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Re: Something\'s Wrong
Ok, looks like I'm bowing out this turn. I would like to offer some justification for this though, for the players that were not involved in the recent negotiations. For those that were involved, I hope you don't see this as some kind of parting stab, it is just something I feel I have to get off of my chest, and something I feel it is only fair to let the other players know about.
Anyway, my involvement in the issue started some turns ago when several nations decided to attack attack me. This far from surprised me, from the graphs I looked the clear leader, and ganging was probably inevitable at some point. So, nations kept on declaring war until it was 4vs.1. By this time I was well aware of the fact that beset from four sides I really didn't have any hope of beating them all back, and any nations that could aid me were not enough and/or unresponsive. I still had not given up at this point though since I figured with some diplomacy I could maybe get some of the attackers to back off or even switch sides to give me a fighting chance. Through all this my life had been fairly busy and I did not have time/energy to write yarns. Then I finally got a good opportunity to work on them and catch up, which happily coincided with a pause in the game. On catching up, I received an E-mail from the players that had been attacking me. It turned out that they had been in a special alliance of people that kept up on yarning, with the intent of keeping them yarning by threat of expulsion, and punishing the players that had given up on yarns. In particular, the agreement called for all players to assist in alliances wars, always come to mutual defense, not fight serious wars with one another, and participate in join victory. Now that I had caught up, their rules forced them to offer me membership. But the problem was, that of course no one wanted to give up the war gains they had made. Naturally, I was not happy entering an agreement that effectively signed away those lands either. Aside from that, I did not see a lot of fun in joining since everything from that point on for the alliance would be mop up. In any case, negotiations went on and on, with me holding off submitting until I final staled, the final straw on my waining interest in the game. So I guess my personal gripe is putting a lot of effort into both the game and the yarns and finding my self in an unavoidable pitfall. I could not have written yarns any sooner, even if had known that failing to do so would bring most of my neighbors down on me. In theory I could have expanded less, researched less, and not drawn attention. But really, has _anyone_ ever in a dominions game purposely not taken an independent province when you could have easily done so, not site site searched, or not researched with mages for the sole reason of not looking more powerful? It is effectively purposely playing the game badly, and personally I cannot stomach doing that. Now, if the yarnspinners alliance had not been in place I may well have faced a similar ganging problem, but with some important differences: *The attacks would likely have waited longer and/or been more timid as they could never be sure of other nations support *They would not by any means be bound together rock solidly, using diplomacy to split them apart would have been possible, particularly after I appeared a little less powerful. *By fighting to the death well I could offer other nations a better chance of winning. With the power of the four nations solidly together for a joint victory, this was not a realistic idea. But I think the real issue with the alliance was it's secrecy. I'm not sure if the alliance was conceived before the start of the game, but if so, it gave those nations who were thus aware of it a very large advantage. Secondly, if four players are planning to win the game jointly, they should declare so when the decision is reached, because otherwise it is like playing graphs off for some nations and graphs on for others. I have no problem with the yarn encouraging aspect, but this could have been handled just as well or better without the secrecy, or better yet by giving the overseer greater power of rewards or punishments. It certainly does contain a trace of irony that alliance is actually the cause for me to stop yarning. Anyway, I hope no one was offended by my whiny rant, I hold no hard feelings toward any of the players involved. Hopefully in addition to making me feel better it can help prevent similar situations occurring to other players. |
Re: Something\'s Wrong
You are in an unenviable position, and I think you have every right to drop out now if you wish, though we will miss hearing your yarns. I should mention that the yarnspinners alliance was formed only once the game was well underway... as I recall during the negotiations about attacking you/Pythium actually. It is also not quite the binding death-pact you make it out to be, since anyone is free to withdraw at any time. Speaking purely hypothetically, and in no way impugning the motives of the good Father, I do not believe it will survive your defeat or departure from the game. There are too many opportunities to have a war with interesting stories on both sides.
I'm pretty sure Panther got the idea for COW from all the wangling involved in this alliance, which (and again, I'm speaking off the record and not as a representative of the Church of Marignon) some members only viewed cynically as a vehicle to eliminate the leader and thus advance their own agenda. It's probably sour grapes at this point, but I, for one, was impressed by how long you lasted against the combined assault... |
Re: Something\'s Wrong
Hey Quantum,
Well, gosh, I'm sorry to see you go, and not just because of the unpleasant AI-land-grab free-for-all that will result. Are you going AI this turn? Will you at least write a farewell yarn? As for our little alliance, the original intent was to knock you down from the top of the charts, of course. But it wasn't necessarily to annihilate Pythium. Personally, I was hoping for some more double-crossing, perhaps some members of the alliance making a secret deal with you, that sort of thing. After Yarnspinners Classic, with only one other yarner active for most of the game, it's been great fun negotiating with multiple parties, just wondering how they'll spin it in their next turn. I'm sorry you're leaving just when you've finally caught up... It certainly is your right, though. Good luck with your future diplomacy-heavy games; I'll be watching Council of Wyrms to see how that turns out. -puffyn |
Re: Something\'s Wrong
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I don't see that the alliance leaves much room for double crossing, it would be foolish for any other members to join my side as it stands. Spending all the effort to catch up and then quiting is certainly annoying, but I just can't justify putting more effort in when it won't actually change anything. |
Re: Something\'s Wrong
Actually, I did get the idea of COW from this game. The bickering back and forth and all the wheeling and dealing has been such fun. The deals never seem to go off as one would think, especially with 4 players involved. And it has been even better to be forced to stay in role while doing this, which we all have done (including QM).
While it is true that we had an alliance of Yarnspinners, we all knew that it could not last indefinitely and we were positioning ourselves for the long-term future of the game. Trying to get the first to commit to actually attacking the game leader was quite interesting to witness. Staking out claims on territory, the inevitable inadvertent mutliple attacks, all of this was very enjoyable. I suppose I was most disappointed in the fact that most people in the game quit writing the yarns much too early on. Other than the spinners, it has been just another MP game for the most part. The COW game was my idea to force people to keep active plus stay in role throughout the entire game without the chore of having to write a yarn every week. I hope it works out that way. |
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Re: Something\'s Wrong
Like the others, I'm sorry to see you go. From my perspective as the small guy (in armies if no longer in provinces), Pythium is still much in the game.
I was uneasy about the "alliance of writers" from the start, and in retrospect, it did turn out awkward (an understatement) when out-of-game circumstances forced themselves into the game. I think the alliance has zero chance of lasting much longer. My view is that the game will come down to Marignon + ??? vs death-using nations, probably after Ermor goes down. That would've been a good wedge to use against the alliance, assuming Pythium wasn't using death. But anyway...I too was hoping more diplomacy would've ended the war earlier, but I admit I don't know exactly what combination of threat, bribe, and concession would've worked. I know you could've bought Vanheim off cheaply; from the yarns, Vethru obviously has no trouble with lying to friend and enemies; he'd cook up a plan to trade a province back and forth to look like we're fighting. And, if you change your mind, I made no belligerent moves on turn 31. Still time to turn it around...declare immediate war on Ermor and unilateral cease-fire with others, see what happens! |
Re: Something\'s Wrong
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I really don't see how diplomacy could have happened to better my situation, the rules of the alliance are pretty clear: Quote:
I would like to see someone address the 'overexpanding' issue, it was thrown around a lot during negotiations, but when it comes right down to it how many of you have purposely played the game badly for this reason? |
Re: Something\'s Wrong
To use terms from RPG "theory", this discussion sounds like differences between "gamist" and "narrativist" viewpoints.
(Google for the terms, you'll find more than you *ever* wanted to know.) |
Re: Something\'s Wrong
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Re: Something\'s Wrong
Well, I guess I will rerun the turn again, as it sounds like everyone will be happier if quantum doesnt drop out... what do you say?
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Re: Something\'s Wrong
Fine by me, Tauren.
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Re: Something\'s Wrong
Fine by me, too.
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Re: Something\'s Wrong
Ok, since it looks like we are rerunning, sent the turn. I did not look at turn 31 so I don't think anyone needs to redo orders.
Speaking of orders, it seems Ulm took advantage of the last re-run to out bid me on mercs. Too bad, they would have been extremely useful, and now I have to spend my gold inefficiently. And of course highly thematic, Empire in trouble, time to hire barbarian mercenaries. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/wink.gif |
Re: Something\'s Wrong
Turn 31 never hosted, right? I never saw a turn 32 in my email.
