What little unused cargo space there is in the gyrocarriage is quickly filled with the administrative paperwork of the rule of Teufelheim and the education of Alkharad's disciples, but the pilots and the Hammerers take your regret that you can't also take the dragon bones very seriously and with some quick work with ropes and chains the skull of one of the long-dead beasts is lashed to the side of the gyrocarriage. The brain and eyes have long since decayed and the fangs have been removed, but what it lacks in magical utility it makes up for in aesthetics, and you're sure there'll be a craftsdwarf in Eight Peaks who could create convincing replacements for the teeth.
We need to buy these guys a beer.
Awesome dragonskull furnishings!
While your previous arrivals in Stirland had drawn attention, the way your return to Fort Redemption captures the full attention of everyone present even before you disembark with the head of a Vampire under your arm. You lead a procession of Hammerers carrying the financial records of Teufelheim through the streets with word racing ahead of you, and when you arrive at the Fort's keep you receive salutes from the guards on the gate and are immediately lead into the war room that Roswita spends most of her time in, just as the General she had been meeting with finishes rolling up his map and excuses himself.
Mathilde might not have a lot of diplomacy but she has a solid grasp of showmanship. The hammerers each carrying ledgers on the march is the kind of visual people will remember, even if they're not sure WHAT they are remembering.
Throwing the head at her feet would certainly be dramatic, but would be bad for the fragile reconciliation that has been building between the two of you, so instead you place it upon the table in front of her. She returns the absent gaze of Alkharad, whose fixed smile has turned somewhat manic from the jostling the head received since you acquired it. "Elector Countess Roswita Van Hal, allow me to introduce Alkharad of the Necrarchs. I believe you're already acquainted."
"Not in the flesh," she says faintly. "Any regrowth?"
"None. Nor any active Dhar since decapitation. All appearances are that his resurrection will be no easier than usual for his kind."
Roswita pulls a seat from the table and very carefully does not collapse into it, and you pretend not to notice the shake in her arms. "So it's done."
I'm morbidly curious if vampire heads drip. Must have been a tad messy.
"As done as things ever are with his kind. But he's not the first I've interred, and if anything happens to me there's a representative of the Order of the Guardians in Eight Peaks to take over the vigil."
Think a custom tomb to seal a vampire into might be fun.
If/When they reform they'd be...alone inside a room they can't breach by either brute strength or spell from the inside.
Though that solution is risky with mages since unless the room is completely magic dry they'd eventually solve through it given time, and if it IS completely magic dry another fragment is likely going to be the respawn point if you couldn'tget the whole corpse.
You let Roswita digest that as you murmur instructions for the Hammerers to deliver their cargo and then wait outside. Though it was overshadowed by the mystery of the Aethyric Vitae, you remember how you felt when you finally turned the tables on the Thorned One that had stalked you for years, and Roswita's nemesis was significantly worse. You take a seat across from her and begin to peruse the ledgers.
When Roswita stirs again, her voice is as steely as you remember.
So from her traits, it sounds like she STARTED with magic-phobic and proud, which was why she just dismissed Mathilde like that, she couldn't comport herself as an Elector Count should so she didn't bother trying.
Then the constant assassination campaign broke her pride, made her Grim, and she wasn't working for the long term anymore.
And now, she's back where she started, but wiser.
"Stirland thanks the Grey College for it's intervention in this matter."
"This is on behalf of King Belegar and Karak Eight Peaks," you correct. "As part of the ancient alliance between the Empire of Man and the Karaz Ankor, and in gratitude for the assistance of Stirlanders in the Expedition that retook the Hold." You can see the gears turning in her head, and the frown starting to form. "Sometimes external machinations are benign. There's nothing wrong with just smiling and nodding if a King decides to use you to advertise the benefits of Dwarven allies."
She considers for a moment longer. "Stirland thanks Karak Eight Peaks for it's intervention in this matter."
[Mission Accomplished]
You push over one of the ledgers for her consideration. "Alkharad had set himself up as ruler of Teufelheim. Here's the records of all those that traded with him - and not just for food, but for reagents and tomes and other rarities."
