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Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties - an Advisor's Quest

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BoneyM said:
Magic Dart does not ignore armour, no.
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Berthold would disagree. :V
BoneyM said:
The first magic dart raises a puff of dirt from the ground they're circling each other on, going unnoticed by either of them. Okay. You line up for a moment, bring Ulgu into you, and unleash-

There's a mighty clang, and every head in the courtyard swivels to seek the source. Berthold sways for a moment and then collapses like a puppet with it's strings cut, and lays unmoving on the ground.

[DRAWING ATTENTION, Roll, Magic, 13+8=21. Miss.]
[DRAWING ATTENTION PART TWO, Roll, Magic, Natural One! Direct hit!]

Oh dear.

[ ] Continue with your original plan, even though the courtyard is swarming with servants, almost empty of Greatswords, and you just knocked out a Knight of the Order of the Hammer of Sigmar with an apprentice-level spell.
[ ] Change course. Think of and act on a different plan (write in).
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BoneyM said:
I = Invented. Mathilde created this spell herself, and as such will be entitled to some of the credit whenever it comes in handy. However, she can never Master it.
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BoneyM said:
I / Mathilde's Multidimensional Aethyric Projection: Allows the caster to project, edit and colour a fairly low-resolution 3D visualization.
- Very suitable for creating and editing dynamic maps. Related to Marsh Lights, due to its simplicity it is likely it could be translated to other Winds.
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New stuff.
 
I would consider Invented spells to already be 'Mastered', and that others will have to use an inferior version. But that's me!
 
Shard said:
I would consider Invented spells to already be 'Mastered', and that others will have to use an inferior version. But that's me!
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Mmm I kinda come at it from a different perspective, which is that she was able to invent it because of her circumstances, specific knowledge of magic and her Arcane Marks. And because of what I think Mastery is; adapting a spell you learn to your circumstances specific knowledge of magic and your own Arcane Marks it simply isn't possible for her to undergo the same process with the Matrix or the Map spell.
 
To Master a spell is to take the generic and make it personal. It isn't the act of 'improving' the spell, as such. It is changing the spell to better fit who you are. Which of course is why masteries cannot be taught, only reverse engineered into new spells. Someone who isn't dedicate and willing to push themselves to the limits of exhaustion wouldn't get a Relentless Shadowsteed or Indefatigable Armour.
 
I just found this quest, this campaign is fun, we should consider upping Intrigue when normal turns resume, its kinda weird that we were a spymistress when intrigue is only our fourth best stat.
 
For intrigue stuff there's a real question on if we want to be good at individual action/scouting/sabotage or setting up networks and trying to get things in place to handle themselves. While both benefit from the intrigue stat, for the first I feel like the more efficient method of improvement is upping our magic and martial as well as intrigue, whereas for the second we'd want to focus on intrigue, stewardship, and diplomacy.

Also, some people have been tossing around ideas about doing some focused research. If we do that then I think we might want to use dwarf favor to hire a good mathematics tutor for Mathilde rather than just jumping in, especially if we're going to be hanging around the dwarfs while we're at it. Math looks like it could be useful for generic magic and enchanting, and especially crucial for stuff like spell development and mixed enchantment ideas (like the augmenting a rile with substance of shadow for silencing and easy reloading someone brought up earlier).
 
BungieONI said:
Mmm I kinda come at it from a different perspective, which is that she was able to invent it because of her circumstances, specific knowledge of magic and her Arcane Marks. And because of what I think Mastery is; adapting a spell you learn to your circumstances specific knowledge of magic and your own Arcane Marks it simply isn't possible for her to undergo the same process with the Matrix or the Map spell.
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I imagine that the spell would be Moderately Complicated for other mages to learn but Relatively Simple for Mathilde; Mathilde has just ingrained it so well unto herself, and is already personalized besides.
 
To simplify the logic: you can't instinctually modify a spell to fit yourself, when you already made said spell by instinctually willing it into being. It's essentially already mastered.

@BoneyM would a spell we created through painstaking study be masterable?
 
Grey Magic isn't well suited to it, and temperamentally, nor is Mathilde. But yes, in that case it's not so much creating a spell as it is discovering it.
 
