MP Game - Yarnspinners

This sounds like fun. I'd like a go with R'lyeh as I haven't played them yet (bit of an easy one of course, with lots of available material - as long as I don't mind risking my sanity...)

[jarenko]

I'll play as Atlantis.

[Karacan]

Ermor: Turn 4


Astara's invasion was a successful one, as well, despite heavy resistance. A group of mages was assisting the villagers in their province's defense, and accompanying them was a beast I thought long extinct, a man with a bull's head who cut through Angmar's legions like flies.

Yet my followers prevailed, for neither fear nor terror is known to them, and the man-beast was finally slain like his masters, though not without losses.

Still, I am confident that the remains of my troops are capable of handling the provincal resistance they will encounter further to the north, and there is no rest for my army of the fallen, for now that the failings of the flesh rot from their bones, they have surpassed the pitiful limitations of mere mortals.

Impressed by my general's efforts, Caractor, an ancient Censor of fallen Ermor has decided to join my crusade, for his cause is not unlike mine. He, too, seeks to bring the wisdom of the other side to mortals, albeit for his own reasons. As long as he follows my rule, though, I could not care less of his motives.

My coffers are spilling, and I decide to renew the contract with the mercenary Rolf Magnus who served me surprisingly well for a creature that still clings to this illusionary life. I think my offer is to his liking, and I would be very surprised should he rethink his allegiances. One day, his use for me will cease, but it isn't now, and when that day comes, the caste of clerics I intend to create will have further uses for his corpse.

For I am Noth, the Prince of Famine, and the hunger I arouse is of greed and blood.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 4 ----

I think it is still summer... it has been hard, convalescing in this dark tent, to keep track of the days... it is painful to see my previous words of optimism and I would feel cursed by the gods had I not long since stopped believing in them. Perhaps I do not like to think what terrible deeds I am being punished for. So hard to think I was once an eager file leader... how bright Alexandros's armor was, his dream, and ours, of glorious victory in a far off land.

Poor Xanthos. I do not know what strange thoughts entered his mind as we approached the brigand lair. I saw their number was not great, and given my soldiers' skill knew we would prevail. My soldiers... my soldiers were brilliant... they kept their formation, and would have slain all our foe if only... But Xanthos, my faithful steed and companion... Perhaps he wanted to run free over the open plains -- it was such a fine summer day -- or perhaps he had simply tired of all this war and wanted to die with honor and glory. He would not hear my shouts to stay behind the hoplites, much as I begged him, and he rushed past the front file into the middle of the brigand mob.

What happened next is a blur... I recall one, perhaps two brigands fell beneath Xanthos' hooves (I had no time to draw my sword)... I recall a hail of javelins as my troops tried in vain to scare the brigands away from me and my wild steed. And a sword struck Xanthos, and again, and I fell into darkness.

My men thought I was dead. I heard later that a band of locals rushed out, and three died while the rest dragged me to safety. My hoplites held firm our retreat; they are Greeks. Would that they had a worthier commander... but they will not hear such talk from me. They regard my charge as heroic, and declare that fighting beside me raises their spirits.

It is odd to hear them talk this way, because the villagers have ceased their incessant bowing and butter songs, and once again ignore me. The talk these days is of a great battle that took place near the town of Bolfar. My soldiers swear that none of them went out there to fight, and yet the town pledges allegiance to us, and sends us gold and supplies. The villagers have come up with a new dance, in which they kick one leg and flail their arms. I doubt this would make sense even if I were well.

My butter has not been stolen once since I returned, but I do not have the stomach for it. I wonder what this means.

---

[Karacan]

Ermor: Turn 5

After being instrumental in a victory against the few defenders of West Achaku, Rolf Magnus and his decided to follow empty Machakan promises instead. I considered my offer enough to satisfy a mercenary's greed, yet somehow, Machaka managed to outbid me.

However, my coffers have attracted another greedy mortal, with fresh troops no less. Gynter Blukraft and his Sonnenkinder decided to offer his services to me, and intend to use them as the spearhead to an invasion into the Achaku Plains, which appears to be heavily defended and unlikely to join my newly risen nation of their free will, joined by Caractor and a newly risen legion of servants, and the remains of Angmar's army.

Though much of the time of existance was spent studying the cycle of death among mortals, it is highly unlikely that I will ever fully understand them. I was informed that there was a festival of faith held in my honor, and the remaining villagers apparently revelled and feasted well into the night. Which was a fortunate occasion, as Caractor had to kill fewer of them to aquire their remaining valuables, which I require to attract more skilled soldiers. It is for their own good, after all, and their miserable lives only end in pain and death anyway.

