Atlantis Times v1.1 v02n04 - REPOST From: GM%TRPASB@MPA15AB.mv-oc.Unisys.COM Date: Tue, 29 Mar 1994 22:41:57 +0000 ######################################################################## =-=-= Atlantis Times v1.1 Volume 2 Number 4 =-=-= ######################################################################## Words from The Big Guy: I hope we survived the rerun of March. The time-studder is now over. Next week, I'll run the turn Sunday (I hope!), so get those orders in soon. The Times is quite a bit larger this time around. Good work! Keep those articles coming! Remember, there is a limit of 72 characters per line for Times submissions. Anything over 72 characters will wrap around auto- matically. Well, we no longer have heffalump. The mailing list is no longer available. I'll keep running the game, but we really need a list server of some sort. Anybody got a system we can use? Send Times to: jjc@mpa15ab.mv-oc.unisys.com Send Orders to: gm%trpasb@mpa15ab.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. One mailing list is sending stuff to me at the Times address. The other mailing lists have dropped me completely. Be sure to include me on your alliance mailing lists at jjc@mpa15c.mv-oc.unisys.com. Thanks. Good luck, and enjoy. - TBG ######################################################################## ARCHERS INTIMIDATE LOCALS DATELINE ATLANTIS : During the last month a band of tall woman with long hair and wearing leather and brass clothing have been confronting local people with crossbows in order to extract a tax. It is rumoured that each woman collected about $50 during the month. A daring young serf followed the gang until they entered a camp on the coast. Our spy noticed much partying when the troup arrived with their loot from our sweat. There was even an attempt to lure the lad into the camp with the promise of money and enetertainment but he returned to tell his tale. ######################################################################## From the Diary of Lord Falken Febuary, Year 2 "Very good," I said, watching as the masons smoothed the mighty stone blocks. "When will it be done?" "The first stage will be done in a month," the man supervising the building replied, "but I see it as a continuing process of expansion. Never really done." "Quite," I agreed. "One can never have too large a castle." He was about to reply, when one of my soldiers came running up. "My Lord," he said, pausing to catch his breath, "we've discovered two companions of that traterous Banana!" "Surely you jest!" I exclaimed, certain that there could not be so many traitors amongst my forces. It was true that my army was constantly growing, making it that much harder to maintain tight security, but three tratiors? "No, my lord. But they are not members of the faction, merely peasants who live in the area." That went a long ways towards pleasing me. Still, any companions of the despicable Banana, who had just last month been executed for crimes against humanity, were likely to be enemies of mine. Perhaps a friendly conversation would be in order. "Seize them," I ordered, "make sure they are unarmed, then bring them before me. Try to take them alive, if you can. If you cannot, it is of no great importance." "I shall inform Captain Rakasha of your orders," the soldier agreed, reminding me of the promotion that beutiful warrior had recently received. I trusted that she would deal with criminals directly and effectively. * * * The next day, I found myself standing outside an old tavern. The ones known as Cucumber and Zucchini were said to be inside. The agri- cultural names of these criminals surprised me, especially considering the moutanous region in which they were operating. Clearly they were code names of some sort, perhaps indicating an even deeper conspiracy. If rumors of my military plans had reached my potential enemies, there would be hell to pay. Rakasha came up to me, her sword naked in her hand. Her knowledge of tactics, while impressive, could not begin to compare with mine, but she was much more of a master with the blade. Should she be forced to use it, I doubted little what the outcome would be. Instinctively, my hand fell to the hilt of my own sword, but I did not draw it. I did not think it would be my part to strike a blow that day. "Are the soldiers in position?" I asked the captain. She was the only officer in Sinan at the time, as the two sergeants had gone south to Aglheam to round us up some horses, and Captain Mark was busy overseeing bow production in the forest of Ardvale, to the east. "Yes," she said, "Sword companies Alpha and Beta are commanding the streets, and the archers have been postioned ontop the roofs." "What about companies Delta, Gamma, and Omega?" "I didn't think they'd be necesarry, my Lord," Rakasha replied. "I left them to continue their operations." "Quite right," I agreed. Between companies Alpha and Beta, we had nearly forty well-trained swordsmen at our disposal. If that, with the archers, was not more than enough to handle two peasant criminals, than we were no brotherhood of warriors. And I knew we were. "Let's do it," I commanded. "Right," the captain agreed. Then, raising her voice, she yelled, " Alpha company, advance!" The swordsmen charged the wooden doors of the tavern. The shoulders of the first to arrive were applied in an expert manner, and the old ash never stood a chance. The doors broke, splintering, and the swordsmen were inside. Rakasha and I followed quickly after them. There was a great cry of surprise as the good peasants of Sinan were taken by surprise, but we were quickly able to identify our targets. The two men in the back corner were dressed in bright clothing, but their faces were dark. Upon seeing us, they leapt to their feet. One, perhaps the one called