She turns to the most recent dates, skims the pages, then pauses. "I recognize some of these names," she says. "We suspected them of smuggling but couldn't prove it. They're affiliated with some of the wealthiest families in Southern Stirland. If we can make them talk..."
Well, the people selling charcoal and turnips to the vampire towns are going to burn...so are a significant number of major trading concerns and smugglers specialized in reagents.
She looks up at you again. "Why?"
"Because my King asked it of me," you say simply. "For the good of the Empire, of Stirland, of the Colleges, of humanity." You hesitate. "And because your father was important to me."
She looks down at the ledger again, and then at the head. "I'm beginning to understand what he saw in you. In what Magnus saw in your kind."
You smile, and rise to your feet. "I'll be visiting Altdorf to report what I learned of Alkharad, then I'll spend a few weeks investigating the other Vampires. I'll pass on what I learn before I return to the mountains." You take a moment to gather your thoughts. "Thank you for continuing what your father started."
"It was my duty," she says simply, as if there was never any alternative.
You tap the ledgers. "Not all are motivated by duty. May luck be with you."
Getting the ledgers was not at all necessary, and she recognizes that.
But it was right to do for loyalty's sake.
Algard does not have an open-door policy, but that is only because it would let the warmth out. Any Grey Wizard who believes they have sufficient reason to see him are allowed to do so, with the understanding that the right will be revoked if squandered on trivialities. So surely after your arrival, the door to the Magister Patriarch's office opens and you push in the cart you've borrowed for this purpose.
Partly for infosec reasons I guess?
Its beneficial for any full wizard to be able to visit him on any pretext, in the event that they have top classificiation confidential intelligence to relay to him.
Keeps the Grey College on its toes too.
Maybe the Magister is just a personal friend visiting him for tea, an operative seeking for some advice for something beyond their pay grade or maybe they found an Empire shaking revelation.
Algard is brilliant, but just as prone to eccentricities as any Wizard. Instead of bookshelves or mementos, his office walls are lined with carefully illuminated copies of the Imperial Army's estimates of the Chaos warbands, Beastherds, undead hordes and even one Naggaroth raiding party that have each succumbed to the lure of his famous Screaming Towers and been caught by ambushes and pincers as a result.
@BoneyM
...he has a Tower Defense scorechart on his wall?
His desk is completely clear save for a small enchanted windsock that shows the direction and strength of the Winds' whimsies, with his inbox and outbox rotated into dimensions created for this sole purpose of maintaining a clean desk.
Hmm, dimensional storage of his paperwork suggests a highly distressing volume of paperwork.
The Windsock is adorable.
Though, in a College deliberately saturated with Ulgu...wouldn't the Windsock basically shift based on the movement and activity of wizards rather than the environment?
Is Algard using it to ensure that he always knows to direct his attention to the door when someone approaches? Which conveniently lets him phase out any confidential documents.
"Dame Magister Loremaster Weber," he greets you with a smile that doesn't detract from his piercing gaze. "What tidings bring you to Altdorf?"
"The best kind of good news," you say.
He considers that for a moment. "I'd say Malekith's death or a full-blown Skaven civil war, but I doubt either would involve a cartload of paperwork."
*Pencils in Future Goals*
Think the Skaven Civil War looks promising.
"The kind that would have been very bad news, except it ends with 'and I took care of it'." You take the top book and slide it across his desk.
Algard opens the book, and begins to scowl after skimming a few pages. "Oh fuck you, W'soran. You and your entire damned bloodline. You sure you got this one?"
"Just got to finish cleaning it and his skull will join the Singing King. Might have been graduates, or ones out running errands, or ones in the town that kept out of sight, but every student that was in the keep is dead and his books have been burned."
He sighs in relief. "Thank every God there is for that. I'll send in a trusted few to make doubly sure. Is this one of the ones that filled the Von Carstein vacuum?"
