I have a FEW psychological traits you'd expect to see massively overwhelming in them. Namely every additional occurence of grief compounds and meshes with all the others in the past.
The 7th loss of a loved one is at least seven times worse then the first.
That part doesn't really seem to be how the Dawi work, though - as best I can tell, each incident retains its full weight but they don't build upon each other to that degree. See, e.g., how you don't tend to hear about anyone taking the Slayer Oath due to a wide array of minor slip-ups over the course of many decades - it's generally a single big incident of dishonor/failure/etc. that they just Can't Deal With all on its lonesome.
That part doesn't really seem to be how the Dawi work, though - as best I can tell, each incident retains its full weight but they don't build upon each other to that degree. See, e.g., how you don't tend to hear about anyone taking the Slayer Oath due to a wide array of minor slip-ups over the course of many decades - it's generally a single big incident of dishonor/failure/etc. that they just Can't Deal With all on its lonesome.
There's this incident in thread, which seems a good candidate for a bunch of smaller slip-ups building upon themselves. Granted, it is over weeks rather than decades, but it still seems the same sort of thing.
"Nothing." He sighs. "Nothing, when he thinks he ought have done something. Battle of Karagril, thinks he didn't step forward fast enough and fix the shieldwall when the Dwarf in front of him fell. Battle of Karag Lhune, he kept his shield raised when he thinks he should have lowered it and swung. Battle of the Eastern Gate, he busied himself dragging to safety a Dwarf he thinks he should have known was dead."
Pursuing your curiosity, you find Magister Tochter Grunfeld in the room that has been turned over to the Talastein Carvings, where she's trying to tease meaning out of the more damaged and faded fragments with a set of Elf-made optical lenses and the Ghyran variant of the Multidimensional Aethyric Polysevirric Projection, tracing runes in softly-glowing green light and waving them away as they fail to fit either the remaining fragments or the surrounding context. You can tell she's noticed your approach, and you wait for her to reach a point in her study where her attention can be split.
"Do you know what the month of Sigmarzeit was called while Sigmar still walked the world?" she says to you, after some time.
You consider that. "Battle-tide?"
She looks over at you. "Interesting. Why do you say that?"
"Most of the months are close translations of the Dwarven ones, with Ulric-tide replacing white-tide. Sigmarzeit's equivalent is Kazakzet, battle-tide, and the tribes of Sigmar's time would have agreed with that, since late Spring is after the planting and calving and lambing. Why, what were you expecting?"
"Taal-tide is the common answer, and the most popular theory. But I've always doubted that. In the old understandings, Taal is the God of Summer, He would not have had a Spring month named after Him."
"So, Rhya-tide?"
"No, if they were going to name a month after Rhya, it would have been Pflugzeit."
You nod as you consider that, then something occurs to you. "If Rhya is Spring, Taal is Summer, and Ulric is Winter, who's Autumn?"
"Good question. The triskele is one of the symbols of the Jade Order, and it's theorized to be from when Rhya, Taal, and Ulric were a seasonal triad. There's no reason to assume they had four seasons just because we do. Paranoth says that Nehekhara has three seasons, Ind has six, the Southlands only two. Maybe wherever the Belthani came from, there were only three distinct seasons."
"That might rule out the Ulthuan theory, then. They have Frost, Rain, Sun, and Storm. The Wards were named for them." You frown as you think. "I wonder how many seasons the Norscans have?"
"Hmm. I'll have to look into that. The timeline doesn't line up right for the Belthani to have been pushed out by the Norsii, but there might have been some interstitial people that have been lost to history."
"Is that why you're studying the carvings further? To learn more about their origins?"
"To learn more about anything about them. Being able to gather and record and share all this information is a privilege denied to the pre-Teclisean Druids and one that the Order of Life has not been taking advantage of. The history of the Earth Mother was prey to the Cults of Taal and Rhya, but the history of the precursors to the Order of Life can be gathered and written and distributed with at most a few grumbles from them. But the problem is that much of that history is as old as that of Sigmartide's previous name. That's why I brought it up, that happened right at the heart of the newly-formed Empire and involved something literally everyone would have known back then, and still it's been lost." She sighs and looks down the row of steles. "That's why I see it as my duty to wring every scrap of information out of these, because it could be that parts of what's written here no longer exists anywhere else in the world."
