Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties - an Advisor's Quest

[Adrian XXIV]

Shadow Schemes aviable to "Silver Peaks's Sentinels" in TWW:

Side-Note: Like it's the case with Clan Eshin's Schemes, any character used in a Scheme is unaviable for certain amount of turns

Unique to Dawongr Mathilde Webber :

- Recall Duckling
-- allows to recruit one of eight Empire Wizards (each with different Lore of Magic)
-- these Wizards are only ones that can access "Magic" Shadow Schemes (other than Dawongr Mathilde Webber herself)

"I don't have any biological children, but this group of Wizards are nearest thing to such." ~ Dawongr Mathilde Webber, about her Ducklings

- Suspiciously-Specific Denial
- allows to briefly hire Eshin-Friend the Skaven Assassin to attack singular Hero or Settlement of hostile faction
- defending on target, this action works either as "Wound" or "Assault Garrison"
- this action has no chance of failure and can't be detected.

"Every day, Skaven Assassins perform many actions of assassination and/or sabotage against enemies of Clan Eshin. This time, actions of one of them weren't directed by orders of his superiors, but he was careful in his job. Nobody will ever find this out. May he kill Mathilde Webber last." ~ The Advisor

- Rally Silver Peaks's Militia
- causes unique army lead by "Thane of Clan Huzkul" to appear on the map.
- This army consists of the following units: Thane of Clan Huzkul, Undumgi Captain, Undumgi Spearmen, Undumgi Spearmen (Shields), Clan Huzkul's Swordwarfs, Undumgi Crossbowmen, Undumgi Handgunners, Clan Huzkul's Archers, Clan Huzkul's Sappers, Knights of The Winter Wolf, The We's Hunting Spiders, Cannons, Bolt Throwers.

"We bled and died to retake Karak Eight Peaks from forces of Grobi and Thaggoraki, despite not being of Clan Angrund. Now, It's time when Clan Angrund needs our help again and I vow that if I ever abandon my duty to King Belegar and Silver Peaks, I will personally write my own name to Damnaz Kron. Dawi of Clan Huzkul! Undumgi! To the Arms!" ~ Thane Dreng of Clan Huzkul, at sight of Waaagh! Birdmuncha

- The Rite of Way
- provides Strider & Vanguard Deployment to all units of Target Army
- shortens amount of time that reinforcing armies need to arrive on battlefield. This value depends on Dawongr Mathilde Webber's level


"Magic" Shadow Schemes (can only be done by Ducklings and Dawongr Mathilde Webber):

- Gather Winds of Magic from Waystone
- increases amount of Winds of Magic aviable to target army
- amount of increase depends on level of character used for this action


- Summon The We's Hunting Pack
- causes 4 The We's Hunting Spiders units to be "recruited" by target army
- target army needs to have free slots
- these units's experience and rank depend on level of character used for this action


- Create Magic Items
- created bunch of random The Dwarfs & The Empire's Magic Items
- amount and quality/rarity of these Items depend on level of character used for this action
- The Dwarfs's Magic Items can be only used by Dwarfs and Clan Huzkul units, and The Empire's Magic Items can only be used by The Undumgi units

"Martial" Shadow Schemes (can only be done by Undumgi Captains and Dawongr Mathilde Webber):

- Sabotage Supply Line
- causes all units of Target Hostile Army to have severely reduced amount of ammunition during next engagement, due to destroyed ammo supplies
- amount of destroyed ammunition depends on level of character used for this action
- this action has no chance of failure

- Fog of War
- next battle of Target Friendly Army automatically counts as "successful ambush"
- if engaged Hostile Army has any reinforcing armies, this Scheme delays their arrival
- amount of time that reinforcing Hostile Army is delayed, depends on level of character used for this scheme

- Reroute Traders
- Increases income from trading resources with other Factions
- amount of additional income depends on level of character used for this action

P.S. This can be treated as Semi-WIP, due to fact that Schemes above are just ones that I managed to invent "at this moment"

 

[Adrian XXIV]

Dwarkala, Daughter of Darkness

Father of darkness was sitting on his throne, within Bronze Bastion. Despite his success with tearing apart newly-renamed Dawi-Zharr's belief in their pathetic Ancestors, he wasn't content.

