MP Game - Yarnspinners

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 21 ----

We were overtaken by a messenger about a mile outside of the warrior-women's village. (It is known as the Sinking Land, though whether in reference to the ankle-deep mud everywhere or to the sinking feeling one gets in one's stomach on realizing that one will be spending time here, I do not know.) The lad, perhaps a dozen years old, had clearly run a long way through these swamps, which is no mean feat. I offered to let him ride the rest of the way into town on one of our horses, but he refused. "There's been a battle, a glorious victory, and I must tell the Lady Amshula." Lady? I thought. "But wait.. what battle?" Outside of the small island we had been ordered to conquer (before we were ordered not to conquer it), there wasn't a hostile province for many leagues, and the kid, though tired, was no Phaedippas.

"It was magnificent," he said, brightening. I have observed a strong correlation between how broadly a local smiles, and how outrageous the next words out of his mouth are, and this trait is evidently acquired quite young. "I was laying down logs for our cows, so that they would track less of the precious mud into the house, when I heard a sound, like a dozen fish flying through the autumn leaves," he began, reciting the story he had probably spent hours crafting into incoherence. "So I tied an onion to my belt, and I ran into the village, and saw the one of the color of sloe, as if on the backs of two pigeons, and he was smiting our oppressors, and my people sang out with joy, and we ran for our swords and churning sticks to join in. The important thing is that I was wearing an onion on my belt..."

Seeing as how there was no hope of getting a Version without pigeons and flying fish, I told him that perhaps he should just wait until he was in town, and therefore only have to tell his whole story once, at which point he immediately ran off again. "I wonder if he saw Hermes?" said Andromache, excitedly. "He has wings on his feet."

"What makes you think he saw a god?" I asked, though the locals seem to see gods everywhere. "Because," she explained, "blue is a divine color."

I laid aside a few questions that sprang to mind, such as Why would Hermes be blue?, and decided to stop asking questions for fear that I would receive yet more nonsensical answers. There was only one blue-tinted village liberator in these parts, and he was, mercifully, dead. I'd heard there had been a large funeral pyre after they had finally conquered Skeldmarsh, which some of the soldiers I was traveling with had even been at. And even if those reports were completely false (always a strong possibility), there was still no earthly way anyone could have travelled through the vast tracts of swamp more quickly than Balachandra and the troops he led, and they had seen nothing in the way of blue pigeon-footed individuals. This is what comes of settling swamps, I thought. Hallucinations and madness...

When I got into the village, I noticed that Amshula had decided a proper fortification requires twenty spindly little towers for every arm's span of wall. Since this quickly used up all of the available stone, there were large gaps in the walls, and no one paid any heed to which were supposed to have gates on them. I was searching for something suitably caustic to say when Divikar rushed up. "I have just had word that we must leave tomorrow, to fight in the east," he said. "They say that skeletons ride there, and nobody will live in their land."

Skeletons. Thmybre. For some reason I turned to The Collected Sayings of Pandokos the Prophet:

And Lo, Pandokos, who had wandered many moons in the southern marshes, met death in the east, but was unafraid. He recalled the words of banishment uttered by Navnit at the mountain pass, and vowed to study them well, and memorize this incantation so that he should not join the dead, but rather continue to protect this valuable book, and provide witty sayings for it to print...

I don't know why I bother reading this book. It's clearly more a work of fiction than an accurate account of my "sayings", and I've never met anyone called Navnit. There are men to organize into formations for battle.

---

[deccan]

Thanks for the dramatis personae, Puffyn, it's a nice touch. Keep up the good work!

[Sedna]

Turn 21, R'lyeh

I do appreciate my peoples' love. It's touching to see hordes of young people picking up sticks and kitchen knives, worshiping the darkness, and skipping to join my army. Unfortunately, in the part of my kingdom where this has been prevalent of late I rely on human generals to forward my cause, and they ignore my requests to stop feeding the punks—which costs a lot of money. I have two options. The first is to find the mythical "World's Largest Turnip" and make turnip soup for everyone. The second is to send them to fight Folke, the vampire count. It's the strangest thing. My human commanders have no problem sending young persons-of-militia to certain blood-sucking awful death, but they refuse to withhold food from them. I'm not sure I like this. Perhaps I'll order all the commanders to lead from the front of the battle lines. That way I'll be rid of them too.

