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Another point is that no Slayers have gone after Cython, even before actual diplomatic contact while at the same time plenty of Slayers died against the Trolls of Kvinn-Wyr. Presumably there was some kind of rule in place official or unofficial which forbade Slayers from going after an even more glorious death than dying to Trolls in the interest of preventing the Ice Dragon from wiping out Eight Peaks in retaliation. This pragmatic approach has been going on for a while.

I'm pretty sure the original plan was to just hope the dragon never woke up.

Then the Skaven ruined that, as Skaven and plans are natural enemies. Like Skaven and diplomacy, or Skaven and cooperation, or Skaven and loyalty, or Skaven and Skaven.

(Damn Skaven, they ruined Skavenblight.)
 
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Cython speaks Khazalid now, they can have an actual mediator mediate it.

(Mathilde should probably still be there, but more in her role as Loremaster than anything. She has lots of relevant knowledge to this kind of thing, and is very trusted.)
I mean as the only one sufficiently listened to by both parties it may very well have to be Mathilde, unless someone can think of someone that Cython wouldn't dismiss out of hand that Belegar would trust.
 
[X] Be ready to use Rite of Way should it prove necessary
[X] Ice Crone Ljiljana
[X] Head Ranger Snorri Farstrider
[X] Asarnil the Dragonlord
 
I don't think it was ever an actual option. They aren't around anymore.
Maybe they are not around anymore, but their holds and settlements still are, and we can take a look around.

And now that Boney has confirmed that it is extremely unlikely that we got to stop at The Last Hope Inn, and the Hellpit is WAAAY out of our league to infiltrate in... Checking on the Norse Dwarf Holds seems like the most natural sidequest that we can do while in Norsca.
I meant more in the order of 'Norsans have picked it clean' when I said 'there is nothing there.

if there is a hidden hiddy hole or a forgotten vault, finding it will be more then a week's worth of looking.
I admit that it is rather unlikely that we end up finding something really useful, but even if we find nothing intel about the state of said holds is valuabe on itself.

I personally want to try it because it seems like low risk missions with potential (if unlikely) high rewards...

I mean if we find an empty or occupied hold, we get valuable intel, if we roll well enough we can get valuable loot, and if somehow Ranald Smiles upon us as he did with Vlag, we may even find survivors.
 
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Except, you know, we'll do a Rite of Way slot, then Social the loser of Horstman/Asarnil, A Random Jouryneymanling, and Whoever Is Suspected Of Having An Existential Crisis in this weeks' update. :V
 
Headpat Compendium
So I started rereading the story and keeping a tally. It may've spun out of control, but regardless:

Here is a list of every single time Mathilde has received a headpat in the entire story.

Headpat Compendium

Stirland's archives were definitely here, and when you inform Wilhelmina of your discovery, the two of you agree that there's no innocent explanation for why they were here no longer. She thanks you for your help, sincerely and warmly.
The looks from around the table are impressed too. Wilhelmina in particular looks thankful that the end is in sight for the crisis of the absent archives, and Van Hal gives you a nod of approval.
"'We'," he notes, placing down his quill. "It is good of you to approach your work with that word foremost in your mind."
"Well done. I will be seeing to the von Stolpes," Van Hal says.
"I wouldn't have investigated him if you had not tipped me off. The blood is on my hands, but on yours as well." He doesn't sound condemning. In fact, he sounds almost gentle, and a little proud.
"Mmm," Van Hal says neutrally, swirling what remains of his liquor in its mug. "That was my thought too, but I wasn't sure if it was the proper caution of an Elector Count or the leftover instincts of a Witch Hunter. I'm glad your thoughts on the matter align with mine."

