Terrance888
Discord Reigns
Binyo: You still have your dragoons. They are pretty good to raid their warlord camps. (Might be)
And a larger army. I won't invade: Yet.
And a larger army. I won't invade: Yet.
ASNES- My Return to Our Roots
- Thread starter Amon Savag
- Start date
To: Carthage
From: Beneria
We did not intend to land in Iberia; it appears that our fleet commander got lost and landed at the wrong place. However, we will be willing to strike a deal, provided that we retain control of a port in Iberia. I would like to propose the following borders:
Spoiler :
Amon Savag
The Great
Binyo- 2 jack per dragoon division.
Tarvalus/Nailix
Hagiocracy (Governed by holy men)
Age:Bronze
Color: Orange
Economy: 3/0
Army:4(Stone age)
Navy:
Sciences:0
Culture:3
Orders:
Spending:
Spend money on increasing my army size and quality.
Exploration:
Expand borders northward.
Look for anything that would help increase the quality of my military.
Hagiocracy (Governed by holy men)
Age:Bronze
Color: Orange
Economy: 3/0
Army:4(Stone age)
Navy:
Sciences:0
Culture:3
Orders:
Spending:
Spend money on increasing my army size and quality.
Exploration:
Expand borders northward.
Look for anything that would help increase the quality of my military.
DarthNader
Destroyer of Worlds
To: Carthage
From: Beneria
We did not intend to land in Iberia; it appears that our fleet commander got lost and landed at the wrong place. However, we will be willing to strike a deal, provided that we retain control of a port in Iberia. I would like to propose the following borders:
Spoiler :
When our generals and leaders saw this map, they burst into laughter. We are not sure whether you believe Alderia will survive this war...but we are positive that they will fall. We will accept that you have a port on Iberia, but we cannot agree to the division of Alderian Africa. It appears that we would actually be giving Carthaginian territory to you, which we cannot do.
Here is the split we propose.
You will have slightly more space on Iberia, and both of us will have continuous territory. We understand that you not getting any coastline is a downer, but we cannot give up our old colony, and we need to have continuity.
EDIT: Just noticed what the Benerian territory looks like...*facepalm*
MooseWarrior
Prince
Spoiler stats :
Spend 2 jack on improving my military from bronze age to classical age.
Bank 3 jack.
Continue wonder.
Continue attacking Louisianan mainland, until all territory is split between Minnestron and Aztexas.
Crezth
i knew you were a real man of the left
To: Beneria
From: Russia
Seriously? Don't put up with this horsehockey.
From: Russia
Seriously? Don't put up with this horsehockey.
Arian
No more ghostbusting!!
To: Beneria
From: Zulu Empire
Don't let yourself be bullied by those pinkskins. Rest assured that in times of dire need our armies shall fight side by side, and our warriors shoulder to shoulder to destroy this pinkskin menace!
From: Zulu Empire
Don't let yourself be bullied by those pinkskins. Rest assured that in times of dire need our armies shall fight side by side, and our warriors shoulder to shoulder to destroy this pinkskin menace!
When our generals and leaders saw this map, they burst into laughter. We are not sure whether you believe Alderia will survive this war...but we are positive that they will fall. We will accept that you have a port on Iberia, but we cannot agree to the division of Alderian Africa. It appears that we would actually be giving Carthaginian territory to you, which we cannot do.
Here is the split we propose.
Spoiler :
You will have slightly more space on Iberia, and both of us will have continuous territory. We understand that you not getting any coastline is a downer, but we cannot give up our old colony, and we need to have continuity.
EDIT: Just noticed what the Benerian territory looks like...*facepalm*
To: Carthage
From: Beneria
We did not invade Alderia just to get some useless desert. You've had your colony for a long time as discontinuous from your mainland; why should you be so desperate to have it join up now?
Condor_green
King
- Joined
- Nov 23, 2008
- Messages
- 661
Orders California
Quit all production of units. Instead spend all of our resources on a 7 Billion dollar bailout plan that will fix our economy!!! (invest 2 jack on agriculture)
Quit all production of units. Instead spend all of our resources on a 7 Billion dollar bailout plan that will fix our economy!!! (invest 2 jack on agriculture)
Amon Savag
The Great
Happy thousandth post! Glad it could be on my NES! 
