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I mean... doesn't everywhere in warhammer run on stories and fairy tales to some extent?
The Doylist reason is obviously that Warhammer writers love their tropes and archetypes but from a Watsonian perspective I wonder how much of that comes from the fact that Mallus is constantly inundated by energies from the Warp, a place literally made of stories and fairy tales.
 
The 5e code of Chivalry specifically has "defend your domain" as the second duty in the Seven Commandments of Chivalry, behind only "Serve the Lady of the Lake."

So. I feel comfortable saying that plenty of people can get away with "go kill a bear" as their tour of Errantry because that is the most dangerous thing their "domain" (Read: Single village hamlet thing) is likely to see, so as long as he can kill that he has that right.

Further more, the third stricture is to protect the weak and fight for the right, which gives the peasants broad latitude in the duty they present.

And the Lady is alright with that because it is still a noble deed.

Doylistically, I don't give a fuck about the realism because at its heart Bretonnia is a celebration of the romance and the glory of putting on your armor, taking up your sword, and fighting for the things that are right. In 5E, at least.

Whereas later it becomes "Monty Python sure is funny, amiriteguys?"
 
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The 5e code of Chivalry specifically has "defend your domain" as the second duty in the Seven Commandments of Chivalry, behind only "Serve the Lady of the Lake."

So. I feel comfortable saying that plenty of people can get away with "go kill a bear" as their tour of Errantry because that is the most dangerous thing their "domain" (Read: Single village hamlet thing) is likely to see, so as long as he can kill that he has that right.

Further more, the third stricture is to protect the weak and fight for the right, which gives the peasants broad latitude in the duty they present.

And the Lady is alright with that because it is still a noble deed.

Doylistically, I don't give a fuck about the realism because at its heart Bretonnia is a celebration of the romance and the glory of putting on your armor, taking up your sword, and fighting for the things that are right. In 5E, at least.

Whereas later it becomes "Monty Python sure is funny, amiriteguys?"

The issue is that it doesn't actually fit into the greater setting in its 5E interpretation.

It's blatantly SoD breaking how good it is IRL, let alone in the crapsack warhammer world.

Boney probably going with somewhere in between the perfect forever brettonia of 5e and the awful forever brettonia of other editions.
 
So. I feel comfortable saying that plenty of people can get away with "go kill a bear" as their tour of Errantry because that is the most dangerous thing their "domain" (Read: Single village hamlet thing) is likely to see, so as long as he can kill that he has that right.
You do realize bears are harmless unless they are starving or people idiotically teach them that humans are a source of easy food right?

No, going out to stab a bear does not count for getting a Divine Blessing.
 
You do realize bears are harmless unless they are starving or people idiotically teach them that humans are a source of easy food right?

No, going out to stab a bear does not count for getting a Divine Blessing.
That really depends on the deity in question. Like, I'm pretty sure that the vast majority of blessings Ranald dishes out are to help people who make huge gambling bets they in hindsight really shouldn't have made.

If the Lady deems a bear to be a big and immediate threat in part because Kislevites are dicks, does that really invalidate the blessing?
 
You do realize bears are harmless unless they are starving or people idiotically teach them that humans are a source of easy food right?

No, going out to stab a bear does not count for getting a Divine Blessing.
Presumably it is a bear corrupted by the evil deities that would bring the works of man crashing down.

More importantly, that's not the point.
 
Tales of U-K8P: A Storm from the South, Part 2
Tales of U-K8P: A Storm from the South

Part 2

Midterms were, in fact, cancelled. Finals too.

Enough warning had been given that all the caravans had fled north or east, and the undumgi had prepared their eastern fortress for those who would arrive during a siege. The academic sorts had fled north to Ulrikadrin so as not to be trapped for the duration, and the wolf riders had ceased the steam tram and closed their gates. Gunpowder was laid in, and axes sharpened. The priests preached to their flocks. The Karak sealed itself against the surface world.

A Tomb King marched, they said. Straight as an arrow, from the depth of the southwestern sands on a line towards the western gate. Skeletons in the low hundreds of thousands with a scattering of knights and chariots, a fearsome and ancient host but oh so painfully slow.

King Belegar was incensed. This wasn't the first or even the fifth time he had defended his claim on the mountains, but *everyone* knew that fighting the remnants of the most powerful human civilization ever to have existed was the easiest thing in the world to avoid. Don't take the mummy gold, stupid!

