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Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties - an Advisor's Quest

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That Ackbar is annoying isn't surprising.

Interesting. Our relationship with Regimand has gone up, and the relationship description has changed.

Magister Regimand Speiseschrank, Grey Wizard
Relation: 9/10 - former teacher and father figure
 
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Another random thought I had while trying to not hit F5 too often...

Peple seem somewhat obsessed with that KF Hammer dude we might have accidentallied (and collateralled) during the purge of the conspiracy, but it's been noted that dates don't quite match up. Could it be he's a legitimized bastard (possibly due to the current emperor failing at getting some progeny in wedlock... I now have random fear that we'll accidentally collateral another wife of his)? Is it known how faithful he would be?
 
EVA-Saiyajin said:
That Ackbar is annoying isn't surprising.

Interesting. Our relationship with Regimand has gone up, and the relationship description has changed.

Magister Regimand Speiseschrank, Grey Wizard
Relation: 9/10 - former teacher and father figure
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I'm just waiting for the day when this happens:
Elector Count Abelhelm Van Hal
Relation: 10/10
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...and Omegahugger's squee will be heard around the planet.

I'm joking. At least, I think I am. I hope I am... o_O
 
Captainwolf said:
Not a bit of time, a lot of time. It took 3 days for 90 cannons to demolish Castle Drakenhof. A single sword that can hit as hard as a cannon would haven taken an order of magnitude longer.
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Well if we're just hitting it yeah.

On the other hand if we got to the foundations and other key parts of the castle on the inside and hit those...
 
FlyingScanian said:
Another random thought I had while trying to not hit F5 too often...

Peple seem somewhat obsessed with that KF Hammer dude we might have accidentallied (and collateralled) during the purge of the conspiracy, but it's been noted that dates don't quite match up. Could it be he's a legitimized bastard (possibly due to the current emperor failing at getting some progeny in wedlock... I now have random fear that we'll accidentally collateral another wife of his)? Is it known how faithful he would be?
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I really don't think there's any hints in the lore that Karl Franz is a bastard. And given that there's a whole short novel about the political dealing he had to engage in to get himself elected Emperor, somebody would have brought it up if that was the case.
 
FlyingScanian said:
Peple seem somewhat obsessed with that KF Hammer dude we might have accidentallied (and collateralled) during the purge of the conspiracy, but it's been noted that dates don't quite match up. Could it be he's a legitimized bastard (possibly due to the current emperor failing at getting some progeny in wedlock... I now have random fear that we'll accidentally collateral another wife of his)? Is it known how faithful he would be?
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In canon, KF was born the year the purge quest started, a legitimate child of the Empress, and the wood elves saved him from a beastmen assassination when he was one year old. Presumably we somehow butterflied that.
 
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Alratan said:
In canon, KF was born the year the purge started, a legitimate child of the Empress, and the wood elves saved him from a beastmen assassination when he was one year old. Presumably we somehow butterflied that.
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He was born when the quest started, in 2470. At least, according to the wiki. If you have a source for 2475, I'd love to hear it.
 
Mopman43 said:
I really don't think there's any hints in the lore that Karl Franz is a bastard. And given that there's a whole short novel about the political dealing he had to engage in to get himself elected Emperor, somebody would have brought it up if that was the case.
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Alratan said:
In canon, KF was born the year the purge quest started, a legitimate child of the Empress, and the wood elves saved him from a beastmen assassination when he was one year old. Presumably we somehow butterflied that.
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Thank you. Limited knowledge of warhammer canon, so sometimes it's easier to ask (also, limited approval of gw ability to write stuff in general...)
 
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Turn 22 Results - 2480.5 - Part 1
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] [RUNE] No purchase.
    [*] [PURCHASE] No purchase.
    [*] [ENCHANTMENT] No purchase.
    [*] Tower of Serenity - Perfect temperature, perfect level of background noise, perfect conditions to get those bloody papers written. Or for someone else to do it for you. It even has a rune to keep your drink warm. Every turn, writing or dictating 1 paper costs no actions. 300gc, 3 College favours, 1 Dwarf favour.
    [*] [LIBRARY] Plan To Kill
    Imperial Undead - Extensive (50g)
    Imperial Vampires - Extensive (100g)
    Imperial Necromancy - Extensive (100g)
    Bretonnian Undead - Extensive (100g)
    Bretonnian Vampires - Extensive (100g)
    Dwarf Vampires - Extensive (100g)
    Bretonnian Greenskins - Extensive (100g)
    Bright Magic - Extensive (100g)
    Death Magic - Extensive (100g)
    Celestial Magic - Extensive (100g)

