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Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties - an Advisor's Quest

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BoneyM said:
So, random.org is vetted and legit, right? It's not prone to streaks or anything?
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If you are actually worried you should get yourself R. It is technically a spooky programming language, but all the randomness stuff is included in the default library and requires like a single line of code.
It is also the tool of choice for the scientific and industrial statistics community, so as legit as it gets. :V
 
I'm not too knowledgeable about the crunch of either the wargame or the RPG, so can someone outline what the mechanical differences would be between having a sword as our casting focus and main weapon, and having a sword optimised around being killy and a stave as our casting focus.

As in; is fiddling around with our pistol, sword, stave and maybe even a rifle modelled, and if so, do the benefits of specialization outweigh the costs?

EDIT: say, for example, we're chopping up grobi with our bastard sword and pistol, and decide that we need to cast a penumbral pendulum posthaste, would the need to holster our pistol and sword, and pull out our stave and (say) an earthing wand give us a malus to casting, or would it just be assumed that we can whip them out easily (even in a melee?)
 
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Hmm, you know one thing that occurs to me is the lack of a spell which manipulates already present shadows in Ulgu, like changing a shadow's size or shape as a stand alone effect. I'm absolutely sure this is because its below the level of abstraction we play at and isn't worth codifying(Mathilde has manipulated her shadow before for Burning Shadows) but the absence of a "basic spell" like that from the spell book stood out to me.
 
BungieONI said:
Hmm, you know one thing that occurs to me is the lack of a spell which manipulates already present shadows in Ulgu, like changing a shadow's size or shape as a stand alone effect. I'm absolutely sure this is because its below the level of abstraction we play at and isn't worth codifying(Mathilde has manipulated her shadow before for Burning Shadows) but the absence of a "basic spell" like that from the spell book stood out to me.
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I'd say that's so basic, it doesn't even count as a spell. That's the stuff you do before anything else, even those spells. Like chakra control exercises in Naruto.
 
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Karak Eight Peaks: A Final Victory
  • Threadmarks
    • [*] Fire
    [*] Explosives
    Tied vote.

    For a few moments your thoughts linger on the thought of a dawn Burning Shadows to eat at the flesh of any greenskins attempting to reinforce the Citadel. It may be that never before have circumstances aligned to make the usually finicky spell so potentially effective. But with any potential shamans out there cloaked in the still-lurking Waaagh energies and the groups too scattered to have any hope of checking all of them, the unknowns are too many and the stakes too high for you to put the success or failure of the assault on that single spell. So you instead move on to two more conventional options.

    "Two possibilities suggest themselves," you say with confidence. "As I saw with the Doom Diver wings and the hovels in the Hall of the Moon, greenskins construction tends to be flammable. From what I've seen of the caldera, most of the town is in various states of disrepair, the majority of it appearing to be entirely abandoned. With enough accelerant it would be possible to get a fire raging that will prevent any reinforcements from reaching the Citadel. The only problem is that depending how much time there is between ignition and inferno, some of the groups may be able to reach the Citadel. It's not very hard a deduction to realize we're likely to be attacking it, especially since the fastest ways to start a fire would involve the Grudge Throwers, which would make our involvement obvious."

    Ulthar frowns in thought. "They prefer pelt or hide, but there's not enough to go around with this many of them in one place. So they'd likely be using mushroom thread, which... well, I've used dried mushrooms as tinder to start fires in the past."

    "Could mix something up," Durin added. "Lamp oil and sawdust and a few other things in a barrel, wrap it in rags."

    "The Grobi are not ones to be caught unready for a fight, though," King Belegar mused. "What's the other?"

    "I've spoken to Durin," you say, and he nods. "A gunpowder charge could cave in the entrance to the Citadel from the caldera. The issue is of scale. Too little and it doesn't work, too much and the structural integrity of the Citadel is threatened. I'd have to bring an expert to place the charge, or it will be a choice between risking failure and risking the Citadel."

    "Could you?" King Belegar asks.

    "I could get through the Citadel alone, no problem. But with an expert? There's no Rangers with the right expertise, the closest is a Clan Huzkul Miner. He'd essentially be cargo. I believe it to be possible, but..."

    "But too many unknowns for guarantees." King Belegar sighs.

    "I'm afraid so."

    King Belegar stares into the distance, fingers drumming as he thinks. "The fire," he finally says. "I'd rather risk a fraction of the Grobi getting through than the Citadel being completely open. Do you have a back-up?"

