Known Traits: Dramatic: Loves to show off when he has a suitable audience.
Grey Wizard: An artist with the winds of Ulgu.
Taciturn: Very little gets a reaction out of Regimand.
...Which either means regimand makes a dramatic appearance to help out for Reasons, or else more likely boney just realized it should be included in regimand because the discussion reminded him of it...actually no, clearly this is that mathilde reminisced about regimand doing ridiculously dramatic entrances when helping her out, and decided to pay homage when finding her ducklings!
[*] Try to find your Ducklings and fight by their side.
Having fulfilled the quota of wizardly near-death experiences today, you resolve to make sure the least experienced of your charges manage to keep from exceeding it. With Karagril becoming the site of a civil war and an invasion, there's no possible Doppelganger that isn't being actively hunted by at least two sides, so you stick with Shadowcloak and make your way towards the sounds of fighting. A few Silver Fang versus Red Fang skirmishes later, you finally reach the mercenaries of the Border Princes, who are doing a surprisingly competent job. One on one they're far from a match for all but the least of Orcs, but they've clearly got no desire to fight one on one, and many an Orc taking a swing at one mercenary finds themselves stabbed from both sides as their target backpedals out of the way.
[Read the battlefield: Martial, 38+23=61 vs 25]
Between your mental map of Karagril and the questioning of a few startled mercenaries, you're able to make your way back to the bulk of friendly forces. Instead of letting the mercenaries soak up the casualties, King Kazador is apparently using them to find the highest concentration of greenskins. Many a mercenary has been overtaken by the enthusiastically advancing Throng, and the third wave has become a second wave as Dreng adapts on the fly and brings his forces forward to be at hand to reinforce wherever needed. Clan Huzkul know you on sight, and a few questions later you're pointed in the right direction and find your charges.
[How much action are the Ducklings seeing?: 51]
[How are they doing?: 45]
Rangers are the closest match to the combined melee and ranged abilities of your students, and you find the place where a volley of crossbow quarrels is joined by fireballs, lightning bolts, and the eerie glow of life-force forcibly torn free and left to dissipate. You smile at the last; Gretel had filled a few vials with greenskin blood during the previous day's excursions, and it seems she's been putting them to use as foci for the spell she's not yet got a reliable grip on. You smile nostalgically, remembering the times when you would fall back on components to carry some of the weight of your spellcasting, and the strange looks you got from farriers until you found one willing to collect hoof trimmings from a courier's horse.
[Rangers vs Orcs: Martial, 86+15+5(Wizards)=106 vs 46+15=61.]
'Arrer Boyz' as they call themselves are not typical Orcs, preferring bows to choppas and often being looked down upon by their fellows for it, but it would be a terrible idea to underestimate them. Their enthusiasm for war is no less than any other Orc, and they spend more of their time enthusiastically firing bows than even the most dedicated of archers and are often toughened up by getting in fights with other Orcs who look down upon ranged combat - and on top of all that, quite a lot of force can be imparted to an arrow by Orcish muscle. But Rangers are no strangers to Orcish bows, and crudely-made arrows find little purchase in a wall of shields and chainmail while carefully-aimed volleys of quarrels punch through crude Orcish armour with ease. As the enemy archers break and run and the unit of Rangers moves forward to probe for additional enemies, you trail behind unnoticed.
[Do they find anything?: 29.]
Between the two possibilities of finding an enemy they can trounce and finding an enemy that can trounce them, there's always the possibility of finding nothing at all. The Head of this particular band of Rangers grumbles, consults a hand-drawn map based on the one you set up in Karag Lhune, and sends a runner off to ask for orders. The Rangers relax about a quarter of a notch, and weapons are unreadied just long enough for flasks to be swigged or a handful of nuts and dried fruit to be munched upon, and you're glad to see your students are included in the circulating refreshments, and each grimaces at the taste of the spirits the Rangers favour. Can't blame them for that, it's powerful stuff even by Dwarven standards. The Rangers start with the wild barley they cultivate wherever they regularly patrol, distil it into barleywine, then climb above the snowline to freeze-distil it further. The harsher the cold and the taller the mountain, the stronger the resulting spirits, fostering a strong sense of competition amongst them as they transform their mountaineering expertise into alcohol.