My fort in the Lake (I think of it as my summer cottage) is finished. I'll just clear the shoreline of some more pesky human villages and then I'll have a cozy little spot with gorgeous panoramas. If only I had a Mrs. soul-sucking-dreaming-mad-elder-god-bent-on-destroying-the-world. Winter really is the time for love. I pressed a young maiden into research duty to keep Sammy company, but apparently she's the sort of magical researcher who keeps skulls and dead animals in her desk, and Sammy was scared of her. So I got him another (human lives are cheap change to order and dispose of at my will), but this one's too fiery for poor, timid, contemplative Sammy. Ah well, third time's the charm I suppose. Eventually, I'm sure Sammy will appreciate his harem in aggregate, even if he doesn't like any of them in particular. This is important, since Farol is going off to die fight against Folke, and who else will gently guide Sammy back to his desk and mysteriously melted chains which keep him safe from the monsters in his closet?

The center of the world is an interesting place these days. My scouts, wandering on secret paths beneath the waves, report that great empires are moving and may struggle soon. Altantians of course, but also the men who love nature and fire, the sickening death, and strange winged creatures. The world is so full of marvelous things. I think I should be happy as king.

If I am to descend into the seas again, I would do well to acquire some immunity to poison. There are a great number of tritons down there, and although I love their taste, their nasty spears make me sick. For now I will rely on the garrison which recently finished the fort to rid the waves of their kind. But soon, soon... I've been above the water for nearly two full years now, and I long to return to the darkness, the depths.

[CuriousCat]

Machaka: Turn 21

Spirits were high as the army marched into battle. There was the feeling that as long as the King was with them, the warriors were invincible. Karo even managed to put his worries about the high priests out of his mind as he once again left the King without an escort to fight the battle.

Cetewayo prepared for battle. He was anxious. He had to continue winning, increasing the size of the nation. Winning battles also won him adulation and heart felt approval from his soldiers. The soldiers' approval would spread to their friends and families and thus throughout the country. The high priests would have to learn that HE was the god in this equation and that they served him. It would not be an easy transition. The priests enjoyed the power they wielded. They would not give it up easily. Of course, he didn't want all of the priesthood to be out of power. Indeed, he would need most of the priesthood to convey his wishes to the populace. However, the high priests of each of the priestly orders would have to sacrifice a bit of power... hmmm... interesting word, "sacrifice".

The battle began. This battle promised to be more difficult than the Last. Instead of lightly armored footmen the enemy here was heavily armored infantry and even more heavily armored knights. There was another of the foolish priests who served no god. The archers fired great flights of arrows into the enemy infantry and scored quite a few hits. Meanwhile the knights engaged the Machakan hoplites. The battle grew quite bloody and some hoplites fell. Just as things began to look grim Cetewayo joined the battle. He began slicing into the knights' flank. After a great deal of butchery and blood the enemy turned and fled. The men were in a frenzy and chased the fleeing army down and slaughtered them to a man.

Cetewayo was happy. His plans were beginning to bear fruit. However, the army had suffered significant losses in this battle. Could he risk fighting another so soon?

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 22 ----

The sun rose this morning. I sit in my tent, long after the sun has set. My candle will soon burn out, and still I am trying to write sense. Still trying to figure it out. Still trying to find the words that might forestall the death of all my veteran men and the locals who employ us.

The sun rose this morning, and my butter was missing again. We had made camp outside of a tiny village in Vorgunmarsh (the entire region has only a few hundred inhabitants), and stayed up too late listening to their ghost stories about the dead riders who come to steal the souls of men so that they are never reborn in the eternal cycle these folks believe in. A year ago I would not have credited these tall tales, but since then I have come to understand that every tale has some grain of truth.

The sun rose this morning, and the village was gone. In its place was a silent horde of undead on skeleton horses. We rushed to battle formations: silver shields and hoplites in the center, horses on the flank. Long we stood in the chill morning air, and stared at death. Without a warning, without a sound, they charged and I saw it all again: the charge, the faltering of our men, the sudden death of my world. Something snapped. I cried to Apollo, god of the sun, god of light. I cursed Hades and the underworld for taking my love and demanded vengeance for his fallen servant.

