Atlantis Times v1.1 v02n11 From: JJC%MP068@MPA15AB.mv-oc.Unisys.COM Date: Wed, 01 Jun 1994 04:07:02 +0000 ######################################################################## =-=-= Atlantis Times v1.1 Volume 2 Number 11 =-=-= =-= May 31, 1994 =-= ######################################################################## Words from The Big Guy: We have a new FTP archive site. Times and playerlists can be found there. The site it ftp.erg.sri.com. Battle reports now identify the end of combat rounds. REMEMBER, send game problems to: jjc@MPA15C.mv-oc.unisys.com. I don't read the mail at the other addresses!!! Remember, there is a limit of 72 characters per line for Times submissions. Anything over 72 characters will wrap around auto- matically. 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 ######################################################################## "Okay, now, um, let's play a game." Bruno organized the peasants into two lines, separated by about twenty feet. "Okay, all you in line hold hands." Some of the hardier peasants looked reluctant, but finally gave in and held hands. Bruno smiled. "Okay," Bruno called out to the other line, "Red Rover, Red Rover, let Spike come over." One of the men in the other line looked at the ground, hoping to be ignored. "Come on, Spike," Bruno said, "be a sport." Spike hesitated. This Bruno was a huge man, but dull and slow witted. He'd organized the peasants into groups of game playing to pass the time. Said he'd been sent west to scout, but had hit water so didn't know what to do next. Some of the peasants had resisted the idea of game playing, but Bruno could be very convincing, in a dim sort of way. "What 'cha say, Spike?" Bruno called. Spike sighed, and let go of the hands of those next to him. Taking a running start, he launched himself at the other line. The object, Bruno had said, was to break through the other line. Why, Spike had asked. So that you get to stop playing, Bruno had answered. Oh, Spike had said. Spike landed on top of two peasants, knocking down half the line and starting a brawl. Before too long, half the peasants in the region were hitting and kicking each other. Bruno watched it all with a dazed smile on his face. 'I like to see people having fun,' he thought. 'Sludge would be proud of me'. ------------------------------- The Skulking Vermin! World renowned entertainers and vagabonds. More humor than a two pound anvil! ------------------------------- Skulking Vermin (109) ######################################################################## Zolag sat up well into the night scheming. Ekij may well be in control of the MUSADites for now, she thought, but someday his time would be over and she could step into control. Ekij was too preocupied with the other worlds MUSAD , MiPProM and HTDR. Pah he was a fool anyway he was a pacifist and a weakling. She alone knew the true meaning of power and some day her chance to give ekij a small object lession would arrive. But first a few of the other MUSADites would have to die. She once again cursed the powers that restricted her from inflicting injury on her own faction. She would just have to employ a few assissans and for that she needed to get the cash distribution "altered" in her favour. She opened the tent door and slipped out into the darkness ..... ######################################################################## Laurathoron yawned. He sat on a bluff, his back to the smooth trunk of a tree. Twilight was settling comfortably in place, a graying of the light, crickets were beginning to chirp and fireflies were winking into view. He drew his knees up against his chest, he hadn't slept for almost three days now, and fatigue was catching up with him. His eyes closed involuntarily at the prospect of curling up beneath his cloak and drifting away. They snapped open again instantly, he must stay alert. He thought of his daughter living her last months in Ebonok, most of all he pictured their last meeting, Islena had refused to return home, and they had argued long into the night. In the end, he had given in and left her. His daughther was now dead and Laurathoron's world could never be the same again, the world was in turmoil. He let his gaze wander, a hoot in the trees behind him caused him to turn, looking for any sign of disturbance... he found none, one of the horses pawed restlessly and went still again. He leaned back and closed his eyes momentarily, feeling himself drifting, letting it happen.... 'She's gone' Iridal said quietly drawing Laurathoron's eyes away from the head stone and meeting them with her own. 'We must leave her now, We must go on because that is what we have sworn we would do and that is what she would want' He jerked awake again, the darkness was all around save the moon. 