    You run through the options. The gunpowder plan wouldn't be fast enough. The shadow plan requires morning. "Archers," you say. "Once the ranged weapon caches in the Citadel are destroyed, they could fire from the lip of the caldera at the approach to the Citadel."

    "I'd rather have them firing on the Citadel," Belegar grouses. "Hopefully it won't be necessary. Ulthar, Titus, Marksman Petrescu. Have your archers ready to deploy to support on assault on the Citadel, but at a hornblow they are instead to move to the edge of the caldera and prevent reinforcements. Durin. The destruction of those weapon caches is now doubly vital."

    "I've a few ideas," he says.

    "Put them in motion. Kragg, how's your Anvil?" Anyone else asking that would receive a several minute long diatribe on the difficulty of hairline cracks in gromril, but King Belegar received only a grimace. "I see. Do not endanger it unduly, but be at hand, just in case. Master Weber, does the fire plan require your personal intervention?"

    "Not necessarily."

    "Then I ask that you be ready to disperse any enemy magic. Marksman Petrescu, Grandmaster Wulfhart, your infantry will be the sword and the shield. The men who performed so well yesterday shall stand ready to receive any greenskin sally in response to the fire and the bombardment, but if they decline, those of the Wolf God are to go in and punish their cowardice. Grandmaster Kriegersen, be at hand and be ready. If the greenskins do sally, you may have an opportunity to repeat yesterday's rout. Any questions?" A rumble of nos. "Then let's get to it."

    ---

    The camp bustles with activity as the sun passes its zenith, and though the Dwarves swear by a light ale before battle, a light lunch is distributed to those who prefer a little more substance. Four of your five Journeymanlings sit with you as you spoon your way through your soup.

    "Don't give him any," you say without looking up, and Panoramia lifts her soup back up from where she had been lowering it for Wolf.

    "How did you-"

    "Grey Order," you reply instantly, and Panoramia rolls her eyes.

    "Familiar bond," Esbern says with a smile. "But she's right. Onion's no good for dogs."

    "Oh, of course." She looks up from the half-grown pup, which has turned his eyes to Maximilian. You wonder if he's able to understand enough of the world through you to know the bread has no such protection, or if he's just trying the next softest target. "Where's the other Goldie?"

    "Johann is with the cannon crews," you say. The other, unspoken reason is the rift between him and Maximilian. "It'll be important for the first few shots to be right on target. The rest of you will be on dispel duty with me."

    "I'm surprised you're not out there killing all the shamans in advance," says Maximilian, his voice teetering between admiration and jealousy. "Your previous work is all I hear about from most Dwarves I've spoken to."

    "The idea had crossed my mind, but the most important factor is preventing reinforcements. A few slit throats would have the greenskins on edge, might convince them to stop fighting amongst themselves."

    "You say it so casually," Panoramia says.

    "I'm familiar with slitting throats like you are with helping plants grow. In almost every situation, it's the best way I can contribute."

    "Do you ever wish-" Panoramia cuts herself off. But it's a fair question.

    "I wasn't born a Dame. If I didn't have magic, I'd be in a thatch hut on a tiny farm, probably on my fifth or sixth child right now, unless a plague or a famine or some roaming terror from Sylvania had carried me off." That's the easy part of the question, but it's not what she was asking. What if you weren't of the Grey? "I love Ulgu, but I probably would have loved any other Wind if I'd ended up elsewhere. The duties of the Grey Order are possibly the heaviest - except maybe Shyish." A nod of accord from all. Nobody envied the Amethyst Order. "I'd probably be happy amongst the Gold," you say, nodding at Maximilian. "Just before my Magister examination, I realized I could be happy if all I focused on was learning all I could - as long as I had someone else write my papers for me." You nod to Esbern and Seija. "And the Amber... I've spent a lot of days on the back of my Shadowhorse, and I've found the wild can be addictive. If I had thinking company instead of magic in the shape of a horse, I might want to spend my entire life there." Finally, to Panoramia again. "As for Jade... I visited your College, once. It was beautiful. It would be nice if the products of my work was the same." You pause as your mind flits through the other options. Bright Order Mathilde? Likely even more at home on a battlefield than you are already. Celestial and Light Order, though... no thanks. But you know better not to say those parts out loud. "But look." You wave a hand at bulk of Karag Nar, stretching high above you. "Karag Nar. In the past thousand years, the only humans to ever know that name would have been a handful of Dwarven history obsessives at the University of Altdorf. Now it's looking like humans are going to be living in it. Karak Eight Peaks won't be a historical footnote, it will be a home for Dwarves and for Halflings and for men. The throats I slit yesterday were ugly, but the better tomorrow they've bought is beautiful." Your mind goes back seven years, to the first time your actions had resulted in blood. "We deal death to the corrupt to prevent the suffering of the innocent."