"If you put any stock in Vampire boasting he claims that he's always held Teufelheim and he and the Von Carsteins had some sort of understanding. The amount of exotic animal corpses suggests he's been there at least since Hel Fenn."
"And we never heard a whisper. Time to relight some fires. Come with me."
So lemme get the sequence of events he reacts to right:
1) An attempt at College that in a handful of years, got to 60 students, fuck.
2) Core student body have been eliminated.
3) Journeymen equivalents might still exist.
3.1) Dispatch a few Magisters to make sure the earth is properly scorched.
4) How long has he been there?
4.1) He's been there for centuries. He could have done so any time, he just didn't feel like doing so for a while.
4.2) Fuck, there could be more of him just biding their time.
The Imperial Zoo is a strange institution - somewhere between museum, college, prison, and armoury. Parts are open to the public, but in Algard's wake you push past those, push past the secure areas, past the high secure areas, and then past parts you'd never even heard of.
Huh, didn't expect the Zoo to be so...in depth.
You pass dread beasts that have taken lives by the dozen in attempts to break them to the saddle, and if they take dozens more the price would still be cheap. You pass the magnificent and beautiful pegasi, that many Wizards dream of one day riding. You pass the Imperial Dragon, the size of a horse and growing at a terrifying rate, whose enclosure is becoming home to more and more of the Imperial Treasury as its size and greed increase. And finally, you meet the man that hatched and raised it, the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic, Dragomas.
So many beasties.
Dragomas took being a Journeyman to its ultimate extent and wandered into the Dark Lands. Many years after he was considered dead, he returned with a non-aggression pact from the Emperor of Cathay carved into a jade tablet.
I wonder if the Emperor of Cathay thought he was a barbarian tribesman with delusions of grandeur rather than an emissary from a distant empire.
He was retroactively promoted to Lord Magister to grant him the authority to have negotiated it, and in the coming years he quickly rose through the Amber College in no small part because he was actually willing to engage in the politics of Altdorf.
So...thats what happens when you get a bunch of Great Deeds as a Journeyman huh?
His discovery, hatching, and raising of the Imperial Dragon earned him the title of Magister Patriarch of the Amber Order, and him transforming into a Celestial Dragon in the Hall of Duels caused Alric to concede and go into a peaceful retirement.
That IS a pretty persuasive approach.
Since dragons are intelligent I wonder how his relationship goes with one he literally raised from the egg.
Since then, he has championed the cause of the Battle Wizards both on and off the battlefield, transforming them from a living weapon sealed up between battles to men and women respected for their sacrifice who live lives of meditation and training inside gilded cages, and considers the Imperial Zoo to be his personal hobby.
Hmm, unusually people oriented for an Amber Wizard.
It's possible he's never worn a full outfit in his life, and according to College rumour, it was the work of many years to convince him to wear pants.
Every wizard has the right to be eccentric!
"Algard," he says, and as always, his voice is slightly louder than the situation would call for. "What news, brother?"
"An old battle to be refought," Algard replies. "Sylvania."
"You know the trouble as well as I do. Even apart from the-" he glances from Algard to you. "The situation in Middenland, Castle Drachenfels is stirring, Ostland is being raided, Kislev wants us to help with some sort of snow-ogre. Sylvania can-"
The Middenland midden fire is
still on fire?
And confidential even to an evidently trusted Magister.
And making the cults of Ulric and Sigmar go against their very own strictures.
Fishy.
Drachenfels, wheres that and whats up with it beyond Evil Sorceror Things?
Ostland is being raided, also known as Tuesday.
Also must be some pretty badass yeti for Kislev to get international help.
"It can't." He hands over the book he had skimmed earlier. "This is exactly what I was worried about. We were focused on the Blood Dragons fighting the Morrites, and the activity in Hel Fenn. Meanwhile..."
Dragomas squints down at the book, and takes a great deal more time to examine each page than Algard did, but he still soaks in its implications. "Ah. You get the Emperor, I'll find the Reiksmarshal-"
"It's been dealt with already. Root and branch."
"Thank Taal." He glances at you again. "One of your hands?"
