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Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Add another vote to getting rid of province names; we can always refer back to the first map if we really need to know.
And yeah, yarns should get pearls no matter when they're written. So you have no excuses, Quantum http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/happy.gif |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Since the first world map posting had the province names, I don't care much if they are present or not in the later maps.
As for the schedule, I'd like to settle down into a predictable MWF as soon as possible. And when I said 1 yarn/wk was too fast, I meant in terms of how long to get it done, not how fast they appear. I can (usually) get one out per week, but each one might need 2+ weeks of work. Same throughput, but longer pipeline. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Province names off for sure. It is cluttered enough and the names have already been posted once.
Our host Tauren will be handling my turns while I am out of the country for 12 days starting on Friday. I will post the Turn 9 yarn and maybe even have the Turn 12 yarn done before I leave, though that might be difficult to write in advance. I would prefer to not engage in any wars while I am gone, though Vanheim and I are having a little diplomatic fun. This does help me a lot with my yarns (and his too, I noticed). My Turn 9 yarn, which is mostly done, will be primarily for djo and the nation of Vanheim. I am also greatly wondering if the Marignon prophet Father Muszinger was really poisoned! And has he died? And what was that spell he used to kill the Assassin? Holy Avenger? Interesting indeed... Cheers! |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Quote:
The assassins of Marignon will get more story time shortly. They carry poison daggers so it seemed natural to incorporate one. Sadly, the good father's presence in the hall of fame removes all suspense about whether he is actually dead. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Quote:
A note to Tauren: could you please post the world maps here in the forum and not email them? The 3M file was too big for my ISP's mailbox. And I've still only got dial-up at home. (I got the turn at home no problem, and I did get the map today at work.) Thanks. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
So... how's that turn coming along?
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Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
I am having difficulties with the yarnspinners site. My Turns 6 and 9 show up only in edit mode. Am I doing something wrong? I have not really looked at all the editing features, being somewhat computer illiterate. Some of you guys have pretty darn good stuff in there (like pictures) Me? All I can handle are words. I suppose I ought to study the site throughly some day when I can find the time. But work and play are always getting in the way!
Anyway, I am off to France! Our host Tauren will make the next several turns for me. I sent him detailed instructions on what I want to do, which does NOT include fighting any wars this early in the game. Cheers, Panther |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
It's just the refresh bug-- they show up okay for me, and probably will on your computer shortly. Enjoy your time in France.
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Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
One thing I forgot to mention. Send all diplomatic email messages to Tauren with a copy to me. He has my instructions to follow, but one can never prepare for everything.
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Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
"Come on you raver, you seer of visions,
come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner..." ---------- Marignon, Turn 9 Esclave "Esclave." I awoke with a hand on my shoulder. I had been working on cross-referencing a particularly tricky passage from Encyclopedia Illwinter with St. Quantum's Gvide to Bvffing , and must have fallen asleep on my pages where I sat working in the library. "Esclave." I turned, and beheld her. Close up, she was... and her voice was the soft glow of sunrise, and... she knew my name! "Um, yes my lady?" "I need you to make me a sword." I hesitated, fearful that my pounding blood had made me mishear. "I fear a blacksmith might serve you better." She laughed with a twinkling of bells. "I don't need you to forge me one, just put these," she poured five fire rubies from her hand onto my pages, "into this." So saying, she drew a short sword of common design and also balanced that on my books. I was somewhat flummoxed by this odd request, not least because I had no way to fulfill it. "Perhaps... my lady, you would be better served approaching the Archbishop Marignon with this request. He has many fine magi who could help you with this, while I, a lowly cleric, have most scant knowledge of magick. What I do know is purely theoretical..." The golden-haired one paused, but her eyes twinkled. "Everything required is in St. Wordscigam's Compendium. Beyond that, all that is required is a pure heart, a keen eye, and a steady hand." In the face of such beauty I was not about to deny any admirable trait. "I am at your service, my lady." "I would be glad to show you how to begin." She moved closer and put a hand on the back of my chair. "I...I believe I can make it work," I managed, hastily gathering my books and preparing my retreat, "But now, I think, I hear the call for morningsong, so... uh..." "Then I will see you again tomorrow morning, oh, and Escalve?" "Yes?" She reached out with her pure-white sleeve and wiped my cheek with a smile, "You have ink on your face". Ghost The smell is overpowering and it has been 2 days since my last proper meal. In the dark, I clutch Aftial's gift tighter and a faint fire glows along its sharp edge, lighting my enclosure. I think back to that last conversation with her: Father Muszinger is using the lord's rebellion to build his support. In each province he deposes the current lord for not accepting the church's new doctrine, but replaces him with a leader loyal directly to Father Muszinger. A lurch! For a moment I panic. I calm my heart, and quiet my breath. I am not here. You cannot notice me. We are underway at last. Spire Woods is the last of the old provinces on Father Muszinger's path of conquest. The prince, Leric, is defying the church's commands. The throne after him passes to his wife, Manthe, and after her to their son, Pagobar, but the fourth in line for the throne is a good man: loyal to me and well liked by the church. With him on the throne, Muszinger will have no grounds to attack. The servants grunt on the stair. I feel a little sorry for them. If I fail, they will surely be put to death for their involuntary participation. But removing the top three will not be easy. The royal family is paranoid about assassination. Worse, they cannot stand each other, and are rarely in the same building. If you kill one, the others will tighten security even more. The door is open now. I can hear the servants being roughly searched and yelled at, for no reason other than that the guards hold swords and the servants do not. But everything is in order, and now I am moving again. Your only chance is the midwinter feast. They will gather to celebrate together-- but not in some great hall where an assassin might be able to intrude. They will dine together in their private hall with only one set of great doors, nowhere to hide within, and a pack of their most faithful guards outside. Every dish will be sampled for poison, and every servant who enters will be thoroughly searched. The voices are muffled, but I can hear. The servants leave the room. The royal family drink and eat noisily, bickering with each other. A knife intrudes near my face, and it is time to move. The calf's carcass is sliced from nose to tail and I arise. They fall like leaves, my sword and my arm in perfect harmony. My shield does not come off my back. Now it is quiet. I can have a quick meal before figuring out how to escape. Esclave I awoke in the bitterly cold morn. Careful not to disturb her, I incant to the candle, which flickers briefly in the stillness, then goes black. I decide it is not important to see anyway, and return to warm slumber. In the morning the bed is empty and she is gone, leaving only a note about how she must go out to fight, but that she loves me. To fight! I gesture to start the fireplace and the room explodes into flame. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Oooh, turn 9 already. How time does fly. This time in Yarnspinners 1, it was just me and Karacan and this odd new person named Sedna whose idea of a good post went something like this:
"I believe I've come up with a winning business plan: Step 1: Prophet Step 2: ??? Step 3: Rule the world" <a href=http://yarnspinners.improbable.org/index.php?title=YS1:Turn9>YS1: Turn 9</a> |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
And on to the good stuff...
--- C'tis, Turn 9 The late summer sun beat down as the lizards crossed the parched plains. Ruli couldn't imagine finer weather for a hike. Many kinds of lizards lived in the kingdom of C'tis Ash'embe and the others were children of the damp swamps, and clearly unhappy with the dryness of the air but Ruli was a desert lizard. And the plains were almost desert, this time of year. Especially with the recent drought. Nothing green, and almost nothing brown, could be seen on the horizon, the only relief being here and there an interesting rock formation. They were walking on an ancient lava bed, Cole said one night at camp. "A very long time ago," the dragon had told them, "the Rim Mount used to glow for miles with molten rock." Ruli thought his use of such archaic units something of an affectation. "Was... was... was the mountain killed by the frost giants?" asked one of the troops, a timid little fellow whose name Ruli really ought to remember. Clearly he at least had been listening to Laph's yarn. "No", said Cole. "It was dead long before then. Even mountains grow old and die," he said, almost wistfully. "But we may find something interesting if we pick through its bones." A few of the little swamp guards swiveled their heads around to look, nervously, at Ruli. Cole had been teasing him like this ever since the incident with the mouse, which for some reason he thought was highly amusing. Everyone else thought it was one more reason to be wary of the weird winter egg. --- They had paused by a dry riverbed to rest. Ruli wandered off to explore. Smaller than most lizards in his cohort, he'd been pleased to discover he could easily keep up with and outlast these specially trained, elite lizards (except for Ash'embe, who was always running ahead, trying futilely to keep up with Cole). Of course, I'm not carrying a full suit of armor and a falchion like everyone else on this "camping trip", thought Ruli. He wandered up the river bed, to a place where dead bushes lined the shore. How long has this river been gone? he wondered. A season? A year? A hundred years? Plants decayed quickly when they died, he knew, but it was hard to shake the feeling that these skeletal bushes had been there for aeons. He looked at the shriveled bark on the stubby trunks, the thin brittle tendrils that must have once held leaves, and fed and sheltered small creatures like... mice. There, in a mat of dried grass and twigs, a small nest. He counted three, no, four little mouse skeletons curled up in the nest, huddled desperately against the cold. They had failed; now they were only bones. It was enough. Ruli thought back to something Great Grandfather had said, during his brief apprenticeship. Lugal-zagesi was an ancient shriveled lizard who had journeyed to C'tis from somewhere very far away. There were other lizard nests on this world, of course, small enclaves surrounded by warmlings, but Great Grandfather had come from much further away. Lizards lived on thousands of different worlds, scattered across the galaxy, and it was not uncommon for some few to travel far from their home nest, the way Aetonyx had. But Great Grandfather never spoke of his travels, and the young lizards could only guess how he'd gotten all his scars. Rumor had it he had lost his tail four times... "I really only know about living things," Great-Grandfather had said. "Some people say, when a thing dies, it's gone. But I've seen enough death... as long as there's something left leaves, a tooth, bones it's not really dead." When Ruli had asked him to elaborate, he had claimed ignorance, declared his joints were bothering him, and given Ruli a dozen musty books to look through. Most of them were in indecipherable scripts. But one book... Ruli dredged up the memory. Yes, that was it, arrange them like so, mumble this... He closed his eyes, searching, reached out... It was the most bizarre thing Ash'embe had seen in his entire life. They were all ready to march, until Cole had suggested that someone really ought to fetch Ruli, and then he'd looked right at Ash'embe. If Ruli were so bloody clever, he'd know not to disappear when we're about to leave, he'd thought to himself. But he wouldn't dream of refusing a request from Cole. Just last night, the dragon had confided in them that there was an outpost of men up ahead, stealing something that was rightfully his, and that they should... how had he put it? "We must be prepared for any eventuality." Ash'embe wished he could get his voice to sound like that. So then he'd asked around, and little Zu, who Ash'embe privately thought shouldn't be there, too weak, always asking questions just like another annoying lizard, come to think of it had piped up that he'd watched the winter-egg go up the dry river bed. As usual, this made no sense: if there'd been water in it, of course, Ash'embe would gladly have gone to the water's edge, anything to be damp again. But who cares about a dry river? Nothing there but a bunch of rocks. And then he'd seen the mouse. It was dancing, its