- Location
- USA
She's still a human and the book was most popular with the people doing it just to thumb their nose at the king. And Caledor.
Not exactly the people she'd be trying to talk to.
Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties - an Advisor's Quest
- Thread starter Boney
- Start date
- Fantasy Users' Choice!
Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
She's still a human and the book was most popular with the people doing it just to thumb their nose at the king. And Caledor.
Not exactly the people she'd be trying to talk to.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
I'm less concerned with that, I'm more concerned with how his innate ability to make anything explode would doom us?
The Skaven managed to accidentally summon Skarbrand.
Entire cults have died even attempting to and he did it by accident!
I'm not even concerned about him pasting us, he's such a catastrophy a Slann specifically helped him get back to the Skaven for a reason.
Kornet
Quite possibly a sloth abomination
- Location
- Mother Russia
- Location
- The Middle of the Howling Wilderness
Enjoy your retroactive Insightful rating
that probably had the effect of making us mildly well known (by name but not much else) in the elve courts, but the only reason the Phoenix king did say he was mad at us is that he couldn't amit, even to himself, that a 'mayfly' could do something that bothers him.
- Location
- Norway
Ehhh. This has a true interpretation but is easily misleading. You can very well get many people to read a particular book by half-heartedly banning it, where one guy (or a small group) in authority makes angry noises about he will totally do something to people found buying or reading the book, and then there's a few high-profile court cases against individual purchasers, usually of the sort who decided to read it in public and bait a lawsuit for publicity.
OTOH, full-spectrum bans with the consensus of the whole governing class are a lot more effective at preventing people from reading the book: go after publishers, distributors, advertisers, stop people from ever getting access to the book in the first place. Denounce the whole book as being not merely illegal but wickedly immoral, invalidating, un-Christian, anti-Islamic, neo-Nazist, Communist, opposed to human rights, whatever the local flavor of moral rule is.
- Location
- Brazil
Here's hoping this update is like, fifteen thousand words.
NSMS
Probably evil, unfortunately.
- Location
- A rapidly widening tear in the fabric of reality
It will be fifteen thousands words.
Every one of them will be Roswita screaming in terror.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Given that I recall we got a shit ton of cash from nobles sailing out to our offshore boat to grab a copy I don't think that's the case ATM.
Wonder how much Arnsil's making off the book constantly being in print?
Danger of wearing the coin on night prowler near a school:
"Doesn't that child look cute in her witch hunter hat!"
"Actually I'm a Magister"
"Sure you are"
"And a Dame"
"Uh huh"
"And a Dwarf Friend"
"You're trying too hard kid"
"I'm 30"
"That's nice dear."
Turn 21 Results - 2480 - Part 3
[*] Ride to Black Fire Pass and take a Dwarven monitor down Skull River, stop at Barak Varr, and then up Blood River. Reasonably fast, comfortable, maximizes Dwarf-y showing off.
[*] The EIC has potential to be an amazing source of information, and now that it can be trusted, Mathilde will shape it as such.
[*] Introduce him to King Belegar as a seasoned diplomat who can round up mercenaries for him.
[*] Introduce him to Prince Gotri as a factory builder seeking his advice in gunsmithing.
[*] Introduce her to King Byrrnoth of Barak Varr, who would love to have a new distributor in the Empire for all the valuables from the East now that Death Pass is secure.
[*] The EIC has potential to be an amazing source of information, and now that it can be trusted, Mathilde will shape it as such.
[*] Introduce him to King Belegar as a seasoned diplomat who can round up mercenaries for him.
[*] Introduce him to Prince Gotri as a factory builder seeking his advice in gunsmithing.
[*] Introduce her to King Byrrnoth of Barak Varr, who would love to have a new distributor in the Empire for all the valuables from the East now that Death Pass is secure.
Transportation for an Elector Countess and her escort is simple enough, but it gets trickier when you factor in a Dwarven delegate and her escort. The head of her escort speaks to the head of your escort, and a compromise was struck: the two escort gyrocopters will keep a watchful eye on the party while the Hammerers would be waiting at the Skull River. Without Dwarves, whose tireless pace could not compare to the speed attainable by swapping horses at every waystation, the four hundred miles of the first leg of the journey should take no longer than six or seven days. You refrain from commenting you could manage it comfortably in two days, and in one at a stretch. The Elector Countess is the definition of civility, exchanging no more than the required pleasantries and doing no more than giving your shadowhorse a long, uneasy look when you first summon it. An early start gets you to Tarshof before night falls, and from there a good day's ride should make Vigaun, but it seems other plans were also in motion.
