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Purge of the Haunted Hills - Nachexen, 2476
Winning vote:

[*] Plan Intellectual Arts
-[*][Info] Gossipmongers: Hire a number of informers specifically for their ability to pass on saleable information.
-[*][Watch] Try to soothe those in the watch upset by recent changes.
-[*][Personal] Publish Or Perish, Part 2: With a mindful of trigonometry, it's time to formally record the process for creating 'Bound Spells'. And, optionally, pick a catchier name for it than that. (Optional: Write in name) (NEW)
--[*] Name: Mathilde's Matrix
--[*] Ranald's Blessing
-[*][Personal] Practice, Practice, Practice: Having been thrown into the deep end of imperial politics, it would probably be a good idea to brush up on your skills and internalize the lessons you've learned (choose which trait; can be taken multiple times; will be more effective if you've used the trait a lot lately).
--[X] Learning

---

Julia receives your instructions with barely-concealed glee and practically skips off to begin the arrangements to expand her network of gossipmongers; Jack is more reserved when you give him his instructions, though you can see the wheels begin turning in his head as he begins to work on a plan. The problem's in his hands now, and in six months you can come back and either harvest the credit for yourself or dump the blame on him. You're starting to understand why so many seek power.

With that organized, you secret yourself away in the Buried Palace. You seek no less than to wrest a weapon from the hands of the enemies of mankind and spread it to every Wizard that served Sigmar's Empire, and all around you are the weapons you will use to that end. The dense tomes of dry formulae of the Gold Alchemists, the slim books of metaphor and wordplay from the Celestial Astromancers, transcribed oral tradition from the Jade Druids and the collected snippets of deeply personal wisdom from the Amber Shamans. Even a few scraps from the Amethysts, who you'd regard as secretive if you were from any other Order, and some typically bombastic words on the subject from the Pyromancers of the Bright Order. The only orders to have not chimed in on the subject are the Light, who are more the 'fill it with holy radiance and see what happens' sort, and your own order, and you aim to change the latter.

It's rough going. Incredibly so. A dozen times you run into 'I did it this way because it collapsed in on itself if I didn't' and you have to either investigate further or codify the workaround. You're tempted, oh so tempted, to just leave it be, but this is to be your first true contribution to the realm of the Empire's knowledge of magic, and you refuse to give short thrift. So day after day you weave Ulgu again and again, dispelling and reapplying the bindings (the Matrix? 'Mathilde's Matrix' does have a ring to it...) to see how you can and can't anchor the bindings to the inside of the creature - first your test chickens, and then a lamb and a small pig to ensure that the size and species makes no difference, and finally a volunteer from the castle staff who was now enjoying some paid time off to visit their family in exchange for their cooperation. As you expected, species made no difference, only the physical dimensions of the host, but now you knew for sure. And it slightly helped to have a scaled-up host to work with, as it allowed you to measure angles with greater fidelity - if the word fidelity can be used at all, when you hold up a protractor against a pig's stomach and try to measure the angle of a lattice of energy on an entirely separate physical plane.

Hundreds of different ways to suspend the energy later, you find a pattern, and test it again and again until you hammer that pattern into a set of rules for how the matrix must be formed. Weeks pass in the spell-lit underground gloom, emerging only to forage for food for yourself and your test subjects and blinking owlishly in the sunlight. You send off for more and more books, until copies of every single tome the College Libraries are willing to share on the topic of magical lattices are surrounding you, and you persevere gamely against each and every one of them. Every wizard has their own view of how magic works, so every book requires the reader to learn a new set of fundamentals to begin to understand what is being said.

But the more you read, the more you detect a common thread, perhaps even a harmony underneath it all. You're reminded of a parable of the Blind Man and the Elephant from the Kingdoms of Ind, oft applied to fieldcraft in the lessons of the Grey Order but more relevant now than ever. A group of blind men encounter an elephant, or so the tale goes, and they seek to learn of it. One grasps it by the tail, and exclaims that an elephant is like a snake; another by the leg, and says that an elephant is like a tree-trunk, another finds the elephant's side, and says that an elephant is like a wall, and so on, and they end up quarreling, each insisting the small glimpse they had gotten of the whole was the truth of the matter.

You read the books through fresh eyes, seeking not to interpret what each of them are saying into terms you intuitively grasp, but instead accepting them as equally valid glimpses of magic. And it feels very much like you're trying to work out the shape of an elephant from the reports of those blind men, but you soon grasp that there's a finite amount of parts to it - though tragically, it's not limited to the eight traditional Winds. You find it breaking down, more or less, into an axis between two points. On one side, the Elemental, who draw meaning from the physical manifestations that the wind is drawn to - such as those that would see fire as burning. On the other, the Mystical, who deal more in metaphor - those that see fire as passionate, or as cleansing.

You consider Ulgu. Taken elementally, it is the interplay between light and dark. Taken mystically, it is the coming of dawn and dusk, of revelation and concealment. You consider your own magical repertoire, and find that you've drawn almost entirely from the latter. Your spells owe little to the elemental nature of Ulgu - no Invisibility or Shadowcloak, for instance. Your spells draw more from the mystical significance of shadows - the sudden plunge into darkness of Mindhole, the tireless advance of the dusk and dawn of Shadowsteed. Both directions are correct, or at least no more incorrect than each other.

You emerge from your months of solitude with a greatly deepened understanding of man's relation with magic. But, sadly, not with a completed paper on the subject of Mathilde's Matrix.

...name possibly pending.

[Writing the paper: Roll, Learning, 16+17+10 (Ranald's Blessing)=43.]
[Improve Learning: Learning, breakpoints 60/90, 79+17=96.] +2 Learning Gained!

---

You stumble into Julia's townhouse and start devouring equal parts reports, gossip, and marmalade toast one of the house staff brings you. The 1st Division is on the march to join the rest of the Army on the campaign, and news from said army is all positive - Vanhaldenschlosse was found to be entirely inoffensive, and the divisions separated to clear the largest segment of the Haunted Hills yet. You estimate about a fourth of the Hills have now been cleared; you skim the reports from the Attachés, and find that the undead found have remained largely the same, with a higher proportion of ghouls closer to the Hunger Woods on the northern edge of the Hills. Next stop on the army's agenda is to push on along the Old Road to Nachthafen, home of the only noble of Sylvania to pay even technical fealty to the Elector Count of Stirland, Countess Gabriella von Bundebad, which should prove interesting.

What little gossip that flows from Ostermark indicates that they're faring about as well in the Dead Woods as Stirland is in the Haunted Hills, but at least they show no sign of stopping. Even scanter gossip from the mountains tells that Zhufbar has gained the upper hand in the three-way war between subterranean beastmen and besieging greenskins; hopefully that means they'll be able to join in against Sylvania. No news from Averland, as sadly Anton was unable to convince them to contribute to the campaign, occupied as they were with greenskins in their own lands. No other news of note from the rest of the Empire, but then, your ears are mostly internal.

---

PLAN FOR THIS PURGE TURN

ORGANIZATIONAL ACTIONS - these are LOCKED IN for the next two purge turns, but personal actions can still be spent on them.

Information Network - pick ONE (no action expenditure required):
[ ] Expand your information network into another province (choose one)
[ ] Expand your information network into another county or barony (choose one)
[ ] Expand your information network into the military (choose a Division)
[ ] Expand your Intelligence Attaché program to another Division (choose one)
[ ] Off the Leash: Let Julia handle the network without your micromanagement from now on.

Information Network finances - can be chosen INSTEAD of a selection from the above.
[ ] Attaché Paperwork: The Intelligence Attachés are your biggest expense by far - see if you can have them paid for by the Army of Stirland instead.
[ ] Fixer: Work with the Wurtbad Thieves Guild, supplying them information in exchange for a portion of profits.
[ ] Special Branch: Pull some financial trickery to get the information network classified as part of the Watch, so that their costs are covered by the Stirlandian treasury.
[ ] Trade Delegation: Convince Wilhelmina and Markus to partner your network with the EIC based on the value of market information.

Stirland Watch - pick ONE (no action expenditure required):
[o] Expand the ranks of the Watch, so that they're able to start covering even the poorer parts of their covered area. (cannot be taken until army retirement resumes in six months)
[o] Expand the Watch into a new county or barony (choose which) (cannot be taken until army retirement resumes in six months)
[ ] Expand the Special Branch into areas already covered by the Watch, so you have an additional pool of manpower you can call upon to supplement the full-time Watchmen.
[ ] Improve the training of the Watch, hiring trainers and dedicating paid time each week to sharpening skills.
[ ] Integrate the Roadwarden network of covered areas into the Watch.
[ ] Investigate the possibility of adding a River Warden branch of the Watch.
[ ] Headhunt administrators from other organizations in Stirland.
[ ] Attempt to hire administrators and clerks from Altdorf and Nuln.

Stirland Watch finances - can be chosen INSTEAD of a selection from the above.
[ ] Formalize and organize the payments people make for the Gong Farmers to perform their service, as well as having the Watch start enforcing existing laws against dumping human waste in the street or the Stir.
[ ] Currently, solid waste is sent by cart and wagon out to the fields for a pittance. It could instead be used to create market gardens along the banks of the Stir (hopefully downwind) and increase revenue and provide jobs for the desperate by growing a variety of cash crops.
[ ] Tanneries have a seemingly limitless demand for urine, which explains a lot about the smell. A bit of fragrant research would allow you to identify how much demand there is and how much of a profit you can wring from this.
[ ] In Wissenland, there are a number of techniques in use to derive saltpeter from urine. It would take a great deal more effort than selling to tanneries, but saltpeter could be exported to Nuln for fantastic profit, or used to start gunpowder production in Stirland.

---

PERSONAL ACTIONS - CHOOSE BETWEEN TWO AND THREE. ANY CHOSEN BEYOND THE FIRST TWO WILL COME WITH RISKS - PLEASE SPECIFY THE 'ADDITIONAL' TASK:

Genießt den Krieg - join the divisions entering Sylvania:
[ ] Now that the land is cleared between Stirland proper and Nachthafen, spend some time in the court of the only Sylvanian noble to recognize and be recognized by the Empire, Countess Gabriella von Bundebad.
[ ] If you're feeling nosy, Vanhaldenschlosse is apparently free of anything that would object to you poking around in what was once the proud ancestral home of the Van Hals.
[ ] Something apparently quite similar to the Purge of the Haunted Hills is going on in Ostermark's southern regions; you could inspect goings-on up there yourself.
[ ] Attach yourself to the general staff, so you can be present for anything interesting that might happen and keep a finger on the pulse of the war.
[ ] Attach yourself to a specific regiment so you can spend some time in the thick of things.

Miscellany:
[ ] Hang Out A Shingle: Spymasters don't advertise, but wizards sometimes do. Make an official announcement that there's a wizard in residence, and see who comes out of the woodwork.
[ ] Formal Proposal: Your idea for an undead research team was received poorly, but Van Hal is still open to the idea in theory. Write in details: Name, who it is technically a part of (Watch, Witch Hunters, Military, College, none), and whether it reports directly to you (becomes a new Organization you command) or, if not, who it would report to.
[ ] Gun Shopping: You're currently using a pistol that was a spare for the pistoliers. Visit Nuln to upgrade. (Choose: dueling pistols for accuracy and range, repeater pistols for weight of fire, dragons for hand shotguns. Choose: whether you will acquire and use two pistols at once or keep one hand free.)
[ ] Write up a proposal for Wilhelmina to approve a short-term increase in Discretionary Income, for the duration of the crisis.

Self-Improvement: Things have been going well so far, but the skills of a Journeyman Grey Mage can only go so far.
[ ] Practice, Practice, Practice: Having been thrown into the deep end of imperial politics, it would probably be a good idea to brush up on your skills and internalize the lessons you've learned (choose which trait; can be taken multiple times; will be more effective if you've used the trait a lot lately).
[ ] Tutoring: One of your fellow councillors may be willing to teach you in their chosen field (choose who; can choose which, or you can let them decide).
[ ] Really Good Swords: You have achieved proficiency with the Greatsword. Future progress is possible, though it will take more effort to see results.
[ ] Combat Training: You're virtually surrounded by armed warriors of various sorts. See if you can convince one to teach you (choose who).
[ ] Combat Training, In The Free Market: You haven't made many heavily armed friends yet, but gold is good for that. Go out and buy some training. (-personal gold)
[ ] Enchantment: You're naturally talented at enchantment; so far, this just amounts to being able to make your desk meow for about an hour. See if you can improve on that, or at least figure out a way to make that useful.

Home Comforts: Your Palace-Shrine is bursting with potential. And also mud.
[ ] Diggy Diggy Hole, Remixed: You're getting sick of having workmen tramping in and out of your abode. Recruit an entire team and personally oversee them to clear out all of the reachable portions of the Palace-Shrine and be done with it. (-personal gold)
[ ] Enchantment: You've finally got the equipment, now you've just got to unpack it all and set up your laboratory.
[ ] Filled with Potential: You've got a room cleared out and ready to be put to use. Decide what you're going to put there and get started on equipping it. (write in the purpose of the room)

Research:
[ ] Undead Research: You know the basics, now. Perhaps a great deal of effort will allow you to advance further.
[ ] Snooping: Van Hal gave you a key to his Study. It's been a while since he's been in Wurtbad; he probably forgot he did so, and won't remember until he returns. And he didn't specifically say not to poke around and see what you could find.
[ ] Shyish-kebabs: The Shyish swords are hideously dangerous as weapons, but fascinating as a subject of study. Try to reverse-engineer the lost enchantments woven into them.
[ ] Publish Or Perish, Part 3: You spent a month running into roadblocks; hopefully that means that you got them all and now there's nothing between you and actually writing the damn paper. (NEW)
[ ] Qhaysh Juice: Whatever it is, it's dripping out of the box at a steady rate. You've got several gallons of the stuff and it's still coming out. It's got to be good for something.
[ ] Qhaysh Skunkworks: It would take careful study to unlock the secrets of the liquid. It would take considerably less time to find out if it can be made to burn, or explode, or do something militarily useful.
[ ] There's always room for more shadow spells in your repertoire. Send off to the Grey College for the basics on one of the others and get started on trying to learn it.

Influence:
[ ] Information Network: Work alongside to Julia to administer the network. Choose another Organizational Action for the Network.
[ ] Stirland Watch: Work alongside Jack to administer the Watch. Choose another Organizational Action for the Watch.
[ ] Financial Jargon: Everything with the EIC flew right over your head last time. Try again. Succeeding here will mean that you can take a more active hand in the company, adding it to the organizational actions; failing or not attempting means Mathilde will remain a silent partner.
[ ] Thieves Guild: It's currently little more than a church group, albeit of a very unconventional god. If it could be expanded under your aegis, it could be a powerful tool.
[ ] Biderhof: This village based on woodcutting and agriculture, has adopted you as one of it's own. Maybe you should adopt it as your own, in a literal sense.
[ ] Non-Thief Guilds: Wurtbad, like all major cities, is home to a number of guilds. Reach out to them and enforce your will.

Relations:
[ ] Getting To Know You: Spend time with one of your fellow councillors or your liege, offering your help in their tasks and generally getting a feel for them (choose one).
[ ] Getting To Know You Whether You Like It Or Not: Though you no longer mistrust them, perhaps you should see what your fellow councillors spend their time doing anyway (choose one).
[ ] Letters Home: You might be able to wring more information out of your Master, or you might just be able to get news, information and guidance in general from the Grey Order.
[o] Free Time: Now well-established in Wurtbad, you can spend some time in your scant off hours getting to know someone better. Pick one character. (not possible during Purge Turns)

---

SEPARATE VOTE: What is to be the name of the bound spell matrix?

- Apologies for not having the name vote be separate last time around; towards the end of things I'm itching to just hit the 'submit' button and be done with it and sometimes don't think things through properly.
- I've not formalized the rules for attribute advancements but as a general rule of thumb: the higher your base score is, the harder it is to advance, and if you've been using it a lot recently it improves your chances and can unlock the possibility of multiple levels of advancement at once.
 
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Purge of the Haunted Hills - Pflugzeit, 2476
Winning vote:

[*][Action] Plan Is Bundebad Good Or Bad
-[*][Personal] Now that the land is cleared between Stirland proper and Nachthafen, spend some time in the court of the only Sylvanian noble to recognize and be recognized by the Empire, Countess Gabriella von Bundebad.
--[*] Ranald's Blessing
-[*][Personal] Publish Or Perish, Part 3: You spent a month running into roadblocks; hopefully that means that you got them all and now there's nothing between you and actually writing the damn paper. (NEW)
[*][Name] Mathilde's Mystical Matrix

---

As spring arrives and the armies of Stirland march, you remain underground. You've finally gathered together all the knowledge you require to properly record Mathilde's Mystical Matrix in such a way that it can be shared among all present and future wizards of the Empire.

Or so you thought.

Weeks pass in a haze of frustration as words emerge like blood squeezed from a stone. The sentences drip out of you like tar from a barrel, describing the ways to anchor a matrix of mystical energy within a living creature. Every trigonometric detail is checked and double-checked and laid down in the correct place. Every single sentence is an effort, and there's more than you could begin to imagine as you find no elegant way to describe what you can picture so easily, and so you have to describe every facet of it individually in agonizing detail, then go even further in the descriptions of how they all connect together. The only thing more painful than writing it is rereading it, except more painful still is trying desperately to edit it into something slightly easier to understand.

The end result is, technically, an accurate guide to constructing Mathilde's Mystical Matrix. It's not even misleading. But it is incredibly dry and difficult to grasp and far longer than it has any right to be, and if you have to look at it one more time you might scream and set it on fire.

You storm out of your buried palace, summon a horse, and ride at considerable speed for Sylvania. You'd rather face the undead than that bloody paper right now.

[Writing the papar again: Learning, Roll, 31+19=50.]

---

As you approach the only county in Sylvania to recognize Stirlandian rule, you reflect on the progress of the Purge. It was discovered, at least in part, why the army had met so little resistance in the northwestern Hills; because they were all laying siege to Nachthafen, or at least were encircling it; there was no indication that anything like a guiding mind was directing things, and all that caused the siege was mob mentality, and sometimes not even that. Fresher zombies were preyed upon by ghouls, who were in turn preyed upon by wolves - not, it appears, the undead 'dire wolves', but living giant wolves who loafed around the edges of the siege, shattering the occasional skeleton to gnaw upon its bones and on the lookout for anything close to living for them to fall upon.

But the advance of three divisions of the Army of Stirland shattered the siege, some twenty thousand undead were put to the fire and steel as members of five Knightly Orders contemptuously smashed their way to and fro through the ranks of the unguided dead - with nary a spearwall to be seen they were in their element, and accounted for near half the enemy dead themselves. By the time you arrived, the dead had been given their final rites but most were still awaiting the pyres, with wood having to be cut and transported from the Hunger Wood. Everywhere you looked, a local was looking back - not, as far as you could tell, with any ill intent, but with the air of a tiny prey animal who knows very well to watch even the slightest rustle in the undergrowth. Each local was accompanied by small herds of sheep or goats, but these were the most obedient herds you'd ever seen, staying within a few yards of their overseer and following along obediently every time he moved.

Nachthafen itself, when you reached it, was no less strange. Not even a quarter the size of Wurtbad in population, it rivalled it in area and beat it in the height of its walls. You had papers to prove your identity, but the guard at the gate, armoured from head to toe in rusted chainmail with only a narrow slit in his coif to peer through, barely glanced at them, instead peering suspiciously at your pupils and then clumsily removing a chainmail mitten to feel the pulse in your wrist and then waving you inside. Inside, you saw that most of the space inside the walls was empty livestock pens, though from the state of things, you easily deduce that all the livestock of the herdsmen outside the walls were kept in here during the siege. The buildings, clustered together around a modest keep, were of sturdy construction and built so that there was no space between them, with no windows at ground level and small shuttered ones above, effectively presenting a second wall inside the first. The streets were mostly empty, with a few street merchants standing by their stalls in silent judgement of a world where nobody buys their stock - their eyes follow you as you pass, each judging whether you could be convinced to buy some sort of severely boiled sheep product and deciding against the attempt.

You've been in villages louder than this town, and tombs more welcoming.