    [*] Plan Fuck Alkharad, Free Max Edition
    -[*][Max] Have Maximilian attempt to write a paper (choose which from 'Publish or Perish')
    --[*] Collate the information that the Army of Stirland collected during the Purge.
    -[*][Johann] Previous Task: Have Johann perform or assist with spider autopsies.
    -[*] [EIC] Have those supplying the Stirland Army keep you informed of events in the Sylvanian Campaign.
    -[*] Ask an acquaintance to train you in a skill: Gunnar and Greatsword
    -[*] Karagril: Carefully map as much of the mountain as you can.
    -[*] Sylvania: Investigate all the Vampires as efficiently as possible, seeking only information, not opportunities.
    -[*] Sylvania: Investigate the attempts on Roswita's life, and see if you can determine the mechanisms, spells, and controls that make it possible.
    -[*] Sylvania: Investigate Alkharad for yourself, and if a good opportunity arises, take it.
    -[*] [OVERWORK] Establish a weekly meeting for the various Journeymanlings and Ducklings that you've accumulated, so you can keep tabs on what they're up to and assist and intervene as necessary.
    -[*][Penthouse] Have a tower built atop Karag Nar: -100gc for 1 room, bonus to room's purpose.
    -[*][Coin] The Night Prowler
    -[*][FreePaper] Write a paper on Mathilde's Multidimensional Aethyric Projection.
    -[*] [FREE] Hire an open-minded Loremaster from a Young Hold to teach the We.

    The first room in your tower had been an amazing display of very complex magic. The second is comparatively humble in scope. It does not seek to remove magic, but to remove distractions, to allow for the better harnessing of your painfully limited waking hours. Perhaps one could look at this as a frivolous use of limited resources, but to you it was an investment. You were sitting on a large and growing number of potential papers and something needed to be done to fight the tide.

    A handful of runes scattered throughout the room absorbed magic, but without the urgency or totality of the previous room. Both the fireplace and the candles would never require refuelling or relighting, though the former achieved it through a much milder variation on Stoke the Forge and the latter via Inextinguishable Flame, and both would remain the same size and colour whether they were radiating heat to fight the chill of night or gone completely cold to keep from adding to the heat of the day. Apprentices from Prince Gotri's nascent Engineers Guild had installed a system of pipes that could cause the trickle of a fountain or the simulated patter of raindrops, and an apprentice Runesmith had applied a single very simple rune so that the water would flow obligingly without requiring any mundane source of impetus. Book cradles could be unfolded from the walls, each sporting an extremely basic Move cantrip to keep a book obligingly open without having to resort to cracking the spine. One wall could be unfolded completely to reveal a massive chalkboard and an ample supply of chalk, as you had surrendered to practicality after considering how much effort it would be to achieve the same result with your MAP or other spells - but you did have it enchanted with Cleansing Glow so it could be cleaned off in an instant. And not least of all, the desk itself, where two visible runes would keep any drink suitably warm or cool, a small rack hidden away in the wall to keep quills and ink on hand, and an ample supply of papyrus, vellum, parchment, and even the Cathayan wood-pulp 'paper' that many older wizards were sure would never catch on.

    You had explored the possibility of magical dictation, but had run into roadblocks early and often. There were two ways for it to work - one where the enchantment would access the mind of the user, and one that relied only on sound. The former was several disasters waiting to happen, as so far the intended users of the tower were yourself and Maximilian, which meant that at best half and more likely both of you would have a foreign magic operating on your brain, and creating Dhar inside one's brain was as terrible idea as it sounded, and even if your belt would protect you from it, it would still prevent it from working. The latter was trickier than it sounded, and you would either need to create or enslave a sentient mind for the purpose - rather drastic, morally dubious, and that's what you had Maximilian for - or you build a complete understanding of Reikspiel or Praestantia into the spell itself, which would be an utterly titanic undertaking. Infuriatingly, Dwarven runes could perform this easily - but only for Khazalid. Something to do with both the Klinkarun alphabet of Khazalid and the art of Runesmithing both descending from the Ancestor Gods, apparently. An interesting line of enquiry at a time when you're drowning in them, but no good for you unless you write a paper for Dwarven eyes only.