[Gyrocopter spot check: 28]
[Greatswords spot check: 25]
[Mathilde spot check: 94+10(Windsage)=104]
Between Potting and Worden, what you initially take for the smell of rot in the air quickly resolves itself as a warning from your additional senses, and you call a warning as you draw your revolver and try to locate the source of the stench of necromancy. Roswita and the Greatswords immediately dismount and the greatswords form a protective phalanx around their Elector Countess, and the abandoned horses start to whinny in nervousness as their own senses start to pick up on what yours already have. This part of the Old Dwarf Road is carved into the hils of the Stirhügel. An army could be within a stone's throw and you'd never know it because of the uneven terrain breaking line of sight in every direction.
"East!" you cry, and eleven heads swivel at your instruction as the source of your alarm reveals itself. A bear at first glance, but a second glance would reveal the terrible wounds that felled it, a smell would make clear the stench of rot, and to your Magesight it is thick with Shyish and Dhar, and only one of the many spells it bears would be the one that has risen it from the dead. Flanking the creature are a pack of Dire Wolves - the giant wolves of the mountains and deep forests that are so often slain and resurrected into the service of vampires and necromancers that there's a term for that. Raised again and again into service, some end up as little more than withered flesh stretched over bone, kept whole only by the magics that dominate them, but these are as fresh as the bear, fur matted with blood and eyes aglow with hunger.
[Stand and Shoot: 43+21=64]
You sacrifice a second to weave Ulgu into the cylinder of your weapon - these are flesh rather than spirit, but with how thick the spells are on them you'll take no chances - and then you unload the weapon as the creatures charge forward with unnatural speed. Two of the wolves are downed, but the bullet that hit the bear tore through organ and muscle rather than shattering bone, and with magic doing the heavy lifting it will take more than that. You reholster your revolver and draw your sword, the creatures too close now to spend time on a reload, and with a glance you confirm that the Greatsword escort has formed a wall between the oncoming beasts and their Elector Countess. The mismatched pack is beelining towards them and ignoring you, and your steed shares none of the fears of the panicking beasts that the Greatswords had been riding. One thought shapes Ulgu around you, and a second has your shadowsteed accelerating into a charge.
[Selecting your target: Martial, 46+26+5(Tactics: Undead)=77 vs 94+30(???)=124]
[Mathilde vs Wolves: Martial, 58+26=84 vs 72+15=87]
With coordination that would normally be far outside the capabilities of these constructs, three of the wolves split from the pack and intercept you before you can close with the bear and with unnatural strength they leap towards you as one. The first impales itself upon your greatsword, expiring with eerie silence as the Ulgu in your blade disrupts the spells that animate and bind it, but a second rakes filthy claws along your arm, and to your shock the claws sink through your magical armour and open long, bloody gashes in your forearm. It had absorbed some of the impact, or you'd have been clawed to the bone, but you've just figured out what at least part of the other spells present are doing. The third creature went for your steed, and if whatever passes for its mind is capable of confusion, it must surely be confused now as it dangles by its jaws from the uncaring Shadowsteed's neck.
[Mathilde vs Wolves Round 2: 57+26=83 vs 81+10=91]
[Mathilde vs Wolves Round 3: 94+26=120 vs 59+10=69]
You dimly register the increasing loud thrumming of approaching gyrocopters, but you're far too preoccupied to consciously register it as you elbow one wolf off you and intercept the lunge of the second with your blade, steel cracking teeth as your arms absorb the impact. The creatures are no real threat to you, but they are taking up time you don't have, as the others close on the defensive line of the Greatswords. Another lunge, and you meet this one with the pommel of your sword in the throat. The undead are usually immune to the normally-incapacitating throat punch, but between the creature's lunge and your own counterblow there's enough force for the crunch of crumbling vertebrae to be heard and the creature goes limp. It won't take long for the magic that controls it to reroute around the remains of the nervous system it was using, but you can use the time that's bought, and as the third wolf finally gives up on trying to savage your horse and crouches to leap, your sword slices through its back, spine, and rotting organs. Again, not necessarily a kill, and again, it doesn't matter. While you were taking care of these, the rest of the battle was unfolding.