    The moment stretches, as your fellow wizards allow you to spend another few seconds lost in memory. Then a wave of simple joy washes over you and you smile, knowing that Maximilian has finally surrendered some of his bread. "I should have stuck with the soup," he gripes. "Still, who serves onion soup before a battle?"

    You smile. "Nordlander trick," you say. "If someone has a gut wound, feed them onion soup. If you can smell it on their wound, they're beyond saving. The Halflings figured if they're going to be making a batch anyway, might as well scale up and give it to everyone." Panoramia grimaces down at her now-empty bowl, and Maximilian sighs and surrenders the rest of his bread to Wolf. "So," you continue. "The Expedition will be wrapping up soon. Plans?"

    "One of the Clan Angrund Dwarves was a smith in Zhufbar before King Belegar recalled them all," Maximilian says. "He's agreed to teach me, as long as we both survive that long."

    "Titus will be commissioning me," Panoramia says. "Help get the crops set up in the Eastern Valley. The soil's hard done by and there's concerns about the water, so it'll be a big job. He's going to give me a promissory note I can exchange in Eicheschatten, and that plus the Expedition pay will be my College dues taken care of."

    You look to Esbern and Seija, who exchange glances of their own. "Returning to the Empire with the Knights, most likely," Esbern says. "We get on well with them."

    "I might have a task here you could find interesting," you say. "But we can talk of that after the battle."

    "What about you?" Panoramia asks.

    You frown thoughtfully, your hand moving to scratch Wolf's belly as he curls up beside you. You've given the matter a fair bit of thought. King Belegar's made it clear you'd be welcome here, and that could be interesting. Perhaps he could use a manling advisor on his council, perhaps the ongoing war for the rest of the Karak could occupy you, perhaps you could set up a laboratory and investigate a few matters you've been meaning to look into for far too long. On the other hand, you've still got friends in Stirland, and there's the whole rest of the world out there, too. "Haven't quite decided yet," you admit.

    ---

    From the Citadel, a dozen pairs of eyes glared at the single Dwarf who walked across the Eastern Valley. Hands closed on weapons as they debated whether to sally out to strike at the insolent git. But the mountains, they knew, could sprout a volley of arrows without warning, and somewhere out there were those lionbirds with the metal humie gits on top. So they watched sullenly as the Dwarf took measurements, and a spark of curiosity arose as the Dwarf drew a line in the dirt with a foot. But the Dwarf returned back to the fortified Eastern Gate, which bristled with enough weaponry to intimidate a legion of Black Orcs, and they forgot about him.

    Not long after, the inner gates opened once more, and a caravan trundled out. Twenty covered wagons, some pulled by horses, some by oxen. The previous garrison of the Citadel had allowed themselves to be drawn in by bait such as this before, and each time they had been food for giant wolves or lionbirds. The current garrison was smaller in number, and more cautious for it. But they were no less greedy, and as the convoy plodded through the Eastern Valley, more and more eyes were fixated on it.

    "Food," one says. "Betcha they're fulla food."

    "Who cares what's in 'em," says another. "Lookit them cows. That's dinner."

    "Choppas," a third disagrees. "Proper glintymetal choppas. No more havin' ta use rocks."

    "Booze," says a fourth. "Stunties always have booze."

    "Why's they stoppin'?" came the question, and all those that were staring started to stare harder.

    "Gotta be worth a shot," one says, but a tide of disagreement rose to meet him.

    "Little 'umies with arrers."

    "Stunties with rock lobbas."

    "Lionbirds."

    A chorus of agreement. Nobody wanted to meet the lionbirds again.

    "They getin' closer?" one asks, doubtfully.

    [Approach: Intrigue, 89+17=106.]

    "Nah," says another. "They'z goin' ta Mount Crooked Moon, same as the others."

    "Least they sorted that git," one growls, and is met with agreement. "With his greenrock teef and havin' rats insteada proppa squigs. Ain't right."

