The review...hopefully beating out the new update in timing at least.
In the Hall of Oaths, a silent, solemn gathering watches a Cleric of Grimnir converse solemnly with a Dwarf that by his beard can't be older than forty - barely more than a child. The conversation concludes, and in efficient motions, fistfuls of the youth's hair are gripped and sliced off by the razor-sharp handaxe of the Cleric. Tears flow freely down the faces of some of those watching, but though you can see despair, you can also see pride.
With his hair hacked down except for a single stripe down the center, the Dwarf will now make the long trip to Karak Kadrin to complete the ceremony that dedicates a Dwarf to the seeking of death in battle. Any Dwarf in the Karaz Ankor would give him food and a night's shelter, and transport if they're going in the direction of the Slayer Keep. It's not necessarily part of the ceremony, as far as you understand. It's more of a symbol of the Oath they intend to take, to show the Clan they think they've dishonoured that he intends to set things right.
The pride part is really hard to digest, the culture gap is pretty stark here, considering the nature of his shame was so small indeed.
Is the nature of the Slayer Oath such that the reason for taking it is always private?
And hmm, I wonder how many dwarves would have second thoughts if they had to journey to the Slayer Keep to take the oath, rather than taking the oath first.
"There's a concoction of volcanic salammoniac and animal fat," King Belegar says beside you, his voice low enough to not carry to the crowd. "Makes the hair stiff and brittle if you leave it in long enough. Makes this ceremony a minute or two long, rather than a solid fifteen minutes of yanking hair and nicking the scalp. Many a young lad has seen sense and washed it out before they made their way to the local Temple of Grimnir." He lifts his crown and runs a thoughtful hand through his own hair. "Made it once, though I didn't get so far as to put it in, between my father's passing and my first successful raid into... well, into here."
Ammoniac and lard.
Also I see this is how they get found out in time, the time they spend soaking their hair is going to be immediately identifiable by smell, given the nature of dwarf homes, the whole Karag would know they were preparing to do so, and possibly intervene.
And here too we also see Belegar contemplating suicide after his father died, and probably FAR too much time thinking of lost glory.
"What did he do?" you murmur back, watching the youth. You think you might have seen him a time or two, but even in the smallest and most important Clan in Karak Eight Peaks, you just don't have the time to put a name to every face.
"Nothing." He sighs. "Nothing, when he thinks he ought have done something. Battle of Karagril, thinks he didn't step forward fast enough and fix the shieldwall when the Dwarf in front of him fell. Battle of Karag Lhune, he kept his shield raised when he thinks he should have lowered it and swung. Battle of the Eastern Gate, he busied himself dragging to safety a Dwarf he thinks he should have known was dead."
Three failings, none of which were even really mistakes, just less than perfection.
Dwarf perfectionism and memory at work aggravating the most minor of flaws into something they just keep revisiting in their minds and deciding its worse each time.
"Way the Karaz Ankor is, and has been for millennia, every Dwarf must be a warrior, even those least suited to it. He had the deftest hand with a scrimshaw knife I've ever seen, could take a Skaven's fang and engrave into it the name and lineage of the one who slew it. But because he can't face battle, or perhaps because he thinks he's not good enough at facing battle, now he's going to dye his hair orange and get the proper tattoos and when he freezes up in front of a troll, he's going to be eaten. And for all the power of the crown, the most I can do is make sure he'll have easy passage at least as far as Zhufbar."
As I said previous, the dwarves origin as a collapsed polity could explain a lot. They are the race of
professionals, they're psychologically very ill suited to being militia, since they are as a whole very bad at changing their minds.
Full time warriors sure, but if they could survive without the full clan muster they really should never assemble the weekend warriors if they can help it.
"Karag Lhune was once a quiet corner of the Karak," he says as the two of you walk out of the now-empty Hall, King Belegar's bodyguard shadowing you as unobtrusively as a fully-armoured Dwarf can be. "Filled with the odds bits-and-pieces that couldn't quite fit in the more-populated Mhonar or Rhyn or Zilfin. Temples, airship docks, the school and apprentice barracks, an overflow vault. Now the entire Dwarven population of Karak Eight Peaks fits into the Chiselwards, and could quadruple before we'd need to start excavating new rooms."
You remain silent. If you were honest, you'd have to admit to having had similar thoughts. Only one in four Dwarven children were women, and it was a rare woman that would have more than four children, and she would usually be approaching her hundredth year by the time she does so. That was an awkward fit into a world where greenskins and Skaven and the forces of Chaos and other, more esoteric threats applied a constant attrition.
They live up to 200-300 years and are fertile throughout.
But they have only four children, exactly enough for one daughter, one heir, one warrior, one spare.
The number of kids they're having points heavily to having exactly as many children as duty demands, more would be a cruelty.
"If I truly cared for the safety and future of my people, I'd have never sought the forces to accomplish this," he says quietly. "Clan Angrund, sure, Clan Angrund never allowed itself to settle down, and would have marched towards extinction if someone didn't find a way to succeed. But the others? The Norgrimlings were comfortable in Zhufbar. Helhein were celebrated in Karak Norn. The Bronzefists had their own mountain in the Vaults - not the biggest mountain, nor the richest, but it was theirs. And a dozen other clans either considering or in the process of uprooting for the home none of their ancestors for three dozen generations has seen. The Karaz Ankor is not hurting for space - the entire lot of us could fit within Karaz-a-Karak these days. So if we don't need the space, and I'm not seeking to expunge Grudges with Dwarven blood, and I'm unable to retake the home of my ancestors without abandoning their ways, what am I accomplishing?"
