PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2 (Running)

[quantum_mechani]

djo said:
No, no, no...you're being far too rational. We're all approximately playing the game, but we're not necessarily doing it as purely rational game-theoretic entities. I (at least) am making decisions based often on story purposes. If I were playing "rationally", the Vans would probably be visiting poor PashaDawg on my south border.

So people may settle for a lot less than what they've already taken! I mean, a carefully-crafted press release, an (insincere) apology (if it's in character), and a few gems given away, who knows what might happen?


And I meant to say something about the characters in battle, too. It's very cool to suddenly see the names you've been reading in the tales show up live and in person (in pixels?).

Well, I don't know about you, but my characters are very rational.

You really entered the war for thematic reasons? It seems the story with the ship could have just as easily applied to T'ien Ch'i...

Oh, and were those indie light infantry bought for thematic reasons? Because the Pythium commanders were laughing their heads off that those guys finally found a sucker to pay their outrageous prices.

[PashaDawg]

Hey! No invading my Tien Chi Shangri-La!!!

[djo]

quantum_mechani said:
You really entered the war for thematic reasons?

Well, er, not entirely...

Rationally, I figured I could get away with increasing a buffer zone between big scary Pythium and small peaceful Vanheim while Pythium was (hopefully) busy with more serious threats.

Thematically, I did want to dominate around the water. I've made that a theme in the yarns, the Vanheim/sailing thing. (For one of our many restarts, I had what is now Ulm's home, on the BIG lake; that would've been sweet...)

As for the light inf, well, it seemed like a good idea at the time (sometimes "not rational" can mean "stupid").

[djo]

(This news story has pictures on the wiki)

Students Turn Back Pythium

by E. John Smith

(Editor's note: the text and artwork for this story were censored by Vanheim military officials.)

In the last two months, I've witnessed an atrocity and a miracle.

Last month, commandos from Pythium attacked the province of #####, inflicting heavy casualties on the civilian population. I saw women and children being driven through the streets as their homes burned. The local university was attacked and its scholars scattered. I myself fled with a group of students to the neighboring province of ######, with the invader close on our heels.

But this month, it all changed. Led by ###### the ####, the students turned and stood their ground. Armed only with their own magical knowledge, and backed only by a few militia and a number of ##### ##### from the ####### ### ######## #####, these brave men and women stood against the grizzled veteran soldiers of the enemy.

The battle was long and hard-fought, uncertain until the final moments. Wizards traded spells. Soldier slew soldier. As Vanheim's last militia fell, it seemed as if nothing could stop the ethereal bodies of the Pythium invaders. But two students held firm, summoning phantasmal warrior after phantasmal warrior, ######## after ########, until, at last, the Pythium invaders were forced to retreat.

Today, the scholars are eager to return to their work, hoping to make yet another effort in the war with Pythium. Surely it will not be smaller than the effor they have already made. I have only seen one small part of this conflict, but if what I have witnessed is any guide, the brave hearts of the Vanheim people have nothing to fear from all the legions their enemy may throw at them.

[Sedna]

Ghost

The peasants of Towen shiver under a bitterly cold sky. The land is rich enough, but the local lord is the last independent prince between Marignon and Pythium, and he has no desire to let either power learn that he has been letting his peons get above their station. I earn a living killing nobles and stealing what I can. Perhaps this earns me a few points in the Good Book.

I awake to the blowing of clear trumpets and the straight columns of Pythium's legions. The full wealth of the depraved local prince has gone to equip a score of heavily armored knights. They clash across blighted farmland. Their chargers, fed on the grain denied starving people, do not falter. Their shields and lances come up and slam into the front lines of the legion... which hold. The knights are pulled down, the wealth of the land strewn broken across the frozen mud.

That night, as the Pythium army enters the gates of the city, I pull a cloak over my undead friend and slip inside also. I don't know why. I've seen military occupation before. The peasants have too; they hide their babies. I watch a squad of soldiers turned looters, rapers, pillagers, kick down the door to one hut and draw their swords...

One man in emerald armor grabs them by their belts and one-by-one tosses them over his shoulder, back into the street. He apologizes to the family huddled in fear, then takes the looters to the center of the city, reprimands them, and has them whipped in the flickering light. The city remains unlooted.

The man is Brutus, prophet of the Pythium Oracle.

I awake in the dead of night, back in the forest. That wretched pile of bones has picked itself up and is shambling toward the Pythium camp. I can't find the right words of deadel to make it stop. I follow it. Wouldn't do to have it killing people. The camp is utterly still, the sentries all asleep. The skeleton goes straight to one tent and raps on the doorpost with its knuckles, than falls into a dissembled pile. I approach, am I free at last?

