- Pronouns
- He/Him
Edda's Head-Cannon is now my headcanon.
-
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Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties - an Advisor's Quest
- Thread starter Boney
- Start date
- Fantasy Users' Choice!
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- Tags
- warhammer warhammer fantasy fantasy be gay do crimes (gay) female protagonist pansexual protagonist ck2 quest divided loyalties mountain vietnam ranald is real this is a dwarf quest (dwarfs) this is maybe an elf quest this is not a vampire quest this is not an empire quest try it and find out open voting
Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
Edda's Head-Cannon is now my headcanon.
Guile
Having a really great time right now
Look, imagine you're building a door to keep out a marauding band of murderers.
If you had the option between two materials to use for that door, would you use stone? Or soft clay? Thorgrim is sure clay has some purpose. It makes a nice pot, he supposes. But for a door, you need
- Location
- madison
[X] Meditate with Gunnars to attempt to attune yourself with Gazul.
[X] Gunnars
[X] Gunnars
Enthusiast#117
This is not the Profile you are looking for
- Location
- United States
[X] Meditate with Gunnars to attempt to attune yourself with Gazul.
[X] Gunnars
[X] Kragg the Grim
[X] Gunnars
[X] Kragg the Grim
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Remind me is Cathayan offered as a language at the university, or are we going to have to ask the Supreme Patriarch himself to help us translate those esshin books?
- Location
- Before the Ninth Gate
It's offered, but I would prefer just to trade favors or cash for a translation, instead of spending AP learning it.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Probably, that being said though given our advantageous position I'm all in favour of exploiting it.
I'm sure we can pay merchants to bring back Ind, Cathay or Nipponese books. Who knows we may get lucky.
- Location
- Chicago
[X] Meditate with Gunnars to attempt to attune yourself with Gazul.
[X] Kragg the Grim
[X] Thorek Ironbrow
[X] Kragg the Grim
[X] Thorek Ironbrow
Boney has said that they would really like us not to go that way if we can as there is basically no lore for them to work with
I'm pretty sure that this is acknowledged IC, as I believe past social turn and/or "spend time with a fellow councillor" options have been decribed as "try to get past Gunnars's taciturn-ness and actually get to know him."
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Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
That is true, I will not bring it up again.
- Location
- Chicago
- Pronouns
- She/They
So, in the interests of encouraging a thread culture that both writes more omake and gives more love to the ones that are written, I wanted to talk about some of the other cool peices that have been written lately. 
(Side story reviewed seperately, since we can kinda mine that for world insights more.)
This was so much fun to read. Everyone was doing short 'oh, I wish we could see their faces' type posts and you went and wrote it out. Plus the thought showed into the motivations of the dragon quest players was hilarious in the authors note. More please!
And this is also great! But too short. There's a lot here that could really shine with some more context, and a news room crew like this could be great for giving the vox populi view of anything quest-related. I'd love a "Who was the Mysterious Grey Wizard at the Empress's side during the Prince's Birth?" speculative gossip issue, or a trade issue with a "Everything you thought you knew about trade is Wrong" bit on the cannels, and tie them all together with the cast you've got.
I didn't realize until my second read though that it was actually Roswita venting, and now I badly want to read her actual letters too.
And this was fun, definitely a good snippet. I like the way this and a few other apocropha have made the go-tp everydwarf character a gyrocopter pilot, it's a good framing device and let's us get the reaction shots we all crave. Would love to see a series off of this too- keep the PoV character and setting together a bunch.
(Side story reviewed seperately, since we can kinda mine that for world insights more.)This was so much fun to read. Everyone was doing short 'oh, I wish we could see their faces' type posts and you went and wrote it out.
Plus the thought showed into the motivations of the dragon quest players was hilarious in the authors note. More please!And this is also great! But too short.
There's a lot here that could really shine with some more context, and a news room crew like this could be great for giving the vox populi view of anything quest-related. I'd love a "Who was the Mysterious Grey Wizard at the Empress's side during the Prince's Birth?" speculative gossip issue, or a trade issue with a "Everything you thought you knew about trade is Wrong" bit on the cannels, and tie them all together with the cast you've got.I didn't realize until my second read though that it was actually Roswita venting, and now I badly want to read her actual letters too.
And this was fun, definitely a good snippet. I like the way this and a few other apocropha have made the go-tp everydwarf character a gyrocopter pilot, it's a good framing device and let's us get the reaction shots we all crave. Would love to see a series off of this too- keep the PoV character and setting together a bunch.
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- Location
- Manchester, UK
- Pronouns
- He/They
I thought that was in terms of actually going there, rather than importing books for our library?