"Karak Azul?" you hazard.
He remains silent for a while, and then exhales. "It's true. Their reconnection to the Karaz Ankor might not be possible any other way. But I find it difficult to find satisfaction in their Karak when my own is so diminished, and will never be otherwise in my lifetime."
An observation here, Belegar is having trouble perceiving the intangibles, he seems to be just sliding straight past the possibilities of morale issues and benefits.
He has these lists:
-Tangible
--Loss of lives
--More space than they know what to do with
-Intangible
--Fulfillment of Grudges
--Fulfillment of Oaths
-???
--Karak Azul's benefit - Raised by Mathilde
And he basically decides that he has to choose one, being confounded when something might be neither one nor the other.
Exaggerating for effect of course, but theres a definite blindspot there.
The atmosphere in Altdorf is thick with suspense as the birth of the Emperor's heir approaches, and the Colleges are no exception. The Jade College crowd the Palace, fighting for primacy with Priestesses of Rhya and Shallya. The Celestial College crackles with energies as every path into the future is scoured for any hint of possible disaster. Rumours fly that those few Light and Bright Battle Wizards not deployed to Sylvania are lurking throughout the city, waiting for any hint of a possible threat to the Empress or her child. The usually-abandoned entrance of the Amethyst College is filled with the bravest citizens of Altdorf imploring Morr not to cut short any lives. The only Colleges apparently unmoved by the atmosphere are the always-absent Ambers, the unfeeling Golds, and, of course, the ever-enigmatic Greys.
Or so any outsiders can tell, anyway. The usually-empty entry hall is filled with Grey Wizards idly reading books or chatting, only for their act to be punctured whenever someone enters and everyone looks to see if there's news.
Grey College pokerface is A-class, but...you just see all these people pretending to be unruffled so very hard and you know they're thoroughly ruffled!
The tidings you bear are not related to the Empress, but they're certainly good. For the second time in a year you make your way into Algard's office, and though his table is as clear as ever, the two added pocket dimensions indicate that paperwork may have been piling up while he was engaged in tower-related business in Eight Peaks. "Trouble with the tower?" he asks distractedly, squinting at a parchment covered in numbers.
Two more pocket dimensions full of paperwork for a month indulging his hobby building doom towers.
...its probably not worth climbing above Lord Magister is it?
I wonder if whenever they look for a new Grey Patriarch, they have to start with those Lord Magisters they can actually find, rather than those who quickly vanish for fear of being sentenced to the hell of endless paperwork.
"Not at all, Lord Patriarch. I bring the best kind of good news."
A small smile twitches in the corner of his mouth. "The kind that would have been very bad news, except it ends with 'and you took care of it'?"
"Don't know where you'd get that idea." You take a seat across from him. "I speak, of course, of a full-blown Skaven civil war."
After a moment of thought, he sets the parchment down, and the dimensions of the desk wrinkle for a heartbeat as the parchment slides in the opposite direction of reality and out of sight. "You have my attention."
:3
You can almost see his internal doubletake, verification of the intelligence and pulling out all those contingency plans.
He might or might not have used Cloak Activity to shuffle relevant documents into hand while we talked though.
"I've taken a cooperative Clan Moulder prisoner. He seems to still be loyal to the Clan in general, but he ended up on the wrong side of a leadership dispute so he's got no direct ties, and the rest of Clan Moulder got wiped out that day so there's no mundane way the Skaven would know I have him."
"'Mundane'. Good qualifier."
A good one. Theres divine intervention, which should be avoided if nobody actually invokes the Horned Rat at any point, too many Skaven out there crying out for his attention to give it.
Theres scrying, which would require people scrying on Mathilde somehow, they'd need motive and reason to watch her long enough given that she's all over the place AND covered in obfuscating Ulgu.
Or they might scry the penthouse, which is hopefully playing nine kinds of merry hell with scrying without a good focus what with massive Ulgu capacitor upstairs.
"Thank you. He says, and I believe him to be telling the truth as he understands it, that Clan Pestilens and their subordinates made a play for control once more, and this time Clan Mors sided with them. They've failed but there's been no intercession by the one in charge, so the other Clans are scrambling to finish the job and grab what they can in anticipation that when it does, it'll call a halt to hostilities."
"Pestilens, the rest of the Brotherhood, and Mors..." he leans back and stares into space, muttering to himself. "Shame we're only hearing about it in the aftermath, but still... Mousillon, Bastonne. The current Ambassador's a good egg, I'll have a word in his ear. As for here... Ubersreik, of course. And Nuln..." He refocuses on you. "This might be worth having a poke at the Conspiracy of Silence. I'll have a little word with people who'll have a little word with people. If it all ends in disaster pray you never hear a word of it again, but if everything goes as it should this might be a nice little feather in your cap. Needless to say, if your guest spills anything else of interest I want to hear about it."
