Atlantis Times v1.1 v03n10 From: JJC%MP068@MPA15AB.mv-oc.Unisys.COM Date: Tue, 30 Aug 1994 01:04:21 +0000 ######################################################################## =-=-= Atlantis Times v1.1 Volume 3 Number 10 =-=-= =-= August 29, 1994 =-= ######################################################################## Words from The Big Guy: There will be no turn run next week. It's a holiday in the U.S. The next order deadline is Sunday, September 11, 1994. The next turn should have the following changes, assuming I can debug the code in time :-) - Holes in loser's ability to GUARD closed. Units that lose in battle will no longer be able to GUARD even if they have the order GUARD 1. Also, TRANSFER of personnel from a unit that loses in battle to another unit will prevent that unit from GUARDing, and if already GUARDing, will reset the GUARD flag. - 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. 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 show was a only a mild success. "Moneywise, that is", Masem thought to himself as he counted the meager profits from last night's show. Although the actors and musicians played their hearts out, giving a near-perfect performance of his play, the attendance was much lower than expected. The peasants were poor to begin with, and had several other tasks to attend to, including the fall harvest as well as fighting off the sea beast that had been ravaging the land for several months now. It was finally time to move the show on the road. He had built his small troupe from the adolescents that showed promise, and after a month of hard work, they were ready to perform. Most had already broken ties with their families, realizing the chance of a possible future in Masem's troupe and an existence better than the farming lives that their parents had. He had also purchased enough supplies to last the troupe for several winter months. Furthermore, he had heard enough rumors to get out of Abersoch before the first snow, else he would be stuck there for the winter. Yes, indeed. It was time to leave this area for something better. Maybe word would get out and they would be invite to perform in front of royalty, but for now, he would simple settle for a large crowd at an open-air production. Masem called out to one of the stagehands that stood near his makeshift tent, "You there!" The young fellow turned. "Yes, sir?" "Go tell the troupe to pack up. We're leaving. Tomorrow." "Tomorrow? We'll need a few days to pack the stage..." "We leave tomorrow. Anything not ready to go by then stays." "Y-y-yes, s-s-sir.." the boy stammered and started to turn. Suddenly, he turned back to Masem. "But what about transportation?" he asked nervously. "Steal some horses." Masem said coolly. "God knows how many are around here." "S-s-steal...?" the boy nervously said. "Yes, steal. Those weren't fake swords used in the production. I know you fellows are good strong lads. Kill a few peasants if you have to, but just get some horses." Masem returned to the shelter of the tent without looking back at the boy. Finding a list of the troupe members, he located the boy's name and placed a single 'X' by it. Although it was the first one on the page, he easily suspected that he would be marking many more. And after a member had gotten three of those marks... ######################################################################## Do you want an advantage in fighting ? Are your ment complaining about walking ? Are YOUR FEETs aching from walking long distances ? Do you want your scouts move faster and explore wider areas in less time ? Do you want to look magnificent in the eyes of your bride ? If you have answered yes to one of the questions above then you need HORSEs. Those mighty and loyal companions of modern men. Contack Sicmans Cowboys and leave an order and price suggestion. Phone home or contact by email (jv77166@harakka.cs.tut.fi) ######################################################################## From the Chronicles of The Brotherhood of Northern Warriors September, Year 3 Fully clad in plate armor, his sword drawn, Lord Falken smiled. The battle was about to begin. He had arranged his troops, and those of General William, just the way he wanted them, and was about to give the order to charge when a trumpeting alarm sounded from the front line. They prey had turned hunter. They were under attack! Falken watched in satisfaction as his careful preperations handled the ambush with ease. The thousand or so archers and bowmen rained a hail of death down upon their attackers, while an equal number of swordsmen rushed the enemies, hacking them down before they knew what had struck them. Standing next to him, the mage Pablar raised his hands to the sky and commanded the mystical forces of magic to strike down the Doom army. There was a rumbling of thunder, and a searing bolt of lightning shot from the sky, striking the center of the enemy host and sending many of the Doom soldiers to their deaths. Then, from nowhere, a single Doom soldier broke through the front lines. Screaming madly, he charged Falken, who prepared to defend himself. But one of his guards, true men and loyal, came to his aid. Throwing himself in front of