    ---

    King Belegar's orders to you hadn't been phrased as such, but that was a show of trust in you rather than any alteration of the relationship that existed between King and Councillor. Your official task was the education of the We, but unless you did so yourself, both the pay and influence to acquire a teacher would come from King Belegar and Karak Eight Peaks rather than yourself, so all you had to do was choose the best candidate and spend a few minutes writing a suitable letter and sealing it with the now-familiar sigil of the reborn Karak. You give the matter some thought, and then send off letters via gyrocopter relay to two Dwarves you once shared the Expedition's Council of War with - Durin Wutokri of Karak Norn, and Ulthar Alriksson of Karak Hirn, explaining broadly the task at hand and guaranteeing the safety of whoever might apply, but being clear that the task would be extremely unusual - letting it go unsaid that if a human wizard says that, to even a slightly conservative Dwarf it was sure to border on lunacy. By the time you returned there would be at least one candidate waiting, and if there were multiple, chronicling the rebirth of the Karak could employ any number of unsuitable teachers.

    Speaking of Ulthar Alriksson, you are given to understand that he always has been Prince Ulthar, but has only started going by that title recently. Whatever sort of royal family intrigue that the situation has sprung from, it leaves any Dwarf who you ask about the matter extremely uncomfortable and only willing to speak very circuitously about the matter. As Dwarves would never hesitate to expound on actual misdoings, you gather the matter must be extremely embarrassing, not unlike some of the more esoteric parts of the whole Dieter IV business.

    You put the matter from your mind and see to putting things in motion so you can leave the Karak for a few months and be mostly sure of it still being intact when you return. After some thought you've decided to perform your own scouting of Karagril rather than assisting Dreng with his. Dreng's Rangers will be focusing on gathering innumerable tiny details of the possible avenues of attack to remove as many unknowns from the rapidly-approaching invasion as possible - important work, but one that can be done by a great many Rangers who know that specific job better than you can. What only you can do is map the entirety of the Karag beyond the defenders, and to ensure the information is as current as possible you'll do so after you return from Stirland. You do, however, perform a few forays into the approaches to Karagril to make sure there's no unexpected surprises that might snare a Ranger but would be no difficulty to an incorporeal wizard, and pass on the information to Dreng for him to refine over the next few months.

    Your two underlings are put to work. Maximilian is given the daunting task of distilling the massive amount of information the Purge of the Haunted Hills gathered into something properly compiled, indexed, and analyzed. Johann is provided with a pile of spider corpses, several each of the Hunters and Web-Weavers and a single massive Egg-Layer. It had been nearing something similar but not quite the same as 'death by old age' that resisted all attempts to translate it, and its weight in goats had bought the corpse in what would have been an extremely fraught negotiation with any other race but was completely straightforward with the We. They did not see the corpse as one of them, they saw a worn-out and discarded component, valuable only for the nutrients that could have been recycled.

    ---

    The final matter to put to rest before Sylvania was the matter of your martial techniques. Branulhune was an amazing weapon and you itched to explore the possibilities that the Rune of the Unknown could allow for, but before you strike out into that unknown, you need to master the more conventional techniques common to all long blades. Once more you request Gunnars act as teacher and sparring partner both, and once more you try to reach the next plateau of sword-wielding ability.

    [Teaching: Martial, 22+??=??]
    [Learning: Martial, 75+20+7(Library: Greatswords)=102]

    You can't deny that Gunnars is extremely able with a blade, but once more proves a template to observe and learn from, rather than an active teacher. That he's evasive rather than taciturn when he doesn't want to share information is uncharacteristic for a Dwarf, but the end result is the same: you do a whole lot of talking for very little in response and learn basically nothing about the Priest of Gazul. But perhaps his lack of active instruction could be considered a benefit, because instead of rote learning of the techniques, you need to examine each as he performs them and spend the time and thought to grasp their purpose, allowing you to slot each neatly into your repertoire where they best serve instead of simply ticking them off a list.

    By the time you and Gunnars part ways once more, you feel you've developed a style entirely your own - part Empire Greatsword, part Order of the Guardians, and part entirely your own, which nobody weighed down by armour could replicate. The strengths of both have merged and should prove especially advantageous against enemies made predictable by bloodthirstiness or an inability to think, such as Orcs, Beastmen, and most Undead. It would also be a nightmare to face when there existed no possibility of flanking or circling, such as tunnel-fighting or holding a choke-point. You're very satisfied with the progress you've made, and can barely wait to unleash both it and your new sword on any enemy foolish enough to give you the opportunity.