You arrive at the castle, and this time your papers are given close scrutiny by a man who peers and moves his lips as he struggles his way through the words, though he does check your pulse and pupils as well. He leads you through the gatehouse, through a courtyard smaller than your bedroom, and into a great hall packed with the busy silence of dozens of people silently waiting. A line stretches from the throne and wraps around the wall until the tail folds in on itself in a mob of silent confusion, and the only ones speaking are the peasant at the head of the line, who seems to be deep in some sort of explanation of how something went terribly wrong with goat husbandry, and the pale young woman on the throne wearing clothes only half a decade out of fashion and seemingly engrossed in the conversation.

The woman glances up as you approach, and the conversation accelerates to a conclusion; a single golden coin is placed in the peasant's hand, and instructions are given that the hapless goat who seems to have failed in some required task is to be presented to the keep's kitchen. Then the woman on the throne stands, smiles at you, and beckons at you to follow her into a side-room; the peasants lined up make no reaction to this, seemingly content to wait.

Since this is Sylvania, and you are not an idiot, the first thing you do is carefully scrutinize the woman with your mage sight as you follow, and are relieved to find that she's no more tainted by Dhar and stained by Shyish than anyone else in Sylvania. She leads you to what appears to be a sunroom built by someone who quite missed the point, with cozy chairs around a small table and packed bookshelves lining the walls and the only sun being a thin, faint beam squeezing its way through an arrow slit. Following her lead, you take a seat across a small table.

"So," she says brightly. "The famous Spymistress of Stirland; an honour to meet you in the flesh at last. We have heard so much about you."

"And I of you," you reply politely, and she grins.

"So, here to take a look at the most far-flung corner of Stirland's demesne?"

"And the citizens of the Empire within it," you reply. "I'm glad we were able to lift the siege, though it's quite strange that we knew nothing of it until we arrived."

"We're quite used to being an island of civilization in a sea of terror, I'm afraid," she explains vaguely. "By the time it occurred to anyone to send for help, we had already been encircled."

"Messenger pigeons?" you suggest, but she's shaking her head before you even finish the words.

"That's a boondoggle one only has to sink money into once to learn their lesson. It's the bats, you see. They've got quite an appetite for blood, which tragically extends to that of birds."

"So has this sort of thing happened before?" you ask, changing tack.

"Impromptu, unguided sieges? Oh, yes. There's some sort of rudimentary herding instinct in them, so every now and then enough accumulate at the walls to start attracting more and from there it just accumulates."

"And how do you usually solve it?"

"Winter comes eventually; the ghouls and wolves seek shelter and the zombies freeze, while the skeletons are buried in snow. We spend the winter months digging them up one by one and smacking them over the head until they stop moving. Inconvenient when a siege begins in spring, but such is life in Sylvania."

Your eyes narrow at her in thought; by all appearances she's younger than you, but she talks with the confidence and experience and world-weariness of a woman with a decade on you. You're sure that Countess Gabriella has ruled here for as long as you've been Spymistress, which must mean she was merely a teenager when she became Countess; not unheard of, and it could explain her acting older than her years, but...

But your suspicions must be visible on your face, because her smile suddenly widens. "I know that look," she says suddenly. "It's an 'I'm going to check the records when I get back home and see how long there's been a Countess Gabriella in Nachthafen' sort of look."

You stare at her again, both at her person and at the mystical energy flowing within her, and to both she seems absolutely normal. "You get that look a lot?" you manage, shifting in your seat slightly so you could leap to your feet without trouble, if necessary.

"Every now and then. Let me spare you some trouble: since just before the turn of the millennium. The nineties were a good time to put down roots."

Too obvious. Too obvious. She's giving it away for free. Why? What reaction is she trying to get? Remember your teachings. Game it out. She all but tells you she's a vampire. You... do you attack her? If she knows you by reputation, she has to be at least prepared for the possibility, and you have an enormous sword on your back, for crying out loud. Witnesses? Is she prepared to fend off an attack and then have witnesses tell of your 'unprovoked' assault on her? Otherwise... well, you'd go straight to Van Hal. Van Hal would investigate himself. Is she trying to draw him in for something? To discredit you? To spring a trap on him? Is she even telling the truth about being a vampire? Why would someone lie about that? But then, why would someone be honest about that?

Then... do you do nothing? That might be the play. She's revealing this to inspire some sort of reaction in you; to do nothing counters that. It leaves her free to act, but no freer than if she had just said nothing. What's she trying to do? How do you prevent it?

She's been watching you as your thoughts race, her smile widening. "Oh, it's so nice to have a thinker in Eagle Castle. The last fellow was so tedious - wouldn't think about what to have for breakfast unless someone was bribing him to do so. Have you found him?"

"Hasn't been a priority," you say cautiously. Keep her talking. If she's talking, she's not doing anything else.

"Smart. He was a piece, not a player."

"And who moved him?"

"Anyone with money, of course." She smiles as you stare at her. "You know who one of them was. Everyone with the senses to feel it knows the spell that girl in Drakenhof hurled at you." She tuts, and fussily rearranges her hands in her lap. "So much raw power, so little control. Little wonder she's stark raving mad."

"Countess von Carstein," you venture, and she scowls.

"So she calls herself. Incorrect on all three counts - if you'll excuse the pun. No more spurious a claim has ever been made, I assure you."

"What are your plans in this campaign?" you ask.

"Plans? Why would I have plans? The hills are safer for my subjects to graze their herds in, and my neighbour to the east is soon to get a rude visitation they thoroughly deserve. Doing nothing is serving me quite splendidly."

You can't think of any other questions to ask; you need to digest what has already been said, or at least hinted at. "If you'll excuse me," you ask politely.

"Of course," she says graciously as you rise to your feet; at the door, apparently unsummoned, the man who led you in appears to lead you back out. "This was such fun. Come by again some time. Give my best to Abelhelm," she says, smug as a cat with a full belly.

You make your way out, your nerves screaming, but everything is normal. The peasants in the hall continue to wait patiently, the only change being a few more at the end of the line. You soon find yourself back on the streets of Nachthafen, with no more answers and a great deal more questions than when you first arrived. But you'll not let yourself be so easily driven off, though. You linger in the area for a couple of weeks, and find a score of locals willing to pass on information for silver. Chances are at least some of them will be feeding you false information, but one can often derive truths from the lies someone tells.


---

PLAN FOR THIS PURGE TURN

ORGANIZATIONAL ACTIONS - these are LOCKED IN for the next purge turn, but personal actions can still be spent on them.

Information Network - pick ONE (no action expenditure required):
[ ] Expand your information network into another province (choose one)
[ ] Expand your information network into another county or barony (choose one)
[ ] Expand your information network into the military (choose a Division)
[ ] Expand your Intelligence Attaché program to another Division (choose one)
[ ] Off the Leash: Let Julia handle the network without your micromanagement from now on.

Information Network finances - can be chosen INSTEAD of a selection from the above.
[ ] Attaché Paperwork: The Intelligence Attachés are your biggest expense by far - see if you can have them paid for by the Army of Stirland instead.
[ ] Fixer: Work with the Wurtbad Thieves Guild, supplying them information in exchange for a portion of profits.
[ ] Special Branch: Pull some financial trickery to get the information network classified as part of the Watch, so that their costs are covered by the Stirlandian treasury.
[ ] Trade Delegation: Convince Wilhelmina and Markus to partner your network with the EIC based on the value of market information.

Stirland Watch - pick ONE (no action expenditure required):
[o] Expand the ranks of the Watch, so that they're able to start covering even the poorer parts of their covered area. (cannot be taken until army retirement resumes in six months)
[o] Expand the Watch into a new county or barony (choose which) (cannot be taken until army retirement resumes in six months)
[ ] Expand the Special Branch into areas already covered by the Watch, so you have an additional pool of manpower you can call upon to supplement the full-time Watchmen.
[ ] Improve the training of the Watch, hiring trainers and dedicating paid time each week to sharpening skills.
[ ] Integrate the Roadwarden network of covered areas into the Watch.
[ ] Investigate the possibility of adding a River Warden branch of the Watch.
[ ] Headhunt administrators from other organizations in Stirland.
[ ] Attempt to hire administrators and clerks from Altdorf and Nuln.

Stirland Watch finances - can be chosen INSTEAD of a selection from the above.
[ ] Formalize and organize the payments people make for the Gong Farmers to perform their service, as well as having the Watch start enforcing existing laws against dumping human waste in the street or the Stir.
[ ] Currently, solid waste is sent by cart and wagon out to the fields for a pittance. It could instead be used to create market gardens along the banks of the Stir (hopefully downwind) and increase revenue and provide jobs for the desperate by growing a variety of cash crops.
[ ] Tanneries have a seemingly limitless demand for urine, which explains a lot about the smell. A bit of fragrant research would allow you to identify how much demand there is and how much of a profit you can wring from this.
[ ] In Wissenland, there are a number of techniques in use to derive saltpeter from urine. It would take a great deal more effort than selling to tanneries, but saltpeter could be exported to Nuln for fantastic profit, or used to start gunpowder production in Stirland.

---

PERSONAL ACTIONS - CHOOSE BETWEEN TWO AND THREE. ANY CHOSEN BEYOND THE FIRST TWO WILL COME WITH RISKS - PLEASE SPECIFY THE 'ADDITIONAL' TASK:

Genießt den Krieg - join the divisions entering Sylvania:
[ ] Countess Gabriella von Bundebad implied quite a lot, and in such a way that it's clear she's trying to needle you into action. But you don't know what. If inaction isn't the correct move, what is? (write in; may take an action) (NEW)
[ ] If you're feeling nosy, Vanhaldenschlosse is apparently free of anything that would object to you poking around in what was once the proud ancestral home of the Van Hals.
[ ] Something apparently quite similar to the Purge of the Haunted Hills is going on in Ostermark's southern regions; you could inspect goings-on up there yourself.
[ ] Attach yourself to the general staff, so you can be present for anything interesting that might happen and keep a finger on the pulse of the war.
[ ] Attach yourself to a specific regiment so you can spend some time in the thick of things.

That Bloody Paper: (NEW)
[ ] Sod it. Submit the paper as it is now, and let whoever may be interested slog their way through a few hundred pages of densely-packed trigonometric formulae. (does not take an action)
[ ] Send it off to our Master and ask that he passes it on to someone with the skills to distil it into something resembling elegance; though it will mean that they will get co-author status, and may fight you on the name. (does not take an action)
[ ] Throw yourself back into reclusion and goddamn stay there until the job is bloody well done. (takes two actions)
[ ] Wurtbad was once famous for hospitality, and it still has a wonderful selection of high-class inns with actual hot running water. Book yourself into the Golden Eagle Inn and allow yourself to be pampered in the hopes that it will let the words flow. (costs personal funds)
[ ] Get atop your horse, find a place rich in Ulgu, and play hermit for a month while hoping that the energies you're so familiar with will inspire you. (???)

Miscellany:
[ ] Hang Out A Shingle: Spymasters don't advertise, but wizards sometimes do. Make an official announcement that there's a wizard in residence, and see who comes out of the woodwork.
[ ] Formal Proposal: Your idea for an undead research team was received poorly, but Van Hal is still open to the idea in theory. Write in details: Name, who it is technically a part of (Watch, Witch Hunters, Military, College, none), and whether it reports directly to you (becomes a new Organization you command) or, if not, who it would report to.
[ ] Gun Shopping: You're currently using a pistol that was a spare for the pistoliers. Visit Nuln to upgrade. (Choose: dueling pistols for accuracy and range, repeater pistols for weight of fire, dragons for hand shotguns. Choose: whether you will acquire and use two pistols at once or keep one hand free.)
[ ] Write up a proposal for Wilhelmina to approve a short-term increase in Discretionary Income, for the duration of the crisis.

Self-Improvement: Things have been going well so far, but the skills of a Journeyman Grey Mage can only go so far.
[ ] Practice, Practice, Practice: Having been thrown into the deep end of imperial politics, it would probably be a good idea to brush up on your skills and internalize the lessons you've learned (choose which trait; can be taken multiple times; will be more effective if you've used the trait a lot lately).
[ ] Tutoring: One of your fellow councillors may be willing to teach you in their chosen field (choose who; can choose which, or you can let them decide).
[ ] Really Good Swords: You have achieved proficiency with the Greatsword. Future progress is possible, though it will take more effort to see results.
[ ] Combat Training: You're virtually surrounded by armed warriors of various sorts. See if you can convince one to teach you (choose who).
[ ] Combat Training, In The Free Market: You haven't made many heavily armed friends yet, but gold is good for that. Go out and buy some training. (-personal gold)
[ ] Enchantment: You're naturally talented at enchantment; so far, this just amounts to being able to make your desk meow for about an hour. See if you can improve on that, or at least figure out a way to make that useful.

Home Comforts: Your Palace-Shrine is bursting with potential. And also mud.
[ ] Diggy Diggy Hole, Remixed: You're getting sick of having workmen tramping in and out of your abode. Recruit an entire team and personally oversee them to clear out all of the reachable portions of the Palace-Shrine and be done with it. (-personal gold)
[ ] Enchantment: You've finally got the equipment, now you've just got to unpack it all and set up your laboratory.
[ ] Filled with Potential: You've got a room cleared out and ready to be put to use. Decide what you're going to put there and get started on equipping it. (write in the purpose of the room)

Research:
[ ] Undead Research: You know the basics, now. Perhaps a great deal of effort will allow you to advance further.
[ ] Snooping: Van Hal gave you a key to his Study. It's been a while since he's been in Wurtbad; he probably forgot he did so, and won't remember until he returns. And he didn't specifically say not to poke around and see what you could find.
[ ] Shyish-kebabs: The Shyish swords are hideously dangerous as weapons, but fascinating as a subject of study. Try to reverse-engineer the lost enchantments woven into them.
[ ] Qhaysh Juice: Whatever it is, it's dripping out of the box at a steady rate. You've got several gallons of the stuff and it's still coming out. It's got to be good for something.
[ ] Qhaysh Skunkworks: It would take careful study to unlock the secrets of the liquid. It would take considerably less time to find out if it can be made to burn, or explode, or do something militarily useful.
[ ] There's always room for more shadow spells in your repertoire. Send off to the Grey College for the basics on one of the others and get started on trying to learn it.

Influence:
[ ] Information Network: Work alongside to Julia to administer the network. Choose another Organizational Action for the Network.
[ ] Stirland Watch: Work alongside Jack to administer the Watch. Choose another Organizational Action for the Watch.
[ ] Financial Jargon: Everything with the EIC flew right over your head last time. Try again. Succeeding here will mean that you can take a more active hand in the company, adding it to the organizational actions; failing or not attempting means Mathilde will remain a silent partner.
[ ] Thieves Guild: It's currently little more than a church group, albeit of a very unconventional god. If it could be expanded under your aegis, it could be a powerful tool.
[ ] Biderhof: This village based on woodcutting and agriculture, has adopted you as one of it's own. Maybe you should adopt it as your own, in a literal sense.
[ ] Non-Thief Guilds: Wurtbad, like all major cities, is home to a number of guilds. Reach out to them and enforce your will.

Relations:
[ ] Getting To Know You: Spend time with one of your fellow councillors, your liege, or any of the other important figures you've come to know, offering your help in their tasks and generally getting a feel for them (choose one).
[ ] Getting To Know You Whether You Like It Or Not: Trust, but verify. Spend some of your time seeing what a certain person spends their time doing (choose one).
[ ] Letters Home: You might be able to wring more information out of your Master, or you might just be able to get news, information and guidance in general from the Grey Order.
[o] Free Time: Now well-established in Wurtbad, you can spend some time in your scant off hours getting to know someone better. Pick one character. (not possible during Purge Turns)


- Something to keep in mind: I only show a roll when it's obvious that a roll is being made, and obvious what the results are. That there is a roll at all can reveal a lot in the meta sense, as can the difficulty of the roll, and the modifiers opposing it, and how well the results line up with the roll; and often what would be revealed is information you have no access to in character, so I err on the side of not showing those rolls. In this case, one of those 'hidden' rolls used your Blessing, I didn't forget it (this time).
- For the write-in for Countess Gabriella, simply telling someone won't take an action, but performing an in-depth investigation will; if in doubt, ask, and don't try to get cheeky with how much you can achieve without 'counting' as an action.
 
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Purge of the Haunted Hills - Sommerzeit, 2476
[*] Plan Wait and Listen
-[*] Countess Gabriella von Bundebad implied quite a lot, and in such a way that it's clear she's trying to needle you into action. But you don't know what. If inaction isn't the correct move, what is? (write in; may take an action) (NEW)
--[*] Write in: Tell Van Hal about the conversation. Advise that, as the situation is apparently stable and we have ears in the city, it can probably wait until the purge is done and we have time to investigate properly.
-[*] Wurtbad was once famous for hospitality, and it still has a wonderful selection of high-class inns with actual hot running water. Book yourself into the Golden Eagle Inn and allow yourself to be pampered in the hopes that it will let the words flow. (costs personal funds)
[*] Get atop your horse, find a place rich in Ulgu, and play hermit for a month while hoping that the energies you're so familiar with will inspire you. (???)
--[*] Ranald's Blessing

Sometimes, you feel the burden of your allegiances as a physical weight upon your shoulders. The allegiances of a wizard are lain down in stone in the Articles of Imperial Magic. To the Empire and the Emperor, first and foremost - easy enough. Next, theoretically, to the Supreme Patriarch, but you've yet to have any allegiance to any Supreme Patriarch play a part in your life. Then to the laws and ideals of the Grey Order, which, well... you've always cleaved closer to the ideals than the letter of the actual laws. Then to the Patriarch, which might become relevant one day should you learn who the Patriarch actually is. Then to the 'authorities you serve in the course of your duties': to wit, Van Hal. And, finally other superiors within the Grey Order - most specifically, your Master.

Then, either parallel or subordinate to those, are your loyalties as Spymistress, as a Knight, as a citizen of the Empire, and as a person.

You owe Van Hal your fealty at least five times over. But none of them, you eventually conclude, supersedes your duty to the Colleges.

---

In the scant privacy of a tent pitched outside the walls of Nachthafen, Van Hal nods as you give your report on the Countess. "It fits what we know - 'we' being the Witch Hunters. She's been under suspicion for quite some time, but by chance or artifice she's always been far down the list of priorities. It's not like there's any shortage of targets in Sylvania."

"So do you think she's a vampire?"

He waves a hand vaguely. "Impossible to say. The possible reasons for her lying are as devious as those for revealing the truth. Whatever she is, she's cooperating, and said cooperation cuts half a year of our timetable for marching on Drakenhof."

"Lesser evil," you note.

"Very much so. I'd like to know exactly what kind of evil she is, but either she keeps playing along and lends her aid to the destruction of Drakenhof or she plays her hand when I've got forty thousand men and fourteen hundred knights at my back. Both possibilities bode well for Stirland." He turns to you, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Though if you've got a better course of action in mind, I'm open to suggestion."

You've got ideas. A lot of ideas. A dozen different ways to burrow into Nachthafen and start watching for whatever may be rotting at its heart leap to mind immediately, and more would appear with thought. But all would take time, and effort, and attention that is needed elsewhere. So instead you open your mouth and say, "the situation is apparently stable, and we have ears in the city. Whatever she is, she can wait until the Purge is done and we have time to investigate properly."

He nods, not questioning it for a second and already turning back to the map of the hills he was studying when you came in. You feel something twist in your stomach at the trust he has in you. "If all goes well, in three to four months I will call a final council meeting before the advance on Castle Drakenhof. Until then, continue as you have been."

Within the minute, you've summoned your horse and are on your way back to Wurtbad.

---

In a city filled with quality inns, the Golden Eagle Inn stands far above the rest. They claim to have served visiting dignitaries in the time of Emperor Dieter IV and his forebears, and that they haven't dropped a notch in standards since, and you believe them. The beds are soft and clean and the option exists for breakfast to be served in them. There's a tangle of metal pipes to deliver hot water to the room for use with the brass tub tucked into a corner, as well as hot spring baths around the back should one prefer. The food is straightforward, no Halfling nonsense or Bretonnian pretension to be found, just quality meat cooked to perfection and served with fresh bread and plentiful gravy, and seconds are always available should they be desired. The servants are always at hand when desired and never to be seen when not. By your third day there, you're starting to wonder if you can fit an indefinite stay into your budget.

