MP Game - Yarnspinners

[Sedna]

R'lyeh, Turn 35

One: Sssh, don't wake him.

Two: The fat one is asleep in his own food, you really think a little noise will disturb him?

One: I... I don't know. But I do know that Zag'mi was the last one of our little group who decided it would be a good idea to make its thoughts available to the world, and we all know what happened to it.

Two: Shudder I'm still picking bits of it out of my teeth.

One: So keep it quiet. Now, what next? I hear that the Atlantians still have a fortress on the shore of this strait. Will we be ordered to leave behind the tritons, scramble up through the sunlit waves and die, gasping for air, as sharp metal pierces our bodies?

Two: If I know the fat one he'll spend an eon or two sleeping off the octopus before doing anything useful. X has already been organizing all the recovery and repair operations; hopefully, we'll all be following its orders until fatty recovers.

One: Hiss Will you stop calling him that?

Two: Why should I? He's grotesquelly overweight after eating that much tentacled-matter.

One: I know, but even for a mad elder god it's so disrespct... Quiet! What was that?

Two: Your over-active imagination.

One: Pauses Maybe. Now look, X doesn't like the daystar any more than we do. It's organizing expeditions up the rivers to take over the rest of this world's lakes.

Two: Shudder Fresh water fish. It's so brackish and muddy and dull.

One: It's better than dying in a hail of a thousand arrows in some high, forgotten, blighted... meadow. Who's that?

Ten: Greetings

One: Relief Greetings

Ten: I bring a gift. Reveals

Two: They look like ordinary pearls.

Ten: But they're not. S claims they've been imbued with the light of Epsilon Eridani and that by placing them on Cthulu while he dreams he will be carried back to that system.

One: Awe But will it work?

Two: After all, S is a warm-blooded, air-breathing, toothed freak.

Ten: I don't know. As always, it's your call One. But I do know that Cthugul has been successfully summoning again. It's can't be long before the great purple comes into the world.

Two: And I hear that the northern air-breathers who are so loyal to fatso have built him several new temples and have finished consolidating his power up there.

One: Musing Foolish mortals... it doesn't matter what happens here, they all just die eventually. Decision Let's do it, we've only our lives to lose. Two. Do the honors.

Two: Okay-dokey. So I guess I just place them here...

Nothing

One: Hmmm... that's odd. Was Two supposed to vanish like that also?

Ten: Uh, I don't think so.

One: No great loss. Well, Ten, I guess you're the new Six, congratulations on your promotion

Six: Submission It is a pleasure to serve.

[magnate]

Turn 28: Arco 2, R'lyeh 2
Turn 29: Arco 2, R'lyeh 2
Turn 30: Arco 2, R'lyeh 2
Turn 31: Arco 2, R'lyeh 2
Turn 32: Arco 2, R'lyeh 2

Totals after turn 32:
Abysia 14
Arco 68
Atlantis 2
Caelum 6
Ermor 20
Machaka 46
Man 17
Mictlan 6
R'lyeh 53
Vanheim 4

Very disappointed that we've stopped hearing from Machaka - what a cliffhanger!

CC

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 34 ----

They attacked out of the fortress with another motley band, and we swatted them down. Many of their slaves died, though many more ran and fled. We suffered no casualties, save only for one of the priests of Apollo, who fell to a regrettably well-aimed large rock. Actually, our numbers increased, since for the first time a few Mictlanians came to their senses and begged us to accept their services in the fight against their cruel former masters. Balachandra was most pleased at this, and said that he and the rest of his clan had been working on a way to "project inner calm" at the enemy and "release their inner chi" in order to "free their minds". I'm just going to put it down to a sudden and unlooked-for case of common sense breaking out.

There was a quarrel in the mystic camp after the battle, though I don't know what it was about. For the past several months, Amshula and Tushar have been in charge of marshaling the other mystics and directing their mystical incantations that (they claim) are the reason we have lost so few troops. Tushar's Blade Wind, in fact, has earned him a reputation far and wide as a powerful magician with lightning quick reflexes (the better to step out the way of stray blades), and he tends to accumulate a following of awestruck young lads and swooning maidens. (Except for Andromache; after battles I've noticed that though she tends diligently to the wounds of all the injured soldiers, she spends more time than is strictly necessary around Balachandra's tent, admiring his ever-more-impressive muscle tone.) But as I was walking past the camp in the early evening, I heard Amshula's voice raised passionately, and caught a few words.

