And the review.
These things are getting longer and longer somehow.
[Strigoi preparations: 1]
[Stirlandian assault: 41]
[Rolling for individual contributions...]
As you work your way through the accumulated EIC insights into the ongoing Sylvanian campaign, you're once more reminded how much Abelhelm's untimely death was a tragedy. Roswita might be growing into the role, but while a three-pronged assault looks great on paper, the logistical problems reared their ugly heads early and often.
Ah, the good old textbook situation of "tactically looks great, but assumes perfect communications handled by robots on perfectly level ground".
Nothing for this one except real world experience.
Against any canny foe, the Sylvanian Campaign might have ended there and then, but these Strigoi were far more occupied with the escalating tensions between each other than enemy movements. By the time the much-delayed army had finally penetrated deep enough into the forest to reach them, they had given up countless opportunities to ambush or harass the oncoming foe in favour of tearing each other to pieces, and the army's job was to finish off the badly-wounded 'victor' and put down the crumbling zombies, panicked ghouls and fleeing beasts that had made up the forces of Hunger Wood.
Belegar: "I think I saw this fight before a couple of times, its a good day when your enemies are so busy killing each other you only need to clean up the leftovers."
If there's any hero of this story - and you have to drill pretty far past some wincingly bad performances to get there - it's the early prototypes of Gerber-Kiesinger Repeating Rifle, which could apparently fire twelve rounds in twenty seconds before requiring reloading. That raises your eyebrows, and you wonder just how much useful information Anton was able to get out of Prince Gotri.
Enough Dakka applied works a treat for most problems involving enemies!
Kind of want to go see Anton next turn, it should be just in time for the factory grand opening isn't it?
You also go through the information the EIC has started to gather on events in Karag Nar, paying special attention to the possible future Thane, Francesco Caravello. The Undumgi are quite happily settled in and pleased to have a steady stream of imported goods from the Empire to spend their salary of silver on, though there is a fair bit of griping about demographics; inevitable, you suppose, when so many men have just found long-term financial stability, but you make a note to keep an eye on it anyway. In the parts of Karag Nar tucked away from prying eyes there were enterprising women (and some men) making a brisk trade in fulfilling related desires, and apparently the Undumgi didn't share the prejudices of the Stirlanders you grew up with because a few had married Halfling women. You make a mental note to keep an eye on that; you had expected the situation to resolve itself as news spread of so many newly-eligible bachelors living in comfort and safety, but Karag Nar still remained overwhelmingly male.
Well, if this keeps up anohter year we'd probably want to actively import some waifus. Probably also want the prostitution under the eye of the Shallyans so disease and surprise pregnancies are under control but thats currently none of our business.
Still,I wonder if Panoramia might get asked to help nature along with the more adventurous couples. The halflings like her pretty well after all, and the physical logistics is best served with some magical assistance here.
You're aware that some might be intimidated by wizards, but between your newly-renovated entrance hall and having Wolf deliver the invitation for Francesco to pop around for a chat at his convenience, you're sure that Signore Caravello will be at ease. Who wouldn't like receiving mail from such a wonderful puppy?
Dis is gonna be gud.
Francesco did not budge from the table he was sitting at as the massive beast approached. It wasn't as large as the Giant Wolves of Ulrikadrin, but it was hard to remember that when he was eye to eye with the creature. It eyed him solemnly for a moment, and then turned its head to reveal the letter tucked into its grey collar. Trying to suppress his nerves, Francesco commanded his arm not to shake as he reached over and pulled the missive free. The animal looked at him with unnatural intelligence, nodded once, and then turned and left.
Every furbaby is eternally adorable to their mom.
Not so much to the guy staring a wolf in the eye while seated. That puts Wolf at what, 3-4 foot tall? A big boy for a regular wolf, though not yet supernaturally large.
When he arrived at the top of the very long central staircase, he took a moment to catch his breath and noted the recessed portcullis in the roof and the reinforced steel door that barred entry. As he approached, it swung open noiselessly, and the first thing he noticed was the sinister anti-glow of the steel pillar in the center of the room. Scattered around it as if to demonstrate how little the occupant cared about such a sinister force in the room were shockingly ordinary pieces of furniture, and windows opened on all sides to breathtaking views of the mountains.
