Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties - an Advisor's Quest
- Thread starter Boney
- Start date
- Fantasy Users' Choice!
Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
- Location
- Chicago
- Pronouns
- She/They
I feel like animal husbandry demands a certain level of the animals being ok with you husbanding them, which I view as the bigger issue. Animals refusing to eat and dying because they were in stressful situations is a thing.
- Pronouns
- It/They
We've already had people asking the QM if we can wield a third weapon in our mouth. People are apparently very eager for a One Piece crossover.
Hell, as I write this I realize that the character in One Piece with a shadow-related powerset is also the guy with a zombie army... concerning...
Gonna point out that another big bad has darkness related powers as well.
Hell Teach is basically a walking pit of shades with no miscast chance, and with the power of the Rune of superior skill as part of his body.
Huh... who woulda thought we could actually find a goal to shoot for from One Piece of all things.
Guys! Lets become a living cloud of darkness that sucks in and crushes everything!
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Guile
Having a really great time right now
A retaliatory hit from the Big Bird Mafia
deathofrats0808
Don’t think of it as dying; just as leaving early
- Location
- Earth
Nah, Mathilde doesn't need the power of politics.
- Pronouns
- It/They
Nah, thats a pit of stupidity that sucks in and crushes everything.
We're talking about darkness here.
two different things.
Burdmuncha knows we have an air corps, he knows there's a dragon in K8P, he knows he's marching on mountain passes where the Waaagh! are fish in a barrel and he calls himself Burdmuncha - I'm expecting a lot of investment in anti-air. I think he'll have a lot of shamans ready to 'Eadbut 'copters. Our bombers can probably stay high enough to be out of range and still hit because the orcs are so tight packed - and from a mile up we can eke out our bomb supply with rocks - but targeting specifics like the artillery and warbeasts is not so easy from altitude and we only have four bombers. The gunships will be running much more of a risk.
I think Gotri should be hitting the waaagh! ASAP, while they're still fighting the Howlas. One it might make openings that let the Howlas do a bit more damage and two, it means they project less of an appearance of strength which should make it less likely that they end up recruiting the goblins which is always a risk when a waaagh! scuffles with a lesser greenskin tribe.
I think Gotri should be hitting the waaagh! ASAP, while they're still fighting the Howlas. One it might make openings that let the Howlas do a bit more damage and two, it means they project less of an appearance of strength which should make it less likely that they end up recruiting the goblins which is always a risk when a waaagh! scuffles with a lesser greenskin tribe.
Sole Purpose
Clueless
- Location
- Spread Across Several Miles
[X] Gunnars
[X] Kragg the Grim
I hope I didn't miss the vote
[X] Kragg the Grim
I hope I didn't miss the vote
- Location
- New Brunswick, NJ
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
The 24 hour mark isn't for another 5 hours or so, and even then, it's not closed until Boney closes it. You're good.
THERE'S STILL A CHANCE GUNNARS MAKES IT, COME ON TEAM
Angry Bird: Warhammer Edition
- Location
- Hollister
[X] Gunnars
- Location
- Argentina
To be fair, our artillery should focus exclusively on the pump wagons. Archers can target the general gree tide, but the truly dangerous thing for us is their artillery (and shamans). Orcs only pose a threat if they break the gates, and that hopefully won't happen.
- Location
- The Surface Of A Hostile Planet
Boring is the last thing I'd call Gunnars. He's a mystery wrapped in an enigma I want to solve.
Lest Dawn Break
- Location
- Earth
Lest Dawn Break
Dwarves were a grim folk. Used to a world ever trying to end them, wear them down. And of men, few had families, far too few of the Undumgi having made families. But for the Halflings of Eight Peaks, this had never been anything but an attempt to win another home. So while near every dwarf and man inside the bowl could and likely would pick up arms in the coming moments, Brun Willoweed had never drawn his bow in anger.
He could see them, his fellow folk who could and did, streaming towards the cold stones of the Citadel. Skirmishers. As if such could encompass all they were and what it meant. They were little people in a world of giants. There went the bravest of them all. There, somewhere in that stream, went his wife. Oh Krasna. Stay safe. Keep warm. Come home. He turned his back on the lines of arms and cries and hurried home. He'd need to pick up the Berribushes slack. With Tarry on the walls and Magda of to Ulkadrin with the traders Brun had to make sure their kids were safe as well.
In this at least, Esmeralda smiled on him. The little ones were in the gardens between their houses, still damp and muddy of their tussling, wide eyed and awed.
"Papa, papa! What could shout so?"
"It's an Ogre!"
"It's a Giant!"
"It's a Dragon!".
The last was met with laughter, fresh and clean. So brave, as if their own father couldn't see right through them.
"Now now." he said. "Everyone, remember the rules. Find your partner and let's get a move on. The folks over in yonder peak have readied rooms for us all. Come now, just as we've practiced. On we go."