skull bobbling on its bony limbs, its tail bones swaying despite the complete lack of breeze. A tiny little voice in Ash'embe's head admired the artistry, the way the joints fit together, the way Ruli was keeping it under control. The loud voice in Ash'embe's throat said, "What the scale-leaver's-feather do you think you're doing?" The winter-egg startled, broke concentration, and the mouse fell to the ground, just a bunch of bones again. "We're leaving," said Ash'embe, as icily as he could manage in the thirty-degree heat, and strode off while the winter-egg sputtered something behind him. We're late, and Cole's going to be upset, thought Ash'embe, because Ruli was playing with a dead mouse. No wonder the guy gave him the creeps. --- They reached the foothills an hour before dark. Cole had refrained from darting ahead, though it pained him to be so close and not swoop in; but it wouldn't do to let them know he was coming. He forced himself to trudge at the slow speed of the small lizards. They mean well, he thought. But what I wouldn't give to have Dagda or Alagon along... At least young Arruli was shaping up nicely. Cole was pleased that he had figured out how to work with skeletons without the aid of a mentor. He would have to arrange for some better lessons, to see what the hatchling was capable of. After they dispensed with the current interlopers, of course. He could almost smell it, from here. The sound of hammers and carts and other man-noise came to him, and he signaled to Ash'embe to move his troops into position. The miners were completely surprised by the attack, though they fought back bravely, with their picks and shovels and a few swords. Cole noted with some sadness that the little questioning lizard, Zu, had gotten disoriented in battle, run straight toward the men, and been stabbed through. Ruli, who had looked a little shocked at the sudden onset of violence, was the only group healer, and rushed up to Zu's body. Then Cole flew out from where he'd been hiding, drew his wings out to their full length, and breathed fire onto the closest group of warmlings. They made pleasant crackling noises as they burnt up. He breathed on another group, and smiled thinly at the growing terror in their eyes. That's what you get for disturbing dragon hordes. The Rim Mountain stash of volcano-gold had always been one of his favorites. The battle was over quickly; the warmling miners were no match for swamp guards, even if they were only children, nor the enraged fire of a dragon with a cause. Cole noticed with some interest that what finally got the men to turn and run was not so much that they were being cut down by Ash'embe's forces, but that the corpse of the small lizard Zu, the only lizard to fall, had gotten up, and was marching toward their lines with a purposeful stride he'd never had in life. Ruli's eyes blazed as he watched the dead lizard march down his murderers. That went well, thought Cole. There was a cave in the next mountain range over, where an elderly dragon had lived long ago, fondly carving his gem garden until the chasm walls gleamed with a thousand glittering roses. The old dragon had long since disappeared, and nobody else had dared move in so close to Cole's dominion. Perhaps it would be time to pay the mountains a visit. Cole was very fond of roses. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Wow! Time does fly. Well, I finally took the time to write my yarn for Turn 6. I guess I better get cracking on Turn 9 tomorrow!
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Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Here it is, another long one: Vanheim turn 9:
In which Pherios writes home, and Quellian Ji speaks up. Vethru "Is this report accurate?" asks Rilia. She's one of the sharper minds on the Konella Koreia in the area of foreign policy. They don't listen to her much. Apparently one of her ancestors pissed off one of their ancestors. "As far as I can tell," I say. The diplomats we sent to Man were old school. Very loyal, very trustworthy. And certainly lacking the imagination to come up with what she's just read. "Wow. What are we going to do?" "Figure out what this Selena is. Stupid, psycho, or just very, very green." "Some of the Jarls will want you to take back Stone Grave Mountain." "Back?" I say. She smiles. "In a historical sense." I snort. They have no idea of what historical really means. Historical doesn't mean, my grandfather lived here. It doesn't even mean, my great-great-grandfather's ancestors lived here. Because after a few thousand years, anyone, everyone can say that. People are like water; you can try to dam them up, but they're going to burst out and wash over everything until you can't tell the difference between rivers, lakes, and streams. My land, my ***. As for me, the only use I have for real estate is to sell it. I mean, who wants to deal with tenants, anyway? I suppose I should be tolerant; until I arrived, the Vans believed they had the monopoly on long memories. "Has she taken Copos?" "Not as far as we know. Is it important to us?" she asks. She's smooth. She manages to ask me, indirectly, just what are you after, while hiding it in a reasonable question about foreign policy. No wonder she's a diplomat. "Let's keep her off balance," I say. "Let's be nice. She threatens war, so we'll send her gifts. Find her some nice jewelry, and a couple of paintings. And throw in one of those sapphires we've been mining. She'll like that." "Right away," Rilia says. "And why don't we send a higher ranking party? Old Emeikos says he won't go back to Man anyway." "Good idea. Let's send a woman. Do we have anyone from Alteion with some tact?" "How about Mirima? She's awfully hard not to like, and she's pretty shrewd." "OK. Put a couple Valkyries in her guard, too. And make sure a description of Selena gets to Pherios and his crew. She's going to be in our future, one way or another." After Rilia leaves, I talk to Ji. "Your sources know where this 'Ralph' is?" "I can put a letter on his desk, boss." "Good." I get out some paper and a quill. Ji asks, "Is she right? Does she have blessed, invisible wardens? Because I swear, I can't find the Vans when they're on maneuvers, and if the wardens are anything like that, we're in trouble!" "No. She's overconfident. She has wardens, but the Vans are better. They're quieter than wardens out in the field, and in friendly territory, they're impossibly good." I think a minute. Could she be that uninformed? Maybe she is just inexperienced. I finish my note to Ralph with that in mind. "It'd be an unpleasant war. No front lines. Guerilla attacks everywhere." "Ick," says Ji. "With our upstanding, straight-arrow Vans? We are in trouble." "Not at all," I say. "I've been reading their history. You'd be surprised what they've done in the past. And the others, you've seen them. No, dirty war suits us. You'll see. Operation Maros Gallupeidi kicks off next month." "Maros Galliwhatia? What's that mean?" I smile. " 'You have something I want.' " Pherios We separated. She stepped back, and I slowly let go of her hands. "Be careful," I said. "I will," she replied. "Don't worry. I'll see you in a couple days." After the door closed, and my heart slowed, I sat down to write. Dear Mom, Think you very much for the package. Winter has arrived, and the socks and scarf are already keeping me warmer. The cookies arrived in good shape. Sometimes I'm so busy they are all I have time to eat! I'm sorry I haven't written sooner, but sometimes it seems that even though I'm very busy, there is nothing interesting to say. But this time I have news. I've met someone. Her name is Galameteia of Lunetellerion. I think you know her mother, Thumesteia. I first met Galameteia last month... She stood up when I walked in. It was her. It was obviously her--I had only seen her once, from a distance, but I would recognize her anywhere. She stood right before me, in the little turret where I study, and the only thing I could say was, "Oh!" "Pherios of Alteion?" she asked. The uncertainty felt out of place in her voice. She was a beautiful Valkyrie, proud, poised. "You're here! I've been looking for you." "Me? But I've been looking for you. Of course--you're a seer. But...if you're a seer, why are you surprised to see me?" It wouldn't be the last time her quick intellect would trip me up. "Because...because...well, how did you know where to find me?" I asked her. "Vethru sent me. I'm Galameteia of Lunetellerion, of Vethru's Black Wings." Then she explained. Recently, whenever she painted, her mind was filled with images that she was compelled to put on canvas. Strange, alien images that she couldn't believe came from within her. At first, she put up with it, even welcomed it. "I thought I was becoming inspired," Galameteia said. "Artists are supposed to have a unique vision, aren't they?" But the visions invaded her dreams, and then her waking hours. She found the only way to banish them was to capture them in oil. So she did, flying with the army by night, painting by day. It was working, until one day, when hearing about the battle at Namor, she realized that she had already painted it. "I couldn't believe it! I thought I had painted something abstract, a fantastic landscape, you know? But when I looked at it again, I knew. It was there, and I painted it weeks beforehand. Everything. I saw the battle, our victory, and the strange desert the Prophet discovered. I couldn't sleep. I didn't sleep for three days, until I told my lieutenant. She brought me to Vethru. And he sent me to you." So I tried to help her understand what she was seeing, and how to live with it. I told her how I saw omens in the sky since I was young. How confusing I found them, until I learned to study them. "It's been getting worse for me, too. The omens used to come mostly when I looked for them. Now they arrive without warning, while I sleep, while I walk. " I told her that the anxiety ebbed once you understood what you saw. "The vision isn't what you're looking at. It's the impression it makes in your mind. The raven is just a raven, even if I see it flying with seagulls, until something in my mind says, 'Three huskarls will die in battle today.' That's when it becomes an omen. And that's when the vision leaves me alone." "But then you're left with the knowledge..." she said. I nodded. She understood. Which was worse, frightening images, or dreadful certainty? I told her why I had been looking for her. "I've seen danger following you. You're out searching for something, and darkness pursues you. You've got to be careful. What are you doing with the army, exactly?" "I can't tell you," she said. "I'm sorry. Vethru's orders." She showed me her paintings. I didn't see much information in them, but I didn't expect to. The prophecy would be in her mind. The birds are just birds. As art, however, they were striking. I had never seen such vivid chaos on the canvas. The colors of one of them reminded me of a storm-tossed sunset. The shapes of another evoked the spring icepack breaking against the rocks in the coves of the gorge. We reached a swirl of uneven purple that could have been an earthquake seen by moonlight, when her eyes widened, and she gasped. "Wing and spear!" "What is it?" I suddenly saw the lonely egret soaring before the storm again. "You," she whispered. "It's you." From that time, we became hard to separate, each of us fearing for the other's life. It was a strange, awkward relationship at first. Over time, though, we found the company of someone else who understood bound us together more than our fears. Our visions began to trouble us less, and the information we gave to Vethru improved. My uncle said that not a single Van has died in the war. But her job is dangerous; she flies into the night on missions she can't tell me about. I stay and wait, like tonight. Trying to write to my mother. I didn't want to burden her with my fears. I didn't think she'd understand, but she would want to try, and it's hard to talk about. So instead I wrote a little more about how I met Galameteia because we both work for Vethru. I wrote that I often see Galameteia when we are both in the city. I told my mother that I like Galameteia very much, and it made me happy, because it was important, and it was true, and I could share it with her. The rest, I left out. I closed the letter by promising to write again soon, and I sealed it and set it aside. I opened a window to get a better look at the sky. As much as it pained me, I couldn't stop looking for omens. There was a gull sitting on the ledge. I realized it had been there a few minutes. It hadn't flown away when I opened the window. I waited for another moment, then I said, "Well, do you want to come in?" "I thought you'd never ask," the bird said, and it hopped into my room and fluttered nearer to the fire. "Was that a guess, or did you figure it out?" "A little of both," I said. "I've seen you before. And not just with Vethru. I saw you in a dream. " I swore the bird shuddered. "Yeah, that was me, but I didn't write the script. Quellian Ji, at your service," he said, and he gave me a little bird bow. "Hey, kid, I hate to drop in and run off, but I wasn't planning to have this conversation tonight. I was just checking in on your Valkyrie. The boss wanted to make sure she got out on time tonight. " "You know where she's going?" "Yeah, I'm going, too. No, I can't tell you where, and boss says, stop asking. He'll tell you in time." Ji looked uncomfortable. "Uh, while I'm here...if you've got a second..." "What is it?" The gull's voice softened. "Do you see anything ahead for us? In the next few days? Just between you and me." I was going to say nothing, but a sudden swirl of wind drew my gaze to the window. It hit me then, hard--it dropped like a stone into my stomach. I swallowed. "Kid? Are you all right? What do you see?" "Falling leaves," I said. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
My own yarn for turn 9 is in... and I am on time for once! Erh... well, I am so late I am one full yarn behind, but don't break the news to me. And I am still not happy with my yarn for turn 9.