'You fell asleep' he chided himself. He remained awake after that until Laitha came to relieve him at dawn. ######################################################################## Young Hans smiled as he looked at the target. He was becoming very good with his crossbow. He knew that his Household would be ready to meet the Northern invaders. Hans had joined the Household just a few months ago. He signed on to build log cabins. However, with the threat of invasion, he was trained as a crossbowman and given a bow. The whole Household was becoming armed. Even the Limberjacks were now carrying swords. All day long, Hans could hear the blacksmiths hammering iron into swords. The Household was now able to sell swords to its allies. Every month new recruits were being hired and reinforcements were coming from the allies. Hans watched as the Army formed in his home town. He counted the banners of six Households. Rumors said that two more House- holds were sending troops too. Hans knew that he might die soon. He was not afraid to die. He only wondered about what the "after life" was like. He knew nothing of the Gods. Each month he read the _Atlantis Times_ hoping to read about the Gods. So far, no household has tried to teach the rest of Atlantis of the Gods...This fact made Hans very sad indeed... ######################################################################## The ugly sea monster climbed slowly out of the ocean. Its foul stench was so strong it even offended the sturdy David Skink who was avoided by all the villagers. It took a full month for it to reach the village where it was seen by the lookouts. The sight of the monster caused an uproar in town. The people demanded that the sea monster be slain. Ten of the towns best swordsmen looked at the monster and ran away leaving the peasants undefended. ######################################################################## BATTLE REPORT The Order of the Blue Tower have been non-communicative for the last three months. A small force of archers with long bows have been gaurding the peasants of Stackforth. All attempts to contact their leader failed and even an ad placed in the Atlantis Times failed to elect a response. It was not with mixed feelings that a force of 20 archers with long bows and crossbows attacked the units that had stonewalled for so long. None of the cannon fodder used was killed but one of the mounted archers was felled by an enemy arrow. Her horse was recovered and returned to the unit. Three long bows were also recovered, a very good haul considering the number in the battle. It is hoped that The Order of the Blue Tower was be a little more receptive to ideas from other factions in the area and learn to cooperate with them. The Amazons ######################################################################## THE SPORTS PAGES: SALEM STOMPERS ROUT ALL COMERS! During the last. month the Altantis Cup Football Tournament has seen the meteoric rise of the previously unheard of team from Salem: the Salem Stompers. In last week's match against the Morella Melons, which was abandonned just after half time when the Melons claimed they no longer had enough men to play, the score was 10:0. The jury is still out on whether the Salem player Joe `big-foot` Mctaggart will be suspended for a week after a protest (including R rated video evidence) was submitted by the crushed Melons following the post-match furore. ######################################################################## It brooded in the darkness, pondering the pawns it had freed. Normally, the Mist chose not to interfere directly with the affairs of the Little Folk, but the pair that had blundered into the well had presented an opportunity that could not go unexploited. The seed of evil that it had planted in the breast of the one called Cauliflower (or Cabbage, or something - the Mist chose not to recall inconsequential details) was more ancient than the Mist itself, and had lain dormant for aeons. Now, it guided its carrier (who still supposes that he acts by his own will) into Morella... The Mist swirled out of the well and into the trees of Salen Forest. The Watcher in the Wood reported that two strangers had left the forest at its southern border and were now outside its ken. Satisfied, the Mist returned to earth, and headed for Carrigaline, and the Inn. ######################################################################## The Holy Church of Agrik declares The Padisha Empire as outlaws. I Chafin of Araku, High Priest of the Demons of the Octagonal Pit, and the most Holy Church of the War God Agrik, declare the Padisha Empire dissolved. All memebers of the Imperial family shall be brougth to the altars of Agrik and be sacrified as a punishment for their unholy