They grabbed the necessities, a bag with road rations and dried nuts, kept near the doors, just in case. There was a lot of just in case in living in these peaks. It was scary. But Brun Willoweed wasn't one to let children out-heart him. So he cajoled and led and prodded and they were well on their way to the stone halls in Nar even as a horse-beast of shadow and its rider blew out of the mountain gates, like a plague of locusts was behind it.
****
Hluodwica passed by like the wind, the Elder keeping count and organizing. They'd had to settle in with other non-fighters and the shelters readied were wide and brimming with supplies. Which was not a reason, as the Elder had made sure to make the point, to go and serve yourself. This was dwarven stone, and dwarven rules. So were the defenses and that helped.
Brun Willoweed was no solder or Halfling of any import, but it struck him as right that their Elder was here, with them. Master Baker Stoutheart had a mean ladle, something more than one careless lad and lass had learned the hard way, but her contribution to this fight it seems would be to mind them that weren't fighting, and keep the bellies warm and full. For that purpose, many of them had been asked.
They volunteered of course. It was the least they could do, while other's died. So they cooked and baked and listened with rapt attention to every time the messengers came.
Of orcs spilling out of the mountains and covering the Caldera. Of dwarven oaths and curses and fallen miners. But no halflings. And they'd held, hadn't they? No Halfling dead. Not yet.
****
It was a nightmarish time. An eternity spend beneath a stone ceiling. Brun rarely minded it before. When he could leave. Now it was suffocating. No, his mother didn't raise no liar. He was worrying. With reason. Battle after battle was being fought out there, and each one brought news of new fallen, new dead.
And yet, there was on odd feel building in the dwarves with each news. What had started as grumbling and grimness had over the long hours transformed into something else. The latest tale had the Thane (and how did a Loremaster become a Thane?) missing, again venturing into the dark and unknown alone.
Then a doors were thrown open again, the messenger running the final few strides up to their Elder, as Brun kept stirring the batter, unsure even what it was for. It'd been a long night. The dwarf saluted, before reporting. "The Dragon has left Yar. It crossed the cordon without incident." The words were clipped, just a bit confused, but it was clear the youngling was struggling to contain some great emotion. Brun never did have a talent for tongues, so the remainder of the exchange left him in the dust.
Yet when it was over, the elderly dwarf who oversaw the guards murmured a word even he'd hard said enough time to remember, if never said so. "Today." he said, and it was almost... wondering. And then the gates were opening and they were being hustled out of the shelters. What had happened?
****
They watched the sunrise from beneath the Sunrise Mountain. He'd not been sure he'd ever again see one. It was such an odd feel for him. Brun wasn't really sure he'd ever want it to be normal. He'd wondered, as the months went by, if he wouldn't spend years here, until it was normal. Normal to drill for disaster, for trolls, and Orcs and Goblins and fouler things. It wasn't normal back home. Maybe, maybe it wouldn't be normal here anymore. That would be nice.
Those unused to the stone above their heads watched the gyrocopters leave, on their mission. To see just what was coming and how much time they had. Few of them likely spared a thought for the people huddling beneath the mountain, as long as they were safe for the moment. That was what mattered, he'd come to grasp. As long as there was a tomorrow, they could deal with what came. Mr Willoweed hugged his children and those that were as children to him, enjoying the brisk morning air.
And as the news came back and filtered down the ranks, he thanked whatever Gods were listening for these precious hours under the dawn's blue sky. Soon, they said, soon the hour would be upon them. He didn't really understand. Numbers and counts were being thrown around, descriptions and scenes that fit in stories and legends, not his life. But here he was, under a new dawn. And something…
Something felt different. His bare feet were planted in the cold soil, and something about it, even with the dwarves and men and wizards and monsters… something felt safe. Felt like home.
And from every corner of the Karak, upon Mhornar and Karagril and the high walls of the Citadel, eyes would stray back to the lights of the cookfires in the night and ears turn to soft songs echoing out into the morning mists. Tired backs and worn hands would keep going. Grim dwarves would scoff and grumble, and work faster.
They labored and fought and bled to ensure those lights would never be put out, lest dawn break.
Dwarves were a grim folk. Used to a world ever trying to end them, wear them down. And of men, few had families, far too few of the Undumgi having made families. But for the Halflings of Eight Peaks, this had never been anything but an attempt to win another home. So while near every dwarf and man inside the bowl could and likely would pick up arms in the coming moments, Brun Willoweed had never drawn his bow in anger.
He could see them, his fellow folk who could and did, streaming towards the cold stones of the Citadel. Skirmishers. As if such could encompass all they were and what it meant. They were little people in a world of giants. There went the bravest of them all. There, somewhere in that stream, went his wife. Oh Krasna. Stay safe. Keep warm. Come home. He turned his back on the lines of arms and cries and hurried home. He'd need to pick up the Berribushes slack. With Tarry on the walls and Magda of to Ulkadrin with the traders Brun had to make sure their kids were safe as well.