    [Skill acquired: Advanced Greatswords]
    [Trait acquired: Master Swordswoman]

    ---

    Once more, gyrocopters ferry you and a squad of Hammerers to Stirland, and the populace of Fort Redemption are no less awestruck than that of Wurtbad. Roswita seems less stilted in her greeting to you, which you take as a good sign, and once the onlookers are dismissed and you tell her the reason for your presence it takes more than a moment for her to respond, and the waver in her voice as she speaks the almost-ritual phrases of a grateful Elector Count communicates more than her words do. The idea that maybe she won't die in the coming months is a new one to her, and she might need some time to come to terms with it.

    [Initial once-over: Intrigue, 43+19+5(Strategy: Undead)+6(Library: Vampires)=73]

    Roswita goes about her business as usual, albeit with a squad of Hammerers within shouting distance and your own careful eye trailing behind. For the first time you've flipped your coin to the face of the Night Prowler, and the effect is as subtle as it is potent. You're definitely still visible, as people avoid bumping into you and the friendlier folks nod a greeting as you pass, but you don't get the stares you normally do. You're a face in the crowd, just one more person in the bustle of the Fort and the surrounding sprawl of tents, shanties, and even a few proper buildings that have sprung up around Stirland's forward base for the Sylvania campaign. The effect even seems to extend to animals, or perhaps only to those that aren't just animals, as a crow with a swirl of Dhar where the Ghur of a wild animal should be fails to react to your presence until you skewer it with a shadowchisel.

    That goes some way to lowering the chance of Roswita's imminent demise, and answers a few questions. The crow was clearly living up until you made it otherwise, even if its long-term health would have suffered from the Dhar that controlled it. As a Vampire Alkharad would have no trouble overpowering the animals he collected, but if he could ensnare them while alive he wouldn't need to, and could kill them in a way that kept the corpse as intact as possible for the spells that would reanimate it. It also explained how he would know of Roswita's movements with enough time to prepare an ambush when she decided to visit Eight Peaks. The literature surrounding Vampires suggested they had a certain amount of influence over certain creatures, though it wasn't clear whether this was the result of an unusual application of necromancy or some inherent trait of the species.

    You consider telling Roswita, but decide against it for now. It would make her slightly safer if her soldiers knew to keep the Fort clear of corvids, but could also delay any imminent attacks until the passage of time forced you to move on.

    ---

    [Week 1 observations: Learning, 65+26+10(Windsage)=101]

    As Roswita rides out to personally settle some dispute about the recent sale of parts of the Hunter's Hills, your parallel journey upon your Shadowsteed leads you to exactly what you're looking for. You hone in on the foul smell/feel/taste of necromancy just as it begins to gather, and watch from a safe distance as what appears to be no more than a smear of foul magic floating in midair expands into the silhouette of what looks like a withered corpse dressed in the puffy trousers and waistcoat that would have been fashionable for an Altdorf noble in the Time of the Three Emperors. The ability to transform into mist is one that the less reliable books ascribed to Vampires, and you'd assumed it was a misunderstanding of the ones that wield Ulgu rather than the necromancy they were known for, but it seems there's more to it. You stalk the silhouette as it beelines through the scrub, passing unimpeded through thorned bushes and leaving a trail of wilting branches and dead leaves.

    Your Aethyric Armour renders you as immune to the thorns as the silhouette's incorporeality does, and you leave your Shadowsteed behind as you follow the trail into the cave that the bushes concealed, taking a moment to wrap yourself in Substance of Shadow as you leave the sunlight. And just in time too, as the first alarmed bat flies through your incorporeal form and out into the sunlight, panicked by the intruder. You do your best to ignore the stream of other bats doing the same as you push through the cave until it opens up into an open chamber, and the cause of the bats' alarm is clear as the silhouette moves with clearly unnatural speed, flitting around the chamber and jabbing fingers of Dhar into the largest specimens.

    "This will do," the being says, a strange echo to his voice. "Take one each. One at a time, in order of seniority. I'm watching you, Andrei."

    Alternately guiding and chiding, the voice walks an unseen class through the process of reanimation, and one by one the slain bats twitch jerkily upright, flapping wings experimentally. Even the largest of them only has a wingspan the length of your arm, and in total fourteen corpses are waiting for the attention of the unseen necromancers. A bat swarm was a tricky enemy, but with Roswita escorted by a score of Gustav's outriders on top of her normal escort, this can barely be considered an attempt on her life. But the lesson unfolding before you adds a new meaning to it. He wasn't just harrying Roswita, Alkharad was training his disciples.

