MP Game - Yarnspinners

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 16 ----

Now that was an interesting fight. Huge fanged serpents -- wolves pouring in from the forests -- women soldiers turning into serpents instead of dying -- the trumpeting of many elephants as they trample same. Most intriguing was this one woman who occupied my Silver Shields for some while (truth be told, they had little need to fight while the elephants were on their merry trample). She wore an enormous pelt which made her hard to kill, and was quite mad. This woman, called Ninhadi, was apparently a devotee of the cult of Fenris, some really powerful local wolf-god, or so I gathered when talking to locals after we had taken the village.

One of them provided me with the following page torn out of a book of lore; it seems a rather grisly way to honor a god. There was a curious scrawled footnote noting that it was prophesied that the pelt would be lost "in the time of the great butter wars", but then it is all smudged. More mystical nonsense, I am sure...



As usual, Amshula was quite ineffective, though she did manage to give this one snake something of a headache, and more importantly not injure anyone on our side. Now, once again, she has disappeared in search of gods only know what. I hear that yet another mystical ritual back home has failed to turn up anything; I think she and her siblings are getting a little desperate. I, for one, am simply glad for the respite from her incessant barbs.

We are pausing here for some time to wait for Divikar to arrive before proceeding. And I've been thinking... after all this time around Amshula, I really miss Limmy. At least ol' blue was contrite when he failed to contribute meaningfully to battles.


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[puffyn]

--- Caelum, turn 16 ---

I have not had time to write this year past. My kingdom has greatly expanded, from the Nidzh River all the way to the deep port at Muktadir, and some part of this has been my doing. After many months of study, aided by the Seraphs, I was presented with a lucky amulet and an evil-looking sword, and went forth to expand my reach northward.

The storm general prophet has been crusading up and down in the east, carving a place. He still insists on my divinity, of course, claiming that all he does is in my name, but he's become quite a hero himself among the Caelians. Sometimes I wonder. The Seraphs back home are loyal enough, though, perhaps too much so. As they have slowly come back down from the mountains, they have all taken new names, denoting their magic skills. It's convenient, but also very disconcerting.

Last month I received an odd gift from a people called Vanheim in the north. They sent a magical dwarven hammer and some water gems, but if the messenger was supposed to bring a message also, the long trek had addled his brain, and I could not get any sense out of him. Until I better know the strengths of those rising around me, it seems like a poor idea to alienate a potential friend, so I had Wizard (W) (I told you the names were odd) forge a magic clam which produces a magical pearl each month. I shall send it back to Vanheim, in payment for the sturdy hammer.

That hammer will swing in the forge again this month, fashioning one of the most feared weapons of the ancients: the staff of storms. With this twisting, sparking thing of raw might and beauty bringing storm clouds wherever it goes, my seraphs will become even more formidable in battle. In a month or so, enough will have gathered to strike south against the rabble of knights and religious fanatics who have too long held that land in defiance of Caelum. The very skies will open and strike them all in anger.

I am at a bit of a loss for what to do next. I must continue to expand my power base but how is that best accomplished? Magic is key, but lately I have also become concerned that the people have insufficient faith in me. It is perhaps hypocritical to be upset that they don't venerate me, when I am no divine being, but the benefits of a strong belief are so great. The people live more happy, productive lives, and my own strength is supported by their chanting. As such, it is clear that I need to encourage more men to enter the priesthood. Yes, men. To be honest, I do not trust the Seraphines, high-priestesses of Caelum. They are so fanatical, that if they ever suspected I am but a pretender to god-hood... the outcome would be painful. It is best to keep their number small, and encourage religion among the humans and other lesser races.

[magnate]

Hi folks - sorry about the long absence - I still have no video card at home, and have been v busy at work. Will try to catch up asap, but glad I haven't missed too many turns!

I take the point about replacement players possibly being put off by low point totals. I have a suggestion: instead of 1 point per turn, how about 2 points per turn for which no .trn file was received? That way, the empires who have missed several turns (and suffered accordingly) will at least have a few point in compensation.

I don't know the shape of the game though, so this may not be appropriate (if eg. Atlantis played a lot of turns without writing yarns). Giving 14 or 15 points to a replacement player seems a bit harsh on those of you who have been diligently yarnspinning!