[Gyrocopter strafing run: 73 vs 4+30(???)=34]
With horrifying speed, one of the gyrocopters buzzes mere yards overhead as its pilot pushes the limit of his machine, and it just manages a strafing run before the creatures impact the Greatswords. One of the wolves leaps into the air to try to intercept the shot, but this is not the early-model gyrocopters where the front cannon merely vented steam from the engines. Far from the Engineer's Guild of Zhufbar or the orthodoxy of Karaz-a-Karak, Prince Gotri had gifted his command with a variety of weapons ranging from almost acceptable to barely tested, and with a burp of released pressure, an iron ball the size of a fist was expelled with such force that the gyrocopter visibly slowed, and instead of intercepting the projectile the wolf became part of the payload. The bear was knocked sprawling by the blow and a fraction of a second later, the ball ignited and begin to spray burning pitch in every direction from holes drilled in its casing, and two more wolves diverted themselves from the charge to fling themselves atop it to smother the flames.
[Greatswords vs Wolves: 5+15=20 vs 11+20=31]
The charge that finally struck the Greatswords was greatly diminished, and you don't see how five undead Dire Wolves could be much threat to twice their number in Greatswords, but perhaps you've gotten blase about the myriad enemies of man. Maybe fear paralyzed them, maybe the spells empowering the creatures gave them reactions faster than they expected, maybe they were just unlucky. Whatever the reason, one man falls with the teeth of a Dire Wolf in his throat and a second begins to scream as merciless jaws tear through flesh and spill organs into the dirt. You don't have the luxury of hesitation, and even as your brain starts to weigh the danger of the bear against the unfolding disaster of the Greatswords, you're spurring yourself towards the latter.
[Gyrocopter intervention? 43]
[Mathilde's Charge: 24+26=50]
[Greatswords vs Wolves Round 2: 24+15=39 vs 68+15=83]
[Greatsword morale test: 75]
[Mathilde's flanking: 83+26=109]
You have a very similar problems to the gyrocopters, and though you're able to slay one of the wolves and draw the attention of the second, the remaining three continue to make a mockery of the Greatswords and each of them accounts for another of the supposed bodyguards within seconds. But though you've got some very pointed remarks to make about their swordplay, you can't deny their courage, and those that remain stand their ground long enough for you to dispatch the one that turned to face you, then cut through the remaining three in a flurry of blows.
[Damage done to bear and wolves: 11]
[Gyrocopter intervention: 73]
Unfortunately, that is not the end of the battle.
The bear emerges from the singed pile of its protectors, and shockingly so do two of those protectors, eldritch energies filling the gaps where muscle and bone have been burned away. Two of the wolves you dispatched earlier are climbing back to their feet, and though the Greatswords react by making doubly sure the downed wolves before them are out of the fight with a hail of additional blows, it doesn't solve the problem approaching. One of the gyrocopters flying overhead goes some way to doing so, as a bomb detaches from its stabilizer and explodes between two of the approaching wolves, knocking them sprawling.
You grant yourself the luxury of a second to run through possible scenarios in your head, and you barely keep yourself from sighing as you dismiss your shadowsteed with a thought and land lightly on the dirt of the road below. Despite any lingering ill-feeling towards the one that dismissed you from your previous calling, to serve and protect the Electors of the Empire was one of the primary purpose of the Colleges. The remaining Greatswords part for you to join their ranks, and six blades stand against the approaching creatures.
[Mathilde vs Undead: 42+21=63 vs 44+5=49]
[Greatswords vs Bear: 35+15=50 vs 67+30=97]
[Greatsword vs Wolf: 21+15=36 vs 91+5=96]
[Greatsword morale test: 72]
If you had time, you'd be insulted that whatever intelligence is guiding these creatures thought you only merited a single wolf. But though you strike the creature down in midair, it does mean you can't intervene as the undead bear slams into the Greatswords with bone-shattering force, and two of the remaining Greatswords go flying backwards with force that suggests they'll not be getting up, and the final remaining wolf accounts for a third. Again, to their credit, the two remaining Greatswords do not break, and throw themselves at the bear with wordless cries of fear and defiance.
[Greatswords vs Bear Round 2 97+15=112 vs 61+30=91.]
[Mathilde vs Undead: 77+21=98 vs 62+5=67.]
And two swords sink deep into the bear's rotting chest, and stick fast as the bear roars in frustration. Some of the intact muscles must have still been in use, because the creature can do nothing but thrash violently as sickly energies crackle through its body, seeking a workaround. With the Greatswords distracted, the final wolf throws itself at Roswita, who in the glimpse you catch of her looks strangely peaceful as she readies her own blade to defend herself against the wolf, but before she has a chance to your sword swings up and through it, sending two halves flying through the air.
[Bear: 2+30=32.]