I'm fine with rerunning whichever turns are necessary, just a little confused as to which turn we're on. |
Re: Something\'s Wrong
Oh God, grant now this prayer for your most faithful servant. Let the heavens open and a divine wrath fall down upon the heretic. Smite the unbeliever, destroy the heathen, and purge death from this world. Send me the fire of your righteousness, and I will send it against your enemies. Gawain The morning Fires From Afar cast an odd light over the valley, warming Sir Gawain's heart. Soon, very soon. He wandered along the rise, trying to see you the fires had struck. Down in the valley there was smoke and fire. "Hector!" He bellowed. "I'm right here Sir." "So you are. Charge five of the knights along that ridge. Make sure you ride noisily: raise banners, sound trumpets, that sort of thing." "Yes sir." Gawain sank back into deep thought. Should he wear his best golden armor today, or the backup? One the one hand, it promised to be a bloody battle. With Father Muszinger guarding all the roads out of the forests and the bulk of the army coming in behind Gawain, the Pythium legion was finally trapped, and would fight desperately to the last man. That sort of hopeless heroics could really spoil a good coat of finish on a man's armor. On the other hand, Gawain liked to look his best especially when he was performing impossibly heroic feats in front of young maidens. And the forest of the Archbishop of Wic had some of the most beautiful virgins in all the kingdom, at least if half of Wic's campfire stories where true. In the end, the ever-so-slightly more shiny armor won out, and Gawain wrestled it on with the help of Sir Boris. The rest of the company likewise donned armor. There seemed to be fewer than usual. Probably Hector had taken too many knights with him. "Sir Gawain, Sir Gawain." It was that pesky knight with a complicated name. "Yes, good sir... knight." "Look what rises in yonder vale." "Uh..." "The valley, Sir." put in Boris. Gawain looked. Smoke still rose into the air above the trees. "I don't see anything." "Look, right there. 'Tis the holy grail, formed out of smoke. It is a sign from the Almighty." "Ah... possibly." "It is." "Well, let's be honest, I don't really see it." "It is there, just above the tree with the broad leaves." "What, the tree with the serrated leaves or the sort of tabular extensions coming off the new shoots?" "The serrated one." The other knights clinked in their armor and Gawain suddenly had an inkling for a spot of fighting. "Yes! Of course I see it now. 'Tis a fine sign of God's favor. Knights, we ride now to glory!" "Sir?" Boris again. "Yes?" "What about the plan to have Hector's force scare the legion into running into the trap?" "Oh, drat it all, I'd forgotten. But look, it was the sign of the Holy Grail." "Was it?" "It was." "But it was just a temporary superposition of two smoke plumes..." "Never mind that, my lad! It is time for action!" Muszinger In the east, Muszinger waited patiently, watching the Fires From Afar streak from the north and vanish into the forest. Screams echoed from within. Men were dying, roasted alive, but they were heretics. There were only two roads out of the forest onto the Plains of Eternal Peril, and the fishermen (odd heathens, but quite useful) watched the other one. Father Muszinger stood alone on the dusty road. A vulture flew overhead, casting a shadow across the bright sky. The inquisitor's eyes scanned the forest for motion, but saw only the twisted, gnarled forms. For not the first time, he wondered if it wasn't about time for the inquisition to pay a call on Wic - not all the rumors about his Magus Temple in there could be true, but if even a few of them were... A squad burst from the darkness at double speed march. In the moment while their eyes adjusted to the morning sun, Muszinger raised a single gloved hand and the soldiers of Pythium were transformed into pincushions. One managed to catch most of the crossbow bolts on a shield, and he stumbled on to where Muszinger stood - a small word to Aftial and the soldier melted into the ground as a bright bolts left after-images on Muszinger's retinas. Peace returned to the road. A discreet cough let Muszinger now that the well-hidden squadron of crossbows had reloaded. Salad-related thoughts flaoted through the Father's mind. The next force was smelled before they came into sight - an acrid stench of smoke and blood. They were barely in formation, but there were a lot more of them. Bolts flew again, but the centurion survived. "Close shields! About face! Javelins ready, javelins fire!" Cries from the trees and bushes along the road as javelins pierced bodies - the legionnaires had reformed with inhuman decision and caught many archers still out of cover. Muszinger called on Aftial to smite the centurion. Nothing happened. He tried again, a bit desperate now, as the swordsmen of Marignon engaged the legionnaires. A javelin twanged into the ground at Muszinger's feet, and a man rushed him with just a shield. Muszinger spun to avoid the charge and drew his dagger - but the man kept running until that dagger softly buried itself in his back. In the chaos of the main battle, the crossbows ran or used their bows as clubs against scattered legionnaires - while their protecting swords men were tied up by the main group. One last call to Aftial went unheeded, and Muszinger switched to fire magic, sending several fire darts into the fray. They did little damage, but the men, who had lived in fear of the fires from the sky for the past many months, lost their courage and broke. While the swordsmen sent all the heathens to their final judgment, Muszinger lent hard against a tree and tried to calm his beating heart. Why had the angel abandoned him? Ghost Aftial, I have called you here to save you. It was the Arch-Theurgs who ambushed me and sent me hence. No sparrow falls without me, and none can thwart my purpose. But you, you have tried. Aftial, I bring you here to ask for and receive the forgiveness of this woman, Ghost, who you swore to protect and failed. What? This is the crime for which I am called back? You have grown blind and old my lord, if you think I need to atone for this! I have brought war to Inland - allied your precious church with death-magic users - a hundred other things. Next to that, what is my promise to a little girl? It is enough. Answer carefully now, my trusted servant, for you fate hangs in the balance. Ghost stands before you, will you seek forgiveness? Why is she here? She reeks of death! Your own rules forbid her enter here. I am the rules, not they me, and I am merciful. Ask! No. I will not bow immortal knee to this gutter-wench. And I warn you, a host of angels stand at my back. Step down now, or we take by force this heaven, which is rightfully ours, not the playground for men. Aftial, I have called you by name from the first morning. But you cannot contend against me. You seek power and ruin, and would return to earth to seek them there, and I will not stop you. You are, as always, free. Free to go. Did you not hear! I challenge you for control of heaven! War never ceasing... Where did she go? She is lost, and returned to Marignon. Are you crying? But surely... the priests used to say you saw all things past and future. You must have known this would happen, right? This is all part of your plan? How can you cry? How can I not? Come now Ghost, your part in this tale is over. |
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What's our status? I'm not suggesting that we host if someone who is staling will complain and force yet another rerun, but upon whom do we wait?
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It's halftime (30 turns done of 60). What, haven't you been enjoying the marching band?
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We were waiting on the host, as usual. Im terribly, terribly sorry. I completely forgot about this game...
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I guess I am cheating now, according to the message screen. Some very odd things are going on, which probably explains the cheating message. I had a black knight become a commander the previous turn and he has quite nice magic skills. Just this past turn, a ghoul commander (with a bunch of nice artifacs!!!) appeared out of nowhere.
I think the game got a bit messed up with the replaying of all the turns over the past few weeks and we are headed for a Nagot error. |
Re: Something\'s Wrong
[img]/threads/images/Graemlins/PointUp.gif[/img]
[img]/threads/images/Graemlins/PointUp.gif[/img] [img]/threads/images/Graemlins/PointUp.gif[/img] [img]/threads/images/Graemlins/PointUp.gif[/img] CHEATER!!! http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/rant.gif http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/rant.gif http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/rant.gif http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/rant.gif http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/rant.gif http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/rant.gif http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/rant.gif http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/rant.gif http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/rant.gif |
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I must admit I'm not really adverse to some strange happenings, should spice up the yarns... now if only I had something interesting happen... http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/wink.gif
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halfway
Thanks to many hiccups, we are still in the vicinity of turn 30, or halfway through. It is of course wonderful to have 5 of 9 folks keeping up to date. YS1 was down to 2 by what, turn 15 or so?
I note that through intention or coincidence, a most of us had at least somewhat momentous happenings in turn 30: Ashembe's death, what looks like Aftial's rebellion and Ghost's finale, the opening of the Ether Gate, and poor Galameteia's final appearance. To close out this ramble, I'll just say that I counted words, and collectively we've put out about 75,000 words of fiction so far. If we add even another 50,000 in the next 30 turns, that'll make an average-sized novel. So here's to another 30 turns, and may each yarn come to the close it deserves. |
Re: halfway
I second djo's comments, this game has been very successful for producing stories.
I am concerned about the problems with this latest turn though. Will these errors sprial out of control and produce an unplayable game in just a few turns? Is the problem as simple as hosting the turn with some one person's incorrect turn (i.e. a turn 30 based on an old version of turn 29)? I have not had experience with games going out of sync before, but I imagine it is bad or the death of the game. |
Re: halfway
I would also like to add that, as much as it has been a pain sometimes to have to replay turns, I would far rather the game not run into fatal errors and die horribly. I don't mind if the oddness doesn't spiral out of control -- I was all set to incorporate Kaspar the preternaturally-smart city guard into my yarns a few revisions back -- unless it means the end of the game.
So... how are we going to resolve this current problem? |
Re: halfway
Well, its your call. I can rollback the turn yet another time if thats what you guys want.
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Re: halfway
If we roll back, I think we will have to go all the way back to Turn 29 once again to avoid the odd things going on. And even then, I am not sure that will fix it permanently.
I say we plow on. If the game spirals out of control so bad that it crashes in the near future, we can always go back to Turn 29 yet again. Of course, I am having game errors never before seen by this cat, so it is hard to say exactly what will happen to this game. |
Re: halfway
The thing about roll-backs is, if we can't identify for certain the original corrupting "event", we don't know if the added trouble of a replay is worth it (given the risk that the confusion of a replay could add more corruption).