deeds. All who help these pityful creatures and who oppose this sentence will be cursed for ever. Let this message be spread in all provinces of the continent of the Northern Wind so that none can claim that he gave shelter out of error. Fugitives from the continent will be curses hundred fold and be hunted down like dogs of the Warriors of the Rowing Doom and their brave comrades in arms. Thus have I spoken and let my will be carried out. Chafin of Araku High Priest of the Holy Church of Agrik ######################################################################## Doktor Vox relaxed in the big wooden tub, eyes half-closed, as steam swirled gently around his head. It was *so* very nice to relax in a hot bath after a hard day of combat. And the combat had gone very well indeed! Despite the loss of several swordsmen, six to that accursed Laertes Diamante's lightning bolt, the Padishah and Diamante nobility had been thoroughly crushed. These royal types were certainly puzzling, though. After the massive initial battle, when the royal horde had finally been broken and scattered, the remnants of the Padishah's Sardaukar Legions had re-formed and attacked again! With most unfortunate results for them, Vox mentally added, remembering the slaughter. Silly not to take the chance to escape while you had it, but perhaps it was one of those noble chivalry things. Vox wondered if the Paladins down south had the same sorts of odd ideas... but then, they seemed to be winning battles rather than losing them, for the moment. Ah well, who could know? Vox swirled his hands out of the bath, rubbing the palms together, enjoying the slippery feeling. "Bath Slave! Ho, Bath Slave!" An attractive but terrified young Diamante noble's daughter thrust her head around the tent-screen, wide-eyed and trembling. "Y...yes Lord Vox?" Vox smiled happily at the young lady, pleased that she had remembered his new title. Vox had figured he should acquire some status from destroying the Empire, so the title Lord seemed appropriate. Easer to spell, too. "Bring me another cup of anticoagulants for the bath, at once!" That was always the problem with bathing in enemy's blood, it tended to start clotting on you after a short time, and you had to keep adding chemicals. Excellent skin restorative, though. Soon enough it would be time to pick up and move on, to leave the pleasant baths behind, and head for the swamps where the remnants of the royal forces huddled, frantically building their escape boats. But now it was relaxation time. Time to admire the newly painted skin of Shaddam IV that hung on the tent wall. And as always, time for a quick Tactics brush-up. Vox listened for a time as his reader droned on from the tactics book; couldn't they write an *interesting* text about combat, for once? By the time the bath-slave came back in with the cup of green liquid, her hands trembling so badly that a quarter of the liquid was already spilt, Vox was entirely ready for a little diversion. "Here, let me help you with that little cup, I'll steady your wrist here, and...." A loud splash and shriek immediately followed. "Well, I see you've decided to join your new Lord Vox in his bath, eh? Lovely "water", isn't it, and I'll bet there's just a bit of your own Daddy in here!" Vox grinned broadly at his companion, showing off his newly filed incisors. The rest of us may only speculate as to what a continuing series of screams indicates, when emanating from the tent of the self-proclaimed Lord. These days, it isn't an uncommon occurrence. Let us just say that "celebrating for a month" after a battle may take many different forms for different types of people, and Vox was a different type of people altogether. ######################################################################## Mosty naked, their remaining few strips of clothing hanging from them in tatters, Lords Cucumber and Zucchini made their way across the fields of Morella towards the town, the frost-covered stubs of freshly cut wheat crunching under their feet. A golden harvest moon shone brighly amidst the myriad of stars twinkling in the cloudless night sky. They shivered in the cold air, hungry and exhausted. As they reached the outskirts of town, a barn offered shelter. . . . It was a crisp autumn morning as Zeke rubbed the sleep from his eyes on his way to do his morning chores. Time to get some hay and feed the horses. Cody, the head horse trainer, waved at him from the corral as he mosied over to the barn. Taking the pitchfork leaning against the wall, he sauntered over to the haystack. As he jammed the pitchfork into the hay, a blood-curdling howl snapped him full awake and brought Cody running into the barn. Two pitiful figures emerged from the hay, one rubbing his punctured posterior. "Looky