I wish them luck flushing out Under-Nuln.
It'd go a long way towards the Empire's wellbeing.
"Of course, Lord Patriarch," you say with a smile.
He returns it. "You've become quite a credit to the College. Keep it up, young Magister."
Eeee! Headpats recieved!
While there, you take the opportunity to check your pigeonhole to see if there's been any mail - most would know to contact you in Eight Peaks, but apart from the Amber Hills, academia rarely strays beyond the walls of Altdorf. Finding an unexpected bundle of papers and letters, you make your way back to the privacy of your unadorned and rarely-used quarters to go through it.
People can be oh so stubborn about correspondence.
I'm still getting calls directed to the previous guy who had my work phone number, for more than three years.
The first piece is a rebuttal to Preliminary Observations on the Eusocial Cave Spider, and you frown at the opinionated Amber with a lot of opinions on where the line is drawn between sociality and eusociality, and is quite firmly convinced that the We must fall short of the latter. You flip through the other pages present, and find a counterrebuttal from Esbern and Seija that quite thoroughly puncture the debate presented on its merits without having to bring the We into it at all, which you imagine would be quite necessary with them being somewhere within the forests of the Empire.
[+1 College Favour from further attention to Preliminary Observations on the Eusocial Cave Spider]
[Checks Eusocial definitions]:
-Cooperative brood care, including care of offspring from other individuals
-Overlapping generations within a colony of adults
-Division of labor between reproductive and non-reproductive groups
--Specialization of labor on top of this heps but is not needed.
--Specialization resulting in indivduals losing certain behaviors that other caste members possess helps but is not needed.
Every box is checked.
Opinionated rebuttal guy was either taking a blind shot at scoring some favor, or concealing the sentience of the We was hiding some important information.
Certainly this sort of exchange of papers is good Favor milling out of limited topics, its the sort of thing that a full time academic Amber(counter-stereotype admittedly) could crank out over a couple of weekends, to pick holes in a paper's ambiguities.
You flip through a number of reports on attempts at adapting the MAP to other winds, and apart from the Bright College it seems that all attempts were dismal failures, seemingly because their own Winds don't have the natural inclination to flow and pool. But then you flip further and find a sparse few paragraphs in which a Bright College Lord Magister guts your spell, replaces its innards with a few simple flourishes, and sends it on its way, simplified enough for any Apprentice to cast. Following that is eight near-identical letters informing you that your spell has been added to the curricula of all eight Colleges.
[+10 College Favour from Mathilde's MAPP being developed and added to the curricula of the Colleges]
Hmm, so the spell is REALLY simple to begin with, pull up a clump of Ulgu, use its native tendency to just hang there, and then swirl it around like play-doh.
Should have a lot of applications in education, design, and I suspect after one campaign with the MAP cast by their scouts the relevant generals will never go back to verbal.
Quite a few applications with simple enchantment as well, though I doubt it'd catch on more broadly for signage, as woodcuts are still cheaper. There will also be a dramatic increase in the number of magical dick doodles by apprentices.
(and waiting for the time travelers any day now, the naming of MMAPP, the fact that the non-Ulgu versions are NAMED Mathilde but not made by Mathilde, is going to be enraging apprentices for centuries to come)
Also want to buy the Lord Magister a beer as a gift of appreciation. Upstanding dude, letting us have half the favor. I suppose an active Lord Magister isn't really in any need to quibble over 10 Favor.
While the Empress is surrounded by a thick swarm of priestesses, midwives, ladies-in-waiting, and various other courtly hangers-on as the projected day of birth approaches, that she greets you like an old friend combines with the reputation of the Grey College to ensure that they all step very lightly around you. The constant internecine status conflicts in the Imperial Court are well known, and you're not here to start fighting in them, you're just here to see that your oldest friend's biggest gamble continues to go smoothly.
This is going to fuel MONTHS of gossip. These are professional political gossipmongers.
The Mysterious Grey Wizard the Empress knows personally and is a friend of, is going to spawn all kinds of conspiracy theories, all of which are going to be wrong.
You don't witness the birth itself, though you're right there with Heidi's hand trying in vain to crush yours through Aethyric Armour; the entire business is genteelly screened off with a series of curtains, some seemingly designed specifically for this. Between Heidi's yells and a Shallyan priestess commenting that five hours wasn't even unusually prolonged, the entire business leaves you feeling quite convinced that the process of reproduction is very poorly designed indeed, no matter the entertainment that the earlier stages might represent.
Mathilde acquires time travel, goes back in time to find the Old Ones: "I would like to file a bug report."
In the coming days, the newborn will be taken to the first of what is sure to be many holy services at the Grand Temple of Sigmar, but before that lot can get their claws into him, at the nexus of a set of coincidences that see each and every one of the usual swarm distracted elsewhere, the two of you find yourselves alone with the child, who sure enough has adopted more traditional colouring and skull shape.
Stole a future Emperor from Sigmar, oh yeah~~~
"They say it's bad luck to pick a child's name in advance," Heidi murmurs, her eyes locked on the sleeping child's face. "Luitpold had one chosen for the previous one. Two, I suppose. Karl Franz."
