Atlantis Times v1.1 v04n04 From: JJC%MP068@MPA15AB.mv-oc.Unisys.COM Date: Tue, 08 Nov 1994 02:04:56 +0000 ######################################################################## =-=-= Atlantis Times v1.1 Volume 4 Number 04 =-=-= =-= November 7, 1994 =-= ######################################################################## Words from The Big Guy: Some joker tried to move (actually, sail) back and forth. It caused the game to loop. Luckily, I had taken the orders I had home to run against a test version of my game and was able to fix the bug. 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 Sage Alliance welcomes players, and offers a defensive alliance that promotes economic expansion through trade, and strength through numbers. Our alliance supports and enforces voluntary trade agreements made amongst its members. Feeling nervous about "giving" away goods in an agreed upon, yet blind, exchange? Contact us, and you'll see how we can help! We also support island defenses against sailing hordes of high-level aggressors rumored to be in route. Contact our HQ for more information, or meet with an Emissary traveling in your local. For those with wizards, ask them to cast commune with other wizard, using the arcane frase "jag@peterpan.jpl.nasa.gov". Advisory: All postings made by the Sage Alliance and by Sage & Co. are accompanied with the the commune contact frase above. We invite verification. Accept no fradulent substitutes. John Greensage Sage & Co. Sage Alliance HQ. ######################################################################## QUESTION: How many Plato's does it take to change a lightbulb ? ANSWER: None. You don't change Plato's lightbulbs, you blow them out. Change your name buddy, but fast. ######################################################################## ***** Confederation of the Shield Members ***** Please let me know if you are not receiving the newsletter. We are having a few mail problems on our end. ######################################################################## Attention all new factions!!!! A few remaining positions are available for membership in The Confederation of the Shield. Any faction that has played less than 10 turns is eligible. Membership benefits include: - A detailed map of Atlantis, as explored by member factions. - A turn-by-turn newsletter full of information. - Member submitted articles about gameplay and strategy. - Access to member only trade routes. - Access to a soon to be formed University. - Data on other factions operating in Atlantis. - Security of numbers! If you are interested in taking one of the limited spots available, contact General Atom of the Flictauri Republic at: flick@cwis.unomaha.edu ######################################################################## Dateline: Februrary 04 Clive took the small, framed portrait of Simone from his desk and, being careful not to rumple the black velvet (a sure sign of the exclusive quality) placed it in the moving box. Cradling the box under one arm, he looked around at his empty office one last time, then closed the door and headed in the direction of Seamist One, one of two sister ships generously presented to the Gnomes by the Brotherhood of the Mist in exchange for a mere three squares of plains land and one forest. The Gnome Nation was on the move. Units were forming up on the pier and marching up the gangways onto the ships. Nearby, units of the allied Arkadians were busy boarding their own galleons, while a group of Wandering Nomads looked on enviously from their not-quite-finished galleon, even as they scoured the shipyard frantically for scraps of wood to complete it. Clive stepped into a throng of arguing sailors, milling around on the dock. "Here now, what's all this about?" "The crew don't like the name 'Seamist One'" explained their self-appointed spokesman, "plus we got about a dozen people all wantin' ta be cap'n." "Well, I'm the admiral", declared Clive, "and I'll decide who gets to be Captain. Oh, by the way, has anybody here ever steered a boat before?" This was greeted with cries of derision, topped off with "that ain't a boat, it's a SHIP!" "Well perhaps one of you gentlemen could explain to me what exactly is the difference between a boat and a ship" remarked Clive in an even, if not quite friendly tone. The sailors, to a man, examined their feet and cracks in the dock planking intensely. "Hmph, I thought so" said Clive. "I'll be interviewing candidates for the position of Captain for both ships before we set sail. Send anybody interested over to the dockmaster's cabin at the end of the pier there, where I'll be in conference with the head of security until we embark." He turned to leave but was interrupted. "What about the name of the ship? We ain't gonna be stuck with Seamist One are we?" they all wanted to know. "Just what is wrong with Seamist One?" "Well for one thing, now that the Mist gave it to us, it's OUR ship, and we ain't no stick