In the end it took sixty three days between the first reports and the vanguard of the dead coming into sight. In those sixty-three days, the king's warriors had gone through every room in the Karak and every living person's possessions, twice. Every vault was opened and carefully checked. Every caravan and traveler who left, unwilling to stomach such intrusion, was carefully noted and tracked against the scouting reports to see if perhaps the army had altered heading to chase them.

Lissele had picked up a dwarven blade and traded her sport plate for battle armor. She drilled and sparred with the undumgi alongside the other cadets who remained, no longer with the luxury of time. The watchtower guard knew they needed as many bodies as they could train.

Hannah fretted, and paced, and forced herself to study pyromancy; for the first time since her apprenticeship setting aside her love of aqshy that gave light and spectacle and passion, bending her will toward the heat that drove spells to consume and kill.

Darna spent time with her family. Every dwarf in the Karak, with the exception of the rawest beardlings, knew their roles in the battles that loomed, and Darna knew her role: as a student, she was emergency reserve. Her parents were veterans of the reconquest, they would be much closer to the front lines.

Sixty-three days. Enough time to cycle from confidence to despair a dozen times over, until the endless present of living under threat brought out something almost feral in the mountain dwellers. Just let it happen already!

There were rumors of rats in the depths of Karak Lhune. The dwarves took them seriously enough that traps were set out and patrols were doubled in the outer tunnels.

Sixty-three days, and on the sixty-third, a rank of marching skeletons crested the last rise before the long climb to the West Gate.

Darna had once again come through for the three girls, knowing a cousin's adoptive nephew that was posted to one of the watchpoints on the south slopes of Karag Ziflin, who was willing to take a small bribe to let them listen so long as they didn't get in his way and left when the shooting started.

So the had a front row seat, so to speak, when the ranks of skeletons parted to allow forwards a gleaming chariot, drawn by skeletal lions. The sole rider was an armored figure with a tall bannerpole beside it and a roaring lion sculpted for a helm.

The figure drew rein fifty yards from the gate, where King Belegar glared down at him.

"Knock, knock."

A ripple of dust jumped from the ground as a rasping voice boomed out, with enough force to thump the gates firmly. Twice.

The skeleton seemed to speak rakspeil, for as the girls glanced at eachother they all seemed to have understood it, and rakspeil was the only language they shared... Right? Darna frowned. She could have sworn it was Khalazid for a moment.

"<Who comes seeking entrance to the Queen of the Silvery Depths?>" King Belegar replied, the formal cadences of a Gatewarden drenched in scorn.

"This body is but ears and a mouth- you hear the voice of Semerkhet the Bold, Priest-King under Settra the Imperishable. Return the staff you have stolen and render unto us the thief."

Belegar ground his teeth.

"<I have searched my hold and all its hidden places. Your gold is not behind my gates, and no thief dwells within. Seek elsewhere.>"

Hannah winced, slightly, shaking her head rapidly at Lissele's appalled look.

"It is, King of Dwarves. Watch! I shall circle about my stolen treasure, and all will be made clear. But, your obstruction vexes me. Here, a token of my displeasure."

Scarcely had the words bellowed out of the corpse's lion mask when cannon discharged, and the chariot was blasted to fragments, none larger than a chicken bone.

It wasn't quite quick enough; the arrows from the skeleton archers in the back ranks were already in the air.

The girls shuffled out, moving quietly back through the lesser tunnels of Ziflin to avoid getting in the way.

"How many, do you think?" Lissele tried to focus.

"Scouts say 247,000 all told, but only the last seven thousand or so is anything besides skeletons with bows or bronze swords and bronze shields" Darna volunteered.

"Well, I couldn't see all of the army coming up, but it looked like most of it started breaking up as soon as the herald started talking and only about ten thousand were still moving towards the gates" was Hannah's contribution. The other two gaped at her.

"What? I'm an artist! You know we have to be good at observation things."

"Like a ranger long-beard, break my ax to say it."

"Awwww, thanks Darna!"

_______________________

The funny thing about a looming deadline is that it can grow so large that you forget to consider what lies on the other side. Or, occasionally, you will know, and use the focus on the deadline to not think about it.

