Atlantis Times v1.1 v04n05 From: JJC%MP068@MPA15AB.mv-oc.Unisys.COM Date: Tue, 15 Nov 1994 02:08:30 +0000 ######################################################################## =-=-= Atlantis Times v1.1 Volume 4 Number 05 =-=-= =-= November 14, 1994 =-= ######################################################################## Words from The Big Guy: Since we have quite a few new players, it's time to review the guide- lines for submissions to the Atlantis Times. First off, submissions must not exceed 72 characters per line. Excess is wrapped, as some of the articles here demonstrate. Second, remember to indicate which unit is to be paid if you want to be paid. Many of this month's articles did not indicate who to pay. Sorry, no retro-active pay will be given. Also note that DISPLAY and UNIT commands cannot exceed one line. NOTE *** Atlantis is now closed. All full, no more starts. Greg and Norm, can you update the PBEM FAQ and WWW Page for Atlantis, respectively? Thanks. 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 ######################################################################## The Lost Continent Chapter 12 Duncan was enjoying himself for the first time since Zamora had resigned as president of the university. He had been given a new assignment. He was no longer needed in Vashcort. He had been given four regiments and enough ships to send them. His mission was to rid Atlantis of goatees. Duncan did not object to goatees, he was just glad to be leaving Vashcort and leave the evil Skinflayers behind. Duncan understood the importance of the Skinflayers to Agrik, but that did not allay his dislike for their habits. It was his brother Jonathan who objected to goatees. Jonathan felt that facial hair distracted the eye from beautiful crowns and was in the way when performing delicate dental work. The ships left at dawn and sailed into the rising sun. Beyond the horizon he would find the men with goatees and force them to shave or the armies of Zamora would do the shaving with their swords. Accompanying Duncan on this journey were three professors who wished to found a new school. There were also missionaries of the Order of the Octagonal Pit that would teach any savages encountered the holy knowledge of Agrik. The mission was blessed by the Chafin himself. Agrik would not allow this mission to fail. The power of the Northern Wind knew no limit. Any forces that opposed them would be squashed and sent back to Vashcort in a bottle. ######################################################################## The poll is in ... and the numbers are not encouraging. I would like to ask for players now. Those who had sent to me need not send again. If the numbers are still not sufficiently large for a good game, then I will scrap the idea. The first year of the blitz should be over within 2 weeks. Since in the first year, nothing much need to be done (or think about), I will probably run them once every day .. or once every 2 days. [just to let you people know what to expect] Please send all mails to isc20320@leonis.nus.sg by 0000 hrs GMT November 18. It will be difficult to accept new players once the ball starts rolling since new players will find it difficult to catch up (it's a blitz afterall). Regards. Grey ######################################################################## Three months ago the immigrants landed in Tarraspan. There was nothing, neither houses, no towns, only a few peasants. But the land seemed to be good and the folks were willing to struggle for their new freedom and wealth. They began to build up ttheir new homes, to organize, to trade, to tame horses, to learn and to study. Soon there was room for joy and fun: the circus's, the dance groups and a lot of culture. But then - suddenly - something happend: four families disappeared and their fate will remain unknown till the end of EARTH. Nevertheless the other settlers keep on working hard and they love their new country. They decide to create a new national hymn. The melody is composed by a young musician, a member of The Fabulous Blackwood Sisters. The Lyrics are by a young sorceress, studying magic to learn healing the sickness both of soul and body. Here it is: Tarraspan my dear new country, how I love your skies and grass. Blue's the sky and green the ground, I must thank THEE for what I've found. Tarraspan's the land to settle, home for the brave and free. Thank THEE, my GOD for watching over. Thank THEE for guarding me. ######################################################################## The last rider scratched his head. Something had gone badly wrong. He carefully rechecked his bearings and studied his map. How could he have been so stupid ? The map was upside down ! This endless plain had so few distinguishing features, he had failed to notice his error and had gone far from his intended route. Even with the unexpected generosity of the local populace his food rations were unlikely to last for ever. At least the plains provided plentifull grazing for his trusty steed. He carefully recalculated his position and worked out the shortest route home. Hopefully the populace would remain friendly and allow him a