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Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties - an Advisor's Quest

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I just had the idea, do not know if any else posted it yet. Ok the reason why Kislev and troll country is having problems with Dhar is because the waystone are not sending it to the Vortex. They are in a loop maybe powering ice magic and that means the dhar has no where to go.
 
For the next social turn, I wonder if we can visit Cython and ask them for some old stories about the Old ones that they are comfortable in sharing and confident are accurate - purely for joy of dabbing on wizards who think that living for 4000 years lets them qualify as "old".
 
It occurs to me that we've talked a great deal about Cython for the last while, but people might not have perfect memory of the conversations we've had with it. I felt I could use a refresher myself.

So, I've compiled all the Cython conversations I could find, and mostly summarized them. This would've been way more difficult without the work of the good @picklepikkl in creating a history of our time as Loremaster and with the Waystone Project(so far).

I am doing this all at like 4 am, so please forgive me if the summaries aren't quite as ideal as they could be.

Turn 25, The Battle Of The Caldera pt 9:
- Our first meeting with Cython. We speak to it in Eltharin.
- It hands us the impossible Elemental that gives Kragg nightmares.
- It says it trusts the Dwarves won't invite extinction by trying to claim its mountainpeak.
- Its not going to help to deal with the Waaagh unless they bother it, which would likely be after our extinction.
Boney said:
If asked to weigh in on the matter, conventional wisdom's preferred approach to opening a dialogue with a rampaging Emperor Dragon would most likely be along the lines of 'don't'. The problem with conventional wisdom is that it is for conventional people in conventional situations, which has not really described any part of your life since you were ten. So you instead turn to your ample supply of unconventional wisdom, observing that a being capable of using Hysh battle magic could not possibly be in an unthinking rage, and that it went straight from Karag Zilfin to Karag Yar suggests its enmity is focused on the Skaven. So you take a deep breath, mentally prepare yourself as best you can, and begin to track the dragon as it stalks through the passages of Karag Yar wide enough to accommodate its size. Mundane senses alone might have managed it, especially when it happened upon some of the few remaining Skaven, but to your Magesight it shone like a beacon.

So to be entirely sure the dragon won't think you're trying to sneak up on it, you return the favour. Normally when you wrap yourself in Ulgu, it's while also enforcing your will upon it to act as armour or camouflage or some other magical effect. This time, you simply allow it to billow around you in a way that a magical being on the hunt couldn't miss. You position yourself in a large, empty room, its purpose long lost to time, and you cycle through a few different stances trying to find the right combination of nonthreatening but also not vulnerable before realizing that a dragon likely wouldn't know or care about human body language. And then you wait, as the dragon pauses in its relentless search, considering the new and unexpected factor that has just revealed itself. Entire books could be written on the differing temperaments of the different types of dragons, but shared amongst almost all of them is that they are creatures of cunning and intellect, and that means a certain amount of curiosity can be safely assumed. A magical being displaying themselves openly while doing nothing like this is either the most inept trap imaginable or an invitation to communicate, and you're sure that both Mors and Eshin would be capable of much more devious traps, so you hope it doesn't take what you're doing as one of those. You've got a combined illusion-and-teleportation spell on the tip of your tongue just in case, and you've mapped out three different nearby tunnels too narrow for a dragon, so all that's left is a muttered prayer to Ranald and to wait.

Sure enough, it approaches, and preceding it is the aura of Hysh that dispels darkness and makes your shadow writhe uncomfortably. The Light Magic coils cautiously around the Marsh Light bobbing at the ceiling, the glow of it increasing several-fold as the spell too basic to have a Wind affinity absorbs the radiating energies and becomes transformed by it. The magic also circles you, close enough to examine but not so close as to intermingle with the Ulgu you wear, which you take as a hopeful sign. The next proof of the dragon's approach is a chill in the air, not enough to drop the temperature to an uncomfortable level but with a taste of frost in the air that suggests that such a drop and more besides was an option. The third entry in the procession ahead of the dragon is a pure white light infiltrating the room, not emitting from the passage the dragon is approaching from but simply arriving between one instant and the next, as if the natural state of the room was to be completely and evenly illuminated.

And then, finally, the dragon itself appears, a head larger than your entire body appearing in the passage, and you realize how apt the label Ice Dragon truly is. Where a Frost Dragon is merely dappled with white and blue like an early spring morning, the Ice Dragon does not seem to exist as a being of flesh or even of scales, but instead as interconnected glints of light, only the line of its jaw and the outline of the frill along the back of its head clearly visible. To a layman, the only comparison they would have would be ice. A more educated label might instead label it a Prismatic Dragon, but then a more educated labeler might fret that it would mislead people into believing it to be rainbow, so perhaps it would be best to stick with ice.

It seems content to have only its head within the meeting place you have chosen, but the sight of it has robbed you of your prepared introduction. Instead the dragon is the first to speak, and the sentence it speaks has a hint of Khazalid and a hint of Old Reikspiel and a hint of a serpent's hiss. It stares at you, its pupil larger than your fist and seeming to emit a beam of light, and then it speaks again. This time you recognize the language, and you curse your past self that chose to learn Old Reikspiel over Classical.

"Do you speak Old Reikspiel?" you say hopefully. "Or regular Reikspiel, for that matter?"

Evidently not, as when it speaks again, it is in a language that if you were forced to guess, would be one of the human languages of the Far East, though you couldn't say which.

"I don't suppose Khazalid?" A moment of silence answers that, before the dragon makes its next attempt.

"Though you are blessed with not being water-folk, do you sing their song?" Eltharin! A terrible language for communicating clearly and concisely, but at least it's something.

"Yes, I speak Eltharin," you say.

"A respite to suffering. Are you in harmony with the Daroir, if their story here is yet to be concluded?" Daroir: remembrance and the strength of stone. Also the rarely-used polite Eltharin word for the Dwarves, and intriguingly close to their own word of Dawi. The dragon's wording is odd, but you can't tell if it's deliberate or due to a partial or archaic understanding of the language.

"I am here to represent the Dwarven King of these mountains." You'd prefer to dance around that point, since the dragon might object to someone else claiming the mountain it is calling home, but Eltharin means you're already dancing just to be understood. You'd rather risk offence than misunderstanding.

The dragon nods once, slowly and carefully. "Likely varied topics of discussion with Dwarven King of these mountains. Primacy is this." The head retreats, and a moment later it is replaced with a massive clawed hand pushing what looks at first like a massive fistful of rubble. But the stones writhe of their own accord, and they seem to melt and flow into the floor as it passes over it. When the dragon ceases pushing it, it quivers and begins to reform, slowly sliding into a shape that's first vaguely humanoid and then slowly and painstakingly refines itself, stone crumbling to pebbles crumbling to dust as it increases in detail until you are presented with what seems to be a perfect (if oversized) statue of a Dwarf, complete with hammer and chainmail. It looks at you in what appears to be a disapproving manner, though you've come to recognize that as the default state of older Dwarves, and despite being literally stone, it's still less stoney than some of the looks Kragg has given you. With slow and careful movements it sheathes the hammer into a loop on its belt, and then approaches you slowly, a pause between each step. A glance at its feet shows that at least one is melded into the stone at all times, which confirms your suspicion: an Earth Elemental.

