Z000
If this is trash, then find me in the dumpster
- Location
- Viet Nam
-
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Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties - an Advisor's Quest
- Thread starter Boney
- Start date
- Fantasy Users' Choice!
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- Tags
- warhammer warhammer fantasy fantasy be gay do crimes (gay) female protagonist pansexual protagonist ck2 quest divided loyalties mountain vietnam ranald is real this is a dwarf quest (dwarfs) this is maybe an elf quest this is not a vampire quest this is not an empire quest try it and find out open voting
Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
Aaaand now the challenger. Standing 5'9" and weighing five hundred pounds, the Rasslin' Raistlin, the Golden Gouger, JOHANN SWOLE!
Stranger1950
Worth It
- Location
- Reverse Side of the World
This is a stupid idea, but hear me out.
What if we ask Kragg or have Johann accrue enough favor to ask Kragg himself to put Kragg's special rune to Johann shiny body. Imagine the possibility of a gold man doing dwarven kung-fu and each blow has the potential to be as strong as a cannonball. Johann going to be the shounen protagonist that K8P deserves.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Were I to guess?
A sexually. Big enough piece of one gets lobbed off and it grows into a new troll.
Ruunes on metal have to be placed when forging and item. I suspect Johan would object to being melted down. Runic knuckledusters might work though.
SuperSonicSound
Shadowmancer of the Shadow Cabal
I'm skeptical you can use runes directly on a person, even if they are made of gold. It would be hilarious though.
NuclearConsensus
Herald of the Thorned One
- Location
- the Philippines
I wonder, is the point where Matty regrets not stopping Johann also the point where all his hair falls out and he becomes able to destroy foes in one punch?
A phrase from my D&D days: Regenerator Mitosis
Stranger1950
Worth It
- Location
- Reverse Side of the World
Hmmm, if there is a situation where Johann lose an arm, is it possible to make an artificial arm with Kragg's Rune. Actually thinking about it, Johann would be like God Hands guy, being able to send enemies into the stars using an arm powered by weird mystical bullshit. As an added bonus, there will a bard who will see Johann exploit one day and that bard will make a song that will become his theme song (much to Johann exasparation and Mathilde amusement).
- Location
- The Star Kingdom of Manticore
The Properties Of and Countermeasures To an Observed Suite of Necrarch Control and Enhancement Spells, By M. Mathilde Weber (Grey), E.C. Roswita Van Hal (Templar), 2481.
Lol roswita is a contributer.
Lol roswita is a contributer.
Topic: Advanced Necromantic control and empowerment
Subject: Rare(This topic is very uncommon AND very dangerous) +1
Insight: Revolutionary(This information is completely new) +2 OR Shattering(The current theory on how necromancers operate remotely is wrong) +3
Delivery: ???(Mathilde wrote it herself, but she could theoretically make it Thrilling on a good roll)
Familiarity: Familiar(Found within the Empire) -1
Precious(Elder Necromancers are not known for putting their advanced techniques on display) +1
Thorough(Mathilde had spent a month watching them do it, and she has the Libris Mortis to understand why) +1
Tactically relevant(Enemy of the Empire) +1
Five favors assuming average Delivery, assuming lowball Insight.
If its Shattering or Mathilde rolled Compelling delivery we got 6
Subject: Rare(This topic is very uncommon AND very dangerous) +1
Insight: Revolutionary(This information is completely new) +2 OR Shattering(The current theory on how necromancers operate remotely is wrong) +3
Delivery: ???(Mathilde wrote it herself, but she could theoretically make it Thrilling on a good roll)
Familiarity: Familiar(Found within the Empire) -1
Precious(Elder Necromancers are not known for putting their advanced techniques on display) +1
Thorough(Mathilde had spent a month watching them do it, and she has the Libris Mortis to understand why) +1
Tactically relevant(Enemy of the Empire) +1
Five favors assuming average Delivery, assuming lowball Insight.
If its Shattering or Mathilde rolled Compelling delivery we got 6
Turn 23 Results - 2481 - Part 2
[*] DUCK: Help Johann try to raise his new rat-wolf pups. With Wolf, if he's willing.