flipping Mist Brothers" exclaimed one. "Yeah!" they all agreed in unison. "Plus", added another, "it's boring. We want a more exciting name." The rest nodded. A small Gnome with a bad accent and grammar worse than the rest of them pushed his way to the fore and said "Ja, und der name is bad luck! In mein land, das wort Mist, it means something bad!" They all looked at him expectantly. His face turning the same color as his nose, he muttered "droppings". They all stared at him in silence. "Animal dung, horse apples, cow flop, you know vat I mean." They knew, but remained speechless, considering the implications. "Well!", said Clive, letting out a deep breath, "I guess we should solicit suggestions for a new name and then have a secret ballot." With that, he turned and walked away. Entering the dockmaster's cabin, Clive sat down to confer with Hooker and Dachsund. "Any more horse sightings reported?", he inquired. There was no question of which horse he was asking about. "None within the last week", replied Hooker. "Well, keep an eye out." * * * Isaac grinned his big toothy grin as Clive and Simone walked up the boarding ramp, hand in hand. "Welcome aboard," he beamed, marking their names off a list and waving his arm at the stairway behind him, "right this way. You're up on A deck. There's complimentary champagne waiting for you in your cabin. I'll be your steward for this trip. If there's anything that I or the crew can do for you, anything at all, don't hestitate to ask. Enjoy your cruise!" What a beautiful couple he thought. Captain Steuben would be delighted to have them at the Captain's Table table for dinner. * * * There was a knock at the cabin door. "Come in", said Clive. Isaac came in and handed him a list. "This is the result of the voting for a new name for the ship", he informed Clive, "subject to your approval, of course." Clive eyed the list of suggested names and the votes they had drawn: Andrea Dorea 16 Bounty 22 Edmund Fitzgerald 17 Exxon Valdez 3 Flying Dutchman 15 Minnow 22 Poseidon 22 Princess 22 PT-63 10 Seamist One 1 Seaview 1 Titanic 8 Five ballots had been summarily disqualified for writing in unserious joke names such as "Garbage Scow" and "Seaturd", (the latter an apparent play on the current name). A runoff vote was called for. There was another knock at the door. This time a gnarled old man came stumping in on a wooden leg, his white hair as wild as his angry eyes. Clive remembered him as one of the more adamant candidates for ship's captain. Ahab, his name was. He was followed in by a young lad whose name Clive did not know. Clive greeted Ahab, then turned to the lad and asked, "And what shall I call you?" ######################################################################## A new trading company has been formed. WESTAR TRADING COMPANY (Faction 326) will gladly transport goods for any other faction. We are quite new and will require time to build up our strength, but we are quite desirable to improving trade in the Skomer region. ######################################################################## The last rider checked his meager rations. His route had been unexpectedly populated and his carefully calculated rations were looking less by the day. It was unlikely now that he was going to reach his rendezvous in time to replenish them. If only he had attended more of the observation classes instead of skiving off and playing with horses he might have been able to work out who all the surrounding groups were. One thing was for sure they were not all peasants. But were any of them friendly enough to spare a down on his luck traveler enough food to get home safely. ######################################################################## Ever since December The Cooperative Society of Friends had peacefully co-existed along side Plato's Lads.Julie, Kitty, Pyramus and Clem never raised a finger against any one. By february of the next year no trace was left of any of them. The collected wisdom of the Committee has spent much time debating their demise. No violence was detected, no diseases reported, no magics seen. Their disappearance remains a worrying mystery to those left less they befall the same fate. ######################################################################## Communications. -Come in! =Sir, we have a problem with the units... -I noticed. We now are operating as a company for almost 6 months. We are educated, we know how to earn money. We are even lecturing other factions. And selling stuff. But, if you guys want to get back to your status of humble peasants, fine with me. But if you want to be happy, not depending on anybody, than act like it, and show some responsibilty! Think like a company! Think big! = Sir, the guys are working hard, as you know, it's just they are not used to having to report to anyone. They do obey orders, for they all know that power will only come if everybody helps. They do listen, Sir! -Well, then explain to me, why