MP Game - Yarnspinners

[Karacan]

Ermor: Turn 6

An excellent month. Attracted by greed, the mercenary knight Arnaud has joined my ranks with his longbowmen. These shall be a fine addition to the host of my legions of the damned.

Caractor, Angmar and the Sonnenkinder managed to capture the Achaku Plains without any losses, with the exception of a single mercenary, which does not really account for being a loss.
Shortly after capturing the province, my general communicated with me that there was a famous library in the province, which could be used to attract sages from all over the world. While none of the living sages could match my knowledge, I am certain they will be able to provide useful information from time to time, and thus I send the dead mage Simith towards the library's site, to build a laboratory there. However, he is to take a few of my freshly risen followers, and lead the mercenary Arnaud into a nearby battle first. I do not trust the archers alone to win the battle, and while I could not care less about the living, I still have need for them. Maybe my coffers will attract more greedy mercenaries that I can send out with the archers.

The ritual of calling an ancient Ermorian priest has had an interesting albeit unexpected effect. Not a holy man followed my calling, but a twisted creature more aligned with Death than Life. I nevertheless intend to declare it my Prophet, to increase its notable spiritual powers for the world to see. I have no doubt it will perform as well in my plans if not better than a holy man of faith. At least it does not question me.

For I am Noth, the Unquestionable.

[Alneyan]

A gentle bump to give my third mail address in five days (hello Murphy). Turns should be sent to alneyan[AT]fastmail[DOT]co.uk from now on.

Unlike the previous two, this mail should actually be reliable, and works very well. But then, I fully expect Murphy to resolve that matter very soon.

Hopefully, it will be the Last time I have to give yet another mail address. Key word is hopefully.

[Karacan]

Ermor: Turn 7

I reread the scouts' battlereports with something approaching indifference. Two battles initiated, two battles won. Though one with an unexpected loss.

A miscalculation of the opposing strength and speed caused the heavy cavalry of the provincal defense to smash into Arnaud's archers before my troops could reach them, causing heavy losses and the subsequent death of the mercenary captain, who charged the oncoming knights only backed up by a few skeletons in an undoubtedly valiant yet foolish attempt to save his men's life. The bards of old might have made a song out of his heroism, yet I have no time to waste for this. It was only for the fear-inspiring presence of Simith, first of my Elders, that turned the tide.

Angmar, Caractor and the Sonnenkinder however managed to defeat their opposition with few losses, as expected. I see that the Sonnenkinder's treaty will run out next season, and since their use for them for me has nearly expired, intend to use the troops as cannonfodder for the next battle.

My wealth is growing, and apparently so is my reputation, for another mercenary band has decided to join my growing armies. Grom Bravebreaker and his men are now at my disposal, and as such, I will use them. There is a province filled with longbowmen near me which acts as a thorn in my side for some seasons now, and I will see if the Bravebreakers' shields are capable of protecting their owners long enough to close into the archers.

The ritual declaring Knucklebones my prophet had the desired effect. The creature is entirely under my command, and I order it to reanimate a large army for my uses.

Myself, I decide to call another Dusk Elder to assist me in my studies. Simith, first of Elders, finally heads towards the library I uncovered Last season, to construct a place for researching there.

In the Achaku Plains, my taxcollectors did excellent work, returning with more gold than I expected. Well, it was the peasants' decision to spite me, after all.

I am satisfied how my plans are working out, and I eagerly await meeting a more formidable foe than those provincial guards to test the battleskills of my generals against.

For I am Noth, who is both Lover and Prince of War.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 7 ----

All good things must come to an end.

I've enjoyed having Thymbre back. Her presence brings so much warmth, and so many memories of home. She is taciturn about her trip though, saying that she is not yet ready to talk about everything she saw.

In this quiet time we took many walks late at night. Somewhere in the space between the grass and the stars, she tried to introduce me to her world of priestesses, oracles, and signs of nature. For a moment, looking into her eyes, I could almost believe that the gods were real.

We've been training hard. Several Silver Shields have made it to our lowly village, and placed themselves under my command. Although they too have suffered great attrition since being abandoned at the Hydaspes River, those who lost their heart companion have re-partnered, and their prowess has lifted the morale of all my troops.

Thymbre has been using her healing skill on some local hero who now claims to have been the one who convinced Bolfar to join forces with us. His name in Limmy, and he's a bit of a pompous jerk, but one must forgive a man some of the things he says as he stands at death's door, and from the blue tinge of this man's skin it is clear he may not be with us long. The locals bring him gifts of butter, which is generous of them, but unlikely to speed the healing process.

But now we march north, into the mountains. Rumors (as always) tell of strange creatures in the hills, and there will probably be barbarian tribes to pacify along the way. My phalanx is at nearly full strength, and Thymbre will be accompanying us to tend to Limmy, who is coming along at the insistence of the locals, but against my better judgment.

If we are still in the mountains when winter comes, he will certainly finish his slow process of turning blue and freezing to death. I hope the rest of us may escape his fate.

---

[Alneyan]

Man, turn 7.

“And so it ends.” Ilneoa chuckled. Squire Ligriot did not seem to share her amusement; it might be because of these bonds which held him prisoner. “What happened to your talkative ways? You were renowned for your sarcastic wit at court after all; I certainly hope the taste of defeat has not diminished your love of mockery.”

Ilneoa's troops had taken the city of Merleister the day before, without meeting any determined resistance. A few commoners and Ligriot's personal guard did threaten the Avalonian army, but they ran away once the first deadly arrows fell within their ranks. A craven lot, Ilneoa thought, well matched with their master. And so another county came under her rule, with barely a casualty among her own soldiers.

The soft fool posing as Lord Protector of Merleister, that Ligriot, was the only warrior taken alive during the skirmish. An odd notion of chivalry prevented him from running like the winds, as so many of his men-at-arms did. And here he was, a captive of Avalon, though what use this lordling would have for the Kingdom was anyone's guess.

“I will not repeat myself again” , Ilneoa informed him, all traces of gaiety gone from her voice. “What do you know about the moves of the rebel Earl, that Valogda spawn, and his ilk?” The idea that the rebel Valogda, a seasoned warlord, would have a youngster courtier as commander was laughable; yet, they were too close to the rebel Earldom for Ligriot not to have any involvement within the revolt. When you stood by the shore, you could not expect the tide to avoid you.

Yet, Ligriot denied having any connection with the rebels, his proximity with their holdings notwithstanding. Such stubbornness tried Ilneoa's patience, but the worst came when Ligriot burst out laughing. ”Magnificent Virtue of the Isle, my pitiful self holds nothing of value for you. Why waste your time?” Ligriot had recovered some of his lost bravado, but none of his wits. To mock Ilneoa thus, in front of half her army, was more than foolish.

Ilneoa made a wry face, and ordered her troops to move along. A public display of her wrath would cause unrest among the local populace, and so she would have to be content with a more discrete... handling of the matter. The army would hear of this incident, and there was no mistaking her look of fury; her soldiers would think twice before crossing her. And so the commoners of Man say Ligriot is still alive, locked in some forgotten cell.

[Alneyan]

Turn 8 will be running this evening (GMT). Neither Machaka nor R'lyeh have been replaced, and I am considering turning them AI.

The biggest problem with setting them AI is that it may help their neighbours (Atlantis for R'lyeh, and myself for Machaka, which is quite close to Man). Because of this, a replacment player would be best, but it seems like none can be found.

[Sedna]

I'd like to take over R'lyeh. I've already e-mailed Alneyan. If you can wait for me to play this turn it would be much appreciated.