>>4271331
The north wind roars.

An icy chill, accompanied by a flash of white, fills the room. Falling backwards as if the Great North Wind Spirit, Negag, were here himself, you flip your throne over, and land on the floor, frost-bitten wind blasting the wall behind the throne with chunks of ice. The sudden cold nowithstanding, some of those chunks are the size of a hurling ball! You peek your head to the side of your throne, and the druid seems... oddly serene. Pointing a finger at you, he raises his staff up in the air, and begins chanting one of the many Canticles of Ice and Wind, but it sounds different, somehow. More urgent, less ponderous. Another thunderclap rips forth, and another blast of wind follows, riding its icy trail. You roll out of the way, just in time, too, some of the ice chunks were bigger than last time. Your bones ache from mere proximity to so much cold.

At this point, your Volkjaeger have almost reached the man, long axes at the ready, swinging in furious defense of their beloved king. However, though the man doesn’t seem to move at all, their attacks are deflected away, by some invisible barrier. The Volkjaeger pause for but a second, befuddled. Unfortunately, that simple second was enough. With a flick of his hand, they are battered back with a storm of hail and ice, driving them away, though their thick iron scale keeps them from death. You frown as you see this, lying behind your ironwrought throne. This is no power of Gods or spirits. Theirs is more subtle, or at least, less direct.

Fritz comes up beside you, shielding you with his armored body, as he holds out a hand, helping you up, while interposing his shield between you and your assailant. “We’ll get you to the Royal Vault, and we’ll start moving your famil-” You hold up a hand, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Let me do something, first.” Fritz grunts as another wave of ice hits his shield, some of it hitting him in the upper arm, surely leaving a nasty bruise, but he relents regardless, taking a more defensive stance, in front of you. Whispering below what you think Fritz can hear, you say, “Wolf. As agreed, I have need of our pact.” You see nothing other than the barrage of ice, and swirling drifts of snow in your throne room, but you feel Her presence with you.

I am here. Her voice seemingly comes from nowhere, a sound from no direction. It’s as if she is speaking directly to your mind.

“As you might see, we have a problem. Solve it.”

>”My men can’t hit him. Destroy his barrier.”
>”Let me reach him. I want to take him alive.”
>”Go wild. Just try not to eat my guards.”
>[Write-in.]

>>4271333
>>”My men can’t hit him. Destroy his barrier.”

>>4271333
>”My men can’t hit him. Destroy his barrier.”

>>4271340
>>4271341
>”My men can’t hit him. Destroy his barrier.”
Writing!

>>4271333
Grimacing, you nod towards the ice-man. ”My men can’t hit him. Destroy his barrier.”

A sense of self-assurance and pride washes over you, not your own, and Wolf says, ”Very well, Klaus. If this is to be your boon, then so be it.” And briefly, you swear you could see her, looming over you, facing the intruder. It takes but a moment until the man’s barrier is (presumably) removed with a shriek, the air rending itself asunder. A flash of panic sets on the older, withered man’s face.

“No!” He breaks the chant, bringing his arms upward, as if to guard himself, and a flurry of ice strikes one of your Volkjaeger, bowling him over once more. “Why are you helping the-” His cries are cut short, however, by the other eight axes of your guards, each finding a place on his body. Gagging, and choking on blood, he slumps, flurries of ice swirling around his fingertips. Your men do not stop there, though. Striking him repeatedly, until his chest resembles butcher’s waste, your men do a thorough job of killing the… man? As the ice settles, you see something strange. His blood, and flesh, are not red. They are blue, azure as the endless sky. Your men, unsettled, recoil, quickly wiping their weapons clean of the blue blood.

Drawing close, Franz by your side, you approach the body, looking down at the withered old man, trying to see if you can identify anything about him. Apart from his abnormally-strong abilities, and withered staff, you have no frame of reference around this man. Looking over the corpse, you motion to the closest Volkjaeger. “Roll up his sleeves. Check for any identifying marks.” You would normally have your Druids check his chest later, but, well, your zealous guardians made sure that avenue was impossible.

