PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2 (Running)

[PashaDawg]

Beware! You've awoken the Sleeping Tien Chi Dragon!

[Sedna]

Muszinger

Muszinger climbed the stair.

At the top, the pulpit where he would give his Carrofactum homily. In his pouch, a sealed letter from Afti-el to be opened at the end of the world, about half an hour from now when the great cathedral bells tolled midnight.

Muszinger was tired as he climbed. Nine years as head of the inquisition, and four of those during this last period of upheaval, which some heretic scribes called the Ascension Wars, reflecting various fools' recent claims to Godhood. The priests of Marignon knew better. God alone conquers. These tribulations were but preparing this drab world for the LORD's triumphant return.

'God', and it was both a prayer and a sigh. The end couldn't come soon enough. Muszinger was not as sure as when he'd started. Not as sure about the righteousness of the inquisition. He had tortured to death his last child only hours before, and good riddance to be done with that messy business. Tired, so tired.

Muszinger reached the pulpit and gazed out into the cavernous cathedral, filled with the Southern Army-- 'My army', thought Muszinger, 'My support through the Archbishop Marignon's grab for power'. They were all in battle garb of course, the knights' golden armor particularly stunning. The candles reflected off every metal weapon and bathed in every red-orange uniform. It looked like the sun itself was squeezed into the stone walls.

Muszinger began to speak.

He told the faithful the oldest story, the only story. Of a creator whose creation went awry, and of a God who came down to fix it. Then it was time for the traditional Carrofactum reading. 'How many times,' he asked himself, 'have you read or heard this passage?'

In the soft light he looked at the beautiful ornaments on the huge leather tome. His fingers turned easily to the passage...

"But the LORD did not leave us alone, nor did He foresake His people. For even as He ascended into the clouds He spoke one final time unto mortal ears and his command was seared upon their hearts and written on their minds: 'Keep though, the month of my coming sacred, and when you have remembered me two thousand times, there suddenly I shall be among you again.' "

And now Muszinger was reciting completely by heart:


I am the Alpha, the Iota, the Omega

I am the deathless roar of the pounding surf...

I am the still, small voice in the wilderness...

I am every new born infant's cry-- every last death rattle.

I am the Alone. One before numbers had meaning...

I am the indwelling soul of everyone...

I am beyond the other side of everything.

I am Faithful, and Pure and Holy.


Muszinger's voice trembled in awe as he finished the chant. Did he hear another voice taking us his words? Was that God, here now in the room, speaking alongside him? Muszinger's hand seemed to be glowing and slightly translucent, and it shook slightly as he closed the great book one last time.

"Tonight, we celebrate Carrofactum as we have celebrated it for two thousand years since the LORD's coming. Tonight the length of the world is measured in minutes and we shall all be lifted up, far beyond the sky. In the the twinkling of an eye we shall all be brought home, and the LORD will walk among us again, and wipe away every tear from our eye."

Muszinger paused. He felt some great magic rushing through the room. For a moment he thought... but, no... it was too soon. And Muszinger remembered that in the depths of the old broken tower Polgrave was struggling to bring a great magical being into the world: Catharsis, the spirit of cleansing fire. Afti-el had approved the project, but Muszinger was not easy. What need was there to bring some great warrior spirit into a world so much on the brink?

Turning back to the crowd, Muszinger spoke of the dead, the martyrs and saints who had sustained the Church through all the long dark years.

"Soon, very soon, we shall be reunited with them. What will that be like? To sit at the LORD's table with the greatest heroes of a forgotten age?"

A bell tolled

Suddenly it was all too much. This was it, the end.

A bell tolled.

Muszinger ripped open the letter in his pouch. What instructions did the LORD's right-hand servant have for him? Confused, Muszinger saw they were the attack plans he had laid out for fighting Marignon's enemies.

A bell tolled.

But, by the grace of God, an uneasy truce had been maintained for the last final months of the world, so... so...

A bell tolled.

Here was a note from Afti-el. But his hands were trembling too hard.

A bell tolled.