"Would you still feel that way if the fears regarding the questionable steles were justified?"
"I would," she says, unhesitatingly. "We have processes for getting usable information from tainted sources. That's what prevented a Von Carstein Emperor."
You nod in understanding, and leave her to her examinations to go over your impressions of the Jade Magister. Considering they're of the same Order and a similar age, it's difficult to completely avoid comparing Tochter to Panoramia. There's even enough similarities in their features for you to be fairly confident that Tochter comes from the Druid bloodlines, just as Panoramia does, and that the two would work out to be some variety of cousins if you studied the family trees. But when comparing their natures the gulf widens considerably. Where Panoramia has the relaxed strength of a deep-rooted oak, Tochter's strength is that of forged steel. Her muscles aren't from tilling the soil, but from battle and drills; her grasp of Ghyran is focused on control and efficiency that speaks of battle in unfavourable circumstances, rather than a loose but practiced grasp over vast torrents. She seems to have a deep and genuine faith in her conception of the Earth Mother. She's reserved but not standoffish, she speaks most of her mind, and she's quite good at finding ways to line up her pet projects with her duties to the Orders and the Empire.
It wasn't until you'd shared this impression with Panoramia that she pointed out what you should have spotted immediately: that though you've been comparing her to Panoramia, Tochter is actually a lot like you. You're not sure whether to take this as reassurance or as a reason for further caution.
---
It is, it seems, a time of some upheaval in the Karaz Ankor, as Watchtower-Clans that have called the Grey Mountains home for millennia have been offered the opportunity to fight for the homes of their distant ancestors once more, and have to decide whether they will answer the call to arms or finally accept that the Grey Mountains have become their home. Though Karaz-a-Karak's diplomats swarm the Grey Mountains to try to nudge those Clans on the fence into moving, what would normally be their counterbalance from Karak Norn remain silent. This is likely due to the fact that every Dwarf that travels to Karaz-a-Karak is answered by an equal weight in gold and siege weapons flowing to the Grey Mountains, ostensibly to bolster the defences that the loss of such stalwart Dwarves would have weakened. You've observed yourself that the wealth of the Old Holds is perhaps eclipsed by the growing and hopeful population of the Young Holds, and it seems that the High King has seen the same and is balancing the scales in the most direct way possible.
That part is known to anyone that pays attention to news and current affairs in the Old World, as entire Dwarven Clans travelling from one end to another is difficult to miss. But the other part of the realm-wide build-up is one that only comes to your attention as you travel from Karak Eight Peaks to Karaz-a-Karak with Sky-Thane Gotri, who also has business there and is always happy to share his own skewed perspective of events within the Engineers Guild. From what you gather, the way the Pilots Guild normally works is by the same Apprenticeship system that almost all Dwarven enterprises are built on, except with graduation to Master being reliant upon an available Gyrocopter to call their own. While this does ensure that every pilot is highly skilled and intimately familiar with the workings and quirks of his vehicle, it is also a system that does not adapt well to a sudden surge in demand for skilled pilots. And demand there certainly is, because while an actual assault on Mount Silverspear is still many years away, the second Silver Road War has begun, as almost overnight the greenskins have found that any of their number moving along the Silver Road during the day are met by the bombs and clatterguns of the Karaz-a-Karak Aircorps.
So Karaz-a-Karak has sent word out to every corner of the Karaz Ankor that every Apprentice and Journeyman Pilot that joins the second Silver Road War will have a Gyrocopter built for them that they can return to their home with upon its conclusion. For Dwarves that would normally have to wait for the death or retirement of their Master to inherit a Gyrocopter of their own, and for ones whose only path to being a full Pilot was cut off by the destruction of the vehicle they hoped to inherit, it is an irresistible lure. Even the Piloting Clans don't complain, as for every Apprentice or Journeyman Pilot that leaves there's many young Dwarves who yearn to fly but would normally be forced into some other occupation due to the hard limit on possible Masters, and now they have a chance to fulfil those dreams and increase the wealth and prestige of their Clan and Hold.