Each morning, you rise early and take your notes and a breakfast with you to a tower on the walls, where the coming dawn illuminates the mists rolling over the trees and lapping at the base of the walls like waves against the shore. Every time frustration rises in you, you lift your head and take in the sight of a world awash in Ulgu and are able to find some measure of peace once more. As the sun rises in the sky you return to the Inn, where you continue your revisions in the comfortable quiet of the reading room, the only sound being the crackle of the fire and the soft noises of paper and parchment as the other guests turn pages or roll scrolls. Then you return to the walls, this time on the opposite side of Wurtbad, and watch the sun fall below the horizon, and return to the Inn in time for supper.

If it weren't for what you were doing, this may be the most idyllic period of your life to date. As it is, it's a counterweight keeping your mood from plummeting as every day you chip away at the opacity of your past words, hoping to reveal the shape of elegant truth within. Weeks pass. Spring turns to summer. Dawn comes ealier and dusk later every day, and just as eternal as the sun is the task at hand. You have to think hard to remember that anything but this damnable paper still exists. But progress is made, paragraph by agonizing paragraph.

When you finally lift your pen for the final time, you feel both empty and free.

The end result is... you ache to call it outstanding. Or elegant. Or any sort of word to justify the amount of time spent, to match the profundity of the dawn and dusk you witnessed every day for two months. But it's... it's competent. It's readable, it's understandable, it's legible, and all sorts of things ending in -ble. It's... it's stolid. It's a medium for communicating the structure and creation of Mathilde's Mystical Matrix and it does exactly that, and no more.

The only thing that hurts more than the unexceptionalness of the paper you've produced is the idea of spending another minute on it.

[Appreciating Ulgu: 28+19+10(Ranald's Blessing)=57]
[Time at the Golden Eagle Inn: 52+19=71]

---

You meet with your two lieutenants in a conference room in Julia's townhouse, over a highly annotated map of Greater Stirland. Their reports to you are short and to the point. Jack has mollified the worst of the grumblers, and though the mood of the Watch's long-term veterans is no better than it was they've been convinced to wait and see rather than reflexively pining for the nostalgia-tinted past. Julia's news is less positive: her attempts to expand the Network to start soaking up saleable information went terribly, and badly-needed funds vanished into Flensburgian society like stones thrown into a bog. You're not sure whether Julia was outmanoeuvred, got unlucky, or is just unsuited for this facet of her role, but at least she pulls no punches in her evaluation of how badly it went.

Julia also passes on information from the front lines: the central Hills proved to be as terrible as Van Hal had feared. The army stumbled into a vast natural valley within the Hills that proved to be the home of innumerable ghouls led by what the troops are calling the Singing King: an enormously muscled vampire mounted atop some sort of hideous dragon-bat that directed his gathered horde with long, wordless cries. The fighting was long and bloody, and near a fifth of the army are now dead, wounded, or otherwise out of action - including Gustav's Pistoliers, whose horses were driven wild by the singing of the Ghoul King, and ended up bucking their riders and escaping into the questionable safety of the Hills. In the end the back of the ghoulish army was broken and the majority of the creatures were ridden down by the Knights as they tried to flee along ancient dirt roads weaving through the hills towards the Ghoul Wood. Their King, however, remains at large - though without a mount, as Deathfang apparently took umbrage at a counterfeit dragon sharing a battlefield with him.

In a grim silver lining, Jack notes, the massive amount of those retired from the Army due to injuries are filling the ranks of the Watch nicely.

News from the other two 'fronts' are better. Ostermark's progress continues, advancing slowly but steadily through the Dead Wood. The first of their troops have reached the dead city of Mordheim, and have reported chasing off small numbers of beastmen calling the city home. Down south, Zhufbar has finally broken their twin sieges, and greenskins are flooding out of the mountains pursued by the Throng of Zhufbar, seeking shelter in the greenskin shelter of Fang Island... deep within Ghoul Wood. Grins are shared over the table as the image of a greenskin army running headfirst into a ghoulish one fills your heads.

In other news, tensions are higher than ever in the Hochschild household as Wilhelmina chooses keeping the army amply supplied over outrageous profits; the EIC is currently operating practically at cost, to the protest of absolutely none of its shareholders. There'll be time enough for profit after the war is over, the three of you feel - but Wilhelmina's sons definitely do not feel the same way.

Further afield, Van Hal apparently gave Anton a discretionary budget again. Anton, it seems, mentioned to the Master Engineers of Nuln that Van Hal was going to kill the infamous Castle Drakenhof, but due to lack of cannon and powder he was going to have to do so with catapults. The thought of such a magnificent feat being accomplished in such a Bretonnian way went against everything the Imperial Gunnery School stood for, and now two score cannon were travelling up the river Aver to Sylvania, with all but the down payment still outstanding on them.

All in all, though the Army of Stirland has lost eight thousand of its number and the pistoliers have been turned into infantrymen, the war seems to be going well.


---

VOTE: Do you submit the paper as it exists now?

[ ] Yes. Don't be unrealistic. The paper communicates the concept and construction of Mathilde's Mystical Matrix without inducing unconsciousness or migraines. That's a win. Take the win.
Paper is sent to Altdorf to be published, gain trait: Practical - Long exposure to scholarship has given her an appreciation for literally everything else. +1 Diplomacy, +1 Stewardship, +1 Martial, +1 Intrigue, -1 Learning.

[ ] No. Mathilde's Mystical Matrix is worthy of a paper of sublime profundity, that communicates the earthshaking possibilities of the spell with elegance.
Continue work on paper, ???.

---

PLAN FOR THIS PURGE TURN

ORGANIZATIONAL ACTIONS - new ones to be chosen now; these will be LOCKED IN for the next three purge turns.

Information Network - pick ONE (no action expenditure required):
[ ] Expand your information network into another province (choose one)
[ ] Expand your information network into another county or barony (choose one)
[ ] Expand your information network into the military (choose a Division)
[ ] Expand your Intelligence Attaché program to another Division (choose one)
[ ] Off the Leash: Let Julia handle the network without your micromanagement from now on.

Information Network finances - can be chosen INSTEAD of a selection from the above.
[ ] Gossipmongers: Julia's previous attempt had no result but the enrichment of various hangers-on of the Flensburg courts. Perhaps this was just poor luck; perhaps she should try again. (NEW-ish)
[ ] Attaché Paperwork: The Intelligence Attachés are your biggest expense by far - see if you can have them paid for by the Army of Stirland instead.
[ ] Fixer: Work with the Wurtbad Thieves Guild, supplying them information in exchange for a portion of profits.
[ ] Special Branch: Pull some financial trickery to get the information network classified as part of the Watch, so that their costs are covered by the Stirlandian treasury.
[ ] Trade Delegation: Convince Wilhelmina and Markus to partner your network with the EIC based on the value of market information.

Stirland Watch - pick ONE (no action expenditure required):
[ ] Expand the ranks of the Watch, so that they're able to start covering even the poorer parts of their covered area.
[ ] Expand the Watch into a new county or barony (choose which)
[ ] Expand the Special Branch into areas already covered by the Watch, so you have an additional pool of manpower you can call upon to supplement the full-time Watchmen.
[ ] Improve the training of the Watch, hiring trainers and dedicating paid time each week to sharpening skills.
[ ] Integrate the Roadwarden network of covered areas into the Watch.
[ ] Investigate the possibility of adding a River Warden branch of the Watch.
[ ] Headhunt administrators from other organizations in Stirland.
[ ] Attempt to hire administrators and clerks from Altdorf and Nuln.

Stirland Watch finances - can be chosen INSTEAD of a selection from the above.
[ ] Formalize and organize the payments people make for the Gong Farmers to perform their service, as well as having the Watch start enforcing existing laws against dumping human waste in the street or the Stir.
[ ] Currently, solid waste is sent by cart and wagon out to the fields for a pittance. It could instead be used to create market gardens along the banks of the Stir (hopefully downwind) and increase revenue and provide jobs for the desperate by growing a variety of cash crops.
[ ] Tanneries have a seemingly limitless demand for urine, which explains a lot about the smell. A bit of fragrant research would allow you to identify how much demand there is and how much of a profit you can wring from this.
[ ] In Wissenland, there are a number of techniques in use to derive saltpeter from urine. It would take a great deal more effort than selling to tanneries, but saltpeter could be exported to Nuln for fantastic profit, or used to start gunpowder production in Stirland.

---

PERSONAL ACTIONS - CHOOSE BETWEEN TWO AND THREE. ANY CHOSEN BEYOND THE FIRST TWO WILL COME WITH RISKS - PLEASE SPECIFY THE 'ADDITIONAL' TASK:

Genießt den Krieg - join the divisions entering Sylvania:
[ ] If you're feeling nosy, Vanhaldenschlosse is apparently free of anything that would object to you poking around in what was once the proud ancestral home of the Van Hals.
[ ] Something apparently quite similar to the Purge of the Haunted Hills is going on in Ostermark's southern regions; you could inspect goings-on up there yourself.
[ ] The Dwarves have crossed into the Empire, pursuing the greenskins into the woods. Perhaps you could tag along. (NEW)
[ ] Attach yourself to the army so you can join the hunt for the Singing King (specify which regiment to join, or general staff to avoid the thick of the fighting). (NEW-ish)

That Bloody Paper: (If further revision was chosen)
[ ] Send it off to our Master and ask that he passes it on to someone with the skills to distil it into greater elegance; though it will mean that they will get co-author status, and may fight you on the name. (does not take an action)
[ ] Throw yourself back into reclusion and goddamn stay there until the job is bloody well done. (takes two actions)
[ ] Spend some more time in the Golden Eagle Inn. It's such a lovely place, there's plenty of room. (costs personal funds)
[ ] The watchtowers on the walls was an uninspired choice for watching the Ulgu in the world, perhaps you can think of something different. (???)

Self-Improvement: Things have been going well so far, but the skills of a Journeyman Grey Mage can only go so far.
[ ] Practice, Practice, Practice: Having been thrown into the deep end of imperial politics, it would probably be a good idea to brush up on your skills and internalize the lessons you've learned (choose which trait; can be taken multiple times; will be more effective if you've used the trait a lot lately).
[ ] Tutoring: One of your fellow councillors may be willing to teach you in their chosen field (choose who; can choose which, or you can let them decide).
[ ] Really Good Swords: You have achieved proficiency with the Greatsword. Future progress is possible, though it will take more effort to see results.
[ ] Combat Training: You're virtually surrounded by armed warriors of various sorts. See if you can convince one to teach you (choose who).
[ ] Combat Training, In The Free Market: You haven't made many heavily armed friends yet, but gold is good for that. Go out and buy some training. (-personal gold)
[ ] Gun Shopping: You're currently using a pistol that was a spare for the pistoliers. Visit Nuln to upgrade. (Choose: dueling pistols for accuracy and range, repeater pistols for weight of fire, dragons for hand shotguns. Choose: whether you will acquire and use two pistols at once or keep one hand free.)
[ ] Enchantment: You're naturally talented at enchantment; so far, this just amounts to being able to make your desk meow for about an hour. See if you can improve on that, or at least figure out a way to make that useful.

Home Comforts: Your Palace-Shrine is bursting with potential. And also mud.
[ ] Diggy Diggy Hole, Remixed: You're getting sick of having workmen tramping in and out of your abode. Recruit an entire team and personally oversee them to clear out all of the reachable portions of the Palace-Shrine and be done with it. (-personal gold)
[ ] Enchantment: You've finally got the equipment, now you've just got to unpack it all and set up your laboratory.
[ ] Filled with Potential: You've got a room cleared out and ready to be put to use. Decide what you're going to put there and get started on equipping it. (write in the purpose of the room)

Research:
[ ] Undead Research: You know the basics, now. Perhaps a great deal of effort will allow you to advance further.
[ ] Snooping: Van Hal gave you a key to his Study. It's been a while since he's been in Wurtbad; he probably forgot he did so, and won't remember until he returns. And he didn't specifically say not to poke around and see what you could find.
[ ] Shyish-kebabs: The Shyish swords are hideously dangerous as weapons, but fascinating as a subject of study. Try to reverse-engineer the lost enchantments woven into them.
[ ] Qhaysh Juice: Whatever it is, it's dripping out of the box at a steady rate. You've got several gallons of the stuff and it's still coming out. It's got to be good for something.
[ ] Qhaysh Skunkworks: It would take careful study to unlock the secrets of the liquid. It would take considerably less time to find out if it can be made to burn, or explode, or do something militarily useful.
[ ] There's always room for more shadow spells in your repertoire. Send off to the Grey College for the basics on one of the others and get started on trying to learn it.

Influence:
[ ] Information Network: Work alongside to Julia to administer the network. Choose another Organizational Action for the Network.
[ ] Stirland Watch: Work alongside Jack to administer the Watch. Choose another Organizational Action for the Watch.
[ ] Financial Jargon: Everything with the EIC flew right over your head last time. Try again. Succeeding here will mean that you can take a more active hand in the company, adding it to the organizational actions; failing or not attempting means Mathilde will remain a silent partner.
[ ] Thieves Guild: It's currently little more than a church group, albeit of a very unconventional god. If it could be expanded under your aegis, it could be a powerful tool.
[ ] Biderhof: This village based on woodcutting and agriculture, has adopted you as one of it's own. Maybe you should adopt it as your own, in a literal sense.
[ ] Non-Thief Guilds: Wurtbad, like all major cities, is home to a number of guilds. Reach out to them and enforce your will.

Relations:
[ ] Getting To Know You: Spend time with one of your fellow councillors, your liege, or any of the other important figures you've come to know, offering your help in their tasks and generally getting a feel for them (choose one).
[ ] Getting To Know You Whether You Like It Or Not: Trust, but verify. Spend some of your time seeing what a certain person spends their time doing (choose one).
[ ] Letters Home: You might be able to wring more information out of your Master, or you might just be able to get news, information and guidance in general from the Grey Order.
[o] Free Time: Now well-established in Wurtbad, you can spend some time in your scant off hours getting to know someone better. Pick one character. (not possible during Purge Turns)

---

Discretionary Income: +200g
Information Brokerage: +40g
Regional informants: -90g
Watch informants: -10g
EIC informants: -20g
Julia: -30g
Townhouse staff: -20g
Attaché program: -120g
Attempted expansion: -50g
---
Net: -100g

Personal Income: +50g
Estate Profit: +10g
Tithe: -6g
Student Loans: -35g
Golden Eagle Inn stay: -20g
---
Net: -1g

---

- Mathilde's time spent working on the paper has twisted her perception of things. As it exists now, it is a perfectly acceptable means of communicating Mathilde's Mystical Matrix, and a solid foundation for a Magisterial bid. What it isn't, thanks to your uncharacteristically mediocre rolls, is the source of the amazing mystical trait I know that some of you are hoping for.
- Note that the paper vote is separate to the plan vote.
- The perils of subordinates: you can't see Julia's dice or full charsheet, so you can't see for sure whether she just glitched the roll, whether there's traits that make it a poor fit for her, or whether there's something untoward going on.
- Don't forget Ranald's Blessing.
- Currently it seems like the Purge will last another six months before the final assault on Castle Drakenhof (which I've been using interchangeably with just Drakenhof, though they're two different albeit nearby places - sorry about that). Your accumulated discretionary funds can
just last that long with no additional spending, but if it goes even a single Purge Turn longer than that you'll be in the negatives; if the Purge is still going when your budget is about to hit zero you'll be given the option of accumulating debt (which is acceptable, though hardly ideal, under wartime conditions) or the emergency measures you can take to plump your finances.
 
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Purge of the Haunted Hills - Nachgeheim, 2476
[X] Yes. Don't be unrealistic. The paper communicates the concept and construction of Mathilde's Mystical Matrix without inducing unconsciousness or migraines. That's a win. Take the win.3

[X] Plan Singing King Hunt + Enchantment
-[X][Intel] Gossipmongers: Julia's previous attempt had no result but the enrichment of various hangers-on of the Flensburg courts. Perhaps this was just poor luck; perhaps she should try again. (NEW-ish)
-[X][Watch] In Wissenland, there are a number of techniques in use to derive saltpeter from urine. It would take a great deal more effort than selling to tanneries, but saltpeter could be exported to Nuln for fantastic profit, or used to start gunpowder production in Stirland.
-[X][Personal] Attach yourself to the army so you can join the hunt for the Singing King (specify which regiment to join, or general staff to avoid the thick of the fighting). (NEW-ish)
--[X] General Staff
--[X] Ranald's Blessing
-[X][Personal] Enchantment: You've finally got the equipment, now you've just got to unpack it all and set up your laboratory.

You agonize for hours over the decision, balanced almost exactly between practicality and perfection, but in the end practicality and the burning desire to be done with it win out. As the copy of your paper makes its way to Altdorf, you feel an almost physical weight lift from your shoulders. It's done; Mathilde's Mystical Matrix has been unleashed upon an unexpecting world. And if anyone overlooks it because the paper itself is merely good instead of amazing, then more fool they.

Julia's been ordered to try to expand her gossipmonger network once more, while Jack is to look into producing saltpeter in industrial quantities from all the waste the gong farmers are collecting. You're not sure how suited he'll turn out to be for that sort of task, or how well the already-disgruntled watchmen will take it, but you suppose there's only one way to find out. You know that the Army of Stirland is going to be advancing on the woods where the Singing King has fled to with his court only after clearing the hills between the valley and the woods, so you've time to finally set up the enchantment equipment you spent so long searching for.

Box after box of delicate glass and crystal components are unpacked from the straw that cushioned them for their journey to Wurtbad, and has been mouldering ever since. You're forced to gently transfer a mother cat and her kittens from the nest she had made among your crystal lenses, and she glares at you sullenly as you work from her new home in an emptied box the entire time.

One unversed in the strange and subtle art of enchantment may think that this work could be completed in an afternoon, but they'd be very thoroughly convinced otherwise the first time their sloppy work exploded in their face. Prisms need to be angled exactly correctly to concentrate light at the correct angles - and natural light, too, since magical light would taint whatever you were trying to work with. Which means finding a source of high-quality candles - beeswax is the only local source, but oils found in certain trees in the Southlands or carved out of enormous creatures found in the seas were even better. And for times when no artificial light was suited, a series of mirrors needed to be set up to reflect sunlight into the laboratory, which also need careful measuring, and to be solidly fixed in place so the damn cats can't knock them out of alignment.

Also necessary is to track down local sources for a whole range of substances standing on the intersection between chemistry and alchemy, necessary not for their action on physical matter but on how they can alter a substance to be better able to play host to the winds of magic. One could, through effort or skill, force the winds into any item, but it is far easier to first make an item a slightly less unnatural home for it. For those useful substances you can't find local sources for, you send off to Altdorf for the processes for creating them from more-common ingredients.

A thousand little preparations that combine to take the onerous task of forcing winds into an inanimate object from nigh impossible down to merely very difficult. You hope you find the time to make the effort worth it.

---

When you're finally done in Wurtbad and make your way to join the army, they're in the final stretch of their advance towards the Ghoul Woods. Van Hal glances up from the map of the hills he's poring over to greet you with a smile as you join him in his command tent, and Gustav and Kasmir give you nods, but the generals ignore you in favour of the map.

"We ignore the dirt road the ghouls were using," Van Hal is saying. "The ghouls may be mindless creatures, but it's a fatal trap to think the same of the Strigoi ruling them, and even without him they have the animal cunning to set an ambush. Especially since our scouting force is no longer effective as such. Speaking of-" he glances over to Gustav.

"They should be remounted in time for the march on Drakenhof," he reports. There's a near-permanent scowl on his face recently - he didn't take his pet cohorts being turned into pedestrians well at all.

"That's something, at least," Van Hal notes distractedly. "So we push along the hills, as we have been doing all this time. It's slower but we can't afford many more losses, and the ghouls aren't going anywhere. The Aver has them hemmed in from the south and the west and the Throng of Zhufbar is advancing into the woods from the east."

"The men are briefed," one of the generals comments. "They're prepared for whatever they face, whether it be ghoul or greenskin."

