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[ZEITGEIST] The Continuing Adventures of Korrigan & Co.
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<blockquote data-quote="gideonpepys" data-source="post: 7586750" data-attributes="member: 79141"><p><strong>Session 221, Part One - The Madness of Grandis</strong></p><p></p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYnVYJDxu2Q" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYnVYJDxu2Q</a></p><p></p><p><em>Dear Reader, as you listen to the chorus, kindly change the lyrics of this song to: "Grandis Komanov, Servant of the Voice of Rot..." etc.</em></p><p></p><p>Komanov’s command caused a path to open through her troops. They advanced cautiously. As they went, Korrigan weighed up their odds. They were bad. While the steps they had taken – negotiating with Tzertze, turning the giants, the aerial bombardment – had certainly had an impact, they were insufficient to tip the balance in their favour. Gupta, meanwhile, realised that the army was divided along multiple lines, but the most obvious division was this: diehard, fanatic Komanov loyalists formed a substantial minority, distinguished by their habiliments and mien; the majority of the force consisted of recent recruits, caught up in the snowball hysteria as the army rolled through Drakr. This latter group looked like farmers, guildsman, militiamen who had been dragged away from their former lives and were ill-equipped and ragged, after weeks on the road.</p><p></p><p>Ahead, they could see Nebo, mounted on the frostwyrm Distemper (and armoured in adamantine, Quratulain realised), forming a mountainous backdrop behind the Grandis. She still sat atop her throne, though the ice chariot had been dismissed. She held the twelve-foot Cyclopean Revelation casually at her hip. To one side of her stood her deranged lackey; on the other a blindfolded half-giant wielding a maul of ice. Its head was the Stone of Not – the ice formed and reformed around it, constantly destroyed and recreated. (Rumdoom could not help but think that this was an undignified use for the Kum Ruk Nazar. Unimaginative.) At the foot of her throne sat Vlendham Heid, still in his tweed suit, though somewhat dishevelled. Just behind it, forming a cruel standard, the crucified Bhalu, groaning in constant pain. A cultist periodically healed him to stop him from dying of his injuries. It was better that they did not establish their connection with these two, and so they were careful not to acknowledge them.</p><p></p><p>Two doomsday priests stepped forward and gestured for them to hold some fifty feet or so from Komanov. A circumference of warriors and skeletons formed, eager to resume hostilities and elite doomsday riflemen kept a close eye on them. (All except for Uru, who had disappeared into the crowd.) The unit communicated telepathically. Rumdoom wanted to attack at once; Hildegard gave his hand a supportive squeeze. Korrigan noted the unfavourable odds, but wondered if it wouldn’t be better just to take out the head and hope the army crumbled. Still, that was a risk. Gupta said that the mass of troops was driven by the hivemind – a hivemind formed by their devotion to Grandis Komanov and their belief in her doctrines.</p><p></p><p>Komanov began to speak:</p><p></p><p>“I should be angry, but I am not. Your approach gives me chance to share with you my philosophy, which had impressed all of these brave dwarves, and I daresay, the esteemed Vlendham Heid.” Heid’s wide-eyed stare sought to silently distance himself from that assertion. “I hate warmth. I adore ice. It’s what brought me my prosperity – you could ask my lackey, but he lacks the tongue to tell the tale. I was a caravan guide, and he and many other fat, chatty merchants were with me when a weeks-long blizzard trapped us in the mountains. It was my magic alone that protected them from freezing to death. Believe that, my magic, keeping those arrogant dragon-minded misers alive while I was being paid a pittance.</p><p></p><p>“My family always claimed we were descended from those who now serve me.” She gestured to Nebo and the other riders. “We had the blood of warlords. But modern temperance had led us into poverty. I spent long evenings reading a book of philosophy – old man Heid’s famous treatise – and I got to thinking of how my life might end. I would be damned if I would leave this world a failure. Well I say, I demanded my fair payment, and one of the merchants did not much appreciate that. I think it was when I ate his tongue that the others changed their minds.