Atlantis Times v1.1 v03n04 From: JJC%MP068@MPA15AB.mv-oc.Unisys.COM Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 01:02:22 +0000 ######################################################################## =-=-= Atlantis Times v1.1 Volume 3 Number 4 =-=-= =-= July 11, 1994 =-= ######################################################################## Words from The Big Guy: Owners of ships that SAIL will now get an event indicating that the ship moved. Greg Lindahl is looking for articles on Atlantis v1.1 for his PBEM magazine. Anyone interested in submitting any articles should contact Greg at gl8f@virginia.edu. REMEMBER, send game problems to: jjc@MPA15C.mv-oc.unisys.com. I don't read the mail at the other addresses!!! 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 ######################################################################## A conversation in a barn in a small town somewhere on the south continent: ... "are you really sure we should do this?", a short skinny man in the back off the room asked. Silence spread across the room as everyone stared nervously at the young man standing on an overturned crate in the middle of the barn. Mestoph look at the farmhand that voiced the objection,"Of course!", he shouted, adding in a somewhat softer yet commanding tone, "I thought we all agreed that we are tired of all soldiers and wizards burning and taxing our farms. Those that have changed their minds should leave now." The crowd in the barn looked at the tall youth, and at each other. A few left the barn, but nineteen brave men and women stayed behind. As Mestoph looked at them with pride a few shifted anxiously, but most returned his gaze with pride and hope in their eyes. Mestoph wrapped his newly purchased black cloak around his shoulders and exclaimed :"I have taken the liberty to "borrow" $5000 from the town's emergency fund...", most of the nineteen stared wide-eyed at him, "... with it we should be able to survive until we find a source of income." Grinning he added: " However we should probably get out of town before old mayor Hograth awakens and finds his coffers empty..." This got his coconspirators moving, and all of them gathered their backpacks and left for the nearest big city. ######################################################################## ***************Notice of Bounty*************** This notice will serve to notify the populace of Atlantis that the Sect of Dionysus offers a bounty of 10 silver for every head taken from the faction responsible for the unjust slaying of our brothers, The Loyal Order of Lumberjacks, in the province of Sandwick during the month of February of this year. The members of The Loyal Order of Lumberjacks were unarmed and attacked without provocation by the pig-men associated with unit 2954. May the populace of Atlantis rise up against and quickly annihilate these scum, whose only intent seems to be sensless slaughter and to diminish the quality of existance for those near them. May the evil spirit controlling these men be identified and harried where ever it shall appear in Atlantis. For further information concerning the terms of the bounty offered contact The Sect of Dionysus (197) ***************Notice of Bounty*************** ######################################################################## Once upon a time. Crohyze stood transfixed by the soft blue light that drifted from the ashes. Yes. He had heard of rebirth from his hodar. And his hodars hodars. But it was forbidden to witness the birth of anothers voler. For this was what it was. Like an ash particle blown by the wind. The blue light that was the voler was lifted from the flames into the dry air. In the relative cool. It immediately dimmed. As the blue spark dimmed. Crohyze walked forth. The fire now dying. Cooling. The voler. His voler. Lost its weightlessness and drifted down toward crohyze. Standing in the center of the pledium. His hands cupped. He watched his voler descend into his palm. The glow. Now very dim. Was immediately extinguished upon contact with his palm. And there. It achieved tangibility. Solidity. To be continued. ######################################################################## Thought For The Day "Those who live in the north are doomed!" ######################################################################## Marten Fairweather was wandering through the shady glades of Enfar, waving to the friendly people going about their business there, when he heard a perculiar sound. "Is that music?", he thought to himself. "No - thats not music - there's no tune in that cacophony!" But he was curious to find out who was making this weird chanting and beating sound. As he got closer, he saw small figures gyrating and collapsing in the undergrowth, and began to make out the words that were being chanted in time to the beat. No sooner did he understand them, than he burst out laughing! The chanter was reciting a poem relating the fabled adventures of the ledgendary Innkeeper In The Mist! The rhythm was really quite clever, even if it was a bit of a din. "Darn!" exclaimed Marten. For the chanter and his gyrating companions had heard the laughter and disappeared into the undergrowth before Marten could get a look at them... ######################################################################## Lord Hetherington was optimistic. He had manaaged to find an almost uninhabited plain region. It was not all he had hoped for but it had promise. He