BoneyM said:
Grey Magic isn't well suited to it, and temperamentally, nor is Mathilde. But yes, in that case it's not so much creating a spell as it is discovering it.
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I'm having trouble thinking of instances where their temperaments differ (most likely due to an incomplete understanding of the nature of Ulgu, but still). Can anybody come up with any examples?
 
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Karak Eight Peaks: A Quiet Interlude
  • Threadmarks
    • [*] King Belegar Ironhammer
    [*] Grand Master Ruprecht Wulfhart
    [*] Head Ranger Ulthar Alriksson

    [*] Mathilde's Multidimensional Aethyric Projection

    You've an urge to return to the East Gates and collect your quickly-growing Familiar to spend some quality time with him, but the people you've decided to check in with are all here in Karag Lhune, so you quash the desire. The Colleges warn against Familiar Obsession, though opinion remains divided as to whether it's a side effect of the familiar bond itself or just the consequence of being treated with suspicion and prejudice by most others a Wizard will interact with. Your puppy is having a grand old time making friends with the Halfling and Dwarf ladies back at the East Gates, who have proven no more resistant to the charms of a puppy than their human counterparts. He'll be just fine without you for another few days or so.

    So you finish your tankard, rise to your feet, and smile out at the East Valley as the setting sun turns it into a beautiful pattern of jagged shadows.

    ---

    Ulthar remains in the Chiselwards, overseeing the ongoing fortification of the three choke points against the spider-controlled portions of the cave. You pause on your way to him in the ruined room that you and he were using as a base of operations, and find yourself smiling - though your spell has faded, someone with a knack for stonecrafting has chiselled the map you projected onto a wall. You summon a shadowchisel, think for a moment, and carve 'courtesy of Mathilde's Multidimensional Aethyric Projection' underneath it. Mathilde's MAP, you think with a grin. Maybe if it becomes popular enough, people might start to think that's where the word 'map' came from.

    You entertain yourself with that ridiculous daydream as you make your way through the Chiselwards. The former Squig-farming portions are a mess of splattered mushroom fluids and smouldering spot-fires, whereas the mushroom-farming parts are filled with busy Dwarves. This close to the enemy every Dwarf wears leather and chainmail and carries at least a hand-axe, but the clumsiness of their movements and jumpiness suggests these are civilians, or as close as the Karaz Ankor has to civilians these days. With a careful eye, they examine every sprouting spore and either crush it with gloved hands or transplant it into proper rows. This part of the mountain is destined to become living quarters rather than farming caves, but the Dwarves will allow the edible mushrooms to finish growing and provide one final harvest here.

    Ulthar is at the central watch post, which is roughly equidistant between the two others. Already some crude beds have been set up, and what looks like a rotating watch of two dozen Dwarves has been set up. A series of ropes hang from the roof, dangling from u-pegs driven into the stone, and a bell on the end suggests a purpose. "Dead Man's Switches, or for reinforcements?" you ask, and the Head Ranger looks up from his conversation with a smile.

    "Reinforcements," he says, waving away the Thunderer he had been talking to. "As long as there aren't any undiscovered tunnel branches, and I've got Rangers scouring every inch of stone for them just in case, they shouldn't be sneaky enough to reach the fortifications unseen."

    "Any probing?"

    "Some," he says. "A few have tried charging and been made to regret it. But every one that has tried it has been crippled or undersized. Maybe they're just the most desperate, maybe they're the ones losing fights for territory and being forced out, but..."

    "But they'd also be the most disposable." You frown.

    "I might be jumping at shadows, but I'd rather overreact than underreact." He waves at the barricades, where rubble embankments were being replaced with freshly-quarried stone blocks. Four of the Dwarf-portable bolt throwers stand loaded and ready, their javelin-sized bolts staring down the well-lit tunnel, and a central position remains clear. "Durin's alright, considering he's from Karak Norn - halfway to being elves, that lot - and he's got three cannon on their way over. Once there's grapeshot pointing down the tunnels I'll be a lot happier."