It is, you reflect, a gratifyingly win-win arrangement. The reputation and authority of Karaz-a-Karak could be used to bludgeon through any objections and drain the strength of the other Dwarfholds, but instead they are emptying vaults that have been filled to bursting with ancient treasure for millennia to ensure that the rest of the Karaz Ankor will be stronger for the second Silver Road War, even if Mount Silverspear is not successfully retaken. Even Gotri, normally so suspicious of the actions and motives of Karaz-a-Karak, can only find one thing to grumble about: that it's driving up the price of certain metals used for Gyrocopter parts.
And that complaining, which normally would be foremost in Gotri's priorities, takes a backseat to an even better topic: pontificating on hangar design. Karaz-a-Karak, he begins to explain the second you show any interest at all in the topic, has built its hangars on the assumption that they will be infrequently forming up great flocks of Gyrocopters to see to some distant threat, and as such they have run into all sorts of problems in adapting to having to send out small amounts of Gyrocopters almost constantly, and as such they're calling on expertise from all over the Karaz Ankor to explore solutions to this. Gotri had overseen the construction of Karak Eight Peaks' hangars in a 'honeycomb' design, wherein each Gyrocopter has its own hangar that can open to the outside world, but he explains to you that this was made possible by him being able to treat the interior side of Karag Lhune as 'safe', as they could only come under fire from enemy siege weapons if they were set up in the Eastern Valley. Karaz-a-Karak, being a single mountain that towers above any to be found around it, can only count on sheltered entrances where minor peaks of its own flanks shield it, and those tend to come with unpredictable and dangerous cross-winds that would make them unfavourable launching points.
After the rest of the ride passes with Gotri speculating on the other possible solutions and pointing out problems, real or imagined, in their application, you part ways with him and see to the more grounded portion of the nascent war. A small town of 'temporary' structures - which in Dwarven terms means they can be relied upon to last only one or two centuries without maintenance - have sprung up outside the famous main gates, where mercenaries have flocked to rumours of Dwarven gold and those that seek to relieve them of that gold in exchange for food, drink, or company have followed. Though the retaking of Mount Silverspear itself seems to be planned as an entirely Dwarven undertaking, the wider front of the second Silver Road War is accepting all comers. Your outfit means that your personal space is respected in even this most disreputable of crowds, as though it says 'Grey Lord Magister' to those who are familiar with the ways of the Colleges of Magic, to an untrained eye the garb of a Wizard with the hat of a Witch Hunter is the sort of outfit that highlights its wearer as someone to be treated with caution. To the Dwarves overseeing the courtyard, that you entered from within Karaz-a-Karak means you can only be one person, and the Thane in charge is quickly informed and bustles over to see what has made you their problem. To someone with that responsibility, it's a great relief to find that no more than curiosity brings you, and satisfying that curiosity is a small price to pay in exchange for you leaving sooner.
"The Bloody Spear tribe," the Thane explains to you, "is one of the most widespread and numerous of greenskin tribes in the entire Old World. They're nominally a Night Goblin tribe, but their territory encompasses Mount Gunbad, Mount Silverspear, and most of the Silver Road and Mad Dog Pass, so they're wealthy and prestigious enough to be something of a constant, low-grade Waaagh, bringing all manner of other greenskins to their banner. Having Umgi and Ogri poke at them will increase the draw of the Waaagh and cause more to flock to their banner, but if it happens now, then we can note how many and what they consist of and plan around them. If that happened as we marched on Mount Silverspear, then we would not."
"Ogri?" you ask.