Though they are clearly disturbed by the odd blood, two of your guards roll up the man’s tattered sleeves, the faded green fabric stained dark with blue. While this is happening, Franz organizes the rest of the guard in escorting the petitioners out of the great hall, with a calm, yet firm voice. Speaking of the petitioners, how are they? You were so caught up in the suddenness of the assassination attempt that you forgot to check on your citizens. Stupid of you.

Looking them over, they seem fine, if a bit shaken, though one man dressed in a merchant’s sash and belt walks with a limp, holding a hand to his head. Fortunately, that seems to be the extent of their injuries, as they were not the assailant’s focus. Shutting the door behind them, Franz returns to your side. “I have sent them to the gardens for now, with an escort, My Lord. I trust this is acceptable?” Nodding, you grunt in the affirmative.

(Cont.)

>>4271583
“See to their welfare; but keep them in the castle. Send for Johann, if he is not too busy assisting my son, that is, and have him investigate each of the petitioners.” Stroking your beard, you look Franz in the eye, grimly. “We will cancel petitions for the foreseeable future, until the recent turmoil is resolved. It is unfortunate, and the smallfolk may grumble, but the security of my family is paramount.” That is the most pressing danger, you feel. One of your children or consorts getting killed. You’d rather not get killed by an assassin, but, well, you’ve lived a long life, regardless. Sixty-six years of age is more than most can lay claim to.

Your attention is brought once more to the corpse by one of the Volkjaeger shouting loudly. “My Lord!” He motions to you, transfixed by something on the arm. “There’s something here!” Leaning over, you look at the corpse, where the soldier is pointing, and blink in surprise. Like ink soaking into a page from a pen’s nub, several tattoos reveal themselves on the man’s skin. They are woad paint, of course, and certainly have significance, but it is beyond your ken. Even on the few Druids that still wear the woad in the world today, you have never seen such patterns. They seem… inorganic, made of circles and squares, with an unknown script adorning his wrist. And his arm is almost entirely covered with them, painting the majority of the skin blue.

. The soldiers grow silent, watching the patterns spread across his face, as well, and you stroke your beard, staring into the dead man’s blind eyes. What should you do with the body?

>Burn it on a pyre. In the Stories, the Gods told men to burn the possessed, to exorcise the spirit from the body. You know not if this man was truly possessed, or if he was simply the wielder of strange powers, but it couldn’t hurt to be safe.
>Send it to the Druids to be studied, and then buried with honor. Assassin or no, he still appeared to be a Druid, of some kind or another. The Gods allow their servants to be slain, under certain circumstances, but they will frown upon you if their corpses are treated dishonorably.
>String it up outside your gates, and let the carrion feed. Show the world that the King of Wolves has not lost his bite, and even the servants of the Gods must honor your domain.
[Write-in]

>>4271587
>Send it to the Druids to be studied, and then buried with honor. Assassin or no, he still appeared to be a Druid, of some kind or another. The Gods allow their servants to be slain, under certain circumstances, but they will frown upon you if their corpses are treated dishonorably.

>>4271587
>Send it to the Druids to be studied, and then buried with honor. Assassin or no, he still appeared to be a Druid, of some kind or another. The Gods allow their servants to be slain, under certain circumstances, but they will frown upon you if their corpses are treated dishonorably.

>>Burn it on a pyre. In the Stories, the Gods told men to burn the possessed, to exorcise the spirit from the body. You know not if this man was truly possessed, or if he was simply the wielder of strange powers, but it couldn’t hurt to be safe.

>>4271606
>>4271610
>Send it to the Druids to be studied, and then buried with honor. Assassin or no, he still appeared to be a Druid, of some kind or another. The Gods allow their servants to be slain, under certain circumstances, but they will frown upon you if their corpses are treated dishonorably.

I have now returned home, writing!

>>4271587
You decide on a course of action. “Send it to the Druids, and summon some servants to clean up the mess. They will glean what they can from the corpse, and then bury it according to whatever rites it needs.” It is for the best, as much as you’d like to use the body to send a message. You learned a long time ago to respect the Gods.

Sending two Volkjaeger away with the body, and another to gather cleaning servants, Franz by your side, you move to right your throne, grunting as you do so. It’s… heavier than you remember. Your Master of War moves to help you, but you finish flipping the damned heavy iron chair upwards on your own regardless. Wincing at a sudden pain in your knees, you sit down, rubbing them with equally arthritic knuckles. Staring down at the corpse, you turn to Franz once more. “So, before Johann and my second son inevitably arrive, do you have any thoughts on all this?”