what we got here!" chortled Zeke. "Two turkeys in the straw!" "Well I'll be a skulking vermin!" exclaimed Cody, a fadish expression which had recently become popular, "Where in tarnation did you two come from?" "I am called Lord, er, uh, Squash", replied Zucchini, in a hastily conceived plan to conceal his true identity. "And this is my brother, Lord, er, um, Pickle," he added, nodding in the direction of Cucumber. "We were waylaid by robbers in the forest who took everything we owned." "Yeah, it was a one-armed man," broke in Cucumber. "Armed with a bow!" Zucchini gave him a dirty look. "We would be grateful if you could offer us gainful employment. We'll be happy to work in exchange for some clothes and food." "We'll get y'all some clothes, no problem" replied Cody. "Why we got plenty of fashion accessories, we're Gnomes after all. As for putting you to work, let me think...". He looked them up and down, and could not keep himself from staring, all too obviously, at their grossly oversized dangling members. "I know," he said, a smirk coming over his face, "you guys can work with me... as HORSE BREEDERS! Haw! Haw! Haw!" . . . Sergeant Buckstaff strode before the assembled mounted archery unit. His face, like that of all drill sergeants since time immemorial, was covered with a permanent scowl. A voice issued forth from the ranks: "What's the matter sergeant, somebody piss in your canteen?" "WHAT?!!!", he sputtered, "Who said that!" This was unheard of. What soldier would dare such an utterance? Nobody came forward. Some of the archers were biting their quivering lips, tears leaking from their eyes, as they tried to keep from snorting out their laughter, others had gone pale and were hoping not to mess their pants in their terror. Buckstaff, livid with rage, prowled between the rows and columns, looking each person in the eyes in the hope of catching a guilty gleam. "You are ALL going to pay for this," he growled in a low, menacing voice, "until I find out which one of you is responsible." He glared at the troops. "You'll be doing continuous manoeuvres on short rations until you drop. In the meantime, I'll report this breach of discipline to Captain Wilbur!" "W-i-i-i-i-i-i-l-b-u-r!" echoed a voice from the back, followed by several whinneys and snorts. All eyes turned to stare at a white horse in the back rank. "Uh-oh", it said, "the jigs up." . . . Clive nodded with muted satisfaction as he checked his ledgers. The Gnomes were six months behind his original production goals, but were holding to the new schedule. The delay was mainly due to the loss of his first lumberjack regiment in that unfortunate incident with the Brotherhood of the Mist. But at least the ensuing chaos had abated and things finally seemed to be running smoothly again. Well mostly. An alternate source of wood was finally delivering raw materials to the weaponsmiths, but the wood he had intended to buy in the interim still hadn't been delivered. His allies, the Wandering Nomads, had made good on their name in a most bizarre way by wandering aimlessly back and forth between Morella and Salen for several months carrying great stacks of wood which they never bothered to drop, as the eagerly waiting Gnomes looked on in disbelief. The Gnomes had spread south from Morella into Navenby and Banlar in order to secure a route to Clatter where the new lumberjack unit was busy hacking down trees with no regard for ecological consquences. Clive was able to monitor the current status of all the Gnome undertakings through his new invention, CNN - the Crossbow News Network. Crossbow bolts with attached messages could be quickly fired from station to station with amazingly few casualties and the occasional free duck dinner. He looked up from his ledgers. "Is the latest report in from Navenby yet?" he asked expectantly. There was a high whistling sound as a bolt blurred through the air and arced into the message board with a loud WHOMP. "There it is," answered the message boy, pulling off the roll of paper and handing it over. "What?! A sea monster has pulled a raid on the peasants in Navenby!" No Gnomes had been lost, but the raid was unsettling none-the-less. A potential threat in an area he had thought to be relatively safe. "Has anybody else experienced this?" he wondered aloud. An aide entered the office with a pair of parchments clutched in his hand. "Thought you might like to see these, sir", he said in clipped tones as he handed them over to Clive. Clive eyed the first document: ,---------------------------------------, | | | ! W A N T E D ! | | | | D E A D O R A L I V E | | | | Lords Cucumber and Zucchini | | | | by Lord Falken and the | | Alliance of Northern Warriors | | | | Crimes: | | * Being related in any way, shape, or | | form