Atlantis Times v1.1 v04n06 From: JJC%MP068@MPA15AB.mv-oc.Unisys.COM Date: Tue, 29 Nov 1994 17:18:03 +0000 ######################################################################## =-=-= Atlantis Times v1.1 Volume 4 Number 06 =-=-= =-= November 28, 1994 =-= ######################################################################## Words from The Big Guy: NOTE *** Atlantis is now closed. All full, no more starts. Just a reminder of the new AUTOTAX command: - AUTOTAX flag available. This is a new boolean command, similiar to GUARD and AVOID. If set, a unit will attempt to TAX every turn. If reset, no automatic TAXing will occur, though the TAX command will still work. AUTOTAX boolean is reset after a MOVE or SAIL command is executed. I should have an updated rulebook soon. Send Times to: jjc@mpa15ab.mv-oc.unisys.com Send Orders to: JJC@MP068.MV-OC.UNISYS.COM Send problems/comments/bug reports/questions to me personally at: jjc@mpa15c.mv-oc.unisys.com I read the mail at the times address once a week, when I'm setting up the Times. I NEVER read mail where the orders go to, so don't send anything but orders there. Good luck, and enjoy. - TBG ######################################################################## IS ATLANTIS A SPHERE OR A TORUS? This important philisophical question will be addressed in the inaugral meeting of the Tarraspan Platonic Society. If it is a sphere, how come factions south of us don't fall off? If it is a torus, what happened to the middle bit, and why can't we see it? Coffee and biscuits will be provided after the meeting. ######################################################################## Part 4 - Friends and Sea Monsters Gurithim had had the pleasure of meeting with the heads of Sador's Magical Reasearch, Universite du Coryphee, and The Herd in the past few weeks. He was pleased that they, like himself, saw peaceful coexistence as the path to greater prosperity. (Actually, Gurithim didn't usually think in lofty terms such as "peaceful coexistence" or "the path to greater prosperity", but today he was feeling especially lucid for some unknown reason.) He was strolling along, trying to come up with other lofty phrases (since he rarely got the chance) when his thoughts were interrupted by one of his men. "Gurithim sir, I've just gotten horrible news from our scout at Duncansby!" cried the man. "Horrible news, does that qualify as lofty?" thought Gurithim. "No I suppose not, sorta simple really" he replied to himself. "A horrible sea monster came ashore and attacked the peasants there!" cried the man. "A sea monster, eh?" said Gurithim. "What did it look like?" "Well, it was green, and slimy, and it smelled worse than rotten potatoes! The peasants were able to fight it back, but not before it ate 3 of their bravest men." "This is interesting news, interesting indeed" said Gurithim. He wasn't really sure what to do with the news, except to make a mental note not to go swimming off the coast of Duncansby. (Actually, Gurithim disliked swimming immensely and wouldn't have gone swimming there, or anywhere, anyway. He liked making mental notes though.) "I'll tell the others, if it's ok with you sir, about this monstrosity of the deep" said the man. "Monstrosity of the deep" mused Gurithim. "Lofty? Not lofty? Lofty? No, I suppose not." Gurithim sighed and said "Do that then. And while you're at it, collect all the lofty phrases you can from the men." The messenger looked puzzled, but replied "Yes sir. I'll, uh, do that, sir." At that, he left, and Gurithim was left again to his thoughts. ######################################################################## Mat Westar and his Trading company (g8512580@mcmaster.ca) now have horses for sale in the Skomer region. Any interested parties are welcome to send us a pidgeon. ######################################################################## Typos, typoes! Damn the typos, full speed ahead! ######### Kithkin clutched his crown and wrung it with his hands. Time and again, things went awry for his forces; a corps didn't specialize in one skill, but instead diversified into unneeded areas. Or the Master of Ceremonies did not look far enough into the future, and incorrectly divided Kithkin's shares among his peoples, leading to disruption in the ranks, and revolt. Only that first month in Atlantis went according to plan, and even then it seems Kithkin's own decisions had tipped the balance ever so slightly to lead his people down this ever-steepening spiral. Something must be done. "Well?" "Sir!" The Master of Ceremonies quickly replied, "The hobbits are rambunctious, and even though the children love it, even they won't abide by their antics for long. Our costumes are back-logged, and won't be ready until June, meanwhile the grounds people are getting restless waiting for a crowd that