MP Game - Yarnspinners

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 38 ----

The castle's defenders must have realized that the gate would soon give way; the few starving survivors rushed out and flung themselves on our spear-points to end their misery. Huehueteotl, the prophet, managed to escape, but there's really nowhere for him to hide. We took possession of the fortress and wandered through numerous temples, freeing the slaves, and washing the blood-stained stones. After working through the first three temples I had to get to somewhere without the stench of blood, and I let Wlde lead the clean-up crew into the last, and largest one: the high temple of the sun.

The other triplets send word from the Sinking Land that Limmy appeared to defeat the defending army. Belief in his return is widespread, even among my own troops, and Odysseus and I agree that we will soon have to have a meeting with this pretender. It's not that a little blind faith is so bad for the men (and vine-things and horned serpents). It's just that I would feel better knowing a little more about this warrior's intentions.

Luckily, this mission coincides nicely with my other task: hunting down the crone, Sethra, where she hides in the vast Horslund Forest to the south of this fortress. The mystics will stay here. They plan to rededicate one of the minor temples to the memory of Amshula, and although they remain uncomfortable sitting in the ribcage chairs in the keep's library, I know it is only a matter of time before the sheer number books of magic there will overcome any lingering distaste they may feel about turning pages made of human flesh.

Andromache will come with me. Many of the men who defected to our cause are still wounded, and require her care.

Rumors grow that the rest of the world is at war. I know that the Vanheim to our west are engaged in a mighty battle against the Kingdom of Man. I have exchanged letters with both those leaders, but refuse to get drawn into their squabble. There is another brief note from the Sinking Land to say that the strange creatures of R'lyeh have settled in the lake beside the castle. As we have no use for the lake, and they seem to shun the land, I see no reason why we should not get along. But they are very odd... Still, I will send a messenger to them, offering them peace. Even more distant and fantastical rumors arrive daily. I hardly know which ones to credit. If you believe everything, the residents of the lost island of Atlantis are just about to be wiped out by magma men and these same R'lyeh creatures, and some dark empire of undead is slowly falling to bird-men who wield power over lightning. Like I said, it is hard to know what to believe is really going on.
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[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 39 ----

Sethra's reign of terror is ended. We tracked her down to a small copse. Her once mighty army had dwindled to a score of slaves, warriors, and archers. Their slings and short bows bounced harmlessly off the phalanx, which plowed into their lines and tossed them aside. Sethra, at the front, was also hurling stones, but again with no affect, and I watched her get sliced open and her body be trampled into the ground.

I should mention that Limmy managed to show up to this battle also, although since it is easily two month's march through the forest from the Sinking Land, I can only conclude that the triplets were wrong in their belief that he was there just two weeks ago. And yes... I believe it really is Limmy. He's still oddly blue, and he sounds just the same, and he knows me very well — knows the adventures and disasters we shared so long ago in the mountains. As for the rumors that he was dead? Limmy, crazy local that he is, insists that reincarnation is the most natural thing in the world, and that he was merely fortunate to come back again in his same form, and not a pig.

I think a more likely explanation is to be found in the scars he carries all over his body. Andromache, who examined him after the battle, said he had a particularly ugly chest wound which had been festering for quite some time. The trauma of so many battles, and the infection in his chest have probably combined to make him a little more crazy than normal, to the point where he has believed the own rumors of his death. Still, crazy man with delusions of godhood or not, it's good to see him again.

The empire of Mictlan is nearly vanquished. A lone mercenary captain and his single sidekick have also been hired by Mictlan to cause trouble in the south. I trust that even the nearly incompetent triplets can deal with two bandits. Huehueteotl is apparently attempting to storm the walls north of here all by his lonesome. The mystics, cowards that they are, have demanded that I come deal with this grave threat, and so I turn north again.

Andromache insists that Limmy is in no shape to go anywhere, and will be attending to him and the rest of the wounded here. I am not worried about leaving them. Now that the shadow of Sethra is lifting, these woods are quite peaceful. The whole world feels like a much happier place: it is as if all our pains and troubles are being drawn away from us and the freed inhabitants of this land. I feel more fit and relaxed than I have in ages. Is this what victory is really like? Just last month I remember worrying that conquering these lands would just mean more work; that every day we would uncover new horrors lurking in forgotten corners, and even that we might become corrupted by the lingering evil here. Now I worry no more.
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[Sedna]

R'lyeh, Turn 38

Memo: Attn Glorious All-Powerful First Citizen of the Benevolent People's Republic of R'lyeh (GAPFC-BPRR) Xlikloth

As per instructions, another overwhelming victory for the people in Skyfall Lake. Sent many tritons to re-education camps on the shores. Also, twenty more Martyrs of the Purple this battle; sent official award, medal, fruit-baskets, largest available body part(s) to families. Lands nearby all dead, no living soul walking the earth seen for miles. Heading back because of creepy cold feeling running down the backs of our spines. Plan to advance the Glorious People's Rebellion on other fronts.

Xi Mi, Comrade-in-arms

* * *

Cthugul knew he was close. He could smell it: like overripe octarines. He was pleased, because C'thulu would be pleased. He reached out with his mind to entice the Great Purple closer. But when it was still just beyond his grasp, his concentration was broken by the thundering sound of two greater othernesses frolicking in the void. The Great One disappeared. Cthugul sighed, and turned his mind toward the intruders. He was very patient. The purple would come when it came.