Mathilde: "Its pretty pleasant. The pillar is quite the conversation starter, and the view is to kill for."
The nice touch is that everyone visiting is going to be breathless when they first see it, and they won't know what exactly took their breath away.
Among all this, the Wizard of Karag Nar sat elegantly by the hearth, flipping her way through a book filled with Dwarvish runes. Her shadow, stretching across the room by the light of the fire, turned to regard him; several seconds later, the Wizard followed suit, and Francesco noticed she was being orbited by the few wisps of woodsmoke that escaped the Runes of the fireplace's flue.
The shadow says hi.
Mathilde is even trying to look disarmingly ordinary by reading a regular book.
At least its not the illustrated Druchii romances.
"A pleasure to see you once more, Signore Caravello," you welcome the man who might soon be Thane, closing the book you were reading. "Please, take a seat."
"Dame Weber," he greets you cautiously, sitting stiffly in the chair beside you, and you're pleased to note he's still wearing the Torc you gave him.
"A great deal of power is in your hands, and I felt it best to spend some more time with you. Much will rely on those living within Karag Nar in the coming years."
"I will do my utmost to prove worthy of King Belegar's faith in me," he says.
What she said: "Nice to meet you, make yourself comfortable, and I want to get to know you."
What he heard: "You will be getting your hands on a lot of power, if you abuse it, you will disappear."
"That is good to hear," you say with a smile, "but what I wish to see more clearly is what your utmost consists of." You place the book down on a small table beside you. "Tell me of the EIC."
He conceals any visible display of nervousness, but his emotions cannot hide from your Magesight. "The trade company?"
"The trade company you have partnered with. I wish to know your reasons."
Confusion swirls within him as he tries to predict where this is going. "If you believe the EIC is a threat to the Karak, I will of course sever all ties-"
"I'm glad to hear it, but that's not what I asked."
What she said: "I would like to know how you can best contribute, tell me what your connections can be used for."
What he heard: "I know about your business connections, tell me how they have you by the balls and whether you can sever it. The business, not your balls."
He takes a moment to collect his thoughts. "The offer was good," he says at last. "Fair prices for staple goods and a no mark-up for payment in Dwarven currency. All they asked is to keep out would-be competitors, when their low margins would do the job for them. Tilea has a strong tradition of merchant princes seeking prestige through generosity. But if you think they-"
This is excellent, and I think the EIC continuing this is good for business.
Keeping out competitors is natural behavior, but I reckon its a preventative. You can't muscle in fairly with their low margins, they have the volume and you have to sell at a loss to do it that way.
So whats left is underhanded means and local industries. The former just needs a little...targeted enforcement to keep them straight till they sidle off, and the latter he can have them buy into the EIC very easily.
"Oh, stop. I'm not on a crusade against the EIC, I am the EIC." You can't help but smile at the shock on his face. "Thirty-six percent of it, at least. One of the swords in the logo is my own. I'm not here to take you to task, I just want to get a better idea of what sort of man you are. What it is you want from life."
I *am* the Senate.txt
Pictured: The secret merchant prince in question
He considers this, and finally nods. "Very well. I originate in Luccini, and it is to my shame that I learned its lessons too late. I had always known that it is through trade that Luccini has grown prosperous, but as my ruined endeavours finally taught me, unprotected trade enriches only the brigands and scavengers of the world. And though I had fallen too far in fortunes to apply the lesson to my own endeavours, I could lend my sword to the endeavours of others and extract what vengeance I could find in defence of the caravans of the Old World. And that likely would have been the course of the remainder of my life, had King Belegar's summons not reached my ears. The rest of the story is one I share with the rest of the Undumgi."
Well we know this from his background investigation already, so that matches up.
"It it spite or justice that drove you?"
He shakes his head firmly. "A distinction without meaning to sons of Tilea. Spite is the satisfaction one feels at righting an injustice."
[Dwarf nods approvingly]
You consider that, and eventually nod. "Very well. What are your ambitions now, from this elevated position?"