"Happy to put your mind at ease," you say, and Van Hal smiles at you.
"Good work. And..." he hesitated.
He looks over at you and raises his eyebrows, clearly impressed. Then his gaze flicks down before he hurriedly looks away again.
He turns to you. "The woman of the hour."
If it weren't for you and Wilhelmina, I might as well take up the halberd once more and march to Drakenhof alone, I'd be doing more good than I could do here.
Van Hal nods. "A thorough investigation. Well done."
"Mmm. Couldn't have done much of a better job myself," he notes, a note of pride in his voice. "I had my doubts about you, but you've really come into your own."
"First off," he says with a uncharacteristic grin, "the women of the hour. Wilhelmina and Mathilde."
Everyone at the table already knew this, but there's a congratulatory round of applause anyway. Anton and Schultz especially look delighted. "Even better than I expected," Van Hal says, "and I've come to expect a great deal from the two of you. Very fine work, you'll be rewarded for this.
Van Hal smiles. "Then, Mathilde, you will have your knighthood. Pick a date, we'll hold the ceremony then."
"I'd drink to that, but at this rate toasting all of your accomplishments is a quick route to intoxication," he jests, a smile on his face. You return it.
"Wouldn't miss it, my girl," he says gruffly. "You were thrown in to the great wide ocean to sink or swim, and by Sigmar you swam."
He sighs. "You succeeded where I failed." He seems to struggle with himself for a moment, then offers, "will you pray with me, Dame Mathilde?"
He muses on that for a while, looking at you oddly. "Sometimes I forget how young you are." You open your mouth to reply, but no reply presents itself. He continues on. "Have you fully grasped the fact that you are the second most powerful person in Stirland?" You blink rapidly as you try to take in this sudden change in direction. "Gustav's new to the role. Kasmir was damn near fired. Anton is..." he hesitates, then moves on. "Schultz serves a very specific niche. And Wilhelmina... is a very close third, actually. She's blossomed. But none of them have the combination of abilities, resources, trust and wide-open mandate that you do. And by Sigmar you do the job damn well. But your problem is that you don't believe in yourself to the degree that this job requires you to.
He looks over at you, and looks you up and down with a critical eye. "This the lass that did such a number on the creatures at the breech?" He stumps over to you and extends his hand, and you shake it gingerly, expecting a rock-crushing grip and surprised at the carefulness with which his fingers close around yours. "You did a day's work there. Nothing a few flame cannon couldn't have done, but I daresay you're more portable than they would be."
He finishes his drink and rises. "Come back soon. It's about time you graduated."
We witnessed your defence of your fallen liege, and have great respect for it. Some of us had taken to call you Govibarazak - she who makes an oath-stone of their liege -
Your company has been of great value and comfort to me.

Yours,

Elector Count Abelhelm Van Hal
With the ritual complete, he leans forwards and claps you on the shoulder. "Well done, my girl."
The Reiksguard are picking green tokens out of their meals for weeks to come, and the Palace sends a grudging thankyou to the Grey Order that is passed on to you as a souvenir.
"Likewise. This is not the first time you've come to my attention; first the matter with the Knighthood, then there's that wonderful Matrix of yours.
So I'm afraid all I can offer you to commemorate the occasion is my congratulations."
Belegar thanks you in that gruff and understated way that dwarves have: quietly, but with steel in his voice.
"Heard more about you since you joined," he says thoughtfully. "The business in the land of the Vampires. Neat bit of work, that."
Ulthar and some of his Rangers are in the third wave, and they begin organizing for a foray into the depths of the keep, but he gives you a single, satisfied nod.
"You know," Belegar said thoughtfully. "Mayhaps the manlings legalizing the Zhufokri wasn't such a terrible idea, after all."

"Hmph," said Kragg, in a tone of voice that would terrify most lesser Dwarves, but one that Belegar had learned was only his baseline level of disapproving. "Takes more than one good axe for a workshop to prove itself."

"If you dig a mine and get fifty cartloads of muck and one fistful of gold," Ulthar said thoughtfully. "What you've got there is a gold mine."