Elementals are... aggravating. Under the Teclisean understanding of magic the Four Classical Elements should exist only as an obscure part of the Gold Order's alchemy. Fire is Aqshy, air is Azyr, water could be Ghyran or Ulgu or Hysh depending on circumstance, and earth was split between the soil of Ghyran, the metal of Chamon, and stone being magically null. But pre-Teclisean Elementalists didn't know that and seemed perfectly able to make use of all four while only going a normal amount of eccentric for pre-College wizards, instead of the fast trip to insanity that throwing around that many Winds should cause. The official College stance is that Elementalists are merely a variety of Hedge Wizard, those that use the Winds in sufficiently small amounts that they are more malleable and can be made to fit just about any conceptual framework, but the Elementalists were and have continued to be stubbornly able to call upon more power than the Petty and Lesser Magics of the Colleges can boast, including the summoning of Elementals; a construct composed of a single element, obedient to the Elementalist that created them and sustained by constant contact with their element. An Earth Elemental is capable of moving freely through soil and stone and reforming itself out of whatever material is at hand when it emerges. They usually take very vaguely the appearance of their summoner, nowhere near this level of detail, and as you stare at it with your Magesight, you also recall that they normally don't bear five Runes superimposed upon where the soul of a living creature would be.

The Elemental stops before it reaches you and raises a hand, and stone spreads out from its fingers until it is holding out a stone depiction of a tablet, and the surface of it ripples as Khazalid appears upon it. Visitor to Vala-Azril-Ungol; there exists danger within the Karak. Please proceed to safety at: Bok. None found. Please inform Runelord: Bok. None found. Please inform Archmage: Bok. None found. Please inform Runelord... And the writing repeats itself over and over until it reaches the end of the tablet. Underneath that, Eltharin runes, Classical characters, Nehekharan hieroglyphs, and another language you don't recognize perform what you assume to be the same repetition.

"It follows and stares," says the dragon peevishly, whose head has re-entered the room. "Striking the rat-beings commendably when we encounter them, but then resumes. It reforms when shattered or dispelled, drawing power from the mountains. Return it to the Daroir."

"Very well," you say faintly, trying to wrap your mind around the construct.

"Second matter; rat-beings. Friends of the Daroir? Foes of the Daroir?"

"Foes," you say firmly. "Very much foes."

"Agreement. Third matter. Uppermost one-part-in-three of mountain to north, the largest of the eight, is hewn and barren, not inhabited stone. It is mine. My judgement: Daroir will not invite extinction by seeking to reclaim." The dragon makes no threatening move to accompany its words. It doesn't need to. Its very existence is threat enough. "Am I to be corrected?"

You'd considered just what you might be able to promise on Belegar's behalf, and you believe he'd rather you overstep here than start a war with an Emperor Dragon in his absence. "The Dwarves will seek to reclaim the mountain, but only the..." you do your best to recall the old maps you've seen. "Lowermost three-fifths. No extinctions are necessary."

"Perhaps. Treaty in future; rat-beings to be harried now." It begins to withdraw its head.

"Before you go," you begin, and it pauses. "There is a rather large Waaagh approaching. Perhaps we could-"

"I will destroy them if they trespass upon my home," it interrupts. "If this happens, it would likely be after your extinction. You may consider it vengeance if that brings your soul peace. Fight well and die proud, shadow-being."

With that, it leaves. You stare after it, frowning. That could have gone much worse, but you'd prefer a new neighbour that was a little less phlegmatic about a rapidly-approaching Waaagh. You shrug and put the matter from your mind; that's a problem for tomorrow. Today's problems...

Bok. None found. Please inform Runelord: Bok. None found. Please inform Archmage: Bok. None found...

Well, one of those problems Is how badly Kragg is going to react to... whatever this is. But on the bright side, you're pretty sure that answers the whole Karag Mhonar question.
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Turn 30 Social pt 2:
- We teach Cython Khazalid because Eltharin is a bad language for not accidentally insulting each other. Cython becomes a fluent speaker in an absolutely absurdly short amount of time.
- Cython has a small crisis over the existence of the Ancestor Gods screwing with its god-theories.
- It invites us to become study buddies, we agree.
- It gives us a Warboss popsicle as a treat.
Boney said:
Though Belegar seems content to let the current unspoken arrangement stand, you find yourself planning a way to approach the Ice Dragon. Partially to serve your Karak, but most of it is sheer fascination for a being older than civilizations and so steeped in a Wind of Magic. What has it seen? What does it know? How does it see the world, with such depths of experience to draw on?

In the end, you settle on the same approach that worked last time: flaring Ulgu in a way that would be plainly visible to anyone with Magesight, you make the long walk up Karak Zilfin with a tome under your arm. Despite the years that have passed, there is still a chemical tang to the air that doesn't fade until halfway up the mountain, at almost the exact point when the temperature drops significantly. It's a good thing you'd planned ahead and worn extra layers under your robes. Karag Zilfin is the tallest of the eight peaks, high enough that its peak would be above the snowline even if it didn't have an Ice Dragon in residence.

As you cross the point where the smooth stone of the once-inhabited Karag gives way to the hewn rock of ancient mineworks, an answering pulse of Hysh blinks into existence above you, and then gradually fades. An acknowledgement from the inhabitant, and a hopeful sign. You let your Ulgu fade to the point where it would be less attention-grabbing and continue upwards, noting the crunch of frost under your feet as the temperature drops further still.

Your trek ends as the passage opens up into a huge cavern lit from a huge opening on the side of the mountain, mostly closed over with ice that splits the sunlight streaming in into an even and otherworldly illumination. Several other exits to the chamber are likewise iced over, and glowing lights are visible within them. The floor is covered with snow that varies in depth from ankle deep where you are standing to several meters in depth in the center of the cavern, where the glinting silhouette of the Ice Dragon itself is lying atop it, the eye facing you slitted open and regarding you. "Shadow-being," it says in Eltharin.

"Larime-Sethai," you reply, and it blinks as it considers that. Eltharin has a number of words for dragon, but most of them are for the variety that the Kingdom of Caledor is in partnership with. Inventing new names for someone out of the hellishly intricate Eltharin lexicon without accidentally insulting them is half of Eltharin diplomacy, and you hope that this invention goes over well.

