Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
Voting is open
Worth(y) of a Runesmith
Omake - Worth(y) of a Runesmith


Thorek Ironbrow has a swarm of apprentices.

There are many reasons for this, political and personal, but there is one that very few see.

It is kindness.

Thorek is perhaps the finest living runelord. All the Karaz Ankor are in no doubt that there are but two contenders to the title. Kragg the Grimm , and Thorek Ironbrow.

Kragg the Grimm shall never have an apprentice. He shall take none who are not worthy of his knowledge, all his knowledge, and with every year that knowledge increases. As do Kragg's standards. They have long since passed the point he will ever find a worthy apprentice.

Of course Thorek will never take an unworthy apprentice either. They just judge worth differently. But the world is not so kind as to judge soley by Thorek's standards. The world would expect an apprentice of Thorek's to be his equal in skill, or to at least demonstrate that potential.

Foolish of course, Thungi's apprentices had never been Thungi's equals, yet had been worthy all the same. Not that anyone alive could even compare to Thungi's apprentices, but the principle remained. It was gratifying, to be celebrated if the student could surpass the master. But it was not required. But the world did not judge by these standards, and the great flwa of many Dawi is that they judged themselves most harshy of all, for better or worse.

It would take someone truly exceptional to live up to the legacy of Thorek Ironbrow in the eyes of others, and perhaps more exceptional still to live up to his legacy in their own eyes. A heavy burden, almost unbearable for an apprentice, a heavy burden for the teacher.

Yet a problem shared may be a problem more than halved. Thorek will not change his standards of worth, but the world can be persuaded to see things differently. A single apprentice, perhaps even two or three, must face and carry the full weight of their teachers reputation alone. But six, eight, a dozen? Then no longer need any one apprentice be the Paragon. Each apprentice can merely be excellent (for no Runesmith has ever graduated from Apprentice without excellence) and that is enough not to bring shame to their Ancestors or their master.

Perhaps one day that Paragon come to Thorek regardless, emerging from the energetic swarm. But until that day Thorek's apprentices shall benefit from the kindness that ensures the eyes of the world, and of themselves, judge by Thorek's standard of worth.

--------
AN: In my last omake I wrote this line "... it is a terrible thing too to be apprenticed to one of the greats. Could any apprentice of Kragg the Grimm live up to his legacy unless they were Thungi reborn? Could any apprentice of a Lady Magister hope to settle for merely being acceptable?"

Then I thought about it, and Kragg's standards versus Thorek's stream of apprentices. And this came. Thorek wants to restore the rune knowledge of the Karaz Ankor, a swarm of apprentices helps ensure that less is lost and improves his political power. But why do something for two good reasons, when you can do it for three?

Hopefully I'm not totally misreading Thorek's character.
 
The Purple Warboss
Instead of literally summoning Greenskins what about a spell that creates the sort of pull a Waaagh has, like literally leads them to this location telling them there's a good fight.

A single grey wizard sneaks into some Vampire fortress or something, casts it then runs.
Suddenly the vampires have to deal with an Orc Waaagh out of nowhere.

Once the deadies had all been re-krumped and the fighting had ended, the Bosses that had gathered their Boys for a good Waaagh began to argue.

"Where's da Warboss? I know it ain't one a you gits!", muttered a fat, scar-covered Orc picking it's nose.

"Don' know," replied the Black Orc that was present, busy sharpening his choppa with some rocks he'd grabbed.

"I ain't seen him," the Night Goblin spoke up, "but look around ya- he's been here, he has!"

The Bosses could agree on that at least- they were surrounded by krumped deadies that they had all agreed none of them had killed.

"Gotta be one big choppa," the Orc pointed out. "Dese gits have been 'acked all ta pieces."

"Yeah," grunted the Black Orc. "Must be one big git ta be swinging a choppa like that at dese ones."

"Gotta be..." the Night Goblin started, "a purple Boss, don' it? Not one a our Boys saw him!"

The two Orcs scratched themselves while they contemplated that. "A purple Warboss..."

Lacking any other idea, and after a few brawls, the gathered Greenskins agreed that they must have felt the call of a Purple Warboss. Several subsequent times that the Boys felt the call to Waaagh only to not see the Warboss that called them, only finding the hacked apart remains of some git, only convinced them. The Purple Warboss entered into Greenskin legend, a figure that was blessed by both Mork & Gork, with all the kunning of Mork to be purple and not be seen by anybody, but all the brutality of Gork to be hacking apart gits like they did.
 