had hoped for a completely unknown area but that had to wait. He would concentrate on turning this small outpost into a thriving centre. He had sent the Captain back with his vessel to the capital. The voyage would be across smooth seas and he didn't expect there to be trouble even though the Captian was single-handed. The ship would return in two months to check on Hetherington's situation and then sail on into to completely unchatered waters to the south and west. He would dearly like to be on that boat when it left but He was certain that he would have to stay. ######################################################################## Dwight Eisenhower looked over the smoking battlefield in Sandwick. The U.S. Senate had declared war on the Trabalhadores in an attempt to take away plunder from the vicious factions 183 and 184. The vicious factions had disappeared though, escaped into thin air. Dwight scratched his head in bewilderment. Meanwhile the Senate was raking in tons of money as the peasants watched their continual deliberations and donated heartily to the Treasury. Things were going well for the newly founded United States of Atlantis. In a few weeks, they would be able to start building up defense and plunge their country into deficit spending. ######################################################################## An Open Letter to Atlantis, Greetings fellow factions of Atlantis, from the Merry Pranksters. We are a peaceful band of entertainers and traders, roving through the Northwestern continent of Atlantis. However, the recent events on this continent have become quite distressing. As you probably know from the past articles in the Times, certain agressive factions: namely the Skinflayers, PATO, and the Order of the Octagonal Pit, have banded together, and formed a large army. Their first targets were the factions in the north, whom they have chased from the continent. Based on comments made in the Times, and also heard second-hand from the House Reynolds, this alliance seems to wish to eliminate all other factions that they can get their hands (and teeth) on. Despite the fact that the Merry Pranksters use few resources and pose no threat to their military might, I can only assume that they will be coming after us next. There are a few other factions in the area, but they are uncommunicative, and I wonder which of them might be allied with Vox and his ilk. The news is grim, but not hopeless. I have many stealthy units, who will (hopefully) be able to survive for quite some time. In addition, a boatload of Pranksters has escaped the continent. However, with no safe destination, the future remains very unclear. Thus, I ask of you, can any provide a safe haven for a few wandering entertainers? Our only goal is to perhaps rescue our brethren from the Northwest continent, and to spread our small band throughout Atlantis. If you provide a haven, we will become faithful allies, and only use what few resources you would be willing to spare (perhaps a small amount of wood and iron, to build swords for taxing, and boats for exploration). Admittedly, we are a poor faction, but we can offer a nearly complete map of the Northwest continent, and any other lands we may discover as we travel through Atlantis. Contact the Merry Pranksters at gdunbar@us.oracle.com if you can help. Your servant, Hans Shadowspawn ######################################################################## The Lost Continent Chapter 1 Tamara slept poorly. Her troubles had been keeping her awake lately. She had relied on the university to be an institution for peace. She did not expect that the alliance of the Northern Wind would overwhelm the lands. Already anyone who had not been assimilated by the alliance was fleeing the continent. Rumors that the families of Diamite and Corrino had fled in the north to avoid extinction brought terror to the town. Closer to home, two bands of youths who call themselves the Lost Boys and the Merry Pranksters were building boats to escape. Tamara wondered when the Northern Wind would break down the doors of the university. It was too late to escape, the roads had been blocked. Finally exhaustion overcame the anxiety and a deep sleep came to Tamara. Tamara awoke just before dawn strangely refreshed. It was very quiet outside where there was only the beginning glow of the sun in the east. The air felt cold yet humid at the same time. She got dressed and went outside to stretch her legs in the cool outside air. The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon. The light seemed strange this morning, it seemed to have a blue-green quality to it and it did not cast any shadows. Her walk took her outside of the town which was still very quiet. It was too quiet. Perhaps it was a holiday she had just forgot about, but what holiday could it have been? No one was out working the fields. Even on a holiday, food was so important that work never stopped. Concerned, Tamara went back into town. The streets were still deserted. She walked over to the home of the innkeeper. Cliff would be able to explain why no one was around. She knocked on the door, but there was no answer. She pounded, waited, pounded again, listened. No answer, no sound. She stepped back from the door and muttered a few words in an ancient language known only to a select few. Her fingers began to glow and then a lightning bolt suddenly leaped from her and struck the door. Tamara was amazed at