Franz pauses for a moment, perpetually frowning, a particular grim look on his face. You recognize it immediately, as he’s always worn it in battle, ever since you found him clutching a broken dagger as a battlefield whelp. The boy had impressed you with his bravery, at such a young age, so you had offered to have him train as a Volkjaeger. Through his own merits, the lad had become the Captain of the Volkjaeger, and from there, had replaced old Dietrich as your Master of War, after the jolly fellow died of some aberration of the heart, or the other. The Druids didn’t know what it was, exactly, but they figured that his proclivities for eating and whoring had something to do with it. Gods, you miss that man, even still.

But Franz has done an outstanding job at his post, so you shouldn’t disrespect the lad by constantly harping on about Dietrich, and- right, he’s giving you his opinion. Cease the inner ramblings, old man. Franz stares down at the corpse intently, his ice-blue stare looking for [i]something[/i]. “I feel that,” He pauses, mulling it over some more, “while there is most certainly something going on that we know nothing about, this would not be a new, sudden course of action to take.” He scratches his stubbly chin, and turns to you. “Even though the attempt was simple, no one, even Druids of strange custom, sets out to kill kings on a whim.”

You simply nod. “Thank you, Franz.” And with that wonderfully verbose statement, you wait, watching guards come and go, servants clean up the mess, and your High Druid, uh, what’s-his-name, arrive, making a nervous beeline for you. Bowing shakily, he stands before your throne, staring at the puddle of blue blood that the servants are currently busy using cleaning rags and drying cloths to soak up.


(Cont.)

>>4278600
“M-m-My Lord, I am so, so sorry, I came as soon as I heard! I should have been in the throne room, fighting alongside you-” You cut him off with a hand.

“Peace…” Fire and damnation, what was his name? He was a northerner, and of Ravomsk stock, like Mila … Ah! How could you forget! His name is so common among his people, you forget it every time! “Vladimir. You could not have known; Korill, your patron, is not a seer.” The lad relaxes a bit, so you continue. “I know you must have seen the cadaver but briefly- but do you have any ideas?”

Vlad looks downward, focusing on his memory of the body. “The blue tattoos were most certainly of religious importance, t-though to which god, I could not tell you.” You raise an eyebrow, urging him to continue. “Ah, I-” He seems to stutter. “Though I can consult the Gods with greater efficacy, tonight. The Lesser Moon rises, after all.” As a king, it behooves you to know at least [i]some[/i] of the duties and abilities of your Druids; so you do know the significance of the Lesser Moon, Fyrdvir. A bringer of prophecy and madness, historically, to those who sought elevation in his light without the proper protections.

A moment of silence falls over the three of you, waiting patiently until Albrecht and Johann arrive. Well, as patient as you can be, the moment growing torturous as you wait longer and longer. You are just about to order Vladimir or Franz to retrieve them, when they enter in through the doors, escorted by both of Albrecht’s bodyguards, a small group of men in plainclothes that you recognize as Ravens, and, of course, your Volkjaeger.

Bowing swiftly, your second son and Master of Intelligence approach you, hands upon their weapons, as though they expect to see the intruder crash in through the window at any moment, which, you suppose, is not unfair. They begin to greet you, but you hold up a hand, saying, “Albrecht. Johann. The others are safe, I trust?”

Your son nods. “Yes, Father. We had the Ravens and your guard secure them, as soon as we heard the commotion.” A sensible course of action; you approve.

Drumming your finger on the throne’s arm rest, you say:

>”So. What have you discovered? Did your search reveal anything of import?” Knowing what they know, you will figure it out on your own.
>”Vladimir, tell them your conjecture. You too, Franz.” Pool your resources; consolidate your knowledge.

>>4278603
>>4278600
>I have now returned home, writing!
3 Days between post

>>4278600
>>4278603
>”Vladimir, tell them your conjecture. You too, Franz.” Pool your resources; consolidate your knowledge.
Did you lose your trip and give up looking for, is that why you're so late?

>>4278603
>>”Vladimir, tell them your conjecture. You too, Franz.” Pool your resources; consolidate your knowledge.