'You are immediately to implement the enclosed attack plans.'

A bell tolled.

That was it. That was all. No word about the end of the world. No news about the LORD's return.

A bell tolled.

The crowd was growing frantic now, hanging on each reverberation.

A bell tolled.

These were long range plans, for a war of many months at least. A hard strike against Man and C'tis, the two most dangerous. Force them to defend their turf for a few months.

A bell tolled.

And then... pull back and fight hard for every piece of land. The overwhelming numbers would force the defenders of Marignon back, and back further, scorching and burning the lands they had spent so long gaining, but always delaying the advance, protecting the great cathedral at Marignon.

A bell tolled.

It was not a plan to win. Only a plan to delay. Only a plan to hold off foes until this moment.

A bell tolled.

Maybe, it was all some mistake. But Muszinger knew that Afti-el did not make such mistakes.

A bell tolled.




Later, as he marched east, at the head of a fey army beyond hope and faith, he looked back to the broken tower and saw it shimmering in a sickly green light.

[djo]

Vanheim turn 51: not too many more to go!

In which Pherios's dinner is interrupted, and Vethru regards the rubble.


Pherios

Finally, a guard pushes my dinner through the slot at the bottom of my cell door. I don't see it, I hear it. I've been in a dark dungeon for a couple months now, deep underground.

"Do you know why you're being fed so late?" the guard asks. This is strange. Vethru's guards don't talk to me.

I clear my throat and rasp, "No." My throat works as well as it's ever going to, but I still sound like a strangled warthog.

"Because it begins now," he says, and he leaves, ignoring my questions trailing him down the long, empty hall.

I have no idea what that means. I tear hungrily into my bread, the only food I've had down here. It's left me weak, very weak. At least I don't have to fight the rats for it. They're scared of me.

Then my tooth hits something hard, and the universe accelerates.

It's a single gem, clear as mountain air, infused with power.

Somebody's got a plan. And they've just told me the only thing I need to know.

It begins now.

I don't waste time. I summon an air elemental, and I'm so drained I nearly pass out. And it's only a small one. But it blows down the cell door, and the one at the end of the hall.

I stagger after it, and in the guardroom one flight up, I stun a handful of guards with thunder. One of them comes for me, sword swinging. I block it with my left arm. I don't feel the cut. Then I touch him, and he crumbles to dust.

That's never happened before, but I don't have time to ponder it. The alarm has been sounded, but not by the men fighting my air elemental. It's coming from somewhere above me.

My elemental occupies the guards, and I head upstairs alone. I meet three men coming down. Damn. I forgot to pick up a sword off the man I killed below. They didn't forget theirs. They descend incautiously, attacking.

I cast another unfamiliar spell, and bolts of dark energy take out the first two. I stumble on the stairs, my legs weakened with fatigue. As a result, the third man's blow doesn't land with full force. But it still bites deeply into my right shoulder.

I scramble for a sword, find one, and swing it against his. It rides down his blade and jumps the hilt. Its tip grazes his chest, drawing a red line of blood. His eyes widen. He howls. He triples the ferocity of his blows, attacking in a berserk fury. I parry a few thrusts, but it's only a moment before his sword is stuck in my left side.

It's a curious sensation. There's no pain. No blood, really, not as much as there should be. It's just...inconvenient. Clumsy.

I touch him, and he crumbles to ash. I pull the sword out, and things start to go bad. My guts shift unpleasantly. I think I'm in trouble. I don't understand what, exactly, keeps me going anymore, but it's failing.

I drag myself up two flights of stairs and through an empty guardroom. One of the doors leads me outside, to chaos--shouting, howling, the clash of arms. I try to make sense of it. It's night, and dark forms run across the courtyard to a tower on the opposite wall. Most of the noise is up on walls, I think. I see flashes from silver-polished scale armor reflecting moonlight.

Then I'm knocked over by something low and fast-moving. An instant later, its teeth are in my leg. A second wolf takes the opposite arm, and a third jumps on my chest, snapping at my throat. I see two more fast approaching. I don't have the strength to fight them off.