On another note, I will be away for two weeks starting soon, so don't expect any yarn from me for a while. I may be able to get my yarn for turn 12 before leaving, but I won't make any promises, given my record of being late, and later still. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
(The obligatory "Turn??" post)
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Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
We are waiting on Pythium, quantum mechani. I wasnt going to force host, though, because some have been saying this has been going to fast anyway...
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Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
I'm okay waiting a little longer for quantum. He hasn't been on the board for the past 3 days, so perhaps real life has intruded? Heh, of course I advocate waiting so that my powerful southern neighbor doesn't miss his turn...
You might also want to award pearls to those who have already written turns 6 and 9. Others are still welcome to write and get their pearls at a later date. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
I believe I already sent pearls for turn 6 yarns.
Turn 9 yarn pearls will be coming with the next turn. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Here's turn 12, a little action thing with Vethru. Side note: the battle described did not actually take place, in the game.
Vethru I have my small ship, but there's no star to steer her by. You pick a cloudy night for what we're up to. I've got an old Van navigating instead. They say he's been sailing the shores of the gorge since he was a boy, twelve hundred years ago. That sounds pretty good, but I heard another Van mumble that it didn't really matter, because that earthquake four hundred and fifty years ago changed all the shoreline, anyway. Either way, between him and me (I'm a damn good navigator myself), we have no trouble finding our way across the gorge to Cimri, at night, in silence. The Vans are good at that, too. Quellian Ji lands in my boat and says, "Grey team and white team are both in position, boss." I nod to Hallixene, and he gives the order. The men at the oars pick up the pace. One huskarl stares at the bird. He's new. Another man says, "Yeah, the bird talks." The first man shrugs. They're all veterans. Not much worries them, and they're not much for small talk. We reach the shore and they have the boats up on the beach, quietly, quickly, as if their ancestors have spent several millennia turning ocean raiding into a high art form, which they have. The only one having trouble is Kor, the dwarf. By the time he's stumbled out of the boat, the scouts from team green are into the forest, and those from team blue are down the beach, keeping an eye on the nearby fishing village. I'm an old man, and it takes me nearly a half hour to get up the hill to where the temple is. Of course, team green is way ahead of me; there are bodies all around the two buildings on the hill by the time I get there. The first is a modest stepped pyramid. Even in the dim torchlight, I can see bloodstains on its stones. Hallixene tells me our target is the other building. From the outside, it looks like a wooden stockade, but once inside, I see that the wood is a facade; the building is solid stone. We pass through the main worship area, where the statue of a twelve-foot tall stag stands. In an inner room we go down some stairs, past broken doors and more bodies, before reaching the vault. There's an unarmed old man standing in front of the door. "Blasphemers! Unholy! He will trample you, and your necks will know His sacred antlers!" His back is pressed to a thick, ornate oaken door. He's pretty feisty for being surrounded by men with sharp steel things pointed at him. My men part, and he gets a good look at me. "You," the man snarls. "You are an abomination, and He will never suffer you to exist." He gestures, and a bright, searing light flashes. It's painful--very painful--but it's not enough. I step forward, and he says, "You cannot harm me, unholy thing. His blessings will shield me." "Don't believe everything you read," I say, and I touch him. He cries out in surprise, then he wails in pain. He shrivels until his complexion is worse than mine, then he crumbles into dust and bone. As the echo of his screams fade, even the einhere and huskarls are silent. They have that stunned "and I thought I believe in god's power before" look. I tell Hallixene to take them upstairs to plunder the temple. "Kor!" I say. "Open up this door!" He scuttles forward, mumbling. He begins tapping on the door with his hammer. "Skar mar lrr grror ar!" he says. "Well, I didn't tell you to leave your gauntlets in the boat," I reply. He grumbles again and makes a great show of limbering up and swinging the hammer, but the door falls at the first blow. Wussy dwarves. Inside, as you would expect, is little of any real value. Religious types chronically overvalue sacred scriptures and undervalue gold and jewelry. The one area we both agree on is old stuff. I locate the two items I'm looking for. A thick leather-bound book, with five stars on the cover, and a length of dark wood, cut into a long prism, sort of like an obelisk. I like obelisks. On this one is inscribed letters I have not seen in a dozen worlds. I wrap the items in a cloth and tell Kor to grab a few other things to mask what I came for. He's got sense; he grabs what little shiny gold and silver stuff there is. "Let's move," I say, and we're up the stairs and into the temple proper. "What in Hel are you doing?" I ask, when I see my men gathered around the statue. With ropes. "We're pulling down the statue, my lord. It is an affront to you," Hallixene says. He looks confused, as if his actions were self-evident. Worshipers--who can figure them out? I'm trying to steal something, and they think I'm worried about a statue? But it'd take longer to dissuade them than to convince them to do it quickly. I take a good look at the statue. After you've seen a hundred worlds, the patterns start to look pretty familiar. Standard nature deity. "OK," I say. "This fellow is all about birth and death. His coming in the spring represents fertility, and his death in the autumn represents the harvest. All you need to do is break off his antlers; they represent his manhood. Without them, he is impotent. So do it, and let's get out of here!" One of them manages to climb up the statue and do the deed without breaking his neck. As he comes down, there are shouts from outside, and I hear animal noises. Howls and roars. And clangs. In what seems like an instant, Hallixene is outside and back in again. "We're cut off," he says. "Men and animals, coming out of the forest to the west. A dozen men, lightly armored, bows and swords. I saw wolves, boars, and bears. " Outside, there's not much light, but I see my Vans and huskarls fighting woodsman and wildlife. Some of my guys were wounded. More men and animals are coming out of the forest. We're outnumbered, and certainly outmaneuvered. A female shapes suddenly appears next to me. "Sir, grey two is under attack from the village. They have reinforcements--about twenty light infantry in addition to the village's twenty militia. The einhere are berserking, but they are holding. For now." "How did they get word?" I wonder. "Kesselar is missing," she says. "We saw hawks overhead." "The bastards!" says Ji. Kesselar was one of Ji's lookout ravens. "Galameteia, right?" She nods. "Tell white team to split: one half should reinforce grey two. Tell the other half to sweep around the other side of town and counterattack to take heat off us. After they counterattack, they should disappear and to make their way back to Vanheim as planned. Deliver those messages, then get right back here." She vanishes into the night. The fighting is getting closer. We're piling up a lot of livestock, but we're slowly getting pushed back. "Ji! Get a message to blue two. Send a gull, don't go yourself. Tell them to set up an ambush at the edge of the beach. We'll be coming in hot." "OK, boss." I hear voices: "How many of them are there?" "Take that, bastard!" "Right flank! We need help!" "I can't see!" "Where's Igestus? Where's Igestus?" Hallixene: "Sir, we're not breaking through! They're turning our flank!" Sweet limping Vishnu, this went south in a hurry. Hallixene's phantoms are helping, but my men are falling. There's a lot more of them than we expected. I'm going to have to string up some of my intelligence operatives. "Kor! Go throw rocks at them!" I hear grumbling moving off to my right. The dark doesn't bother him. Galameteia is back. "Stay by me," I tell her. I whistle for Ji. "You wanted to be a general, bird--let's see what your girls can do. Call in team black." Ji squawks. "The right flank will be toast!" "No! Hit behind their center--clear the escape route. I've got the flank." Ji rises into the night, shrieking like a banshee. "Lord, no!" calls Hallixene. "You can't! Stay back, where we can protect you!" "Shut up, and do what I tell you! Be ready--hit them hard when team black comes in." I turn to Galameteia, and I hand her my package. "Get this back to Vanheim." "But sir, I can carry you, too. I'm strong enough." "Do it! I don't care if they cut off my head and burn my body. Listen! I will return. I promise you that. A bunch of tree-humping greenies can't keep me in the grave. " She's uncertain. There's that crazy worshiper thing again. She can't decide whether to obey god or protect him. "Get moving," I say, and I slap her on the ***, because that makes any woman jump. When she jumps, she doesn't come back down. With my package safe, I turn my attention to the battle. The right flank is collapsing; Kor can't hold back the wildlife pouring out of the forest. I put a couple lightning bolts into two bears, and then I dump some flares into the forest. The woods light up. Suddenly we don't have a problem anymore; we have a barbecue. Then team black arrives. A hundred years ago, on a distant world, I heard one composer's impression of Valkyries riding to battle. He got it exactly right. They tear through the lightly armored woodsmen who never thought to look up into the night. They die in a hail of javelins, spitted on the spears of my fierce flying girls. It's so beautiful I almost want to cry. Their line breaks, and we push through. We scramble through the woods, wolves and rangers on our heels. There aren't as many of us as made the trip up the hill. And I hate leaving perfectly good dead bodies behind. The enemy hassles us under the trees, where our airpower can't help us. We burst out onto the beach, and our pursuers are torn apart by the ambush. Neinos has managed a two-pronged attack, blue two and grey two hitting them from opposite directions. I yell until everyone's scrambling into the boats, because I know there's one thing we haven't seen yet. And right on schedule, the druid comes out of the woods. By himself, he wouldn't be a problem. But the two great horned serpents with him kill my rearguard and slither down the beach toward the boats. I can see how this is going to play out. I turn to Hallixene and say, "Get everyone in the boats, and set sail. If I see one boat turn around to come back for me, I will make the rest of your life miserable, and then I will make your unnaturally long afterlife extremely miserable." He pales but obeys me. I walk unsteadily toward the snakes in the shifting sand. The druid knows what's going on. He'll gladly let my men get away for a shot at me. He's even smiling. I smile back. Then I drop him with a lightning bolt. He wasn't expecting that. The reason is, by casting a spell at him, I give the snakes a chance to bite me. Most people won't make that trade, but I have an unfair advantage. I'm a real bastard that way. I dodge one snake, but the other one gets me in the left forearm and hangs on. That's good; that keeps him in reach. I put my dagger into his eye and stir. He backs away quick. The poison, I don't worry about. I'm past such things. But I'll need to fix my arm later. The second one comes on again, but by now, I'm playing electric eel. I give him a good shock, and he circles, and he gets ready for another pass. He hesitates, and that's all the time I need. I stand up as straight as I can in the sand and throw my arms in the air. The snake is mildly surprised when I rise out of his reach. As the Valkyries lift me into the night, Ji flies by, and I say, "Good job." "Just like we practiced," he says. "Stay with the boats," I tell him. "Make sure they get back in one piece. Ladies, let's swing by the boat so everyone can see I'm all right. Then it's home to Vanheim." One of them takes me in her arms so I don't have to dangle by my wrists for the whole flight. "Thank you, Kestumaia, for your assistance," I tell her. "It's my pleasure to serve you, my lord," she says. I wonder how much. "You have beautiful eyes," I tell her. I can't tell if she's blushing or not, but that's OK. I've got the whole flight to work on her. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Turn 3 yarn finally in. Hopefully I will be able to continue catching up in the next few weeks.