</p><p></p><p>“As I say, I adore ice. That blizzard made me rich, and killed everyone who could testify upon my sins. …” </p><p></p><p>This was just the beginning. On and on she went. Was she playing for time? She went on talking even as the unit began to ignore her and talk telepathically among themselves – trying to decide on a course of action. Rumdoom still wanted to attack. But the odds! He might be immortal, but what about his friends? Uriel had quietly invoked Tadeo, the Cardinal. Would this be the right moment to call upon Triegenes? </p><p></p><p>Komanov had moved into a phase of taunting Rumdoom and his rival cult. For a time it had seemed like a threat, but now? “I have the Stone, the Eye, a Doomsday Army, and what does ‘Rumschatology’ have?”</p><p></p><p>Gupta responded, aloud, “Rumdoom, Komanov has brought you a new congregation to be converted.”</p><p></p><p>The challenge was implicit, and Komanov was arrogant enough to accept, but not without adding a counter-challenge of her own. “I will give you leave to speak to my followers if you can defeat my champion!” She gestured at the half-giant wielding the Kum Ruk Nazar. Rumdoom nodded. “Be careful,” whispered Hildegaard as he stepped forward. </p><p></p><p>The half-giant strode towards him, clumsily, seemingly unimpeded by the blindfold. It stopped a few feet away, gave a massive bellow of rage, raised the maul aloft, and stomped on the ice. Its shinbone shattered with the impact, and its right forearm snapped like matchwood. The half-giant collapsed onto its face, dropping the maul, which shattered and pitched the Stone of Not towards Rumdoom. Shocked silence.</p><p></p><p>“We take that to be an omen!” Korrigan declared.</p><p></p><p>Though clearly infuriated and a trifle chagrined, Komanov waved an airy hand as if completely unconcerned by this disaster. “I will speak first. Our words and yours will reach my army through the cold fires!”</p><p></p><p>The necessary arrangements were made, and while they waited the four vsadni returned, taking their places in a distant semi-circle around the unit. Quratulain analysed them; Uriel weaved their fate.</p><p></p><p>Komanov was more of a rhetorical speaker than a scholar, and so she crafted her arguments in a way to capture the emotions of her followers. The key points in her speech were:</p><p></p><p>“The world is going to end, so personal consequences are immaterial. People should do what they want.” Uriel realised that the world was not assured to end. While planar mechanics were complicated, it was possible to explain what happened and how they, the unit, intended to fix it. He suggested this counter-argument to Rumdoom, telepathically.</p><p></p><p>“The history and traditions of the world are personal and worthy of respect. I want everyone to fulfill a great destiny to give the world a fine ending!” Korrigan suggested a nihilist tack. Rumdoom could recount the stories of other once-great leaders or heroes (details of which Korrigan would supply), figures who fell from power and were nearly forgotten by history. This would emphasise that there is never a single narrative in world affairs, just a constant roil of different elements rising and falling.</p><p></p><p>“The best way to end this world is to tear down all the corrupt and weak who kept the world from achieving its highest greatness. We will start with the political leaders of Drakr and their followers.” Rumdoom realised that every religion, nation, and family had stories of martyrs who, when faced with an unavoidable death, chose to maintain their ideals rather than seek revenge. Comparing Grandis to historical traitors would show that her path is the wrong one.</p><p></p><p>To rile up her army, Komanov again detailed a half-dozen high profile actions by those in power, which offended the masses, some ancient, some recent. Korrigan would help Rumdoom counter with a variety of positive influences in modern Drakr, as well as neutral groups who would suffer at the army’s hand.</p><p></p><p>Komanov ended by comparing her army to various mighty heroes from myth and legend, and comparing Rumdoom and his allies to cowards, tricksters, and the same politicians who she was out to destroy. High drama, which, as a prelude to Rumdoom’s response, Gupta challenged directly: sounding a beat on Mother’s Rabana, she sang a song of the destruction of the deep ones, who last sought to wield the Stone of Not. They perished at the coming of the new, at the coming of the gidim. She gestured aloft, at the hivemind, hoping to make the army aware of it. Now they saw the blizzard elemental had returned, having lost the Coaltongue. It swept to and fro overhead, ready to be unleashed.</p><p></p><p>Now it was Rumdoom’s turn. Taking each point in turn, he traduced his rival cult-leader. The effort was great, the chances slim, and yet, somehow, his dogged arguments began to prevail. As he countered each of her irrational arguments, her hold began to slip. First the hivemind sputtered out, as sufficient numbers of ‘believers’ shook themselves free – the blizzard, in turn, dissipated. Then many in the army began to rail against Komanov, and internecine fights broke out.</p><p></p><p>As a finisher, Rumdoom added, “Call yourself a prophet of the endtimes? You couldn’t even foresee the death of your champion, and the return of the Stone of Not to its rightful owner!”