Little Orphan Eikeie
Mini-Omake
Running away and joining the circus theatre - Grey Wizard Edition
or
Little Orphan Eikeie

The matron of the theatre looked down on the nervous thing in front of her. Wearing only a grey cloak she stared back with a wide-eyed look of terror.

"So let me get things right. You are the bastard daughter of a rich merchant's negligent son, taken in by them as their direct heir, bypassing your father in line for both the inheritance and leadership of the merchant's network. Once taken in you were tutored and held to high, nearly impossible, standards. Terrified, you ran away and were taken in by a mysterious woman who saved your life, leaving you in her debt. Now, she has sent you here to work for me to test both your dedication to her craft and drive you to grow out of your...this."

"Excuse me, but you just gestured to all of me."

"Exactly."

The girl's lips pursed but she refused to say anything more, despite her obvious displeasure.

"So...I take you won't have me?"

The matron smiled. "Oh dear little girl, I'm not just going to let you join the troupe, I think I'm looking at the star of my next play! Now, we'll have to fudge some of the names so we don't make it obvious who we're trying to offend, but that doesn't mean we can't make it blatant, now from the beginning, what was your father's name?"

Unbeknownst to both the girl and the matron as they talked, a woman in a witch hunter's hat and her shadow could only bury her head in her hands.
 
Last edited:
Markus Kehlmann and the Princess of Skulls
Thank you for the reminder of


The True Protagonist. And now I'm thinking-


Found by a scribe in a bargain bin during a shopping trip to Barrak Var, and tucked away carefully in the 'FICTION: ROMANCE: HUMAN: MILDLY OBSCENE' section, this battered tome has proven to be a popular echo among the many-We. Please be careful with...



MARKUS KEHLMANN AND THE PRINCESS OF SKULLS

The expedition had proven a to be a disaster for all parties. While the CHAOS DWARF DEMONCANON were silenced, and the REBUILT FOUNDRY that had been their target lay once more in ruins, the band dedicated to its destruction was just as broken.

The Magister Gresdautr, former apprentice of the LADY MAGISTER who footsteps they had trod in their mission of demolition, was dead. Ser Perntgaust, BRETTONIAN KNIGHT and oathsworn foe of all things cruel, had been last seen drawing the enemy north in a running engagement.

Alone but for for his boon companions, the Squires Jeffrey and Ridik, MARKUS KEHLMANN flees south and west through the badlands to where his once rival, EKIE HOTHSCHILDE, dwelt in the mountain sanctuary of KARAK EIGHT PEAKS. There rest and recovery could be had behind legendary defenses, and with what he NOW KNEW, the final words of the TWISTED PROPHECY driving his destiny could be deciphered.

But PURSUED by the armies of the Chaos Dwarves, and darker things still, MARKUS finds himself pushed west, and west, and west again, into the shadows of MAD DOG PASS. It offers an escape from CERTAIN DEATH, but will that be enough? For on the far side of the pass the towering and mysterious PRINCESS OF SKULLS awaits him!
 
Last edited:
The Sixteen-Book Saga of Markus Kehlmann
Help I got carried away



From the pen that brought you the tragic doomed loves of the Hunter Count-

From the publishing house that gave you The Magister-Knight and her Druidess-

From the very PRINTING PRESSES that are even now feeding your need for the further adventures of EKIE HOTHSCHILDE-

A brand new series bringing you all the thrills, chills, gasps, and sighs the discerning literati of trashy romance have come to expect-

ANNOUNCING!

Our New Hero,

MARKUS KEHLMANN!

Planned as a sixteen book series, these heart pounding adventures will trace the long path of MARKUS KEHLMANN from his humble beginnings as a stablemaster's son in Altdorf, through his early days as an apprentice to the GREY WIZARDS, to his eventual fated DESTINY a half a world away.


The Apprentice Arc:

MARKUS KEHLMANN and the PLAGUE THAT WASN'T

MARKUS was having a very bad night. He had been asleep, the traveller was rude, it was raining, and the horse had bit him. But it got very much worse when the traveller was brutally murdered in front of him, the horse stolen, and he was left hiding with the saddlebags he had been coming to return.

Now, everyone from crazy prophetesses to one-eyed mercs to treacherous guardsmen wants a piece of him, and the secret that was in those bags.