Crezth
i knew you were a real man of the left
Neptune’s Bounty: Part 2
Bjorn’s plan was simple, yet it had a great deal of finesse: gain entrance into Sector 7 by any means necessary through the least expected route of entry. Of this he had a plan which the docks nearby Neptune’s Bounty inspired into him: through the sea. It was a little-considered fact that there was in fact a port of entry into Sector 7 through the Aegean Sea, a little town called Albania, which was more influenced by the culture of S.P.A.R.T.A. than anything.
Bjorn was quick to marshal a crew for his voyage around Germanica, Franceica, Iberia, and beyond. By token he had hired the best he could find: his first mate was Eric; his navigator, a man of reliable nature named Oscar Whittenborough, an Engleshman; his cook, the indispensable and wise Fjobar Hijaski, also the head chef at Neptune’s Bounty; and many deckhands, among them the young and irreverent Zuber Lilienthal, a Germanican transplant.
They set sail at dawn early in the summer aboard the RMS Neptune, a callout to the god of the seas in Bjorn’s favored faith. When they took to the seas they were calm – a good, agreeable sign. For many months they stayed at sea and when rations were running low they found sight of land. They docked in a city called Corinth, and were greeted by many barely-clad folk with bulging muscles and steam-run automatic spears. The SPARTANS, as they demanded to be called, spoke of devilish people to the south who they were currently engaged with in a war of independence. After trading some bottles of vodka or food and supplies, the Russians were on their way.
Finally they made landfall at Albania. “God damn it’s hot,” said Bjorn, loosening his fur coat, “How do these people survive it?”
“Not something to be concerned with now, we need to find our way to the Roman Containment Center.”
In the lobby of an inn the crew gathered around a map of Sector 7, detailing all the major security outposts and the quarters. The Roman center was located on the Black Sea coast, a region named ‘Romania’ just for their presence.
“We need to get ‘ere,” said Eric, pointing to the Roman quarters, “Bust in at night and escape. We can get into SPARTA easy by passing just south of Nova Prospekt. It used to be a POW camp but… it’s something much worse than that now.”
“I say, make that ripoff a little more blatant why don’t you,” said Whittenborough.
“What? Anyway, once we’re in SPARTA we can meet up with Zuber Lilienthal here at Corinth, where he’ll have brought the galley.”
“Yes,” said Lilienthal and was quiet again.
“Right, we’ve got a small window of opportunity to act in,” said Eric, “Are you lot ready?”
And with that, in cover of night, they were off. In short order they managed to find the Roman containment camp, and had only to break in.
“These fences are of a damn hard wood,” lamented Eric, “Cedar.”
“Vell I’ve got juzt ze sing,” said Hijaski, pulling out an automatic spear, “Voila! I traded ze lingonberry stew recipe for eet.”
And with that they broke through the fence. Patrols would be coming by shortly so they had to move quickly. Deep into the camp they dashed, avoiding narrowly many patrols. Soon they could hear shouts – the hole must have been discovered.
“Quickly, to the quarters!”
They arrived just outside the door a scant few moments later, but it was guarded by two large burly men. “I can take care of zis,” offered Hijaski, but Bjorn held him down.
“No, I’ve got a better idea,” taking out an empty bottle of vodka, filled with a different viscous fluid and with a cloth coming out the entrance. He set the cloth on fire using the heat from the automatic spear, and tossed it at a building 20 yards away. The fire blazing, the guards were distracted and left their post. Bjorn and the gang went in the door behind them.
The sight was a sorry one. Thousands of Romans held by chains. One proctor saw them enter and shouted “Halt! Intruders!” Bjorn swore.
The jig was up. Bjorn dashed forward and punched the proctor in the face, following it up with a knee to his stomach. The proctor doubled over and Bjorn elbowed his head, knocking him cold. By this time the Romans were keenly aware of this intrusion and vastly suspicious.
“Listen, Romans, we have come to liberate you, and deliver you from the evil that is Sector 8,” shouted Bjorn, “Now we will undo your chains and make a hasty exit – the guards come soon!”
Quickly the crew worked at breaking or picking the chains, and one by one the Romans were freed. As they became free the more industrious among them began helping out. Before half of the population could be free, however, shouts could be heard at the front of the door.