</p><p></p><p>The scattered scraps turned into a wave of defiance as the unwitting recruits turned against the loyalists. Komanov scowled. “Enough!” she cried, and levelled the Cyclopean Revelation.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="gideonpepys, post: 7586750, member: 79141"] [b]Session 221, Part One - The Madness of Grandis[/b] [URL]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYnVYJDxu2Q[/URL] [I]Dear Reader, as you listen to the chorus, kindly change the lyrics of this song to: "Grandis Komanov, Servant of the Voice of Rot..." etc.[/I] Komanov’s command caused a path to open through her troops. They advanced cautiously. As they went, Korrigan weighed up their odds. They were bad. While the steps they had taken – negotiating with Tzertze, turning the giants, the aerial bombardment – had certainly had an impact, they were insufficient to tip the balance in their favour. Gupta, meanwhile, realised that the army was divided along multiple lines, but the most obvious division was this: diehard, fanatic Komanov loyalists formed a substantial minority, distinguished by their habiliments and mien; the majority of the force consisted of recent recruits, caught up in the snowball hysteria as the army rolled through Drakr. This latter group looked like farmers, guildsman, militiamen who had been dragged away from their former lives and were ill-equipped and ragged, after weeks on the road. Ahead, they could see Nebo, mounted on the frostwyrm Distemper (and armoured in adamantine, Quratulain realised), forming a mountainous backdrop behind the Grandis. She still sat atop her throne, though the ice chariot had been dismissed. She held the twelve-foot Cyclopean Revelation casually at her hip. To one side of her stood her deranged lackey; on the other a blindfolded half-giant wielding a maul of ice. Its head was the Stone of Not – the ice formed and reformed around it, constantly destroyed and recreated. (Rumdoom could not help but think that this was an undignified use for the Kum Ruk Nazar. Unimaginative.) At the foot of her throne sat Vlendham Heid, still in his tweed suit, though somewhat dishevelled. Just behind it, forming a cruel standard, the crucified Bhalu, groaning in constant pain. A cultist periodically healed him to stop him from dying of his injuries. It was better that they did not establish their connection with these two, and so they were careful not to acknowledge them. Two doomsday priests stepped forward and gestured for them to hold some fifty feet or so from Komanov. A circumference of warriors and skeletons formed, eager to resume hostilities and elite doomsday riflemen kept a close eye on them. (All except for Uru, who had disappeared into the crowd.) The unit communicated telepathically. Rumdoom wanted to attack at once; Hildegard gave his hand a supportive squeeze. Korrigan noted the unfavourable odds, but wondered if it wouldn’t be better just to take out the head and hope the army crumbled. Still, that was a risk. Gupta said that the mass of troops was driven by the hivemind – a hivemind formed by their devotion to Grandis Komanov and their belief in her doctrines. Komanov began to speak: “I should be angry, but I am not. Your approach gives me chance to share with you my philosophy, which had impressed all of these brave dwarves, and I daresay, the esteemed Vlendham Heid.” Heid’s wide-eyed stare sought to silently distance himself from that assertion. “I hate warmth. I adore ice. It’s what brought me my prosperity – you could ask my lackey, but he lacks the tongue to tell the tale. I was a caravan guide, and he and many other fat, chatty merchants were with me when a weeks-long blizzard trapped us in the mountains. It was my magic alone that protected them from freezing to death. Believe that, my magic, keeping those arrogant dragon-minded misers alive while I was being paid a pittance. “My family always claimed we were descended from those who now serve me.” She gestured to Nebo and the other riders. “We had the blood of warlords. But modern temperance had led us into poverty. I spent long evenings reading a book of philosophy – old man Heid’s famous treatise – and I got to thinking of how my life might end. I would be damned if I would leave this world a failure. Well I say, I demanded my fair payment, and one of the merchants did not much appreciate that. I think it was when I ate his tongue that the others changed their minds. “As I say, I adore ice. That blizzard made me rich, and killed everyone who could testify upon my sins. …” This was just the beginning. On and on she went. Was she playing for time? She went on talking even as the unit began to ignore her and talk telepathically among themselves – trying to decide on a course of action. Rumdoom still wanted to attack. But the odds! He might be immortal, but what about his friends? Uriel had quietly invoked Tadeo, the