"Let us hope so," Van Hal murmurs. "We've had ample practice in coordinated sweeps through difficult terrain, the only difference is this time it's forest instead of hills. We push forward on a wide front until we meet serious resistance and then we draw in to crush it, just as we've done a hundred times over by now." Gustav and the generals salute and hurry off to put the orders into action, leaving you with Van Hal and Kasmir.

"Strigoi," he says. "Given the option, there's no type of vampire I'd rather fight. No politics, no plots, no hiding. Just the terrible monster they all are, visible for any to see."

"It could have lurked in these hills for generations," Kasmir notes. "Feeding on wildlife and the innumerable dead of Sylvania. Until its vile court grew to where the Hills couldn't sustain it, and then they would have burst forth upon Southern Stirland."

"A stroke of luck we caught it now, I suppose," Van Hal says, though he doesn't sound convinced, and you can understand why. A heavy price has already been paid, and the Singing King isn't even slain.

---

Days of feverish activity pass, with Van Hal at the middle of it all like a particularly restless spider in a web. Forty thousand men - well, closer to thirty now - reporting to him, and he needs only speak to Gustav. Gustav speaks to the four generals, the generals speak to their four colonels apiece. Each colonel has five majors, each major five captains, each captain four lieutenants, and then sergeants and corporals manage individual squads. An operation of tens of thousands and not a single officer is directly responsible for more than a half-dozen men. You make mental notes at the masterpiece of delegation that is the modern army as the machine ticks away frantically in front of you.

Information flows in, orders flow out, and paperwork accumulates. Some confused lieutenants have taken to filling in the contact reports for the greenskins they face, which... well, no reason to discourage that, you suppose - it can be filtered out later, or you could just add it to the enormous archive of information back in Wurtbad. Also accumulating are casualties, as there appear to be more enemies to face in the Ghoul Woods than there was in the entirety of the Hills that have been swept to date. Every yard is purchased in blood, whether it be that of human, ghoul, or greenskin, and with every casualty report Van Hal's temper shortens.

Then, finally, the wretched singing is found once more, and the army closes on it like the steel jaws of a trap. Van Hal races to join the front, with you and Kasmir at his side, and when you all arrive you're presented with the sight of the Singing King's new court: Fang Island, a ramshackle greenskin fortress construction of wood and bone formed to resemble a massive set of jaws emerging from the ground. And now it looked as if someone had given those jaws a few solid blows, as one side of the fortress had been demolished, with greenskin corpses littered around showing where they fought to the last in the defence of their stronghold against an endless tide of hunger-crazed ghouls, which even now were swarming the fortress like ants from a kicked hive, stripping the flesh from the fallen.

"He's within, I'm sure of it," Gustav reports as he hurries up. "I caught a glimpse of him through my spy-glass."

"Then we flush him out," Van Hal replies shortly. "Where are the cannon?" The four of you look around for Schultz, who has been handling logistics, but he's nowhere to be found - the sudden concentration of forces had been a confusing mess, and a great deal of the strength Stirland had brought to bear was still scattered across the Woods - including, unfortunately, Asarnil. "No matter. Bring the crossbowmen together and start firing volleys into the fortress. Either they emerge and face us, or they don't and die in droves. Gather what knights we have, they can fight unmounted among the spearwall. Kasmir, Mathilde, will you join me in the lines?"

"Yes, your Grace," Kasmir replies saluting.

"Of course," is your reply as you double-check your sword is still strapped to your back.

"Then let us finish this damned distraction."

---

Thunk. As one, three thousand mechanisms send three thousand bolts skywards.

Crash. As one, two thousand swords ring against two thousand shields. Crash. Again, every few heartbeats. The taunting tattoo of the battlefield. Here we are, it says. Come and get us. Crash.

Thunk.
Another volley. Almost drowned out by the beating rhythm of the infantry, the inhuman cries from a hundred throats as their tainted lives bleed out onto the ground.

Crash. You heard somewhere that ghouls were once humans that turned to cannibalism and were twisted by it. Crash. You doubt it, personally; you suspect that whatever mechanism transforms one into the creatures known as ghouls, Crash, possibly related to that which transforms people into beastmen? Thunk. That it has a side-effect in its early stages of a ravenous hunger for fresh meat, and the closest fresh meat to the average person is other people. Crash. You wonder if the Amethyst Order has ever studied the matter. Crash. You wonder if such study would even be allowed, or whether it would be considered too close to necromancy. Crash. You wonder if it's even a question worth answering, when the only answer truly needed is that of steel. Thunk. And a cry even more inhuman than the others arises, as the Singing King finally accepts the invitation that so many bolts have been sending to him.

A hundred sergeants raise a hundred cries, and thousands of shields lock into place at the front of the lines just outside the ruined portion of the fortress walls. Any one man here would be no match for even the least of the terrors within these walls, but no one man is alone. They stand not only with those by their sides, but with the blacksmiths that forged their weapons, with the trainers that taught them the arts of war, with the chaplains that stoked the fires of their faith. And as if summoned by your thoughts, at the other side of Van Hal, Kasmir voice somehow pierces the din of battle.

Lord Sigmar, Hear My Prayer, his cry goes up, and is joined by ten thousand more.

Let not my weapon fail me, as a thousand skulking hungry horrors boil out of the fortress. But strengthen it against the foe, as the worst of them all emerges, his terrible voice drowned out by the call of the faithful. Give my blade your wisdom, and voices rise from prayer into a wordless cry as the foremost of the ghouls throw themselves against the spearline. For a moment it seems the line will hold, but then the weight of the rest of the forces are thrown at the backs of those impaled upon spears, and human muscle cannot stand against inhuman hunger. A step is taken back, and then two, as the only other option was to break under the terrible strength of the ghouls, and plenty had no opportunity to make those choice as their spears were torn away and claws and teeth tore into the flesh of far too many of the spearmen.

But then the second line steps forward.

The swordsmen of the Empire are a much romanticized lot, by nobody more than themselves, but you've learned from your times with the Greatswords that they barely scratch the surface of what is possible with a blade. All they are good for is wielding the steel of the Empire like a bludgeon, battering away at the enemy without artifice or any real skill. But these swordsmen have been campaigning for over a year against everything Sylvania could throw at them, and those that remain have been forged by adversity into an army worthy of the name. If that was all that stood in the second line, it would have been barely sufficient to halt the charge.

But it was not all, for the Knights of the Empire stood with them.

The Knights Panther. The Knights of Sigmar's Blood. The Order of the Black Rose. The Order of the Blazing Sun. And outnumbering them all, the Black Guards of Morr.

Four warcries of four Knightly Orders sound, and a fifth remains silent as they swing as one with the Swordsmen of the Empire, and in a bloody instant a thousand creatures of the night perish, drowning out the cries of the dying spearmen.

As if personally offended, the creature commanding the ghouls strides forward, pushing through the charging masses with ease. By chance or low cunning or just because he was the tallest figure on the battlefield and standing on an elevated point besides, his burning eyes lock onto Van Hal, and his eyes glow with dark hunger, his distended muscles bulging with strength that no mortal could withstand. But in doing so, he overlooked the two figures standing at the side of the Elector Count.

With a chanted prayer that you faintly realize is a continuation of the one that began the battle, the Priest of Sigmar glows, literally glows, with what you cannot help but know is the manifestation of the truest faith in the Champion of Mankind. The gloom of the forest is driven back as a mirror to the sun in the sky bursts forth from the armoured priest, and the courage of every true servant of the Empire is bolstered as- you shake your head, trying to regain your concentration. Something about whatever it is Kasmir was doing (was it magic? was it divine? was there a difference?) seemed to twist your thoughts into grandiose purple prose, and you can't afford to be distracted. Because as the terrible creature advances, undeterred by the beacon of faith that Kasmir has become, you step between the two of them. Since the first pull of a trigger of this battle, you've been drawing the Ulgu that lies thick in the shadows of these woods into you, and shaping it into the most difficult and potent spell of Grey Magic you know. And as your silhouette falls upon the tide of the dead, you let the magic within you burst forth.

And in an instant, holy light and caustic Ulgu woven by the combined will of a priest and a wizard slam against the packed ranks of the creatures and they melt.

Literally.


The terrible cries of the Singing King are nothing compared to the hundreds of agonized screeches torn from the throats of those between you and the King, and the air is filled with their cries and the smell of boiling flesh and a horrible fog of vaporized skin. In instants the creatures have either literally or figuratively melted away and there's nothing between you and the Strigoi, and the worst cry yet fills the air, as the set of lungs that commanded a battlefield is given over to nothing but the expression of pure agony as the creature's skin boils away to reveal blackening muscle and yellowing bone, until they, too, begin to liquefy...

The legendary resilience of the grave might have been enough to counter even that, had Van Hal not chosen that moment to raise his repeater rifle and unload every single blessed bullet into the hideous creature.

For an instant, your shadow stretches across a portion of the battlefield filled only with the bubbling corpses of the rightfully dead, until Kasmir's beacon of light blinks out and shadow rushes back in to fill the void.

[Spearline holds against the charge: 35 vs 84]
[Swords advance: 95+20 (Knights) vs 86]
[Kasmir interrupt 92+??]
[Mathilde interupt 95+18]
[Van Hal fires: 66+24]
[Strigoi rolls to not die: 22+20 (vampiric resilience)]

---

After that, the battle was over; all that remained was cleaning up. Whatever terrible hold the Strigoi vampire held over the ghouls was shattered, and they reverted to mindless instinct and fled; unfortunately for them, they fled into the fortress, so the only escape from the Empire's steel was to throw themselves from the battlements upon the spikes of wood and bone crafted by the greenskins the ghouls had slaughtered and feasted upon. If greenskins had souls, you reflect, that would give theirs succour. The final tally is more brutal than you had expected; a full quarter of the spearmen died in the initial terrible charge of the ghouls, and many more are injured, and there's much damage done to the swordsmen, too. Combined with the previous losses, as much as a third of the Army of Stirland is no longer fit for combat, and you see Van Hal brooding over those figures time and time again.

Weeks more pass in busy work, as the Purge is expanded to cover the Woods since you're there already and the greenskins have been all but exterminated. When the Throng of Zhufbar arrives, having decided to follow up their hard-won victory over the greenskins by destroying their fort, they find it already far advanced in deconstruction, with a single tent standing in the middle of it all, and within it Van Hal is carefully scrubbing the last vestiges of flesh from the skull of what had once been a Strigoi vampire. His gift to you, he had said, and you suppose you could always use a terrifying paperweight for the laboratory.

Sitting beside Van Hal as the dwarves enter is you, staring in troubled thought at the candle that flickers away almost to nothing whenever you draw near to it.

[Arcane Mark gained: Flicker]
[Title gained: Sängerkritisch]

---

PLAN FOR THIS PURGE TURN

ORGANIZATIONAL ACTIONS - these have been LOCKED IN for the next two purge turns.

Information Network - pick ONE (no action expenditure required):
[ ] Expand your information network into another province (choose one)
[ ] Expand your information network into another county or barony (choose one)
[ ] Expand your information network into the military (choose a Division)
[ ] Expand your Intelligence Attaché program to another Division (choose one)
[ ] Off the Leash: Let Julia handle the network without your micromanagement from now on.

Information Network finances - can be chosen INSTEAD of a selection from the above.
[ ] Attaché Paperwork: The Intelligence Attachés are your biggest expense by far - see if you can have them paid for by the Army of Stirland instead.
[ ] Fixer: Work with the Wurtbad Thieves Guild, supplying them information in exchange for a portion of profits.
[ ] Special Branch: Pull some financial trickery to get the information network classified as part of the Watch, so that their costs are covered by the Stirlandian treasury.
[ ] Trade Delegation: Convince Wilhelmina and Markus to partner your network with the EIC based on the value of market information.

Stirland Watch - pick ONE (no action expenditure required):
[ ] Expand the ranks of the Watch, so that they're able to start covering even the poorer parts of their covered area.
[ ] Expand the Watch into a new county or barony (choose which)
[ ] Expand the Special Branch into areas already covered by the Watch, so you have an additional pool of manpower you can call upon to supplement the full-time Watchmen.
[ ] Improve the training of the Watch, hiring trainers and dedicating paid time each week to sharpening skills.
[ ] Integrate the Roadwarden network of covered areas into the Watch.
[ ] Investigate the possibility of adding a River Warden branch of the Watch.
[ ] Headhunt administrators from other organizations in Stirland.
[ ] Attempt to hire administrators and clerks from Altdorf and Nuln.

Stirland Watch finances - can be chosen INSTEAD of a selection from the above.
[ ] Formalize and organize the payments people make for the Gong Farmers to perform their service, as well as having the Watch start enforcing existing laws against dumping human waste in the street or the Stir.
[ ] Currently, solid waste is sent by cart and wagon out to the fields for a pittance. It could instead be used to create market gardens along the banks of the Stir (hopefully downwind) and increase revenue and provide jobs for the desperate by growing a variety of cash crops.
[ ] Tanneries have a seemingly limitless demand for urine, which explains a lot about the smell. A bit of fragrant research would allow you to identify how much demand there is and how much of a profit you can wring from this.

PERSONAL ACTIONS - CHOOSE BETWEEN TWO AND THREE. ANY CHOSEN BEYOND THE FIRST TWO WILL COME WITH RISKS - PLEASE SPECIFY THE 'ADDITIONAL' TASK:

Genießt den Krieg - join the divisions in Sylvania:
[ ] If you're feeling nosy, Vanhaldenschlosse is apparently free of anything that would object to you poking around in what was once the proud ancestral home of the Van Hals.
[ ] Something apparently quite similar to the Purge of the Haunted Hills is going on in Ostermark's southern regions; you could inspect goings-on up there yourself.
[ ] The Dwarves have crossed into the Empire and joined up with the Empire forces. Perhaps you could spend some time with the general staff as the two of them start to work together.
[ ] Attach yourself to the army so you can join in the Purge of the Ghoul Woods. (specify which regiment to join).

Self-Improvement: Things have been going well so far, but the skills of a Journeyman Grey Mage can only go so far.
[ ] Practice, Practice, Practice: Having been thrown into the deep end of imperial politics, it would probably be a good idea to brush up on your skills and internalize the lessons you've learned (choose which trait; can be taken multiple times; will be more effective if you've used the trait a lot lately).
[ ] Tutoring: One of your fellow councillors may be willing to teach you in their chosen field (choose who; can choose which, or you can let them decide).
[ ] Really Good Swords: You have achieved proficiency with the Greatsword. Future progress is possible, though it will take more effort to see results.
[ ] Combat Training: You're virtually surrounded by armed warriors of various sorts. See if you can convince one to teach you (choose who).
[ ] Combat Training, In The Free Market: You haven't made many heavily armed friends yet, but gold is good for that. Go out and buy some training. (-personal gold)
[ ] Gun Shopping: You're currently using a pistol that was a spare for the pistoliers. Visit Nuln to upgrade. (Choose: dueling pistols for accuracy and range, repeater pistols for weight of fire, dragons for hand shotguns. Choose: whether you will acquire and use two pistols at once or keep one hand free.)
[ ] Enchantment: You're naturally talented at enchantment; so far, this just amounts to being able to make your desk meow for about an hour. See if you can improve on that, or at least figure out a way to make that useful.

Home Comforts: Your Palace-Shrine is bursting with potential. And also mud.
[ ] Diggy Diggy Hole, Remixed: You're getting sick of having workmen tramping in and out of your abode. Recruit an entire team and personally oversee them to clear out all of the reachable portions of the Palace-Shrine and be done with it. (-personal gold)
[ ] Filled with Potential: You've got a room cleared out and ready to be put to use. Decide what you're going to put there and get started on equipping it. (write in the purpose of the room)

Research:
[ ] Undead Research: You know the basics, now. Perhaps a great deal of effort will allow you to advance further.
[ ] Snooping: Van Hal gave you a key to his Study. It's been a while since he's been in Wurtbad; he probably forgot he did so, and won't remember until he returns. And he didn't specifically say not to poke around and see what you could find.
[ ] Shyish-kebabs: The Shyish swords are hideously dangerous as weapons, but fascinating as a subject of study. Try to reverse-engineer the lost enchantments woven into them.
[ ] Qhaysh Juice: Whatever it is, it's dripping out of the box at a steady rate. You've got several gallons of the stuff and it's still coming out. It's got to be good for something.
[ ] Qhaysh Skunkworks: It would take careful study to unlock the secrets of the liquid. It would take considerably less time to find out if it can be made to burn, or explode, or do something militarily useful.
[ ] There's always room for more shadow spells in your repertoire. Send off to the Grey College for the basics on one of the others and get started on trying to learn it.

Influence:
[ ] Information Network: Work alongside to Julia to administer the network. Choose another Organizational Action for the Network.
[ ] Stirland Watch: Work alongside Jack to administer the Watch. Choose another Organizational Action for the Watch.
[ ] Financial Jargon: Everything with the EIC flew right over your head last time. Try again. Succeeding here will mean that you can take a more active hand in the company, adding it to the organizational actions; failing or not attempting means Mathilde will remain a silent partner.
[ ] Thieves Guild: It's currently little more than a church group, albeit of a very unconventional god. If it could be expanded under your aegis, it could be a powerful tool.
[ ] Biderhof: This village based on woodcutting and agriculture, has adopted you as one of it's own. Maybe you should adopt it as your own, in a literal sense.
[ ] Non-Thief Guilds: Wurtbad, like all major cities, is home to a number of guilds. Reach out to them and enforce your will.

Relations:
[ ] Getting To Know You: Spend time with one of your fellow councillors, your liege, or any of the other important figures you've come to know, offering your help in their tasks and generally getting a feel for them (choose one).
[ ] Getting To Know You Whether You Like It Or Not: Trust, but verify. Spend some of your time seeing what a certain person spends their time doing (choose one).
[ ] Letters Home: You might be able to wring more information out of your Master, or you might just be able to get news, information and guidance in general from the Grey Order.
[o] Free Time: Now well-established in Wurtbad, you can spend some time in your scant off hours getting to know someone better. Pick one character. (not possible during Purge Turns)

- This turn the Purge will be finishing off the Ghoul Woods; next turn is the southern Hills. After that is the final preparations before the attack on Drakenhof, which will have separate options for last-minute preparations (including hiring battle wizards). So you have two 'proper' purge turns left until the climax of the Purge.
- Because I know what to expect: don't, repeat DON'T, expect Burning Shadows to always be this effective. This was a
double crit. Tune your expectations accordingly.
 
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A Song of Stirland - a Bard Quest, Turn 15
The final test for any bard to play at court is to spend an hour playing Mathilde a song, while she sat next to a fire reading a good book as her shadow is cast upon you.

Meanwhile in a parallell universe, user MoneyB wrote:

A Song of Stirland - a Bard Quest
Turn 15

"You have faced every challenge brought before you. You have been vetted through Dame Mathilde, your faith has been confirmed by Kasmir, you had a very nice dinner with the myself, who found your sonnets impeccable, and you have fought off the many devious challengers that have faced you in competition for the much desired role as official bard of the court of Stirland. Alas, there is one last hurdle to overcome before you will be regaled in wine, women, and wealth."

Your beard drooped. The efforts spent over the years to rise from that awful inn near Ohlsdorf to your current position as heir-apparent of the most desirable position for a bard within Stirland was so close. Yet so, so far. You could hear Ranald himself snickering somewhere, and a nearby meow only confirmed your suspicions. Lousy git, if he wasn't such a lucky charm you would've hoisted your faith to a more reasonable god years ago. With a sigh, Anton smiling at you before dropping whatever menace was next on his tongue. Not intentionally of course, the Chancellor didn't have a menacing bone in his body.

"Given the Elector-Count's trust in her, you must actually perform for the spy-mistress. Normally I would be the final interview, but van Hel says I enjoy everyone's music. I personally think that having such a broad appreciation is a good thing, but after the last chap I suspect van Hel has a particular ear."

You nodded. That Tilean talent-less hack Muzio Apprazo had initially seized the first chance to become the Court Bard. He had wined and dined Anton in circles, without much a word to be sung. Anton simply accepted the situation and recommended Muzio to the Elector-Count. Thank goodness Muzio's falsetto was about in tune with music as a peasant with reading. You heard a rumor that Muzio was thrown out of Wurtburg before he hit the third stanza.