He needed to make sure that his Bastion will not be torn apart by other beings in Warp, and his chosen servants will not suffer the similar fate from savage Greenskins and duplicious Skaven

Bull-God grabbed soul that was once High Priestess of Valaya, sacrificed to Him by those that once were her kin. He began to remodel it, reshape it, and began to add concepts that he stole from other beings:
flawless martial skills from Blood God, determination despite any kind of hardships from Plaguefather, tactical genius both in and outside of battlefield from Raven Lord and hatred of weakness and weaklings' from Dark Prince.

When Infernal Lord finished his masterwork, newly-made being looked like one of his chosen servants, with body of bronze and plaits of smoke. He made a cruel smile when he didn't spot any imperfection nor any trace about his newly-made servant's previous identity

"Rise, Dwarkala Akash-kwin Hashut." Father of Darkness boomed with his voice.

"What is your will, my Lord?" his Creation responded, after kneeling before him

"Your first task will be thus: Your creation required resources that I subjugated from other beings within this realm. Prove your worth by destroying their retalation forces." Father of Darkness decreed, either his Creation prove themselves to be worthy servant...or just prove that her creation was utter waste of time.

Thankfully for Rin-kwin K'Daii, she was successful in her trial, so her second task was to spread knowledge how to make K'Daii Constructs amongst Bull-God's most worthy Sorcerer-Priests and Daemon-smiths.

Father of Darkness was laughing cruelly on his throne, due to armies of Dawi-Zharr and K'Daii beginning their march of conquest. Era of Ancestors is over, there began Era of Hashut.

--------+++++++----------

Zharralid "Lexicon":
- Dwarkala: Terrifying Inferno (I combined two words: Dwor (Fear) and Erkala (Inferno))
- Akash-kwin Hashut: Daughter of Hashut
- Rin-kwin K'Daii: Princess of K'Daii

 

[Night]

This was not a romance option. It was almost certainly not a conventional romance even by the extremely strained definitions I've used for this project.

And yet, as a sign of how much someone was loved it suffers few rivals indeed.

Ranald: "Dooo iiiit."

Click to shrink...

I can but do as our god commands.

Lady Magister Gray, Saint of Ranald

It is a wonderful day in Skavenblight, and the Council of Thirteen are horrible rats.

That lasted for a very long time. Millenia, even.

And then one day, it wasn't.

It starts with a bang. An Eshin Sorceror is seen in public, already a rare event, and they approach the Black Pillar. There is excitement, as while it has been centuries since the last successful challenger to the Council of Thirteen, this is a far more qualified challenger than has tried in that time. Assuming they don't explode on touching the Black Pillar's warpstone, of course. And they don't. The Black Pillar explodes instead, tearing the symbolic heart of the Council of Thirteen's rule out, killing the 12th Councillor who was head of Clan Eshin, and proceeding a wave of detonating warpstone across the city, in generators, contraptions, defenses. Assassins strike. The Skaven leadership is not decapitated, though; the strikes seem random, leaving their structure of command pockmarked with inconvenient but manageable holes. The only other member of the Thirteen to die is the current representative of Pestilens. If not for the very public nature of how this started, Clan Eshin might have faced annihilation, but the situation is too confused.

The Clans gather their defenses and prepare for the enemy who must surely be among them. But the enemy is not. In the swamp, red banners are raised. Armies appear. Most are also Skaven, but not all. Here and there is a battery of Imperial cannon, a contingent of Tilean crossbowmen or pikes. Clan Mors and its allies, once slain, now reborn, march to war upon Skavenblight.

The Horned Rat's rage is legendary, but it is the Horned Rat, and its rage is not terribly well-channeled, with many more Skaven leadership falling to its wrath leaving more holes in their leadership. Still, the armies of Skavenblight march to meet the foe, for the city has no walls in the normal sense, being far too ramshackle in nature. The oldest weapon of the Skaven is turned against them again. Hundreds, even thousands, betray the old order for Clan Mors. A plan worked on for more than a century is carried off, and if it does not go smoothly in every aspect, it only spreads more confusion and fear in the process. In desperation, Skreech Verminking itself is summoned to lead the army.

The daemon prince of the Horned Rat is met by a human in a grey cloak and a tall hat. One who has no face, about whom the mists of the swamp in morning curl in a loving caress. But the Horned Rat knows who this is, even if no mortal can quite seem to remember. She is the leader of Mors now, the avatar of vengeance for a Clan abandoned by its god and its race, and the very fact of her nameless, faceless nature as she passes unseen and unnoticed was part of why so many Eshin chose to join her, and considered a sign of her near-divinity among many of her other furred followers. After all, their new god prowls unseen.

