MP Game - Yarnspinners

[Sedna]

R'lyeh, Turn 54

The Vanheim used to be a marginally important race in the north, and are still kinda uppity about it. They snuck deep in lands held by me in a last ditch effort to make a difference before they are snuffed out forever. I believe I will just have to go up there in person. I have another reason for journeying into the dry place. Rumor has it that the Sleepers have awoken, and we all know what that means.

What? You don't know? Don't you ever read?

Actually, you can be forgiven, it's one of these silly human prophecies. Something about awakening for the final cataclysmic battle to decide the fate of the world. Which is all fine and dandy, except that they've taken up with the Arcos. The god of the Arcos is called Pandorkos, and he runs around with a sword that shoots lightning. My spy has been reading his letters to the Sleeper in the east: "Now all that is left is for the final gathering, where shall be determined who shall rule the world, or be damned to hell for all eternity..."

Sammy was very excited at this snippet or information, but was unable to tell me where this final battle would be, or why it might be so important. Somewhere on the eastern shores of Vankara sound, was all he could say. Luckily all that land is safely in my hands (barring a few tasty Van snacks). I've taken control of the northern fortress, I have another one to the south, and two (two!) in the sound itself. Ain't no way nobody gets through to fulfill their prophetic duty. But, while I'm above the waves I might as well take a look around and see if I can find any signs saying, "End of the world, this way. (5 km)"

[Sedna]

R'lyeh, Turn 55

My war against Caleum is underway: three legions rose from the depths, smashed through their defenses of Caelum and seized every one of the port cities on their main continent. If such a move had any real tactical significance it would have been pure genius. I've sent an abomination to pillage their back country, and unleashed a horde of undead against a gaggle of mages, who unfortunately mostly survived the encounter. The birds rely heavily on a spell which creates illusionary soldiers to defend their land. My spawn attempted to swat the enchantment away during our initial assault, but they failed. Yet the phantoms cannot hold back the tide...

Arco chose this moment to strike. Previously we had enjoyed only a few border skirmishes, but it is now quite clear that they intend to field powerful armies against me. If I were to attack Abysia and Machaka then I could be at war with all the major powers, which would be chaotically fun.

But for now I must continue my work here. Sammy reports on the following snippet found locked in the deepest vaults in Halls of Andvare. He believes it refers to the same prophecy about the Sleepers.


Sleepers on the isle of sea
Two wanderers far from home
On Beltane, one final fight
Seals the fate of the world


I don't know where Beltane is, and an isle of sea sounds like a lake to me, which is good news for R'lyeh (go big blue!).

Generally I distrust prophecies and eat prophets (I never had a chance to taste Xlikloth, although he had probably turned sour during his betrayal) but... I do kinda get this tingly sensation in my back knee which normally means there's an apocalypse a brewin'.

So the world is ending- what do you do? If you're a mad-elder-dreaming-god ya go with what worked well last time: raise taxes sky high on all your craven servants, send armies hopelessly to their deaths to distract your enemies from your true plans, launch new wars on those who you haven't yet had the pleasure of killing, and spend your days crawling around in the murky-dank forests, searching for some mystical powerhouse which will seal your supreme power. Stupid prophets and their blank verse! I so totally have the power to bring every corner of this world under my chaotic darkness- and then the world comes to an end. When I become truly omnipotent I'll make sure this kind of thing is outlawed.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 55 ----

And it came to pass that the sleepy-ones marched forth in the aid of the butter-lover, and found a world much changed. Todd-of-the-extreme-height drew forth the blood-stained, tattered remains of "The Collected Sayings of Sokodnap (who was quick in battle but slow in his messy death)". "I inherited this scroll from my mother, Ddot, who woke with this world, and now I will see its setting," he explained to the reluctant prophet as the hypaspists rustled in their armor like a thousand leaves. "Now... which way is up on this stupid map?"

From The Collected Sayings of Pandokos the Prophet

Todd is leading us somewhere, and for some reason I keep following. I guess I'm morbidly curious about the end of the world prophecy, but I doubt that gore-encrusted scrap of parchment he carries really helps him very much. Todd seems... a bit out of touch. We marched into the Elder Hills last week, and he was so shocked to see knights that he just stood around gaping and let me do all the smiting. "Did these hills always used to be here? Where are the lush forest and average-sized lizards? We were supposed to turn right at the glacier..."

That night, Todd complained that the moon was smaller than it use to be in his day, and that the stars had "moved". I'm sure that the separation from his brother has driven the poor lad crazy, but most of the local recruits give a lot of credence to this mythology. Yesterday, when farmers arrived selling fresh produce, I overheard part of their conversation:

"I hear that them sleepers leave gold coins under young'uns' teeth"

"No, them's just crazy stories, why, C'tugul would choke on them when he ate their heads"

"D'ya reckon it's true what they say?"

"'Bout the world endin'?"

"Yep."