Falken, he made the ultimate sacrifice for his lord. The Doom soldier's sword took off the guard's head in one clean sweep, and he fell dead, his decapitated head looking up at the man he had died to protect. But he had not died in vain. He had slowed down the attacker just enough to let Falken's second guard leap into the fray. The two warriors traded blows, but the Doom soldier was unable to penetrate the plate armor the guard wore. The battle was fierce, but short, and the would-be assasin soon followed the loyal warrior he had so recently murdered. "My lord," the remaining guard said, coming towards Falken, "are you all right?" "I am fine," Falken said. "And he," he went on, pointing at their fallen brother, "he shall surely feast with Odin in Valhalla this night!" Indeed, Falken almost thought that he had, for just a second, seen the Valkyrie sweeping down on its winged mount to take the fallen warrior to his eternal reward. "Surely he shall," agreed the guard. "That is one that Odin will be glad to have at his side when the day of Rangnarok comes. May we all die as well!" Agreeing, Falken turned his attention back to the battle before him, only to see it was all but over. The Doom army had been completely broken; the last of the survivors were being picked off now. Pablar came forward, saying, "My lord, we have been victorious. Over two thousand of the Dooms lie dead, while we have taken no losses and the Adventurers but 55." "Nay," said Lord Falken, "we have taken one loss. But it is a great victory for all of that." "It is," Pablar agreed. "However some three hundred of the Dooms, lead by the Archmage Hobi himself, have fled the battle and headed south, towards Lorthalm. Shall we pursue them, my lord?" "No," Falken answered, "we shall not. General William is in Lorthalm, and he commands such a host as shall have no trouble with those who have escaped us. We shall stay here this month, and celbrate Odins good will." "Yes, my lord," Pablar agreed. "So be it." ######################################################################## Goober sighed deeply. He wondered why he had got the job of imperial reporter. He hated writing. Especially when there was nothing exciting to write about. Where was the job satisfaction in that? But - he had to pay the bills somehow, and the Royal Foobar had decreed that this was to be his employment. It didn't matter what he wrote, as long as there was enough of it. He sighed again... ######################################################################## Sauternes, INAUGURAL ADDRESS, FRIDAY, AUGUST 20, YEAR 3 Mr. Big Guy, Mr. President, Vice President Chateau d'Yquem, Senator Chateau Margaux, Speaker Coteaux du Layon, Senator Saint-Emilion, Congressman Haut-Medoc, and fellow citizens,neighbors, and friends: There is a man here who has earned a lasting place in our hearts and in our history. President Gewurztraminer, on behalf of our Faction, I thank you for the wonderful things that you have done for Grapevine. I have just repeated word for word the oath taken by George Welsh Ington 200 years ago, and the Bottle on which I placed my hand is the Bottle on which he placed his. It is right that the memory of Welsh Ington be with us today, not only because this is our Bicentennial Inauguration, but because Welsh Ington remains the Father of our Faction. And he would, I think, be gladdened by this day; for today is the concrete expression of a stunning fact: our continuity these 200 years since our faction began. We meet on democracy's front porch, a good place to talk as neighbors and as friends. For this is a day when our nation is made whole, when our differences, for a moment, are suspended. And my first act as President is a prayer. I ask you to bow your heads: Heavenly Father, we bow our heads and thank You for Your love. Accept our thanks for the peace that yields this day and the shared faith that makes its continuance likely. Make us strong to do Your work, willing to heed and hear Your will, and write on our hearts these words: "Use power to help people." For we are given power not to advance our own purposes, nor to make a great show in the world, nor a name. There is but one just use of power, and it is to serve people. Help us to remember it, Lord. Amen. [...] A President is neither Prince nor Pope, and I don't seek a window on men's souls. In fact, I yearn for a greater tolerance, an easy- goingness about each other's attitudes and way of life. There are few clear areas in which we as a society must rise up united and express our intolerance. The most obvious now is Coca-cola. And when that first Coca'ine was smuggled in on a ship, it may as well have been a deadly bacteria, so much as it hurt the body, the soul of our faction. And there is much to be done and to be said, but take my words for it: This scourge will stop. And so, there is much to do; and tomorrow the work begins. I do not mistrust the future; I do not fear what is ahead. For our problems are large, but our heart is larger. Our challenges are great, but our will is greater. And if our flaws are endless, God's love is truly boundless. Some see leadership as high drama, and the sound of trumpets calling, and sometimes it is that. But I see