[*] ENTRANCE: Pleasant foyer
[*] Bedroom
[*] Bath Room
[*] Sitting Room
[*] Library
Leftover tasks:
-[*] MAX: Allow him to spend his time on patrol with the gyrocopters so he can finally get to shoot something from one. (NEW)
-[*] JOHANN: Learn a skill: Pugilism, from a trainer.
-[*] EIC: Have the EIC assist with Princess Edda's search for weavers.
-[*] WE: Hire a Priest of Esmerelda to teach the We.
-[*] OVERWORK: Seek to establish an in-depth understanding of the Skaven as an individual.
-[*] PENTHOUSE: Have additional rooms excavated underneath your Penthouse: -75gc for 3 rooms.
-[-] SERENITY: Write a paper on the suite of advanced zombie empowerment and control spells used by Alkharad and his disciples.
[*] ENTRANCE: Pleasant foyer
[*] Bedroom
[*] Bath Room
[*] Sitting Room
[*] Library
Leftover tasks:
-[*] MAX: Allow him to spend his time on patrol with the gyrocopters so he can finally get to shoot something from one. (NEW)
-[*] JOHANN: Learn a skill: Pugilism, from a trainer.
-[*] EIC: Have the EIC assist with Princess Edda's search for weavers.
-[*] WE: Hire a Priest of Esmerelda to teach the We.
-[*] OVERWORK: Seek to establish an in-depth understanding of the Skaven as an individual.
-[*] PENTHOUSE: Have additional rooms excavated underneath your Penthouse: -75gc for 3 rooms.
-[-] SERENITY: Write a paper on the suite of advanced zombie empowerment and control spells used by Alkharad and his disciples.
Around the constant chaos of enchantment, runework, and mystical debates, your home finally begins to take form beyond the haphazard pile of bedding, books, and oddities. You turn what was once a warboss' lair and has been your bedroom for the past few years into a lovely foyer, adding to the existing atmosphere provided by 360-degree windows with a Rune-powered fountain and a number of scattered seats and tables to create a relaxing, airy atmosphere, only slightly detracted from by the foreboding steel pillar radiating the opposite of light in the center of the room. You also expand the balcony in every direction, adding some slanted chairs made of sturdy Dwarven carpentry to allow for reading or conversation in the sunlight - the penthouse is high up enough that there's a chill to the air not present at ground level, but direct sunlight is more than sufficient to banish it and being able to choose your angle means one could follow it throughout the entire day if they were so inclined. As a side-benefit, the extended balcony would also allow for a gyrocopter to drop off a passenger if, for instance, the Grey Tower needed to be activated on short notice.
A layer down, a sitting room takes shape into a permanent meeting place for the local wizards of Karak Eight Peaks and a miscellaneous meeting room for any other purpose, and adjacent to it the recipient of a great deal of monetary investment, your large and growing library. After some thought you've split the room into three sections, only two of which would be apparent to most visitors. First is the Public section, filled with information on the sciences, arts, civilizations and Gods of the Old World, that anyone who's been allowed into your Penthouse could be reasonably assumed to be cleared to peruse. Second is the Collegiate section, where any of the wizards of Eight Peaks could find topics similar to the ones in that of their own Colleges, ranging from magical theory to spellbooks to recent papers to information on the many enemies of mankind. And finally, your hidden Restricted section, filled with books on the topics of Dark Magic - entirely for the purposes of combating it, of course.
And below that, the more private portion of your growing home. Firstly a bedroom, which you plan to upgrade with silk sheets once the weaver situation is sorted out, and new silk sheets, rather than ones stolen from a Naggarothi like you'd heard now adorned Johann's bed. It also featured a bed for Wolf, a wardrobe for your spare robes, and a bookshelf for your recreational reading, which you'd absent-mindedly placed in the Sciences and Arts section of your library before realizing your mistake and quickly relocating them. A bathroom, which used a combination of petty enchantment you performed yourself and small pieces of runecraft performed by apprentices borrowed from the project above during downtime. The combined effect allowed for water of just about any temperature on demand, which in turn allowed for an Kislev-style sauna, a Wurtbad-style hot bath, and water sprays quickly put to use when Wolf got into the mud of newly-irrigated fields. And, finally... the dungeon.