Cucumber, pulled a long, curved knife from his belt, and seemed to prepare to offer resistence. But his companion showed more sense. Grabing him behind the neck, he ran with him to the fireplace in the back of the tavern. "Halt!" I cried, "you are herebye taken under arrest." The two seemed to ignore me, so I signaled for my soldiers to grab them. Just as the first swordsmen were coming upon the cowering criminals, one of them twisted a brick, and the fireplace seemed to swing, as if on a massive hinge. A moment later, the two had dissapeared inside, and my soldiers were cut off by the sharp slam as the bricks swung back into place. "Damn it!" I cried, "may Thor the Thunderer smite them down! Open it." "I'm trying, my Lord!" the swordsman answered, pounding and pulling on every brick in sight. None of them seemed to yield. We spent another hour there, searching for a way to open the secret portal, but it was in vain. "Frankly, my Lord," Rakasha said, "I'm amazed that those two were capable of such a device." "As am I, Captain," I agreed. "And I must admit it scares me some- what. What if they are being aided, perhaps by another faction?" "That could be, my Lord. But it will not matter. We shall capture them, and our plans shall not be stopped." "Indeed. This is not over. Not yet." ######################################################################## Yo, Mom, It's your oldest boy, Bromin. Today I cruised by the Grim Reapers of Dharma. A wierd name for some bowmen wearing overalls, but I guess it fits them, ya' know? Anyway, this dude comes up to me and asks if I'd like $10 cool ones on my hand. Well, naturally, I can't dis' that kind of dough, what with my moms starving and all, so I say "sure," and the next thing I know, I am drinking it all away. Come next morning some big dude shakes my aching head and drags me to this big group of guys. We're all told we're in this army now and if there aren't any objections, we're gonna start working our bodies into shape. Free grub and all, but still, it is hard work. At least I saved a few nickels for ya, so ya ain't so bad off. I wish I could get my hands on one of those bows. Sergent says we're gonna get some nice swords to play with, but I just don't know. I think first battle I see I'm a'runnin' straight outta here! Boss says we ain't got no enemies, so I should be cool. Well, I gots ta get going. Love ya and all that, Bromin ######################################################################## Joe Peasant strolled down the street, happy to be alive. That was because today was Payday, and he had received 15 silver pieces for his labors this month. That left 5 silver pieces above his food and housing bill, and he planned to have a good night at the tavern tonight. Across the street, a merry band of 4 entertainers was putting on a wild show of juggling and clowning. Bouncing balls off each other, pushing each other down, and yet still the brightly colored balls kept flying smoothly through the air. A hat was on the ground, for donations, and Joe read the writing on the hat, "Bombar of the Heavy Hand". Apparently Bombar had noticed Joe's interest, because he broke away from the others and addressed Joe. "It's a fine show we put on, isn't it? Bombar of the Heavy Hand at your service." With this Bombar went into a deep bow, lost his balance, went tumbling head over heels, and then sprung up right in front of Joe. "Now, how's about a small donation to the Merry Pranksters?" Joe considered for a second, but thought better of it. "No, I was just taking a quick look. I'll be moving on now." He began to stroll away, but he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. "Then maybe you haven't heard about the new 'Entertainment Tax'? Every man, woman, and child who is entertained by Bombar, shall pay a $5 tax, to said Bombar." Bombar no longer looked so jolly; in fact he seemed to be leering. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" said Joe, indignantly. "That's as may be, sir, but I suggest you comply." Joe noticed that the other three entertainers had surrounded him, and all four had drawn swords. "Er," stuttered Joe, "Now I remember that entertainment tax! Here's your five silver." Joe handed over the money, and fled as quickly as he could down the street. Behind him, Bombar and his men resumed their act. ######################################################################## That night... ...there was a touch of ice in the air. But only a touch, just a shadow of the dying winter's former fury, an old bear with rheumy eyes and teeth gone soft. The wind moaned across the land, threatening, as if to make up in noise what it lacked of chill. But even the wind had lost its bite...at least, that is how it began. For as the darkness settled, so then did it build, the wisps of darkness, drifting eerily across the full moon in the evening breeze. Then, soon after, the spirits of air gathered their strength as the paltry zephyrs became gusts. Like schoolboys released for the day, they howled their triumph and delight, chasing each other across the realm. A weight came onto the gales, then, the wisps becoming huge dark clouds, racing across the moon, darkening the land further. And then it poured, streaming rain, a legion of drummers, beating down on the high grass. **KKKKZKKKKKKKHHHMMMMM!!!** The blackness torn by a golden sword of lightning. **KKKKZKKKKKKKHHHMMMMM!!!** **KKKKZKKKKKKKHHHMMMMM!!!** The rain came on still stronger. The wind ran faster and faster... **KKKKZKKKKKKKHHHMMMMM!!!** A shadow leapt over the moon, a predator, proud and noble. **KKKKZKKKKKKKHHHMMMMM!!!** **KKKKZKKKKKKKHHHMMMMM!!!** **ROOOOOAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!** **KKKKZKKKKKKKHHHMMMMM!!!** **KKKKZKKKKKKKHHHMMMMM!!!** **KKKKZKKKKKKKHHHMMMMM!!!