Atlantis Times v1.1 v03n08 From: JJC%MP068@MPA15AB.mv-oc.Unisys.COM Date: Wed, 17 Aug 1994 16:09:29 +0000 ######################################################################## =-=-= Atlantis Times v1.1 Volume 3 Number 8 =-=-= =-= August 16, 1994 =-= ######################################################################## Words from The Big Guy: Yet another delay. This one was caused by numerous mail troubles, most not on this end. Orders still due Sunday as usual. Changes to the game this turn: - Building a ship or building nets a max of 10 days experience. There was a bug where a unit got 10 days times its level. - Horses now provide the combat bonuses as per the rules. The game was not following the rulebook at all. Coming soon: - Tax Flag boolean. 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 ######################################################################## Recon Report Stealth Fighter 27B-6 Issue #619 Tromeforth (26,3), plain (27, 2), ocean Krod (27,3), plain (28, 2), ocean Klen (28,3), mountain Nork (28, 4), forest (29, 2), ocean Ardfert (29, 3), mountain Flock (29, 4), plain Status: Escape successful. Mission: Ongoing. End transmission. ######################################################################## Lord Heterington was elated. He was also sadden by the news that a Sea Serpent had attacked the longboat he had so wanted to travel on killing all 18 men on board. He was never venturing to sea in a longboat after seeing this sea monster eating the peasants who were caught on the beach. ######################################################################## ______________________________________________________________________ | | | THE RENAISSANCE | | | | "Can such things be?" | |______________________________________________________________________| | | | Does anybody read the news, that's the question! In our last | | report, we insisted on the fact that Numbs shouldn't be invited | | to have a drink! Numbs are surely the most peaceful creatures | | of the world, unless they get drunk... | | | | First week in Atlantis, first Inn destroyed, defenetly destro- | | yed... He's name was Bither, a 40-year-old paisant... He met | | INGRES in Glin, in the small village of Koc'ahoma. He surely | | had not taken time to read THE RENAISSANCE before, cause it | | seems that he invited INGRES in the only inn of the region, Mac' | | Inn Tosch, whose keeper hadn't seen a Numb since so many years | | that he could not remember having seen any... | | | | Some witnesses reported that, some time later, they heard ter- | | ribles cries coming from the inn, which was moving so much that | | they thought of an earthquake at first... Indeed it was some- | | thing like an earthquake! | | | | When paisants saw INGRES rushing out of the inn, they ran | | home as fast as possible. "a.. un.. unbelievable! I.. I can't | | describe.. He was.. It was.. a monster coming from Hell!", said | | a young woman. | | | | But the trouble is, INGRES seems to have disapeard in the na- | | ture! He was not seen since that time... So if you meet him, do | | not invite him, but just tell us where! | | | | "Long is the chain, hard is the labour." (PRINCE DE FORT) | | | | | | June, Year 3, THE RENAISSANCE Weekly Mail, by Reynald Gastebois. | |______________________________________________________________________| ######################################################################## An Open Letter to King Greagrian, Greetings from the Merry Pranksters. You bring great tidings; an avenging attack from the West, as if from heaven! At last, the Scourge of Vox and his henchmen will be wiped from Atlantis; forced to repent for their sins against the other factions of the Northwest. We, the Merry Pranksters, would like to offer our service to you. We have no great armies to offer, but we have a few scouts left on the island, and much knowledge of the island and its inhabitants. We will do anything to aid you in your war of righteousness against the Northern Scourge. So now, I kneel to you, Lord. Contact me at gdunbar@oracle.com; your wish is my command. Your servant, Hans Shadowspawn of the Merry Pranksters ######################################################################## His Most-Excellency the Wascally Wabbit hereby proclaims that henceforth the area of Lochcarron has banned the ancient and deplorable activity of rabbit hunting, and he has has declared that the duck hunting season is open all year round. Long live the Wabbit. ######################################################################## Lord Vox stared grimly at the chalice, as the last few drops of the last bottle in the last of the cellars dripped slowly into the ornate cup. He gazed at the cup for several long moments, breathed a heavy, wheezing sigh, brought the cup to his maw, and drained it in one long