"The Skaven will serve the Horned Rat for eternity!"

"They were never yours. Qrech taught me that."

And as Skreech Verminking falls under one of the finest Dwarven blades made in the last millenia, the Horned Rat finds itself sitting at a table, facing a man who always smiles, never blinks, and has every ace that has ever existed up his sleeve. And in a very real sense, the Horned Rat has already lost.

 

[SaltyWaffles]

Excerpt from the biography of King Byrrnoth Grundadrakk of Barak Varr:

King Byrrnoth Grundadrakk, unlike most of his predecessors, was not remembered for the commissioning of a great dreadnought, those metal fortresses that challenged any and all ships upon the seas with confidence. He was not remembered for leading a skilled and determined defense against a Waaagh or Skaven incursion.

He was instead remembered for backing the Karak Eight Peaks Expedition with free convoys of supplies, food, and ammunition and continuing to supply the newly reestablished Karak with all that it needed, free of charge. A bold move that spoke of a cunning mind for opportunity and logistics. A gamble that paid off spectacularly.

The newly reestablished Karak Eight Peaks not only cut a substantial chunk off the treacherous journey to the far east, it created a new relationship with a previously undiscovered people, the We.

These giant spiders might have superficially resembled their feared counterparts from the Forest of Gloom, but beneath the appearances was a keen mind that understood and valued a peaceful relationship. Through patience, teaching, and creative thinking, a lucrative relationship was formed, and the We began a new chapter in their species' history, thriving like never before. And from them came vast volumes of silk, that most precious commodity that was sought across the world.

Not merely silk to be worn and slept on--though there was plenty of that--but silk to stop blades and deny flames. Silk to lift and carry great loads. Silk to enchant and work into even greater goods.

From Karak Eight Peaks poured a white gold, precious and plentiful, bringing interest from across the continent and even beyond. Though connected by a secure road and river route, Karak Eight Peaks was a long distance away from many of the eager customers for the newly available silk.

And that is where King Byrrnoth and Barak Varr came in.

Having forged a very strong relationship with Karak Eigth Peaks even before its refounding, the great market and trading port of Barak Varr now found convoys of goods flowing back towards it--from the far east, from Karak Azul to the south, and now Karak Eight Peaks itself--and eager buyers flooding to the most readily accessible place where the new silk could be found.

Barak Varr had been a great trading hub before, but it became a hub for the exploding silk market, now, too. From Barak Varr's patrolled and secured rivers flowed ships traveling up the newly-built canal to Zhufbar and the Empire's waterways. To the west, ships sailed from Barak Varr to Marienburg, Araby, Bretonnia, Tilea, and Estalia. It was even a poorly-kept secret that some of the armor-silk would find its way aboard ships bound for Ulthuan.

And through it all, King Byrrnoth rode the storm with a steady hand and a clever mind, grabbing at opportunity with both hands yet refusing to overextend. The expansion of the already-vast market halls to accommodate the trade of huge volumes of silk flowing to and from the karak was seen as a sign of success and prestige both. The king was careful to balance the hunger of his own hold for the silk with the ravenous demand from across the Old World for the new white gold, maintaining Barak Varr's burgeoning reputation as the place to go to find and buy silk in enough bulk to fill a trading ship.

To most dwarfholds, such wealth coming not from metals and gems would be odd, but trade of all kinds was a longstanding mainstay to Barak Varr.

Of course, with the surge in shipping to and from the port-city came an increase in piracy, thieves seeking to plunder the new white gold that was sailing the seas in bulk. To this challenge, King Byrrnoth prepared his people to face with renewed vigor, for though Sartosa remained a tough nut to crack, the pirate ships plying the seas and the docks servicing them were a much easier target to combat. It seemed the king who focused so much on trade would find his war after all...

 

[Cryophage]

 

[Derpmind]

God, can you imagine Egrimm's reaction to finding out Mathilde has read the original Liber Mortis front to back?

Click to shrink...

A Grim Revelation.

It was the day after Mathilde's funeral. So many words had been said over an empty casket that Egrimm had felt like all the words in the world had run out. For all that they had worked together, something had always felt unbalanced between them. Egrimm owed Mathilde, in a way he could never confess to, and now would never be able to truly repay. Mathilde had been a light in the shadows, but on dark days like this, he felt like he was a shadow hiding his true self in the light.

