MP Game - Yarnspinners

[Sedna]

deccan said:
Heh, that's supposed to be a yarn?

It adequately describes what happened during my turn.

[Sedna]

Turn 10, R'lyeh.

The funniest thing is they never think they need a bodyguard, until suddenly it's -tht- with the daggers and a look of terminal surprise, and then the province is all ripe for the eating. Sometimes, of course, it's -swish-swish- and there's a startled looking purple cloak lying tattered on the ground, but there's always another one waiting to try their skill with the knife. Pretty much it's just one feast after another.

Stupid fishies, they always run away, and then you have to waste time collecting them, when you could be eating, isn't that the worst? Mr. Flibbles says that's the worst. That, and micrometeorites. I mean, what kind of rock wants to fall to the earth without even a teensy-weensy little crater?

...i was in the caverns the other day and there were all these people and i asked what they were doing and they said we are learning of the past days of glory for our people are so dumb they never say anything to me they just scuttle around like jellyfish no spine no tasty bones to crush although jellyfish are pretty good too give me teeth and jaws and biting and tearing and tentacled death anytime like this story i heard it made me happy so i will tell it to you so you can have happy dreams like the one with the cheese...


There once was a school of pirhannas
Who wanted to eat some sultanas
So they crawled onto land
And were et by a band
Of pescetarian bananas.


I think I'm going to go eat someone.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 10 ----

Last night, Thymbe woke shivering in my arms. In the dull, terrible pre-dawn light, she whispered that she had dreamt of death. I held her, and reassured her that it was just a nightmare, which could never hurt her.

This afternoon she took me aside:

"Pandokos..." she began, "Do you still believe in the old gods back home, now that you've seen this one in the flesh? Are the oracles gifted to see the future? Is Elysium just a foolish hope, or do we just end?"

One thing I've learnt in this country is that it's often best to just smile and continue the conversation as best you can when people start talking crazy. I resorted to Plan B: address a portion of the conversation that makes sense.

"I don't really think the oracles can predict the future," I confided. "I know you're a priestess, and believe in that stuff, but the poems are so cryptic that people just interpret them generously afterward."

I don't think she was really listening to me anyway, and my only reply was a thoughtful hum. She reached into her saddlebag, and pulled out a small, leather-bound book, improbably smelling strongly of butter.

"I found this at the library," she said shyly. "I guess the locals have decided... Pandokos, promise me that you'll live up to their expectations, that you'll set a good example for them. All their past gods have been so cruel to them, and they're such a good-hearted people. Promise me that you'll take care of him. Promise me..."

She was really getting worked up, so I said, "I promise" although it was all non-Greek to me. Silently she handed me the book: "The Collected Sayings of Pandokos the Prophet," with the extremely odd subtitle: "In his first incarnation."

Plan C is to pretend that you're suddenly very busy and exit the conversation with crazy-person as soon as you're sure they aren't going to stab you in the back. Grabbing the proffered book, I muttered some excuse and set about readying my troops to storm Godsgrave mountain.

---

[magnate]

Ok, points for turn 9 yarns: Arco 2, Ermor 1, R'lyeh 1

Scores after turn 9:
Abysia 14
Arco 18
Atlantis 2
Caelum 4
Ermor 17
Machaka 10
Man 10
Mictlan 6
R'lyeh 9
Vanheim 4

Glad to hear that people are still playing, even if they aren't writing every turn. Plenty of scope to resume yarns at any point.

Points for turn 10 yarns on Monday.

Best,

CC

[Alneyan]

A not-so great yarn, as I made the mistake of confusing "Save changes" with "Discard changes" when saving the first edition of that yarn.

Man - Turn 10:

“And by the shade of Avalon, I bless these woods, the Grove of Ilneoa.” The voice of Flacal, the Prophetess, had the eerie tone of the ones immersed in the trance. Her mind between the earthly world and these lands of Beyond, the Priestess communed with both her Goddess of the Tempest and the older powers of the Kingdom. The blood of the Fae-touched was still running strong in the veins of many of her Sisters, and traces of their heritage could be seen in the land. A ruined castle wall here, fragments of pottery in a cottage, cumbersome blades made of fabled cold iron; such were the presents of the Old Folk. Only in lore did their name remain, fading away as the ways of Man changed.

“Deep within the Grove are a haven from the outside world, where the peacefulness of the land allows you to reflect upon your own actions. Ilneoa cares little for empty boasts and idle claims; only acts do matter, for they reveal the contents of your hearth. A place to meditate in harmony with Earth; such is the gift of Ilneoa.” Slowly Flacal left the divine world behind her, awakening in the grove she had blessed. It was filled with the typical yew trees of Man, dotted by the Last crimson leaves of autumn. Only the occasional flight of birds and the rustle of wind in the trees disturbed the peacefulness of the woods; a place to meditate away from the world.

Such a bucolic land, so different from the turmoil surrounding Ilneoa. A handful of knights in glittering armour stood before her, the Last defenders of the rebel Earl of Valogda. They were accompanied by their squires and overeager lads, a ill-suited army to stop her advance. Shielded in their pride and honour, they charged against her, lances twinkling in the sun. How graceful they were, until they broke away once her fury was unleashed. Ilneoa herself landed in their midst, her hands spreading thunder to all foolish enough to stand close to her. The few knights not having taken leave of their senses attempted to flee; too late for them. Not one warrior left the battlefield alive.