satisfying swallow. Then he crushed the cup to a fine grey powder. "Advisor Dujour, you are permitted to attend." The door opened, and a hysterical-looking bald man rushed in, tears in his eyes, scurrying to abase himself then pouring out his message. (Advisors learned to convey their messages quickly around Lord Vox, before their throats were removed). "My Lord, disaster looms! A Vast Navy of Immense Proportions threatens to land at the forests of Menter, extracting terrible vengeance and sweeping across the whole of Vashcort, eliminating the Northern Wind!! What shall we do! We must move all our armies to counter this awful threat!!! Oh, the Horror!! the Horror!!" Vox stood up and kicked Dujour across the audience hall, effectively silencing him for a moment. "Idiot. While I certainly *wish* that ten warships would conveniently land at that tax-forsaken jungle, drown half their troops in the neighboring swamp, then march into the teeth of our Arezzo garrisons, I find it *highly* unlikely that even nobility would be that stupid. If there IS such an animal as this Greagrian, he probably intends to attack elsewhere." Dujour peeled himself painstakingly from the pink stone wall, and staggered towards Vox a bit more cautiously. "Er...yes, of course, most Revered Lord. But...er...what of the spies they sent over two years ago? Why have we not been able to detect them with our..." THUNK! This time Vox kicked the advisor directly upwards, plastering him to the stone ceiling twenty feet above. "FOOL! A longboat full of high-level spies landing in Year One? Take your miserable remains over to the University of Zamora for a remedial mathematics course. They seek to distract us from our inevitable conquest of all Atlantis! It is most likely some foolish former adversary whom we have offended, though I cannot understand why anyone would not be *honored* to have their blood drunk by one of my stature. Unfortunately, that blood is now... depleted." The hapless advisor finally detached from the ceiling and hit the floor with a sickening *thwop*. A weak voice emanated from the sodden mass. "Well, there's still peasant blood..." Vox gave a low hissing growl, grabbed the advisor-lump by the remnant of a collar, hauled him to the castle door, and bowled him out into the street. "PEASANT blood. Echhh! The time has come to review the fleet! Sufficient blood is unlikely to deliver itself to our shores, we must go to collect it ourselves!" Lord Vox stalked off towards the shipyards, claws leaving long trails in the hot July dust. A faint rumbling shout was heard a few moments later from that direction: "And get me a new advisor!!" ######################################################################## Seen posted in Turia: ADVISOR WANTED for LORD VOX. DURABILITY ESSENTIAL. NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY. ######################################################################## "So you met me before, eh?" asked Bascon Diamante, a bit suspiciously. "Where and when, may I ask?" "I was in Mizip when you returned from Grisbygd, m'lord," answered Sea Cowboy. "I was one of the sheriffs of Mizip at the time. You may not remember me, but most of the other nobles had evacuated to the swamps by then, so you stood out. May I ask, how come you're still alive? I wasn't there for the battle, but I'm sure I heard you were killed." "That's strange... I really can't say. I thought I was dead myself, for awhile." Bascon scratched his chin, then his damp clothes. "Now where's Jonathan? I've a bone or two to pick with him." "Er, well, Jon - Lord Reynolds is dead, m'lord. A sea monster sank the *Covel's Hope* with all hands aboard. The Lady Covel perished too." "Hmmph. Well, that's the way it goes. Covel was always a touch too cool for my tastes anyway - a woman should have a bit of heat to her, you know what I mean?" Bascon straightened up and gazed at the surrounding lands. "Well, I'd better track down whoever's in charge nowadays. Give me one of those scrawny nags you've got there. Which way to the closest weaponsmith? I'm itching to arm myself again." "Thataway, m'lord. And since you're going, mind taking the other horses along too? Just give them to the weaponsmith. Somewhere up north you'll find Sir Pilsner, and a couple other knights. And I've heard rumors of other nobles arriving, too. Um, sir, before you go, might you do something about my, uh, name? This cowboy stuff is fun for awhile, but really, it's not a title for a self- respecting man, you know." "Sure, I can do that. Sheriff you were, so sheriff you are again! Now, give me that cash you have there, and I'll be on my way." "Yes, m'lord, whatever you like... And the horses too..." ######################################################################## The Lost Continent Chapter 5 Jonathan went into the basement where Tamara