    You stare down the tunnel, biting your lip in thought. The way to deal with an infestation of unthinking creatures is completely different to how you'd deal with a social hive - or, and you cross your fingers and hope fervently isn't the case, an occupying force of intelligent beings. A slowly-advancing shieldwall covering a rank or two of Thunderers or Quarrelers would dislodge an infestation but would be dangerously vulnerable to a number of tactics, should the spiders prove capable of them. On the other hand, dedicating enough forces and leadership here to account for every possibility could leave other fronts undermanned. Too many variables, not enough hard facts. "When in doubt, fortify," you eventually conclude.

    Ulthar nods. "Same conclusion I reached." He turns and stares down the tunnel, at the darkness that dominates the tunnel beyond the reach of the flickering torchlight. Dwarves have sharp eyes in near-darkness, but in total darkness they're as helpless as men.

    You are not quite so limited. Ulgu clings where light and darkness meet, and lingers long after the light has gone. At the end of the tunnel, far beyond the light, where it narrows then opens into a larger chamber, your magical senses reveal to you a creature returning your stare fourfold. At least enough intelligence for curiosity must reside within, for Ulgu denies the call of gravity to swirl around it as its mind wrestles with the unknown. Is this merely the natural cunning every ambush predator must possess? The process of adaptation that smarter creatures are capable of? Or is this a thinking scout compiling information to be shared with others of its kind?

    You turn your back on the creature and take a seat with Ulthar after filling a wooden tankard from a nearby barrel and grimacing at the taste. Your journeys with the Dwarves have started to refine your palate, and this isn't your typical dinner ale, nor a celebratory quaff - this is Ranger ale, made from the hardy and semi-domesticated grasses Rangers spread the seeds of wherever they range regularly, as well as the seeds of a handful of varieties of near-indestructible shrubs. Tastes like warm death going down, but it gives you a kick of energy. "So, Ulthar," you begin. "What's this about a siege weapon in the armoury?"

    He winces. "That's-" he begins, then considers. "The amount you've already done, I'll not shut you out. Don't go repeating this to your manling friends, mind."

    "I swear," you say instantly. And truthfully, too. You might report whatever he says to your superiors in the Grey College, but they're not exactly your friends, are they?

    "Well, before the Time of Woes was the War of Vengeance, and before the War of Vengeance we actually somehow got along with the pointy-eared buggers. If you believe the stories - and maybe you shouldn't, because there's many a Longbeard that considers history to be the ore one smelts and shapes - we were stupid enough to teach the bastards the secrets of torsion and tension so their sailors could defend their trade ships. What Kragg found in that armoury, and somehow prevented himself from smashing to pieces, appears to be a proof of concept. A bolt thrower that fires six lesser bolts between reloads." He shrugs, and drinks. "O'course, that could all be krut. Maybe some cheeky Engineer decided to tweak some noses by proving whatever Elgi could do, Dawi could do better. Maybe the stupid thing doesn't even work, which is why it was sealed up in the Armoury instead of fighting and dying with the rest of the Hold. Whatever it is, it's Durin's problem now."

    ---

    You've shared a Council of War with Grand Master Ruprecht Wulfhart for the past three months or so, but you've never approached him outside of them and neither has he approached you. You are told he is in the Hangars that his men recently fought for, and you watch him thoughtfully as you prepare to break this precedent.

    The Grand Master of a Knightly Order is an unusual title, and his specifically combines the role of Commander with a High Priest of the Cult of Ulric. In theory he would be under the authority of both the Emperor and the Ar-Ulric, but as his presence here demonstrates, in practice he and his Order are entirely independent - at least as long as he doesn't outright work against either. Currently he is fulfilling his religious role, as he speaks a few words over the bodies of the fallen and lights each pyre as he passes. The flame of his torch was lit from a heavily reinforced lantern one of his men would have transported from the baggage train, which itself was lit from the even more reinforced and carefully-designed brazier that the Knights have brought with them, and its flame would have been lit from the Sacred Flame of Ulric in Middenheim. Many Morrites would consider this form of funeral blasphemous, but Ulricans tend to be a practical lot, and when far from the Gardens of Morr they consider the Sacred Flame they carry with them sufficient to carry the souls of the dead to their rest. Magnus the Pious once stood unburned in that flame to rebut claims he was an agent of the Dark Gods, and went on to fight the Great War Against Chaos and be crowned Emperor, and it was by his decree that the Colleges of Magic were founded. Though your soul belongs to Ranald, you cannot deny a stirring in you as you watch the holy flames envelop the fallen.