Then someone, a woman's voice, shouts, "There he is!"

The wolf sinks its teeth into my throat.

I almost laugh. But then I remember how long it took to heal last time, so I struggle to free my arm, to touch him and wither him. But they're stronger than I am.

Suddenly, the air around me is filled with reflections. Scale armor jangles, a spear strikes, and another. The wolves die with great gobs of my flesh in their mouths. Many hands pull their bodies away, prying their jaws from my body.

The courtyard is quiet again. The lead Valkyrie jerks her spear out of a wolf's gut, its intestines coming with it. She drops her weapon, and she kneels and lifts my head in her hands. "My poor baby," she says. "Are you alive? Pherios?"

I look up at the dozen of them, and I recognize them all. Petema, Aunt Sennei, Mirima, Irulia--they're all here. House Alteion's Valkyries. Galameteia's mother, Thumestia of Lunetellerion, is there, too, and behind them all, with them yet standing apart, I see a lonely figure with a slightly crooked neck.

My eyes return to the beautiful warrior woman who rescued me. "Thanks, Mom," I manage to croak before I black out.


Vethru

The pile of rubble is impressively high. Usually when buildings fall down, it doesn't amount to much. Buildings are mostly empty space. The Lady's tower was solid. The pile of stones rises almost two stories high, and they're stained black by the still billowing smoke pouring out of the basements where the forges are still burning.

"Wow," says Quellian Ji. "She went and did it. First Pherios, then this. A real bad night, huh, boss?"

Ji can be so naive sometimes. Once is chance, twice, coincidence--but I sensed the third was already on its way: enemy action.

On cue, Hallixene rides up. Ji starts--he doesn't have the magical talent to pierce Hallixene's glamour. "My Lord!" he cries. "They've left! They're all gone!"

I'd sent him to find Anteirios and Petema. Damn.

"All who?" asks Ji.

"All of House Alteion! And others, too!"

"Who?" I ask.

"Lunetellerion, most of Zinos. At least part of House Pellena. I dared not seek further without bringing you the news. I have ordered the city to be searched."

"Any news from the army?" And Belletennares.

"No, sire."

Well. House Alteion hit the trifecta last night. No surprise, really. The locks on Pherios's cell weren't for show, and Anteirios pitched a fit when I sent the lizard ambassador home without speaking to him. He ranted about Vanheim's honoring its treaties. I knew I was pissing them off. But the Lady...I had hopes. I liked her. I thought we were simpatico.

It's the same old story. God comes to world, god begins to raise up downtrodden nation, god meets nice not-alive girl, and then it ends in heartbreak. Nation rejects god, girl runs back to her family, and god is left to fight fanatically religious neighbors all by himself. It's so clichéd, it should be on network TV.

No matter. She took her gnomes with her, but all of our new forces were loyal to me: spectral mages, necromancers, and the dragon-men. And what was House Alteion going to do? All their forces were in the north. They'd have no choice but to fight when Marignon comes over the border. They might betray me, but they'd never let Vanheim fall.

It wasn't exactly the plan, but it'd do. I only needed a little more time. The prize was close.

[The Panther]

I posted Yarn 48 on the Yarn site. It is not being repeated here because of the embedded images.

[The Panther]

Ralph, Prophet of the fine nation of Man, has posted a new proclimation entitled:
"The Inquisition Practices Death Magic"

[Sedna]

Gawain

"Well, this is the forest of Idun."

"Indeed, sire."

"Seems like a strong province defense."

"Indeed, sire."

"How, exactly, does one, ah... kill one of these lizard things."

"I believe skewering it with a lance is traditional."

"Very good." Gawain looked out over the cohort of knights. There would be death before this was all over. Death, and lizard blood, which stains frightfully, or so Gawain had heard.

Muszinger

Wic,

I will not be able to coordinate the war plans very well from out here in the field, and I'm afraid I don't trust Polgrave as much as I once did. Thus, you must take charge of the unfolding situation. I must confess I do not understand Afti-el, or why the LORD's return did not come as the scribes had predicted, but we must trust in Him and in Her too.