His dour mood was interrupted by a knock at the door. He opened it - it was nighttime now, it seemed - to find a very old and very serious dwarf ranger carrying an iron strongbox.

"Zonzhufokri Egrimm van Horstmann?" the dwarf asked.

He nodded.

"I have a delivery for you from Dawizhufokri Mathilde Weber. It was her wish that upon her death, this strongbox would be delivered into your safekeeping with absolute secrecy. Do you understand?"

Shakily, he nodded again. But this was not enough for the dwarf.

"I understand." he managed. Wordlessly, he was handed the box - nearly falling over at the weight of it - before the dwarf turned and walked away. A half dozen other rangers peeled themselves out of the shadows to follow him. And then Egrimm was alone.

Some investigation later, he found Mathilde's message hidden in the box's shadow, words that would only become visible in a shadow cast by pure Hysh light. He smiled at that. A clever enchantment that was nevertheless a bit silly. The message told him how to open the box, and one more thing: 'I've faith you'll know what to do with it.'

Any mirth he had left him when he saw what was inside: A simple and ancient leather tome that held an impossibly stable Dhar enchantment. Slowly, unable to stop himself, he opened up the cover to the title page.

The Liber Mortis.

The box slammed shut before he realized he had even moved. Summoning physical strength he didn't even know he had, he lifted the strongbox and marched it into the darkest corner of his cellar, where it was quickly buried under boxes and tarps.

He stumbled back upstairs, utterly exhausted in the span of only a few minutes. But he hardly even noticed, for it was matched by the utter horror gripping his heart. Inside that box was an endless abyss of darkness. A truth he could not face.

Her missing body.

But his was the wind of truth, of revelation.

Her task left unfinished.

Try as he might, he could not ignore what had been laid before him.

The hints she'd dropped throughout the years, as if they shared a secret only she knew.

He did not want to think these thoughts. He did not want to know these poisoned truths.

Her last message. Her utter faith in me. In me.

But, truth be told, his mind was merely catching up to what the chasm in his gut had figured out long ago.

Was it all a lie? Was it all for this? From one dark master who would sell his soul, to another? Who really was Mathilde Weber? No. Who is Mathilde Weber? And where is she now?

 

[Whynot09]

No one asked for this, but it got stuck in my head and I did have fun writing it.
------
The War for the Colleges came not as an attempt by zealots not seeking to remove what they called impure, but as a result of that other most common impulse of the pious, conversion.

The opening salvos of the War began by the proclamation carried in the Tenth Sacral Bull of Kirste Maurer, 45th Custodian of the Portal, Sacerdos Maxima Cultus Morr, Sword of the Serene Repose, Keeper of the Grand Ravenry, and Mourner Most Excellent. In her declaration, the supreme priestess of the Cult of Morr had declared the establishment of the Order of the Amethyst, a monastical sub-order dedicated the exploration of the mysteries of Morr underneath the supervision of its Abbess Elspeth von Draken. This was a surprise to many including Magister Matriarch Elspeth von Draken who was quoted to have said, "That conniving bitch," after reviewing the content of the letter. It must be added that Magister Matriarch von Draken was a woman of quiet piety with a proven history of service to the Lord of Dreams and Guardian of Souls.1

Utterly incensed at the violation of the national dignity and authority of the Empire of Man and its Rightful and Beloved Suzerain, His Majesty Lupold II.2 Magister Matriarch Elspeth von Draken decided to address the situation in person, saddling her carmine dragon. She flew directly to the main campus of the Imperial College of Cessationary Thaumaturgy in Altdorf. She found her to her great shock; the campus had been invaded by Morrites. They had come armed not with blades, but decorations.

Initiates held busts of Ravens and actual ravens, tapestries of Morr in His various roles to include His rarely seen role as Lord of Artistic Inspiration.3 Pots holding bushes of black roses and so many other symbols of the Cult as well as several crates of black robes. Even members of the laity had come. Mostly, Ostermarkers mothers and babas carrying pots of soup, borscht, and other meals. Assured in their knowledge that the servants of their Lord were but skin and bones and in need of a proper meal or two. The gatekeepers of the Amythest Order unsure, but aware of the long-standing friendship between the two organizations, had allowed them entrance.