"The water-folk once knew me as Cython, you may speak of me as such," it eventually says. "What brings a shadow into the light?"

"We are to be neighbours, but the only tongue we hold in common is an invitation to discord. I would teach you the tongue of the Daroir, if you would desire to learn it."

Cython flicks its tail, sending a puff of snow into the air. "New tongues are only as useful as the answers they allow," it says slowly, "and answers in the tongue of the water-folk are often worse than no answer at all. An alternative may prove worth the expenditure. The vessel you carry, it is of the Daroir?"

You nod, and lift the book up to Cython, and flinch away as Hysh blooms and grasps it. With incredible precision, the magical grip lifts the book to Cython's far eye and begins to riffle the pages. It wasn't easy to find a Classical to Khazalid lexicon, but the sheer amount of books you had purchased from your contact in Barak Varr meant that when you had a specific request, they would scour the Old World to fulfil it - though this time, they only needed to go as far as Tobaro, where Dwarves and Tileans have had a long partnership. "Not water-tongue," it says approvingly. "Ah, yes, that which is now called Classical. An adequate language of an adequate people. They trusted the wrong being, but the history of this world is made of misplaced trust."

Teaching Cython is quite unlike what you expected. From you it requires only the correct sounds for the letters and a few clarifications on grammatical structure, and these questions are spaced quite apart as it scrutinizes the book with the eye not fixed on you. As you wait, you pile the snow up against one wall in the rough shape of a chair, noting that though it's certainly cold to the touch, it doesn't seem to leech the heat out of your hands, and a handful you cup experimentally in your hands stubbornly refuses to melt.

"Skarrenaz skarrenazi skarrenak skarrenit," Cython says experimentally. "Orskarrenit orskarrened oranskarrenit oranskarrened oranadskarrened. A very precise language."

You look up at it in some surprise. "You're done?" you ask in Khazalid.

"Adequately," it responds. The book snaps closed, and floats back over to you. "I note that your tale did not conclude with the trespass of the interlopers."

"The Orcs? Yes, we did manage to see off most of them."

"You were one artist of their doom. Who was the other?"

"The other?" You pause to consider. Kragg, you suppose, or possibly Algard. Or Gunnars. Or- oh, you think you see what it's asking. "The magic itself? The other would be Gazul, the Dwarven Ancestor-God of Death. The tower channels his Flame."

"I know the taste of Death and Prophecy. This was not that."

"Prophecy? You mean Morr? Or Morai-heg? The Dwarves don't have the same Gods as men or Elves."

For the first time, it turns its head to behold you with both eyes. "Tell me of this Gazul, then."

Not how you expected this to go, but okay. "His full title is Gazul, Lord of Underearth. He guards over the dead and helped discover the secrets of Runes. His symbols are a cave entrance and a flame-"

"Flame," Cython interrupts. "Death and flame. Death and flame?" It swings its head back and forth, muttering to itself in a tongue you don't recognize. In a strange way, for the first time the aura of unknowability it seems to exude has been punctured. You know this emotion very well - the shock and confusion of someone who's just had a hole kicked in their thesis. "Their other Gods. Sun God?" You shake your head. "Earth God?"

"Sort of? Grungni is the God of Mining and Stonework-"

"No. Water God?" You shake your head. "Knowledge God?"

"Not really. There's a God of Engineering and a God of Runesmithing-"

"Engineering God," it says, like it's grasping for a lifeline. "And of crafts and metalworking?"

"No, that's Smednir, God of Smelting and Smithing-"

"Smelting and Smithing? But just smelting, not fire?"

"Right."

"Death and flame," it repeats again. "You have books on these Ancestor-Gods?"

"I can get some."

"It would be pleasing to have a neighbour that would share knowledge. Your lair is atop the easternmost peak?"

"It is."

"It would be pleasing to visit such a neighbour's lair, and to be granted temporary sovereignty of such books."

"It would be pleasing to have a relationship with a neighbour where knowledge is shared," you hazard, copying the way it seems to circle around a request instead of coming right out with it.

It nods firmly. "Will visit at dusk, when shadow is in primacy," it says. It then cocks its head, considering you. "A gift for a welcome neighbour," it says as it thrusts a taloned claw into the snow, then in an avalanche of snow it pulls out a massive, frosted-over figure. It takes you a moment to recognize the Orc you only ever saw at a distance: Warboss Birdmuncha.

"I'd wondered where he'd gotten to," you say faintly, as Cython props the figure upright. The Warboss is forever frozen in mid-charge, his arms still gripping his looted Dwarven bolt-thrower.

"He evaded the art of you and this Gazul, and then made his way to me. He believed he would feed on me. If the interlopers were not so displeasing to the stomach, it would have been quite pleasing for the opposite to become true." It exhales in a draconic chuckle that sends snowflakes whirling around the cavern.

"Thank you for this gift," you say as you try to figure out how you're going to get a frozen Warboss down a mountain.

Some time later as you wheel a handcart full of Warboss downwards, you reflect that you're not entirely sure what you expected from your meeting with the Ice Dragon, but it definitely wasn't that. You did succeed at getting a glimpse of it as a person instead of as a terrifying force of nature, and if nothing else, you're pretty sure Belegar would consider a few more books for your library a small price to pay for getting an Emperor Dragon invested in the Karak's continued survival. And there's not many Wizards that can boast they have a dragon in their book club.
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Turn 31 Social pt 2:
- Conversation with Cython about the nature of Gods and Winds and how they influence us.
- Cython has opinions about unchanged dragons: "So it is with us. We could prevent our attunement, but those of us with sense see little point. Our natural state, while grand, is suited for the World-That-Was. As those that have made pets of the water-folk are learning, the World-That-Is punishes those that will not adapt."
- Cython assumed that Dwarves worship the Ancestor Gods for their adaptability, and is baffled to find out that many Dwarves are not interested in adapting further.
Boney said:
To your surprise, Cython becomes a regular visitor, justifying your decision to build a dragon-sized room with a dragon-sized entrance to accommodate it. In a series of evening meetings it devours your books on the Ancestor Gods, appearing to focus on their mortal lives rather than their worship after they left the material world. "They came from the south," Cython says thoughtfully. "A different origin makes for different archetypes, perhaps." It stretches its wings and yawns, light glinting off the vertices of its teeth. "Perhaps one day I will journey there."

"So you theorize a common set of deific archetypes?" you ask curiously.

"There are only so many phenomena deserving of cultural primacy," it says. "It stands to reason that there are only so many possible Gods. Perhaps origin is immaterial, and living chiefly underground means that their lives are different enough in substance that they reach different answers to the same questions. The only other subterranean societies are already dominated, so the Dwarves may be unique on this world."

"Why does it matter to you? Do dragons have Gods?"