** **KKKKZKKKKKKKZZZZKKKKKZZZZZKKKKKHHHMMMMM!!!** That morning... ...the dew lay thick on the heather, a glistening blanket to dazzle the eyes of the gods above. In a short time, one could hear the gentle calls of the jays and robins, their sweet song belying the power of the night before. In the heart of the heather, there was a stir, a small movement. A figure was nestled therein, unclothed, crouched over himself, wisps of fine golden hair dancing over the powerful play of muscles on his broad back. The figure stirred again, shook and arose slowly, deftly, into a broad stretch. His face was handsome if small-featured, with sharp eyes, thoughtful and bright as flowers in spring, the whole of it framed by a long, golden mane. His form, graceful, strong and fair-haired, shone brilliantly in the morning sun. The figure relaxed, licked his lips. "I am the Golden Lion." The simple statement rang with DesCartian realization. The figure looked into the distance, sniffed the wind. There were others. Strange ones. Strange scents. They seemed to have things to hide. The figure could not puzzle them out. Best to be wary until he knew them better. With a leap, he disappeared into the brush. ######################################################################## Didn't you ever ask yourself about magic things ? Don't you need to know anything about strange lights or dark ghosts ? What kind of miracles are magicians able to do ? What is the signification of level ? How to teach yourself magic ? How to fill in your magic tax declaration ? Yes ? So you need a magic advisor. There is only one...the Dark Mage...Sark de Sombreval. He knows the deepest magic and is able to contact the darkest gods. Let's try a summon formula. ....poret@univ-caen.fr.... All your questions will be answered and it's free of tax. You can make donation to The Dark Mage himself (unit 52). ######################################################################## "The weather is definitely turning cooler in the evenings on Ebonok" muttered Iridal as she wrapped the brown woolen cloak tightly around her slender form. Despite the sharp coolness, she liked watching the sun gradually disappearing in a flash of glorious colour. At home on Hugon the sun's green glare tended to stain everything into one shade of colour, especially the plant life. Perhaps that's why she never appreciated the different types of trees until now. Iridal took a worn piece of paper from her cloak, creased from the many times she had reread the message. It was from Damia her bear mate, Damia was disappointed that Iridal had not said goodbye, and hoped Iridal would have understood for the good of the chain the best person was needed at the right link, and Iridal's looks were too distinctive and unusual to be a scout. Iridal smiled ruefully and conceded that Damia was right; despite several months in the Ebonok sun her hair and skin had remained very fair. News from the scounts had filtered down around the camp fires, it was now common gossip that there were others besides the peaceful peasants and Hugons living on Ebonok. Who were Asoka the Overlord and Baron Harkonnen ? She wondered. It seems despite friendly overtures, our scouts have been ignored. What are Unit 737 and Unit 452's plans, are their intentions for their neighbours friendship or war? Could they be one and the same person? or are they allied together? Rumours have it that Unit 737 and Unit 452 originate from the same home address. This would suggest these units are related, maybe two brothers starting a new life. Iridal shook her head. "No I am letting my mind run riot", Iridal sighed, only time will tell. ######################################################################## ATLANTIS ECONOMICS PART 7 This weeks question: How do you model battle when behind bowmen are involved? In order to model more complicated battles, the combat model must be refined. Specifically the fact that some men will be killed prior to attacking must be accounted for. In a real battle, attacking men are chosen at random and attack a random target. I will model battle as a "continous" process where each man attacks at a random time from T=0 (start of battle round) to T=1 (end of battle round). The probabilty of attack is uniform, so that at T=.4, 40% of your men will have attacked and 40% of your opponents men will have attacked. This means that a hit at time T=0 will kill a man who has not attacked, while a hit at T=.75 only has a 25% chance of getting a man who has not attacked. The bottom line is that half of your successful attacks will kill men before they attack. This means that the actual hits inflicted on a front line unit will be reduced due to loses in the attacking forces. If each side has only one front line unit, then the number of hits inflicted on side B by a front line unit of side A is: Hb = Pa * (Na - (.5 * Ha)) (1) where Hb = Hits inflicted on side B Pa = A's probability of hitting B Na = Number of troops in Player A's force Ha = Hits inflicted on side A The hits inflicted on side A by a front line unit of side B is: Ha = Pb * (Nb - (.5 * Hb)) (2) where Nb = Number of troops in Player B's force Pb = B's probability of hitting A Equations (1) and (2) can be solved for Hb in terms of (Na, Nb, Pb, and Pa). (4 * Na * Pa) - (2 * Nb * Pa * Pb) Hb = __________________________________ (3) 4 - (Pa * Pb) Applying this equation to some sample battles results in the following casualties in the first round: 100 Level 2 Swordsmen vs 100 Level 2 Swordsmen (22.2 deaths) vs (22.2 deaths) (Note the simplistic model, Hb = Na * Pa, predicts 25 deaths) 100 Level 2 Swordsmen vs 100 Level 1 Swordsmen (8.9 deaths) vs (38.4 deaths) With this refinement, battles involving "behind" troops can now be modeled (but only one "in front" unit is allowed). Improved Battle Model Procedure 1. Calculate the loses inflicted by the "behind" troops. 