don't they tell me what they have done? Are they ashamed of what they do? Why do customers have to tell me what they have seen or bought, without my own men confirming this? = It's all a matter of good communication. They do produce reports and they do keep track of their finances, it's just those reports never reach us, for whatever reason that may be. - Very well, if the men do not want my leadership, I might as well give no more orders. Let them get rich on their own. = No, no Sir, they do listen to you, it's just that if they send their reports they go missing, the reports I mean. - I know what you mean, you idiot! Good thing I have my informants, telling me what my own units are doing. Now go, and solve this matter, for I will no longer tolerate being kept blind. I cannot run this company without reports from everybody. And I mean everybody! I do not care how you solve this, as long as it is solved. Go, you moron and don't bother coming in without any news. I've got things to do too, you know! ... Damn, you start a company, freeing yourself from slavery. Out of pityness you ask some locals to join you and work their way to financial freedom. Even giving them their fair share of the profits, giving them security, a personality. Finally they can be somebody! And what is the result? They go about doing their own things, not bothering reporting to, obviously the only bright guy in this business. If I were to abandon them, they would probably all be dead in a few months or fallen back into their old habits; working like hell just to support some arrogant ruler who doesn't bother about welfare of people. Let's ask our friends to keep an eye on the units. Maybe they can see if my orders are being executed.... Freak, President of Freaky Inc.(246) -- teeseling@med.ruu.nl ######################################################################## Raistlin the mage cast the black velvet hood from his head and looked over the prow of his vessel. Atlantis loomed on the horizon and it looked just as bleak as the tales made out. His mighty army followed in several large longboats. "How easy it will be to crush these impudent Atlanteans.", he whispered to his second in command, a large burly man with a brain the size of a walnut. "Uh ... Yeh... Crush... *heh heh heh*", said the big man. Raistlin's golden hourglass eyes surveyed the water ahead of them. Several small logs seemed to be floating toward them in the water. "Strange", mused the mage "seeing as we are so far from land." Suddenly the logs darted from the water and it was plain for all to see that these were not logs but the tentacles of a giant Kraken. The mage quickly pulled some components from a black pouch at his waist in a vain attempt to cast a spell, but to no avail. A beam of wood hit his head and he plunged into cold, black unconsciousness. He awoke lying on a beach with 20 of his men standing around a campfire several metres away. He quickly reached for his spell books in his satchel but they had gone. No doubt washed away, just like his entire army had been. All he had were this ragtag bunch of nobodies with which to conquer Atlantis and with no spells... Raistlin spent the next few months building up a small reserve of cash by making his men work the fields of the local peasents. He then organised them into small groups of skilled workers and set them to work. His only hope was to contact some other factions on this land and build an alliance with them. If only there was someone out there... If only someone wanted to form an alliance and mail me at L.M.Cullen@herts.ac.uk Raisltin went back to studying his magic and kept on hoping. ######################################################################## The scribe didn't belive his ear when he heard the judge say: -Hang him... and then as an afterthought in a pine tree... -But... the only thing I did was substituting a c for a j, SIR please have mercy... Lupercus smiled a brief moment, but this was no time for jokes, there were to much to do. ######################################################################## Plato's Grandchildren, hearbye declare units 5924,5795,5796 and 5804 to be legitimate and worthy representitives of Our great faction, and We do instrust all representitives and servants of other factions to allow them free passage through Atlantis, and to assist them in any way possible in their search for Our Ancestors. Signed this Great Day Of The Second Year Following Our Arrival, GrandPoobah of Plato's GrandChildren. ######################################################################## One beautiful, but cold morning at the beggining of the month: -mmmmm, uuuaaaah. nom, nom. mmm? MMMMMMM? what' going on? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! It's NOT possible, IT'S NOT POSSIBLE!