swift ride home. ######################################################################## I dont know if you got the last one of these correctly. The Saga of The Mighty Zoggies "Most Holy," ventured Raulos, "carrier pigeons have returned from our Outreach Members. They bring good news, because we have both wood and iron only a province away. That means that we can begin to build a decent means of self defense, instead of just throwing up more cannon-fodder than the other guys." "DON'T YOU THINK THAT I KNOW THAT ALREADY!!!" bellowed Rage. "As my most trusted advisor, you are to know what I know and inform me of the rest." The carrier pigeon script was indeed good news but also brought with it an air of bad tidings. Where were all of the other factions wondered Rage. Alas, he realized that that was something that The Mighty Zogg had not informed him of yet. That suggested an inadequacy of the faith within The Mighty Zoggies, and that was utterly unacceptable. In fact, it required drastic measures to get back on the beneficial side of The Mighty Zogg. A SACRIFICE was in order! Immediately, Rage dropped to his hands and knees and spoke a silent prayer to his Holy Lord. "Most Holy and Mighty Zogg, I realize with my puny intellect that you desire a sacrifice to appease your anger but I can not comprehend who you wish to have as a sacrifice. It is for that reason that I am humbly praying to you for guidance." Zogg in his beneficence, took the time from a trio of flirtateous nymphs that he had summoned. "In your infinite STUPIDITY Rage, you have interrupted me at a m ost unfortunate time. For your error, I command you to destroy two of the tribes of indigenous peoples to Durness and burn their heads upon my altar. WHEN this is done, I may find it within my graciousness to pardon you for your stupidity." It was at this point that Rage flew to his feet and wiped the thick layer of sweat that had beaded upon his brow with a flick of his sleeve. Raulos came over and together they devised a plan with the help of Commander Thor that should eliminate the required tribes and appease their god. And The Mighty Zogg went back to his nymphs... ######################################################################## The army was forming along nicely despite the setback from all the starved miners. However, Dwight was quite angry that he had let the French forces live and they had run away without paying their due tribute. There would be reckoning before the day was done. ######################################################################## The womble miners' close-cropped fur was inadequate protection from the howling winds of the icy mountainside. They dumped their burdens and hurried back into the tunnel. Twisting down at crazy angles at it chased the precious seam of haematite, the tunnel would be impossible to negotiate but for its rope handholds and scaffolding. As the wan light of the mountain skies faded, it was replaced by the flickering, hellish glow of the furnaces, and before long the miners' fur was again damp with sweat. The smelter was positioned under a shaft in the rock, so that the fierce updraft would drag away the stale air, and let fresher air in through another shaft deeper in the mine. But by the time it reached the smelters, that air was hot and acrid from the fire-sets deep in the bowels of the mountain. At least this mine did not flood like the coal mine in the foothills; water had to be carried down to the workface with the coke. Occasionally the flavour of the air would subtly change, and it would grow a little muggy; then, they knew, more ore would soon be hauled up for smelting by other blackened, furless, sweating wombles. Each miner braced himself under his basket of carbon-steel billets for the hard slog back to the surface stockpile, awaiting the teamster's mules. One miner began to hum a sweet rustic ditty of his youth in a warren by a gentle river-bank, but it was soon faintly replaced by the deep tones of the miners' grimmer song, in time to the roaring of the furnace falling away below them. ######################################################################## **** First Bloodharvest in months **** The joy is great in realm of Vashcort finally the blooharvest have started again. The first galleons with fine nobility blood has arrived from Bananaland. These precious first bottles will be delivered straight to the Council of the Northern wind and a big sacrifice will be made to the almighty Agrik for once more leading the brave troops to new fresh fields of blood. Others than the council will have to wait a bit longer for the precious drops but the troops of the Roowing Doom promises that the harvets will continue for many months and that there will be enough blood wine for all that want it. ######################################################################## Part 3 - Antelopes and Wizards Gurithim was happy with how things were progressing. His ranks were growing and money was starting to trickle in. He was even becoming a sort of local celebrity for the discovery of Penelope, the suave, svelt antelope, star of Give Me Back My Canteloupe, Charles! He hadn't really "discovered" her