Served him right.

However performing before the spy-mistress was a terrifying prospect. A wizard, heavens above, and one of the most powerful individuals in the entire county? Worse yet, she was a known individual in the arts community. How else would one get the nickname Sängerkritisch. All told, you most likely gained a grey hair in your perfect beard in reaction to the news. Which meant that you most certainly had to properly groom yourself again. Age might be a gift to practice, but a curse to good looks.

You smiled at Anton and nodded. his eyes wide and innocent. "You've spoken so much about Dame Weber, so I'm sure she will be as pleasant in our interaction as you say she will be." This brought a broad grin to Anton's face, which matched the polite grin on your own.

Downing your wine, your palms sweated.

~​

Spy mistress Dame Mathilde Weber lounged comfortably in a chair that highlighted just how small of an individual she was. If she was the size of a peasant boy you'd be surprised. The library around her was filled with books on arcane subjects that you doubt would turn into anything of interest, and a small cup of something hot was quietly steaming by her side. Although there was a polite knock by the door guard, the spy mistress seemed distracted, mumbling about something. You thought you caught the words "paper" and "mirrors", but brushed it off as so much noise. The ills of wizards had no place in the mind of a bard. No matter how terrifying and powerful the wizard could be at this very moment.

When the Dame finally took notice, she smiled and pointed towards a simple chair in the middle of the room. This was not menacing in the slightest.

"I take it you are the Bard? Please do be better than the last one. He was uniquely unsuited for the musical arts."

You gulped and nodded. You sat in the chair and looked at the tiny, grey cloaked figure across from you. It was at this point you noticed that although there was a raging fire and more than a few candles, its seemed dim at the moment. Where the bloody blazes do the light go. You ruminated about the ills of a wizard (unhealthy, you know) before a polite cough from the Dame came forth.

"What are you going to play for myself today?"

"Oh, quite right." You nodded and brought forth your small travel harp. Wasn't much to look at but it has been a faithful companion and kept tune with surprising ease. "Today I was going to sing you the Sonnet of the v...."

It was at that moment a cat knocked over one of the candles, which thankfully flickered out immediately. Both you and the Dame stare daggers at the cat, which nonchalantly began to bathe itself in response to the silent accusations. You (and shockingly the Dame) both mutter under breath before continuing. Damn Ranald, however it was a sign.

"I will sing for you the Tragedy of Ser Huebald d'Gisoreux. A brave Bretonnian peasant, whose valour and bravery brought him up to knighthood, but whose inspired jealousy in his peers. It is one of my favourites."

You sing your song, which you note happily was perfectly on tune. In fact, your performance was so moving you moved yourself by your own performance. Sometimes it's like that as a bard, Ranald above knows that the only one who truly appreciated you in Ohlsdorf was yourself. Perhaps you even saw a tear in one of the Dame's tiny eyes. Who knows, but you did love your work.

Upon finishing, you bowed and awaited a response from the Grey Wizard. It didn't take long, thankfully, as the awkward silence was filled with a slow nod and a small smile.

"Thank you bard, you may leave now."

Taking your harp, you make haste to leave the room for the relative light of the hallway. Regardless of the reaction by the Dame, such a performance created the need for wine. Many, many cups of wine. Perhaps Anton could come, if he wasn't on some mission to enlist improbable aid from somewhere within the Empire. Alas if you shall need to drink alone you will

Choose one action.
This is due to waiting for the Spy Mistress' decision on our performance. Luckily Ranald's Blessing came during our song selection and it gave us a boost. You should be happy about that.


(This is an AU post, you should not actually choose or vote for anything here.)

[] Personal:
-[] Your harp is old, restring or replace it while in the city. (unpredictable)
-[] Brag at the Bard's Guild about performing before the dreaded Sängerkritisch.
-[] Perform on the street for some pocket change.
-[] Seek to woo a noble lady. (unpredictable)
-[] Beg Anton to allow you to go with him on one of his trips.
-[] Learn a new song [Write in song name]


Management wishes to remind you that shadow turns are for entertainment purposes only and should not be taken as reflective of events in the true quest.
 
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Purge of the Haunted Hills - Brauzeit, 2476
[X] Plan Train The Watch, or How To Not Have A Watch Revolt On Our Hands
-[X] The Dwarves have crossed into the Empire and joined up with the Empire forces. Perhaps you could spend some time with the general staff as the two of them start to work together.
--[X] Enquire about arranging for some Tunnel Fighting trainers for the future "War Below" (after the Purge), or at least make some contacts. Not hired right now, we can't afford them.
-[X] Stirland Watch: Work alongside Jack to administer the Watch. Choose another Organizational Action for the Watch.
--[X] Improve the training of the Watch, hiring trainers and dedicating paid time each week to sharpening skills.
---[X] A formal program of a few old-timer veterans with the right attitude and aptitude being paid to train and pass local knowledge to newcomers. Perhaps injured Greatswords or officers provide some candidates to sharpen fighting skills? Jack might know some trainers in the arts of avoiding notice. Watchmen who arrived prior to us probably can't read. Does Van Hal know a retired Witch Hunter who could pass on some investigation and Corruption-spotting skills? Maybe Julia can suggest an Agent particularly skilled at ferreting out information and sifting useful leads from bad. Anything that comes up from the meeting with the senior Watchmen below?
---[X] Meet with some and gain a better understanding of the senior Watchmens' grievances and discuss our shared hopes for the future of the Watch. We really respect the Watch and want to address their concerns, we owe our life to a brave and dedicated village Watchman. Shouldn't every child in Stirland have the same protection, and more?

-- [X] Ranald's Blessing

"So!" states the apparent leader of the dwarves, who when viewed from the front appeared to be made entirely of neatly-braided, fiery-red beard. "You're the manling out to try his luck against the bloodsuckers!" Van Hal smiles and glances pointedly down at the skull he's scraping the last traces of flesh off, and the dwarf chuckles. "Point well made. Our rangers are of the opinion that the grobi that besieged Zhufbar sought shelter in that pathetic excuse for a fortress, only to be eaten by the lot you were chasing. Not the best end to the tale, but the extinction of the Crooked Eye tribe will settle a fair few Grudges, I dare say."

"Glad that Stirland could be of service," Van Hal says, placing the skull atop the table and rising to his feet.

"That lad of yours did say that you wanted to be friends," the dwarf says. "Time will tell if anything will come of that, but you're off to a damn fine start." A stubby hand extends from the beard, and Van Hal shakes it. "Thorri, of clan Stoneheart, Thane of Zhufbar."

"Abelhelm Van Hal, Elector Count of Stirland."

"I suspected as much." He looks over at you, and looks you up and down with a critical eye. "This the lass that did such a number on the creatures at the breach?" He stumps over to you and extends his hand, and you shake it gingerly, expecting a rock-crushing grip and surprised at the carefulness with which his fingers close around yours. "You did a day's work there. Nothing a few flame cannon couldn't have done, but I daresay you're more portable than they would be."

"Thank you," you reply uncertainly.

"Since we're on the warpath already," he grins suddenly, "Khazukan Kazakit-ha!" The cry is picked up by a dwarf outside, and in seconds has spread to the rest of the throng in the distance. "I decided we would coordinate to better exterminate the grobi and the despoilers of the dead. What's your plans?"

Van Hal leads the dwarf over to the table where the map of the Hills sits, and Thorri pulls a tube from a pocket and unrolls his own map, and they start comparing, with a great deal of complaints about how impossible it is to find one's way around without good solid mountains around to act as reference points. "Right," he decides as last. "We'll hang about here for a season and make sure the Crooked Eye are extinct for good, and then we'll join you on the march against Drakenhof. About time that particular peak was removed from the range, I daresay." He claps Van Hal on the back, and with that the partnership was struck.

---

Your attempt at mingling with the dwarves gets off to a rocky start at first. It takes you some time to get to the bottom of why they're so standoffish, but eventually you start piecing together the dwarf mindset. To them, magic was to be nailed down properly and used only through the medium of their strange pseudo-enchantment runes; wizardry was, to their mind, something like taking the gunpowder one would use in a rifle, throwing it in an enemy's face, and then trying to hit them with a torch - potentially effective, but clumsy, wasteful, and certain to end in disaster all around and your beard burnt off. Nevertheless you persevere, and end up spending time with the only one that seems unbothered by your presence - a short-bearded begoggled dwarf engineer named Narfi, who is apparently in charge of the scant few war machines the Throng has brought with them in their pursuit and as such is used to spending times around things that are likely to explode in everyone's faces.

"A dwarf with his back against the wall can sell his life very dearly indeed," he says to you one evening as you try your best to contribute to a combined plan for the artillery of Zhufbar and Stirland. "But scaled up, there's very few dwarfholds that can be said to have anything solid at their back. Each is an island in a sea of enemies, and every dwarf born for the past four thousand years comes out of the womb with an uncomfortable itch between their shoulderblades."

"So for Zhufbar..."

"To the north, your land of Sylvania. To the east, endless mountains of greenskins, ever since Gunbad fell. To the south, Varn Drazh - the Black Water. A thousand mineshafts lost to us and crawling with foes. And to the west, Karak Varn, that once produced the metal that Zhufbar smelted, long lost to the thaggoraki."

"Thaggoraki?" you ask.

"I believe you know them as 'beast men'."

"I didn't realize beastmen tormented the dwarves so," you comment, frowning.

"Some days it seems that there's little that doesn't torment us, lass." He frowns, thinking. "The point... I believe I had a point, somewhere."

"Backs against walls," you prompt.

"Ah, yes. Stirland has been an adequate friend to Zhufbar, in matters of trade and such. If you could take Sylvania in hand, and be the wall that we of Zhufbar could put our backs to..." He sighs, long and heartfelt. "A manling state, being the best our hold could hope for. Such are the times we live in."

Most of you is busy with trying to keep from being offended, but part of you feels the utmost pity for a race that sees a good death as the best they could hope for.

In the end your contributions are of questionable utility, but given the backhanded compliment of being adequate when one accounts for the fact that you've yet to finish your third decade, which makes you still a child in dwarf terms. And you've become at least acquaintances with Narfi.

[Making friends with dwarves: Req 50, Diplomacy, 21+8=29]
[Contributing to military matters: Req 60, Martial, 42+13=55]

---

Having failed to capitalize on the good impression you had made on the dwarves, your mood as you retreat back to Wurtbad is far from positive. It is, however, slightly improved when you check in with Jack, who has apparently acquired through unspecified means the details of a few varying but universally disgusting techniques to derive saltpeter from human and animal waste. And then it's right back to misery when you learn that the mood of the Watch has plummeted further when they learned that their new leader is quite literally pissing his time away instead of doing anything to improve their lot.

It may, you reflect, have been a tad tone-deaf to begin the saltpeter operations when moods were already soured. Oh, you could tell them of budgetary concerns and such, but as far as they're concerned their pay comes from the Treasury of Stirland and any deviation from that is inherently suspicious. A soldier's career begins when they ceremonially take the Count's shilling from the recruiter, and the Paymasters of the army play a very pivotal role in the military psyche, and as such they are annoyingly preoccupied with the legitimacy of their pay.

Nevertheless, one must press on.

There is, tragically, a deluge of potential new recruits as the wounded filter back to Wurtbad; you spend days filtering through them all, and eventually find a few solid candidates: one of Gustav's pistoliers, a crackshot who unfortunately can no longer sit astride a horse due to damage to his back, a spearman sergeant who lost a hand to the jaws of a ghoul in the Battle of Fang Island, and a swordsman who left both legs in the Haunted Hills. You ask Jack and Julia for candidates, and they produce them: Jack has two names in mind, one a former smuggler who claims knowledge of every tunnel from here to Salzenmund and the other a Hochland poacher, and Julia a former tutor in horsemanship and swordplay run out of Flensburg for a habit of being seduced by the young women he taught, which hopefully won't be a problem with the grizzled veterans of the Watch.

You push further afield; Van Hal has every man he can call upon focused on the Purge, Kasmir says the same, and Wilhelmina and Schultz can't think of anyone suited for the task. Gustav gives you the name of an old friend who used to lead a company of Nordland Marines. Anton, who appears in Wurtbad only briefly before hurrying off in the direction of Reikland, gives you the name of a man who he says is the only name worth knowing when it comes to the breeding of Stirland Terriers. Markus, of course, can't spare a single one of his able-bodied greatswords, but does pass on the name of a field doctor who he claims is actually capable of improving a wounded man's chances of survival.

You're left with a diverse pool of candidates to choose from, but sadly, only two of them can be hired at this time. And you might have to take into account how the Watch will feel about your choices...

[Trainer hunt - Diplomacy: Req 60, 14+8=22]
[Trainer hunt - Intrigue: Req 60, 70+17+10(Ranald's Blessing)=97]
[Trainer hunt - Martial: Req 60, 68+13=81]
[Trainer hunt - Stewardship: Req 60, 30+14=44]
[Trainer hunt - Learning: Req 60, 14+18=32.]
[Trainer hunt - Piety: Req 60, 9+16=25]

---

Watch Trainers: Pick TWO.

Conventional Candidates:

[ ] Promote Internally - Best for morale, but brings nothing new to the table
[ ] Spearmen - Watchmen become proficient in the spear, can form spearwalls
[ ] Swordsman - Watchmen become proficient with swords and shields
[ ] Pistolier - Watchmen become proficient with pistols, carry them on patrol

Unconventional Candidates:

[ ] Dog Breeder - Stirland Terriers become part of the Watch
[ ] Smuggler - Watchmen become much better at operating underground
[ ] Poacher - Watchmen learn woodsmanship and archery
[ ] Tutor - Watchmen learn advanced swordsmanship and horsemanship
[ ] Marine - Watchmen learn marine combat and non-lethal subdual techniques
[ ] Doctor - Watchmen learn first aid

---

PLAN FOR THIS PURGE TURN

ORGANIZATIONAL ACTIONS - these have been LOCKED IN for the next purge turn.

Information Network - pick ONE (no action expenditure required):
[ ] Expand your information network into another province (choose one)
[ ] Expand your information network into another county or barony (choose one)
[ ] Expand your information network into the military (choose a Division)
[ ] Expand your Intelligence Attaché program to another Division (choose one)
[ ] Off the Leash: Let Julia handle the network without your micromanagement from now on.

Information Network finances - can be chosen INSTEAD of a selection from the above.
[ ] Attaché Paperwork: The Intelligence Attachés are your biggest expense by far - see if you can have them paid for by the Army of Stirland instead.
[ ] Fixer: Work with the Wurtbad Thieves Guild, supplying them information in exchange for a portion of profits.
[ ] Special Branch: Pull some financial trickery to get the information network classified as part of the Watch, so that their costs are covered by the Stirlandian treasury.
[ ] Trade Delegation: Convince Wilhelmina and Markus to partner your network with the EIC based on the value of market information.

Stirland Watch - pick ONE (no action expenditure required), currently at +1 Budget Points:
[ ] Expand the ranks of the Watch, so that they're able to start covering even the poorer parts of their covered area. (-1 Budget Point)
[ ] Expand the Watch into a new county or barony (choose which) (No Budgetary Impact due to expanded Gong Farming)
[ ] Expand the Special Branch into areas already covered by the Watch, so you have an additional pool of manpower you can call upon to supplement the full-time Watchmen. (-1 Budget Point)
[o] Improve the training of the Watch, hiring trainers and dedicating paid time each week to sharpening skills (LOCKED until administrative staff acquired) (-1 Budget Point)
[ ] Solve the current morale problem by brute force: throw time, effort and money at it until it goes away. (-1 Budget Point)
[ ] Integrate the Roadwarden network of covered areas into the Watch.
[ ] Investigate the possibility of adding a River Warden branch of the Watch.
[ ] Headhunt administrators from other organizations in Stirland.
[ ] Attempt to hire administrators and clerks from Altdorf and Nuln.

Stirland Watch finances - can be chosen INSTEAD of a selection from the above, will yield an unknown number of Budget Points.
[ ] Formalize and organize the payments people make for the Gong Farmers to perform their service, as well as having the Watch start enforcing existing laws against dumping human waste in the street or the Stir.
[ ] Currently, solid waste is sent by cart and wagon out to the fields for a pittance. It could instead be used to create market gardens along the banks of the Stir (hopefully downwind) and increase revenue and provide jobs for the desperate by growing a variety of cash crops.
[ ] Tanneries have a seemingly limitless demand for urine, which explains a lot about the smell. A bit of fragrant research would allow you to identify how much demand there is and how much of a profit you can wring from this.

PERSONAL ACTIONS - CHOOSE BETWEEN TWO AND THREE. ANY CHOSEN BEYOND THE FIRST TWO WILL COME WITH RISKS - PLEASE SPECIFY THE 'ADDITIONAL' TASK:

Genießt den Krieg - join the divisions in Sylvania:
[ ] If you're feeling nosy, Vanhaldenschlosse is apparently free of anything that would object to you poking around in what was once the proud ancestral home of the Van Hals.
[ ] Something apparently quite similar to the Purge of the Haunted Hills is going on in Ostermark's southern regions; you could inspect goings-on up there yourself.
[ ] Attach yourself to the army so you can join in the final push of the Purge of the Haunted Hills. (specify which regiment to join; can join the artillery under Narfi of the Throng of Zhufbar). (NEW-ish)

Self-Improvement: Things have been going well so far, but the skills of a Journeyman Grey Mage can only go so far.
[ ] Practice, Practice, Practice: Having been thrown into the deep end of imperial politics, it would probably be a good idea to brush up on your skills and internalize the lessons you've learned (choose which trait; can be taken multiple times; will be more effective if you've used the trait a lot lately).
[ ] Tutoring: One of your fellow councillors may be willing to teach you in their chosen field (choose who; can choose which, or you can let them decide).
[ ] Really Good Swords: You have achieved proficiency with the Greatsword. Future progress is possible, though it will take more effort to see results.
[ ] Combat Training: You're virtually surrounded by armed warriors of various sorts. See if you can convince one to teach you (choose who).
[ ] Combat Training, In The Free Market: You haven't made many heavily armed friends yet, but gold is good for that. Go out and buy some training. (-personal gold)
[ ] Gun Shopping: You're currently using a pistol that was a spare for the pistoliers. Visit Nuln to upgrade. (will trigger a subvote next turn for what type and how many)
[ ] Enchantment: You're naturally talented at enchantment; so far, this just amounts to being able to make your desk meow for about an hour. See if you can improve on that, or at least figure out a way to make that useful.

Home Comforts: Your Palace-Shrine is bursting with potential. And also mud.
[ ] Diggy Diggy Hole, Remixed: You're getting sick of having workmen tramping in and out of your abode. Recruit an entire team and personally oversee them to clear out all of the reachable portions of the Palace-Shrine and be done with it. (-personal gold)
[ ] Filled with Potential: You've got a room cleared out and ready to be put to use. Decide what you're going to put there and get started on equipping it. (write in the purpose of the room)

Research:
[ ] Undead Research: You know the basics, now. Perhaps a great deal of effort will allow you to advance further.
[ ] Snooping: Van Hal gave you a key to his Study. It's been a while since he's been in Wurtbad; he probably forgot he did so, and won't remember until he returns. And he didn't specifically say not to poke around and see what you could find.
[ ] Shyish-kebabs: The Shyish swords are hideously dangerous as weapons, but fascinating as a subject of study. Try to reverse-engineer the lost enchantments woven into them.
[ ] Qhaysh Juice: Whatever it is, it's dripping out of the box at a steady rate. You've got several gallons of the stuff and it's still coming out. It's got to be good for something.
[ ] Qhaysh Skunkworks: It would take careful study to unlock the secrets of the liquid. It would take considerably less time to find out if it can be made to burn, or explode, or do something militarily useful.
[ ] There's always room for more shadow spells in your repertoire. Send off to the Grey College for the basics on one of the others and get started on trying to learn it.