[Round two: 83.]
The runner returns at a sprint and within seconds the Rangers are on the move once more, zig-zagging through tunnels to where they're apparently needed. Only long experience lets you match the tunnel-sense of the Dwarves, and you quickly realize they're heading towards one of the larger chambers, once a miners' dormitory, more recently an Orcish gathering place, and currently a battlefield. Without slowing for a moment, the Rangers sling crossbows and draw their favoured axes that are just as suited to cutting firewood as they are for battle, and with the now-familiar battlecry of Khazukan Kazakit-HA they explode out into the cavern and slam into the unprepared side of an Orcish mob that had been fully occupied with the Karak Azul Dwarves ahead of them.
[Wizardly contribution: 85.]
[Rangers vs Orcs 2: Martial, 86+15+10(Wizards)=111 vs 14+15-10(flanked)-10(surprise)=9.]
[Opportunity to make an entrance: 82.]
The charge is utterly devastating, and among the steady rise and fall of Dwarven axes you see the rather more enthusiastic flashes of Aqshy flame, Shyish scythe and Ulrican steel accounting for their fair share and then some. You're about to put aside your hopes of making a suitably dramatic entrance and just 'arrive' normally, but your heart leaps as you see the onrushing reinforcements of Big Uns, led by one of the four remaining Warbosses - and, to your delight, it's the more competent of the two you had considered removing earlier.
[Mid-battle ambush: Intrigue, 62+21+10(Magical stealth)=93 vs 61+15-10(Unaware)=66.]
Conventional wisdom would advise against attempting an assassination in the middle of a melee, but conventional wisdom wasn't a Grey Wizard. Take No Heed is of limited utility in this setting, but limited isn't the same as none, and in the Doppelganger form of a Ranger surrounded by other Rangers you draw no attention to yourself as the Warboss aims himself at the tallest figures in the shieldwall - your students, and charges home as they bravely ready their weapons to receive the charge. You're proud of their bravery, but this battle is beyond them, and you want to add a...
You allow yourself a moment of thought as the wall of Orcish muscle approaches. King Belegar got the one at the Eastern Gates, you got the ones at Lhune and Nar, and then three more here. Six. You want to add a sixth Warboss to your tally.
In an instant, the Dwarf standing just behind your students becomes a wizard and an arcing blade, wreathed in a fog of dispersing Ulgu. Blood sprays the second rank of Big Uns as their Warboss is bisected from left hip to right shoulder.
You have a fraction of a second to feel smug before the rest of the Orcs impact.
[Your contribution: 94+23+10(Master Swordswoman)=127.]
[Duckling contributions: 51.]
[Rangers vs Orcs 3: Martial, 67+15+20(Mathilde)+5(Ducklings)=107 vs 98+20=118.]
[Rest of the battle: 84 vs 22.]
In the corner of your mind not dedicated to the chaos of battle, you muse on the nature of Branulhune. The problem with weapon drills is that they can't replicate actual combat, because in combat the idea is for your weapon to be interrupted at some point by the weapon or armour or flesh of an enemy. From your readings and a few dim memories of Drakenhof, Runefangs are one exception, the art of a long-dead Runelord tearing through armour and flesh with ease. Branulhune is another, because what it lacks in supernatural sharpness it makes up for in Kragg's rune delivering the exact amount of force required to overcome whatever resistance it encounters, so the amount of force you need to provide remains constant. In the path of your blade, one Big Un after another has a fraction of a second to realize that the stolen silversteel of their armour is nowhere near sufficient protection before they are cut down.
Between your own contribution and the students behind you fending off any Orcs attempting to come at you from the side, you become a roadblock in the center of the line of battle as Rangers and Big Uns strike each other down, matching cold hatred against enthusiastic violence. The Rangers are being cut down at a tragic rate, but each accounts for at least thrice his number in Orcs, and from a taste in the air you're only beginning to become familiar with you know the battle has shifted, and the Waaagh is faltering. Very little moves faster than the news of a fallen leader spreading through an army, and with the might of Karak Azul in front of them and a dervish of magical violence tearing through their side, this portion of the Karagril Orcs are on the verge of breaking.