Not the recreational kind, no matter what the neighbouring rooms would suggest. Despite the power of the tower being built above and the potential of the Aethyric Vitae, the Skaven contained within might represent the greatest contribution to the Grey College you could possibly make... if you handle it properly.
---
The modular nature of the room meant that you could put the Skaven in a cell very uncomfortably small indeed, but instead you placed him in a cell taking up a third of your dungeon. Your room in the Grey College was smaller than this, and though it was stark, bare stone, there was a slab in one corner for sleeping and something like a table and a chair in another. Stone furniture, but with the application of an apparently very basic Rune to make stone fuse together as though it had been connected since the world's birth. You were watching through the door of steel bars as he regained mobility - he'd been sensate the entire time he'd been under Mockery of Death, but you'd closed his eyes and let him take what information he might from what must have seemed an endless ascent. You watched him stretch the strange cramps the release of the spell always caused out of lithe, furred limbs, and then he'd looked around the room and quickly spotted you. At that point, you'd left him.
Skaven, from all you've read of them and what little you've witnessed, are masters of cruelty and you doubt your own ability to match them. But your tutelage from Regimand and Abelhelm had agreed on one fundamental fact: torture was an unsavoury but necessary tool when you had some way to verify the information it produced, and the subject had no way to know what you could or couldn't verify. Torture was better than nothing if you had limited time and information of dubious provenance was better than none. Torture would not, however, convert a sapient being into a font of information - not without the sort of advanced mind magics that only two Colleges possessed, and neither the Light nor the Grey were all that free with them. So if you had time and attention to spare, you did not attack a subject's sanity with cruelty, you attacked their loyalties with kindness. Humans, upon which most of your techniques were developed, were notorious among Elves and Dwarves alike for their mutability, and that didn't just apply to literal mutating forces like the Winds of Magic or the forces of Chaos, but also to the more mundane forces in the world. A human's loyalty might be as concrete as anyone could hope for, and in a mere decade they could completely change the way they see the world and the values they used to judge to whom they owe their loyalty, and though that was a weakness when it came to trying to build bureaucracies and infrastructure, it was an opening for any interrogator worthy of the title.
Interrogator. Harsh connotations. But in the end, all it necessarily meant is one who questions another. And though some of limited imagination swore by fiddly little devices of rusted iron that applied pressure where pressure was never meant to be applied, and others instead claimed that all one needed was a sharp knife and a source of heat and everything else was just window-dressing, the true masters of interrogation - that is to say, the Light and Grey Colleges - knew that it was simply a single tool in a master's belt.
The Skaven's cell remained dimly lit, but through the door he could see the light of the rest of the dungeon, which matched exactly the light of the world outside. Food arrived through a steel hatch in the wall three times a day, and was simple fare but enough to live comfortably off, or as comfortably as one ever could with the Black Hunger lurking within them. The first meal also came with sheets, which could have just as easily been on the slab from the beginning, but everything was a message. You were supplying food, warmth, and a measure of time; if the Skaven was simple, it would either think you weak or generous for providing them, and you could work from there. If it was not, it would be aware that you could just as easily take all of those away. Just because you did not immediately apply torture did not mean you would not make the possibility clear. Both of you knew that if circumstances were otherwise and you'd met on a battlefield, the Skaven would not have hesitated before trying to sink steel or fangs into flesh. That the hatch supplying food was separate to the door through which you would enter and exit was a smokescreen. Was someone else supplying food? Were you part of a larger whole? Was this an automated facility? How many others might there be?
The first time you entered the cell gave you information from the first second. He did not immediately attack; it would not have succeeded, as Mockery of Death was suspended within him by a web of Ulgu, but he had no way of knowing that. That he didn't try indicated he intended to at least play along with his offer to serve you. You weren't unarmed, but he had no way of knowing that Branulhune was never more than a thought away, and all he could see was the pistol in your hand. Your Marksdwarf's pistol, with a specifically-made bullet, with a sharpened tip that would punch through flesh, rather than tearing like a regular ball. The Dwarves had yet to find a way to make such a bullet work over distance, but you didn't need distance for this.