"... not fair, who cares about fair? ... risk our lives just so someone else can play the hero... "

Several mystics spoke at once, drowning each other out. I heard elder sister Sadhana sharply rebuke Amshula for not being properly respectful, and several of Tushar's brothers arguing heatedly about something. The argument ended abruptly when Amshula shouted out, "You can all be seeyems for all I care, if you think I'm just in it for the glory." She then stormed out, which would have been more impressive if not for her limp. It seemed to be troubling her more than usual. As she hobbled past she caught my eye and said, furiously, "Their precious protocols and traditions are going to get us all killed, but do they care? It's just a big stupid game to them..." I couldn't think of anything to say to that, so I let her walk past and went to inspect the defectors.

One of them, a bowman, claimed to be from an indigenous tribe in the province that had long been repressed, and whose members were forced to serve in the military because their skills with projectile weapons went beyond throwing rocks. He was more than willing to fight against the bloodfiends. The other defector, a common warrior, said that he had heard only the day before, from a cousin to the north, that the forces of "blue and butter" had liberated them, and that he had been confused about what to do with this information until, or so he claims, he saw me march out with the troops. As he was missing an arm and quite dazed from blood loss and hunger, I don't really know what to make of his claim, except that I have heard other rumors that the province to the north has revolted, in our favor.

At present, we are digging in and preparing for a long siege, though it is hard to say how long that could be. News from the south is not good -- the triplets continue under siege, and Vorgunmarsh was seized -- but it is far more important for us to continue here. If we can break their stronghold, then the rest of their forces will crumble and fall.

---

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 35 ----

Yesterday's sortie from the castle walls came within a spear's thrust of defeating us. Nearly a third of my troops fell, and several bands were scattered into surrounding areas; there are only a handful of troops still camped around the city walls. If their next attack is as strong as this one, we will be in trouble. Fortunately, it seems as if many of their leaders came out and fought, and few returned to their blood-stained homes.

I think they had finally realized what a threat we pose to them, because this time they attacked with far better troops than the masses of rag-tag slaves we have encountered before. A flock of giant poisonous bats flew directly toward the mystics, who were fortunately surrounded by many brave hoplites who sprang to their defense. That left the vinoghers to meet the bulk of their forces, which included several evil looking spiny monsters. All the while five priests stood at the back with dozens of young girls; by the time we reached them, not one was left alive. There was much bloody fighting before we finally prevailed. I did note with some curiosity that Sadhana and another mystic whose name escapes me led the mystics this time; yet the troops seem to have rallied around Amshula and Tushar, because they believe them responsible for the lightning strikes that helped drive off the bats.

As the few remaining priests finally began to flee, three of their tribal kings suddenly "freed their minds" and joined our side, unfortunately without bringing their warriors also to our side. One of them said that the Prophet Huehueteotl had come himself to watch the fight, but was among the first to scurry back to the castle; it was the former king's opinion that there would be much blood-letting tonight in the wake of the devastating defeat, and he would rather be outside the castle while it was going on. Since we have so few troops assembled here, I have assigned all of the defectors guard duties. I do not suspect they will betray us, since they are unlikely to be greeted with anything other than open knives should they return to their city, but I have instructed my troops to remain cautious around them.

I leave at dawn to collect wayward troops. Had they been veterans, seasoned warriors, who had fled, I would have left them to wander. The phalanx would have been strengthened by the removal of the weakest elements. But most of them are fresh recruits from the south -- more boys than men really, and we desperately need more hands to maintain the siege. It is unlikely that Mictlan will attack again in force before I can return, which is why I will risk it. Besides, tensions among the mystics have been high ever since the battle. I suspect there is another argument brewing, though at present Amshula is so exhausted that she has slept ever since the battle ended, nearly two days ago. I would like to be gone from the camp before she awakes.