to the notorius Lord Banana | | (since executed for beschmirching | | the reputation of the beautiful | | Rowena, who insists that he never | | touched her and who categorically | | denies enjoying it even if he did) | | * Giving vegetables a sleazy name | | * Presenting a danger to sheep and | | other livestock | | * Sowing unrest among the female | | population by raising unrealistic | | expectations | | | '---------------------------------------' The second document contained an artist's sketch of the alledged criminals, based on the few first-hand descriptions that the pursuers had been able to gather: ,---------------------------------------, | | | Zucchini Cucumber | | | | O O O O | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | (,) | | | | | | (,) | | | '---------------------------------------' Clive scratched his balding head. Obviously Zucchini was the more dangerous of the two. "Run this over to security," he decided, handing it back to the aide. . . . Captain James T. Hooker had had a busy day. The case of the talking horse had created quite a stir that morning and was no closer to being solved now than then. The magicians had been called in, but had pronounced it definitely NOT a case of a human ensorceled into horse form; all of the clowns' horse costumes had been accounted for; taping everyones mouth shut had eliminated malicious ventriloquism as a possibility; and nobody had another explanation. Then he had been interrupted in his investigation by the arrival of the wanted posters. "Look here, Dachsund," he said to his partner, "We've got a horse that talks like a human, and nobody knows why." Waving the posters around, he said, "And we've got two guys hung like horses who are related to a known criminal. All the clues are there. There must be a connection somewhere I'm missing..." ######################################################################## Sir, I am afraid that I must report that our performance in conjunction with the rest of the Norther Wind has been frought with problems. On our way to Mizip we did not receive the horses that you arranged for us so we were forced to march double time. We still had hopes of making it on time to the battle, however, we encountered resistance in Farafra from a poor attempt at a road block. The problem was removed by other members of the Norther Wind, however, we were unable to get to make it in time for the battle. When we did arrive in Mizip we found the battle over. There was a rather large victory feast put on the the infamous Dr. VOX. The men and I attended, on your behalf. The food was good, or at least it was good until after supper when Dr. Vox announced that the main dish was made from the very same enemy that they had bested in battle. Never in all my days have I seen so many men vommit all at once. All Vox did was laugh hysterically. The above incident did nothing to help the moral of our small contingent here. When they saw that we arrived too late for battle the went mad and started to hack up the dead bodies littering the battle field. I managed to stopthem by pointing out that there were still some pokets of resistance left to clean up. Had I know what Vox had planned or the bodies I would have let the men go off on them, it would have certinly made his cooks' job easier. As to out plans now. THe men are out right now looking for any enemy stragglers (they really are in a killin mood.) When that is dome we will move northward to victory. Yours in Service, Captian Aldo Sinclair ######################################################################## War of Ballandine Aggression, Report from the front #3 Dateline Lagos October Year 2 The front was quiet this turn and will be quiet again as the Army of the Ballandines stayed put in Lorthalm (no doubt to study up and become even better at slaughter.) They increased their number of swords to 442 and they have 154 iron that will probably be converted this turn, raising their strength to almost 600 swords. 10 crossbows are in their bow forces. I have concentrated my interior forces in Lagos (due east of Lorthalm), and have fewer swords, but more than 400 longbows. If they move east, there will be an extremely bloody battle. The Paladins of Ballandine attempted something nefarious this turn in Lagos. They sent the following unit in to spy: - transit bows (2335), faction Paladins of Ballindine (47); This unit belongs to larson@pevsc.pec.ncsu.edu. I had a number of units named "transit bows" last turn, and almost all my units have my email address in the display field, but as you can see this is definitely not one of my units. Please let me know if you observe a unit with my email address in the display field behaving suspiciously. It may not belong to me, but to an aggressive and