"With Dwarven arms, Tilean cunning, Bretonnian courage and the Empire's discipline, the Undumgi could become the equal of the Leopard Company. And astride the safe path through the mountains that a dozen generation of merchants would have given their right arm and firstborn son for, Karag Nar could become as prosperous and comfortable and bustling as any of the jewels of Tilea. I will use these accomplishments as the quill to write my name in the annals of history, or I shall die in the attempt."
You smile, watching the emotions within him confirm his words. "I do so like it when my allies have compatible ambitions. I've a feeling the future will hold opportunities for you to get closer to your goals, and you need only prove the equal to them."
He's in the right place for these big dreams alright.
You know, from the conversation I don't think he's been introduced to the We and their silk yet.
And he's a merchant first.
He'd know what he's looking at.
It must be wonderful, you consider, to have the freedom to disappear from the world for months or even years at a time when a promising new line of inquiry is dropped into your lap.
Hence why a lot of wizards go full time academic hermit huh? Like, its what the Celestial and Gold colleges DO stereotypically.
Kragg's reappearance either indicates a conclusion or a roadblock in his study of the rune-axe that Clan Moulder's Naggarothi guest had possessed, and from a distance you consider the oldest Dwarf in the Karaz Ankor. Born so long ago he predates Bretonnia, predates the Moot, predates the arrival of Necromancy to the Empire. Despite his age, the world still holds surprises in even his field of expertise. What a nice thought.
Theres always more to learn.
Something that's driven academics to despair, knowing they'd never know it all.
That said, Kragg HAD spent centuries working on the equivalent of writing derivative papers to his own papers and charging his Ancestor Runes.
Hard to discover without new data, especially if you're ALSO a priest of Thrungni and thus cannot stray outside of orthrodoxy.
It reminds me of medieval alchemists taking the Bible and twisting it into knots of metaphor(and in some cases applying complex decoding ciphers to try to extract meaning from words taken in a functional random order) to try to discover alchemical processes through divine inspiration, which would be theologically 'safe' and definitely not witchcraft.
Dwarves were, of course, naturally repellent to the Winds of Magic, so your usual trick of watching the gathering and dispersing of ambient magic to tell what someone is feeling doesn't work on them. That applies to Kragg ten times over, to the extent that you can locate him at a distance by the way that Ulgu clings tighter to you as you approach him.
Ulgu: "Hold me, I'm scared."
So you fall back on calling him something scandalously familiar, and gauging how much venom is in the scowl he shoots you. You were hoping for just the normal levels of disapproval, and more than usual would indicate that he'd grown frustrated with his project. That he barely gives a grunt of greeting past the unlit pipe in his mouth in return makes you frown. Kragg, you've learned, is not a social Dwarf, but nor is he one to keep his emotions bottled up, so it takes only a few moments for him to start speaking. "Not our work," he says.
Kragg is...extremely annoyed. He's not even smoking his pipe with that rune of fire he made. He's just chewing it in frustration.
You frown; the axe had clearly been of Dwarven manufacture, which made both of the possibilities very touchy. "North or east?"
He sighs. "That's the question, isn't it?"
The dilemma is clear to you, but fairly buried in Dwarven history. During the Dwarven Golden Age some six millennia ago, the Dwarves had spread throughout the World's Edge Mountains, and some internal debate the Dwarves were rather tight-lipped about lead to two splinter groups leaving: one northwest to the mountains of Norsca, and one east across the bleak plateau that sits at the northern edge of the Dark Lands. Then Chaos had come to the world, and while the Karaz Ankor fought off demons with steel and the taint of Chaos with Valaya's runes, the Dwarves of the East either succumbed or were seduced by Chaos, and those that went North were presumed lost, being the closest to the Chaos Wastes. But about 180 years ago, during the Great War Against Chaos that lead to the founding of the Colleges, the Karaz Ankor under High King Alriksson had marched to defend Kislev. A fiery young Thorgrim pursued fleeing Norscans so far north that he encountered those that had harried the forces of Asavar Kul for every step they had taken south: the Norse Dwarves of Kraka Drak.
When Alriksson perished of the wounds he suffered in the Great War Against Chaos, Thorgrim was elected to replace him in no small part because of his rediscovery of the Karaz Ankor's lost kin. But the Norscans who had failed to conquer the south for the Chaos Gods turned their attention to the Norse Dwarves, and contact was once more lost after a mere three years. This time, as far as anyone could tell, for good.