appreciates us again, and the tent seems to have gained several tears during the past few nights; we don't know what the cause is." "Rumours?" "Well, typically they blame gremlins. There's also the possibility that children, or disappointed patrons have been trying to disrupt our circus, but again the grounds people refuse to have seen anything unusual." "Typical. We'll need to hire men to take their place. And look into other acts; apparently people want more gimmicks now-a-days than real acts, more freaks than performances. Get to it!" "Yes Sir!" he piped as he turned, toe-to-heel, and left the office. "...and may Allah's light glorify our way.." ######################################################################## Adla, Bani Ghassan's senior scout, nearly fell off his horse at the encampment at the base of it. It was huge--enormous--gargantuan! It was the biggest rock he'd ever seen. And there were lots of others around it! "What you looking at, son?" asked a warmly dressed man in the camp. " Never seen a mountain before?" "So that's a mountain? I'd heard legends about them, but I'd never actually..." "Another one of you know-nothing plains-folk!" The man laughed at Adla and picked up his pick axe. "I suppose your friends will be coming soon to mine the mountains too." "Sir, I am _not_ a know-nothing!" Adla said in a huff. "I am a member of the honored tribe of Ghassan." The miner just grunted and started hiking up the well-beaten trail into the mountains. Adla sputtered at this indignity, glaring at the other miners in the camp, before his curiosity got the better of him and he followed the trail too. Up the mountainside he found a couple other camps. It seemed that several factions had already discovered this prize region. Bani Ghassan would need to send miners quickly to get its share of needed iron too. Too bad there was so little food. Oh well, sighed Adla. One tried to get used to dried sheep, but somehow it wasn't the same as fresh food. He didn't have time to fix a meal anyway--it was time to move on. ######################################################################## The first Temple of Agrik erected on foreign soil Well maybe not a whole temple but the first place of woreship for Agrik outside Vashcort has been erected in Banaland. As this jungle infested country only has wood as resources the first place of woreship had to be quite modest. The builderpriests that came over on the Galleon started immediatelly and the few prisoners that were keept after the battle of Skottskog are now beeing led to the altar to be presented to Agrik in one piece. The other prisoners seem to be quite bloodless (wonder why Dr. VOX). Not only the tempel builders have been active. All over Skottskog new buildings are erected and the local pesantry seems to be delighted to finally have a ruler who can give them lasting peace. Many of the pesants have already joined the forces of The Rowing Doom and have declared that they want to march northwards to take revenge on the Confused Houses that have oppressed them for so long. Rumours are flourishing that the last refugees of the Confused Houses once more are planning to escape oversea. Other rumours tells that the noblemen are seeking political asylum in the northern provinces of Bananaland. High Priest Chafin once more repeats his promise to follow the refugees round the world if so must be, as long as all traces of the former Diamante/Reynolds can be terminated from the surface of Atlantis. Be warned all you who tries to give these cowards a hiding-place. No place is safe for the giant Raptors or the Ninjas of the Octagonal Pit. BASCON we will find you and rip your heart out !!!! ######################################################################## ************************* * * * VIRUS ALERT !!! * * * ************************* An extremely strange virus is coming from Ettrick forest. An entire faction seems to have a strange sickness. Symptoms are : - Weak legs, cannot move at all - fever - and ... yes, enjoying life anyway !! It appears that this virus is called : "Kent movwen doingso'm tingelse" If next month the faction is still sick, the leader will call a damgood doctor. CU, sickpeople trying to get better. ######################################################################## The Saga of The Mighty Zoggies "Raulos, get in here!" bellowed Rage just before dawn. "Sir, isn't it a bit early?" ventured Raulos. "The sun has yet to crest the horizon, and the carrier pigeons have yet to arrive." At that Rage again bellowed, "Do you think for a moment that The Mighty Zogg gives a field mouse's @%& what time it is? I have been visited by a vision that showed me our sacrifices have been successful. I was also given a sign that I am to again expand our numbers and produce a greater sacrifice to