    "Yeah, then they went after-"

    "We don't talk about 'im!" comes the instant reply. "Mork is proppa good, roight?"

    "Roight!" is the hasty chorus.

    "And Gork is proppa good too and that's the end of that." A round of very careful agreement.

    "I still reckon they gettin' closer," says one.

    "What'd they be gettin' closer for, ya git? Reckon they're comin' for a visit? Bein' neighbourly?" Snickers and grins all around.

    "I reckon," comes the thoughtful response, as a series of thwacks is heard in the distance. "I reckon that-" B-boom, two blasts sounding almost as one. "I RECKON!" he yells, and sighs as a pair of impacts shakes the Citadel, and screams of wounded joins the din. He scowls, and waits for the tumult to die down, until the only sound is the crackling of fire behind the Citadel. "Loik I was sayin'," he finally says. "I reckon they're gettin' close coz they gotta bunch of 'umies and a few of dem big shooty things in the wagons."

    ---

    [Orc reaction: 38+15=53.]

    The plan went off without a hitch, and the only concern is that they might have reacted while the few catapults and cannon were protected only by a few squads of men. But the Citadel did not disgorge its garrison and from Karag Nar came the remainder of those that would receive any charge: the sellswords and vagabonds and mercenaries, once thought the least reliable portion of the army, yesterday the heroes of the day, and today given a chance to prove themselves once and for all. From the King's Armoury, thousands of ancient silversteel pikes had been distributed to the men, and instead of their previous motley assortment of blades a forest of shining points stood between them and the Citadel.

    [Durin's accelerant: 60+20=80.]
    [Fire below: 7+40(Accelerant)=47.]
    [First group of reinforcements: 80.]

    Atop Karag Lhune, the sharpest eye and the finest telescope had been combined with a flagpole and a prearranged code. A single green flag had you grimace; the fire was burning, but one lot of greenskins had gotten through. Perhaps you should have sold the gunpowder plan better. Perhaps you should have gone with the shadow plan. But it was too late for what-ifs, and with the agonizing slowness of the time just before a battle, the forces of the Expedition spilled out of the East Gates and the mountains to arrange themselves on the battlefield. Now six thousand, seven hundred shining pikes dared the greenskins to attack. Perhaps they'd feel confident enough to do so, with reinforcements.

    [Orc reaction: 90+15+10(Reinforcements)]
    [Fire below: 40+47(previous roll)=87]
    [Second group of reinforcements: 70.]

    Underneath the green flag, one of blue. Blue for Clan Angrund, blue for success. The second set of greenskins had been stopped, and the archers were to remain in place. But the Citadel greenskins were encouraged enough by the first group, or so it seemed, as a fraction of a second after the battlecry of WAAAGH! had risen from a thousand throats or more, greenskins once more spilled out of the Citadel. It was time for men to demonstrate whether or not their performance the previous day was a fluke. But though the greenskin tide was worrying, this was not a crowd maddened by the demands of an infuriated God. This was greenskins that had weighed up a fight and decided they wanted to have it, and that made you worry what they had up their sleeves.

    [Greenskin shamans?: 79, 89. One Great Shaman, three lesser Shaman.]

    And, it seems, you were right to be concerned. Perhaps your reputation had reached even the greenskins, perhaps Mork had whispered in some ears to be on the look out, perhaps it was as simple as one magic-user recognizing another. Inside the Citadel an Ork thrust his head forward, uncaring of the pain as it hit the carved stone to either side of the arrowslit he had been peeking through, and a shockwave of green energy flew forth from the motion directly at you.

    ['Eadbutt: 36+20=56.]
    [Counterspell: 8+20=28.]

    Perhaps he was masked by the crackling energies of the Waaagh from the charge of a thousand Orcs, perhaps he was unusually cunning, perhaps you expected a longer wind-up time than a single headbutt. If you had nothing to rely on but your wits, you would have eaten a magical headbutt directly to the face. But the raw and wild magic was met by a rising wave of tamed Runic magic. The energies of the spell are shattered as a Rune on your belt glows red-hot and a similar fire burns inside the brain of the Orc that cast it. But that wasn't all the Citadel had in store, as while the Great Shaman screamed in agony as all knowledge of magical headbutts was cauterized from his living brain, three lesser shamans worked in concert to summon their God - or at least, one part of him.

    [Foot of Gork: 8+15=23. Miscast.]
    [Miscast roll: 2, 4. Calamitous Detonation.]