The rookies, and the veterans.

The sixty-third day drew to a close with ten thousand archers and warriors of bone battering themselves to pieces against the uncaring gate. King Belegar was rumored to be frustrated- there was no point to the attack without battering rams or ladders, but the dwarfs were forced to waste powder and shot nonetheless, knocking apart slowly forming 'human' pyramids before enough could scramble up and latch on that the ramparts were within their reach.

A large warbeast or construct like a human-headed cat with a howdah on it was reported to be circling north, casually ignoring the terrain to amble in a straight, slowly curving line. Rangers were watching.

King Belegar ordered that the Eye of Gazul not be used until the undead committed to an attack- there were spellcasters among the enemy.

The great mass of the army began to split. One mass flowed through the raw mountains south of Eightpeaks, the other made for death pass.

The girls retuned to their dorm.

Hannah was determinedly painting the walls with colors of magic, pouring tiny streams of aqshy into reds and oranges and purples, filling in an entire sunset sky with the silhouettes of eight familiar peaks in negative space near the floor.

Darna was cleaning her disassembled handgun, something that had become a nightly ritual for her.

Lissele laid on her bed and watched them both as Darna reattached the last pieces and then set her hands on her desk.

"Hey Hannah, Lissele? I don't think I've said it before, but I'm glad you stayed. It makes a difference, to me, knowing the humans I like and I trust were willing to put their lives on the line for the dawi, for me, when I needed them to. You made that choice when you stayed, so, thank you."

Darna spoke without turning.

Hannah and Lissele exchanged a soft look, and then moved together towards her, Lissele kneeling and Hannah bending down to wrap their arms around her, and press their foreheads to her cheeks.

"Come on, you know I wouldn't miss this!" Hannah murmured. Lissele cut more to the heart of the matter.

"Of course we did! We owe you so much- you've given us boons upon boons since we met! You opened your Karak to us, gave us your friendship and your trust, of course we are going to honor that debt!"

Darna didn't move, but her shoulders relaxed just a fraction.

_____________________

The sixty-sixth day.

The warbeast had made it's way around only two-thirds of the way around the Karak, but the enemy's point was unmistakeable. The path was as perfect as if it were traced by a compass on a map: a circle centered on the innermost quarter of Karag Lhune, something that set the long-beards grumbling louder than usual.

Hannah had it on good authority from one of the journeymen who shared her program, a grey, (oh, and she was so jealous of the palate he got to use! Any color at all could be spun of ulgu, while all she got were the colors that could be found in flames) that the actual center of the circle was almost directly above the King's Armory, though Darna refused to confirm or deny.

The hordes of skeletons had spread themselves as best they could in a loose ring around the Karak, but now they began to swarm together near where the Karak could be breached, clambering over rockfaces and scree with like a creeping tide.

The gates. Und-Uzgal. Morzund's Wall. The Sentinels.

But they did not advance. Not yet.

_____________________

The sixty-seventh day.

The warriors of the Karak made a brilliant and proud display.

The full muster of the Karak was assembled: three dozen clans making up near 20,000 dwarves with Huzkul largest but Angrund brightest, 12,000 of the silversteel pike carried by the undumgi, 4,000 auxiliaries with sword and shield, 8,000 from Ulrikadrin with plate and axe, 9,000 mercenaries including the Death's Besiegers, and the crews for near a hundred canon. All arrayed in formations to be reviewed one final time before being given assignments; the battle was expected to begin tomorrow, when Semerkhet completed his loop.

Lissele, in the third rank of the Seventh Undumgi Auxiliaries, swallowed hard. This was not what she had imagined when she had applied to University. She knew such things happened, but that was very different from living through it. She wondered if this was how Ser Soizic felt, before the battles that made her name.

Darna Irkokri was calm. Her clan stood about her in war panapoly, and she gripped her runed axe lightly at her side. Her Karak was under attack? Such was life for the dawi, though last time she had not yet been old enough to be allowed in the ranks. Her friends had proven to be stone. Her home would survive.

King Belegar gave a speech.