Zogg the Mighty. We must again send forth our blessed armies to crush the heathenistic neighbors we share our vast plains with." "All apologies sir, I forget the demands that are placed on you. I only wish to gain greater understanding." replied Raulos. "Yes, of course my brother, I believe that the pressures of leadership have begun to cloud my work. I believe that it is time that I got someone to help me wade through all of this paperwork and red-tape. You wouldn't happen to know of anyone who would be able to lend me a hand, would you?" asked Rage with a smirk. "Well, there is always Detlev. He loves figures and calculations so much that he tattooed runes everywhere on his body." replied Raulos pensively. "Yes, Detlev the old codger would do rather nicely, but tattoos EVERYWHERE? Ouch... I could also use a fellow to help me research the histories and attempt to gain some greater meaning and vision into the desires of The Mighty Zogg." said Rage. "Well sir, I don't know of anyone who has the determination and fire that you have. And the rest of us are all mainly peasants with little or no skill what so ever." answered Raulos. "No, I think that you are wrong my brother, I believe I have found exactly the Brother that I am looking for in you." said Rage after a moment of thought. "Me? Why sir, you must be mistaken. I know nothing of the histories and have yet to receive a vision." dodged Raulos. "Raulos, the visions from The Mighty Zogg told me to select you and they are never mistaken." countered Rage. "In love and peace, Brother" said Raulos. "In love and peace, Brother" answered Rage. And again, The Mighty Zogg was indeed pleased... ######################################################################## Sador's Journal Ah, the pleasure of casting Lightning again from ones hand. Spell research has indeed its satisfying moments. Soon I will be able to send my men into neighboring lands to acquire ore and wood to build a small cache of weapons in the case I get attacked. So far everything is proceeding smoothly as planned, I can only hope that this will be continue for quite some time. However I am troubled about my entertainment group. They seem to produce less money than they should be capable of. Must be this population problem I have read about in the Times. Two young men from the Village have asked me if I would teach them how to cast spells and make a big show and the like. I truely should consider taking appretices but those must be choosen with care......well I'll think it over and make a decision next month. Brought to you by the Chroncler of Sador's Magical Research ######################################################################## And after all this, the storm came. The foreboding clouds swept into the area as the sun was three-quarters through its daily journey, the color of pitch, and brought nigh by powerfully frigid winds. As it swept away the last slivers of sunlight, the cool humidity hit us, and we knew it would be a horrible evening, for those of us who survived. The horses had been silent until the clouds shut out the sunlight, giving an additionally unnatural feel to the whole situation. Everyone gathered up their children and tools and anything they thought they could salvage, and ran to the hobbits' homes praying that the normally genial hobbits would allow them shelter. Even as the first people reached the underground homes, lightning began to shread the blank sky and blinded everyone. Then they were pelted by the large drops of freezing rain. After convincing the hobbits (some through threatening to break their doors) to allow them in, several returned to those lagging behind to help shelter and move them along while the rest 'encouraged' the hobbits in rearranging their homes to make enough space. The hobbits being rather put-off by all this ruckus, and agitated by all the noise desparately grabbed their valued possessions away from the prying hands of the children, and hurriedly grab several as they were knocked over, saving them from the floor. "So much bustle for such little reason," most thought to themselves as again they settle down, this time in their bed chambers, with the door securely closed behind them, and a fresh pipe newly lit. The thunder was deafening, and even closing the thick doors to the outside barely helped to quiet the sharp crackles. The low rumblings caused by every peal of lightning shook you to the bones. As the heart of the storm approached, the beating of the rain on the earthen structure of the homes resounded with every drop, while the lightning, even through the sparse windows, kept the rooms lit as if it was noon on a mid-summers day. And then the storm was upon them... ######################################################################## First week of the month. -Well