    And though your group of Journeymen and Journeywomen stood ready to counter whatever their greenskin counterparts had prepared, there was no need. If your little chat with Panoramia yesterday didn't get the message across, she was going to get an even better demonstration of what happens when someone bites off more than they can chew. An enormous explosion of green energy shakes the Citadel, and you grimly hope that it put paid to the overambitious spellcasters inside.

    [Codrin's archers: 92+15+5(Atoning)=112.]
    [Ulthar's archers: 86+15=101.]
    [Titus' archers: 70+15=85.]
    [Greenskin morale: 76+15+10(Reinforced)=101.]

    While the magical duel had been fought, the greenskin assault had been continuing. With mechanical efficiency, row after row of Orcish attackers had been cut down by brutally efficient volleys, and only an expert on fletching could tell you which volley had come from which archers, so alike in speed and accuracy were they. But the greenskins charged onwards undeterred, each row making it another few feet before being cut down to be followed by the next. Who but the terrible greenskins could ignore such losses and fight on?

    [Greenskin attack: 59+15+10(Reinforced)=84.]
    [Manling defence: 43+15+10(High Morale)+20(Silversteel Pikes receiving a charge)=88.]

    With a terrible earth-shaking crash, the line of greenskins finally hit the rows of men. Those first to strike the pikes were no more fortunate than all those that had met the arrows, but for every greenskin that impaled itself against a pike there was another shoving past him to swing a choppa at the man who held it. Orcish battle fury met the newly awakened pride of man, and neither would give an inch.

    [Great Shaman - 'Eadbutt?]
    [Lesser Shamans - 'Ere We Go: 35+15-10(Detonated)=40.]
    [Counterspell: 79+20=99.]
    [Induce miscast: 100.]

    Meanwhile in the Citadel, the greatest magic-user amongst them tied in vain to remember... something? His seared brain ached as again and again he reached for information he knew was there, but arcane fire had taken from him. His underlings were a little better off, and the two that survived tried to assist their fellows as best they can. The Waaagh energy that linked all greenskins solidified, and a tendril extended from the Citadel and was drawn towards the mob of fighting Orcs. You stare at it, feeling almost insulted. Surely this must be a trick. Not even greenskins would be so careless as to- but no, you can see clear as day that what you see in front of you is what there is. The shamans are trying to form an aethyric link between themselves and the Waaagh energy below them, and presumably once the link was formed they'd imbue it with magic and change its nature to one that would enhance the combat abilities of the Orc. It would be utterly trivial to reach out and sever the half-formed link, and you have to reach out and slap Maximilian's hand absently as he reaches to do so. With infuriating slowness, the link stretches forward... and just as it connects with the battlefield before you, you give it a poke.

    Just a little one. Not enough to dispel or even disrupt the spell. All it does is pierce the aethyric membrane in exactly the right place so that instead of a single line through which the shamans can send energy, the link has become an enormous straw through which energy can travel. And the magically-created aethyric link of Waaagh energy was a thousand times easier for ambient Waaagh energy to travel through than the air between the fighting Orcs, and on the other side, amongst the shamans, the air permeated with Waaagh energy from the previous explosion was a thousand times more suited to Waaagh energies than the battlefield outside, with thousands of Dwarves and unfriendly mages and the disapproving gaze of Kragg.

    In the space of a few seconds, every jot of Waaagh energy that had surrounded the fighting Orcs flew up the aethyric link and into the shamans' chamber.
    In the space of a few seconds, the shamans were filled with the bloodlust of thousands of fighting Orcs, and their bodies barely contained the energy long enough for them to gouge fatal wounds in one another with bulging muscles.
    In the space of a few seconds, every single Orc was robbed of the aura they had never known the absence of.

    In the space of a few seconds, the battle is won.

    Not a single man pauses to question his fortune as his adversary freezes in confusion and terror and the sudden disconnect from the Waaagh. Each cuts down the Orc in front of them, and then the next nearest, and then levels their pike and charges forward at those that had a moment ago been charging them, and barely a scrap of resistance is met before they disappear into the Citadel and out of sight.

    [Fire below: 87+40=127. Further reinforcement impossible.]

    ---

    "Any of them," King Belegar says. "Hell, all of them if they're willing. Any Dwarf who took a greenskin charge that well would never have to pay for drinks again, and those manlings did so twice. And that extends to you as well."