Somewhere under Altdorf lies a terrible concoction of poison and plague, aimed like a dagger at the heart of an unknowing city, and no less than three different dark cults want it badly enough to kill in the streets.

Now this stableboy's only chance is in a race down into the depths of the undercity, striving to save not only his own life but every life in Altdorf!



MARKUS KEHLMANN and the WELL-HOOKED BAIT

Fresh off his induction into the GREY WIZARDS, the former stableboy is sent to explore the city and learn how to look when looking with magic. What he sees instead is a kidnapping, and not just one. The docks of Altdorf are growing dangerous, and once the pleas of heartbroken relatives reach his ears MARKUS KEHLMANN knows he has no choice but to act.

But the vicious HOOK GANG is fishing for bigger prizes than nobles daughters and petty merchants, and if he isn't careful, he might get snagged himself.

Even with new comrades like fellow apprentice EKIE HOTHSCHILDE and Jeffrey, a BRETTONIAN SQUIRE seeking word of his brother-squire, the mystery of where the victims are being sent and why won't be easily solved.

Are new magic and new friends make enough to save everyone, or will MARKUS KEHLMANN join them in a FATE WORSE THAN DEATH?



MARKUS KEHLMANN and the PURPLE SUBMARINE

The newest apprentice of the GREY WIZARDS is falling in love with the college. It has everything a growing man could want- deep libraries full of everything he never knew he wanted to know, beautiful fellow apprentices who can almost go a day without getting under his skin, secret entrances all over the city to learn and get lost with, and wonderful teachers with amazing stories and terrible enemies.

OK, that last one might not be so hot.

When a massive metal contraption heaves its way to the surface of the river within the very City of Altdorf and disgorges HOBGOBLIN KILLSQUADS, the class's excursion is thoroughly disrupted.

Now, with hours yet remaining before the army can respond with enough force to destroy the intruders, MARKUS KEHLMANN is hunted through the streets in a deadly game of cat and mouse. And with one side having the numbers, the weapons, the training, and the strength, while the other has only a local's knowledge and a weak grasp of grey magic. It should be obvious who is the cat and who is the mouse. Right?



The Journeyman Arc:

MARKUS KEHLMANN and the REFOUNDED FOUNDRY

MARKUS KEHLMANN and the PRINCESS OF SKULLS

MARKUS KEHLMANN and the SPIDER'S RIDDLE


Check back soon for The Mastery Arc and The Grandmaster's War Arc announcements!
 
Adventure Hook
So, I was struck by inspiration and wrote a thing.

DM: "Your party enters the tavern, dejected after a week of being rejected or expelled from every library in Nuln. (Seriously, how do you fail *that* many diplomacy checks? Jeez.) It's a dim, smoky place, with a shadowy figure in every corner. The bar is relatively crowded, but there's plenty of open tables to choose from. What do you do?"

Imperial Dwarf: "I'll go grab us some drinks at the bar."
Journeyman Bright Wizard: "I'll grab us a table near one of the shadowy corners."
DM: Alright, you collect your drinks and gather around a table. At the table next to yours is an older man in grey, with... something strange about his beard. Roll perception.
ID: 4.
JBW: 9?
Ratcatcher 1: Nat 1, wow.
Wood Elf: 17.
Ratcatcher 2: 8 for me. But my dog rolled a 19?

DM: Sadly, the dog doesn't have the context for this, but your elven eyes see that the edges of his beard seem to flicker and dissolve into smoke occasionally.

Wood Elf: Oh wow. Demon?
R1: Probably. Should we kill it?
R2: Eh, might as well let him give us a quest first and kill him when he inevitably turns into a monster and betrays us at the end.
ID: Heh, sure, that works.
JBW: There's, probably a lot of things he could be. Might as well leave it alone for now. Anyways, so what are we going to do next? If we can't get any books about skaven where will we even start on following up on that lead we got from the Cult of Yellow Fangs?
R1: Well, we could always just head into the tunnels and wait to get ambushed.
WE: Pass.
ID: We could try to find some other dwarves to ask? They'd probably know. (Can't believe I crit failed that history check to see what I knew about skaven...)
R2: Heck, maybe the dwarves have a library that could help us translate those letters we found.

DM: Suddenly, the man with the smoky beard is standing at your table, grinning down at you all. "A dwarven library eh? Letters to translate? I know just the place. If you don't mind doing a little job, I'm sure I could get you an in."

