MP Game - Yarnspinners

[Sedna]

Turn 22, R'lyeh

God, it's been really dull lately. I never thought I'd get bored of sucking the brains out of terrified, lightly armed peasantry, but the thrill just isn't there, y'know? A deity's got to eat, but they don't say variety is the spice of death for nothing. Is it too much to ask that the light infantry hereabouts slather themselves in tasty sauces before heading out to battle? Once in the Orion sector I devoured the inhabitants of a small moon whose war paint tasted of horseradish and onions - that's the sort of initiative and creative thinking I wish more people on this world would come up with. (Though perhaps it also explains why none of the soul-sucking-dreaming-mad-elder-goddesses-bent-on-destroying-the-world would have anything to do with me...)

My minions have been so boring. What do I care that they crushed another bunch of weak fish without losing a slave? Sammy keeps whining at me that this third girl I encouraged to take up the life schoLastic dresses all in black and writes depressive poetry all the time. The most exciting thing to happen was when Cthugul impressed some formless spawn he found floating his bathtub into my service. One of my star children wrote to me all excited about seeing a big rock and getting lost in a maze, and it just made me feel depressed. I seem to recall crushing everyone who stood in my path to be a bit more exciting than this...

There is one bright spot in my drab existence, which is this forum that I joined recently, the Illustrious Lords and Ladies Waging Incredibly Nasty Total Extermination of Races. I don't go to the dinner parties much, since there's more "I say, old sport, jolly good fight you put up there, better luck next incarnation" than I can put up with, and it is impolite to suck the brains out of fellow Illustrians. But they put out a good newsletter, and some of my fellow powers-that-be write the most amusing accounts of the travails of godhood. None of them are as awesomely incredible as me, but who can pass up a good incompetent-minion-who-nearly-ruined-everything story? And sometimes you can pick up useful tips on ways to strip subordinates of their will to oppose you. ("Wizard W"... pure genius...) It's also a good way to curry favor with other would-be gods, so that they don't attack you before you're ready to fully annihilate them. I was thinking about this the other day, and my mind kept returning to this delicious yellow-curry that my palace chef came up with, with fresh basil and butter-drenched clams. (Mmm-mmm. I have got to get back to a place with proper kitchen facilities...) And I thought, just because I will one day crush them all is no reason not to share this wonderful recipe with some of my new friends who amuse me ever so with their little tales. At least with the weak ones who are unlikely to be able to turn on me anytime soon. This one fellow keeps going on about butter, I'm sure he'd appreciate some culinary tips. And that other chap has been after me for my steak sauce ever since we Last talked...

[Sedna]

Turn 23, R'lyeh

My northern army has run into a spot of trouble. They had been kicking around this shallow, brackish bay. Scouts reported that the next province over was a beautifully deep, cold, sound, held by some more wimpy tritons. When they arrived, the shoals were choked with the dead bodies of Triton warriors, males, females, and spawn. Searching in the deep canyons turned up piles of Icyhtyid steaks. Such aggression against peaceful dwellers of the deep is my right alone, and we soon found the culprits, a horde of those annoying coral guards Atlantis normally has. We slew them from a distance, mind-bLasting them into the abyss.

There were such high-spirits amongst my killers after the battle. But I told them, no, I said, don't go attack Atlantis. Go north against the Ichtyids there, and bring me back some sashimi. I don't know if my prophet will listen though. He has a mind of his own. Unlike most of my sturdy slave troopers.

Count Folke died. That's a good thing — but the dratted militias didn't! My anger shall surely split the world! Oh, sure, one or two of them will probably rise again, and another few fell to the pitchfork rabble, but many of them turned tail and fled at the first sign of battle. Even the ones who were able to overcome their fear of death by thinking about their fear of me are annoyingly still getting paid. I'll send the whole lot north toward some pesky mountain provinces which have eluded my rule thus far. I hope they will stick around long enough to die. If not, I shall have to laboriously lead them under the sea and then abandon them there to drown.

I have returned to beneath the waves and, in preparation for the fresh fish my troops promise me, have begun construction of a new kitchen with granite countertops, a professional range, and a walk in freezer. It is a true steal at 200 gold after I ate the contractor's first- through third- born. I'll stock the shelves well with magic ingredients too, in case any of my magic Users get hungry in the middle of the night and want a nice eye-of-newt sandwich.