The door opens, it is Brutus, open-handed.

"Yes, my lady?"

I cannot speak. His eyes move to my ear. A smile crosses his lips.

"Ah, it is that time. Well, you're frozen, please come in."

Inside, he pours himself a glass of mulled wine.

"Et tu?"

I shake my head, my eyes are fixed on the many open coffins.

"My friends," he says. "Men who I led many years. I have always sat one night with. But... tonight... The Oracle has told me; you are here to send me on as well."

I shake my head. A flicker of confusion passes his face. Then rasps issue from my mouth. The nearby coffin lurches and a form leaps on Brutus. Unarmed, he rips the body's head off, but a second undead throws itself at Brutus' knees while the first, sans head, slams fists into Brutus' face. More coffins empty and Brutus keeps ripping bits off them as I watch. The din is awful, why don't the guards come?

At last the dead have been torn into chunks too small to pose a threat. Brutus, winded, hideously bloodied, with a broken arm and clothes torn and bitten into tatters, gazes up at me with patient, gentle eyes. I stab him through the heart.

I wake on the forest floor. It is finally spring, and my heart leaps. Has the past dark winter melted into dreamland? But my hands are still red with his blood. His face still floats in front of my waking eye. I am still fortunes' fool. I am still a pawn of fate.

A clear trumpet and the straight columns of Pythium's legions are marching along the road I chose to sleep upon. I don't want to run anymore. Unbidden, dead forms spring from hidden graves under ash trees and three skeletons and I rush a full legion. The skeletons die in a hail of javelins, and I alone continue my headless charge-- yelling, pleading, daring the legion the kill me. I do not seek forgiveness from a forsaking God. I do not shout the name of the angel who has abandoned me. A javelin grows large in my vision.



Esclave

"Lord Wic, help me understand."

"There's no need for the 'Lord' nonsense away from the city. Besides, my dear Esclave, you're nearly as skilled with magick as I, and of the two of us, only you have consorted with angels."

"Just the one. And that is what I don't understand."

"Ah, so this is going to be a question about women." Wic smiled and stopped walking. He leant against a tree and stared off into the distance, casting little fire darts which melted holes in the snow. For a moment, I just watched his calm demeanor. We were marching to war - on the road past us trudged a mercenary band of archers - but Wic looked like he was on the way to a Midwinter feast.

"Does she love me?"

Wic pursed his lips. "I think so. She went to bat for you against the inquisition, and that take madness or love. Did you know the Inquisition has never pardoned anyone before?"

"By why did she order me to leave her? Why does she send me out to fight while she stays, studying the Compendium and talking long hours with the smiths?"

"That I cannot say. One must always be careful dealing with supernatural creatures. Their ways are not our ways. Their goals are often inscrutable."

For a moment I debated asking him about the insidious rumor I had hear- that Wic had made some sort of deal with the devils... but that was nonesense, and I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship.

A few days later I watched, a little shocked, as Wic gleefully mashed the black hawk into a bloody mess of feathers and muddy snow with his mace.

"Damn I hate those things." Then he smiled and drew a deep, satisfied breath. "Ah, it is good to be back out on the march. We'll have quite a feast tonight when those guards finish looting the city... Towen I believe they're calling it these days, though it's changed names many times while I've been archbishop of Wic. Maybe we can even liberate a few dancing girls to keep us company tonight."

I vaguely murmured something, averting my eyes from the bloody smear and trying to fight down my nausea and fear. The implacable Pythium legion still loomed in my mind. On and on they came through the arrows and fire. A swarm of black hawks surrounded us, and we flailed them off. When we looked up again, the legion had scattered the line of our infantry and killed the leaders of the mercs. It was only at the last moment, as the longbows were firing nearly point blank, that they broke.

Suddenly I shuddered. I came back from a long way.

"Esclave, are you alright?"

"I saw... a stone angel which turned to coal. It fell over into a pool and caught on fire. A dead man sat by it and roasted a lizard on an ashen stick."

Wic waited a moment, then clapped me heartily on the shoulder. "Esclave, my boy, I do believe you've just had a vision. Let's go plunder some ale and you can tell me all about it."

In the next weeks I searched for answers, as the peace of Carrofactum prevented the army from marching on. A guild of sages dwelt in Towen, and I sought them for advice on my visions and dreams. They advised me to seek the cave of passing time- I might find some answers there.

Wic took some time off profiting from the fall of Town to search with me. Night was falling on a chill spring day when suddenly the sky went black and a score of hawks descended directly on us. I tried to strike back, but they clawed at my eyes and I couldn't remember a good spell to cast. Above the thunder of wings I heard Wic's calm voice in-canting, and steel being drawn. I turned and ran into the nearby wood, hands over my head. Suddenly I was alone in utter darkness. I could see stars ahead. I cried out.