So I'm cautiously in favor of pushing forward, but I encourage everyone to report any signs of bad behavior in the game. That way we can monitor whether things are stable or growing worse |
Re: halfway
I agree with Djo.
If we can try not to have any more rollbacks / confusion over correct turn files, maybe the game won't get fatally corrupted. So far it seems the weirdest things we've seen are unexpected commanders popping up, am I right? And since Panther says his knight commanders showed up *last* turn, that would mean we'd have to go back and do, what, a fourth turn 31? I'd almost Nagot Gick Fel then do that turn again... So anyhow: speak up if weird things happen, and hopefully the world will wait until it's supposed to end, at turn 60. |
Re: halfway
QM has yet to send his turn 32, or even respond to any of my subsequent emails. Should I turn him AI and keep the game moving?
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Re: halfway
oops... sorry guys, I totally forgot about this game. I will get in my turn as soon as I can this evening.
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Ah, so youre still with us. Ill wait for you to get your turn in then. But because I dont have internet at home, I dont know when Ill be able to host it. At the very latest, next monday morning, but hopefully before then.
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Re: halfway
hmm, turns out I was wrong about no strange happenings in my empire, a commander carrying over 30 gems worth of items disappeared without a trace...
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Re: halfway
With the game moving again, now is the time for all to go and read the various turn 30 yarns again, with their momentous and terrible happenings.
Thus you will be prepared for... Vanheim turn 33 In which we are once more concerned with the mail. * * * To Belletennares of Alteion, General of the Armies of Vanheim, Prophet of Vethru Cousin, I have just received a disturbing message from Pherios. I've enclosed a copy with this letter. Wait until you are alone before you read it--it will disturb you, and its contents should be kept secret. I have not yet shown it to Anteirios and Mistepeillia, nor to anyone in House Lunetellerion. I hope you agree with me; I thought it best to wait until you and I have investigated further. If what he says is true, we have a big problem. I hope you can look into this as soon as possible. I will be asking questions of my own. Love, Petema * * * Dear Molly, I hope you are doing well, and that my leaving hasn't caused any problems for you. If Vethru is bothering you, please talk to my aunt. She has a lot of influence, and she will protect you, even from him. I am writing because I need a favor. You know what I'm trying to investigate. It would be helpful for me to know where Vethru is, and where he is planning to be. If you know anything about his schedule, official or unofficial, could you please tell me? To reply to this message, address a letter to "Kineros" and bring it to the tavern on Green Dolphin Street. It will find me. I hope this will all be over soon, so our lives can get back to normal. If you have any news of my family, I would like to hear it. I can't bring myself to write to them. What could I tell them? Take care, Pherios * * * Vethru You'd think that a god wouldn't have to do paperwork, but it turns out the more you rule, the more bureaucracy there is. It doesn't matter if your underlings are humans, elves, dwarves, hobbits, orcs, goblins, ogres, dragons, unicorns, Martians, Orion slave girls, clones, androids, or hyper-intelligent shades of the color blue. And it gets even worse when your minions are mindless. They need a lot of looking after. You end up with a Byzantine hierarchy of middle managers: the zombies report to a zombie team leader, who reports to a zombie shift supervisor, who reports to a zombie department head, and then you have the manager and regional manager of zombies, and if you've got a big enough empire, you've got six more levels above that. By this time, human resources, excuse me, zombie resources is eating one-third of your budget. Killing your minions when they screw up just makes your training costs go through the roof. And don't get me started when they unionize... I'd finally gotten through all the routine correspondence, and it was time to think strategically. "Ji! Do you know anyone discreet over on Triastellus?" "Yeah, I know some people. What do you want? Someone good with languages, or history? Or a priest?" "The last two," I say. "I want to know more about Alteion. What he did, what kind of skills and talents he had." "Jeez, boss, half the people on your staff are related to him. Ask them. No need to send me up the hill." "I want the truth, not his family's impression thereof. And some things, you don't ask the family." I can see Ji's little bird brain churning as he decides whether or not he wants to know what I mean by that. As usual, curiosity wins. "Like what?" "Is his body actually buried in his tomb on Triastellus?" He squawks. "Boss, I know where you're going with this, and it's a big mistake. They'd hate us forever!" "We may not have a choice. Vanheim is still weak, and I don't want to be at the mercy of every nation that threatens us." "But the Pythium mess has been taken care of," says Ji. "Ermor is falling apart. What are you worried about?" "Think. They've already just about declared war." "Oh, right. They are kind of fanatical," says Ji. "Still, there's got to be another way. If you do what I think you're thinking, I don't think the lady will stand for it. She's still mad about Galameteia. If you piss her off any more, she'll probably take all her dwarves and disappear into the hills. Like you-know-who did." "They are my dwarves, not hers," I tell him, but it's beside the point. I might be able to do without the lady, but losing Pherios hurt. Molly probably sees as much, but she just doesn't have the experience to interpret it correctly. And I couldn't afford to alienate Belletennares, either. Damn House Alteion. Maybe it'd be best to let the old man rest. "Anyway, I have another letter for her. Would you take it over this afternoon? I need an update on the research progress. Be as nice as you can. Sweet talk her." He says, "I'll do my best. But you know how women are..." I did. You can't not-live with them, you can't not-live without them. * * * To Lord Vethru, God of Vanheim, Sire, I am writing to report a disruption in Birman Highs. Last night, Lord Pherios of Alteion sneaked into our compound and entered the mines. He visited the gem extracting operation but did not interfere with it. He did not harm the guards or cause any damage, and the operation continues on schedule. He did, however, break into the lower areas that you sealed off. It is reported that he spent nearly an hour there. As per your standing orders, we did not attempt to restrain him. He did not reply when we hailed him, and we quickly lost him once he rode into the forest. Your servant, Utreius of Vanheim * * * Anteirios The message arrived with all the others. It appeared to be the plainest of them, lacking any elaborate official seals, and written on plain, inexpensive paper. Yet it was the most extraordinary of the lot. It was unsigned, and it was printed in a simple script that effectively disguised the author's hand. I deduced it was probably dictated in any case. The contents had been masterfully crafted. Each time I read it, I found another subtle implication or nuance of expression that further piqued my curiosity. Each sentence, apparently innocent, joined with its brethren to culminate in an invitation for me to consider the wisdom and motivation of certain actions and decisions of Vethru. And yet, they didn't--they wouldn't, to another man. This was clear, after the fifth and sixth readings. The events were discussed obliquely, tangentially, never directly. The conclusions would only be drawn by someone with a certain turn of mind. I knew the writer, and he, she, or they knew me, well enough to juxtapose the precise combination of observations that would compel me to investigate the issues raised. I assembled a list of persons who were both that familiar with me and who also had access to the information in the letter. After rejecting all of them, I consider combinations of two, then three, then more of them. None of them explained the letter to my satisfaction. This was puzzling. The familiarity was so strong that I could not have overlooked any potential authors. I called for more wood for the stove and more hot tea. I began reading the letter a seventh time. The clues were before me. I would find them and deduce the answers to the two mysteries: what was Vethru up to, and who wanted me to know about it? * * * Dear Pherios, It's so strange with you not here. Everyone treats me funny because they think I can see their future. Everyone human, that is. Your people seem to accept it more easily. I guess they're used to the magic and everything. Petema is especially understanding. I think I would go mad if I weren't staying with her now. Vethru hasn't been bothering me. Actually, he's been very nice. He said that I shouldn't worry about you, because you are very smart and very capable and you knew magic. He also told me it was OK if I kept your secrets from him. He said he trusted me to do the right thing. And he was so understanding that I told him that I'd do my best to keep listening to the future without you. But later I figured that he really did want me to tell him about you, and that's why he was being nice, so now I'm mad at him for that. And I know he probably wants to know where you are, but I really had to write, so I told Petema, and she said that she could get a letter to that tavern without Vethru knowing. I'm writing because I heard him catching up with you. It's going to happen soon, and I don't know how it's going to turn out. I hope he doesn't catch you, and I'm scared for you. And not just because of him. I don't know where it is you are when he finds you, but it's dark. There's a lot of confusion. And then it gets really bad. I don't even want to think about it. You warned me. You told me someday I'd hear awful things. I did. I haven't slept in two days, because when it gets dark, I hear them. They whisper in the dark. If you hear them, Pherios, run away! I don't want to think about what happens after. You've never heard screaming like that. Or maybe you have. But I hope not. I don't know what else to say. I'm trying to keep working, but it's hard. I hear things, but I don't understand what's going on like you did. If you can write back, please tell me what you've been seeing. I need to know if I'm doing this right. OK? Please be careful!!! Your friend, Molly |
Re: halfway
Marignon, Turn 34
