MP Game - Yarnspinners

[Zapmeister]

At a player's request, I've just kicked anonymous registrations, which took them all out.

For those unfamiliar with mosehansen games, the procedure is

1. Claim your nation here
2. Upload your pretender
3. Go to the mosehansen game page, find your nation in the list, click "That's Me" and "Submit".

[YellowCactus]

Sethra of the Mictlan moves to feast upon godling souls!
(I'll take the race of blood)
-Yc

[Karacan]

I never played Ermor in MP, thus I herewith claim it. And, after all, I want to score at least the twenty points at the end of the game once, for army size.

And the dark, brooding style of Ermor is much better suited to motivate me to write 180 paragraphs. Oh gods. There goes my holiday!

[Karacan]

Noth, the Prince of Famine, Terror Of The Tomb and Lover Of War has come to ascend the godhood unjustly denied those aeons ago when the world was young and the old gods alive. Ermor rises again.

[Lex]

Karacan said:
I never played Ermor in MP, thus I herewith claim it. And, after all, I want to score at least the twenty points at the end of the game once, for army size.

And the dark, brooding style of Ermor is much better suited to motivate me to write 180 paragraphs. Oh gods. There goes my holiday!

Riven, Lord of Fire and Ice, Breaker of Spirits, Corrector of Illiterate Fools hereby rises from his slumber to bring attention to your ill conceived plans: it is clearly stated in the rules for this contest of wit, that no army will be counted points.

[Tuidjy]

Given that Vanheim has been taken, I'd like to call
Caelum. I do not know what predender I will end up
playing yet, I have never thought of a storyline for
the birdies. But I bet on something nasty :-)

[Karacan]

Lex said:
Riven, Lord of Fire and Ice, Breaker of Spirits, Corrector of Illiterate Fools hereby rises from his slumber to bring attention to your ill conceived plans: it is clearly stated in the rules for this contest of wit, that no army will be counted points.

What lies Dead yet stirs as Life need not read nor write nor wit nor thought. World domination by turn 60 will suffice.

[GriffinOfBuerrig]

Heyda, i would be interresed to play with you, but i don´t see the game under mosehansen.

Can someone post the link and tell me where to upload my pretender - i would like to pick Vanheim :-)

[Alneyan]

I should have been clearer. Yarnspinners is a game that has already started, so you would sign up as a replacing player, and would not have to create a Pretender. We are around turn 33: the reason I recommend Vanheim is because they aren't on the brink of a war, unlike the other nations looking for another player.

The game is played via mail (Play By Email, or PBEM), so it is not available at Mosehansen (it used to be hosted there though). If you are interested in joining us, you should send me a mail, and I will forward the game file to you. The mail is in my profile, or here: alneyan[AT]fastmail[DOT]co.uk (replace [AT] and [DOT] by @ and .)

[puffyn]

--- Caelum, turn 33 ---

I have been away from the capitol far too long. The empire of Caelum -- no one can deny that it is an empire now, of the mightiest in the world -- has grown large and prosperous. (Would it be better if we had stayed small? It is much too late for that now.) I have turned the wastelands to the north into peaceful, productive members of an empire that now spans all lands to the east of the Nidzh River, except for a colony in the far east that belongs to the spider people.

The spider people. Perhaps that was my first clue. I had heard that they were ruled by someone not unlike myself, torn from the grave into a strange world of palatial intrigues and a powerful priestly caste. I pitied him a little, for in Caelum it is the researchers who hold power; and how much intrigue can they indulge in when they are constantly lost in the towers of old scrolls and manuscripts scattered across our kingdom? Since I have become the reluctant leader (I will not say "god", though everyone else does) of this land, I have urged the scholars to regain our long-ago position as the most powerful researchers in the world. Was I hoping to channel their ambitions to peaceful ends, to give them other things to contemplate than spreading word of my divinity? Strange how one so powerful as I could be so naive.

So when the spider people first sent forays into empty lands across the wide river that divided our kingdoms, I sent them a message of friendship and peace. They were clinging to life wedged against the powerful empire of Man; if they were willing to pacify lands that our forces had no intentions of approaching anytime soon, I saw no need to fight. (For though they are small and somewhat weak, I suspect that they would fight dearly for their small homeland.) But I have heard no news of my messenger, though it has been many months. The way is long, even for my fast-winged scouts; but rumors began to reach me that perhaps the mountains crossings were the least treacherous of the problems facing my messenger. So far, there has been peace. But I fear the rising powers in this land will not let that Last.

My own fateful error led these forces to power, though at the time it was acclaimed as a brilliant success. The high seraphs announced the discovery of a way to harness lightning, along with many spells to protect themselves, and begged leave to travel en masse to meet in battle Solaris, a knight of great renown who had long held sway on the borders of the capital. I gave reluctant permission, though I was concerned we would fall behind on our great research plans, with so many high seraphs gone. "We must all go," said Wizard (W). "We do not know if our plan would work, but it will surely fail if the Lord of the West Wind does not permit a sufficient number of us to try." Their plan, of course, was a resounding success; there were few casualties; and since then he and some of the other seraphs have been hailed as heroes throughout the land.

But after the battle, only a few seraphs returned, carrying powerful items stripped from Solaris' corpse, while the others went forth to conquer the rich southlands. We have slipped from our position as the mightiest researchers, and the other empires will be quick to capitalize on this, I fear; but when I discussed this with Wizard (W) he merely smiled and extolled the large number of fortresses we have constructed, the growing number of troops, our ever-increasing borders and wealth. It was after he returned that I had a chilling moment that I wished I had paid more attention to: I was suddenly unsure if this was the same "Wizard (W)" who had asked leave to depart. Had his experience with death and power changed him that much? Or was he really a different person? It dawned on me that, with no less than five mages known as "Wizard (W)" in my lands, I have no way of knowing which one I am talking to. But I am used to sudden chills as if from the grave, and ignored this one as all others, and went back to the unifying the north.

I learned two things today. The first is that we have launched a massive attack on Ermor. We used to be friendly with their lands; perhaps I was less cowed by the chill of death than other rulers might have been. From time to time we would receive Messages from their ruler, who always signed his Messages with the words "For I am Noth", and we had come to an understanding of peace, though I have not heard from Noth in many months. When I asked Wizard (A), another of the warmongers (and it is impossible to tell if any are against the war, when all look and talk and act the same), why we had attacked his lands, with whom we share such an enormously large border, he simply said, "Noth doesn't live there anymore." I walked away before he could regale me with news of the many glorious victories; there will be plenty of defeats to come.

There is more: this same Wizard (A) has called forth one of the holiest creatures of the Caelumites, the Queen of Storms, and sent her forth in a berserker rage to wrack havoc on Ermor. The seraphine priestesses, meanwhile, have sharply increased in number, and are fanning out across the lands, seeking to banish the undead. I learned of the death of my storm general prophet, whose name I never even learned, only Last week; apparently he died a year ago or more, sent to fight a battle where he had no hope of winning. Now there is a Prophetess, Zabele, and I fear the rise of a powerful caste of priestesses to complement the wizard seraphs, who have seized power.

The other thing I learned is that I am a prisoner. My return to the capitol, apparently, is unwanted by the high seraphs, and I am to stay in this remote library where I have been training young sages and crafting powerful artifacts during what I thought was a well-deserved respite from war. They could not stop me from leaving if I wanted to, of course, though I suspect the weapons being readied against the undead hordes of Ermor would quickly be turned on me if Wizards (A) and (W) felt I had outlived my usefulness as a religious rallying point. For I am the Ghost of the Wingless, at least to the armies being massed; it is in my name that they fight, and kill, and die.

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