Martin, what do you think? Nothing so terrible has happened since the Sea Monster attack. Everything looks normal. Our allies are peacefull. The explorers are travelling fast and far away and our postion is still strong. -Is too good to last any longer. Our Indigo Guard is now impatient. Since the Sea Monster attack they are dying to enter in combat. Second week. -Remeber last week, about they null possibilities of combat? -Yes, I do remember. -Well seems that the possibility is not far away. One of the members of our alliance broke off and not in good terms. And look at this: some Prankster Emisarry is in the north of our island I wonder what they want. Nothing good I bet. -Yes, faction #15 a very old one. What are they doing here, in a newly colonized island? I hope they will describe their intentions. Third week. -Ah! Martin, I have news from that rebel faction. She retired from the alliance but signed a peace treaty with all of us. -I don't thik that she had any other possibility. -Indeed, she coudln't match our alliance toghether. Any way tell our spies to have a look in what she is doing. -Consider it done Chief. Last week. -I have a partial report from Wendy. She is all right and expecting our men to go to work in the mountains. She is also a little bit worried, another faction are already starting to work the mountain. -Something to worry about? -No, not at all. They are from a Republic friend of us and also our allies. -I have good news for you Chief and right here. Our workers started at the beggining of the month to study the art of entertain and they are ready to perform next month! -Good, that will acelerate our recovery. Let's go to the temple and pray to Iape, this has been a normal and peacefull month for a change. JA ######################################################################## Fighting Customers. Freaky Headquarters was in panic. There was a riot going on inside their own premises. Now that they had finally opened their first shop, the customers started fighting. Not that they were not satisfied with our services. No, they didn't like their fellow-customers. Armed with bats and sticks they were opposing each other. Luckily neither of them was strong enough to kill his opponent and they both knew that. So probably it would all end with a verbal row. What should the company do? Take sides? That would almost certain cause them to lose clients. If we were to defend one opponent against the other, that one would stop being friendly towards us, and might get hostile against the employees in the shop. The Department-Manager (official representative of the big boss), was called in and urged to settle the matter. By now the two customers had yelled so hard, the entire shop was filled with people, all taking one of the two sides. "Calm down, calm down, dear people. We don't need this. There's plenty for all of us. So you do not have to fight over this. Even more, why fight in front of all these civilised people?" The DVP diplomatically tried to get people out of the way. If they were to enter the dispute it would increase the tension, and there was no getting away from a big, big fight. That would ruin the brand new shop. So the only way saving the company's good name, was to stay loyal to everybody (how to do that?) and get this done with without any fighting, even near the premises of Freaky Inc. Of course, if they wanted a fight, no problem. As long as it didn't mean trouble for the company. Finally the crowd calmed down. People were not interested in either of the parties, they just wanted blood. A good fight always enjoyed them. It took their minds of the daily struggle for life. The manager was able to get the two screaming guys out of the shop. At least he had the idea it was him ho settled the matter. Anyway, the two customers left, after buying their goods, and went home, both with an angry face. The next day they each came over to talk, and asked the company what their position would be, in case a war broke out. The answer was equal to both: "This is a very delicate matter. We, as Freaky Inc. do not wish to enter this dipute, which has obviously no interference with our sales. We only wish you and your fellow customer, whom you have the dispute with, can reach an agreement, and become friends again. Of course you both will always be welcome on our premises, and we will be happy to supply you anything you need, no matter what the outcome of this matter will be." O yes, we had long decided what our position would be, but there was no use in telling these people that before needed. There were more important things to care about, like some woman, claiming to be Queen of this area.... Freaky Inc. (246) teeseling@med.ruu.nl ######################################################################## The Lost Continent Chapter 13 