________________________________


Hannah shivered as she climbed the central stair of Karag Nar. As a member of the Imperial Colleges of Magic in Karak Eightpeaks, she had been summoned to a council of war. By tradition the journeymen and magisters gathered where they always had, ever since the Lady Magister Mathilde had made her home here, in the complex of chambers and towers and magical superweapons that crowned Sunrise Mountain. It was Hannah's first time there, as the Viceroy did not allow casual visitors, and she gawked as she passed through the steel doors into the luxurious sitting room that looked out in all directions. She was not given time to linger, a bright journeyman she didn't recognize directed her to a staircase down, and into a conference room almost filled with bodies.

The current Magister in Residence was a Celestial named Benjamin, who was mostly known for his work expanding the Blue Tower and the jokes about the lady magister rolling in her grave to know who lived in her palace now. He met her at the door, pressing a small disc into her hand with a smile.

"Journeywoman Arcadent, right? Welcome to the August Order of the Ducklings. We'll get started here in a moment, glad to have another Bright on our side for this."

She grinned weakly back, moving to stand along the wall and looking down at the disc in her hand- a large coin cut with khalazid runes and a noble drake on the front, rakspeil on the back reading 'The bearer of this coin shall be recognized as one of the August Order of the Ducklings, a Wizard of the Imperial Colleges and a Defender of Karak Eightpeaks". Some tradition she hadn't heard of before? She slipped the coin into a pocket.

"I now call this meeting to order! I am Magister Benjamin of the Celestial Order, Wizard in Residence at Karak Eightpeaks. As of this moment you are all members of the August Order of Duckings, founded by the Lady Magister Weber and open to all members of the colleges who defend the Karak in times of war. Welcome- you are in the company of heroes and legends.

"You willed be called upon for several duties. Dispelling and battle-casting will be primary, of course, but healing, communications, and magical scouting are all needed. I will need a complete accounting of your skills and abilities today to make a determination of where you each will be best placed. If you have any items that would be of use, please, tell me now."

There wasn't much more- the magisters pressed forward to speak, most of the journeymen held back. There were maybe three dozen wizards in the room- two of them obvious Amethyst mercenaries, perhaps ten of them Professors, and the remainder students on their journeys. The discussion was short, the interviews quick- Hannah spoke rough kahalzid and knew the dwarven signal lexicon from her training on the Bloodbowl signal squad, but the fact that she was a bright wizard had her placed with the undumgi on Morzend's wall.

_____________________________

The sixty-eigth day.

Darna was in the dwarven reserves, patrolling the under-karak. Hannah and Lissele were stationed in the Sentinels, cadets under the Umdungi captain who commanded this segment of the mountain ring.

Semerkhet reached the end of his circle with the sun half-way through it's climb. The warsphinx paused, and a figure strode out onto it's extended palm with arms spread wide, as if to say "see?" The skeletons began moving before it have even returned to the howdah, every front at once pressing forward.

It was a massacre.

The Eye of Gazul fired, shadows jerking crazily as the sun forgot where it was shining, then fired again. And again. Many of the skeletons had shields, and where they could they advanced in turtle formation, but each wash of burning shadow winnowed the army acres at a time.

It couldn't reach everywhere. It didn't matter.

Hannah and Lissele stood under the merciless sun as it crested and descended, waiting as the cannon and handgunners elevated in hardened bastions hammered the skeletons to pieces. For all their spider-like tenacity clambering over terrain they were slow, and brittle, easy prey for grapeshot and pistol.

Six hours later they were rotated out to eat, and grab what sleep they could. The skeletons were not slowing, but no front had yet been pressed into melee.

Some dwarven commander had given a clever order, and units of doughy fullbeards shared the canteen with the humans, grumbling loudly about manlings and beardlings and how it wasn't even a proper siege until the second full year of fighting. Slowly, slowly the tension ratcheted down, and by the time the two collapsed into bed (exhausted, for all they had not seen any fighting) they were able to close their eyes to the comforting regularity of the booming artillery.

The skeletons kept coming.

__________________


Darna was walking through one of the deeper tunnels in Karag Lhune, a few junctions away from the checkpoint at the bottom of the main elevator shaft, around the grate that blocked off the Lhune Depths. She bore a shield and an axe but did not expect to see fighting; the increased patrols in the deepest tunnels were merely tradition for a Karak at war, born from the endless gambits of the goblins and skaven. The long-plait at the head of their double file was moving confidently and quietly, with the rest of her clanmates focused and ready despite being at the rear of the battle lines.

