Do not disrespect her Highness like that, or have you forgotten whose gold you paid that delightful - ah, that is, your Highness, I am pleased we will be able to talk. Rest of you, out! Out!" Ortiz shouts.
Her officers quickly depart with all the food, though Ortiz whacks away the hand of one who tries to take the wine.
"Care for a drink?" she asks. You look at the bottle. Elf-wine, but a common vintage, grown mostly for export.
"A little, thank you," you say, as you sit gingerly in one of Ortiz's expensive-looking chairs. Human chairs were rarely tall enough for you.
"I recognise that look, Your Highness. It's the same look my regal Aunt gave us whenever we tried to pass off swill too common for her, but she still wanted a drink," Ortiz says.
"I grew up only a dozen miles or so from this vineyard," you say.
"Which says nothing at all about its quality. I see what they say about the silver tongues of Elves is true," Ortiz says. She lounges backwards, her corset somewhat loosened and her clothes dishevelled. Her armour hangs on a stand behind her, blackened steel and gilt edges. A collection of weapons rings it - handguns, spears, swords. All finely made, as far as human work went.
"I wished to speak to you about our impending arrival. It is only a week or so's sailing now, and after we take our destination, we will need to move quickly," you say, as you take a sip of the elfwine. It is broad and uncomplicated, but that is not the same thing as bad.
"And where are we landing, your highness? I can hardly betray any confidences now we are so far from civilization, can I?" Ortiz asks.
"An old lighthouse, built by my people. Once we cleanse the filth squatting there, we will establish a port in the bay it overlooks and a settlement clustered around it. The lighthouse itself will be off limits to humans, but there should be ample space to begin construction of dwellings for your people," you say.
"And you've made it clear to that Reiklander brute that he's not to blow it up with cannons, yes?"
"The initial landing will not be complicated - we will have two hundred Sea Guard aiding us. It is what comes next that you will be crucial for. You and Captain Hochstrasse must maintain order in the human sections of the settlement," you say.
"I assumed that was why you hired me, no? Hochstrasse is a soldier with pretensions. I am a noblewoman, true of blood and blessed by the divine. These rabble... they will grumble, but I will keep them in line," Ortiz says.
Before you're able to respond, one of her officers rushes after flinging open the door. He's breathing hard, and you can see how tense he is.
"My lady, we've sighted longships on the horizon!" he says. Ortiz looks at you.
You are just grateful that your riding saddle still had a sheathe for your sword, and that its bags contained....
[x] Your cloak, woven from phoenix scales. Enchanted with the power of a Forstheart phoenix, it slows down those who would mean to harm you.
[x] Your necklace, a slim pendant of Ithilmar and sapphires. It was said to have been blessed by Lileath before the poles fractured and daemons poured into the world. It allows you to 'hand off' a spell to be sustained by the enchantments on the necklace.
[x] Your ring, forged on the Anvil of Vaul to give its wielder greater power over fire. Aqushy bends easier to you whilst wearing it, and it has some power of its own.
- Pronouns
- He/They
[X] Your cloak, woven from phoenix scales. Enchanted with the power of a Forstheart phoenix, it slows down those who would mean to harm you.
We have other magic-users, but Osydin's massive Prowess and flying mount are unique capabilities for the Expedition so it will be good to make them safer to use.
We have other magic-users, but Osydin's massive Prowess and flying mount are unique capabilities for the Expedition so it will be good to make them safer to use.
- Location
- Diamond City
[x] Your ring, forged on the Anvil of Vaul to give its wielder greater power over fire. Aqushy bends easier to you whilst wearing it, and it has some power of its own.
- Location
- Te Ika-a-Māui
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Your cloak, woven from phoenix scales. Enchanted with the power of a Forstheart phoenix, it slows down those who would mean to harm you.
[X] Your ring, forged on the Anvil of Vaul to give its wielder greater power over fire. Aqushy bends easier to you whilst wearing it, and it has some power of its own.
I never thought I'd see a quest like this, this scenario is one of my favorite Geheimnisnacht runs. Just taking a custom Elf and turning her into Myridia Incarnate and uniting the border princes while the rest of the world burns! Fun stuff and will be eagerly watching!
I never thought I'd see a quest like this, this scenario is one of my favorite Geheimnisnacht runs. Just taking a custom Elf and turning her into Myridia Incarnate and uniting the border princes while the rest of the world burns! Fun stuff and will be eagerly watching!
[X] Your ring, forged on the Anvil of Vaul to give its wielder greater power over fire. Aqushy bends easier to you whilst wearing it, and it has some power of its own.
- Location
- Argentina
[x] Your cloak, woven from phoenix scales. Enchanted with the power of a Forstheart phoenix, it slows down those who would mean to harm you.
neutronium95
Mad Rocketeer
- Location
- The test site
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Your cloak, woven from phoenix scales. Enchanted with the power of a Forstheart phoenix, it slows down those who would mean to harm you.
- Location
- USA
[x] Your necklace, a slim pendant of Ithilmar and sapphires. It was said to have been blessed by Lileath before the poles fractured and daemons poured into the world. It allows you to 'hand off' a spell to be sustained by the enchantments on the necklace.
The Border Princes are a bold location for Finubar to pick considering the existence of barak varr being like right next door.
The Border Princes are a bold location for Finubar to pick considering the existence of barak varr being like right next door.
prometheus110
Join Cayman-Global & be part of the 1E-9 percent!
- Location
- La Ballena City Raft
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[x] Your necklace, a slim pendant of Ithilmar and sapphires. It was said to have been blessed by Lileath before the poles fractured and daemons poured into the world. It allows you to 'hand off' a spell to be sustained by the enchantments on the necklace.
I don't know how much His Majesty the Phoenix King would approve of us making our human subjects worship us a reincarnation of Myrmidia, but I still wanna do it. We can have a cult of personality, as a treat.
Also...
[x] Your ring
May the flame of Asuryan vanquish our foes
- Location
- Australia
[X] Your ring, forged on the Anvil of Vaul to give its wielder greater power over fire. Aqushy bends easier to you whilst wearing it, and it has some power of its own.
Aqshy is the wind of magic that enhance one's command abilities. As a military commander, getting a ring that boosts Aqshy would be good. It's also of particular value while we're at sea, fighting against wooden ships.
Aqshy is the wind of magic that enhance one's command abilities. As a military commander, getting a ring that boosts Aqshy would be good. It's also of particular value while we're at sea, fighting against wooden ships.
I think Osydin has a crush on Eydis. An entire paragraph of description while the exotic Vadac gets "sits uneasily by the prow".
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