The war plans are sound. Gawain and I will seize the fort at Pythium. Try to lure Manish forces into our dominion where we can defeat them more easily. I hope we will kill some lizards here in the south, but we must be prepared to absorb great loss of territory in the north. The inquisition must be out in force to prevent the peasants from losing faith. We will hold the lizards at Marignon and Camelot. Hopefully, our attacks on Man will give Pangaea a chance to regroup and distract Man so that we will be able to turn our attention on the scaly ones and beat them back.

By Fire and Faith and the Sword,

Muszinger

Esclave

I find it hard to concentrate on my work. We hear that Man has employed large number of magical creatures in their invasion. There is a weapon, the Elf-bane, that could come in handy against these unnatural things, but ever since the Archbishop of Amiridon disappeared, I am the only one in the kingdom with the skills to forge these things for the paladins who clamor for them. And I am distracted.

All my life I knew the world was coming to an end, and suddenly it stretched out before me, all my mistake and all my fear. And just as suddenly, my source seems to restricted. Surely our enemies will pour in from every side, and we will all be killed. I have received hints that the Archbishop of Elkland is holding onto my son while Afti-el flies around killing things. But I cannot journey to Camelot. The Plains of Eternal Peril will be the primary battleground in this war.

Is it any wonder that I cannot properly sharpen a blade?

Gawain

The second before his lance hit home, Gawain saw giant feathery wings rising from the back of a huge snake. Then, with an awesome force, his lance splintered as it ground a strange undead creature with a hundred vines into dust. He was off his horse, surrounded by monsters. Lizards the size of men who walked upright, and huge 10-foot snakes who struck with blinding speed. But the solid wall of charging knights prevailed quickly, and Gawain himself escaped without a scratch. The animals were running, and Gawain let out a mighty roar, chasing after one in fancy black robes and hacking it down in a burst of cold flame.

Muszinger

My lord,

Great news from the north. Sir Balide has killed one of the "Queens" of the Air. Also, the mercenary Tempestus has seized the rich farmlands of Solian in the heart of Man. The fort at Iron Range is under siege, by the lizards, but can hold out for many months. The dragon and his armies march into the north. As planned, we put up no resistance.

Wic

Foen

Tvinto, a druid I knew back in the sunlit days, has died in the foolhardy invasion of T'ien Ch'i. They say that the heathens have great demons of fire and water and that our little band never stood a chance. Closer to home, the forces of Ulm, luckily few in number, surround the dead city on every side, but have not yet tried to put us under siege. God knows we are too weak to repel such an attempt. What few living men remain in this desolate land have long since gone mad, and the only defenders left are a few dying vine men and the strange fiery snakes which crawl out of the Archbishop Marignon's mouth.

Meanwhile, fell tidings come from the utter west. On a dark field, and surrounded by a horde of the undead at her command, Afti-el fell upon a host of heavenly angels and slaughtered them with her fell blade. The blood of these innocent creatures spilt upon the ground and cried to the heavens -- blasphemy! blasphemy!

Is there war in heaven? Has the LORD forsaken us?

Esclave

I believe Wic truly enjoys this war and being in charge of it. He seems healthier and more full by the day, and by night, a steady stream of new maidens comes to his chamber. But I suppose sexual immorality is the least or our worries now. The inquisition patrols everywhere, and saying a word against the war is punishable by a swift death.

Polgrave has fallen utterly. The broken tower to the south glows with evil death magic, and Wic says that Polgrave, who tried to learn too much of the dark side, now summons foul creatures from the crypt. If the propagandists from Man are to be believed, a Wraith Lord, most feared of all undead warriors, lurks the plains just north of here, preying on invaders and townsfolk alike. Wic has informed Muszinger, and I can only hope he will leave the foolish siege of Pythium to return here and root out this infection. Muszinger is a fool, but just because he refuses to see the evil in Afti-el, I cannot believe he will refuse to see the devastating change in his old friend.