"Aye. We've been hearing of some king of theirs uniting a big chunk of the eastern mountains under their banner for some time, and had to fight off a number of tribes pushed out by them. But it seems that some form of stability has been achieved, as the traders that came through there report that those roads through the eastern mountains are as safe as they've ever known them, save for having to pay a tribute to their king. The last two Ogri tribes to come out of those lands had some of that same civility beaten into them, being willing to work for gold instead of dying for it, and they'll happily pay a mountain of greenskin heads for weapons built for their size. And the heads they deliver are picked clean of flesh, which makes it a much cleaner interaction all around than those the Umgi deliver."
He shows you a map of the mountains, where the territory of the Bloody Spear tribe is split neatly in two by the Silver Road, and you note that some of the westernmost Watchtowers of the Silver Road and Mad Dog Pass - which by modern standards are more like small, heavily fortified Dwarfholds in their own right than mere guard posts - have been retaken, and you consider the lay of the land as a Gyrocopter buzzes over you, as they have been doing every few minutes. Silver Road, once the highway and hunting grounds of the Bloody Spears, is now a deathtrap for them. "Are you hoping they'll try to contest the road?"
"They're not likely to, as their leaders are Night Goblins, as are most of the greenskins within Gunbad and Silverspear. They'll cede the surface and plot by day and raid by night. But that'll cause a rift between them and the Urks and other Grobi, especially the ones living south of the Silver Road. In time they'll be forced to either send forces across the Silver Road anyway to crack down on dissenters or start losing territory and respect. Best case scenario, they either have a full-blown civil war or they have some rebel Warboss draw away their biggest and boldest to go Waaagh somewhere else. But even if they don't, we'll have cut off communication enough between north and south that they'll be unable to coordinate a response when we march east, and the southern half might stay out altogether."
"Any idea when the marching will begin?"
"Depends on the Watchtower-Clans. We want to use the watchtowers as staging and supply points, but the High King refuses to march forces into a tower unless the Clan that has claim to it is leading it, or has given up all claim on it. So there's a limit on how far east we can go until all the Grey Dwarves commit one way or the other."
And the airborne front, you think as you thank the Thane for his time, is making preparations that won't pay dividends for years to come. This is a campaign on Dwarven terms, and that means reliable, iterative progress with each foothold properly secured and fortified before moving on to the next, with a constant, patient toll being bled off the enemy at every step. Greenskins don't have the patience to wait out that sort of campaign, they'll either decide to stop mucking about and throw themselves into the teeth of Dwarven defences or they'll seek out a proper scrap elsewhere.
It's also a campaign that might have taken a note or two from the Karak Eight Peaks campaign, as it shows an awareness and willingness to take advantage of fracture points in the enemy ranks instead of treating them all as a unified force. It's not quite what Dwarves would call Ranger tactics, but it is a step closer to it than you'd normally expect from the heart of traditional Dwarven orthodoxy. You jot down a few mental notes in preparation for sharing your impressions with Belegar, who's shown a quiet but intense interest in the goings-on at Karaz-a-Karak recently, and begin to make your way back to the airport.
---
At any given time there are dozens, perhaps hundreds, of Slayers seeking their doom in odd corners of the Old World, so for one to be notable enough for word to reach you from northern Kislev is something you find notable enough to investigate, especially since the only extant Dwarfhold nearby is Karak Vlag. Is some dissension in the returned hold causing some to dye their hair and seek death? Or did one of the bewitched Dwarves who served Slaanesh in a horrific parody of Slayerdom survive the battle with the Karag Dum Expedition, and is now wandering Troll Country and turning their dark blessings upon any being they encounter?
Karak Vlag has reclaimed all but the uppermost level of the Hold, which it maintains as both a meeting place with outsiders and a way to draw any would-be invaders into the darkness they have become accustomed to. There they welcome you with a level of wary suspicion that would be deeply hostile by any other Dwarfhold's standards, but for them is mild enough that you feel touched by their trust in you, and tell you that between the perversion of that custom by Slaanesh and how readily available doom had been until very recently, the Slayer rites had fallen almost completely into disuse, and has not been performed at all since their return, so the Slayer could not have come from their ranks. What they don't say is that they have no knowledge at all of the Slayer in question, and it's the loud and uncomfortable silence Dwarves adopt when they're being polite about someone else's shame. You might be able to extract more information from them, but not easily, and the Slayer in question seems to be leaving such a trail behind them that they shouldn't be hard to find.