"What is your name?" you ask.
He considers you; you're not sure if he's considering his answer, or merely translating it into Khazalid. "I was once, and if you decide it is to remain the case, will continue to be Qrech. I was once Chieftain Qrech of Seventh-and-Final-Combe; my deed-name was Anuvongeni."
Wolf lingers just outside the door; it makes him happier being able to intervene if need be, and allows him to keep track of scents, and with enough exposure you might be able to identify the 'musks' that are part of Skaven communication. The Skaven's whiskers and ears twitch as he talks, of unconscious and suppressed attempts to add information and context incompatible with the language being spoken. Khazalid is a very precise language, and his speaking of it is more so, seeming to opt for multiple words where normally one with sufficient suffixes and prefixes would do. You're not sure if this is a deliberate choice, or if it is a reflection of his own level of knowledge, or perhaps the level of knowledge that Clan Moulder or the entire Skaven possess.
Anuvongeni. Vong means 'raid', in the sense of theft from an enemy. Vongen is raids that continue over time but will end; anuvongen is raids that will soon be ended. Anuvongeni: they who ends raids. Is this a translation, or was his deed name in Dwarven? Questions for later. This meeting was to set the stage.
"I am Mathilde Weber. What does that mean to you?"
Another pause. "Manling wizard-warlord of the Exhausted Mine Land. Now of the West-Dwarves." You try to follow the chain of meaning from Khazalid, through Skaven, and back into Reikspiel. Exhausted Mine is a single word in Khazalid, and could be conceptual, so the land that Skaven considered picked clean... ah. Sylvania. And West-Dwarves? As opposed to East-Dwarves? If that's how the Skaven differentiate between the Karaz Ankor and the Chaos Dwarves, you're sure both would object.
"I am a Magister of the Grey Order. What does that mean to you?"
Qrech cocks his head; you try not to interpret it as confusion or curiosity. The body language you know will only lead you astray. Finally, it speaks. "Eshinzhufi." Partially correct, partially enlightening. That he uses Zhufi instead of Zhufokri when he's clearly trying to at least seem like he's cooperating either indicates a lack of knowledge of cultural connotations, or Skaven Khazalid has absorbed Chaos Dwarf cultural assumptions that don't see being defined by magic as negative.
The gun has been in your hand this entire time, and though it hasn't moved Qrech has been giving it regular glances. At last, you lift it. "A lesson, to make things clear," you say. And without hesitation, you lift the gun and shoot yourself through your palm.
Mental exercises meant to dominate the Winds of Magic are able to bring pain under your control, if you prepare enough beforehand. The moment of agony that showed on your face before you brought it under control was more than masked by Qrech's own jump as he immediately tried to run and hide and do four other things at once, but then he brought himself under control as he realized he had not been shot, but not before you'd done the same. He looks from your impassive face, to your bleeding hand, to the circle of blood and bone fragments spattering the wall behind your hand. Then his gaze drops to the lump of malformed lead on the ground.
"I do not trust you, Qrech. My confidence does not come from trust in your words." You hold up your palm to look at Qrech through the bullet-hole. Roots writhe in your hand; your bullet was an inch clear of the Seed, and it takes an instant to start working once commanded, and the hole quickly closes. It takes only a handful of seconds for bark to peel away and leave unmarked flesh. "Nothing you could do with fang and claw could possibly harm me. Do you understand?"
He squeaks something in Queekish, then repeats his 'yes' in Khazalid.
"Good. We'll speak again soon."
---
When you leave the room, the door swinging shut and latching itself behind you, you get out of audible range and vent a long-held yell of pain as Wolf frantically licks at the phantom ache in your healed hand. When you catch your breath, you observe Qrech unnoticed, having prepared means beyond simply looking through the bars of the door. He's unmoved from where he stood when talking to you, watching the door for some time; when he finally decides you're gone, he drops to all fours and cautiously approaches the leftover remnants of your demonstration. He sniffs the bullet carefully, holds it up to the light at the door, runs his claws over its malformations, licks at it and wrinkles his nose at the odd mix of lead and blood. Then he stands and sniffs at the circle of blood and bone fragments, touching his claw to a fleck of gore, bringing it to his mouth dubiously, nibbling at a fragment of bone or cartilage. He turns once more to look at the door you exited through, then back to the circle of gore, then scampers over to the bed to burrow into the tangle of sheets.