In a moment that stretches for what must be an entire minute, the Orcs are torn between fear and fury, and the front lines become a meat grinder as the Dwarves take full advantage of their vacillation. Then all at once the power of the Waaagh pops like a soap bubble, and Orcs are fleeing as fast as they can from the Dwarves, cutting each other down in their desperate attempts to try to squeeze through the few tunnels they can reach that lead out of the chamber. With stony discipline the Rangers sheathe axes, draw crossbows, step over their fallen and begin to fire, peeling away the crowds at each doorway and reloading on the march as they pursue with grim determination. Before long, you're left with your three charges among the fallen.
[How are they?: 94.]
You ask how they are, and recalling an earlier lesson from you they don't answer at once, looking over themselves and giving their mind a moment to process any pains that adrenaline would ignore. The only blood drawn is a shallow wound across Hubert's cheek that he's thrilled about, inspecting it in the mirror you conjure for him; it's quite similar to the 'duelling scars' popular among parts of the Nobility, some of which were inflicted by a barber-surgeon's razor instead of a blade. As your students come down from the rush of battle, you turn towards the approach of the Hammerers of Karak Azul, and you flicker the Rune of the Unknown to allow Branulhune to shed the blood and gore it had accumulated before lifting it in a salute to the approaching King.
"Khazhufokrul!" Kazador Thunderhorn bellows, though when his blood is up he never talks softer than a bellow. "Heard you were collecting Warlords again. How'd you do?"
"Three today. Yourself?"
"Strolled right through one that tried a gambit a concussed squig could have seen through, and I hear that the mercenaries accounted for another. Last I heard, that Dreng was engaged with one, too. How many of them are there?"
You think for a moment. "That should be all of them, but I wouldn't bet against more trying their luck if they get a moment to plot."
Kazador booms out a laugh. "Tempted as I am to add a second to my tally, I'm not about to give Orcs a chance to catch their breath." He turns and fills his lungs, apparently seeing no need for the horn he's named for. "Dwarves, let's march!" he yells with volume that echoes through the Karag and sets your ears ringing, and with a farewell nod he begins the inexorable pursuit of a Dwarven Throng that knows the enemy has nowhere to run.
"Good work all around," you say, turning to your students. "Accuracy at range isn't as improved as I'd like, but that was one hell of a charge, and you were ready to receive a Big Un counter-charge that many a professional soldier would flee from." You note their whole attention isn't on your words, and follow Gretel's worried gaze to the bloody gash along the side of your robes. "Don't worry, some of it isn't even mine," you say with forced cheer, ignoring the false ache of a wound you know is healed.
---
[Dreng's progress: 95.]
From experience you know the mopping up is a chaotic and confusing sprawl of cramped tunnel-fighting that owes as much to luck as it does to skill, so with your students in tow you check in on Dreng and the local Throng. You needn't have bothered, as they're just as scattered in pursuit as Kazador's force, the final Warboss having proven competent enough to put up a fight but nowhere near enough to win it. So you continue out of Karagril, worried about four Peaks, one fallen Hold, and four separate underground warrens worth of unknowns.
[Karag Zilfin, ???: Req 50, 49-10(???)=39.]
[Karag Yar, ???: Req 50, 11-10(???)-10(???)=-9.]
[Karag Rhyn, Greenskins: Req 50, 18+10(score to settle)+10(love a good fight)=38.]
[Karag Mhonar, ???: Req 50, 2+10(???)+10(???)=22.]
[Under Karagril, Clan Moulder: Req 50, 69+10(nearby)-10(focused on Mors)=69.]
King Belegar stands at the base of Karagril with his Hammerers and the Undumgi, ready to respond to either more resistance than expected within or any response without, and he passes on what he's learned from a steady stream of runners, scouts, and spotters. Clan Moulder, it seems, had mobilized to intervene one way or the other in Karagril, but Clan Mors had apparently seen their chance and attacked them, and from Skaven being repositioned away from the new front line, Clan Moulder seems to have also been hit from the other side, as the Red Fangs of Karak Drazh no doubt seek to regain contact with their lost outpost. To your surprise and what you can only imagine is the consternation of Kragg and Thorek, none of the other Peaks are stirring and the caldera remains empty, giving you the ability to focus on the situation underground. As three deadly enemies clash with each other, the opportunity couldn't be riper to strike at a distracted foe. But, as King Belegar summarizes to you, to intervene would tip the scales in someone's favour. Who is it you'd rather end up ruling the tunnels and caves under Karagril?