|
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Sorry for the delay in turning in my turn. It's kind of a big one for me as far as game and plot decisions.
Praise Ami! |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
A turn delay now and then is fine by me.
I've been happy with the almost-but-not-quite MWF turn schedule. Keeping up with the writing has been tough enough as it is. I get caught up, then I go out of town for a weekend, and kerblammo! I'm behind again. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Try going out of the country for 12 days...
|
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Vanheim turn 15
In which Pherios sees the sights, and Vethru has dinner out. Vethru She sews up my skin with small, careful stitches. Every so often, she stops to smooth the skin so it doesn't bunch up where she's sewing. Her dead fingertips linger, caressing, when she does this. Once, she looks up while I watch her. She smiles, and her teeth are white. She looks much better than that first rainy night I met her, deep in the tower. She is younger than she appeared then; I'd say she was between Belletennares and Pherios's father in age. Today, she's traded in her blacksmith's apron for a low cut black dress. It fits her well; in dim light, she might not even look like a cadaver. Not that there's anything wrong with that. She's finished stitching now, and I say, "Thank you. That's a much better job than I could do one-handed. And Ji is hopeless with a needle." "My pleasure," she says. "It's the least I can do after the surgery you performed on my neck. I do enjoy seeing the world straight again." And now her silver hair flows properly over her shoulders, too. "Can you read it?" she asks. "Read what?" She raises an eyebrow. Of course. Kor already told her what I brought back. "I don't know yet," I admit. "It's the book I was looking for, but I can't tell how accurate the transcription is. If it even is a transcription of what I think it is." "And the rod? Is it a key to a cipher? Perhaps to the Codex of Five?" She wants very badly to look at them. She's a language nut herself. But I'll be damned if I let her look at them before I do. "Something like that," I say. To call the thing a key is too limiting, and to call it a dictionary, too expansive. She doesn't have the concept of what it really is. I wonder, though, how long it would take to teach her? She pouts. It makes her look alive. Not that there's anything wrong with that; we were all alive, once. And really, it's not a black-and-white thing. She's probably more alive than I am, by most popular standards. Should I think less of her because of that? I don't see why. What's the fuss? We're all going to be alive and dead at some time in our existence. Once you get to be my age, those kinds of details matter less and less. "Well," she says, "Maybe you could explain it to me over dinner?" * * * Apparently, she's been giving the dwarves cooking lessons. Some of them are even passable servers. They manage to open a second bottle of wine without shattering it, unlike the first. We drink a fairly good pinot noir and sample the light repast set in front of us. Neither of us is a heavy eater, for the obvious reason that neither of us needs to eat. "Have you heard from Belletennares lately?" she asks me. "He is well," I say. "He performs his duties exceptionally." "I knew he would," she says. "What about Pherios? I hear how well he is doing, but I never see him. Tell me how he is. Tell me something not in the reports. Tell me something about him." The things we live for--they can't be hidden. She happily works day and night with her magic, but when she sits down with me, over wine and food, and asks about my prophet and my seer, she comes alive. Thus proving my thesis; life and death come in small pieces. She and I have more of the former than we lack. I tell her a few stories, including one I heard from Ji. She hangs on every word. It's hard for her, staying in the tower all the time. We live--all right, exist--in the same world as the living. We walk the same earth, under the same sky. They accept us. The earth doesn't tremble when we pass. The trees don't bend to let us by. People are different. They push us away, and if you happen not to be a god, you're left on the fringes. In a dark tower, all alone with a handful of dwarves. I visit with her for a couple hours before I take my leave. "Thank you for a lovely evening, my lady of the tower," I tell her. She curtsies deeply. I get a glimpse down the valley between her breasts, and I'm impressed that she's kept herself smooth and firm. Skin care is so difficult when you're dead. "I enjoyed your company," she says. "Please come back soon." "Of course," I say, feeling unusually courtly. "Perhaps I will bring milady a small gift, or perhaps some magical gemstones." Her face lights up. "You have been reading my memos!" "Yes, my dear, and I have sent my seers to find you more gems. Some of our new...allies have exactly what you need." "...and are so close to another thing I would like," she says demurely. "And what is that?" "It's the dwarves, you see," she says. "Their talents lie at the forge and the summoning circle, not in the library. And the scholars on the hill, they are focused on your search, whatever that is. Not that they know much magic of practical value anyway. That is my dilemma. I need better minds." I smile. Women can be so demanding. It makes things a lot easier when a woman desires that which you already intend to purchase. Obtain? OK, conquer. Whatever. Pherios It was vast, and impersonal, and very, very old. The granite stones, each as big as a horse, rose tier after tier above the brilliant white sands below. We had climbed to the top, and I tried to imagine what it had been like to see this coliseum filled with people watching, what? Sport? Fights? Races? "Was it built by giants?" I asked. "No one knows," my uncle replied. "Certainly, giants have used it. So have we, in times we barely remember. I brought your father here once, and he maintained that the structure existed before the waters receded, constructed by some aquatic intelligence whose trace is barely left on our world. When we returned home, he showed me books in support of his theory. We could not agree on whether they were fact or fiction." "It's magnificent," said Galameteia. "If I weren't here, I don't think I would believe it. I'm going to take a better look." She lifted into the air and began to circle the arena in lazy loops. When she had risen out of earshot, I turned to Belletennares. "Can I ask you something, uncle? About your visions?" "Of course." "Do you ever...see things..." I wasn't sure I could ask him. I'd known him all my life, but now, he glowed with Vethru's power. I felt small. I didn't want to bother him. But there was no one else who would understand. He waited, patient, attentive. Serious. As he always was, always had been, just like in my memories. Still family. I finished. "...about Sennei?" He thought for a moment. I was relieved that I hadn't offended him. "Yes, of course I have. How could I not? She is my life, more than anything, even this war." He looked out over the quiet landscape. "You have had a premonition about Galameteia. A terrible one, if I'm not mistaken." I would've answered him, but the words stuck in my throat. He nodded. "Do you intend to marry her?" Again, I hesitated. Belletennares was finding my questions even though I couldn't speak them. "You aren't sure when the right time is, or even if you should do it at all," he said. "Pherios, I can't give you the advice you think you need to hear. I can't tell you that you will know the right moment, that your decision will coalesce out of the myriad possible futures that fate presents to you. I can't tell you that your feelings will guide you truly, because the heart is as fallible as the vision we share. I can only tell you this: it is possible. You may marry her, and find happiness you only imagined. In that, it is no different than love without the intrusion of the future in your mind. You know, of course, that she will understand you, and you, her, even better than Sennei understands me, something I can scarce believe possible. I have long thought that I married the most understanding woman in the universe." He was lost in memory for a breath. "You have not spoken to your father yet." "No, sir." "Don't be worried," he said. "He will surely approve. And, I have heard, House Lunnetellerion would welcome your marriage." "How do you know? Do you know someone in that house?" "Nothing so simple. It was hinted at in a letter from Sennei." He smiled. "There is a gentle conspiracy of females through which information flows with efficiency that would shame the spies of my army. You nor I will ever penetrate its workings, so be content with the knowledge that it works to our benefit." "Thank you, uncle," I said, and we clasped hands. "She's returning," he said, looking past my shoulder. "She's a fine warrior. You've chosen well for yourself." Galameteia landed. "Fiery deserts, misty plains of ice, and this place, all within a few miles. Extraordinary!" "These are the places Vethru seeks. We must watch for them in our portents," said Belletennares. "Their power will be mined and sent back to the tower to support our magic. Tomorrow, I will show you one more location of interest before I leave you for the front. Tonight, though, we stay in civilized quarters, in town, under a roof." * * * I woke to the sound of her sobbing. It was still night. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Coyote dreams," she said. That is what we'd say to each other when we had dark visions that we didn't want to talk about. Coyote dreams are small, furtive things that slink in the shadows. They can be chased away. We pretended our dreams were coyotes, because we were afraid they were dragons. I held her until she calmed. "Why am I an egret in your visions?" she asked. "Why not an eagle, or a hawk? I'm a warrior. I'm not prey." "You are not an egret," I told her. "You are not a bird at all. My dreams can't encompass you. They only give me a sketch. Not even a portrait. Everything you are would fill my dreams a thousand times over." "And I wish you were all my dreams gave me..." I whispered. She rolled over to face me. "In your visions...do I die fighting?" Her eyes were still wet. I could feel my own tears beginning. She wasn't supposed to ask me this. We agreed. It was too hard on both of us to hear the details of what we see. "Please," she whispered. I didn't know. The battles, the danger--they were always scattered, shadowy forms, poorly represented by clouds and birds. I never saw the event. I just felt the doom. "Yes," I manage to say, before my voice broke. "Always." We comforted each other until dawn. * * * "I feel it, too," said Galameteia. "There's something hidden here." "But you don't sense it, uncle?" I said. "Then, how did you know to bring us here?" "We had just taken control of the province when Gor's troops were hit by holy fire," said Belletennares. "We search for enemies, but there were none. The barbarians had no holy men. Later on, it happened again. The cause was clearly something in the environment." "I don't understand. Holy fire? Don't you mean unholy?" Belletennares said, "The troops were dead. That is why they were struck by holy fire." "We have...undead troops? I thought..." Galameteia wouldn't meet my eyes. "You knew?" "I suspected," she said. "About the troops. But Vethru--you see him every day! How could you not know?" "Those are just rumors! Vethru is old, he's not dead." I looked to Belletennares. "Right?" He regarded me tolerantly. "We do as Vethru commands. If he gives me troops long dead, I will use them. I serve. I'm sorry, Pherios, that the world is not what you expect. But it is the world." He seemed at a loss for words. Finally, he shook his head and said, "I must return to the army. I hope your journey back to Vanheim is pleasant and safe." Then he rode away. Galameteia led me to a rock where I sat down. "Vethru's...what is he?" I mumbled. "I thought you knew," she said tenderly. "It seemed like an open secret. Something everyone figured out, but decided would be impolite to talk about." "This is our world? We raise the dead? In Vanheim?" "You know our history. You know the magic they did even up to Alteion's time. The blood sacrifices. The demon summoning." "It seems so long ago. So what is he? A vampire? A ghoul?" "I don't know. Some say he is a revenant. No one really knows." So many things were becoming clearer, and none of them for the better. I wondered about images I had seen in my visions, and what I might make of them, knowing what I now know. "And the woman in the tower?" "They say she is just like him." All of this in the castle I was living in. I don't know why I was so surprised, or why the surprise offended me so much. I know that as Galameteia and I made our way back to Vanheim, one thought would not leave my mind: if this is the world we live in, what other terrible things I once thought forbidden might now be possible? |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