"Hmph," said Kragg again. But there was no arguing with a good mining metaphor.
"Did some old souls good to see Grobi falling harmlessly from the sky. Well done.
And though a thousand songs will be sung of the Final Battle of Karag Lhune, I've found I much preferred the Hall of the Moon." The silence between you stretches, broken only by the unceasing tapping of hammer against chisel and chisel against rock. "When we first met in the manling fortress of Grenzstadt, you said you were wandering. Strollendreki. When I spoke to the lads from Karak Kadrin, I got a fair idea why. I don't know whether you'll find what you're looking for here, but know you can always find shelter here while Angrund hearts beat under these mountains."
"Spoke to Kragg," King Belegar says, shaking you from your ponderings. "He said a whole lot about how only a greenskin could be stupid enough to allow the opening that they allowed you. But after that, he said that he had no choice to concede that you were clever to exploit it the way you did, rather than just batting the spell aside. Needless to say, that's the highest of praise anyone, man or Dawi, is likely to get from him."
"The general Runic insight is solid, nothing earthshaking but there's good information there and a lot of it. Good read, too." Another period of silence, and you've only got his gradually raising eyebrows to gauge his reaction by. "They hardly ever bring those Anvils to battle, and I've never even heard of some of those abilities. Damn cagey Dwarves. This one's a cracker, too." The third one is a great deal shorter, but the information goes over just as well. "That title would give a lot of generals heart attacks. Good information, damn good information. I daresay these will see some widespread reading. If this is what's going to come out of that place, it won't just be the diplomatic sorts that want you to stay put.
"Of course you would be - the Sylvania business. If I give you my thanks any more often it'd save time to just leave them in your care permanently.
You're told several times that making good process on learning two separate extremely difficult spells is amazing progress for a time investment of weeks,
"I would've killed them," King Belegar says slowly. "Even after the Gorzhufokri got them talking, if anyone but you had suggested making an accord with them, I'd have had them shoo the beasts into the Underway and then doubled the guard in case they came back."
"A Grey? But..." His eyes flick down to your belt, and then to your sword. "The famous Mathilde Weber."
She looks down at the ledger again, and then at the head. "I'm beginning to understand what he saw in you. In what Magnus saw in your kind."
He sighs in relief. "Thank every God there is for that.
"Actually no, one of our up-and-coming Magisters. Dame Weber."

"Oh?" He turns his full attention to you. "I greatly enjoyed Dragon Ogres and Volcanic Lightning. You got them all?"
"I should have guessed," he says with a smile, "I've heard good things from the Dwarves.
"We do not celebrate the death of foes here," King Ungrim says, turning back to you. "Only the death of Slayers. But that does not mean we are ungrateful. Belegar may be young and impetuous, but victory needs no apologies."
"Utonki," you greet him with scandalous familiarity, and the scowl he shoots you lasts only until he sets eyes on your cargo. A satisfied smile spreads across his face.
"A generous gift, from an unexpected quarter." Daroir smiles in anticipation. "It is a rare gambit of Teclis that does not bear fruit. I am glad to see the blossoming of this flower."
"Good." He prods one of the fangs of the skull, then passes it back to you. "Great, in fact.
he sighs. "Never mind. Now, you've been turning heads. Bad business, that was. Normally their own jealousy and paranoia prevents them from just mass-producing necromancers, but there's always going to be exceptions and it's a damn good thing you caught it before it had a chance to bloom. So partly because of that and partly because 'Court Wizard to a Dwarfhold' has been raising an eyebrow or two, it's been decided that you're to be given full access to Battle Magic."
Finally you experience the extremely disconcerting sensation of changing your position between one instant and the next, and smile with pride as Regimand claps you on the shoulder,
"'Mundane'. Good qualifier."
He returns it. "You've become quite a credit to the College. Keep it up, young Magister."
There's a moment of silence. "Aye, we likely will," Kazador says at last. He claps you once on the shoulder, then turns and leaves.
"Suitable," he admits after long scrutiny. "Not how I prefer things, but suitable.
"Hmph," he finally says, which is Kragg for 'of course it's not as good as I'd like, but its flaws are not serious enough for me to completely disregard it'.
"Fine work," Kragg says, leaning against the parapet and gazing out at a sea of ash in satisfaction.
"You're welcome to join me in the unenviable task of watching instead of doing, but now more than ever I've faith that you know how best you can contribute."
Algard approaches you one evening. "Very fine work, Magister.
He exhales, and a tiny amount of the tension seems to go out of him. "Thank you," he says simply.
He sighs again. "Thank you. Once more I am in your debt."

