Niefel AAR: "...Some Say In Ice"

[Peter Ebbesen]

…Some Say In Ice: An Introduction

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
- Robert Frost


It is the chipping of the ice that awakens me in the end, I guess. A small matter, perhaps, yet one that interferes with my solitude. For ages I have sat on my Frozen Throne encased in ice as the affairs of the world pass without my ken. Encased – or imprisoned? I may never know. The ice sheathed me like my mother’s womb and I knew peace in my long sleep. Whether I was the victim of capricious nature or of the deliberate malice of an envious god I know not, but my fate was sealed and my internment eternal, or very nearly so. My throne, my kingdom, my people, all lost to the aeons, victims of time’s arrow.

That is no longer the case.

The ceaseless work of the small Jotuns has born fruit at Last. Driven by the law and will of their high mages, the Skrattis, these miniscule descendants of the race of giants have been chipping away at my prison for centuries, tunnelling through the ice as they seek the Frozen Throne. A brief period of time, perhaps, but though small in stature they are tireless in their dedication and, at Last, at long Last, they reach the throne…

And awaken me.

The world is hot, so hot, and the race of giant-kin diminished when I open my eyes on the world that is. Heat has triumphed! I feel an anger freezing in my heart as I stretch forth my wrathful dominion over the willing Jotuns, in Siberia and in Ultima Thule, and I let my voice ring with the rising gale. By my will, I fashion the tools needed to reawaken my lesser brethren and give them into the hands of the willing Skrattis. The Niefel giants will walk the earth once more and together we will make of this world a frozen globe. And if, in the fullness of time, I manage to reawaken the Rimtursar, then the world shall know peace as was meant to be.

This time, the world will end in ice, and it will be… Final.

First things must come first, however, and I need lieutenants as well as reawakening my magical skills, sorely drained by the passage of time. By my will the Jotuns release Tjodulf from his sleep to serve me as he did in ages past, and I make of Tjodulf my Prophet, my WORD to the small Jotuns and the midgets who infest the world. From the depths of the forest Angerboda, Mother of Monsters, Doyenne of Witches, the Great Hag, joins me of her own free will, and I set her the task of seeking out sites of magic.

After four turns of the clock of reason, I have once against mastered the most essential evocation and can bLast my enemies with ice, and I set forth with Tjodulf and his men to conquer. With two true Niefel giants and sixteen lesser Jotuns under Tjodulf’s command, and with my guard of winter wolves, our army is surely stronger than anything the midgets of the world can hope to counter.

We march south, the ice flowing in my wake, and into destiny. Who knows what challenges the future will bring?


World War Scenario with 16 impossible AIs, and…

Peter Magus the Son of Niefel
Water 9, Dominion 5, Niefelheim, Fortified City.
Order 3, Production 1, Cold 3, Growth 3, Luck 0, Drain 3

(Note: Sliders optimised for storytelling, not necessarily efficiency)

[Peter Ebbesen]

Trekking south through the verdant Mammoth Forest of the South Siberian Highlands, the army turns to the south-east and invades Baikal, home of two-score midget-infantry.

They fall before the might of the Jotuns, and I congratulate Tjodulf of his excellent leadership as the Last fleeing midgets are crushed by his two soldiers of Niefel, who outpace all those, who would attempt to escape my implacable wrath.

As I survey the bLasted battlefield, I see pale banners streaming in the wind from the hills to the South-East in Wei and to the North-East in the Yablonovy Range. There are many banners, and drums making a racous noise. From the stench and the noise, it is estimated that at least 50-60 midgets defend each province.

The peasants of this province are only too pleased to tell the import of this view. The banners belong to the Tien Chi, a once proud nation overrun and conquered by vicious Barbarian Kings, who now rule from ashen thrones where once the philosopher-kings ruled, aye, even the Throne of Heaven in Hebei itself. Unmatched in battle, they ride domesticated beasts and utilise powerful bows. None could stand against them during the conquest, and now their word is law.

Invincible midgets? What is the world coming to. With several neutral provinces to the South-West, and both to the East and West of my Siberian capital, my course is clear.

I organise a local defense under the command of a Jotun Herse, and give Tjordulf the order: We march to Tien Chi and the Throne of Heaven itself.

[ February 15, 2004, 23:02: Message edited by: Peter Ebbesen ]

[mjlaufgr]

Have you considered diplomacy?

[Norfleet]

He's playing against the AI. The only diplomacy the AI understands is being beaten over the head.

[ManInGray]

hahaha.

[Sleepy]

Good start, I'm looking forward to the rest!