as much as lucked onto her, but she and some of his men were putting on sold out shows night after night, so he let the "slightly incorrect assumption" (as he liked to think of it, when he thought at all) perpetuate itself. He had also lucked onto a sagely looking man who called himself Loktofeit. He presented himself as "a wizard of great power, controller of the uncontrollable, knower of secrets unbeknowst to mortal men, caster of spells that make even gods tremble." Gurithim was quite impressed with how Loktofeit had fit all those words onto such a little business card. "You must be quite a magician!" said Gurithim, amazed. "No, I just have a good printer. His name is Jaffrey and...Oh! Yes! I *am* quite the magician, once apprentice to the great Gougar himself! You do know of Gougar, don't you?" Gurithim, not wanting to reveal his ignorance (at least, not this time) said "Of course! Gougar the mighty! Gougar the magnificent! Gougar the...the...less than forgettable!" Actually, Gougar never existed, and Loktofeit knew it. Gurithim obviously didn't, as Lokotfeit had hoped. Loktofeit was growing increasingly certain that this was the place for him. After a brief discussion of terms, Loktofeit signed on with Gurithim as chief wizard. Loktofeit wasn't quite as he presented himself though. He was really a 22 year old ex-circus performer that always dreamed of being a wizard. He had used some makeup skills he had acquired in his years in the circus to make himself appear much older and sagelier. It seemed to have worked. "Now I think I finally have a source for the funds I need to study magic," he mused to himself as Gurithim walked away to check on reports from his scouts. ######################################################################## *********************************************** Plato's Grandchildren cordially invites whomever finds Our name objectionable to identify themselves, and state clearly their objections. Submissions should be presented in double-spaced A4 slabs of polished granite, presented no later than May 4, Year 4, to the Registrar of Plato's Affairs. *********************************************** The GrandPoobah of Plato's Grandchildren seek urgently an audience with The Cooperative Society of Friends who have both the names and details of Plato's Lads. Together we can solve this dreadful conundrum. ************************************************* ######################################################################## In a small village beside the bay, in the lush and populous region of Knesect, a few bored goons with rusty swords gazed out idly over the waves. Nothing much happened in Knesect, and their employer, Four-Eyed Moe (the local politico in the Five Guys Named Moe party), hadn't seen much need to give them continuing military training. After all, the most excitement they'd seen in a year was dragging some Pranksters out of a longboat and executing them -- though of course, a few of them got away, Pranksters were like that. Really a pretty boring place. One nudged another in the ribs. "Glook'a there, Gjoe! Thar's a big g'black spot on da gorizon!" Sure enough. Kind of like, a WHOLE BUNCH of sails, if they were jet black. Well, and perhaps striped and slashed with crimson. After much muttering and scratching of heads, the two finally agreed that some sort of alarm should perhaps be raised. Another several hours of beauracratic organizing, and the local militia was almost all in one place...just in time to watch the black ships dock and unload their hordes of troops. The sunken-eyed pale troops of VOX, led by a dark Raptor. The fearsome Matterhorn Climbers, elite PATO troops. A motley assortment of University death specialists. Ginsu troops, Pit troops...and among them, a phalanx of fearsome robed sorcerers. Life in Knesect had just gotten exciting, mused Joe the Moe, as he patted his sword nervously and watched the Skinflayer troops unload the big empty barrels. Now, what did they intend to fill *those* with? *** Meanwhile, further south, another black-sailed ship sailed into another bay, to much worse odds. But one pair of eyes on the shore watched the arrival with great eagerness: they belonged to Hobi the Archmage, Almost-Warlord of Lemuria. The grim defeat at the hands of Larson, and subsequent betrayal by Lame Duck, had not led to good fortunes for Hobi. This ship was his last chance. Odd that his final fate lay with this evil, dark lot; the hideous Lord Vox and his bloodthirsty allies. Hobi, who had once been a noble Paladin, now forced to this final desperate bid for survival. Ah, the powers Magic has to corrupt! But in the end, The Rules dictate, The Rules decide all. And now it would be speed, and cunning, and timing: could he and his guard board quickly enough, before the inevitable attack by Lame Duck? Or, would he have better fortune in casting his lot with the Ducks, despite their former betrayals, and trying to capture the dark ship by force? The night rippled with tension. The morning would bring the final decisions, the bloodshed, the outcome. *** And before a dark crimson looking-glass, a starving Lord Vox sat upon the Blood Throne, eyes