Muszinger How did it come to this? Father Muszinger gazed over the smoking ruins of the great library at Barra. The words of a hundred generations burned beneath those blackened columns, and the twisted, gruesome corpses of the sages lay all about. One man had died on the steps of the library -- unable to run quickly with his stack of scrolls, a knight's lance had ripped his body asunder, and his blood now stained those scraps of paper he had sought to protect and oozed slowly down the stairs... --- "The sacrifice of blood is not specifically forbidden, Father -- legend says that during the fall some noble Church fathers advocated an alliance with the infernal devils against the greater peril of death made manifest." "That is legend, and folly, and heresy, Wic!" "But Father..." "Enough, give me peace for a little while. Leave!" Muszinger sank down in a chair and stared into the depths of the fire. What day was it? Where was he? The Mountains of Madness, yes... They had marched here in splendor after defeating the Pythium army. Here, where the arch-theurgs of Pythium had murdered Aftial. These mountains were now made sacred by that act, and though all in the Church agreed that death could not hold back the mightiest of the LORD's servants -- not with the end so close -- still some vengeance had to be delivered unto the evil purple empire, and a church would need to be built at the spot where the Goddess of Courage had ascended into heaven. The first week in the Mountains had been exciting. It had been a long time since the Inquisition's work had been so rewarding. No petty heresies about which side of the bread was the godly one to butter like they had back home -- these people openly worshipped the oracle and openly celebrated the slaughter of God's holy servant. Children played with evil-looking Aftial dolls and gleefully recreated her defeat at the hands of the teleporting band of arch-theurgs (each of whom had a special super-power in the game). Fortunately the toys were all made of wood and served as kindling for their owner's pyres. Yes, the Mountains had been cleansed and made righteous over the wails of the damned and the cries of the heretics. Though hard work, it had been accomplished swiftly. The new church was dedicated, and the land made safe and orderly when the messengers of doom started to arrive. First came the news that Pythium had qualified for membership in the great alliance. Muszinger had personally bound the fate of Marignon with three other kingdoms in order to defeat the growing southern menace. Now the foolish terms for membership had been met by the one empire the alliance was supposed to last long enough to destroy -- and just as they stood on the edge of destruction! Next came news that Aftial had returned to Marignon -- welcome news in itself, but she had stayed there with the Three Above and pardoned Pythium for killing her. And then the crushing blows -- the Archbishop of Marignon published reports that the kingdoms of C'tis and Vanheim were using death magic in their wars against Pythium -- the Archbishop of Elkland had been recommunicated (they had had to invent that word) in exchange for a mighty gift of twenty water gems to the war effort -- the inquisition was to be placed under the personal control of the Archbishop of Avoca -- Muszinger's army was to disband, the monies for their wages being required to pay the army already (already!) fighting the undead in the shadow lands -- Muszinger, Wic and Polgrave were to return to Marignon to face trial for heresy. Sitting by the fire, Muszinger took up the heresy charge and stared blankly at it. There was a knock, and the Archbishop of Polgrave entered. "Father..." "How many of these have I signed in my time?" Muszinger asked, holding up the charge. "Bitter reversal of fortune." "Father, we must take action." "Yes. But what? Are you here to offer another deal with the devil like Wic? A chance to sell our souls to the infernal forces to gain strength to conquer our political enemies? No, of course not. Your study is death itself. Surely you are here to argue that we must side with the darkness to counter these charges that our allies are friends of death!" His voice rose a little, on the edge of breaking into hysterical laughter. "You do me wrong Father, I urge no such thing. The power and danger of death are well known to me, true, but I would never argue that another should take up my burden, be tortured by the same inky blackness which stalks my dreams. No, I am here to discuss practical matters. You must charge Marignon with heresy youself. Have the inquisition -- those who are still loyal to you -- move out in force to quash these vicious rumors. You must take steps to defeat the enemies of our LORD and yourself." "Must I, Polgrave?" "Yes. Time is of the essence." "But... oh God, forgive your humble servant! The rumors must be true. I have spoken myself with spies who saw such a thing. They say the ruler of Vanheim is a foul undead thing, and the dragon Cole? The whole race of C'tis? Who led Ermor into the night, Polgrave? Which treacherous, stinking vermin poisoned the mighty empire, the mighty church, and brought death incarnate into a good and wholesome world? We had thought, I know, deluded ourselves that these animals had put such evil behind them, but a lizard cannot change its scales." "My dear friend. No-one has been a more zealous defender of the faith than yourself. But even if the charges are true, it is treason for Marignon to usurp control in this fashion, and heresy to not put on formal trial the people who make such claims. But I know why this is so. Their information comes not from our own loyal spies, but from the angel-killing masters of deception in Pythium. Their words are lies because of their source, and Marignon knows this, this is why he hides behind treason. Take the fire of faith and the torch of the inquisition, and shine light into this dark secret, expose its evil roots!" "I could do as you say, but how can we win? Our army's salary is cut. We must pillage enemy lands or disband our force and be left powerless. With Aftial now preaching forgiveness, how can we lead the troops into battle against Pythium? And yet we cannot stay here." The door burst open, and for a moment Wic hung there in the shadow, his robes drooping from his outstretched arms like some hideous bat. "My lords! It is a good day to die!" "What new devilry is this?" "None whatsoever." Wic stood aside, and a man moved into the room. A weather-beaten man in dirty brown robes, leaning on his spear and trying to catch his breath. "I present St. Onbec, the angry." A stunned silence filled the room. Then Polgrave ran over to offer the man a chair. "Are you for real?" The man stared in Muszinger's eyes, and his face shone with a holy light. "More real in this world than you, rat." "Why you!" Muszinger rose to smite the insolent scout, but Wic swiftly interposed himself. "Hear him out. He brings our salvation." "What lies!" "I saw the serpent masters, Pythium, at Boddern Weald, scarce one month ago. Their foul magicks have conjured up some dispossessed spirits to fight against the lizards." "My God." "He was not there that day, for the lizards did not hesitate to raise the dead in their own turn." "And you will swear to this?" "By my spear and unto the living face of God." "You see what this means, Father?" said Wic. "For a little while at least we can hold the army together fighting the damned lords of Pythium. Marignon's power cannot reach us while we retain our force, and the men will not complain once they are fighting the shadow of death even here. This is our key to our survival, and the gates of power back home." Muszinger turned away to look into the fire again. "My friends, all you say is true. But this is not the key to salvation, but the footstep of doom. Vanheim, C'tis, Pythium... these now have all joined the darkness of Ermor. Are we alone to stand against the night? It was always so, but can we survive divided? While Elkland marches on the lizards in the north, and Marignon fights the greater shadow, we fight in vain here in the south against yet another race fallen into necromancy! The end is coming. It is almost upon us, and the LORD's return will not be to a bright clean world, but to a shadowy waste, where foul things hold sway and the living wander like ghosts in the night. We are all doomed." Wic laughed, "You worry too much, Father. We, loyal servants, will always be protected as long as we do what is right-- and now we know that it is both right and convenient to continue the war against Pythium for as long as we have strength. Perhaps the LORD intends us to die in these Mountains, but I do not think so. I say we march into the heart of Pythium. Strike the library at Barra, and put a stop to the heathen learning that goes on there. Already the knights are agitating to ride there, in the hopes of finding clues about their precious grail. March out. Fight out little part of the greater struggle, and let God determine where we fall." "Yes," said Muszinger. "Do what you will." --- And so Muszinger watched the fires erase history. Pythium had used no death magic in the battle, although they had sacrificed many young girls to summon lesser devils from Hell. Onbec (or whoever he really) had disappeared again into the wild, taking Muszinger's sense of direction with him. Why continue this battle? Why fight this fight? For now, he was just reacting. Just trying to hold his army together long enough to see his way back to Marignon, and the Angel, and God. |
Re: halfway
I'm really sorry to do this to you guys after you delayed the game and reran the turn for me, but I'm afraid I'm dropping out afterall. Losing all my sages was pretty devastating morale wise, considering I almost set them all to retreat but decided that it was to much effort and nothing was going to get to them that turn (I thought I had a peace treaty with marignon... I made the mistake of assuming that backstory about national factions would not translate to actual 'rogue' armies). Since the last of my interest in the game is now pretty much gone, I really can't justify taking the time for the game anymore.
The problem with these slow moving long term games is it is really slow and painful to just tough it out when you are not enjoying the game anymore. |
Re: halfway
Would it help to take over my Pangaea? I have done very little, but I have a hoard of gems, so you might be able to do something with them.
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Re: halfway
I would like to apologize to both Quantum and puffyn though: as a person (and a general dominions players) I'm really not such a bastard. But... roleplaying as the Inquisition I feel I have a bit of a standard to uphold.
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Re: halfway
As a counterpoint I would like to offer your nastiness as Cthulu in the original Yarnspinners. Perhaps next game (Yarnspinners 3, anyone?) you should play a fuzzy-kittens-and-flowers kind of race. Someone inoffensive and noble, like Man, or Pangaea, or perhaps T'ien Ch'i.... http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/wink.gif
To quantum: I can understand your desire to leave, but just wanted you to know how greatful I was that you summoned enough interest in the game to march your huge army on my capitol. Thanks, that was very good of you. Are you going to write one last yarn? |
Re: halfway
Quote:
@Alneyan: No, I have been trying to make clean break from this game for a long time, I'm pretty sure I would regret sticking around. |
Re: halfway
True, true, I suspected you wouldn't be silly enough to divide your big army just enough so that it would be unlikely to succeed. Still, you were the one who marched it right next to my capitol last turn. Let's just say we in C'tis are a little relieved, though perhaps offended, that you weren't actually very interested in your large army rampaging through our lands. (Which we would have been crushed anyway sooner or later, oh yes, very soon now...)