<h3>Marignon, Turn 12</h3>
Pr. Muszinger On this very day, one-thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-seven years ago, the impossible happened. The Potter took his foot from the wheel, and entered into the pot-- yet the pot did not shatter. The Author became a character in the great book-- yet the story continued. The infinite LORD of all creation walked among us to teach us how we might be freed from the shadow of death by purification through fire and faith and the sword. On this very day, nine-hundred and ninety-seven years ago, the inconceivable happened. While the faithful sat in quiet remembrance of the manifestation, the corrupt leaders and faithless magicians of the empire of Ermor, forsaking the teachings of the church and seeking to master the grave on their own terms, opened the forbidden gate and let death pour in. On this very day, one year ago, the inspirational happened. The LORD sent forth His faithful servant Aftial to lead the church triumphant against the hosts of darkness and bring the light of faith to the lost and confused people of the whole world. You have seen Her fight today-- seen how the heretical and barbaric spells of these druids melted into mist in the face of righteousness. You have seen how the forces of Marignon, inspired by Her presence and reunited under the direct leadership of the church have swept our enemies before us time and again these last glorious months. You have seen God himself lean down from heaven and smite the unbelieving. Yet if you look to the west you will see that the sun is setting. Night is coming, and the servants of darkness stalk the fetid fields and dying forests, reveling because they are unchecked and unmatched in their conquests. Until THIS day! I set here the cornerstone for the topless tower that will rise upon this plain. At its top shall be a never ceasing flame, and it will maintain a faithful watch upon the lands of death, protecting the lands of the church beyond, never sleeping, never turning aside-- a dagger pointed at the heart of our enemy-- a ray of light shining down to the craven creatures below who long for God's loving sword to free them from their misery. This shall be the Shadow Watch, and the men chosen to serve here will carry a awesome responsibility, holding the blackness at bay and waiting until the promised time when the LORD's most faithful servant will lead us on the final, great crusade to cleanse this stain from His creation. If the defenders of the Shadow Watch ever feel tainted by the stench of decay which rises from those foul fens they should climb to the highest point of the tower as the golden sun rises in the east. As far as the eye can see will stretch the Church and Kingdom of Marignon. Every cottage you spy will be the house of a devout believer. Every fire will be from the cleansing of the flock. Every road will be one along which the armies of Marignon march to bring salvation to the people of the world. As the sun ascends high in the sky let it's fiery rays penetrate you, burning your despair and rekindling the light of your faith; for darkness does not love the light. And every night must end in glorious day. Through time and tides of time the everlasting light will bring this death-infested world to an end. We who have the good fortune to live through the fires of the LORD's most precious gift must be prepared to be singed as His righteous anger scours the world. Yet prepared by the fires of the Church, and protected from deception by the Church's leaders, we will all by lifted up by LORD. And above the broken confines of this world He will make us live to never die. Esclave On the last day of Carrofactorum, we passed into the town square where an angry mob had gathered. "She's a witch, burn her!" There was a crowd gathered around some woman, who certainly was dressed like a witch. "Hey, maybe you should step in," suggested Cleric Virgilie with a wink and a nudge. Ever since I started displaying my increased knowledge of practical magick he's been insisting that it won't be long before I make the rank of Witch Hunter. But it's one thing to master the arcane magicks (only the non-evil ones of course), it's quite another to acquire enough political friends to make the necessary rank in the church. Normally a cleric spends many years mastering basic fire magick, and so has enough time to find friendly church leaders to sponsor him. Me... I think I spent too much time this year with my angel in the library. "Let's just keep going," I muttered under my breath, but it was too late, we'd been spotted by the extremely loud leader of the crowd. "You, good sirs! You are from the House of Just Fires! We have found a witch, may we burn her?" I sighed. "How do you know she is a witch?" You won't believe some of the ridiculous charges people have brought against supposed witches. There was this one time when a guy brought in a newt and insisted that it was really all that remained of his best friend... "She was overheard speaking ill of the Most Righteous Aftial!" This was about to get a little tricky. The inquisition had surprised everyone by making criticism of Aftial blasphemy, arguing that '... as you do unto the most pious of my servants, you do also unto me.' And then they went into the village to buy meat." meant that speaking ill of Aftial was speaking ill of the LORD. Myself, I was not sure about the Angel. Certainly she had helped the Church expand it's realms, but she seems to inspire worship, which belongs only to God. I realized suddently that I never had never asked my goddess of the morning what she thought about Aftial, and now she was gone... "Burn her, burn the witch!" The mob was getting out of hand. "Quiet, quiet. There are ways of telling if she is a witch." "Tell us!" "What are they?" "Do they hurt?!" "I shall perform the sacred test of St. Lynad. Stand aside, good people, and let me near the accused." Virgilie gasped a little, since the test of St. Lynad was notorious for getting out of hand and spreading fire to innocent bystanders. The crowd knew this well, and drew back as far as they could. Chanting loudly, I approached the young women who, hands tied behind her back, quaked in fear. Her witch's hat was far too big for her, and fell down over her face. I tried to reassure her with sympathetic eyes, but realized that the chant, which describes in awful detail the burns which will be inflicted upon the unrighteous was probably not helping. Best get this over with. I raised my hands to heaven and a tongue of flame fell down from the sky directly on top of the witch. Immediately the dust in the air began to burn in a maelstorm that carried sparks everywhere. In seconds, the heat from the inferno had singed my robe and hair. With a loud cry, for the heat was unbearable, I dropped my hands. The fire vanished, and the smoke settled. There, on the blackened cobblestones, stood the woman, completely unscathed, but looking very shaken. The crowd was stunned, and I seized on their uncertainty. "The LORD has protected this woman from the divine fire-- yet since she has brought this suspicion upon herself, I hereby cast her out into the Plains of Eternal Peril, there to reflect on how to lead a more godly life." As the crowd milled about, I gingerly stepped over the heated rocks to the woman's side, and whispered, "Sorry for the exile, but you'll be safer there. The after-effects of being turned briefly to stone should wear off soon." As I strode off, not feeling like talking to Cleric Virgile, I bumped into a perfectly proportioned man, whose face shone with a look of divine health. "Very impressive, my young friend," he said in a smooth baritone. "Come with me, for there is much to discuss..." |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
<h3>Marignon, Turn 15 </h3>
Ghost The tree branch is smooth and the sun is warm. To the east, I spy rising dust. The armies of Pythium march north towards the Plains of Eternal Peril, covering the world under their purple banner. The wind tosses the tree, but I remain motionless. Down below the tree there is a a rough dirt track. Used frequently enough to prevent large plants from blocking it, but not enough to prevent a covering of low weeds, grasses, and wildflowers, it is perfect cover for my line. This finest thread, strong as a rope many times its size, is loosely stitched to the tree across the way. It runs invisible across the path, then up into my tree to where it is tied onto a large boulder which I hauled up via a pulley with much effort earlier in the day. My eyes flicker. The long evening had started at the pub... "May the devils take your soul sir!" "They most assuredly have yours already!" "You spit upon the church, and turn your back upon the LORD of hosts!" "Lies, and filthy lies! The Emperor Telicus, Lord of the Emerald Throne, worships the LORD in more truth than the blood-sucker Wic." Wedged between the frightening Forest of Wic, the aptly named Mountains of Madness, and the new lands being conquered by Pythium, the most powerful and cruel fragment of the old empire, the horse people of Tapanete were quickly realizing that there would need to choose sides. Aftial had told me that there were many loyal worshipers of the church here. They would bring Tapanete over to the side of right if a few disloyal leaders could be removed. "You dare insult the Archbishop! Right! I'll have your leg for that!" And the pub descended into chaos while I sat sipping my hot water against one wall, unnoticed by all. A hoofbeat. I am awake without moving. Stupid to have fallen asleep, but still plenty of time. Mestor is alone, flying down the track on his horse to respond to the dreadful news that his prize stallion was murdered last night. Horrible horse screams, and blood everywhere. Soon there would be guards, but I couldn't help feel a bit of remorse for this poor creature. Every man whose life I have poured out into the earth has been a man of power, with a thousand crimes, petty or great, which merit death, but this poor animal... I shake the memory, plant my feet noiselessly. Mestor is only a few heartbeats away. I shove mightily and boulder plummets to the earth, snapping the thread up to exactly throat level. He makes no sound as he tumbles off. I leap lightly from the tree. Somehow he has fumbled his sword free. A weak stroke slides off my shield, then my sword flickers up under his rib cage and a sharp twist spills entrails into the sunny morning light. The LORD has granted me victory again. All