"Only if they are very unfortunate," it says with a hissing chuckle. "But those of us that have attuned ourselves to the World-That-Is have the Winds, and mine makes the seeking of truths very satisfying, just as yours leads you to find enjoyment in trickery and deception. A new appetite is a small price to pay for the abilities and insights and joys a Wind affords."

"Did you choose your Wind?"

"Did you?" Cython replies, and as far as you can tell its tone, it seems genuinely curious.

You frown, thinking. "Sort of? I had the opportunity to choose differently, but I didn't."

"So it is with us. We could prevent our attunement, but those of us with sense see little point. Our natural state, while grand, is suited for the World-That-Was. As those that have made pets of the water-folk are learning, the World-That-Is punishes those that will not adapt." It turns an eye back to the book it is holding aloft in a grip of magical energy. "A lesson that the Dwarves seem to have learned well, to elevate those who met the new world head-on."

"Ah," you say. "Actually, many of them consider it wrong to deviate from the example set by the Ancestor Gods."

It turns its eye back to you. "They walked the World-That-Is thousands of years ago, did they not?"

"Almost seven thousand."

"And their greatness and suitability for worship derives from the ways they taught the Dwarves to adapt to the World-That-Is."

"That's one way to put it."

"And the lesson the Dwarves take from this is that they should not adapt any further?"

"A lot of them, yes," you confirm with a shrug. "Though not those that have resettled here."

It snorts, sending a chill wind blowing through the chamber. "Good," it says simply.
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- Cython is a parent many times over.
- We try and get a vibe for Cython's dating habits.
- Cython has ascended beyond the limitations of biological sex and says Mathilde could do the same but faster because she's human.
Boney said:
"The Dwarves say you used to live off the coast of Araby," you say conversationally another evening.

"A pleasant archipelago," Cython says, scratching at its neck with a massive claw. "Mountains rising from the sea atop a confluence of magical energies. It served admirably for raising eight children over three centuries."

"You're a parent?"

It nods. "Many times over."

"What happened to your mate? If you don't mind me asking."

"Singular?" It hisses a laugh. "I had many. Some stayed long enough to teach their child, others left as soon as their part in producing the eggs was complete. Some I tired of and chased off before an egg was created, others were incompatible matches for offspring but proved pleasant companions nevertheless. My islands were very attractive to those attuned to the Winds, and as the rebel water-folk would pass by regularly, tearing apart the fallen beasts that pulled their ships served well as a display of strength and skill. I had my pick of mates for as long as it entertained me."

You're probably not going to get a better in than this to satisfy your curiosity. "So these eggs, were you laying them or siring them?"

Cython turns to look at you with both eyes, and from what you've been learning of draconic expressions, it looks amused. "Does it matter? I have delved far deeper into Hysh since then. Such distinctions now only exist when I have reason to will it so. I am a being of light and magic, not of flesh and blood." It points at you with a single massive claw. "If you survive long enough, your path will allow you to become something similar. And the blessing of your species is that it will take you much less time than it did me."
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Turn 32 Social pt 1:
- Nerdchatting with Cython about various human and elf Gods and the way they might be related.
- Bit more chat about how our Winds affect us: how Mathilde of Ulgu seeks confusion while Mathilde the Scholar seeks answers, while Cython of Hysh seeks light that Cython the Dragon cannot hunt and eat.
Boney said:
"It seems I have erred in overlooking what you call the Old World - an admirably egocentric label - in my research of the Gods," Cython says as it peruses the books on Kislev you've brought down into the guest room dedicated to it. "I visited it a few times in the aftermath of the Elf-Dwarf War, but their Gods seemed mostly aped from the Elves whose ruins they built upon. Hoeth and Morai-Heg as parents, Isha as the daughter, Myrmidia being the only novel element. But then they decided on a new addition to their pantheon, and I admit that at first I was as fooled as they. A horned God of savage competition and self-interest? Kurnous, clear as noon. When I next visited, the few survivors were scattered far and wide."

"We call them the 'Classical' or 'Southern' Gods," you note, "as opposed to the 'Elder' or 'Northern' Gods that the ancestors of the Empire brought with them - Taal, Rhya, Manann, and Ulric."

"The wilds, fertility, the ocean," it says dismissively. "Ulric is another puzzle. Ellinilli, perhaps?"

"I once heard a Laurelorn Elf theorize the same. Who or what are the Ellinilli?"

"Elven Gods of natural destruction fathered by Ellinill, who then grew mistrustful and devoured most of them. Some of them have grown beyond their origins - Mathlann became God of the Sea, Drakira the Goddess of Vengeance, Addaioth has been trying to become a God of Weapons. Ulric may have been a God of blizzards or similar that grew beyond His origins."

"Ulric is said to be brother to Taal," you note.

"It is my suspicion that mortal labels do not apply well to relationships among the Gods." It snorts. "Or perhaps they do, and they are as tumultuous and variable as those of mortals. Ask a Priest of Asuryan who sired Nethu."

"Why do you theorize that there must be so much crossover between the different pantheons?"

It tilts its head. "Why would there not be? Do two dragons share a hunting ground? Two kings a kingdom?"

You consider the point, and have to admit there could be merit to it. You've yourself witnessed Ranald in conflict, first against Stromfels and then against Mork. You've also recently read of Kislevite Gods, and Ursun's Cult is said to have fraught relationship with Ulric's. Did that reflect the relationship between the Gods, where Ulric and Ursun's conceptual territories are too similar, bringing the two into conflict because it causes them to... what? Detract from each other? Be able to prey upon each other?

"I can see the question roiling inside you like a gathering storm," Cython notes. "To Hysh, it is the moment of realization that is most satisfying, and the rest is simply the thrill of the hunt. To Ulgu, the seeking itself must energize."

You turn your attention to your Windsight, and note that indeed the Ulgu in the room has gathered around you like an aura. It's not enough for you to notice unless you're looking for it, though maybe that changes as one grows more and more attuned to a Wind. "As a Wizard, maybe," you say. "As a scholar, I'd like some hard answers."

"And as a dragon, it is a matter of great regret that I cannot hunt and eat light. We can never satisfy every facet of our nature."
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- Chat about the faith of the Kurgan and the way Winds are similar to Gods.
- To prove or disprove that the Winds are Gods or God-like would require insight into the nature of the Gods that Cython does not possess... yet.
Boney said:
"The Kurgan worship the Chaos Gods," you say to Cython later, after it had moved on from Kislevites to Chaos Marauders. "Which I expected. But they have a pantheon of one-two-four-eight - one sun, two moons, four Chaos Gods, and Eight Winds. It was surprising to me to read about, and then encounter, a people that consider Priests and Wizards to be so similar."