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Re: halfway
Esclave
I took the wounded east out of the Mountains of Madness. Slow though we were with the weak and the lame, no one molested us. Some peace treaty with Pythium had made Muszinger very unhappy, but I was just glad to be away from the front. I never want to to see anything like the conversion of the Mountains of Madness again. Once out onto the plains, we turned west again, heading for Towen. We had recently received word that Aftial had returned from the grave -- and the rumors said she was subtly changed. Now, as I sit with the sages of Towen and read through their tomes, I search for clues about what happened to that gentle creature which whom I passed my mornings in the House of Just Fires all those years ago; that gentle creature who is the mother of my unseen child. Surely this is not the same Aftial, returned now from heaven with a flaming sword and new-found wars to fight against out friends the lizards and the shadow itself? But if I am honest, I never knew her. Our encounters were brief, and what do I know of women, angelic or mortal? What do I know of angels at all? Scripture and tradition name nearly a hundred such beings, servants of the Most High, and describe their character in detail. But there is no Aftial. The sages do have one book, a collection of druidic poetry which managed to elude the inquisition. One stanza speaks of an Aftiel: But thee Aftiel, patron of the evensky draw your veils o'er us now. Cloak our misdeeds in darkness and set us free. If this is Aftial, then I fear for Marignon. What is an angel who comes to us with false titles -- promising a new morning of greatness for the church, when in truth she is the night-bringer and ender of things? What misdeeds does she cloak? What veils draws she over the eyes of men? The sages suggest that I search for answers in Great Woods. They say that a mighty warrior who was close to Aftial fell into darkness there. I do not know what I seek, but will find this ghost warrior's grave and tale, to see how Aftial protected those she swore to defend. Muszinger A week before the beginning of Carrofactum, Muszinger called Wic and Polgrave into one of the Barra library rooms which had escaped destruction and which they were using as a command post. The topic was the future of the Southern Army. "We stand thus gentlemen. The gold Gawain and his knights liberated (with regrettable loss of life) pillaging this province will cover our expenses for some time, but we cannot go home yet. Though many inquisitors remain loyal to me, they are mostly pressed hard in the struggle against Ermor. I suspect now that this may have been Marignon's plan all along." "And what of that fat fool himself?" "Msgr. Buternot reports he is besieged within the Shadow Watch by a large army of the undead." "He had better not leave his body parts lying around." muttered Polgrave. "Any chance our problem will be... ah... taken care of by the undead?" asked Wic. "Marignon is a servant of the Church, vouched for by Aftial, God's precious messenger who..." "None of which really undermines the fact that he's actively trying to kill us, does it? Face it, Father, Marignon has schemed against all three of us since he came to power." "But I will not march openly against him, nor undermine him in the battle for the shadowlands." "What, then?" "The Three Above are all busy. Avoca has his hands full trying to bring the Inquisition to heel, while Spire is trapped with Marignon. No-one is coming to enforce our arrest warrants here in the south." "How very pragmatic of you Father," said Wic. "So we stay here, forge a little power base for ourselves, and prepare to retake power if things go poorly on the Western Front?" "We must still pray that direct conflict can be avoided. Aftial alone is good and can bring Marignon back to the light. We must regain our strength and unity and convert all the heathens of the world before the LORD comes again." "That's a lot for one winged beauty to do in just under a year," said Wic. "What? Do you not believe? Have I not told you? There is no taint within her -- she is pure as snow." "Even as you say." "Very well then. I shall return to the Mountains alone. You two convince that bone-head Gawain to ride East." "It shall be done." Muszinger swept out of the room, and Wic's deferential look hardened into a thin smile. "Poor fool. He believes so strongly and so deep. Reminds me of that boy, Esclave. He cannot, nay will not, see that Aftial plays him as a pawn." "We should bring him to see this," said Polgrave. "Perhaps. But for now, it is best that he walk alone. We can hardly have such a self-righteous man around while we do what needs be done." "I know. I have all the ingredients for the Rite of Shantanok assembled." "Then, are you ready to begin?" asked Wic, with just a little bit of awe in his voice. "No, we must wait for the first night of Carrofactum, and we will need to stand on the broken tower in the Forest of Saran, where a saint's blood was shed." "That's twisted." "It is death magic, Wic, not fluffy bunnies. You're not backing out now, are you?" "Of course not, Polly. You know my soul is already spoken for. What do I have to fear?" "You sound smug for one condemned to eternal torture in hell." "At least I'll be warm." The two men stared at each other for a long moment, then turned and marched out into the twilight. Gawain Sir Gawain stared, entranced, at the dancing patterns on the shield. "I want that one. And that flaming blue sword." "Uh, sir, I'm not sure that shield is altogether good. It might be accursed." "What makes you say that?" "The little plaque underneath which reads: Shield of the Accursed." "Ah, so those little squiggly symbols have meaning." "Indeed, sir." "Well, since we have to march out tonight to go fight the... what was it again?" "The mutant space goat of Saran." "Yes, the goat thingy that's got Wic all nervous. Anyhow, after we've killed that we'll come back here to Barra and I'll pick up my new sword and shield. That should give you plenty of time to find out if picking up this shield will turn me into a newt." |
Belated Turn 33 Yarn for Man
With all the stops and starts for this game, I got a bit behind on my yarns. Here is the belated Turn 33 yarn, with the Turn 36 yarn to come sometime soon. At least the battle against Pythium is prioviding me with lots of material for my yarns.
Turn 33 Pythium strikes back! The evil nation of Pythium has bounced back from near elimination. These past few months, the Pretender Cibragol summoned some odd ether warriors who were surprisingly difficult for my hawks and wolves to strike. Those strange fellows mowed down my summoned nature army like they never even existed. I therefore ordered a retreat from my frontier provinces of Endron and Voccan. Both those provinces are right next to the capitol of Pythium anyway, and that simple fact makes it quite difficult for my army to defend them. But, to placate my darn Uncle, I did approve a full mobilization of my vast army to the front lines. Certainly that show of force will put the fear of Selena into my enemies! All we can do now is to wait and see how it all turns out. One thing I can now report on is the complete success of another of the splendid ideas from Veronicas, my fine friend and Minister of Research. She had reported to me that the quiet little library we discovered years ago in Gryphon Spires could potentially make a fine boost to our research. So, acting solely on her advice, I had long ago ordered the construction of a laboratory and began offering gold to lure members of an obscure brand of wizards who call themselves sages. And the results are VERY apparent. My nation has done unbelievably well in research ever since then. Despite the Lands of Man being totally devoid of magic enhancing scales, my little nation is THIRD of all the nations for magical research (per the unbiased ONN reports). Also, the two purple nations ahead of my magic-poor nation both have maximum +3 (meaning expensive) magical-boosting scales! The fact that we are now so close to the purple nations in research amazes me even more than anything else Veronicas has done for my nation. That girl is so bright indeed. There was another odd thing that happened in the last few months. First, Cleges, my Minister of War, performed a surprising field promotion of one of his knights after a vicious battle against Pythium. So, the result was that Godgifu is now a full-fledged commander leading armies into battle. And, to top it off, the Avalon Crone Darielle even taught Godgifu some magical skills! I have already read that particular report several times, for I was glad to see some benefits come from a war. The second thing that happened was far more troublesome. After the losing fight against the ether warriors of Pythium, a lone dispossessed spirit named Nar decided to leave the service of his evil Pythium masters and join forces with righteous Man! Plus, during some fierce battle somewhere, Nar even found several nice artifacts, including a Black Steel Full Plate, a Barkskin Amulet, and a Boots of Giant Strength. Nar then reported to my laboratory in Cuna Eral to present those fine specimens as a gift for his acceptance into my just and rightful nation. Unfortunately though, in a routine audit, the mundane bean counters of the ONN discovered the addition of these new artifacts to my treasury without my mages having constructing them. ONN then announced the supposed fact to all nations in the Land of Inland that the Nation of Man is cheating. Cheating!!! Me? I don’t even know how to cheat! I don’t know why those ONN bean counters tried to blame me for the fact that a lone spirit decided to quit the Pythium Empire and join Man! It ain’t my fault… Of course, the presence of this dispossessed spirit does lead me to worry about my Inquisition allies. They have already issued far too many proclamations about their abhorrence of the use of death magic. While I have never practiced the dark arts myself, Nar, this new scout of Man, is surely a creature of death magic. No other explanation can be made for his presence. While I believe that it was the evil masters of Pythium who summoned the spirit in the first place, the Inquisition typically jumps first and asks questions later. And Marignon now shares a huge border with me after we squeezed Pythium from between us. So I worry. And I continue to plan for the total elimination of the Pythium Empire. Pythium now; put off the Marignon issue until later. It is the only way I can rule effectively. For it is, as always, one thing at a time. |
Re: Belated Turn 33 Yarn for Man
Our kind host mentioned there might be some hosting schedule irregularities over the upcoming Thanksgiving holidays (in the US). I just want to go on record as saying I wouldn't mind a slower pace for that time period. I could keep up with the game (probably), but the writing, not so much (and I'm already a bit behind).