The sun rose this morning, like it does every morning, but then it did something it had never done before. The sky grew dark, except for a single ray of sun light, which burnt one skeleton until oblivion. I had no time to wonder at this, for Andromache was shouting some words I heard Thymbre use, once, at that other battle. And suddenly... though I cannot recall them now, I knew them, and shouted them as well. And at each cry we saw some of them disappear, vanish. Only a few reached our lines. A lucky thrust skewered Divikar, and then our cavalry was at their rear, and out line held in the front. Normal sounds returned to the world, and all sign of battle was gone from the field, save for a few dead of our men.

The sun rose this morning, but as if cursing us now in this hour, it disappeared behind a thousand arrows. Knowing that death had not yet despaired of taking us that day, we turned toward the archers and charged again. It was then that my day got really strange. I saw amongst the archers a blue giant. He kicked, and archer bits flew everywhere, and bombardment of my troops stopped as they turned to focus on him. I urged our men onwards. I saw the giant fall with a thousand arrows sticking in him just before the first troops reached his side. I realized with a sickening feeling that the indomitable phalanx was plowing into lightly armored men not undead, or lizards, or even bandits, but upstanding men with fair faces and bright uniforms, who stood valiantly and unafraid, although they wore no armor for close fighting. Many of them, keeping together and helping their wounded, escaped to the safety of the nearby woods.

The sun rose this morning, and now its rays shown upon a ground littered with bodies. As we searched for the wounded to try to help those who we could, and speed the hopeless on their way with a coin for the boat-man, Andromache and I uncovered some odd objects. I picked up a short sword which weighed almost nothing, but she uncovered a dagger with a snake (a real, live snake) coiled around it's blade, and a pair of boots, which were clearly designed to be imitations of the boots of Hermes. But when she put them on, she flew above the battlefield, shouting like a giddy school girl, "Whee! Hey, everyone look at me, I'm flying! I'm flying!" Then her snake dagger got caught in her impractical priestess robes and she tumbled to the ground in a heap.

The sun rose this morning, and that is now the only thing in the world I am really sure of. The locals claim that the giant, blue-armed thing was actually Limmy, brought back from the dead (though I feel I am missing some nuances of their strange beliefs about death). There was no body, and we had all been under much stress, so a hallucination seems more likely, but then I cannot explain the odd items we found. We tried to heal a few of the archers, but all passed away before nightfall. One spoke the local language a little, and through multiple translations I realized that they were troops in the employ of the empire of Man, which distant scout reports agree is the largest power in this part of the world. I must write to their leaders as soon as possible. My villagers cannot afford to have a war started with so mighty a people because of such a silly accident.

The sun rose this morning. I hope that it will again tomorrow, and that it will look with more favor upon me, and my small band, so far from home, in a land so mad.

---

[Sedna]

Turn 22, R'lyeh

God, it's been really dull lately. I never thought I'd get bored of sucking the brains out of terrified, lightly armed peasantry, but the thrill just isn't there, y'know? A deity's got to eat, but they don't say variety is the spice of death for nothing. Is it too much to ask that the light infantry hereabouts slather themselves in tasty sauces before heading out to battle? Once in the Orion sector I devoured the inhabitants of a small moon whose war paint tasted of horseradish and onions - that's the sort of initiative and creative thinking I wish more people on this world would come up with. (Though perhaps it also explains why none of the soul-sucking-dreaming-mad-elder-goddesses-bent-on-destroying-the-world would have anything to do with me...)

My minions have been so boring. What do I care that they crushed another bunch of weak fish without losing a slave? Sammy keeps whining at me that this third girl I encouraged to take up the life schoLastic dresses all in black and writes depressive poetry all the time. The most exciting thing to happen was when Cthugul impressed some formless spawn he found floating his bathtub into my service. One of my star children wrote to me all excited about seeing a big rock and getting lost in a maze, and it just made me feel depressed. I seem to recall crushing everyone who stood in my path to be a bit more exciting than this...