>>4278600
>>4278603
>”So. What have you discovered? Did your search reveal anything of import?” Knowing what they know, you will figure it out on your own.
We're all in the same room. Let's see what else we can find out before asking Vladimir his thoughts.

>>4278603
>”So. What have you discovered? Did your search reveal anything of import?” Knowing what they know, you will figure it out on your own.

>>4278605
Yes.

>>4278692
Based

>>4278603
>”So. What have you discovered? Did your search reveal anything of import?” Knowing what they know, you will figure it out on your own.

>>4278603
>>”So. What have you discovered? Did your search reveal anything of import?” Knowing what they know, you will figure it out on your own.

>>4278603
>”So. What have you discovered? Did your search reveal anything of import?” Knowing what they know, you will figure it out on your own.

>”So. What have you discovered? Did your search reveal anything of import?” Knowing what they know, you will figure it out on your own.

Writing!

>>4278603
”So. What have you discovered? Did your search reveal anything of import?” You frown down at the two. Failure, on their part, would set you back considerably. It is obvious that this conspiracy, and the one to steal your Royal Seal are both connected, somehow. You don’t know the particulars; indeed, that is what you are hoping to find out. However, it is child’s play to deduce that two men, wearing woad paint, in modern day, close together, performing nefarious actions, is a conspiracy of some sort.

Your second son is yet again the first to respond, smoothly cutting Johann off with a smile and a bow. “I am glad to report, Father, that we know next to nothing!”

Silence reigns over your court, as Albrecht gives a pause, to let his “jape” sink in. You, however, are not quite as amused. “This is no time for jests, son.” To his credit, Albrecht manages to cough, embarrassed, slicking his hair back.

“Right. Of course.” It isn’t often that you see the man so humbled. “Forgive me.” Clearing his throat, he continues. “But next to nothing is not [i]wholly[/i] nothing. In that dreary old mausoleum that you call a library, Johann and I found our answer.” He looks to your Master of Intelligence, who complies with his unspoken request with a simple, soft sigh.

“It is a cult, of some sort.” You snort. Very informative, Johann. “Specifically, one from very, very long ago.” Now [i]this[/i] is informative. “During the early days of mankind, many wore the Blue. However, there are records of some mystery cults, long ago, worshiping a figure similar to one of the Pzyczian-” he practically spits the word out, his hatred for cossacks knows no bounds- “‘God’-Kings. We know almost nothing about their worship, diety, or methods, due to it being, well, a mystery cult, but it [i]is[/i] recorded, in the writings of Keris the Wise, ‘that the Liar God will find no purchase in this land, ever again, and his false-woad servants will have their stories forgotten.” His inner academic is showing, the stoic man growing somewhat more conversational as he speaks more and more. “I believe, personally, that the two are related. Especially now that we have the opportunity to examine a member of the cult in detail.”

Albrecht pipes up. “I find it odd that such a cult could live on for four ages, especially with every Circle of Druids repressing them.”

Johann gives a rare, wry smile. “Perhaps that fact has something to do with the fact that they are a [i]mystery[/i] cult, my lord.”

(Cont.)

>>4286878
“I suppose that might have something to do with it.” Albrecht laughs, but you frown. An ancient conspiracy? It sounds ridiculous, yes, but after all you have been through… It would be like the berry spread, on a horrific, evil, malicious cake. Your son notices, and raises an eyebrow. “Is there something wrong…” he peters out, because, yes, there is, and amends his statement. “Is there something wrong [i]now[/i], Father?”

You nod slowly, still thinking. “Yes.... if not even the ancients could remove such a threat, and if they all have abilities such as the assassin we killed…” You give a haunted stare, your tired old face grim and withdrawn. “Then how do we have a chance?” This seems to frighten your son, and put your two closest (official) advisors ill at ease, so you shake your head. “Regardless, we must take moves to stand against the conspiracy. The threat has expanded past these walls. Now our whole nation is under threat. And just as the Isarian dogs and those fools further south have turned their eye to us, after ages of dismissing us as a backwater.”