[ ] Clan Mors One less Skaven Clan, and with the extra territory Mors might reach parity with Skryre and Eshin, extending the stalemate.
[ ] Clan Moulder Eight Peaks is safer if the enemy on this flank is focused elsewhere.
[ ] Red Fang Greenskins are a much simpler problem than Skaven.
[ ] Karak Eight Peaks Why stop here? Commit to the war underground and seek to defeat all three foes, extending Dwarven control of Karagril all the way down.
[ ] Whoever Why interfere with greenskins and Skaven slaughtering each other? Sit back and let them sort things out.
And as you leave the battlefield and the adrenaline fades away, in the back of your mind you're left pondering your recent brushes with death, first with Alkharad and then with the bodyguards of one of the Warbosses you cut down. Maybe you just got unlucky, or maybe the fault lies with your approach. What do you ultimately blame for your recent misfortunes?
[ ] Uncertain Near enough isn't good enough. You should be more choosy about the opportunities you take.
[ ] Unprepared Regimand told you it ages ago: you really should learn Shroud of Invisibility.
[ ] Unequipped When it comes to magical arsenals, too much isn't nearly enough. More protection? More speed? More firepower? Whatever the answer, the Colleges can provide it.
[ ] Untrained You're undeniably skilled, but you're not skilled enough. You need to get better at exfiltration.
[ ] Unlucky Other people consider 'unlucky' to mean they can't do anything about it. You know better. Redouble your devotion to Ranald.
[ ] Untroubled The important part of 'nearly dying' is the 'nearly'. Everything worked out, so why worry about it?
- The latter vote will largely influence Mathilde's inner monologue and decision making, but if you give the blame to Mathilde lacking something, you should consider yourself committed to correcting that in the near future.
Even Divine casting isn't safe I would point out, it's just that the failure states tend to not escalate as high in exchange for divine magic rarely being as decisive on the large scale.
Nice, ducklings got good XP in and we bagged another Warboss aspirant.
[X] Unprepared
As fun as flying by the seat of our pants is, a good wizard should have solutions to all conceivable situations. We lack the tools to disengage if things get frisky, we should correct that.
Anyway, strategically speaking, we want someone to be our crumple zone beneath Karagril, because Red Fang aren't going away anytime soon, so that means we want Mors or Moulder to hold it unless we're ready to commit to opening up the Red Fang salient. We have the strength at the moment to potentially win the three-way if we intervene, especially with Karak Azul's support, but it means we've gone loud, and we'll need to lock out the Red Fang and have the Mors salient something we're committing to dealing with.
Like, if someone has to win, I'd rather it be Mors, because they're stretched thin at the moment, and even Skaven won't make good all of their losses in a hurry. They end up taking the Red Fang salient, so ultimately they're getting more firepower but also buying a new enemy to replace Moulder, so who knows.
Even Divine casting isn't safe I would point out, it's just that the failure states tend to not escalate as high in exchange for divine magic rarely being as decisive on the large scale.
Yeah, pretty much. The thing about the ancient humans is that they had managed to get a mix of the power of standard magic with the safety of priestly magic. Which is what made them capable of fighting off Nagash before the Fellblade ever weakened him.
Moulder is an expedition, and Mors has this as their home base--but at the same time, while Greenskins are easier to infiltrate and fuck up--Iron Rock Black Crag is one of the big greenskin strongholds currently established, and that means a functionally unlimited supply of reinforcements for them once they have a toehold in Eight Peaks. Including the possibility of the Iron Rock Black Crag Warlord deciding to take direct control (And that's probably not something Mathilde can easily sort out)
I'm thinking Mors at the moment, they're currently relatively weak, and it'll leave them holding the bag so they'll draw redoubed effort from the other clans currently beating them up, while we largely get ignored I think. They end up absorbing the Red Fangs' raids too, which means that we presently have two salients, and they're pressuring the same enemy.