[Sedna]

R'lyeh, Turn 39


"ATTN: Front Line", read Ahu'yhuala, looking up from his sand castle. "Keep up the good work!! Your efforts are very valuable to us in the fight against [blank].." Here he paused, squinted. The words "Atlantis", "Tritons", "Evil soul-sucking void lords", "Man", and "All those who oppose us" were all scrawled in the blank, though some of them appeared to be crossed out. "Our glorious struggle demands constant vigilance and sacrifice," he continued. He glanced at his men. B Squadron appeared to have copied his drip-arch model, and was taking advantage of his inattention to the sand to add elaborate shell hatching to their castle turrets.

He skimmed the rest of the message. "Be assured that the GAPFC-BPRR has important plans for your brave warriors/ magicians/ chefs (choose all that apply). Stand by for urgent communiques to follow." It was signed "X", like all the others. Ahu'yhuala placed the memo down, and began work on a double-layered tunnel system. He could not let A Squadron down. They would have the best sand castle ever. He figured he had a good two, three months before X got around to sending him actual orders. There was no time to waste.

[magnate]

Well, it looks like the game is pretty interesting, with several races still in contention.

The yarns, though, are far less hotly contested, with Arco way out in front and only R'lyeh with any hope of catching.

Are you all still interested in scores for the yarns? I'm happy to keep going if you are, but it seems to me like the yarns and the game have become separate competitions.

CC

[puffyn]

Hi Magnate,

As I recall, the original victory conditions for the game involved the points for the yarns plus some points for the top three people in all score graphs except army size. I realize of course that I have the most to benefit from these rules remaining the same (though as you can see Arco is doing fairly middling in most score graphs). At this point, I hope everyone has realized that I'm really just having fun writing the yarns, and any points that result are a pure bonus.

-Puffyn

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 40 ----

... and when Pandokos wrote to the most wise Elders to tell them of the joyous defeat of the evil Mictlanians, he grumbled, saying, "By Zeus, it takes longer to sign my name than it does to write 'Blood suckers dead. War over'." But Nihar, who is related to Balachandra, the First of the Wise, on his mother's side, through her second cousin ... [passage elided] ..., read what he had signed, and he noted that although it was true that he was "Pandokos, Acting Stategos of Oast Hills, the Sinking Lands, North & South Horslund Forest, and various sundry swamps, as well as all lands formerly in Sethra's thrall," there were also some tactless omissions. But Pandokos, whose bravery in battle is not matched by his consideration for the feelings of the loyal inhabitants of Aeros River, the Skeldes, and Godsgrave Pass, said some unkind words and muttered, "I've got to come up with a shorter name..."

From The Collected Sayings of Pandokos the Prophet, in his second incarnation

Today, we are at peace. No more slave raids mar the beauty of this land, no more young girls are put to the knife, no more unnatural creatures terrorize the people. It ended, appropriately, with the death of Hueheuteotl, who had spent a month encamped outside the Mictlan capital, attended by a lone archer. The mystics, as is typical, declared it was "not worth their time" to put down their books for five minutes and slay this lunatic, so only Odysseus and an old priest came out to meet me when I arrived with the army. It was clear from the first that the archer wanted to abandon this mad siege and surrender, but his so-called prophet quickly smote him dead when he tried to flee. Five of my hypaspists also fell before we ran him through. They were given burials fitting for any hero.

Since then, it has been nothing but joyous celebration in the former capitol (except for Balachandra, who follows me around asking when Andromache is expected to return). Tens of thousands of people died in just the last five years, and the survivors are jubilant (and a little shocked) that the old priests are gone. All of the old temples have been torn down, though I hear rumors that, against my orders, some of the lesser priests and officials who know the workings of the royal treasure vaults have been kept on. But though there is much dancing in the streets all through the warm summer nights, there are, as yet, few takers for the new religious faith being offered them. The least offensive of the old temples, the temple of the moon, has been properly cleansed and rededicated to Artemis, but attendance remains low. I suspect it may take a little while for them to feel able to trust the gods again, but concede to Thymbre our old argument about reason and religion: perhaps a little belief that the future will be better is not so very bad.

Certainly, the city-dwellers are aping some of the more bizarre customs of my local troops, such as smearing themselves with butter and composing ridiculous rhymes on the subject of churned dairy products. They also shout out "Argasi, Argasi" every time I walk through the streets, which I was told by Balachandra was the local word for our Greek troops. Perhaps they have been speaking with some of our brave lads from Arkadia; though by the way Balachandra smiled when he told me this I rather suspect it has a different meaning in his dialect. He refuses to elaborate.

It made me think, though, that we need something to tie our far-flung cities together. The village of Oast Hills may still be paying for our army's upkeep, but out here the name rolls off the tongue as "Waste Hells", which seems to annoy the mystics. There are also a few people who grumble about us as invaders, and more than a few who worry that they are now simple vassals to a far-off kingdom. So I have come up with a new name, that combines the "Argasi" with the local word for "people", "sifaly", or Arcoscephale, after appropriate Hellenification. It is under that name that we shall forge a nation. And let us hope that it will be a land of peace and prosperity and lots of butter.
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