The Longest Day — Prelude to War
By chance, a dragon awoke.
By chance, a thousand and one gambits and plans are made and discarded to the winds.
By chance, hundreds of thousands of men, dwarves, halflings, greenskins, skaven, trolls, and one particular Ice Dragon are fighting with and against one another.
By chance, a Grey Magister are leading the combined force of the first three groups.
By necessity, she will consign many to their deaths, friend and foe alike.
By practicality, she will never see and hear their exploits firsthand.
These are their stories...
"Ungrom, we're moving." A muffled whisper sounded. Light as the wind on the chilly mountains, many would strain their ears to hear the words normally. But even the keenest of supernatural hearings would find hearing what was spoken in the midst of the innumerable tide of greenskins squeezing out of the Black Hold to be a halfway impossible task.
"Understood." Only halfway less impossible is the task of seeing the two Rangers perched atop one of the many cliffs that doted the many more mountainous spots between Eight Peaks and Drazh. White are their cloaks, a mark of the hunt taken from the hide of the elusive Snow Trolls, imbuing them with resistance to the windy chill to a degree even Dwarven stoicism would find hard to bear. "No need to take a tally?"
"Nai, this is a news too big to ignore. A tally can be made later." Slowly, Thyk of Clan Huzkul rose, his snow white beard camouflaging him as equally well as the cloak. "The difference between a hundred thousand and five hundred thousands would not matter to us, they are too large."
Takes too long to arrive, the words left unsaid. And just like that, the two Rangers left, unseen by none to tell the news of a marauding Waaagh.
"Make fucking way now or I will bust your knee with this here shield." Roman Spackenkill grumbled to the milling mercenaries all around their allotted space. Those in the way heed his order, unwilling to test his temper. As one of the Lieutenants of the Besiegers, he — or at least the poor sods that happens to be ready on the rotating schedule — had to be ready in full war panoply in event of emergencies. And just so happens, the roar of a dragon seems like one such emergency.
So here he is, marching towards the tent where Braganza made camp. It's a rather colourful pavilion, guarded by two veteran Besiegers at least a decade older than him. In any other towns or locales, the safety of the war chest would be in their hands. In a Dwarven Karak, their work is mere perfunctory duty and tradition. They nodded at him, opening the flaps of the tent for him to the waiting commander.
"Boss." The lieutenant saluted, a gesture waved by the almost grandfatherly leader of the Besiegers.
"Roman, how's the men?"
"They will be ready in the next five minutes for any action."
"Put them in relaxed stance waiting for orders.."
"Ye- Sir?"
"These are Dwarves we're working with. Our moves will be like the mountains themselves. Deliberate, and measured. Take some rest too, no sense in being too tired when we're not yet ordered to move."
"Sir." He nodded. At the releasing of tension, Braganza smiled again.
"Wind down, Roman. There will be a war soon, to be sure. And I have a feeling that whatever will happen this day, it will be something sung for a long while."
"Where's Magister Weber?" The somewhat nervous voice of Burgstaller echoed the sentiment unvoiced by two other newer arrivals of Eight Peaks' magical arsenal. The clarion call of the dragon rattled through everyone's bones. None of the ducklings have felt magic in such a primal and powerful manner before. Not even Hubert, the most unrefined of the Journeyers, are spared from the sheer force of Hysh that wafted throughout the mountains.
The door burst open at the question, revealing the more physical of the Gold Wizards under Mathilde's employ. "Magister Weber isn't here right now."
Trailing behind Johann is the more bookish Gold Wizard, bow looped around his frame with nary an arrow on his frame. "Thane Mathilde Weber, however, is."
Gretel stared at the two. "How long have you two been practicing that routine?"
"As we walked here." Johann shrugged simply. "Now, as subordinates of Loremaster Weber, we have no authority to order you around. You are your own Journeyers. All we can say is that you should think where you'll make the most good on. And if you're asking about Panoramia, she's with the Halflings, as usual."
The three Journeying Wizards looked at one another, slightly unsure. Sure, they had done personal forays, but on something like this, the worry is on stepping on toes unnecessarily. Safety in numbers is all well and good but there's far too many options to worry about.
But as the Dammerlichtreiter had said once, it's better to pick a fight than fret and not helping any.
"I'll go to the Undumgi." Hubert said first. Familiar grounds, everyone figured. Soizic is a known factor and the affinity the Ulrican had would help much.
"I'll take to the gyrocopter pads." Familiar grounds for Adela as well. To be sure, many of the Dwarven Engineers do not approve of the Bright Journeywoman but being vouched personally by Gotri in manners of dangerous prototyping meant that at the least, the worst of the looks she received is one of wariness and pitying respect.