This veritable army of the faithful went to work. Tapestries went up, ravens were let loose and rose-shaped topiary went everywhere. This was seen as fine as it fit the already existing aesthetics of the College. It was the demand for the residents of the College to trade their purple robes for black that saw conflict rear its ugly head. Provost Hannah Zimmerman arrived on the scene to see Morrite Initiates forcing apprentices, Perpetuals, and other members into black robes. She demanded an answer from Temple Father Johann Blot. The High Priest of Morr in Altdorf presented a copy of the Tenth Sacral Bull and a robe to her. She reviewed the bull and then the robe, staring Father Johann in the eyes before fleeing further into the College. A band of Babas chased after her, bowls of borscht in hand, chanting cries of "eat, eat,"

While the Amythest College suffered a failing battle against decorators, wardrobe stylists, and overbearing female relatives. Her Holiness Maurer's message had gone to the other Cults who saw it as proof of one thing. The Morrites had gotten the march on them. All across the city, armies of priests and priestesses head straight for the College of their choice. One goal shared among all of them. Getting while the getting was good.

The Shallyans marched with military-like discipline. The Matriarch of Altdorf leading the main segment of the host towards the Jade Order, supported by auxiliaries of lay followers. Iterant priests have been sent out as the reconnaissance element, assisted by several wings of specially trained doves. A smaller element of the Shallyan force was detached towards the Light College headed by Matron Alessa Baurer, seniormost priestess of the Temple-Hospital of the University. Her forces augmented by small bands of theologians.

The second force was the first to encounter resistance. Not from the Light College, but by the Verenans who utilized their decentralized organization to their advantage, launching a guerilla campaign to slow down Matron Alessa's advance.4 Small cells badgered the large Shallyan contingent, exploiting the centralized and hierarchal nature of the cult. This dedicated front helped their brothers and sisters to become the first force to the Pyramid of the Light Order.

Magister Matriarch Mira was surprised to say the least when Manfred Archibald, High Priest of the Temple Library of Verena the Wise, stood outside the gates to her college. Behind him was a sizable host of his fellow Librarian-Priests and Priestess, all of whom were holding either books, scrolls, and in some cases a bunch of large sacks. A parliament of owls watching down from the nearby roofs.5

Magister Matriarch Mira inquired as to why they were there. His Holiness replied that the Goddess had sent the cult a message. The Order of Illuminatory Thaumaturgy sought to bring the light to the darkness. To parse what was true and what was false. That their own ranks were filled with some of the greatest minds in the world. Were these not the same goals as She had given to Her faithful? A question remained. What if the Light of Hysh was but a small part of the Light of Wisdom-that-is-Verena? Which meant that by all rights, the Order of Light was actually an monastical order dedicated to the same Goddess as they were.

It was here that Magister Matriarch Mira grew rather concerned at the manic speech be given. Unfortunately, it was at this same time that Matron Alessa's force broke through the Verenan defensive screening.

The air filled with the war-coos and screeches of doves and owls alike as the faithful of the Mother of Wisdom and Lady of Mercy battled each other and the utterly shocked hierophants. Magister Matriarch Mira being captured by the Verenans early on the fighting, collapsed the shoddy defense of the Light Order and both invading forces charged in, articles of faith and robes raised as they hunted down the fleeing Light Wizards.

As the Battle of the Pyramid went on, it was at the Celestial College that a surprise to the scene appeared.

Den-Father Einar Ulfarsson, head of the North Temple of Ulric, had heard the proclamation and ready his forces for battle. For those who are thinking Ulric was hostile to magic, it must be said that Middenheim, the holy city of the White Wolf, had been home to the oldest official magical institution in the Empire. 6 This had led to a neutral position among most Ulricans who saw magic as untrustworthy, but so was gunpowder and none but the most extreme would demand the removal of the cannons from Middenheim's walls.

Einar went even further. He held to a radical belief that magic was not a curse, but a gift. It had to be taught and carefully husband but was no different than a man learning his strength. He saw the magic of the Celestials as the closest to Ulric. 7 None are sure as to why, but Einar and his congregation headed out, ready to add new members to their pack.

It was this force of armed Ulricans which raised the defenses of the Celestial College, fearful of some band of zealots come to visit violence upon them. Yet, Den-Father Einar's impromptu sermon on the nature of individual difference and the strength it brought to their communities lulled them into believing that this was actually an attempt to bridge the two groups. To understand each other and further the chances of mutual cooperation. It was, of course, a trap.8 The Ulricans leaped into action. With an almost savage evangelicalism, they began to anoint and introduce several members of the Celestial College to the mysteries of Ulric. This combined with the aesthetic insult of putting up wolf-pelts was when it was understood what was happening. Reverse gentrification.

