[*] Plan Grassroots Improvement; Updated
-[*] As Per Orders: Perform your current assignment.
--[*] Wurtbad, inevitably, has criminals. And you're a follower of Ranald. Maybe you could reach an understanding - they'd have access to a huge amount of information, though it would mean tacit approval of their activities.
---[*] Ranald's Blessing
--[*] You're from peasant stock yourself, so it shouldn't be too hard to make friends and contacts among the peasantry in the villages surrounding Wurtbad; Julbach, Biderhof and Tarshof.
-[*] Backtracking and Side Operations:
--[*] Van Hal is interrogating the Von Stolpes. Sitting in may be helpful to him, and educational to you.
--[*] A large number of Shyish-stained weapons were uncovered from the Barrow. Perhaps you should:
---[*] Keep them in a lead-lined steel box, fastened to the floor, inside the treasury.
-[*] Self-Improvement: Things have been going well so far, but the skills of a Journeyman Grey Mage can only go so far.
--[*] Pretty Good Swords: You've struck up a friendship with the Champion of the Greatswords and have discovered a talent for wielding them. Continue to cultivate this.
--[*] You only really kept in practice with a handful of the petty and minor magics you were taught. Maybe you should brush up on the others.
-[*] Home Comforts: Your Palace-Shrine is bursting with potential. And also mud.
--[*] No Place Like Home: Move in furniture, set up a chimney, put in the effort to make sure that your new home actually feels like a home and not like sleeping in an underground mud cave.
--[*] Diggy Diggy Hole, Outsourced: Pay someone to do the digging, then Mindhole them on their way out. (no action required, -personal gold)
-[*] Change tithe payment/loan payment/embezzlement (specify)
--[*] Embezzlement to 35 gold per turn.
---
You swear viciously under your breath and suck on the wounded tip of your finger, throwing the knife in your other hand at the wall in frustration. You were a wizard, for crying out loud. Wizards don't whittle. They bend arcane energy to their will and force reality to obey their slightest whims!
But after a moment, you settle back down and regard the small wooden cube carefully. And after a moment's thought, you press your bleeding finger against it, staining it with your blood. Not much of a sacrifice, but one caused by luck, within a place holy to Ranald. Hopefully that will tip the scales. You'll give Ranald the chance to guide you to the disciples of one of his other guises, before you seek them out yourself.
---
You step out into the street and look around. Okay, two directions. On a four or higher, you go left. You roll a six - a good omen, you decide. And you go left.
A three-way intersection. Okay, then. 1-2 is left, 3-4 is straight, 5-6 is right.
You roll the die, and it lands exactly on a corner between four cobbles and sticks there, one corner pointing straight up at the sky. You stare. You circle the die, ignoring the looks you get from passers-by; two, four and six point skyward, while one, three and five point toward the ground. You glare at someone who's about to step on the die. He finds somewhere else to step.
You breathe in. You breathe out. You resist the desire to curse Ranald. You pick up the die and examine it.
Okay. All three directions, or none of the directions. Neither of those made sense. Maybe Ranald was saying he couldn't help you? Or...
A thought occurs to you, and you hate it.
Reluctantly, knowing what you'll find, you examine the surface of the road on the intersection, and find what you just knew you would - a manhole to the sewers of Wurtbad.
You toy with the thought of finding a new god. Verena, you're sure, does not tell her followers to climb into sewers. But even as you wonder if Verena likes cats too, you know you're going to end up climbing down that manhole.
But first, because you're not stupid, you're going back for a lantern.
---
You stomp through the sewers in a huff, knowing that you're being played. Every time you get to an intersection, you peer down each into the darkness and down one of them you see the glint of a cat's eyes staring back at you. Then the cat blinks and is invisible once more, only for the eyes to be watching you once more when you get to the next fetid crossroads.
You walk, and walk, and walk, until you're not sure if you're even under Wurtbad any more. Your path diverges from that of the foul, trickling sewer, taking you into an area of even older stonework, and you slow as you sight a glimmer of candlelight up ahead. You creep towards the light and see a glimpse of a tunnel opening into a much wider room, dimly lit by candles.
"What're you playing at? I know you know to take the arcana out," you hear a voice ahead of you say, and you freeze.
"What're you playing at? This deck doesn't even have arcana."
"Then how come you just dealt me a Priest and a Magister?" Oh, come on. Ranald was supposed to be subtle, and yet- your temper boils over.