history as a book with many pages, and each day we fill a page with acts of hopefulness and meaning. The new breeze blows, a page turns, the story unfolds. And so today a chapter begins , a small and stately story of unity, diversity, and generosity--shared, and written, together. Thank you. God bless you and God bless the United Faction of Grapevine. ( from G.Bush Inaugural Address, Friday, January 20, 1989) ######################################################################## __________________________________________________________ / ****************** \ | * PUBLIC NOTICE * | | ****************** | | | | Let it be Known that a BOUNTY | | of | | | | 1000 silver | | | | as been Placed on the Head | | (Preferably Removed from the Body) | | of One | | | | Four-Eyed Moe | | | | For His Heinous and Unprovoked Attack | | Against the Merry Pranksters | | in the Region of | | | | Knesekt (12,6) | | | | Payment may be Collected From | | | | The Merry Pranksters (gdunbar@oracle.com) | | | \__________________________________________________________/ ######################################################################## Word has reached us from two sectors away that a longboat (something the Illustrious Engineers have not seen before except in there planning sessions) has arrived on the beach. The occupants have swords which does not auger well for the unarmed and innocent dwellers of this great south land. ######################################################################## The Amazon clipper, Kinky Karen, had sailed in from the west after loading up at Keswick. Stackforth was her home port and it was from here that she would set sail on an adventure of epic proportions. Final preparations were quickly under- taken and after loading her until the gunnels Karen sailed east along a narrow channel that connected the western coast of Stackforth with the east. This narrow stretch of water had been there since time began but new light to its origin was constantly being uncovered. The Stackforth Channel saved many months sailing between the coasts and the oceans on other side. ######################################################################## "Scalpel", whinneyed the horse. The Innkeeper dutifully passed the instrument and marvelled at his good fortune. Cucumber's horse could not only talk, discuss politics, religion and sea monsters, but was also a qualified surgeon, it would seem. The Innkeeper wondered where in Atlantis your standard talking horse could get such an education. "Forceps". Of course, holding some of the instruments between his teeth was a problem, resulting in large amounts of slobber and the occasional instrument falling into the wound. No matter. Only the Dreadseed mattered. "More anaesthetic". The Innkeeper fetched the anaesthetic, a largish lump of oakwood, from where it stood leaning against a tree. Zucchini was there too, also heavily anaesthetized to prevent interference. The Innkeeper applied a fresh dose to both Zucchini and the patient. Just then, the horse exposed another layer of Cucumber's innards. "There it is!" exclaimed the Innkeeper excitedly. Glowing a dull green, buried deep within Cucumber's breast, lay the unimaginably ancient cargo placed by the Mist months ago. The horse extracted it carefully, and placed it in the Innkeeper's outstretched palm. Without a moment's hesitation, he ate it. "How's that, then?". The horse had just finished sewing up, and was reviewing his handiwork. "Sort of crunchy, and lime-flavoured", replied the Innkeeper who had completely lost interest in the patient. "Oh, you mean him. Well, wait until they both come round, then take them south into Navenby. We wouldn't want them to fall back into the hands of the Gnomes, would we?" A slight smile played about the Innkeeper's lips. "I won't be able to come with you, I've some pressing business in the north. Thanks for your help". The horse watched him go, quite unaware that he would be the last living creature in Atlantis to do so. ######################################################################## The meeting had lasted for four months. They had debated the organisation of their new faction. Some had proposed democracy, others preferred despotism and so on. But at last they had agreed that since they were all more or less related to each other they would be organised as a family, as a clan! And when they all were in decision making mode they also decided to call their faction The Clan and, in addition, to make him (not surprisingly since he had the greatest number of relatives), Guram, their Clanleader. Guram thought, not without pleasure, on what his new position would enable him to do. "First", he thought, "I think I will sort out the foreign policy". Consequently he told his brother to send a message to the Federation of Broderick to accept the offered alliance. "Second, I have to introduce some long time planning in the production of commodities". He instructed his scribe, which was also one of his nephews, to make up a long term plan and present it to him later. "Third, I will get myself a harem!". He told one of his three wives to go out in the peasant population and find him the ten most beautiful maidens the region could