Its a common superstition, probably stemming from extremely high infant mortality.
Like, its not uncommon to wait for the baby to survive a month before celebrating, so as not to jinx it. And then another bigger celebration at a full year.
"No, the Todbringers are kin to the original and they make enough hay out of it as it is. Wilhelm?"
You screw up your nose. "After the one that tried to purge wizards because some entirely non-magical thespian tricksters looted his treasury?"
"He did? Oh, terribly sorry, I didn't realize he'd do anything of the sort."
You narrow your eyes at her, not entirely sure if she's messing with you, but after the amount of times you've deployed that same act you can't really criticize. But you can fire back.
Bet she wanted to brag about it for ages if she really did it.
Still, the game of looking mysterious and well informed never ends!
"I'd say so." You smile as a thought occurs to you. "How about Mandred?"
She bites her lip. "The Skavenslayer? Saved and united the Empire... I like it."
The child stirs slightly as his tiny shirt is unbuttoned, and you prick a forefinger with a shadowchisel and draw a cross in blood above his heart. "Ranald greets you, Mandred. May this world bring you joy, and may you bring joy to this world."
Mathilde is a priest in all but character class at this rate.
Meanwhile in the Aethyr, Ranald is giving Sigmar a shit eating grin.
Sigmar is too busy sorting out the clusterfuck with his cult to care. Last we heard its still an ongoing disgrace
Princess Edda is originally of Karak Izor, which has more ties with Tilea and the Border Princes than it does the Empire, but the Young Holds have close ties and introductions to the Elector Counts of Averland and Wissenland are hers for the asking. It makes some sense that she'd capitalize on those relationships and linger there rather than pushing deeper into the Empire, but you follow a hunch and arrive unannounced at an awkward hour, and when sunrise and cock-crow arrives and a sleepy Princess returns to her guest quarters, she finds an unexpected Grey Wizard awaiting her.
"Good morning, fellow Councillor," you say with a smile. "I applaud your dedication, to be getting to bed this early in the morning."
"Ah," she says, brain trying to go from zero to a sprint in an instant. "Magister Weber."
"I must also applaud Prince Kazrik for providing such prolonged assistance to you."
"Yes," she says. "Assistance. We were-"
"Grungen? Developing bokkul? Adgalazgandit?" Though Khazalid doesn't have Reikspiel's breadth of creative euphemisms, it does have a lot of abusable mining terminology, and Edda blushes deeply. And that only worsens as you exercise your grasp of the language.
Speaks it like a native now, if she's making horrible euphemisms.
Everything can be improved with some mining metaphors.
More seriously, she's planned this months in advance if they just happen to be in the same place, at the same time to make out while both on unrelated jobs.
Good Organizer that.
Sadly you've other business elsewhere and can't linger long enough to properly catch up to Anton, but you can make introductions. As the ruler of Blutdorf, he can spread word and vouch for the offer, and as a well-liked figure in local nobility, he can make even further introductions to spread an even further net. And not least of all, he can act as the local node of the EIC to funnel the actually rather stupendous amount of underworked, underpaid, or adventurous weavers within the EIC's sphere of influence that they've gathered the information of.
Say...would they coincidentally buy out the EIC's local rivals? Considering how much Belegar is offering they could basically gut every rival simultaneously by making this offer to their most skilled weavers.
And simultaneously this drives up local fabric prices for the EIC to import.
Business, after all, is the business of compounding advantages, once you hit critical mass, they will compound on their own.
And while you make that introduction, you have an opportunity to watch Princess Edda as she does her best to operate among humans. And the result is obvious: she doesn't.
Oh, she operates fine as an ambassador, a representative speaking on behalf of a Dwarven Kingdom, but she doesn't seem to understand how humans operate on every level, and seems limited to speaking her request and seeing what happens, and if she gets any result but acquiescence she's lost. It's not a matter of any sort of dislike, as far as you can tell - you and her get on fine, and you're not just a human but a wizard. It's just that as an administrator, she's used to Dwarves, who can almost always be predicted and when something goes wrong, it's usually in a fairly predictable way. You imagine it must be something like a champion sheepdog being expected to run herd on a cat farm.
Guessed this previously. It was probably her meticulous, perfectly interlocking planning that went bloop when hit with disordered entities.
You open the neck of the sack dubiously and peer in, and are presented with the sight of a great many simultaneous grins. "Ah."
"They're like cats!" Roswita shouts, waving her arms out the window of the briefing room in the general direction of the battlefields of Sylvania. "Every day, someone with fire instead of hair or surrounded by birds or a skull instead of a face wanders in and drops off a Vampire skull or the head of some forest mutant or a cartload of bones and I say thank you and they act like I've thrown a party and named my firstborn after them, and they go off to find something even worse to drag back! Look what they did to my table!"
A kind word goes a very long distance. I suspect Roswita's Hyper Focus helped a lot here, she sees everything in terms of "will it help me retake Sylvania" and the answer here is a clearcut YES.
So she's nice to them, and she now has Extremely Motivated Battle Wizards. They even take the extra effort to clean the skulls nicely first so it doesn't make a mess!
For the first time in their lives, they were validated.