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Re: Belated Turn 33 Yarn for Man
I second that. It's a busy week coming up for me too, and I need a little more time to work on my next yarn(s)...
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Re: Belated Turn 33 Yarn for Man
Here is Vanheim 36: a long one, but keep reading...the second half is better than the first.
In which Vethru meets an old acquaintance, and Pherios loses more than his way. Vethru My scouts have found something interesting in Imictan, which we've finally retaken from Pythium. Again. The province is still chaotic, and I swear, if I didn't know that this world was without a deity at the moment, I'd say that God was pissed at Imictan. I take a tough crew with me; a small army of dead, led by Plague the Bane. Kor is here, or maybe it's Gor. Or was Gor the one who was killed in Venna? I can never keep the dwarves straight. I've brought Irulia of Alteion with me. I don't know her well, but the word is she's a tough *****. Kestumaia and Lorakeia, my two Valkyrie bodyguards, know her, and they grumble and glare behind her back, so it's probably true. I leave Quellian Ji home. He's getting moody. I tell him to go north and make sure the Air Force is doing its job against Ermor. We reach the ruins by midday. My guards are all dead (again). "Pherios is here," I say. "Look sharp. If you see him, try to capture him, but don't hurt him." We circumambulate the statue, widdershins, into a world with little light and less color. Irulia looks at me questioningly. Plague squints. "We're in a pocket universe," I tell them. "Watch yourselves. Different rules apply here. Be careful with magic--I get the feeling it's not as puny as in your world." Kor grumbles--I'm sure it's Kor now--and I say, "I don't care what your grandfather told you about the old days, your magic is puny now." When we reach the first branching in the maze, I send Kor off to the north, with Plague, because I want to keep her on my good side. I give them each a dozen dead and a few wights. "Look for Pherios. Bring him back if you can. I'm headed east." East is where I sense the first thread of what I hope will become a thick skein of power. As I walk, it becomes clearer that what I'm feeling really is what the stone angel called "The Rune." I used to call it "The Plan" myself, before I found a better metaphor in a high-tech world. It's permeating this entire dimension. For someone like me, who's seen at least a piece of the bigger picture, it's a simple matter to follow the emanations to their source. Along the way, I'm attacked by some strange shadowy creatures. They aren't real shadows. That would be too easy. I know a couple dozen ways to deal with things that are dead or ought to be. These things are kind of like cold holes in space. They try to grind you up and suck you in. I tell my Valkyries to stay back, and while the shadow things try to drain the life out of something already dead, I search my brain for the right spell to take care of them. Aha. Fiat lux. At my words, they explode in brilliant light. Oh, ho! Magic is strong in this dimension. This was going to be fun. There's a palace, of course, at the end of the labyrinth. Totally black. Topped by three spires. Very predictable. Undoubtedly inside, I'd find some kind of self-styled existential evil, and judging by its guards, it'll probably be insubstantial as well. These guys are all the same. Let me give you some advice. If anyone ever offers you immortality, but you need to give up your body and become a "being of pure thought," or some such nonsense, refuse. You'll hate it, and like all the rest of them, you'll eventually go nuts. Keep your body, like I did. Food and sex, that's what keeps you sane. Friends don't let friends discorporate. So I get myself psyched up for a fight against pure evil, which doesn't sound so bad, because this dimension has my mojo flowing, and when I walk into the throne room, I'm more surprised than I've been in a thousand years, because I know this guy. "Who dares intrude upon my domain?" thunders the shadowy form at the end of the hall. "Know that your suffering will seem eternal, and you will beg to serve me before your ending." At least he doesn't look like an eyeball. These dark, incorporeal guys always like eyeballs. "Save it for the tourists, Graknor," I say, as I walk toward him. He stops ranting. When you get old, you develop a lot of tricks to keep your memories straight, and Graknor is a lot older than me. It only takes him a few seconds. "Well, well, well...little Vethru. You've hung around longer than anyone would have guessed. And should I expect old Apichio to walk in behind you?" "He's moved on," I say. "It's just me." "And Vethru! What's this? You're dead! What would he say?" That's the mark of a survivor. A couple dozen millennia pass, and he remembers exactly what an old wizard and his apprentice were arguing about. Always probing for leverage. And dead on, too--Apichio never approved of necromancy. He died and moved to a higher plane, his work unfinished. I took the path less traveled, and it's made all the difference. More and more shadow creatures enter the hall. Many small ones, a few large ones. My Valkyries look around nervously. "And what brings you here? Not still looking for magic words, are you? After all this time?" Graknor asks. Wait--that was a bit too eager. "Curious you'd ask. Makes me wonder why I find you here." "This old place? It's quiet, comfortable. Out of the way." "Don't condescend, Graknor," I say. "This place is lousy with magic. You know what I'm after. You got anything?" The darkness around me starts to ripple. There are now shadow creatures seeping out of the walls. Larger, more solid forms are entering from the corners. "You are in no position to presume so," he replies. "This is my world. I make the rules here." Kestumaia and Lorekeia stay close, tense, but my intuition tells me Graknor is only bluffing. In the old days, he'd kill anyone who so much as looked at him wrong. He hadn't even leaned on me yet. Last time we met, I was young and still learning. He had no way of knowing my power now. He should at least be testing me, trying to gauge it. Then I notice it. "Graknor! I can't see through you any more!" "The darkness hides many mysteries," he says. "You'd be foolish to attempt to penetrate them." Another passed opportunity! He should have at least killed one of my minions by now. It's almost discourteous of him not to. "How long have you been here?" I ask. "Long enough to make it my own," he snarls. "Long enough to learn its ways. Long enough to have buried intruders far more dangerous than you." The power...it isn't a source I'm sensing. It's an effect--a vast effect, centered on Graknor. Solidity. Of course. I smile. "How does it feel," I ask, "to be trapped like a rat in a cage?" "You dare!" he cries. "Do you want to leave this place alive?" I don't bother correcting him. That slip tells me that I've hit it. I know his weakness. Time to put up or shut up. If this dimension isn't as mana-rich as I thought, this could be difficult. But I've got a number of high-powered spells that I haven't been able to use in Inland, and I was itching to try. "I'll walk out before you do. You're stuck." That does it. He knows that I know. He signals his court, but before they can attack, I freeze my dead, to keep them out of the way, and shift my Valkyries to a timeless side dimension for safekeeping. Then I let loose. It feels good. I catch the first wave of shadow creatures in a dimensional vortex, and dissipate the second wave with a mini-nova (always good against darkness-based enemies). Graknor counters by opening holes in space-time around me, about twenty-five, I think. I feel their tidal forces trying to suck me in. I increase the local gravitational gradient in a ring around me, and they drop through the floor. I lose a few toes on my right foot in the process. His more solid minions are upon me now. I take advantage of the fact that they're made of normal matter, and I suppress all the molecular orbitals in their bodies. Their atoms don't stick together anymore. Fortunately I don't need to breathe. Powdered minion is highly carcinogenic. The hall is nearly clear. Graknor pulls out his trademark power. He's channeling the pure essence of emptiness, which is sort of what he is. Or was. He can't pull it off anymore. I shrug it off, and then I reach out and solidify his outer shell. Now he's just roiling black fog caught in a glass statuette. "Damn you," he says, twisting in his prison. "How did you know?" "How did it happen?" I ask. "Was that your palace, in the ruins? Or were you visiting? Or maybe summoned by the local wizard?" He says nothing. "And then a stranger came to the court. You threatened him, he took offense, you didn't back down, and he congealed you. Stuck you here forever. Not only turned you half solid, but bound you to the very spot." The churning inside his shell increases, but it's secure. He can't get out. "Over the years, the best you could do was create your own dimension, right here. And it's been a long time, hasn't it? Quite a comedown for world-shifting creatures like you and me." "Just shut up and kill me," Graknor says. "I don't need to hear the ravings of a mere stripling like you." "I'm not going to kill you," I tell him. "Not yet. I want to know about who did this to you, what he said, everything he did. Everything you know." "Free me," he says, "And I'll tell you everything. Just get me out of this world." "This isn't a negotiation." "I'll serve you. For a thousand years." "You don't get it, do you? I've been searching for fragments nonstop since the last time we met. And I've been successful. You can't stop me. Someone came along and plugged you into the equations. And I'm the mathematician." "If you won't free me, I'll tell you nothing!" he says. I really doubt that. * * * After I was finished with Graknor, it was a simple matter to fold this universe enough to meet up with Plague, Kor, and Irulia again. "Is everything all right?" Irulia asks. "I heard a fairly unpleasant scream." "I met an old acquaintance," I say. "He needed to be persuaded to answer my questions. But we're done now. Time to go. Any sign of Pherios?" "None," says Irulia. Kor mumbles the same. I hesitate before I collapse the dark dimension behind us. I regretted leaving it for the magic-poor Inland, but what could you do? Oh, well. With the information I have, I'm one step closer to something beyond magic. Magic is only a way to cheat the rules. I intended to rewrite them. Pherios Imictan was a cursed province. Conquered by Pythium, then overrun by troglodytes, it had changed hands a dozen times since the beginning of the war. We owned it now. There weren't many people in the streets, and half the buildings were burned out or abandoned. It wasn't a pleasant place to be. But I had two reasons for coming: first, something Vethru wanted was here, and I knew where. Second, only in a place like Imictan could I find the people I needed to steal it away from him before he got