Normally, you love to be praised in this matter. Today it leaves you cold.
Everything changed in a single day, and thanks to every Dwarf and man and Halfling but especially thanks to Loremaster Mathilde, we did not only survive, but we have won.
Even you hunt, and you are the most-Echo of the not-We, who must know how only one you are."
"This could... no, this will save lives. Probably a lot of them.
You dropped this one in the classified pile, right?" You nod again. "Good. Bloody rats." A few more gestures, and that report disappears. "And a third... Winning the War Below? I suppose you've earned some hubris," he says with a smile,
He turns his attention back to the book. "This is astounding work, Magister. And it's about to make the War Below a lot more interesting. Most will never learn of this, and even fewer will know that it was done by you, but those that matter will."
"I hate this," he finally says, glaring at the pool meant to be filled with heartsblood. "I hate it almost as much as I hate the idea of an unchecked Ice Dragon. Good work. I'll have it secured within the Citadel, and hope it never sees use."
"Your ascent through the ranks has been meteoric," he says, consulting a sheet of encoded notes, "but unlike most who could be described that way, there seems to be no doubts as to your loyalty or worthiness. Your service to the late and lamented Hunter-Count was impeccable, as has been your assistance to his daughter, even when you had every reason and excuse not to. And your continued aid to the Dwarf-folk has been quite the exemplar.
You are to be commended for your diligence, and for your ability to forge ties with the Dwarves - which I can attest is no small feat."
He nods. "You're too useful to be lost on impossible revanchism."
"Blood Dragons with rusted swords." She smothers a giggle with her stein. "That does help. Thank you."
"May you bring them as much fortune as you brought us," Belegar says with a nod.
If the Karaz Ankor has a future, it is alongside the men of the Empire, as High King Kurgan Ironbeard decreed so long ago. So I sent you."
You complete your circuit, and see an empty eighth chair in the circle surrounding you. "And now yours. Take a seat, Lady Magister Weber."
"We had planned to let you season a few more years," Algard says with a smile, "but if you're going into hell, it's only proper you shall do so in the rank you have earned."
"If you need to rest, you've done your share and then some.
"You manlings are full of surprises," he says, turning to look at you.
"Won't ask how you did it, but I'm glad you did," he says to you.
"Well," he eventually says, "I suppose that's why I haven't encountered it before. That's an impressive spell to have made from scratch."
"Maybe more than slightly," you hear Borek mutter to himself behind you, and your smile widens.
"Yha, did not quite reach the handle. You did well, tovaritch. Za-Nekulturny would have been bothersome."

(I'm very impressed at the capacity and memory of the multi quote function, by the way.)

If its not here its cause it didn't meet my Very Strict And Official Criteria For Headpats, and definitely not because I missed it or anything.

As for why I did this. Well its cause, ah. Hm. Actually why did I do this?
 
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In this quest at least it seems like they can be loyal to Gods (the Horned Rat) and institutions (their Clan and the Cult of the Horned Rat). It's individuals they have trouble with so while they are loyal to their Clan they don't trust their superiors (including the head of the Clan), their peers, and their subordinates. Which is why Qretch was fine killing his predecessor but still refuses to hand over his Clan dialect even though they betrayed him, he seems to blame the betrayal on Skaven who happened to be part of Clan Moulder while remaining loyal to the institution of Clan Moulder as a whole.
 
Except, you know, we'll do a Rite of Way slot, then Social the loser of Horstman/Asarnil, A Random Jouryneymanling, and Whoever Is Suspected Of Having An Existential Crisis in this weeks' update. :V
The thing is that seeing how the side quests are the only thing that have saved this goddammed expedition from being an absolute disaster... I think that it is likely that we try again when there is a side quest that is more interesting than hunting baby seals for a blanket.

Plus, seeing how lucky we have been this far with Lost Dwarven Holds, it seems very likely that we will want to try our luck again :V.
 
I mean I could be convinced for looking at the Norse Dwarfs provided we uh know where these holds are supposed to be. That's a destination vs wandering and hoping.
 
"A generous gift, from an unexpected quarter." Daroir smiles in anticipation. "It is a rare gambit of Teclis that does not bear fruit. I am glad to see the blossoming of this flower."
I noticed something about this headpat: Elven metaphors are complex and may not mean what they imply, but following this one through more literally than may be intended - They expect the plan to bear fruit and they've seen the blossoming of the flower.

They don't think this is the greatest thing we'll do for Ulthuan - the flower is the beautiful display that foreshadows the far more useful fruit.
 
Some of those headpats are very sad in hindsight. Abelhelm's death was very impactful as a reader and IMO did good things for the sense of risk present in the quest - but that doesn't make it any less sad to reread his previous best moments. And the letter he left us was just :cry:
He knew we were a spy and a wizard, and yet he trusted us anyway...
 