A satisfactory victory, but the Earl himself was nowhere to be found. Surely one of her soldiers had too free a tongue over a mug of ale, or a merchant's purse had grown fatter overnight. The display of her might should act as a reminder of what happens to rebels and traitors alike; who would dare to challenge such a powerful being as herself? And once the Earl had fallen in her custody, another example would be made, for the common good.

Her Tempest was rising in the east, with both her own arm striking down her foes, and her armies securing the borders of the Realm. The days when Avalon would remain a mere observer of the world were gone; only supremacy will be adequate for her purposes.

[Tuidjy]

Caelum is not dead... It's just that I ran out of time/inspiration. But I
will keep playing.

[Sedna]

Turn 11, R'lyeh

At Last a decent meal. As I sucked life from the faces of the hastily gathered militia who had gathered in the fog, I felt my own mind returning. I have wandered, I fear, these past months, through the dark paths of madness and semi-awareness. Now I am well again, and I have a foothold above the waves. I shall fortify one of these sunlit shores, but perhaps not this one. It still reeks of humans.

To my west, there are hordes of undead, waiting to be dead again. They will not provide as full a meal as these militia, but 'tis enough. Perhaps I can find some sites of dark magic power, pitiful in comparison to my own, but still... I will move to take one, and send my lackeys against the other. There, ah, it pains me to think on it, but we were rebuffed by the shuffling hordes in our first attempt, and my warriors fled. They will not fail again.

My scouts wander the waterways throughout the world, bringing me tidings of distant things. Fire and Death cling to my shores, but I have seen the pitiful remnants of the Atlantian empire in the shallow seas. They seek a place for themselves in the world—it is under my thrall.

Far to the east, my scout has chanced upon a strong race of humans who, in their foolishness, appear to worship trees and the air. Perhaps I will sit in this shallow lake and watch their efforts, for they are numerous.

Cthugul sends word that his summoning has been successful again. Monsters, never before seen in this world, will soon be running amok, terrorizing these mortals in broad daylight rather than confined to the world of dreams.

[Karacan]

Ermor: Turn 11

The citizens of the haven of Bandar-Kadek apparently are very unruly. A minor uprising has destroyed some valuable equipment and depleted my treasury with repairs. This will not be tolerated. I will increase my efforts to turn them to the blissful oblivion already shared by their brothers, there will be no more dissent.

I assume that the closeness to the fiery wastelands is the reason for their unruliness. On this, I will ponder. First, however, other tasks take priority. I finally have the manpower to allow Simith, first of my Elders, to cease his endless searching through tomes to magically search for sites of power and death. It is about time, the land around my tomb seems to be depleted of magic. This I intend to change.

Angmar's army is ready again. The priest accompanying them has brought true existance to a sufficent number of farmers again, swelling the ranks a hundredfold. He is to move slowly towards a site of immense magical power and securing it. While I do not yet know what the site's power is exactly, I have no doubt that it will be of great use to me.

For I am Noth, and I shall wield the true power.

[Karacan]

Okay, I am off for the Spiel 2004 and back next week. Cainehill will take over my turns for me, though I'll catch up with the Yarns when I am back. Oh, and a big welcome to the newlings here. Great writing, Sedna!

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 11 ----

I am an image in stone.

There was a storm in the mountains, and we had wandered for several days. I think we were all hoping someone else would suggest we turn around, explain to the village elders back home that we just couldn't find the maurauders, try again next spring? Our orders had been to secure the mountain from a tiny band of masons and a knight-major, or so said the runner who had heard it from another man who had spoken with our scout in these parts, only half a year ago.

"Perhaps they have already frozen to death," I heard one man mutter to another, through chattering lips. But no one breathed a word of returning home.

A nightmare put me here

Thymbre was speaking while gazing on the mountainside with an inscrutable look, and I could barely hear her voice, though the wind had died down. "The rocks the smell of death..." Comprehension dawned on her face, a small flicker of terror rose in her eyes, and set. "You must turn everyone back now." But it was too late. There was a shout from the forward ranks. They had been spotted.

where I am forever, the symbol of eternal remembrance

After that, it is a slow blur. The scout report was wrong. Over a score of horseman ("horsewomen", Thymbre corrected me) bore down on us, and many foot soldiers, and it was clear that we had erred badly. Our new recruits fell, and my hoplites and silver shields fell, and our line broke as we raced madly back toward rough terrain where even their spectrally thin and supernaturally fast horses could not follow us. As we were nearly to safety, Thymbre turned to me. "There are so many stranger beings than these, Pandokos, it will take all your skepticism to keep them all at bay. I think you will soon see them for what they really are. But now I think it is just about time..."

I sensed it, rather than saw it - as if from nowhere it came - and the image of that moment is now etched in blood on my eyelids.

Shine, as long as you live; do not be sad.

I do not know how we carried her body back through the mountains, tired and broken as we were. I do not know where we found the stone to mark her grave, or many other things these past days. I only know that she is gone.

Cause life is surely too short

She knew. She knew, and I thought she was babbling, but she was only trying to tell me, and yet she went anyways, willingly. And of all the things in this world, I will never see her again.

and time demands its toll.


---