    "I'm honoured, your Majesty," Codrin replies. "But my home is in Stirland. But I believe a great many of the men will take you up on your offer."

    Codrin departs to pass on the message, and you watch him thoughtfully. As it turns out, the distribution of Dwarf-made pikes had been an implicit offer, and their performance today had Belegar make it completely clear: any of the manling vagabonds, wanderers and mercenaries that had fought as part of the Expedition were welcome to make it their home, and with it came an offer of employment: to patrol, protect, and watch over the East Gate and Death Pass. To the average citizen of the Empire, that might sound unappealing, but to anyone who had sold their sword south of Black Fire Pass, three routes dominated. The Silver Road, half of which fell under the aegis of Karaz-a-Karak and the second half under the predations of the greenskins of Mount Grimfang. Mad Dog Pass, taxed thrice over by Border Princes and raided with impunity by the Ironclaw Orcs of Iron Rock. And Death Pass, worst of all, dominated by the Red Fang Tribe of Black Crag and the varied and numerous inhabitants of Karak Eight Peaks.

    Any trader who could reach the distant lands of Ind and Cathay and Nippon and return would become rich beyond their wildest dreams. Most who tried became dead. Everyone who thinks themselves skilled or lucky enough to try it looks to the World's Edge Mountains and decides which of three terrible options they thought they had the best chance of surviving. But if one could bypass Black Crag, and if one knew that Karak Eight Peaks was retaken enough to secure the eastern half of Death Pass...

    Back at Barak Varr, you had assumed that King Belegar had been promising some share of lost wealth or ancient secrets to King Byrrnoth to secure his assistance. Now you realize that the forgotten treasures of the distant past were of no interest to him. No, the King of a trading hub would turn his gaze not to immediate profit, but to his map, and to those ephemeral and unreliable strings that represented the flow of goods from distant lands. Barak Varr did not need payment, because with one less murderous hurdle between Barak Varr and the distant east, Barak Varr would profit immensely. Doubly, triply, quadruply so, since this new route relied on going up the Blood River, which only Dwarven steam-artifice could fight the flow of.

    Caravans of food and water and sundry other supplies? If the Expedition succeeded, each would be repaid by a caravan of spices and silks and jewels, and each had no choice but to pass through Barak Varr.

    The final thing it needed was for King Belegar to have at his disposal a force that could worry about keeping the road open, rather than being locked in a war of attrition inside the Karak. With these men, he had acquired it.

    "Spoke to Kragg," King Belegar says, shaking you from your ponderings. "He said a whole lot about how only a greenskin could be stupid enough to allow the opening that they allowed you. But after that, he said that he had no choice but to concede that you were clever to exploit it the way you did, rather than just batting the spell aside. Needless to say, that's the highest of praise anyone, man or Dawi, is likely to get from him." He looks down in thought, and you follow his gaze. Where once the slave pit had been was freshly-quarried stone, and with typical Dwarven efficiency the area that stone had been carved from was to become a tomb for those who had fallen in the Karak's retaking. It was meant to be a stop-gap measure until a proper job could be done, but King Belegar had declared it would remain until the end of days, so that neither he nor his descendants could forget the price of the home he had retaken. "Expedition's done," he says. "Could keep it going a while longer and throw more lives against the other Karags, but I'd rather use the current high spirits to purchase lives instead of deaths. The men..." he pauses. "Hard to summarize them. There's the Stirland men, there's the Ulrican men, there's the Knights, and then there's the... everyone else. Wouldn't be a problem except the everyone else turned out to be hard as stone. So those that accept my offer will be the Undumgi."

    "Watchpost men?" you hazard.

    "Watchpost would be dokaraz. Mingol if it's built in the lowlands. Und is a watchpost carved into a mountain, which needless to say is the best kind there is, just as these men have proven themselves. Anyway, they'll be set up in Karag Nar. Immediate access to the East Gate, and they'll have outposts at Und-Uzgar and at the Underway entrance. The Winter Wolves will build their new chapterhouse at the top of the valley on the other side, they like it nice and cold and up a mountain is the only place you get that down here. The Ulricans are talking of making a home in the valley, under the theocratic authority of the Wolves - it's not set in stone yet, they're going to set up a sawmill in the valley while they decide if they like the place. I'll gladly buy all the timber they can cut from it, and if they decide to move on they'll have a little more in their coffers. Stirlanders are taking their pay and heading home to buy a slightly larger field and a slightly larger cottage. The Halflings were already in, and once the defensive wall against Kvinn-Wyr is set up they'll start building homes throughout the Eastern Valley. And Clan Angrund and Clan Huzkul and the Clans from Karak Izor will call Karag Lhune home." He sighs, a little happily and a little wistfully. "There'll be war on our doorstep, but such is the case for damn near everyone in these times. We'll keep pushing back what Grobi remain, and sure as the seasons turn, the Thaggoraki will make a play before too long. Karak Azul's lads will arrive any day, and there'll be plenty of work for them to do, and I daresay when word gets out that we've succeeded as much as we have, we'll be beard-deep in those seeking treasure and glory.