sneaky faction that you should kill! Next week: Another report on the Ballandine Aggressors army movement and strength. The above report generated by the scribes of faction 59, "Larson's Adventurers", formed in Gurkacre (9,14) on Jan 01 reachable at "Bill_Larson@ncsu.edu" ######################################################################## Once upon a time. Crohyze the great was but a boy. He was inside a homuz arsenal. There to perform his rite of passage. He had already picked out the fire spitter he wanted. She was old. From the sound of her breathing. He knew she was powerful. Suddenly. He was upon her. Tearing at her bridle. The old fire spitter reared. And screeched. Piercing the silent camp. In an instant crohyze dug his heels into her sides. With a bellow. The fire spitter lunged out of her cell. The hormuz were already in the arsenal. Following the screaming of crohyze's fire spitter. But crohyze was prepared. With a sudden grip upon the fire spitter's throat. The fire spitter left the first two hormuz guards in a ball of flame. Before the rest of the guards could regroup. Crohyze and his mighty fire spitter were already skimming over the tips of the crakin fields. Leaving a wake of wind wafting behind them. To be continued. ######################################################################## "Damnation! This wood is frozen solid. How am I expected to fashion a spar from this ice splinter?" Thurg threw the offending beam to the ground in frustration. Garnord the Smith was the Seneschal's new appointee to head the efforts taking shape near the walls of Fort Roche. "Thurg", said the Smith, "You, of all craftsmen, should know how to find the form within the grain." "Pah!" Thurg was not to be placated. "You mock me, captain. I am a crossbowman. Give me a bolt and I can split a sapling in twain. But give me this lump of ice, and the only thing I'll split is my knuckles." "Nevertheless, you must try. This vessel is more than half constructed. An effort from all of us now will see it out to sea in the new year." "And for what?" growled Thurg. "So that we can be a new year's feast for the dreaded Sea Monsters?" ######################################################################## Kaldric leaned on his crossbow and peered into the darkness. He could barely make out the form of his targt, who seemed to be hidding beneath the shelter of a rocky outcropping. The man was disguised, but it had not been good enough to fool the Lady Rowena. Rumor had it her powers of obervation were increasd by magic. Kaldric only knew the lady had good eyes. Sighing, he lifted his bow and raised it to his shoulder. "Why?" he asked, not turning to face the man he knew was standing behind him. "Why do they come here, into the mids of our staging area? Don't they know they're bound to die?" "They don't care," the Captain answered, "they're loyal to their leader, onto death. They'll do whatever he asks of them, even going on a suicide mission." "How can a man inspire such loyalty in his followers?" Kaldric asked. "Would you not die for our Lord, if he asked you?" the Captain asked. "Lord Falken would never ask such a thing!" Kaldric responded, "he is a good man, and fair." "He is," the Captain agreed, "but if he were to tell you that the good of the Brotherhood required you to go on a mission from which you could not return?" "I would go," Kaldric answered, without stopping to think. "Of course you would," said the Captain, "as would I, or any of our brothers. Lord Falken inspires such loyalty in us, because he is good and fair. Other men inspire loyalty in other ways. But now, watch. Our swordsmen are about to confront the spy. Your bow should not be needed, but see that it is ready just the same." "Yes, Captain," Kaldric said, turning his attention back to the man hidding beneath the crag. A moment later, a score of swordsmen came out of the darkness and charged the spy, calling for him to surrender. But, like the others before him, this spy from the cursed land of Aldan would not let himself be taken. It was the third spy they had ambushed, and killed, in as many months. The battle was short and terribly one- sided. With another sigh, Kaldric lowered his bow. It would not be needed this night. He grew tired of these patrols and midnight ambushes. He had heard that there was war coming, and that it would be a great war. He had been told that many of them might not come out alive. He didn't like the sound of that very much, but if it was to be, then he wished it would just hurry up and happen. All of this waiting was begining to make him sick. f ######################################################################## =-=-= END TIMES 211 =-=-= ######################################################################## Up