to it. "They're ready for you," said the barman. As he hurried away from me and the private room where they waited, I unwrapped the bandage around my left hand. The wound left by Galameteia's blade was still open and seeping. I hoped that the sight of it would give me a reputation as a badass. I was too well-educated to pull it off by my words or manner. An ugly, decaying wound might make the right first impression. There were six mercenaries drinking in the back room, all of them too wild for organized warfare. My uncle told me they existed in every conflict. People who liked war too much. In Vanheim, we make them into einhere, and three of them were just that, renegades from our army. Another was a deserter from Marignon. He was brash, loud, and angry. The other two sat apart from the rest. Two women, as savage as the men, if not more so. One, a minotaur from Pangaea. The other, a Valkyrie. I knew her, or of her, anyway. "Good evening, Maliana," I said. "Far from home, aren't we?" "From what I hear, my lord, neither yours nor mine any longer," she replied, with a healthy dose of sarcasm when she said "my lord." "So what's it about, then?" asked Reggie, the Marignonian. "Seven gold each," I said, "For one raid." They murmured. That was more than a month's pay for your average mercenary. "Plus anything you can plunder, after I've found what I'm looking for." Tasha, the minotaur, said something in a language I didn't understand. I interrupted Maliana as she started to translate. "Most likely half of you won't make it. And where we're going may drive a few of you mad. That's why." Reggie snorted. "What scares you don't necessarily scare me, mate." "He's coming, isn't he? Vethru?" asked Maliana. "Sooner or later," I said. "He won't be alone when he does." Reggie smiled and cracked his knuckles. "Well, then. Seven gold, and a proper fight besides? What are we waiting for?" * * * "Only five of them? And all deaders? No problem," said Reggie. And they weren't. Half of my mercenaries didn't get to draw their swords. We were high on the slopes of a small mountain; leafless trees poked through a few inches of snow. The five zombies had been patrolling an area that was curiously flat. Once we reached it, the others could see what I found on my previous visit. We were standing in sparse ruins, in the remains of a courtyard. A few crumbling walls poked through dead ivy. The amorphous shape in the center of the plaza was an eroded statue. "We're here," I said. "Now it gets strange. Walk around the statue," I told them. "No, the other direction." "What the hell difference does it--" Reggie's jaw dropped when Tasha disappeared. "Sonofa*****!" "Where are we?" asked Maliana, when we had all emerged into the eerie, twilight landscape. There was no color in this world. A dim full moon bathed us in pale light. One of the einhere lit a torch. It flickered gray and drew no color out of our clothing, our gear--or our flesh. We might have been ghosts. "Somewhere else," I said. "No [censored]," said Reggie. "This isn't our world. Be careful. I'm looking for a building, possibly a temple. It'll have inscriptions." I was thinking of the papers that Vethru had me show around Triastellus, two years ago. Some of them had the look of stone-cut lettering. They were unruly, as one would expect. We had spread out a fair bit over the dark, rolling plain, when I heard Tasha roar. "A labyrinth!" called Maliana. it sat at the beginning of rough, rocky territory. The walls were ten feet high, and it was open to the sky. It extended across our path, with no way around. It was the only sign of habitation we had seen, so I took us into it. Tasha, predictably, took the lead. After only three turns, I'd lost my bearings. You wouldn't think it could be possible, but I did. The moon seemed to shift in the sky, as did the few stars I could see. By the fifth turn, I saw Tasha hesitate, just for a second. Reggie did, too. "[censored], are you lost? Damn animal." "Why don't we rip off your balls to mark the trail?" said Maliana. "Flying *****," I heard him mutter. After an hour, we had found several small rooms, most of them empty. Inside the ones that weren't, bones. Old ones. "Screw this, there's no plunder here," said Reggie. "Do you want to go back?" I said. "Quiet," said Maliana. "I hear something." No one else did. "Take a look aloft," I said. She was gone only a minute. While she was away, we struggled to perceive anything in the darkness. Nothing stirred, except perhaps the whispering wind. "It's too dark to see [censored]," Maliana said. "I'm not risking getting lost. But I definitely hear something ahead." We pressed on, and soon we all started to hear distant voices, conversing quietly in a language we couldn't understand. I didn't need to order them to draw their weapons as we sneaked forward. We rounded one last corner, and then we all heard it. The whispering again, but behind us. The dark pressed in on us. The wind blew chill, and ghostly forms boiled over the walls, surrounding us. They were diffuse, and cold. The einhere were cut off from the rest of us. "Onbec!" cried Reggie, "St. Onbec!", as he waded into the dark mass of them. His sword cut air. All their swords cut air. There was nothing to these monsters. They weren't proper shadows--I could deal with those. These were wispy, cold yet jagged when they slashed you. The fallen einhere began to scream, not the berserk scream of their kind, not even the scream of the tortured or dying. They screamed like their souls were being ripped from their bodies. Tasha rushed in, trying to trample. They swallowed her, too. "Wing and spear!" yelled Maliana, and she surged forward, but I grabbed her arm and dragged her away. Only Reggie still stood, and his pointless fury was a thing to behold. I thought of Molly, then, and I cast a lightning bolt at him, just as they overwhelmed him. It flashed brighter than I had ever seen before. Some of them scattered, some disintegrated in the flash. Others came for us. Maliana and I fled through the twisting passages. Thankfully, the lightning had done its job: there were no screams to follow us. * * * "Rich boy had his fun? Are you done playing soldier now?" I ignored her. We'd been wandering in the maze for hours. Twice the whispering shadows had come for us, and twice I had driven them back with violent, blazing lightning. But even though we had only seen them twice, we heard them whispering around every corner. And every corner looked the same as every other corner. The moon was now high in the sky, and even if it had never strayed from a predictable path in the sky, its position overhead made it useless for navigation. "Did you forget your compass? What kind of a sailor are you?" She wasn't as angry as Onbec, or even Reggie, but I could see why she got thrown out of the Valkyries. "Are you sure you're related to Belletennares? He conquered ten provinces and lost fewer people than--" Suddenly she stopped. And that was why I tolerated her. She had the senses and reflexes of a cat. "Someone ahead," she whispered. "Someone real." We stepped silently through an opening on the left and came face to face with someone else moving just as silently. Only surprise kept our drawn weapons from being used. "Pherios," said the woman. "I was told you might be here." She was tall and thin, and dark haired, for a Valkyrie. Her face was carefully expressionless. I had never known my cousin Irulia very well, partly because of that reserve. She was always quiet, and somewhat mysterious, even to the family. She was thought to be clever, and rather fierce, when provoked. She had not been in the capitol when I left. "Cousin," I said. "You have the better of me. But I'm glad to see you." Maliana had edged behind me somewhat. She didn't say anything, no doubt sensing that I was her best chance of avoiding offending my cousin and the fifteen dead man behind her. "Your old boss is here," said Irulia. "I think he's angry with you." That statement was carefully noncommittal. She was working with him, but was she working for him? "How is Petema?" I asked. "We haven't spoken recently." Not good. "I have my reasons," I said. "I haven't betrayed Vanheim." "I suppose you haven't." She wasn't giving me anything. "Irulia, please. Tell him you saw nothing. Point the way out, and we'll disappear." Irulia motioned me to a corner of the dim room. "What do you know of what he is doing?" she said in a low voice, out of earshot of Maliana. "If I knew, I wouldn't be here. I only know what he's done. Ask Petema. She knows the story. Ask her about Galameteia." "What have you seen?" I hesitated, not wanting any information to get back to Vethru, but I had no choice. I wouldn't raise my blade against family. If she wanted to deliver me to Vethru, she could. "Two wars," I said. "One outside, you probably know with who. One inside." "Civil war? Why?" she asked. Damn, she was cold. How could anyone ask that question without any trace of curiosity or emotion? "He's wasting us. He's going to burn through us in this...search. He's going to use us up." She stared into my eyes. A minute, five, I don't know. The spell was broken by Maliana. "Whispers!" she called softly. Irulia didn't hesitate. "Ignore the sun," she said. "Look carefully; there are three spires on the eastern horizon. Keep them to your back. And hurry. It gets much worse here at night." She paused, and I thought for a second she was going to embrace me. She didn't. Then she and her dead men were gone, leaving me no wiser as to her intentions. Maliana and I ran west. We almost made it. On the way, we passed whispers, and moaning, and we heard a single, lingering, tortured scream from the depths of Hel, but we almost reached the entrance before they came. I threw lightning at them, but they were on all sides of us. I turned after every bolt, to cover all angles. Maliana pressed her back to mine as she futilely stabbed at them with her spear. As I tired, she grew furious. I learned that day that a Valkyrie, too, may become a berserker. When her frustration overtook her sense, she sprang forward and thrust her spear into the thick of them, wild and savage as any einhere, and that's when they took her. I cursed my folly as I remembered the sword at my belt, a sword that she could have used, a sword that surely would have reached them. I drew it, feeling its chill. Fitting that the weapon of a dead Valkyrie would avenge another dead Valkyrie. I advanced, wondering how my rage would serve me. When I walked around the statue again into the light, numb and battered, I was alone and empty-handed. No answers, no survivors. I evaded the new sentries Vethru had left in the ruins, and I quickly left the cursed province of Imictan. My plan had failed utterly. I'd killed six people in my ignorance. Next time, I would act alone. And I would strike directly at the location where I knew my answers must be: Paistellus. Vethru's castle. |
Re: Belated Turn 33 Yarn for Man
Here's turn 36... brownie points for whoever recognizes which important cultural works Cole cites to explain his love of gold.