We could ask Qrech if he knows anything about the North Dwarves maybe? Not that the dwarves would buy Skaven testimony, but just knowing if they were actually wiped out or just cut off would probably go a LONG way towards mending bridges with Thorgrim once scouts can be sent out to confirm the facts.
Cut off from trade isn't exactly cut off from a scout.
Clan Moulder's stronghold of Hell Pit is on the northern edge of Troll Country, equally able to access the lands of the Norse Dwarves and the Chaos Dwarves. The Naggarothi might have gotten it from them, or it could have been stolen from the Norscans, or it could have been bartered from the Chaos Dwarves. So if you don't know which a Rune comes from, is it a lost discovery of Thungni, preserved for millennia by the Norse Dwarves? Or is it a tainted gift from the Demon-God of the Chaos Dwarves?
"It seems," he says slowly, "like it may be Skrhund, the Runes meant for work rather than war. But it uses mechanisms I don't recognize, and we don't remember enough of the Skrhund to know whether they worked the same as the Kazakrhun we still have. If they did, then this cannot be Skrhund, and would instead be the work of the Tainted."
Work/Mining Runes vs War Runes.
How'd they even lose the civilian runes?!
Or did the urgency of having to fight everything at once meant that the Runesmiths taught war before peace, and often died before they ever got around to peace?
For the matter, how would Work Runes be used on an axe and to what purpose? Wouldn't they need to be produced in bulk to be used for that? And runesmiths don't do that right?
"So what's the next step?" you ask.
"I have sent word to each of the Loremasters and Runelords of the Karaz Ankor, requesting any scrap of information they may have on the Skrhund, no matter how trivial. But if none can tell me one way or the other, I will have no choice but to seal it away."
You wince at the idea of having to cut off a promising line of enquiry because it might have tainted origins, but you understand his caution. Every Apprentice spends weeks hearing the misadventures of their predecessors who thought they had taken enough precautions or thought they were too clever to be caught off-guard, and were proven very wrong. All you can do is clap the Runelord on the shoulder companionably, smile at the scowl he shoots you for doing so, and keep him company as he stares out over the Karak.
*Eyes the book of forbidden magic*
Sure, Mathilde. You get it.
"Today's pastries," you announce as you pass the plate to your left, "come from that new place that entered across from the entrance to the Shrine Hall. Not a bad place to visit if you find yourself overburdened with copper."
Thats a pretty nice strategic spot for business. Previous guy was bought out?
Gretel can't help but smirk, and you roll your eyes at her. The agates had captured the attention and imagination of Barak Varr's Gemcutters Guild, who were the only Gemcutters Guild of the Karaz Ankor to be at the mercy of trade routes instead of being situated atop their very own mine. Gretel now had a fortune to rival yours, and was of a College that was much less stringent about material wealth.
Just...imagine the Bursar's face if we had come in with another haul of cash equal in size to our current funds.
And she's Grey Order, almost certainly has informants hearing about Gretel bringing in a Mathilde-sized tithe to the Amethyst College.
From another angle, Agates are a
tricky stone to cut, while its very hard, takes a great polish and resistant to chemicals...every piece is basically unique in pattern, and its intrinsic patterning has a lot of room for artistic expression if you don't want to just use it to make generically random wavy patterns.
Doubly so when agates tend to have internal spaces(and sometimes embedded fossils) which you have to work with, or accept cutting it down into even smaller pieces.
Last you'd heard she'd negotiated a 99-year lease on one of the Citadel's two towers from Edda
Looks like Gretel decided to stay here permanently then. I'm not sure if the Citadel is a good Shyish location, but it should have a pretty spanking view.
, and she seemed to be paying close attention to the nascent Karag Nar Weavers Guild, apparently determined to beat you to being the second wizard in the Karak with silk bedsheets.
...good luck with that, we're likely to be a controlling stakeholder(its under the Undumgi, and thus in the EIC's pocket once removed) of the main sales channel.