praise the name of Aftial, protector of the weak, goddess of courage, swift, terrible vengeance upon the unworthy! His horse, confused by loosing its master, turns around, comes over and is looking at me. I reach for its reigns gently, "Come on, let's get you to a better master." Esclave 997 A.P.P.M. Salutations Magister Esclave, The time is almost at hand. Your mastery of earth magick under the guidance of Amirdon has proceeded quickly, and my construction here in the forest is complete. Soon the Magus Temple, with you as the first student and teacher, will host many capable magicians not bound by the politics and strictures of the church. But we must be careful. The Three of Three has uncovered a treacherous letter which appears to seek some sort of understanding with the undead menace to the west. The Church has always used such opportunities to purge those who scare them, and I fear they will try to pin this letter on me. In the council I can count on the support of Polgrave, Muszinger, and Amirdon. I cannot say how Forest will decide, but with Elkland's seat still empty, a tie will be broken by Marignon voting against me. Before this can happen, we must make ourselves strong. I am disturbed, for I can find no information about the true author of this note. Post-scriptum I pen the portions released by the council. I know it is not much to go on, but I hope you will help me uncover this traitor and clear my name. In His Name, The Archbishop of Wic Greetings, The Church,----------------, has a wealth of --------------- notions about you. There are those of us, however, who take a more practical view of the world. ---------------------------- -------------------------------------- I must stress that I cannot speak for the entire Church, ---------------------------------------------- Perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement, temporary truce, or at least a sham war to placate ---------------------------- my side. If you are interested in discussing such a policy simply send back a note with this messenger. In peace, A lesser foe Esclave, Be not afraid. You have sought me in your studies all your life. In vain did you look in books and ancient prophecies while I stood beside you and held your hand. In your heart you have always known, why else did you never ask my name when we were together? The LORD dwells in the heart of every man, granting him the knowledge of good and evil-- how to recognize angel from devil. When first your eyes beheld me they glimpsed a heaven you had never known in the dark cathedrals of the church. And yet good men are still led astray. Seduced by power, they seek to use that power to save others, the kingdom, the church. Ever and again they are lost to the light. Be on your guard, but be not afraid. You have known me and your soul is claimed for God. Neither the dusty grave nor the hosts of Hell can separate you from His love, and thence from mine. I go now into the wild. Though I will visit you in dreams ever and anon, I will not write again for a season, but which time it will have been three of three months since I left your side... For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given. Aftial |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
I haven't gotten a new turn in a while, is this on hold or did I miss an Email or something?
Edit: Also I think Very Hard research settings is a pretty crapple idea for a 50 turn game. We're more than 1/4 done and even though I'm the second highest in research I'm pretty powerless. I imagine that Pythium has far outstripped anyone else in research possibility to start using el cheezeass tactics. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
I just got a new turn this evening, so perhaps yours is on its way? If not, you should let Tauren know. The rather long time between turns could be used for writing...
I agree that the research feels dreadfully slow, but I'm not sure that "powerless" is the correct adjective. We're all in the same boat; if the aliens only have clubs than a board with a nail in it can turn the tide. The idea, of course, is to make people use some of the low level stuff and national troops-- hopefully providing more flavor than everyone fighting with the high-level summons. We'll see how it goes, but if the game is still very unsettled and people wish to continue beyond turn 60 we can always do that. Of course, that's easy for me to say, since I already have my priests counting down to and "end of the world" which will happen on turn 48. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Actually, I am a huge fan of Very Hard Research. It forces everyone to make tough decisions. It makes you think hard about what is REALLY important to you. It makes you truly consider depending on many of the lower level spells far more than usual. The normal research games where you simply complete everything by turn 50 is not near as challenging, imho.
It even makes a nice current (and future) topic for my yarns. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/happy.gif This game is not about winning anyway, but about writing. As for Pythium, he would be leading in research no matter the settings. That is simply a huge advantage for the nation of Pythium (as if they do not already have enough advantages anyway). |
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So, I'm back online, and will resume posting as soon as possible. |
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And happily, Zen's pretender mod does make those rainbows a little more survivable. |
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Alas, my hull was not even a human Pretender, and was *tough*... and supposed to take down those independents handily, I think. Twiceborn would have been kind of a downgrade here actually, if memory serves.
Then again, I never pretended to have the slightest clue on how to play Pangaea, and things ain't looking up. Well, we love our neighbours, so all should be well. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Since the game has slowed down a little bit, I'd like to remind everyone that they have a great chance to catch up on yarns. If it's daunting to face several unwritten yarns, then why not just do the latest one? You can always hope to go back and fill in the gaps later if you wish, but that way you get back in the saddle. We're at 5/9 for turn 9 and 4/9 for turn 12, though I trust Alneyan will soon regale us with the tale of how his/her god died. I think two-thirds participation is a very reasonable goal http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/happy.gif
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Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
I heartily second what Sedna said.
And it doesn't have to be long--in fact, if you look back at Yarnspinners I, you'll notice that the yarns tended to be a lot shorter (albeit twice as frequent). Take, for example, a randomly chosen turn deep in the game: (Turn47). Certainly just as good as what we're spinning out now. (Frankly, I could keep up a lot better if I split my yarns across a few turns. But I can't help myself...) |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
As for the game slowing down, our host Tauren moved into his dorm in Utah over the weekend. His University (Northface) is assigning him a laptop computer on Tuesday. Until then, he has no way of getting on line.
He expects to be up and running by the end of tomorrow, or Wednesday at the latest. After that, we can hopefully get back to a decent schedule. I really ought to use this time to finish my latest yarn, except for the small problem that I may be buying a house today and moving very soon... |
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I am going away from Friday - Wednesday.
Dragonfire has agreed to fill in for me while I am away. I will email the necessary parties with the necessary information & files, etc., etc., etc. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Apropos to nothing, Djo, but could you tell me this:
What color is Quellian Ji? Thank you. |
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See also: http://www.geekculture.com/joyoftech...hives/701.html. And Ji's eyes are normal bird eyes; the violet-eyed gull in Pherios's visions is an amalgam of Ji and Vethru (who does have violet eyes). And while I'm giving away stuff, the gulls in Pherios's visions can also represent the nation of Vanheim. Fans of prophesy & Pherios's visions: lots coming in turn 18! |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Hi folks,
Posted my turn 15. Here it is. Thanks for the delay to allow me to get caught up http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/happy.gif C'tis Turn 15 The sun slowly bled to death in the lake. Ash'embe had never seen so much water. Rivers he knew, though rivers in lizard lands were seasonal things, dry all but a few weeks a year, then torrents of raging flood waters that no civilized lizard would go near. This water was very placid. Perhaps it had been lulled into complacency by the knowledge that it would never run out, never dry into nothingness. Ash'embe eyed it suspiciously, watching the last sliver of sun cling desperately to life before being subsumed in the blue. It was time to go. Darkness fell quickly in the mountains, and he had to hurry back to the fireside before he stiffened from coldshock. A loud squawk came from the cliffside, not three hundred centimeters away from him. It was too dark to see what kind of bird it might be, but that didn't matter. He knew it was a white gull. It was always the same damned white gull. Too many damned scale-leavers here, he thought. Between that and the huge expanse of water, it was no wonder his troops were jumpy and on edge. He rummaged on the ground for a large, smooth rock, picked it up carefully, and turned to face the gull. It eyed him curiously, no hint of fear in its eyes. He hefted the rock, calculating trajectories and impact parameters; at this distance there was no way he could miss. The bird calmly sidestepped the rock, straightened itself up again, stared at Ash'embe as if nothing had happened. It squawked again. Damn bird, said Ash'embe, scampering back to camp before he froze to death. He always missed. "Hey, Ash'embe," came a voice, and he winced. Not again. "I've been reviewing your plans for the morning, and I was wondering if I could make a few slight suggestions..." He glanced longingly at the sheltered cliffside, where a score of lizards nestled together, dreaming warm dreams of fame and glory. Then he sighed, and turned to face the voice, steeling himself for another sleepless night. - - - Ruli slinked into town at midnight on a new moon. For good measure, he made sure it was cloudy, too. It didn't help. "RUUUUULIIIIII!" He felt his tail being ignobly grabbed by somebody's teeth, who for good measure also cuffed him in playful hatchling style. Somebody acting entirely unbefitting of the solemn dignity of the purple robes she... "Hi Laph," he said, trying not to sound sheepish. He also tried to break free. "Oh, no no no, little egg brother," she said. "'Hi Laph?' Is that the best you can do? You've been gone for three seasons. You could have sent a messenger... or, you know, come back yourself five times over." She was smiling at him, clearly overjoyed to see him alive and whole-tailed. Just as clearly she was not going to let him escape until she'd pried every last detail from him. "You missed all the Trials, the Enyarnment itself... for Aetonyx's sake, last time I saw you you were slipping out of my Egg ceremony," she went on. Her face was implacable. "So spill." He gave placating a shot anyhow, just for kicks. "Oh, you know how battles go, so hard to get away or spare a runner," he tried. No luck. "Have you heard about this cool trick I figured out, took me