"Is there anyone there?"

I am.

"Who are you?"

You already know me.

I was pretty sure I did not, but was in no position to argue. "Are you the cave of lost time?"

No answer.

"Why am I seeing these signs?"

The oracle in Pythium is powerful. This close to its dominions, all those attuned to the stars see signs.

"What do they mean?"

What you make of them.

"That's no answer!"

It is.

As long as I had the ear of a cryptic advice-giver: "Why does Aftial do what she does? Does she love me? When will I see our son?"

When snow falls in the morning it is beautiful and clean. But it falls on dirt, and human feet mix them together. Finally, it only appears clean at night. But a new day may dawn and the snow will melt. And when it does, it will carry the dirt away too.

"Esclave!"

Wic was shaking me awake.

"Ah, good. You took quite a fall when those blighted birds attacked. You've been out for almost an hour. Here, I cooked you some black hawk. Have a thigh, it'll get you right again."


Muszinger
It will take me three months to reach the battle front. During that time, I will have to make crucial decisions for the kingdom without any one to advise me. Writing down the reports and orders may help.

2 months before Carrofactum:
First strike. Our lizard allies are wavering in their commitment. There are too many legionnaires in the towers on their borders. Our declaration of war should help draw those legions north so they'll be caught flat-footed when the lizards also strike. Sir Gawain and some mercs will head south from Camelot, while Raymond leads more knights onto the Plains of Eternal Peril. Wic and Polgrave will each lead an army due south for the main strikes.

1 month before Carrofactum:
Birds everywhere. Some foul enchantment to summon the things. Welsh, Ucrema and Tapanete have all been hit hard, but the province defenses held everywhere except the last. The prophet of Pythium has been killed by a servant under Aftial's direct control. His army, stranded, was driven out of Towen by Wic. Gawain and Polgrave have both advanced against strong province defense and many birds, but they have taken the plains with minimal losses. Vanheim has cast their lot in with us.

Carrofactum:
Peace for a month, though our faithless allies and enemies do not recognize this most holy time: Man has joined the fray with an animal attack on the eastern edge of Pythium. Closer to home, a Pythium force of nearly one hundred with powerful mage support is in Great Woods. I will summon all the men who can get there to the province of Towen. To reach there myself I must abandon my slow bodyguard, but the LORD will protect me. Aftial will join us there, and I will finally take command of the army and put a swift end to this false oracle and this war.

[Sedna]

See the wiki for pictures

Marignon proclaims a new saint, St. Onbec the Angry

Onbec began life as a simple spy in the service of Marignon. As the war with Pythium began, he provided crucial information to military leaders on the location of heathen forces, but upon entering the Forest of Saran, Onbec passed into legend. This little grove, on the very doorstep of the capitol city of Pythium, was a particular insult to God. A temple to the false prophet of Pythium was used to train foul druidic mages, and a graveyard there was regularly ransacked for the foul potency which can be extracted from the dead. When Onbec saw this, the righteous anger of the LORD came over him. He called on Aftial, goddess of courage, took up his broad sword and attacked the four guards at the temple.

As he approached, Onbec was hit by a rock, flung from a cowardly slinger. Despite this wound, which will leave him permanently weakened, Onbec was able to rout the entire force, killing two of the unbelievers, sending another fleeing, and capturing the leader. This craven centurion proved to be commander of all Pythium forces in the forest, and he quickly surrendered the entire province into the hands of Onbec. Not content to rest there, Onbec single-handedly tore down the false temple, digging up the very foundations and uttering removing this abomination.

When word of this miraculous victory reached Marignon, the Three of Three immediately decided to take the unusual step of canonizing Onbec while he yet lives, naming him St. Onbec the Angry, and making him patron saint of all spies and scouts. His sign shall be the simple board sword, and those who need strength may pray to God in his name. The Church attempted to recall him from the front lines, but St. Onbec has disappeared again into the wild, there to report on the motions of the heretics, and carry the anger of the LORD against His enemies.

[quantum_mechani]

Ah, poor overseer, now I shall never get my pearls!

[Sedna]

'tis always the good die young.

[puffyn]

Overseer News Network Suffers Near Death Scare

Overseer (ONN) - Cut out of the loop on the largest news stories in Inland in years, disgruntled staffers at the ONN staged a brief rebellion earlier this month that threatened the very survival of their tiny, omniscient land.