You continue to observe him over the next few days in between your other obligations, and his initial contentment to eat and sleep in peace begins to give way to the beginnings of agitation, as he paces the cell and cautiously pokes his head as far as it will go through the bars to see what can be seen, which is nothing but hallways. If you were in a hurry, you'd have to operate under a lot of assumptions, but with time to spare you can afford to test them first, and one more has just been confirmed. Skaven do, in fact, succumb to boredom.
As Qrech sleeps, you trigger the Mockery of Death within him, which prevents the possibility of him awakening; then you move into his cell, replace the spell, and then add a second 'chair' to the table. Not quite an interview table, but it will do, and that it could be added to his room without him awakening will hopefully keep him intimidated enough to keep cooperating. The next day, with your footsteps ringing on stone to give him enough time to note your approach and mentally prepare however he sees fit, you begin the second session of the interrogation of Qrech.
Skaven don't sit quite the same way humans do because of their tails, and Qrech has to decide between either sitting straight with his tail hanging off the edge of the square stone block of a chair, or hunching forwards slightly so his tail can swing freely behind him. He opts for the latter, and you're quite curious whether it's because it's a more defensive posture or whether this is an expression of trust or submission in Skaven body language, keeping his tail and foreclaws visible so they can't be up to anything out of sight. If all goes well, these will be unknowns no future Grey Wizard will be handicapped by.
"Can you read Queekish?" you ask. A nod. "Khazalid?" Another. The next question is trickier, but you formulated it ahead of time. "Are you bored?" Nakokrutar: the pain of not creating. Khazalid had a new word every generation for boredom, as youths rediscover it and as adults never quite formalize it into the language; Nakokrutar was the closest approved part of the lexicon. A long period of thought, you assume as Qrech examined the question for a potential trap, and a hesitant nod. "Would you find reading entertaining?" More thought, and you wonder if the answer would be different if he gave it without having endless days of nothingness to compare it to. Eventually, a nod. "What subject would it entertain you to read of?"
This was a tricky question. If he tried to be cheeky with it, you could easily shut it down, but it would make a possible avenue to develop an emotional bond instead be an avenue of sparring. You wonder if he's considering something similar, or if he's simply considering the question. "Ogrikaraz," he says at last. And, to your satisfaction, he offers more information unprompted. "Often close. Never visited. Nufgnollenguz." Never-wisdom-food; curiosity.
"In three days, I will have a book for you on the subject." One carefully chosen for its complete lack of any information the Skaven couldn't trivially obtain elsewhere, if they were so inclined. "This I give. I will not have you suffer needlessly." You pause, so that the possibility of suffering needfully is properly considered. "If it is your choice to reciprocate, I would like to know of Clan Mors."
"There is no such Clan!" Is his immediate answer, and though he's kept himself from moving his frame is suddenly quivering with energy.
"Traitor-Clan Mors," you say, remembering the words of the Eshin you encountered, and he nods so fast his head seems to quiver.
"Nurglitch should never have survived the Black Pillar! Been allowed to spread his sickness to Gnawdwell! The first time should have taught us! The second time should have taught us! There will never be a fourth!" He subsides, chittering in agitation. "Clan Mors is past. What remains is a meal soon to be devoured."
You smile without showing teeth. "I am satisfied," you proclaim, which you believe will be more meaningful to a Skaven than a conventional expression of gratitude. You rise and leave, and once more borrow the gyrocarriage for a quick trip to Barak Varr.