R1: I panic at the sudden voice and punch him. *rolls* 19!
DM: Wow. *rolls* He vanishes before you touch him and reappears on the other side of the table. "Now, that wasn't very polite. But I'll give it a pass just the once." *passes a note to JBW*
JBW: Huh.
WE: "Sorry about that, he's, jumpy."
ID: Well, definitely *something* supernatural.
R2: "So, what's the job, and what's the place?"

DM: "Far to the south, in Karak Eight Peaks, lies the library of Kron-Azril-Ungol. The owner of said library has gathered lore and knowledge from across the world to it, including copying most of what you could find in this very city. Sadly, the librarians are having some magical difficulties and have lost all ability to speak. To remedy this, the Lady Weber, head of the library, commissioned an item from the mysterious Grey Lords of Laurelorn. She would have collected it herself, but she had urgent business. Something about an 'Elfcation', and how she wouldn't have free AP for years if she put it off again? Hm. Regardless, if you're willing, take this letter to the Grey Lords and bring the item south to Eight Peaks and I'm sure the librarians will help you learn whatever you could need."

WE: Oh wow. A trip home. That... will be interesting.
JBW: Hey, backstory tie in! We definitely have to do it. *rolls something after being prompted by the DM and gets another note.* Oh, cool.
R2: A dwarven library commissioning something from elves? Sounds fishy.
ID: Well, if it gets us the info, we'll deal with whatever shady stuff is up. Let's do it.

*Months of adventuring across the empire, seeing a cool fog bridge, retrieving the item and doing it all again back down the continent to eight peaks later, they've delivered the item and are about to receive entry into the library*

DM: You step inside the grand doors, passing into the library at long last. In the distance rows of stone shelves loaded with books extend as far as you can see. In front of you is what you assume to be a reception desk manned by a human. Roll perception.

R2: 6.
R1: Nat 20!
WE: Ugh, 5.
ID: 10.
JBW: 3.

DM: *passes note to R1*

R1: AHHH SPIDERS! I DRAW MY AXE AND THROW IT AT THE ONE ON THE CEILING ABOVE US.
DM: ... Alright, roll it.
R1: 18! Awesome!
ID: What is going on?
WE: Spiders? Like, normal or monstrous?
R2: This is going to be a mess, isn't it?
JBW: Oh, yeah, I forgot to share that note I got about this place, didn't I? Crap.
WE: Uhh...

DM: Your axe flies true, punching into the carapace of the horse sized spider lurking on the ceiling above you. An unholy shrieking arises throughout the library. A cunningly hidden trapdoor lifts in front of the party and several spiders lunge out at R1. *rolls* *rolls* *rolls* Roll 3 con saves.
R1: *rolls* Uhh.... 18, 7, 9? That sounds bad.
DM: You collapse, entirely paralyzed as several spiders dogpile (spiderpile?) you.
JBW: EVERYONE STOP! THESE ARE THE LIBRARIANS!
Entire party: "WHAT?!"
 
Last edited:
In the Stacks
In the Stacks

Panoramia was vexxed. Yes, vexxed was the proper word- less aggressive than irritated, more shades of puzzled than annoyed, and altogether softer and more refined than the brutish pissed.

She had gotten up early, feeling the last hug of ulgu as the mists burned off and she wove gyrhan into the crops, talking... lecturing? No... Declaiming. Declaiming to Sophie about urea and how you wouldn't think it'd be that hard to source a bunch of urine with nine whole cities ringing the fields but no! Gunpowder had first claim! As if food mattered less and ok yes this was only really important as bed preparation for the beans and alfalfa that were the next step in a long chain towards healthy soil but still!

And thus passed her day. She waved Sophie around noon and told her to go work on her own garden (it had been a thought sparked from a conversation with Max of all people- he'd said the phrase 'artistic control' about one of his own projects, and that germinated, so she decided to try to give her 'apprentice' another area of life to control) but it was only mid-afternoon when she wandered off to get cleaned up.

The thing that actually vexxed her was that it was now well after sunset and she had just gone and climbed the entire mountain of Karag Nar only to be told that Mathilde was *here*, halfway up a different mountain. Her formerly well-groomed appearance was a fond memory, and as thus she stalked into the eerily silent halls of Kron-Azrul-Ungol. (Normal librarians just shushed people. The We also shushed people, but filled much of the ceiling with webs to proactively cut down on noise.)

