PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2 (Running)

[djo]

No, no, no...you're being far too rational. We're all approximately playing the game, but we're not necessarily doing it as purely rational game-theoretic entities. I (at least) am making decisions based often on story purposes. If I were playing "rationally", the Vans would probably be visiting poor PashaDawg on my south border.

So people may settle for a lot less than what they've already taken! I mean, a carefully-crafted press release, an (insincere) apology (if it's in character), and a few gems given away, who knows what might happen?


And I meant to say something about the characters in battle, too. It's very cool to suddenly see the names you've been reading in the tales show up live and in person (in pixels?).

[quantum_mechani]

djo said:
No, no, no...you're being far too rational. We're all approximately playing the game, but we're not necessarily doing it as purely rational game-theoretic entities. I (at least) am making decisions based often on story purposes. If I were playing "rationally", the Vans would probably be visiting poor PashaDawg on my south border.

So people may settle for a lot less than what they've already taken! I mean, a carefully-crafted press release, an (insincere) apology (if it's in character), and a few gems given away, who knows what might happen?


And I meant to say something about the characters in battle, too. It's very cool to suddenly see the names you've been reading in the tales show up live and in person (in pixels?).

Well, I don't know about you, but my characters are very rational.

You really entered the war for thematic reasons? It seems the story with the ship could have just as easily applied to T'ien Ch'i...

Oh, and were those indie light infantry bought for thematic reasons? Because the Pythium commanders were laughing their heads off that those guys finally found a sucker to pay their outrageous prices.

[PashaDawg]

Hey! No invading my Tien Chi Shangri-La!!!

[djo]

quantum_mechani said:
You really entered the war for thematic reasons?

Well, er, not entirely...

Rationally, I figured I could get away with increasing a buffer zone between big scary Pythium and small peaceful Vanheim while Pythium was (hopefully) busy with more serious threats.

Thematically, I did want to dominate around the water. I've made that a theme in the yarns, the Vanheim/sailing thing. (For one of our many restarts, I had what is now Ulm's home, on the BIG lake; that would've been sweet...)

As for the light inf, well, it seemed like a good idea at the time (sometimes "not rational" can mean "stupid").

[djo]

(This news story has pictures on the wiki)

Students Turn Back Pythium

by E. John Smith

(Editor's note: the text and artwork for this story were censored by Vanheim military officials.)

In the last two months, I've witnessed an atrocity and a miracle.

Last month, commandos from Pythium attacked the province of #####, inflicting heavy casualties on the civilian population. I saw women and children being driven through the streets as their homes burned. The local university was attacked and its scholars scattered. I myself fled with a group of students to the neighboring province of ######, with the invader close on our heels.

But this month, it all changed. Led by ###### the ####, the students turned and stood their ground. Armed only with their own magical knowledge, and backed only by a few militia and a number of ##### ##### from the ####### ### ######## #####, these brave men and women stood against the grizzled veteran soldiers of the enemy.

The battle was long and hard-fought, uncertain until the final moments. Wizards traded spells. Soldier slew soldier. As Vanheim's last militia fell, it seemed as if nothing could stop the ethereal bodies of the Pythium invaders. But two students held firm, summoning phantasmal warrior after phantasmal warrior, ######## after ########, until, at last, the Pythium invaders were forced to retreat.

Today, the scholars are eager to return to their work, hoping to make yet another effort in the war with Pythium. Surely it will not be smaller than the effor they have already made. I have only seen one small part of this conflict, but if what I have witnessed is any guide, the brave hearts of the Vanheim people have nothing to fear from all the legions their enemy may throw at them.

[Sedna]

Ghost

The peasants of Towen shiver under a bitterly cold sky. The land is rich enough, but the local lord is the last independent prince between Marignon and Pythium, and he has no desire to let either power learn that he has been letting his peons get above their station. I earn a living killing nobles and stealing what I can. Perhaps this earns me a few points in the Good Book.

I awake to the blowing of clear trumpets and the straight columns of Pythium's legions. The full wealth of the depraved local prince has gone to equip a score of heavily armored knights. They clash across blighted farmland. Their chargers, fed on the grain denied starving people, do not falter. Their shields and lances come up and slam into the front lines of the legion... which hold. The knights are pulled down, the wealth of the land strewn broken across the frozen mud.

That night, as the Pythium army enters the gates of the city, I pull a cloak over my undead friend and slip inside also. I don't know why. I've seen military occupation before. The peasants have too; they hide their babies. I watch a squad of soldiers turned looters, rapers, pillagers, kick down the door to one hut and draw their swords...

One man in emerald armor grabs them by their belts and one-by-one tosses them over his shoulder, back into the street. He apologizes to the family huddled in fear, then takes the looters to the center of the city, reprimands them, and has them whipped in the flickering light. The city remains unlooted.