Also, a trader's guild has set up in Astara. I certainly do not mind them, as they agreed to pay a good amount of taxes each month.

I have finally decided to ask Simthi to conjure a being of faith. I hear that the old theurgs of Ermor were skilled in the reviving of the fallen, and I feel it will further my studies to see one practicing his fascinating arts.

For I am Noth, and I will end the pain of this world.

[Alneyan]

A somewhat longer yarn for this turn; I did not write anything for the past two turns, so I have to at least sum up what happened in the meantime. I find mWithout any further ado:



The Kingdom of the Vale, Summer:

A sort of routine eventually came to the Avalonian army after their first dismal training. The soldiers were growing into an effective group instead of fighting as individuals, and they were galvanised by their victories over the barbarians. These battles turned out to be slaughters, as the enemy did not adopt any kind of discernible tactics. Instead, they charged one after the other, making them easy prey for the longbowmen waiting behind. The roars they gave while rushing to their death were certainly impressive, but they availed little, and all tribesmen were either killed or routed in a matter of minutes.

While Ilneoa rejoiced after such easy victories, she could not help having an eerie feeling about what would brought the next tide for her. Had the old ways been so forgotten that hordes of barbarians were the most threatening army of the Vale? Surely there should be something left of the past grandeur of Avalon; all these years cannot have vanished from the surface of the land so swiftly.

Her troops were nearing the Stone Sisters, these mountains used by farseers to spot enemy soldiers roaming in the Lands Beyond. As Ilneoa's army came into view, the watchmen sent word for their guard. Nearly as many men as Ilneoa had herself rushed at the commands, mostly peasants given swords and a few archers. Their blazon was the moon and the crimson blade, the symbol of the Earls of Valogda.

Silence reigned when the Virtue, Lady of the Avalon, gave her signal for “Fire at will”. A few commoners were hurt in this initial volley, but it achieved little as they were intended to be a diVersion and not an actual threat. In the meantime, the trained infantry of the Sisters' Guard came to the battlefield and started its march against the Avalonian archers. Few arrows did much damage, and the sight of several comrades dead was not enough to deter the foe.

Chaos erupted shortly afterwards as the own bodyguards of Ilneoa entered the fray, a few feet before the line made by the bowmen. This Last defence was enough to keep most of the enemy men-at-arms at bay, although a few of them managed to attack the archers themselves. While the situation was more or less under the control of Avalon, the cowardly leader of the longbowmen ordered a retreat of his troops, even if they were more than able to use their knives in close combat. Thankfully, Ilneoa's infantry was brave enough not to panic, and they were able to chase down the remains of the much weakened enemy army.

While this battle for the Stone Sisters has been a success for the Vale, Ilneoa could not tolerate such displays of insubordination within her ranks. Retribution would have to wait until the craven and his troops could be found, however. Several warriors were killed because of his behaviour, and a few more injured; this would not do, and would have to be... taken care of.

A messenger from the Fair Land broke her musings. He was a young lad, hardly more than sixteen, a squire at best; a seasoned knight should have been entrusted with the task of delivering this missive. His work done, the boy hurried away without a word, which seemed to mean he did not relinquish to be remember as the one who brought bad news. Ilneoa opened the letter, half expecting news of an upcoming disaster to reach her.

She was not disappointed. “It is my hope the present missive finds out in a good health, with the laurels of victory over your magnificent head, Ilneoa of the Lake. Alas, the tidings I bring therein are none too good.

A fortnight after your departure, the earth quivered in Avalon, an occurrence almost never heard of in our records. This earthquake happened shortly before sunset, four days after Beltaine. Many a house collapsed on itself, and most dwellings still have insecure foundations. To the best of our knowledge, nearly one thousand inhabitants were killed, most of them trapped in their own homes; the Tower Guards were hard put to bring succour to all of them.

This disaster also destroyed several granaries, and we have been facing a dearth for the past two moons. A minor riot occurred as poor commoners begged to have something to eat, but we had little food left to give them. We would believe the aftermath of the earthquake claimed the lives of another thousand people, but hopefully the famine should come to an end with next month's harvests.”

Such incompetence, Ilneoa mused. Was it not the purpose of the Castellans to handle crises without worsening their impact? But Castellan De'nalis was clearly not finished yet.

“The earthquake has also claimed the Temple to your Glory, as the sacred trees of your grove had been uprooted. Two of your servants that were singing your praises there have also disappeared; we fear the worst for their fates. Baleful omens have been spreading through the population, and some even dared to think the very essence of Earth was rejecting you and your people. Truly, this is a troubled time for the Vale.