"Reckon so. My crops 'aint been growin' like they should. Figures this world here's about all used up and it's time for a new one."

"Huh. Maybe I'll come back as a bird. That'd be swell."

Like all locals these two were completely out of their mind, but at least they had fresh butter I could barter for. Back in Greece, if our world was ending, we wouldn't have any of this crazy talk about it coming back. It'd stay ended, the way worlds are meant to. It's times like these I'm reminded that I'm so far from home.

But enough musing. Todd has gotten us hopelessly lost in this hills and I have to search for a way out. A crazy man has wandered into camp shouting: "Sigh and Shudder the east-fold! Lightning and death will envelope the quiet lands and the fens will be stained with the ichor of the invaders!"

He seems at least as rational as anyone else here. Perhaps he'll be able to give cogent directions to the end of the world.

[Sedna]

R'lyeh, Turn 56

It is possible that I have bitten off slightly more than I can comfortably swallow.

Arcoscephale continues to attack into my northern borders where Man still clings to life, avoiding my killer armies, and sneaking into my heartland and causing trouble. My war against Caelum generally goes well. We have made impressive gains along the eastern shore, and a battle was fought at the mighty fortress on the Isle of Locmar in which many birds armed with magic bows were vanquished, and their magic wonders fell into our hands. The ivy king who had been supporting that force lost his mind in the carnage, and that magical tree he carries now only serves as a club.

But then I had to attack Abysia too... just a few incursions into their border lands, but I'm sure they won't be forgiving. And then my master plan of taxing my people to death worked a little bit too quickly, and now my tax collectors are facing a devil of a time removing the slaves' gold teeth, and my beautiful piles of cash are vanishing (note to self: take over some lands which haven't been taxed heavily). And then Caelum launched their counter-attacks into my homeland. Ice devils amongst the forests of oak and kelp, and... in North Hengewood.

The purple. The purple.

It has come at last into this world to toy with us as a kitten idly bites wings off of flies. I had longed for, dreamed for, the day when I might first see it emerge in a shimmer of light through the void gate. And instead, I am awoken to a great disturbance and feel- see with my whole being as it flits halfway across the world, scatters defenses like chaff and destroys my beloved temple which so many slaves had died to raise unto me.

The foolish bird-folk do not, cannot know what they have brought into the world. Unleashed deep in my empire, they may think they are safe from the destructive urges. Yet as light creeps into even the dark places of the sea, so too its might will encompass and destroy the narrow confines of this earthly frame. Between it, and I, and the violence raging across the hinterlands, and the rising sea, and the storm... death comes as an end.

I am not worried. I am not overly concerned.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 56 ----

Todd got us hopelessly lost, of course. We must have passed that particular circle of jagged rocks three times before he sat down, glummly, by the side of the river. He muttered unhappily about the opacity of prophet-blood and the disagreeable tendancy for sheepskin to decay after only a few thousand years. He had not been moping for more than an hour when our scout ran into camp, breathless at the news that a large army was approaching. I had my sword out and was mustering the troops when a second scout arrived with the happy news that the army was ours. And sure enough, there was an excessively tall man leading the way, talking amiably with Tushar

I was relieved: so Tushar had prevailed upon Rod and his army to head south. ("But there is still our ancestral time-share by the lake to free," Rod had protested feebly, before Tushar hit upon the magic word "apocalypse" to lure him here.) The brothers firbolg had a joyous reunion: the only ones who can find any happiness in the grim succession of ever-bloodier battles. I asked Tushar what news he had heard while in the north.

"It's not good, Pandokos," he said. "R'lyeh had only recently overrun the lands on the other side of the great river, and there were many refugees in miserable hovels on this side. They all wanted another mountain range or two between them and the terror they had left."

I told him what I had learned of the battles far to the east, where Maude was fighting back huge R'lyehan armies, how Man was surely going to fall soon, and then the full force would be brought to bear on us. There were reports of attacks throughout Arcoscephale -- crazed soldiers of R'lyeh rising from nowhere and attacking, though the local patrols easily killed them all. And we knew there were large armies just south of us.

"Oh, I ran into someone who knew you," said Tushar. "Name of Seleucus, sound familiar?" How could it not? He had been with Alexandros' main force, when we were left behind. By rights he should be back in Sparta now, with his wife and daughters... what was he still doing here? "Same as you, Pandokos: hiring himself out to the best-paying good cause." He had marched his hoplites the other way, toward the heart of R'lyeh land. It occurred to me that perhaps my troops and I hadn't been left behind: that not a single one of the brave lads who marched with Alexandros had left this land alive. I certainly won't...

Tushar's army camped by the river with us, and the next day we were joined by Balachandra, Andromache and the rest of the mystics we had left at the Jervellan Wall. "Well, we're all here now," said Rod cheerily. "Lead on, Todd." Todd looked around awkwardly, cleared his throat a little. "What, surely you know where we've going, after scouting it out for so long?" asked Rod. "Here, give me that scroll."