The worst part of kingship is diplomacy with your neighbors, you feel. You have nothing against the Ravomsk people. Or even the Isarians, who are borne of the same tribes the hill-people of Hochland were. But the Ravomsk duchy of Lenigaities constantly provoke your border lords in the north; and the Isarians to the south are hardly any better, always looking down their nose at you while whining over “border disputes” and “trading rights”. At least the Pzyczians, absolute shitters that they are, are simple to deal with. They send cossacks; you send Volkjaeger with spears.

Regardless, you will need to do two things; call a Moot of lords, to discuss the new enemy of the realm, how much you actually TELL them will depend. But that is a question for later, what you need to do now is decide the best approach to rooting these bastards out. You are a fan of overwhelming force, of course, but deception and intrigue has saved your old hide more than once. This, of course, is a question for your advisors, to, well, advise you on. Outside perspectives help, to a degree. “So.” You catch everyone’s attention. “What course of action would you recommend then, if we are to catch the conspirators with any degree of efficacy?”

Johann speaks up first, as he likely has a dreaded [i]opinion[/i] on the subject. “Of course, My Lord, you know where I stand, but I feel that I must state, if we are able to capture a conspirator alive, or infiltrate their circle…” He raises an eyebrow, feeling no need to state the obvious. “It would also leave the smallfolk largely untouched, and the Gods know that a military patrol kicking in their hovel door does nothing to keep them complacent.”

(Cont.)

>>4286880
Albrecht nods his approval, but Franz sighs, crossing his hands behind his back. “I feel that it should not be understated, of course, that [i]SPEED[/i] is one of the primary considerations here. If we do not get this in hand, and soon, we could have magical old men like this one, farting hailstorms around the land.” Franz nods, grimacing. “And, no offense meant, my fellow, but what if your Ravens are caught by them? You saw how our fully armed and armored guard struggled with one wizened old man.” This gives Albrecht pause, and he scratches the back of his head in thought. Eventually, he speaks up.

“What about a compromise between the two?” Everyone turns to him, and you raise an eyebrow, prompting the debonair prince to continue. “What if the Ravens worked with the Volkjaeger? Ravens as scouts, of a sort, and the Volkjaeger bringing down the hammer- well, axe, where they found conspirators and rebels?”

You turn to your two advisors, waiting for a counterpoint. Johann replies first. “An extra line of communication means more messengers that can get intercepted- especially to a lauded organization such as the Volkjaeger. Everyone notices where they go, and who they meet with.”

“And even if we were to cooperate-” Franz nods to Johann, “Their process is, in my opinion, too slow. We would have warriors and soldiers waiting around, possibly for weeks, while conspirators roam the country.” Albrecht frowns some more, but he keeps his complaints to himself, letting you choose. The circle of those close to you waits, with bated breath.

>Send in the Volkjaeger to search everywhere. Set up checkpoints around the capital; search house by house, detain suspicious folk.
>Rely on Johann and his Ravens. This is the exact situation you let Johann form the Ravens for. Spymasters are of little use when not spying.
>Perhaps the compromise would work, despite your advisors (and your own,) objections? Albrecht came through recently, maybe show that you trust him again?
>[Write-in]

>>4279575
>>4286878
>Writing!
4 Days between post

>>4286881
>Rely on Johann and his Ravens. This is the exact situation you let Johann form the Ravens for. Spymasters are of little use when not spying.

>>4286928
Again. Yes.

>>4286881
Let's go Johann! Tbh as a spymaster he should've been more proactive but it's whatever at this point

>>4286881
>Rely on Johann and his Ravens. This is the exact situation you let Johann form the Ravens for. Spymasters are of little use when not spying.

>>4286952
Based

>>4286881
>Rely on Johann and his Ravens. This is the exact situation you let Johann form the Ravens for. Spymasters are of little use when not spying.

>>4286881
>Send in the Volkjaeger to search everywhere. Set up checkpoints around the capital; search house by house, detain suspicious folk.

>>4286947
>>4287204
>>4287476
>>4287481

>Rely on Johann and his Ravens. This is the exact situation you let Johann form the Ravens for. Spymasters are of little use when not spying.
Writing!

Sorry lads, I'm going to have to archive this thread. We're on page 8, and the next update isn't coming to me anytime soon. Hopefully, when we start the next thread, I'll be able to do an actual session.

>>4301039
>>4288328
>Writing!
8 Days between post