From Praag you make your way into the Northern Oblast, a cold and sparsely-populated landscape exposed to Troll Country and Norsca. Its population is mostly Ungol and mostly nomadic, and information on the movements of Trolls and Norscans flows as swiftly and reliably as juicy gossip through an Altdorf ballroom, so even with your limited grasp of Gospodarinyi you find no difficulty in following the violent trail carved through wandering beasts and raiding parties. After a few days of pursuing tales that grow fresher and less exaggerated by the hour, you finally find your quarry on the banks of the Tobol, the path having steered south after penetrating deep into Troll Country.
"Hello Borek," you greet the orange-haired Dwarf, sitting by a bubbling pot over a fire on the riverbank. Not Thane Borek, not Borek Forkbeard. Just Borek, now. When you spotted him he'd already seen you, and he'd relaxed somewhat as you approached and he got a good look at you. Beside him is a massive and ornate rune-axe, and his hand never strays from its handle.
"Did you tell them?" he asks you, his voice quiet. You've seen a fair few Slayers in your time, and all of them looked... well, like Slayers. Borek looks like Borek with his hair dyed orange. It even still hangs downward, instead of being shaped into the mohawk that most who walk that path wear. Even his mood seems different, being more of a resigned sadness than the bleak despair you're used to seeing from that kind.
"I did," you say, remembering his last request to you. Tell them we did the best we could.
"Thank you," he says, his expression flickering in the general direction of a smile without actually reaching it.
"I didn't expect to lay eyes on you again," you say. "Has Karag Dum fallen?"
He barks a laugh. "That's a complicated question."
"I hardly ever wrestle with ones that aren't, these days."
He looks at you, a flash of anger going across his face, but then it fades and he nods. "I suppose not. An Umgi wielding Elgi teachings in service of the Dawi, you could hardly be split more ways, could you?" He looks at the fire, and sighs. "When I left it, Karag Dum was as I had found it. I couldn't find it in myself to help or to hinder, so I left." He pauses. "Did the Expedition get home alright?"
"We lost another of the steam-wagons to rough terrain, but the rest of it got back fine. The Rangers are watching over Karak Vlag, and the Engineers would likely be contributing to either the canal project or preparing for the retaking of Mount Silverspear." You watch him carefully. "You know, I almost decided to try following you into Karag Dum, just to get some answers." 'Almost' might be a slight exaggeration, but you were certainly tempted.
"It's good you didn't," Borek says simply. You meet his terseness with silence. He might be wearing a shroud of grim silence, but underneath that is the diplomat, someone who believes in talking. Eventually, he continues. "He almost certainly would have slain you. Maybe not if you were from Tilea or Araby, but..." He looks at you, takes in your expectant expression, and sighs. "You're not going to leave me be until I give you answers, are you?"
"I blazed a trail through mountains and wastelands, through Daemons and Fire Dwarves and Skaven and Kurgan, to get at those answers, then you took them and left. The Karaz Ankor might be content to leave it at 'Karag Dum has fallen', but I'm not."
"And who is it that seeks those answers? Belegar's Loremaster?"
"I left that role years back, I'm currently pursuing a research project in Nordland. The one that wants the answers is just me."
"And they'll go no further?"
"You have my word." To Dwarves, that's ironclad. To you, it means that if you feel the information needs to be shared, the consideration that needs to be made is the amount of damage one Slayer from a fallen Dwarfhold can do to your good name. But he doesn't know that, nor does he need to. Besides, he wants to talk. You can see it whirling inside of his guts, sitting as unsoundly as a halfpenny pie.
"And I'll have a task from you in exchange, in service of my new career."
You consider that, and weigh the calibre of foe that a diplomat with a found axe might be seeking assistance with. "Very well."