"Because it's an omen, you goddamn idiots," you yell as you stomp into the room, sending the two men scrambling away from you in shock. They draw daggers; you glare at them until they sheath them again, sheepishly. One is thin and bald, with a neatly-trimmed beard and had been speaking in a Nordland accent; the other is older but more muscled, with greying hair, a moustache, and the unmistakable tones of an Averlander. The room itself is surprisingly dry, and is filled with battered wooden tables and chairs, though only the one had been occupied. Hanging against a wall, overseeing the room, is a rather well-made tapestry of a black cat appearing to carve an X into the background with its claws.
"So, uh," the Averlander says.
"Is that a greatsword on your back or are you just happy to see me?" the Nordlander interjects, then ducks a swipe from the Averlander.
"Did a mutual friend send you?" asks the Averlander, and you scowl. He nods, taking that as confirmation. "Were you seeking anything in particular, or were you just inspired?"
"I was seeking..." you hesitate, and then decide that Ranald's gotten you this far, you might as well trust him even if he is insufferable. "The criminal underworld of Wurtbad. I want to make them part of Stirland's intelligence apparatus."
There's silence as the two of them mull that over, broken only by dripping water in the distance. "The Deceiver and the Night Prowler, hand in hand," the Nordlander muses.
"And in exchange?" the Averlander asks.
"My main priority right now is keeping the bloodsuckers out of Wurtbad, which is good for everyone. But I can offer all sorts of payment. Coin. Favours. Pardons. The occasional blind eye. I know you know who I am."
"The robes were a giveaway." The two of them exchange glances, seeming to communicate something, then the Averlander nods. "I'm Heideck. He's Wolf. We may be able to work something out."
---
And you do. The two, you learn, are former bandits who retired to live off their ill-gotten gains and repay their debt to Ranald by serving as His priests. The deal is an easy sell to their criminal flock - they like powerful friends, they don't like being eaten by vampires. It's a great arrangement all around. Everybody wins, except for those that Wurtbad's criminals prey upon, but, well... priorities.
[SEEK RANALD'S FAVOUR: Req 80, Piety, 77+15=92. Ranald's Blessing activated! 92+20=112! Ranald adores you.]
[HOW SAFE ARE THE SEWERS: Roll, 86. Serene, in a sewer-y kind of way.]
[FIRST IMPRESSION: Roll, Diplomacy, 71+9=80. They're impressed.]
---
When you prepared yourself to sit in on a Witch Hunter's interrogation, you were expecting horrific violence and terrible devices. What you got was, in its own way, far more shocking.
Petr von Stolpe sat bolt upright, shackled to a chair that was itself bolted to the ground, glaring at Van Hal who stood in front of him. Apart from the chair, the room was completely unadorned. Van Hal returned the glare with a steady look of his own, seemingly content to stand there until the return of Sigmar.
"If your soul is feeling burdened," Van Hal finally said, "I can fetch my personal chaplain for you."
"Piss on your chaplain," von Stolpe replies immediately, spittle spraying across the room. "I have rights! To have me kidnapped by foul sorcery is an assault on Sigmar's Empire!"
"Rights, yes," Van Hal agrees mildly. Then he strides forward and backhands von Stolpe across the face. "Rights and duties! On this very day proud and loyal men of Stirland die to hold back the tides of the unliving, protecting your petty fiefdom, and so precious little is asked in exchange for those lives. But you would not give even that. Tell me, Count, I beg of you to tell me that it was mere greed that drove you to withhold the taxes you owe to the Province of Stirland. Tell me you know nothing of those who allowed you to get away with it as long as you did. Tell me that, prove it to me, and I would see you walk free in a heartbeat. Because otherwise I will see you burn."
Von Stolpe spits blood, and in the sudden silence you hear a tooth bounce against the stone floor. "Who are you to question me," he replies, his words quiet and slurred but the rage coming through clear despite it. "My ancestors have ruled Leicheburg for centuries. This land has seen three score Count von Stolpes, and I tell you: it will see three score more. You have sat upon a stolen throne for not two years! I have taken shits more glorious than your rule!"
Silence falls once more. You hold your breath.
"Bloodlines," Van Hal says, at last. "Lineage. Ancestry. That is what fuels you." He leans forward. "You may be right about one thing: Stirland may yet see three score more Count von Stolpes. In fact, those three score start now."
"You wouldn't-" Von Stolpe is silenced by another vicious blow, rattling the chains securing him.