---

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 36 ----

I have just received news that Huehueteotl was not content to wait until he had built up a stronger force, and instead he attacked out while I have been rebuilding my strength and my phalanx out in the northern forests (which are indeed completely loyal to our cause, though no one will give me a straight answer for what prompted this welcome rebellion). The attacking force was not large, mostly slaves and large poisonous snakes of the sort I have seen far too many times for one lifetime.

As I hear it from the messenger who was sent to fetch me, our forces quickly routed theirs, though we again failed to catch Huehueteotl. But even after the forces had broken and were madly scrambling back toward the city, Sadhana and Nihar kept "raining down death from the heavens", as I am told, and otherwise calling upon the other mystics to put forth great efforts to pick off a few of the retreating foes. While Nihar was chanting an incantation to give all of our forces the strength of giants, the better to run down the stragglers, Amshula collapsed from the strain, and never woke up. Nobody else was hurt.

I did not expect to take her death this hard. We fought constantly, and she was ever confounding my plans with her incessant searching and her inability to take commands (from me). But she did not deserve to die this way, ill-used by her fellow mystics. Too many have died senselessly in the last three years -- Amshula, Divikar... Thymbre. When will it end?

The messenger is relating other news about the battle, such as how the Mictlan deserter who was missing an arm has been magically healed, and how Limmy himself was spotted in battle, flying like a bird, but I do not have time for such folly now. We are still two days' march from the encampment, and we must reach it before they are attacked again, or I fear there will be yet more evil.

---

[Sedna]

R'lyeh, Turn 36

I dreamt I slept upon the empty folds of space, slid down potential wells, and danced amongst the twisting, coiling fields which wreath the elemental orbs.

I dreamt of stepping through the stars, between dark portals of far years. I traipsed across the trackless wastes and watched the lights whirl overhead.

I dreamt of kingdoms, raging wide, beyond the reach of mortal ken. O thousand souls in bondage lay, and thousand corpses floated free!

And then I woke, and felt the old, familiar pull ... of gravity. And there before my tentacle lay many men in garb most strange. But as I sucked their weary brains, I learnt anew of wretchedness. Then knew I where my blind eyes fell, upon the face of this dust ball, and not amongst the friendly stars.

I killed them all, and used their bones to pick my teeth.

But now confusion reigns supreme, within my godlike frame. How came I to this weary place, where dull blue sky scrapes near the earth? Dared these fool peasants summon me, and pull me here to eat their brains? Or does the fulsome answer lie with other powers in the night? My enemies, my friends? Would they have hurled me thus? Back to my home, then down again, and why just here, and this?

My only clue, a piece of fish which fell from dull blue sky, and splat upon the blood-stained rocks and covered them with goo. It was a Starspawn's robe no doubt, though what was once therein, was dashed to pieces far and wide, and had no form to tell. Yet tentacles are chewy things, and some survived the fall. I sat right down and sucked on it — it tasted like the Straits.

I see bright lights toward the east, some hamlet there may lie. I'll eat their brains, and search to learn exactly where they die.

[Sedna]

R'lyeh, Turn 37

Xlikloth must die.

I ate the most interesting neurons the other day. For some reason, the villagers in this land, wherever it might be, had the notion that there was a new power in R'lyeh. "I thought the world had changed," an archer thought, as I split open his skull and feasted on the juicy, juicy goo inside. "I am never going to listen to a word my cousin in Abitopolis says again," ran through the mind of a militiaman. (At least he was being realistic about his ability to communicate with his loved ones after being et.) Really, I was quite puzzled as I ate my way through their ranks, because I kept sensing that they weren't expecting to be eaten! I mean, really. How long have I been taking over the world now, 3 years? 4? How many neighboring provinces must have sent out word of the terrible sucking death that awaits all in my path? I do try to pick off most of the stragglers when I eat a town, but I find letting a few get through releases a lot of adrenaline in the villagers in the next town over, which adds a nice complex undertaste. But these people... they were positively shocked to see me!