It was almost enough to save them.

They rounded the corner completely and drew line of sight on the entrance to the depths (or, rather, the ramparts overlooking the sunken kill-zone that surrounded the grate of steel bars sealing off the Lhune Depths) just in time to see it slam upwards- some creature had rammed into it from below, deforming the steel, but there was only a brief glimpse of wild rolling eyes and gnashing jaws before it dropped back. It slammed upwards again- No! a second beast had hit from below, while the first was still clinging to the grate! The bars shrieked with strain, but the form of the monsters was now clear.

Some great mutated bat grown large as an ogre, with extra claws at the joints of its wings and a ripped skin that could not keep up with the bloated growth of the body beneath.

Moulder.

The dwarves around the pit had leveled their crossbows, and the eight bolt throwers had found their aim almost as quickly- for eternal vigilance is the watchword of the dwarves- as the command came:

"<Loose!>"

Darna's column had already broken into a run forward, the dwarf herself struggling to keep up with the unfamiliar plate weighing her down, when her commander clamped a gauntlet on her pauldron and dragged her to a stop.

"<I need a runner- spread the alarm! Go!>"

She shoved her backwards, and the two turned to sprint in opposite directions.

"<Reload! ..Aim! ..Loose!>"

She made it halfway to the tunnel entrance when the first of the bat-ogres exploded behind her- a flash of green-white and a blast of something that made the world gag, then noise and heat hammering her into the wall. Despite her orders, she couldn't help but look back. (At least, she thought, that if she died at least the noise of the blast would trigger the alarms)

The second bat-ogre had also been consumed in the blast, with most of the dwarves on the ramparts thrown off their feet, but no seeming damage beyond blood trickling from eyes or ears. But the network of bars had been peeled open- when the third bat-ogre hit it from below, it offered almost no resistance.

Darna scrambled up. A fourth, fifth, and sixth bat-ogre followed the third, two rendered flightless by brave bolt-thrower crews. The remainder fell upon the heavy weapons, or thrashed about the defenders, distracted from the open shaft above. She ran for the stairs that wound around it leading up, just then begining to hear the horns blowing above as the Karak realized the knife at it's belly-!

Another bat-ogre exploded, throwing her into the wall again and scattering shrapnel from the bolt-thrower it had been perched on top of. The beasts were fragile, bloated on gas rather than muscle so they could still fly, but they were not the only beasts in the enemy's menagerie. She picked herself up, bleeding from a half-dozen superficial cuts but not yet broken, just as the first of the bastard offspring of a rat and a centipede pulled itself up through the pit on a hundred grasping claws, storm vermin clinging to it's back.

She looked, frozen, for a moment. It was a rookie mistake. But then, she was a rookie.

It was enough for a bat-ogre to land from a pouncing leap and kick at her with a muscled hind-limb. Dizzy already from the blasts, it was if one moment she was staring at the pit and the next flying towards it- into it- through it- a fading square of light above her- a jerk on her arm as something caught it- swinging sideways-slamming softly into the underside of an overhanging rock face!?

And just as she drew in a breath to scream, two fangs sank into the junction between her helmet and her neck.

______________________________________

Hannah and Lissele managed almost three hours of sleep.

It was blowing horns that roused them, the crack of gunpowder still continuing it's comforting rhythm but shouts of panic and bellowed orders rippling out from Karag Lhune.

Hannah had no need to armor up; she was the first outside the barracks where they had been sleeping, only to find the dwarves already forming up and marching away from the battle surrounding the Karak. It didn't take much watching to understand- she knew the semaphore signals coming from the Citadel as well as any. When Lissele burst out of the door, finally armed and armored, Hannah grabbed her arm before she could go anywhere.

"Skaven attack under Karag Lhune. All dwarven units at the Sentinels, Morzund's wall, and Und-Uzgar are to withdraw and redeploy to Under-Lhune. Undumgi to hold."

"But-! Under-Lhune! That's where Darna is- she was supposed to be safe!"

"Undumgi to hold. I'm sorry. I have hope- we always have hope- but right now we do her no good if the skeletons sweep in."

Lissele fumed, her hand flexing on her sword's grip. But there was nothing she could do. Finally she turned, and Hannah followed her back inside.

They were due on the ramparts in two and a half hours.
 