"Weber," Van Hal says, and it takes you a moment to remember that that's you. "Go tell Maksim that his brother has suffered a terrible accident. The Count is dead, long live the Count." He looks at the form slumped in chains. "It's not even incorrect. Just premature."
---
Later, much later, as you and Van Hal wash blood from your hands, he starts to tell you a story - a story every Stirlander knows, but not near as detailed as this. A story of a half-insane Count, seething with petty hatred, who sought any marriage for his daughter to keep his brother from inheriting. And when a man-shaped creature from blighted Nehekhara arrived at the Count's deathbed, he paid more attention to the nobility of the being's blood than the dark curse it bore.
"There are a hundred types of rot that can eat at a man's soul," Van Hal says absently, lost in thought. "But one of the most insidious is the idea that the titles of your ancestors matter more than their deeds."
In the end, you hear the name wheezed from the former count's lips that you knew you would hear.
Von Carstein.
[INTERROGATION TRAINING: Roll, Intrigue, 70+12=82. Like a duck to horrible water.]
---
After that, you feel an urgent need to clear your head, so you make your way to the countryside.
It occurs to you, as you ride into Biderhof, just how far you've come. Just over a decade ago, you were a peasant child running around in a homespun frock, collecting frogs and throwing mud at the boy next door, occasionally roped in to do some poorly-understood task out in the fields but mostly running around freely and getting underfoot. Only a fascination with storms hinted at what was to come.
Then, one day, the poorly-carved wooden horse that had been mildly entertaining bored children for generations neighed, and your life was never the same again.
If not for that, you almost certainly would have married some peasant boy (hopefully not the boy next door). You'd probably have had and lost children of your own. You'd say prayers to Shallya and fret over the weather and wonder how the harvest would be and yell at your kids to stop throwing mud at the boy next door.
Or you might have been eaten by something that crept over the border from Sylvania.
And now here you were, reconnecting with your bucolic roots not out of nostalgia, but because you were building a spy network. You wielded powers that normal people could not even see, let alone comprehend. You were somewhere between the second and fourth most powerful person in all of Stirland.
It was enough to turn anyone's head.
Your entrance into the village did not go unnoticed, with conversations dying away and stares following you as you pass. Perhaps it was the robes. Perhaps it was the enormous sword strapped to your back. Perhaps it was the horse made of shadow you rode atop. You had considered acting with a bit more subtlety, but in the end you decided that doing so would only delay the moment where they decided whether or not they would accept a wizard in their midst. It does not take long for someone to step from the gathering crowd and introduce themselves.
---
The headman of Biderhof is an enormous man, only slightly less intimidating for missing an arm, and you talk business with him alongside a massive pile of the logs that Biderhof's economy is built upon. He is cautious in the extreme, and his long, hard looks at you and the time he takes to answer your questions grates at you. But you make a deliberate effort to remember the dialect of your youth, slowing your speech down to match his and giving each question he asks of you in return long consideration before replying. This seems to take him by surprise, and eventually he asks, with a note of disbelief as if surprised to find himself acknowledging you as a person rather than a wizard: from where do you hail?
Kelham, you reply, and a gap-toothed grin splits the headman's face. On familiar ground now, he begins that most Stirlandian of habits: he tries to find the point where his family tree intersects yours.
You're there for the rest of the afternoon, but at the end of it he's built a working theory that his second cousin is your grandfather's first wife's nephew and he couldn't be happier to help you. Stirlandians need to stick together.
You spend a week getting to know the locals, cementing your face as a friend rather than a mistrusted outsider as well as detailing the kind of information that would be of use to you. In the end Biderhof is eating out of your hand, seeing you as an ally against the nebulous eternal foes of corrupt merchants and indifferent nobles.
Unfortunately, you're not able to replicate your success at Tarshof or Julbach. Perhaps being agricultural rather than timber towns makes them even more insular and mistrusting, perhaps the headman of Biderhof was just unusually open-minded. But you do find that while they don't trust you, their prejudice doesn't quite extend to your coin, and you secure agreements from them to keep you informed of anything out of the ordinary, and your payroll expands.
And then you head back to Biderhof to spend some more time with friendly peasants.
[MAKING FRIENDS WITH BIDERHOF: Breakpoints 35/65, Diplomacy, 65+9=74. Adopted.]
[MAKING FRIENDS WITH TARSHOF: Breakpoints 35/65, Diplomacy, 38+9=47. Reluctantly willing to accept your money.]