Because of this, I had but the choice to anoint a Guide to bring faith to the population. Flacal the Lightbearer was chosen to be the receptacle of your word, and she currently stands as the High Druidess of Avalon. She has been trained at the Isle herself, and should prove to be a talented priestess at your service. Your grove has been restored to its former state, as majestic as ever I daresay.

May the Glory of Avalon be with you, O Ilneoa Princess of the Winds,
Castellan De'nalis of the City of Avalon.”

For all answer, Ilneoa teared the missive and gave curt orders to her camp followers. She would go back to Avalon through the Open Road, for pressing matters requested her attention in the city. The time of Castellans and petty lordlings was coming to an end; the Isle of Avalon would have to step out of her mists and take her place once more, the silvery hand behind the Crown of Man.

[Cheezeninja]

-Abysia turn 5-

The day to day business of being Queen can be so tedious sometimes, why some people still refuse to worship and swear fealty to Me I cannot understand. Always it goes the same way; I send a messenger demanding their immediate surrender and forfiture of gold and wartime commodities, My messenger returns with their refusal, or is returned dead, or is not returned at all. I am forced to descend on their village kill all who take up arms against Me and execute every tenth male of age for their impertinence. While this can sometimes be quite entertaining, eventually it becomes such a bore to destroy the ill-equipped rabble they send against me. But i suppose it must be done, if I am to have the power I am now entitled too, then countless peasants must bend the knee ere i meet up with a true challenge.

The true challenges are out there as well, other powers rising out of a long period of enforced dormancy, flexing their long untested powers and moving out to enforce their will upon the world. I can sense them, and I welcome them. Long has it been since I tasted the blood of one who was truly worthy, and their presence tickles the back of my mind like the electric tension of a lightning bolt waiting to discharge its fury upon the world. I can sense another presence as well, as if the Great One has been replaced by another force, one so very far removed from our existence as to be almost undetectable. But its out there, I can feel it watching us, chronicling our struggles..... judging us?

-exerp from the Diary of the Queen-

[magnate]

Only four people submitted yarns for turn 4, but they were all good. Points:

Abysia 2
Arco 2
Ermor 2
Machaka 2

(I'm assuming that Man's long report is for turn 5, and that Cheezeninja really means turn 5 too!)

Running totals:

Abysia 7
Arco 8
Atlantis 2
Caelum 4
Ermor 8
Machaka 8
Man 4
Mictlan 5
R'lyeh 4
Vanheim 4

Is everyone still playing? I hope so. Looking forward to the rest of the turn 5 reports - points at the weekend. Please feel free to submit extra reports to fill in the gaps ...

All the best,

CC

[puffyn]

A reminder to everyone: please take a screen shot showing your empire at turn 5 (or simply save a backup copy of your .trn file, or even just write down which provinces you own) . Once the game is over, I'll edit this post to include a picture of the whole map with borders outlined for each nation, as well as a few interesting score graphs. It should add a lot for people reading this thread in the future.

I hope this works (Future-puffyn!)

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 5 ----

I feel as if I have returned from the grave.

Today was my first day up since my injury. I wandered the camp, chatting with the local peltasts. I learnt that Amshula, Balachandra's little sister, convinced the hoplites to follow her back to Skelde Henge to avenge our earlier defeat. A bunch of local troops went too. No one has the full details, but apparently no-one died (on our side), and injuries were light.

It seems that otherwise, things have been quiet during my recuperation. There is word from Bolfar of a odd sign: milk held up to the mouth of a statue of Shiva (some local god of destruction) disappears. It is all nonsense of course, these people will believe anything, but apparently it has them rather worried, and they've cut back on their arm-flailing to catch up on sacrifices to Shiva. Balachandra and Divikar have stopped pouring through ancient texts and have taken to standing in the smoke in midst of the armory, getting in the way of the smiths, and chanting wordlessly. It's always sad to see a friend succumb to madness, but after years on the campaign you slowly get used to it. Thymbre is late returning from her trip; by Zeus, if anything has happened to her...

I'll have to cut this short. My quarter-master just arrived with the news that Amshula has abandoned the troops in Skelde Henge and gone off into the mountains searching for enlightenment. Although the villagers are relatively friendly, I must rush there as soon as possible to make sure my men are taken care of. My quarter-master feels just as protective about me apparently. I knew he collected spare pieces of fine armor after battles. but I didn't know that he had procured a complete set of Strategos armor, cleaned off the blood and grime, hammered out the dents, and polished the bronze to a gleam. I tried to refuse, but he said to me, "Pandokos, my friend, after a fool stunt like that, I'd feel a lot better if you had a bit more metal between you and the world." It's far too good for me, but my old armor is lying in the mud of Skelde Henge somewhere, and I must wear something as I set out on the road to take charge of my army again.

---