[CuriousCat]

Machaka:Turn 22

The battle had gone well. However, the aftermath was less impressive. The territory was a wealthy one, crowned by it's name sake city. As the Spider Army entered to take what was rightly theirs arrows came from hidden locations. There were still those resisting the might of Machaka. Karo led the unit dispatched to deal with them. He found the site from which the arrows had been fired, but the perpetrator was long gone. Luckily he had skilled trackers. There were some who were as skilled at tracking in this urban environment as others were at tracking in the jungle. The locals found the sight of an odd looking little man with his "little pets" crawling over his body and in his hair disturbing at best and horrifyingly nightmarish at worst. Of course, they were not Machakan. They did not hold these little brothers in quite the same regard as one of the true people. In time the locals would see that eight legs could be quite valuable.

The little brothers performed well. They led Karo's unit to the resistance safe house. Unfortunately the resistance had plenty of warning. They prepared an ambush from the surrounding building and some booby traps that caught Karo and his men by surprise. The Machakans had won the battle, but Karo had been badly wounded. Two of his men had been killed outright. Karo berated himself. He should have anticipated such tactics and been ready. The healer had given him mixed news. Karo would live, however he might never regain use of his right arm. Without his arm, he would be retired from the army. How would he survive? How would he support his family? His life had been soldiering. He knew that he had the combination of physical ability, intelligence and savvy that could take him far in the army. He also thought that he had gained the notice of the King. Now it might all be gone. What would he do?

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 23 ----

Tense negotiations with the kingdom of Man have left us in control of Vorgunmarsh. They sent a small task force to check out the place and came to the sensible conclusion that it is probably the worst province in the entire world, and if we wanted to rule over the handful of scrawny inhabitants and scores of mosquitos, more power to us. The inhabitants provide us with pretty minimal resources (belts for our hoplites), but surprisingly it makes a difference.

We have also had first contact with a bizarre power known as R'lyeh. Apparently they live under water— like Plato's story of Atlantis— but also claim to be from another star. I presume they are just crazy. They provided us with a clam; perhaps it is a token of friendship? It must be a fish thing. I guess I'll carry it around in my saddle bags just in case an ambassador shows up and it turns out that the slimy gastropod was actually the leader's one true love. It better not stink up my butter.

Amshula's castle actually came together rather well. A bit drafty though. She's recruited a few of the local warrior women to help her ("To do what?" you may ask. You may indeed). I'm not sure how I feel about that. These are, after all, the same bloodthirsty old women who felt that it was appropriate to use innocent young girls in their twisted rituals. Still, Amshula promises that they are loyal to us now and will obey our rules about appropriate things to do with virgins.

Perhaps they have just been corrupted by our neighbors to the north. Everyday we get more refugees swelling our little encampment here. Mostly they are girls who have escaped from the vile priests (all men, who would have guessed?) who live on human blood. One of the priests from the temple of Apollo has raised a new temple here in honor of Athena; that should provide the refugees with a strong role model. Hopefully, if word can spread that some of the most powerful gods are female, the slaughter will abate. In my heart though, I know that we will probably be forced to go to war in order to bring justice to that land.

Am I turning into Alexander? One battle after another, each following of necessity from the Last? Will I end my days delusional, believing I am a god? Will I eventually lead my men into strange and terrible lands and abandon them there? Or, perhaps, if the world is round (as some of our philosophers back home believe), my never-ending conquests will eventually bring me back, Odysseus-like, to Pagasae, my home.

---

[CuriousCat]

Machaka Turn 23:

The men had enjoyed the respite from battle. A month on the sun drenched beaches of Dash Kaz'maal could brighten anyone's outlook. The peaceful sound of the waves, the baking heat of the sun and sand, and the cool refreshing wetness of the wind coming off of the water together cast a relaxing and renewing spell over the entire army. Of course, the entire month hadn't been spent basking in the sun. Some of the time had been spent tracking down the deluded trouble makers who were resisting their city joining the Machakan Empire. The units assigned to patrol were careful not to create too much collateral damage. The goal was to integrate these people into the greater empire, not to oppress and abuse them.

Cetewayo was pleased that he had managed to kill two birds with one stone. The army had recovered from their battle weariness and the populace had been somewhat subdued. The natives had also begun to become accustomed to the presence of the Machakan empire. A small garrison would remain behind to continue the Machakan military presence along with the Machakan bureaucracy which would continue to integrate this wealthy new city into the empire.

Now, however, it was time to get moving. It would not do for the men to become too comfortable. There were many lands that had yet to be claimed, the army would soon find more fighting. As Cetewayo prepared to give the orders to break camp there was a sudden commotion among the men who were sporting in the water's edge. They were charging out of the water. Behind them strode a nightmarish figure. It walked out of the water. Some of the men had retrieved weapons and began to approach it menacingly. It looked up and found Cetewayo in the crowd.