And that explains how fast he figured it out. He was already monitoring the situation. Enough that Dragomas assumed that we called it in to Algard and a squad of
Sidereals Grey Order Magisters were in position to mop it up themselves.
Just the wrong part of it.
"Actually no, one of our up-and-coming Magisters. Dame Weber."
"Oh?" He turns his full attention to you. "I greatly enjoyed Dragon Ogres and Volcanic Lightning. You got them all?"
Eee, sempai noticed us!
Hey, we have a Celestial Order Journeymanling now.
Want to make a sequel where we shoot Azyr lightning at Dragon Ogres for science?
"All that were in the keep, and all I found in the town, Lord Dragomas."
"Not near enough to 'yes' to be comfortable. Not your fault. You can never get the entire swarm at once." He sighs and turns to Algard again. "Your way or mine?"
"We've got enough goodwill, and he's in high spirits of late. Your way."
The subtext this whole scene is
rich.
Like, right here we learned:
-The Grey Order is currently pretty high on Imperial Favor for unspecified reasons, but which we can be fairly sure the Grey Order's involvement in Drakenhof and Eight Peaks helped a bit.
-So they traded it in for a favor to the Colleges as a whole, while the Supreme Patriarch takes it as a joint College credit.
-Dragomas had done the "Solo'ed entire enemy force" gig a time or two.
You'd been to the Imperial Palace of Altdorf before, but that was when the Emperor himself was elsewhere. Now it is in full motion, with a swarm of diplomats, politicians, supplicants, hangers-on and toadies that part far in advance of the Supreme Patriarch's approach. Emperor Luitpold von Holswig-Schliestein the First has a regal bearing at first glance, but a longer look reveals the furrowed brow and sunken eyes of a man under enormous pressure. A gesture pauses the talking of the man currently talking - the High Priest of Manaan, if you're reading his robes correctly - and a raised eyebrow to Dragomas and the silent communication that follows has him dismiss the High Priest entirely.
Top Priority interrupt.
Luitpold had some strong ties with the Colleges if he would end an audience with a high priest on little more than a silent signal.
Without a word being spoken, the three of you follow the Emperor out of the hall, down a corridor, and into the Emperor's private quarters, which you're glad to see has a door much sturdier than the one you managed to get through to get a pretend bomb just close enough to the Emperor's stand-in, back during your Magisterial examination.
Good to see they replaced the door with something harder to smash, but I can't help wondering how it'd fare against our new sword.
Inside, a cheerful-looking woman in plain but well-made clothes is reading a book before the fireplace, and looks up with a smile as you enter. "Sweetheart," says the Emperor, his voice full of warmth. "You remember Dragomas and Algard?"
"Of course," she says, in a disturbingly familiar voice, rising to her feet and revealing the faint swell of pregnancy.
"Algard, I take it by the robes she's one of yours?"
"Of course, my apologies, your Majesties. May I present Dame Weber, Magister of the Grey College and Loremaster to King Belegar."
"I should have guessed," he says with a smile, "I've heard good things from the Dwarves. This is my dear wife, the Empress Consort Heidi Haupt-Anderssen."
You're not able to bask in the news you've become known to the Emperor himself, as you've suddenly realized where you've seen this woman before. "A pleasure to meet you!" says the woman who was once known as Countess Gabriella von Bundebad brightly, closing the gap between you before you can react and taking your hands in hers. "I'm sure we've so much in common!" And hidden by her hands, she folds one finger over another in the sign of the Gambler, and with a tiny sliver of divine attention that leaves you feeling giddy, an always-familiar presence gives confirmation.
"The pleasure is mine, your Majesties," you say faintly.
Mathilde: "?!??!!???!!!"
Ranald: "Yeah she's one of mine. And yeah, thats how people react to you too you know. Never gets old."
...did she
assassinate Gabriella the Lahmian and take the vampire's place to rule over and protect the population?
And from how she disappeared in the follow up to the conspiracy, she might have been an Imperial Spymaster/Grey Order agent to begin with. I'm not sure how else she would have been allowed near the Emperor otherwise.