Influence:
[ ] Information Network: Work alongside to Julia to administer the network. Choose another Organizational Action for the Network.
[ ] Stirland Watch: Work alongside Jack to administer the Watch. Choose another Organizational Action for the Watch.
[ ] Financial Jargon: Everything with the EIC flew right over your head last time. Try again. Succeeding here will mean that you can take a more active hand in the company, adding it to the organizational actions; failing or not attempting means Mathilde will remain a silent partner.
[ ] Thieves Guild: It's currently little more than a church group, albeit of a very unconventional god. If it could be expanded under your aegis, it could be a powerful tool.
[ ] Biderhof: This village based on woodcutting and agriculture, has adopted you as one of it's own. Maybe you should adopt it as your own, in a literal sense.
[ ] Non-Thief Guilds: Wurtbad, like all major cities, is home to a number of guilds. Reach out to them and enforce your will.

Relations:
[ ] Getting To Know You: Spend time with one of your fellow councillors, your liege, or any of the other important figures you've come to know, offering your help in their tasks and generally getting a feel for them (choose one).
[ ] Getting To Know You Whether You Like It Or Not: Trust, but verify. Spend some of your time seeing what a certain person spends their time doing (choose one).
[ ] Letters Home: You might be able to wring more information out of your Master, or you might just be able to get news, information and guidance in general from the Grey Order.
[o] Free Time: Now well-established in Wurtbad, you can spend some time in your scant off hours getting to know someone better. Pick one character. (not possible during Purge Turns)

- You currently have one (1) Dwarf Rep, gained from your showing in the Battle of Fang Island, and, sadly, none from the time you spent with them. Dwarf Rep is not the out-of-ten scale that your relations have used so far - it starts at zero and increments (or decrements) as you perform acts that have an impression on them. This is the currency one could use, for instance, for attempting to hire a dwarven teacher for the Watch; there will be opportunities to gain more in the combined campaign against Drakenhof.
- It's been hashed out already, but for posterity and those that skip to the update: trying to write in every single step that Mathilde might take to perform a task
will not help you. This is not a quest where you have to write in to keep breathing or Mathilde will keel over and suffocate.
- Before anyone asks: any trainers not chosen now are lost. You can't offer them any other roles, you can't save them for later; they're either one of the two picks you make this turn or they're gone.
- You will be able to expand the training staff further after administrative staff and a new headquarters are acquired.
- The Trainer Vote will be separate to the vote on Personal Actions.
- I've further formalized the Watch's budget system; 'Budget Points' are gained and lost based on actions taken. The 'status quo' before you took over was 0; it's up to you whether you think that's a good balance to aim for under your stewardship.

- This is the last Purge Turn before the assault on Drakenhof. Just saying.
- Don't forget Ranald's Blessing!
 
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Purge of the Haunted Hills - Ulriczeit, 2476
[*] Dog Breeder - Stirland Terriers become part of the Watch
[*] Promote Internally - Best for morale, but brings nothing new to the table

[*] Plan Sword-wizard
-[*] Really Good Swords: You have achieved proficiency with the Greatsword. Future progress is possible, though it will take more effort to see results.
-[*] There's always room for more shadow spells in your repertoire. Send off to the Grey College for the basics on one of the others and get started on trying to learn it.
-[*] Shroud of Invisibility
-[*] Ranald's Blessing

Ideally, you'd like to hire pretty much every candidate for the training positions. But the Watch is held back by budgetary constraints, by lack of skilled administrators, by the grumbling of the veterans, and by the limited number of hours in a day. You brood over the decision for days, balancing utility against morale against practicality against cost. The swordman and spearman are discarded early; they'd be safe choices morale-wise, but neither bring anything new to the Watch nor would outright please its members - neither one thing nor t'other. The tutor and poacher, too, are discarded, as their skills are outside the current remit of the Watch. That ends the easy choices, and from here on every attempt to par down the list hurts.

The marine goes early; the non-lethal techniques of Nordland's infamous press gangs may have proven useful, but not enough to justify a full-time trainer. The doctor too; the Watch, you daresay, would not appreciate attempts to teach them the mistrusted art of medicine. The smuggler would be hugely useful, but potentially disastrous considering the current mood of the watch. And, with deep reluctance, you finally admit that the cost of arming the entire Watch with pistols could very well prove prohibitive.

A decision, at last, is made. Lower Hans presents a series of his most skilled and personable veterans of the Sewer Jacks to rotate through the Watch's training ground, which goes over well among the grumblers of the Watch. And Anton's friend, the breeder of the Stirland Terrier, is brought onto the payroll of the Watch. The choice is unconventional, and for a moment it seems like the Watch could take it either way, but in the end it is the terrier itself wins over those who were unsure. Bred specifically for rat-baiting, it is larger and nobler-looking than the mongrels favoured by the rat catchers, and the breeder promises that the breed's watchfulness and intelligence would make them an asset in a number of situations, not just in killing rats. The Watch is pleased, and distracted from Jack's exploration of saltpeter derivation, defusing what was shaping up to be a nasty morale crisis.



---

With the final stage of the Purge underway, you join Markus and the Greatswords once more. As they've stayed by the sides of those they're sworn to protect, they've missed most of the fighting in the past year, but you've heard they made a good showing of themselves in the Battle of the Valley of the Singing King. Markus welcomes you gruffly back to the training grounds, and puts you through a series of drills to determine whether you've dropped a step. At your level of proficiency, training is with blunted steel instead of the wooden swords you trained with, and the ringing of steel on steel is very different to the blunt impact of wood on wood.

The next few weeks are punishing; not only are you training from dawn to dusk, but you're also following the army as it marches across the Hills, and with a pack loaded with rocks on foot. Markus is a great believer in the importance of fitness, and when you grumble, he throws on a pack twice the size of yours and literally runs circles around you for the entire day's march, which forces you to shut up.

In the end, the results speak for themselves. You've always been somewhat on the small side and you doubt anything will change that, but beneath your robes the lean muscle of a warrior has replaced the soft flesh of a sheltered academic.

[Fitness training: Req 60, Martial, 64+13=77]
[Greatsword training: Req 80, Martial, 86+13=99]

Your training allows you to be on hand for the penultimate major battle of the campaign, as the expected resistance finally materializes and the 'wild' undead suddenly begin acting in unison. Unfortunately for the enemy, they vastly underestimated the Army of Stirland, which if anything are delighted that the enemy are coming straight to them instead of being tucked away in the nooks and crannies of the Hills. A series of devastating skirmishes later, the enemy is hemmed in and tracked down to their base of operations - an ancient, ruined hillfort. While once the fort would have proven a difficult obstacle, that time was thousands of years ago, and seventy cannon speak as one to tear the defences asunder. If anything, they're too effective, and all there is to investigate is fresh blood and scraps of flesh and splinters of bone, proving that a living necromancer was foolish enough to try to stand in the way of the artillery of Stirland.

The Throng of Zhufbar nod to themselves and gruffly mutter that it may have been a good decision to grant mankind the secret of gunpowder.

The Hillfort proves to be the entrance into a network of natural caves that were converted in ancient times into what could be the largest pre-Sigmar tomb complex you've ever heard of. Shyish is thick in the air, skittering in the depths proves the presence of ghouls and possibly worse things, and the dead stir uneasily at the trespass of man into their graves. Stairs carved into steep rock slopes seem to descend forever into the darkness, and your brief attempts at sketching out a map ends with more unexplored tomb stretching out in every cardinal direction, plus downwards. You itch to plumb the depths of the unknown, but the army is already breaking camp to finish as much of the Purge as possible before winter sets in once more and forces them to seek shelter in Nachthafen.

Still, it's been sitting there for at least three thousand years, it's not going anywhere.

---

To shroud oneself in Ulgu is easier said than done; it has a natural tendency to gravitate towards those attuned to it, but to get it to do more than to curl around your ankles is like trying to grab mist. It requires a completely different set of techniques than the simple one every wizard knows to draw magic in, and the technique is wholly alien to anything you've ever tried - like reading a treatise on how to grow hands on every inch of your skin and grasp at the air with them.

You pass weeks in meditation, trying to grasp the techniques laid out in the encrypted scrolls. Progress is infuriating slow but is being made, every morning spent shrouded in the morning mist atop one hill or another, until one morning you're grasping and you feel the sensation every wizard dreads - that of magic tearing itself free of your grasp. Though it has been long years since Ulgu has fought your control, the reactions were taught so deeply that they are still automatic - the releasing of the spell, the purging of magical energies from your body, throwing yourself as far from the spot you had stood as possible in the instant you have to react, the grounding of bare flesh against soil, the desperately mumbled prayers to any god that may be listening...

The Ulgu that had seconds before been coiled around you is suddenly pulled taut, like a fishing line that just snared a shark, and the very air resonates with the energy in it. The mist around you grows darker, deeper, and glimpses of alien colours can be seen within it-

And then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the energies ground themselves. Without moving, you cast your eyes around, dreading what you'll find. When magic tears itself free and starts to draw on the hellish dimension it originated from, the possibilities are literally endless, and invariably bad...

The hill. It had been covered with soft, green grass, tinged white with the frost of winter, and now was just the brown of soil. But undisturbed, as if...

You run your hand over the bare ground nearest to you, and feel blades of grass tickle your fingers, and thank Ranald that the only victims of your spell are innumerable blades of grass that are now completely cut off from life-giving sunlight. Though that's the least of their troubles, because you're going to cover this entire hilltop in lamp oil and set it alight, just in case.

[Learning Shroud of Invisibility: Req 70, Learning, 11+18+10(Ranald's Blessing)=39]

---

Advanced Greatsword (Beginner) acquired.
Fitness Proficiency achieved!

---

The Army of Stirland and the Throng of Zhufbar gather at Nachthafen to ride out the worst of winter. When the human army started putting up tents, the dwarves had snorted and set to work, and in days a fortified wooden barracks has been erected outside Nachthafen, complete with stone chimneys in every room and firing slits for the cannon.

Ostermark continues to be bogged down in their campaign, projecting another year until the woods around Mordheim are cleared, dashing any last hopes that they would open the second front they spoke of. The forces present will have to suffice, and such a force it is. On the human side: thirty thousand infantry, fourteen hundred knights, seventy cannon, thirty mortars, one wizard, and an elven prince atop a dragon. For the dwarves: six thousand warriors, four thousand rifle-armed and aptly-named Thunderers, ten cannon, and ten multi-barrelled 'organ guns' of seeming similarity to the Empire's Helblasters. And, they say, they're calling for reinforcements from Zhufbar, apparently unwilling to let manlings so outdo them in heavy artillery.

Possibly sufficient, possibly. But there is always room for more firepower, and Van Hal is calling a meeting of the council to discuss last-minute preparations, mostly consisting of requests for aid.



FINAL PREPARATIONS FOR THE ASSAULT ON DRAKENHOF.

Pick between two and three to assist with personally. A third, if chosen, will count as Overwork and come with risks. Optionally, pick three more to argue in favour of though you cannot take care of them yourself, as Van Hal values your opinion.

[ ] Averland's army is currently mobilized to mop up the last vestiges of a defeated Waagh; perhaps they can be convinced to contribute.
[ ] Hochland's famous snipers could come in useful in a prolonged siege.
[ ] The forests of Mordheim will keep. Invite Ostermark to bring their armies into Sylvania, so that they might actually achieve something for a change.
[ ] Anton is already in Reikland seeking assistance from the Emperor, but perhaps a greater focus here could pay dividends.
[ ] Talabecland's knights appear to be having a grand time, perhaps they could convince more of their fellows to join in.
[ ] More cannon. More cannon. Send to Wissenland.
[ ] There's one neighbour that hasn't been asked for help. Maybe the Moot could contribute somehow?

[ ] Send for Battle Wizards from a College of Magic (pick which, can be taken multiple times).
[ ] What purpose could be more holy than this? Request aid from the Grand Theogonist.
[ ] Surely Van Hal has a lifetime of contacts and favours to draw on. Bring the Witch Hunters in.
[ ] The Cult of Ulric are no friends to the undead. Call them to battle.
[ ] The Fellowship of the Shroud are technically Tilean, but their enmity of vampires is unquestionable. Extend an invitation.

[ ] The Throng of Zhufbar is already seeking reinforcements, perhaps the backing of an official request from Stirland could help.
[ ] The Slayer Keep, Karak Kadrin, is close enough to Sylvania to inspire a dislike for it. Ask if they'd be willing to join in.
[ ] The dwarvern hold of Karak Angazhar in the Black Fire Pass is small compared to Zhufbar or Karak Kadrin, but they've closer ties with man and a greater interest in trade; perhaps they'd be easier to convince to join in.
[ ] Apparently there's dwarves gathering for some sort of revanchist crusade into the Badlands. Perhaps they could hone their edge against this fortress.

[ ] Drakenhof is very close to one of the utmost reaches of the Stir; perhaps the riverine forces of the Empire could contribute to the fight.
[ ] Sylvania is technically part of Stirland, so this could be considered defensive. Raise the militia. (pick which segment of the militia, can be taken multiple times, check the Military of Stirland threadmark for militia details)
[ ] Seeking mercenaries has, to put it mildly, gone rather well so far. Seek out more.
[ ] It seems Countess Gabriella is content to sit back and watch events unfold. If your suspicions are correct, and you don't mind dabbling in what might be considered heresy, her personal intervention could be a great help.

Longshots due to distance:
[ ] The Brettonnians have a long history of aiding those in need, and their experiences with Mousillon have given them great reason to seek vengeance against the Undead.
[ ] Cut out the middle-dwarf. Send an envoy to Karaz-a-Karak, the capital of the dwarves.
[ ] Kislev is experiencing something of a renaissance, purging a great deal of terrors from their land. Perhaps they can lend some of their martial might to Stirland.
[ ] You've got one elf, why not go for more? Send an envoy to Ulthuan's embassy.

Alternately, perhaps this time could be better spent honing your own skills.
[ ] Last-minute combat training.
[ ] An even more hurried and slapdash attempt at weaponizing the Qhaysh Juice.
[ ] There is an awful lot of Dhar around. And it is, you've heard, easy to use and quite empowering...


---

- The Stirland Terrier is based on the Manchester Terrier. If you look for information on this breed, keep in mind that there's a 'toy' version of the animal far removed from the historical one - these dogs are shorter than most, but still come up to a man's waist.
- Training above proficiency is not normally quite so difficult, but here it was combined with picking up the Fitness proficiency.
- If there's another faction you think might be convinced to chip in, or if there's something else you think one of the provinces could contribute, let me know and I'll add it to the list. Keep in mind distance, however - someone further afield will be harder to convince and will contribute less than someone close by.
- Same goes for last-minute preparations.
 
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Assault on Drakenhof, Part 1: An Army Assembles
[*] Plan Light and Death
-[*] Send for Battle Wizards from a College of Magic (pick which, can be taken multiple times).
--[*] Order of Light
--[*] Amethyst Order
-[*] Recommend to Van Hal:
--[*] Grand Theogonist
--[*] The Slayer Keep, Karak Kadrin, is close enough to Sylvania to inspire a dislike for it. Ask if they'd be willing to join in.

The meeting isn't quite the return to status quo that you'd hoped, since there's only one topic on the agenda: the assault on Drakenhof. But it's still good to see faces you've seen far too little of in the past two years, and you exchange a few words before you have to get down to business. On one side of the spectrum, Anton has greatly enjoyed his travels throughout the Empire and beyond, and speaks of them with his characteristic enthusiasm at every opportunity. On the other, the Purge seems to have visibly aged Wilhelmina, who features new lines on her face and an almost constant harried look as she dashes around, trying to keep tens of thousands of men fed and supplied.

When everyone is gathered, Van Hal takes the lead. "The army of Stirland is significantly below strength," he begins, "but that's more than made up for by the Throng of Zhufbar. It's a rare blessing to approach the end of a campaign with greater forces than one started with, but that's no excuse not to try for more. Suggestions?"

"Not mercenaries," Wilhelmina says immediately. "Stirland's coffers are hurting as it is. In fact, we could use food a lot more than steel. Perhaps the Moot could contribute?"

"Battle Wizards," you say. "The Amethyst and Light Orders in particular."

"Cavalry," Gustav says. "Without the pistoliers all we have are knights. Averland's army is currently mopping up greenskins, surely they could spare some of their horsemen."

"I'll mention the need for cavalry in Reikland," Anton puts forward. "Or we could go to Bretonnia - none better for mounted warriors."

"While you're in Reikland, you should see the Grand Theogonist," you suggest. "Perhaps he could contribute, either on his own behalf or by flexing some theological influence."

"Cannon," Schultz says, his eyes aglow. "One simply cannot have enough. We should talk to Wissenland."

"I agree with Mathilde, the Theogonist should be brought in," Kasmir says. "Or the Templars of Sigmar."

"If Schultz wants more cannon, who better than the dwarves?" Wilhelmina suggests. "Send to Zhufbar, add your own request to reinforcements to that of the Throng."

"Or the Slayer Keep," you say. "They're near enough to Sylvania to have an enmity for it."

Van Hal looks down at his notes, tapping the nib of his quill against the page thoughtfully. "Anton, Mathilde, Kasmir, head to Altdorf. Anton, get any help the Emperor will provide. Mathilde, see to whatever wizards you see fit. Kasmir, the Grand Theogonist - if any cause is holy, this one is. Schultz, Gustav is right, we need cavalry. Head to Talabecland, see if any more knights are willing to join this crusade. Gustav, how well do you get on with dwarves?"

"We share a love of blackpowder and beards," he says with a grin.

"Then head to Karak Kadrin. See if they're willing to seek their Doom in Sylvania. Wilhelmina..." he hesitates, then balls his hand into a fist. "Visit the Moot. Ask their help in this matter. If the Hills can be tamed, they'll go some way to replacing the land the Moot took from Stirland."

---

The trip to Altdorf is long, even after Kasmir reluctantly accepts your offer of a tireless shadowhorse, and your pace too rapid to spend much time in conversation. Even in the inns you stay in, the two of them are too exhausted by the tireless gaits of their mounts to be good company. So you pass the time reading and ignoring the looks the other two give you as you casually page through a book while riding at a full gallop.

When you finally arrive, since you're still a journeywoman it's not permitted for you to seek lodgings inside the Grey Order, so you get a room in the same tavern that Kasmir and Anton are staying in. As a courtesy, you write a note to your Master to let him know you're in town; because you know him, you leave it locked in a chest in your room and aren't even surprised when it's no longer there the next morning, and he joins you for breakfast.

"Been keeping busy?" he asks as you sit at the table, and you note that breakfast is already waiting for you. And it's the breakfast you would have ordered for yourself. You deny your Master any sort of surprised reaction you know he's going for, and start to dig in.

"Fairly. A little academia, a bit of networking, a touch of crafting the epilogue to the Vampire Wars."

"So I've heard. Decent work on all three fronts. You going to go for Magister soon?"

You shrug. "Things have been busy."

"Always will be. That's the nature of the world we live in." The innkeeper appears at his shoulder, and your Master reaches out and takes the tankard of cider without looking. "Though the business in Sylvania is a decent reason to put things on hold elsewhere. I take it that's what brings you here?"

"It is."

"Reinforcements?"

"Naturally."

"Hmm." He drinks deeply from the tankard. "Purple?"

"And white."

He winces. "Red."

"No. The Hierophants."

He sighs. "Sigmarites. Okay. I can at least give you an in with the former, but I doubt anything can help with the latter." He finishes his drink and rises. "Come back soon. It's about time you graduated."

---

The Amethyst College overlooks the vast cemetery of Old Altdorf, and you spend some time taking in the sight. The cemetery is filled primarily with victims of the Red Pox, a terrible cousin to the Black Death that so shaped Sylvania's history, and you wonder at that. Was it chosen because a cemetery is a cemetery, or was there some deeper meaning? The Red Pox was before the Orders were founded, but if there was some magical underpinning to the Red Pox as some theorize there was for the Black Plague...

But that was irrelevant to the matter at hand. You turn to the open doors, and give them a long look. The magic woven into the portal - both in the poetic sense of the doorway, and in the literal sense of the actual portal that overlays it - is impossible for you to follow, densely woven and tucked in on itself again and again like a tapestry. The uninvited go one way, where they wander empty rooms filled with an aura of subtle terror until they either lose their nerve and run or are given an invitation to join the Amethyst Order. Members go another, into the actual College, where they can go about their work without interruption. For invited guests, however...