riveted forward upon the scenes of coming bloodshed, muscles tensed in eagerness. Waiting. Waiting. ######################################################################## Sador's Journal Next Month I should be able to finish the research on my first spell. Finally I have made enough progress in my studies and can call me once again a Mage. At the moment however I have more pressing concerns, two of the Factions here have not answered my Letter of peacful cooperation and friendship. Fortunately I have found some allies so we should be reasonably well prepared should they try something by force. One other worry is this continuing talk of war in the Times. Why can some Factions not be happy with what they have and let the others live in peace. I guess this I will never know. I only hope they don't come to this peacful spot. But enough for now, I have a spell to research. Brought to you by the Chronicler of Sador's Magical Research ######################################################################## And so it begins again. There wasn't a single Diamante in Skottskog, but Skinflayers, Octagonal Pit, and PATO attacked anyway. The blood collection is progressing as this message is typed. At least Lord Vox has abandoned his silly "Dusk Bunnies" disguise and stepped out into the open. Oh, when will the killing end? Can't we all just get along? All you factions who encountered scouting bunnies, be warned! Troops may follow soon. While this alliance is occupied in hunting down the Confederated Houses, take the chance to strengthen your defenses and make your battle plans. It's too late when a ship from Vashcort lands on your shore. Rational men shudder to contemplate what the Vashcortians will do if a second continent falls under their domain. ######################################################################## "Here's another one, sir," a guard said, holding a dead bird. "Same as all those other carrier pidgeons--all dead from who knows what." Shaykh Ghassan examined the specimen but could see nothing wrong with it. "Hmmm. A carrier pidgeon epidemic. And all the messages coming from 'the Big Guy.' I wonder why his pidgeons survive to reach some factions like ours, while others like Confussion receive hardly any." He waved away the guard, who threw the bird on a pyre where scores of others were already smoldering. "Perhaps it is some curse," offered Ibn Elyas, one of the elders of Bani Ghassan. "Some evil demon must have become angry at some of the factions." "I think not," said Shaykh Ghassan. "I have spoken with this Big Guy and he too believes it is a disease, an accident not some maliciousness. He hopes to find a vaccine soon. Some of the factions suffering under this catastrophe write me saying they are now receiving reports from him. Perhaps the worst is past!" "I certainly hope so!" Ibn Elyas coughed out in disgust. "The fumes from those pidgeons are overpowering." "Well, it's a good thing you're leaving, isn't it?" said Shaykh Ghassan. "In fact you'd best be on your way to meet the Stranded Tourists and Freaky, Inc. right away. It's a long ride to Karothea." Ibn Elyas muttered something unpleasant, climbed on his horse, and called out to the gathered tribe, "Stay in peace!" "Peace be with you!" they returned. As Ibn Elyas rode off into the dusty plain, the Ghassanis returned to their various tasks, and Shaykh Ghassan sat down to consider yet another letter to be sent off by carrier pidgeon. ######################################################################## Attention fellow Atlantians! The Confederation of the Shield has temporarily closed it's doors to new member factions. New spots may be opening in the future, as current members either leave Atlantis for other lands or retire from the confederation. Please do not ask to be put on a waiting list, as I will announce when there are spots open. I wish you well in your endeavors upon the great land of Atlantis!!! General Atom - Flictauri Republic ######################################################################## -Brrrr, is rather cold in here. Isn't? -Well yes. That's one of the reason of my mistake, the peasants here have a very nice drink. Some kind of fermented goat milk. -No excuses brother. The Chief put me in charge, but he told me to give you a message. Your request is granted -So he has forgiven me. *wheh* -Not quite, from now on you are a farmer slave with no name. You four. Take this slave to work in the fields. And keep an eye on him. -Wendy, sisteer, noooo.... {Well, it wasn't that hard. Mmm? Not a good situation, not at all. I guess I should start studying untill the backup arrives, how long he said? 4 to 5 months. Not to much time to learn all the stuff. Better start right away.