offer. ######################################################################## Lord Vox looked down the hill at the huge blue tent hastily erected on the shores of Zamora, and gave a rasping grunt of disgust. Tent Revivals! Bah! But he was forced to admit, they did do a good job of bringing in new peasants...and a few would end up as blood disciples, of course. Also, Vox's mood was somewhat improved by the truly excellent Lost Boy Shiraz he was sipping gingerly. He sat down on the lawn above the University, ripped a peasant's arm out of its socket for a midafternoon snack, and prepared to watch the much-ballyhooed "Sea Monster Riding" exhibition by that traitorous idiot, Dances On Oceans. Lord Vox quickly grew bored. Was the fool actually riding a sea-monster, or was it just an oversized fish? He was bouncing around, a lot, true, but it could all be an illusion...those sea-beasts were *damnably* hard to see, and Lord Vox couldn't for the life of him find glasses to fit. Whatever he was doint, Vox doubted it would prove useful. But Professor Idaho seemed to want him alive, and, well... "It's no skin off *my* back." Vox mused, carefully incising and peeling the skin off his recent victim's back. One could never have enough paper for new maps. Vox's face slowly cracked into a hideous approximation of a grin, though, when he gazed at the fleet of ships moored well over the hill. The shipyard begun by the Lost Boys (who now made satisfying gurgling noises within his gullet) had been most productive. Now it was merely a matter of selecting a suitable course...one that would lead his blood and flesh collectors to great bounty, and great glory! Below in the University quad, the mages sent up fireball-works, and the singers arranged themselves into the Northern Wind emblem to sing the new anthem. The Council had decided some time back that this fine and resource-rich continent needed a unifying name, one that would strike terror into the hearts of Atlanteans everywhere. And most certainly *not* a name like Lemuria, which sounded it would be populated by small furry mammals with big eyes and sharp noses. Vox drained the rest of his chalice, listening to the off-tune voices drift up the hill: V is for Vox, the grim render of flesh, A is for Agrik, the god we love best. S for our Saurian brothers who smell, H is for Hans, who is sneaky as hell. C is for Cad with his Ginsu Brigade, O for the Oligarchs, masters of trade. R is for Raistlin, whose robes seem to stare at us, T for Tamara, Professor Emeritus. Vashcort the name of our continent great, From (0,0) to (10,10) all boats will get ate! ######################################################################## "Your Grace, a message has arrived from one of our scouts." Sir Robin took the scroll and broke the secret seal that meant the message was for his eyes alone. "Hmm, Roderick, you are my most trusted advisor. I will now tell you something that you must never repeat to anyone without my permission." "Of course your lordship, I would never break the sacred trust that you have placed in me." "Very good. Roderick, there has been a sea serpent attack in Galloway to the south." "A sea serpent attack?!? Is the scout alright? Was anyone hurt? Do these mythical beasts truly exist?" "It seems they do. The scout reports that no troops from any faction were harmed. None were stupid enough to interfere with the beast." "Thank the heavens!" "But ninety eight peasents were gobbled up before the beast returned to the sea." "Well, they are just peasants." "Roderick, this is a valuable piece of military inteligence. Our enemies must never come to know this information. It might endanger our hidden scout or reveal our position to more powerfull factions waiting to increase their holdings." "And then he made me swear upon my life that I wouldn't tell a soul. I swear that's just how it happened." This young reporter, unbelieving of his luck, sat listening to the old man and furtively scribbling down everything he said. It wasn't many more drinks before the geezer was out cold and I was out the door with my story. ######################################################################## The Lost Continent Chapter 7 Tamara turned in her sleep and began to dream. The serpent of the sea Crept up onto the shore. The sun dried its skin And turned it into scales. Two wings grew from its back; Its breath began to smoke; Its fins turned into legs And horns sprang from its head. With haste it leapt in air To seek a mountain home. The evil has arrived. ######################################################################## +-----------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | !! EASY MONEY !! | | Are you a noble * that is embarrassed when it come times to pay | | the Inn keeper? Do you find it degrading that your blood line | | might have to work for a living? Then the Dr. Neve Eril Blood | | Safety Research Group has an offer for you. Join one of our | | potion trials# and you can get perfectly good silver for taking | | just one sip of our trial potion a day. Start today and you | | are well on your way to regaining domains of your own. | | | | * We have no need for peasants at this time. | | # must sign a waiver and release form. | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | !! MAKE MONEY FAST !! | | Are your dungeon bursting at the seams? Are your torturers | | complaining about too much overtime? Then let the Dr. Neve Eril | | Vcarn Research Group pay you for for those prisoners you don't | | want any more.