You tap the tarnished brass bell hanging by the door, and immediately a cowled steward appears in the doorway, his face masked in shadows but giving the impression of peering out at you. "Dame Mathilde Weber," you say to him, or possibly it. "I'm expected." The figure looks at you for a moment longer, then nods and disappears back into the depths of the building. You turn back to the view of the cemetery, which stretches uncomfortably far, and has an almost bulging aspect to it, as too little land was asked to hold too many bodies.

Were you not a wizard, the man you had come to meet would have appeared at your shoulder suddenly and without a sound; but out of respect, fellow wizards are paid the courtesy of audible footsteps. You turn to face the man; he is dressed in purple robes so deep as to be almost black and has the look of a man in the twilight of his life, with bags under his eyes and bushy grey eyebrows, and the air of a man whose twilight has lasted a long, long time. His staff is a scythe, and you know from reputation that it's as practical as it is ceremonial, the blade razor-sharp and the haft built to channel Shyish. "Patriarch Hexensohn," you greet him.

"Journeywoman Weber," he replies. His voice is unexpectedly deep and rich.

"I'm here today as Spymistress of Stirland, rather than as a wizard."

"Ah." He smiles, gently. "Does Sylvania stir?"

"We've decided not to wait for it to start spewing out horrors," you reply. "Stirland, Ostermark and Zhufbar are all marching against it; the Haunted Hills, the Ghoul Wood and the Dead Wood have all been purged. Now the combined forces of Stirland and Zhufbar are marching on Drakenhof."

"The castle or the town?" he asks thoughtfully.

"Both."

"Ambitious. And you want our help?"

"Who better to counter the necromancy that is sure to be thrown at us?"

"Who indeed." He looks out over the graveyard, and silence stretches between the two of you. "This would be under Abelhelm Van Hal?"

"He is the Elector Count of Stirland."

"Mmm. Old name. Interesting name. I take it you know the history?" You give him a flat look, and glance pointedly down at your grey robes, and he smiles. "Shadowmancers tend to be more interested in the present than the past."

You frown. "I know of Frederick Van Hal. I also know of thirteen centuries of loyal Witch Hunters."

"No aspersion intended." He looks at you searchingly, and you return the look with a glare. You're no peasant to be put off by the robes and scythe; you are practically a Magister of the Grey Order and you will not be intimidated. "Mm. Yes, I think it would be for the best if our Order were to be present for this campaign. Tell your Elector Count Van Hal to expect us." Somehow, it sounds more like a threat than an offer of assistance.

"Thank you," you say, nevertheless. Whatever gets them to Sylvania, you think to yourself.

---

Contact with the Hierophants is a lot more difficult than ringing a bell. It takes you some time to track down even a trace of an idea of where to find them, and you're eventually directed to a maze of streets in the poorer part of town. The tale you were told speaks of standing at a certain point on a street corner and turning ninety degrees in six different ways; you opt for standing near that certain point and grabbing the first person that's glowing. That person, a young lad with a stutter, is told to bring his Master out to have a chat, he agrees nervously and scampers off into the bizarre dimensional knot on the street corner. You scowl at it.

A few minutes later, the man's Master emerges and comes over. The man is utterly bald, his skin is as pure-white as his robes, and his eyes glow. He hurts to look at. "A Shadowmancer, seeking the Order of Light. It almost sounds like the start of a riddle."

"I'm here on behalf of Stirland, not the Grey Order," you reply. "We're assaulting Sylvania, and seek the assistance of the Light Wizards."

"Sylvania, hmm? Interesting." He purses his lips thoughtfully. "We're aware of the assault, and have decided our attentions are needed elsewhere. However, I am due a holiday and this does seem interesting. Tell your master that the Sunscryer will join in the fun."

By the time you've formulated a response, he's turned and disappeared into the dimensional snarl. You glare, then throw a rock at it. The rock passes through the empty air without effect, but it makes you feel better. You've wasted enough time chasing after the stupid Light Wizards too good to have a street address. It's time to return to Stirland.

---

The army you left in Stirland has swelled further by the time you return; of note to you specifically, it's swelled by four wizards - the two wizards you met in Altdorf and two amethyst Battle Wizards besides. You don't like what could have brought the Patriarch of the Amethyst Order here, but it's too late to take it back now.

The council convenes once more to discuss the additions made, and you take the lead to get it over with. "The Amethyst Order's Patriarch has come in person," you say, to raised eyebrows, "and he's brought two battle wizards besides. I was also able to get a Magister from the Light Order to attend." You look across the table at Van Hal, trying to communicate your concerns, and you think it works; his expression is more wary than you'd expect from someone who just had four theoretically friendly battle wizards dropped in his lap.

"I'm sure they'll make themselves useful," he notes. "Anton?"

"The Emperor sent the Altdorf Company of Honour," he reports happily. "Though I don't know why it's called that, because it's actually a Regiment."

"It started as a Company, and the name stuck," Gustav replies. "They recruit the best and bravest from the other regiments of Altdorf. Highly-trained, well-equipped, and ferocious in battle."

"I had hoped for more from the Emperor than a single regiment, but I suppose as regiments go... Kasmir, how did Altdorf treat you?"

"Not well, I'm afraid. The Ar-Ulric has backed the Middenland land claims, and in response the Grand Theogonist has backed Nordland. He's completely preoccupied with matters up north, and has no attention to spare for matters here." Kasmir's tone is very carefully neutral.

Van Hal opens his mouth to reply, and then just sighs. "Very well. Herr Schultz, how was your visit home?"

"Talabheim is always a jewel," he says, "but sadly, they're unable to contribute more than they have."

"If memory serves, the Knights came of their own accord, and Talabecland has actually contributed nothing," Van Hal notes, and Schultz is unable to meet his eye. He watches the man for another moment, before turning to Gustav. "News from the dwarves?"

"They've sent a Throng," he reports plainly. "Four thousand dwarves, including about five hundred Doomseekers. Their leader spent about a week comparing ancestry with Thori and then placed his forces under the Throng of Zhufbar, so he can concentrate on seeking his own death."

"I daresay they'll find Sylvania suitable. Wilhelmina?"

"The Moot was very welcoming, doubly so when they learned why I'd come. They've been watching Stirland, and are happy that we've been carving grazelands from Sylvania instead of pursuing revanchism against them. The bulk of their contributions are in the form of food for the final leg of the campaign, but they've also sent two regiments of archers."

"I suppose a halfling can pull a bowstring as well as a man can. And with those regiments, they've exceeded the manpower contributions of the rest of the Empire combined." He glances down at his notes. "The Throng of Zhufbar's reinforcements aren't quite what was hoped - apparently the beastmen in the lower levels of their hold weren't as pacified as they appeared - but they have increased their artillery considerably. That's the final additions to our army - not as much as I'd hoped, but better than I'd feared. Now all that remains is to plan, and to march." He drums his fingers against the table. "Anton, you're to return to Wurtbad."

"But-!"

"No arguments. If all goes wrong, you are to keep Stirland together until a successor is chosen. Wilhelmina, go with him. You've given me far too many years to fall in battle, and you can coordinate the supply train just as easily from there." She doesn't look happy, but she nods. "Everyone else, now's the last chance to seek employment elsewhere." Gustav snorts a laugh at the thought, Kasmir makes no reaction, and Schultz wavers for a moment before apparently coming to a decision, and he remains silent. It doesn't even occur to you that you, too, should be considering your options until later. Van Hal smiles. "Very well. Let's plan the end to this campaign."

---

There are, as it turns out, three very different ways to go about things, and the differences come down to the inherent ambiguity of 'Drakenhof'. Because there is a town of Drakenhof, which intelligence suggests is in the sway of some 'Countess von Carstein', and there's Castle Drakenhof, some way upriver and built perilously atop a mountain peak, that Van Hal is determined to see destroyed.



The first plan is to blaze a path along the eastern edge of the Haunted Hills, ford the river as close to Drakenhof as possible, and besiege it, ignoring the town of Drakenhof altogether. This has the advantage of simplicity and means the majority of the supply lines are on the controlled side of the river, but it does leave anyone within the town free to act however they desire to disrupt the attack.

The second plan is to ford instead at the town of Drakenhof, and assault and take the town with the element of surprise. If it works, this would result in a fortified forward base to operate out of while still having the supply lines mostly on the purged side.

The third plan is to acknowledge that trying to ford a river in early spring is ridiculous, and to instead cross at the bridge at Pfaffbach and go up the road towards Castle Drakenhof, taking the village of Regrakhof and the town of Drakenhof as you go. This means the supply lines will be almost entirely on the unoccupied side of the river, but it does have the advantage of pre-existing bridges and roads, and the nearby population centers will be taken out of play.

The conversation is going back and forth; Gustav likes the simplicity of the first plan, Kasmir supports the second out of caution for what evils the town may hold, and Schultz favours the third plan for practical, logistical reasons. Van Hal sits back, staring at the map thoughtfully. What is your thoughts on the matter?

[ ] Plan One: The towns and villages are distractions. We should go straight for Castle Drakenhof.
[ ] Plan Two: We can't leave the 'Countess' in play. Strike at the town of Drakenhof.
[ ] Plan Three: Pre-existing roads and bridges are necessary for a proper supply line. We should go via Pfaffbach.


Whichever plan is chosen, where do you plan to be for the opening stages of the siege?

[ ] By Van Hal's side, whatever happens.
[ ] With the rank and file; your display at Fang Island has made you a balm for morale.
[ ] With your fellow wizards, so that you can work with them on the magical side of things.
[ ] With the dwarves; you hope to make a good impression on them.
[ ] With Asarnil. Your Shadowsteed means you can keep pace with him, and why would you pass up the chance to fight alongside a dragon?
[ ] Bugger this for a game of soldiers. I'm going back to Wurtbad.



Total Forces:

Lords and Heroes
Elector Count Abelhelm Van Hal
Marshal Gustav von Jungfreud
Journeywoman Mathilde Weber, Grey Wizard
Magister Patriarch Viggo Hexensohn, Amethyst Wizard Lord
Magister Sigismund Herwig, Amethyst Battle Wizard
Magister Marike Grünberg, Amethyst Battle Wizard
Magister Jovi Sunscryer, Light Wizard
Asarnil the Dragonlord
Thori Stoneheart, Dwarf Thane
Narfi Hammerfist, Dwarf Engineer
Giantslayer Bjorgvin, Dwarf Slayer

Army of Stirland
12,000 spearmen
7,000 swordsmen
9,000 crossbowmen
800 pistoliers (dismounted)
500 greatswords
70 cannon
20 mortars

Throngs of Zhufbar and Karak Kadrin
6,000 Warriors
2,000 Miners
4,000 Thunderers
1,500 Quarrelers
500 Slayers
40 cannon
30 grudge throwers
20 organ guns

Other
Black Guard of Morr, 1,000 knights
Talabeclander Knightly Orders, 400 knights
Altdorf Company of Honour, 2,500 infantry
Halfling Regiments, 5,000 archers
 
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Assault on Drakenhof, Part 2: Forlorn Hope
[*] Plan Two: We can't leave the 'Countess' in play. Strike at the town of Drakenhof.
[*] By Van Hal's side, whatever happens.

---

"Dwarves," you interject, breaking into the debate, and all eyes turn to you. "We've got almost fifteen thousand dwarves, including miners and engineers. Unleash them on the problem and they'll have a bridge up better than the one in Pfaffbach inside a day or two."

There's a moment of silence as the others consider it. "And your opinion on our target?" Van Hal asks.

"The town. The castle might be the base of operations of this 'Elector Countess', but the town is her base of power. We don't want whatever garrison she has there acting freely."

Kasmir nods at you from across the table. "Well said. There's a dozen things an unfriendly town left to act freely could do, all of them bad for Stirland."

Gustav scowls. "I don't like giving the Castle a warning."

"Would they get one, necessarily?" Van Hal asks. "We don't have the light cavalry to round up any escapees, but we do have five thousand halfling skirmishers that could act as a picket."

Gustav nods, reluctantly. "They could probably get into place without being seen... but it would only take one to get by them, and then we're rumbled. No way they'd be able to catch up to a runner, let alone a horseman."

"Nothing in life is guaranteed." Van Hal looks to Schultz. "Thoughts?"

He sighs. "I suppose I'm building another road, then."

Van Hal smiles. "We're at an agreement, then. We march on the town of Drakenhof. Remember: outside of ourselves, the generals, and the leaders of the foreign troops, everyone believes we'll be purging the eastern fringe of the hills this season. Don't do anything to give any other impression."

---

An army on the march, you feel, should be a dramatic sight. Tens of thousands of men marching in lockstep, banners flying and songs being sung and enemies quaking in the distance. What you've learned is that for an army, 'marching' isn't a state so much as a process. An army doesn't go from bed to the road: an army marches on its stomach, and breakfast is far easier said than done when you're cooking for fifty thousand, which consumes ten wagons of foodstuffs from storehouses in Southern Stirland and the Moot. Then tents need to be struck and units assembled to check that everyone is accounted for and a hundred other little tasks that need doing and by the time the army is ready to start marching, the sun is already high in the sky. Then they march, on foot, over the broken ground of the Haunted Hills, and on a good day they could be expected to make fifteen miles. Fifteen miles. You could cover that in half an hour! And they're not all travelling as one - in fact, they're so spread out that by the time the first men arrive at where they'll be camping for the night, the last men are only just leaving the previous day's camping grounds! And then ten more wagons of food are poured into the stomachs of the army, and sentries are posted, and tents are erected, and that's a full day's work done and it all repeats again tomorrow.

On a map, Nachthafen and Drakenhof are practically next door, but it still takes the army three full days just to skirt the northeastern fringe of the Haunted Hills and make their way to the final staging point before the fording of the river and the assault on the town of Drakenhof.

The river, which eventually turns into the Stir but here is called the Draken because of course it is, flows worryingly swiftly, but scouts have found a point where it widens and flows no more than thigh-deep. So on an uncharacteristically clear morning, the combined forces set off not for a day of marching, but for a day of battle.

You had no trouble crossing the river, nor did anyone else with a horse, but the bulk of the army are not so fortunate. Progress across the river is agonizingly slow, as it seems the best that Stirland, Zhufbar and Karak Kadrin have to offer have forgotten how to stand upright - the halflings having already swum across and left to scout the terrain. Ropes are strung across the river for those crossing to steady themselves upon, but so many end up drenched that Van Hal is forced to allow for fires to be lit to let the men dry out. There's no possibility of getting the artillery over - not and have them dry enough to fire.

It's nearing noon when enough of the army has crossed, and a team of dwarves set to work on erecting a permanent bridge as the army prepares to march to battle. The halfling scouts haven't seen any sign of sentries that could have spotted you, but that's of little comfort to Van Hal. But though the men are soggy, the knights remain undaunted and the dwarves refuse to show weakness. If there was any time to march on the town of Drakenhof, it is now.

---

Meanwhile, not far away...

To be a sentry on the gates of the town of Drakenhof is not an onerous job. The skeletons, tireless and omnipresent, do the bulk of the watching and the guarding; all a human sentry need do is provide the thinking. Traffic on the road is almost non-existent, and the occasional cart from nearby farms and villages needs little examining. So the two men at Drakenhof's southern gate are already deep in their cups when the sun nears its zenith.

Thunk. Thunk. The skeleton watching the road is tapping its spear on the ground, in the only communication it has ever shared with them: traffic on the road. Twin groans answer, as the two men have a short and pointless argument until the loser is forced to find his feet and stagger out of the gatehouse.

He peers down the road, the sun piercing the Sylvanian gloom with uncharacteristic vigor. Down the road, a column of night-black figures riding equally black horses are riding in silence. "Hey, boney," the man says, jabbing an accusatory finger at the skeleton. "Those're your type, not mine." The skeleton gives no comment on the matter, as its limited programming tries to come up with an answer to what it is seeing, and eventually it stands in the center of the road, spear extended towards the oncoming figures.

"What is it!" cries the man still inside.

"S'just the black knights," is the watchman's reply, with technical correctness. "Boney's getting upset at them for some reason."

"Skeleton's broke again," is the input from the seated figure. "We'll report it later. He won't do no harm."

The watchmen squints down the road at the figures, now advancing rapidly. Underneath the alcohol, some part of his brain is starting to clamour. "'Ere," he says at last. "Do you remember the Mistress having that many knights?"

And those were to be his final words, as the Black Guards of Morr couch their lances in silence and charge through the still-open gates, neither skeleton nor man slowing them for an instant.

---

"They're through," says Thori as he tucks the spyglass back into a pocket. "Now they just have to hold."

"If anyone can hold it, the Knights of Morr can," Van Hal states, and nods of agreement come from the gathered leaders of the army. "Gustav, the floor is yours."

"And no finer stage could a man hope for," replies Gustav with a savage grin, and hurries off to where his men are waiting - sword and spearmen gathered from every regiment in the Army of Stirland, hand-picked by their officers for their level of fitness. "Last one there buys the first round!" is his rallying cry, and Van Hal just rolls his eyes as Gustav charges, the men hot on his heels as they rush to join the knights holding the gatehouse. You notice flashes of orange in the crowd; the Slayers have joined this wave, it seems.

Van Hal looks to the dwarf. "Sir Thori, the third wave is yours."

"Right you are. Alright, lads!" he calls, his voice booming. "Are we going to let a bunch of manlings kill all the uzkular?"

"Nai!" comes the response from a thousand throats, and in seconds you're treated to the rare sight of a Dwarvish charge.

"The fourth is us," Van Hal states. "Assuming you're not to be swayed."

"Of course not," you reply. You draw your flamberge, letting the familiar sensation of flowing Ulgu calm your nerves.

He claps you on the shoulder, and walks to the assembled men; the rest of the army of Stirland, or at least those that have crossed the river and are dry enough to march and fight in the Spring chill. "Army of Stirland!" he calls, his voice carrying across the field. "No more do we wait for Sylvania to spew horrors into our land. Today, we shove our fist down Sylvania's throat and throttle the life out of anything we find!"

There's a cry of agreement, though muted; Van Hal's not one for speeches at the best of times, and hasn't cultivated the love of the men that signifies a true leader. But these men are professionals, honed by a year and a half of constant skirmishes, and they don't need encouragement to be ready for the fight, and everyone you look hands tighten on hilts as the army awaits only the order. You notice some of the troops returning your look; you've always drawn looks, but the army recently has been treating you with something like awe, and you're not entirely sure how you feel about it.

But that's something to consider another time, because Van Hal has given the nod to the generals, who have given nods to subordinates of their own, and eventually that'll filter down through gods know how many layers and lead to sergeants bellowing that now is the time to march. And in front of them all is Van Hal, sword in hand, and at his side is you.

"How was it?" he asks casually as you begin the march down the road. You itch to break into a run, as you know the men behind you do, but the fourth wave is to arrive fresh and ready to relieve those that ran to the gate. So you approach in the most infuriating walking pace of your life.

"Not bad," you say vaguely. "It's a good note to hit, Sylvanian proactivity. But reaching down the throat to throttle something inside that throat is a bit confusing."

"I should just plagiarize," he says with a sigh. "'Remember, when you build a wall to shelter behind, you are also building a trap,'" he begins, and you smile as you recognize the quote.

"'If the wall is strong, and flanked by towers, the enemies will be trapped. But if the wall is carried...'" you continue.

He finishes the quote. "'Then the other walls will hem in your defenders, and leave them ripe for massacre.' Magnus the Pious."

"May the earth rest lightly on him," you say, with feeling.

There's a pause from Van Hal, before he says, "I suppose wizards have even more reason than most to venerate him."

"Two hundred years ago, you would have been burning me at the stake," you state, managing with effort to keep the emotion out of your voice. Up ahead, the unmistakable clamour of battle can be heard, though it is almost drowned out by the thousands of feet marching in time behind you.

"Then I am thankful we do not live two hundred years ago," he replies, drawing Orc Hewer.

"As am I." The wall towers above, a daunting and terrible obstacle - except the gate was open. Silence stretches between the two of you, intruded on from both sides by the din of fighting and the tramp of boots.

"Once more into battle," he says.

"And then one more once more, and then another," you observe. You can see inside the gates, where a wall of backs holds back whatever inside is trying to fight its way back to the gatehouse, and to the windlass that would shut the portcullis.

"Such is the world we live in."