In this at least, Esmeralda smiled on him. The little ones were in the gardens between their houses, still damp and muddy of their tussling, wide eyed and awed.
"Papa, papa! What could shout so?"
"It's an Ogre!"
"It's a Giant!"
"It's a Dragon!".
The last was met with laughter, fresh and clean. So brave, as if their own father couldn't see right through them.
"Now now." he said. "Everyone, remember the rules. Find your partner and let's get a move on. The folks over in yonder peak have readied rooms for us all. Come now, just as we've practiced. On we go."
They grabbed the necessities, a bag with road rations and dried nuts, kept near the doors, just in case. There was a lot of just in case in living in these peaks. It was scary. But Brun Willoweed wasn't one to let children out-heart him. So he cajoled and led and prodded and they were well on their way to the stone halls in Nar even as a horse-beast of shadow and its rider blew out of the mountain gates, like a plague of locusts was behind it.
****
Hluodwica passed by like the wind, the Elder keeping count and organizing. They'd had to settle in with other non-fighters and the shelters readied were wide and brimming with supplies. Which was not a reason, as the Elder had made sure to make the point, to go and serve yourself. This was dwarven stone, and dwarven rules. So were the defenses and that helped.
Brun Willoweed was no solder or Halfling of any import, but it struck him as right that their Elder was here, with them. Master Baker Stoutheart had a mean ladle, something more than one careless lad and lass had learned the hard way, but her contribution to this fight it seems would be to mind them that weren't fighting, and keep the bellies warm and full. For that purpose, many of them had been asked.
They volunteered of course. It was the least they could do, while other's died. So they cooked and baked and listened with rapt attention to every time the messengers came.
Of orcs spilling out of the mountains and covering the Caldera. Of dwarven oaths and curses and fallen miners. But no halflings. And they'd held, hadn't they? No Halfling dead. Not yet.
****
It was a nightmarish time. An eternity spend beneath a stone ceiling. Brun rarely minded it before. When he could leave. Now it was suffocating. No, his mother didn't raise no liar. He was worrying. With reason. Battle after battle was being fought out there, and each one brought news of new fallen, new dead.
And yet, there was on odd feel building in the dwarves with each news. What had started as grumbling and grimness had over the long hours transformed into something else. The latest tale had the Thane (and how did a Loremaster become a Thane?) missing, again venturing into the dark and unknown alone.
Then a doors were thrown open again, the messenger running the final few strides up to their Elder, as Brun kept stirring the batter, unsure even what it was for. It'd been a long night. The dwarf saluted, before reporting. "The Dragon has left Yar. It crossed the cordon without incident." The words were clipped, just a bit confused, but it was clear the youngling was struggling to contain some great emotion. Brun never did have a talent for tongues, so the remainder of the exchange left him in the dust.
Yet when it was over, the elderly dwarf who oversaw the guards murmured a word even he'd hard said enough time to remember, if never said so. "Today." he said, and it was almost... wondering. And then the gates were opening and they were being hustled out of the shelters. What had happened?
****
They watched the sunrise from beneath the Sunrise Mountain. He'd not been sure he'd ever again see one. It was such an odd feel for him. Brun wasn't really sure he'd ever want it to be normal. He'd wondered, as the months went by, if he wouldn't spend years here, until it was normal. Normal to drill for disaster, for trolls, and Orcs and Goblins and fouler things. It wasn't normal back home. Maybe, maybe it wouldn't be normal here anymore. That would be nice.
Those unused to the stone above their heads watched the gyrocopters leave, on their mission. To see just what was coming and how much time they had. Few of them likely spared a thought for the people huddling beneath the mountain, as long as they were safe for the moment. That was what mattered, he'd come to grasp. As long as there was a tomorrow, they could deal with what came. Mr Willoweed hugged his children and those that were as children to him, enjoying the brisk morning air.
And as the news came back and filtered down the ranks, he thanked whatever Gods were listening for these precious hours under the dawn's blue sky. Soon, they said, soon the hour would be upon them. He didn't really understand. Numbers and counts were being thrown around, descriptions and scenes that fit in stories and legends, not his life. But here he was, under a new dawn. And something…
Something felt different. His bare feet were planted in the cold soil, and something about it, even with the dwarves and men and wizards and monsters… something felt safe. Felt like home.
And from every corner of the Karak, upon Mhornar and Karagril and the high walls of the Citadel, eyes would stray back to the lights of the cookfires in the night and ears turn to soft songs echoing out into the morning mists. Tired backs and worn hands would keep going. Grim dwarves would scoff and grumble, and work faster.
They labored and fought and bled to ensure those lights would never be put out, lest dawn break.
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Mistake on my part, should be Big Boss and up. Basically every Lord and Hero equivalent.
- Location
- madison
We've seen him what, 3 times? and all times he's been working or in the background? I'd argue we don't have evidence he's boring, we have evidence that he's quite.