---
Though you spend months at the Colleges and then months more occupied with your tower, you never go too long without having at least a cursory conversation with Qrech. Though he's reticent with any information about Skaven, he seems to enjoy talking about the books he's read, albeit through a lens you could have predicted. The understanding of Skaven warfare you inherited from Frederick allows you to engage him on his level, and you find yourself more entertained than you'd expect by discussing the myriad ways a Skaven war party could subdue and consume the various beasts of the Mountains of Mourn, and as his tastes expand, of the Dragon Isles as well. Amid these recreational conversations, details about the Skaven need to be teased from him carefully, and you make sure to keep to information on Pestilens and Mors, who he sees no reason to protect. A picture emerges of the Third Skaven Civil War, with the Council of Thirteen apparently gripped by indecision and unable to decide the wishes of the Horned Rat, and of Clan Pestilens once more trying to seize dominance over Skavenblight. Not alone this time; Clan Mors sided with them, as well as several minor clans, and after a brutal decade of fighting they had failed. Now the remaining Great Clans and minor clans alike sought to claim their strongholds and secrets and breeders. Pestilens, Mors, Feesiks, Morbidus, Flem, Septik, Fester. Open season with the unspoken fear that sooner or later the Horned Rat's silence will end, a ceasefire will be called, and for a third time Clan Pestilens would be forgiven and the opportunity would pass forever.
Qrech never would have played a part in the war at all, engaged as he apparently was with the constant mutual war of raiding each other for test subjects that Clan Moulder and the Chaos Dwarves are locked within. He was not a raider, though. He prevented raiders, and for six straight years he ensured that more Hobgoblins went northwest to Hell Pit than Skaven went southeast to Zharr-Naggrund. Then apparently a local Moulder with more ambition and authority than sense took this to mean the Qrech was a universal solution to all matters Dwarven, and commandeered his service and dragged him halfway across a continent to Clan Moulder's attempt to be the one to claim the kill on Clan Mors.
"'Don't attack the Dwarves,' Qrech said. 'The greenskins are weak, the Dwarves are strong. They are not as vulnerable as we will be if you attack them.' 'Coward', Grot-brained Moulder said. All the soldiers he had given Qrech were loyal to him. They put Qrech in cage, Grot-brained Moulder had many ideas for what he would do with Qrech after 'victory'." Qrech's eyes refocus on reality as he shakes himself loose of the grip of memory. "What happened to them?"
It's the first unprompted question he's asked, and you refrain from smiling. "Dwarves from one side, greenskins from another, Clan Mors from a third. Exterminated."
Qrech's teeth rub against each other in something that sounds almost like a purr. "Good."
---
[Max's Gyrocopter Adventure: 12]
"Nothing?" you repeat.
"Not a thing," the pilot confirms. "West to Morgheim, south to Azgal, nothing. Karag Dron, the Ulrikadrin have the Dragon Ogres keeping their heads down. Iron Rock, not a peep. Even went all the way out to Crookback Mountain. It's like all the greenskins and Skaven have decided to stop plaguing the world."
You consider Mork's recent weakening, and the unseen civil war among the Skaven. "Ah."
Maximilian haunts Karag Nar like a sulky ghost for weeks afterwards, pouting and periodically obliterating a target with the Silver Arrows he never got to fire from a gyrocopter.
---
[Seeking a Punch Trainer - Empire: 41]
[Seeking a Punch Trainer - Karaz Ankor: 99]
[Seeking a Punch Trainer - Barak Varr: 45]
You put out feelers through your networks among the Colleges and among the Dwarves. You find yourself sorting half-heartedly through a short list of various hoodlums, ruffians and ne'er-do-wells that all enthusiastically made claims you doubted their fists would back up. Then you answer a knock on your foyer door to see what you're almost sure is a Priest of Grungni, except unlike every other Priest of Grungni you've ever seen or heard of, he doesn't possess a pick. "SO," he says. He doesn't seem to be shouting, that's just how his voice is. "YOU WISH TO LEARN TO PUNCH."
You've encountered stranger and you refuse to be put on the back foot. "Not personally, for one of my employees."
"THIS IS GOOD. APPROPRIATE LEADERSHIP. LEAD ME TO YOUR EMPLOYEE."
The possible Priest of Grungni gives Johann a glance and snorts, but after Johann takes his gloves off and reveals his gilded skin, the Priest gives him a longer, much more thoughtful look. "FOLLOW," he finally commands.