Of course, that made the sound of her... Mathilde used paramour, but Panoramia was a bit too self-conscious of the similarity to use the wordplay in her own head... partner was too generic, lover too transient, wife a bowlful of snakes she had no desire to poke, and mate was too primal... beloved. That she liked, at least for herself. Although that made the sound of her beloved's voice stand out even more, for the head librarian was not shushed, she did the shushing.

"...have to take into account the fact that the collection is growing by leaps and bounds, so we need a plan that'll take us through the growth in the physical sciences we're still dealing with, accept the next load of elf books, and then be able to immediately pivot to the new selfmade stuff we'll have coming in from Nuln. We don't even know what we are going to have to fit in from them- BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE USES A RATIONAL SYSTEM- and cats cross my path but we'll have exactly the most awkward shipments to accommodate..."

If she didn't know better, she'd think that her beloved didn't notice her approaching. If she didn't know better, she might have read the shift in tone on the last word to be worry about the books and the shelves and the rest.

So she came to a stop, silently, staying well back from both where Mathilde was looking and her shadow.

And began tapping her toe, as if impatient, without ever making contact with the floor.

It was fun to watch the tiny, guilty flinches in Mathilde's shoulders at the bottom of every stroke.

Finally the We and the two dwarves that Mathilde had been speaking to took pity. It was actually the spider who broke first.

"Well, this-We must be going; oh it is a pleasure to see you magister Panoramia, let me just..." And the spider was gone, straight up to the ceiling. The dwarves looked jealous. Mathilde tried to put a good face on it.

"Pan? Oh I'm sorry, time must have gotten away from me, I hope I didn't keep... you... waiting..." The genuine-ish grin she led with when she turned around began to flake like cheap paint at the corners. The awkward fact that they were here, in Kvinn-Wyr, and not where they'd agreed to meet, in Karag Nar, sat there. Between them. Unspoken.

The dwarves looked at eachother. One coughed. They began striding for the door.

"Best we not keep you then, Head Librarian."

And then there were two. (The few scribes working late and the audience of curious spiders in the ceiling didn't count.)

Panoramia managed to hold her stern face for another ten seconds while Mathilde gave her a desperate smile.

Then they both collapsed into gales of laughter.

"Oh cats they are TERRIFIED of you-"

"-looked like someone had died- did you hear the We? 'Must be going'; going where, the same room? And-"

"-but I am very sorry I lost track of time. It's just that it's such an interesting problem! But I shouldn't have made you climb to the penthouse-"

"-and I'll make sure that you feel as much pain as I do, later. I can't hold it too much against you though, I'm trying to get a similar thing going for Sophie."

"You are making her arrange books?"

"Well, no, a garden actually, but I just gave her one of the small valleys I had been using to keep the test cattle in and told her to make something that made her happy. Trying to give her a space that is her's and she can control, you know?"

"Ah, my clever and beautiful paramour, are you saying you worry about me having an addiction to books?"

Panoramia opened her mouth, and then closed it. And lifted an eyebrow at the space around them.
 
Last edited:
Shock and Awe
Now, I don't know anything about the current plans; I haven't really looked over them yet. But I will advocate for any plan that sets us up to do AV book, Morbs, Waystone rollouts, and Elfcation all on the same turn. Why? Because it'll be funny as hell.

Shock and Awe

It was a cold and dreary Altdorf morning as eight colorful, robed figures stood before the gates of the Imperial Palace. Algard, Magister Patriarch of the Grey Order, frowned as he looked over his peers of the other Colleges. There was Manning, Elspeth, even Paranoth was there, completely on time.

It was relatively rare for them to all be called like this to the palace, especially without telling them precisely why. Algard moved over to Dragomas, Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic and head of the Amber Order.

"Did you ever figure out what this was about?" Algard questioned his old friend.

"No," Dragomas sighed. "Luitpold is being surprisingly tight-lipped about it. No clue why, but he's assured me there's nothing wrong."

"Do you believe him?"

"As much as I can. But gathering each leader of each Order of Magic into the seat of his power for undisclosed reasons? I don't think he's planning on throwing all of us at some army on a suicide mission—and I certainly hope he won't pull a Dieter—but better to be over-ready than under."

The concern on his face was matched by every Wizard there—barring Maria, who simply wore a serene, knowing smile. Algard nodded as the gates to the palace opened and a servant led them in. The entire palace shone with wealth, but privately, Algard always considered it a bit gaudy.

The servant led them through the many halls and corridors, before stopping at a set of doors flanked by two Greatswords and turning to the gathered Wizards.