[MAKING FRIENDS WITH JULBACH: Breakpoints 35/65, Diplomacy, 34+9=43. Likewise.]
---
"I wasn't going to say anything," Markus says as his sword clacks against yours, not even slightly out of breath, "but I'm curious. Why is a wizard learning to use a greatsword?"
You take a swing at him and he sidesteps as casually as if he was allowing someone to pass in the corridor. "The sword is the symbol of the Grey Order!" you exclaim, taking another swing that he bats away without trouble.
"Not a greatsword, though," he says, and he sidesteps, tapping you on the back with his sword as your charge carries you past him.
"You're probably the best fighters in Wurtbad," you explain like it's obvious. "And the weapon you're best at is a greatsword."
"True," he grants, and parries another swing.
"Also, they look really awesome." You circle warily, looking for an opening.
"Also true." You spot an opening. You strike. It was a trap. Once more, the wooden sword taps you.
But you're learning.
[HOW GOES IT? Req 50, Martial, 49+9=58. No worse than minor bruising.]
[EXERCISE? Req 50, Martial, 80+9=89. Side-benefits to waving all that sword around.]
---
What feels like a lifetime ago, there was a young girl reading poorly-printed books under her blankets by the ethereal grey light of Ulgu. But when you reached Senior Apprentice status, there was no longer an enforced Lights Out, so you read by candlelight instead. So the knack for it rusted.
But, you reflect as the light wobbles back and forth across the room, it didn't fade.
Another spell once as natural as breathing resurfaces as you think back to those times, and before long you're happily flinging tiny balls of force against the wall with a series of thunks. And then there's that most useful of spells for growing teenagers looking for privacy in a crowded dormitory: Magic Lock, which was also made redundant by a Senior Apprentice perk when you got your own room.
So much has changed since then, but the magic remains the same. Perhaps there's comfort to be taken from that.
[BRUSHING UP: Roll, Learning, 73+13=86. Three petty, one lesser.]
---
It is time - finally, truly time - to sleep in a comfortable bed for the first time since you left Altdorf.
You enlist Anton's aid and you're soon in the workshop of the best carpenter in town, demanding he uproot all of his plans and start building an entire bedroom of furniture for you. Who are you? Good question. Perhaps you'd like to ask your good friend, the Heir of Blutdorf. Anton waves at the man. The man uproots all of his plans and starts building an entire bedroom of furniture for you.
It's nice to have friends.
Soon, the furniture starts arriving at the inn, and you recruit some of the regulars to help haul it down the trapdoor, and subsequently buy a drink for and Mindhole them.
A dresser, to keep your stunning array of grey robes in! A desk complete with little cubby holes to store mail in! A stove to heat the room, with a chimney leading up to a crack in the floor of the shack! A rack to put your flamberge on! A bookshelf for, well, the books you'll probably eventually get!
And, blessing of blessings, a bed! A soft, warm, comfortable bed!
[SHOPPING FOR FURNITURE: Roll, Stewardship, 60+10. Bargains hunted.]
---
You look around the room, a smile spreading across your face as the small but wiry man smiles in pride. For the past six months, this man has been in one of two places: in his room in the inn, or in your Palace-Shrine, excavating the next room along the corridor from the entrance. A hefty requirement, but one that the man was promised equally hefty compensation for. And now it is complete. Some small part of you was hoping for buried treasure, but what he has uncovered is no less valuable: space.
You lead him up and out of the Palace-Shrine, and then through the inn onto the street he hasn't stepped foot in for half a year.
"Thank you for your help," you say sincerely, handing him a pouch of coins.
Mindhole.
The man blinks. He looks around. He looks down at the pouch in his hand. He feels its weight, hears the clink of coin on coin.
And he steps back into the inn.
You smile to yourself as you watch him begin celebrating his mysterious wealth in the most time-honoured fashion: by drinking it.
Yes, you could have just not given him the money. But you're not the sort of person that uses your magic to rob peasants.
[ANY TREASURES? Req 80, 50.]
---
Another six months passed, you think to yourself as you walk through the corridor towards the meeting room. Your resources have increased, but the stakes even more so. But you swear to Ranald and any other decent God that may be listening that you won't be found wanting.
You enter the room and find Van Hal at the table going over some letters, but without the company of any of the others. You take the seat on his left and return the smile he gives you, and start to arrange your own papers. As you do so, something on one catches your eye, and you remember a question you meant to ask. "What's happening with the position of Marshal?" you ask, resisting the urge to glance over at where the bloodstain on the table still hasn't come out.