He nods, and turns back to the fire. "We call the Ancestor Gods the Ancestor Gods, because we once had gods who were not our Ancestors," he says in an oddly detached tone as he stares at the fire. "Long ago, far to the south, the old gods were our teachers and our wardens. But their numbers dwindled over time, and when the time was right we escaped, thanks to Grungni and Valaya and Grimnir. But some of those that followed did so not because they desired freedom or venerated our three leaders, but because they mourned their teachers who one day had stopped visiting, and remembered their Names, and knew that such things never truly die and must linger on somewhere. Karag Dum was founded by those who most mistrusted the old gods, and claimed a home with its back to the Chaos Wastes, as Chaos was the only force that could rival the old gods. We watched with suspicion as the Dawi turned their backs on a mountain range that could be mined for a thousand thousand years to spread to all corners of the Old World. Why Ekrund, pinned between the Badlands and the sea? Why Norsca, the shattered remnants of another prison? Why the Middle Mountains, desolate and cursed? Why risk everything to travel across the Dark Lands and the Great Ocean, often never to be heard from again?
"The southern Holds called us paranoid, even as history gave the horrible answers to our other two suspicions: Why Uzkulak? Why Tylos?
"One of the names we remembered was reshaped into Khsar, blowing across the deserts we had once fled across, feeding on the faith of the desert tribes of the Umgi as they built themselves into a great civilization. Then Elgi sorcery in Umgi hands carved corpses from the desert gods to be receptacles for the prayers of the dead, and the name sought refuge across the seas as Kavzar. But there it was betrayed, a betrayal that birthed a race of betrayers, and what was left of it after being thrice ripped from its domains was as close to death as such things can ever be. In pain and madness it found a fourth family in beings as broken as it was, and walked the world as Morghur, a meaningless bleat from the throat of a beast.
"But even after it had forgotten, we remembered its true name. As Chaos crept closer and threatened us with extinction, the founding truth of Karag Dum was reversed. The old gods are the only force that could rival Chaos, so Karag Dum called the least terrible of those known to it. Karag Dum called the being that was Shadowgave, that was city-father, and that was the desert wind, because the first thing it was, was the teacher and warden of the Dawi. So once more it teaches and it wards, and the skulls of Kurgan and the essence of Daemons sink into the sands that it rules.
"Chaos has swallowed Karag Dum, but every step down its gullet will extract a price in blood." He sighs, and glances at the axe he has still not relinquished his hold on. "I couldn't find it in myself to judge whether that was a grim victory to support, or a betrayal to condemn. Nor could I go down the path of the few Elders that still linger in Karag Dum, doing nothing but watching with hollow eyes and still tongues as their grandchildren go about their lives never knowing that their very souls have been reforged into weapons of spite against the Chaos Gods.
"So I left. On a final task from my fallen hold I followed the path of Prince Morekai, who had tried to follow my path to the Old World, and instead of dying in the attempt I managed to find his skeleton in a cave surrounded by that of Beastmen. I took up his axe," he pats the weapon beside him, "and bundled up his remains to carry with me, so he may be put to rest in the proper manner in the Karaz Ankor. Karak Vlag has taken his corpse and an oath to see it safely to Karaz-a-Karak, and then I set out to seek my doom." He frowns. "So far I have found it to be rather elusive. Perhaps the reputation of Troll Country is overstated."
The silence stretches between you as you try to digest what he has told you. "Now," he says abruptly, "I'll have your assistance, that which you've already pledged to give, in crafting the hairstyle that is the uniform of my new profession."
You look at the bubbling pot of what you now know to be troll fat, and almost regret your impetuous curiosity.
Once Mathilde has completed her messy and fragrant task, will she remind Borek of the financial debt she still owes him from the Expedition?
[ ] Yes
[ ] No
---
As you make your way back towards the Empire (while taking every opportunity to wash your hands without any noticeable lessening of the stench of boiled troll fat that clings to them) you turn your mind towards the matter of your new Apprentice, who will be entering your care upon your return to Altdorf. Such matters are typically marked with some sort of ceremony, but these are left up to the whims and quirks of the Master who takes them on, and are an opportunity to make an impression in your new mentee about their position in the world or what their priorities should be. What manner of induction will you give Eike?