"I'll..." Every other wizards looks at Gretel who paused. "I'll do what I do best then."
"I should warn you," Johann started. "That Skyre is blocked with poisonous gas of all sorts and have a rampaging Ice Dragon."
Gretel smiled at that. "I'm not intending to attack now. Just... later. When there's no Ice Dragon in the way."
"Right then." The Magister nodded. "I'll leave you all to your preperations. Good hunting." He doubled back out of the club room... with Max trailing behind him.
At the unspoken question, the blacksmith answered. "Knowing my luck, the aircorps will not see any activity today."
"So instead, you're following me. You."
"Oh please, Magister." Max rolled his eyes. "I'd hate to see you take a spell to your gilded chest because you can't Dispel."
"So you're going with me into the fray."
"I've been waiting for action since Karagril. I'll take an Orc Shaman head-on if I have to by now. Also, follow me." Johann raised his eyebrows as Max made a sudden turn. He followed, and the two bantering Golds reached a secluded landing pad with a Gyrocopter on it. The engineer sitting on a nearby bench waved his gloved hand at Max. "Ho, Gorlgrungi."
"Ho, Endrinkuli. Can you take us to the Citadel?" The practiced Khazalid flowed out of the smith.
"Ap, dawongr." The short reply preceded the start of the rotorspin.
"The other reason I am following you is because it'd take your gold ass too long to get to the fray." Max smiled as he entered the gyrocopter. "Skrund, Durakrul!"
Johann merely shook his head with good natured exasperation, smiling as he entered in, "Whatever you say, Journeymanling."
By chance, a thousand and one gambits and plans are made and discarded to the winds.
By chance, hundreds of thousands of men, dwarves, halflings, greenskins, skaven, trolls, and one particular Ice Dragon are fighting with and against one another.
By chance, a Grey Magister are leading the combined force of the first three groups.
By necessity, she will consign many to their deaths, friend and foe alike.
By practicality, she will never see and hear their exploits firsthand.
These are their stories...
The Longest Day — Prelude to War
"Ungrom, we're moving." A muffled whisper sounded. Light as the wind on the chilly mountains, many would strain their ears to hear the words normally. But even the keenest of supernatural hearings would find hearing what was spoken in the midst of the innumerable tide of greenskins squeezing out of the Black Hold to be a halfway impossible task.
"Understood." Only halfway less impossible is the task of seeing the two Rangers perched atop one of the many cliffs that doted the many more mountainous spots between Eight Peaks and Drazh. White are their cloaks, a mark of the hunt taken from the hide of the elusive Snow Trolls, imbuing them with resistance to the windy chill to a degree even Dwarven stoicism would find hard to bear. "No need to take a tally?"
"Nai, this is a news too big to ignore. A tally can be made later." Slowly, Thyk of Clan Huzkul rose, his snow white beard camouflaging him as equally well as the cloak. "The difference between a hundred thousand and five hundred thousands would not matter to us, they are too large."
Takes too long to arrive, the words left unsaid. And just like that, the two Rangers left, unseen by none to tell the news of a marauding Waaagh.
"Make fucking way now or I will bust your knee with this here shield." Roman Spackenkill grumbled to the milling mercenaries all around their allotted space. Those in the way heed his order, unwilling to test his temper. As one of the Lieutenants of the Besiegers, he — or at least the poor sods that happens to be ready on the rotating schedule — had to be ready in full war panoply in event of emergencies. And just so happens, the roar of a dragon seems like one such emergency.
So here he is, marching towards the tent where Braganza made camp. It's a rather colourful pavilion, guarded by two veteran Besiegers at least a decade older than him. In any other towns or locales, the safety of the war chest would be in their hands. In a Dwarven Karak, their work is mere perfunctory duty and tradition. They nodded at him, opening the flaps of the tent for him to the waiting commander.
"Boss." The lieutenant saluted, a gesture waved by the almost grandfatherly leader of the Besiegers.
"Roman, how's the men?"
"They will be ready in the next five minutes for any action."
"Put them in relaxed stance waiting for orders.."
"Ye- Sir?"
"These are Dwarves we're working with. Our moves will be like the mountains themselves. Deliberate, and measured. Take some rest too, no sense in being too tired when we're not yet ordered to move."
"Sir." He nodded. At the releasing of tension, Braganza smiled again.
"Wind down, Roman. There will be a war soon, to be sure. And I have a feeling that whatever will happen this day, it will be something sung for a long while."