The man is Brutus, prophet of the Pythium Oracle.

I awake in the dead of night, back in the forest. That wretched pile of bones has picked itself up and is shambling toward the Pythium camp. I can't find the right words of deadel to make it stop. I follow it. Wouldn't do to have it killing people. The camp is utterly still, the sentries all asleep. The skeleton goes straight to one tent and raps on the doorpost with its knuckles, than falls into a dissembled pile. I approach, am I free at last?

The door opens, it is Brutus, open-handed.

"Yes, my lady?"

I cannot speak. His eyes move to my ear. A smile crosses his lips.

"Ah, it is that time. Well, you're frozen, please come in."

Inside, he pours himself a glass of mulled wine.

"Et tu?"

I shake my head, my eyes are fixed on the many open coffins.

"My friends," he says. "Men who I led many years. I have always sat one night with. But... tonight... The Oracle has told me; you are here to send me on as well."

I shake my head. A flicker of confusion passes his face. Then rasps issue from my mouth. The nearby coffin lurches and a form leaps on Brutus. Unarmed, he rips the body's head off, but a second undead throws itself at Brutus' knees while the first, sans head, slams fists into Brutus' face. More coffins empty and Brutus keeps ripping bits off them as I watch. The din is awful, why don't the guards come?

At last the dead have been torn into chunks too small to pose a threat. Brutus, winded, hideously bloodied, with a broken arm and clothes torn and bitten into tatters, gazes up at me with patient, gentle eyes. I stab him through the heart.

I wake on the forest floor. It is finally spring, and my heart leaps. Has the past dark winter melted into dreamland? But my hands are still red with his blood. His face still floats in front of my waking eye. I am still fortunes' fool. I am still a pawn of fate.

A clear trumpet and the straight columns of Pythium's legions are marching along the road I chose to sleep upon. I don't want to run anymore. Unbidden, dead forms spring from hidden graves under ash trees and three skeletons and I rush a full legion. The skeletons die in a hail of javelins, and I alone continue my headless charge-- yelling, pleading, daring the legion the kill me. I do not seek forgiveness from a forsaking God. I do not shout the name of the angel who has abandoned me. A javelin grows large in my vision.



Esclave

"Lord Wic, help me understand."

"There's no need for the 'Lord' nonsense away from the city. Besides, my dear Esclave, you're nearly as skilled with magick as I, and of the two of us, only you have consorted with angels."

"Just the one. And that is what I don't understand."

"Ah, so this is going to be a question about women." Wic smiled and stopped walking. He leant against a tree and stared off into the distance, casting little fire darts which melted holes in the snow. For a moment, I just watched his calm demeanor. We were marching to war - on the road past us trudged a mercenary band of archers - but Wic looked like he was on the way to a Midwinter feast.

"Does she love me?"

Wic pursed his lips. "I think so. She went to bat for you against the inquisition, and that take madness or love. Did you know the Inquisition has never pardoned anyone before?"

"By why did she order me to leave her? Why does she send me out to fight while she stays, studying the Compendium and talking long hours with the smiths?"

"That I cannot say. One must always be careful dealing with supernatural creatures. Their ways are not our ways. Their goals are often inscrutable."

For a moment I debated asking him about the insidious rumor I had hear- that Wic had made some sort of deal with the devils... but that was nonesense, and I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship.

A few days later I watched, a little shocked, as Wic gleefully mashed the black hawk into a bloody mess of feathers and muddy snow with his mace.

"Damn I hate those things." Then he smiled and drew a deep, satisfied breath. "Ah, it is good to be back out on the march. We'll have quite a feast tonight when those guards finish looting the city... Towen I believe they're calling it these days, though it's changed names many times while I've been archbishop of Wic. Maybe we can even liberate a few dancing girls to keep us company tonight."

I vaguely murmured something, averting my eyes from the bloody smear and trying to fight down my nausea and fear. The implacable Pythium legion still loomed in my mind. On and on they came through the arrows and fire. A swarm of black hawks surrounded us, and we flailed them off. When we looked up again, the legion had scattered the line of our infantry and killed the leaders of the mercs. It was only at the last moment, as the longbows were firing nearly point blank, that they broke.

Suddenly I shuddered. I came back from a long way.

"Esclave, are you alright?"

"I saw... a stone angel which turned to coal. It fell over into a pool and caught on fire. A dead man sat by it and roasted a lizard on an ashen stick."

Wic waited a moment, then clapped me heartily on the shoulder. "Esclave, my boy, I do believe you've just had a vision. Let's go plunder some ale and you can tell me all about it."