And while I imagine the Battle Wizards aren't really in a position to do Roswita favors, they have Lord Magisters trainers who DO appreciate someone being nice to their students.
And that probably means if she needs magical help down the line it'd be easier to get it.
Her phobia is getting a huge dose of acclimation therapy at this rate.
You consider the small sapling protruding from the wood of the table, its small green leaves stretching towards the window. "I see."
"One of them walked off with my wall sconce stuck to her, I had to send a footman after her to get it back! She didn't even notice! Another made all the candles flare up, and one set fire to the curtains! One of them I had to tell only visit in the morning, because if he comes too late in the evening all the staff start nodding off!"
"It..." You search for words. "Could be worse?"
It definitely could be! Battle Wizard arcane marks are nice and dramatic.
Also I'm pretty sure the one she told to visit in the morning is doing an excite because an Elector Count considers him important enough to meet in the morning!
"I was expecting, I don't know, fire, floods, plague, having to repopulate Sylvania from scratch. Not this... weirdness! Part of Tempelhof got destroyed, and some of them rebuilt it, but refused to rebuild the roofs because 'why would they want the stars obstructed?' and they had to be led away to go bother the Strigoi."
You know, I suppose when they teach about miscasts they miss the steps between "flash of light" and "everything is fire".
I actually wonder how they did the rebuilding. The quirk says Azyr, but I don't think Azyr is usually known for construction work.
"So Tempelhof is sorted?"
She subsides and scowls before admitting it. "Yes, and their Primar came all the way here and said if we keep away the Vampires and the wizards, they'll pay taxes and accept whatever authority I put over them. Still got Strigoi and Lahmians to deal with, and it's a stalemate on both fronts so far, but so far there's been nothing unexpected."
Heh. Threaten to have the wizards come back and they'd fall in line.
Too much intense weirdness.
"So everyone's magic is remaining cooperative?"
She shrugs. "Magister Patriarch Feldmann says that Sylvania puts everyone on edge, so they're double-checking everything. He's at least sensible, and we've been working together to sort out proper deployments to keep everyone useful and intact. Worst of it is a hill near Egling that apparently will remain magnetized for the next three hundred years or so."
Hmm...could probably make a pretty penny selling lodestones for compasses.
You pull one of the skulls from the sack, considering it, and she waves a hand at you. "Take it. Please. I'm going to have to fund an expansion to the Siegfriedhof monitored ossuary as it is."
Mathilde's skull collection continues to perplex Khorne.
Her hobbies of oversized weapons and skull collections pleases him but she's a wizard!
In your recently-furnished sitting room, you cast an eye over the gathered wizards. "In the past six months, I have weaponized the Hellfire of another race's Hell."
Thoughtful silence greets you. "You can do that?" Adela finally asks, intrigued.
Adela shows a healthy attitude.
Panoramia could do with some lessons.
You grin at her. "Apparently! Ask Gunnars nicely if you're curious. Now that I've set the bar, how have the rest of you kept yourself busy? Adela, impress me."
She scowls. "Dwarves are really cagey about mechanics."
"No kidding. Did you really spend six months banging your head on that wall?"
"I've been working on getting my Flaming Sword cast time down. Shaved about a second and a half off."
Better at melee, but hmm, she mostly just needs more Dwarf Reputation, though we could shortcut things for her with an introduction to Gotri(admittedly, it might have just been Anton being super Anton rather than Gotri being open to teaching), it'd probably work better if she has more Favor under her belt.
Bit hard to know how much she has though.
"Could make all the difference. Hubert?"
He smiles. "I killed a troll."
You consider that. "...why?" He stares at you. "Okay, let me unroll that. While sorting out the trolls in Kvinn-Wyr is definitely an entry on the long-term list, there's a lot of things above it. What made you seek out a troll?"
He seems to be considering it. "My great-great grandfather killed a troll," he says finally. "I used to play with its club when I was young. I wanted to see if I could do the same."
"That's fair. How was it?"
"It was more work than I expected."
Hubert is...being a good Ulrican?
Why on earth would you go kill a troll with a sword?
Trolls take a lot of killing!
Even freaking Dwarf Slayers die in droves against trolls!
At least get a flaming sword? Or zap them insensate then set them on fire?
"Trolls are. When it is time to move against Kvinn-Wyr, it will probably be because we've got a whole bunch of ways to deliver fire on hand. And the rest of your time?"
He probes his side with a wince. "...healing."
Lesson learned I hope.
At least he's alive to fix that.
"Let this be a lesson in proper prioritization and time management. Gretel, I gave the others a chance and none have managed to dethrone you. What have you been up to?"
Looking quite pleased with herself, she takes out a sack of coins and slides one across the table for you to examine. You rub a finger across the gold, then look into a face only a mother could love. "Eugh. Malekith. Where'd you find these?"
"Picking through the ruins of Clan Moulder," she says, without a hint of self-consciousness.
"That'd explain it. Anything beyond monetary wealth, which I as a Grey Wizard am immune to the allure of?"
"Just a bunch of uncooperative Skaven and their ridiculous wyrdstone money. And yes, I used gloves and turned it over to Dreng and burned the bag they were in afterwards."
Ah thats where the rest of the Druchii gold went. Better in her hands than Skaven hands.