"You'll find His Majesty right inside," they said as they gestured to the door.

Nodding, Dragons led the heads of all eight Colleges of Magic into the palace's Mappa Mundi room, currently occupied by only two people—and the group of Greatswords one of them was guarded by at all times. There in the middle of the room stood Emperor Luitpold von Holswig-Schliestein I, chatting pleasantly with Dame Lady Magister Mathilde Weber of the Grey Order.

Suddenly, every nerve in Algard's body was alight twice over with suspicion and concern.

Seeing them enter, the Emperor broke off from his conversation to greet them.

"Glad to see you're all here—on time, too," he said with a look towards Paranoth. The Jade Patriarch grumbled, but he at least had the decency to look a bit bashful. The Emperor continued. "I have brought you all here today because esoteric and arcane matters of great importance have been brought to my attention, and I have been convinced that a direct meeting is the simplest, fastest, and altogether most reliable means of bringing it to your attention. With that said, I cede the floor to Lady Magister Weber."

He gestured to the woman beside him, then stood off to the side of the room with his Greatsword bodyguards. Eight pairs of eyes turned to look at the Grey Wizard, and the confident smile on her face quickly turned into a smug smirk.

"I have the best kind of good news for you all today," Mathilde began, her eyes dancing with mischief. Algard sighed internally, rolling his own eyes in exasperation. Really, it was fine when it was just him, but with all the other Magisters Matriarch and Patriarch and the Emperor himself in a meeting? "The Empire is plagued by many threats and concerns, be they logistical, political, military, or existential in nature. Today, I am happy to inform you that I have taken great and successful strides to solve two pressing concerns of the Colleges and the Empire as a whole."

So saying, Mathilde gestured with a sweep of the arm, and a MAP projection of numerous glowing points appeared over the map of the Empire on the floor.

"I am sure you are all aware of Waystones and their purpose, to drain dangerous ambient energies out to Ulthuan and the Great Vortex, and I am likewise sure that you all know about how the Old World has done nothing but lose Waystones since the War of the Ancients. Not a single new Waystone in millennia, and we consider ourselves lucky if the High Elves see fit to replace an old one."

She waved her hand again, and multiple points of light went out. The gathered Wizards looked on, all with knowing looks on their faces. Algard glared at the mysterious, knowing smile Maria still hadn't dropped.

"We all know—or at least can guess—the effects this has had in certain Imperial territories. Most fortunately, I and a group of experts of numerous magical paradigms have been working for the last few years on studying and reverse engineering the numerous Elven Waystones of the Old World, and we have had an astonishing amount of success. While we've not managed to perfectly recreate them, we have managed to replicate many of the individual effects. We have multiple effective substitutes for the tributaries, a means of transporting the magical energies via rivers—and before you ask, under the rivers, not through—and we have most recently managed to create an actual working Waystone of our own design."

Beacons began to appear along the border of Sylvania, tentatively creeping deeper into the reclaimed territory.

"We have already started rolling out both tributaries and Waystone prototypes into Eastern Stirland, which should serve as an effective test to study the efficacy of our prototypes in the years to come, and we are currently in negotiations with Kislev to do the same there. One of the Empire's oldest and most painful wounds and one of its closest allies, soon to be freed of much of the dark magic that has plagued them. One of the great existential threats of the Empire well in hand, if not yet entirely resolved."

With that, the lights hovering above the floor dissipated, and Lady Magister Weber took an elegant bow before her politely applauding audience. As Mathilde rose, it was Maria who spoke up.

"While that is all quite impressive, it hardly necessitates gathering us all here at once. Is there something else you called this meeting for?" the Celestial Matriarch prompted. It earned her twin glares from the Greys in the room, but Mathilde recovered quickly.

"...make surprises no fun…Yes, there was another thing, something I think you will all be much more actively interested in," Mathilde turned, calling out to the doors at the other end of the room. "Apprentice! You can come in now!"

The doors opened, and in came Apprentice Eike Hochschild, wheeling in a cart laden with eight heavy, Runed chests clearly of Dwarven make, each bearing a symbol of one of the Orders of Magic. Mathilde turned back to her audience, clapping her hands together to regain their attention.

"Ever since the inception of the Colleges, we Wizards have been eagerly trying to recreate or match the sorcerous mastery that Teclis first demonstrated nearly two centuries ago. We've had… limited success in that regard, for all we have made impressive advancements of our own, make no mistake. We are, quite thankfully, not the Elves, capable of the numerous and grand feats of High Magic. And one of the things we've been unable to replicate are Teclis' famous Orbs of Sorcery, the arcane relics of immense magical power. Until now."