Muszinger

Wic,

I was pleased to have your letter. I am sorry your home in Wic Forest was burnt down. I approve your plan to reclaim it, but do be careful. The enemy may be reading this communication, so I shall say no more.

The news from Umidor is excellent. Two more battles won by Sir Balide and the trolls! We'll build a wall out of the heathens' dead bodies. Also, I want the friar who single-handedly turned back that pack of wolves made a saint. Philippe, I believe you said his name was. See to it.

What news from Polgrave? I trust he still holds the tower and temple in good faith?

Ah, I sense our enemies' alliance may be cracking. No attack from Vanheim yet, and surely Man will grow swiftly tired of taking the brunt of the casualties while Lizard armies make unopposed gains. Let's see how they react to our next move...

By Fire and Faith and the Sword,

Muszinger

[puffyn]

Hi everyone,

Sorry I've been holding the game up, I've been out of town, and keeping up with the mayhem on Council of Wyrms sort of ate up all my dominions time. I am back now and ought to get my turn in soon, so hopefully we can progress a little further toward the end of the world (which I hear is located somewhere near Marignon).

Here's my turn 48 yarn; 51 will follow soon I hope.

-puffyn

----------

The attack, when it came, was both more and less than expected. For a sizable minority of lizards, who had not expected Marignon to attack at all, merely bluster, it was far worse than they had hoped, believing to the last that there was still some goodness and decency left in their friends and allies... well, allies, at least, to the north/south.

To others, particularly those who rallied around a certain aged shaman and his newly relevant plans on "How to defeat a trecherous alliance between Pithium and Marynown" (edited hastily by his clever young assistant Hema), the initial attack was, well, disappointing.

"You call this a war? Bah! Back in my day, when someone invaded your kingdom, they cared enough to make sure you knew it! Hatchlings these days..." rambled Lugal one day in council.

"Er, yes, great-grandfather, it's true that Marignon's first volley has not been as bad as we feared," jumped in Hema. She was a newly-appointed junior member of the council (advisory capacity only), and had quickly realized that she had been selected less for her academic brilliance, than for her (oh so occasional) ability to bring Lugal in line, and sometimes get him to shut up for a bit.

This was not one of those times.

"And another thing!" railed Lugal. These youngsters were too cocky, thought fighting a war with Pythium and not dying meant hey knew the first thing about war. He kept catching them in flagrant disrespect of his esteemed status as eldest of the clan, and he was not going to stand for that, no sir, not when the defense of C'tis rested on his bony shoulders.

"Their spies..." he paused for dramatic effect, "... are everywhere. Poised in the shadows in their deep purple robes, ready to stab you through with their coral knives, or blast your brains into smithereens, unless you have..."

"Brown robes," interrupted Hema.

There was an awkward silence.

"Marignon is known to send spies and assassins into neighboring lands, even in peace time, but they don't, ah, wear purple robes, so, you know, you can't, er, recognize them that way," she finished lamely. It had seemed like an important point to make, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out why. She couldn't imagine who would be foolish enough to select a gaudy color like purple for their assassins to wear, though.

"And we're doing the same thing," said Asalluhe, the new head of the guild of empoisonners, to scattered applause. He was young and popular and had quite a following. "Only our assassins blend into whatever scenery they're in, and then ," he said, and pantomimed a dagger thrust to the heart, complete with gasping sounds as the poison took effect. There was more scattered applause, and some cheering. Only last week word had reached the capitol of successful infiltration of one of Marignon's dens of scholars.

"And some of the really smart assassins," continued Asalluhe, insinuating that he of course belonged to this school of thought, "use poisoned bows to stay safely away from their targets. It's practically no risk at all," he finished, smiling.

Hema wondered idly how long it would take him to end up on her workbench, next to Lipit and all the others, and pondered whether she was a bad lizard for not being upset in the slightest at the thought.

"... constant vigilance!" said Lugal, seizing the gap in the conversation with a single-minded determination to finish his harangue that Hema couldn't help admiring.

"Mark my words, there will be attacks from within soon, oh yes, very soon," he went on. "Birds and beasts and even our own human populations, souls warped so they turn on us, ought've wiped em all out, really..."