Also hah, she robbed Skaven, only to realize the money was worthless to her.
"Way to extend the lead." You slide the coin back across the table at her. "Edda would give you a fair rate, but the smelters here are already working overtime on loot from the Orks. Tell the EIC you work for me and they'll take it at full weight value, or let me know when you're headed to Barak Varr and I'll come with and make an introduction to the Royal Mint's acquisitions guy."
Its very nice to have friends in high places. Especially when it comes to converting Druchii coin which will get you suspicious looks, into regular gold, with dwarf stamp.
You turn to Max, who's still sulking
xD
There there Max...wait, once the Tower of Burning Shadows is done, isn't Gyrocopter Close Air Support basically done as a career?
"Johann, apart from our favourite puppies, what's been happening?"
"Still stalled on the damn ra- uh, the you-know-what, but I've been working with Panoramia with the ooze we found. It can digest just about anything organic and turn it into... well, more of itself. We're feeding it to some of the cattle and they seem to like it okay, we're up to three months without ill effects at half their diet."
"That's," you pause, consider. "Possibly a really big deal." You consider further. "And might answer some questions about Skaven logistics."
"It's a matter of how far we can scale without running into deficiencies," Panoramia says. "The Halflings have agreed to scale up tests, so we'll be starting sample groups of goats and sheep on 10%, 25%, and 50%. That seems to be as much as they're willing to eat without becoming upset and uncooperative. If they're still doing okay at one year in, we'll start draft cows, milk cows and horses at Ulrikadrin. After five years, we slaughter and do full autopsies."
"I take it you've properly quarantined the test animals?"
"Of course, Magister. They're penned up in one of the valleys between the Lhune and Nar foothills."
This sounds like a very promising way to convert enemy corpses and organic scrap into our food without actually doing squicky eating people things.
And particularly, with the We being educated, we're going to see a significant uptake in the demand for livestock, being able to feed livestock cheaply is a huge boon to silk production.
"Yes." Johann shrugs, so you turn your gaze to Panoramia.
"With all the water we could need, I've set up some ponds up against Lhune for the Black Lotuses." She frowns. "Loti?"
"Lotuses," Johann says.
"Loti," Maximilian disagrees.
"Old Reikspiel root, so it pluralizes as loti," Adela says with a satisfied smile.
"Black Loti, for the Rangers. I taught the Halflings how to tend it, but the Rangers have a thing about wanting to grow it wild where they range so I taught them as well."
Giant dorks one and all our Wizards.
Also not much remarked, but this means our dwarf rangers AND halfling sharpshooters are going to be packing Black Lotus poison as standard kit down the line. That stuff is amazing for making enemies kill each other.
Now, before you all run off to go get up to mischief, with my abode finally taking a proper shape, my library is not just theoretically available to you if it occurs to me that a specific book might be useful, it is now entirely available to you. If I'm not around, find Wolf and ask him to let you in. It's on this floor, other end of the hallway, to get into the Collegiate section Dispel the lock and replace it on your way out - you all know Dispel and Magic Lock?" Five yes, one no. Oh, Celestial College. Why must you- well, actually, that one makes sense. No need for locks with prognostication enchantments to prevent thievery. "You've got a one-month grace period where I let you in and out, Hubert. Scrolls are under Sevir, take what you need with you when you leave but return it in good condition or I'm sending a stern letter to your Magister."
You'd made a little key enchanted with Dispel for Johann and gave it to him earlier. It's nowhere near strong enough to be useful, but it will get him in and out of the Magic section.
And now we've ensured the Journeymen never want to leave lol.
Thats a library they won't get ANYWHERE until they become Magister. Or become filthy rich.
I do wonder if Johann could squirrely think his way through the limitations on his magic some day or if its flat out impossible.
Maybe if he got into enchanting,Gold Alchemy can make effects that the wizard doesn't have the spells for, given the right reagents.
Maybe.
Though it's largely made redundant by your visit there and hearing about it in person from Roswita, you still go through the information the EIC collected from gossip and and observable movements from the front line. The Army of Stirland is holding and fortifying Tempelhof, Pfaffbach and Regrakhof, while the 3rd Division is on the long march around Hunger Wood to Siegfriedhof to reinforce the Black Guard and be in position for what promises to be a brutal war against the Strigoi that call it home. But though the casualty lists promise to be brutal, they're guaranteed to be less than if any of the Vampires established themselves enough to start turning their gaze towards the Empire, even without considering the disaster that Teufelheim could have ended up being. That was the reasoning that Abelhelm used to begin the Purge six years ago, and one thing you share with Roswita is a firm belief that it still applies.
Hmm, with those three sites taken I imagine the Strigoi are about to face Battle Wizards who don't need to care about collateral damage given that they're fighting WELL away from settlements?
Today's Council Meeting is once more done on the move, this time in Karagril, and the seven of you gather to inspect the defences at the base of the mountain. A corridor twenty could march abreast down stretches a hundred meters or so before it opens into the Grand Avenue, which is now the territory of Clan Mors. None present trust in Clan Mors' many enemies to keep them from striking if they're shown a weak point, so Prince Gotri and his underlings have been busy amplifying the underground defences, which previously were limited to man-portable weapons and the one-Dwarf ballistae of Karak Norn, and the latest addition seems to basically be a mortar pointed down the tunnel, mounted on a stone pedestal braced with steel.