And with a crackle and a sinister glow invisible to mundane sight, the spells animating the bear misfire, and with your recent insights you're able to see exactly how. The spell of animation runs through intact muscles like a rat in a maze, trying to find a new way to achieve locomotion, and at the same time the empowering spells are filling those muscles with terrible power. The two spells meet and rebound each other, and though that would normally cause barely a moment of interference for the bear's controller, the rebound occurs in a muscle impaled upon Imperial steel. Dhar tries to crackle up a blade that is home to ambient Chamon, and while that does turn the Chamon to more Dhar and the blade into an expanding cloud of shrapnel, it does not do good things for the spells. Every muscle fries in an instant, adding to the smell of charred meat already in the air from the work of the gyrocopters, and the control spell vanishes from your sight. You're unable to see how, exactly, it would be affected, but you could guarantee that it would not be an enjoyable experience for the caster.
Before you have a chance to relax, a second crackle fills the air, and you whirl around trying to spot its source. The noise resolves itself into a hiss, and then a dry, hissing laugh, coming from the still-moving mouths of each of the fallen, wolf and bear and Greatsword alike. "Almost got you that time, didn't I Rosie?" comes a man's voice, and one that bears the accent of an Altdorf noble, but through the filter of one necromantic transformation or another.
"Almost gets you nothing, Alkharad," Roswita replies, clearly going for boldness but unable to keep the weariness out of her voice.
"Got me eight, actually. Oops! Looks like nine!" He laughs again, and not mockingly. This is the laugh of someone genuinely entertained. You look over to the two remaining Greatswords, and see that only one has released his blade and stepped away from the now-talking form of the bear. The second is slumped forward, his body shredded by shrapnel of steel and bone that exploded out from the bear and seared by the released energies of the spell of empowerment.
"That's not the score you care about, is it?" Roswita snaps. "One down, two to go."
"I've told you, Grim Wood was an outpost, a colony. You did well there, I grant, but if you live long enough to cross the Templa you'll live no longer. Even the von Carsteins knew better than to try to extend their grasp to Teufelheim."
"The von Carsteins are gone, and soon, you will be too," Roswita says. "You kill me, another takes my place. I kill you, your whole rotten kingdom crumbles."
Many necromancers are mad enough to pontificate to their enemy, but some are cunning enough to do so as a distraction. Your blade interrupts one of the bomb-blasted wolves as it rises back to its feet.
"She's good," comes the chorus of voices, including the one at the end of your sword. "New bodyguard? A Witch Hunter? A Myrmidian Priestess?" A shake of your head interrupts Roswita's reply. No need to make yourself known to whatever it is. "Anyhow, I'll be off. Plenty to do. I daresay those new Dwarf friends of yours won't fly so well with a flock or two of bats in their whirly bits." With a final rattling hiss, the last of the magics flicker out, and only Dhar and death remains.
---
With nine of her ten bodyguards fallen before she's halfway out of Stirland, Roswita has no choice but to accept the offer of transport she earlier rejected. One gyrocopter shoots off to summon back the gyrocarriage, and the other buzzes around in cautious circles.
"Necrarch," Roswita says suddenly, diverting your attention from the Greatsword tending to his fallen comrades. "Claims to be one of the eldest, but they all do. Fear of the von Carsteins kept all the others quiet, but when Castle Drakenhof fell and none of them appeared, it rang the dinner bell for them all. The Lahmian in Nachthafen is long gone, but Mikalsdorf and Waldenhof are openly ruled by others. Tempelhof is full of Blood Dragons who delight in testing themselves against the Black Guard of Morr, and Hunger Wood is home to at least three Strigoi and their ghoul courts, growing fat off the fallen. Not a week goes by without us burning some idiot necromancer trying to dredge corpses from Hel Fenn. And, of course, Alkharad. Based out of Teufelheim, but what he's really interested in are the forests. We chased his disciples out of Grim Wood in the west, but according to the Witch Hunter archives and the Slayer Keep's Book of Grudges, he's been lurking in the Tangled Wood for centuries, venturing out to find new creatures to experiment on." Her voice is dry, but you can hear the exhaustion in it.
"Not the first time he's taken a swing at you, I take it?"
"Barely a week goes by without it, ever since the Battle of the Eisig. Bats, birds, wolves, rats, deer... I've already lost more Greatswords than Da did, even including the ones that fell at the Battle of Drakenhof. Eventually he'll get sick of playing and send some terrible thing from the deep forests or the mountains or the Dark Lands."
That explains the Shyish. Plenty of citizens of the Empire live under threat of attack, but few have the personal attention of the beings that rule the night.