[ ] Wizard Modify the induction oaths of the Grey Order into something fitting her promotion, to emphasize her progress within the Grey Order.
[ ] Stirlandian Induct her in the same way that any quickened child of the Empire would be taken on as an Apprentice, emphasizing her status as a citizen of the Empire.
[ ] Dwarven Induct her in the same way that a Dwarf would be taken on as an Apprentice, building her ties to and familiarity of the Karaz Ankor.
[ ] Religious Induct her as your Apprentice within your shrine to Ranald and Shallya, acknowledging her faith.
[ ] Secrets Read her in to a number of minor but exciting secrets to emphasize her duties as a knower and uncoverer of secrets.
[ ] Swordswoman Present her with a training blade to emphasize her duties as a warrior.
[ ] Blood (Greenskins) Take her out to give her her first taste of combat in a controlled environment, against the greenskins of the Badlands.
[ ] Blood (Sylvania) Take her out to give her her first taste of combat in a controlled environment, against the ambient undead of Sylvania.
[ ] Other (write in) Specify what impression you want to imbue, or what culture you want to give Eike a new tie to.
- There will be a six hour moratorium.
- If one of the Blood options is chosen, Mathilde is sufficiently skilled that she will be able to protect Eike against whatever is encountered, if it proves necessary.
- Congratulations to @Garlak (here, here) and @Chronic (here) for getting eerily close to the truth of the matter of Morghur and Karag Dum.
Where on Earth did you get the idea for this revelation about the original gods of the Dwarves, Boney, if it's not too much of a spoiler? Never seen anything like it.
For Dwarves that would normally have to wait for the death or retirement of their Master to inherit a Gyrocopter of their own, and for ones whose on path to being a full Pilot was cut off by the destruction of the vehicle they hoped to inherit, it is an irresistible lure.
that happened right at the heart of the newly-formed Empire and involved something literally everyone would have known back then, and still it's been lost.
@Boney I love the things like this where you take things that happen in real life and apply it to the Warhammer world. Like of course people don't bother to write down common knowledge when most people can't write or read, it's common knowledge. And then it gets lost to time.
Karag Dum called the being that was Shadowgave, that was city-father, and that was the desert wind, because the first thing it was, was the teacher and warden of the Dawi. So once more it teaches and it wards, and the skulls of Kurgan and the essence of Daemons sink into the sands that it rules.
If we take what Deathfang said about errant creations...does this mean Morghur is (what remains of) an old one? Or was he an intermediary step? (In either time or authority)
So can I take credit for being almost exactly wrong, since it wasn't adapting the master rune of kingship, but the entity and relationship that may have first inspired it?
Oh, so that explains the Arabyan/Tilean thing. That god was once of Nehekara, then Tylos, so it might have been willing to spare a descendent of its old followers.
"Do you know what the month of Sigmarzeit was called while Sigmar still walked the world?" she says to you, after some time.
You consider that. "Battle-tide?"
She looks over at you. "Interesting. Why do you say that?"
"Most of the months are close translations of the Dwarven ones, with Ulric-tide replacing white-tide. Sigmarzeit's equivalent is Kazakzet, battle-tide, and the tribes of Sigmar's time would have agreed with that, since late Spring is after the planting and calving and lambing. Why, what were you expecting?"
"Taal-tide is the common answer, and the most popular theory. But I've always doubted that. In the old understandings, Taal is the God of Summer, He would not have had a Spring month named after Him."
"So, Rhya-tide?"
"No, if they were going to name a month after Rhya, it would have been Plufgzeit."
You nod as you consider that, then something occurs to you. "If Rhya is Spring, Taal is Summer, and Ulric is Winter, who's Autumn?"
It wasn't until you'd shared this impression with Panoramia that she pointed out what you should have spotted immediately: that though you've been comparing her to Panoramia, Tochter is actually a lot like you. You're not sure whether to take this as reassurance or as a reason for further caution.