As you try to wrap your head around the magnitude of the plot Ranald appears to have expended his divine bounty upon
So, Ranald has put a devout worshipper of himself, directly blessed by him, as the Emperor's confidante and the mother of the future Emperor, which a
different Ranald worshipper had removed the rival to in a completely unrelated sequence of coincidences and now she's pregnant at the perfect time where the Emperor really needs a heir.
Reckon he might be in for an adjustment of his public position in the years to come.
Dragomas and Algard explain the situation: a Vampire that has decided to share his knowledge freely instead of jealously hoarding it, and how it would have continued to go completely undetected if it not for fortune delivering the right Magister to the right spot at the right time - and the Empress gives you a cheeky, conspiratorial smile at fortune.
Ranald: "You know, if the fish keep jumping on deck on their own you really should check if somebody's tossing them from the river."
The Empress barely thinks for a moment. "Estalia's just being silly, there's no way they're going to be able to drag Tilea or Bretonnia into the fight between Skeggi and Swamp Town. Bretonnia are sabre-rattling at Athel Loren, so they won't be causing trouble in our direction. But honestly dear, between Drachenfels and Ostland I don't see a third front being viable."
So:
-Estalia border is fine because they're playing silly buggers at Tilea and Bretonnia(who's Skeggi and whats Swamp Town?)
-Brettonia is posing intimidatingly at the Wood Elves, good luck with that, they won't be doing much in our direction for a while.
-The Imperial Army can't march, too busy fighting Norscan raiders and whatever is at Drachenfels.
Also the Empress is likely the Imperial Spymaster or very close to them now.
What happened to the old one?
"I was afraid you'd say that. Could Averland-" The Empress snorts indelicately.
Whats wrong with Averland?
"Point. Talabecland?"
"They're busy trying desperately to convince Karak Kadrin not to declare a Grudge against them. I did tell you that they'd try to pull the rug out from under Ostermark. And Ostermark would back the Slayer Keep, so they're out too."
"I didn't think they'd be so stupid about it.
?!
The heck got up Talabecland's butt to pull that?
Trade War escalating to potential Civil War?
Wissenland?"
"Hah!"
"Not sure why I asked, damn that tetchy fool."
Summary: The Electors are useless as expected.
"If there's no forces available, your Majesty..." Dragomas hints.
"Mm. Yes. Perhaps it would be better for it to remain in-house anyway. Cry havoc and all that. Give that poor girl my best, and my sympathies for the company she's about to endure."
Let loose the dogs of war!
IT IS DECREED, that the Colleges of Magic are given full and complete permission to unleash any and all magics, enchantments, abilities and allies they see fit that are permitted under the Articles of Imperial Magic;
IT IS DECREED, that the aforementioned permissions explicitly include the application of the restricted powers known as Battle Magics, and those that specialize in their applications;
IT IS DECREED, that this declaration will be in effect for the entirety of the realm of Eastern Stirland, that some know as Sylvania;
You know, Battle Wizards aside, theres going to be a lot of Magisters who wanted to field test their stuff but theres too much collateral damage to ever be allowed outside of going out of the Empire.
Think they might field test Wind Incarnates?
[Tempelhof Blood Dragons: Intrigue, 36+19+6(Library: Vampires)=61.]
Tempelhof is swarming with Blood Dragons, which from the legends of them is terrifying but from your observations of them is significantly less so. From the look of things a chunk of the Badlands Errantry War, which is technically over but still continuing here and there because the average Bretonnian Knight doesn't know when to give up, were mass-converted into Vampires and left to their own devices. They're young, dim, still getting used to their new existence, and what little attention isn't occupied with their war with the Knights of Morr is going towards trying to figure out which of them should be in charge. You record your observations, but have the annoying feeling that they're going to be a historical footnote a few minutes after the metaphorical cavalry arrives.
Huh, turned Brettonnians?
These guys are toast, but who the heck turned so many and then just...cut them loose?
[Hunger Wood Strigoi: Intrigue, 39+19+6(Library: Vampires)=64.]