    As the penultimate corpse jerks to life, the silhouette dissolves and flows into the final corpse, which jerks to life with much greater speed and grace than the others. You watch the flock take flight, flap experimentally around the cave, and then fly in formation out of it, and you have to resummon your Shadowsteed and ride with all speed to watch the attempted assassination unfold. The bats fly in formation rather than in the normal chaotic swarm, but Roswita bisects the first with a Dwarven boarding axe and the others swerve aside to avoid her blow. With the element of surprise lost, the Outriders make quick work of the others, plucking them out of the sky with deadly accuracy.

    ---

    [Week 2 observations: Learning, 97+26+10(Windsage)+10(previous crit)=143]

    A second attempt unfolds as Roswita rides to Siegfriedhof, and once more you're able to witness the entire process from start to finish. Though it is obligingly shrouded in shadows, Hunger Wood is not home to any wholesome wildlife, and instead a lurking pack of ghouls are slain one by one by the apparition, and once more the twisted lesson unfolds. With their twisted forms already home to Dhar, ghouls are both more receptive to necromancy but also less predictable in their responses to it. As you watch the beasts rise back to their feet and have their muscles begin to bulge with unnatural energies, you frown to yourself in thought. The bats were barely a threat, but ghouls were nasty enemies even without the benefit of necromantic empowerment, their teeth and claws practically guaranteeing infection from the slightest wound. You resolve to intervene, and watch closely until the most precarious moment and then interrupt with the slightest jolt of Ulgu, which disperses within moments of its work being done.

    "Doina," the voice scolds as the ghoul that was rising to its feet shudders as Dhar runs rampant through it. "I know you know better than that. What just happened?" Whatever answer the apparition gets, it doesn't satisfy it, and it reaches out and squeezes the unlife from one of the previously-raised ghouls in frustration. "Just put a rag over it until it stops bleeding! Next up, let's go." Another well-timed nudge, another spell tears itself free of its owner's control. "Ionuţ! Someone check the chart, I'm sure he's on his last chance." One of the ghouls crumples, presumably as its controller abandons it to consult said chart. "That's what I thought. Hold him down- I said hold him! If I have to come over there myself-" The rest of the reanimated ghouls crumple and the silhouette shrinks back in on itself, and as soon as it is reduced to the size of a fist, it shoots off into the sky, heading east.

    ---

    [Week 3 observations: Learning, 50+26+10(Windsage)+50(previous crits)=136]

    Perhaps he'd grown suspicious, perhaps he was merely fortunate, but the third manifestation of Alkharad was shrouded in the lingering energies of a recent battlefield. But knowing exactly what to look for means that even if you didn't catch it at first, by the time the stag had been reanimated and the group had moved on to the other deer, you were watching. The apparition is carefully watching each corpse as it reanimates, but a handful of deer don't merit you risking your observations, so you let the lesson unfold without any interruptions, confirming the mental notes you'd previously taken and pay closer attentions to the process of empowerment that the creatures undergo. Part of you winces at the thought of adding another paper to the to-do list, but as far as you know these capabilities are unknown to the Empire.

    ---

    You'd grown familiar enough with the sensation that it requires no actual attention on your part to notice the final manifestation of Alkharad, and the final lesson you witness adds an unexpected twist as the Vampire walks his students through the process of splitting their attention between two corpses at once. One day, that could prove a dangerous ability, but as you watch the ravens stagger about and attempt again and again to take wing, you're fairly confident that today is not that day. Alkharad eventually tires of the spectacle, instructs his students to release their hold on their second raven, and once more a necromantic flock takes wing to give the Outriders some practice. You've seen enough. Time to start investigating the other side of these events.

    ---

    You've never seen a more miserable town that wasn't being actively bombarded. Teufelheim's walls are lined with the corpses of wolves and bears and mountain lions, preserved by Dhar and ready to be animated at the slightest whim of the town's master - and their unceasing gaze is turned inward, not outward. Under a thousand glassy stares, a terrified populace do their best to scratch a living from the forests, hunters searching despondently for an animal not already slain and reanimated, woodsmen trying to decide which tree is least rotten, miners venturing out in groups in the faint hope that numbers will protect them against the terrible beasts of the mountains. The tiny strip of land between the Templa and the forests barely supplies enough food to sustain life, and from the hundred conversations you observe unnoticed, the populace are forbidden from crossing the river to access the unforested lands of the counties of Drakenhof or Waldenhof. The river flows fast and cold and deep, and the bridge is watched over by the rigid corpse of what must be a terrorgheist, a bat grown so large as to rival the size of dragons.