As he looked into the creature's eyes, Cetewayo recognized it. This was the trusted messenger of the Master of R'lyeh. Cetewayo quickly called the men back and allowed the creature to approach. It genuflected and grasped an amulet at it's throat making odd noises. "Hail the Great King Cetewayo!" a voice said in their heads. The surrounding crowd was beginning to get very uneasy. Cetewayo exerted the force of his personality to calm them. He knew that, for the time being at least, they had nothing to fear from the forces of R'lyeh. The creature continued, "A small token of esteem from my Master." Cetewayo was impressed with the medallion that was allowing for the conversation. He would have to order his magical researchers to produce something similar. The messenger held out his hand and in it was a beautiful shell. It was some sort of shell fish. Cetewayo would have assumed that it was some sort of ritual gift from the underwater folk. However, he noticed that the beautiful shell had an otherworld glow to his preternatural senses. Could this be a mythical Clam of Pearls? Indeed, Cetewayo was sure that it was. He conveyed his great appreciation to the messenger. With that, the messenger turned and strode directly into the waves.

Later Cetewayo bemusedly watched the men break the camp and prepare to move out. The little episode with the R'lyeh messenger was exactly what he needed to reestablish his position with the men. When word of the encounter got back to the high priests they would have to take at least a moment's pause.

[Sedna]

Turn 24, R'lyeh

I really want to write about my plans to backstab Atlantis, but I'm afraid his spies might be reading this diary. Eh. You only die once, right?

If you're an Atlantian agent please stop reading here.





I mean it!





C'mon, please?





Okay, now that we're alone...

I've convinced Abysia to join me in this attack. They say you can't buy love, but you can certainly buy friendship with enough astral gems. Abysia will take the land Atlantian provinces in a whirling firestorm, and I'll cover the underwater lands in death. Our biggest concern is the ancient squid, Abysos. He is, by all accounts a potent warrior, and worthy of respect. I respect squid-balls. If you eat them right after they come out of the deep-fryer they'll burn your mouth something fierce. It's the kind of burnt roof of the mouth that sticks with you for a few days too.

I've taken some of my precious brains off research duty to forge me up some magical stuff. So far I've been eating humans in the buff, but I'm pretty sure I'll want some cool toys to keep me entertained as I conquer Atlantis.

So now my star children are spread throughout their land, ready to assassinate their leaders at my merest command. My conventional armies are assembling on their borders, and my mages have been brushing up on their nastiest distance-attack spells.

Ah... I'm practically giddy with glee. A real battle at Last. From all accounts, this will be the first clash between major powers in this world. In my heart of heart (the one in my 3rd left aorta), I hope this little war may spur other parties into the fray. I'm not aware of any Atlantian allies, but everyone loves to use a good war as a convenient excuse to take over their weak neighbors.

My generals do think I'm mad. I gently remind them that I'm not mad— I'm CRAZY!!!!

Like a fox.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 24 ----

We held Divikar's funeral Last night, as his older sister Sadhana had only just arrived from the capital. (And how many siblings does this clan have? I wondered, as she murmured words to Amshula and Balachandra from the others who could not make the journey.) As the eldest member of the family, she presided over the ceremony, which was held by the mouth of the river, some two hours' march from our fortress. I was not expecting a large crowd -- Divikar tended to keep to himself, and we were far from the lands where he grew up -- but villagers kept streaming in all day from throughout the province. I asked a village chieftess from up north why she had travelled so far to bid farewell to a gangly teenager who had helped drive her sistren from power. She said, "We have known for a while that our time as a free nation was ending. At least you have been fair and demanded no more from us than is any conqueror's right to demand from his subjects." It was only later that I realized she was not talking about our forces in general, but me. It was not a pleasant thought.

As with all local ceremonies, much of the funeral was quite inexplicable, especially the part where they rounded up all of the butter churned that week and burned it in a giant pyre. (I contributed my rations; Divikar was my friend. It is still a senseless custom.) After dark, for according to Balachandra all funerals must be held under a clear night's sky, the body was placed in a boat with two large candles and a shallow bowl of water, and pushed out into the lake, while the siblings chanted dirges. Amshula had a look in her eyes that chilled me to the bone. It put me in mind of another funeral Last year, a terrible affair of ice and stone, and I silently implored whichever gods might listen to not forget about Thymbre, though she has passed forever from my reach. For a while I stood there staring at the cold, distant stars, who alone do not die. When the funeral boat finally drifted out of view, it was glowing faintly; probably one of the candles had fallen down.

This morning, I awoke to the sound of clanging and shouts coming from the mystic's tower, where no one else is allowed to enter. They have been in there for many hours now, working furiously, though toward what end I cannot guess.

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