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! + + + + + + + + Far, very far from that place. -ASS, STUPID ASS. STUPID, THREE TIMES STUPID. AAAAHHHHH!! -What's going on chief? -The stupid Wholk, my stupid cousin. That what is happening! -????? -Wholk awoke this morning whith five peasant in the same place, like just one unit, all his skills losts AND 115, ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN people starved to death. 6000 silver pieces and 115 people, three month of studies and a setback of about 4 month. This is probably the worst starvation since the defeat of the ex-emperor. The stupis ass FROMed a new unit. The peasants are stupid, they don't distiguish between FORM and FROM. -Stupid wholk (to say the least) what shall we do with him? -Concede what is asking for. -And that is? -Read. [Text about the disaster deleted and censored. Is too sad.] Please dear cousin forgive me. I will be the most humble servant of Iape and a loyal all my life. Please. W.N. -I will spare his life. Call for Wendy. Few moments later. -Yes chief? -Wendy, you shall be the representative of our affairs in the western province. Do it right, and you will be rewarded. Fail and the fate of your brother will also be yours. If not worse. Wendy's face was calm, but her mind was a strom of thoughts. {Me, a woman, given such a possition. Why?. What will be of my brother? How he failed? And if I fail then what? NO. I shall not fail} -So, what is the message for my brother? -His wish is granted. From now on he is a farmer slave. And never mention his name agin. -Yes chief. -Now, go. Your future is in the west. ######################################################################## Logistical problems with the messenger courier had struck again, and once again foolish laborers starved to death while working. Dwight surveyed the damage... catastrophic. But there was nothing to do except rebuild, as always. ######################################################################## The Fabulous Blackwood Sisters have arrived in Tarraspan. In their tree hour programm they offer a lot of funny and exotic entertainment. The show is great. No minute of boredom. For those who will know their future, there is The Great Madame of Wisdom called Futura. For those who love dances and hot rhythms there will be a group of ten dancers showing new exciting dances. A part of the Sisters offers new theatre plays of modern authors. For engagement please contact their manager ute.winter@ku- eichstaett.de. ######################################################################## ---------- WAR !!!! --------- Our brave war reporter E. Atmuch can this month confirm the latest months rumours about an upcoming war. Our brave reporter sneeked aboard one of the War Galleons of the Northern Wind and lived through the hard crossing from Vashcort to Bananaland. In the smalltalk among the soldiers the war has already gotten the not so glorious name Banana-war. As last month tip proved to be right we just can add that the Confederate Houses in Bananaland just seem to have resigned in there effort to resists a sacrifice to Agrik. The beaches where almost deserted and the pesants welcomed the troops of the Rowing Doom. The few nobelmen that had set up shop in Skottskog had already fleed a tactic that was used in the first great war against the Padisha Empire. (See what good it worked then). E. Atmuch reports that the order starts to be restored in Skottskog and that the pesants once more get a firm hand to guide them and that they no longer have to sacrifice to the great God Agrik in secrecy. The Agrikan Church will see a new revival in Bananaland after the analysies of E. Atmuch. Close sources to the Councile of the Northern Wind reveals that it is time to deal with the "Confused Houses" now once and for all. Our home based reporters have tried to get comments from Lord Dr. VOX and High Priest Chafin but none of them have been willing to participate in any interview. ######################################################################## The gales of early spring brought the smell of the sea inland, and with it a few forlorn gulls - and rain, cold rain, lashing against the warren's few windows. Bulgaria shivered at the chill draught stealing through the round panes. Old bottles might make good windows but it was awkward to seal the gaps. A slight movement to toss another turve on the peat fire (if only his foresters had made it with the wood!) caused his knee rug to slip into his bowl of fettucine carbonara, and the mess, in the flickering light, reminded him of Luger. The tentacle-headed strangers were _all_ known as "Hello" in their alien tongue, it seemed. Despite their strange customs and gruesome appearance, they had been accepted according to the Wombles' ancient code of hospitality. Now it seemed that this "Hello" was calling itself "Luger", and brandishing a hand held womble smashing kit. (Perhaps they periodically went mad?) The fiendish device had been constructed from some unworldly substance, since his experts informed him that it contained no substance that they had ever seen (not