---
The gyrocarriage arrives soon after to take you to the next leg of your journey - you suggest going straight to Eight Peaks, but Roswita is determined to keep mostly to her original plan despite the intervention of Alkharad, and with the sole remaining Greatsword staying behind to see the fallen are properly interred, you're now protected 'only' by the Hammerers and the guns and crew of the river monitor. Propelled by the secrets of Dwarven artifice, which aren't all that secret if one can see the Chamon in the metal and the Aqshy in the flames and have recently experimented with kettles, you're carried down Skull River at a speed that is agonizingly slow by your standards but blisteringly fast by the standards of logistics.
Perhaps out of unvoiced gratitude, perhaps from contrast with something that was actively trying to kill her, perhaps because you're the only other human around for her to talk to, she seems to have lost her desire to keep far from you. She's not exactly warm, and her conversational topics are perhaps understandably limited, but it makes a nice change from the long and lonely voyage you expected to have. When your responses show a proper understanding of the subject at hand, she excuses herself to rummage through her bags and comes back with a map optimistically labelled 'Eastern Stirland' and covered with hand-drawn notations. Roswita has obviously studied military strategy extensively, and been taught by those who know the subject, but you've got a larger well of experience to draw from and an insight into the mind of one commanding the Undead. The miles slip past as you teach her to not just react to the movements of the Undead, but to interpret them and decode the enemy's intentions, and by the time you arrive in Barak Varr you've found yourself offering to lend her some of the more relevant parts of your library.
An Elector Countess of the Empire is an important guest, but a Councillor from the Karak that has so dominated recent events is possibly even more so, and by means of a string of coloured flags the river monitor has forewarned your destination. As the boat slides into dock, you are greeted by none other than King Byrrnoth, who won his crown by killing a sea dragon from the inside. His greeting to Roswita is effusive and in fluent Reikspiel, and his greeting to you is more casual but heartfelt in Khazalid. The legend of the Expedition has rippled through the Dwarven world, and you feature rather prominently in it; as one who gambled on the Expedition and won, King Byrrnoth is delighted to have you visit his Hold, even in passing.
Though it hasn't been long since your last visit, Barak Varr is even livelier than you remember, and to a degree you didn't expect. You knew it had been enriched by waves of silver from Karak Eight Peaks and treasure from Karak Azul, and expected it to be energized by the prospect of safe passage through Death Pass. What you didn't account for was the effect of the sheer amount of staple goods that now flowed through Barak Varr - food, of course, still paid for by King Byrrnoth, but also luxuries from the Empire for the human and Halfling colonists, and flowing right back is wood from Ulrikadrin. Foreign ships needed wood for repairs, and the Dwarven Carpenter's Guild existed and was very touchy about being overlooked in favour of blacksmiths and masons, but more than anything else, Barak Varr hungered for charcoal to fuel the forges of their shipyards and feed the flames of their steamships. You take Roswita through on a circuit of the marketplace, translating here and there, and try not to be too visibly smug that every Dwarf you speak to knows who you are. Some in Barak Varr didn't care for the glories of the past, and some unfortunate few hadn't been enriched by the Expedition's success, but it would be very hard to find someone in both categories at once.
After a very comfortable night in the royal guest rooms, your journey continues but in much greater stature. King Byrrnoth has been invited to the celebration at Eight Peaks, and has decided he will accompany his honoured guests on their voyage. You're quite sure he'd sail a dreadnought up the Blood River if he thought he could get away with it, but there exists a single extraordinarily svelte ironclad for this exact scenario, and the Bokkul becomes your home for the next leg of this journey. Roswita might be single-focus, but having prolonged access to a foreign King is an opportunity an Elector Count would have to be daft to not capitalize on, and after a few rebuffed inroads she seizes the King's attention and imagination on the subject of her war with the Zangunaz. The Vampire Coast has been a constant navigational hazard for centuries, and the Barak Varr navy has accumulated quite a list of grudges against them and their kind. They talk at length upon the subject of their shared hatred for the vampires, and by the time the Bokkul arrives at Ulrikadrin he's promised to have a trainer of the Barak Varr Marines accompany her back to Stirland and teach her proper combat.
[Strategic insight: 77+21+5(Strategy: Undead)+4(Library: Undead)=107]
---
Sadly, there's no Dwarven artifice to skip the last leg of the journey, and the best you can do is wield the considerable status of the party to claim the most stalwart of the available beasts of burden. The Underway tunnel is a lot more inviting with the surface evened out and lamps burning at regular intervals, and before long you're emerging into the now-familiar mountains, and smile to see the silver pikes of the Undumgi in the distance. When finally you arrive at the East Gate and part ways with Roswita, you feel that you've made your peace with the girl. She's stubborn and wrongheaded about magic, but just like her father she's got a will of steel. You just hope that she doesn't share her father's fate.