It seemed so simple at the time to pick up the hitchhiker. The old man was standing on the beach holding out his thumb. Captain Cificap could not resist his curiosity and stopped to ask the man what he wanted. "Just passage to a more peaceful land," was all the man said. There was plenty of room in the boat for an additional passenger. "Come aboard! We where heading for more peaceful lands ourselves. We are fleeing cannibals." The old man climbed into the vessel. "I am fleeing poultry." Cificap sensed conflict for only a moment, cannibals would not be interested in poultry. Only the red meat of nobility would satisfy their hunger. "We set sail at the end of the month." "I'm afraid that will not be soon enough." The captain lifted his looking glass and scanned the beach and the savanna beyond. What he saw caused his heart to sink. There was a flock of at least three thousand soldiers limping toward the ship. "Raise the anchor, we are setting sail early." The timing could not have been worse. The sea breeze and the rising tide held the ship at the beach. The old man cursed under his breath, "I though that they were going to leave me alone. This is a serious breach of diplomacy." The old man pulled a scroll out from beneath his robes and quickly scribbled a note. He pulled a pigeon from his sleeve which picked up the note and flew away. "They may destroy me, but my knowledge will not be lost!" A few of the nearby villagers gathered to intercept the approaching army. They were hopelessly outnumbered, but knowing that they were doomed, they where willing to fight to the last man. Their leader took a small group of men ahead and instructed them to hide in the tall grass and strike the first wave when they passed. The leader got scared when he saw how numerous the enemy was. He had forgotten that the Rules dictate and the Rules decide. His leadership advantage would have assured the ambush of success even though it was a suicide mission. Instead the leader ran into the nearby hills to avoid slaughter. The army continued to limp toward the ship. The ambush failed without the skill of a leader. The troops stormed the ship and killed the crew. The unarmed passengers where then lined up and executed. The old man had managed to escape by jumping overboard when the ambush failed to distract the feathered army. He had gambled that the ambush would not have been successful and hoped that the new masters of the ship would give him the liberty that the original owners had been prepared to give. The value of his decision would be apparent the next month. ######################################################################## PBEM, a fanzine for free computer-moderated play-by-email games, is looking for articles about Atlantis. I'd be especially interested in anything historical, but anything related to Atlantis would be fine. For more information, send your ideas to me. Thanks. -- greg <gl8f@virginia.edu> ######################################################################## Pale with fear the settlers of Tarraspan are reading the Atlantis Times: reports of war and bloodshed. Bad, bad news. "Who's going to be the next? Will our country be save?", so they ask themselves. Rumours of mercenary armies conquering new lands, leaving blood and death behind - these are really things to be worried about - and the settlers are. Only four months ago they have settled down here in Tarraspan, living in the hope to be through war and slavery. Now they tremble again for fear of being murdered or enslaved. "Why can't we live in peace? Does evil follow us?" Yes, these are the questions to be answered in a few months. ######################################################################## The Adventures of the Stranded Tourists Part 14: The Kulaks will pay! Janice reined back her horse as she neared the hamlet. "Who leads here?" she demanded of the cluster of peasants slaving in the field. "Landowner Alar" whispered a peasant "he can be found by his pond." Janice found the fat landowner lazing in the shade. "You will contribute to those who are defending your freedom!" she ordered. "A tax? I am but a poor farmer." bleated Alar. "A voluntary contribution to The Cause.." corrected Janice "..those sacks of grain in your store.." "Are saved against times of famine!" he protested. "Yet...we might spare a small donation.." he added hastily as he noticed the loaded crossbow leveled at his head. "See to it varlet. A sack of corn for our...protector" he spat. Janice spurred her horse as she thundered out of the hamlet. Next month she would return with troops,and Deroc,she mused remembering Alar's large family lounging by the pond while the peasants sweated. Those like him would pay...one way or the other! to be continued.. ######################################################################## Bascon