    What isn't said too often is that Magnus the Pious had to stand in the flames because the Ar-Ulric of the time was denouncing him as a pawn of Chaos. You know little of the current Ar-Ulric, but you do know the Winter Wolves have severed ties with both him and Middenheim.

    With his task done, the Grand Master steps back from the pyres and watches them burn as one of his Knights leans in and has a word in his ear. The man turns and scans the Hangars - now much less cluttered, with the greenskin city dismantled and either thrown from the mountain or used as firewood - until his eyes reach you. The man is a warrior first, but his rank means he has had to learn at least something of statecraft, and you can see the wheels turning in his head as he contemplates the choice before him. He could ignore you, which under the circumstances would not be a snub, but instead a tacit acknowledgement that you have as much right to be here as he does. He could come to you, or summon you to him. Either would be an acknowledgement of your rank - he is technically your superior, as the Grey Order would be roughly equivalent to his own, but that technicality is one few are foolish enough to try to wield against a Magister. If he came to you he'd cede the initiative but imply that your presence is a trespass to be reacted to, while calling you to him would retain the initiative but be a tacit acceptance of your presence. He could also choose to highlight your difference in rank by sending an underling to either dismiss or summon you.

    It is a horribly intricate game, and one that you're not particularly good at, but you at least know the moves.

    At last he beckons you over, and with only a little reluctance you leave the embrace of the shadows to walk with him to the edge of the cavern that stands open, presumably for the vast Dwarven airships of times past to enter and exit through. Below you the East Valley stretches out, and you can see growing fortifications of the East Gate on one side and the crumbling form of the Citadel on another, flanked by foothills. Beyond those is the vast caldera that stands at the center of Karak Eight Peaks, once filled with hardy Dwarven crops and now home to a significantly less appetizing harvest of greenskins, their ramshackle hovels stretching from one edge to the other, burning fires forming innumerable pinpricks of light as the sun sets. If they're the same tribe that held the East Gate, then the Broken Toof may be a stronger presence in the Karak than you thought. If not, who are they? And how far does their influence reach?

    Finally, Ruprecht breaks the silence. "We remain loyal to Ulric and His Empire," he says carefully, "and not those that claim to speak in His name."

    You do your best to keep your face neutral. "I've no doubt," you reply.

    "Dwarves are..." his face twists as he searches for words. "Sometimes, not all one could wish for," he says finally. "But nor are we. As allies, they do not dishonour us."

    What? you think. "I agree," you say.

    "And the enemies of Dwarves are ones we can bloody our weapons against happily." You nod, and for a moment relief shows on his face. "On that topic, you wield yours with unexpected skill," he nods to the hilt showing over your shoulder, his desire for a safer topic clear. "I've heard the sword is the symbol of your Order, but not that it was also your weapon."

    "It isn't always," you say, partly glad that the topic has switched to something you actually understand but still utterly confused. The reputation of the Grey College requires that a Magister never let on that they've got no idea what is going on, but damn it, you want answers. "I learned during my service to Stirland from Sir Markus von Pfaffbach, Champion of Stirland's Greatswords, who fell during the Sieges of the Drakenhofs."

    "I've heard tales of that campaign from some Knights Panther," he says. "Not what I'd call glorious, but it never is with the Undead, and it certainly got the job done."

    You trade tales of past battles and he starts to relax, and then the topic moves to wolves. Though you're not sure whether yours is properly a wolf, you're pretty sure he's not one of the Giant Wolves that the elite of the Winter Wolves ride, but there's enough common ground for it to be a safe and happy topic of conversation. Ulric and his followers might not like or trust magic, but the reputation of the Grey Order is such that they're cautious rather than disdainful of you, and that's a foundation you can work with. By the time you part ways with the Grand Master, you wouldn't quite call him a friend, but there is a growing sense of mutual respect.

    ---

    Technically, Belegar has always been King Belegar; or at least he has been for as long as you've known him - you suppose he had to have been Prince Belegar at one point. But to be a king-in-exile, the latest in a line of kings who have not ruled their supposed kingdom in three thousand years, is very different to being a king in one's kingdom. You've had to mentally remind yourself of his title more than once on this Expedition, but you doubt you'll have to again. In place of the horned helmet you'd seen atop his head for the past few months, there stands a silver crown of sturdy construction that seems no less capable of taking a blow. It bears eight points and each of those points has the socket for a jewel, and only one of those sockets is currently filled. The symbolism is obvious, as is the aura of confidence that radiates from him.