CC

[Sedna]

Turn 16, R'lyeh

... Sleep between death ...

Gods have a thousand names, but they are always the same.

The other day, upon the stair,
I met a man, who wasn't there.

I wandered, empty, through trackless wastes. In the middle of a swirling void we caught sight of each other: a fellow god, a spinner like ourselves, and even more so. A still place in this world of dreams, and a glass table, with the world apportioned on it, and 10 obsidian figurines, robed in light. We talked for eons... a day. I saw his world, far away, as if I stood on a hill next to him, and surveyed his whole dominion from horizon to horizon. I turned to speak to him, but his eyes dissolved into a hail of arrows...

He wasn't there again today,
I wish that man would go away.

... and then it was another battle against frightened peasants to sate my starving, maddened brain, most of their number disappearing into the wold.

I received word that the kingdom of Man is responsible for the late Mr. Flibbles. Can a thousand airs gems bring him back? Knit his cold, fishy soul back together from the snowflakes of him now swirling forever in void? It is a kind offer, but there is no way I could accept.

A Star Child brings tidings of Lilith, the Vampire who imagines herself lord of the fiery humans. Her magical power is formidable, and she chewed through the humans like a hot knife.

From the void, the stargazer has pulled a double brace of Lesser Othernesses, strange beings of lime-flavored goo. Apart from seasoning for Atlantian tacos (or burritos, maybe with some deliciously picante fire-human spread on top), I'm not sure what good they are, since they're too small to crush even humans. Maybe if I had some midgets I needed to crush... Still, one has to respect the survivability of these suckers. Spawned in the void, they can withstand most of the damage pitiful earth-bound mages can spew at them: 100% shock immunity, 100% fire immunity, 100% cold immunity, 100% purple immunity, 100% poison immunity. In the dark final days of this terrible war, against the magic death-throes of this world, these shall form a deliciously wobbly corps of shock troopers.

[The Panther]

Just my opinion, but I believe the people who would want to join this and write yarns will not be turned off by a lack of points for whatever nation they take over. I suspect that they are doing it mostly for fun, not points.

I have been writing a fan fic that started over a year ago and is up to about 700,000 words. I am not getting any points or money or anything else for it, yet I continue to write regularly on my story. It is just a fun thing to do with my spare time in the evenings. I think most of the folks still writing in this thread are the exact same way, they are not really doing this for the points or because they want to win the game or anything like that.

In fact, it is obvious the folks like Puffyn are clearly doing this because they enjoy the writing. Just as those lurkers (like me) who have been reading them and enjoying the yarns. I have been concerned recently about the fact that this game might die.

I did read with amusement about the free dwarven hammer and gems from Vanheim to Caelum. Those two races were originally begun by boyfriend and girlfriend and that is the way they always play on those occasions when they both join the same game. They are always allied on day 1, they never attack each other, they give gems, money and artifacts freely between each other, and they will assist one another as needed throughout the course of the game. It is kind of sad that they felt the need to do that in a game that is supposedly for fun only.

Of course, aren't ALL games supposed to be for fun only???

Now, I can either go to work on my day off or write Chapter 276 in my story. What will it be???

Ugh - work! I have some things that I must get done today in the office to prepare for a business trip on Monday morning...

[Alneyan]

Man - Turn 16:

An endless plain appeared in her mind, a land where even colours were long gone. Whirling shapes could be seen, the shades of the dead and the forgotten. The howling wind added its plaintive note to the desolation. The twisted bodies of skeletons surrounded her, sometimes throwing a bony arm around her. And everywhere were the maniac grins of the ghosts, as if they rejoiced of her presence in their midst.

The Otherworld faded away, bringing sights of the abominations, these things coming from beyond, so far away from her land. Swirling tentacles seized her, and all the eyes of these things, far too many of them, were sneering at her. She could almost hear their whispers: “Come wish us, come...”. They were invading her mind, their ram echoing loudly, as her mental defences collapsed.

A Daughter was insistently knocking at the order, shouting something about an urgent message from the North. Velimaine shook the remnants of her nightmare, her head still reeling from that apercu of these unearthly creatures. She could almost understand the desperate course Ilneoa had initiated; almost. Man would need to grow in power to save this land they loved, but could not keep its traditions while being involved in the deification madness. Mortals should not imperil the world thus by their petty conflicts on godhood, not in this moment of great need.