2. Apply half of those losses to the front line troops (adjusting Na and Nb). 3. Use equation (3) to calculate the additional losses in the front line troops. 4. Apply the other half of the losses calculated in step 1 to the front line units. 5. Repeat steps 1 - 4 until one side breaks. This procedure will tell you who will win an "average luck" battle. Next installment: Using the above procedure to analyze a sample battle. The above analysis generated by the scribes of faction 59, "Larson's Adventurers", formed in Gurkacre (9,14) on Jan 01 reachable at "Bill_Larson@ncsu.edu" ######################################################################## The Watcher in the Wood moved between the treetops, a faint rustle the only sign of his passing. Certainly, no man or creature that had walked beneath Salen's boughs for the last thousand years could have seen the Watcher - it had long ago become more a part of the trees than an occupant. One man knew of its presence, it knew. It liked the Man, and was on its way to meet him. Just a few weeks ago, the Man had come to the forest and settled himself in an isolated clearing near its centre. A faint, blue mist had settled there with him, and the Watcher suspected that it was the mist itself that had originally discovered his own presence. No matter - it enjoyed the company of these quiet strangers. The Innkeeper looked up and smiled when he heard the rustling overhead. The Mist swirled amongst the leaves. A squirrel scampered down from a nearby tree, and said "The foreigners are gone. The forest is ours once more. No Brothers or Enfants were lost." The Innkeeper returned to his meditation. He was tired, he knew, and would have to respond to the Call before long. Still, he would remain a little longer to see the Brotherhood firmly established before handing over entirely to Mithin. He sighed, and closed his eyes. ######################################################################## There are several units in Stackforth who claim to be peaceful diplomats e.g. - 2nd Diplomat (667), number: 2, on guard, has: 2 longbows; Hail, fellow traveler! This is a peaceful diplomat of the Order o. - 4th Diplomat (669), has: longbow; Hail, fellow traveler! This is a peaceful diplomat of the Order o. - Unit 1577 (1577), number: 2, on guard, has: 2 longbows. but it shows by there actions that they are in fact aggressive. The fact that they are on gaurd is an agressive statement. There are other factions who wish to get use from the forest and it would be appreciated if you were to not assume control of the area. There is plenty of peasants to tax and there is ample time get your wood. ######################################################################## Greetings Lords and Ladies of Atlantis; It pleases me to adress all of you Gentle Readers. I'm one of the "Founding Fathers" of the so called Newbie Alliance. I'm humbled to say that I'm the leader of the Weaponmaking Guild of our Alliance. We, the Founding Fathers, are 12 Factions which entered this world of Atlantis at the same time. We banded together to protect ourselves form older more established factions. Hence, the name, Newbie Alliance. I now speak only for myself and my Household. I cannot and do not speak for my Brothers and Sisters of the Alliance... As all for you know last week someone who was not a member of our fair Alliance chose to write about us in the Times. Who is the author of last week's 'A Cautionary Tale'? I want to know if the author plans on spending the rest of his miserable life hiding in fear? Who is gutless enough to talk big but refuses to sign his name to his words? Is he ashamed or afraid because of his words? He should be afraid. Once I find out who the maggot is, I'll stomp the living crap out of him. If you gonna talk tough, you should be brave enough to sign your own damn name. That pathetic little weasel makes me sick... I am Eric von Wald of House von Wald (111). I fear not my words. I have spoken and excuse myself not. If the author of 'A Cautionary Tale' finds his honor, let him answer. ######################################################################## PERSONAL ADVERTISEMENTS ======================= Seeking Contact with "THE MAGES OF DRAKEWOOD" is "A Band Of Restless Acquaintences": "Hello? Are you getting my mail? Please write: marting@qpsx.oz.au " Seeking Contact with "FACTION 115" is "A Band Of Restless Acquaintences": "Hello? Are you getting my mail? Please write: marting@qpsx.oz.au " ######################################################################## Memoirs of a lonely scout part II, after a long journey I have finally arrived in Sledmere. This prosperous land seems to be a fine place to entertain the peasant and trick them into giving me some money. My last part of the memoirs found a publisher "The Atlantis Time" they are even giving me some pennies to keep up the writing. All this new success somewhat lessens the grief a have for my former partner. This month a youngster approached me and wanted to join me on my adventures. I will consider it so the long journeys can become somewhat less lonely. The latest news I got from the west was that large armies under the rulership of Emperor Shaddam and the House of Diamante terrorise the poor peasant population. People are recruited to there troops by force and the peasants are made to pay enormous amounts in taxes. The rumors tells that all the money are spent on women and strange spices all mixed in a sensless orgy. I did know that the Emperor himself used to have this strange habit but that the old noble House of Diamante would stoop to such a low level is a complete surprise. The latest rumors is also that some Dr. in the south wants to get his hands on