was hidden. His experiment was a success. Tamara was in a deep state of unconsciousness with her eyes wide open and glowing with a strange blue color. Jonathan's coup of the University started the day the last Padishah scout was discovered. When Jonathan received the news that a scout had been discovered, he gave his spy a sack of 50 silver coins and said that Tamara did not need to know about the scout. The scout was followed back to the cave he was hiding in. Once inside, the scout was cleanly killed so not one drop of blood was spilled. The scout was destined to become a special vintage, the last of the Padishah blood. Inside the cave was a large supply of spice, some still in its raw state. Bangor, one of Jonathan's men, greedily sipped from the liquid raw spice and slipped into a deep coma. Seeing Bangor collapse, Jonathan rushed over and put his ear near the man's head to see if he was still breathing. Much to his surprise, Jonathan suddenly saw all of Bangor's memories. He also saw that Bangor was having a vision of what was nearby. It was slightly distorted, but was obviously the University campus. Seeing through the eyes of Bangor's vision, Jonathan could see all that was going on at the University. The vision ended when Bangor succumbed to the toxins in the raw spice. The prospect of being able to see distant places was very tempting to Jonathan. With this power he could rule the world. He secretly conducted experiments on unsuspecting people. He discovered that a small dose given to a woman provided the longest and clearest effect. He also noticed that members of the Sacred Order of Agrik provided even better results. The more experience in the Order, the longer and clearer the vision was. With this discovery, Jonathan had an evil thought. The best and longest visions could only be provided by Tamara, the most advanced member of the Sacred Order in all of Zamora. * * * * Jonathan leaned over the head of Tamara and absorbed her latest visions. Her spirit had wandered south to Lemuria and discovered that it was well defended. Another land would have to be discovered for his initial conquests. He spoke softly to Tamara, "go east and see what is there." Jonathan got up and turned to the other resident of the basement. "How is the fermenting of the Padishah coming, Dances?" Dances on Oceans stood up. His skin was all pale from being in this basement for three months. He longed for the sight of day and the smell of the ocean breezes coming off the east coast of Zamora. Jonathan's skill at dentistry had returned his teeth to normal, but this was not enough of a disguise to leave the basement. "This will be the finest I've ever produced. That supply of spices and all of the time I can devote has produced a most intoxicating beverage. A few more months and it will be ready for bottling." Dances hoped for his life that five liters of the finest Padishah wine would soften Lord Vox's temper over the failed attack of the Tinkerbell. Along with the Padishah wine, 250 liters of blood taken from the Lost Boys was being prepared. The attack on the Tinkerbell might have failed, but the destruction of the rest of their forces which did not fit on the ship was quite a success. Lord Vox would need to have that fact pointed out before he would ever see the light of day again. ######################################################################## To the inhabitants of Cremona, Greetings from the crew of the Sea Star, which recently landed at your coast. We have sailed through perilous waters, fraught with danger from Sea Monsters, to arrive at your land. We come armed to protect ourselves from the Monsters as best as possible, but we are on a mission of exploration, not conquest. Our faction leader, Polaris of Sidereal Magic, would like to correspond directly with you, to discuss trade and other matters. Please send her a message at: BDURNEY@CSIS.UVSC.EDU Vega, Captain of the Sea Star ######################################################################## The soft patter of rain on the roof of the grass hut failed to offset the atmosphere of tension inside where the two men stood over a map spread out on the table. "Right here, "said Drake pointing at the map, "100 miles to the west, we have confirmed reports of six factions, all of them as young as ours. And here, just to our northwest are at least three, and more likely five more." "Including the six factions right here, that would make seventeen in all," replied the black cloaked Spellweaver as the two straightened up. "No matter how peaceful their intentions, competition for resources will eventually force some or all of them into conflict. At this stage, armed conflict would almost certainly be disastrous. What options do we have?" Drake motioned back to the map. "We do have the advantage of being the easternmost