That missive from the Northern reaches was a wonder of curtness: “Fishes threatening the land, and their ilk complaining about their death. Not like the Atlantian Courts.” So they would be the ones considering an attack against the Vale; how fool these foul creatures were. The fabled longbowmen of Man would simply repel their advance, should they dare to walk on the soil. Their power would be no more so far from their lands of emptiness from where they stem.

But all the might of the Summer Land might not be enough against this age of sundering. The Roaming Dead still thrive – or they would had they kept their lives and their souls – far in the South, and darker rumours could be heard in the taverns. Everything from Dragons to Demons and sapient serpents were loosed on the land, or so the commoners thought, and they might have had the truth of it for once. Nonetheless, an alliance of the peoples of the earth would not be unwelcome, if only the bickering of the Pretenders did not interfere.

Velimaine thought she would do well to bring Ilneoa back from her ashes as well. A figurehead would not hurt her efforts, and the Virtue had probably lost her hubris along with her life, and most of her grace. Her mastery of the winds would be of a great assistance; until she taught her knowledge to another Daughter. And if Ilneoa were to remain impossible to restrain, her life would simply be forfeit once more. After all, what has been done can happen once more at will. Velimaine was smirking when she sent her first prayer in months to the Virtue, Last of all her pantheon of deities.

[CuriousCat]

Machaka: Turn 16

While his retinue prepared the ritual space, Cetewayo considered his situation. His realm was not in the position he would prefer. His nation was small and almost surrounded by larger, intimidating powers. The few unaligned chaos lands that remained nearby were home to large, heavily armed and armored forces. While the magic schools in Balakavo were slowly beginning to show some results, without sources of magical power the great spells would stay an academic exercise. Thus, here he was in the wilds. Sometimes if you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself. Together with his retinue, he would search for magic to power the researchers discoveries.

First though, he had time to consider other options. He lacked knowledge of the world. He was trapped here in this small corner with only a small alley through which he might expand without war. Gaining additional knowledge was a priority. True he had sent out a spy, but that was slow, limited information. He could sense other Powers similar to his abroad in the world. Perhaps he could use this connection, however tenuous, to communicate with others who might be in a similar position. After all, he could communicate his will with his priests via their dreams and their connection to him. It was possible that using similar techniques he could contact some other leader. Perhaps this other leader would be willing to exchange information. One think that gave him pause was the recent strange, disquieting disturbance that seemed connected to this new sense. Thinking about it made him remember the cold of the grave. He was unsure what the disturbance indicated. Regardless, he was determined to pursue this possibility. But who to attempt to contact?

Cetewayo then remembered a recent gift he had received. One of the other powers had sent him an air gem. He quickly retrieved the gem in question and studied it. The gem had been sent with little fanfare and no real message from the mysterious R'lyeh. These were beings that one would definitely NOT call men. Rumor had it that they ate the brains of the humans that they captured. They were also rumored to have strange mental powers. The Last fact gave him another pause. It might actually be dangerous to attempt this contact. He had no knowledge of the power this being might command. He could not let fear rule him. He would try it! These were times for taking risks. Indeed, he was not without power himself. Using the resonance of the gem with its previous owner together with his own ability to sense these other semi-divine beings, he would forge a connection, for better or worse.

He settled himself into a deep trance focusing his awareness through the gem in a way both outward and inward toward the other. He searched farther, and then he felt a faint contact. Yes, there was something there. He struggled harder and felt the connection deepen. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by a kaleidescope of strange images. It was overwhelming. Nothing made sense. Dizzying and disorienting. Flashes. Bright. Dark. Angles, structures that could not be. Water. He tried to project his desire to exchange information. He tried to put his wishes into words but he couldn't tell if he was succeeding. He kept trying and there were brief flashes of images that he could almost make sense of. Suddenly he was standing by a table in the midst of a great void. On the table was a blank piece of parchment. Somehow he knew that it was supposed to be a map. He tried to alter it and to his surprise succeeded. Suddenly the map had his nation and something of the surrounding area outlined. As he began celebrating he felt a more concrete presence of something OTHER. He held himself in the connection by a force of will. Everything in him was telling him that he should flee. He had to get a return of information. Yes! He could see it. He focused on the map and saw stretches of the world filled in. At that, he let the connection go. To his horror, the connection did not fade. Instead it continued and he felt himself being drawn deeper. An intense flood of images so fast that he could not decipher them, even consciously register their content. He then forcibly severed the connection.