that they had ever seen wood!). The Hirsute Nation are a stolid folk, given neither to unseemly jest nor to making light of provocation. Luger was requested to discard the object (so it could be turned to better uses by the Womble equipment recyclers), but it just gurgled and bubbled like an over-heated pot of pasta... ######################################################################## A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, a new race emerged. After centuries of internal warfare a final victor emerged and a continual peace was established, even a utopian society created. This society quickly elvolved and grew untill they had mastered many of the arts of science and culture. Now, they set out to establish peace throughout the universe. Highly trained individuals are sent on lone missions to various star systems to establish utopias. Relying alone upon their wits and skill they bring peace and order to entire solar systems. In a far corner of the known universe lies the world of Atlantis, one of the yet untouched worlds, and thus comes.... LORD FANATIC! ######################################################################## Tarraspan, the Xth wonder of the world; "Circuses, circuses, everywhere, but not a main act to watch" -anonymous blind man It's true, Tarraspan has 2 fledgling circuses doing flips, tumbles, acrobatics and more to attempt to lure away the fans of their rivals. Besides the grand P____'s Flying Circus, and the brightly coloured Cirque du Soleil, there is a third group, The Astounding Flying Kraut Brothers who just joined the ranks with their own loyal following. However, only Cirque du Soleil is labouring to fully support its entertainment of the people; besides the dozen or so trapeezists, jugglers, and acrobats, we also offer the skills of a beginning (yet promising) magician, and our grounds people (besides keeping the place "virtually spotless") offer some of the best refreshments on the continent (you'll wonder how you ever lived before having our Mango Lasie). Finally, we offer you the creme de la creme; our magnificent spectacle; The One, The Only, The *Paliminoe Stallions*! The most beautiful and well trained Stallions in all the world - to dare call them a 'horse' is blasphemy! In addition to the perfect Paliminoe performances in the center ring, the Cirque du Soleil may be persuaded to provide a faction their own Stallions, as we are foaling several as this release hits the press. For those of you who are thinking, "My, that _would_ be impressive to ride the fields with my wife/mistress/lady/regiment, on those magnificent horses (shame on you! _Stallions_!), but I have nothing to wear!" Fear Not! Cirque du Soleil's costume designers have special training to accompany even the most finicky of social climbers with your own ensemble, either modeled after CdS's own brilliant costuming designs, or a completely original outfit, personalized to your taste. You decide. Be the talk of the countryside without having to pay for it, the countryside, that is. Currently available only in limited quantities; the larger the demand we find, more will become available. All inquiries about show times or related to the Paliminoe Stallions should be directed to the Kithkin at enigma@mit.edu We take Visa and Discover (no Mastercard), and just about anything in trade (not your inferior horses, of course!). The Cirque du Soleil is also looking for a corporate sponsor, so if you would like to help bring the joy and happiness of the circus to people all over the world, please contact Kithkin. ******** Don't forget! Tarraspan is the place to be when you need to take a break from it all. And it is the home of the beautiful Paliminoe Stallions! ---- brought to you by the Division of Tarraspan Tourism and ---- ------------- Cirque du Soleil (CdS), 13 March 4 ---------------- ######################################################################## The Adventures of the Stranded Tourists Part 10 : May Day Parade The steady rythym of marching was joined by the stirring strains of the Anthem as the Parade of Peasants and Workers passed the podium. Comrade Thal dipped the standard and a hundred others raised clenched fists. Yet more, honoured specialists in the main, raised aloft the patriotic banners. "Excede the First Five Month Plan!" " Acclaim the achievements of Red Wizzardry! " & " Freedom through absolute obeidience to Queen Janet and the Party!" "Look mummy, horsies!" chirped a sweet peasant child as the Red Guardians wheeled into view, their caps adorned with a red falling star- the Sign of the Expected One. to be continued.... ######################################################################## Hogli, the old smokehouse master, strode confidently through the lurid glow of the torches, and up the steps leading to the Blood Throne. He permitted himself a grim smile. Lord Vox had at last found the perfect advisor: he could not afford to sacrifice the one