Cardinal. Would this be the right moment to call upon Triegenes? Komanov had moved into a phase of taunting Rumdoom and his rival cult. For a time it had seemed like a threat, but now? “I have the Stone, the Eye, a Doomsday Army, and what does ‘Rumschatology’ have?” Gupta responded, aloud, “Rumdoom, Komanov has brought you a new congregation to be converted.” The challenge was implicit, and Komanov was arrogant enough to accept, but not without adding a counter-challenge of her own. “I will give you leave to speak to my followers if you can defeat my champion!” She gestured at the half-giant wielding the Kum Ruk Nazar. Rumdoom nodded. “Be careful,” whispered Hildegaard as he stepped forward. The half-giant strode towards him, clumsily, seemingly unimpeded by the blindfold. It stopped a few feet away, gave a massive bellow of rage, raised the maul aloft, and stomped on the ice. Its shinbone shattered with the impact, and its right forearm snapped like matchwood. The half-giant collapsed onto its face, dropping the maul, which shattered and pitched the Stone of Not towards Rumdoom. Shocked silence. “We take that to be an omen!” Korrigan declared. Though clearly infuriated and a trifle chagrined, Komanov waved an airy hand as if completely unconcerned by this disaster. “I will speak first. Our words and yours will reach my army through the cold fires!” The necessary arrangements were made, and while they waited the four vsadni returned, taking their places in a distant semi-circle around the unit. Quratulain analysed them; Uriel weaved their fate. Komanov was more of a rhetorical speaker than a scholar, and so she crafted her arguments in a way to capture the emotions of her followers. The key points in her speech were: “The world is going to end, so personal consequences are immaterial. People should do what they want.” Uriel realised that the world was not assured to end. While planar mechanics were complicated, it was possible to explain what happened and how they, the unit, intended to fix it. He suggested this counter-argument to Rumdoom, telepathically. “The history and traditions of the world are personal and worthy of respect. I want everyone to fulfill a great destiny to give the world a fine ending!” Korrigan suggested a nihilist tack. Rumdoom could recount the stories of other once-great leaders or heroes (details of which Korrigan would supply), figures who fell from power and were nearly forgotten by history. This would emphasise that there is never a single narrative in world affairs, just a constant roil of different elements rising and falling. “The best way to end this world is to tear down all the corrupt and weak who kept the world from achieving its highest greatness. We will start with the political leaders of Drakr and their followers.” Rumdoom realised that every religion, nation, and family had stories of martyrs who, when faced with an unavoidable death, chose to maintain their ideals rather than seek revenge. Comparing Grandis to historical traitors would show that her path is the wrong one. To rile up her army, Komanov again detailed a half-dozen high profile actions by those in power, which offended the masses, some ancient, some recent. Korrigan would help Rumdoom counter with a variety of positive influences in modern Drakr, as well as neutral groups who would suffer at the army’s hand. Komanov ended by comparing her army to various mighty heroes from myth and legend, and comparing Rumdoom and his allies to cowards, tricksters, and the same politicians who she was out to destroy. High drama, which, as a prelude to Rumdoom’s response, Gupta challenged directly: sounding a beat on Mother’s Rabana, she sang a song of the destruction of the deep ones, who last sought to wield the Stone of Not. They perished at the coming of the new, at the coming of the gidim. She gestured aloft, at the hivemind, hoping to make the army aware of it. Now they saw the blizzard elemental had returned, having lost the Coaltongue. It swept to and fro overhead, ready to be unleashed. Now it was Rumdoom’s turn. Taking each point in turn, he traduced his rival cult-leader. The effort was great, the chances slim, and yet, somehow, his dogged arguments began to prevail. As he countered each of her irrational arguments, her hold began to slip. First the hivemind sputtered out, as sufficient numbers of ‘believers’ shook themselves free – the blizzard, in turn, dissipated. Then many in the army began to rail against Komanov, and internecine fights broke out. As a finisher, Rumdoom added, “Call yourself a prophet of the endtimes? You couldn’t even foresee the death of your champion, and the return of the Stone of Not to its rightful owner!” The scattered scraps turned into a wave of defiance as the unwitting recruits turned against the loyalists. Komanov scowled. “Enough!” she cried, and levelled the Cyclopean Revelation. [/QUOTE]
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