With a sly grin and a twinkle in her eyes, Dame Lady Magister Mathilde Weber began to open each of the chests upon the cart. In each one sat an immense sphere of crystalized magical energy, an Orb of Sorcery, each of a different Wind. Grey, purple, red, on and on she went until all of the chests had been opened, a glittering, multi-colored display of arcane potential set within cushioned Runic boxes.

The shocked silence of the gathered Wizards broke swiftly, each asking questions and clamoring to be heard. But Mathilde merely waved her hands, gesturing for them to be silent.

"No talking until the lecture is over, please and thank you!" Mathilde called out, grinning like a madwoman. Algard supposed she would have to be, to create genuine Orbs of Sorcery, reveal them to the gathered heads of the Colleges of Magic, and then shush them like schoolchildren! She reached her hand out to her apprentice, who pulled a thick, heavy-looking book from a side bag—which looked like it could only fit that one book—to give her. "I call them Mathilde's Orbs of Sorcery, or just Morbs if you don't have time, and they have been just one of the products of my life's work and magnum opus."

She showed off the book for all to see, the gilded title glittering and shining in a way that had to be magically enhanced. Aethyric Vitea, it read. She placed it atop one of the chests, laying her hand upon it.

"Within this book, you will find things that will completely change and challenge what you thought you knew about magic and the Winds. The secrets of liminal spaces and their creation and, yes, how to make more Orbs of Sorcery can all be found inside. Now, if you have any questions…" Mathilde smiled around the room. Algard was starting to regret keeping Smug 101 in the Diplomacy curriculum—he'd checked, and it was the only Diplomacy class Junior Apprentice Mathilde Weber had taken and attended. "...you can direct them to my apprentice. I'll be leaving for Nagarythe for a few months to fight Druchii, so I'll be out of touch for a while. Do try not to blow yourselves up!"

And with that, the Illusion of Dame Lady Magister Mathilde Weber faded away, her slowly-quieting laughter the only proof she was ever there at all, leaving her apprentice, now looking more and more horrified, to a room of ravenously curious Magisters Matriarch and Patriarch, including the Supreme Patriarch himself.

Algard was the sole Wizard to not look to poor Apprentice Eike, instead opting to put his face in his hands. Then he had a thought, one horrific and terrible.

'I bring the best kind of good news,' Magister Mathilde had said as she entered his office so long ago. He'd found it amusing then, charming.

'I'd say Malekith's death or a full-blown Skaven civil war' had been his response.

Later, she had shown up again, somehow more smug than that last time she had come in.

'I bring the best kind of good news,' she'd said again. 'I speak, of course, of a full-blown Skaven civil war.'

And just now, as she laughed in the faces of the gathered heads of the Colleges of Magic.

'I'll be leaving for Nagarythe for a few months to fight Druchii.'


Algard looked up frantically, turning quickly to the Emperor of Sigmar's Holy Empire.

"Stop her! Whatever you do, you have to stop her!"

But it was already far, far too late.


AN: I did the beginning last, so I'm not sure I like the pacing of it, but I'm pretty happy with the rest of it. Anyway, vote for any plan that achieves peak C O M E D Y
 
Last edited:
What If: Mammoth Dreams
I've been rereading the Karag Dum expedition and I had the idea for how things might have gone just a little differently.

What If: Mammoth Dreams

Tally
[*] Asarnil the Dragonlord
[*] Ice Crone Ljiljana
[*] Magister Egrimm van Horstmann
[*] Attempt to steal the mammoth from the Baersonlings
- With Esbern and Seija



As he was in the Karag anyway today for a meeting with Francesco Caravello, King Belegar comes to you for the post-Expedition debrief, and you set your sitting room up with the appropriate maps and with a few other reference materials that would cover tangents the discussion might head in. With a nod from him the Hammerers accept your offer of a fresh keg for them to split out on the balcony, so you and the King can talk in private of some rather sensitive topics. From the notes you had sent over to him yesterday and the circulation of gossip between the Dwarven Holds, he knows the broad strokes of what's happened, it's only the details that he needs to be brought up to date on.

"First off," Belegar says, before you can speak. "That's a really cool mammoth."