You tail along out of curiosity, and watch as the Priest of Grungni pauses, catalogues and ranks every nearby rock formation, and leads Johann towards the least meritorious of the foothills. The Priest slams a bare fist into a rock-face; it is unmoved, but so is the Priest. "NOW YOU."
Johann obeys. The Priest spends some time correcting a number of different things about Johann's posture. A second punch. A pebble bounces down the rock face.
You walk away.
---
[How does Wolf feel about this?: 70.]
[Puppy-raising assistance: 73+26+5(Library: Canines)+20(Wolf)=124.]
[Johann being a loving father: 56+18+20(Wolf)=94.]
Wolf spend a solid five minutes sniffing the rat puppies and radiating confusion, but finally manages to slot them into his understanding of the world as 'puppies' and from then on there's not a moment's hesitation from him, and you seek to emulate your familiar. Everything man knows about the wolf-rats says they are feral, frenzied, and eternally hungry, but logic dictated that the only wolf-rats man would encounter are ones that the Skaven have decided they want man to encounter, which doesn't really tell you much about the base state of the creature. So you and Johann plow forward based not on what you know of wolf-rats, but what you know of these puppies. And while they've certainly got an appetite, they're also inquisitive, playful, and able to sit back on their hind paws and use their forepaws as clumsy hands and it's somewhere between adorable and disquieting.
You apply everything you learned for and from Wolf's upbringing and it seems to take, and though Johann's golden skin is proof against their rapidly-growing fangs, he reacts with feigned discomfort to their nips and they paw at the feigned bite-wound and lick it apologetically. They spend plenty of time wrestling with each other to decide who's in charge, but when they're not doing that they're grooming each other with paws and teeth, or piling sprawled atop each other or Johann or Wolf. You add another notch to the 'nurture' column of the eternal debate. Though Dwarves that spend time in Karag Nar give them a lot of dubious looks and keep their distance, the humans and Halflings alike quickly adapt to Wolf's new entourage.
---
[Candidate skill level: ??]
[Compatibility with the We: ??+??+/-??=44]
[Ongoing education of the We: ??+??+/-??=84]
The final matter was a repeat of an old matter: the We. Though they'd gotten along well enough with a Dwarven Loremaster, either he'd failed to communicate or they'd failed to understand, so you've moved on to your next candidate: a Priestess of Esmerelda, the Halfling Goddess of Hearth and Home and foremost of their pantheon. Hluodwica found a candidate young enough to be flexible but knowledgeable enough to teach, and though you need to intercede a time or two early on to prevent misunderstandings from compounding and she never seems to be as comfortable with the We as Sjeåth was, she does seem to be communicating the information they need to learn, if not the cultural assumptions you might have hoped they'd inherit. Further time will be required to see if it will stick, but it's undeniable that progress is being made.
---
[Paper on Alkharad's control and advancement spells: Learning, 94+26+20(Necromantic Insight)+2(Library: Necromancy)-10(Practical)=132.]
And last of all, the paper. To your great relief, your distaste for writing papers seems to fade in the comforting embrace of the Room of Serenity, as you're able to reduce the world to your memories, your knowledge, your notes, your reference materials, and the process of distilling it all into physical form. Your first draft ends up scrapped not because you're unsatisfied with it, but because you finally pin down an itching familiarity you didn't consciously realize was there and figure out the base spell that whoever invented this must have built upon for this suite of necromantic enhancements. You don't say that, of course - it does raise uncomfortable questions as to how you know the spell in question well enough to spot a derivative - but you can use it to work out what the weaknesses and limitations of the spell would be and you can easily justify that knowledge based on observations. You fill pages with ink, and then you go over it and expand it to half again its size as you remember extra little details that might make all the difference if this knowledge didn't die with Alkharad.
[The Properties Of and Countermeasures To an Observed Suite of Necrarch Control and Enhancement Spells, 2481. Subject: Rare, +1. Insight: Confirming, +1. Delivery: Compelling, +1. Precious, +1. Thorough, +1. Tactically Relevant, +1. Total: 6.]
