MP Game - Yarnspinners

[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.

[Sedna]

Turn 7, R'lyeh

Now that's annoying. There I was, settling in for my afternoon lurk in this nice, cozy cave I had found, all full of beautiful little tentacled things, brightly colored fish with lots of eyes, and the cutest little sea horse civilization I've ever seen. They were having some kind of group meeting that seemed to involve choosing who was going to be their leader for that week, and they just got the nicest looks of pain and shock on their face when I ate them all. And, mmmmm, were they tasty... well, anyhow, there was no call for them to also be mildly poisonous. I mean really... what were they thinking, mutating into existence this close to *my* crater, and then going and giving me indigestion?

But the next thing I know, I'm waking up with a splitting headache, and several months have passed, and my minions haven't even succeeded in enslaving one little province for me. Not one. They'll have to go. All of them.

I was about to get to devouring them (got to have standards), when I saw my old friend Cthugul! I haven't seen him in, well, aeons. And here he is, trying to summon up dark and forboding creatures to spread the word about my return. I was so touched that I forgot about slaughtering everyone, and instead sent them off to conquer new lands. I mean, it's a bit of a waste, letting other critters eat them, but you should've seen the look of relief on their faces when I told them I was merely sending them out to the sharks.

Besides, I'm still a bit full.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 8 ----

I would feel a lot better about continuing on into the mountains if Thymbre were coming with. She can be so stubborn sometimes.

Fortunately, nothing is wrong - quite the contrary. Though we were outnumbered nearly two to one, and under substantial archer fire, not a man faltered, and we quickly routed them. Thymbre stood right in the center of the phalanx, besides me, shouting words of courage to all, and causing all who could here her to smile and redouble their efforts. The only thing to mar my satisfaction that day was Limmy, of course. For most of the battle, he sensibly stayed at the rear, muttering useless charms and incantations against harm, but then he got it in his head to charge the retreating archers. If he had not been followed by my hoplites and Silver Shields, I am certain he would've been badly hurt, or perhaps killed. (Not that I care; but Thymbre seems to think well of him...)

I told him as much afterwards, but he laughed it off. "You are worried, Pandokos, that I -- I -- could have been hurt, by mere archers?" he scoffed, when were sitting in a tavern in the town of Braegen, as Thymbre tended to his badly infected eye and other wounds left over from the Last time he thought to kick around a few archers. He looked, if anything, even more sickly blue than before. "You worry too much. I could have defeated ten times the number of men we faced today, for I am Limmy, He Who is at the Center..."

It's useless to try to talk to him when he starts spouting off like that. It depresses me how many of my soldiers, even men who travelled all the way from Hellas with me, looked admiringly at him. Nobody seemed to notice (or care) that while he was talking he was also quietly taking food off the plates of everyone around him; his arms just seemed to be everywhere. I nearly lost a piece of buttered bread to his wandering hands.

We stayed in the town, a large village perched between wide open plains and towering mountains, for a fortnight. Unfortunately, the day before we were to head off into the mountains for the next province we had been ordered to liberate, Thymbre found It.

"Oh Pandokos, there's no need for me to come with," she said.

"But think of how the morale of the soldiers will suffer," I protested. "Think of my morale."

She laughed, but was not about to give in. "But Pandokos, really. It's a library." And she got that look in her eyes... I really had no chance of convincing her. She claims she will try to catch up with us.

---

[Sedna]

Turn 8, R'lyeh

Oh, the power! The infinite power! I reach out my hand and take. My tentacle moves and the world dies into chaos.

Go forth my starchildren: slaughter the human heroes and fry the fish fools. Let the world shake. Release the Otherness and bring darkness to the sunlit lands! Drive the slaves before you like chattel, heedless as they scream, fall upon the poisoned spears, and tumble into the abyss. Turn teeth upon shark hide, rip and tear- with my power behind you these ancient lords are mere playthings. This is my divine will and the deep places of the world shall run red!

Wha...? Where was I? Ah, now I remember... studying the ancient text, learning how to slip into the unreal void between the hard places of this world. The scout reports have been all good news; my empire added two new provinces, a much welcome addition of gold, and in one, the locals promised to provide us with shark warriors in return for their pitiful lives. This is excellent news, since shark fin soup is so hard to come by in the void.

Already I see signs of mighty deeds on the shore: heat, and eternal night. My time of peace under the waves may be near an end... the fuzzy pufferfish... the crunchy dolphin. It has been so long since land animals entered my maw. Now I sleep again, and let my assassins work their will upon an unsuspecting world. Cut of their leader's heads, and they will all run away. It is a subtle strategy, and Cthulu does not normally resort to such things, but... my main army continues into an aptly named, and weakly defended province.

Mr Flibble is very cross. They shouldn't have run away from Mr. Flibble, should they? What are we going to do with them?

No, we can't possibly do that. Who would clean up the mess?