The Strigoi of the Hunger Wood are barely any better, regularly pitting their armies of ghouls against each other to fight over the edge of the Woods that gives them the best access to the battlefields between Vampiric and Morrite Knights. United they would be a threat to all of Stirland, but divided they're barely a threat to anyone outside of their Woods. You dutifully record their territory and forces.
So...sounds like Battle Magic is the cure.
[Mihnea of Mikalsdorf: Intrigue, 84+19+6(Library: Vampires)=109.]
Mihnea would not be out of place on the cover of one of the worst-written novels you've read. He's whimsical, petulant, and has a voice that sets your teeth on edge. It's not difficult to record his forces, as twice a week him and Ioana lead their undead armies to the same battlefield between their territories and engage in something between a battle and a wargame with them, while a terrified crowd of peasants does its best to seem enthusiastic in their applause. You steal two rings and a torc from his nightstand, and after a glance at the shoddy magics they contain, make a mental note to have the gyrocarriage fly over Thunder Mountain on the way back.
Dwarf infection progresses.
Also that sounds like flirting.
[Ioana of Waldenhof: Intrigue, 28+19+6(Library: Vampires)=53.]
Ioana seems to be the only competent Vampire currently holding parts of Sylvania. Her guards might actually have caught you if divine concealment wasn't as close as the nearest crowded street. She has an on-again, off-again relationship with Mihnea and judging by the different forces that arrive at every 'battle', seems to have a deep well of corpses to draw upon - but you're unable to penetrate the well-guarded catacombs beneath the town. You mark her as the primary threat accordingly, neatly collate the information you've gathered into a report, drop it in to a frazzled but grateful Roswita who's received the 'good news' from Altdorf of her imminent reinforcements, and wish her the best.
Hmm, and a problem Battle Wizards can't solve by simply dropping her whole base into a Dwellers/Pit.
You also stop by Wurtbad and instruct the merchants of the EIC to keep their ear on the ground as they supply the current Sylvanian campaign and the dramatic ramp-up it's about to undergo. As the Company holds the contract to supply practically every part of the Stirlandian army, you should be able to keep an eye on the progress of the campaign from the comfort of Eight Peaks.
Well, this has changed from valuable intel to popcorn material.
A few badly-made necromantic artefacts dropped into a volcano later, you arrive back in Karak Eight Peaks, which is not yet so inured to you that the arrival of a dragon skull doesn't get stares. After you have it safely stowed away until you decide what to do with it and put Alkharad's skull next to that of the Singing King, you throw yourself back into your local responsibilities.
Eight Peaks Collective: "The wizard is doing Weird Shit again!"
[Setting up Duckling Club: Learning, 74+26=100.]
You have to admit that interpersonal relationships aren't your strong suit, so you don't approach the task of managing the Wizards of Karak Eight Peaks as one. You instead follow the model given to you by the Colleges of Magic, which has a long history of managing unruly wizards and keeping them sane, safe, and on-task. You commandeer an out-of-the-way room, commission some sturdy furniture, buy some cushions and a kettle, and have Panoramia have a word with her Halflings friends and they're happy to provide nibbles. You spread the news to the skeptical local wizardry, and then spread it with just a hint of a suggestion that attendance is mandatory. It's for their own good, really.
Knowing Journeymen, the promise of halfling pies should do the trick.
[Maximilian's Homework: Learning, 69+17+10(Patient)=96.]
Over tea and biscuits, Maximilian presents his work not just to you, but to his peers as well. A Full and Accurate Census of All Varieties of Undead within the Hunter's Hills, 2476 may not be snappily titled, but a cartload of reports has been distilled down to a single volume of easily-accessible data. He's even gone to the trouble of including a detailed map of the Hills and breaking it down into subregions, and you raise an eyebrow at what becomes immediately obvious that was previously entirely obscured - the ghoul concentration around what was the Blasphemy of Blood, the scattering of the Singing King's forces after he was dispatched, the clumping of wandering wights around the Tomb Complex, the way the more actively malevolent undead were drawn to the roads and towns. You've no doubt that this will grab the attention of more than a few of the Amethyst Order, and you give Maximilian your heartfelt congratulations, and make a mental note to be sure Roswita receives a copy.