You murmur a few familiar words, and the Ulgu flowing through you rises to the surface, hardening into a protective layer. "Today we change the world we live in."

"Damn right we do," Van Hal replies. "Men of Stirland, charge!"

[Charge of Dame Mathilde Weber: Martial, 86+18=104]
[Charge of Elector Count Abelhelm Van Hal: 53+28=81]
[Charge of the Army of Stirland: 1]

At long last you break into a run, Van Hal at the side, and men catching up to you on either side. The ranks filling the gateway part to allow you through, and you've a moment to glimpse a bleached-white skull grinning at you before your sword, propelled by instincts ingrained into you by months of training, has smashed into it, tearing it free of the spine it rested upon and propelling it over the ranks of skeletal warriors. But you've no time to admire the arc of the projectile because another has taken its place, and you strike it down like the first, and then another, and another. Too many, too many. You and Van Hal had discussed this beforehand, after the charge the two of you were to let the push of the men overtake you, a bit of showmanship and minimal risk to buoy morale, and besides the Greatswords would be coming in not far behind. But the push just isn't there, you cannot spare even an instant to look but every glimpse you catch is of rotted spears and rusted swords spilling blood, and the only human left in a sea of foes is Van Hal, his sword caught up in a ribcage, and in a motion that owes nothing to training and all to instinct, your bare knuckles connect with the shoulder of the skeleton about to impale him upon its spear, and only your magical armour protects you from shattering the bones in your knuckles but nothing protects the skeleton from the shattering of its clavicle.

[Survive in the melee: 23+18=41 vs 59]

You were a wizard, for Ranald's sake, you shouldn't be here. You should be leisurely forming spells to fling at these accursed, literally accursed skeletons from a battlefield away, not smashing through skeleton after skeleton until your muscles ached, and it seems barely minutes have passed but the ache is worse than any from your countless hours of practice. You can parry blows, you trained until you bled, but you can't block two blows at once and you choke back a cry as rust-red iron penetrates magic and robe and skin and scores a line of agony across your ribs, and seconds later you've smashed him asunder with your blade but there's always more to take their place, and the rest of the army is nowhere to be seen.

"VICTORY OR DEATH!" cries Van Hal, the ancient battlecry of Stirland, and as the deafening noise of the melee drowns out his cry you fear you know which it will be.

[Van Hal surviving in the melee: 1]

And as though your thought was prophecy, Van Hal lies bleeding on the ground. One moment he was at your side, Orc Hewer tearing through bone with contemptuous ease, and the next you were straightening from your cleave through two of the skeletons and he's down.

[Fight on: 18+18-2(wounded)=34 vs 46]

You stand astride him, yelling in fear and defiance at the top of your lungs with breath you don't have, and pain shoots through your body time and time again as blows slip past your guard. There's nothing that can make your sword be in five places at once, and the skeletons just keep on coming, and some corner of your mind not lost in the battle wonders if that's why the army was able to purge the Haunted Hills, because they were all here instead of there. Is this where the Purge ends, in hubris? Is this the final chapter of an overambitious Elector Count, a harsh lesson to be handed down as to why one doesn't underestimate Sylvania, in which you exist only a footnote?

[Is anyone coming to the rescue?: 8]
[Fight on: 70+18-6(wounded)=82 vs 42]

A second, a second, is all the lull you get between the endless onrushing of skeletal fiends, but it's enough to scoop Orc Hewer from where it fell. You can feel magic humming under your hands, and not wild, dangerous, treacherous magic you know so well but magic that has been broken and tamed and used against the enemies of man for thousands of years. It doesn't threaten to twist free of your grip if your attention wavers, but hums eagerly in your grip, and where you were battering the skeletons away you are now tearing them apart where they stand, and those that replace them stumble on fallen bones, the fell magic animating them too crude for them to be anything but clumsy. Contempt rises in you, contempt for the wizard who crafted these abominations - they fell to the temptations of dark magic for this? They succumb to the lure of Dhar and this is the best they can do with it? Ulgu envelops Orc Hewer, and though it can do nothing to add to the ancient power of the blade, you need your magic to be tearing through that of the so-called Elector Countess who can manage no better than these pathetic, mindless automatons. Blasphemy twice: once for falling to temptation, and once for doing so little with it.

[Anyone at all? 46]
[Fight on: 81+18-6(wounded)+3(Runefang)=96 vs 9]

You're yelling again, but in rage this time, as the skeletons fall faster than their plodding march can replace them. Blood, your own and Van Hal's, coats the hilt of the Runefang but if anything your grip is surer for the reminder of the stakes, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity there's no white of bone in your peripheral vision, and the only skeletons are the ones directly before you. You itch to advance to meet them, but to do so would be to abandon your vigil over Van Hal, so you let them come to you, wading through piles of shattered bone to get to you only to be struck down like all the rest. If this is your doom then so be it, a hundred have fallen before you this day and a hundred more will be broken by your hands before they drag you down.

[Anyone?: 68+10(previous roll)]
[Rolling for who...]

"KHAZUKAN KAZAKIT-HA!"

For an instant confusion floods through you at the alien battlecry, but though the call is unfamiliar the charge that accompanies it is unmistakable. Thori Stoneheart, Thane of Zhufbar, and a relentless phalanx of dwarven warriors smashes through the amassed skeletons, pushing not so much through them as over them. You look left and right, and there's no animate bone left within striking distance, just the shattered remains of skeletons and men alike. You don't know what to do, robbed of all thought but that of combat.

Two dwarves approach, and you blink at them confusedly. "Easy, lass," one of them is saying, approaching like one would a wild beast. "Your thane, we need to get him to safety."

Oh. You gather what will you can, and stumble away from your stance astride Van Hal's fallen body, truly taking the sight in for the first time: the bloody leathers, the spear through his gut. The sight sets off a storm of emotion in you, but it's a storm you watch numbly from a distance, power and fury raging a long way away. You feel Orc Hewer slip from your fingers.

"Hup, two!" the dwarves say, and Van Hal is lifted atop their shoulders as the motion jars the spear from him, and he is taken at impressive speed towards the gates you came through so long ago, and nothing in the world could stop you from following after.

[Trait gained: Badly Wounded]

---

The tent for the wounded and dying in a military camp is a terrible place; Van Hal, thankfully, is spared that, as he's brought to his own tent that some obliging camp follower had put up on the Drakenhof side of the river. Doctors are called for, such as they are; men who barely have the ability to wrap bandages around wounds and put food in someone until they get better or finish dying. One of them tries to eject you from the tent, and you grope for your absent flamberge for a moment, and are about to settle on punching him before his fellow pulls him away, whispering urgently. You let them hold their mumbled conversation, and sit by Van Hal's side.

He looks gaunt, but he's always been thin; he looks pale, but you're not sure if it's more so than usual. His breathing is steady, though marred by the blood dripping from what looks like a broken nose - you wipe it as best you can with the sleeve of your robes. If he's dying, he's doing so peacefully, which completely fails to provide comfort.

His leathers are cut from him by the doctors, as are his clothes, and you wish this was under circumstances where you had the attention to spare for that. But your entire focus is on the gashes criss-crossing his chest, and on the bloody wound in his stomach. The wounds are looked at, and the level of bleeding judged to be not dangerous, but they're bandaged anyway because the other alternative was their being murdered by you. And that's it, that's the limit of medical care that can be given; stomach wounds, one of them says with a shrug that says it all. He'll be fine, or he'll be dead. Only way to find out is to wait.

You vaguely recall that Hysh can heal, so you send a runner to find the Light Wizard you recruited, though you haven't seen him since Nachthafen. The Amethyst Wizards are near the town, standing ready to counter any hostile magics that could be thrown into the fray, but their brand of help would be nothing of the sort. Jade Wizards. Why hadn't you insisted on Jade Wizards? They could be fixing this now, but instead they're all in Altdorf or gods know where, days away even for you, and by the time you could make a round trip it would be over, one way or the other.

A battle is still raging. Where do you go from here?

[ ] By Van Hal's side. Whatever happens.
[ ] A battle still rages. Throw yourself into it.
[ ] Somewhere in that town-turned-battlefield is Brother Kasmir. Leave Van Hal's side. Find him. Sigmar will heal Van Hal.
[ ] The plan exists independently of Van Hal; if necessary, it will outlive him. Take command.



[ ] Dhar lies thick in the air. You just need a little. Just enough to give a Grey Wizard the power to heal...
 
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Assault on Drakenhof, Part 3: The Fall
[*] By Van Hal's side. Whatever happens.

The camp is swarming with soldiers, those that fell in the river when crossing and were judged too soaked to join in the attack and those that crossed later, on the skeleton of the bridge the dwarves are busily building. And it seems like every single one of those soldiers feels the need to peek into the tent at one point or another as rumour tears through the camp like fire through a field. Your nerves, already stretched to breaking point, twang uncomfortably every time some damn fool soldier who thinks he's being sneaky silhouettes himself in the tent opening, then flees at meeting your glare; each time your grip tightened on the hilt of the pistol which was the only physical weapon you had left.

Van Hal might die to infection. He might not. That is out of your hands, and in the hands of fate and chance and the runners sent to seek out Kasmir or the Light Wizard. What is in your hands is whether he dies of anything else. Infiltrators slipped into Eagle Castle in the past, it's perilously likely they'd attempt to penetrate an army camp on their front lawn when the possibility of decapitating their enemy's leadership is on the cards.

Time passes with agonizing slowness; your heart leaps with every set of footsteps that approaches the tent, both possible assassins and returning healers forefront in your mind, and each time they either end in yet another soldier peeking in or they move past and you slump. Then, after what feels like an eternity, one stops and clears his throat before entering. He hesitates, and then addresses you directly. "Ma'am, there's a situation," the man says unsuredly, looking between you and Van Hal. "Normally I'd take it to His Grace, but..."

"Tell me what it is," you say, managing to keep your voice under control.

"There's a group of civilians from the town that were approaching the camp until the sentries stopped them. They say that they've escaped from Drakenhof and they need somewhere to stay until the fighting dies down."

Instantly, you mind goes to the infiltrators that once gave you so much trouble back in Wurtbad, and to the feats of strength and celerity they were capable of due to the noxious magic implanted within them. You look the man up and down, taking in the plumes on his helmet and the neatness of his moustache, and take an educated guess. "Major?"

"Von Tenneck, ma'am."

"Is your cohort in the camp?"

"Yes ma'am, we've just now crossed the river."

"Gather them all, and return to these villagers. Tell them they can wait there until the fighting ends and that food and shelter will be provided if necessary, but they are not to take another step towards the encampment. If they do take another step, kill every last one of them."

The man's eyes narrow, and he glances towards the bed where Van Hal lies; he may not know what you do of the ensorcelled infiltrators, but he understands enough. "Understood, ma'am."

He turns and leaves, and the inexorable wait resumes. You hear nothing further of the matter; whether it ended in a massacre or not, what's important to you is that it didn't end with Dhar-filled assassins bursting into the tent. You turn back to the tent, and eye the Shallyan shrine one of the doctors set up on the end with mixed doubt and desperate hope. You wonder if Ranald's domain of chance could assist, or if it's entirely in the hands of Shallya's domain of health; you suppose if you knew that, you'd know a great deal more about medicine. You say a prayer anyway; it can't hurt, and it at least gives you the impression that you're doing something. Then you resume your interminable waiting.

---

At long, long last, Van Hal stirs, and groans as his wounds protest the movement, and his eyes open a crack to squint upwards. All that stops you from dashing to his side is that you were already there. "Either the afterlife is rather more prosaic than I expected, or..." he turns his head to squint at you, and smile as he makes out your features through the gloom of the tent. "Ah, Mathilde. Are we dead?"

Logically, you know this has no bearing one way or the other - the wound in his stomach could still eventually kill him, conscious or no - but relief floods through you anyway, and you can't stop yourself from returning his smile. "Not quite yet, your Grace."

"If anyone's earned the right to call me Abelhelm, it's you." He frowns, suddenly concerned. "Was my arm wounded? I can't seem to move it." You release your grip on his hand, leaving pale marks from how tight you were holding it, and refuse to reply as Van Hal flexes his newly released hand. "Ah, there we go. What happened?"

"As far as I can tell, the charge was a complete failure, and we were the only ones to penetrate enemy lines."

"Ah." His searching hand finds the bandaged wound on his stomach, and he winces as he presses against it; for a moment his expression freezes, and he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before reopening them. "Ah."

"I've sent runners for Kasmir or the Light Wizard," you say, because you have to say something.

"Knowing Kasmir, he'd be where the fighting's thickest," Van Hal murmurs. "Not knowing the wizard, he could be anywhere." He takes a deep breath and tries to sit up, and groans in pain as he falls back onto the bed. He takes a moment longer to catch his breath before continuing. "This changes nothing; Drakenhof will fall. But should I fall too..." he hesitates for just a moment. "In my travelling gear, which should be around here somewhere if the attendants have been doing their job, there's an iron strongbox. It opens to any key as long as the password is spoken: Senthoi. I've faith you'll know what to do with it." You nod, but his eyes have already drifted shut, and you're quick to check his breathing; he's fallen unconscious, rather than just fallen.

[Finding Kasmir: 94]

You're resigned to another stretch of endless nothing, but it seems like moments later that a figure bursts into the tent, and then recoils from the pistol you level in their face, only to almost drop it in relief at the bald, familiar face. He nods at you in approval at your reaction, then joins you at Van Hal's side.

[Healing Van Hal: 6]

You've seen Kasmir's holy power at work before, but this time it's different. His eyes closed, his lips move in silent prayer, but the expected effects fails to manifest themselves. The serene expression of a priest in prayer is replaced with one of concentration, then of concern, as he continues praying. But still, nothing happens.

At last, his eyes open, his expression bleak. "Sigmar's light does not shine here."

The words hang in the air, and then you respond, furious. "What the hell do you mean? If Sigmar's light doesn't penetrate here, where it is most needed, then what bloody point is he?" His head falls to his chest, his eyes close, and he makes no effort to refute your words. You want to rage at him, strike him, chase him from the tent, but though his god seems to be proving impotent he can still be useful. "The Light Wizard. Jovi Sunscryer. Go find him - magic must do what your faith cannot."

Chastened, Kasmir leaves the tent, and you collapse back on the seat at Van Hal's side. You had been so sure it was over, that Sigmar would make himself useful once more and heal Van Hal, but instead he'd failed you. Van Hal was right to lose faith in Sigmar, you reflect, if this is the thanks he gets after a lifetime of service to Sigmar's empire.

---

[Camp defences: 76]
[Finding Jovi Sunscryer: 1]

At one point, you hear the sound of a skirmish outside; but you're familiar enough with battlefields to know that this isn't one, and there's enough men at hand to handle whatever the threat may be, and soon enough the sounds of combat fade away. In failure, whatever it was has become irrelevant, and it doesn't even bother you that you don't know what the enemy has been trying. The world has shrunk to the tent, Van Hal, and somewhere outside it, one wandering wizard of Hysh who agreed to join this venture into Sylvania for his own reasons. Minutes pass, or possibly hours.

Then fate plays yet another cruel trick upon you, as Kasmir returns to the tent once more, his expression even bleaker. "The Light Wizard is dead," he reports. "Miscast whatever he was trying to do in the city, and tore himself asunder. Now several blocks burn with white fire."

"Then you heal him," you say.

"I already-" he stops, as he observes the pistol pointed at his face. He nods, and kneels once more at Van Hal's bedside.

[Trying again: 25-20(lacks confidence)=5]

Again, the light of Sigmar's intervention you'd grown so familiar with fails to manifest; again, you feel the tiny flicker of hope inside of you be snuffed out. Kasmir remains there for what must be half an hour, muttered prayers filling the tent, but in the end he rises and you don't even have the strength to shoot him for his failure. He looks bleakly down at Van Hal, then looks to you, sorrow and apology on his face, before leaving.

---

[Last, Desperate Attempt: Piety, Req 80, 58+18=76]

You've never exactly prayed to Ranald, not formally. You've talked to him, and quite frequently, to thank or blame him as luck goes one way or another; he's been a constant part of your life, bending the odds to amuse himself and sometimes you. But now, for the first time, you clasp your hands together, bow your head, and speak to the only chance you have left. Your prayer is not a formal series of words that makes up those of more stratified cults, but a single word, repeated over and over: please.

Your prayer is cut abruptly off, as you feel a presence in the room, and the unmistakable feel of a hand on your shoulder. For a moment hope rises in you, but just for a moment. The hand remains on your shoulder, rather than the presence moving to Van Hal, and you can tell it's an attempt at comfort, rather than reassurance. An apology.

The feeling of the hand fades, but the presence remains, your only company as you sob at Van Hal's bedside.

---

[Whether Abelhelm Van Hal lives or dies: 3]

Elector Count Abelhelm Van Hal is dead.

It happened quickly; his face grew paler, his breath short, and a nasty, ugly bruise spread from the site of the wound, and the sawbones that you had yelled for came from the tent of the rest of the wounded and fretted over him, likely more because they knew you would end them if they didn't at least pretend to do something. And then he was gone.

You sit by the side of his corpse like a puppet with the strings cut as people flow into and out of the tent; Kasmir says a prayer for his soul, guilt etched into his face. A stony-faced knight in black performs rites over him, speaking the few words allowed by his vow of silence. The Amethyst Patriarch stares at the corpse for what feels like an eternity, then bows his head and shuffles out. No sign of Markus, which may be just as well, because you might have attempted to kill him.

At some point, night falls, and chill creeps into the tent as visitors trail off. You finally find the strength to start moving, and tear your gaze away from Van Hal's body. His belongings were stacked in one corner of the tent by some attendant, and searching through them you find the strong box he spoke of. Hideously heavy, and obvious why: lead banded with iron, and an enormous lock built into the latch. You rummage through the belongings for a key, and eventually find a small knife that you jam into the keyhole and whisper the Eltharin word into it, and it opens.

If you weren't completely numbed, you'd be shocked to your very soul.

Inside is a simple leather tome, unadorned and battered by years, no different to thousands of others you've seen. But to your senses of magic it is utterly unique. Unlike other, shoddily-made items, it doesn't leak corruption into the atmosphere; it lies there, perfectly contained and utterly stable, the masterpiece of a terrible genius. Unable to stop yourself, you open the cover, and find what you knew you would on the title page.

The Liber Mortis. The original Liber Mortis. Written in the hand of the man that saved and doomed Sylvania, Baron Frederick Van Hal.

You snap the book and then the box shut, and the lock re-engages. Normality returns to the tent; or at least, the horrible version of normality where your Elector Count lies dead mere feet away from you.

As much as you want to sit there numbly until the world crumbles around you, you need to do something.

---

Your Next Act:
[ ] Abelhelm Van Hal is dead; your oath is fulfilled. Leave Sylvania. Leave Stirland.
[ ] The body must be escorted to it's final rest, in either Wurtbad or Altdorf. Remain by Van Hal's side. Whatever happens.
[ ] The vacuum must be filled. Step forward and take command. Fulfil Van Hal's final legacy in the manner that it begun.
[ ] To hell with the campaign; Abelhelm Van Hal was failed. Find the Greatswords, find the officers that were to be leading the fourth wave, find every man that did not stand shoulder to shoulder with Van Hal, and extract answers and then extract justice.

The Book:
[ ] Do nothing with it; your role is to safeguard it.
[ ] This is a religious matter; turn it over to Kasmir.
[ ] This is a religious matter; turn it over to the Black Guard of Morr.
[ ] This is a secular matter; turn it over to the Patriarch of the Amethyst Order.
[ ] The Third Vampire War ended with the Grand Theogonist himself reading a Spell of Unmaking from a mere copy of the Liber Mortis. There can be no stronger precedent.
[ ] Go even further. Wrest control of the dead and turn them against the enemy. Their greatest tool shall be their unmaking.
[ ] A book of necromancy, a newly-dead body. This doesn't need to be the end of Abelhelm. Raise him, and not in the clumsy way of the fumblers you're facing: you can make him a body superior to that of the living.



This thread was crowned as one of the "Elements of Sufficient Velocity" during the forum's 2023 "Sufficiently Skeletons" Spring Event! Take a look below!


3. The gavel lies past a short woman's trials.
 
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