The revolt, which caught most nations by surprise, was motivated by outrage at the growing habit of nations to bypass official news sources entirely, issuing their own propagandist, heavily censored reports about the War Against Pythite Passive-Agression. Rumor has it the reporting team for the First Ulm-Ermor Conflict also turned out to decry the dearth of news from that sector, though their protest was itself rather muted.

The rebellion was quickly put down when the Overseer himself stepped in, and yelled "cut", in response to the cries of outrage from the community of nations. Said Cibragol, greedy leader of the beleaguered, but deadly, Pythium empire, "Now I shall never get my pearls!"

The momentary re-writing of history caused some confusion worldwide. C'tis is reported to have learned that they were always at war with Eastasia, assassins everywhere tried to claim double kills, and in the kingdom of T'ien Ch'i, nothing happened.

[djo]

Vanheim turn 27



In which we learn what Belletennares saw while strolling, and what Pherios did about it.


Belletennares

"Well," said Vethru. "You've thrown them out of Vanheim. Congratulations."

I nodded. That the plan would work, I had been confident; that it would continue to work, I was uncertain. Our forces, though highly mobile, were spread thin. The enemy could very easily, once again, infiltrate its forces into our territory at almost any point. That we could expel them as easily was little comfort. The disruption, we could not afford.

Vethru continued. "When will you throw them out of Fom and Great Woods?"

"Soon," I said.

"And Iron Range? I need to get into that tower!"

"Reinforcements have arrived; I will storm the castle soon."

"Excellent."

"And what then?" I asked. "What is our next target?"

"Whatever you want. Just keep what we have."

"And the war? When does it end?"

He smiled. "Will it ever? Your nephew doesn't think so. He's starting to sound as apocalyptic as the Marignonians," he said. "No matter. Use your judgment, unless I tell you otherwise."

As I saw him to the dock, I wondered: when does the risk become too great? We have no hope of massive conquest against our more powerful neighbors, yet we cannot be left out of the spoils. Vethru's wink, as he was rowed away, told me that he knew exactly the dilemma he had left me with.

Later, I walked the night alone. My small dose of Alteion's gift is peripatetic; as I wander, my mind drifts, and my feet bring me to visit places where the future impinges on the present. This night was portentous. I walked deeper in dream than is usual, visiting many locations, each more ominous than the last. I cannot say which of them truly existed and which were only landscapes contained in my own imagination. Of this, though, I am sure: I was drawn by destiny, towed by a thin hawser through the heaving swells of possibility.

I paced along the campfires circling the walls we besieged. As I walked on the beach, I startled a nest of seagulls. I inspected the dying embers of a pyre, of what, I do not know. I visited a graveyard, dark and still.

Through the night, I felt the presence of my nephew Pherios beside me, as if I were guiding him, or acting as his proxy on roads he could not tread himself. Perhaps my small gift had become an agent of his, or perhaps it truly was the gift of Alteion's house, and we but shared it in common.

He walked with me, I felt, when I encountered the dark rider. I came upon it as it rode down a fleeing victim on a straight, dark road overhung by trees. I watched its terrible blade rise and fall.

"Who are you?" I called.

"The enemy of your enemies," it replied, in a chill whisper. It coughed, and it sounded to me like the bark of the hounds of Hel.

"Will you come home?" I asked, or perhaps Pherios asked, through me. At the time, the question seemed appropriate; in retrospect, puzzling.

It flinched. I heard the rustle of mail under its black cloak.

"I have found no path but sorrow," it said. As it wheeled its horse, I could see the horse's reins were wrapped around the stump of its left hand. It galloped into the night.

I would not have credited the experience with any truth, or even any reality outside my own unquiet mind, but the next morning, my scouts reported finding the body of a Pythium deserter, on a straight, tree-lined road, cut down by a rider, left in festering decay.

I detailed my memories in script and dispatched it immediately to Pherios, with the day's reports.


Pherios

Later that afternoon, I returned to Petema's house, bruised and unsuccessful. Molly was still working in the library. She looked up when I walked in. "Sir..."

"Pherios," I corrected her. It had taken her almost a month to learn to speak to me informally, but every now and then, especially when she was nervous, she returned to her old ways.

"Pherios," she said, with concern. "Are you hurt?"

I thought I had washed away the blood. She must have seen my puzzlement. "I heard it," she explained. "About it, I mean."

No blood, then. It never gets easier, being around a seer. "Tell me."

"Someone was reporting to Vethru. Vethru asked if you were injured. The other man, a messenger, said, 'Not too badly. She had no choice. He wouldn't leave.' Vethru thanked him, and I heard the door close."