[A Full and Accurate Census of All Varieties of Undead within the Hunter's Hills, 2476. Subject: Uncommon, +0. Insight: Confirming, +1. Delivery: Competent, +0. Thorough, +1. Varied, +1. Familiar, -1. Tactically Relevant, +1. Total: +3.]
Huh, interesting how the movement patterns work. Some unseen attractors?
Just goes to show how much you could achieve if you could just plain throw enough observers at it.
Say, our EIC agents might have some interesting observations on the aftermath of Battle Magic, even if they lack the expertise to understand what they are looking at.
AND the paper should be useful read on how to locate hidden necromancers, by noticing how the undead gather differently, you could map the controller nodes.
[Johann's dissections: Learning, 62+14=76.]
Johann does the same, reading his notes off the autopsy to varying levels of discomforts from the Ducklings. From the amount he skips straight to conclusion without mentioning how he discovered it, you're pretty sure he leaned heavily on Breach the Unknown, but considering the conclusions you don't fault him that. The spiders all lack any mechanism to create or detect noise far outside the human-detectable spectrum, indicating that their means of inter-We communication is likely to be magical.
Thats an avenue for further investigation, because that sounds just like the threads of Ulgu in them.
The brains of the creature are proportionally larger than any other known spider species, even that of the Web-Weavers and Egg-Layers that are helpless outside of the collective of the We, indicating that their intelligence is truly distributed instead of existing either inside one species or entirely outside their physical bodies.
Figured as much but good to have confirmation.
And he also got to the bottom of the matter of 'old age', which wouldn't properly translate: tumorous growths inside the dissected Egg-Layer's stomach, which had nearly reached the point where the creature would no longer be able to ingest food, and within each one a fragment of warpstone ranging from specks to splinters, some unprocessed, some refined. Judging by the hard, calcified layer around each one, they'd continue containing the warpstone long after the rest of the body decayed, even if the rest of the innards had been liquefied and consumed by the rest of the We. You thank him for shedding light on the topic, and add his notes to your existing information on the We.
Pearls. Warpstone pearls.
Guess the liquid diet means that while large chunks don't get consumed its inevitable to ingest powder from Skaven.
We probably want to take those pearls into custody and study them further.
[Mathilde's Paper: Learning, 86+26-10(Practical)=102.]
To present a good example, you present your own paper to the meeting. Your Tower had proven just as potent as you'd hoped, and you had been able to power through your lingering distaste for writing reports to explain it in what you feel is a very accessible and straightforward way, perhaps enough that in the hands of those with decades more experience, it might be reduced to Lesser Magic and thus become available to all Colleges. Though the technical information of Ulgu manipulation is inaccessible to any others present, they're enthusiastic about the possibilities it may provide.
[Mathilde's MAP: +4 College Favours for Grey College applications, other Colleges pending further study.]
What a pleasant change from our usual writing experience.
Then there's the book report you won't be sharing with the Ducklings: the final portion of the Liber Mortis. With Sylvania once more a comfortable distance away, you fill some of your spare time with the continued examination of Frederick's life story. With his sanity fraying and the Skaven escalating their presence, he begins to take apprentices from among his subjects, and with so few remaining and so few of those with even the tiny sliver of magical ability necromancy required, he couldn't be choosy. Much of the pages are consumed with him doubting their loyalty or motivations, and then him examining his own doubts to try to decide if they're genuine or further signs of his mental degradation. The neat hand of Vlad appears more and more, chronicling events that Frederick never got around to mentioning, having instead filled the pages with his second-guessing of himself.