    The sole sapphire twinkles in the torchlight as King Belegar stands in the Hall of Oaths, and one by one Dwarves speak ritual phrases in Khazalid. The atmosphere in the Hall is solemn, not least of which because to one side the names of the fallen are still being added, but just outside the newly-unsealed doors, newly-minted members of Clan Huzkul celebrate their new identity. By the door stand a pair of Hammerers, the Dwarven equivalent of Greatswords, and even from across the room you can feel the power contained in the runes they bear. You wonder if the Hammerers have been founded because of the discovery of the weapons, or whether that was just a convenient timing and King Belegar could only be guarded by Hammerers once he had a Karak to go with his title.

    Finally the last of Clan Huzkul swears his oath, and King Belegar stands alone before the Altar of Grimnir. If he's tired after the day's work, he doesn't show it, and at his gesture you move to stand beside him as he gazes at the names freshly carved into the wall.

    "A thousand times I'd dreamed of the day I finally stood inside the mountains of my ancestors," he says at last. "None of the dreams were anything like what happened. The bloodbath with the trolls, that spectacle of animosity and cowardice in the Hall of the Moon - I didn't know whether to curse you or thank you." He grimaces. "Then word reached me of the battle for the Stairway, and there I saw perhaps a hundred Dwarves already dead or dying, a further hundred felled before my eyes by crude Grobi iron, and a hundred more falling down the shaft as we paid in blood for every step. 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."

    ---

    The next morning brings headaches to those that overindulged and ten leaders to the King's Gates - there still being a great deal of work to do before the insides of Karag Lhune can be considered hospitable. Kragg's habitual scowl is sharper than ever, either from being drawn away from his study in the Armoury or from his discovery in the Temple of Grungni, so King Belegar passes right over him to Ulthar.

    "Apart from the spider half of the Chiselwards, Karag Lhune is as cleared as we can make it without a week of sweeps," he reports. "If they're like Forest Spiders - and there's no guarantee of that - they'll start to eat each other after about two weeks, and from there their numbers will halve every week. So unless there's an exit we don't know about, they'll start probing our fortifications soon enough."

    "I'd pay their weight in gold for some Drakeguns," King Belegar grumbles.

    "We've repaired the gates that open to the Grand Avenue, and we're building up layers of defences behind them. We've sent a few probes out into it and haven't seen anything, but there's a whiff of Skaven in the air. We've also put a net across the bottom of the shaft - even before it fell, the Grand Abyss was never even close to fully mapped, so better not to take chances."

    "Agreed. Skaroki?"

    "Most of our losses were among the Warriors with no Hold affiliation and the Thunderers, before the Umgi warriors arrived. We'll be relying on Quarrelers or bows for ranged fighting from now on."

    "A great many of them are now affiliated with Karak Eight Peaks," King Belegar corrects, but without rancour. "The Hangars were brutal, but this was never going to be an easy war. Durin?"

    "The East Gates are about as fortified as we can expect them to be without a good century of work," he reports, as all eyes turn to where the innermost defences can be seen. "The Citadel orcs have tried to venture out a few times and got brutalized for it - from their tattoos, they're Broken Toof."

    "The Crooked Moon Tribe was dealing in Broken Toof Orc slaves and recruiting the Goblins, even before we arrived," you note. "So their power here could already have been in decline."

    "That might not be the case," Ulthar warns. "We saw Black Orcs at the gate, and if they're in charge of the Broken Toof they'll care nothing for losing regular greenskins."

    "We've also found at least some of the southern side-entrances to Karag Nar," Durin continues. "We've got a watch on them for now, but they could be our entrance as easily as they'd be an exit."

    "That or the Avenue," King Belegar muses. "Have you found where the Avenue reaches the Gates?"

    "Not yet," Durin says with a frown. "If it was collapsed during the fall, three thousand years of erosion would make it invisible."