of the three population centers. Our best course of action would be to expand eastward. However, the scouts report that the continent narrows as we move eastward. It may end in a peninsula, in which case we are effectively boxed in by water on three sides and several factions on the fourth. If, on the other hand, it is an isthmus, we have a chance to expand eastward." "Very well, Captain. Concentrate our scouting activities to the east, and let us hope that we find more land. In the meantime, begin preparing a plan to move the faction if we find a more suitable location to inhabit." ######################################################################## The messenger entered his leader's small hut. Not long ago both he and his leader had just been peasants working their field, but now they had formed a new faction in Atlantis. While he personally trusted the leader, he couldn't help but be worried about all the stories he heard. Not that he felt his leader was evil or insane, just worried that something might impair his judgment. He had heard the leader had strange dreams and that his orders were based on these dreams. He heard his leader boarded on the fine line between insanity and genius. (Of course he had also heard that the leader was a follower of Agrik, he knew this WASN'T true so is just proved you couldn't believe everything you heard.) The leader looked up as he entered. "What have you heard?" "There are several factions in the same area as us, it seems most are relatively friendly. In fact one faction led by a man named Drake seems to have offered an alliance." "Excellent, if he is serious tell him we accept! Frankly we're all so weak right now that I don't think any of us could survive on our own, much less if were so stupid as to fight." "Should I bring any other messages?" "Yes, tell the other factions in this area NOT to broadcast our position in the TIMES. While most might leave us alone I don't really want to take the chance. Also make a general request to all world leaders for any maps or locations of larger dangerous empires to avoid." "Do you think anyone will really help us?" "Well, sending us a world map or telling us who to avoid won't cost them anything, and who knows, the worst that could happen is nothing." "Yes sir." The messenger hurried on his way. 'Perhaps we might succeed after all,' He thought. (jschmidt@microsoft.com) ######################################################################## Aeolius looked again at the scroll from the Catrianchi Alliance. It was disturbing that they were not interested in merging with the Gresir-Pact. Things were going well, the two alliances had shared intelligence reports, discussed some plans for the future, but then things went silent. A large alliance would be beneficial to both parties, but perhaps they did not see it that way. Their great concern was over territory and raw materials. Limitations due to raw materials will only keep one faction from becoming too strong. An allied force occupying the same territory is just as strong, even stronger. Perhaps they have decided to be independant, or have allied with some other force that we do not yet know of. "I will give them another chance" picking up his pen, he began writing a message inviting the Catrianchi Alliance one last time. Things in Abersoch were not much better. Although two of the factions had joined, it was definately a minority of the factions present there. Perhaps they had not seen the Dancers of Dionysus performing there, and did not realize that the Gresir Pact could be contacted through them. Aeolius sighed deeply and stared at the stars wheeling above. It was a difficult job, but someone must try to forge peace, and he was the chosen one. ######################################################################## ********* Extra NEWS Bulletin ************** Busy activity at Farafra HQ, after the disturbing article in the latest times of an invasion threat, the Squadrons of the Rowing have been put on red alert. The chief commanders and of them especially Daquer of Ieyasin belives the whole thing to be a hoax from some low life fugutives from the continent. But better not to take any risks,says Daquer, and some fighting would also be good for the moral of the troops and the prospect of conquering some galleons doesn't seem so bad. So the marching orders to Menter have been given so we could give them a warm welcome. Well if someone is folish enough to come they are more than welcome, according to the spirutal spokesman High Priest Chafin. ********* End of Bulletin ********** ######################################################################## The Lore of the Dragon The great wyrm slithered across the swamp on its belly, headed for the mountains above. It crushed huts and villages as it went, and set fire to trees and brush with