“Intruders! Get zem!”
Hijaski brought forth the automatic spear and with a powerful lunge completely eviscerated the first of the guards. The automatic repeater then proceeded to pierce one, two more guards before those behind began to catch on and dashed around. Eric ran up and, with his mighty frame, picked the guards up by their collars and slammed their heads together. The two remaining looked at one another for a brief moment and, yelping, ran away. The horns were being sounded.
“Damnit,” said Bjorn, “Now how can we get away?”
“There is a way,” said one of the formerly captured Romans, “There is a secret tunnel at the back of these quarters, but we rarely have the opportunity to use it, so often being in chains.”
Bjorn was shocked, perhaps half at the shock of a Roman being able to talk, and half at the shock of there being a godsend to save them all.
“Well, lead the way!”
By now all the Romans were freed and they escaped into the tunnels – concealed by a large boulder – and escaped. However it became evident that their route of escape would be revealed since the boulder was moved.
“Nevermind that,” said Eric, “Go ahead. I will cover the boulder.”
“But how will you get out?” demanded Bjorn.
“Don’t you worry about me. Go! I can hear them coming.”
Eric replaced the boulder after them and they forged on, short one savior. They went quite a ways in silence and darkness before entering a large chambered cavern, illuminated by curious fungus. Now Bjorn got a clear look at the Roman who had given the tip. He was much shorter than he, but also seemed to have a strange pride about his appearance. It was curious given the rags he was dressed in.
“Now it is my turn to thank you,” said Bjorn, “But I don’t even know your name.”
“The name’s Octavius, descendant of the Emperor Augustus of Rome.”
“No kidding?” said Bjorn incredulously, “How ironic.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I must say I’m impressed by this cave,” said Bjorn, “Where does it let out?”
The Roman’s countenance fell. “Nova Prospekt.”
To be continued - Stay tuned for Part 3 of Neptune’s Bounty.
Bjorn’s plan was simple, yet it had a great deal of finesse: gain entrance into Sector 7 by any means necessary through the least expected route of entry. Of this he had a plan which the docks nearby Neptune’s Bounty inspired into him: through the sea. It was a little-considered fact that there was in fact a port of entry into Sector 7 through the Aegean Sea, a little town called Albania, which was more influenced by the culture of S.P.A.R.T.A. than anything.
Bjorn was quick to marshal a crew for his voyage around Germanica, Franceica, Iberia, and beyond. By token he had hired the best he could find: his first mate was Eric; his navigator, a man of reliable nature named Oscar Whittenborough, an Engleshman; his cook, the indispensable and wise Fjobar Hijaski, also the head chef at Neptune’s Bounty; and many deckhands, among them the young and irreverent Zuber Lilienthal, a Germanican transplant.
They set sail at dawn early in the summer aboard the RMS Neptune, a callout to the god of the seas in Bjorn’s favored faith. When they took to the seas they were calm – a good, agreeable sign. For many months they stayed at sea and when rations were running low they found sight of land. They docked in a city called Corinth, and were greeted by many barely-clad folk with bulging muscles and steam-run automatic spears. The SPARTANS, as they demanded to be called, spoke of devilish people to the south who they were currently engaged with in a war of independence. After trading some bottles of vodka or food and supplies, the Russians were on their way.
Finally they made landfall at Albania. “God damn it’s hot,” said Bjorn, loosening his fur coat, “How do these people survive it?”
“Not something to be concerned with now, we need to find our way to the Roman Containment Center.”
In the lobby of an inn the crew gathered around a map of Sector 7, detailing all the major security outposts and the quarters. The Roman center was located on the Black Sea coast, a region named ‘Romania’ just for their presence.
“We need to get ‘ere,” said Eric, pointing to the Roman quarters, “Bust in at night and escape. We can get into SPARTA easy by passing just south of Nova Prospekt. It used to be a POW camp but… it’s something much worse than that now.”
“I say, make that ripoff a little more blatant why don’t you,” said Whittenborough.
“What? Anyway, once we’re in SPARTA we can meet up with Zuber Lilienthal here at Corinth, where he’ll have brought the galley.”
“Yes,” said Lilienthal and was quiet again.