    "We may have to re-excavate it from the inside. Damn. Grand Master Kriegerson, Grand Master Wulfhart. Would either of your Orders' mounts deal well with the darkness?"

    The former shakes his head, but the latter is smiling. "Better than Night Goblins, I can say from experience."

    "Having some sort of cavalry in the Grand Avenue could be vital. Marksman Petrescu, how do your men fare?"

    Codrin thinks before he speaks, his soft voice a contrast to the steel you know is underneath. "My countrymen have taken minimal casualties," he says, "but I regret to report that rumours of treasure have taken hold amongst the unaffiliated. Quite a few have slipped away, either to try their luck at the Citadel or to seek their own entrance to the mountains."

    "Regrettable," King Belegar says. "But I doubt they'll cause any harm, and they may take some greenskins with them. Marshal Muggins?"

    "Some of Ulthar's Rangers have been teaching mountaineering to my men," he says. "We've also been standing pickets at night to prevent any surprise raids from the Citadel."

    King Belegar nods. "The first battle is won, but the Expedition's work continues. We need to find the path to Und-Uzgar so we can better project force along Death Pass - the greenskins of Karak Drazh have yet to make themselves known, but we can't count on that remaining the case. Failing that, it would become necessary to take Karagril and place siege weapons above Death's Crossing." Heads swivel to look at the northernmost mountain, and the chain of foothills that separate it from the East Valley. Hopefully that won't prove necessary in the immediate future.

    "Secondly," King Belegar continues, "the East Valley cannot be held as is. If we take Karag Nar, then our current holdings will all link up. Alternately, we could take and hold the portion of the Grand Avenue between Karag Lhune and the East Gate. Finally, we could take or destroy the Citadel, and secure the East Valley." Though it does not nearly compare to the mountain below you, the Citadel remains intimidatingly tall.

    "Finally, we need to know more about our new neighbours. If Karagril or Kvinn-Wyr or some part adjoining us via the Avenue prove capable of threatening us, we need to know now, rather than after we've declared victory and sent everyone home."

    The meeting breaks up with Ulthar and his Rangers having shouldered the brunt of the work, though Titus' Fieldwardens and the Winter Wolves will be assisting. The War for Karak Eight Peaks has entered a lull, and only time will tell where the next battle will be. Your abilities make you quite capable of contributing to the scouting that must be done, but your position within the Expedition means the decision is yours to make.


    [ ] Search Karag Lhune for the path to Und-Uzgar with Clan Huzkul.
    [ ] Plan to secure the East Valley by scouting Karag Nar with Ulthar's Rangers.
    [ ] Plan to secure the East Valley by scouting the Citadel with Ulthar's Rangers.
    [ ] Plan to secure the East Valley by scouting the Grand Avenue with Skaroki's Miners.
    [ ] Scout for future trouble in Kvinn-Wyr with Titus' Fieldwardens.
    [ ] Scout for future trouble in Karagril with Ulthar's Rangers.
    [ ] Scout for future trouble along the Grand Avenue with the Winter Wolves.
    [ ] Other (write in)


    - Belegar has lost the trait: Crossroads. Belegar has acquired the trait: Goraki: Most Dwarves consider Ranger tactics - ambushes, trickery, assassinations and sabotage - to be distasteful. This Dwarf has embraced them.
    - This round of scouting will be much shorter than previous - just poke around, see who lives there, and get out.
    - The East Gate is flanked by Kvinn-Wyr to the south and Karag Nar to the north. After Karag Nar is Karag Lhune, which you currently hold, and then Karagril. Kvinn-Wyr, Karag Nar, and Karag Lhune hem the East Valley.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Scout for future trouble along the Grand Avenue with the Winter Wolves.

    We're uniquely suited to keep pace with the cavalry, so I'd take this or searching for the hidden entrance with clan Huzkul.
     
    Belegar is a bro.

    Also Belegar: "Are Ranger tactics distasteful to some, aye they are, but if they mean less Dawi die then I don't give a Skavens ass."

    [X] Plan to secure the East Valley by scouting Karag Nar with Ulthar's Rangers.
     
    [X] Scout for future trouble along the Grand Avenue with the Winter Wolves.

    Our ability to see in total darkness will be useful for scouting, and Dread Aspect will be useful against Skaven
     
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