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Voting closed, writing will begin after I finish waking up from a 26-hour sleep.

EDIT: actually @BoneyM do we know how distant Waystones usually are from each other?

Not in the Dwarven network.

@BoneyM , a question:

Can a wizard counterspell and/or block counterspelling attempts?

I mean, we could have a strategy designating a caster and the rest of the mages are there to prevent him from being dispelled.

Turning your spellcasting attempt into a magical battlefield isn't likely to result in that spell being successfully cast.

So when you count terms per College are you adding together the time of people who didn't manage a whole term or does a shortened term still count?

Or did I again forget something and the duels for Supreme Patriarch only happen once every eight years?

Duels can only happen at the end of a term. Supreme Patriarch isn't just getting the big chair and the fancy staff, it's responsibility for the wellbeing of the Colleges and a position on the Emperor's Council. If there was high turnover and an Emperor couldn't depend on their magical advisor being the same person for long, that would be bad for the Colleges and the Empire.

@BoneyM, is this the actual history of the halflings and of pies or just what Mathilde believes?

Actual history in quest canon. It's my way to make the Halfling obsession with pies less of a joke and give them more substance than 'Bilbo at the start of The Hobbit'. Food is a huge deal to any low-tech nomadic tribe, and a portable, durable, and tasty food preservation method would be enough of a game changer that it would easily buy Halflings a permanent place in that society.

Actually, Boney didn't say anything about discussing the feasibility of trans quest, he wanted us to drop a different (albeit very related, but not related enough that people discussing the feasibility of a trans quest has touched upon) topic. Trans discussion isn't what distresses people, and it shouldn't, the existence of trans people should not be political, and honestly, a blanket ban on all trans discussion would leave even more people, including me, distressed. What can be distressing to think about is... well, I cannot clarify what I think is banned without bringing up the topic, so I hope I am correct on what the topic banned seems to actually be, although to me it seems pretty obvious. If people want to know what I think is the distressing topic here, I can PM them with it.

If my estimation is wrong, @BoneyM please tell me so so that I do not violate the rules on accident.

The meta-discussion is fine because people are taking it seriously - it's not on topic, but OOC discussion isn't that big a deal when the vote has been decided. What I was concerned about was trivializing gender dysphoria with a handwave-y 'magic can fix that'.

@BoneyM, a new book came out giving a lot of information on halflings, Imperial dwarves, and the Eonir and Laurelorn. Would it be helpful of me to share some of the information with the thread?

New books do not have any automatic influence on quest canon. When I get around to reading them I might use ideas I like from them, but until and unless that happens they should be disregarded for quest purposes.

Yeah, I know the horse would probably be more expensive than the armor, because it needs to be at least a sturdy medium-weight breed, and specially trained from birth too. Otherwise it will lose its balance from the weight of all the equipment, armor and tack, and if gets into a fight it will just instinctively run away from stuff like sudden movements, loud noises , the smell of blood, and people rushing towards it.

Proper Bretonnian Warhorses have a lineage that goes back to Ellyrion, from interbreeding between wild ponies and the horses of Athel Loren. They're only available to nobility, giving those born to power another advantage in Knightly achievements.
 
Forgot to actually tick the 'close voting' box.
Adhoc vote count started by BoneyM on Dec 13, 2020 at 2:07 AM, finished with 1638 posts and 183 votes.
 
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And everyone of those is an investment that a village isn't recouping, because proportionally it'll be the peasants who bite it. Not only because they are less capable at monster slaying but because they'll tend to do whatever tasks the local village sets, and those tasks will inevitably be whatever the local nobles didn't get around to doing first.

Which means its easy for the local lord to rig it by sending his kids to do everything that is easy and either leave the really dangerous stuff to kill peasants or just kill himself and get rid of all local tasks.
If the noble is wiping out all the threats in his domain...good for them? They're doing their noble duty, and there is no need for extra knights in this area. The ambitious peasant can save up their funds to become a Merchant instead.
If the noble is wiping out all the low level threats and leaving those they can't beat? Thats for a more powerful knight to show up and deal with. Or team up with a bunch of other Knight Errants to take it on together.