In the next weeks I searched for answers, as the peace of Carrofactum prevented the army from marching on. A guild of sages dwelt in Towen, and I sought them for advice on my visions and dreams. They advised me to seek the cave of passing time- I might find some answers there.

Wic took some time off profiting from the fall of Town to search with me. Night was falling on a chill spring day when suddenly the sky went black and a score of hawks descended directly on us. I tried to strike back, but they clawed at my eyes and I couldn't remember a good spell to cast. Above the thunder of wings I heard Wic's calm voice in-canting, and steel being drawn. I turned and ran into the nearby wood, hands over my head. Suddenly I was alone in utter darkness. I could see stars ahead. I cried out.

"Is there anyone there?"

I am.

"Who are you?"

You already know me.

I was pretty sure I did not, but was in no position to argue. "Are you the cave of lost time?"

No answer.

"Why am I seeing these signs?"

The oracle in Pythium is powerful. This close to its dominions, all those attuned to the stars see signs.

"What do they mean?"

What you make of them.

"That's no answer!"

It is.

As long as I had the ear of a cryptic advice-giver: "Why does Aftial do what she does? Does she love me? When will I see our son?"

When snow falls in the morning it is beautiful and clean. But it falls on dirt, and human feet mix them together. Finally, it only appears clean at night. But a new day may dawn and the snow will melt. And when it does, it will carry the dirt away too.

"Esclave!"

Wic was shaking me awake.

"Ah, good. You took quite a fall when those blighted birds attacked. You've been out for almost an hour. Here, I cooked you some black hawk. Have a thigh, it'll get you right again."


Muszinger
It will take me three months to reach the battle front. During that time, I will have to make crucial decisions for the kingdom without any one to advise me. Writing down the reports and orders may help.

2 months before Carrofactum:
First strike. Our lizard allies are wavering in their commitment. There are too many legionnaires in the towers on their borders. Our declaration of war should help draw those legions north so they'll be caught flat-footed when the lizards also strike. Sir Gawain and some mercs will head south from Camelot, while Raymond leads more knights onto the Plains of Eternal Peril. Wic and Polgrave will each lead an army due south for the main strikes.

1 month before Carrofactum:
Birds everywhere. Some foul enchantment to summon the things. Welsh, Ucrema and Tapanete have all been hit hard, but the province defenses held everywhere except the last. The prophet of Pythium has been killed by a servant under Aftial's direct control. His army, stranded, was driven out of Towen by Wic. Gawain and Polgrave have both advanced against strong province defense and many birds, but they have taken the plains with minimal losses. Vanheim has cast their lot in with us.

Carrofactum:
Peace for a month, though our faithless allies and enemies do not recognize this most holy time: Man has joined the fray with an animal attack on the eastern edge of Pythium. Closer to home, a Pythium force of nearly one hundred with powerful mage support is in Great Woods. I will summon all the men who can get there to the province of Towen. To reach there myself I must abandon my slow bodyguard, but the LORD will protect me. Aftial will join us there, and I will finally take command of the army and put a swift end to this false oracle and this war.

[Sedna]

See the wiki for pictures

Marignon proclaims a new saint, St. Onbec the Angry

Onbec began life as a simple spy in the service of Marignon. As the war with Pythium began, he provided crucial information to military leaders on the location of heathen forces, but upon entering the Forest of Saran, Onbec passed into legend. This little grove, on the very doorstep of the capitol city of Pythium, was a particular insult to God. A temple to the false prophet of Pythium was used to train foul druidic mages, and a graveyard there was regularly ransacked for the foul potency which can be extracted from the dead. When Onbec saw this, the righteous anger of the LORD came over him. He called on Aftial, goddess of courage, took up his broad sword and attacked the four guards at the temple.

As he approached, Onbec was hit by a rock, flung from a cowardly slinger. Despite this wound, which will leave him permanently weakened, Onbec was able to rout the entire force, killing two of the unbelievers, sending another fleeing, and capturing the leader. This craven centurion proved to be commander of all Pythium forces in the forest, and he quickly surrendered the entire province into the hands of Onbec. Not content to rest there, Onbec single-handedly tore down the false temple, digging up the very foundations and uttering removing this abomination.

When word of this miraculous victory reached Marignon, the Three of Three immediately decided to take the unusual step of canonizing Onbec while he yet lives, naming him St. Onbec the Angry, and making him patron saint of all spies and scouts. His sign shall be the simple board sword, and those who need strength may pray to God in his name. The Church attempted to recall him from the front lines, but St. Onbec has disappeared again into the wild, there to report on the motions of the heretics, and carry the anger of the LORD against His enemies.

[quantum_mechani]

Ah, poor overseer, now I shall never get my pearls!