Other guests swarm into the Karak, and only most of them are the many children of King Kazador. Several siblings of Prince Gotri come to represent Zhufbar, Elders from Karaks Norn, Hirn and Izor are here to represent the Young Holds, Karaz-a-Karak has sent a Loremaster to properly record the occasion, and though Karak Kadrin has sent no delegate, a swarm of newly-arrived Slayers pass along some gruff best wishes before they hurry off to investigate this mountain full of trolls they've heard so much about. Roswita technically has a peer present, as Elder Hisme Stoutheart of the Moot is here to cluck with pride over the Moot's first colony and enjoy enormous amounts of Dwarven ale. The Winter Wolves are present in force, as are the leaders that have emerged among the Undumgi and Ulrikadrin, and the presence of representatives from the Knights of Taal's Fury and the Knights of the Vengeful Sun indicate that Esbern and Seija were successful in locating them. The Emperor sent a delegate, and most of the Elector Counts have someone present to be seen and to let them know what the hell is going on down there. And though they may be far down the list of local leaders, the Baron of Blutdorf and the President of the Eastern Imperial Company are also here to pay their respects.
The first introduction to make is, of course, to Wolf. Anton lowers himself on one knee to return Wolf's quizzical stare, nods gravely, and gives independent verification of Wolf's status as a Good Boy, and from that moment on Wolf remains stuck to Anton's side. The next target is trickier, and with time sparse and his time in great demand, it could be that nobody else could snatch a few minutes of the King's ear at a moment like this, but you manage it and he has a short but dense talk with Anton and names a figure that flabbergasts you, and then you're shocked again when Anton doesn't wave away all talk of a finder's fee, merely talking the King down to a percentage that will still refill the treasury of Blutdorf and then some. Your second port of call is Prince Gotri, who is knowledgeable and radical enough that the possibility exists that he'll let slip some Dwarven secrets. You begin the conversation innocently enough by telling the Prince that Anton will be rounding up mercenaries for the upcoming attack on Karagril, and will therefore need a gyrocopter that can hold a passenger, and Anton steers the conversation through what you're almost certain is natural friendly interest into the topic of firearms. Anton's spent a fair bit of time learning the subject recently, but there's clear gaps in his knowledge and Prince Gotri seems to finds this offensive. He explains a few details, and then produces some schematics to go deeper into a few of the trickier parts, and by the time you flee the room to maintain plausible deniability Prince Gotri was disassembling a handgun under Anton's fascinated gaze.
[Anton vs Gotri: Diplomacy vs Intrigue, 91+12=103 vs 7+6=13]
Seeking safer company, you greet Wilhelmina and show her around the place. To your surprise she turned down your offer of gyrocopter passage, but it turns out she used the trip to familiarize herself with the riverine trade branching out from Barak Varr as well as the fledgling Ulrikadrin settlement and the newly-reopened Death Pass, and when she arrived at the Karak her eyes had already taken on that worrying gleam she always got when there was money to be made. She puts aside her ambitions to approve of your rug, equivocate on your furniture (very well made, but too unadorned for her tastes), and raises an eyebrow at the sprawl that is your library, spots your trade section, and raises the other eyebrow and gleefully accepts your offer to lend her a few of the rarer texts. She climbs up to your Tower, stares in bafflement at the room of marble and wood and glass, and mentally files it under 'Wizard things' and gives no comment. The local EIC members get a terrifying surprise inspection and try not to panic under the watchful eye of 56% of the company shareholders. And having leveraged your title to claim the ear of a second King in as many days, you unleash Wilhelmina upon King Byrrnoth, and wonder if she finally met her match.
[Wilhelmina vs King Byrrnoth: Stewardship, 95+19=114 vs 3+25=28]
Apparently not.
Wilhelmina came into this meeting with a plan to secure access to the goods coming out of the resurgent Silk Road, but apparently dropped that overboard somewhere between Barak Varr and Eight Peaks because she talks of the canal Karak Kadrin has dug, makes observations on the shame of a landlocked Karak outdoing the might of Barak Varr in the realm of riverine trade, and makes a series of observations about the proximity of the Aver Reach and the crater lake of Black Water. King Byrrnoth summons his advisers, who take a moment to react to the questions they're being asked and hurry off to get maps and reference materials, and before your eyes a plan takes hold that is going to shatter everything the Empire thinks it knows about trade. Barak Varr is coming.