    However, not all in Teufelheim are miserable. Instead of the burghers and nobility of a more typical town, the upper class is populated by those wearing black robes that you suspect are deliberately aping those of the Colleges of Magic. It seems Alkharad takes disciples by the score, and when they're not learning the twisted art of necromancy they're lording their status over the locals and using it to claim what little wholesome food and petty luxuries trickle in from the few traders bold or stupid enough to try to find a profit in the most cursed corners of an already cursed land, and at the slightest pretext or even none at all, they take control of the nearest beast carcass and use it to wound or terrify whoever has displeased them. But not kill, which is easier said than done when attacking someone with a resurrected predator. Presumably they don't have that right.

    You're getting a feel for Alkharad's personality, and you barely bother to trail the necromancers to confirm that the keep in the center of town is where they're based out of. Ranald's Coin gets you to the portcullis, Doppelganger gets you through it, and the predictably lacking lighting inside it allows Substance of Shadow to remove all but the slightest chance of detection as you flit through the structure. Almost every room has preserved corpses, and it seems only the choicest specimens receive the honour of being displayed in the keep. You peruse a shockingly diverse museum of death complete with tarnished brass plaques. A chimera, a pair of rhinoxen, griffons and hippogryphs and demigryphs, a herd of pegasi... dozens of magnificent beasts reduced to trophies and weapons. And in a dusty room lined with rotting scrolls, the remains of what appears to be a long-abandoned attempt to piece a dragon skeleton together, which from the surviving notes seems to have been foiled by the bones being from three different dragons, and even cumulatively not being enough for an entire skeleton. You contemplate the massive skull, and are glad that he failed.

    [Infiltration: Intrigue, 51+19=70]

    While an incredibly useful spell, Substance of Shadow does have limitations, and one of which is that to sufficiently honed Magesight, the spell itself is visible even though the caster is not. The disciples that reside in the ground floor of the keep are far from this level, but those of the dungeons are those more favoured by Alkharad and thus given more detailed tuition. So you compound your magical concealment with more mundane methods, sneaking on silent feet through the basement of the keep, and play it safe by withdrawing if any of the necromancers seem even slightly alarmed. With painstaking care, you map every inch of one sublevel, then another, then a third. Conversation after conversation adds to your knowledge of the happenings of this dark corner of the Empire, and even though most of them are dedicated to petty infighting and backstabbing, useful information can be plucked from them like flakes of gold from alluvial soil.

    The picture that emerges is clear: Alkharad has been collecting disciples since the earliest successes of the Purge of the Haunted Hills. His primary intention is the projection of power, both in his harrying of Roswita and in his skirmishes with the other Vampires that have emerged of late, but in the process he's turned Teufelheim into a College of Necromancy.

    The correct response to this is ride hell for leather for Altdorf and have a quiet but intense word with someone who'll have a quiet but intense word with someone else who'll have a quiet but intense word with the Emperor, and from that point on it's all armies on the march and unleashing the sort of wizards that have made it their life goal to redefine scorched earth. But you've seen first-hand how much time it takes to assemble such an army, and how slow that march actually is, and in the time that takes a significant number of the necromancers would surely scatter and become the nightmares of future years. Sometimes a scalpel today is better than a hammer tomorrow. And if the odds turn against you, you could leave and then contact Altdorf.

    [Start slitting throats: Intrigue, 41+19=60]

    The pettier necromancers are the easiest targets, and the town is full of places where a body can be stashed and the air is thick with rot anyway. You whisper a silent apology to Ranald for using the Coin to this end, just in case - Ranald frowns on unnecessary violence, but on the topic of necessary violence he's much more sanguine. The Coin seems to have restrictions similar to Take No Heed, in that actions that draw attention to yourself disrupt whatever effect is causing you to be overlooked, but as soon as the corpses are stashed and your shadowchisel banished, the effect resumes as though it never left.

    [Moving down a level: Intrigue, 11+19=30]

    You're not as fast with the scattered necromancers as you'd like, and by the time you've returned to the keep the air is thick with tension and the necromancers huddle in worried groups, speculating on the various disappearances, and despite embracing necromancy they remain human so they've lit candles and stoked fires to banish their nervousness. You do your best with the situation in front of you, but the wrong door opens at the wrong time and you're not quite fast enough to prevent the cry of alarm in the instant before chisel meets throat. The chorus of dying gurgles and the yells and footsteps of rapidly approaching necromancers is the sound of failure, and with a scowl you reach out and crush the nearest candle in your fist.

    [Prepare for company: Learning, 18+26=44]

    It's not enough. A fire's roaring nearby and lanterns line the corridors, and you barely have the seconds to wrap yourself in Aethyric Armour before the first necromancer rounds the corner, eyes widening as he spots you.