"I doubt they worship Asuryan or Lileath, so it might be erroneous worship - I doubt the celestial bodies care for or respond to worship. Their worship of..." It flips through the book. "'Ghyranek' might be an aspect of Chaos worship, perhaps a representation of Chaos Undivided. I have heard of Beastmen that worship Chaos itself and spurn the Chaos Gods. But as for the Winds, to worship them as Gods is incorrect, but why is it incorrect?"

"I assume you're going for something deeper than 'because Winds aren't Gods'."

"Correct. What is the vital difference between these two varieties of foreign energy with distinct preferences?"

A hefty question, but one you are not approaching unassisted. "Winds are reliable and ambient. 'I do not wish to trust the continued benevolence of a deity whose need for my faith and dedication might far outweigh my own need for His or Her aid.' That was said by Volans, the first leader of the Empire's Colleges of Magic."

"It is a vital difference, and one that makes all the difference in the wisdom of adopting one or the other. The Winds are available freely, acting according to their nature in the same way that air and water and soil are. But I observe that though Hysh asked nothing of me, it has dictated as much of my life and preferences and activites as the most demanding God. Could you say differently?"

You consider the question, and have to admit that as much of a constant presence Ranald is in your life, Ulgu is more so. "No, I couldn't. Are you suggesting that the Winds are, what, Gods playing the long game?"

"I do not believe that to be the case," Cython says, ruffling its wings in a draconic shrug. "But I have yet to find a way to prove that it isn't. There are many theories as to why the energies of the Aethyr change so drastically and fundamentally when they enter this world, and that there are Eight guarding the entrance to this world and countering the corruption of the Four is far from the least likely of those theories. There is also an argument to be made that the Winds are Gods that exist primarily in this world, where the other Gods exist primarily in the other. To prove or disprove either requires more insight into the nature of the Gods than I possess." It grins, a sudden flash of glinting vertices. "Yet."
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Turn 34 Social pt 3:
- Cython has done some more study into the Dwarves.
- It initially didn't understand why someone like Mathilde, attuned to the Winds, would serve a species that reminded Cython so much of those Windless Dragons failing to adapt to the World-That-Is.
- After more study, it has come to understand Dwarves better and admire their endurance and artifice.
- Cython no longer wonders why we would serve Dwarves; It now understands.
- Chat with Cython about Dwarven faith and whether they had Gods before the Ancestor Gods.
- Cython is a fan of our papers.
- Cython discovers that Halflings exist, and is thoughtful about the greater species diversity here compared to the west.
Boney said:
"I have investigated further the stone-folk you live amongst," Cython says conversationally, delicately lowering a tome onto a nearby pile.

"Oh?" you ask, looking up from your own pile. You do a lot of reading and you're always looking for ways to do so while also accomplishing something else, and building a rapport with the Karak's largest and most dangerous neighbour is as good a cause as any. That is why you had a room built into your penthouse that was conveniently accessible and large enough to be comfortable for it, and regularly transfer sections of your library on the topics it expresses an interest over to that room.

"They remind me in some ways of my tamed, Windless cousins, hidden away underground and pining for their long-gone glory days as they are slowly eroded by the nature of the world. But they do not deny themselves the embrace of the Winds out of overweening pride, but because their essence completely precludes doing so. And even then they have done as much as they possibly can to harness the Winds with their Runes. I find myself admiring their endurance and artifice, and wondering if I would be capable of such if the Winds were denied to me, or if I would merely slumber away the millennia underground until oblivion claimed me." Cython shakes its head. "I had wondered why someone who had attuned themselves so adequately to a Wind would choose to spend their years in the service of such creatures. I shall do so no longer."

You smile up at it. "I'm glad you've reconsidered them. They can be very reliable neighbours."

"That also explains why they did not fit the model of the Elves. They rebelled against their Gods, and fashioned those that led the rebellion into their new pantheon. Investigating those beings directly might lead to useful insight on the nature of the Divine, but I doubt they would welcome such direct study, and in any case they present an entirely different riddle to the one that occupies me."

"What leads you to the conclusion that they rebelled against their gods, rather than not having any in the first place?"

It cocks its head. "An interesting point," it says after a while. "It could be that... no, there are the splinter faction in the east. Unless... where did they find their God?"

"They don't exactly proselytise about Him, but what little we know is that they encountered Hashut at Uzkulak, when they were trying to shelter from the Coming of Chaos in insufficiently-deep tunnels."

"So did He go to them, or did they go to Him? Either way..." It hums a low, reverberating tone. "I will have to investigate further, but my impression has been that the Dwarves are rather religiously monolithic. Only one major schism in a long history, and the schismatics have been equally tightly bound to their new patron. That suggests that some property of the Dwarves prevents them from being either attracted or attractive to most, but not all, Gods. Even those that had the attention of the Lord of Excess took a remarkable amount of effort to subdue. You theorized that their imitation of their holy warriors was to make a mockery of them, but I wonder if that was required to make any progress at all with them. Either as trickery, or as imitation."

"You've read my papers?"

It nods. "I greatly enjoyed the one about the inability of the Shartak to adapt to Azyr."

"So maybe... what, Dwarves are just as incompatible with the Divine as they are with the Arcane? Which makes them more difficult to convert?"

"More difficult, or less beneficial, or both. But that raises a question in itself."

"What makes Hashut different?"

"Precisely. The Ancestor Gods are easy - they started as Dwarves, and ascended. Or perhaps descended. Did Hashut? Or is there some other mechanism at play?" It hums again, lowering its head to run an eye over the titles of the stacked books. "Are there any other species with their own unshared pantheons?"

"Well, yes. The Halflings." It turns its eye to give you a searching look. "Like humans, but shorter. You must have seen them, they're inhabiting the Eastern Valley, among the farmlands."

"I had simply assumed you used your young to tend the fields. They are a distinct species?" You nod. "Where did they come from?"

"We don't know, they've been living among us for as far back as written history goes. They came west with the tribes that eventually formed the Empire."

"And their Gods? Do they conform to the usual archetypes?"

"I'm not all that familiar with them, I'll have to borrow some research materials for you. But I do know that their main Goddess, Esmerelda, is the Goddess of Food and Hearth, which seems more similar to Valaya than Rhya or Isha - especially since they have a separate, masculine God of Farming, Josias."

"Are they notably resistant to magic?"

You frown in thought. "Perhaps. They produce Wizards only very rarely, and I remember hearing rumours as a child that they're resistant to mutation, though it was framed as being because they're already mutants." You think further. "There's Ogres, too. I've only read about them, but they supposedly only rarely serve Chaos, and most of them instead worship some sort of God of Eating called the Great Maw. I've got some books on their society, mostly from when the Dwarves were expanding into the mountains they inhabit."

"There is a greater variety of species here than in the west," it notes.

"Simple geography, perhaps? Less formidable natural barriers to stop the spread of species. Dwarves are from the south and Ogres from the east, after all."