"I've gone adventuring with two of you these past few months and done some significant damage to Clan Mors in the process, so we'll skip right past Johann and Gretel." Johann was still banging his head against the ratling gun, to no avail. You can't fault him for lack of determination.
Probably should help Johann next turn.
At least its probably helping him bond with Max, being so frustrated on their projects
"Panoramia, how go the Halflings?"
"Mixed news," she says. "First proper harvest is in, and combined with the mushroom farms in Lhune it could feed us through the year if we tightened our belts. But a lot of that was achieved through an absolutely unreasonable amount of care and attention. The soil is going to take decades to properly rehabilitate."
"Even with fertilizer?"
"Every major battle shaves years off, but it's still going to be a long, hard slog.
Well, thats a partial answer to "why Kyvnn-Wyr", Every bit of remotely edible material(and some normally inedible material) in the peak is basically troll flesh now. Going to need to go the extra mile to sterilize, but I expect Panoramia already had .
Sprouting squigs and goblins is bad enough. Sprouting whole trolls is terrible.
I suppose we could feed the troll corpses to the slime?
Elder Hluodwica has offered me a long-term contract and sponsorship for a Magister bid."
You smile. "That's great news! Are you going to go for it?"
She waves a hand vaguely. "There's a lot of things I should brush up on, but I've only really got the winter to do so, at least without the harvest suffering. Hluodwica is paying me a Magister rate regardless so it seems unimportant, compared to keeping food on plates."
Thats very high praise there, and sounds like we have another permanent resident.
That said being able to only afford 3 AP + Overwork on Mastery exams is going to sting a bit.
Perils of being indispensible I suppose.
She should be fine on the on the research work, on the practical exam and on the duel(having traumatized the younger Journeymen with Father of Thorns used on Skaven, I assume her fighting ability is at least respectable).
You nod. "That's fair. Maximilian, apart from your work with me, how are things?"
"A crossbow bolt I made is in a quiver at the Karagril defences," he says with pride.
Hubert frowns. "Just one?"
Max bristles, but the shake of your head stops him before he fires back. "Dwarves don't believe in 'good enough', Hubert. If it's there, it means they trust it with Dwarven lives. Well done, Max." He beams.
Max's still thin skinned huh?
And definitely fine work to graduate to live use, even in ammo.
"Hubert, what's been your contribution of late?"
"I've been working with Dreng, trying to keep the Mors or Skryre from getting the upper hand so they keep tearing each other apart as long as possible. It's..." He frowns. "A lot more spying and a lot less fighting than I'd thought it would be."
"Scouting, not spying. But yes, it is. You can't just swing wildly, you have to look for a gap in their stance and then go for it." His frown deepens, but he appears to be mulling it over, so your attention turns to the last of the wizards.
I'm guessing almost all his Martial is Personal Combat skill here. Though it does fit the Ulrican(and Bretonnian) stereotype to CHARGE.
Just needed to apply those personal combat skills to the greater theater. Think with your brain, not your thews.
"Adela, how about you?"
You've been watching her out of the corner of her eye and she was about ready to burst. "Great!" she almost yells. "I showed Gotri Flashcook and he's asked me to help him with his prototyping, and in exchange he's teaching me the basics that he says 'Nuln already knows anyway'."
"How does cooking food help with prototypes?" Gretel asks.
"It can boil water too!" Adela shoots back. "They use it the same way steam tanks do."
"To explode?"
Oh good, she finally approached the right Engineer!
Instantly boiling water would cut his testing time down to a quarter, considering how much time and fuel it'd take to work a boiler up to speed.
...wait till he learns about Inextinguishable Flame.
I think he might try to marry her.
Representing a wealthy and significant client as well as being royalty in his own right, Prince Kazrik has ended up bounced between the Imperial Ordnance Foundry, the Imperial Gunnery School, the University of Nuln, and the local property of the Elector Count Konstantin von Liebwitz as everyone tries to secure their share of the reflected glory of such a prestigious guest.
Politics and Silly Buggers.
Oh well, tis the fun kind at least.
He's taking it all with good grace and he excuses himself from the Foundry Master to discuss recent goings-on with you in private.
"Do manlings always fight amongst themselves?" is the first thing he says to you as the doors close.