    [Round One: Fight! Martial, 93+33=126 vs 35+10=45]

    Fine.

    With a thought Branulhune is in your hand, and the first necromancer barely has a chance to realize how doomed he is before it's shearing through ribs as easily as flesh. The ones following behind try to screech to a halt, but you're already approaching before they even manage to turn and with negligent ease Branulhune tears through each one. You had hoped that Kragg would bestow his Rune upon your sword when you made your request, but you'd imagined it as a behemoth of brute strength. You'd underestimated him. Every impact imparts exactly as much force as is required, and even if you weren't magically inured to fatigue the sword's smooth movement through bone and viscera would allow for more sustained combat than a clumsier Rune that delivered bone-juddering impacts with every swing.

    Like a vengeful ghost, but actually the complete opposite of a vengeful ghost, you orbit the memorized halls of the Keep, ensuring anyone that sees enough to go from alarmed to raising the alarm then swiftly passes into the next life. The cries of alarm end before long, and you find yourself once more shrouded in silence, and you're actually taken aback. Thick stone floors, you realize. Nobody above this level is alive to hear anything, and nobody below it can hear anything. You frown to yourself as you reluctantly wipe clean and resheath Branulhune, and swap your spells of battle for ones of concealment once more as you resume your grim descent.

    [Advanced disciples: Intrigue, 96+19=115]

    Sure enough, the penultimate tier of Alkharad's disciples remain engrossed in dissections, meditations, and murmured conversation. You interrupt the first two, and spend some time contemplating the third until you realize you can encompass the three of them in the arc of a single swing of Branulhune. A single level remains, one you didn't scout because you didn't fancy sharing a room with a centuries-old Vampire until you were ready to go all in, no matter what spells cloaked you. You spend some time debating on the stairs, but in the end you didn't want to put much stock in the hope that a centuries-old Necrarch Vampire with a proven track record of novel magic use would have poor Magesight, and instead you pour energy into your shadow until it lashes about eagerly, ready to taste blood once more.

    [Alkharad's readiness to receive guests: 38]
    [Mathilde vs Alkharad: Martial, 88+23=101 vs 87+28=105]

    You'd pictured him leading another assassination attempt on Roswita, but even if preparations were required that would only take a fraction of the Vampire's time. He's currently hunched over a lectern, muttering to himself as he peruses the book, and you make your decision in an instant. There's unlikely to be a better scenario than this. You approach to within a meter of him but between the swing and the impact he moves, and he hisses in surprise as three of his fingertips fly across the room from his attempt at parrying your blade. "You're not-" he begins, then interrupts himself. "A Grey? But..." His eyes flick down to your belt, and then to your sword. "The famous Mathilde Weber."

    Sustained by pure Dhar instead of blood, Necrarchs wither to a corpselike appearance. Alkharad is no exception, and the clothes of the Altdorf nobility of years past that he dresses in only highlights his inhumanity. "Alkharad," you say, only paying the scantest fraction of attention to your words as you watched for any hint of assault or spell. "I've a spot on my shelf picked out just for you."

    "I don't suppose you're at all tempted by the arts of necromancy?" he asks, as casually as if he was offering you a drink at a bar - but he remains poised to act and his severed fingers are skittering across the floor to rejoin the rest of him.

    "I've had better offers," you respond.

    [Mathilde vs Alkharad 2: Martial, 1+23=24 vs 56+28=84.]

    Speed, you think as a fraction of second extends to a lifetime as the creature ducks under your blade and extends yellowed fingernails towards your gut. Are all Vampires this fast? Or does Alkharad excel?

    In a grotesque mirror of your blade, his fingernails punch through Aethyric Armour and your robe and your skin and your intestines and don't meet a scrap of resistance they can't immediately overcome, and agony floods through you as his talons tear open what you can only assume is your liver. Branulhune slips from your hands, and the part of your mind not occupied by agony begins to recalculate.

    [Alkharad's magical spot check: Learning, 17+34=51.]

    "It's interesting," he says, as he pulls his hand free from your torso, examining the blood and viscera clinging to it curiously, not noticing or not caring about the mirror of your wound that has appeared in his stomach, carving through organs he needs much less than you do yours. "Alive, you'd be useful. Dead, you'd be obedient. But if I can suspend you right in the middle..."

    He leans close, filling your fading vision with his hideous visage. Your Magesight remains clear, and you can see Dhar leaping to his will, and a tendril of hideous magic extends from his bloodied hand and reaches towards you to try to enslave your soul right on the cusp of death...

    And is met with the full force of Dwarven indignance.