After getting my uncle's note, I had thought it was time to press forward. I tried to convince Kestumaia to tell me what happened to Galameteia. She refused, and when I insisted, she and her Valkyrie friends threw me out. Hard.

"And then..." said Molly.

"There's more?"

"I heard another voice. One I didn't know."

"What did it say?"

"First, Vethru asked, 'Where is she?' " Molly said. "Then, the other voice said, 'We're not sure; we lost track after she left Iron Range.' "

I didn't think there was anyone important she hadn't met in the last month. I asked her to describe the voice.

"It was odd, kind of small. I couldn't tell if it was a woman or child, or I guess it could even be a man with a high voice. It was almost musical but also kind of coarse."

Quellian Ji knew something! I couldn't believe I'd overlooked Ji. I hadn't seen him much recently, since he spent most of his time with Vethru. But he knew something about Galameteia.

"Who? Who is it?" she asked anxiously. For her, it was as important to recognize the voices she heard as it was for me to decipher the symbols the birds represented.

"Please?" she said.

I could hear the tension in her voice. It wouldn't leave her until she knew. "It's Quellian Ji. You've seen him. He's Vethru's seagull."

"Is he Vethru's familiar?" I couldn't tell if she was frightened or just confused.

A plan started to form in my mind. "No, just an advisor. You should meet him..."

* * *

Ji flew in the window of the library and landed on the table. "Hi, kid, it's been a long time."

"Molly isn't here yet," I said. "Make yourself at home."

"Thanks. How have you been? Hey, can I have some of these blueberries?"

"Go ahead," I said, and while he was occupied, I closed the only open window in the room. I sat down at the table. "Let's talk about Galameteia."

"C'mon, kid. You know the boss won't let me." Then he noticed how serious I was, and he looked around the room at the closed windows and doors. "Oh, crap. Look, Pherios, I'd like to. But boss says no. I can't talk about what happened...then."

"I want to hear that story eventually, but today, I'd like to know where she is now."

A pause. He wasn't going to give anything away. "You know I can't say anything."

I leaned forward. "Do you think you're leaving before you do?"

He squawked. "Sorry, kid, but you don't scare me as much as him. The worst you can do is torture and kill me, and you're too nice for that."

"I need to know!" I said. I didn't know if he was right. I didn't know if I wanted him to be right or not.

"No, you don't," he said, softly. "You really don't."

"There's a hole in my heart, Ji. It's still bleeding. It won't stop until I see her again."

"Just forget it. Please."

"It's destined," I told him. "I see it constantly. It won't leave me alone. I know, it won't fix anything. But it needs to end. Until I see her, until I know what happened, I can't rest. I know it's a blade waiting to fall, so let's be done with it. I need to move on."

"Jeez, kid!"

"Please! Help me. Have you ever lost someone, and not known what happened?"

He flattered his wings. "Damn. Let me think...look, I don't know. I guess I know somebody. I can ask..."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, kid. I ain't doing you a favor."

"I know," I said. "I've seen it."

"OK. Just promise me this--don't tell him. He finds out, you saw all in a vision, right? Leave me out of it."

"All right," I said, and I got up and opened the window. Ji flew to the sill.

"Good luck, kid. Hey, I will see you again, won't I? You aren't, uh, looking for the easy way out?"

"We'll meet again, friend. There are no easy ways out. Not anymore."

* * *

I found the rendezvous point without much difficulty. It was within Vanheim, near a secluded waterfall in dense forest. The stream was only six or eight feet wide, and the waterfall was not much taller.

Quellian Ji's contact rode up on the opposite side of the stream, silently, in the manner of the Vanir, out of the green. Although she rode, she wore the scale mail of a Valkyrie. She wore a full helm, with its visor down. A white cloak trailed behind her. She did not dismount.

I bowed deeply, and she nodded in return.

"A great wrong has been done to her, and to you" she said. "It will not be undone if you see her." Her voice was hollow in her helm, yet hoarse as well.

"I know, Lady."

"It will not ease your heart, or your mind."

"That I also know."

She fidgeted with the reins. "I want to help you, son of Alteion. But I am not sure you know what is best for yourself. Your choices are born of pain. Do you still see clearly?"

"I wish I didn't. It is fated, Lady. It blocks my path. Until it is over, I cannot be whatever I must be."

"Very well. I will contact you, when it is time." She turned her horse to leave. "Have courage, dear Pherios. Afterward, if you have need of me, tell Ji."

The familiarity I had been feeling in her presence coalesced. It was she that wrote an anonymous note to me half a year ago. "Do I know you, Lady?"

As she disappeared, she called, "I am forgotten and remembered."

I looked up to the sky, and two white birds flew across a streak of blue breaking through the canopy. Peace, at last?