As the White Wolf laid His claim to the Astromancers, it was at the Jade College where the main force of the Shallyans arrived. Matriarch Anja Gustavson declared that by the nature of their work, all Druids skilled and proficient in the magics of regeneration, rehabilitation, and recuperation were but unofficial members of the Order of the Bleeding Heart. Thus, in the name of the Lady in White, the Jade College was to be recognized as a new Temple-Hospice.

The reaction was not unanimous rejection as the long-standing religious schism of the Druids reared its ugly head. The Shallyan segments of the Druids were fine with this. The Rhyan, Taalite, and Old Faith factions refused to accept this designation. The former supported by the arrival of Rhyan priestess led by Green Watcher Freya who declared the Jade Order to be the demesne of Mother Rhya as evidenced by the advances made in the fields of agroecology and other agricultural sciences. 9 The two religious groups prepared for violence when the doors to the Jade College opened. The Shallyans among the Order blamed the Rhyans and the Rhyans of the Order blamed the Shallyans. Whoever it was remains unknown, but what followed was a three-way battle between Rhyans, Shallyans, and Ishernosians. Further worsened by Druids aiming to aid their Cult of their choice.

The city rang with religious violence and even in the Imperial Zoo, the rapacious greed of the cults showed itself. Supreme Patriarch Dragomas was asked by Hierarch Arnold Bernhardsson if he and his fellow shamans wanted to be inducted into the Order of the Antler. Dragomas said no and they returned to their discussion on preserving the wild places of the Empire.

Only the Gold and Red Order were spared the attention of the Cults. Though a priest of a minor god of Nordland did pass along some pamphlets among both of them. The Grey Order was also rather quiet, save for the occasional cat or owl appearing out of nowhere, frightening a random apprentice before disappearing, but this was a common occurrence, so no one paid it any mind.

It was only on the seventh day when the Grand Theogonist and Supreme Patriarch stood together before the Emperor that an official declaration reaffirming the secular status of the Colleges of Magic was sent out, declaring an attempt to subsume an order as an arm of a cult a violation of the above, and subject to the removal of official cult status. Threatened with proscription, the Cults backed down and Custodian Maurer even retracted her declaration of ecclesiastical status for the Order of Amythest Wizards. Most everything returned back to normal. Though some wounds never healed and apprentices are no longer allowed to visit the Temples without chaperones for fear of being kidnapped. 10

1. This was not added due to any action on the part of Magister Matriarch Elspeth von Draken of the Imperial Order of Cessationary Thaumaturgy.

2 Any testimony that Magister Matriarch Elspeth von Draken was actually angered at being one-upped by her cards and tea partner is unverifiable and false.

3 This derived from the common refrain among many artists that their inspiration came from a dream they had. Some even believe that the Lord of Dreams created poetry to woo His Divine Wife.

4 Methods used included writing directions in Classical, the odd appearance of injured parties mysteriously healed by the single touch of a Shallyan priestess, civilian arrests, citations, and the occasional medical knowledge duel.

5 The other less-used term for a group of owl is a debate club.

6 Middenheim's Grand Guild of Wizards was established in 113 IC when the Graf at the time said, "Sure, anything that will piss off the Sigmarites,"

7 Hubert Denzel wishes it to be known he, at no point, made statements about comparing the meteorological powers of the Celestial College and certain Ulrican miracles.

8 Den-Father Einar wishes it to be known he repudiates the usage of this word. He preferred the term feint.

9 Magister Panoramia refused to give comment as to her opinion on the matter. Afterwards, the writer's team was threatened by a group of Halfing farmers, unintelligible watchmen, one wolf, several rats the size of wolves and a rather short woman in a pointy hat. Oddly enough, the last one was the most frightening.

10 Among those wounds remains the defilement of the Fung Shui of the Celestial College. The writer's team never discovered what this word meant.

 

[Boney]

As hinted previously, eight hours shy of the thread's anniversary and rather apropos to the topic at hand, I have started a second quest, It Belongs to a Museum, wherein the thread will create and manage a museum in the Warhammer setting and try not to piss off too many mummies in the process. The intention is to provide a more structured outlet to the impulse that has me writing thousands of words on very niche topics in history or Warhammer or the nexus of the two, for the times when I feel up to expounding but not up to spinning the many plates that Divided Loyalties has developed over the years. I invite anybody interested to join me over there as we begin the character creation process.