"We've heard your opinions on the human question before, Lugal," said Kemosh, sighing. He knew he had to let the old lizard finish or there'd be hell to pay, but he was not about to let him rehash his stupid internment camp idea again.

"Yes, well, ahem, constant vigilance," said Lugal. Hema could almost hear him rummaging through his mental notes, trying to find the missing page. "And we should watch the seas – that's where they'll come for us in the end, rising up to engulf us all in madness and despair..."

There was silence, as the assembled councilors waited for Lugal to continue, or wondered why Marignon would go through their lone province adjacent to the sea when they could invade hundreds of kilometers of border directly, or (most likely) had fallen asleep. But after a few moments, the elder lizard shuffled out of the center of the High Rock and sat next to Hema, where he stared off into space, remembering something dark and damp and long ago...

Finally, Hema stood up to fill the silence. "What he means, of course, is that we must be prepared to expect the unexpected." She glanced nervously at Lugal, perhaps testing to see if he was really done talking so they might move on, but his eyes were far way in the caves of time.

Kemosh seized his chance. "Which is precisely what we are doing, my dear girl, of course," he said. "We have assembled a counter attack to the force of knights ravaging our northlands, which will be led by our, ah, esteemed colleague Lugal's own 'Big Snake'," he said hurriedly, spitting out the last words with some distaste. He eyed the elder lizard, worried he would jump in again, but Lugal was now humming under his breath and rocking back and forth a little, and paying the younger lizards no attention at all. Kemosh sighed with relief.

"Yes, I am pleased to announce that we have contacted one of the great and holy feathered serpents themselves, who is here at the High Rock today to say a few words about his plans for the defense of our people. If I may introduce Eshmun..."

There was a murmur in the crowd as the snake slithered up the stairs. "A Coatl!" "In this day? I thought they were all extinct." And he turned to the assembled lizards and began to speak, in a slightly halting, lisping accent, about his plans for salvation.

Hema got a funny feeling listening to him talk. It was like someone was trying to pull her tail, and she didn't like it at all. Sure, she had helped plan the clever communion that would empower the snake to strike Marignon hard. It was a very clever plan that Lugal had come up with and she wondered where he had ever picked it up.

But clever wasn't necessarily a match for a bunch of dumb knights in shiny armor with long pointy sticks. If someone would only ban the lance, then that might even things up a bit, she thought with a smile. But nobody else had a better idea, and the council was sure to vote to authorize Eshmun's forces to leave immediately. The only thing Hema could think of was to make sure someone responsible and experienced went with the snake and his growing coterie of young shamans, who had been trained specially by Lugal for this task, a thought that sometimes frankly terrified Hema.

Perhaps the great Arruli would be able to stop things from spiraling out of control, she thought. She would have to ask.




Laph was in her study when the chameleogram arrived. Shem and Tari were asleep, mercifully, curled up peacefully in their nest, but little Fela, the smallest and most insatiably curious of the hatching, was crawling all over Laph's books and scrolls. Laph was smiling to herself and thinking how much the little one reminded her of Ruli, and at first she didn't notice the sound of the door quietly opening.

And suddenly, there was a chameleon in the room, simulating a credible impression of a military uniform, handing her a letter, which could only be from the front, and by the way the lizard crisply deposited it in her hand, bowed slightly, and disappeared, it could only say one thing.

Laph choked back a sob, and reflexively picked up a surprised Fela, who had been clamoring for attention all morning and was startled to find herself the recipient of a sudden and prolonged hug.


A few hours later, when Laph had composed herself, she went the the part of the castle where the note said the box had been taken. There were many boxes there, too many, but at the moment she only cared about one. She stopped by the chameleogram headquarters herself, to drop off some urgent letters to the most skilled sauromancers in the land.

Laph wasn't about to let her egg brother be brought back as a revenant, not if she could help it. She had some words to say to him, and she expected him to be able to defend himself and tell her what exactly he could possibly have been thinking, getting his fool self killed.