With all the practical matters of the expedition wrapped up, you now turn your efforts to what you can extract from it academically. With the experience still fresh in your mind you find the papers flowing easier than ever before. One after the other flows from your pen: Karak Vlag, Karag Dum, and the western Chaos Wastes. You're sure they will be well-received, especially since you worked in a few references to the best part of the expedition: your new mammoth.

[The Return of Karak Vlag, 2486. Subject: Unique, +3. Insight: Revolutionary, +2. Delivery: Thrilling, +2. Popular, +1. Classified, -2. Really Cool Mammoth, +5. Total: 11.]

[Karag Dum: the Third Schism of the Karaz Ankor, including Observations on the Shadowgave, 2487. Subject: Unique, +3. Insight: Shattering, +3. Delivery: Competent, +0. Exotic, +1. Unpopular, -1. Shared Credit, -1. Really Cool Mammoth, +5. Total: 10.]

[Observations on the Borderlands of Chaos, 2487. Subject: Rare, +1. Insight: Confirming, +1. Delivery: Thrilling +2. Exotic, +1. Varied, +1. Shared Credit, -1. Really Cool Mammoth, +5. Total: +10.]



You have once more made your to Algard's office with good news. He listens, stunned, as you reveal your new Orbs of Sorcery.

"Wow," he finally says. "The Orbs are impressive, but bringing them in on a really cool mammoth? That at least doubles how impressive they are."



You narrow your eyes at the scaled form across the Obsidian Hall from you. You knew challenging Dragomas for the title of Supreme Matriarch was not going to be easy. So far he has countered every trick you've thrown at him, as the battle has stretched on far past any you saw at previous challenges. But you have countered every trick of his as well, and you know that you are both running low on energy and options. This next exchange will be the last, the one that decides which Wind will be blowing in Altdorf for the next eight years.

Fortunately a Grey Wizard always has another trick, and yours is a good one. With a brief prayer to Ranald you flex your will and drop your illusion. The chamber goes silent as everyone sees what was always there.

"Wow," Dragomas rumbles after a moment of stunned staring, his draconic voice deep and gravely. "That's a really cool mammoth."

A few more moments pass.

"I can't fight such majesty," he finally continues. "I concede."

Ulgu floods out of the Staff of Volans as you step to the center of the room, spilling out through the streets of Altdorf. You have risen from a Journeyman struggling with conspiracies and student loans to the highest position in the Colleges. You can't help but bask in your accomplishments as you are proclaimed Supreme Matriarch.

Not that anyone is paying attention. They're all too busy staring at your incredibly cool mammoth.



This is all true and 100% accurate. I asked a Blue.

Well, a guy wearing blue.

He also said he was feeling blue, so that's double Blue and if that doesn't mean it's accurate then I don't know what would.
 
The horrors of Man upon their beasts of burden!
(An article found in a Lothern gossip newspaper sometime in the distant future)

The horrors of Man upon their beasts of burden!

While I have written much of about the diabolic and terrible nature of humanity! I have found something most foul upon my last visit to the Marienburg colony. There are these beasts that Humanity has used throughout the ages, which are simply titled as Dogs. If you have interacted with humanity even once, you would see the similarities between the two. (Attached is image of a normal looking Averland Hound Dog bedside a farmer)

Humanity and dogs have been beside each other since time has been recorded. In many ways they are eternal companions to humanity and excel in areas where they are lacking. We have found no such need for these beasts but it is commendable that man can get some use out of them.

But what I saw shattered that alliance between man and its Dogs! I was invited to a nobles ball, which I indulged in as one indulges in the circus. But to my horror there was so much more than was happening there! They were having a competition to show off their dogs. But the beasts they brought up on the podium will haunt me for the rest of my days.


I know that most do not like more vivid and disgusting imagery to be found in their newspaper. But some things must be seen to be believed. I was barely able to snap this picture and keep my nausea in check as this thing peered upon me.

This apparently is a dog. Believe it or not, it is what they say. What have they done to those creatures that stood by them for centuries. They turned them into dwarfs! Small, loud, beards. I wouldn't be surprised if they also had a deep appetite for alcohol. By the time I calmed down I was being attended to a very confused noble lady who asked me why I was openly weeping. I sent her away as they would not be able to truly understand what I had seen. Humanity once again strikes a terrible blow against the natural order of the world.

I had to excuse myself before my mind could be corrupted anymore from seeing any of these beasts. What other horrors they could have shown that day will have to stay hidden from the eyes of the world forever.
 
Voting is open
Back
Top