the Emperors mystic spices for his own obscure experiments. The lands in these parts seem to be boiling. I think that I'll move on east to avoid what may come. Yours truly Crimson Dancer ######################################################################## Atlantis Economics Update 4/2 Niskby Theoretical Institute Here at NTI we have been working on a few optimizations that we hope will make town management a little easier. Population management is a particularly touchy matter, but a matter that will bear some watching in the future. The following table illustrates the theoretical maximum populations for a town based upon the surrounding terrain. Plains - 10,000 Mountains - 2,000 Forests - 2,000 Swamps - 1,000 When a town reaches the above populations there will be no excess food production and continued growth will threaten the surplus. There is however another threshold, and that is the point at which maximum surplus growth is generated (shown in the following table). Plains - 6,667 Mountains - 1,667 Forests - 1,667 Swamps - 833 Any workers or peasants above that amount will decrease the surplus gowth for the month. Using the above there are three primary ways of generating income: working, entertaining, and taxing. Working is a tiresome activity and to be used only as a last resort of unskilled personnel. The return on investment for working is half that of any other skill (except entertainment, for which it is a quarter) and genrates no skill enhancement. Entertaining generates income based upon the following formula: Surplus * .05 --------------- = Maximum Number Entertainers SL * 20 SL=Skill Level This combined with the theoretical maximum maintainable number of entertainers shown in the table below: Plains - 1/SL*4 Peasants Other - 1/SL*10 Peasants would imply that a maximum number of entertainers could be gainfully employed, forever, if an adequate surplus was on hand (see following): Plains - 666,700 Mountains - 66,680 Forests - 66,680 Swamps - 33,320 Taxes are considerable simpler, the limit is the surplus available in the town. The maximum taxmen needed to wipeout a town's surplus is Surplus ------- 50 The maximum maintainable level of taxation is shown in the following table: Plains - 1/10 Peasants Other - 1/25 Peasants We here at NTI hope this has been of help. The next discussion will be "The True Nature of Combat" ---------------------------------------------------------------- David B. Stapleton Mission Viejo Room A229, N2 656-6421, (714)380-6421 ######################################################################## _ _ _( ' ' ; ) _ Talv felt lonely. Why, she asked herself, had _( , (, '), , ) Ekij sent her off alone to find wood ? 'A ( , '( ; , ' )' , ') forest or a swamp' he'd said 'it doesent (' ( ' ,(,') , ) ,' ) matter which.' well it mattered to her. Swamps ( _' ( | ,') ,' _) wern't exactly plesant places, no-one wrote (_ \ \| |/ /'_) songs about the beauty of a swamp, not even \ / rines twisted mind could produce such a thing. \ / They wern't exactly romantic, no-one fell in | | love in a swamp under the silvery moon with the | | sound of the marsh grass slowly giving off gasses | | as it decomposed. She smiled ironocially. | | She was a dutchess and yet he has sent her off alone | | into untold dangers without a guard. She couldn't | | understand why. Perhaps it was so he could create | | zolag, they never got along well, zolag was too | | power hungry. In that respect a swamp would be | | better at least zolag woudn't visit her there, | | she smiled again with the image of zolag in her | | flowing purple robes up to her knees in swamp mud. | | Perhaps a swamp wouldn't be so bad after all. ######################################################################## News Flash!!! Our spies report that (4,3) is not ocean! It is the mountainous region of Grisbygd! Scout out... ######################################################################## Sludge grimaced. The stage magician still wouldn't take part in the Vermin's performances, and now he'd insisted on starting magic classes. "A College of Magic!" he'd said proudly. Well, okay, Sludge thought, maybe they'd charge for these classes highly enough to make up for the fact that the Vermin were spending more time practicing their show than actually giving it. And then the shocker came. "And we won't charge a thing! Knowledge is meant to be free!" the mage declared. Sludge scowled, and expression very much becoming a permanent part of his face, and left the mage's lab. It was getting harder and harder to support this group. Even the extra cash that he'd inherited from an old man who'd liked the Vermin's performances was going fast. And to top that off, the rodeo clown had been carried away by their horses. He'd had word from some of his scouts that the clowns had already caught up to them, and didn't show any signs of stopping. Ah, well, he thought. Challenge certainly makes life more interesting. ------------------------------- The Skulking Vermin! World renowned entertainers and vagabonds. More clubs in the air since the last peasant attack! ------------------------------- Faction 109, The Skulking Vermin ######################################################################## Dances On Oceans huddled in his blanket, weeping softly. It wasn't just the grim surroundings of the swamp, or even that the peasants around him seemed to be starving at an alarming rate. In fact, it wasn't even his repeated failures to reproduce the mystical experience of walking the oceans of Atlantis, or the stubborn refusal of Atlanteans to accept him as the Messiah. Today, what made him weep was the grim and terrible news from Roddendor. His own leader...to whom he'd been a loyal scout and obedient servant...now being hailed as the "Vivisectionist of