    "The question remains, however, of where your own self will be." You raise an eyebrow. "I told you you're forever welcome here and that won't change, but I daresay you seek more than just a mountain over your head and ale in your belly. Near half a year ago, you told me you were strollendreki. Seeking a worthy purpose. If you think you've found one, tell me what it is and if it's within my power I'll move mountains to make it so. Otherwise, I daresay there'd be plenty of distraction to be found here in my Karak, for as long as you desire it." He watches you for a moment, and undoubtedly sees the lack of answer in you. "No rush. The next few months are going to be a mess, and there'll be a thousand and one ways to keep yourself busy until then."


    Though the Expedition is coming to an end, something of this size does not stop on a dime. The full disintegration will take weeks or even months, and as King Belegar says, there's plenty of ways to keep yourself busy. Your choice here will not bind you to a future path, but they are a first step down them. The three with the most votes will be selected.

    [ ] Travel to Karaz-a-Karak with King Belegar for the striking out of several well-aged grudges.
    This suggests a future assisting Karak Eight Peaks with foreign relations, as a Spymaster focused on threats outside the Karak.

    [ ] Scout the rest of the Eight Peaks, to find out what other horrors are waiting out there.
    This suggests a future assisting Karak Eight Peaks with its reconquest, as a Spymaster focused on threats within the Karak.

    [ ] Join Karak Azul as they raid and scout in force the other portions of the Karak.
    This suggests a future assisting Karak Eight Peaks with its reconquest, as a battlefield wizard.

    [ ] You could help the Undumgi and the Ulricans establish themselves.
    This suggests a future assisting Karak Eight Peaks, as leader of the Undumgi and point of contact for the Ulricans.

    [ ] Write a series of papers on the magical phenomena you witnessed. Or better yet, get your Journeymanlings to do the actual writing.
    This suggests a future of investigation and study at Karak Eight Peaks, and perhaps helping Johann poke at Skaven technology.

    [ ] There's a lot of prime real estate currently unclaimed. Stake out a prime position for a wizard's tower.
    This suggests a future catching up on your pre-existing study topics.

    [ ] All this time away has made you miss your friends. Visit Anton and Wilhelmina.
    This suggests a future in Stirland, whether Roswita likes it or not.

    [ ] You're going to have a rough time explaining your windfall to the Bursars. Better to get that over with.
    This suggests a future performing an assignment the Grey Order thinks is suited to you.

    [ ] You've been out of touch for a while. Head to Barak Varr and then Altdorf, and catch up with what's been happening in the Empire.
    This suggests a future seeking employment on the Council of an Elector Count.

    [ ] Not every sellsword will accept King Belegar's offer of employment. Travel with them.
    This suggests a future as a travelling mercenary.


    [Mathilde acquires Skill: Waaaghbane: +20 to attempts to dispel and induce miscasts against any Little or Big Waaagh spells. -20 for greenskins to attempt the same to you.]

    - There are three months left in 2478. That time will be spent bringing this arc to a close and tallying up your gains. Your choices will not lock you into a course, but it would be wise to have paved the way at least slightly for what you end up deciding. The final lock-in vote will be very clearly marked as such.
    - If you choose an option that suggests remaining in Karak Eight Peaks, you will be able to try to convince Esbern and Seija to remain, whether to help tackle the Chiselwards spiders or to puzzle out your supposedly Lustrian eggs.
    - In the coming updates, your stat changes, trait selection, monetary payment, and accumulated Dwarf Favour will be sorted out, most likely one at a time.
    - If there's another path into the future you wish to see represented, let me know.
    - Remember how Stirland was: even if you choose a role, there'll still be time for side-projects.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Harried said:
    I'm not too knowledgeable about the crunch of either the wargame or the RPG, so can someone outline what the mechanical differences would be between having a sword as our casting focus and main weapon, and having a sword optimised around being killy and a stave as our casting focus.