[Room of Serenity now able to counteract Practical malus]
---
Thus concludes the work Mathilde performed these past months, but not every waking moment was filled with work. With whom did she spend her free time, this past year? The five with the most votes will be chosen, not counting the locked in one.
[+] The Wizards of Karak Eight Peaks (locked in)
[ ] King Belegar, to try to get some idea of where he's at with his crisis of faith.
[ ] Prince Gotri, who is enhancing the underground defences of the Karak.
[ ] Princess Edda, to pry for details about her illicit romance with Prince Kazrik.
[ ] Princess Edda, on a hunt for weavers across the Empire.
[ ] Prince Kazrik, as he tries to convince Nuln to let him make them fabulously rich.
[ ] Gunnars, to see if you can pierce his terse nature.
[ ] Titus Muggins, who's returned to farming with every avenue of attack defended.
[ ] Francesco Caravello, proud leader of the Undumgi
[ ] Oswald Oswaldson, newly-minted Chief Bombardier of the Undumgi
[ ] Soizic, sparring partner and possible 'sparring partner' of your duckling Hubert.
[ ] Sir Ruprecht Wulfhart, as the new home of the Winter Wolves takes shape.
[ ] Barak Varr, to watch the progress of the canal.
[ ] Karak Hirn, to satisfy your curiosity about Prince Ulthar.
[ ] Algard, reporting the Skaven Civil War in person instead of in writing.
[ ] Roswita, as she rides out the chaos of the influx of Battle Wizards.
[ ] Kasmir, to see if he rejoined the Council of Stirland.
[ ] The Amber College, to see how your donation of Lustrian eggs is going.
[ ] Anton, to see how his firearm factory is going.
[ ] Wilhelmina, to see how she's going when she's not a terrifying financial juggernaut.
[ ] Empress 'Heidi', to be present for the birth of her child
[ ] Check in on the Gong Farmers and the Niter Factory.
[ ] Check in on your fief in Stirland.
[ ] Other (write in)
There is also a second question of great import. Your dragon-skull reading chair is indeed amazing, but with your tower of Divine Fiery Wrath taking hold, it might be that its control throne is a better place for the skull. Will you sacrifice your incredible reading nook?
[ ] Yes. What better place to burn armies from than the skull of a dragon?
[ ] No. Mathilde's dragon skull chair belongs only to Mathilde.
- As always, there are likely to be social possibilities missing, both because I haven't thought of them and because I've been told them and then forgot them. Please point out any that are missing; there will be a one hour voting moratorium for the purpose of filling out the list.
- Depending on Qrech's nature, which might be different to the nature he has shown to you thus far, there may or may not be rolls to decide whether or not he will be considering or attempting to get up to mischief. You will not see these rolls. There may have been rolls already.
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Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
We have to find a way to ensure the rat-wolves can continue as a species.
They cute
They cute
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
Yeah, this guy is some serious fucking business.
He's that most rare and terrifying thing apparently, a Skaven who knows what they fuck they're doing. And has great respect for the other races as rivals as opposed to scum they will ultimately triumph over.
On the one hand, that's valuable, as we're getting good data out of him, on the other hand, it's perilous as fuck because he's going to cotton onto what we're doing if we're not running our A-game.
This here?
This is what "The Deciever" was made for, now that we've established a rapport, we need to con the shit out of him. Bait him into thinking that we're looking for tactical data and insights which win us a local theatre but be functionally irrelevant to the greater interests of the Under-Empire when we're really trying to pull his language out of him, which is a fundamental breach of their infosec that they won't soon be able to close.
Because by all indications, he's a True Believer, and he will quite literally bite his tongue and die before he betrays the Skaven language to us.
That's going to have to be our strategy here, lean on The Deciever to con the language out of him while making him think we're looking for something more innocuous.
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Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
mmm hopefully this is close to a seminal work on the subject at the moment.
Good good.
EternalObserver
eYe Gaze baCk
- Location
- The Void
Hell yeah, a good paper by Mathilde at last
NuclearConsensus
Herald of the Thorned One
- Location
- the Philippines
Poor Max xD
Back to work.
- Location
- United States
We are known it seems.