"Perhaps," it says thoughtfully.
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Turn 36 Social pt 1:
- Chat with Cython about what it means for a God to have children. Lots of interesting nature-of-gods stuff, not as much clear Cython development.
- Mathilde gets so lost in thought about the topic that she drops out of the conversation, and then apologizes.
- Cython is mildly confused at Mathilde's apology; in its eyes, there are few better ways for a conversation to end than by developing so many questions you have no choice but to pursue them.
Boney said:
With the winter snows turning every peak as white as that of its home, Cython is most active during this part of the year, and between hunting trips and visits to your library it is quite willing to entertain your latest curiosity. "What does it mean for a God to have children," Cython echoes, musingly. "It is a pleasingly faceted question, and one I have given considerable consideration to myself. Shall we begin by defining our sample space?"

"That seems sensible," you reply.

"Of the Elves, the Ellinilli are easily the most numerous, even after Their culling. And then there is Nethu, born of a dalliance between Asuryan and Ereth Khial. Already we have a strong contrast, as Ellinill sired a hundred alone, budding them off from his individual facets, while Nethu's origin is very biological for beings lacking in flesh."

"Among the Old Gods, Manann is said to be the son of Taal and Rhya, and Shallya and Myrmidia the daughters of Morr and Verena."

"And the Gods of the Dwarves consist of a single family, with three biological children and one adopted child of their pinnacle triumvirate. What conclusions can be drawn from this group?"

You frown. "There's not that many, for a start."

"Wherever it is that Gods typically come from, it seems parentage is an oddity - or perhaps They have reason to keep it secret most of the time. There's also significant variation in what that relationship means. Ellinill budded off children as a path to power, splitting Them off from His individual facets, and when that relationship threatened more than it benefited He sought to reverse that process and regain the power lost. In this we find support for my 'territory' model of divinity. Ellinill lessened Himself by withdrawing from individual facets of disaster to create His children, and attempted to regain that strength by retaking that conceptual territory."

"So Him 'devouring' his children was metaphorical? He instead reclaimed the territory He had granted them, and in doing so starved them?"

"It depends how separable a God is from Their domain. The intuitive models for beings of flesh is that a God is a single discrete entity that lives within Its domain, but beings of spirit may not be so limited. It could be that a God expands and contracts to match the territory It exists within, thus there would be little difference between supplanting and consuming. In either case, it seems that a God can create another God by either withdrawing from enough territory for a new God to emerge, or by splitting off the part of Themselves that occupies that territory. Similar to how a dragon with a greater territory than it requires might grant some to a child, so that a possible ally would be close at hand."

You frown in concentration as you consider this. This would make a God more like a nation than a single being, drawing belief from those living within a conceptual territory just as a nation draws tax from those living within its borders. If you take this metaphor further... Ellinill split off a hundred city-states from Its territory for... probably similar reasons that the Empire grants Imperial City charters, but then reconquered Them over fears they would secede completely? If you turned this metaphor on its head and considered nations to be like Gods, would Marienburg be a son of the Empire?

You explain this line of thinking to Cython, and it considers it for a while before nodding. "The 'nation' model might be a more familiar fit for you, and does not differ meaningfully from my 'territory' model. Let us move to the example set by the Gods of your people - firstly, Manann." Cython waves its head from side to side in the draconic equivalent of a furrowed brow. "Let us say, for the sake of argument, that Taal and Kurnous are entirely separate, that Rhya and Isha are entirely separate, and so on. I do not believe this to be the case, but I acknowledge it as unlikely but possible that the wilds of one continent might be conceptually separate to the wilds of another, and that the similarities could be coincidence, resonance, and cultural osmosis. But I do not believe there is any rational argument for Manann and Mathlann to be separate beings. On top of all the same similarities, both Gods are of the same ocean. The same waters the Elves say are dominated by Mathlann, your people say are dominated by Manann, and despite close contact between the sailors of your people and they, there is no conflict between the two. This raises an immediate problem with the idea that Manann is the child of Taal and Rhya, because Mathlann is one of the Ellinilli."

"Unless the concept is sufficiently different for Gods that it is possible for two separate sets of parents to make sense."

Cython gives an amused slow-blink. "But we have already mentioned an example of this very phenomena among the Gods."

You run back the conversation in your mind. "Are you suggesting Manann was adopted?"

"Here we arrive at the second type of parentage: metaphor. Manann grew beyond the constrains of His original family, becoming a God of the ocean in general instead of a single variety of disaster related to it - the question of how exactly that occurred is one for another time. And as a result of this transformation, He became more accepted by His worshippers. On Ulthuan, He is part of the inner ring of their Pantheonic Mandala, while Estreuth, Addaioth, Hukon, Drakira, and even Ellinill languish in the outer. And among the humans of your continent, just as Valaya and Grungni and Grimnir adopted Gazul, Taal and Rhya adopted Manann."

You nod slowly as you digest this. "That does make sense. Do you have a similar argument for Shallya and Myrmidia?"

Cython exhales. "Not while I am constrained by the possibility of the separation of the Ulthuan and Classical Pantheons. Instead I have something much more ephemeral. It is..." It snorts. "It is too neat. Where death meets wisdom, you find mercy and martial prowess? It is too elegant to have arisen from the random strife of existence. There is some invisible hand at play here. To me this can only be an extension of parentage as metaphor, either from the Gods themselves or from mere mortal theologians stumbling across poetry too beguiling not to incorporate."

You consider retorting, but Cython appears perfectly aware that this is an idea that needs considerable more time in the soil to sprout, and that digging it up would do it no favours. "Very well. I take it that next is a third model of parentage, a more biological one?"

"The Dwarves have extensive records of the births of each of the three children of their triumvirate. By all appearances, the Dwarven Ancestor-Gods were biological when They were walking the earth. I do not think there is insight to be found in the nature of Gods by studying Them before They had ascended. But there is one left in our sample, is there not?"

"Nethu," you say. "Son of Asuryan, you said? Isn't Asuryan supposed to be married?"

"And Ulthuani belief would tell you that when Ereth Khial attempted to seduce Him, He rebuffed her and remained loyal to Lileath. But Nehekhara has the very same myth between the Sun God Ptra, the Moon Goddess Neru, and the jealous usurper Sakhmet, but in this version Sakhmet uses trickery and illusion to usurp the position of Neru for a night. While it is easy to see this as a mythologization of the phenomena you know as Hexensnacht, the similarities are too many to be coincidence. I believe the Kingdom of the Dead preserves a tale that the orthodoxy of modern Ulthuan rejects - the conception of Nethu, who I believe to be known to Nehekhara as Sokth."

"If this is the case, then we have a very biological birth among the Gods."