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@GrimTheMad

There's a moment of silence. "Aye, we likely will," Kazador says at last. He claps you once on the shoulder, then turns and leaves.

This... was not a headpat. It was an acknowledgement of a choice Mathilde made. Compassion and perhaps gratitude.

But not adulation or celebration.
---
Edit: uh, nice list tho.
 
[x] Study the seals and ice crabs that call this ice home
[x] Attempt to locate and observe an icebreaker-led convoy from Uzkulak
[X] Magister Egrimm van Horstmann
[x] Attempt to make contact with the Baersonlings
 
@GrimTheMad



This... was not a headpat. It was an acknowledgement of a choice Mathilde made. Compassion and perhaps gratitude.

But not adulation or celebration.
---
Edit: uh, nice list tho.

By my Very Strict And Official Criteria For Headpats (which shall remain a secret) it qualifies. :V

(Mostly cause I read it as an expression of gratitude for being willing to take it on so he didn't have to, as befits a Thane. Its not a happy headpat, but sad headpats are still headpats.)
 
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This... was not a headpat. It was an acknowledgement of a choice Mathilde made. Compassion and perhaps gratitude.
It's also the closest she's ever gotten to an actual, physical headpat. Well, unless Wolf counts as part of her, in which case she probably gets a whole pile of them.
Isn't it unfair how Good Boys get headpats so easily? Especially when they're massive wolves that you just don't dare ignore!
 
It's also the closest she's ever gotten to an actual, physical headpat. Well, unless Wolf counts as part of her, in which case she probably gets a whole pile of them.
Isn't it unfair how Good Boys get headpats so easily? Especially when they're massive wolves that you just don't dare ignore!
We used to dodge them, and/or the thematically-overlapping though-more-diminishing hair-ruffles.
Despite all you've seen and done, you're still shocked, but refuse to show it. "Very well. Give me my half."

He laughs, and long-dormant reflexes come to the fore as you duck his attempt to ruffle your hair. "Half? Not a task for a journeywoman.
 
[X] Asarnil the Dragonlord
[X] Deathfang
[X] Attempt to make contact with the Baersonlings
- The Norscan tribe that calls the area you'll soon be travelling through home. They are known for their bravery and their golden hair.
[X] Study the seals and ice crabs that call this ice home
- With Esbern and Seija
 
We have regular friendly chats with them
We have reasonably cordial professional relations.
and they're in our book club.
That's just a joke we tell, not the truth.
They don't need to be willing to risk their life for us to be considered a friend.
How's about "mildly inconvenience themselves to prevent a risk to our life"?
Relationships evolve, as Roswita proves. Anyone who made the cut as a romantic prospect is a friend, at minimum.
That includes people we had met exactly once, like the elf ambassador. Our ability to have the hots for someone says nothing about whether we're friends, or even that they care if we live or die.

Cython isn't even willing to be inconvenienced for our sake. That's not a friend.

Snorri will likely spend his next few decades helping Vlag. Again this is something we would have to go well out of our way to be meaningfully involved in.
I have zero doubt the thread will pay attention to Vlag, we haven't gotten our headpats from them yet.

Right, I'm happy we got this perspective on Kohler even if I now have essentially no interest in her going forward. She sounds close to going Khornate but that's probably just her Aqshy showing, and fortunately Khorne hates magic so not something we need to worry about.
Honestly, I'd worry more about Slaanesh what with the desire for intimate violence.

At minimum, as loremaster of K8P and reigning high ranking wizard who also did a treaty of non aggression with him, as long as he lives at his peak we have every right to tell a wizard who wants to try to enslave him. "Fuck no. Leave. Or we will kill you." because doing so would be allowing an act of treachery and endanger K8p. Because Belegar would not allow someone to try to enslave the dragon he made a treaty of nonaggression with.
Non aggression, not mutual defense.
Another point is that no Slayers have gone after Cython, even before actual diplomatic contact while at the same time plenty of Slayers died against the Trolls of Kvinn-Wyr. Presumably there was some kind of rule in place official or unofficial which forbade Slayers from going after an even more glorious death than dying to Trolls in the interest of preventing the Ice Dragon from wiping out Eight Peaks in retaliation. This pragmatic approach has been going on for a while.
Slayers can only allow themselves to die in meaningful battle; Cython isn't an enemy so even though he isn't a friend they can't seek death against him.
 
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