"Where's Magister Weber?" The somewhat nervous voice of Burgstaller echoed the sentiment unvoiced by two other newer arrivals of Eight Peaks' magical arsenal. The clarion call of the dragon rattled through everyone's bones. None of the ducklings have felt magic in such a primal and powerful manner before. Not even Hubert, the most unrefined of the Journeyers, are spared from the sheer force of Hysh that wafted throughout the mountains.
The door burst open at the question, revealing the more physical of the Gold Wizards under Mathilde's employ. "Magister Weber isn't here right now."
Trailing behind Johann is the more bookish Gold Wizard, bow looped around his frame with nary an arrow on his frame. "Thane Mathilde Weber, however, is."
Gretel stared at the two. "How long have you two been practicing that routine?"
"As we walked here." Johann shrugged simply. "Now, as subordinates of Loremaster Weber, we have no authority to order you around. You are your own Journeyers. All we can say is that you should think where you'll make the most good on. And if you're asking about Panoramia, she's with the Halflings, as usual."
The three Journeying Wizards looked at one another, slightly unsure. Sure, they had done personal forays, but on something like this, the worry is on stepping on toes unnecessarily. Safety in numbers is all well and good but there's far too many options to worry about.
But as the Dammerlichtreiter had said once, it's better to pick a fight than fret and not helping any.
"I'll go to the Undumgi." Hubert said first. Familiar grounds, everyone figured. Soizic is a known factor and the affinity the Ulrican had would help much.
"I'll take to the gyrocopter pads." Familiar grounds for Adela as well. To be sure, many of the Dwarven Engineers do not approve of the Bright Journeywoman but being vouched personally by Gotri in manners of dangerous prototyping meant that at the least, the worst of the looks she received is one of wariness and pitying respect.
"I'll..." Every other wizards looks at Gretel who paused. "I'll do what I do best then."
"I should warn you," Johann started. "That Skyre is blocked with poisonous gas of all sorts and have a rampaging Ice Dragon."
Gretel smiled at that. "I'm not intending to attack now. Just... later. When there's no Ice Dragon in the way."
"Right then." The Magister nodded. "I'll leave you all to your preperations. Good hunting." He doubled back out of the club room... with Max trailing behind him.
At the unspoken question, the blacksmith answered. "Knowing my luck, the aircorps will not see any activity today."
"So instead, you're following me. You."
"Oh please, Magister." Max rolled his eyes. "I'd hate to see you take a spell to your gilded chest because you can't Dispel."
"So you're going with me into the fray."
"I've been waiting for action since Karagril. I'll take an Orc Shaman head-on if I have to by now. Also, follow me." Johann raised his eyebrows as Max made a sudden turn. He followed, and the two bantering Golds reached a secluded landing pad with a Gyrocopter on it. The engineer sitting on a nearby bench waved his gloved hand at Max. "Ho, Gorlgrungi."
"Ho, Endrinkuli. Can you take us to the Citadel?" The practiced Khazalid flowed out of the smith.
"Ap, dawongr." The short reply preceded the start of the rotorspin.
"The other reason I am following you is because it'd take your gold ass too long to get to the fray." Max smiled as he entered the gyrocopter. "Skrund, Durakrul!"
Johann merely shook his head with good natured exasperation, smiling as he entered in, "Whatever you say, Journeymanling."
Did I mention how much I like these sorts of things? Now that the 'Longest Day' is over, I can focus and write a coherent narrative without worrying about 'and so the Braganza got half-wiped by Mors' or some such scenarios.
Yes, this has been brewing since late-November. I hope this is an enjoyable read for you lads like the prior work.
EDIT: Oh yeah, if you're on desktop, the dotted Khazalid will have their meaning shown if you put your cursor on them.
Yes, this has been brewing since late-November. I hope this is an enjoyable read for you lads like the prior work.
EDIT: Oh yeah, if you're on desktop, the dotted Khazalid will have their meaning shown if you put your cursor on them.
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- Pronouns
- She/Her
It's a social action there is no dice roll.
- Location
- Finland
I know, it's a (poor) joke.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Ninjas, Rakshas, Ki...
Who knows, we know so little about them.
Ah well I suppose I'll just have to content myself for pushing for Karak raiding.
Publishing the Skaven insights first, between the dictionaries and our insights into how they fight and how to fight them we could revolutionise the empire's approach to Skaven...and by that I mean create one.
But if we are often buying books, then BoneyM will have to keep making things up, better to just leave it for when they feel like coming up with stuff. And in that case paying for translation will work fine.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Speaking of books we should probably pay to have the skaven books copied.
Deranged as they are, the Skrye ones represent some of the best insights into warp stone and engineering currently available to humanity, I don't think the colleges would like to loose em.