Re: Marmoset - MA game with mod nations - recruiti
 

Argh, won't be able to take a look at the turn till tonight. The tension!

I have to say that I was phenomenally lucky to get away with no troops lost last turn, although it was still a disastrous turn for me. You were also quite phenomenally lucky to kill three of my beloved White Priests! But I guess if you were hoping to burst out, Magic Duel all my priests and annihilate my army you must have been quite disappointed.

Re: Marmoset - MA game with mod nations - recruiti
 

Poor ratties, always seem to be under the boot. Shame because Ulm Reborn look on paper to be a good foe for them.

Re:Distressed little rats
 

Quite dissappointed is something of a understatement. I was looking to cause significant casualties, hoping to keep you off my back long enough for me to deliver a short riposte to Man before having to turn around and meet the next Ulmish army marching south.

It looked a wonderful plan on paper ..... bah.

Re:Distressed little rats
 

Fear not, Skaven! Reinforcements are on the way! Oh, wait, I'm reinforcing the other army. There's to hoping I'll actually manage to be more than a diversion this time. So yeah, go Ulm!

I've tried to write down something like a declaration of war, but it didn't work all too well. The reasons are pretty much the usual thing: old grudges, Skaven's the only convenient target, I couldn't beat anything on my own, you've got some stuff I'd die for (though I'd prefer making you die instead), etc. So instead, I've aimed for something more descriptive about the current state of affairs in Man, but it sort of twisted and shot straight for the weird factor.

With no further ado, meet my Man:


Morgause was not having a good day. She should have, by all rights: she was Mistress of the Vale, the guardian of one of the most beautiful places left in the cruel world, and the most powerful person within the Vale -- the most powerful save for her sisters, that is, and the kitchen staff excepted. Alas, there was the burden of administrating the Vale (for her nephew Mordred did not bother volunteering to help her), the loss of various administrative registers, the theft of some thistle trinkets, Mordred's disappearence, all the warring going on, Gwenhwyfar's snatching her letters, the incessant political bickering of her fellow sisters, and she had misplaced her comb.

Of course, the sister Gwenhwyvach entered her room right as Morgause was rummaging through her items. Ah, there it was, stuck between a weathervorn report from an equally weathervorn scout and a parchment almost as ancient as herself describing some pact they have with a place called Skaven. Gwenhwyvach gave Morgause her usual smirk, handed her a platter of apples (marvellous, juicy red apples picked straight from those great trees the Sisters had so insisted on planting. She saw why they did now, and after all, Avalon was the Island of Apples), and sat down on the floor. It looked as if she had a lot of paperwork on her lap -- nothing that couldn't wait for her to break her fast anyhow.

Gwenhwyvach was the most crafty of the Sisterhood, having more than her fair share of wits and great talent in magic (she stood at the end of the Fold, and she could draw power from all her Sisters and did not have to spare any of hers). She actively craved power, too, and her youthfulness (a paltry one hundred odd years) gave her an edge over her sisters. So she came to become Morgause's most trusted adviser -- and her only one, as most Sisters preferred to plot in secrecy (what were their goals? Morgause had asked the Goddess one evening, and she had no idea. She suspected that not only the Sisterhood's left hand didn't know what the right one was doing, but that the right hand itself didn't know what it was doing).

"... close to victory... war... New Ulm... army... defeat...", Gwenhwyvach was saying. Morgause paid her little attention: she had heard everything about war of late, so what more could she learn? That, and she was no warlord... warlady (not that she really knew what she was). "I apologize, Sister Morgause, but you do not seem to be paying me much heed. I need your leave to prepare for war with our foe." There was that sarcastic note in Gwenhwyvach's voice that Morgause had learned to hate. "*****", she thought -- or she thought she thought that, until she saw the glare in Gwenhwyvach's eyes and understood. "You know that's true", Morgause said by way of apology. "The whole Sisterhood knows too."

For a moment, it looked as if Gwenhwyvach was about to hit her. "None of that", Morgause advised her. "We're not young Apprentices anymore. I wish I was, though." It seemed that Gwenhwyvach's wisdom had the upper hand over pride, and she settled down. Morgause knew she could trust her: she was content of wielding power within the Vale without the actual title that went with it. That, and nobody would willingly become Mistress of the Vale, for the role involved becoming the Matrix of the Fold. She, Morgause, was the weakest of the Sisterhood as she expended most of her strength to help others. She did not know that fact when she became Mistress. She was a foolish Apprentice.