"Well, not individually, but there's usually someone," you admit. "Is it Nordland and Middenland again?"
"Again? Is this normal?"
"Recently, yes. What's happening now?"
"They're both doing a military build-up to try to intimidate each other, and when they found out the cannon production was spoken for they both complained to the Emperor, and then they complained to their religious leaders who complained to the Emperor."
Others already elaborated on this but okay lets see:
1) They are doing a military build up to escalate the situation.
2) They tried to buy cannons, but Belegar cleaned out the cannon foundries.(Emperor did a clever here, he couldn't afford to buy up all the cannon, and they'd be mad at him, so he let a foreign ally buy it up at a discount, diverting the flak)
3) They complained to the Emperor and he blew them off because why the fuck would he want to escalate the border situation? He set this up to begin with to prevent them from doing it.
4) They complained to the Ar Ulric(about being unable to buy CANNON) and the Grand Theogonist(about being outbid by DWARVES who need it to fight GREENSKINS and BEASTMEN)
5) The religious leaders actually brought it to the Emperor.
Four Electors, acting against the Empire's best interests AND their religions' creeds.
"Well, no, Konstantin's been quite charming." He scratches his beard bashfully. "I suppose at least partly because I did kind of save his life."
You take a moment to process that. "What? How?"
"How do you think? Skaven. Manlings apparently make terrible tunnel scouts, and what they thought was the civil war still going turned out to be a squabble over dividing the spoils, and as soon as the attack begun they stopped squabbling.
Hmm, didn't have any sense of scale on Skaven. They thought it was an ongoing warzone when one side already won(based on the next part its Skryre) and just squabbling.
The manlings were sensible enough to pull back instead of turning it into a meatgrinder. But like father says: a bad general can pull out most of their troops, a brilliant general can pull out all of their troops, but a merely good general will try to pull out all and end up losing most. Konstantin and his... human Hammerers?"
"Greatswords."
"Right, Greatswords, tried to hold the line while everyone else pulled out, which of course just left them isolated and the rest of the forces won't abandon the general and you're right back to square one. By the time they managed to figure out a fighting retreat, Konstantin had a jezzail bullet in one leg and was missing half a hand. Weren't enough Greatswords left for a proper line at that point and if I hadn't been picking off the rats that got through, it would have gone even worse than it did. I'd thought I was being overcautious when I brought four quivers, but I've only got half of one left."
Thats no small amount of tactical fuckup, but then Abelhelm did the same on the attack and died for it.
RIP the Greatswords. Right after we stopped the attrition at Roswita's the Wissenland Greatswords need to be replenished again.
They just have no luck.
Maybe they should worship the Protector.
"What a mess," you say, frowning at how badly the assault you'd instigated had gone. "Many casualties, all told?"
"Not so many actually dead, but a lot of injured, most of them to gas." You try to take what little comfort that provides. "Though it could have gone better, I suppose that's mission accomplished. If I get any more in the good graces of the Elector Count he'll try to marry me to his daughter, and I'm worried that father would agree."
Skryre.txt
Still, you'd have expected a bit of a larger force here. Did they try to take the nest with just the Wissenland units?
With the ashes of the defeat in Nuln bitter in your mouth, you do a fair bit of brooding as the gyrocarriage flies to you Ubersreik, and your stomach sinks even further as you see the pillar of smoke on the horizon. But to your great relief the fires are limited only to a few places in the city, and the outskirts of the city are filled with the neatly-regimented tents of the Imperial Army. You introduce yourself at the gate, and after climbing all the way through the chain of command as various NCOs and then officers take one look at you and decide to make you someone else's problem, you're finally pointed towards the site of a recent battle, and a grey-clad figure brooding over it.
The great game of Pass The Buck. Guess they don't want to deal with a Magister who's also a Knight and thus in multiple command chains on top of being a wizard.
"Good of you to be here," Algard says, without looking up from the MAP he's working on, showing the town and the tunnels below and delighting the part of you that isn't preoccupied with how the attack went.
EEEE, sempai is using our spell!