    Alkharad howls in agony as fire burns inside his skull, and with your last scrap of willpower you allow the nonsense words of a Jade Enchantress' whimsy to trigger the seed in your palm. In the strange sensation of painlessness where you know there should be pain, vines burrow through muscle and veins up your arm and into your torso, and bark grows over the gaping hole in your abdomen as your intestines are unscrambled and your liver knitted back together. By the time you pull yourself back to your feet, Alkharad is doing the same, smoke pouring from his nose and ears.

    "That," he pants. "Was incredibly stupid of me."

    "That makes two of us," you admit.

    "Don't suppose you'll call it a draw?"

    "No."

    "Good. I wouldn't have honoured it."

    [Mathilde vs Alkharad 3: Martial, 47+23=70 vs 7+28=35]

    He feints low, then feints high, then actually goes left. You're impressed that he bothered when you didn't have a sword in your hands, and you almost regret that a thought is all it takes to change that and sever the gore-slick hand that darted forward once more and send it flying across the room.

    "What the hell did you do for them?" he asks, frowning at your sword, paying no heed to the stump where his arm used to be.

    "Oh, you know. Settled some Grudges. Reconquered a Karak."

    "Which one?"

    "Eight Peaks."

    "And I thought my neighbours were bad."

    [Mathilde vs Alkharad 4: Learning, 83+26=109 vs 76+34=110]

    A moment before it's too late, you spot the stirring of Dhar within the vortex of it that a Vampire resembles to Magesight, and with an effort of will deflect the projectiles that fly from Alkharad's eyes, spinning off into the room behind you...

    [Mathilde vs Alkharad 5: Martial, 57+23=80 vs 11+28=39]

    ...and effortlessly cleave through Vampiric flesh to send the other arm flying, taking the energies of the second spell Alkharad was shaping with it. You look at him as he looks down at himself, and he sighs.

    [Spite against you vs spite against others: 51 vs 66]

    "Okay," he says. "Mihnea in Mikalsdorf doesn't actually know any magic, he just uses rings and sceptres. Ioana in Waldenhof never learned how to control bats, she just calls them before a battle and hopes it convinces the enemy not to try anything in the air. And Gabriella died back in '62, and a mortal pretended to be her for years."

    "Do you think I'll show you mercy for information?"

    He snorts. "Of course not. I just hate them. Tell everyone about Gabriella, that would really eat at them."

    "Why are you so casual about this?" you can't help but ask.

    He smiles. "I'm a Vampire. Sure, you'll keep a close eye on my remains. Will your children? Your children's children? For me, tomorrow will be a new world, full of new beasts and new magics and people that have forgotten what I can do."

    Branulhune cleaves through neck and spine, and does nothing to remove the smile that remains on Alkharad's withered lips.

    ---

    With anyone in the keep that could animate the local beast carcasses disposed of, you send a Marsh Light up into the sky, and within minutes the comforting sound of a wing of approaching gyrocopters fills your ears. Along with the head of Alkharad, you've also piled up your chosen loot from the tower. Unfortunately your cargo space is limited, and no doubt the second you leave, the local populace will descend upon the now-defenceless keep and strip it of valuables. You've had to burn the books you'll be leaving behind to prevent them from disappearing into the local population.


    The two with the most votes will be kept.

    [ ] Dragonbone.
    [ ] Gold and jewels.
    [ ] Proof of the 'College of Necromancy'.
    [ ] Detailed trade ledgers.
    [ ] Books on Necromancy and the Undead.
    [ ] Books on Vampires and Dhar.
    [ ] Books on Shyish and death gods.


    - Reminder that when I say 'you can only pick X amount because [reason]', it's not an invitation for cunning plans to actually get all of them.
    - The remainder of the turn will continue in the next update.
    - The Proof item would raise eyebrows throughout Altdorf and significantly boost your reputation among the Empire's leadership.
    - The Trade Ledgers would send a great many merchants to the pyres who betrayed humanity and the Empire by enriching the Undead, and their wealth and belongings would be forfeit. This will weaken the remaining town-dwelling Vampires, enrich Stirland, and leave a vacuum the EIC could step neatly into.
    - On the subject of anti-Vampire-reconstitution plans: the Witch Hunters have tried them all. There's a reason they keep Vlad locked up under the Grand Cathedral instead of doing something complicated and elaborate with his remains. Keeping it on your mantle and bopping it with a Dispel if it tries to regrow skin is the least bad plan, and there are entire rooms and Perpetual Apprentices dedicated to this in the Amethyst College.
     
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