such a long time to get it working, see, you take some bones and..." "Ruli," she said. "I told that story to the kiddies yesterday. I've been telling it for months. That was ages ago." "Plus," she continued, before he could speak again, "the rest of the army's been back for ages, gotten reinforcements, gone out to fight more campaigns, and should be back again any day now. So WHERE have you BEEN?" He sighed. It was all quite hopeless. Better tell her now and get some rest tonight... Somehow, that seemed implausible. "Well, I stayed behind to scout out the land. Cole said there were some fascinating sites that he remembered from his youth, and I found this place where the rocks howled in pain from an ancient battle..." she was shooting him a look he knew all too well "... and you want me to get to the point now, before you're forced to rap me on the skull with your ceremonial staff, don't you?" She nodded, a slight smile escaping briefly before being swallowed by a very determined expression. "Ah, well, you see, the howling rocks weren't all I found. There was also a huge pile of bones, warmling or lizard, it was hard to say which, and there were all still armed, of course, so I thought I could try..." Laph sighed, as if she had been expecting this. "How many were there, Ruli?" "Um... thirty-seven?" He had counted them all as he laid them out in neat formations, before he set to work. Afterwards, he couldn't get an accurate count, owing to the fleeing. "But some of them weren't very stable, I'm sure I saw at least three of them fall apart before..." "Thirty-seven," repeated Laph. "Armed with what?" "Er, mostly broad swords," said Ruli. "But some of them just had sharp pointy claws..." "Broad swords," repeated Laph. It sounded almost like she was making a mental checklist. Things to Bear in Mind Lest We Be Ignominiously Crushed for Want of Proper Preparation, she probably thought of it as. She seemed to be taking it rather calmly, given how close the army of deadls had been... "You knew." It wasn't a question. "Yeah, Cole flew that way on his morning exercises," said Laph, but grinning this time. Ruli was so funny when he looked all guilty and furtive. "For an egg-mate of mine, you sure suck at spinning good lies, Ruli," she laughed. "You really think we wouldn't find out and would think it was just some random bad luck that a horde of dead things was menacing out outer provinces, oh Arruli Bone-master? Or should I say, Bone-semi-masterer?" He still looked a little mortified. "Oh, c'mon, relax, we're not going to banish you," she said. "C'mon up to the royal caverns, we have a special cavern all prepared for you, as befits a lizard of your stature." She turned and strode off toward the High Rock, the majestic flow of her robes offset slightly by the undignified snickering sounds she kept making. Ruli had no choice but to follow. - - - When Ash'embe returned, flush from victory against rather well-armed peasants (who had naively thought that meant they could deprive C'tis of some fine farmland), he advocated leaving immediately before "the damned winter egg only made it worse." It was all Laph could do to make him settle down and come up with a plan first. "They're not peasants with pitchforks who'll run screaming at the sight of a walking, talking lizard carrying a sharp pointy stick," she said. "They're battle veterans. Oh, and did I mention they're dead? You won't be able to scare them with your little walking skeletons trick, either," she said, cutting off an attempt by Ruli to speak. He spoke anyways. "There's a counterspell I've been working on, it'll make their bones fall apart..." "Got it working yet?" Ruli was silent. He'd never seen Laph like this before. She had always been bold: once, she had talked Cole into letting her ride on his back, and made out like flying came perfectly naturally to her, although Ruli knew she had gotten very sick from all the swooping. But this aura of command and authority that was new. "No," he admitted. "Then you'll just have to stay with Great-Grandfather Lugal and work on it," she said. She turned to Ash'embe. "We have a squadron of new hatchlings from the guild of empoisonners, strong tails on all of them, excellent aim I'm told." "Won't do much good against undead," the young commander said. "Well, there's always the new recruits," said Laph. "With them we should have more than enough." "What you really need is some way to keep them from fleeing," said Ash'embe. He spoke more easily now that the conversation had moved to familiar territory. "A lizard is just as strong hand to hand as any skeleton, if he can only be persuaded to stand his ground..." It was a mystery to Ash'embe why anyone would choose to run from a glorious death in battle, but he had learned to accept the limitations of the lesser lizards in his command. Then he said the words he would regret forever. He would even regret them after the longdead warriors had crumbled and fallen, while not a one of his own lizards had turned tail and fled. He would regret them in spite of the admittedly motivational yarn that was spun about the Curse of the Longdead Ghouls, who were fated to die again at the hands of green recruits, which the young swamp lizards eminently were. He said the words anyways, even though before he spoke them he somehow knew that they would be followed by days upon days of many, many more words, words beginning with "Now have we thought this through fully?" or "Let's be sure we're not missing anything here." He said the words, he sometimes thought later, to test his resolve never to bite a fellow lizard, only warmlings. Ash'embe was no biter. But he would wish he were sometime real soon now. What he said was, "Laph, you should come with us." |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Puffyn--are scale-leavers birds? Context shows they aren't warmlings (mammals?), and at one point Ash'embe swears "What the scale-leaver's-feather...".
Oh, it just hit me..."scale-leaver" = "creature that leaves feathers (scales) behind". Right? |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Djo,
Brownie points* for figuring that out. The lizards take a very evolutionary view of other species, and consider birds to have made a very poor choice when they traded away their fine scales for nasty feathers. -puffyn * Not redeemable for actual brownies. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Speaking of mysteries to be unraveled...
It is now clear (to me at least) that Vanheim is playing Helheim. This is the only way for an undead god to be appropriate for the theme. There aren't too many undead who make sense. I quote Galameteia: "I don't know. Some say he is a revenant. No one really knows." Obviously a revenant is impossible (the Lady in the Tower could possibly be a revenant, but Djo warns us that the cast of characters will not be identical to the commanders in his game). The only two gods really possible are the lich and the lich king. Not much to differentiate between the two... except that it's clear Vethru has air magic (if we are able to infer anything from the battle in turn 12). With Vanheim's easy access to air, I would assume this means Vethru will be used in battle, which would strongly favor the more durable lich chassis. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Sedna is correct in every matter where rationality would give one the correct answer. You can have some of the brownie points I just got from puffyn.
Helheim, I haven't tried to hide. The theme just cries out with stories waiting to be written. Pherios is kind of innocent (a perfect protagonist); he just figured it out himself in turn 15 ("This is our world? We raise the dead? In Vanheim?"). Boy, has he got some nasty surprises coming. There are enough clues to figure out what the Lady of the Tower is. Vethru is an arch lich, mostly because I wanted the extra death gem/turn he generates in Zen's mods. In the story, I have ignored the disease cloud Zen added, though. I agonized over it-is it fair to ignore it?-but there you go. I hide as much truth as I can in the tales. Vethru *can* throw lighting bolts. You may be able to guess some sites I've found. And in turn 18, there will be dropped an accurate piece of intelligence about someone else's pretender that is *not* common knowledge (as far as I know). |
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I quote turn 6 which references her ladyship: "Why? It's no different than what I did. A little messier. What she did took cojones. I like that." Referring, of course, to the hangadrott tendency to hang oneself from an ash. It is perfectly sensible that there should only be one of these very expensive units yet in Vanheim's employ. So, the only question remains what random magic path she has. Death and air are givens, so if she got an extra in either it would be darn hard to tell. I have the following clues: "She's a language nut herself" "Apparently, she's been giving the dwarves cooking lessons" But neither of these tell me much... in Marignon philosophy these would add up to a fire mage, but we're not in Marignon anymore. She hangs out with the dwarves all the time, and thus could be earthy, but that association could simply reflect the reality that these are Vanheim's only serious researchers. Finally, she works on Project Excelsior. This probably means "higher" in this context (rather than shavings of wood). The signs are unclear. I'll guess astral for the tenuous connection between language and that primal source of magic and her preference for tall, star-gazing towers. |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Some more worthless bonus points for you!
The Lady will indeed be a Hangadrott, if I ever get around to recruiting her. Vanheim is kind of cash-poor right now. The Hangadrott is the #1 reason I wanted to play Helheim. It's just so cool. You can imagine a Hangadrott and a lich would have a lot to talk about. They could invite Larch the revenant from C'tis over for a tea party. (I don't know enough about the Ermorians to know if they'd be good company or not.) Somewhere in the rest of your post you hit on another clue to something else, but not what you thought. If you like these games, you're gonna love turn 18! Draft done last night, final to be posted hopefully later this week... [edit] And let me say it's a pleasure to see that someone is reading my yarns so closely! |
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Perhaps it's time to raise the stakes a little beyond worthless brownie points.
I'll send a shiny astral pearl to whoever can correctly guess the identities of the Archbishops. For clarification, the Archbishops are Grand Masters (not all recruited yet obviously), and thus each has a random magic path. Duplicate randoms become regular bishops (none of those so far). So, each Archbishop is associated with one of the eight paths of magic. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to figure out which is which. The names of the Archbishops are the names of the provinces surrounding Marignon. Some names fit well with the magic path, and others are unrelated. From this, the yarns, and the section on the Three of Three, I believe you should be able to narrow it down to one or two guesses. Faithful readers are welcome to submit guesses also, although the prize is moot in that case. One guess per entrant. First correct response wins. Void where prohibited. |
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In my Turn 15 Yarn, Selena issued her very first proclamation. I have reprinted that here (but not the rest of the yarn narrative). I was wondering if it might be worthwhile to make a Proclamations page like that Treaty page. Not that I would have a clue how to do that if people think it worthwhile anyway. Heck, I can't even figure out how to change the font on the site...