"With regards to our friends in Altdorf, you mean?" You nod. "It's tricky. I executed his agent, but the agent he inserted was undermining the defence of Stirland. So I wrote to Altdorf, explaining the circumstances surrounding de Verezzo's retirement, and asking if they can recommend a replacement. They more carefully vet their agent, and I get someone who can do their job. Sometimes two wrongs can make a right."
"So they're sending someone?"
"Three someones," he replies, waving a sheet of paper. "I can pick whoever I think will be best for the future of Stirland. That's as close to apology as we're going to get, I feel." He looks over at you. "Gods know there's not enough hours in the day - I know you haven't been able to look at those tainted weapons from the Mound yet - but if you can claw the time from somewhere, head to Altdorf or wherever they come from and do a background check on them when they arrive."
You open your mouth to agree, but you stop, knowing how many different directions you're being pulled in. You instead say that you'll see if you can find the time. He smiles and nods once more as the rest of the council start filing into the room.
---
INFLUENCE ACQUIRED: Wurtbad Thieves Guild
CHARACTERISTIC INCREASE: Piety +1 (from Ranald's guidance)
TRAIT ACQUIRED: Interrogator
RELATIONSHIP INCREASED: Van Hal 9/10
INFORMANT ACQUIRED: Headman of Biderhof
INFORMANT ACQUIRED: Headman of Tarshof
INFORMANT ACQUIRED: Headman of Julbach
INFLUENCE ACQUIRED: Village of Biderhof
SKILL ADVANCED: Greatsword (Intermediate)
SKILL ADVANCED: Fitness (Intermediate)
SPELL LEARNED: Magic Dart
SPELL LEARNED: Glowing Light
SPELL LEARNED: Marsh Lights
SPELL LEARNED: Magic Lock
PALACE-SHRINE UPGRADED: Spare room excavated!
PALACE-SHRINE UPGRADED: It's now liveable! I'll no longer make rolls to see if you catch pneumonia every turn!
Discretionary Income: +150g
Embezzlement: -35g
Excavations: -20g
---
Net: +105g
Personal Income: +50g
Embezzlement: +35g
Tithe: -5g
Student Loans: -35g
Furniture: -40g
---
Net: +5g
New mechanic unlocked: Influence.
Influence is a binary thing - you either have it or you don't. If you have it, then you not only have the influenced party as allies, but you possess a level of influence that if you saw fit, and had the backing of the Elector Count, you could effectively take it over. This will give you side-options every turn to either upgrade or utilize whatever it is you have influence over.
However, you can only spread yourself so thin. If you take over more than you can handle - and you're not experienced enough to know how much that is, but you know one would be safe - you'll either start losing actions or suffering maluses to rolls as you try to do too many things at once.
It is possible to install a lieutenant to do your will in handling one of them, but you would be giving them an incredible amount of influence and power. Do you trust anyone with that? Can you?
- I'm moving the councils' reports to the other half of the turn, since these are long enough already.
- That goddamn snake is still failing it's rolls.
---
[] Write in your report
[] Write in a one-on-one report (optional)
Possible orders for the next turn (new ones up top, old ones below):
[] You've got a whole bunch of friends now, but you could always use more!
[] You've got the town of Biderhof eating out of your hand. If you could think of a reason to justify it, maybe all the taxes from it's lumber sales could flow into your pocket instead.
[] The Wurtbad Thieves Guild is basically a church group right now, instead of an actual organization. If you started throwing your weight around, that could change. Imagine the power you would wield if the criminal underworld reported to you. However, imagine how much more damage they'd do to Stirland if they were united... and you're not sure that Van Hal would be easy to convince.
[] Drakenhof. You almost hesitate to suggest it, but... surely this must be investigated.
[] The disappearance of your predecessor is very concerning, especially since he's actively trying to sabotage the hunt for him. He must be found, and you've got a lead: Julbach.
[] The Stirlandian League is a cancer eating at Stirland's economy, and it must be destroyed.
[] The Stirlandian League is a gold mine of information, and it must be yours.
[] There is a risk of enemy agents infiltrating the castle staff - they must be watched.
[] The castle staff can be a great source of information and first line of defence - they should report to you.
[] Seriously what is up with the East Wing.
[] If you had proper facilities, you could do better work. Would Van Hal fund renovations to a base he's never seen?
[] Other (write in)