Roddendor!" The rumors had reached him this morning, and been verified by several sources. They called him Doktor Vox now, and his followers the Skinflayers. Word of awful experiments, maps being drawn on human skin...was *this* what was being done with his valuable scouting reports!? Dances On Oceans squirmed inwardly, toying with the idea of abandoning his faction, changing his loyalties...but he knew that the family ties were too strong ever to break. But he felt this strong desire to escape, to go far, far away... ...across the Oceans! Of course! Even if his legendary water- walking skills no longer worked, he could always build a ship to carry him to new lands, where perhaps this awful reputation would not follow him, and where he would be finally hailed as the Messiah! He went at once to speak to the grizzled old veteran of the seas at the Swamp-Rats Tavern. "A ship, Master Cogli, that's what I need! A mighty galleon, towering seven stories high, with sails wide as twenty men, and a great banner of a horse upon the waves, my very own Seaweed Nellie! And of course we'll need some sailors, and a navigator...perhaps yourself? And.." Cogli hacked loudly, spat on the floor, and took a giant swig of Swampwater Ale. "Mister Dances, you ain't thinkin' too clear. You's gonna need fifty-odd good men choppin' trees and another fifty layin' timbers jest ta build you a lil' ol' longboat. You got that kinda money, whatcha doin' drinkin' cheap ale?" Dances On Oceans stopped, stunned by this revelation. That much effort even for a small boat? "We'll do it, Master Cogli, I'll find the money, somehow..." Doing the rapid mental calculations so necessary for a scout, he figured..."50 lumberjacks, 50 shipbuilders, training, upkeep...nearly six thousand silver...*gulp*". No easy task, that. But could the new Messiah be denied his dream? Of course not! A brilliant light went off, and his face broke into a wide grin. Of course! "Get ready, Master Cogli. We're going to have a Tent Revival!" ######################################################################## Cai slumped in his chair. On the table in front of him was another scroll from the expedition to the swamps. "Damn those foolish peasants! Why must they eat so much?" He was glad that there was no-one else in the room with him. No-one would point out the obvious to him, that the peasants ate to stay alive. And when there was nothing else to eat, then they died. Cai had no wish to read any more about the food riots. Peasants had broken into the Granaries in Orrebygd and taken the tax tribute that had been earmarked for Vlad's woodcutting teams. Now the great venture that had lured them into the swamps in the first place was in jeopardy. It was all beginning to fall apart... With an inward shudder Cai turned his attention to the grotesque "solution" proposed by the arch-mage, Akh-Greth. ######################################################################## Map of Atlantis --- -- -------- March, 2 Edition Emperor Shaddam IV of the Padishah Empire (Faction 3) ---> Send donations to unit #3! <--- Send new information and corrections to email address <ckim@skidmore.edu>. The most recent edition will be will be published in the Atlantis Times and will be mailed to the Atlantis mailing list. Please note that if no new information is received, new maps will not be published for that month. 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 3 3 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 0 - - - - - O - - - - - - - O - O - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 0 1 - - - - O S O - - - - - - O - O - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 1 2 - - - O S P S P P - - - O - - O O - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2 3 - - - - M P P O - - - - O - - - - O - - - - - - - - - P M - - - 3 4 - - - - - P P - - - - - - - - - P - - - - - - - - - - O F P - - 4 5 - - - - - S - - - O - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - O F P O - 5 6 - - - - - - - - - - - O - - - O - - - - - - - - - - - P P P P O 6 7 - - - - - - - - - - - - O - O - - - - - - - - - - - - P O P P - 7 8 - - - - - - - - - - - - - O - - - - - - - - - - - - - P O P - - 8 9 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - O - P - 9 10 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - O - - 10 11 - - - - - P - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 11 12 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - P - 12 13 - - - - - M - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 13 14 - - - - - F - - - P - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 14 15 - - - - - P - M - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 15 16 - - - - - - - P - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 16 17 - - - - - - - - S O - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 17 18 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 18 19 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 19 20 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 20 21 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 21 22 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 22 23 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 23 24 - - - - - - - - - - - - P - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 24 25 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 25 26 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 26 27 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 27 28 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 28 29 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 29 30 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 30 31 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 31 32 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 32 33 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 33 34 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - O - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 34 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 3 3 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 Legend: F=Forest, M=Mountain, O=Ocean, P=Plain, S=Swamp Please note that row 34 is directly accessible from row 0 (Going north from (10,0) will get you to (10,34). This map has been printed on paper made of bamboo cloth. No animals were harmed in its production. Ads from premier issue of PC Tech Journal (Jul 83): 20MB Hard disk from QCS - Cost: $2999. Davong 5 MB int. hard disk... only $1465! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------- In the beginning, there was nothing. So God said, "Let there be light!" And there was still nothing, but you could see it. ######################################################################## Ieyasu grimly surveyed the scene. More peasant upstarts! Moving through clouds of dust raised by dozens of itinerant circus-builders he could just make out their limp standards. "Not a drop of noble blood among them", he muttered to himself as he noted the numbers daubed on their insignia. Completing his reconnaisance he turned back to his new home. As always, he winced at the sight of the large thatched building, gaily festooned with banners that was nearing completion. His gaze roved over the busy throng of builders until he spied his one faithful daimyo. Musashi had noticed his lord's arrival and came to greet him. "Everything proceeds in accordance with your inspired directives", he beamed. Ieyasu did not look overjoyed. "You are my faithful servant and will doubtless answer any question with complete frankness and honesty, is it not so?", he asked with a sardonic smile. "As surely as the sun's rays melt the snow, my lord." "Then remind me why it is that the vast majority of my loyal retainers are occupied with the construction of a building whose ugliness is only matched by the excruciating quality of the voices emanating from within." There was a moment's silence. "Supreme overlord, I will answer according to your command. The voices are those of our enthusiastic but as-yet inexperienced opera company. I am aware that they do not please you and in fact I also detest their every cadence, but observe the local peasant folk - see how they crowd around the notices of the upcoming performances. Their ears have not your refinement, but, if I may be so bold, their pockets are full and our superbly trained fighting forces could well use some armour." Ieyasu pondered for a moment, then bowed. "As always, Musashi-san, your vision is clear and unbiased. Let them proceed as I have directed." ######################################################################## "Bloody Oceans!" Gulls sqawked and flew away in dismay at the violence with which the young woman expressed her loathing of those large wet things that suddenly crept up on you, forcing you to spend the rest of the month trying to wash the salt out of your hair and pack. "If its not forests, its oceans! Hate them all! How I long for wide open plains, with great -- great -- tracts of land!" The words sounded so strange, being spoken by such a beautiful, young voice. Gowann is the second youngest in the Order, and being wild at heart and free of spirit, chose to head out into the brave new world and see what there was to see. But thus far the dark forests and wet oceans were proving a bit excessive. "Right! The people here in this forest may have been friendly, but I'VE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE!" - so saying she packed her things and boldly headed north -- fully expecting to find another ocean. Surprisingly enough this move brought her suddenly out into the plains again! A small notice board said "Brechlin, population: comical". A quick glance around proved this to be obvious: A Circus, troubadours, comedy clubs.. what a jovial place! "Finally! Some friendly faces! Perhaps I'll stay a whiles here, and recover some of my strength! Not to mention restock my dwindling supplies.." But after a day or two something became immediately apparent: These people don't like intruders! Gowann's thrown coins lay where they fell, her laughter brought stares of resentment. She could not help but feel a growing sense of paranoia. Finally, on about the 5th day, a small note was delivered to her boarding room, tied to a dagger. Its message was plain, "Leave". So packing her last remaining rations, and with a tear in her eye, Gowann once again hit the road, fingering the small White Crescent hanging from her neck.. "Maybe I'll find a place to work for a few days further north", she may have been heard to mutter, if anyone cared to listen. Kevin Meyer, Plasma Physics Research Institute | Lab: +27(0)31 2601351 University of Natal, Durban, South Africa | TimeZone: GMT + 2 ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ** finger 'kevmeyer@images.cs.und.ac.za' for PGP key ** ######################################################################## Clive examined the report on his desk. The entire expeditionary force to the woods in Salem had embarassed the Gnome Gnation by getting themselves killed. "How many times did I tell them not to do that?!", he exclaimed. "Uh, once", answered Wilbur, the new Captain of the Cavalry. "Well, once should have been enough! They should have known better than to taunt the Mist Brothers! Next thing you know the other entertainers will be hanging out with the Skulking Vermin, bringing back fleas into the camp! Or getting into a pie fight or something! I can see it now - Custard's Last Stand! Now get out of here and get back to work training the new Cavalry!" The officer snapped his heels together, which unfortunately didn't create the