You take a moment to look out over a field of gore and corpses. Priests of Morr pick their way through dead Skaven by the dozen, extricating as many of the human dead as they can. There must be thousands of Skaven in this battlefield alone, stabbed or speared or shot with bolt or bullet, and some peppered with amber shards you've never seen before. "Did we find success here?"
Oh hey, thats the Amber Spear.
I kind of wonder how that spell even fits into Ghur.
"Hard-won, but yes. Konstantin would never allow the Imperial Army within Wissenland, so the Emperor turned his full attention here, and with most of the Battle Wizards off enjoying themselves in Sylvania it fell to the highest echelons to fill the void. Alric's up at the Temple, Mira's seeing to the wounded, and No-Relation Reicthard and Dragomas are still below, ferreting out the last of them." He frowns. "Don't tell Dragomas I said 'ferreting'. He's a bit touchy about that."
So, turns out Wissenland was a mess AND turned down Imperial aid.
Meanwhile Sylvania is being fixed with Imperial assistance and Ubersreik was a victory brought by apparently bringing basically half the College Patriarchs in.
Hopefully the Elector Counts take the right message from this.
You're about to ask him to clarify, but with a faint rumble an enormous creature bursts from the ground, and only Algard's lack of reaction keeps you from trying something desperate and foolish with Branulhune. It seems like an elongated lizard with a moustache, or, yes, like a scaled ferret, and despite its lack of wings it floats through the air with the ease of an eel through the water. It speaks in a surprisingly normal and very familiar voice, "dead-ends on branches 12, 14 and 15. 13 had a chamber with a few holdouts, flag it for searching."
Algard alters the MAP accordingly. "Only one entrance to the chamber on 13?"
"Yes. Any news from 18?"
"You know Reicthard." The dragon snorts, and dives back down into the tunnel it had emerged from. "Good day's work, this," he says to you, spinning the projection as he considers it from multiple angles.
Lung dragon.
Dragomas must be a little touchy about it being called a ferret.
Also the MAP is just demonstrated right here how its useful.
Trying to chase Skaven through tunnels without some way to map in 3d is a nightmare.
So...which College is Reicthard from?
Whichever it is he didn't believe in reporting back, clearly.
"Ubersreik isn't as strategically important as Helmgart, but an enormous amount of trade goes through Grey Lady Pass and on up the Teufel. They build down, properly seal it off, and they can treble granary space and build a proper cistern and still have enough room left over that they can build residential down there and properly ban people from building outside the walls, and it can ride out the usual trouble from next time Drachenfels or the Bretonnians or the Grey Mountain greenskins cause a ruckus."
Hmm, how DO the Skaven stay out after you claim it anyway?
Just make it too annoying to take to be worth the trouble?
He snorts. "Of course not. The Guildmasters will say they'll consider it and as soon as the Emperor's attention turns away they'll just keep pocketing their profits. So we fall back on something more ephemeral than gold - we take those promises your King has been throwing around of late and call in the assistance of Karak Azgaraz. Ubersreik owes the Emperor, the Emperor owes the Colleges, your King probably ends up owing Karak Norn, and everyone's better off except the Skaven."
[Rolling...]
[+6 College Favour]
Not a bad haul for something we were going to do anyway I suppose.
The favor market at work is pretty interesting. In exchange the favors get passed around, some excess labor was converted into permanent benefits and the Skaven can get fucked while trade stabilizes.
Before you head off to Stirland, you take the time to shake down the rattled locals of Ubersreik for news from Bretonnia, and while there's no news of Black Chasm, there's a great deal of proclamations as to a great victory won over 'beastmen' in Mousillon. From what you know of the accursed dukedom, that's one less variety of horror in a place filled with them, but you suppose it's still an improvement for those unfortunate enough to live in Bretonnia's answer to Sylvania. Most of the credit for Ubersreik and Mousillon will go to the warriors, and perhaps only a few will ever know that it was you that made it possible, but you know, and so does the Grey College.
Such is the life of a spymaster.
Hope the Black Chasm raid went well, but from what I know the place is an absolute nightmare, even with a civil war.
Belegar would be happy to learn the Skaven got hit in two places successfully, and got hit in one more to mixed results.
