MP Game - Yarnspinners

[Karacan]

I'll be treating it as if writing a real AAR: While trying to maintain my plotline, I'll tell of things I intend to do, with a few brief descriptions of why I do so... since direct competition isn't exactly what the game is about, me thinks. If this helps you exterminating my Ermor by turn 20, I was probably proven wrong, but so be it.


On a side note: Unfortunately, I might stale the next turn. I hope I won't, but the timelimit is nearly exactly the time I am gone for this prolonged weekend... So you know I don't drop out.

[Alneyan]

The Kingdom of the Vale, Man: Early Spring

"As the zephyr comes, so does it leave, unexpected and uncaring."

A flicker of light, and the hussle of wings. It was all that hinted at the presence of Ilneoa within the camp, but the impression it made on the soldiers were strong enough. Thus did she inspected the army quickly gathered among commoners and green warriors; her army nonetheless, protecting her life and her lands. Precious few of her men had ever taken the life of a foe, but this would come, as surely as summer wanes when the circle of the year turns around.

The Lady of Avalon had rallied her forces, these children of springtime, as she was asked to by the voices of the wind. "Within the greater cycle, we are nearing the other end of the pendulum, where fates will be mingled and all previous orders will collapse," they claimed. "Against these tides of turmoil, you are to marshall your forces and establish a sanctuary of stability, wherein you will kept the ways of the Vale." And so she obeyed, and could not deny the truth contained in these words. The circles had been broken, and equilibrium was lost. Already the waves of change were coming near, carrying the power to reshape the world.

Alas, much would be lost within this surge of chaos. Another Dark Age could fall on the land, heralding the end of the days of Avalon. The isle was weakening moon after moon, and the numbers of its inhabitants dwindled cycle after cycle. Truly Ilneoa was not from the isle herself, but she came to love its people and eventually remained there, a guide for Avalon, a warden against future.

Few lords gathered to hear her pleas, and many of the shires formerly under the rulership of the Vale seized their independence and threw aside both the old ways and their bonds with Avalon. This thought brought much concern to Ilneoa; a diminished Avalon, divided into several smaller islands, could not survive the tide, but why would these earls and other peers of the realm secede from the cradle whence they come from? The army gathered under her windows would face the unfortunate tudy of bringing anew the might of the Vale, for division offered no hopes of survival. Already bowmen were practicing their craft, in expectation of the battles that woud follow. One of their arrows shot down a crimson leave from a tree, an omen of the tomorrows to come.

[Tuidjy]

I'm with Karacan on this one. I will be writing reports for the current turn,
talking both about what happened at the beginning of the turn, and the orders
that I am giving. I may choose to omit some particularly important clue, like
'I'm cloud-trappezing seven Seraphs on top of Abysya's VQ', but there will be no
deliberate disinformation. By the way, even when I omit information, I will try
to explain it in game-universe terms the next turn. Don't you hate it when some
Seraphs fresh out of boot camp get drunk and decide to go to hunting?

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 2 ----

I really hate this country.

I went to see the village leaders after the seventh dawn on which the butter had gone missing. In a diplomatic but (I thought) firm way, I recommended they teach their children some respect for the soldiers who defend them from occasional invaders, and muck out stables the rest of the time, and how if our foodstuffs continued to be stolen we would be forced to ask the Golanans (a hated neighboring tribe) if they desired a cheap band of soldiers. I expected them to vigorously deny everything, or plead with me to stay, or at least acknowledge my complaint.

But no: as soon as they understood what I was saying, a great cheer erupted from the onlookers, and the leaders began smiling and chattering excitedly, clapping me on my back as if I had just announced that a volcanic eruption had wiped out Golana.

"But what about my butter?" I asked Balachandra, a young man who as a boy had spent time in our camps and had recently become a local magician of sorts. He usually helped me make sense of local activities, but now he was as inscrutably enthused as the rest of his cursed countrymen. He grinned broadly, and announced to the crowd, "Pandokos wants more butter!" to which they responded with more cheering, and a bit of singing. Some maidens began to dance, and the mob descended into revelry.

Seeing that it was hopeless, and in no mood to join the festivities, I decided to go home and try again the next day. But they would not let me leave. An old lady rushed in front of Xanthos, startling him considerably, and fell to her knees, crying out loudly. The tight crowd forced me to dismount and walk around the old woman, but people kept pressing close to me and murmuring. A few milkmaids giggled about how the butter thief was welcome at their homes any time, and more than one mother pushed forward a screaming child, as if my armor were somehow blessed, and not smelling rather strongly of manure.