its breath. From the east, a great army of soldiers marched. They were armed and armored, and competently led. There were a hundred skilled swordsmen, and fifty archers armed with longbows. Their commander carried a great crossbow, and was known to be an excellent shot. Sure of themselves, they attacked the great dragon. But it was to no avail. The arrows bounced off the beast's scaly hide, the swordsmen found themselves consumed by flames before they could even get close. For no army had ever defeated such a monster as this. Then, from the north, came a lone rider. He was dressed in armor of steel, and carried a great sword. The mount that carried him was a formidible war horse, and the man that rode it was a great knight. Upon seeing the dragon, he challenged it, and rode to do battle. The two fought for many hours. The beast tried to destroy his attacker with a burst of flame, but the knight's horse was too quick, and each time leaped to saftey. The beast tried to snap off the knight's head with his sharp teeth, but the shining blade kept him at bay. In the end, there was nothing the beast could do, and the knight stabbed his sword deep into the beast's belly, letting it's guts spill onto the moors. The, cutting off the monster's ears for a trophy, the knight returned whence he had come, one more heroic deed under his belt. And so it was, and so it ever shall be, that one knightly warrior, brave and true, was able to destroy the great evil that entire armies could not injure. And let this be a lesson on to you, who commands great factions of men. Against an enemy of evil like that of a dragon, armies will fail where one lone hero can win all. --The Loremaster ######################################################################## "My lord," the messenger said, "there is a new message from Lame Duck." "Give it here," Falken said, reching out for the parchment sheet. Quickly, he scanned it, taking in its meaning. A broad smile broke out across his face. "He is willing to negotiate," he announced, "as long as his territory is secure, he is willing to discuss giving us quantities of iron or wood to compensate us for having to fight this war against his former ally. He will not join the Doom army against us. General William will surely be well pleased; I know I am." With the one little agreement, Lame Duck had postponed and, hopefully, prevented an escelation of the war that would have cost hundreds, per- haps thousands, of lives. Falken fealt that all the discussions the two leaders had carried out had been well worth it. "Is the army ready to march?" he asked Sergeant Erik, who had been discussing tactics with him when the messenger arrived. "Yes, my lord," Erik answered, "Sword Squadron Alpha, Archer Squadrons Alpha, Beta, Epsilon and Zeta, and Bow Squadron Alpha are ready, along with Sword Team A, Archer Team A, and your personal guards. I was planning to send Pablar with you, as well, both for his observational ability and his skill with awfensive magic." "Very well," Falken agreed, looking at the plate armor suit standing in one corner of his tent. It would soon be time to put it on. "You'll be in charge here, though you'll be under the command of General Will- iam, of course. I'm leaving you Archer Squadron Eta. Also, Archer Squadrons Gamma and Delta are on their way here. It's possible that the Doom army may march south this month, and possible that we may pass right by without encountering them. If that happens, it'll be up to you and the forces here to destroy them. If they remain in the northern plains, then we'll take care of it. Any questions?" "No, my lord." "Excellent. Spend your time profitably, studying those books. With the recent loss of General Rakasha, I need all the competent officers I can get. Especially since, as soon as the Doom army is finally dealt with, we'll be sending troops to explore across the sea." "Yes, my lord," Erik promised, "I'll be ready to be a captain by the time you get back." "I know you will," Falken said. "One more thing. She'd probably slap me, or turn me into a frog, for saying this, but look after my wife, will you?" "I will, my lord." "Well, then, goodbye, Sergeant." Turning, Falken strode out of the tent. One of his squires would pack his armor and sword for him, he would not need them for the better part of a month. But, when the jour- ney was over, it would be time for battle. The Doom army had not come to them, so the Brotherhood and Adventurer troops were going to the enemy. One way or another, there would be a fierce battle in a month. It would not be the final battle of the war, Falken knew. But he thought it would be the decisive one. ######################################################################## =-=-= END TIMES 308 =-=-= ######################################################################## Up