"Sure, war", Morgause went. "New Ulm sounds like a tough nut to crack, but I trust our might." Gwenhwyvach looked positively stunned by the comment; it took her several seconds to muster an answer. "Morgause, that's not quite what I had in mind." "You did say war, right?" "Not against New Ulm; they're our allies. The foe is Skaven." "Skw-what?" "Skaven. There on the map. They have been a nuisance of late, and they are now at war with New Ulm." Gwenhwyvach saw that Morgause was not making much sense of what she told her, so she added: "Skaven. Rat-folks." Those words were enough to get the message through Morgause, if the grim look that took her was any indication.

"Them!", Morgause screeched. "The ugly critters with ... their little piggy eyes! Why do we suffer them to live! What happened to the various kingdoms of mankind? Abominations! Gut them, the..." It wouldn't be accurate to say that she was foaming at the mouth and waxing incoherent; that would be an understatement. Gwenhwyvach did her best to calm her elder, anxious to avoid another epic scene -- it was hard enough already to keep the Vale in kelter. But a fortnight ago, some officer gave her the skull of an undead leader, complete with rot and decay; her nightmarish screams kept them all awake for the better of three nights (until the officer was promoted to patrol duty on the barbarian marches).

"The only men on our borders are Ulmish", Gwenhwyfar offered when it looked like the worst was over. "Our allies. The ones who saved us from our previous foes, when hope grew dim. The ones..." "Those apples are delicious", Morgause said. "... the ones who could have stormed our walls, and with nothing but their greenest soldiers. The ones who are currently warring against the rats. The ones who need our help to prevail." Despite all her proding, it seemed Morgause was not quite making the connection. "They helped us; we must repay them", Gwenhwyfar said at last. At last, there was a glimpser of understanding in Morgause's eyes, and she said: "I see. We have debts to pay, but... I know! Let's give them a lovespoon?"

Morgause was slipping into one of her childish moods now -- apparently a side effect of those youthfulness spells. Gwenhwyfar braced herself for a very long afternoon. "No trinkets. War. They need our men. Our soldiers. It's war again." With a sigh, she took a neat piece of paper from Morgause's systematic chaotic desk and handed it to her. "One: Skaven has failed to provide us with any assistance whatsoever in our hour of greatest need", Morgause duly read, raising one accusating finger with each item. "Two: Skaven has mercilessly slaughtered a patrol of ours on our borders, with no apology forthcoming. Three: Our lands are ridden with spies hired by Skaven, as they are proud of their extensive spy network. Four: Skaven has interfered with our sphere of influence, seizing provinces claimed by the Vale. Five: We have evidence Skaven is researching spells of massive deadly potential that will surely be used against the Vale. Six: ..."

"There", Gwenhwyfar interrupted her. "Do you see why we need to go to war?" A nod. "Good. Now let's write down a nice letter to the rats, stating our griefs. Of course, we also fight for the greater glory of the Vale, but no need to mention that. Do not forget..." "I don't like that. Why do we have to rely on foreigners? We are strong folks, and surely, surely..." Gwenhwyfar shook her head. "We could not defeat a small army of our foes, and now you propose that we fight a whole war alone? Folly, I say." "I just don't like it." Gwenhwyfar took a deep breath, then another, but she was running out of patience. "You don't like Ulm, fine with me; I don't like seeing Man ruled by a dimwit and a monster."

A guttural shriek boomed out as if to underscore her point. It didn't come from Morgause, of course: no human lungs could have that much power. The source was instead hovering a few hundred meters above ground, right above that huge apple tree. The silhouette was hard to make out from the ground, but those with sharp eyes saw a metal-clad warrior all dressed in black and blood, a gothic sight of death and doom. An interesting spectacle, Gwenhwyfar thought; she could already see the whole Sisterhood protesting, folks quivering in fear, and the priests of New Ulm inquiring why this creature was suffered to live. The Sisters liked to see themselves as angels now; they were more like angels with bright hair dabbled in blood.