A twenty wide chokepoint. Hmm, pretty good at letting dwarf forces march at full strength or letting cavalry charge out in triple file, but too cramped for Skaven to leverage numbers without packing a LOT into the killzone.
"I took some inspiration from our Imperial allies," and Gotri gives a bow in your direction. "Their 'mortars' don't have a long barrel because they don't need one - they don't want maximum force like you do with a cannon, they want an exactly-measured amount of force to give the parabolic arc they want. Similarly, we don't need maximum velocity here. We'd be up against personal armour and flesh, and maximum range is about 150 meters. We also lose out on accuracy from both velocity and rifling, but if we're not shooting single balls..." He pulls a bundle of metal balls wrapped in flimsy-looking rope from the nearest gun. "We don't need it. We're killing in an expanding cone instead of a straight line. So it takes less steel, less precision, and less work to make, and since it's bolted down we can overengineer instead of trying to make it battlefield portable so it's as reliable as any cannon rolling out of Zhufbar.
Thats a pretty good take on Radical.
Rather than building towards an ideal, you build towards ideal
for the scenario. And fixed emplacement guns gets pretty absurd in dakka power, because you can assume they are mounted to stone rather than wood.
Grapeshot mortars are just what the doctor ordered for Skaven and Goblins.
Good thing Moulder is gone though, I wager they have stuff that'd take heavier.
Instead of a typical swabbing, it's right at head height and short enough to look into. One Dwarf sees to the touch-hole, one does a visual inspection of the barrel for sparks or flame or debris. Wrapped powder in, shot in," he replaces the shot, "punch it," he does so and winces, "the loaders use a padded glove - and fire. Four shots a minute easy, and we're working on designs for powder and shot that I think can get it up to six." Everyone present, both Council and those on guard, cover their ears as Gotri holds the linstock to the touch-hole, and with a mighty roar metal projectiles are sent flying down the corridor in an expanding cloud.
"How many?" King Belegar asks.
"Five at each underground front, twenty total. We're on track to triple that in another six months, and all the work is being done at Karak Azul so that's alongside any other work."
"Fifteen of these, ten bolt throwers... could they be moved?"
"Not tactically, but if you're in no hurry, sure."
"Good. Keep on it."
Hmm, five on a 20 man wide passage would get anyone who cares about morale to back off. You'd still need precision shooters to pick off anyone escaping the fields of fire by luck.
Fifteen on a 20 man wide passage is basically only limited by there being so many dead bodies you need to blast the corpse pile apart.
The Temple of Grungni is not to be visited by layfolk while it's in the process of being excavated, as to Grungni the process of mining out the Temple is as sacred as the Temple itself. But as you walk past it on the way upwards, Gunnars explains that it's on track for completion in another year or so.
Makes sense.
He'd not been able to draw in any high-ranking members of the established Temples, but a Temple focused on Grungni's aspect of Mining has attracted enough interest from mining clans to fill out a priesthood.
...is this the Karaz-a-Karak longbeards playing silly buggers again? Because it sounds a lot like it, the retaken Eight Peaks SHOULD be drawing down high ranking members with few advancement prospects really fast.
Still, Gunnar apparently already had plan B in mind.
You also pass through the residential area being rebuilt, which isn't at all necessary considering most of the Chiselwards remained empty, but the Norgrimlings and Ironbacks apparently preferred architecture that followed the crooked trail of an extinguished seam over the strict order of usual Dwarven architecture.
Bit eccentric, but it does seem to me that this design would be a lot more defensible in the event that you are cut off and need to hold your residential area indefinitely because there probably won't be any help coming.]
The next stop is one of the many stone platforms that jut out from the northern face of Karagril, giving a dominating view of Death Pass. There's a half-dozen of the Undumgi on guard, four relaxing in the small room below who scramble to their feet and stand to attention at their unexpected visitors, and two on guard up top, watching the Pass below. And finally, the reason for their presence tucked into a small recess in the face of Karagril, a greatcannon fresh from the foundries of Nuln. "They said the Emperor has first refusal and the Elector Count of Wissenland has second, but as long as they could boast of supplying cannon to Karak Eight Peaks, the rest of their production is ours,"
Oh yeah, damned right. The Nuln foundries are going to be strutting around like
elves peacocks when they can brag about selling cannon to dwarves.
No better advertising for their quality.
Prince Kazrik says, unable to keep from smiling with pride. "And I had an unofficial word with the Emperor's representative in Nuln, and now we possess a license to buy cannon at Nuln rates, rather than paying the foreign powers and private citizen cannon tariffs."
"Excellent work. How many have we got?"
"Thirty now, ten more en route. If I remain there to beat the Elector Counts to any that come out of the foundry, I think I can get to at least sixty by the end of the year."
"Good. Head back and stay on it, and see if you can get your hands on some of their mortars, too.
That just...quadrupled our dakka?