Well, that's an interesting comparison. I can see it. The interest in forbidden things, inquisitiveness, clear understanding of violence... I wonder what Mathilde would have been for the other Colleges. I think the topic was brought up once but I don't remember the details.
"Hello Borek," you greet the orange-haired Dwarf, sitting by a bubbling pot over a fire on the riverbank. Not Thane Borek, not Borek Forkbeard. Just Borek, now. When you spotted him he'd already seen you, and he'd relaxed somewhat as you approached and he got a good look at you. Beside him is a massive and ornate rune-axe, and his hand never strays from its handle.
"But even after it had forgotten, we remembered its true name. As Chaos crept closer and threatened us with extinction, the founding truth of Karag Dum was reversed. The old gods are the only force that could rival Chaos, so Karag Dum called the least terrible of those known to it. Karag Dum called the being that was Shadowgave, that was city-father, and that was the desert wind, because the first thing it was, was the teacher and warden of the Dawi. So once more it teaches and it wards, and the skulls of Kurgan and the essence of Daemons sink into the sands that it rules.
Holy shit. What the fuck. I- Actually, I can see this. The Old Ones set the being that would end up being Morghur to teach and safeguard the Dwarves. And then at some point, he got corrupted. This is... a far more interesting story for him than the bits I've heard of canon.
...Unfortunately, this suffers the exact same problem as Deathfang's story: it can't be verified from a single source. And furthermore, as a Dwarf it'd be dishonorable to break that promise and share the knowledge, even with Belegar.
Mathilde has typically remembered her debts and I think it would be in-character to remind him here. Well, I'm inclined to think that he'll simply deny it and say that it doesn't matter now that he's a Slayer, but maybe he'll tell us an institution where to place it or something. And nothing says we must necessarily deposit that money all in one go.
wow....that was some insane stuff but yah what @HeWhoAdds said more questions are raised it a rabbit hole
[ ] Yes
were a dwarf(legally), were very closely connected to dwarfs he just opened up to us in a huge way it feels only right that we should remind him of our obligations and it not bad to get a good relationship going with the next gotrek
[ ] Dwarven
were a dwarf we got to do things the proper way. We are doing many things with dwarves we are gonna go on a major campaign with them in the scope of apprenticeship it are closest connection it feels right to due it this way dwarf stomp
I wonder how cross-compatible Apparition-binding is with whatever nonsense Dum did to capture Morghur? Forget grabbing some Red Riders for a band of discount Nazgul, imagine what we could do with the remains of an Old One duck-taped to our soul. We'd need to get access to whatever records Dum has on the Dawi's old gods to find something relatively compatible, but....
I wonder how cross-compatible Apparition-binding is with whatever nonsense Dum did to capture Morghur? Forget grabbing some Red Riders for a band of discount Nazgul, imagine what we could do with the remains of an Old One duck-taped to our soul. We'd need to get access to whatever records Dum has on the Dawi's old gods to find something relatively compatible, but....
"You have my word." To Dwarves, that's ironclad. To you, it means that if you feel the information needs to be shared, the consideration that needs to be made is the amount of damage one Slayer from a fallen Dwarfhold can do to your good name. But he doesn't know that, nor does he need to. Besides, he wants to talk. You can see it whirling inside of his guts, sitting as unsoundly as a halfpenny pie.
To someone with that responsibility, it's a great relief to find that no more than curiosity brings you, and satisfying that curiosity is a small price to pay in exchange for you leaving sooner
That's a bit surprising. I was sort of expecting a plea for Mathilde to cause the Night Goblins to just decide to mysteriously kill each other off or something else equally lucridious considering her track record.
Yeah, I figure "Right, is there anyone in particular you'd like that repayment to go to? Any institution or whatnot?"
We can afford it, and we should, it's the Proper Thing to do. "The one who it was owed to suddenly disappeared without a word" is one thing to hold up repayment, but sorting that out as soon as it became clear is just good manners.
Yeah. Seeing as he's picked up that axe, Borek's destined to become a walking semi-divine engine of destruction. Getting on his bad side is a horrible, horrible idea.