who held the deepest secrets of the curing of human skin, and the manufacture of his fine skin-vellum, essential for the battle maps now being drawn. Besides which, Hogli's keen sense of observation complemented Vox's more...direct approach. The crusted apparition seated on the huge throne looked a bit like a giant toad, left too long in the sun after its death. Scabrous patches of grey skin mottled the greenish-black complexion, shriveled into folds and wrinkles. The scaly, flaking eyelids were swollen shut, but the broad mouth was still able to crack open and hiss: "Is that you, Hogli?" "Indeed, Lord Vox. Your bowl is to your left. You must drink." Vox groped for the bowl, took a hesitant swallow of viscous red substance, and flung the bowl away across the room, a comet streaming a tail of blood. "Haugh!! Peasant blood. It does nothing for me, even in the bath. It is thin, tasteless, devoid of meaning and richness! I will not drink!" The tirade seemed to tire the beast-man, and he slumped in the throne, drooling a string of red spittle onto his fine black silk embroidered tunic. "Soon, my Lord, there will be plentiful blood of nobility. The cormorants, ravens and vultures bring us news from five continents, and the news speaks of great battles and a great harvesting of warrior's flesh! But in the meantime, you must drink; it is all we have left." Hogli watched Vox shift painfully, brush his brow with a still-potent claw. "I cannot even see to read my tactics texts, old Hogli. The blood must come soon, and it will have no time to age properly. It has been too long since the kill, the feeding, the victories...do they still speak of me in the Times? Does anyone know the name of Vox beyond our own lands?" Hogli smiled at this rare vulnerability. He was right, the blood must come soon, lest his Lord lapse into the deadly slumber of apathy. "Your name, my Lord, will become quickly known again, once the black-and-red sails appear over the horizons to the new lands. Already the harvesting begins on the remnants of the Diamantes, fled to their banana republic...they failed to escape your claws, and they and their new allies fall at the hands of your flesh-reavers, and the potent swords of PATO and the Octagon." Vox managed a cracked grimace at this news, exposing rows of razor teeth showing some signs of decay. "Ah, yes, I remember Diamante blood...it has been so long...the blood-tanks will be secure, will they not? The blood we drain will arrive safely and unspoiled?" Hogli leaned forward, his eyes glittering. "Rest easy, my Lord. I helped to design the tanks and preservatives myself; the blood will have its full potency." Hogli smiled, and his gaze grew distant. "And there will be more. Yes, much, much more to come." ######################################################################## Part 2 - Discovery Gurithim had set out to experience the world, and that he did. Traveling around Sarab had taught him two things. Firstly, 50 silver will buy you a man willing to work for you, fight for you, even die for you, as long as you pay him his fair wages. Secondly, 100 silver will buy you two such men. Though the second idea was rather weak, Gurithim had always believed that one good idea followed another, so he decided to keep the second idea even if it sounded somewhat silly. Sounding silly was not a foreign concept to Gurithim. After encountering many men and parting with much silver, Gurithim realized that he had a whole lot of men following him around with a whole little to do. He decided that it was time to take action. "Umm, you guys go do something, whatever it is you do" said Gurithim in his most authoritative yet rather meek sounding voice. "And you, over there, umm, you go do something else. And you, er, how about, ya know, doing some stuff that, ya know, can maybe make us some money so we can buy some stuff." (Gurithim was not noted for his communication skills. He was also not noted for his leadership ability. In fact, he was not noted for much of anything. The only distinction he had ever really gotten was when his high school class voted him Most Likely To Be Trod Upon By A Giant Mollusk.) What happened next was rather amazing, at least to Gurithim who hadn't ever been out of his little corner of the world before so just about everything seemed amazing. His "friends" started getting down to business, all doing useful work! Some got together and started The Canteloupe Famers Co-operative. Others started taking odd jobs. Still others talked about putting together some sort of show. Maybe Gurithim wasn't such a bad leader after all! Or maybe he was just incredibly lucky. Either way, he decided to take a walk to the nearest town and let his men do their thing. Gurithim picked up a copy of the Atlantis Times in town, and after reading through some of it and seeing what was happening around him, he realized that at some point in the future he might have to resort to violence to protect