"That would seem to be the case. And I do not think it too unlikely. While the Gods themselves may owe nothing to biology, they are bound to mortal beings that very much do. In the same way that Gods can reasonably be thought of as having two arms and two legs, it is entirely possible that they may be similarly equipped with the more distracting paraphernalia of flesh, and the consequences that those distractions can lead to."

While there's a great deal of opinion, speculation, and pure guesswork in all of that, it's definitely thought provoking. Three models of Godly children: territorial, metaphorical, and biological. A territorial child of Ranald and Shallya would originate in a conceptual subset of one or the other, or perhaps one on the cusp of both. Righteous vigilantism? Protection of the weak? Stealing from the rich, giving to the poor? The overlaps between Shallya the Merciful and Ranald the Protector make it very easy to invent possible identities for territorial children. And if they follow the example of Mathlann, it's possible that the children could have evolved beyond this conceptual nursery.

A metaphorical child of Ranald and Shallya would represent an adoption, a God that had abandoned a previous position to take up one aligned with Ranald and Shallya. You're reminded of the pilgrimage of the followers of the Ancient Widow, and their abandonment of Chaos worship in the Great Steppes to build a bulwark against Chaos in the lands now known as Kislev - but you already know something of the relationship between the Widow and Ranald, and it is a frosty one, not one enshrined in metaphor. And that these children are ones not generally known goes against the entire concept of metaphorical familial relationships among the Gods, does it not?

Thirdly, biological. Ranald and Shallya are often depicted with human forms, and according to this theory those forms would still be able to... engage in the sorts of activities that result in children. But if you discount the Dwarven examples, then you are left with only Nethu, who you know next to nothing about. You make a foray into your library, returning with the few Dwarven books on the Elves that might have mention of Him. Several hours later you're left with a very few scraps of information: Nethu is the Gatekeeper of Mirai, where the souls of those stolen or seduced away from Morai-heg toil in servitude to Ereth Khial. This is the trouble of a sample size of one: you cannot tell if this close tie to the mother is part of being a 'biological' child of a God, or a product of Ereth Khial's controlling personality that would not apply to what you would hope to be a healthier relationship between Ranald and Shallya and Their own children. You do find mention that Nethu is also the God of Dark Pegasi, the bat-winged, flesh-eating flying horses of Naggarond, and this appears to be unique to Him, rather than something shared with His mother - though you do not have anywhere near enough sources to say that with any confidence.

You sigh in frustration, looking up from your book and blinking at the dragon across from you that you'd completely forgotten about. "I'm sorry, I just dropped completely out of that conversation. That was very rude of me."

Cython looks up from its own book, tilting its head in mild confusion. "Why apologize? You stopped talking because you had gathered so many questions, you had no choice but to pursue them. I know of very few better ways for a conversation to end."
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King Arthur said:
So, what I'm hearing is we definitely need to find a way to gain more CF so we can purchase the stones without a loan.
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We'll, we can finish a pretty important book next turn, and check on a couple of our long-pending favor things in the social turn. That might be enough, and if not I think we've got a couple other papers to do.
 
LadyLynn said:
It occurs to me that we've talked a great deal about Cython for the last while, but people might not have perfect memory of the conversations we've had with it. I felt I could use a refresher myself.

So, I've compiled all the Cython conversations I could find, and mostly summarized them. This would've been way more difficult without the work of the good @picklepikkl in creating a history of our time as Loremaster and with the Waystone Project(so far).

I am doing this all at like 4 am, so please forgive me if the summaries aren't quite as ideal as they could be.

Turn 25, The Battle Of The Caldera pt 9:
- Our first meeting with Cython. We speak to it in Eltharin.
- It hands us the impossible Elemental that gives Kragg nightmares.
- It says it trusts the Dwarves won't invite extinction by trying to claim its mountainpeak.
- Its not going to help to deal with the Waaagh unless they bother it, which would likely be after our extinction.
Turn 30 Social pt 2:
- We teach Cython Khazalid because Eltharin is a bad language for not accidentally insulting each other. Cython becomes a fluent speaker in an absolutely absurdly short amount of time.
- Cython has a small crisis over the existence of the Ancestor Gods screwing with its god-theories.
- It invites us to become study buddies, we agree.
- It gives us a Warboss popsicle as a treat.
Turn 31 Social pt 2:
- Conversation with Cython about the nature of Gods and Winds and how they influence us.
- Cython has opinions about unchanged dragons: "So it is with us. We could prevent our attunement, but those of us with sense see little point. Our natural state, while grand, is suited for the World-That-Was. As those that have made pets of the water-folk are learning, the World-That-Is punishes those that will not adapt."
- Cython assumed that Dwarves worship the Ancestor Gods for their adaptability, and is baffled to find out that many Dwarves are not interested in adapting further.
- Cython is a parent many times over.
- We try and get a vibe for Cython's dating habits.
- Cython has ascended beyond the limitations of biological sex and says Mathilde could do the same but faster because she's human.
Turn 32 Social pt 1:
- Nerdchatting with Cython about various human and elf Gods and the way they might be related.
- Bit more chat about how our Winds affect us: how Mathilde of Ulgu seeks confusion while Mathilde the Scholar seeks answers, while Cython of Hysh seeks light that Cython the Dragon cannot hunt and eat.
- Chat about the faith of the Kurgan and the way Winds are similar to Gods.
- To prove or disprove that the Winds are Gods or God-like would require insight into the nature of the Gods that Cython does not possess... yet.
Turn 34 Social pt 3:
- Cython has done some more study into the Dwarves.
- It initially didn't understand why someone like Mathilde, attuned to the Winds, would serve a species that reminded Cython so much of those Windless Dragons failing to adapt to the World-That-Is.
- After more study, it has come to understand Dwarves better and admire their endurance and artifice.
- Cython no longer wonders why we would serve Dwarves; It now understands.
- Chat with Cython about Dwarven faith and whether they had Gods before the Ancestor Gods.
- Cython is a fan of our papers.
- Cython discovers that Halflings exist, and is thoughtful about the greater species diversity here compared to the west.
Turn 36 Social pt 1:
- Chat with Cython about what it means for a God to have children. Lots of interesting nature-of-gods stuff, not as much clear Cython development.
- Mathilde gets so lost in thought about the topic that she drops out of the conversation, and then apologizes.
- Cython is mildly confused at Mathilde's apology; in its eyes, there are few better ways for a conversation to end than by developing so many questions you have no choice but to pursue them.
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Nice work. A very handy reference guide to Cython and their thoughts on things.
 
neutronium95 said:
A thought occurs. Mathilde knows a master of Hysh with a head significantly larger than an Orb of Sorcery. I wonder if Cython could actually pull off a spell fueled by an Orb and survive the experience.
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Actually, thinking more about this, it's a shame Cython can't hunt an Orb of Sorcery. They would like to hunt and eat light, after all.
 