herself. Breaking into Cliff's home was not something she would normally do. The lightning blast was very noisy, yet the town remained quiet. No one opened a window to look out and see where the noise came from. She stepped inside and saw nothing unusual. Everything was clean and in its place (except for burned splinters from the door). Cliff was not home. He must have left quickly and without packing; nothing was missing from the house. Panicking, Tamara ran from house to house banging on the doors. Where had everyone gone. When she got to the end of the street, a dreadful realization came to her. They all evacuated to escape from the alliance. That was the only explanation, right? What else would cause everyone to just leave. The explanation seemed plausible, but one question kept nagging here. Why didn't she hear anything last night? The whole town could not have left in panic without making enough noise to wake the dead. Tamara then saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned to look and saw a fish swimming though the air. ######################################################################## BATTLE SIMULATOR!! BATTLE SIMULATOR!! Announcing version 1.5! BATTLE SIMULATOR!! BATTLE SIMULATOR!! It's been a while but our witchdoctors have finally BATTLE SIMULATOR!! gotten around to fixing that behind bug. BATTLE SIMULATOR!! BATTLE SIMULATOR!! For those who don't know what the simulator does BATTLE SIMULATOR!! it's something that will tell you just how your BATTLE SIMULATOR!! army stacks up to your neighbors'. So you can BATTLE SIMULATOR!! either start sharpening your axes or looking for BATTLE SIMULATOR!! a burial ground. BATTLE SIMULATOR!! BATTLE SIMULATOR!! Anyway, the newest feature is SPELLS!!! BATTLE SIMULATOR!! Only the simple destructive ones are simulated, BATTLE SIMULATOR!! but send in the summaries of your favorite combat BATTLE SIMULATOR!! spells and our medicine men may just might put it BATTLE SIMULATOR!! in the next version! BATTLE SIMULATOR!! BATTLE SIMULATOR!! To save space, the C code will not be posted here. BATTLE SIMULATOR!! Get your own FREE no-obligation copy by mailing BATTLE SIMULATOR!! cyu@mit.edu BATTLE SIMULATOR!! BATTLE SIMULATOR!! Here is a sample output: Faction 1: 1 men B, HODeath, 2 x 1 men, SunFr, 0 s 1000 men, 1 s Faction 2: 10 men B, LBolt, 1 s 9000 men, 0 s ===ROUND 1=== Crossbows fire! Faction 1, unit 0 casts a spell: Hand of Death kills 154! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 2! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 2! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 9! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 8! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 10! Faction 1, unit 1 casts a spell: Sunfire kills 2756! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 6! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 8! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 5! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 4! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 2! Faction 1: 1 men B, HODeath, 2 x 1 men, SunFr, 0 s 540 men, 1 s Faction 2: 10 men B, LBolt, 1 s 5933 men, 0 s ===ROUND 2=== Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 6! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 5! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 3! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 4! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 6! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 8! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 3! Faction 1, unit 0 casts a spell: Hand of Death kills 148! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 8! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 8! Faction 2, unit 0 casts a spell: Lightning Bolt kills 8! Faction 1, unit 1 casts a spell: Sunfire kills 1380! Faction 1: 1 men B, HODeath, 2 x 0 men, SunFr, 0 s 198 men, 1 s Faction 2: 10 men B, LBolt, 1 s 4310 men, 0 s ===ROUND 3=== Faction 1 flees! Faction 2 also flees! ######################################################################## Balthazar huddled amongst the rocks, trying to keep warm. Although the winter chill had recently left the bleak mountain passes he had been traversing, the sight of the hordes of warriors gathering in this isolated area chilled him to the core. He wondered whether there was any point in travelling further. So many months had passed since he had begun this expedition, he had begun to forget the rolling plains of his homeland. Balthazar stood up and craned his neck to see beyond the far cliffs' edge and the sea beyond. As he did so, there was a shout from below him, and the terrible whizz of a crossbow bolt. ######################################################################## In the barber chair, Clive perused the latest Times while the barber made a fuss of pretending to cut his mostly non-existent hair. According to the article which had caught his eye, the Emperor (he wasn't sure of what) and the House of Reynolds (or perhaps more appropriately Ship's Cabin of Reynolds) were reportedly sailing the high seas. "There there's a life for a man...", he thought. "Argh matey! Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum!". Of course if Dr. Vox ever took to the waves, it would be more like "yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of blood!" He wondered if blood would prevent scurvy. He could imagine Dr. Vox trolling for sea monsters with peasants. The life of the Gnomes had settled down into a routine. Chop wood, make bows, threaten peasants, chop more wood, make more bows, threaten more peasants. It was time for some of the adventure he had promised his followers. Plus, some sailor suits and pirate costumes would look mighty dandy. He called for an engineer to present him with a ship design. * * * "We need HOW MUCH wood?!" Clive looked at the parts list on the blueprints again to make sure he had seen right. The whole plan to leave now with his followers hinged on being able to obtain the entire wood production from the nearby forests for several months. It remained to be seen how his neighbors might react to this. Certainly some would be glad to see him leave. The architect had designed a whole new type of ship, identified as the "Gnomulan Bird of Prey" class. When Clive inquired as to why, the architect proudly pointed out the detail drawing for the ship's prow. "That looks like an ostrich head to me!", muttered Clive, unable to hide the irritation in his voice. "Well, ostrichs have to prey on something...", was the uncertain reply. "Like what?" "Uh, worms?" Clive dropped the subject. The provisional names of the first ships which the architect had stenciled in were "Minnow" and "Poseidon". He didn't know about the first name, but that last one sounded like a great name for an adventure. * * * Clive looked appeciatively across the dinner table at Simone. He had taken her into his household after putting a stop to the experiments of his obviously mad scientists. Simone seemed to be depressed, but he put this down to the stressful experience she must have endured. The scientists were now incarcerated in the same cell with Lord Cucumber and Lord Zucchini, along with a white horse with a big mouth. "Here", he said to her, pushing a plate of leftovers in her direction. "Why don't you take this over to the jail and give it to the prisoners. They're probably getting tired of horse apples." At this, she brightened right up, took the plate, and flashed him a dazzling smile over her shoulder as she left the room. ######################################################################## From the Chronicles of The Brotherhood of Northern Warriors April, Year 3 - Gurkacre High Minister Aldrick stood on the balcony, looking out over the plains of Gurkacre. The fields that surrounded the castle were tilled by peasants loyal to the Brotherhood, and they willingingly paid the taxes Lord Falken required to maintain the Brotherhood's constant growth. Each month, soldiers went forth from the castle, collecting from each family whatever they could afford to share. The castle was a mighty one, large enough to shelter two hundred soldiers. Of course, the Brotherhoos masons had their hands full constantly repairing the thing, but it was all worth it. With the skilled archers behind stone wall, shooting though arrow slits, and the experienced swordsmen sheltered by the castle's battlements, the two hundred warriors were turned into a force that could fight off a much larger army. Which freed the bulk of the Brotherhood units to carry on operations much further from the capital, such as guarding the boarders against the Nolles and Ballindines, factions with which the Brotherhood was currently in a state of uneasy peace. Aldrick smiled, and returned to his desk, where he was going over the most recent reports and correspondences. The fleet that the TBoNW Navy had send south was making good progress. A serpeant had attacked one of the vessels last month, but had been dispatched with little trouble. The ships hoped to wrap around the edge of the world soon, and thought they might encounter land soon after. That was a prospect that excited Aldrick. They might discover new allies, or new enemies. Either way, it would mean many more things for him and Lord Falken to deal with. The Lord was away, inspecting the troops on the boarder, but Aldrick kept in constant contact with him, updating him on the Brotherhoods progress in many regions. Next, Aldrick turned his attention to the recent letters from Lame Duck, concerning the emerging peace between the Brotherhood and it's ally, Larson's Adventurers, and the Ballindine alliance. There had been some mild disagreements between the acceptability of sending armed scouts into each other regions but Lord Falken, while not pleased, had decided it was not an issue worth arguing over. Certainly none of them were afraid of a few armed observers entering their territory; they could be killed at any time. A more interesting proposal was that of sending shipbuilders to Kormarken, where the two alliances might cooperate to build many ships. The Brotherhood already had several of its own galleons, but there could never be too many. While the wizards assured Aldrick that they were making good progress towards discovering a way to instantly teleport entire armies from one place to another, for the time being ships were the only way to explore new continents. Or to conquer them. Surely once the Brotherhood, their good friend General William and his followers, and the Ballindine Alli- ance, acting in cooperation, would be a force that other, less unified islands, would do well to fear. With that pleasant thought, High Minister Aldrick returned to his paperwork. ######################################################################## =-=-= END TIMES 304 =-=-= ######################################################################## Up