himself and his men. He grabbed a copy of Tactics Today (he was especially attracted to the article "One Swing - No Head!") and started to wander back to his men, half reading the magazine along the way. ######################################################################## Sador's Journal Finally eberything seems to fit together. The other Factions are also interested in a peacful coexistence. Sadly enough two of the Facions seem to be cursed with a spell of blindness, but hopefully that will expire soon. It looks like I can begin to start the spell research soon. Perhaps I will discover a spell that will take me home but somehow I doubt it. It would be fortunate if this would be so easy, but from my studies I have learned that such a spell is propably still beyond me. But now I must make preparations in case I am trapped here. Brought to you by the chronicler of Sador's Magical Reasearch. ######################################################################## The Lost Continent Chapter 10 Tamara wandered along the shore line. The salty wind blowing from the ocean filled her with renewed vigor. She looked up and saw a dark shape one the beach, a longboat. Desperate to find anyone on this forgotten land, she ran to the object. "Hello!" she shouted, but no answer came. The ship was deserted; apparently it was washed up on shore by the currents. The ship was still serviceable and she quickly boarded it an set sail. The winds quickly drove her south away from Vashcort. Her lack of experience at sailing left her to the mercies of the wind and currents. The lost continent was left far behind, and her provisions were running low. After two months at sea, she finally saw land ahead of her. She managed to steer the ship just enough to crash it against the rocks and she scrambled up onto a bluff overlooking the sea. Battered from the barnacle covered rocks, she crawled behind a bush to hide from any patrols that might be about. She slept soundly in her hiding place until the next morning. Her fear of being seen by scouts was justified when she noticed that a patrol had set up camp just a few feet away. She remained still while waiting for them to break camp and leave. "Sergeant, we have found the remains of a longboat on the shore. Whoever was on it was able to leave before we could stop him." The sergeant frowned. The night watchman had seen a longboat that night and thought he had seen someone leave the ship when it crashed against the rocks. Whoever was on the ship had disappeared before the first patrol could get there. The Duke would have his stripes if he had let a lone stranger get through his defensive line. If one lonely scout could get through, then a whole army could too. He would be hung from the nearest tree if the Duke knew that his defenses were useless. "The boat was empty," he told the scout. "Tell the patrols to return, there is no point in continuing the search." ######################################################################## Bascon Diamante sighed to himself. The young nobles were scattered all over the land, and the nearest ones had turned to him to deal with the crisis. Apparently they thought that being dismembered by Northern Wind swordsmen in the past somehow made Bascon an expert in dealing with them. He shuffled the province reports and sighed again. Vox and the Agrikians had agreed to leave this continent in peace, but the agreement turned out to be a sham. Two ships landed in Skottskog, at least 200 enemy troops poised to overwhelm the small Confederated Houses force there. What to do now? He looked at January's "Times" again and smiled grimly, "At least this Mistress Malice person will be disappointed - Vox'll have our blood before she can come to collect our brains. I guess there's a silver lining to every cloud, eh, Marguarite, my dear?" Marguarite (that wasn't her real name, but Bascon liked the name and he liked her, and nobility has its perquisites) answered, "Will you marshall the troops, beloved? If we move our forces west from here and east from there, perhaps we can stop any attempts at expansion." She pointed to a location on the map. "Perhaps, perhaps... That might not be a bad idea. I must think on it a bit." Bascon scratched his chin, then turned to his consort and asked, "But since when do you know so much about troop movement?" "Well, you're away so much of the time, and there's so little to do here, so I started reading through these books..." Bascon laughed. "My dear, I wasn't after your mind when I snatched you from that vermin-ridden peasant village! But by all means, read what you like! Maybe you can take over all this work, and I'll take over YOUR job of lounging in bed in revealing robes all day." He turned back to his desk, and reached for some paper. "It's time to contact the allies. Let's see what they can think of. Please, summon the pigeon master for me." His pen started scratching on parchment (real wood product, no animal