There is one bright spot in my drab existence, which is this forum that I joined recently, the Illustrious Lords and Ladies Waging Incredibly Nasty Total Extermination of Races. I don't go to the dinner parties much, since there's more "I say, old sport, jolly good fight you put up there, better luck next incarnation" than I can put up with, and it is impolite to suck the brains out of fellow Illustrians. But they put out a good newsletter, and some of my fellow powers-that-be write the most amusing accounts of the travails of godhood. None of them are as awesomely incredible as me, but who can pass up a good incompetent-minion-who-nearly-ruined-everything story? And sometimes you can pick up useful tips on ways to strip subordinates of their will to oppose you. ("Wizard W"... pure genius...) It's also a good way to curry favor with other would-be gods, so that they don't attack you before you're ready to fully annihilate them. I was thinking about this the other day, and my mind kept returning to this delicious yellow-curry that my palace chef came up with, with fresh basil and butter-drenched clams. (Mmm-mmm. I have got to get back to a place with proper kitchen facilities...) And I thought, just because I will one day crush them all is no reason not to share this wonderful recipe with some of my new friends who amuse me ever so with their little tales. At least with the weak ones who are unlikely to be able to turn on me anytime soon. This one fellow keeps going on about butter, I'm sure he'd appreciate some culinary tips. And that other chap has been after me for my steak sauce ever since we Last talked...

[Sedna]

Turn 23, R'lyeh

My northern army has run into a spot of trouble. They had been kicking around this shallow, brackish bay. Scouts reported that the next province over was a beautifully deep, cold, sound, held by some more wimpy tritons. When they arrived, the shoals were choked with the dead bodies of Triton warriors, males, females, and spawn. Searching in the deep canyons turned up piles of Icyhtyid steaks. Such aggression against peaceful dwellers of the deep is my right alone, and we soon found the culprits, a horde of those annoying coral guards Atlantis normally has. We slew them from a distance, mind-bLasting them into the abyss.

There were such high-spirits amongst my killers after the battle. But I told them, no, I said, don't go attack Atlantis. Go north against the Ichtyids there, and bring me back some sashimi. I don't know if my prophet will listen though. He has a mind of his own. Unlike most of my sturdy slave troopers.

Count Folke died. That's a good thing — but the dratted militias didn't! My anger shall surely split the world! Oh, sure, one or two of them will probably rise again, and another few fell to the pitchfork rabble, but many of them turned tail and fled at the first sign of battle. Even the ones who were able to overcome their fear of death by thinking about their fear of me are annoyingly still getting paid. I'll send the whole lot north toward some pesky mountain provinces which have eluded my rule thus far. I hope they will stick around long enough to die. If not, I shall have to laboriously lead them under the sea and then abandon them there to drown.

I have returned to beneath the waves and, in preparation for the fresh fish my troops promise me, have begun construction of a new kitchen with granite countertops, a professional range, and a walk in freezer. It is a true steal at 200 gold after I ate the contractor's first- through third- born. I'll stock the shelves well with magic ingredients too, in case any of my magic Users get hungry in the middle of the night and want a nice eye-of-newt sandwich.

[CuriousCat]

Machaka:Turn 22

The battle had gone well. However, the aftermath was less impressive. The territory was a wealthy one, crowned by it's name sake city. As the Spider Army entered to take what was rightly theirs arrows came from hidden locations. There were still those resisting the might of Machaka. Karo led the unit dispatched to deal with them. He found the site from which the arrows had been fired, but the perpetrator was long gone. Luckily he had skilled trackers. There were some who were as skilled at tracking in this urban environment as others were at tracking in the jungle. The locals found the sight of an odd looking little man with his "little pets" crawling over his body and in his hair disturbing at best and horrifyingly nightmarish at worst. Of course, they were not Machakan. They did not hold these little brothers in quite the same regard as one of the true people. In time the locals would see that eight legs could be quite valuable.

The little brothers performed well. They led Karo's unit to the resistance safe house. Unfortunately the resistance had plenty of warning. They prepared an ambush from the surrounding building and some booby traps that caught Karo and his men by surprise. The Machakans had won the battle, but Karo had been badly wounded. Two of his men had been killed outright. Karo berated himself. He should have anticipated such tactics and been ready. The healer had given him mixed news. Karo would live, however he might never regain use of his right arm. Without his arm, he would be retired from the army. How would he survive? How would he support his family? His life had been soldiering. He knew that he had the combination of physical ability, intelligence and savvy that could take him far in the army. He also thought that he had gained the notice of the King. Now it might all be gone. What would he do?

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 23 ----

Tense negotiations with the kingdom of Man have left us in control of Vorgunmarsh. They sent a small task force to check out the place and came to the sensible conclusion that it is probably the worst province in the entire world, and if we wanted to rule over the handful of scrawny inhabitants and scores of mosquitos, more power to us. The inhabitants provide us with pretty minimal resources (belts for our hoplites), but surprisingly it makes a difference.

