MP Game - Yarnspinners

[magnate]

Happy New Year folks! Hope you're all well. Still only three spinning yarns, but they're excellent. I'm on tenterhooks waiting for the outcome of Karo's interview ...

Turn 25: Arco 2, Machaka 2, R'lyeh 2
Turn 26: Arco 2, Machaka 2, R'lyeh 2
Turn 27: Arco 3, R'lyeh 2

Totals after turn 27:
Abysia 14
Arco 58
Atlantis 2
Caelum 6
Ermor 20
Machaka 46
Man 17
Mictlan 6
R'lyeh 43
Vanheim 4

All the best,

Chris
P.S. I presume nobody has any problems with me awarding points once a week now ...

[Sedna]

Turn 29, R'lyeh

The siege continues.

Word comes that there is to be a competition of heros in some distant arena. The prize is cursed, and injury is certain for anyone sent, but Farol has been moping around the northern provinces for too long. I'll confess that, honestly, I'm just a little tired of the guy.

Olug and his band of thugs have begun their push down the southern fjord while the greater part of the southern force has come to join me at the siege. Food could become scarce for the besiegers. Those sharks eat a lot when there are no enemies to crunch.

Up north, the Alvarik force has regrouped for another push against the barbarians. It's such a lot of both, but rumor has it that the caves contain great magical power, and the lives of humans are worthless to me.

I got the cutest postcard the other day from the spawnlings at my coastal fortress. There are almost a full score of them now. Each unique and precious like a delicate snowflake. They've been keeping a close watch on Sammy, who grows more invaluable every day. Thanks to his tireless efforts to probe the arcane world for a way to escape my grasp (and lead to freedom some of the lady sages he's been... collecting), the mighty empire of R'lyeh is no longer picked on in school for being the stupidest kid in the class. My propaganda department has come up with the slogan "We're not quite as utterly pathetic as Mictlan" (tm), and I've ordered that the new fall wardrobe for all my troops bear this symbol.

That should help with... that thing... you know... like good v. evil. Rocky and Bullwinkle. Morals! That's it. Moray eels? Whatever. When the revolution comes, they'll be first against the wall - those treacherous little- whoevers with their, whats-cha-me-callots. Shallots?

[Sedna]

Turn 30, R'lyeh

The siege continues.

I am hungry every night now. My troops continue to be well fed. Well, sand and seaweed fills stomachs anyway and stops em from complaining for a while. The sharks don't seem to like it so much, and have definitely been eyeing up their riders. But I! I am the supreme ruler of this land. I need fresh blood! I need sacrifice and pain, or...

The walls are everywhere. Stretching high and tall, impenetrable, impregnable, impervious. There is no where to hide. Just one victory before the thousand googly eyes. One fight on the blood stained sand, and he could be exalted, praise, lauded, treasured. When he died, preserved, not eaten. But the obsidian sword knocked aside his shield, and drew blood, and he knew fear. He gazed into the eyes of his foe, a young lad, for whom this contest would mean so much. While for him, returning to slavery, as a lower being in the new world order. And when the black sword came again he welcomed it.

A motley force, a few brave arrows, and thundering over the plain, a score of madmen with blades as long as your leg. They threw themselves over the spear, over the tridents, and swords. They wrenched crossbow bolts from whence they lodged themselves in their limbs and hacked until the pieces were too small to get back up, covering the grass in slippery red.

There once was a race of tall men, who built towers on the shores of the sea.
And they dwelt in these towers, over the sea, and watched for the death that would come.
But the men in their towers grew lazy and rich, and abandoned their watch on the sea.
And the storm when it came, on little cats paws, buried their world 'neath the waves.

[Sedna]

Turn 31, R'lyeh

The siege continues.

There is some good news though. For the first time, a foray by the tritons tore off a piece of the kelp wall large enough that the defenders inside cannot repair it without being exposed to attack. A first chink in their armor, into which I shall insert my tentacle and pull their world apart. Furthermore, the generals back home have sent up a magic item they believe will hasten the siege. This "Wall Shaker" is the result of some trade with the bird people to our south. My mind, which had been planning on a nice vacation somewhere southern–probably with palm trees and coral reefs and little brightly colored fishies–has apparently decided to postpone this trip in the hope that the battle at the castle will be interesting.

Once I destroy the Atlantians I will allow the catfish to take over the ruins of the castle. Their spawn will play by seaweed hedges in the inner keep, while the old catfish will lounge in the outer courts, sunning and cleaning themselves.

Olug has finished his march down the southern fjord, which is now clear of all Atlantian influence. Reconstruction will probably be a bear. He returns, ever so slowly. The slaves have seen the weekly defended shores of birds and men and long to tear their best-laid plans astray. But I tell them, "One war at a time." Also, "MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS SLAVE OR I WILL TAKE PLEASURE IN GUTTING YOU!!"

Cthugul writes from the void:
Attacked by Thing that Should not Be. Stop. Safely home thnx to pearls and returning spell. Stop. Send love to Sammy for that. Stop. Acashic Record found sites magic power. Stop. Mages take all clams. Stop. No Linguine. Stop.