"Now that I have your full attention", Mordred said, his monochord voice sounding bored, "I'd like to share a story with you. I've just been assaulted by a party of men in the Plain of Bones -- yes, right there were the Skaven hordes slaughtered your kin. The men were led by one Bogus the Troll, as he told me, a big rat himself, and they were agents of Skaven sent specifically to slay me. Their message is plain: they are not content with the blood they have already spilled in our land. Anyway, here I stand before you, with the first spoils of this war. For it is war, undeclared, and our own message is plain: it will be delivered with sword and bow. Ready yourselves for the fight ahead. Erh, that's it." Mordred flew away; he was heading west.

"You know, Gwenhwyfar, Mordred is a slave to the Vale, just like me. Mistress of the Vale indeed!" A pause." "And just like you."

The Folly of Man
 

The forces of Man again show their complete lack of ambition or vision. Now would be the time to make at least one attempt for victory and make an almighty strike at Ulm, but instead we see their true nature.

SHEEP. Old tired sheep not waiting to be shorn but to be slaughtered. The Crones of Avalon are like so many old bleating ewes wobbling around crying "oh the wolves of Ulm are our flocks saviour".

The seers see but one future for the forest of Avalon. A future ensured by Man's current course. The ancient trees will be adorned with the broken bodies of the Crones and Daughters of Avalon, strung up by the priests of Ulm as the witches they are.

And on the subject of Ulm - will your armies please stop running away. Even weighed down with all that armour our fleetest footed rats cannot run your troops down.

The Skaven are having some success killing off Ulm's mightiest mages however we are having no luck in bringing down their troops.

So near yet so very, very, very far
 

It is well and truly curtains for the Skaven I fear. Early gambles didn't pay off and we are now completely out of cards. We send our heartfelt thanks to all those who aided us but maintain aid could have been better in the form of, you know, attacks on Ulm. Are we bitter ... no, apparently rat meat is suprisingly sweet (if a bit gamey).

Again Ulm's troops ran - but this time we started running first (you know after they had killed everybody) ... double bah.

Re: So near yet so very, very, very far
 

My troops didn't run! Or at least I think not - I think they were just chasing some zombie behind them. I may have seen it wrongly though.

Man, that was a hard battle to watch - I am on my parents' computer, and it is _so_ slow. Was quite an epic battle though. I am very proud of my knights, hanging in there for so long, gradually dying of poison, afflictions everywhere (my entire army seems like a mass of afflictions, not entirely sure why), but keeping all your sacreds at bay for all that time until my main army could reach them and mow them down.

Your Shadow Blast was scary. After the first barrage I got really lucky with you missing most of my troops.

Good battle, anyway.

Re: So near yet so very, very, very far
 

Bandar Log seems to have achieved a specatcular recovery. Only two months or so ago they were reduced to two provinces, with a vast Argan army on their doorstep. Now they seem to have reclaimed all of their old territory! Astonishing. Seems the Argans are in trouble.

I wonder what is going on in T'ien Ch'i. I haven't seen any sign of them for the entire game, until just now when a remote scout gave me my first sighting of one of their banners. From the location I guess they must probably be quite large though. Well, I guess the Orient is meant to be mysterious.

Re: So near yet so very, very, very far
 

Thats been the entire war, actually- each of us finds a new strategy/spell and devastates the entire enemy army. Unfortuantely, Arga Dis isn't a brilliant nation in terms of magical diversity.

Re: So near yet so very, very, very far
 

We Skaven know what running looks like. We choose to believe your troops were running like the terrified manwhelps they are http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/smile.gif

I think my bless on the censer bearers, council guards and mages has yielded a rich crop of afflictions amongst your armies but has yielded a particularly poor crop of Ulmish corpses. Sure Ulmish troops will continue to drop dead in the months to come but that ain't going to provide much satisfaction.

And the Shadow Blasts - I know Skaven may not have great precision but it got a little ridiculous watching all that death inflicting badness go flying over the serried ranks of your army .... leaving nothing but vast swathes of dead grass and shrubbery as a mark that the Skaven were actually employing battle magicks.

If only my gem income wasn't so dire - it would have been nice to be able to fire a few more off. I mean they had to start hitting something sooner or later ... surely . http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/Sick.gif

Triple bah.

Edited to add triple bah.