We have also had first contact with a bizarre power known as R'lyeh. Apparently they live under water— like Plato's story of Atlantis— but also claim to be from another star. I presume they are just crazy. They provided us with a clam; perhaps it is a token of friendship? It must be a fish thing. I guess I'll carry it around in my saddle bags just in case an ambassador shows up and it turns out that the slimy gastropod was actually the leader's one true love. It better not stink up my butter.

Amshula's castle actually came together rather well. A bit drafty though. She's recruited a few of the local warrior women to help her ("To do what?" you may ask. You may indeed). I'm not sure how I feel about that. These are, after all, the same bloodthirsty old women who felt that it was appropriate to use innocent young girls in their twisted rituals. Still, Amshula promises that they are loyal to us now and will obey our rules about appropriate things to do with virgins.

Perhaps they have just been corrupted by our neighbors to the north. Everyday we get more refugees swelling our little encampment here. Mostly they are girls who have escaped from the vile priests (all men, who would have guessed?) who live on human blood. One of the priests from the temple of Apollo has raised a new temple here in honor of Athena; that should provide the refugees with a strong role model. Hopefully, if word can spread that some of the most powerful gods are female, the slaughter will abate. In my heart though, I know that we will probably be forced to go to war in order to bring justice to that land.

Am I turning into Alexander? One battle after another, each following of necessity from the Last? Will I end my days delusional, believing I am a god? Will I eventually lead my men into strange and terrible lands and abandon them there? Or, perhaps, if the world is round (as some of our philosophers back home believe), my never-ending conquests will eventually bring me back, Odysseus-like, to Pagasae, my home.

---

[CuriousCat]

Machaka Turn 23:

The men had enjoyed the respite from battle. A month on the sun drenched beaches of Dash Kaz'maal could brighten anyone's outlook. The peaceful sound of the waves, the baking heat of the sun and sand, and the cool refreshing wetness of the wind coming off of the water together cast a relaxing and renewing spell over the entire army. Of course, the entire month hadn't been spent basking in the sun. Some of the time had been spent tracking down the deluded trouble makers who were resisting their city joining the Machakan Empire. The units assigned to patrol were careful not to create too much collateral damage. The goal was to integrate these people into the greater empire, not to oppress and abuse them.

Cetewayo was pleased that he had managed to kill two birds with one stone. The army had recovered from their battle weariness and the populace had been somewhat subdued. The natives had also begun to become accustomed to the presence of the Machakan empire. A small garrison would remain behind to continue the Machakan military presence along with the Machakan bureaucracy which would continue to integrate this wealthy new city into the empire.

Now, however, it was time to get moving. It would not do for the men to become too comfortable. There were many lands that had yet to be claimed, the army would soon find more fighting. As Cetewayo prepared to give the orders to break camp there was a sudden commotion among the men who were sporting in the water's edge. They were charging out of the water. Behind them strode a nightmarish figure. It walked out of the water. Some of the men had retrieved weapons and began to approach it menacingly. It looked up and found Cetewayo in the crowd.

As he looked into the creature's eyes, Cetewayo recognized it. This was the trusted messenger of the Master of R'lyeh. Cetewayo quickly called the men back and allowed the creature to approach. It genuflected and grasped an amulet at it's throat making odd noises. "Hail the Great King Cetewayo!" a voice said in their heads. The surrounding crowd was beginning to get very uneasy. Cetewayo exerted the force of his personality to calm them. He knew that, for the time being at least, they had nothing to fear from the forces of R'lyeh. The creature continued, "A small token of esteem from my Master." Cetewayo was impressed with the medallion that was allowing for the conversation. He would have to order his magical researchers to produce something similar. The messenger held out his hand and in it was a beautiful shell. It was some sort of shell fish. Cetewayo would have assumed that it was some sort of ritual gift from the underwater folk. However, he noticed that the beautiful shell had an otherworld glow to his preternatural senses. Could this be a mythical Clam of Pearls? Indeed, Cetewayo was sure that it was. He conveyed his great appreciation to the messenger. With that, the messenger turned and strode directly into the waves.

Later Cetewayo bemusedly watched the men break the camp and prepare to move out. The little episode with the R'lyeh messenger was exactly what he needed to reestablish his position with the men. When word of the encounter got back to the high priests they would have to take at least a moment's pause.