---
One of the smaller peaks surrounding the base of Karag Lhune has been carved away to form a mighty amphitheatre, and a crowd of thousands fills it to witness Karak Eight Peaks reward its allies. After watching both of your guests take a sledgehammer to the status quo, a sword seems almost prosaic. Or maybe it just seems that way because Dwarves don't believe in doing things by halves, and though it's certainly gratifying to hear a tale told where you're the deuteragonist, it does begin to wear after the first few hours of painstaking detail. Nevertheless, with willpower you gained from forcing the very fabric of reality to bend to your will, you manage to remain conscious and appear interested until the recitation finally catches up with the current day.
"The Dwarves," King Belegar intones, "have a long and noble history. Many are our glorious deeds and grand heroes, stretching back all the way to our Ancestor Gods. The history of Karak Eight Peaks can make no such claim, as for three thousand years it was lost to us. With steel and fire we have retaken two peaks, and with steel and fire we will retake six more. But in the battles that allowed us all to stand here today, we did not stand alone. The Knights of the Empire stood with us! The Halflings of the Moot stood with us! The men of the Wolf-God stood with us! The men of the Asoborn stood with us! The men of the Undumgi stood with us! And the Wizards of the Colleges of Magic stood with us!
"I have been reminded a great many times of the importance of Grudges, but I fear the Karaz Ankor has forgotten their counterpart. So many die to strike out ancient wrongs in the Dammaz Kron, but how many concern themselves with what other scores remain unsettled? Where is the Dalaz Kron, to be a weight around our necks when the acts of honour and courage of our oldest allies are not repaid? Let the message go forth for all to hear: just as the Dwarves will spill a lake of blood to avenge the past, so too will we move mountains to repay it. And today, using gromril wrest from the claws of our foes, Clan Angrund and Karak Eight Peaks repays those that fought and bled and died alongside us to recover our home."
Dwarves, anyone could tell you, do not make swords. Dwarves, anyone could also tell you, are stubborn as all hell. So when King Belegar Ironhammer says make swords, the Grandmaster of the Karak Azul Blacksmith's Guild learned to make a sword, and not being one to reinvent the wheel, a glance can show you where they took their lessons. The representatives of the Knights are presented swords that bear striking resemblances to the hand-and-a-half swords of Bretonnia. The Ulricans receive a blade that clearly draws inspiration from the ceremonial blade of the Reiksmarshal, from before Solland was destroyed and its Runefang became the symbol of office. The Undumgi sword that Francesco Caravello receives differs only in material and craftsmanship from those wielded by the swordsmen of the Empire. On behalf of the Halflings, Titus receives a blade modelled after the short-swords of ancient Tylos. Roswita's blade is clearly modelled after a Runefang, and her expression is troubled as she considers it. And at last, your own blade, and you hold your breath as it is drawn from its scabbard to be presented to you.
It's a Greatsword. Well, of course it would be a greatsword, but it's a Greatsword greatsword, only scaled down slightly to match your build and exhibiting the sheen of gromril instead of the glint of steel, and lighter than you expected. Three runes are carved into it, and the only reason they do not blaze with radiance is they have been specifically made not to, and as you take in the amount of power it contains you need to remind yourself it was made by the eldest Runesmith of the Karaz Ankor to keep from carefully putting it down and then fleeing in the opposite direction - and, to your fading horror and rising delight, it's still absorbing more, and you watch traces of Ulgu get pulled from the surface of your skin to feed the power of the blade.
"Might take a while before you can thank the artisan in person," King Belegar murmurs to you over the hearty roar of the crowd, and at your quizzical glance he gives the slightest nod in the direction of the front row, where alongside a cheering King Kazador, Thorek Ironbrow's gaze is fixed on your sword and he is literally vibrating with fury.
Oh.
---
[Master Rune of Kragg the Grim: each blow delivers as much force as required to cut or shatter whatever it is struck against, up to the approximate impact force of a cannonball.]
[Rune of Superior Skill: any foe struck by this sword has all magical weapons, armour, items, and positive magical effects cease working for several minutes. Though an original rune, the effect is very similar to Thorek Ironbrow's prototype rune. Knowing Kragg, this is almost certainly deliberate.]
[Rune of the Unknown: when held by its owner, at a thought it can disappear, and will reappear again when desired. If not currently disappeared, weapon can be summoned to the owner's hand from a distance of up to several hundred yards. Kragg thought he'd never find a use for this rune because no Dwarf would trust their weapon hidden away somewhere they couldn't see.]