Even as the war against the Skaven begins to swing in Frederick's favour, the war within his mind spirals quickly. By the time that the Empire had mobilized under the future Emperor Mandred, Frederick was so far gone that with three pages of scrawled suspicion and paranoia he had talked himself into believing that they were allied with the rats and had begun to formulate battle plans along a second front. The rantings are cut off mid-sentence, and only a single line appears below:
The results are conclusive. Nagash's Art cannot be safely wielded by even the best of mortals. May his Morr be more merciful than Usirian.
Ah, not slain by a jealous apprentice. Descent into madness.
Mercy killed by the vampire whose grand experiment ended in tragedy.
He sounds like he really liked Frederick.
Also those necromancers really are fools. They likely just skipped the whole diary portion, and likewise I suspect the wizards allowed to study the copies are more focused on how to counter the spells than to actually read it cover to cover.
The remainder of the book is the one most of the tome's readers skip directly to - spells, rituals, and preparations. You're tempted to skim right past it, but this was written by Frederick before he had started to deteriorate and every spell lays down the form of each spell with such precision that the vulnerabilities are immediately obvious. You find yourself engrossed, and hours later your mind is filled with the unwelcome knowledge of how to perform every type of necromancy, but also the very useful knowledge of how to shatter them all. You return the book to its hiding place and sit down to digest all that you've learned.
[Skill gained: Necromantic Insight]
Mathilde continues to build a foundation of "I can dispel anything."
Dwarfication intensifies!
Being able to identify what spell is being cast by a necromancer at a glance is pretty damned important strategically I think.
[Karak Norn: 18]
[Karak Hirn: 94]
Before you can wrap up the year with an in-depth delve into Karagril, you must consider the educators that have arrived, all of which hail from Karak Hirn. You suspect Prince Ulthar might have ears in Eight Peaks, as one of the Loremasters has extensively studied the spiders of the Forest Goblins, one hails from a Clan with close ties to the Weavers Guild, and the third is from a Clan famous for its mead, and therefore experienced with bees.
Well, dwarves wouldn't CALL it spies. But spies they are nonetheless.
[Scouting Karagril: Intrigue, 96+19=115.]
You're delighted to learn that the greenskin population of Karagril is close enough to 'town' that Ranald's Coin applies. The Doppelganger you cloak yourself in when you don't have a specific Orc to base it on is a strange, featureless caricature of the species, but as soon as you're past those watching the external entrances none give you a second glance.
Good to know. We could use it on the Skaven too.
The population inside were Red Fang, but have taken to calling themselves Silver Fang since they were cut off from Karak Drazh. The current Warboss is on shaky ground and everywhere you look, conspiracy is brewing to replace him, kept in check only by the size of his axe and none of the Orcs trusting each other to help them seize power.
Hmm, sounds like we want to set the leadership struggle off a few days before we attack.
The inside of the mountain that's been carved out is significantly smaller than that of Karags Lhune or Nar, and instead of the right angles Dwarves usually favour it follows the zigs and zags of a silver vein exhausted millennia ago. It seems this mountain was mostly used as a base of operations for miners pursuing veins further afield, either far below or on the other side of Death Pass.
Good to know that even without getting Moulder out they can get to silver from it.
The most prominent feature is the Silver Tower, which seems to be made of the same iron-silver alloy the Undumgi pikes are made of, and has been chipped down to a ruin by generations of greenskins laboriously harvesting the metal.
So expect unusually well armed orcs, and yet another thing to begrudge them for.
A close second is the SIlver Tarn, an enormous crater lake halfway up the mountain. You can't tell if its fed by rain or springs or ancient Dwarven artifice, but apart from a severe algae build-up the water appears clean and clear.
Freshwater lake? The halflings probably could use that, once cleaned up, for irrigation.
A distant third is a series of towers on the northern flank of Karagril, once intended for stone throwers but eminently suitable for cannon and providing clear fields of fire along Death's Crossing, the bridge halfway along Death Pass. This would make the Undumgi's job much easier.
And force projection to boot. Thats probably going to deter all but the most hardcore hordes from going down Death Pass.
Once your explorations are concluded, you use your MAP to construct one model for Dreng and another for King Belegar's briefing room.
[Advanced Infiltration acquired]
And an action saved!