“Right, we’ve got a small window of opportunity to act in,” said Eric, “Are you lot ready?”
And with that, in cover of night, they were off. In short order they managed to find the Roman containment camp, and had only to break in.
“These fences are of a damn hard wood,” lamented Eric, “Cedar.”
“Vell I’ve got juzt ze sing,” said Hijaski, pulling out an automatic spear, “Voila! I traded ze lingonberry stew recipe for eet.”
And with that they broke through the fence. Patrols would be coming by shortly so they had to move quickly. Deep into the camp they dashed, avoiding narrowly many patrols. Soon they could hear shouts – the hole must have been discovered.
“Quickly, to the quarters!”
They arrived just outside the door a scant few moments later, but it was guarded by two large burly men. “I can take care of zis,” offered Hijaski, but Bjorn held him down.
“No, I’ve got a better idea,” taking out an empty bottle of vodka, filled with a different viscous fluid and with a cloth coming out the entrance. He set the cloth on fire using the heat from the automatic spear, and tossed it at a building 20 yards away. The fire blazing, the guards were distracted and left their post. Bjorn and the gang went in the door behind them.
The sight was a sorry one. Thousands of Romans held by chains. One proctor saw them enter and shouted “Halt! Intruders!” Bjorn swore.
The jig was up. Bjorn dashed forward and punched the proctor in the face, following it up with a knee to his stomach. The proctor doubled over and Bjorn elbowed his head, knocking him cold. By this time the Romans were keenly aware of this intrusion and vastly suspicious.
“Listen, Romans, we have come to liberate you, and deliver you from the evil that is Sector 8,” shouted Bjorn, “Now we will undo your chains and make a hasty exit – the guards come soon!”
Quickly the crew worked at breaking or picking the chains, and one by one the Romans were freed. As they became free the more industrious among them began helping out. Before half of the population could be free, however, shouts could be heard at the front of the door.
“Intruders! Get zem!”
Hijaski brought forth the automatic spear and with a powerful lunge completely eviscerated the first of the guards. The automatic repeater then proceeded to pierce one, two more guards before those behind began to catch on and dashed around. Eric ran up and, with his mighty frame, picked the guards up by their collars and slammed their heads together. The two remaining looked at one another for a brief moment and, yelping, ran away. The horns were being sounded.
“Damnit,” said Bjorn, “Now how can we get away?”
“There is a way,” said one of the formerly captured Romans, “There is a secret tunnel at the back of these quarters, but we rarely have the opportunity to use it, so often being in chains.”
Bjorn was shocked, perhaps half at the shock of a Roman being able to talk, and half at the shock of there being a godsend to save them all.
“Well, lead the way!”
By now all the Romans were freed and they escaped into the tunnels – concealed by a large boulder – and escaped. However it became evident that their route of escape would be revealed since the boulder was moved.
“Nevermind that,” said Eric, “Go ahead. I will cover the boulder.”
“But how will you get out?” demanded Bjorn.
“Don’t you worry about me. Go! I can hear them coming.”
Eric replaced the boulder after them and they forged on, short one savior. They went quite a ways in silence and darkness before entering a large chambered cavern, illuminated by curious fungus. Now Bjorn got a clear look at the Roman who had given the tip. He was much shorter than he, but also seemed to have a strange pride about his appearance. It was curious given the rags he was dressed in.
“Now it is my turn to thank you,” said Bjorn, “But I don’t even know your name.”
“The name’s Octavius, descendant of the Emperor Augustus of Rome.”
“No kidding?” said Bjorn incredulously, “How ironic.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I must say I’m impressed by this cave,” said Bjorn, “Where does it let out?”
The Roman’s countenance fell. “Nova Prospekt.”
To be continued - Stay tuned for Part 3 of Neptune’s Bounty.
DarthNader
Destroyer of Worlds
We will not give up our colony, plain and simple. Would you agree to this compromise?
D'Artagnan59
The Gascon
Update????
DarthNader
Destroyer of Worlds
Supermath, can you respond to my offer?
Amon Savag
The Great
Update's on it's way, guys.. Sorry holidays and unfortunate sickness have destroyed my ability to update.
D'Artagnan59
The Gascon
Yes, that's a good reason.