As he emerged with a shudder from the trance he quickly sketched out the map he had seen. It had been a disturbing experience, but one well worth the risk. He had not sensed animosity directed at him. Though, to be honest, he was unsure about his ability to decipher much that he had sensed, indeed his senses were still reeling from the experience. However, he had gained vital information and, if he could tolerate the connection again, more might yet be gained. He had hoped to gain insight into the mind of the other leader. However, the other had been so... alien... that he had no idea of what 'it' might be thinking. Even now, his own thoughts were following strange paths, the angles in his tent seemed somehow off, and why was he thinking about climbing stairs?

"climbing up the stair,
the wind moans,
the sound of despair..."

The thought drifted through Cetewayo's mind, almost without him realizing it. He determined to ignore these strange, wayward thoughts. There were no stairs in the camp... Then he realized that exposure to this alien presence was not without cost. Well, he had recovered from death... He felt his mind drifting into that strange mode again and realized that he did NOT want to think about death in that way. He would just have to deal with this as well. He Had Conquered Death. He paused, and felt none of the strange thoughts forming. More confident, he decided that a few strange thoughts after exposure to such an unusual being was to be expected and dismissed it as unimportant. On to more important things, he had a sudden craving for a rare steak... and maybe something crunchy...

[puffyn]

Panther,

Glad to hear you appreciate the yarns. I definitely am in this game mainly for the narrative aspects, not anything so crass as "winning". (And this has nothing - nothing! - to do with the score graphs, no sir.)

Still, the point system helps keep me writing every turn, even when I'm not particularly inspired. If we are going to find replacements for some of these races who aren't leading, it might be a not-insignificant incentive to provide them with the points to allow them to remain competitive in scoring.

On a somewhat related note, Caelum actually *is* doing quite well (*sniff* better than Arco), and would be a good choice for someone who wanted to take over a race and have to worry more about coming up with a good narrative then about surviving the next few turns. Of course, I'm more than happy to keep playing them, but it's fun to have new stories to read... (Panther...?)

Puffyn

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 17 ----

It was not long ago that I marched by the side of the great Alexander, learnt battle formations and strategy from his cunning hand. Now, abandoned by the same, I am forced to listen to a local crazy woman about how to arrange my troops.

The hoplite formation was designed to fight as one unit, the spears and weight of the rear ranks lending support to the front line. Stacked sixteen rows deep, this dread formation is nearly unbreakable in battle. I was there at Cunaxa, when the entire wing of the Persian army fled merely at our approach. Imagine if you were dressed in light cloth, armed with a short sword, and, with a rabble of your companions, you looked up to see the sun glinting off a thousand Greek shields, a thousand Greek spearheads blackening the sky. Only insanity or superhuman bravery would compel you to stand your ground, much less fling yourself onto their lines to have your body broken and trampled forever into the dust.

Nowhere on earth has anyone been able to withstand the phalanx. A hundred, a thousand years from now, men will still march out in this formation; it is the ultimate, definitive, triumphant Last word in warfare.

But, no, heaven forbid we go with what works. I know, let's divide the strength of the phalanx into tiny little two and three man squads, cluster each of them around a bloody mystic, and, what's more, test this formation in battle, not against a light rabble, but a strongly defended province reputed to be guarded by women who are renowned for their battle progress. But Divikar carries orders from the village elders that Amshula should try this new tactic, and so we are all going to die.

A scout from the eastern marches has sent word that a disturbing race dwells north of this warrior-women province. Their practices are rumored to be quite barbaric, and I hope they have been somewhat exaggerated. On the other hand... sacrificing female virgins. I mean, it's wrong and despicable, an affront to civilization. But I cannot help thinking that Amshula has never been married...

Divikar also brings word of another failed attack upon Skeldmarsh. Apparently a few locals decided to steal some hoplite armor and go avenge Limmy's death. They were scattered like leaves, but some people cannot get enough punishment, and so they are preparing yet another attack. Apparently all the semi-intelligent people on the council have been overruled by the Limmy fanatics, who spend all their time wandering around, wailing his name.

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