Anyway, here it is: The First Proclamation of Man Let it be known to all parties in the Land of Inland that the Powerful Nation of Man will not tolerate any other nation capturing lands adjacent to the Castle of the Queen Enchantress. We will also not tolerate any attacks on land controlled by Man. And we also will frown greatly on other nations attacking any neutral lands currently under control of the Dominion of Man without first seeking permission from our nation. Any such acts will be treated as an overtly hostile act towards our nation which could result in battle. As for the Pythium invasion of Solian, this will not be tolerated. We are taking that kingdom forthwith and will secure ownership with haste. However, with Mans beloved Queen Selena being a very peaceful Great Enchantress, she will consider the Pythium invasion to be an error in scouting on their part. Our Queen has even offered her thanks to Pythium for clearing the rebel scum from Solian, thus making it much easier for Mans powerful armies to take over rightful ownership. But if Pythium insists on continuing aggressive acts towards the Kingdom of Man, then we will fight them down to the last able-bodied soldier loyal to our Queen. We will summon powerful magical beings to fight on our side. We will send potent mages to kill all of our enemies. And finally, we will actively court allies against the grave threat of a rapidly growing evil Pythium empire. So it has been proclaimed on the third month of the second year of the Reign of the Beloved Great Enchantress, Queen of Man. == Selena == |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
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Edit as you please... |
Re: PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2
Vanheim turn 18 is here! (Posted & wiki'd)
With that done, I'll have some time to try to answer Sedna's riddle... In which Galameteia is lost. Pherios We separated. Galameteia stepped back, and I slowly let go of her hands. "Be careful," I said. "I will," she replied. "Don't worry. I'll see you in a couple days." After the door closed, my heart wouldn't stop racing. I tried to sit and study, but my mind wouldn't settle. I decided to go for a walk to calm myself. Out the window, I saw a flock of finches on the roof of a nearby tower. One stood apart, twittering to the others, and I knew, somewhere, a lizard was telling a story. Her audience huddled in twos and threes. I do not think it was a happy tale. Overhead, the silhouette of a hawk gained a brilliant corona as the sun broke through the clouds behind it. Fire. Vanheim burned, and iron boots trod on its ruins. I closed my eyes. They usually didn't come so close together, with no gap between vision and interpretation. I threw on a light coat and walked down the winding stairs. Just before I reached the ground floor, I spotted a goose feather in a dusty corner. In my mind, a human hand picked it up and trimmed it. The studious young man set to writing. Behind him stood two women, shimmering, translucent, outlined in flame. I leaned on the door frame. Fresh air. No, food. That's what I needed. I'd walk to the great hall and get something to eat. I open the door and keep my eyes down, on the ground, the gutter, anywhere but the sky. In the kitchen, I scrounge for some bread and cheese. Zainos holds up tonight's dinner, a brace of pheasants. One of them lifts its head and looks at me, a tear in its eye. My mother. I see her and Aunt Sennei in armor, flying over a battle. The enemy carries purple standards, and they've overrun our estate. They slaughter our cooks, maids, and hostlers. My mother falls to the earth with a dozen arrows in her. I rush into the courtyard, gasping. Wine. Or something stronger. And quickly. I walk toward the street, always looking down. But there's a gull with purple eyes standing there. "Do not look away," it says. "Examine every image. You must help me find--" And then he tells me, but the words are just scribbles in my brain. Spells that aren't spells, a machine that isn't a machine, and a mind that isn't a mind. I hear the wind rise, and see the light dim, and I know that clouds have covered the sun. But I don't look up. I stop before a carved wooden owl on the sign of a shop. "I know you," I tell it. "But it can't be. I don't see you anymore." "Have courage," it replies. "When the time comes, I will help you." I hear a low *kwock* behind me. "As will I," says the night-heron. Petema. Where is she? I think she lives nearby. I stumble away from the shop. Maybe I can make it to her house. Thunder crashes, and an egret shrieks. "Galameteia!" I cry, and before I can stop myself, I look up. The sky swirls and opens above me. Nothing is stable; the heavens rotate. Every light in the universe traces circles around me. My head spins. The stars dance and streak across the towering clouds. The air races, rain joins the leaves and dust, and every manner of flying thing races around me in a cyclone. I can't stand. The rain turns to hail. Lightning flashes as straight as the sword of an angel, and it cuts down the egret. Again I shout her name. I fumble for my sword, but my hands are bound behind my back. Two red dragons tangle overhead, clawing each other, erupting in a fireball. The light from the explosion casts shadows of a square wooden frame on the flagstones in front of me. I can't feel the ground underneath me anymore. The winds carry me over the forest. I look for a place to set down. A young woman with a staff of thorns frowns. There is kindness in her face, but nevertheless, she shakes her head no. I may not stop in her land. I drift toward the mountains. Suddenly, I feel hope. I know for a certainty that I will see her again. Then, with horror, I do. My snowy egret's feathers have turned to black. Hope dies. Doom breaks over me. It will never be the same again. I will have no last moment of happiness with her. I fall on my back in the snow. A gull lands, and another. A heron. An owl. As I lie there, they gather. They surround me. Herons, egrets, pheasants, gulls, an owl, an osprey who is a prophet, and an osprey who is more. They stand in a ring around me and the violet-eyed gull standing on my stomach. "He is mine," says the gull. "You are all mine." The larger osprey spreads its wings protectively over the flock and says, "No. You are old, but we have always been here." The blue heron speaks first, then the osprey, the owl, the pheasants. All the birds' voices rise as one in a cacophony of squawks and shrieks. The sun flares, then grows dark as the clouds eat the sky. Lightning slashes the air. The universe cracks. I pass through many arches in the labyrinth: petrel, plover, piper, puffin...under the heron arch, I find it. I open the cask, spread out the scroll, and read the name. "Now do you see?" asks the gull. "Do you understand at last?" I loosen the rope so I can speak. "You are wrong," I rasp. Her feathers are still warm. "We are worth far more than what you bought with us." There is nothing in her eyes. There is nothing in her heart, there is nothing in me. It's cold. She's cold. There is nothing. It's cold, it's dark, she's gone. I'm cold, she's cold, I'm dead she's dead it's cold I can't feel I can't I'm Quellian Ji So we're off on a field trip to find another piece of the puzzle. "Hey, boss, couldn't you find some place with higher ceilings?" I say. "It is where it is," Vethru replies. "It's just, I like some room to stretch my wings, you know? In case, uh, I want to go somewhere. In a hurry." "Galameteia and Kestumaia aren't complaining," the boss says. "And their turning radius is bigger than yours." Of course his pet Valkyries aren't complaining; they worship him. I've known him too long for that. But still...they're probably the best company here. Hallixene is boring, the dwarf just mumbles, and the stiffs, well, carrying the torches is the limit of what their brainpower can accomplish. Conversation is a bit too advanced for them. I'm in no mood for the boss's philosophical digressions, so I flutter over to Galameteia's shoulder. I get a good grip on her mail and say, "Hi, sweetie." "Hello, Ji," she says in a low voice. "Me, too." "What?" "I don't like these caverns, either." "Thanks for speaking up," I say. "Local 554 of the Vanheim Air National Guard thanks you for your support." "There's a difference," she says. "I can agree with you about not liking being underground without complaining about it. A complaint is a dislike you've gotten too emotionally attached to." "I'm the sidekick. I'm not paid to make those distinctions." Our sparkling banter gets interrupted by our arrival. "Cracks and shards," I say. Everyone else is silent. Except Kor, whose mumbling sounds suspiciously like, "I told you so." I'd say he's entitled. Damned if the earth's blood really isn't seeping out of the ground. It looks like honey, or sort of like amber, except honey or amber doesn't look like it's charged with about a bazillion volts of electricity. Or magic. Or something. Vethru bends down to examine it. He's happy. When Kor leads us to the next chamber, Vethru is ecstatic. There's an opening there, circular, with inscriptions all the way around. It looks like it goes down to where that stuff in the other room is coming up from. The fact that the opening is closed by a giant, faceted, blue-green crystal sends Vethru into fits of joy. Hallixene just looks thoughtful. The stiffs don't care. But Galameteia, she starts to shudder. "What's wrong?" I ask her. "I've seen this," she whispers. The boss doesn't miss a thing. I suppose that's why he's still alive, er, around after all this time. "This is familiar? What did you see?" "Power," she says. "A great concentration of power. Danger. A gorgon." "Are we successful?" he asks. "I...you are," she says. "I don't think I am." He hobbles up to her and looks her straight in the eye. "Don't be afraid. The futures you see aren't set in stone." "I know," Galameteia says. "Do you want to turn back?" he asks, and I think that's kind of low. It's exactly the right question to shame her into carrying on, and she does. But I can tell; she's still really nervous The show goes on. Kor and the Big V take down the crystal, and we make our way down the stairway behind it. On one claw, I've been in enough tombs that haven't been opened since the dawn of time to know that the biggest danger in most of them is allergies. On the other claw, the exceptions tend to make you want to drop your feathers and fly away screaming. When we walk into the big chamber at the end of the stairway, I get a bad feeling that it's the latter case. Everybody does their job: Kor has the stiffs spread out to shine light through the whole room. Hallixene and the Valkyries step out in front of Vethru. The room is fairly big, and there's a dome somewhere up above us, so I take off and began circling. There are statues all over the place. Warriors, wizards, some of those half-animal people, a couple lizards, and even one giant. Half of them look angry, and the other half looked terrified. It's pretty impressive, but across the room is the centerpiece. There's a glowing inscription covering about two hundred square feet of the wall. Lots of geometric figures connected by lines with arcane letters all over the place. Underneath it is a statue of as noble a creature as I've ever seen. About ten feet tall, robes, beatific expression. Oops. It's not a statue. "You Shall Not Possess The Rune. I Have Been Called; I Protect The Rune," it says. Its voice doesn't fit under the dome. It rumbles all around us. One of the stiffs actually falls over. "Can't we discuss this?" asks Vethru, which I know is one of his delaying tactics. I know why. I recognize the thing on the wall, sort of. I've seen some of the other ones. They're all different, but they all give you the same feeling in your gut. The boss is buying time, while he gets his tendrils into it. He's almost not fast enough. I feel my wings begin to stiffen. Ouch. My control surfaces need flexibility. I pitch and yaw, then I see the glowing thingie change. I stop plummeting and start flying again. The mouthy statue isn't very happy. "You Have Interfered With The Rune! You Are Not Permitted To Manipulate The Rune!" "If I had a credit for every time I heard that..." says Vethru. And you know, I could kill him for being so flip about it. I mean, I know he can't help it. It's just the way he is. And I know it didn't make a difference in what happened. But I liked the kid, both of them, so I still hate him for it. The damned statue unfolds these big stone wings and launches itself at the boss. The Valkyries, they're pros, they don't hesitate. A half ton of stone angel comes hurtling toward the boss, and these two little girls jump right in the way. In flight, the statue whips out about eight feet of stone sword and beats Kestumaia's spear out of the way. Galameteia, she's just a little bit quicker. Her spear finds its mark and splinters on the statue's chest. Its sword goes right through her. She doesn't scream, not really, as she slides off the blade and falls all the way to the ground. Vethru frowns. I go for its eyes. |
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