I'll say, I feel a great deal less worried about Cython being callous/self-serving now.

The biggest moment of that is it refusing to give a shit about the Waaagh, but I think its notable that that was a very passive and reactive sort of callousness. It's "not my business" and "don't mess with me and i won't mess with you", not "i will take what i want".

There doesn't really seem to be any indication that Cython is inclined towards treachery or dishonesty, and it clearly seems to have developed more respect over time for both us and our allies. I feel far less anxious about it not taking our offer of librarianship in good faith.

I'm still mulling it over, but for now I'll add back my approval vote for Cython.

[X] The We
[X] Cython
[X] Cult of Verena

I'll probably come back to this tomorrow once I've got a fresher head, for now I really need to get to sleep.
 
Hold on, how many Orbs of Sorcery are there? Because Wikipedia says that each order has "a handful", but everyone has been talking like there's only one each? Is that a DL thing, or is the wiki wrong, or did I just misunderstand the thread?
 
LadyLynn said:
On the Orbs of Sorcery...

I wonder if any of the PMatriarchs celebrate Two-Gifts Day?

I don't know if it's at all plausible, but presenting the Orbs of Sorcery in Two-Gifts Day would be a spectacular flex.
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I'm sold and am very much in favor of this as to how we should do it. I'm not sure what worthless thing we should bring...

The diplomatic relationship between Laurelorn and the Empire is important, so maybe a tiny bit of bog-iron that one of the villagers leave out for the forest elves, along with a short, boring story of how it was dug up and mentions of the family tree of those that did so.

"And oh yeah. These powerstones went a bit funny so I figured I'd take some notes and make them your problem." [Opens box with eight OoS and The Big Book of AV]
 
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Ericwinter said:
Ah, but that's the beauty of it. The Karaz Ankor are Allies with the Empire, and the Empire suddenly having eight to sixteen superweapons available means they've got a lot more forces to throw around on various fronts, and do a lot more damage to the forces who would also mess with the Karaz Ankor. The entire Eight Peaks campaign was a pretty good demonstration of how well that can end.

And those superweapons are more permanent. Eight gallons gets the dwarves four battles worth of Runes. Eight gallons also gets eight equally badass battle altars that can participate in a lot more than just one battle each.
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Are these Orbs really as permanent and enduringly powerful? I'm skeptical that the return on investment is as skewed in favor of the Empire as you say, and much more skeptical that it would help the Dawi more to give AV to the Colleges. This boost will probably make the Colleges more willing to boot up the Battle Altars, I don't think it will shift the needle enough that they are sending a ton of forces to go help the Dawi. Remember, the Empire's central authorities sent basically nothing to the K8P Expedition, they are really mired in internal troubles right now, and those troubles aren't ones that get solved by the Colleges having additional magical might. I remember the Emperor was wracking his brain trying to figure out who the hell would maybe spare an army to take out a Necromancer College.

Meanwhile, boosting individual Dwarf battles with recharged Anvil Runes is a very significant boost when those battles are as important as this reconquest. If that goes well, the entire trade map gets redrawn and the Dawi downward spiral might be meaningfully slowed or even reversed to some degree. Or at least nudges their civilizational needle in that direction.
 
Dawi can make more runes for their Anvils of Doom, the main problem is recharging them (notably, Kragg does not have this problem because he has made so many runes).
Empire can't (well, could not, until now) make more Orbs of Sorcery.
The bigger bottleneck for Karaz Ankor is not having more Anvils of Doom, and any that are lost are gone for good.
So with making more Orbs of Sorcery and using them to make battle altars that are now not completely irreplaceable, we can do lot more good for the Dawi long term.
 
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Ericwinter said:
Hold on, how many Orbs of Sorcery are there? Because Wikipedia says that each order has "a handful", but everyone has been talking like there's only one each? Is that a DL thing, or is the wiki wrong, or did I just misunderstand the thread?
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I think the thread is just wrong, rather than any of those. Canon definitely has more than one, and I can't think of a Boney quote saying otherwise for DL.
 
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ChronOblivion said:
Are these Orbs really as permanent and enduringly powerful? I'm skeptical that the return on investment is as skewed in favor of the Empire as you say, and much more skeptical that it would help the Dawi more to give AV to the Colleges. This boost will probably make the Colleges more willing to boot up the Battle Altars, I don't think it will shift the needle enough that they are sending a ton of forces to go help the Dawi. Remember, the Empire's central authorities sent basically nothing to the K8P Expedition, they are really mired in internal troubles right now, and those troubles aren't ones that get solved by the Colleges having additional magical might. I remember the Emperor was wracking his brain trying to figure out who the hell would maybe spare an army to take out a Necromancer College.
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…Having a lot more magical firepower kind of is how those problems are solved. Sending out the Battlemages, after all, was the response he had to Sylvania. Having over half a dozen extra Battle Altars active could have sped up the Sylvania siege even more and given Roswita more free reign to lend the dwarves aid, replaced the Battlemages, or even meant one or two could be spared directly for the Expedition and others like it, much like how Kragg and his Anvil was a major contribution. Having sixteen? Even better.
 
It is kind of a shame Mathilde is so tiny though, otherwise I might actually be tempted to try that "Pauldron the size of your head" thing. Orb-powered enchanted robes sounds like they would be fun. Also total overkill and probably really obvious to Windsight but still.
 
To be honest I'm kind of more worried that Cython will go to sleep at some point and then take issue with how things were run in the meantime once he wakes up however many years or decades later that happens than I am that he'll Carmen Sandiego the collection off somewhere.

I mean, when you get down to it most of the pros with Cython are about who he is and what he has, rather than what he can do as head librarian and partner. He offers prestige, he has a collection of his own that he may add to the library where scribes can get at them, and maybe, just maybe, absolutely no guarantees here, being involved will soften him up to future info-gathering.

But for actually operating the library itself? He's a middleman, as far as I can tell. I'd love for him to be a patron, I certainly want him to have more screentime, but I've not seen much to pitch the idea that he'll be good at the actual job.

By contrast, the pitch for The We is almost entirely about its ability to do said job. Boney responding to "can other people work along with The We" being this:
Boney said:
In the long term, the candidates for any position in the We-run library would be between an added iteration of an effectively immortal hive-mind that knows everything about the library and can be in constant communication with every other librarian, or some guy who has none of that.
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...is a pretty strong indicator that this option is absolutely top in class in that respect.

Let me be clear, I expect the result to be fun, either way. I don't think Boney would short-change us there. But I think the Library's well-being would be better served by focusing on the fundamentals.

I want our library to stand on its own merits. Let people hear of it far and wide because it's the best there is - not merely because of who owns it.
 
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