If the noble is wiping out all the low level threats and deliberately leaving the worst things they can beat as rising peasant bait? Then they are not being chivalrous and one or more of the other conditions for a successful peasant rebellion start to stack up.
AND its entirely possible that the Knight Errant wins anyway, because while a basic Knight of the Realm is stronger than a Knight Errant, they aren't so much stronger that they're operating in different leagues, aside from the Lady's blessing, and the gods of the setting are active actors in terms of dispensing blessings to those they see worthy. Fresh Magister Mathilde could have fallen to many of the things which Experienced Journeyman Mathilde would fall to.

Its grim enough without adding artificial stupidity to them.
 
Like, even if the Lady just wants to play with her shiny knights in their castles and chivalric romance.
Peasant revolts don't really fit that romance, and easiest way to not have peasant revolts is to send a damsel to any knights not doing their jobs or being super dicks, and have them slap some sense to the offending knight.

I would not expect the peasants situation to be any worse than it is in the empire (better in some ways, with a dedicated magically empowere warrior class who are actively looking to destroy any threats), and i would expect them to have it better than peasants in real life feudal states in the middle ages, and they did not actually have it anywhere near as bad as popular culture would often claim.
 
Idea was to provide potential ideas to pick from, I know the new stuff isn't auto-canon.

From experience, I know it's very easy for someone to half-remember something they read in this thread and assume it was an actual thing instead of a potential future thing. People were blurring together Bretonnian canon from different and largely incompatible editions as recently as today. This would belong in a general Warhammer discussion thread, if there's one on SV.
 
From experience, I know it's very easy for someone to half-remember something they read in this thread and assume it was an actual thing instead of a potential future thing. People were blurring together Bretonnian canon from different and largely incompatible editions as recently as today. This would belong in a general Warhammer discussion thread, if there's one on SV.
I can admit to being guilty of that at times, yeah.
 
The Karag Dum Expedition, Part 6
[*] Waystone Clog

Tally

You give it some thought, and spot another way you could come at it. "There's a lot of magical power being sucked up into where the Karak was," you say, avoiding any explicit mention of the Waystones. "That would be how they're able to move it back and forth. If they'd just swallowed it up they wouldn't be able to do that, but this way they can use it as a backdoor into reality."

"It's the sort of thing they do," Ruprecht says. "The beginning of the Great War Against Chaos was marked by a daemonic assault from within Nuln."

"And a lost Dwarfhold returning as a daemonic stronghold is the sort of sick joke they enjoy," Joerg agrees, to scowls from the Dwarves.

"If I interrupt that power supply," you continue, "it would cut short the effect. I believe that would result in Karak Vlag returning permanently to reality."

"You believe," Borek echoes. "The other possibility being that it is lost permanently?"

"That's possible too," you admit, "but it's the less likely of the possibilities. From what little I understand of the Aethyr, for it to still be able to move back and forth after so long an absence would indicate that the Hold itself is acting as an anchor."

"Even in the worst case scenario, we rob Chaos of a major avenue of attack," Snorri says.

"And any survivors are doomed to Chaos," Gotrek points out.

"They're already lost. I'm sure they'd rather their Hold be snatched back from the realm of daemons than it be lost with them."

"How long would it take to return?" Borek asks.

"Depends on the exact nature of the magic at work. It could be instant, or it could take some time - hours or days. But no longer than that. If they maintained their grip on it with magic from the Aethyr, it would have eroded its ability to return long ago," you reply.

"Can they reverse whatever it is you're doing that would cut off the power?" Joerg asks.

"I'd be doing so at a point to the north, they would need to reverse it at the same place. And with the magic cut off, it would no longer be pointing the way - it would take me months of scouring the mountains to find the correct point if I didn't have it to guide me."

"Once they're returned, any daemons within it would not have long before they begin to decay," Joerg says thoughtfully. "No storm of magic, and the Chaos Wastes are not currently waxing. And there's no population centers nearby for them to capture for sacrifices. Two days, three if Morrslieb is full."

Snorri thinks for a moment. "About a hundred miles to Novchozy, but that's in a direct line over mountains. A hundred and fifty to Sepukzy if they follow the Pass and then cut through the Dukhlys Forest. Two hundred to Volksgrad if they follow the road."

"If unimpeded, they may be able to make it to Volksgrad," Joerg admits. "They'd have enough cunning to know if they follow the road, they'll find people eventually."