Diamante pounded the desk in fury. "What do you mean, they got away? How in the blazes did they do that?" The messenger, trying hard not to cower, answered, "Well, m'lord, we thought long and hard on that, and finally checked with the experts. Seems there's a weird twist in the way things work in Atlantis, and Vox's scouts stepped right into it." "A twist in the rules?" Bascon stared at the messenger a moment, then collapsed into his chair and threw up his arms. "Of course! How else could they have done it? But why wasn't this loophole documented?" "It is, or rather all the individual actions that combine to allow the loophole are. It's simply a matter of putting it all together." "Fine, fine. Whatever. Leave me now." Bascon waved dismissively. After the messenger left, he got up and walked to the map on the wall (made of Genuine Paper Products; no human tissue included). He gazed glumly at the spreading number of red pins; red to indicate the vampires in service to Vox and the Agrik-worshippers. Marguarite entered the room. "Darling? The messenger said you seemed a bit upset about the reports." "Oh, just a bit glum at the prospect of having my precious bodily fluids decanted once again. Look here, you're a reader. Take a look at this." He pulled a thin, well-used document from a shelf and tossed it on the desk. Its title read: 'Rules for Atlantis v1.1." "I thought I knew its contents well, but apparently not well enough. There's power in this document, tricks and twists that can cause two men to outmaneuver an army! Take this document and study it. Study it very, very closely." Bascon turned his attention back to the map and muttered. "They seem to always have the loopholes on their side. Well, that must change. Find me a loophole, my dear, and I'll give you anything you want - anything at all. Put the ball in our corner, the odds on our side. Give us the advantage just one time!" ######################################################################## Hogli, Supreme Advisor to the Blood Throne, set his face into a grim countenance as he pushed the frightened young peasant lad up the ramp. The boy whimpered slightly as he caught sight of the hideous apparition on the Throne, twitching, wheezing, and scratching flakes off its scaled grey-green hide. Hogli caught the boy roughly by the collar and shoved him forward, then addressed his Master. "My Lord Vox, the news has arrived. I fear the rescue of the Archmage has met an untimely end." Vox turned blind eyes slowly to the voice, with an air of immense menace. "Tell me, and spare no details." The voice was a hoarse, low growl. "My Lord, as we feared, the forces of Lame Duck attacked our lone rescue vessel, the Blood Succor. We had prepared for such an eventuality, but the Archmage Hobi did not bring his tactics skill to our defense. The ship was lost with all hands, and now belongs to Hobi alone...or perhaps to the Duck." Hogli stepped back briskly after delivering this news. Although he knew Lord Vox would not harm his Supreme Advisor (and lose the precious tanning secrets), he had discovered that it was helpful to have a surrogate handy. Thus Hogli watched and listened impassively as the unfortunate peasant lad was rent to a shower of ripped body parts, amid the howls of frustration of Lord Vox. "How DARE he defy MY orders!!! (slash) Betraying FOOL!!! (rip) Incompetent FIEND!! (disembowel) BLOODY DEATH to Hobi!! I shall REAVE the lands of the Duck!! (fling) KILL them ALL!! DESTROY!! RAVAGE!! CRUSH ALL COWARDLY FACTIONS TO BLOODY PULP!!!! (munch)" Hogli waited for the furor to subside a bit before responding. "Yes, my Lord, I agree. An excellent tactical plan, too, and very well thought out, well tempered with the subtle style you are now famous for. Perhaps Hobi's excuses and explanations would best wait for another time. Now, I have somewhat better news from our other fronts..." Vox stopped in mid-bite. "Tell me! Tell me of the slaughter of the Moes! It went as planned? Their doom is sealed? Blood!! How much blood??" Vox's eagerness contrasted sharply with his bloated and crusted appearance, but Hogli noted the attitude change with some approval. "Much as planned, my Lord. Their token resistance was sufficient to halt the cannibal troops for a time, but the massive armies of the Dead we summoned rose just at the foot of their mountain. Their opposition is now futile, and we await their messages begging us for mercy. As of blood...the tanks are well-nigh filled, and the fleet returns." Lord Vox gingerly shuffled down from the dais. "You must guide me to the wharf, Hogli. I must meet our ships...I cannot wait longer for this blood. Ah, to taste again the blood of battle..." A long stream of drool trailed from the Beast's chin, as the unlikely pair made their way out of the