* In one move you will be rid of those prisoners | | you've grown tired of and add to your coffers. | | | | * bonus paid for "ex"nobles | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------------+ ######################################################################## Bascon Diamante held his horse's reins while he surveyed the new region. Once again, peasants were crowded into every available space. 'Is this whole land so over-populated?' he thought to himself. 'And dull, too.' Then he saw something white and very tall waving in the wind in the distance. 'A white tree? That would be more excitement than another peasant village.' But when he looked closer, he exclaimed aloud, "Why, that's not a tree, that's a SHIP! Where there are ships, there are docks, and where there are docks, there's civilization!" Bascon leapt on his horse and spurred it into motion - whereupon the horse threw him to the ground. Bascon picked himself up, dusted himself off, and grabbed the horse's reins. "Blasted animal! You can't expect me to waste a whole month learning to ride." Then he headed toward the ship on foot, towing his reluctant mount behind. ######################################################################## General Atom sat inside his headquarters, looking over his reports for the week. "Who would have thought that so many other factions felt the same way as I", he thought. Factions joining the new alliance were nearly in the double digits. "And I only put out the call in September." Management would be tough, but many of the new factions were located in the same sectors. "Well, there is strength in numbers", he thought. We finally had an alliance name that truly said what the purpose of our alliance was, we have the numbers, the intelligence was rolling in, everything was going too well. "We must stop somewhere, too many and we bring chaos, too few and we bring weakness", he muttered under his breath. There can be only one solution..... ---- The Confederation of the Shield is still accepting member factions into it's ranks. Currently there are 8 factions holding membership, with several waiting to gain admitance. Due to the extreme pressure of managing such a grand design, membership will be limited in the number of factions that may join. If you are a new (5 turns or less) faction, you are a candidate for membership. A weekly news- letter will be sent to all members containing intelligence and other information pooled from all members. Names, faction numbers and locations are not being disclosed to the general public at this time. If you are interested in joining, please contact me ASAP, as there will be a limited number of factions allowed to join. Email to: flick@cwis.unomaha.edu ######################################################################## Benoit read the scouting reports with an increasing sense of sadness. How could anybody be so misguided? For the third month in succession, a group of nameless thugs had been attacking everything they saw in the northern mountains. Benoit checked the details again. Yes, it was the same band of oafs. And yes, they were quite literally nameless. Did they serve some sort of being whose imagination didn't even stretch as far as names? How unutterably pathetic. The last scout presented himself to Benoit, with a tattered note. "From the heathens themselves. What lies this time?" "Sire, they say that they accept your claim to the resources of Ardfert, and that they will not attack our small force." "A likely story. Hmmm, it seems clear enough. And did you present the warnings of the triumverate, that aggression against this token force would invite a response of whatever magnitude is required for total annihilation of our enemies?" "Yes, sire, the terms were very plain." "Very well. Alert General Hasdrubal to adopt purely defensive positions. If our deaths are to be the signal for a jihad against those poor wretches, we don't want to rush them into any more stupid acts than they can manage." ######################################################################## Percy peered ahead through the dense fog hoping to find the end of the swamp. The reports from the west told of alliances and the possibility of war. They also told of a scarcity of resources for the many young factions which had sprung up only a few months earlier. His explorations were the last hope of discovering more land and resources for his own faction. His work was not going well. He had spent two months in this foul swamp and still not found any way out save by boat or by the way he entered. He was beginning to worry that there was nothing but ocean beyond the swamps. He was also beginning to worry about his dwindling food suply. He had to find a way out, and soon. ######################################################################## =-=-= END TIMES 310 =-=-= ######################################################################## Up