He looked at it and laughed. "South," he said. "The apocalypse has gone south for the winter."

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 57 ----

We are always fighting these days, and when we are not the wind cuts at us like knives as it howls across the frozen plains. I have not seen the sun in months; and I know that the stormclouds ever at my back are more than an especially harsh winter. But strangely, I find the dark gloom almost... reassuring. It is a constant reminder that it is not just I, but the whole world, that is spiraling into hell.

We were ambushed leaving the Elder Hills, en route to the large city of Upperna, where Limmy was reputed to be securing an outpost so my brave but tired troops could get some rest. The ambush was not large - a dozen ghouls, and we slew them all - but it came on the end of five days' hard march. Scouts had a large force of R'lyehans nearby, intent on retaking Upperna, and we were flying across the plains to head them off. Perhaps a third of my soldiers nursed serious wounds when we arrived at the city.

A light snow was falling, of course, but I barely noticed it. The city of Upperna smoked slightly from many smoldering fires. It switched hands several times during the Vanheim-Man war, then fell to R'lyeh, before Limmy convinced them to join our side. The old fool had clearly remembered my culinary tastes, for the farmers had all brought great quantities of butter along with their normal offering of food. Our great feast, which would have been the first proper meal in days, was cut short by the sighting of dark shapes advancing on the horizon. We grimly reformed our lines.

The wind picked up and blew flurries through the ranks, and I struggled to watch the approach of dozens of tall sea-colored shapes. As they got close, I realized that they were far taller than normal men, taller even than Rod and Todd. And then they began to scream. Blood ran out of the ears and noses of those unfortunate to be targeted, but there was nowhere on the field -- perhaps nowhere in the city -- that you could escape the sound, like the crashing of giant waves and the scream of wounded horses confined in the tiny space inside your head. The mystics and Golanish shamans were hit particularly hard; the fiends knew exactly who to target. Not far from me Tolma, a sorceress from the distant swamps, fell screaming in terror as her brains oozed out of her skull, and stared sightless at the flakes that began to cover her body.

Had there also been R'lyehan soldiers armed with spear and sword, the battle might have been lost; but most of their troops relied on that terrible scream. I felt great pride when not a single hypaspist or vinogher faltered in the charge across the plains, though some fell, skulls bleeding, before they reached the foe. The Illithids were cowards: it took only a short while for Tempest and the nascent blizzard to convince them to flee. I ran across the field with the men, intent on striking them down before the next volley of noise could split my skull, but they melted off the field before I could engage more than one. Their magician and priest were quickly killed; the leader of their ordinary troops surrendered. I do not trust him, and have placed guards with him at all time. And... I cannot prove it, but I am sure that it is his presence which caused all our precious butter to go sour.

It has been seven days since then, and my head is still ringing. I discovered an odd mark on my chest, after the battle: a jagged blue star, directly over my chest. I had not received a scratch in the battle, so I asked Andromache about it over dinner, but she ran off with a slight scream, and grabbed Balachandra. "This is not good, my friend," he said. "You have been marked." For what, I could have asked, but preferred not to know. We finished our butterless bread and soup in silence.

[Sedna]

R'lyeh, Turn 57

My map of the world is getting extremely hard to read. Part of that is the blood, entrails, and cocktail sauce that I keep spilling on it, but mostly it's just the tangled web of orders that is required to keep the invasion of Caelum going, reclaim the lands they attack with their flying units, skirmish with Abysia, and assault the Arcoscephalean armies. Originally I thought it would be a good idea to draw each month's new orders in the blood of a different general who had failed me, but it turns out they all mostly have the same color blood, so that doesn't help.

Thalassa would have had blue blood, but unfortunately she went and got herself killed fighting Arco way on the other side of the world, and they weren't thoughtful enough to send a vial my way. I'd summon her back from beyond the veil, but... eh... don't feel like it. Besides, the world is ending, and my water mages are working on this neat little spell to flood the world and cleanse the coastlands of these pesky humans. That should be awesome.

Many humans have quaint notions about the shape of their world. They believe it to be a 4-dimensional riemannian manifold embedded in 11 supersymmetric dimensions, perhaps on the surface of some sort of coiled brane. In reality, it's flat. But there are certain places where the cosmos leaks through into the world they know. I have found one such place, deep in the earth on the Isle of the Hundred. The hundred what? Who can say- but the caves are full of stars. This place has an apocalypse-y kind of feel to it. It is the end of the world- in the literal sense- where this plane of existence meets into the greater reality... blah blah blah blah blah. This place needs more branes.

From the way Pandokos has been pushing his armies across the plains, it's clear that the Sleepers have an exact notion of where the final battle will be. Still, I feel I need to take the measure of my foe- see this god who has appeared to challenge me. I'll make a quick flight out there, try to talk with him, and be back here, building impenetrable defenses and massing hordes of chaff to be swept away in a tide of destruction.