    As in; is fiddling around with our pistol, sword, stave and maybe even a rifle modelled, and if so, do the benefits of specialization outweigh the costs?

    EDIT: say, for example, we're chopping up grobi with our bastard sword and pistol, and decide that we need to cast a penumbral pendulum posthaste, would the need to holster our pistol and sword, and pull out our stave and (say) an earthing wand give us a malus to casting, or would it just be assumed that we can whip them out easily (even in a melee?)
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Sword as focus
    Pro
    Only carry one greatsword length object
    Switch seamlessly between casting and greatsword melee which we're already good at
    Con
    Steel is not a good material for a casting focus so it would be harder and slower to make
    Enchantment is incompatible with runes and layered enchantments are very difficult (and weapon enchantments are not as good as runes) so we'd be giving up making our main weapon more killy.

    Separate staff as casting focus
    Pro
    Can be made out of suitable material eg wood from somewhere dark and misty
    Staff could actually be some type of polearm and thus a more effective weapon
    We can get a very killy sword as well
    Con
    Switching between sword and staff does take time and leave us vulnerable
    We aren't trained in staff/polearm
    While we should be able to use a spear with a greatsword on our back the reverse is not really practical*
    Having both is a fair bit of extra weight and encumbrance


    *It would be cool if we could enchant our staff to follow us around the battlefield
     
    Sasuga Mathilde Sama, sick rolls and praise from the oldest most cantankerous son of a gun this side of the world. (cept the white dwarf)
     
    [X] Scout the rest of the Eight Peaks, to find out what other horrors are waiting out there.

    This feels like where we could do the most good. We are in the unique situation of being able to infiltrate skaven and greenskins. Let's not waste that.
     
    [X] There's a lot of prime real estate currently unclaimed. Stake out a prime position for a wizard's tower.

    Catching up on our research sounds great.

    [X] Scout the rest of the Eight Peaks, to find out what other horrors are waiting out there.

    We're uniquely suited to this.

    If either of these wins, I'll also be pushing to do part of the other one with our free time - both of them are important.
     
    [X] Travel to Karaz-a-Karak with King Belegar for the striking out of several well-aged grudges.

    [X] There's a lot of prime real estate currently unclaimed. Stake out a prime position for a wizard's tower.

    [X] You could help the Undumgi and the Ulricans establish themselves.
     
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    Well that went well!

    To be honest, I really want to take the 'Go to Karaz-a-Karak with Belegar' action because I want to see what happens there and get that delicious character interaction, but I think we'd do a better job as the internal spymaster. Not the best Diplo score for a foreign relations job. Wish they weren't mutually exclusive.
     
    Prospalz said:
    So many good options, goddamnit. Want them all.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    A lot of the ones where we stay at Eight Peaks are complementary, and we can work on other projects with our free time. It's best to think of this as choosing which of those are our current focus, instead of locking us in long term. (In contrast to choosing to return to the college, joining an elector council, or becoming a mercenary, which do imply a more long-term commitment.)
     
    [X] There's a lot of prime real estate currently unclaimed. Stake out a prime position for a wizard's tower.
    [X] Travel to Karaz-a-Karak with King Belegar for the striking out of several well-aged grudges.
    [X] You could help the Undumgi and the Ulricans establish themselves.
     
    Last edited:
    [X] There's a lot of prime real estate currently unclaimed. Stake out a prime position for a wizard's tower.

    Though yeah, all the options look pretty interesting, but I want to have Mathilde puzzle out the Schrodingers Snake.
     
    [X] Scout the rest of the Eight Peaks, to find out what other horrors are waiting out there.
    [X] There's a lot of prime real estate currently unclaimed. Stake out a prime position for a wizard's tower.
     
    [X] Travel to Karaz-a-Karak with King Belegar for the striking out of several well-aged grudges.

    This. Outward-facing spymaster is where most fun is. Travel outside. Spy around. Go and remove threats. Scout terrains east of the pass. Plan against Dawi-Zharr...

    Edit: adding:

    [X] Scout the rest of the Eight Peaks, to find out what other horrors are waiting out
     
    Last edited:
    [X] Scout the rest of the Eight Peaks, to find out what other horrors are waiting out there.
    [X] There's a lot of prime real estate currently unclaimed. Stake out a prime position for a wizard's tower.
     
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