Your fief is the sort of place where a funny-shaped cloud will be the hottest thing in gossip for a solid month, so a gyrocarriage touching down just outside the bailey draws the full attention of everyone nearby, and to your surprise that means more than just the local tradesfolk. New cottages have sprouted up inside the bailey, which is unexpected considering how stubbornly unsuited the area seemed to anything but rearing sheep and goats.
Our investments at work!
A young lad runs off in the direction of the headsman, and you take the time to reintroduce yourself to the headsman's son Rolf, who travelled all the way to Tarshof to learn what he insists on calling 'numbering', which qualified him to be your Steward. He hasn't got a grasp of lettering to go with numbering, so the front of the ledgers has a pictorial key of what each word actually means, and you find yourself smiling at the little pictures the lad has drawn.
Well, its a good start.
Son of the headsman means hes an easy fit for future headman, and he can count, which is a bit of a step up.
And he's local enough not to be mucking about when the locals see what he's doing. Whereas an outside steward would be always seen in a suspicious light.
As he was empowered to do as Steward, but which he apologizes for as length, he's reinvested some of the taxes back into the community. Most prominently in the wooden keep that would allow anyone sheltering behind the bailey's walls to fling slingstones at attackers with impunity, the ground floor of which is yours for the taking as a modest home, and until you do, Rolf will continue to call it home.
Thats a good structure. The main weakness of slingers is the relatively low rate of fire and difficulty of aiming quickly, as you need to spin up the sling, which in turn means they need a good elevated firing point, ammunition ready at hand and reasonable confidence that the opponent will either go down to a rock to the head at sufficient velocity, or be unable to reach you while you get your second rock.
Its kind of funny how RPGs tend to treat slings as the budget, no training weapon when it takes a lot of practice to reliably hit something with one and they can hit hard enough to break an arm through your shield or concuss your head through your helmet.
A second addition is a smokehouse for curing the meat of slaughtered cattle, which was previously done in scattered individual smokehouses which were unreliable and consumed more firewood collectively than one larger one the community shared. All sensible additions.
And thats a huge saving in firewood, labor(it only takes 1 person to supervise the smoking of the beef of a dozen) AND makes an excuse for the whole community to gather together, presumably at the shrine, and get drunk together for bonding.
Can't underestimate that in a community as far flung as herding ones.
Next step is probably a charcoal kiln to cut fuel expenses down this track, and probably lay into a storehouse in the bailey for the food stores.
But what's this about a mine? The prospectors were quite clear that there was no mineral wealth to be found.
"It's the flint, m'lady," Rolf says. "Chalk's full of it."
You consider this. "I'd thought we were rather beyond using flint," you say slowly.
"They use it to make some kind of glass."
You stare at him. "Glass?"
"The see-through stuff that they have on the temples in Tarshof," he explains helpfully.
That makes no sense to you, but if there were people buying it, it doesn't have to make sense.
Ranald delivers!
Must have been quite the coincidence to have someone who knows the secret ingredient on the lookout for a good source of flint to wind up in the right place to realize that this place has high quality flint that nobody's using aside for doorstoppers.
While you were checking the numbering, Rolf's father had arrived, with speed that suggested he must have run but he seems as unperturbed as always. He walks you through the events of the last three years in a slow but terse recital, from the Wild Dog That Was Worrying The Sheep, which was slain with a slingstone, to the Eagle That Almost Got At The Lambs, which was also slain with a slingstone, to the Zombie With One Arm that, as it happens, was also slain by a slingstone.
Thats some good slinging arm they got there, to take an eagle, even if its diving at the time.
The only problem of late that a sling couldn't solve was a moderate drought two years ago, but no lives were lost due to the well and the flint mine had provided those hit hardest with a way to recover, bypassing the shepherd's doom of needing a herd to make money and needing money to acquire a herd. As far as you understand, in previous years this would result in the poor soul in question travelling to seek work in the lowlands and often never returning.
Its a good well. Chalk land droughts can be pretty savage, given how porous the rock is, when it dries up it REALLY dries up thoroughly, and its a pain to get a well sunk deep enough on idle labor when you're going to have to dig down and through stone to get at the aquifer.
Think with that one well they're singing our praises.
And then Ranald delivered the mine and they even got a safety margin in income.[/QUOTE]