The next morning, I was awoken early by the sound of the murmuring. When I emerged, the crowd, several score strong, gave a great cheer. They came to catch the thief, I thought momentarily, pleased that I had gotten through after all. But no: my daily ration of butter was completely gone, and there were numerous buttery handprints all around my window.

"Did you at least see who it was?" I growled at the crowd, some of whom appeared to have been there since nightfall. Balachandra laughed, and said, "Of course, of course, didn't you?" and began leading the mob in a bizarre sort of chant.

At which point I decided that I would go back to sleep, in the hopes that when I woke up the world would make sense again.

---

[Cheezeninja]

--Abysia turn 2--


The city was ever so slowly starting to wake up, like a drunk coming out of an overlong stupor. Mutterings and incantations could be heard from the wizards tower again, the smithy hammers were clanging again, the giant waterwheels of the mills were turning again, and men once more moved with a sense of purpose. And everywhere there was Vaphoron, telling anyone who would listen that their new Queen was no mere mortal, but the incarnation of the One Goddess herself! Vaphoron was truly one gifted with words and many a heart did he sway... though in darker circles it was sometimes said he was gifted with daggers as well. But one had only to be in the presence of the new Queen (who was swiftly elected by the council after the rather sudden retirement of the King... and do Kings really 'retire' anyway?) to feel that She was something beyond ordinary. The sight of Her lofting through the air towards the castle and the quiver of excitement, lust, and fear it sent through all who viewed it swayed even more hearts that Vaphoron's clever tounge.

[deccan]

When is zapmeister going to award points? At the end of it all?

[Zapmeister]

deccan said:
When is zapmeister going to award points? At the end of it all?

A running total of points for story text is maintained in the first post of this thread. Points for score graphs will be awarded at the end of the game.

[YellowCactus]

---Mictlan 2---
(Accounts of a warrior-slave)

Three pillars, carved of ancient Oak, were sunken today. Planted deep into the barren salt flats near Bestula. For nearly a season we've labored here. Preparing the alter of Sethra 'the Lustful Mother of us all!' to recieve infernal courtship. So now we wait, shivering upon these cold plains for that which SHE calls 'Bune'. Tents stand against the salty sands, and supply wagons roll in weekly, bearing news of Mother Sethra's glorious Ascention. Sometimes I wander what a 'Bune' is....but Lord Templar Ninamous seems confident enough something will come through eventually.

[Karacan]

Ermor: Turn 2

Angmar, my army's general, has returned successfully from the village near my tomb. A little bloodshed was required to part the villagers from their valuables, but noone who was not expendable was damaged, and the corpses will serve my purposes well. The surviving villagers are apparently unhappy, but they will soon see the wisdom of my way.

Already my wealth has attracted a band of willing followers. Magnus' Crossbows has arrived in front of my dark keep, willing to fight for me as long as I am willing to pay them.

Magnus brings with him rumours from distant lands, and they tell of the rising of false gods and the fools that worship them. In Abysia, Arcoscephale and Caelum, words of false faith are spread with enthusiasm by false and powerless prophets. Only I know what is good for the world, and the world hear only me.

My spies and scouts also finally deliver the reports of the nearby provinces' military strengths, and after some consideration I decide to send Angmar and the mercenaries into a rich farmland province, while I myself conduct a ritual of my ancient home, calling an elder spirit skilled in magic to my aid.

It is time for battle, for I am Noth, Lover of War.

[Yvelina]

--- Vanheim II ---

One thing’s for sure. If I need the enemy thoroughly counted, I have the man for it. I sent a scout north to see how the local toughs feel about joining my glorious campaign… It seems that they were more interested in archery practice. My guy had to dodge some arrows, but he managed to get a good feel for the enemy’s numbers. Hell, he actually got an exact count. I would have preferred a few ears, and I would have settled for a lower count. Sixty seven men under arms, and even the archers are better armoured than anyone under my command. I am not sending troops in there. Green as my men are, they are bound to be decimated…

It’s a big cosmic joke. It seems that one of the things I taught them has stuck – everyone and his grandmother thinks he's a competant navigator. So, of course, every province near Vanheim has a port, and a sizable city that must have grown around it. Oh, and a sizable group of well-equipped, mounted mercenaries guarding it. As much as I hate to admit it, my own troops are a joke compared to what surrounds us.

I am not getting enough recruits, and news of my return are not spreading as fast as I would like it. The one decent wizard that showed up has a hard time bending the knee. I had hoped that he would become my prophet, but he remains unconvinced. I know one way, but then I would have to raise him, and frankly, I do not like undead. He spends all his time in the library, looking for who knows what.

This whole ascension business will be more challenging that I thought.