"I was able to find a significant number of interested weavers in," she checks her notes, "Wissenland, Averland, and Stirland. Final headcount will have to wait until we see how many actually show up to the Black Fire Pass ferries I organized, but I'm expecting at least three hundred, largely thanks to Master Weber's contacts in the Empire. I was also able to recruit a group of human engineers from the University of Nuln, who were unable to find any interest in the Empire for their loom designs."
Three hundred weavers.
The We can really make a lot of silk huh, if they can keep all those weavers employed. Assuming of course, that many stick around instead of run away screaming at the spiders.
Also awesome, we might have poached the steam loom inventors!
"Excellent. See to getting them established-"
"Excuse me, my King," Princess Edda interrupts, "but I've discovered that I have no affinity for dealing with or managing humans. I believe it would be better for the economy of your Karak for a new Steward to be found." She's obviously rehearsed saying this, and to her credit none of her nervousness is visible except in a tremble in her shoulders.
That took a lot of courage on her part and its extremely shameful to admit I think, based on dwarf showing so far.
King Belegar considers her for some time. "No," he says finally. "You've shown diligence and ability in every other aspect of the role, and there's no shame in not being equally skilled in every new and strange challenge Karak Eight Peaks supplies.
And I think Belegar right here has just had a flashback to this young dwarf with a talent for scrimshaw.
And is thinking hard and fast to make sure that it doesn't happen.
Give the leader of the Undumgi temporary control of Karag Nar and let him know if he proves equal to the task, it will be made permanent and he will be given the title of Thane. Drop management of the silk business in his lap, that can be his trial.
Francesco is getting one heck of a trial period here. Thats a vast amount of money in his lap. Keeping hands clean will be important.
Meanwhile, see to establishing proper infrastructure in Karagril - they've got picks and the like, but they'll need a blacksmith for sharpening and repairs, a carpenter for support beams, and a smelter until we retake Karag Rhyn. Probably several other things, too - find out what."
"Thank you, King Belegar," Princess Edda says, just above a whisper.
"No thanks needed. Since you were given it, you've earned your position and you'll do so several more times over in the coming years."
And now put her on her specialty, organizing dwarf industry.
Godspeed Edda!
Kvinn-Wyr," he says, pointing to the most distant. "Trolls, as we know. The Sentinels show signs of Orc habitation at some point, but they're long gone."
So I'm guessing the orcs brought the trolls, and then just kept raising more trolls as shock units and then got eaten by the trolls?
He skips over Mhonar to point at Karag Rhyn. "Broken Toof above, Crooked Moon below. The former used to live in the caldera and the latter once had the entire mountain, so they're crammed in and angry at each other about it, though right now it's skirmishes instead of all-out war.
Got to be careful there, we want this pot to boil over at the right time for us to trash them both instead of the Greenskin Gods uniting them under a warboss.
Its not impossible
Which is strange, because Karag Mhonar is right there and, as far as I could tell, uninhabited. Lots of dead greenskins and Skaven, from fresh to ancient, all with shattered bones. But my Rangers have scoured it from top to bottom and found nothing."
"Strange," King Belegar says. "Have the greenskins fortified against the east?"
"Not a bit. They just don't venture into the tunnels that link the two Karags."
"Any trolls ventured west?"
"None, as far as I can tell. Not even corpses."
I'd note that something I missed the first time: the trolls didn't go there and survive going back. The trolls didn't go there at all.
Rangers are trackers, and these are tunnels, they'd notice troll sign.
Whatever it is, its NOT a good fight for Orcs, they just die for seemingly no reason, so they stop coming. And the trolls don't even wander over to look for any food. Whatever it is is more inedible than rocks.
"Damn strange. Yar?"
"Eshin, top and bottom."
"Not just a warband, then. Blast."
Fuck.
"As for Zilfin..." All eyes go to the tallest of the eight peaks, the only one apart from Karagril to stretch so high as to have snow on its peak year-round. "Skryre underneath, but though they've fortified the caldera entrance and the Grim Gates above, that's as high as they've gone. Should have noticed why sooner. Look."
He points upward at Karagril's peak, and then back at Zilfin. You can't see anything significant about either, but Prince Gotri's eyes narrow as he peers back and forth between them. "The frost line's higher on Karagril."
"Ice Dragon," Dreng confirms.
Hmm, if the snow line is visibly higher to a trained ranger, that should be what, 100-200 meters difference?
Dragon...well thoroughly discussed.
I'll pass for now.
King Belegar sighs. "That's the last thing we need. Grim tidings, but fine work, Dreng. Head to Karak Azul, have a word with their Blacksmiths Guild. We've been getting a trickle of individual Dwarves and some entire Clans, and not all have ancestral weapons. Make sure there's at least an axe and a shield for each, and have the sigil of Eight Peaks on each."
Rebuilding community identity huh? And also making sure everyone is properly armed.
He smiles and nods. "Finally, surface defence. Master Weber?"
All eyes turn to Karag Nar, and the two tower on its peak. "With assistance from Kragg, Gunnars, and the Grey College, it's operational, but I believe there's still more to be done before it could be considered complete."
He nods. "Will it remain as operational as it is now?"
You consider the possible upgrades you have in mind. "Yes."
"Then by all means."
Something I missed on my first read: Belegar is SMILING?!