customary clack as he was wearing rubberized work boots, which until his recent promotion had been useful while cleaning stalls. With a salute he turned and exited from the room. The head Gnome was in a foul mood. Probably best not to mention his discovery of a talking horse... ######################################################################## Announcing the convention of wisdom! The InnerCircle of the Spakker Alliance has decided to meet to form a circle of knowledge for the advancement of all participating. The mages of Dharma, also known as the Devils of Beelzebub, will be presenting their preliminary results of low level magic. It is expected that other mystics will be divulging the arcane knowledge of the higher planes, though given the strange and powerful forces involved, those possesing such knowledge may not be allowed to attend. In any event, this will be an exciting event, and all who can should attend! Bring your monies and spell books, and we will roast demons with our fireworks! B-) Mephostopheles, Mage of Dharma, Information Division (M.o.D.I.D.) ######################################################################## After the village had bought and started on a healthy round of "tonic" a couple of the village busybodies approached Dr. Neve Eril. They already had that dazed and ever so content look that the tonic brought. They were concerned, or they though they remembered being concerned, about a recluse that hadn't left his cabin for several months and maybe, just maybe the esteemed Doctor could have a look at him. Not wanting to annoy the locals before he was long out of town he decided that it would be best to humor them. Grabbing his medical bag that he had copied from what he had seen cousin Charles Taen carry around back home, he hurried to the poor afflicteds home. There he found more a corpse than a person. True the recluse lived but even his untrained eye could tell that the end was very near. Well he had better give the busybodies a good show. Opening his bag, he gave the recluse a dose of tonic and then started to apply leaches and a skunk weed plaster. The tonic quickly brought a smile to the comatose face. At least his end wouldn't be so painful. The leaches and plaster were simply for show, the locals always expected true medicine to involve blood and stench. Dr. Eril had no idea if they did any good. But the busybodies gave knowing looks to each other and left talking about a big meal and goat balls. Now he had a real problem. He realized he was stuck in the cabin. His wagon was in the town square, in fact in the middle of a festival that involved about half the townsfolk. They were even starting a bon fire. They would be near his wagon for a long time. He couldn't very well walk out with out curing his charge. Sitting watching the dying man Dr. Eril could see that he had wasted away considerably. It was doubtful if his mother would know him! The light was bad! Every one around his wagon would be muddled by the tonic! It just might work. It had to work. He put on some of the sick mans cloths that looked worn enough and odd enough that that everyone in town should remember them. Finally he took the biggest hat he could find, one that would keep his face in its shadows most of the time. Thank the gods it was a cool spring night. Then he walked Boldly, Confidently, Vigorously out of the cabin and toward his wagon. When he was coming near the bonfire he proudly and loudly proclaimed. "Ohhhhh that Dr. Neve Eril is an absolute miracle worker. He not only cured me of that dreaded Muian Pox but I have NEVER felt as good as I do now." Everyone turned toward him, stared and their mouths dropped. A man off to the left came nearer. "Ghoe ?? Ghoe Knerre ?? is that really you?? We didn't think you would live the night!" Dr. Neve Eril got in front of the bon fire and poured his heart into the act. " Hmmpph of course. But friends I have argued with Dr.Neve Eril to stay here in our village a man of his talents would be an absolute boon to us. No one here would die until they had great great great grand children bouncing in their lap like they do in his village. But he refuses. He says it would be unfair to so bless one village and to curse all the others with nothing. So I have resolved to go with him and learn his trade and to return when I can save you as he has saved me. But more important he has told me that the Muian Pox I had is contagious and if every one in town does not have some of his cure this will be a ghost village within a year. He had to go into the woods to collect herbs that are only good if picked on a rare night like tonight. But he has told me which potion is the cure and to give it to you at his cost. " Everyone rushed to the wagon and Dr. Neve Eril slowly followed. They all bought the "cure" for them self and second and third bottles for family members not there. And to put the finishing touch on the night He informed them that the pox came from outside the town and if they were not ready it would return eventually. That produced a panic of buying that ended only when he was sold out of his tonic and everyone had gone home to give the cure to their families. Then he drove his wagon over to Ghoe Knerres cabin and quickly, while everyone was home, moved Ghoe to a dark conner in the wagon. then he started to packed Ghoes things for a long trip. Before he was done a few of the locals were back and under a double dose of tonic. They had come to helped him pack. They even reminding him of a small cache of silver he had hidden under a floor board. He was far along the road and singing very loudly by morning. ######################################################################## =-=-= END TIMES 204 =-=-= ######################################################################## Up