---
When all the celebrations come to an end, it will be time once more for the Council to convene. While your success is pretty clear based on Roswita's presence, there is the matter of the spider silk to discuss.
Who will you present this matter in front of?
[ ] The entire Council. They can be trusted.
[ ] Prince Kazrik and Princess Edda. They will be the ones that have to monetize this information.
[ ] Dreng and King Belegar. The spiders are currently his responsibility.
[ ] King Belegar only. Nobody else can be trusted.
What recommendation will you make?
[ ] Don't change how we treat the We, just strike a deal for their excess silk.
[ ] Try to move the We into a more peaceful existence. Supply them with food in exchange for silk.
[ ] Try to uplift the We. Fill them with knowledge until they're able to understand what the big deal is, then have them decide how they want to act.
Also, your sword needs a name. Or possibly multiple.
[ ] Write in.
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SuperSonicSound
Shadowmancer of the Shadow Cabal
So we'd have to delve in the lore a little here but essentially Aethyric Vitae is liquid warp stuff. It's what bleeds into the world at the polar gates before becoming the winds of magic. Divine magic is made from and is essentially Aethyric Vitae the gods reside inside the warp and their magic is essentially channelled out of it through devout souls capable of utilising magic. Per word of Teclis, the Priests of the Empire were and are magic users but channelling their abilities through their faith and prayers.
Vitae is the stuff of infinite potential before it becomes changed by the physical aspects of reality into more concrete concepts. Underpinning this framework is the belief about how and what daemons are, specifically that they are a fragment of the divine. Daemons of the chaos gods in particular are lesser shards of them, part of the reason why the snake juice comes out as it does and is useful for us is because the daemon type in question is 'neutral' and unaffiliated with any of the chaos gods. Meaning the blood is completely unaspected.
In a sense what we're getting from the snake is God blood.
NeverDies
Classy Coleoptera ಠ_ರೃ
- Location
- Colorado
I had another thought. The Liber Mortis is basically a diary rather than a Necromancy Manual. And we're learning a boatload of stuff from it.
So our next step should be hunting for other famous people's diaries. Sigmar, Nagash, their secrets (both magical and mundane) will be known!
So our next step should be hunting for other famous people's diaries. Sigmar, Nagash, their secrets (both magical and mundane) will be known!
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Welp EIC's gonna be biiig.
Also damn fine sword that!
Also damn fine sword that!
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Quick lets get him to try and out do his rival by making us a swaggy hat!
TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE JELOUS DWARF!
I kid, but still.
SuperSonicSound
Shadowmancer of the Shadow Cabal
I'm actually a little worried about that, Thorek vibrating in fury is not a good sign.
Chimeraguard
We do deserve to exist.
I hope the human audience has paid close attention to the lack of mention of the Elector Counts of the Empire, the Emperor, or the men of Sigmar.
Ahahahaha. Well then. That second rune would explain why he's so pissed.
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Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Yes if engineers take copy right seriously, runesmiths I think take it religiously.
Although can I just note how impressive it is that Kragg apparently managed to at least partially reverse engineer Thorek's rune seemingly from sight?
Also this sword really is a one two punch.
Think about it any magical items means that things that would otherwise survive being hit by a cannon suddenly have far less chance of surviving any hit from the sword.
About the sword: I don't think it should have a name. Or if it does, the name should be The Nameless Blade or something.
- Location
- Norway
Just for speculation, I would like to offer an alternative hypothesis: For some reason Kragg has been secretly sitting on this rune for ages, and Thorek is mad that Kragg had it all this time and never said.
- Location
- New Brunswick, NJ
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Holy shit that was an update and a half.
@BoneyM I hope your sleep schedule has not been too screwed up by this, but I understand why you spent so long on it. It's great, and I really admire the way you managed to write an action scene taking place with four different groups of actors and spread out over three dimensions in such a way as to make it understandable.
Now to ponder the actual questions for our report.
@BoneyM I hope your sleep schedule has not been too screwed up by this, but I understand why you spent so long on it. It's great, and I really admire the way you managed to write an action scene taking place with four different groups of actors and spread out over three dimensions in such a way as to make it understandable.
Now to ponder the actual questions for our report.
- Location
- Around here
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Well. Anton and Wilhelmina apparently took all our combat luck, but at least we got to spend some positive time with Roswita.
SuperSonicSound
Shadowmancer of the Shadow Cabal
That sword is amazing, going to need to work on our skill with it now.