Citadel gates. ######################################################################## In Dreadlock, the shadow spread with frightening voracity. Everywhere that the Dreadseed found weak minds among the Mist Brothers, it drained the will, leaving legions of fanatically loyal, mindless followers in its wake. Those that resisted lost even more, becoming less than human. Ghouls, zombies, skeletons - the dead walked the land openly, in stark defiance of the impotent sunlight. Dispassionately, the Mist watched as the holocaust consumed its people. Some were passed over by the Dreadseed, for reasons that could only be comprehended within its own chaotic mind. The lucky ones remained loyal to the Black Father in Zaalsehuur, unaware that the mind of their reverred leader had also been touched by the shadow. ######################################################################## Drake read the parchment a second time. It still didn't sound any better. He knew he would have to bring this to the attention of the Spellweaver. Spellweaver had left the compound two months ago to attend to some arcane research which required his full attention. At the time, he seemed very upset with something that had (or perhaps hadn't) been happening in the council. Drake did not follow or particularly care for the politics of the council, but he gathered that it had something to do with an incident involving two foreign scouts that had taken place a month or two before. The scouts belonged to the same faction which had sent the disturbing message. When he left, the Spellweaver had left strict orders that he was not to be disturbed except in the case of an emergency. The tone of the parchment suggested that a big emergency was imminent unless someone took action. It was definitely time to disturb the Spellweaver... Drake rode north out of the compound and surrounding village. He didn't know exactly where he would find the Spellweaver, but he had a good guess. Drake headed towards the ceremonial circle where he had sometimes found the Spellweaver in the past. As Drake began to climb the hill which held the circle of stones, he thought he heard voices. He stopped for a moment and listened. Yes, there were definitely voices coming from the top of the hill. He crept a little closer and listened some more. "Are you sure you are going to be alright? We could go for help." The speaker sounded a lot like the Spellweaver, but it was definitely someone else. "Yes, I will be fine in a few moments. Holding the gate open long enough for the two of you to pass though has simply drained me," replied a weary voice that Drake recognized as Spellweaver's. Drake continued up the hill, confident that these two newcomers were friendly. When he came into view of the ring, his mouth dropped open. There were three Spellweaver's in the circle. Two were standing over a third, who was sitting on one of the lower stones which marked the ceremonial circle. As soon as they saw him, one of them raised his hand towards Drake and uttered an incantation. Nothing happened. The Spellweaver on the ground started chuckling. "Ah, my brother, it will take time for you to attune yourself to the magic of this world. Besides, this is the Captain Drake I have been telling you about. Captain, these are my brethren from the other world. This is Shadow Weaver, and this man who just tried to paralyze you is Doom Weaver. They have come from the other world to aid our cause. Now, why have you come to find me?" Still speechless, Drake slowly walk into the circle and handed Spellweaver the parchment. The expression on the Spellweaver's face showed concern. Finally, he stood up. "Gentlemen, we have to get back to the compound." "Are you sure you are ready to move?" asked the Shadow Weaver. "I have to be. I have neglected my political and diplomatic duties for too long. I have to go try to stop a war now." ######################################################################## "Who is this 'Kithkin', anyways?" "I dunno. All I knows is that he's got the cash to keep me hangin' around." "Yeah, but where does he gets it?" "Well, we're workin' the crowds, right?" "Xactly! We're gettin' it for 'im, that's what I figures. And we's still stuck in this pit of a town workin' fer piddley-squat!" "But he's promised us adventure, and whatever we's makin' now is still more than what we ever got to keep before..." "Maybe, but we can go find 'venture on ours own! There's too many rules and regulations fer me anyways! C'mon" "Hey! What about all our old friends?" "Who cares; we'll find more wherever we go." "Aw, geez..." -and another 5% of the population leaves home- ######################################################################## =-=-= END TIMES 406 =-=-= ######################################################################## Up