} + + + + + + + + -Sir, we have bad news!! -Well, seems that is the bad news season. What is so important? -An ugly Sea Monster, Sir!! -A Sea Monster? Is that true? I thought that were just colorfull articles in the times. I saw Elvis in Lemuria, that kind of stuff. -No, sir, is real. He has eaten 7 peasant, but me and the other guards were there to organize the peasants and he had to flee to the open ocean. -You mean that you were actually attacking the monster? Don't you understand all the time that I have invested on you? Don't guard the peasant anymore untill we are stronger. Any casualties in the Indigo Guards? -None, sir! -O, well. I'm very proud of you guys. Anyway, tell me about it. -Weel, sir, his teeth, like swords, he looks like at least fifty of us and better prepared. And although an objective report should declare him winer, he lost at least the equivalent of 25 men, and the peasants only 7. And we are intact. -Mmm that is queer. He probably learned the lesson. -I hope so,sir. -Dismissed. {Now a sea monster what else is going to be wrong next time} *sigh* ######################################################################## Mage Nicolas had a grave aura of exhaustion about him as he sat quietly on the wooden bench in the Seneschal's private gardens. Over the past few months he had come to know Cai well. The two men had spent many demanding days composing negotiation scripts and transmitting them through the Atlantean ether. "This long distance diplomacy is a strange beast, eh Nic?" The Seneschal gestured towards the latest missive that Nicolas had transcribed earlier that morning. "Think of the time and effort we have been putting into the avoidance of conflict and bloodshed." "Aye, my lord, I am well aware of the efforts we have expended." "Well, then, you see from this latest response that we are no further on the road to peace and enlightenment than we were before this whole exercise commenced." "Please don't put it in such blunt terms, my lord. It is particularly frustrating to think of all those efforts coming to naught." "Exactly. I wonder if we would have had any more success if we had spared the pen, and used the sword instead?" ######################################################################## First there were 3 of us vying for the entertainment dollars of this town, and now the Blackwood Sisters' troupe has entered, people are leaving, and business is just plain bad. It looks like we need to think about moving on, but we know next to nothing about the outside.. "Smythe!" called Kithkin. #### It was such a fine spring day that he'd walked the calm plains searching for a place away from the bustle of the town. Past the fields where peasants slaved, looking for that favored rock outcropping alone jagged among the rolling hills and the rows of wheat covering the region. That's really where he belongs; in the mountains.. But from here, the highest point for miles, only these low hills are visible. Perhaps someday.. Smythe's page found him exactly where he expected, and it was some time before Smythe could be roused to consciousness. But as soon Smythe realized that the page was saying Kithkin wanted him to leave and scout the wilderness, Smythe was off and running. ######################################################################## The Adventures of the Stranded Tourists Part 11 : The Second Five Month Plan ; Item 12,876(Caps) "The Red Guardians would look nicer if they had fur caps. Are there any pelts availiable locally?" asked Janet. "It is said that Womble-fur is the finest in the land, but Wabbit-skins might make a suitable alternative..." answered Deroc. "Er....I meant pelts from wild beasts, gathered in a humane & ecologically sustainable manner." "I know of no fur-bearing beasts except those mentioned. A raiding party..." "No! While they respect our lands they shall live in peace." "But Womble-nose soup is reputedly delicious. Perhaps a small raiding party?" "Deroc! I have forbidden it! " "As you wish.." sighed Deroc "..so shall it be." to be continued.... ######################################################################## They were cozy in these chairs that held them aloft for so much of their lives. The fire burnt warmly, holding off the cold of the surrounding earth as the pair slowly rocked back-and-forth in their rickety rockers, sharing the peacefulness of the moment. The smoke from their dark stone pipes waifted around and 'round their chairs and their hovel, softening the light from the fireplace, lending an easiness to the eyes, almost helping them to stay open to the peacefulness they viewed rather than giving up consciousness for lack of energy to go on. This rustic scene was suddenly disturbed by a knock on the door. "We don't want any!" retorted the elder hobbit. "You are required at the grounds," calmly spake the voice of the Master of Ceremonies, who had grown used to this wearysome custom. "What for?" "You were signed on for a reason; to serve Kithkin." "We already convinced some of these yokles to come to the circus," explained the younger twin, still through their thick front door, adamently rocking, refusing to budge from their comfort. "Those aren't the skills you were hired for." "..." "You two were deemed the best pair of tumblers around, and you'll be our clowns whether you like the face paint or not!" the MoC cried as he brusquely opened the door. "*WHAT!*" Clearly today wasn't going according to plan. ######################################################################## =-=-= END TIMES 405 =-=-= ######################################################################## Up