It all made sense, though, terrible terrible sense, when I ate Turioc. As a commander, his neurons fired just a bit more quickly than his dullard troops, so I managed to get a more coherent brain-wave pattern out of him: "I thought Xlikloth was in charge under the waters, and that this fiend had been sent back to the hell he came from." Xlikloth? I thought. My loyal Xlikloth? Wherever could he have got that idea from? But no: his fellow officers had similar thoughts, as did their wives and children when I reached the village for a bit of dessert. They all seemed to think that I had been killed/deposed/sent far, far away, and that Xlikloth was now the ruler of the Benevolent People's Republic of R'lyeh.

I tend not eat Starspawns, because they get touchy about it, but no one can deny that I am within my rights to take care of this disastrously failed business plan. I don't even care if I don't get to suck his brains out personally, that's how annoyed I am. (And Starspawn is so tasty with paprika and dill...) I am posting a description of the traitor, so that any of my loyal minions who love me enough (which should be all of them!) will know what to do with him. Some of them may die trying to take him down (he is distressingly powerful and admired), but what do I care? I just want him dead. Dead dead dead dead dead. Mit Torte.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 37 ----

At night, the grounds around the walls of Mictlan are a depressing place, littered with a hundred broken things. Although it is late spring here, the air is as bitter cold as in the depths of winter. It is as if there is some presence to the land that sucks all of the life and warmth out of every living being. And yet, amid all this decay, I have never felt more at home, more at peace in this strange land, then standing by the side of Amshula's funeral pyre, singing songs with her family. The fire leapt and curled high into the sky, where the sky was brilliantly clear, and the stars close enough to touch. A playful breeze from the south brought sweet forest scents to cover up the battlefield stench, and little gusts fanned the flames to even more daring acrobatics as they carried that incomparable spirit across the final river.

The next day, our force was attacked again by the rapidly dwindling, and very smelly, blood-hunters. We emerged from the battle only stronger, as we lost no one, and three more poor warriors joined our side, and brought with them two great horned serpents. These truly magnificent beasts are much used by Mictlan, but in battle one never gets a chance to examine them properly up close. In the hands of their trainers they are quite docile, indeed, almost friendly once you get over their evil-looking fangs. We will soon put them to good use, for after the battle it became clear that the defending forces no longer possess the wherewithal to keep us out; we will at last storm the gates of hell.

I hope Balachandra is all right. I know he blames himself for Amshula's death. I think he sees in her death a deep failing within himself. I do not see it though. His sorrow for a fellow warrior's death is the mark of civilization, rare among these people. I am glad that he is now bedding Andromache (this gossip can no longer be denied), for she has a remarkably level head after her own troubles and will help him through his self-inflicted torment. And who does this leave in charge of the mystics? A newcomer, ... well, it seems strange to write it, but here it is... Odysseus. No, not just someone with the bad sense to take that unlucky man's name, but someone who actually claims to be that famous king of Ithaca. It is odd: apart from this fairly serious flaw in his mental state, Odysseus is an extremely intelligent man. His rhetoric has done much to bring Mictlan deserters to our cause, and he likewise gives no credit to the persistent rumor that Limmy magically appears to fight by our side on the battlefield. One thing is certain, this man is Greek, and knows Ithaca and its environs well. If he were not mad, perhaps we would become fast friends. But is madness even that much of a handicap in this place and time?

Wlde, who has joined the siege, is very much not Greek. Impatient and bitter, she daily advocates abandoning the siege and marching south to relieve her sisters in the Sinking Land. The last we have heard from them, a local mystic had attempted a magic spell to repair the crumbling walls (it is not well to speak ill of the dead, so I shall refrain from pointing out that it was at Amshula's insistence that we build the walls from the local rock, which is little more than dried mud), but the spell, like most such things, had failed utterly. I do understand Wlde's desire to rescue her sisters, but the war's victory is nigh. Their last city vanquished, we have only to march a league south, where Sethra hides in the woods with a smattering of followers, and an end will be come to Mictlan.

---

[PashaDawg]

How is this game going? Looks like you guys could knit some wicked nice sweaters for a Jotun army with all the yarn.

[Sedna]

Yarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrn, there be stories in them thar giants.