--- C'tis, Turn 36 --- Laph woke to a tinkling sound, like a thousand tiny bells caught in a stiff breeze, or perhaps hailstones pelting a cavern roof far overhead. But through her tiny window-slit she could the moon a clear sky, and there was only a whisper of a wind as she slipped out of her warm nest to look around. The moon was half-full (or, as Ruli liked to say, half-empty, she thought with a smile). She could make out many constellations: Draco, the Hydra, the great Egg Nebula – and was that the Curiously Equilateral Triangle? Stargazing was so much more satisfying in the Mark than in the crowded capitol, especially since Ruli had convinced everyone to switch from tallow fat lamps to these clever new lanterns of his own devising, although they did have an unfortunate tendency to explode in the rain. "Where are you, egg brother?" Laph sighed. She would of course hear if anything happened to him, at what was the fourth siege of Boddern Weald. It had just been so long since they had even been in the same city for more than a few days, and she was so busy these days, what with her new responsibilities... She heard it again. This time the noise reminded her of a Great Hatching, when dozens or hundreds of tiny lizards all emerged at the same time and crawled over a million shards of broken egg. Laph slipped on her dark blue robes, still stiff and unfamiliar, and wandered out of her quarters. The castle was quiet at this early hour. Lizards have never liked sitting watch in the cold of night, and since word had come of Cibragol's abdication and the virtual collapse of Pythium much of the tension had leaked out of what was still, technically, a border garrison. Most of the brave defenders of C'tis were elsewhere anyhow, besieging forts left in chaos by the purple people's retreat, or with Ruli and Cole at what would (Laph hoped) be the last great battle of the war. The few remaining city guard were doubtless patrolling somewhere more warm, most likely the heat-lamp district, and Laph did not begrudge them this. It was only her sleep that had been disturbed; and it had not been very restful. Nothing for it then but to figure out the source of that eery, distant sound. She walked past the teaching halls, where in a few short hours she was scheduled to lecture some of the brightest young hatchlings. She pondered, for a moment, which story would better encapsulate her theme of The Perils of Foreign Entanglements and Empire Building. Perhaps "Aetonyx and the Pangaean Pact"? But no, that was a bit obvious. But would they understand the nuanced subtlety of "Aetonyx and the Noodle Incident"? She almost walked past the twisting staircase leading deep into the bowels of the castle, before she noticed a faint glimmer of light emanating from below. That was odd. She turned back and stepped gingerly down. Nothing of interest was kept down there, because lizards found it hard to navigate the steep stairwells favored by human architects. It was mostly used for long-term storage or as a dumping ground: for human foodstuffs too unpleasant to eat except in a siege, or stacks of rusty armor awaiting re-smelting if anyone ever had the chance... oh, and Cole's auxiliary backup horde, of course. Suddenly Laph wished she'd brought a weapon. She couldn't imagine who would be daft enough to raid a dragon horde – it was said dragons could smell each and every piece of their horde a thousand kilometers away, and they were not terribly forgiving of those found carrying liberated horde-gold. But anyone foolish enough to rifle through Cole's treasure was unlikely to be too respectful of the shiny blue robes marking her as his prophet. She rifled through some boxes of mouldering human supplies, and settled on an oddly-cylindrical but hefty club, before moving closer to the light. It didn't sound like a robbery, though. The sound she had been following was definitely coming from this direction, and had now acquired a deep rumbling hum as counterpoint to what now sounded like a small avalanche of pebbles on a tin roof. For some reason Laph identified the hum as very satisfied, though that made little sense. But there was a light shining from the door to Cole's treasure room. Someone had hung one of Ruli's sodium lamps by the massive doors, which were now ajar. Laph could now hear the clinking of coins quite clearly, and hefted her club above her head. She inched forward. A loud voice boomed out. "Oh, some people say it's folly but I'd rather have the lolly, With money you can make a splaaash..." There was a loud crashing sound, and Laph looked just in time to see a large crimson tail disappear under a colossal mound of gold. The song continued for a while, in the form of a deep reverberating hum. Cole's head popped up suddenly right in front of her. "Care to join me, Elaphe?" he asked, eyes afire with a kind of joy Laph had not seen in a long time. The dragon laughed as he executed a perfect backflip, and spotting the slightly dazed look in the small lizard's eyes at the sight, he said, as if reciting a creed, "I love the feel of it and the smell of it, and I love to dive around in it like a porpoise and burrow through it like a gopher and toss it up and let it hit me on the head." He gathered a large handful of coins, to illustrate the last points, and sent them flying. Laph stared at the blissful red scaly face, basking in a rain of gold, and couldn't help but laugh. He made such a silly image, sovereign leader of one of the most powerful nations of Inland, dancing like a hatchling in a pile of red-gold leaves. I guess that's why I went through with it, she thought to herself, as Cole, seeing his offer of a midnight swim was not instantly accepted, shrugged merrily and began chanting the popular dwarven ditty "Aurum Or" while doing a credible breast stroke. It's not like he wants the people to worship him, she mused, though of course they did. Even humans living within C'tis lands had spontaneously erected temples in the dragon's honor. But much as Cole enjoyed the attention, it was quite clear that, deep down, he was just in it for the gold. And that purity of intent, for a dragon, made all the difference. It was why, for all that she argued with Cole about his foreign policy, she didn't regret her choice to become in essence his second-in-command. And it wasn't just so she could try to rein in his more foolish ideas, or even that she'd noticed a small but significant improvement in the power of her stories and the way her audience was smitten by her every word. There was just no hint of malice in the dragon, in stark contrast even to their nominal allies. She thought with a chill about the conniving self-styled prophet of Man, and naive young Selena, who not only had failed to notice how her growing power was corrupting her, but also was making the fatal error of believing the yarns other spun of her own divinity. Marignon's Inquisition and tangled web of political factions had always terrified her, but if the rumors were to be believed about the darkness of the angel Aftial, the troubled theocracy to the south was in for evil times – and, by extension, so was everyone else around them. And as for Vethru? Laph just shuddered. No, if she had to choose her god, even a made up one, she would have to go with the one who believed in letting his subjects more or less do what they wanted, so long as they kept the royal treasuries well-stocked with gold for him to play with, and did not disturb his afternoon naps in the sun. And I guess I did choose. She understood Ash'embe a little better now, his fierce loyalty to the giant dragon, because for good or for ill she was tied to Cole, and to C'tis, and only death would sever that bond now. She could feel somehow that this land, and the treasure vault in particular, were powerful havens for lizardkind, and that filled her with a sense of peace and well-being. It also made her remember how weak Ash'embe had seemed during his travels, just before he had fallen, and her thoughts strayed to the catacombs back home. I hope Larch and Hema made sure he came out all right. The mound of gold shook as Cole reluctantly pulled himself out of it. He shook his scales vigoursly, sending doubloons flying, and smiled a little wistfully at Laph. "That castle won't just siege itself, I'm afraid," he sighed. "But the gold gets so lonely if left alone too long..." He bowed slightly to his new prophet and flew easily above the troublesome steps, turing to cast a final looking of parental care back toward his gold. "Please take care of them for me," he said. Laph blinked a few times as quiet filled the castle again. It was still pitch black, hours before dawn. She trudged up the stairs back to her chambers, pondering her lecture and the thousand other things she must attend to the next day, all the preparations there were yet to make. At last, with the surreal scene of the evening almost faded from memory, she settled herself gently into her warm nest, careful not to disturb the eggs. She fell asleep quickly, and did not notice that as she did so she was softly humming the refrain to "Aurum Or." |
Re: Belated Turn 33 Yarn for Man
Say, what's the status on this turn? Are we waiting for someone, or is Tauren still not back in the land of the internetted (and if so, you have my condolences)?
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I posted the Turn 36 yarn for Man. I am not repeating it here because the embedded images would not show up properly on this forum.
So - If you want to see what a battle against 125 PD looks like, go read my latest yarn! |
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