content!) as Marguarite left the room. * * * Elsewhere, two young noblewomen huddled together around a campfire. "Do you think we can trust him?" asked Philum Trafalgar. "Frankly, I just don't believe Bascon's tale of dying and coming back. It seems like utter nonsense." Blair Diamante shrugged. "Strategy isn't my game, and this is too important to mess up. If Roman were here, he would handle it, but he isn't, is he? Hector and Helmuth both dead up north, from stupid bookkeeping accidents! Without Bascon, I don't know what we'd do. I wasn't trained in this sort of stuff. You know, I never thought I'd say it, but I wish Robert were here! He'd think of something to do next. But he's off on another damned diplomatic mission, and who knows when I'll see him again. Bascon's the best choice we have." "So you finally admit you miss Robert?" smiled Philum. "Maybe now you're ready to take him seriously. You do know what he thinks of you, don't you? He's no Adonis, but altogether not a bad choice." Blair stares into the fire. "Yeah, well, he's a decent fellow, and he makes me laugh, but... I'm just not sure he's quite what I had in mind for myself. The man's such an oaf sometimes, you know? When I was a girl, I had an image of the kind of man I wanted, and he just doesn't match that image very well. I know, you're supposed to grow up and leave childhood fantasies behind, but it's not easy. You know what I mean?" Blair looked up, but the other woman was gone. "Philum? Where'd you go? Philum!" The soldiers searched the entire province end to end, but no trace of the missing noblewoman could be found. ######################################################################## The Spy stopped at exactly the same spot in which Mithin of the White Cloak had rested almost three years earlier. The Spy's mission was very different, however. He looked down on Salen Forest, peering intently, and searched for signs of habitation. Before the forest, in the valley before him, a thick mist had settled that would make further progress difficult, so he made camp. The Mist lifted a little. It was well aware that it had made a great mistake by awakening the Dreadseed, and it was now compelled to deal with it. It was not the creature's inherent power that was the problem, for the Mist had no doubt that it could be destroyed. Rather, the Dreadseed was far too chaotic to be the tool that the Mist had hoped and would now -need- to be destroyed at some cost, or else rendered harmless in some other way. It was here, in the forest. It had made its presence known to the Mist, which had responded. It wanted the Brotherhood. The Mist wondered why. The Little Folk were only a hobby, really, and the Mist had begun to tire of them, so abandoning them to the Dreadseed was not out of the question. But why? The Mist brooded in the valley. Time would provide the answer. The Mist decided to accede to the request, and to watch from below. When the Dreadseed appeared, and extended its querulous thought-jumble, the Mist entered its body, gave its assent, and condemned thousands of people to Dreadlock. ######################################################################## The Saga of the Mighty Zoggies With the inspiration of his people, Rage embarks on a spirit walk in the hopes to call upon another vision from the Mighty Zogg with insight on how to begin the great and noble quest of converting the world to a vast temple for the worship and glorification of the Mighty Zogg. Rage must avoid food for 3 days and then begin the "Dance of Enlightnement". After 3 days of fasting, he began the dance and finally after dancing for one night, one day and another night, Rage collapsed from utter exhaustion. The three Rovers who were assigned to help and observe in the ritual immediately rushed up to Rage and carried him to his mud hut. Rage didn't awaken for 2 more days, and finally lept from the bed with a shout, "We must work with the heathenistic peoples of the surrounding areas and convert them for Zogg must have planned for them to be the first of his disciples." "We must work with them so that they realize both the power and wisdom that our Mighty Zogg has and the mercy that he will grant if they ally with us" commanded Rage. "What of the Fanatics?" ventured Raulos, one of the three. "The Fanatics? Yes, they would make wonderful disciples and allies. We should extend them a formal pledging of alliance." ordered Rage. "Then we can see what type of warriors their men really are." So a formal pledging of alliance and brotherhood was ventured and by then end of the week a positive reply was returned. "They agreed?" questioned Rage. "Yes, Most Holy." replied Raulos. "Good, then the Mighty Zogg will be very pleased!" shouted Rage. And the Mighty Zogg was indeed pleased... ######################################################################## =-=-= END TIMES 404 =-=-= ######################################################################## Up