"How large a force are we talking about?" Borek asks warily.

Eyes turn to you, and you shrug. "If they are still besieging inhabitants, they could react to what has just happened by redoubling their assault, or they could pull back while they consider what just happened. If it's fully taken and waiting for use as a new access point to reality, there might only be a few daemons standing guard over it, or using it as a home while it's not in use - the forces of the Tempter would be focused on defending it from the other Chaos Gods, the forces for which would be on the outside. If it's the work of a single ambitious Daemon rather than the orders of the Tempter, then they and their followers would likely be calling it home."

"Could we barricade the entrance before it returns?" Ruprecht asks. "Trap them inside and wait for them to decay?"

Snorri shakes his head. "Dwarfholds have many hidden entrances to prevent that tactic from being used against us, and they are not hidden from the inside. The Daemons would be able to find them, and we would not."

"Them spilling out of the main entrance rather than slipping out some hidden exit would be to our advantage," Gotrek says thoughtfully. "We could bring up the steam-wagons and build an enfilade of broadsides."

"We can't risk the steam-wagons," Borek says instantly. "If all goes wrong, they will be our only method of withdrawal. If this is to be done, we can shift the guns to positions around the entrance."

"If they cannot reverse the blockage of magical energies, their only other alternative is to find people to sacrifice," Joerg says. "If we fortify a chokepoint to the west of here, we have almost as advantageous a position as if we besieged the entrance, with the added possibility of them heading east or deeper into the mountains and dissipating harmlessly."

"Could your Knights not harass them to slow them down enough that they cannot reach the people of Kislev?" Borek asks. "It would mean much less risk to the future of the Expedition."

"We could, though there would be a chance that a fraction of them will slip through. If it happens it would be a small enough force that Kislevite authorities would likely be able to deal with it before too much damage is done."

"Any slipping through would be a failure," Ruprecht disagrees. "We would have the blood of their victims on our hands."

"Could Kislev not deal with it?" Borek asks. "Mathilde, you are able to move swiftly when necessary, are you not?"

"I am," you say.

"So we have her take a message west to warn Kislevite authorities, then she goes to perform her magic, then catches up to us partway through the Zorn Uzkul. Is this a possibility?"

You consider it. It would mean having to observe the Karak until the magic dissipates and the Waystone can be safely unclogged, but you're mobile enough on your Shadowsteed to be able to easily catch up after doing so. "It is."

"Hardly the stuff of songs," Ruprecht says.

"Leaving an empty Dwarfhold in our wake does not sit well with me," Snorri says.

"If we can snatch two Dwarfholds instead of one from the forces of Chaos, it is our responsibility to do so," Ruprecht says.

As the debate goes on, it becomes clear that things are split fairly evenly between the different possibilities. Snorri wants to meet the Daemons head-on, Gotrek wants to fight from a fortified position or not at all, Borek wants to minimize risk to the steam-wagons, Joerg is drawn to the more pragmatic ideas, and Ruprecht favours going all-in on wiping out the daemons. Though Borek is in command of the Expedition, you're fairly sure he's too canny to dictate a response that the majority of his council is against. It looks like you're in a position to tip the scales, once you decide which way you want them to tip.


Argue in favour of:

[ ] Fortify the Karak entrance with the steam-wagons.
Ruprecht, Snorri, and Gotrek are in favour of this idea.
[ ] Fortify the Karak entrance, but keep the steam-wagons disengaged.
Joerg, Gotrek and Borek are in favour of this idea.
[ ] Fortify the road to Kislev to keep the Daemons isolated from population centers.
Joerg, Ruprecht, and Snorri are in favour of this idea.
[ ] Harass the Daemons with cavalry to slow them down enough that they cannot reach population centers in time.
Joerg, Gotrek, and Borek are in favour of this idea.
[ ] Send a warning west, clog the Waystone, and move on.
Joerg, Gotrek, and Borek are in favour of this idea.
[ ] Other (write in)


- There will be a one hour moratorium.
- Any of the fortify plans will take about a day to set up.
- Writing in an idea may or may not succeed; consider the positions supported by the other Councillors to decide whether they're likely to be in favour of a new idea.
 
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There's no way we can walk away from this...

If there are still dwarves inside we probably want to be close by in case they try to sally out when they return to reality.
 
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